#feeling extra melancholy tonight

[redflannelsheets]

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[wannab-urs]

Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you. 

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here. 

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH. 

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar. 

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming. 

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet. 

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners. 

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?” 

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading. 

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?” 

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.” 

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap. 

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file. 

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work. 

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner. 

 “So what are your plans tonight?” he asks. 

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe. 

“Your plans? For your birthday?” 

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet. 

“Me and Murphy could take you out?” 

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,”  Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look. 

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door. 

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life. 

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve? 

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door. 

“Peña? What are you doing here?” 

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face. 

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!” 

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.” 

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware. 

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it. 

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.” 

“Fine… thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you. 

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better. 

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you. 

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little. 

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip. 

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty. 

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours. 

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue. 

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips. 

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.” 

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?” 

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. 

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Come for me, baby.” 

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you. 

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you. 

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.” 

 He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?” 

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you. 

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.” 

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you. 

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter. 

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly. 

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head. 

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

[wreckedandpolemic]

bunny ears and devil horns - matty healy

(mdni) in which your halloween costume gets your boyfriend so riled up that he needs to remind you who you belong to. part of the white and gold universe and promptober75 2024. 2717 words.

You fix the devil horns on the top of your head, watching your reflection to centre them. The girl in the mirror smirks back at you, lips painted a shade of red that matches your lingerie. It’s scarcely more than scraps of lace, accentuating your figure with straps that criss-cross over your body. A garter holds up your sheer stockings, feet tucked into red-bottom stilettos.

Squeezing into the red vinyl minidress that completes your “costume” is more of a task than you’d expected, but the effect is perfect. You text Matty a picture of your outfit and what’s underneath, captioned happy halloween, daddy ;) do you like the dress better on or off? Matty’s response is immediate, flashing up his contact before you’ve even put your phone down. You let it ring for a moment, make him sweat a little before you pick up with an innocent little, “Hello?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, princess. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

You giggle. “You know, this is why I call you an old man. You’re an old man with a weak heart, Matthew, and I’m going to inherit all your money when you die.”

“Behave yourself,” Matty teases. “You look gorgeous, princess. Have fun, be safe, don’t talk to any boys.” His grin is audible, and you groan.

“But what if they’re gonna give me free drinks?” you pout, half-jokingly wheedling.

“Especially not then,” Matty answers. “Should just let me drive up there instead. I can buy you much better booze than some grease-faced twenty-year-old boy, and I’m definitely better company.”

You laugh at how serious he sounds, his jealousy creeping in at the edges of his tone. “Oh, you wanna be the only man I’m using for his money, right? But it’s so fun, and they make it so easy.”

Matty practically growls, a low, frustrated noise filling your ear. “Will you behave? Such a slut, aren’t you, princess? Been too long since I’ve made you mine, huh?”

“You know I’m yours. Makes it more fun, letting them buy me drinks and think I’m gonna let them get anywhere before I tell them I have a real man waiting for me at home.”

He laughs, low and rich and sweet. “Music to my ears, princess. Have fun tonight, yeah? Call me when you’re home.”

“You sure? It’s gonna be past your bedtime.” Matty only scoffs, adding a soft I love you that makes you pout and long for him. “I love you too.”

You drink and dance your way through the evening, barely paying for anything and always slipping teasingly out of your suitors’ grasp. And it’s fun, it is, your head spinning joyfully as your friends pull you into the circle, but you miss Matty achingly, painfully conscious of the distance between you, how long it’ll be before you get to see him, have him, again.

Sure, it’s a little codependent, but you’ve never been so in love. A year ago, this would’ve been your ideal night, drunk and dancing and flirting to your heart’s content; now, though, all you want is to curl up in bed with your boyfriend and a vintage red. A little melancholy, you duck out early, barely making it to midnight and hoping you’ll still catch Matty once you’re home.

There’s an extra car in your driveway, but it’s too dark to make out the model or reg number, so you shrug and fumble with your keys to let yourself in. Coming face-to-face with Matty helping himself to coffee in your kitchen shocks you almost into sobriety, your knees practically buckling as you throw yourself into his arms. You press hungry, needy kisses over his face in a way that’s definitely indecent for your shared living space. “Hi, princess,” Matty grins.

“What are you doing here?” you laugh disbelievingly.

“Wanted to be waitin’ at home for you,” he smirks. “Make sure you remember what your real man feels like.”

You tilt your head knowingly. “You’re jealous,” you giggle. “Saw how hot I looked tonight and got mad that a bunch of silly boys were the only ones enjoying it, right?”

“Just wanna make sure everyone knows who you belong to, yeah?” You smirk, taking his hand and pulling him along to your bedroom. Matty slams you against the door as soon as it’s closed, kissing and licking and biting at your neck with abandon.

“Don’t I look pretty, Daddy?” you sigh, tilting your head to give him better access. “I want you to tell me how pretty I am, tell me everything you want to do to me,” you breathe, threading a hand into Matty’s curls and lifting his head. His eyes are black with lust when they meet yours, his lips swollen and spit-slick.

Groaning, he drops his hands to grab your ass, his gaze weighted and heavy. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, princess. So pretty for me, and only for me, yeah?” You nod feverishly. “Had to get off as soon as you hung up the phone, angel. God, this fucking dress. Couldn’t stop thinking about how gorgeous you’d look dancing, about bringing you home and getting on my knees, gettin’ you undressed and fucking you in just your belt and stockings.”

You moan, grinding against the bulge in his trousers; heat floods your body and drips into your panties, hunger gnawing between your thighs. “The shoes, too?” you tease, hooking one leg around him to press a stiletto heel against the back of his thigh.

“Shit, if you want,” Matty answers, lifting you off your feet and laying you on the bed. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, half to himself. “D’you mind if I take a picture, princess? I just— y’so pretty, so perfect.”

Eagerly, you nod. “You’re so sweet, so good to me. Make me so happy,” you beam. “Y’gotta fuck me like a whore, though, okay? Maybe I was a bad girl tonight, drinking and flirting with boys to make them think they had a chance,” you say, a teasing pout playing on your lips. You toss your head wildly, posing provocatively for Matty’s camera.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he smirks. “You wanna get punished? Get that pathetic excuse for a dress off for me, okay, princess?” He’s still standing at the foot of your bed, camera poised, when you reach up at him.

“Can’t take it off on my own,” you say, biting your lip and rolling over. “S’too tight. I’m stuck,” you add, deliberately playing up the porn dialogue and arching your back. You moan happily when he straddles the backs of your thighs, his fingers warm as they find your zipper and tug gently.

Torturously slow, Matty unzips you, like you’re a gift wrapped up all for him. A stuttering gasp leaves his lips as he pulls the dress off you, grabbing your ass and kneading like he can’t resist. He spanks you harshly, and you arch greedily up into his touch. “This fucking ass drives me crazy, princess. You want me to fuck you there later?”

Your cunt throbs with need. “Please,” you moan into the sheets. “S’all yours, Daddy. Do whatever you want with me. But make me hurt first, okay? You gotta teach your little slut a lesson,” you add, smirking over your shoulder at him as his eyes go black with lust.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he scoffs, smacking the inside of your thigh. Sweet pleasure-pain arcs under your skin, hot and dizzying. “You want everyone to know who you belong to, hm? Gonna make you scream loud enough for the entire city to hear,” he smirks. Without even waiting for the instruction, you shift into your favourite position for him; face down, ass up and ready for whatever he wants to give. You knead a lace-clad breast in one hand, pinching and rolling your nipple through the thin fabric. “Jesus, y’fucking soaked through, princess,” Matty mutters, pulling your panties to the side and spitting on your dripping cunt.

You moan helplessly against your pillow, writhing greedily as you feel his spit dripping down your skin. “Daddy, please,” you beg. “M’so needy, so wet for you, I can’t wait any longer.” You gasp, entire body jolting as Matty leans down, licks a broad stripe over your cunt, kisses your clit.

“You can’t wait?” Matty says, mocking tone sending the need hammering in your veins into a fever pitch. “Greedy girl wants to get filled up and punished?” You moan out an affirmative, feeling his weight shift as he leans over to your bedside drawer and pulls out a toy. You hear him uncap a bottle of lube and slick up the toy, cunt clenching when he presses it gently against your hole. “You ready?”

“Please, Daddy. Please stop teasing. I can’t— fuckkk,” you cry, the suddenness of Matty slamming the toy into you sending liquid heat spiralling through your body. “Shit, yes,” you moan, breaking into a keening wail when he switches the toy on, the rabbit sending pulses of pleasure so intense at your clit that it nearly hurts.

“There you go, darling. All ready now, huh?” Without waiting for an answer, Matty brings his hand down to smack your ass hard. Every slap jolts the vibrator against your swollen clit, garbled whines falling pathetically from your lips. Your ass is flaming red and stinging as Matty brings his hand down again, pleasure coiling tight at the base of your spine. “Look so gorgeous all bruised up for me, princess. You’re matchin’ that pretty lace.” Your hips shift, at once desperately chasing pleasure and retreating from overstimulation.

Arching your back, you grind down against the vibrator, already melting into a slick puddle of need. “Daddy,” you whine, without even knowing what you’re pleading for. Pleasure winds itself tight through your body, your muscles tense and your head spinning.

Matty strokes the curve of your ass gently, smacks you hard, and you gasp, a high whine falling from your lips as the vibrator presses insistently against your clit. “Oh, sweet girl,” he sighs. “You gonna cum?” he coos, one hand sliding around to your front and gently cradling you. You nod helplessly, garbled whines falling from your lips. “Oh, baby. Go on, princess. Cum for me. You look so pretty when you cum, darling.”

One more hard slap to your inner thigh has you screaming, pitching headfirst into pure ecstasy. “Ohmygod, Daddy, yes!” you cry, face buried in the pillow as tears brim in your eyes. Pleasure clenches vice-tight around your organs, bordering on pain in your cunt where the vibrator still hammers against your sensitive nerves. Arousal drips down your legs, incoherent moans falling from your lips and heat licking in your belly.

Your cunt clenches as Matty pulls the toy free and you whine. “God, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your swollen clit. “You ready for Daddy to take what he needs, princess?”

You giggle breathlessly. “What do you need, Daddy?”

“Need to fuck this slutty little pussy, darling. Need to hear those pretty noises you make, fill you up, make sure you remember whose girl you are, alright?” Matty says, almost a moan.

“Please,” you breathe out, and the word’s barely left your lips before he’s inside you, your soaked cunt taking him greedily. Desire pulses heady between your legs, your back arching as you try desperately to fuck yourself back on him.

Matty’s nails dig into your hips, pain flaring where his body meets the sore flesh of your ass. “God, you feel so good, princess. Missed this sweet cunt so bad. Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t remember your own name, beautiful,” he promises, slamming his hips hard against yours.

Whimpering softly, your eyes slip shut as Matty’s fingers trail slickly over your wet clit. “Wish we could just fucking stay like this forever,” you groan, dazed and swimming in pleasure with Matty buried to the hilt inside you. You can feel him nearly trembling with the effort of holding still. “Give it to me, Daddy,” you plead. “I need it. Need it so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Such a little cockslut, princess. Want Daddy to fuck you dumb, right?” You nod frantically, whining out affirmatives as he traces his thumb over your hip. “S’it okay if I turn you over, darling? Wanna kiss my sweet girl while I make her stupid for me.”

Even though you agree, a whine slips out of you when he pulls out, just for a second, to flip you over. He smiles softly down at you, adoring, brushes a stray piece of hair off your face. Pouting, you arch up towards Matty until he gives you what you want; a slow, deep kiss as he fills you exactly the same way. Ecstasy floods your body, Matty’s hips slamming hard against yours as he drips moans into your mouth. “That’s my good little girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck. “Just gotta lay back and take it, okay, princess? Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

“So good to me,” you groan, locking your legs around his waist and pressing your heel into his back. Matty’s pained little moan falls straight to your cunt, pulses in your ears, slick, sweet noises filling the room. “Mmh, Daddy,” you whine, high and needy as he fucks into you.

Matty groans into your neck, sucks a bruise into soft skin. “My sweet girl,” he sighs, covering his mouth with yours. “Always so good for me, even when you’re a little slut,” he teases, circling your clit as you thrash under him.

Wild, erratic pleasure spills under your skin, your body precariously close to its end. “M’your little slut,” you moan, threading a hand through Matty’s curls and pulling him in for a kiss. “M’so close, Daddy, please!”

Smiling against your lips, Matty pinches your clit softly. “D’you deserve it, princess?” he asks, low and slightly dangerous. You bite your lip. “Nah, I didn’t think so either. Luckily for you, I’m feelin’ generous, angel. I’ll let you cum…” You bate your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “If you beg for it,” he adds with a smirk.

“Please, Daddy,” you gasp. “Please let me cum, I need it. Need you, want you all the time, please,” you practically scream, dissolving into incoherent, wanton pleas as Matty fucks into you over and over.

Your pulse hammers between your thighs, cunt clenching desperately around him. “Go on, princess. Cum for Daddy. Soak my cock, yeah?”

He tweaks your nipple, kisses your pulse point, slams hard into you, and you break. Your body collapses in on itself, pleasure crumbling your muscles one by one as you moan out the only word you know; Daddy. Pure ecstasy wipes your mind clean, melts into a hot puddle between your legs, Matty’s body warm and grounding against yours.

You smile blithely up at him, scrunching your face when he pulls out. “Wanna paint these pretty tits, angel. You gonna let me?” Eagerly, you nod, arching your back to press your tits up towards him. Your eyes fall to his cock, slick with your arousal and drooling precum as he strokes himself. The column of Matty’s neck stretches beautifully as he throws his head back in pleasure, moaning sweetly. He chokes out your name as he comes, cum splashing across your tits.

“You wanna get one more picture?” you grin, and Matty nods with wide eyes, fumbling for his phone and breathing hard as he photographs you. You start to draw patterns in the mess across your chest, sucking your fingers into your mouth and cleaning his cum off them.

“Such a little cumslut, princess. Love how filthy you are,” Matty murmurs, leaning down to kiss you and moaning quietly at his own taste. There’s a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his demeanour, then, and you catch the moment with both hands.

Smirking a little, you reach up to tug on his hair. “I saw that, Daddy. It’s okay, you got what you needed, can just be my good boy now. I’ll take care of you,” you promise, rolling on top of him and pressing your bodies together. The sticky mess of him smears between your chests, and you kiss him softly. “I’ll let you have whatever you want, Daddy. Just gotta say please.”

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 4

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: food's ready, come dish up guys

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): SMUT (consensual), oral (female receiving), intercourse, dirty talking, unprotected sex, masturbation, mind speak sexting?, physical abuse, mentions of SA.

Word count: 6993

(all photos are from pinterest)

That night, after Rhysand reclothed me, we talked about the future and how Tamlin needed to know, before things got messy with Eris or before he finds out and flips. All I had to do now was wait for the opportune time, which never seemed to come as Tamlin and Tarquin had been having tension. It seemed that part of the Spring Court’s lands on the border were prime farming spots for some of the spices that the farmers in the Summer Court grew. Tarquin had asked Tamilin to purchase the land and of course when Tamlin said no things started to get messy. Tamlin would go out and negotiate daily, and everyday he would come home angry. 

Tonight was no exception.

 I was sitting in one of the tea rooms reading my book when I heard him come home. The front door slammed, shaking the house, and then his office door slammed even harder.

I flinched. 

It has been like this for three days now. I looked at the clock on the wall and figured it was better for me to retire to my room with my novel for the night. 

I barricaded my door just for safety and crawled under the covers lighting a candle so that I could pick up where I left off. The main characters had finally confessed their love for one another and things were starting to get steamy. My eyes flitted across a particularly hot line and I felt my toes curl without warning once again. I should’ve known I was going to feel a little tug at the bond, but I was unprepared for the taut pull Rhysand gave me. 

Up late reading your dirty books mate? 

“Yes, I just needed the distraction,” I replied.

Did you tell your brother yet? 

I felt a pang of guilt, he had been waiting so dutifully for me to do so, and yet another day had passed where I was too scared, “I didn’t, he came home slamming doors and breaking vases again. I’m sorry Rhys.”

There’s no need to apologize. I want you to be safe after all. 

“Thank you for understanding,” I say sweetly

Of course mate. Now tell me what in this book has you all riled up? He says and I can hear his smirk. 

“A lady never kisses and tells,” I quip back. 

Ahh yes but ladies also don’t let strange men eat them out in secret rooms at balls. He says coolly. 

“Rhysand you little shit!” I laugh down the bond.

Come on my love, I’m dying to know what gets you off… Besides my tongue of course. 

I roll my eyes and try to send the emotion down the bond,  It’s nothing special really, he’s just fucking her, but he’s waited a while to do it so it’s extra steamy. I laugh. 

Poor bastard, I know the feeling. Rhys chuckles and I feel arousal flood between my legs. 

I can’t help but let my hand drift between my legs. Since Rhys touched me at the ball it’s all I’ve thought about (not that I would ever let him know). But suddenly the need for him has been so much stronger, I chalk it up to the mating bond strengthening, needing to be consummated.  I let my hand dip between my panties and I try to keep my emotions from flooding the bond, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing I could get off on his words alone. 

“Subtle Rhys,” I chuckle. 

I don’t need to be subtle, I told you exactly how it was going to go down that night at the ball did I not? 

My heart races and I let my finger on my clit speed up. 

“I suppose you’re right,” I say. 

Are you touching yourself darling? He purrs. 

Shit. 

“No,” I lie. 

You’re a terrible liar and you always have been, he chuckles.  I can feel you, my mate. 

“Damnit,” I curse, pulling my hand from my panties. 

Oh don’t you dare stop now, not when I’m currently fisting my cock. 

The image of Rhysand laying on his bed, naked, glorious and pumping his cock sends a wave of arousal straight through me and I practically scramble to shove my hands into my panties. 

Now tell me, are you playing with that beautiful little clit? The one I licked at the ball? 

Oh I was so in for it with this man, I was so utterly and terribly fucked. 

“Yes,” I admit quietly. 

Then I am terribly jealous of those delicate fingers. 

“Rhys,” I moaned back. It was all I could think about, him. 

Slip a finger in that tight little cunt won’t you darling? 

As stupid as it felt I did it, and god it felt good. Not as good as his felt, but it would have to do. 

“It doesn’t feel as good as you,” I say, trying to play the game. 

I hear him chuckle,  No my dear they don’t and they never will. 

“Are you close?” I ask, feeling my own orgasm coming. 

Let me hear those little begs again and I will be, he drawls. 

I know exactly what he means. After he feasted on me at the ball and I nearly jumped his bones afterwards. When he said he wanted to wait I pathetically let out a whine. 

“Please Rhys, I need you.” I plead. 

Fuck y/n, I hear him moan and it’s enough to make me hit my climax. 

“Oh fuck!” I cry down the bond. 

His own string of curses followed as he came himself and I could picture him lying there, chest sweaty and heaving, the aftermath of his orgasm all over him. It was almost enough to make me reach my hands down my panties again, almost. 

“So mind sex? That’s your thing?” I taunt him. 

A loud chuckle reverberates through my mind, No you’re my thing darling. 

“I’m flattered,” I laugh. 

A moment of silence passes and my chest continues heaving as I crawl further under the covers and blow out my candle. Romance book long forgotten. I sit in the quiet for a little longer waiting for Rhys to say something, until I finally speak up.

“Are you still there?” I ask timidly.

Always, simply catching my breath. How was your day today? 

“Boring, I don’t really have any friends here except my ladies maids and they are all terrible snoops. Tamlin has them in his back pocket.” I sigh. 

Just wait till you meet Nuala and Cerridwen, they’re snoops too. He laughs. 

“I can’t wait to,” I say.

I’m happy to finally hear you say that. He muses and I can practically feel his smile. 

“Well I better get some sleep. If I plan on telling Tamlin tomorrow I’ll need my wits about me.” I sigh. 

Goodnight darling, I love you.

There’s a hopefulness in his words. One I can’t meet. That phrase, ‘I love you’. I knew I should say it back. But I didn’t know what love meant. Didn’t know how it felt. I couldn't bring myself to return the sentiment. 

"Goodnight Rhys," was all I could say.

The next morning I woke up and Tamlin had already left, which was a damn shame because I would’ve liked to have told him before he had gone to fight with Tarquin all day. 

I paced most of the day in the tea room as I was beginning to grow antsy. Last night proved to me just how much I needed Rhysand, physically of course because of the bond. My skin was nearly sweating with need. I tried to read my book but it didn’t do much to help. I tried to go out and pick flowers for the dining table and it got me nowhere. To make matters worse it felt like Tamlin was gone for longer than usual as the darkness slid in, the moonlight shone, and all the lanterns and candles magically were lit.  

I started pacing in the foyer waiting for him to arrive home. Maybe he was taking so long because he had finally reasoned with Tarquin. I thought to myself. But as the doorknob jiggled and a fiery looking Tamlin came in I knew how dead wrong I was. 

“How was your meeting with Tarquin?” I asked, trying to seem sisterly, like that had ever won his affections. 

“Awful! The stubborn brute wants to take part of my land and only give me 20% of its profits per harvest!” he yells storming through the hall. I follow him. 

“20% isn’t bad, maybe you could show him what a generous High Lord you are by accepting the offer,” I chirped enthusiastically. 

“Are you out of your mind?” he whirls to look at me. “20% is cheap sister, not that you would ever have the mind for money. All you know how to do is spend mine.” 

“Tamlin, that's not fair and you know it.” I reason. 

“What does it matter anyways,” he rolls his eyes and begins storming off again. “You’ll be worth your weight in gold once you marry Eris and become his consort.” 

Fire boiled in my veins, “I already told you Tamlin, I don’t want to marry Eris. God how fucking selfish and cruel do you have to be to sell your sister off to a monster?!” I scream and as the words leave my mouth I already regret saying them. I had never been so bold in my life, at least not with Tamlin.

I don’t even have time to react before I feel a harsh slap across my face knocking me to the ground. “YOU ARE MY SISTER AND A WOMAN IN THIS COURT!” Tamlin screams at me. He picks me up by my hair, “and you will not question how I rule it.” 

Tears prick my eyes as the skin of my cheek burns. Tamlin releases my hair dropping my body to the ground and I’m left in a heap of tulle and tears as he slams his door. 

Are you okay? My mate calls into my mind.  

I press my cold hand to my cheek, “yeah I’m fine.” 

No you’re not, you're hurt. 

“I’m fine Rhys, it’s not bad,” I say, pulling myself up off the floor and winnowing to my room. 

What happened? 

I sigh, knowing he’ll badger me until he gets an answer. “I tried to get Tamilin to make amends with Tarquin so that he would be in a good mood and he hit me.” 

He hit you? I could hear him growling, feel the anger down the bond. 

“It’s really fine Rhys, I’m in my room now and I’m safe.” I say trying to calm him down. 

I’m going to fucking kill him y/n. I’m coming to get you right now. I’m not letting you stay there another minute. 

“Rhys please! Stop and be reasonable. If you barrel in right now it’s going to piss Tamlin off even more. He could hurt me or worse. We have to be civil about all this.” I reason with him. 

Fine, but no more after this y/n. I can’t stand it any longer. It’s killing me from the inside out. To know you’re in that horrible place. When you could be safe and warm here. 

“I promise I will figure this out, I just need time,” I assure him. 

I know you will, my beautiful strong mate.

“Tamlin hurry up, we're already late!” Lucien screams from the foyer. It was another council day and I had hoped that Tamilin would finally be able to reason with Tarquin.

Yesterday I went into town to shop for a new dress, it seemed I had exhausted all my other purple ones and I wanted more. I picked out a dress that was a far darker purple than any I had worn before. But it seemed fitting, seemed more Rhysand. 

“Let’s go,” Tamilin ordered entering the room in a huff. He peered at the dress I was wearing, “Purple again? I’d think you’ve grown tired of it by now.” 

Was this really his method of trying to make up for hitting me and yelling at me? Giving me a somewhat backhanded compliment?

“Viviane said that it was my color,” I replied, not entirely a lie. 

He didn’t say anything, just grabbed Lucien and winnowed us to the Night Court. 

I had no clue what to expect from the Night Court. I had never been before today. I had only ever heard stories. Stories of its darkness and its monsters. When we arrived I almost couldn’t believe that this is where Rhysand lived.

The large city under the mountain had a darkness to it, while faelights bobbed all around, it didn’t hide the darkness in the shadows that lingered. The city under the mountain was a metropolis, and it was terrifying with its large spires all around. Every surface is carved with lovely, hideous artwork: figures dance and fornicate, beg and revel. I was surprised Tamlin even allowed me to come with him today. 

We enter into a dimly lit chamber where all the Lords are already seated and waiting for us to arrive, Tamlin apologizes and chalks it up to me taking too long to primp, a lie of course. As my eyes scan the room I see only two chairs open and one happens to be next to Rhysand. I try to hide the smirk on my face as I take the seat next to him, forcing Tamlin to take the other one. 

You look ravishing as always. Croons Rhyand.

“Thank you, the dress is new,” I smile.

New and purple? You flatter me mate. He smirks. 

I chuckle down the bond, “Don’t flatter yourself too much, Vivianne said she liked me in purple as well.”

Well then I’ll have to thank Viviane later. He smiles. 

The council begins and just like I figured Tamlin and Tarquin laid into one another right away. All the other Lords but Rhysand and Kallias chimed in to solve the issue, but the winter and night court Lords seemed content to watch it all play out and I didn’t blame them. It took everything in me to not turn to the side to look at Rhys. His presence was so commanding especially in his own court and I had missed his face, those eyes, so much.

I felt a large hand being placed over my own under the table. 

You’re going to get me in trouble. I gripe at Rhys but flip my hand so I can hold his back.

Shh no one can see, I just wanted to feel you. 

Eventually the fighting dies down as the Lords end up forcing Tamlin to accept the deal Tarquin has offered and I try not to smile as my brother’s pissed off face. Turns out I was right and 20% isn’t such a low number after all. Rhys lets go of my hand to stand and address the room. 

“I think we’ve had more than enough political talk, why don’t we disband.” he states, and it sounds like his voice booms off the walls of the room. 

A murmur of agreement fills the room as the sound of obsidian chairs scratch the stone below, signaling that the lords are getting up. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I feel my stomach pit, is Rhysand stupid? But when I turn around I’m met with the raking stare of Eris Vanserra. 

“Hello my little fox, I was wondering if I might speak to you for a moment?” He asks, and I can practically feel Tamlin staring daggers into the side of my head.

“Yes of course my Lord,” I smile taking his arm. 

We promenade outside the council meeting room and into the hallway. I look up to find faint faelight glowing from large chandeliers, the walls are filled with tapestries and statues of people fucking and begging just like in the rest of the city. Large pillars shoot up from the aisles supporting the large room and I still wonder how Rhys could possibly live here. 

“I’m sorry for taking you away so soon, I know that you love to talk to Viviane, but I just had to see you,” Eris says. 

“No apologies necessary,” I reply, still taking in the sites around me. 

“I know that your brother and my father are still negotiating the terms of our marriage but I couldn’t wait to give you this,” he says before pulling a long black box out of his pocket, and opening it up. 

Inside lies a rather large and beautiful necklace. A huge golden crystal is attached by a string of glittering diamonds. If it was given to me by anyone else I would’ve thought it beautiful, but I knew it’s true meaning, it’s true purpose. It wasn’t just a piece of fine jewelry, it was a collar, meant to show everyone I belonged to Eris now. I took a mental deep breath. 

“Oh Eris, it’s beautiful!” I gasp, running my hands over the chain. 

“I knew you would like it,” he smiled. “Here allow me to help you put it on.” 

I turn around and feel him place the heavy jewel around my neck. The weight of it already making me feel shackled. His fingers dust over the nape of my neck fastening the clasp. He kisses my shoulder when he’s done and I feel his hands gently turning me around so he can see it on me. 

“It looks beautiful on you, like it was made for you,” he smiles, hand caressing my face.

“I love it, thank you,” I say, trying to hide my discomfort. 

“I promise you that when we are officially engaged you will have even bigger jewels,” he smirks, stepping forward even closer, causing me to step back. “And when we’re married even bigger jewels,” He croons and my back hits one of the many pillars. “But I’ll save the biggest and most expensive ones for when you bear me our first son.” he smirks and there’s nothing I can do to stop him from crashing his lips on mine.  

Eris kisses me hungrily and needily as my hands fly to the pillar my back is pressed on, any little movement to keep him farther away from me. His hands drop to wander my waist and I feel the entire room shudder causing pieces of dust to fly up everywhere. Eris pulls himself off of me. 

“What was that?” I ask afraid. 

“I’m not sure, I’ll go check,” Eris replies and he leaves me to run back to the council chambers to confer with the rest of the Lords. 

  I step forward from the pillar and take a deep breath. I start to follow Eris back to the council room but then my skin starts to buzz again and I stop in my tracks. Rhysand’s hands graze up my arms from behind me as he leaves gentle kisses on my neck. 

“That was you wasn’t it?” I smirk. 

“Maybe,” he smiles into my skin. “He had a lot of nerve kissing my mate in my court.”

“To be fair he didn’t know,” I giggle. 

“I don’t care, he was lucky I didn’t rip his head off,” he says, continuing to kiss my neck.

“This place is terrifying, how do you live here?” I laugh.

“I don’t, this place is just where I entertain other Lords,” he explains, kissing my neck still.  

“Then where do you live?” I ask, reaching up to press my hand against his face, encouraging him not to stop. 

He smiles against my skin, “I want you to tell your brother that you’re staying with Viviane again tonight.” 

“Why?” I ask. 

“Because, I finally have you here, in my court. I want you to stay here with me, even if it’s just for one night.” he emphasizes his statement with a long lick up my neck that has my toes curling in my shoes. 

I turn to look at him, “are you sure my brother won’t find out?” I ask, finally looking into those violet eyes I had been missing. 

“I’m positive,” he smiles and his eyes glance down to the necklace. “You weren’t wearing that earlier.”

I roll my eyes, “Eris just gave it to me. He said it was a gift but it feels more like a collar.” I say straightening my shoulders in discomfort from the weight of it. 

Rhysand doesn’t say anything, he just reaches a hand around the back of my neck to unclasp the necklace. I immediately feel the weight fall off into his hand and he looks at it before chucking it somewhere in the room. 

“Rhys!” I laugh.

“Much better now we can see your pretty neck,” he smirks before leaning in to kiss me. I practically melt into his touch.

Because the rest of the Lord ganged up on him, Tamlin left early and just like Rhys asked, I told him I would be staying with Viviane tonight. Tamlin didn’t even bat an eyelash. It wasn’t long until the last couple, Kallias and Viviane, left.  I turned to see Rhys staring at me from across the room with that playful smirk I always wanted to kiss off his face. 

“Are you ready to go mate?” he asked, holding out his arm to mine. 

I took it eagerly, “To go where?” I asked earnestly. 

“To Velaris,” he smiled brighter than I had ever seen him smile before and before I could question further he winnowed us away. 

When the shadows cleared I was in a house. A lush, beautiful and homey house. Thick red wool carpeted the floor, and the walls were made of a rich wood. Comfy chairs and chaises were littered about and a warm fire sprung to life. It looked lived in and loved compared to the mansion in the Spring Court. 

“So this is where you live?” I ask taking in my sights. 

“Yes it is. The place we just were? We call it The Court of Nightmares, that’s where we conduct business to keep up appearances for other courts. But this is where I live, Velaris, the city of starlight.” he explains watching me take it all in. 

I look out a large window and see the golden fae lights of the village beyond. It sits below a large snow capped mountain. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, and it already feels like home. 

“What do you mean we?” I ask. Before I can answer two large crashes come from the terrace outside causing me to jump. 

“I mean my cousin Mor, my second in command and of course Cassian and Azriel.” he says nodding to the doors where the two Illyrians from the ball are waltzing in. “Y/n this is Azriel, “ Rhysand nods to the one with the shorter hair and Azriel waves. “And this is Cassian.” he nods to the one with the longer hair. 

“Ahh yes the one that bites,” I muse. 

“Only sometimes,” Cassian chuckles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you y/n,” he says, holding out his hand. 

I shake it and my whole hand nearly disappears in his just like Rhysand’s. “The pleasure is all mine, I’ve never met an Illyrian before.” I say looking over his large wings. 

“Then you’re missing out for sure,” he says looking at Azriel who just rolls his eyes.

“Your wings are magnificent, would you mind if I…” my words fall short as I hold up my hand. 

“Touch them?” Cassian asks. “Go right ahead y/n,” he smirks, eyes flitting to Rhys. 

I reach my hand out to graze over the material of his wings, they feel like leather. They are rugged to the touch and I can tell that they have seen many years of battle. I hear what sounds like the snapping of leather behind me. I turn around and my jaw nearly hits the floor. There before me, Rhysand stands with his own Illyrian wings. 

“I have wings too you know,” Rhysand says  as  he tilts his head. 

Cassian erupts into laughter, “Feeling a bit jealous there Rhys?” he jokes. 

Rhys just rolls his eyes and pulls a hand out of his pocket and offers it to me. I take his hand, still too stunned to find Rhys with wings to even speak. 

“We’ll see you two later, I’m going to give y/n the rest of the tour,” Rhysand drawls leading me towards the stairs. 

“Goodnight you two,” Cassian drawls before taking off with Azriel. 

“I didn’t know you had wings” I say, still bewildered staring up at them. 

“It’s not really something I make a spectacle of. I only have them out when I’m going to use them, otherwise they tend to get in the way,” he explains, leading me up the stairs. 

“So you can shift back and forth between having them and not having them?” I ask. 

“Essentially, yes,” he says and shifts back to his wingless form just to prove the point.

“So what was the deal with me touching Cassian’s wings? Is that like taboo or something?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heat up remembering how Cassian smirked at Rhys when I asked. 

“Illyrians can feel through their wings and are known to attack first and ask questions later if they are touched without invitation. It was basically like if you ask if you could touch his abs,” Rhysand chuckles. 

“Oh,” I said, my heart stopping. “Now I feel bad.” 

“Don’t feel bad, Cassian loves teasing me. He let you touch his wings just to watch my face as you did so,” Rhys laughed again, opening a door to our left. “This is one of the guest rooms.” 

I look around at the somewhat dark room, the same lush carpet coats the floor along with the same wooden paneling. It was quaint and perfect. Rhys continued leading us down the hall to show me another guest room which was much like the first just a little bit bigger. He explained that they were the rooms Cassian and Azriel slept in for Solstice. 

“And this is my room,” he explained before opening the door to the last room in the hallway. 

The room is much larger than the other two, the huge bed was made with dark black and purple blankets and pillows. I heard the door close as I continued to explore. The bed sat next to a balcony that had the same view of the living room, the village lit with fae lights and the snowy mountain. To the left was a large bathroom with a bathtub, large enough I realized, to fit Rhysand’s wings. 

“Your room is-” 

“Our room. This is our room now.” he says and I turn to meet his gaze. “I’ve waited so long to see you standing here. In Velaris, in the townhouse, in this room.” 

“And what is it that I’m normally doing in this room, Rhys?” I smile, faking my innocence. 

“Well,” he drawls, stepping closer to me. “It goes a little something like this,” he muses before placing a hand on my cheek and kissing me. 

This kiss is different, less heated than all the others we shared before it. It holds all the passion of what’s to come, what we both know is coming. His hands slide to my waist and I let out a small moan and I can feel Rhys trying not to smile. My hands tangle in his hair pulling him closer as I feel my legs hit the mattress. He pulls me closer to him so I don’t fall and I feel him turn me around so my back is facing him. 

“Normally I would use my magic to take your clothes off,” he says voice low, his hands unlacing the corset in my dress. “But I want to take my time with you tonight,” he continues undoing the last lace. 

I nearly melt at his words, but I feel the dress start to fall and I grab the top of it to keep it from falling down. The dress didn’t allow for any undergarments meaning I would be completely bare to him. 

Rhysand places a kiss on my shoulder, “You’ve never let a man see you naked before have you?” he asks. 

“No I haven’t,” I say shyly. I feel a moment of fear but turn around and let my dress fall to the floor in a giant pile of purple chiffon. Rhysand’s eyes rake down my body and I move to cover my breast with my arms as pink tints my cheeks. 

“Don’t you dare cover those perfect breasts mate,” he says gently, pulling my arms away. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’m so lucky to call you my mate.” he kisses me again, absolving any fear I have as I feel his hands finally roam my naked body. I push him away lightly. 

“I want to see you too,” I say breathlessly looking into his eyes that are suddenly a darker shade of violet than they were before. 

“As my mate commands,” he smirks, standing back to take off his clothes. His eyes locked on mine, never breaking eye contact until he stood before me completely bare. 

I let my eyes rake down on him. His body ripples with strong and lean muscles, the upper part of his chest and shoulders are covered in swirling tattoos. My eyes dare to travel lower over his abs to his straining cock. All I can think to myself is there’s no way that’s going to fit inside me.

Rhysand chuckles, stepping towards me, “I promise it will fit mate.”

“Shit I said that out loud?” I curse ducking my chin in embarrassment. 

“No you didn’t, but your thoughts were so loud you might as well have,” he laughs tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. 

My eyes drift down to his chest again and I finally let my hands wander the muscles on his chest. His skin soft and smooth under my fingers, I run them up his abs, over his pecs, across his shoulders and down his arms earning a low groan from him. I take his hands and place them on my waist, throwing my own over his shoulders and as I look into his eyes the words just tumble out of me. 

“I love you Rhys,” I breathe. 

“You don’t have to say it just because I said it the other day,” he says almost sadly. 

“I’m not. I love you Rhysand,” I smile. 

A smile spreads across his face, “I love you too mate.” 

His hands pull me closer to him and I can feel my breasts pressing against his chest as he seals our lips again. This time the kiss is more needy as I feel my heart rate pick up. His frame backs me up and I can feel his cock pressing into me making me practically moan into the kiss. 

My legs hit the mattress again, this time he lets me fall onto the bed. I open my eyes and watch his eyes rake down me again, nothing short of a predatory gaze behind them. His knees hit the mattress and he crawls over me, caging me in with his arms. He kisses me deeply and begins to move his lips down my jaw and to my neck again. I can feel his restraint as he tries not to leave love bites all over me. His lips go lower and lower and my chest starts to heave in anticipation of what I think is next. 

“Your breasts,” he says, kissing the top of each one. “Are the most beautiful pair of breasts I’ve ever seen. I should’ve worshiped them the moment that dress hit the floor.” He smirked.

He started kissing the underside of each breast, then the sides and then the tops again purposefully avoiding the one place I wanted his mouth the most, making me squirm. 

“And these pretty pink nipples,” he says before finally taking one in his mouth and suckling. 

“Oh fuck,” I breathe having my back arch into him. His other hand comes up to draw little circles on my other nipple. 

“Dirty mouth mate,” he teases before resuming his menstrations.

My hands fly to his hair as I pull him closer to me needing more of him. Needing all of him. 

“Wouldn’t want this one to think I don’t love it,” he smirks before sucking my other bud into his mouth. 

“Rhys please,” I breathe tugging at his hair. 

“So eager are we mate?”  he says kissing down my body till he gets to my core. He skips over it and sits up, taking my leg and kissing my ankle. He draws a path of kisses all the way down my leg till he reaches the inside of my thigh. He gives me an evil grin before sitting up and beginning to do the same with the other leg.  

“Ugh Rhysand!” I groan, causing him to chuckle. 

“I told you I wanted to take my time mate,” he chuckles against my calf.  “Was there a certain body part you were hoping I would kiss?” he asks suggestively.

“Your favorite part,” I muse. 

“You cruel wicked thing. As if I could ever just choose one part of you to be my favorite.” he says, acting wounded, putting my leg down. He leans into my pussy and places a kiss there running a finger through my folds. “Though I will say that one of my top contenders is this pretty little clit.” he hums lowly before flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves. 

“Ahh,” I scream, my hands going straight to his hair. 

“Precisely why I love it. I love the little sounds you make when I lick it,” he growls before diving in to feast on me. 

“Oh my gods Rhys!” I scream, grinding my hips into his face. 

That’s right y/n I wanna hear everything. We’re not in Beron’s office anymore, scream for me mate. He says into my mind and I do. 

I scream and writhe and moan. My eyes flit down to where his mouth is attached to my pussy. His darkened eyes look up at me watching the pleasure rake through my body. One of his hands comes from my hip and I feel his fingers tease my entrance before he slides one into me. His mouth continues suckling on my clit as his fingers curl to massage that spot inside of me that I didn’t know was there until he touched it at the ball. 

Gods your pussy tastes so good. After we’re officially mated I promise to spend a whole night between your legs eating you out until you can’t move. 

“Rhys!” I scream, his words my undoing as I cum on his tongue. He works me through my orgasm until my legs stop shaking and then he pulls his finger from me. He places a kiss on my clit one last time before moving up the bed. He watches me as he sucks all my leftover cum on his finger off. 

I grab his neck and pull him down to kiss me again. He slips his tongue into my mouth and I can taste myself on him. My hands run down his back feeling the powerful muscles there,  gods I could just sit here and touch him all day. He was as beautiful as I had pictured him that one night not too long ago. He was everything and he was mine. 

“That’s right mate, I am yours,” he said between kisses. Clearly my thoughts we’re projecting again. 

“And I am yours Rhys,” I breathe, and he takes a moment to study my face trying to read if I really mean it, like he thought the words would never leave my mouth.  

“Mine,” he grumbles, connecting our lips again. “Beautiful and perfect and all fucking mine.” 

I feel his cock nudging my entrance and I gasp. I want it, I want all of him, but I’m scared. 

“Rhys I’m scared, I’ve never had sex before,” I say. 

“Don’t worry darling I wasn’t going to push in yet. Do you think you’re ready?” he asks sweetly. 

“Yes I’m ready,” I nod. 

“Okay tell me if it hurts too much and I’ll stop right away okay?” He says, kissing my forehead. 

“I will, I promise,” I assure him, cupping his cheek. 

“Here we go,” he says and I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance and it’s enough to have a large wave of arousal flood between my legs once more. 

He pushes his tip in and I start to feel the burn but I don’t say anything as he slowly continues to push in. I feel him stretching me and the mixture of pleasure and pain starts to take over my body. Once he’s nearly fully inside me I wince and he stops. 

“Shh it’s okay, you’re doing so good my mate,” he coos, kissing my brow. 

“I’m good now, keep going,” I breathe. 

I feel him bottom out inside me and I scream in both pain and pleasure once more. 

“Fuck y/n,” he groans, but he doesn’t move trying to give me time to adjust. I relish how full I feel with him all the way in me and I look down at his arms. His muscles are taught and his veins are nearly popping and I realize it’s taking everything inside of him not to pull his cock out and slam it into me. The thought of him taking me so rough puts butterflies in my stomach. 

“Rhys please move,” I cry trying to rock my hips into him. 

He pulls out a little and thrusts back in and I hold back my cry as he does it again. He starts to build up a good slow tempo and after a while the pain disappears. 

“Fuck you’re taking me so good, you’re doing so good mate.” he groans trying to keep himself from losing control. 

“Harder Rhys,” I whine running my hands through his hair. 

“No I don’t want to hurt you,” he shakes his head watching his cock disappear inside of me looking for any hint of discomfort. 

He’s being gentle, trying to make sure I feel good. But all I can think of are his whimpers and moans from when he stroked his cock a few nights ago, and how desperately I want to hear them again. How desperately I want my pussy to be the thing that draws them from his lips. 

I grab his face and force him to look at me so that he can see how dead serious I really was, “Rhys I want you to fuck me,” I ordered him. 

“Fuck y/n,” his eyes widened and I could see all resolve has left exit his body. 

His hips thrusted into me harder and I strangled cry left my mouth as he continued to fuck me. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room as my nails raked down his back, bringing those moans of his to the surface, I could’ve came right there. 

“Fuck Rhys it feels so good,” I say blissfully. 

“Gods mate how is your pussy so tiny and tight?” he groans into my neck fucking me harder. “You feel so good wrapped around me.” 

I feel his lips crash onto mine again, hips never faltering. I can barely keep our lips attached as he keeps pulling moans from me and all I can think is how utterly his I am. 

“Say it again,” he grits out and I know exactly what he means. 

“I’m yours Rhysand,” I hum. 

“Mine,” he grunts fucking me even harder. 

The new pace has me seeing stars as I grip onto his shoulders leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin. I feel the ever familiar knot in my stomach growing and I’m moments away from cumming with his name on my tongue. 

“Rhys I’m gonna cum,” I warn him and I can see the muscle in his jaw flicker. 

“Me too. Cum with me mate,” he grunts before flicking my clit. I crumble the moment he flicks the sensive bud. 

“OH GOD RHYS!” I scream digging my nails into his back again. 

“Oh fuck y/n,” he groans, hips stuttering as he spills his seed into me. 

We’re a heap of sweat and ragged breaths as he keeps himself propped up as not to crush me. My hands smooth back his hair and I leave sweet kisses on his brow. 

“I love you so much Rhys,” I whisper in his ear leaving a kiss there. I mean every word, my soul so full of love for him that tears prick my eyes. 

“I love you too y/n.” he smiles, pressing our lips together. 

He sits up pulling out of me and I feel a breath escape my lips, disappointed at the sudden emptiness. He sits on his knees and I watch as he stares between my legs. His eyes light up in amusement. 

“What?” I giggle sitting up a little on my arms. 

“I’ve waited forever to have this view,” he smirks. 

“What view?” I ask.

“You, naked, in my bed, with my cum dripping out of your pussy.” he muses, leaning over me again. “Totally and completely mine.” he smiles, kissing me again.

I hum in approval at his words and kiss him harder feeling his skin melt against mine. I try to pour every ounce of love I have into it. The way he kisses me has me seeing stars and I suddenly feel hot again, like I need more of him. 

“Rhys I want more,” I say between kisses. 

“I fuck you one time and you already want more?” he chuckles. “Don’t worry mate, I’m not done with you yet.”

Taglist: @crystalferret202 @heyyitsnat21 , @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson , @randomperson1234sblog , @local-fangirl09 , @bleh-81, @annaaaaa88 , @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @tenaciousperfectionunknown , @judig92 , @aunicornmademedoit, @sharknutz , @slytherintaco , @isa1b2h3 , @nickishadow139 

[bekolxeram]

I was reading a lot of fics about Tommy discovering Buck's new found stress baking habit post reunion, then this cringy idea popped into my mind. Now you get to suffer with me.

NSFW-ish

Lukewarm water, 360 grams. Honey, 10 grams. Dry yeast, 7 grams. Mix. Flour, 5… wait, no, wrong flour. Where’s my god damn bread flour? When was the last time I made bread? Oh yes, last month, right before Tommy and I got back together, it should be around… Ah, there, found it! No...

No!

Don’t get sentimental now, there’s no place for melancholy tonight.

“Sexy thoughts. Sexy thoughts.” Buck mutters to himself, desperately trying to stop his wandering mind from ruining his mood.

Think of Tommy. Hot, sexy, pilot.

The cyclic looks so small in his big yet surgically precise hand. It almost seems like he’s telepathically flying the chopper with his mind, not with his strong, steady arm. His fingers are long enough to engulf the control stick completely and more, sometimes he has to twist his wrist around just to flick the top… uh… the button on top.

He can feel the fabric of his sweatpants straining against his hip. The tight cotton shirt he picked out especially for the night feels extra tight around his rapidly warming skin. Good, it seems like his tactic is working.

And his pecs… that time when he wore nothing but his flight suit, umm... They’re so fun to play with, squeeze them, bite them, lick them, sleep on them, make them bounce. I don’t need to “explore” to be sure how much I love them. It’s not even about gender, I know a good pair when I see one.

Stop. No. He’s apologized. I’ve apologized. We’re all good.

It feels like all we do these days is to apologize, then have make up sex. Not saying it’s not good sex, but I want that light, fun sex we used to have, before we…

Don’t, don’t go there.

Anyway, oh, his beautiful face. The one stubborn strand of hair on his forehead that always refuses to comply with any hair product. The constellation of freckles scattered across his perfectly shaped nose. The sensual curve of his lips. The creases around his eyes and his cheeks when his whole face is lit up by that classic scrunchy smile. I swear they look even more prominent now… Oh! How could I forget, that delicious cleft on his chin. If there’s one saving grace coming out of the breakup, it’s his decision to double, no, triple his effort at the gym. His facial features look that much more striking on his now leaner body. Who gets over a heartbreak by becoming a Greek statue anyway? Pick up baking like a normal person, please.

Wait, I’m thinking about the breakup, aren’t I? Don’t. Don’t! Ugh… too late.

Buck lightly bangs his head against the counter in frustration. Deciding to focus on the task at hand instead, he promptly weighs out his flour, sprinkles in a pinch of salt, then pours the bubbly yeast mixture into the dry ingredients.

Just as he’s about to put his hands to work, he’s interrupted by a familiar rhythm at the door. Quickly wiping his hands on his apron, then pushing the waistband of his pants down by half an inch for Tommy’s viewing pleasure, he goes on to greet the man he’s been waiting for.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Tommy apologizes as he’s entering the loft. “I believe the infamous LA traffic still hasn’t recovered from the emergency freeway landing last year.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” Buck shoots him a reassuring smile, clearly delighted by having his beloved in his space again. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right with you. I need to finish this dough first.”

“But I thought you said you wanted to relax tonight? Aren’t we just gonna order takeout?” Tommy’s visibly confused by Buck’s ongoing culinary endeavor.

“Oh, this? This is not for tonight. It has to proof until at least tomorrow morning,” Buck replies absentmindedly, his hands continue kneading the dough without pause.

“You don’t have to, Evan. I’m okay with no breakfast at all,” Tommy walks around the kitchen counter to give the hardworking baker a kiss on the temple. “As long as I’m with you.”

“Um… no, I’m making these because my parents are coming to town.”

“Tomorrow morning?!”

“In a month. They’re coming to see Maddie in a month. I’m just stress baking because they…” Buck lets out a sarcastic laugh, “they stress me out.”

“Ahhh… is that so? Well, I’m happy to have learned this about you. I never knew you could bake.”

“I couldn’t. I picked it up recently, after you…” Those dreaded words have already slipped out of his mouth before Buck realizes. He’s been trying his damnedest to steer the night away from this particular direction, but as it turns out, he’s utterly powerless against the freight train of emotions he’s been keeping deep inside. He briefly considers changing the subject, but Tommy’s heard him already. He perks up his eyebrows, signaling Buck to finish his sentence.

It’s better to rip off the band aid now, than to let it snowball into something unstoppable.

“...after you dumped me,” Buck comes clean reluctantly.

Tommy drops his eyes and sighs in understanding, before gently wrapping his arms around Buck from behind. “I’m sorry, baby,” he presses his lips onto the golden curls in front of him.

“Chimney told me, you have a tendency to run away if you’re being pushed too hard. I should wait for you to reach out instead of… the other way around.” Buck keeps working on his dough, intentionally averting his gaze from the man behind him.

“Mmhmm.”

“It was… agonizing. I saw you everywhere. I saw you at home, I saw you at the fire house. I saw you at the coffee shop. I saw you when a helicopter passed by in the sky. You were like… a ghost, haunting me, every waking moment of my life. You know what? Not even just waking, you were haunting my dreams, too. The only thing that managed to stop me from texting you was baking. I had all the supplies at home because I was planning to surprise you with a cake for your birthday but…”

Tommy abruptly lets go and backs off. While Buck fully expects the night to be ruined after his long winded ramble, he mourns the sudden loss of contact nonetheless.

Still not looking up from the increasingly elastic mass on the counter, Buck continues, “I just have to knead it for… um… 5 more minutes, then I’m all yours. Let’s start over, yeah? I’m over it, I’m okay now. Let’s forget about it and just… chill. There’s this movie I…” He’s cut off by Tommy’s return, arms secured around his waist once again, chest pressed firmly against his back, the only difference being that Buck can feel Tommy’s body heat radiating this time.

“Ghost, you said?” Tommy whispers, lips barely grazing the hair standing on Buck’s nape.

“Yeah…” Buck shivers. He turns his head slightly to take a peek at the man behind him.

Yes, Tommy’s shirtless.

“Mmm, keep going,” Tommy demands, hands sliding under the hem of Buck’s shirt to roam around his midsection, lips softly connected to the side of his neck.

So Buck keeps going. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate. Press. Rotate.

He feels two big hands caressing his shoulders, along his arms, then all the way down to his own busy hands.

“What are you making?”

“Ba — Bagels.”

“Umm… I love bagels,” Tommy lazily drags his mouth from Buck’s neck to his shoulder, leaving a trail of delicate kisses behind, “do you know how I like to take it?”

“How…?”

Tommy props his head back up, chin resting on the younger man’s shoulder. “Plain, with cream cheese,” he breathes straight into Buck’s ear. “So much cream cheese that it… oozes out everywhere. Leaking from the side, through the middle…” his tongue darts out to give that spot right underneath the earlobe an inquisitive lick. “I love it when it gets all over my face, painting my mouth white.”

Buck’s previously regular cadence starts faltering. He doesn’t know when to press or when to rotate the dough anymore.

“Hey, let me help you with that,” Tommy grabs a hand full of the dough, and squeezes, hard. Yet, the dough barely budges. “Oh, am I doing it wrong?”

Buck can’t help but giggle. “You have to knead with your palms, not your fingers. Here, let me show you,” he covers Tommy’s right hand with his own, and pushes the heel of his palm into Tommy’s wrist. “You want to fold the dough onto itself, then roll your palm out while pressing down. A bagel dough is supposed to be pretty stiff, so feel free to put your whole body weight into it.”

“Like this?” Tommy mimics exactly what Buck just showed him.

“I’ll give you an A,” Buck turns his head around, meeting Tommy’s gaze. Their faces are so close together, they can feel each other breathing. “You’re a fast learner.”

“I have the best teacher,” Tommy murmurs.

They naturally gravitate towards each other, like two stars on a collision course, until their lips clash together into a sloppy, filthy open-mouthed kiss.

Pulling back slightly to gasp for air, Buck’s pupils are completely blown out, leaving merely a thin icy ring around his dark pool of arousal. “You can use both hands if you want…”

“Let me try that,” Tommy surrounds Buck in his arms, pinning him against the kitchen surface. Then, he starts working on the dough, using his entire body, making sure to time every pressing motion with a thrust from the hip, rocking the younger man into the edge of the counter.

“Mmm — Ah…” the friction generated by Tommy’s movement alone is enough to make Buck moan. He never thought baking could be this erotic. “That — That works…”

He allows himself to enjoy Tommy’s sweet show of strength for a few moments before firmly gripping Tommy’s wrists, stilling him. “It’s — It’s done. Now we put it back into the mixing bowl,” he hastily drops the dough into the metal container, causing a loud thud, “and leave it in the fridge overnight.”

Tommy gives him one more kiss on the cheek, and a pat on his lower back, “go,” then steps aside.

Buck nearly trips over his own feet walking towards the fridge. He hears water running in the background, probably over Tommy’s talented hands. Wrapping up the stainless steel bowl with more than enough plastic wrap, then shoving the whole thing into an empty corner of his fridge, Buck is all too eager to return to Tommy’s touch.

Slamming the fridge door close, Buck whips his head around in a millisecond to catch an eye full of Tommy in his shirtless glory for the first time in the night. He’s drying his hands with a kitchen towel, finger by finger, his biceps flex every time he rubs a digit clean.

Buck walks straight up to the object of his desire, waiting no time to close their distance. Hooking an elbow around Tommy’s neck, he pulls him into a deep, urgent kiss, while his free hand travels down from Tommy’s clavicle towards his nipple.

“Wait,” Tommy stops the exploring hand on its track, “wash your hands first.”

Buck groans in frustration. He unties the knot in his back, takes off his apron, then swiftly treks towards the kitchen sink to prepare himself for the ensuing nighttime activities.

Tommy follows him, settling snugly behind Buck while he’s cleaning his hands. Tommy slowly dips his mischievous fingers into Buck’s waistband, pleasantly surprised to find bare skin underneath.

“Oh, no underwear? Someone’s eager tonight,” Tommy says in a seductive tone.

Roughly drying his hands on his own shirt, Buck spins around to face Tommy, “I’ve been waiting for you to notice…” Feeling Tommy’s fingers tapping the hem of his top, Buck peels it off right away, letting those enormous hands roam free across his body.

“Bed?” Tommy asks in between kisses.

“Couch.” Buck pants.

Just when Buck’s calculating in his head the logistics of moving to the couch without breaking contact with his man, Tommy withdraws his hand from Buck’s bare skin.

“Hold on tight,” Tommy suddenly grabs onto the back of Buck’s thighs and lifts him clear off the ground, carrying him towards the underside of the loft.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— i’ve been thinking about jumping ; things can go rough and harsh when your emotions overwhelmed you

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

You sit on the edge of your bed, hugging your knees to your chest as the events of the day play on repeat in your mind like a broken record. The weight of everything—your academic struggles, the unspoken tension with your parents, and now the appointment result—presses down on you, your chest heavy with a nameless frustration. You want to scream, hit something, or just curl up and disappear, but all you can do is bury your face in the soft fabric of Tsukishima's hoodie, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne lingering on it.

The oversized sleeves feel like a small shield against the turmoil swirling inside you, but they can't stop the barrage of thoughts. What did the doctor say again? You try to recall every word, focusing on the moment instead of the whirlwind in your head. But even then, the tension in your body remains.

Your phone buzzes in your bag, snapping you out of your thoughts. You reach for it, flipping it open with half-hearted curiosity. It's a photo. From Tsukishima. Your heart skips, then thuds in your chest as you open the image—Tsukishima and his teammates, standing proudly with the volleyball championship trophy, their faces glowing with accomplishment.

Your lips twitch upward, an involuntary smile breaking through your melancholy. His message from this morning about the game resurfaces in your mind, and you wish you could’ve been there. Seeing him in that moment, surrounded by his teammates, makes you feel proud, even if a small pang of guilt tugs at your chest for missing it. You were supposed to attend his game but unfortunately you have an appointment scheduled by your mom today.

You stare at the photo for a while, unsure of what to say. He looks happy, genuinely happy in a way you don’t often see. He’s always so serious, so focused, but here, in this photo, he’s smiling with his eyes, that small smirk playing on his lips.

Finally, you type a response:

Congratulations, champ 🎉🎊

You add an extra line of happy stickers, trying to convey the joy you assume he must be feeling.

It doesn't take long before his reply pops up.

Are you done with your appointment? How was it?

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers hovering over the screen. How do you even explain? You’re not really sure what you feel anymore.

Yeah, it went fine

His next message comes almost immediately.

At your dorm now?

Yes, just got back.

Do you want to join us? We’re celebrating with Korean barbecue.

Your initial instinct is to say yes. It sounds nice—fun, even. A distraction from your racing mind, a chance to be near him again. But you stop yourself before you type. You know how you are right now. You’re not in the mood for loud celebrations, for crowded places, for the inevitable small talk that you’ll have to force with his teammates. They don’t know you, and frankly, you don’t feel like pretending everything’s fine. Not tonight. So instead, you respond,

I think I’ll skip this one. Feeling a bit tired 🥹

You watch the chat bubble indicating that he’s read the message, but no immediate reply comes. Your fingers grip the phone a little tighter, heart beating in your throat. You wonder if he’s annoyed or disappointed.

Finally, a message pops up.

Okay. Rest well 🤍

The simplicity of his words eases some of the tension, but only just. You reply with a quick, Have fun with the team! 😊 before tossing the phone aside. You fall back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. The quiet of your room feels suffocating, but you’re too drained to move.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes again, breaking the silence. You sigh, reaching for it with a sluggish arm. It's your mom this time.

Doctor Adi just sent me a prescription for your medication. Can you go to the drugstore and pick it up before dinner?

You groan, kicking your feet in the air in childish defiance, but you know you have no choice. Dragging yourself up, you grab your wallet and throw on the hoodie—Tsukishima’s hoodie, the one he gave you that night after your movie marathon at his place.

As you step outside, the evening air feels cool against your skin. The walk to the pharmacy is quiet, almost eerily so, but you appreciate the solitude. It gives you time to think, though you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Your mind is still racing, stuck somewhere between anger, sadness, and confusion.

You reach the drugstore and head inside, your thoughts still buzzing like white noise. The bright lights and sterile smell are grounding, in a way, pulling you out of your head as you approach the counter. You hand over your prescription and wait, shifting from foot to foot.

Just as you’re zoning out, you catch a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. Tall, lanky, with those distinctive glasses perched on his nose—Tsukishima. Your heart skips, your body tensing. He’s standing at the cashier, his back to you as he pays for something. You freeze, instinctively pulling the hood up over your head, hoping he won’t notice you. Maybe—

His eyes meet yours.

Damn it.

His brows furrowing in that familiar, questioning way. He starts walking toward you, and for a moment, you consider bolting out of the store. But your feet are rooted to the spot “What are you doing here?” he asks, stopping just a few steps away, his voice low and calm.

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “Picking up my prescription.”

He looks at you, his gaze sharp, like he’s assessing whether or not to believe you. “Are you sick?”

Your voice comes out higher than intended. “No! It’s just vitamins.”

He doesn’t seem convinced but doesn’t press further. His eyes linger on you for a moment longer, and you feel like you’re under a microscope.

“What about you?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation away from yourself. “What are you doing here?”

“One of my teammates burned his hand,” he replies, holding up a small bag from the pharmacy. “Had to pick up a first aid kit.”

You nod, unsure of what else to say. Silence stretches between you, heavy and uncomfortable. You can’t tell if it’s just your own nerves, or if something has shifted between you two.

“You’re still invited to dinner,” he says, breaking the silence. “We’re eating across the street.”

You hesitate again, your heart tugging in two different directions. Part of you wants to go, to be with him, to see him smile again like in that photo. But the other part—the heavier, louder part—wants to retreat, to hide away from the world and the strange, gnawing feelings inside of you.

“I’ll pass,” you finally say, your voice soft. “I’m really not up for it tonight.”

Tsukishima’s face remains unreadable, his calm demeanor unchanged. He nods slightly, giving a small shrug. “Alright,” he says, his tone neutral. “See you later then.”

You watch him walk out the door—crossing the street then entering the restaurant, leaving you standing there, the awkward tension hanging in the air even after he’s gone. You let out a deep breath, rubbing your temples as the dull ache in your chest refuses to go away. For a second, you wonder if you made the right decision. Should you have gone with him? Would it have been better to push through your exhaustion and just enjoy the dinner? Something’s off. Normally, he’d at least touch your cheek or pat your head, a small gesture he picked up after you started dating. But today, nothing. It’s like he’s keeping his distance.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear your name being called at the counter. As you approach, the cashier greets you with a curious question.

“Do you know the tall guy who was just here?”

“Yeah, I do,” you answer, wondering where this is going.

“Well, excuse me if this is inconvenient, but he left his credit card. Would you be able to give it to him?”

You blink, surprised, before you nod. “Oh, yeah, sure.” After paying, you take the card, glancing over at the restaurant where Tsukishima disappeared. You inhale deeply, debating for a second before finally deciding to go after him.

Crossing the street, you enter the restaurant, scanning the room for him and his teammates. You spot them instantly—a group huddled around a table, Tsukishima grilling meat while they talk animatedly. As you slowly walk towards the table, you hear fragments of their conversation.

“Hey, Tsukishima, where’s your girlfriend? Why doesn’t she come to your games?”

“Yeah, I thought she’d be here since it’s your last game—”

Your steps falter as you take in their words, heart racing. His last game? Why didn’t he tell you? A whirlwind of emotions swirls inside you—confusion, hurt, frustration. You hadn’t even realized how important tonight was for him. And why didn’t he say anything?

Just then, Yamaguchi spots you. “Oh, hey Tsukki, look!” He gestures toward you with a bright smile, nudging Tsukishima.

Tsukishima’s eyes lock with yours from across the room, and for a moment, the air between you two is thick with unsaid words. He stands, walking towards you with a steady calmness. You stammer slightly under his gaze, your grip tightening around his forgotten credit card. As he approaches, his familiar presence washes over you, but there’s still a gnawing tension beneath the surface.

When he reaches you, he takes the card from your hand without a word, but his fingers graze yours lightly. “Thanks,” he mutters, his voice softer than usual, before placing his hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the table. The touch that you’d missed earlier is back, but it feels different now—charged, like there’s more that neither of you is willing to admit.

“This is her,” Tsukishima introduces you to the table with a smile that feels almost out of character, as though he’s both proud and slightly awkward about it. You give a small bow, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as the group eyes you with friendly curiosity. Tsukishima pulls a chair for you beside him, the gesture simple but grounding.

As you sit, he immediately starts preparing a plate for you, placing slices of grilled beef and arranging the sauce with his usual precision. Your eyes catch on the care in his actions—silent, but thoughtful. You want to say something, to ask him why he didn’t mention it was his last game, but you hold back, not wanting to cause a scene in front of his friends.

One of his teammates smirks, breaking the silence with a teasing tone. “So, Tsukki, when did you start dating freshmen? I thought older women were more your type.”

The comment catches you off guard, your surprise reflected in your eyes. You glance at Tsukishima, hoping for some kind of reaction, but he remains calm, focused on the grill as he flips another slice of beef. He doesn’t even acknowledge the jab, continuing to serve you without missing a beat.

Yamaguchi quickly jumps in, nudging the guy with a disapproving look. “That’s rude, man. Besides, she’s sweet, kind, and polite once you get to know her.” He said with a playful wink at you.

The guy mumbles an apology, and you force a polite smile, feeling an odd mixture of relief and awkwardness settle over you. The tension from earlier hasn’t left, but now it’s mixed with the pressure of being under the spotlight, surrounded by Tsukishima’s friends.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it,” Yamaguchi adds with a friendly grin. “But I’m glad you could join us after all.”

You chuckle softly, though your mind is still buzzing. “Yeah, I’m sorry I missed the game. I bet it was amazing. Congratulations on the win, you guys are really impressive.”

Tsukishima continues to silently serve you, placing food on your plate as the conversation around the table flows. His friends share stories about the game, and you do your best to laugh at their jokes, but it’s hard to concentrate. Your mind keeps drifting back to the earlier comment—his last game—and the fact that he never told you.

The night passes in a blur of laughter, shared food, and introductions to the other girls at the table. You try to engage, to be present, but your gaze keeps flickering back to Tsukishima, watching the way he interacts with his friends, wondering why he’s been holding back with you lately. The evening is warm and pleasant on the surface, but underneath, there’s a lingering feeling that something important is still unsaid.

You walked in silence next to Tsukishima, the cool evening air brushing against your skin as the two of you made your way back to the dorm. The streetlights cast long shadows on the ground, but all you could focus on was the heavy tension in the air. His silence gnawed at you. It wasn’t the usual comfortable quiet; tonight, it was laden with unsaid words, and you could feel the frustration bubbling inside you, making your chest tighten.

You sighed softly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. His face was calm, his gaze forward, but there was something off. After everything today—from rushing to your appointment, the sudden dinner with his teammates, to this strange silence—you felt drained. The more you thought about it, the more your frustration grew. Why hadn’t he told you? Why did you have to hear about his retirement from someone else?

After a long moment of brooding silence, you couldn't hold it in anymore. The words spilled out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your last game?” Your voice cut through the quiet night, the annoyance clear in your tone. “You never mentioned that you’d be retiring from the team so soon.”

Tsukishima came to a halt, turning to face you with a look that made your heart sink. His lips twitched into a faint smirk, though there was no humor behind it. “I’m in my last year of uni, if you haven’t realized yet,”

His words were laced with that typical sass you were used to, but tonight, instead of rolling your eyes or laughing it off, they felt like a slap to the face. Normally, you could handle his biting comments, even find them amusing, but after the emotional exhaustion of the day, this hit a little too close to home.

“And what about it?” You couldn’t hide the irritation bubbling to the surface. “Like it’s that hard to tell me personally?”

Tsukishima's expression shifted, the faint smirk disappearing as he met your gaze with a frown. “Did you even interested about this part of my life?” His voice was casual, almost like he was throwing a joke into the mix, but it felt like an accusation.

Your chest tightened at his words. “What do you mean?” You took a small step toward him, your hand almost reaching for his, but you stopped, unsure. The gap between you felt more noticeable than ever. “I’m your girlfriend. Of course I am. I care about every part of your life.”

Tsukishima’s gaze flickered away from you, avoiding your eyes as his brow furrowed slightly. “Then maybe you should’ve asked about it whenever we had conversations.”

The calmness of his voice hurt more than if he had raised it. Your heart sank further into your chest, and you could feel the guilt settling in. He was right. You hadn’t asked—not about volleyball, not about his team, not about his games. You’d been so caught up in trying to navigate this new relationship, in figuring out how to be his girlfriend, that you never stopped to think about the parts of his life that mattered to him.

But still, his words stung. You felt like you were being blamed for something you didn’t even realize you were supposed to do. “Why are you blaming me for something I didn’t know?” Your voice came out quieter now, laced with hurt. “I’m sorry—”

“When was the last time you came to one of my games?” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you. “Do you even remember?”

You opened your mouth to answer but quickly realized you couldn’t. You haven’t been to one of his games in months. Not since Yamaguchi dragged you along during your winter class Since then, you had been too wrapped up in your own academic struggles and the whirlwind of emotions that came with your new relationship to even think about attending.

Tsukishima scoffed at your silence, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you, then. Volleyball has been a huge part of my life for years. Retiring today wasn’t an easy decision, and you didn’t care enough to find out.”

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t just frustration in his voice now—it was hurt, too. Your breath hitched as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, his disappointment in you sinking deeper than you could bear.

“I’m sorry, Kei,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. The tears you had been holding back were now threatening to spill, and you hated yourself for it. You never wanted to make him feel this way, and the realization that you had hurt him was more painful than anything he could’ve said.

Tsukishima inhales deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself down. He steps closer to you, his expression softening just a fraction as he places his hand on your waist, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, though his voice still holds a touch of tension. “I’m sorry I lashed out. Let’s just get back to your dorm.”

But there was still a tension in his body, and you could feel it. His embrace was warm, but it wasn’t the comforting kind of warmth you were used to from him. It was almost like he was holding back—keeping some of his emotions buried, away from you. And that hurt even more.

The two of you continued walking, hand in hand, but the silence that stretched between you felt heavier than before. His grip was firm, as if he didn’t want to let you go, but the air was thick with things left unsaid. You kept stealing glances at him, wondering what he was thinking, if he was still upset, if things would ever feel normal again.

When you finally reached the entrance to your dorm, you swiped your access card, the beeping sound cutting through the tension. You were about to step inside when you heard him call your name softly.

You turned back, your heart in your throat as you met his gaze.

“Next time,” he began, his voice quieter than usual, “just… tell me what’s going on in your life. And ask me what’s going on in mine. We need to update each other. That’s how this is supposed to work.”

His words were gentle, but they carried a weight of importance, and you nodded, guilt gnawing at you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s my first relationship… I should’ve—”

“I know,” Tsukishima interrupted, his lips curving into the smallest of smiles. “And it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

His smile was small, but it was enough to make your heart warm again, if only for a moment. You nodded, biting your lip as you took a step toward the door. But just before you could leave, his voice stopped you once more.

“Hey.” He gestured toward the plastic bag you’d been holding from the drugstore. “Are you going to tell me about your sleeping medication?”

Your freeze, heat rushing to your face as you fumbled for a response, completely caught off guard. You hadn’t been prepared for that question, and once again, you found yourself at a loss for words.

decided to post it tonight since i can’t study—my brain doesn’t want to cooperate with me—for my test tomorrow 😖🤧 so wish me luck guys

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

[honeyteawrites]

4ggravate headcanons! When they’re drunk: 

Cyno: Emotional in a melancholy way. There will be a deep sorrow in his eyes that you almost can’t look away from. No one likes seeing Cyno drunk because it’s unsettling. Fortunately, he doesn’t drink much.

Al-Haitham: Does a bunch of nerd rambling for a while, then he gets sleepy. People will still be partying and he’ll be asleep on a couch or table somewhere. Haitham doesn’t get drunk often. After all, he has plenty of snacks and he’s big.

Kaveh: Emotional af in a bratty sobby way. He’s a messy crier too. A lightweight that says some things that he definitely wouldn’t say sober. You can easily get Kaveh to spill his secrets in this way. (canon)

Tighnari: Has never been seen drunk before? Terrifying tolerance, especially since he’s short. Someone has to take care of the others and drag them back home.

Extra silly scenario, click read more to see the rest! 438 words of Cyno’s embarrassing yearning. (cyhaino flavored because I can’t shut up about them…):

Haitham finishes rambling about a book series that he recently completed before passing out on the tavern table. It’s a rare sight to see him this drunk. His friends only saw moments like this as an annoyance since drunk Haitham wasn’t particularly interesting and someone always had to drag him back home. He begins lightly snoring, cheek pressed against sleek wood. 

Cyno sits across Haitham with his head resting on his arms. He always felt an indescribable sorrow whenever he got drunk. At times like this, he disappears to some corner of the tavern to sulk. Tonight, Haitham somehow managed to find him only to be equally as drunk. Cyno let his dreary thoughts fade into the back of his mind as he listened to Haitham’s book plot analysis.

It was only a momentary distraction. Now, Haitham had fallen asleep in front of him. Cyno mindlessly plays with the sprout-like strands of hair on Haitham’s head. He looks around before staring back at Haitham’s sleeping face. Kaveh and Tighnari were out of sight. No one could see the longing in Cyno’s eyes, not even Haitham. He gently cups the taller man’s cheek and sighs. 

“Cy-” Kaveh hiccups from behind Cyno. 

Cyno yelps and instantly draws his hand back. He could only look back at Kaveh in horror. A finished beer glass was in his hand. To no one’s surprise, the resident lightweight was drunk. Cyno sinks into his arms and sighs again. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Kaveh drunkenly stumbling over to the table. 

“Cy… I’m talking to you.” 

Cyno snaps up straight. 

“What do you have to say, Kaveh?” 

“You know that Haitham likes you too, right? In a grossly romantic way, since he’s secretly into theatrics and all. Although, I’m sure that’s how you feel too. I’m drunk as hell right now, but even I can see the yearning in your eyes.”

Kaveh laughs as Cyno looks at him hopefully. “Do you even believe me? You should see the things that he writes about you-” Kaveh is interrupted as Tighnari comes and smacks him hard in the back, right where the opening in his shirt is. 

“Kaveh. You foolish drunk! Did you forget about the bet that we made about them? YOU RUINED IT. Be ready to pay up soon.” 

“Nari please- I’m already indebted to that big green nerd-” he sobs. 

To Cyno, their voices fade into the background. He can only think about the comforting feeling rising in his chest as he looks at the man in front of him. Eventually, he falls asleep as peacefully as Haitham.

[birdscribblepad]

Baked Goods (slow burn romance)

Alastor × reader

Warning: alcohol

Note: This chapter is a flashback and contains one-sided radiostatic.

Chapter 5: The Bar

Previous

On an unnaturally hot day in Hell, tucked away in a maze of back alleys was a small bar. From the outside, it was an unremarkable building, but the inside was warm and cozy. The sound of laughter and piano music spilled out as the only two patrons ordered another round. The two friends had decided to spend this extra hellish day drinking.

"Come on, there's no way" the large headed TV man known as Vox chuckled. The ice in his glass clincked as he waved his hand.

"You're too dunk" he hiccuped which caused another wave of laughter.

"Just watch" Alastor instead after recovering from his recent laughing fit. He was sitting in front of a grand piano, which took up a great deal of the floor in the small bar making it look even smaller. Vox had, at some point, managed to climb on top of the piano. Alastor straightened up, cracked his fingers, and after shaking them lose began to play. The room filled with the sound of jazz. Despite the fact he had been drinking all day, he played amazingly.

Vox sat there listening with his eyes, letting the tune surround him. He loved this. He loved when it was just the two of them. They made such a great team. Vox knew the heat on his face wasn't from the alcohol. If he had his way, they would be frozen in this moment forever.

As the song ended, Alastor looked up at Vox, a smirk on his face. Vox just rolled his eyes, "Fine whatever, just," he sighs and stares at the floor, "Just help me down."

Alastor snorts before helping Vox off the piano. Vox straightens out his clothes "you win" he takes a big swig from his glass. Alastor smiled widely with amusement as if his win was ever a doubt.

By midnight the pair had managed to drink the bar dry. As they stumbled out of the bar into the cool night air the two continued to talk and laugh as they made their way back to the main road.

"you sure? It's close?" Vox gestured in the direction of his home.

Alastor nods "I will be alright. Tonight was fun. Thank you" he tried to bow and almost fell over causing Vox to laugh. Alastor rolled his eyes and turned to make his way home. Vox stood there for a moment watching until the deer man was out of sight.

"good night ... Friend" Vox let out a sigh. He always felt melancholy after hanging out with Alastor. It was always a bitter sweet feeling.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2024: #16

16. PORTUGAL Iolanda - "Grito" 10th place

Decade Ranking: 56/153 [Above Circus Mircus, below Alika]

OH NOES THE FINGERNAILS!! SO BLATANTLY POLITICAL!! I legit had to zoom and enhance to even NOTICE, jesus christ EBU.

For an entry that I have ranked relatively high, Iolanda is such a pain to write about? I feel like the appeal and placement are both obvious? There are also no real fun things about it? It's all fairly cut and dry (hence why I skipped yesterday to give myself extra think time for the write-up).

I find it hard to believe that anyone can muster up feelings beyond 'yah this is good, next one please' for a song of Grito's calibre. Especially over the more immediate (read: better) "Pelas Costuras"?

That said, I must soldier on and write a few more words. "Grito" is actually a pretty competent Growth Ballad. It starts slowly but then gradually builds up the tension. It handles the overcoming of inner demons with a beautiful touch of melancholy (it IS Portugal after all), and never stays too long in its phases.

In other words: it dodges the main pitfall of many other cerebral ballads: Despite what Joel and Myff were insinuating (Aus NQ'd, in your FACE) Grito is not boring.

But it's also not that engaging of a composition. My gripe with it is that it banged the hardest in studio for me, and studio cuts just... don't matter to me? At last not post-show. I get all of my listens from Youtube, not Spotify. In the studio version, "Grito" goes from zero to hero IMMEDIATELY at the first chorus, and doesn't back down. It goes quite hard. Live, the transition is more gradual and subdued, which pulls me into the immersion at a later point. Almost too late? "Grito" is a slow burner, and I'm not a patient man. You need to make me care about you immediately, not until you're halfway through the song.

It makes sense that Iolanda was sort of the Alika of the year resultswise (getting a good amount of jury votes into a negative televote) but she had the opposite problem for me. Alika came across like she was aimlessly screaming at a mic without any sophistication. Iolanda came across as frosty introvert who deliberately held back on purpose to sound frail before the big note. BELT WOMAN, YOUR SONG DEMANDS IT.

Eventually, she did. And it was pretty good.

That was a really good climax. Grito succeeds where Ramonda and Before the Party's Over (and in a sense Veronika which I'll address in a few days) struggled with or even outright failed to do.

So going into the contest from FdC, I always expected Portugal to be a qualifier (why were SO many people sleeping on it? I know a lot of eurofans are dumb (sadly, not of the mute variety), but also hard of hearing?) but I was hoping for Iolanda to inject more life into her song. This was why I had difficulty getting into her at FdC.

and she... sorta did?

Like, if I'm honest, the performance wasn't enough to fully win me over. It went from a 7 to a 7.5, it's not the LEAP forward I had hoped.

However, Portugal managed to elevate the act from its FdC counterpart, and respected the song's strengths. Befitting the lyrics, Iolanda ~transformed into a better verison of herself~, serving personality.

The staging in Sweden was also better - the use of the cubes to create a confined space for an intimate performance, the interactive choreography and the camerawork that framed it beautifully were great. In FdC, it felt like Iolanda had too many ideas for her staging, and they were poorly implemented. In Sweden, it clicked together smoothly. Her styling was great (die Joel!). She got the message across, while staying classy and sophisticated, which I suppose is Portugal's entire spiel at Eurovision nowadays.

In terms of my personal preferences though, it doesn't set my soul on fire, or makes me raise roofs tonight. Iolanda was good across the board, so she makes perfect sense as a high jury carry, but at the same time she also makes perfect sense as a televote bottomfeeder. It cuts both ways - "Grito" is good on all accounts, and outstanding at none, nor particularly is it particularly high on Fun Factor. It's too polished and competent for that. Like, "Grito" is not Eurovision. it is a well-executed live of a well-written song that found it's way there by winning the NF. It's highbrow. And I can appreciate that, but ultimately, others this year have delivered entires that were more to in line with the vibes I like to receive from my Eurovision entries.

AND NOW WE'RE MOVING UP A TIER. Here are whoever's left:

Which one is #YOUR favourite?

THE RANKING

[chris-continues]

Bad day?

A tired Vash and Nai Saverem.

Highschool au, strong familial love, Knives/ Nai Saverem is bad at feelings

Knives had finally arrived home, having to work late once again. He’d take any extra hours he could get, knowing that there were bills to pay at home.

The front door to his shared apartment ceremoniously slammed shut, twice, with him having to slam it twice due to the slightly smaller frame against the bigger door. Aggravating his headache further. God, was he tired.

He carefully toed off his shoes, placing them by the wall and sitting on the crummy couch they thrifted. He groaned, hand settling on his face and rubbing his temples in a sore attempt to soothe the irritating headache. He could probably sit down before he had to make dinner. They had.. spam? Maybe he could make spam and rice.. and he’d gotten frozen vegetables on sale last week, so maybe-

“Hey.” Vash entered the living room, smile on his face as he tiredly sat next to Nai. “Heard you come in. How are you?”

“..exhausted..” he sighed, leaning back once more. “You?” He peeked through the gaps between his fingers, glancing over to Vash.

His cerulean eyes dashing away from his told Knives plenty, paired with the pause in his response.

“Another hard day?”

“..yeah.�� He sighed, any attempt to lie to him would remain pointless. Fruitless. Knives read him well. “But- I’m sorry work must’ve been hard. I can sit while you make dinner?” His eyes flickered with hope.

“If you get more assignments done. You shouldn’t keep slacking.” Ah, yes, the usual berating from his brother. Loving berating, though.

“..I know.” Vash looked down once again, arms resting over his knees. The solemn melancholy of his expression was suffocating, grief and guilt wavering to the surface once again. Knives softened, “..If you need assistance, notify me.” He was truly just worried.

“I don’t wanna bother you.”

“You’re not.” He reassured him, “If anything, your idiotic behavior of neglect towards yourself is bothersome.” He huffed, “You’re really ridiculous sometimes.”

“Cool it.” Vash shook his head in amusement, but at least now a smile played on his lips. “Any ideas for dinner?”

And Nai told him the plan for tonight, wearily standing up to begin dinner. Vash listened the best he could despite the bags under his eyes, consonant to the irritated wrinkles he could see lightly etched into his brother’s skin if he squinted.

He really did feel guilty. Here he was, barely able to get up for hours or days at a time with the only force keeping him somewhat stable from depressive slumps his brother, who worked full time and helped him stay on top of his own studies, along with his.

Because he cares. And Vash thinks he’s the only person who will ever care this much, as he takes in the fond sight of Nai checking over his shoulder to view what schoolwork Vash plans to start.

[becauseimanicequeen]

Rewatching Once Again and To My Star 1+2

This is part of my Crazy-Ass End-of-Year Rewatch Challenge where I will rewatch some of my favorite shows, some of my least favorite shows, and some shows in between. I pulled another title out of the bowl (yes, I'm letting chance choose for me) and got Once Again. Then I added another Korean show to the post after pulling To My Star out of the bowl.

I can't promise cohesive thoughts in these posts because it's the end of the year, I'm currently living in right-brain land 10+ hours per day, and I'm TIRED because the darkness of winter is here. You've been warned.

Also, since these are all rewatches, there are spoilers ahead.

Once Again

I watched this show for the first time in December 2023 and it became one of my favorite shows (9/10) because I bawled through the whole thing. Since I am an ice queen (which my username clearly states), yet someone who believes that crying is a natural and healthy release of stuck emotions (and wish I could do more of it), I get obsessed with shows that make me cry. Usually that only happens with shows that portray loss and grief in some way. Once Again is one of those shows.

Also, it stars Moon Jiyong in one of the main roles (he's also been in The New Employee) and he can make me cry by just looking sad.

And when he cries in this show, I'm crying a whole fucking ocean.

The fucking nerve he has! lol

This rewatch was no different, emotionally speaking. I've been crying now for, I don't know, 2 and a half hours? Exactly the way I wanted to spend my night now that I don't have anything else to watch on Mondays.

Anyway, this is not a show for those who want the fluffy stuff. This one has a melancholic tone to it throughout the show because it follows Shin Jaewoo who, as he comes back home during a school break, is reminded of his childhood trauma where a college student (Kang Jihoon) saved his life but lost his own.

The guilt Jaewoo feels is also very palpable throughout the show, even in the more lighthearted moments when Jaewoo has traveled back in time and they both start developing romantic feelings for each other. The guilt and the melancholy are always there in the background.

The OST is great, too. "Other Side" by RUNY (the one at the end of every episode) is on several playlists I play frequently. 10/10, no notes.

So, thank you, my sad little show, for the tears I got to shed tonight. I feel so much lighter now.

Well, I've still got space in this post (and with space, I mean I haven't reached the image limit yet, lol) to continue with another show. I just pulled To My Star and will include both the first and second seasons in this post. Let's dive in!

To My Star 1+2

I binged both seasons of this show in September 2023 and loved them. I personally prefer the 2nd season (9/10) over the first (8/10) because I love angst. I feel like Hwang Daseul does angst and longing very well and her shows are always my go-to when I'm in the mood for the angsty shit (especially Where Your Eyes Linger, To My Star 2, and my new HDS favorite Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo).

The first season is the length of a movie and shows the origin story of Kang Seojoon (an actor) and Han Jiwoo (a chef). It's a great introduction to the characters and the cinematography is beautiful, which is why I love it. I mean, just look at those changing rainbow lights between them.

And this is during a scene when Seojoon is flirty and says he likes guys like Jiwoo. Gold!

But, honestly, the first season doesn't give me all that much. Not in this rewatch, at least. Maybe it's because I watched it right after Once Again, which gave me so much (a whole ocean of tears, for example, lol). Perhaps I should've waited an extra day before I watched this. But I was on a roll, so...

Anyway, I'll wait until tomorrow to start the second season...

And, I'm back!

One of the great things about the second season is that it's 10 episodes of 25-30 minutes (the finale is 43 mins) and I love it to bits for some (to me) very important reasons.

Call me a cynic, but I don't believe in happily-ever-after even in fiction (and there are several couples in QLs I don't see lasting even if a show/movie has a happy ending). So, I love it when I get a second season/movie where I can get to know the characters and their relationship on a deeper level, and how they face challenges. That's what I got in this season.

And just like real humans, Seojoon and Jiwoo aren't perfect. They make mistakes, misunderstand things, miscommunicate, etc. They're also both lovable idiots, which is exactly why I love them.

I already mentioned this before, but: The angst! I love the angst. And, to me, it's always great in Hwang Daseul's hands.

Another reason I love the show is that the flashbacks/time-jumping are seamless. There are several times at the beginning of the show that flashbacks happen when someone, for example, walks through a doorway (something I've wanted to write a post about for quite a while, but I haven't found the opportunity or the time. This is a reminder for me to do it, lol.). It's beautifully and smoothly done.

Another reason I love the show is because of the rural setting and all the outside shoots in the dark (it's a nostalgic thing for me).

There are several more things I love about To My Star 2, but I think I'll stop here because I have 3 new episodes of airing QLs I want to watch tonight.

So... Bye for now!

[tetrisfinished]

esa's potty training adventures - attempt 92734872348732

disclaimer: there is nothing wild about this - it's tiring and tedious and a lot of work and tough lol so i've momentarily given up.

so i've been psuedo "trying" to potty train esa for the past year now. i've been trying to have him sit on the potty, trying to get him to tell me when he needs to go, etc.

the title and the above were the post i had begun about a week and a half ago. but tonight, just under 2 weeks later, i can say...thank god for my mother.

she came, i took my days off, and we took off the diaper. specifically from saturday feb 25th, i took the step of taking the diaper off esa. that day was full of accidents. i started messy and ended the day feeling dejected. it was no fun.

sunday was A LOT better; very few accidents and we managed to catch it all on time.

monday and tuesday i was off; and once again...monday was rough.

tuesday again got a bit better and then my mother dsecided to come back on wednesday (she had to momentarily go back on the 28th to pick up my sister from the airport) and we resumed.

by the end of wednesday i had just about had enough of the constant feeling of not being clean, cleaning up, 110% focusing my energy on every single move that esa made and winding myself up in my own head.

so thursday morning, after many conversations with my daycare, i sent esa back to daycare. i packed 4 pairs of outifts, 3 extra shoes, 4 pairs of socks, 4 pairs of underwear, and a full pack of pull-ups. and i decided with the daycare to proceed with the 3-strike plan - 3 accidents in a row meant back to pull-ups.

and esa didn't have even one accident. even the times that we had decided he would be in his pull-up (during nap and before going outside) - even during those times, he kept his diaper dry.

today he came back from preschool with a little certificate of excellence in potty training.

before i gush, i would like to make it clear - it was a LOT of effort....on my the part of my mother. my mother did SO MUCH. my husband was not around on the weekend (did nothing) and happened to catch the one week when he had to go into the office for work so that was wonderful.

but that certificate. even though it's only that he's keeping his underwear dry, even though he's not doing poo, even though he's not telling to go to the potty when he needs....despite all of that. it's one of the biggest achievements i feel like i've had in my own lifetime.

which as i write it out, it feels like i'm wrong to even think this. it is not my achievement. i shouldn't take that away from my kid. it is actually in truth HIS effort. his almost 3-year-old brain is figuring out the world and i couldn't be more proud. if i could turn on a faucet of my gushing, it would just go on and on.

my kid is doing it, he's doing the growing up thing. i'm so incredibly proud of him. i'm so incredibly melancholy for me. it is of course bittersweet.

anyway, if i keep writing i will not only be gushing in this post, i will also be gushing (*read: straight up bawling) in bed where i'm writing this currently.

so i'm calling it.

it's amazing how well the brain compartmentalizes everything isn't it? on the one hand, i'm having probably the toughest time ever in my marriage (today is our 6th wedding anniversary, no less) and here on the other i can't stop thinking about that little certificate that i have half a mind to frame right now.

but that marriage trip for another day. i'm going to stop now.

good night!

much love,

-k

[sincreator]

Blood sounded like a good idea. She had to be at her strongest tomorrow, not completely hoarse and practically unable to speak, exhausted from today's session with lil' extra nasty. "A little bit of blood sounds nice," Atarniel admitted, her voice riddled with lust while a grin resurfaced on her. He really meant to ruin her tonight, what a blessing. Just for a moment Atarniel ignored the possibility of dying tomorrow, of having the last of her grace stripped from her. Dying among mortals and former mortals, she'd have to accept what is. In fact, she didn't mind being defiled like this. Atarniel wouldn't have wanted it any other way. With her own blessed status long gone, her wings ripped from her body, she now rested within the body of Salvador's ex-girlfriend/Thrall, someone she'd come to care for and her fate. The Fallen wanted to feel tainted and used, rotten to the core, considering that's just who she was, deep inside: a selfish, hedonistic and manipulative heavenly creature.

The coldness of him against her tongue was yet again much appreciated. Moaning slightly into the kiss, she eventually watched him slowly get in, her own mouth agape and brows furrowed together at the sheer sensation of being penetrated and torn apart. "It's all yours, Ezekiel." the Seraphim bit her lip while watching his face carefully. She slightly recoiled at his touch, with her clit far too sensitive to take some more. Instead, both of her hands rested against her ass, keeping both legs tightly wrapped near her ears while he kept sinking deeper into her tightness. While uncomfortable at first, the Fallen relaxed enough for pleasure to take over. Her eyes remained trained on his features, watching carefully as each new thrust brought him closer over the edge. She rolled her eyes in arousal, once, twice, teeth catching her lower lip as she tried to suppress the more guttural moans. "You feel so good inside of me. Fuck," her head tilted back slightly, but only a short while before feeling his cum deep inside of her. She'd examined his reaction then, loved the way he kept on going and eagerly fucked her some more. She could feel goosebumps form wherever his lips trailed along her body, causing the Fallen to hum in appreciation as another drunken giggle escaped her in the middle of being kissed.

"You're so fucking hot, too," she admitted, breathless, "really talented as well," she looked ruined. A heavenly creature, former servant of Ulthar, completely succumbed to extreme carnal desires, with blood and other fluids clinging to them, "so fucking perfect." As he slid out of her, a part of Atarniel simply ceased to exist. Nihilism set in, the possibility of dying tomorrow and coming to terms with it. There was nothing the Fallen really looked forward to. While she heavily appreciated her newfound second family, they hadn't been able to replace her own. Letting herself rest, Atarniel just leaned to the side, facing Ezekiel as he seemed to be relaxing as well. Pushing some of her hair out of her face, Atarniel sighed in melancholy. The old days were gone and whatever the world would offer them in the future just would never be enough. "Thank you," Atarniel whispered as she felt herself tearing up. Though she kept a neutral face and didn't acknowledge the tears in any way, Atarniel still felt her own emotions switch up to being more appreciative, calm and sad, "for being here with me when I needed someone. And I hope fucking a Seraphim was fun. I mean, who can say that as a former mortal?" she tried to joke and even chuckled at her own words.

Even after 15 years of spending time with her sister, things just hadn't been the same since before the heavenly revolution. Her lip quivered upon looking at Ezekiel, eyes now watering some more as the weight of the world really crushed her.

"I just miss him so much," her voice broke, tears now falling as she tried to breathe through the pain, but she didn't manage to simply ignore that constant feeling of sadness. "I think I love him." she brushed some tears away from her eyes, suddenly laughing, "he used to be so jealous whenever I mentioned any other vampire, so," you being one really doesn't help, but I just had to. She sat up then, one leg now over his body as she sat on his lap, making herself comfortable. "So, about that blood," she sniffed, but a smile contradicted her own emotions. "I want more."

"It'll fade after a while, but baby I can always give you more if you want. Some blood too if you need to recover." Whatever she wanted, water or rest was always on the table as well. "Because you already know I can go all night." Atarniel's heart hammered in his ears, it pounded as her blood rushed through her veins. Calling out to him as the vampire leaned forward, his tongue danced alongside hers before he lifted his head just enough to watch her face as he pushed in a bit. Then a bit more as he inched his way down bit by bit, gradually sinking into Atarniel's tight ass. She constricted around him, painfully tight as Ezekiel could feel the fallen as she bore down on him, gripping him like some lethal serpent that had coiled its way around its prey. All the while her fingers massaged across her desire, wet and still teeming with whatever seed and orgasm that Ezekiel hadn't lapped up from her earlier. He wouldn't admit it but there was solace in her body, some kind of sanctuary as she bucked and welcomed him in.

Ezekiel pushed in harder, long and defined strides as he felt the fallen's tight hole loosen around his swollen cock. His face hovered above hers as he drove in again and again, gradually picking up speed as he plowed the seraphim into the mattress. Mindful of her frame and aware that she was already spent, she'd asked to be ruined, to be filled, and Ezekiel would give her exactly that as he chased after his orgasm like a mad dog. Finally cumming for a second time he felt himself bursting inside of her, filling the seraphim up entirely as he continued to fuck the woman through his load. Lips sloppily on hers, her breasts, her collarbone, her neck, and her lips once more as Ezekiel's eratic motions slowly to a more nominal pace.

"Fuck, you're so hot." Ezekiel admitted after his orgasm had finished entirely, still hard and throbbing inside of her the aftershock of his orgasm rippled through his body. "Fun. Tight, sexy, bendy, smart, you care too and there's not a lot of that left... Skilled, you know, all the things." He grinned as his lips found the curve of her neck, his words danced along her skin, complimenting her and reminding her all at once that what they were was a circumstance. Two people colliding that needed somewhere to lay their heads for a while. She could've been anyone, just like he could've been anyone. It's like she'd said: this didn't mean anything. With some caution he slid out of the fallen and laid next to her before the vampire folded his arm behind his head. The length, strength, and musculature of his frame on obvious display as he basked in everything that they'd done so far. She was welcome to take up some residence on his chest, hop on again for round... Whatever number they'd be on, or she could leave. Ezekiel wasn't going to fight either way. Small comforts, big comforts, at the end of the day they were fleeting. Tomorrow he might be the one getting his spine torn out, or she'd end up like Sariel: humiliated and dragged through the streets as her siblings looked on.

The truth was that Ezekiel just don't care: everybody he did care about was dead. Same with her. Tomorrow or the next day, a year from now their time was gonna run up. How many were left now? Ezekiel tilted his head to look at the fallen next to him as he basked in his post orgasmic bliss, radiating off the high. She was framed by the light of the lamp in the dark, ruined, filled, and given everything the vampire had promised then some. There were a aouple dozen out of like... Seven billion? Their numbers were coming up, the others thought Time was going to be on their side, like they could go back and change things. Ezekiel didn't, another time, another place, maybe this would have been something more, but all that was left of the fallen and the vampire were two people with too many jagged edges to fit.

They had tried, they all tried, everyone had tried. They'd lost so many times that any hope just sounded like a fucking joke to him. Worse, because it wasn't even a good one. It was just cruel. So here he was, everyday, putting it all in. Everything he had to survive, to win, and to keep moving because anything less was- Ezekiel paused for a second, If he stopped too long to think about all this shit his mind felt like it was going to cave in, there'd be gray matter on the sheets rather than the seed that had dribbled out of the seraphim next to him. - but anything less wouldn't have been fair to them.

So he encouraged her and everyone else to believe whatever they had to believe to make it through the day; Atarniel could believe Ezekiel had secretly been in love with her for years if it made her feel better, she could believe she was just tossing him a bone, she could believe he was just some hunk you she needed to use to scratch an itch the same way that everyone else used him, she could believe that this got her closer to him if she really wanted. Salvador was gone but his sibling-progeny remained, on some level Atarniel had to wish that she could have the love of her life in the place of his brother. What was left of her life was hers she could stay, go, hop on, kiss him, fuck him, hit him- It didn't make a difference to Ezekiel, not anymore. They were both just out here doing their best and living on borrowed time. Basking in the post orgasmic bliss, Ezekiel studied her for a second. Beautiful body, soft but ruined features, he looked from her to his chest and offered a few more minutes of salvation or ecstacy. Or she could leave, there wouldn't be any hard feelings either way. "You want to stay, we can go again, hop on, clean me off, or- get some sleep, whatever."

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: both non-sexual and sexual pet play, dom!jimin, sub!jk, sub!tae, handjob, yoongi and yn pretending like they don't wanna suck the souls out of each other, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mutual masturbation

A/N: welcome back to my best boys ;;;;-; this chapter is being cross-posted from ao3. in the future i'll try and upload in both places at the same time!

DAY TWENTY-THREE

It’s two blocks of pure ice that wake Taehyung up that Tuesday morning. Before he’s even really coherent, he’s hissing and tucking into a ball away from the cold.

“Puppy, shh, it’s just me.”

Even as those chilled items that Tae can tentatively identify as feet tuck between his bare legs, he goes lax and accepts the body that wraps around his curled back. “Minnie,” he mumbles, and it’s so quiet that the older boy probably doesn’t hear, but his grip tightens anyway. “‘What time ‘s it?”

“Early, I’m sorry.” Jimin’s voice, unlike his thawing toes, blows warm across the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Missed you.”

A sleepy smile of bliss crosses Taehyung’s face for exactly three seconds, at which point he recalls the fact that he didn’t go to sleep alone tonight. Shooting up so quickly that his shoulder catches Jimin’s chin, Taehyung peels his eyes open to see Jungkook, awkwardly hugging a pillow to his chest with his legs crossed.

He bites his lip, avoiding their gazes. “Sorry, I, uh, don’t mean to disturb.”

“Shoot.” Jimin rubs his face blearily. “I didn’t see you there, Jungkookie. I should go-”

“No, no, stay,” Taehyung begs hurriedly, launching himself back onto the mattress and wiggling himself back into the curve of Jimin’s front. “Jungkook, um, you can come cuddle too if you want. I like being middle spoon.”

The youngest gazes back and forth at them, never resting long enough for eye contact. His indecision is palpable, but there’s a pleased glimmer too. “Is that...okay with Jimin-hyung? I don’t wanna intrude.”

Jimin’s voice is soft, his eyes slipping closed as he eases his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, arms snaking around his torso. “You can be a part of us too, Jungkookie.”

The words are perhaps more intimate than Jimin even realises, and in the vulnerable setting of a bed in the early morning hours, Jungkook’s hard swallow is audible, before he slowly puts the pillow aside and tucks his feet under the covers, slipping down. It’s not until Taehyung’s arm is his headrest and the other one provides a comforting weight low on his hips that he speaks up again. “Do you… do you mean that just for now, or… Or for good?”

“What do you think, Minnie?” Taehyung’s fingertips trace lazily over the bare skin that’s exposed by Jungkook’s shirt riding up. “Can we keep him?”

Jimin hums in affirmation. He’s just about asleep again, but Taehyung can feel his pleased smile against his shoulder. “Of course we can, puppy.”

The repeated nickname causes Taehyung’s heart to twitch just as his dick does. It’s no less endearing and special, but Jungkook is still perfectly awake and right there, and it feels a little confronting.

But Jungkook just chuckles, twisting around in Taehyung’s slack embrace to face him, eyes bright. “If you’re a puppy, what am I?”

Taehyung’s careful not to jostle Jimin. He’s begun snoring, nothing more audible than regular snuffling, but still Tae doesn’t want to disturb that rest. “What do you mean, Jungkookie?”

He scrunches his nose, thinking away. “Well, there’s Minnie and there’s puppy. I want a cute nickname too if I’m gonna be - you know - with you guys.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung begins haltingly, “Jimin calls me puppy because… God, it feels silly saying it out loud. He calls me puppy because sometimes when we’re together I go into puppyspace. You know; like petplay.”

“That’s not silly,” Jungkook says reflexively, even as his eyes widen and lips part. “What’s it like?”

“Puppyspace?” Taehyung asks. Jungkook nods eagerly, and the motion is transferred through Tae where they connect, making Jimin grunt and bury his nose deeper into the crook of his neck. “It’s so peaceful, Jungkookie. He takes care of me so I don’t have to think. I can nap and cuddle and play, without all of the stresses of life. It feels all warm and cosy, you know? I love it.”

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in wonder, his fingers finding their way to Taehyung’s worn black sleepshirt, fiddling with the hem. “Can I try? How do you… how do you know if you can do it?”

Behind Taehyung, Jimin lets out a half-asleep groan, his nose pressing against the taller one’s back. “Of course you can try. Let’s just sleep for now, though? I’m sure Minnie can play with both of us later.”

It’s that promise that allows Jungkook to settle, nodding with a tentative hum and shifting down so that his head can rest in the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung falls back under like this, with a heartbeat thrumming against his back and soft, even breaths tickling his bared shoulder.

--

“Hobi?”

Hoseok pauses, frothed toothbrush clamped between his teeth. “Mmng?”

“I don’t-” you cut yourself off, clearing your throat to dislodge the thickness that distorts your voice. “Can we not tell them?”

He bends over to quickly spit out the majority of toothpaste, but when he stands upright to face you again there’s a smear on his chin. “Tell them what?”

You blink. “Last night. I just… I don’t want them to- to pity me or treat me like I’m glass or anything. I know it won’t happen again, it was just…” Shrugging hopelessly, you give up on trying to put words to it. “I don’t know.”

The dom remains silent for a few moments, lips pursed in thought. “The chicken must have been bad,” he concludes.

Bewildered, you cock your head to the side. “Huh? What chicken?”

“You and I went out for dinner at this fried chicken place, but when you got home last night it made you sick. That’s why you aren’t quite yourself today. I’ll get Yoongi-hyung to make some hangover soup.” His eyes are warm, pulling you into a comforting one-armed hug. “Just the chicken, that’s all. Yeah?”

You swallow down the swell of gratitude and instead bury yourself into his safe embrace. “Yeah. That’s all.”

To his credit, Yoongi doesn’t ask questions, pushing all his concern into his cooking. The doctor all but feeds you himself, hovering with a furrowed brow and a napkin. Strangely enough, his fussing goes a long way in cheering you up, and you let the events of yesterday wash away with the salty broth.

Hoseok hangs around for a while before going down to do some laundry, Namjoon briefly jumps in to steal a spoonful directly from the pan, eyes never leaving the novel he’s holding open with a single hand. Even Jungkook stumbles in blearily at one point, nose first, requesting an extra two bowls for Jimin and Taehyung as well.

You’re onto your second serving by the time it’s just Yoongi and you. He’s pulled up a chair beside you, cradling a coffee. “I got a text this morning, you know,” he begins gently. “I can ignore it if you’re not up to it.”

It takes you a moment to process his words, recalling Sejin’s instructions the day prior. “It’s your day, then?” He nods silently, scanning you for any reaction. You hum, spoon swirling lazily in the dregs of your breakfast. “I’m up to it,” you answer finally, “if you are.”

“Always,” Yoongi replies immediately, voice bared and soft. His hand passes over yours, squeezing briefly, before he stands up and clears the bowls from the table. “Aspirin is in the pantry if you need it, blue container.”

You give him your thanks, left alone as he disappears upstairs.

Grabbing a glass and pouring yourself some water, you track down the aspirin and take out two tablets, grimacing as the bitterness sticks to your tongue. While you may not actually be sick, a headache was beginning to bloom between your brows.

So much had happened in the past few days, you almost felt like you’d gotten whiplash. The early days of lounging around the house and chasing pleasure seemed so distant. Feelings tangled things up more each day, unraveling quicker than you can get a hold on them.

It wasn’t just you, either. You saw the way the guys looked at each other, how gentle they were, how thoughtful. It was in the little things. Jungkook’s laundry pile started featuring clothes from the other maknaes; Namjoon and Hoseok always sat so close together, even when there was room on the couch; Yoongi had started giving the others bigger portions when he cooked, even as his stayed the same. And Jin…

You startle when a door opens, glass almost slipping from your hands. It’s the unfilmed room across the stairs. You frown as a tall figure slips out, swamped in a massive pink hoodie that you’d never seen in the house before. A sleeve-covered hand reaches up to rub under the hood, dark hair poking out. Your breath catches. Jin…

He moves across the hall gingerly like his body aches, hand never leaving his face as he grumbles sleepily. For a split second, your mind entertains the thought of sprinting past before he sees you, avoiding the conflict that is no doubt upon you.

But only for a split second. Because the only thing worse than being confronted by him is not seeing him at all. You wait, instead, until he rolls his shoulders back, tipping his face to the ceiling to stretch out his spine. The hood falls back, exposing a serious case of bedhead, tired eyes, and sallow skin. But it’s Jin nonetheless, beautiful despite his apparent exhaustion, and your heart breaks again for being the one to cause this.

He notices you when his head comes back down from the stretch, and were you not in such despair you may have cracked a smile at the way he jumps. “Y/n…” he mumbles, voice barely audible.

Your mouth goes dry. Even if it wasn’t you don’t know what to say, simply bracing yourself for anger.

He doesn’t stiffen his features, however, simply watching you with melancholy eyes. “You look sad,” he says weakly.

Your heart is racing a hundred beats a second at just hearing him speak to you, and it takes you that much time just to process his words, eyes pricking sharply. “I am sad,” you reply honestly, blinking the wetness away. “You look tired,” you whisper in return.

His bottom lip trembles, before flattening tightly. Instead of responding verbally, he just nods.

The two of you sit in that silence for a while. Jin’s breathing is ragged, his eyes unfocused as they slip past you. You think you might be sick with the way your stomach flips.

Finally, you can’t stand the silence. “Are you still mad at-” you begin, but your words die in your throat as you’re enveloped tightly by him, clutching you so close that your chest constricts. The tensed breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a sob, and your arms fly up to hug him back, just as tightly.

There’s nothing more than just a simple hug, but your heart is still full, almost overwhelmed by the cathartic relief of having him close to you again, his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands rubbing circles on your back, the gentle sway as he rocks you in the hold.

It lasts for an eternity too short, and when he pulls away you feel untethered, already pining for that contact again.

His eyes are swimming, though you see the way he tightens his jaw to hold it back. “I’m devastated,” he admits, “but I miss you too much to ice you out like this. I need time but god, I don’t want space. Can you give me time?”

You’re nodding hastily, sniffing as your nose threatens to run. “Of course, Jin. I’ll be here. I… I think I-”

“Don’t-” he interrupts sharply, sucking in a shaky breath. “Don’t let now be the first time we say it. Later,” he promises.

We. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, electricity thrumming along your nerves. You let that word settle you, repeating it in your head as Jin sends you a sad smile - but a smile nonetheless - and takes his leave, disappearing upstairs.

You decide to take a bath, in the end, letting yourself soak in the thought of “we” a little longer.

--

“So, what, we start barking? Chew on some sticks?”

Taehyung colours violently and Jimin sends Jungkook a sharp glare in rebuke. “Say less,” he scolds the youngest, before reaching up to run his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, breaking up the curls. “We just ease into it. Taehyung doesn’t use it for humiliation or anything like that, he just likes being taken care of. Isn’t that right, pup?”

Taehyung hums, eyes already fluttering as he leans his head into Jimin’s palm. The three of them had migrated onto Taehyung’s now-made bed after their breakfast after Jungkook once again mentioned wanting to try petplay.

Significantly larger than Jimin, Taehyung has to awkwardly shuffle down the mattress further to rest his head in Jimin’s lap, but Jungkook can immediately see the lines of stress that melt away once he does so. Jimin smooths his hand down to cup the younger’s chin, delicately stroking the soft flesh as if he were patting a sleepy dog.

“You’ll just watch for now,” Jimin instructs Jungkook without removing his gaze from Taehyung, “and if it feels right, you can join in. There are no expectations and no rules, only to respect the process and don’t disrupt Tae’s petspace. Got it?”

Jungkook swallows as Jimin chooses that point to lift his steeled gaze, brows high as he waits for Jungkook to agree. “Got it,” the youngest confirms. He gets comfy, tucking his feet under him and leaning up against the pillows.

“Such a lucky boy,” the dom begins with his voice like melted sugar. “Dogs aren’t meant to be up on the furniture. But you’ve been good lately, so I thought I’d treat you.”

Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed. He shuffles slightly, stretching one leg out until his ankle dangles off the edge of the mattress, but doesn’t audibly respond.

Jimin chuckles fondly through his nose, hand running down to rub up and down Taehyung’s clothed tummy, which is now facing upwards. “Oh, pup,” he coos, “you must be tired after the big walk. How about we rest for a bit, and we can play later?” Instead of waiting for a response, the dom just gasps like he’s forgotten something important. “Oh! Your collar! I must’ve taken it off when I took off the leash. Never mind; Jungkook, dear, could you get me the brush and collar out of the bedside table? Bottom drawer.”

It feels like the very particles in the air shift when Jungkook is ripped away from the observer role and into an active participant. He swallows away the dryness in his throat to little avail and nods, fumbling with the drawer handle and pulling out a barely-used hairbrush and velvet dog collar. “These?” he asks redundantly, nerves settling when Jimin gives him a pleased smile and holds out his hand.

“Alright, little puppy,” Jimin announces, his voice lilting easily back into the candyfloss tone that all owners used with their pets. “Let’s give you a brush before we put your collar back on. I don’t want your coat getting matted.”

Taehyung gives a small, throaty hum and lifts himself laboriously up onto his elbows, tipping his head up to his master. Jimin pats his cheek warmly and calls him a good boy, and Jungkook gets a front row seat to the beautiful sight of a sleepy, lusty Kim Taehyung going pink in the face, a shy smile twitching his lip.

‘Brushing his coat’ is just brushing his hair, but even Jungkook can see that the technique is slightly different. Jimin does it slowly, methodically, line by line from the front to the back, then reaching around to the nape of his neck to give it a good brushing there - Taehyung all but shivers at each swoop of the brush - even folding down each ear when he goes past. Watching it is nothing short of mesmerising, and Jungkook feels his spine tingle, wanting to feel it too.

Was it too soon to join? He could always ask for the brush later, he decided. Though even as he reached that conclusion, the thought was slipping out of his mind sand through fingers, hazier and hazier the more he listened to Jimin’s lull tone and watched his patient movements.

“There we go,” the dom whispers, passing the brush over one last time to settle all the curls in their rightful place, “much better now. Chin up, pup; time for your collar.”

Taehyung’s chin lifts the minutest of degrees. Jimin waits for a moment, but the brown-haired boy looks almost like he’s falling asleep on the spot, swaying slightly as his elbows prop him up.

“Silly me,” Jimin tuts with a smile, reaching out to manually adjust Taehyung how he wants him. “Doggies can’t understand human words, can they?” Like a proud parent, he turns to Jungkook, grin widening as he sees the state the boy is in. “I am trying to teach Tae-tae some commands. Sit, lie down, wait. Suck. He’s getting better.”

With that, the dom grabs the collar off the duvet and fiddles with the buckle, undoing it so that he can wrap it carefully around Taehyung’s neck. The process reminds Jungkook much of what happened when his parents put a collar on his childhood dog: slipping a finger under the material to test how snug it was, shifting it around until the small dangling pendant was to the front, giving it a little tug to ensure the buckle was on right.

At the gentle tug, Taehyung practically topples, going lax with his face down on Jimin’s thigh and snuggling down, breaths even. Jimin doesn’t comment on it, simply humming in acknowledgement and returning to softly stroking his back and shoulders. But he does glance over to Jungkook again, eyes glinting. “Do you wanna come a little closer, hm?”

At the invitation, Jungkook almost trips himself scooting over, wrapping his arms around one of Jimin’s and holding it to his chest. Seeing the tender moment shared between Taehyung and Jimin had made him feel positively touch-starved, desperate to feel some of that sweet attention.

Jimin’s eyes widen in bemusement before twisting his hand in Jungkook’s grip and giving his stomach a little scratch. “Goodness me, little energizer bunny, huh?”

Jungkook whines, recognising that higher-pitched voice. He was being talked to like a pet, and the thought made his insides hot. He presses his face against Jimin’s shoulder, feeling the heat on his skin there too.

“No need to get all shy on me now, bun,” Jimin teases. “I’ve already seen that little friend in your pants. Well, I suppose he’s not that little.”

Jungkook tightens his arms around Jimin’s one, wanting to rock his hips up to feel some friction. He just squirms instead, hoping his need is answered. “Jimin-hyung.”

Jimin sucks in a breath. “Can this bunny speak, hm?”

Jungkook blinks, the furnace inside him cooling for a moment. “Am I not… supposed to?”

“I’m not telling you off, I’m asking,” Jimin explains softly, cocking his head down at the potentially-sleeping Taehyung in his lap. “Tae-tae likes to be non-verbal. It’s just preference. Would you rather keep speaking?”

After a moment of thought, Jungkook nods, then props his chin up, sending Jimin his best puppy eyes. “Minnie, I need you,” he pleads in a small voice, writhing against him again.

Jungkook’s fingers curl when Jimin’s hand dips lower suddenly, grasping his length from over the fabric of his sleep shorts. The pleasure is like a bolt that shocks his whole body, and when Jimin strokes him once, the texture of the fabric increasing the friction, the guttural sound that falls from his lips is more animal than human.

Jimin just smiles placidly, patting the throbbing heat once. “Does it hurt, bun? Want me to make it go away?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook’s breath is shallow with excitement. This feels like new territory, relying fully on Jimin to relieve the ache, too helpless, too stupid to do anything about it himself, just a dumb bunny with a generous owner.

“You’re drooling, bun,” Jimin points out, voice raspy with arousal. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Jungkook feels fingers at the elastic band of his shorts before Jimin withdraws. He whines, a pout threatening to form, but the dom just runs his fingers and palm over Jungkook’s mouth and chin. Then, when his hand delves in and grips Jungkook, he’s slick with Jungkook’s own drool, the slide wet and hot and electric.

He moans, but saliva won’t stop gathering in the hollows of his mouth. It’s like it’s impossible to close it at all, every firm, purposeful stroke making it harder to do that basic function.

“Noisy boy,” Jimin scolds, though there’s no venom to his tone. “You might wake the puppy up, bun.”

With a strangled groan, Jungkook’s head flops down, his teeth banging against Jimin’s shoulder. A thought floats across his dazed mind, of pressing his teeth into skin, lovebites to colour the bronze.

But his teeth don’t sink into flesh. Fabric fills his mouth. Jimin’s shirt. His teeth don’t stop, though. On the contrary, he chews on the cotton, letting it muffle the sounds he can’t help but make.

“Oh, good boy,” Jimin praises warmly, his hand speeding up mercilessly to pitch Jungkook over the edge. There’s no foreplay, no kisses or teasing touches. His hard cock is a problem that his master is kind enough to solve, that Minnie-hyung is making go away, and he won’t stop until his bunny has finally-

When Jungkook comes, his whole body feels it like an earthquake. Every muscle jerks, pulses so that his toes curl and his core trembles, the drool soaking the fabric of Jimin’s shirt now until he feels it run down his own neck, blubbering through the waves of it.

Jimin slows down after the first burst of cum, but doesn’t stop, only tightening his grip like he’s milking every last drop out.

Once the tides of pleasure have dipped back down again, Jungkook goes boneless, whimpering until the hand finally leaves his softening, oversensitive cock.

He’s panting, all of his body weight on Jimin to stay upright, and it takes a few moments for his senses to properly return to him, his heart still beating erratically in his chest. “Oh, fuck.”

Jimin giggles elfishly, before reaching up to tap on Jungkook’s bottom lip with wet fingers. “You made such a mess, little bunny. Clean it up, now.”

Jungkook welcomes the digits, blinking blearily as the bitter tang of his own cum fills his mouth. He sucks Jimin’s fingers clean two at a time, swirling his tongue between them dutifully. It isn’t until he’s done and Jimin is praising him that he restores enough energy to sit up again.

Across from him, Jimin peels the soaking wet sleeve of his shirt off his shoulder, laughing softly in good humour even as his brows furrow at the weird feeling. Before Jungkook can offer up an apology, Jimin is stripping it off entirely, chucking it away and rubbing at his now-bared chest. “Much better,” he muses to himself. After a moment of letting Jungkook clear his head, Jimin turns to him, his dry hand returning to lazily card through Taehyung’s curls. “How was it, Jungkook?”

“Uh,” Jungkook replies eloquently, feeling the way his cock still throbs every few seconds in aftershocks. “Uh.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin states proudly, before sending Jungkook a serious gaze. “We’ll talk later, yeah? When your dick isn’t hanging out.”

Jungkook flushes, scrambles to tuck himself away, and the movement jostles the bed enough that Taehyung groans, craning his neck up with bleary eyes and rumpled hair.

The two sitting on the bed go silent. Jimin cocks his head to the side and cups Taehyung’s cheek. “Were you- Tae-tae, did you just have a nap in the middle of the scene?”

Taehyung beams sleepily, eyes still lidded. “Mm.”

“Tae! Are you out of petspace now?”

“Think so.” With a dramatically loud cry, Taehyung reaches an arm up into a deep, arching stretch, rubbing at his eyes once he’s done. “Mm, yeah, definitely. My foot has kinda gone dead too.”

As Taehyung sits up to rub at his foot, pressing his thumbs into the muscle, Jimin’s shoulders sink with a deep pout. “Tae-tae,” he whines again, “you know I like playing with puppy.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung replies easily, though it doesn’t sound like he is in the slightest, “I guess I just wanted to destress more than anything. I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

Jimin’s face softens, his complaints dissolved at Taehyung’s words. Without a verbal reply, he just reaches out, hooks his finger on the neckline of Taehyung’s shirt, and pulls him in for a kiss, humming into it slightly.

The movements, the touches are so natural and intimate that Jungkook feels like he’s intruding. It only lasts a moment before they break apart to go shower, but it’s enough time to sear the sight behind Jungkook’s eyelids. Maybe he’d been allowed to join them in their scenes, even cuddle with them, but he wasn’t a part of that bond that tied Jimin and Taehyung so strongly together. The thought sinks in his stomach, and he decides to skip the shower, getting dressed instead for a long workout downstairs.

--

When you knock on his door, Yoongi is at his desk, a pair of black-framed reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He glances up, an eyebrow lifting in mild surprise.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You muffle a smile at his domestic getup - a grey t-shirt hangs off, far too big for him but outlining his chest and strong shoulders nonetheless, and his long black sweatpants all but cover his bare feet, toes tapping the carpet unconsciously as he waits for your reply. “I’ve been informed that today is your day.”

“Ah, checking in to the Fuck Hotel, I see,” he quips casually, slipping his glasses of and shutting the lid of the laptop he was working on. “We do have one vacancy.”

“Is that so?” you say, unable to stop your grin as he stands up from his office chair and rolls his head back like an athlete warming up.

“Comes with a continental breakfast,” he assures, before ducking his head with a sheepish chuckle. “God, hyung is becoming a bad influence on my sense of humour.” With slightly pink cheeks, he stretches out a hand towards you, before jerking it back and freezing, fingers curled and tensed. “Wait. Shit.”

You frown, glancing down at yourself, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. “What is it?”

“Hm. I just remembered my prompt, is all.” He takes a step back with a thoughtful furrow of his brows, clenching his hands into fists and putting them behind himself. “Dammit, I was meant to think of a game plan but I got distracted sorting out- uh- client emails.”

“Was this a bad time?” you ask with a light laugh, even as you cast a guilty glance towards the laptop. A month in and he was still doing work?

“No! No, it’s fine, it’s just…” Wincing, Yoongi scratches at the back of his neck and takes another step back, gesturing down at himself, and at the messy work desk. “I’m not in sexy mode yet. I look like a stay-at-home dad trying to work out how to order groceries online while my toddler is finally having her 2pm nap.”

You pause before an incredulous laugh bubbles out of your throat. “Okay, first of all, I think stay-at-home dads are very sexy, and I happen to think that you are very sexy. Secondly, ‘her?’ Why was that whole analogy so specific?”

Yoongi huffs defensively, petulantly throwing himself down to sit on the bed with his legs splayed wide. “I used to have a life plan, okay? But that’s not relevant now. The point is, I haven’t worked out how to do a good scene. I don’t want to it to be disappointing. Or, god forbid, boring.”

Your frown just deepens. “It doesn’t need to be an elaborate setup, Yoongi. Just fuck me. Touch me, at least. I can’t believe we’re still both wearing all our clothes when I’ve been very explicit about my intentions.”

You don’t miss the wince that flutters across his face. “That’s kinda the issue. Touching you, I mean.”

“You don’t wanna touch me?”

“I-” Yoongi all but stomps his foot, teeth clenching in frustration. “Of course I fucking want to, but I have to stick to my prompt, Y/n.”

Your mouth drops open. “So your prompt is that we can’t even touch each other? Doesn’t exactly sound very appealing for a porn show.”

He clicks his tongue. “You can still touch me,” he corrects with a dry gaze.

Unconvinced, you narrow your eyes. “Isn’t that convenient?” you question rhetorically. “Gonna make me do all the work this week because you haven’t organised it in your planner yet, Doctor Min?”

He glares at your teasing tone. “Excuse me for trying to play the game properly.” You swallow as his eyes run down your body heavily, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. “If I could touch you, trust me, I’d have you dripping by now.”

Your thighs tighten, but you force them not to move. The last thing you want him to know is that you’re just about dripping already. “Sounds to me like you’re just lazy.” He doesn’t react, watching you make up your mind. You suck in a breath to hype yourself. “If I walk away right now, you’ll get nothing. Not only will you lose your prompt, but you’ll be stuck with blue balls. But if you give in and fuck me already, then you’ll only lose the prompt.”

“Who says I’ll even have blue balls? I’m perfectly comfortable,” he fires back immediately, tipping his head to the side cockily.

“Oh, please,” you drawl, letting your eyes fall to the sizeable bulge beneath his sweatpants, “you aren’t that big soft. Don’t kid yourself. So do you wanna get off, or not?”

His gaze hardens to stone, jaw flexing. “I’m surprised you think I need you for that. Aside from the fact that there are six other people in this house, I brought a fleshlight from home for a reason.”

Now that is something you hadn’t expected him to say. You freeze from your spot in the doorway, feeling heat pulse between your legs. Your spark of resistance is quickly fading, overtaken by need, so you don’t hesitate in firing back while you can. “If you think your fleshlight is better than me, then that’s your loss. Enjoy the bunkbeds; I’m off to do what you’re too cowardly to.”

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he snips, one of his hands sneaking under his shirt to rub his lower abdomen, fingers slipping below the hem of his sweats. “Shut the door on your way out.”

Feeling like you’ve lost the argument (and a little too horny to care) you have your final say by slamming it, thumping your feet with every step down the hall to your room.

Once inside, it takes mere seconds to throw yourself onto your bed back-first and shove your hand down your pants. But then, before you even dip into your wetness, a thought strikes you.

Pulling your hand out and making your way to your desk, you use your other hand to clumsily type in your password, and open a browser. It doesn’t take long to navigate to the page with all the paid streams for your own show, and with a slight flush you select Yoongi’s bedroom, impatiently punching in your credit card details.

After an agonising wait, the payment is processed and you’re brought to a private livestreaming site, a single window open in front of you.

The angle itself is strange, making Yoongi’s room look larger than it was, but you’re surprised at just how high quality the video and sound is once you bring it to full screen and slip your headphones in your ears. Yoongi is hunched over his nightstand, and you can actually hear the wooden slide faintly in the background as he opens and closes a drawer, returning to his office chair with a seemingly-transparent fleshlight and a bottle of lube.

Something about watching him through a camera in the corner of his room feels so wrong, especially as he palms impatiently at the tent in his pants, uncapping the lube and pouring a generous amount into the opening of the toy. You’d never been much of a voyeur - or, at least, so you thought - but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, blinding slipping your hands down your pants but over your underwear, simply pressing down on your clit to ease some of the crying need.

Oddly, the lube pours down and begins to drip out the other side, creating a dark patch on his clothed thigh. The audio picks up Yoongi cursing, and there’s no further preamble before he’s using one hand to hook down his sweatpants and kick them off to pool on the floor. The motion causes his cock to jerk up onto his stomach, leaving a smear of precum on his grey shirt, visible only by a few pixels of darker grey.

He scoots a little down the seat of the chair and hitches a leg up over one of the arms, eyes slipping closed as the hand not holding the dripping fleshlight grips his own cock, thumb pressing at the head.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans lowly, the sound running through your headphones and straight down between your legs. His brows are furrowed like it’s almost paining him, but he hovers the opening of the fleshlight over his tip as if he’s trying to hold back.

Slowly, he lowers the toy down one inch at a time, until the lube is drooling over his cock. Finally, the transparent toy slips down over his cock and his hips jump off the chair, his knuckles white on the arm of the chair and the fleshlight as he growls and lifts it back off again.

The sight of him intentionally teasing himself is too erotic for you to stay unmoving, and you find yourself burning up, losing the headphones for a moment to shuffle out of your own clothes. You hurry as much as you can, grimacing at your sopping panties, but by the time you’re back in your chair with nothing but a bra and tuning back into the stream, Yoongi’s not even focused on his toy anymore.

It sits propped up on his thigh, with two of his fingers lazily, almost absentmindedly thrusting deeply inside of it to keep it steady as the rest of him swivels in his chair to open his laptop again.

You frown and squint at the tiny screen on the stream. Rows of fuzzy squares stack up, and while you can’t be certain the phallic shapes of some of the miniscule images inside them make you think he was on a sex toy website.

He quickly opens a new tab, however, and your heart begins to beat nervously as a familiar page comes up. One you’d been on just earlier.

With bated breath you wait, hands grasping at the meat of your thighs and clothed breast to hold off on touching between your legs just yet. Yoongi navigates the Bangasm page, going through the same payment process you did.

It isn’t until you’re met with a miniature version of your own room on his screen that you realise what’s happened. And it’s when Yoongi squints and leans in closer, before turning to face the camera directly with a bewildered look, that you know you’ve been caught.

Frozen, you watch the on-screen, Yoongi look back and forth twice, before slowly scooting his chair back on an angle to the table, so that the laptop is in eyeshot even as his body is facing the camera fully.

Your mouth is dry, but the fleshlight he picks up again is wet, so wet that his fingers glisten, almost slipping off the toy entirely. He holds it tightly, transferring it to his dominant hand and teasing the top over his tip, biting hard on his lip.

The squeeze you have on your thigh is almost painful as your core burns, but you’re too stunned still to move, watching him dance the opening of the fleshlight over his cock, never dipping it inside.

With a twitching grin and lusty eyes, he glances towards the laptop. Your whole body feels hot as you glance over your shoulder to the camera in your room, before looking back at the screen. He’s not moving, chest visibly heaving even as he stares patiently at the computer screen.

He’s… waiting for you.

With one strangled breath, you tilt your chair away from the desk, adjusting your own laptop in a similar setup to him. Eyes locked on the stream, terrified you’ll miss a single moment of him indulging himself, you let your fingers uncurl from your inner thigh and trail them down, wasting no time in automatically locating your clit, massaging around the small bud.

Pleasure flows through you like hot water, down to your toes. After holding out for so long, after being so aroused for so long, the simplest touch has your knees weak and your head lolled back against the headrest.

On screen, Yoongi’s grin widens, and he rewards you by lowering the fleshlight, the clear silicone making way for the tip of his cock. He doesn’t stop there like last time, though; instead, he slowly but surely plunges it all the way down until it’s flush with his pelvis. Your eyes fly open when the flushed head pops out the other side, and Yoongi clearly enjoys it too judging by the way he curses and grips it tight, practically panting.

Without really intending, your fingers dip down and slip inside, two already. You barely feel a stretch with how wet you are. Although the feeling of something inside you is nice, you know your fingers just aren’t enough, especially with the angle of you slumped back in your chair.

So, you chance one look back at the screen - Yoongi is using the tip of one finger to spread his precum around the glossed tip of his cock, but his eyes are firmly locked onto you - and walk on shaky legs to your closet, where an unassuming (and so far unused) black silk bag lies amongst your shoes.

The amount of time it takes for you to duck into the bathroom and quickly wash the silicone vibrator you have with soapy water feels like an eternity, and by the time you hurry back it isn’t the toy that’s vibrating.

Frowning, you hesitantly answer the call that’s coming through on your phone from a familiar contact.

Yoongi’s voice immediately fills the room as the pixelated version on the screen rests his phone on the side of his desk, not jerking but twisting the fleshlight in slow arcs around his cock. “Couldn’t get enough of me, hm?”

“Says the one calling me,” you offer back lightly, switching onto speaker mode so that you can settle back in your chair, “enjoying the view?”

“A little too uneventful for me yet, sweetheart,” he teases, and his breathy groan is timed with the Yoongi on the stream lifting the fleshlight up a little and plunging it down again. “How about you put that toy in your pretty little pussy for me. For us.”

You feel your core pulse at the reminder that it wasn’t just Yoongi on the stream. Any number of anonymous strangers could be tuned in right now, seeing you with your legs spread.

The only way to cope is to lean into it instead of shying away. You slide the black silicone toy through your folds to slick it up, sighing with every light pass over your clit. Once it’s as wet as you are, you press the slightly bulbous tip down until it slips inside you, immediately shivering at the feeling.

The toy is small enough that you don’t need any special prep, yet big enough that it was satisfying, and curved just right. It had been your old reliable long before coming on the show, and there’s something strangely familiar and comforting about feeling it fill you out as you push it in deeper.

“Fuck, there we go,” Yoongi praises, and you hear the wet smacking noise of him snapping his hips up into the toy. “I may not be able to touch you, but you’ll still call my name when you cum for me.”

Your toes curl, and you’re no longer able to focus on the stream, letting your eyes fall shut and your ears tune in to his voice alone as you work the toy in and out of you.

He doesn’t waste any time in joining you, and the resulting sounds that fill your room are obscene, him making no effort to muffle the gravelled curses and moans, nor the wet thwack of silicone that gives away his movements.

The noise is somehow even more thrilling than the sight, and the feeling of his eyes on you encourages you to speed your hand up, even reaching down to desperately rub at your clit with the flat of your fingers, shivering at the wave of pleasure that wracks through your body.

It’s not long before you hear Yoongi’s voice turn guttural and the pace of the flesh light pick up frantically.

You wrench your eyes open and gaze blearily at the computer screen just in time to watch the stream of white that spills up through the back end of the fleshlight and over Yoongi’s knuckles. As hot as the image is, you whine at being made to watch this through the pixels instead of in real life, and the thought of being right fucking across from him as he fell apart is enough to make you seize up in your chair, orgasm draining you thoroughly, with not enough force to squirt but dripping on the seat nonetheless.

You take the toy out once pleasure turns to the sharp tweak of oversensitivity and pant, fighting to catch your breath as your feet feel positively numb.

Coming down from your high, you almost forget the running phone call until you hear his voice come through the speaker again. “Have a shower and then come back down to my room. You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

The beeping tone leaves you alone in your room, and you loll your head back over the edge of the chair with an exhausted moan, not without a grin playing on your lips. You wouldn’t protest to that.

[aldakat31415]

Hitoshi Shinsou x reader comfort

So.. guess who finally got off their ass and started writing again? And of course with one of my all time favorite Bnha characters... (drum roll please) Hitoshi shinsou!

This is my first time doing story summaries or content warnings, I'm not entirely sure how they work. Bear with me while we work this out over the course of the next few fics.

genre: fluff (comfort)

Summary: You are starting to feel depressed as of late and started to push Shinsou away. Our boy ain't having that though and is showing you the love and affection you deserve.

Content warning(s): No clue.. Not smut or lime and has no overall bad things in it.. umm depressed mc and sad vibes? Don't read if your fanfic reading time isn't about the sad? Happy ending though.

boop.. gif

Soft touches, warm smiles, the secret love in the middle of the night. You knew he loved you. Hitoshi was someone you found that could make all the bad things go away. Or at least he used to be.

It's only natural for those rose tinted glasses to fall off eventually, but you found that this was something more. Well, you longed for more. You couldn't help, but feel like something was missing in your heart, inside you deeply. As much as you loved Shinsou it seemed his care wasn't enough for you.

You felt selfish, you felt unworthy. He did so much for you to what? Lay on the ground pitying yourself? Of course you felt empty, what piece of shit doesn't notice their own misery. As well as wallow in it.

You were worthless.

Back pressed up against the door, hoping that he would just ignore you and leave you be. You didn't want to face him right now. Not like this. Not when you looked like shit, and felt like shit, and were pretty sure that you just were shit. Shinsou would be nice, but you knew better than to think he'd wanna see that. You needed to be ok, for him. You couldn't be a burden..

The sound of bags hitting the kitchen table echoed outside your door. He had gone shopping, you could hear him humming to himself as he put the groceries up. Softly whispering the cheesiest love song you had ever heard, the one you had shown him.

You slumped down on the floor, your face burying into your knees as you waited for him to finish and leave. He had patrol tonight, he wouldn't be home for very long. If you went and spoke to him you'd only be putting him behind schedule, he wouldn't want that. You wouldn't want that.

The mere minutes felt like centuries as you sat there. Each strand of your soul slowly snapping as you held back the urge to run and jump into his arms. He was too sweet, too nice. He would sit there with you until he had minutes to make it the agency, and you knew it. You had no right to hold him from his job, his passion. His selflessness would be his ruin, you couldn't take advantage of him.

A knock on the door. You cursed under your breath. "Y/n?" he asked softly. "Are you in there?"

"No.." you replied, leaning against the already locked door as extra defense against him. "They're not here, go away.."

You heard a gentle sigh and another knock. "Are you sure they're not there? Cause I'm pretty sure they texted me they were in here just a moment ago."

Another cuss word spilled from your lips as you didn't reply. You had made him suspicious, he wouldn't leave now.

"Go to work."

He took a step back from the door, his feet grazing the carpet, genuinely surprised. "...no."

You heard him slide across the floor again, slumping against the door. "You wanna tell me what's wrong? I promise I'm not using my powers."

You debated trusting him for a moment, but knowing Shinsou, if it wasn't too serious he wasn't likely to lie about it. "No I don't.. i want you to go to work."

Another sigh."Love.. Please?"

You didn't respond this time, stubborn annoyance directing your melancholy masked as anger.

A swift motion, one step, two. The door opening and Shinsou looking down on you disappointing and a little ticked off.

"I don't have work today, in case you forgot." He replied, taking a deep breath in before pulling you up towards him.

"How did yo-"

He held up an Allen wrench in his hand "Comes in handy." He replies, a little snark in his tone, his eyes sadden a second later. "..You've been so.. distant lately. Are you sure there's nothing going on?"

You sigh and look up at him, purple locks strewn across his handsome face. You can't keep this up around him, and your will was starting to falter looking him in the eyes. "...I don't know." You gave, unable to come up with an answer.

He sat on you bed, guiding you along with him as you sat on his lap. Your head neatly tucked on his shoulder and fingers locked with yours. "We can start by just talking. Is there anything going on today, any feelings, problems?" He asks, his eyes focused on you. He seemed so effortless in how he spoke, but his shaking hand gave him away.

A gulp from your end of things. The room started to become hot. Averting his gaze you tried to think. "I think.. I'm just sad is all." You said, melancholy dripping in your voice.

He thought for a moment. "Sad? This seems a bit more than sad love.. You won't even meet my eyes for very long."

"I told you that I don't know.." Your voice faltered. "I just feel.. empty. Without meaning.. Dead inside."

He lifted your gaze to meet his, only love and understanding filling them. "I.. feel that way too sometimes.. You know that. If you start feeling like that too you shouldn't hole yourself up in here. You should come to me for help, or at least talk to someone if not me. I can't stand to see you like this.. I thought giving you space would help but it clearly hasn't. Don't do this alone..I would never wish that upon anyone.. especially not you."

"I-i thought that's what you wanted.. you never brought it up or cared so I-I.." You started crying, Hitoshi wiping tears out of your eyes as he held a sorrowful gaze.

"And I was an idiot not to. I'm sorry, I noticed but I thought it was just stress. I was really caught up with work, but I had planned to take you out tonight. I've realized that's not enough, I'm sorry." Shinsou brought your hand to his lips, lightly tough the skin on the back in a gentle kiss and apology.

"You wanted to take me out tonight?" You inquired, looking on at him confused.

"Yeah.. I planned a whole date night cause I wanted to get you away from the stress of work. It's a rooftop, I thought we could stay up there star gazing and in the morning I would wake you for the sunrise. It's one of my favorite spots during patrol, and since it's run by the lady who sponsors my agency they usually don't mind me going up there. I don't think they'd mind you either.. but.. I don't think that matters right now. None of my silly plans do. I'm here for you in whatever way you want, baby.. I just want you to be happy." He looked at you like you were the most important thing in his life, and you were. What else could you be?

You leaned against his chest, the exhaustion from crying slowly starting to take over your body."That all sounds nice Toshi, but I'm tired.. maybe we can see it in the morning?"

He laughed quietly, resting his hand on the bottom of your chin. "For you love? The world."

[lemon--squeezy]

𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Prompt: “Everytime I look at you I feel my heart breaking, because I need you, desperately, and you never notice” by @tommymcartney

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, unrequited love, jealousy and more angst.

Song(s): “Watching You” by Robinson

A/N: There will be a part 2, I promise!

Sleep keeps escaping your reach, leaving your mind tangled up in melancholy thoughts; when the sun rises, like an alert of your failed hours of trying to drown in unconsciousness, you have to face the dreadful reality.

It’s time to leave the BAU and your team behind. You have to leave him.

For months you have been avoiding that alternative and for months you have been falling into a pit full of sorrow and rejection. Now you have reached the bottom of said pit and your wounded self needs to flee.

Dealing with unrequited love is so much harder than you’ve imagined. At first, you were okay acting as an extra in Aaron Hotchner’s life. A subordinate, a co-worker, and eventually a friend. It’s better than having nothing at all. But secretly and unwittingly you were feeding your expectations of being the protagonist of his life. That was until he came to you with a big smile talking happily about a woman named Beth. The one who’s now his girlfriend and a reminder to you that life isn’t a romance movie and you are not getting the guy.

When he introduced her to you and the rest of the team you watched his eyes shining with fondness as he looked at her. You watched how his body got less tense every time his hands touched hers. That whole night you kept watching him while he only cared about watching her.

You wish you didn’t have to leave, but you can’t keep pretending you aren’t broken.

You continue applying makeup under your eyes, determined to hide the dark bags under them. You can't go to JJ’s wedding portraying the face of insomnia. Besides, you want to look good since it's your last night with the team. The last night with him.

⊱◈◈◈⊰

The ceremony is beautiful, and your jaw hurts from smiling too much. By the end of it almost everyone is tearing up a little; although Penelope is the one crying while she holds Morgan’s arms tightly.

After congratulating JJ and Will, the guests disperse between dancing, eating, and drinking. You sip your drink as you watch your friends, registering the heartwarming moment wanting to save it in your memory for as long as you can. You try to avoid watching Aaron, knowing Beth is attached to his side.

Minutes and hours pass by but you don’t notice it because you are entertained with chatting and laughing with your friends. The feeling of sorrow is still there, following you like a shadow and gripping you every time you get a glimpse of Hotch; you push the sour feeling aside wanting to focus on the last moments with your team.

Rossi comes to you insisting that you dance with him, and you accept after warning him about your two left feet.

“Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?” He asks while twirling you around the dance floor.

“What do you mean?” You feign confusion as you internally curse yourself for trying to lie to a profiler. Maybe if I run right now no one will notice, you think but immediately remember you are wearing stupid high heels.

“You have been distant these past days. Avoiding going out for drinks with us, talking less during briefings, being the first to leave the office at the end of the day. But tonight you are suddenly back to your old self, enjoying every smile and every word. Almost feeling like you’re going away,” Rossi stops rambling once he realizes the conclusion of his deductions. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes,” you sigh, accepting being discovered.

“Is it because of Aaron?” Of course, Rossi knew. You feel cornered and your eyes drop to your moving feet but before you can formulate an answer Hotch appears by your side asking for a dance with you. Rossi pats the unit chief’s back and leaves the dance floor.

Aaron’s right hand is security holding your waist while his left one takes yours. Having him so close but not close enough makes you tremble. You keep your stare to anywhere but his face, not uttering a word as you both swing to the rhythm of the music.

“Y/N,” he says your name and it feels like the whole world stops for a moment.

“I need some space. Excuse me,” you mumble and rush inside Rossi’s mansion to get away from the crowd.

You don’t expect Hotch to follow you, but he does. He grasps your wrist, turning you to face him.

“Are you okay?” Aaron questions with worry as his eyebrows furrow. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m your friend.”

Friend. Friend. Friend.

The word echoes inside your head like a provoking melody. Your breathing gets rapid, your hands clench to your sides, your throat closes and you can't think about anything besides the taunting word.

“Every time I look at you I feel my heart breaking, because I need you, desperately, and you never notice,” you are like an overflowing sink, spilling your deepest secret without control of the action.

The sounds are muffled and the place feels suffocating. You feel nervousness consuming your body. You don’t look up to face him. You just turn around, walking to the door, climbing to your car, and leaving without looking back. Leaving him behind.

Part 2