#shes thinking how horrible it is he stained her clothes

[agent-lapin]

my ocs my ocs

[snowsinterlude]

🐇 - rich, stupid, dumb girl and her nerd boyfriend.

(coriolanus snow x bimbo reader)

summary: you loved your boyfriend just too much not to let him edge you in public

c.w: in public, reader is a bimbo, edging, fingering (f. recieving), oral (m. recieving), overstimulation, a bit of praising, dom coryo, at school sex, smut, nsfw, humiliation, explicit content, slightly degrading

mascara running down your eyes, lipstick kisses on his hips, abdomen and neck, your boyfriend had his hand on your head as he frowned at the pleasure and the perfect sight of having you bobbing your head on his dick.

your boyfriend was such a cute nerd, always giving you the right answers to tests that you were too stupid to answer for yourself. always kissing your lips behind the books shelves. always putting you on your knees and letting his fingers open your mouth as you looked up at him, too whiny cause he tried to get you to understand something your stupid brain couldn't bare.

you were just another stupid brain dead girl who's head was good but not in the right ways- he loved the way you eagerly sucked on his dick, getting him coated in your saliva and kissing his tip as if it was the most precious thing of your life. it was just curious to see someone so dumb using it's inteligence to reproduction purposes. of course, both of you didn't mean to reproduct, but if you were to have a son or daughter, you had to pray that he/she would be just as pretty as you- but not as inteligent.

the soft grunts he let out of his mouth were the prettiest thing you could hear. no matter how many soap operas your father made you watch, the prettiest sounds were made by his throat.

you didn't have a gag reflex. every ex boyfriend you had usually would go nuts because of it. but coryo was different.

your sweet, precious, nerdy boyfriend, was bigger than your average-sized-dick exes. you didn't care- i mean, what is a bit of gagging when his dick is hitting the back of your throat? it was delicious having the chance to taste him.

that's why you were on your knees now, under the library desk as he read (or tried) to read the books in front of him. your mouth was too eager, you seemed hungry for him, pillow plump lips with smeared lipstick engulfing all you could of his inches, every single one could fit into your throat- fuck the gag reflex. you wanted him to the brim.

your thinking was delayed by his sweet words, the sweet tone of his voice cussing you for being so good at sucking a dick but being so horrible with mathematics.

"god, you're so pretty, doll. how can you be so hungry for dick?" he asked, and you moaned against his dick, incapable of giving him any proper answers. "keep going like that, okay? once i'll cum- fuck, we'll come back to studying."

"'don't wanna" you said, muffled by his cock.

"i didn't asked if you want, baby. you will." he said, pulling you by your hair to get you away from his dick. he kissed you, lips and tongue on yours. "now, sit by my side, okay?"

and you obeyed, pouting and trying to clean the lipstick stains off your lips.

his hand went to your thigh after he put his dick back inside his clothes. "c'mon, tell me. do you know the answer to that?" he pointed to a question on the book, something about maths. your worst grades were in this one class.

"i don't." you said, pouting. "c'mon, cory! let me make you cum." you begged, cleaning off the mascara stains now. "don't be such a meanie." you said, blinking your doe eyes.

"nope. answer at least one of those." and you tried, really. but then his fingers were on your damped panties going up and down your slick and you couldn't seem to think anymore. how mean of him.

"i-i don't know, coryo- stop that, if you keep on edgin' then i won't be capable of answerin'-" you slurred, almost crying from the way he was teasing you. he knew you couldn't answer things like that. not in that state.

"c'mon, doll. you know better than that." he said, and you melted almost right away.

"i don't. i swear!" you said, feeling him pull your panties to the side so he could have a better access to you.

"well, i guess you won't be cummin' today. what a shame." he said, thrusting his fingers slowly into you, curling them inside your tight cunt.

"please don't- coryoo, let me cum, please!" you begged, awkwardly bucking against his fingers only to end up mewling into his sudden kiss.

"i kissed you just because you're too loud. you know that the library doesn't permit such lewd actions of love as to kissing."

"you're f..fingering me."

"nuh-uh, i'm trying to teach you the basics of mathematics by pushing you to an edge." he said, kissing your cheek. "but if you're not answering, then maybe i should just stop."

he threatened to pull his fingers out of you, which didn’t happen due to your relentlessly bucking to his fingers. "n-no, i'll answer it! i will!-"

"then do it." he said, his thumb on your clit. "what is the second most read book in the world?"

"d...dom quixote?" you dared, mewling into his fingers, noticing how wet you were by the sounds your pussy was making on him. he gave you a proud smile, getting quicker with his fingers and promptly taking them off you when a teacher passed close by.

he sucked on those fingers, humming about how good you tasted. "such a sweet girl, it isn't even difficult to tell that you're the sweetest in taste too." he said, adjusting your pantiesnas you breathed heavily.

he's such a meanie. spent the whole day teasing you. fingering, grinding, humping, he didn’t got quiet until he accompanied you home, and now, your hands were on the wall as he pounded into you, making sure you felt every single inch of his dick inside you.

"c-cory, you'll let me cum, right? you spent the whole day- fuck! t-teasing me, edging me!" you slurred.

he nodded, kissing your neck. "promise i'll let you, doll. just keep yourself quiet. you don't want your parents to see what a slut you are, do you?"

"n-no, i don't!" you answered, holding all your moans by biting your bottom lip.

"princess," he called you "you don't need to stop moaning. just be good and less louder okay?" you nodded as an answer. the moans you let out after that, were soft grunts, hard to be held as he kept on pounding into you, even harder when his hand found your cunt again, his index on your clit.

"st-stop, coryo. it's gettin' harder to-" another moan, this time due to how he pinched your clit. "s-stop!"

"oh you want me to?"

"n-no, but-"

"no but's. you know you want it. tell me, doll. what do you want?"

"c-cum. want to cum." you begged. "please."

"hm,, i don't really want to end it right now." his pace became quicker; his lips on your shoulder and his words on your ear.

"please. just this once." you tried again, your cunt tightening around him as he pounded slowly inside you.

it was torturing. you could feel your core clenching, his dick throbbing inside you and still he didn’t want to make you cum. he was taking you over the edge.

with that in mind for the next reason you would fight with him, you trembledand squirmed when his dick kissed your uterus just the right way- when he hit the sweetest spots in your cunt that just him knew about.

you cried your eyes out, bucking against him and letting him bury himself into you- it was just too good not to let him do it. and then you were ready to cum all of your pent-up sexual teasing over his dick, and that's what you did, letting his cock be coated with your cum and moaning as you felt his cum going directly into you. rope after rope, spurt after spurt, you were filled up completely by his cum, and he quickly adjusted your panties in the right direction, kissing your temple.

"be a doll and sleep with those hm? full." he said, tapping your ass and kissing you goodbye.

being stupid with those thoughts of yours, you quickly forgot about what he said, and he knew, somehow- because on the next day he fucked you and stuffed his seed into you, he made sure to not let anything leak when he shoved your panties into you.

"don't forget about it this time." and he kissed you again, this time, you oveyed promptly and slept with his cum inside your cunt..

[reverieblondie]

Taste so Sweet

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Oral (fem receiving), Cum eating, Horn pulling, Spit kink, Eludes to addiction, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (Please wrap before you tap) and Biting.

Summary: After a passionate make out session you find you just can't stop thinking of Rolan, and how sweet he taste.

A/N: So I have had this on the back burner for months! and though it is not for everyone I really enjoyed writing it and hope people find it as hot as I do. Enjoy!

Word count: 6,377

Maybe it was the final straw that caused this? Or maybe it was that tightening in your chest you feel when you stand near him. Everything seems to draw you in closer to him, from his refreshing musk to his voice with that accented lisp that slips when he relaxes and those golden eyes that glitter like distant stars. Perhaps, and more accurately, it was the classic case of liquor encouragement that often turns people to slip their truths. Though you had hidden the truth of your deep desires in your sultry lie…

“Just one kiss…friends can kiss when it comes to the swings of celebration…” you cooed to him with your wine-stained lips. 

His keen eyes study you…he knows you are feeling tipsy, but so is he…Your eyes stay on his lips as he drinks from his goblet in contemplation; the drink left on his lips quickly licked away from the sharp points of his forked tongue. One of his infernal traits you were never privy to before your time as the Gates savior. Through sheer luck, both your lives still managed to always be intertwined, leading to your friendship blooming further. Rolan’s eyes are slightly cloudy but still that brilliant hue of gold you could make out even in the greatest depths of darkness. 

“Just one kiss, huh? You sure about that, Tav?” - Gods… does his voice get richer by the day? Is it the drink, or has he always been this alluring and downright cocky? 

You place your hand on his knee, feeling the heat that radiates from underneath the cloth of his pants. Your smile is all desire, and your taunts, “Well, unless you beg me for more…” 

Rolan’s smile widens before he looks over his shoulder to see Lia dancing with Karlach and Shadowheart while Cal plays with the braids in Lae’zels hair as she speaks of her last adventure. Rolan turns back to you, his hand coming over yours. He tries to mask his grin but fails horribly. 

“Well, let’s find somewhere more…private perhaps…” 

It’s then you tug his hand, having him follow your swaying trail, as you two make your way to a dark closet located in the back of the tavern…

You practically push him into the isolated room and shut the door behind you; Rolan manages a laugh before he grabs your face and pulls you closer to crash into his soft lips. Rolan guides your body to press against his, and you can’t help but gasp at the seer heat of him; every part feels so good, and his body is so warm. His knee slips between your legs, and he gathers a fist full of your hair in his clawed hands, nothing to hurt but just to feel the want burning through him. While he’s casually adjusting you to straddle his knee, a stray thought crosses your mind, he’s…good at this?

Then his other hand drops down to your hip, and he starts leading you to a slow grind on his knee that makes you gasp from the friction to your wet sex. He’s really good at this? Rolan chuckles slightly before swiping his tongue over your smooth lips. Slipping his tongue through so you finally get a taste of him, your toes curl, and your hands cling to his robes tighter. The sweetest taste you have ever had sends sparks over your taste buds, his tongue expertly gliding over yours to make you feel every motion of him. It tastes so sweet, and you feel your body heat rise, and your nipples perk the more you drink him in. Your body yearns; nothing else matters to you now other than him: to feel, taste, and want him. Your chest starts to burn from the lack of air, but your panties get wetter with your arousal as you grind yourself on him. Feeling his chest vibrate with a groan the more you slowly roll yourself on his leg. 

Rolans forked tongue slips out of your swollen lips, and you whine at the loss. You hear Rolan laugh at you, but you’re too lost in your panting for breath and neediness for more. What’s happening? You have never felt this need for someone else before, but your mind is filled with Rolan and the need to taste him, your need to feel him, to fuck him. This desire burning in you outweighs your need to breathe in your mind; you’re drunk off of him. Through a sliver of light escaping from the closed door cracks, you see a glimmering trail of his saliva connecting your lips to him; it’s too irresistible to resist as you chase to lick more. Your lips crash against his hungrier this time, and Rolan is more than willing to oblige. Bodys melting together, and you’re feeling a sheen of sweat starting to cover your body; you’re hot and needy, and need him now is all your brain can focus on. Rolan leans into you more and pushes you against the wall, your head hitting one of the closet shelves, but you can’t care right now as you feel his forked tongue rubbing against yours, your moans slipping out along with his. His hands find your breast as you find his belt.

“Can…may I?” he asks between breaths, and you’re already a slew of yeses as you’re undoing his pants.   

Rolan doesn’t miss a beat as he’s undoing your shirt as you’re desperate to release his cock. Every part of your body is uncomfortable in your clothes as your cunt aches for him; it’s practically painful how swollen your clit is. You need him fucking you now!  In a cry, you’re trying to get your pants down to feel his fingers, cock, tail, anything! Looking down, you see his arm moving as he pumps his cock for you, fuck, it’s happening! You’re practically in tears from the overwhelming want, and you moan for him, letting him lick and suck against your neck. 

“Rolan?! Has anyone seen Rolan?” -no…

Rolan pauses and groans, lifting his head towards the closed door, “Zurgan… They have the worst timing…” -no, no, no!

Rolan steps back from you and starts helping your reput on yours and his clothes as he adjusts himself back into his pants. “I guess we got a little caught up… but if I don’t get out there, they will start tearing this place apart.” 

Your body is burning, and your stomach feels like it’s sinking. You don’t want him to go…you want him to stay… Rolan turns back to you and presses his forehead to yours, his hand on your cheek. God, his skin touching yours feels so good. Why does it feel so good? 

Roaln leans down and gives you a quick kiss on your lips, “If you… want to try again… or… you know where to find me.” 

With that, Rolan gives you a kind smile and leaves the closet; you hear muffled sounds that might be him grumbling at his siblings… but all you can think about is that sweet taste on your tongue… and how you’re already craving more…

“I knew you would come back…so needy, aren’t you…”

“So needy…” the words come out of your mouth before you can even stop it. What’s happened to you? You feel consumed…

Rolan lifts your legs further up towards your head; the stretch makes you moan before you can stop yourself. Rolan smiles down at you, his golden eyes glimmering like before, and then you feel your mouth start to water as you look at his tongue sliding over his lip…

Rolan’s cock teases your slit, the hot tip tracing over you slowly, leaving his pre cum drooling on you, the feeling of its stickiness making your back arch. You can’t help how your mouth hangs open, your tongue lolling out, begging to taste him again. Rolan’s lips curl into a smirk, 

“You’re addicted, aren’t you? Do you want it? Are you ready?” -fuck yes, you want it! You burn for it!

You can’t bring yourself to say yes, so you nod frantically, slightly whimpering in the process, your hips buckling against his cock, feeling the ridges tease against your soft folds. Rolan can’t keep you in anticipation any longer, so with a roll of his tongue and his lips pressed in a tight seam, he gathers his saliva before leaning down and dropping the wad into your eager mouth. Your tongue catches it, and you let it sit against your tongue for a moment while the sweetness coats your taste buds. Fuck, it’s what you have been craving…

Finally, you swallow and reveal your now empty mouth to him, your nipples harder now, your body sweating, your pussy wetter and quivering with an insatiable need. 

Rolan smiles down at you, “Good girl…” 

He purrs, as his cock ruts faster against you, “Do you feel no shame? Getting off on my spit? So naughty…” 

You’re not sure if it really is his spit or his taunting words, but you’re needing it, burning for it…

“Rolan… Pl- Please…” 

Rolan caresses your cheek, “I know… I know…” 

As he is coming down to you, he starts to slip in the tip very slowly… the feeling of the stretch makes your whole body curl, and Rolan still pours honeyed words into your ear as he sinks deeper…. Though his words get hazier, and your mouth gets thirstier. It’s like you have gone days without water, and as you look up at his concentrated eyes, freckled cheeks, and slightly parted lips, you know that drinking him in is the only way you will ever be satisfied… Your… craving him and his addictive sweet taste….

In a flash, you’re sitting up straight with a groan, your body is in a cold sweat, your throat dry, and your tongue needy. -shit. 

It’s been days of this madness… since you and Rolan had your hot and heavy makeout session, and two things have happened since that day.  You have a wild craving for sweets, having restless, sweat-inducing dreams that have been soaking your sheets, and your thoughts have been filled with him. Part of you wonders if that wizard put a hex on you or…if you’re in love…

With your head in your hands, you roll yourself out of bed and walk over to your nightstand where the jar of candy you bought waits; you had thought that you just needed some sweets, but no matter how much you’re eating, you can’t get this craving, this inch out of you. But it’s not like you can say anything or ask anyone about this new development! Especially Rolan, Rolan is a busy man… with lots of responsibility. You can’t be bothering him with your girlish fantasy of him or humiliate yourself by asking if he did something… not that he would have? Rolans is not the type, but then why? Why the hell does he taste so sweet? And why can’t you stop thinking about it?!

Whatever, you can’t focus on this now. You have to meet up with Lae’zel, Karlach, Wyll, and Astarion for tonight’s job, and you know better than to keep your companions waiting…  

Everything has gone off mainly without a hitch; your cravings are still driving you mad and proving even while you are fighting to still be in your thoughts. During your fight, you find yourself more hot-blooded and restless to get your opponent down and broken; you’re unsure if the craving is to blame… but with how restless and irritated you have been, you wouldn’t doubt it. Now, here you sit by the fire surrounded by your companions, still trying to relax… but you’re finding it impossible! Your body is fidgeting, your blood boiling as you suck and roll your tongue on the hard candy like a vise like it’s finally going to help you get over this craving for that haughty wizard.

Astarion must sense your distress because before you know it, he is sliding up to your side with an insolent smirk, “Evening, love. Is everything alright? You seem… shaky?” 

You roll your eyes and bounce your foot, trying to ignore his question. Karlach is next to go to your aid, though where Astarion is taunting you, having his own ideas about what is driving you mad, Karlach is actually full of concern. 

“I have noticed that too, Tav; you seem out? Soldier, is something going on?” 

You wave your hand, trying to brush them off. “Nothing, nothing. I just… haven’t been able to rest well like I have wanted… but hopefully, I will get over it soon…”

Wyll chimes in next with sympathetic eyes, “What seems to be the issue? Bad dreams?” 

You grimace… more like wet ones…. You look up to your friends, who are anxiously awaiting your response. What could you even say?

“I, it’s complicated… I don’t even fully understand it myself.”

“Well, why not pull the ears of your friends? No matter what it is, we will try to understand and try to help you in any way we can!” Oh, well… always so optimistic…

You look to your companions whose eager faces look at you bathed in the golden fire light… you have known them for a while now and have been through a life-or-death scenario together… why not tell them about your plaguing horny thoughts… okay maybe not everything, but definitely not the full detail.  

“Well, have you ever… craved something?” They all look at each other, confused. 

Astrion laughs, “Cravings? And what is that supposed to mean? You’re hungry? I can’t say I haven’t had a desperate craving before… but what are you craving exactly?” 

Rolans forked tongue in your mouth, sliding against yours while his nails tear your clothes open, devouring you, body and soul… oh Gods…

“Uhhhh… just… something sweet…”

Lae’zel tsk, finally contributing to the conversation, “This is stupid; just eat something sweet.” 

“That… hasn’t been working. It’s a specific sweet…” As you think about it, you feel your mouth filling with saliva that you’re quick to swallow back down. If they knew…. If anyone did… 

Karlach tilts her head, “Like from a shop? Can’t you go and buy it?” 

The image of you giving Rolan a piece of gold to spit in your mouth fills your mind, and you shrivel into yourself. Why are you thinking like this! 

“No! I…. this is so embarrassing…” 

Astarion and Karlach look at each other and smile. “What are you craving, Tav?” they say in unison…

“I think it’s more… who are you craving Tav…” Lae’zel cuts in with a rare smile of her own. 

Wyll gasped, and the other two bounced excitedly at the accusation, and you? You are visibly sweating bullets… but you can’t deny it much longer… 

“Is that even possible to… crave someone? Their taste? Their smell?” your thighs tighten at the thought of Rolan sandalwood and paper sent with the lights hint of musk… fuck you want to drown in it… “their touch?” you say with a shiver…

You look up at the four pairs of eyes, looking at you intently with slight blushes on their faces. With a smirk, Astarion waves his hand toward you. “No, no, don’t pause… please continue, darling…” Astarion teases. 

You throw your head in your hands, ‘I can’t believe I’m confessing to this… I just don’t know what to do? The hunger is getting worse! The dreams are getting more real…” 

Karlach leans in, “Ohhh, there’s dreams? Tell us more…” 

You shake your head in disapproval, “No, I’m already embarrassed; you don’t need to know more…” 

Wyll says, “This might be off limits, but… who is it? Maybe if we knew we could give you some advice? A plan!”

They all agree in unison. Part of you wants to tell them it’s Rolan, but… though you don’t mind the teasing, you’re unsure if Rolan could handle it… and you don’t want to put him on the spot. Gods knows, as soon as Karlach and Wyll find out it’s Rolan, they will be planning your spring wedding… 

“I…-” 

“I know who it is…” lae’zel says casually, catching everyone by surprise. 

You look at her with wide eyes… every perspective… of course, she would have found out…or maybe she saw you two? 

Karlach, supposedly catching your inner turmoil, places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “You don’t have to tell us who if you’re not ready, but I think that whoever this is has done a number on you,” 

Astarion chimes in, “This is true. You have been sucking on those sweets like your life depends on it. If this person is so delicious, I think you go and get yourself another taste…” 

Karlach agrees, “Maybe you will find they have been craving you just as much!” 

Wyll adds, “It could be romantic, confessing your want, getting vulnerable to them. And if they don’t reciprocate for some reason, we can all go out and find you something way more satisfying.” Wyll gives you a wink, making you laugh. 

Then your eyes go to Lae’zel, who is just looking at you with a smirk. You give her a look, and he just laughs, “I don’t think she needs to worry about unreciprocated affections… though… I could be wrong….” 

Uhhggg, lae’zel has been with Cal too much; she is picking up on his teasing… 

It’s funny how desire can so easily cloud the mind. Now, here you are… going against your better judgment and giving in to the temptation to at least see him again. Part of you thought that seeing him would ease the carving..... but you knew deep down that it wouldn’t, so the torture continues.

Rolan hasn’t noticed you walk in, or if he has, he’s too involved in his work to look up from his sales book to greet you. Not that he has to; despite how much you enjoy looking into his brilliant eyes, there is something about. watching him in his own little world, however. Seeing him so concentrated, writing diligently with what you are sure is immaculate handwriting. In his focused state, you observe that he has a habit of chewing the inside of his cheek, forcing his lips to perk as his mind is elsewhere.

As you watch, familiar feelings boil forth, and so do familiar cravings....

The urge to go and just touch him, to feel his warmth again. You want to grab him from behind and, bury your head in between his shoulder blades and breathe in as much of him as you can, letting your senses be overflowed with him. You want to hear his nervous laugh, feel him hold you back, and feel his breath against your skin..... To watch his tongue move as he talks…

A rush of heat grips your body, causing you to pause and shiver in want. Tingling rushes through your skin, and your saliva starts to pool, the desire..... the craving... the addiction. Perhaps coming here won’t dull your hunger but worsen it…

Quickly, you retrieve a piece of candy from your pocket to dull it—just chew and leave. As you head for the exit, you can’t help the part of you that needs another look. Turning, you see Rolan taking a drink. As he lowers his cup, a small droplet of liquid lingers on his lips, quickly licked away by the tips of his forked tongue…That tongue... his taste. You want him. No, you need him!

Your body is reacting before your mind can fully process. You’re walking towards him. When you’re finally noticed, Rolan seems surprised to see you, but the smile starting

to form on his lips is unmistakable. However, as soon as you grab a handful of his robes and drag him off, his smile falls into furrowed confusion as he tries to ask what you’re doing. Rolans. Words, however, fall on deaf ears because the only thing you can hear is the sound of your racing heart....

With Rolan in a firm grasp, you drag him up the staircase and through the portal, the need to be alone with him completely overtaking your mind. Once you two are alone in the tower, you finally let go of Rolan’s clothes. Rolan looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind... you feel as if you truly have. Rolan studies you briefly before his confusion hits an irritating peak, “What’s wrong.. Why are you-”

“What did you do to me !?”

Rolan’s head jerks back from your louder, more cutting question.

“What? Excuse me! I haven’t done anything?”

Even When he’s irritated, he’s irresistible! You just want to grab him and kiss him, but now you two are on the verge of another argument; it feels like back when you were on the road running into him over and over ... Can you be honest? Can you tell him that you genuinely don’t want to fight but want to be wrapped in his arms? Not only do you crave for his taste you crave to feel affection from him?

Rolan steps closer, studying you, his golden, ardent eyes tracing over your fevered body. You know you must look like a wreck right now, but it can’t be helped. You want to just collide into his embrace and  tremble within his arms, 

“What’s going on? Why are you dragging me from the shop and throwing accusations at me!”

What can you even say? I think you put some crazy spell on me to make me crazy for you? Now that you think about it more, Rolan wouldn’t do that… is this just your feelings coming to fruition after finally getting to kiss him? AHH! The uncertainty is driving you mad! You suck on the candy more to help, but it���s not working…

Your eyes are locked with his lips, and you know it’s time to just confess, “I’m…. Craving you… my mind has been consumed with thoughts of you. I don’t know if this is a spell or a curse, but… I can’t get the thought of your taste out of my mind… my thoughts that have stirred with you have become more potent… more lustful. I have a desire for you that not even the sweetest of candies can satiate…” 

You look back up from your speech to see Rolan’s eyes now as wide. 

“Craving me… what have you been craving exactly?”

You bite your lip, “Your tongue… dripping spit into my mouth… while you rut into me…” 

As soon as you say it, you feel your whole body catch on fire; at least, that’s how it feels. You’re so embarrassed and can’t believe you just admitted it! Turning to hide your shame, you feel yourself wanting to run, but two arms wrap around you before you can take the first step.

The warmth… the feel of his body… his smell… Rolan…

 You fight the urge to lean into him… but fail. 

Rolan’s lips come to your ear, “I am so sorry… but then again, if I’m being honest, I’m also not…” 

You’re confused by his comment, “Wha-“

“My infernal heritage… is related to incubus… so it doesn’t happen often, but… if I really like  someone… my saliva… turns into an aphrodisiac… usually the effects are not so potent, but… the more you like me in turn,… the more the want lingers…” 

Rolan pulls you against him closer, his voice whispered and laced with seduction, “You must really want me, Tav…”

You’re trying to muster up any kind of words, but nothing seems right… You do want him… so much it’s consuming you! A hummed yes is all you can muster as your face flushes further. Rolan, pleased by your bashful hum, gently turns to you; his long fingers caress your jaw and tilt it so you’re forced to be further entranced by him. Gods… you just want to  

“You have to ask me.” 

It’s not rare for Rolan to have a slight smirk and a cocky attitude… but his confidence right now is… making you hot.

Rolan leans into you further, “Ask me to help you… to kiss you… to take you…” Rolan’s grin shows his sharp teeth off, making your insides scream. “You didn’t get this clammed up at the tavern… you nervous?” 

More impatient. 

“Rolan, help me in every way you can.” 

“By?” his breath fans over your lips, so mouth-watering close as you faintly taste his breath.

“Kissing me, t-taking me…till this burning ache subsides… then, do it all over again and again.” 

Rolan laughs, “Well, greedy aren’t you?” 

You want to push him and argue back, but you pull him closer by his shirt, “Please, this craving… it’s borderline painful, you ass…” 

Satisfied, Rolan finally eases your ache by pressing his firm lips to yours. As you feel his lips on yours, the blood rushes in your veins, feeling like a rushing wave of a refreshing excited ocean. Feeling your body shiver, Rolan tightens his grip, causing his nails to bite into your soft skin; it only proves to excite you more. Rolan’s nostrils flare as he smells your arousal, ruining your panties, and he can’t hold it back anymore; his own cravings for you are starting to consume him. Rolan parts your decadent lips with his tongue, and you finally get that taste as his tongue softly dances against yours. It’s oh so sweet taste that maddeningly sets your whole body aflame. 

Your tongue eagerly slides against his as you take in as much of his taste as you can. Hands digging into him, a small part of you scared that if you let go, he would disappear, and this would all be another one of your dreams. Roalns lips smile against yours at your clinging parting. He wants to tease you for soft whines, but he eases you with his hand on your cheek. Muttering a quick incantation, you can hardly hear from your buzzing ears, he suddenly snaps his fingers, and a portal appears behind you. You feel the whirling buzz of its magic, but your eyes stay on his. Rolan’s lips find yours again effortlessly, and his large hands rest on your hips as he gently guides you back. You two don’t part from each other until the sensation of you falling back onto a soft mattress startles you. 

Looking around, you see elaborate drapes and long curtains all around the room, paired with the soft glow of candles. Books in tall piles and other immaculate things tell you you’re in his room. You look at him with an excited grin, and that’s when you are met with his golden eyes racking over you as he undoes his collar. Your eyes drink in every inch of his rose-colored skin as he strips down for you. Your eyes trace over the raised arches that decorate his body; as his shirt drops to the floor, you watch as his hands go over his abs to start working the buckle and laces of his pants. Every movement he makes causes your heart to race further. 

Watching your thighs tighten, and your mouth water, Rolan relishes in your want; with a smile showing off his sharp teeth, he nods his head toward you.  

“Strip” 

With a swallow, you nod eagerly and start undoing your shirt as Rolan watches in silent excitement. With your shirt off, you quickly kick off your pants, and before you can roll down your underwear, Rolan’s voice pauses you.

“Spread your legs,” he says cooly, almost casually.

Why is he so good at this? Just like in the Elf Song, what you thought was a nerdy wizard is proving to be way more suave, than you thought…. And you love every moment of it…

All the blood in your body rushes to your face and to your clit; you think you’re already seeing stars, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. Moving your hands away from your underwear, you lounge back on your elbows and spread your legs. Rolan’s pupils as he looks at the wet spot seeping through the thin fabric. He can’t help himself anymore, and in an instant, he is in between your legs, driving his nose into your clothed cunt. His heat on you makes your legs quiver, and a whine rips from your throat as he sniffs and takes you in; then, you feel his tongue, and you let out a scream. 

Rolan’s tongue slides against the cloth, forcing the material to rub against your sensitive skin, making your hips want to roll and grind against him. The teasing is making your blood boil with need, and then pushing you further to the edge, his tongue finds your swollen clit, and he wraps his lips around it and sucks. You tighten your thighs around his head as you chant his name, feeling your slit quiver with need. Though before you can start to beg, you feel Rolan pulling away with your panties between his lips. With a quick movement, Rolan rips your panties off, leaving the delicate material draping from his teeth. The sight and sudden cold air make you moan and spread your legs wider. You’re done waiting. You need him.

Quickly discarding the rest of your underwear, your eyes meet his completely nude for now. Rolans once confident demeanor seems to have slightly faltered as he looks down at you. Painties are gone from his teeth, and he looks at you as if you were a goddess coming down to bless him with unimaginable cardinal pleasure. Rolan drops his underwear down to his ankles. He quickly kicks away before crawling on top of you. 

Rolan lips stay on yours as he slowly runs his hands down your body, sliding his warm hands from the soft mounds of your breast to tracing your sides with his nails, causing your body to arch closer to him. His hand slips to your hips to your thigh, where he carefully brings one of your legs up to spread you wider and wrap around his hips. Your heart races at the feeling of being so exposed and feeling his heat so close to your core. You would beg for him to finally ease your ache by fucking you. If you weren’t so busy with his tongue in your mouth, you’re not willing to stop licking up that addictive taste right from the source.  

Rolan, though, has to break away for a breath, and as you two pant over each other, looking into each other’s blown-out eyes, you can’t help but feel complete bliss. His smile is charming and tender as he leans down to give you a chaste kiss. “Are you sure you want this?” 

You groan in frustration, “Please don’t make me beg!”

Rolan rests his forehead against yours, silencing you.

“No, no begging. I just want to make sure this is more than lust..” 

“I have always liked you…even when we didn’t get along, I have always been ensnared by you. Your kiss just made me need to show you” 

Rolan smiles, and you feel him getting warmer and his cheeks a shade redder, “Good…”   

Rolan against his hips and thanks when you feel his rigged length sliding open your smooth folds. The head alone burns you as it splits you open; as he sinks in deeper, your toes curl further. Rolan does his best to go slow, but the urge to slam into you is wanting to overtake him. But with how your body twitches and your face contorts with every inch of his cock sinking into you. He knows he has to stretch you open slowly, so to help ease you, Rolan licks his thumb before he brings it down to your clit and rolls slow circles. You preen and throw your head back, exposing your neck to him. He eagerly nuzzles into it, leaving kisses and soft bites in his wake. 

Rolan buckles his hips into your fluttering cunt, groaning and growling at how your body sucks and clamps down on his girth in an insatiable need. With another roll of his hips, he sinks down all the way, his warm tip nudging on your g stop so deep it makes your eyes roll and your voice to cry his name in a broken moan. Rolan licks against your neck, his sweet saliva seeming to tingle your skin at the contact. He hums against you, 

“Gods, I’ve been waiting for this, to feel your dripping cunt around me, so soft and greedy for it.”

Rolan rolls his hips, pulling to the tip before forcing back into you in a mind-numbing rush, “All mine…” 

Rolan continues to rut his hips in and out, every ridge catching against your sensitive flesh, feeling exquisite as you can’t help but let out shuddering moans as Rolan’s cock rams against your insides. Your mouth falls open as you stare at Rolan’s lidded eyes, your breath heavy, and your hands desperately clinging to his back as you are fucked on his cock, bouncing up and down on his length at a building pace. 

“Please….” you say breathlessly, making Rolan smile as he approaches your face. 

“Please, what?” he says with a rough roll that makes your legs shake. You can’t find the words. All you can do is loll out your tongue in a whine, hoping Rolan is smart enough to understand. 

Rolan grins at your silent plea, “You sure?”

You whine at the taunt, but you’re addicted. You need it, so you eagerly nod, keeping your mouth open for him. Rolan rolls his hips slower as his eyes watch yours, completely dilated with lust; with a nod of his head, you know he’s ready, and with a parting of his lips, you’re catching his sweet spit and swallowing eagerly, relishing in how it instantly makes your body more sensitive to everything your feeling. Rolan groans as you clamp down on him, and your body grows hotter. He picks up his pace, wrapping his tail tightly around your other leg and pulling you down onto his with every thrust. 

Rolan buries his head into the side of your neck once more, his lips on your sweating neck as his breath is the only thing to cool your body in this heated passion, “fuck…so soft…tight, ah and mine…” 

Rolan’s teeth slide along your skin as he thrusts in tandem with his growls of, “Mine, mine, Mine!”

All you can do is hold on and moan your yeses; you’re his, you have always been his, and you always will be. 

His nails dig into you, and his words slip to that of infernal as he continues to build you to that peak. Your pussy clamps down on him harder, making him whine and furrow his brows as his hips start to lose their rhythm to now reckless abandon. It’s all so hot and consuming, you are completely his, and all you can think of now is the man ramming into you and how his cock is consistently ramming on your sweet spot. Finally, you wrap your legs around his hips and bury your hands into his soft hair, softly pulling as you hold on; it’s enough to bring him to his peak, and as he bites down on your neck, feeling your hot blood against his teeth dripping onto his tongue your screaming his name as you clamp and squirt on his cock. 

Rolan’s nostrils flare at the smell of your sweet release covering his cock and thighs, and he groans into your neck as he continues to rut like a desperate madman. The feeling of his cock on your sensitive skin as you writhing around in overstimulation. But Rolan just growls, and he pins you down in a strength you have never been privy to, And finally, you feel his burning cock twitch. As Rolan stills, you feel his hot cum flooding inside of you, it feels so overwhelming, and your body shakes as the feeling of being so full of him makes every part of you aflame, and you can’t help in relishing in the feeling of wanting him to burn you like this always. 

After a moment, Rolan releases his mouth from your neck in a soft, whispered sorry. You are so fucked out of your mind you can only mutter something along the lines of an “Okay…” 

As Rolan pulls out, you let out a whine as he slips from your used sex. You lean up to give Rolan a smile and perhaps some praise, and as you do, you see Rolan’s luminescent eyes glued to your sex. Rolan watches as his seed drools out; Rolan groans as he takes his thumb and gathers the mixing of both your releases on his digit and brings it to his mouth, licking it up and moaning at the taste. Your breath catches at the sight, and before you can say anything, your legs are spread and hooked over Rolans shoulders. His breath is so desperate as he watches your glistening sex drool. 

You bite your lip and raise your hips closer to his waiting mouth; Rolan moans before his eyes flicking to yours, “It’s all yours…” 

Rolan smiles as he licks a long strip up your sex, gathering the taste on his tongue. It only spurs him on more, and as he keeps eating both your releases from within you, moaning and purring as his tongue slips in and out. You squirm as your second high fastly approaches, but Rolan only responds to your whines by digging his nails into your ass to help you grind on his face as you hold on his horns like a lifeline. 

It all reaches a peak as you’re cumming in a blinding passion, as Rolan drinks and slurps it all from you till there’s nothing left and your voice is raw. Rolan leans back up and licks his lips. 

“I think I’m going to be the one who is addicted to your sweet taste…” 

All you can do is laugh as he comes up, and again so, he’s holding you closely to his chest.

“I think we are just addicted to each other…”  

Rolan smiles as he buries his nose into your hair, holding you even tighter, “I think you’re right.”

[barefoothighlander]

could you do ghost being with someone on the team who’s just so innocent and naive it makes him wonder why they chose the job she has, like her callsign is angel, she puts her hair in braids when she’s allowed to, she puts little bows in her hair sometimes, she’s respectful etc

of course :) here's a quick little drabble I hope it fits what you had in mind

warnings: fluff, description of violence, mention of alcohol, mention of blood

The team got called in around midnight, everyone making their way to the base as quickly as possible, Ghost and you got there around 12:13, your appearances as a stark contrast to each other. He's drenched in black, face hidden from prying eyes behind the skull, looming and feared, you, on the other hand, showed up with your hair pulled back into french braids that ended in small buns behind your ears, a tank top covering your chest that had a small bow sitting between your breasts.

The two of you made your way into the conference room, Ghost finding his usual spot on the back wall while you greeted the team.

"G'mornin Angel" Soap greets, purposely avoiding Ghost's glare while he shamelessly eyes your form, "Little frilly for the field no?" He says pointing toward your top, you playfully push at his shoulder as you find your seats.

Price had given your mission assignments, a small hideout in the States was housing illegal weapons and you had to reclaim them.

You changed into your tactical gear and got into the plane, sitting between Ghost and Soap, fortunately, Soap liked to talk so the ride went quickly, the two of you chatting about your home life, Soap had recently gotten a dog and you were completely jealous, Simon designating your home pet free for the time being.

You landed and got started on the mission, following as Ghost took lead, clearing the building without a hitch while you followed behind, shooting down anyone in your sights. There were a few more enemies than you expected, having to use your knife on a few, effectively covering your gear in blood.

You completed the mission, boarding back onto the plane to return home, Ghost stares at you, the spatter of blood covering your soft cheek, it always confused him, why you decided to join the force, you were so soft, delicate when you were with him, he trusted your capability in the field, your skill saving his life a few times, but off the field, you wouldn't hurt a fly.

Touching down on base you decide to take a shower before going home, not wanting the dirt and blood on you to stain or transfer onto anything. You step out a few minutes later noticing Ghost sitting on one of the benches in the locker room.

"You know you can't be in here"

"Wanted to make sure you were okay"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugs, turning and handing you a bag of clothes, you grab it and begin dressing yourself, brightly coloured sweats tugged onto your body before you cover your chest with a lace-trimmed tank top.

"That's why"

You furrow your brows in question.

"You're just very, innocent"

"Innocent?"

"I've seen you take out a room of men without breaking a sweat yet when we're home, everything is daisies and bows, it confuses me how you can be so kind and warm with a job like this"

You think about his words,

"It confuses me how somehow as nice as you would want to be with someone like me"

"Simon,"

You move forward to hold his face in your hands, a soft smile on your face, "My job is bloody and violent, and that's exactly why I am the way I am, it's nice to be - what'd you call it? Soft - it lets me forget about all the horrible things out in the world"

You reach down to kiss him, "And in regards to you, you aren't a dark person, you're thoughtful, generous, funny" You emphasize each word with a kiss.

"I just don't want them to take advantage of you," He says

"I doubt they'll even try when you're five feet away from me"

He huffs a laugh before the two of you make your way into the hall, greeted by the rest of the 141

"We're all going to the pub, care to join lovebirds"

Ghost grimaces at Soaps term,

"Of course," You say

You spend a few hours in the bar, the men all sipping on variations of whiskey while you sit with some fruity concoction between your hands.

"So what's with the bows," Soap asks, his words slurred

A small huh comes from you,

He gestures his hand in your direction, "Last week, you showed up with wee bows in your hair"

"Oh, um, I just thought they looked nice," You say suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

"They were cute lass"

A small smile creeps onto your face, "Well thank you"

"Can't have them in the field" Price says

"Of course Captain" You nod at him, trying to be serious but a small fit of giggles overtakes you, your laughter transferring to Soap and Gaz as they start laughing.

"I'm serious, your callsign might be Angel but you can't be skipping around on a mission"

You nod at him, feeling Ghost's hand on the small of your back while he leans into you,

"I think it's time we head home," He says, turning to look at the team now getting tired, you nod at him.

"We're gonna head out, see you all tomorrow" Your words are met with boos from Soap and Gaz,

"C'mon lass we've barely started"

"Johnny you're half asleep"

"Am not LT"

You giggle at the exchange, Ghost's arm snaking around your waist before pulling you out,

"G'night Angel!" Soap yells and Ghost lets a small grunt leave his mouth,

"Be nice Simon"

"I'll knock that stupid haircut off his head if he keeps flirting with you"

You laugh at his words, resting your head against his form while the two of you make your way home.

[sebastianswallows]

Nobody's Darling — 5. The Morning

— PAIRING: Benny Cross x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Benny comes across a girl walking alone in the middle of nowhere and offers her a ride to the nearest town. They stop at a motel.

— WARNINGS: just fluff

— WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

— TAGGING: @confessionbrain-writings @fleurdemers

— A/N: Continuation of Part 4.

She was sleeping. Then at one point she became aware that she was sleeping. Her body was pleasantly sore, her feet a little swollen but cooled by the morning air that slipped into the room, and beneath her was the softest, warmest blanket — only, as she slowly woke she realised it wasn’t a blanket. Her eyes opened to the bleary morning light and the sight of honeyed flesh. Oh… She wanted to get up but her back still ached, and as soon as she braced her arm against the mattress she remembered why she’d opted to sleep on top of Benny instead. The springs squeaked painfully loud.

“Mmmmh… G’mornin’,” he muttered, breathing in and stretching his long body.

“Did I wake you up? Sorry,” she muttered, blushing as the events of last night came back to her.

“No, don’t worry,” he sighed, wrapping an arm more around her shoulder and pulling her back down on top of him. “Sleep well?”

“I think so…”

Benny looked down at her, his eyes quickly losing the haziness of sleep and finally gaining some focus. “You alright?” he asked, his voice sounding fearful of the answer.

“Yeah… Yeah.”

He said nothing, instead merely rubbing his thumb against her shoulder in a way meant to soothe her — or perhaps himself. The timid chirping of the birds outside and the gusts of wind were a stark backdrop to how sad he seemed.

She almost felt sorry for him. He’d been so happy when they went to sleep together, or if not happy… something. It was difficult to remember now between the high waves of her pleasure crashing down, distorting memories, sensations, time itself. Perhaps he thought she’d be the same person when she woke up as the one he knew last night, or maybe he’d forgotten who he invited to his bed, or maybe… Maybe it was useless to wonder what he thought. And she certainly didn’t have the courage to ask in what manner precisely she’d disappointed him in the few minutes they were both awake.

“I should, erm, get up,” she said.

“Yeah. Sure.”

She looked down at the two of them, covered in the meagre blanket grey with stains, and underneath she felt his naked body moving along hers. Strong legs, narrow hips, the softness of his muscled arm behind her… She lay cradled in his embrace and cuddling with him was like sleeping with a radiator. It made her want to fall asleep all over again, and Benny certainly made no move to leave. She blushed and didn’t know whether to get up quickly or take the time to find something first to cover herself with, but as her body slowly woke and caught up with her mind she realised she didn’t really want to go. She felt comfortable and safe, and the thought of returning to her white and cold apartment, to her boring job filled with meaningless little problems every day, and urgent issues, and measly internal politics, made her sick to her stomach. Benny heard her sigh and laid his broad palm flat over her shoulder, and then she felt him nuzzle his face into her hair.

“You sure you’re ok?” he asked. He must’ve thought she was upset with him…

“I just don’t feel…”

“How?”

“Like leaving.”

She could tell his body stilled as he thought through what she said. He must’ve doubted her, or himself, because it took a while for him to speak again.

“Want me to go to your room and fetch your clothes?”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, maybe you should,” she chuckled, “but that’s not what I meant.”

“Feeling real’ comfy in this dusty ol’ motel room, are you?” he chuckled.

“Hmm… no. It’s horrible,” she laughed. “It’s probably the worst bed I’ve ever slept in… And the best.”

He turned his head to look at her, to catch her eyes and figure out what she meant, but she only buried her face deeper into his chest.

“Is that right…?” he asked.

“It is,” she mumbled.

“You mean it?” he asked after a few moments. “You really mean it, doll?”

She nodded, her damp cheek rubbing against his skin. It was as if his body melted, covering hers even more, and then he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and the only thing she could do was wrap her arms more tightly around his waist, and curl her leg around his, and let her body sink into the warmth he made for her beneath those threadbare sheets.

Thoughts kept coming back about what happened the night before and how it made her feel. How it shattered her to her core — not necessarily to have a man there with her, naked, with her exposed and vulnerable beneath a bulk of sweaty skin and bulging muscles, but to be with someone who looked at her and really saw her, and liked every little part, even those she’d never considered showing. And then he kissed her, and loved her, and held her, and loved her still in the morning after the flush of passion had long passed.

Benny, meanwhile, kept thinking of what she said. He’d fully expected her to get up and leave as quickly and discretely as possible like he was some mangy mutt she might catch fleas from. He didn’t like it, but he’d expected it, and already had prepared a little corner of his heart to bury that night in. And then she went and turned everything upside down and now he had to hold himself back from going a mile too far and asking her to stay with him forever. She was timid, sure, just like he could be sometimes, but he too easily mistook that for disdain and it didn’t help that she kept hiding her face away from him when he most wanted to see it, to read in her eyes what it was she really thought.

He gently grabbed her chin and eased her face upwards. Her forehead was still a little damp with sweat, her lashes matted, and her cheeks were framed by the wild mane of her hair, but those were the same eyes that had looked at him last night with wonder and with love. He bent to press his lips against hers in a little kiss.

“Want me to fetch you breakfast?” he asked, partly to distract himself from the speed his thoughts were driving at. “I’ll go downstairs and get something…”

“Won’t you eat breakfast too?”

“Ah, I’m… not hungry,” he said, his elbows already braced against the bed as he heaved himself up. “Not really used to it.”

“You mean you don’t — Of course you don’t have breakfast,” she sighed, shaking her head like a disapproving mother. “Well, you’re having it today.”

He rolled his eyes but would’ve lied if he said it didn’t make something warm and soft flutter in his stomach.

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he pressed another kiss to her temple, and then he hopped off the bed with more energy than he usually had at that hour.

She curled up and held the pillow to her chest, partly to cover herself, partly to have his warmth and scent about her a little longer, and looked over her shoulder as he bent for his briefs and socks and the rest of his clothes. Her face heated up again as she traced the length and breadth of his back, the muscles bulging in his thighs, and the soft golden hairs sprinkled across that smooth young skin. When her gaze caught the blushing bulge of his sac hanging soft and silky beneath his sculpted ass she buried her face into the sweet-smelling pillow with a moan.

“Damn, it’s eight thirty-five, can you believe it?” he said as he put his watch back on.

“It’s… what!? Oh no! I have work at nine! I…” She’d never make it home and to the office in time.

Benny had just finished looping his belt around, but that sad and worried look was back in his eyes. “Want me to take you back?” he quietly asked.

She held the blanket around her as she sat up in the bed, one hand trying distractedly to untangle her ruffled hair. She looked at him, standing there all still and quiet, waiting for her, then around them at the room as if she could find an answer among the crooked furniture, the sunken cushions of the armchair, the tilted framed photos on the wall, the bathroom door that wouldn’t close, all of it bathed in an uneven light with the carefree song of birds and lazy traffic seeping from outside. It was, in every way, a beautiful morning.

“No,” she said at last, her voice sounding calmer than it should have.

She looked up at Benny, his fingers slowly fiddling with his white tank top, looking in many ways like a little boy waiting to be kicked out of his parents’ bedroom. She couldn’t place what she felt at the sight of him, this mix of strength and frailty. She wanted to protect him and get lost in his strong arms again, and the more she thought about both options the more distant the prospect of going back to work became.

“No, let’s have breakfast,” she said with a faint smile.

He eyed her warily as if he didn’t expect this change of priorities to last, but he put on the tank top and got his wallet before she could change her mind.

She didn’t even want to think of how it must’ve looked downstairs when he got there half-dressed to fetch breakfast for two, but as she buried her face in the pillow again the shame bloomed into something sweet at the pit of her tummy. She eventually managed to roll out of bed and dress herself in yesterday’s slip, by now wrinkled and stained, but the brief reflections she caught of herself in the dark glass of the windows made her feel more sexy than ever.

“I’m back, darlin’,” he said as he walked through the door backwards, an old silver plate in his arms. “A full gourmet breakfast.”

“Anything is fine,” she chuckled as she took it from his arms to lay it on the bed. “I’m not fussy.”

“Yeah, well, you deserve to be.”

Once her arms were free, she got up on her tiptoes and wrapped him in a loose embrace. Out of some primordial instinct, he had his arms around her waist that very second and leaned down for a kiss. His lips were sweet and salty with an aftertaste of yesterday’s cigarettes and she couldn’t think of anything that tasted better. His arm around her waist tightened, pulling her up a little, while the other went up to cup her head, fingers tangling in the hair she’d barely managed to tame.

“You sure you want to stay?” he warmly asked, and this time he seemed less scared of what her answer would be.

“Yeah,” she smiled.

“What about your work?”

“If they fire me for missing one day, well…”

“Yeah, screw ‘em.”

“Exactly.”

“So what do you wanna do today, then?”

She looked up into his eyes, and her first instinct was to wonder what he thought. What did he want to do? What did he usually do? And what answer did he expect when he —

“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” he added, cutting her thoughts short. “I asked you ‘cause I wanna know.”

A big smile threatened to bloom on her face, just from the notion that he cared for something as small as her whims. After all, she never cared a great deal about what she felt like doing from one moment to the next. Those impulses came and went, and she usually had better things to do than what she felt like doing. But he struck her as the sort of person who placed great value on his impulses — and, seemingly now, on hers as well. She bit her lip to temper the warm and pleasant feeling.

“Well… I want to eat this breakfast with you,” she started.

“Mhm…”

“And then I want to take a nice, hot shower…”

“So then, you can’t do that here,” he chuckled. “Maybe back in your room.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do it in my room either.”

“What was it you said? Not fussy, are you?”

“And I thought you said that I deserve to be,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“That’s right,” Benny purred, leaning down to kiss her again.

The coffee cooled on the bed beside them, butter melted on the toast, and the scant jam he’d dug up in one of Tex’s drawers was starting to slide right off. They kissed as if nothing was around them, and neither the scent of breakfast nor the singing birds outside could pull them from the comfort of being in each other’s arms.

“Come home with me,” she whispered against his lips. “You don’t have to stay for long if you don’t want…”

“You sure,” he asked, rubbing a thumb against her cheekbone. “I don’t wanna be a pest.”

“You’re not a pest. You rescued me.”

“That’s just cause you were pretty,” he grinned.

“I don’t think so,” she said with an easy smile. “You didn’t see what I looked like when you started slowing down. I think you’d have stopped for just about anybody.”

“Maybe,” he smiled, swaying her gently in his arms. “But I’m glad that it was you.”

She threaded her fingers gently through his hair, the soft strand sliding through like honey, like sunlight, like golden threads in the most delicate tapestry.

“Come home with me,” she asked again. “Don’t say no. Unless… unless you don’t really want to.”

“Oh, I want to,” he sighed, tightening his arms around her with a possessiveness that frightened her in the best possible way. “Just… tell me when you want me to leave.”

“I’ll tell you right now,” she grinned. “Never.”

[minihotdog]

Locked Out On Valentine's (Ending: You didn't take the tea)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

C/W: Smut, unprotected P in V, Somnophilia, poor foreplay, possessiveness

Word Count: 1k

Previous part

“You want some tea, love?”

***

You’re inclined to accept but don’t want to be too demanding while he’s so kind to let you sleep on his couch. 

You put on your best smile, “I’m alright, thank you.”

”I thought I’d offer, keep your head up, yeah?” He says sympathetically before heading off down the hallway. You turn off the floor lamp at the other end of the couch and scroll through your phone, mentally scolding yourself every time you think about going to your ex’s socials to see if he’d posted any pictures of him and your ex-best friend. Your heart pangs with sadness. You dared to open yourself up to two people and got humiliated twice over. You bite back tears, throwing your phone down and trying your best to fall asleep despite the gaping hole in your chest. 

Simon struggled with sleep usually. It wasn’t something he shared with just anyone. He tosses and turns all night and when he does finally find the slumber he’s chasing he’ll jerk awake at the scenes of horrible memories that weigh heavily on his mind. But tonight was different.

The ‘intel girl’ was finally within reach. The boys at work would go quiet every time she would walk by and once she disappeared they talked about their various plans to be the one to chat her up.

He lies awake with his thoughts racing, thinking of her. Thinking of the way she looked at him when he opened his door to her. The way her tank top clung to her, the supple flesh of her breasts outlined perfectly, and the image burned into his mind of when she leaned over the couch, her shorts riding up her toned thighs and the curve of her ass… He felt as if he was running a fever.

He throws the covers to the side letting the cool air hit his overheated skin. He readjusts his sweats, setting his manhood free. He strokes himself to mental images of you to no avail. It’s not enough for him after having you so close. He yearns to feel your skin against his, the need eats away at him. 

His mind begins to tell him that you need him, heartbroken and so needy. Why else would you show up looking the way you did? What if getting locked out of your room was just a scheme to get near him?

He knows you’re attracted to him. The sly glances you always send his way when the two of you pass each other. The flustered look you get when he speaks to you, no matter how brief. It had all been a call to him, of all the men hunting for you, you’d already chosen him.

Before he knows it, he’s opening his bedroom door and standing over your sleeping body. You lie on your side, one palm resting atop the other. So soft in your sleep, unbothered. He wants to reach out and run his fingers over your tear-stained cheeks. 

He climbs over you and carefully lodges himself between you and the backrest. He slowly wraps his arms around you and breathes in your scent. He wonders for a moment if this is the best way to let you know the feeling is mutual, but he knows he won’t have the courage to let you know any other way.

He leaves soft kisses on your shoulder, leading them to your neck. He restrains himself from biting the skin, leaving his mark on you, afraid that it’ll wake you too soon. His rough hands squeeze your breasts, caressing them over your clothing. You stir slightly in your sleep causing him to halt for a moment. He continues his scheme and trails down your stomach slipping his hand beneath your shorts. He moves his thigh in between yours to give himself room.

The pads of his fingers rub slow circles into your clit as he lies there breathing you in. You whine in your sleep. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on your delicate neck, speeding up the pace he was toying your clit with. You fuss in your sleep, the foreign feeling disrupting your dreams. Your absentminded moans spur him on. He presses his bulge against your backside, sighing into your neck.

”Simon?” You half slur half moan. He shushes you, working your clit in tight circles. Your hand grips his forearm weakly. 

“S’alright, doll. I’ve got you.”

He runs a finger over your slit feeling the drip from your cunt. He can’t contain himself any longer, needing to feel you, hear you cry out for him.

”I’m sorry, love. I’ll make it up to you.” You barely comprehend what he says. He feels bad for not preparing you properly but the blood rushing to his cock has left him painfully hard. You unknowingly contributed to the unbearable ache.

He yanks your shorts off and places your leg over his, spreading you wide open. He wraps his hand around his throbbing length and runs his leaking tip over your folds, lubricating it before he pushes into you.

The resistance forces a gasp from you, stilling your body as he carefully thrusts himself into you. You dig your nails into his thigh trying to push yourself away.

”Easy, easy.” He coos at you, caressing your back with his lips. His arms wrap around your waist, your arm trapped under his heavy biceps. He continues with his shallow thrusts until he’s almost fully in.

”I’ll stop here, love. Deep breath for me.” He speaks so lovingly between his own ragged breaths, as if he hadn’t woken you up with his hand down your shorts. You finally suck in a breath and he pulls out. He waits for you to exhale and shoves himself back in. You squeak, the friction mixes with pleasure. Your brain is still recovering from the fog and unsure if this is actually happening. He gives you a few slow thrusts before his stride increases. 

You whine loudly, not prepared for his hurried movements. He apologizes in your ear repeatedly, gasping and groaning at your tightness. 

“Fuck, I needed you so bad, love. I hope you understand.” He loses his self-restraint, littering you with bite marks, wanting it to be known that you were taken. You cry out in pain as it shoots through your neck and shoulder, his teeth digging into you. He licks the wounds, soothing your irritated skin.

He rams into your cervix and you shutter in his arms.

”Too deep!” You cry out once more. 

“Forgive me.” He brings two of his fingers to his mouth, wetting them before bringing them down once more to run frantic circles into your clit.

Your uneven gasps turn to moans and your eyes shut tightly. His thrusts are still violent and overbearing, but the tingles running through you once his fingers slip over the nub, paired together make you drool onto the pillow below you. 

His hard thrusts jolt you upwards. He growls into your neck sending shivers through your spine. 

“Simon!” You whimper. His eyes nearly roll back hearing you call out his name. 

“That’s right, doll. Say my name. Let everyone hear you.” He growls. His unoccupied hand wraps firmly around your neck. He forces your back into an arch. Taking advantage of the new angle he pounds into you, the pleasure that rolls through you is dizzying. Your legs try to close but he forces them open. Your mouth hangs but you can’t bring yourself to make a single sound.

“You look so fucking beautiful. So gorgeous.” He breathes out. Your eyebrows once furrowed from the shocks running through you with each thrust now furrow in confusion.

”Look at yourself, look how beautiful you look getting fucked by me.”

You open your eyes, looking around trying to figure out what he meant. He forces your head in the right direction and your eyes land on the reflection of the two of you off the window. 

It was hard to make out, fuzzy but from where you lied you could see your faces. His hair was stuck to his forehead, his lips parted briefly before his jaw clenched, your mouth still hanging open, legs wide. Your pussy clamps down on him when you see his hand between your legs and his cock disappearing into you. He moans and you watch as he nips your shoulder and then nudges his nose into your hair.

”Squeezin’ the life out of me, darlin’.”

The sight is so pornographic a new wave of wetness comes over you. He slips in and out of you with a delicious slickness. 

Without warning you begin spasming around him. The first one comes and the second takes a moment. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, his fingers work you through the whole thing as your deep convulsions let you feel him fully.

He cries out behind you, his deep moans fuel your release further on. You chant his name and he falls over the edge spilling inside you. He slows his movements, thrusting his cum into you. He twitches inside of you repeatedly, giving you months of pent-up lust.

He slows to a stopping point while kissing your marked skin. He holds you for a while until his breathing stabilizes itself.

 He lowers your leg and slides out from behind you, climbing over your spent body and disappearing for a moment. He returns with a wet rag, cleaning you up before himself. He rounds up the soiled rag in the discarded blanket that somehow got into the mess of fluids. 

He slides your shorts over your legs letting his fingers run along your heated skin before lifting your limp body off the couch and carrying you into his bedroom.

”You’re sleepin’ here for the rest of the night.”

You barely acknowledge the change in location already falling asleep in his arms.

He places you on his soft bed and takes his place next to you. 

The warm covers and his arms are the last thing you feel before falling into a deep sleep. 

He tangles his body with yours giving you one last kiss.

You had no idea, but from that moment on you were his. Only his.

[monotonesmile]

Jaime Reyes x reader

Like the story can be like Jaime trying to surprise his girlfriend, the reader on their anniversary

Mission Failed…Successfully?

Jaime Reyes X Fem!Reader

[Word Count: 1,428]

——————————————————

Jaime is doing his best to cook his girlfriend’s favorite meal but he’s never been the best cook, despite his mother trying to help him. He’s in a mild panic, he wants their anniversary to be perfect because he loves his girlfriend a lot, but the damn bug on his back is continuing to make his life hell by just straight up insulting his capabilities to not only cook but also as a boyfriend, well, “mate” as Khaji-Da calls them.

“You are horrible at this, Jaime Reyes,” Khaji-Da states bluntly from within his mind, once again insulting the boy. “You have an hour before your mate arrives and you have accomplished nothing in the day you’ve had to prepare.”

Jaime groans at Khaji-Da’s words, tossing another failed attempt at the dish into the trash, his hair is a mess and his hoodie is covered in stains, plus, the kitchen is a mess due to his many failed attempts at cooking. He sits down in one of the kitchen chairs, head in his hands, he just wants this day to be perfect but he’s failed at that too.

“You’re an asshole, Khaji-Da…” Jaime mutters into his hands before running a hand through his hair as he slouches down in the chair, what does he do now? She’ll be here in an hour, less than an hour now, and he’s a mess.

“Get up, why are you just giving up now? Find something else your mate enjoys.” Khaji-Da encourages from within his mind, he doubts she just enjoys food, Jaime just has to try and think of something else she’ll enjoy.

“What else?” Jaime murmurs to himself, going over ideas in his head. So cooking something is out of the question, so maybe they can go out to eat? It’d be a bit more expensive but it should work, maybe they can watch a movie afterwards too! Just where do they go out to eat and what movie should they watch?

“Your mate enjoys that cafe downtown, take her there, Jaime Reyes.” Khaji-Da suggests with a very obvious amount of annoyance in his tone, mainly because he can’t believe Jaime forgot such simple things about his own girlfriend.

How in the world did he forget that? Well, at least he has a somewhat decent plan, take her to the little cafe downtown, then come home and watch a movie! It’s not as perfect as he would like, which does hurt slightly, because he doesn’t know how she’ll feel about this, but it’s the best thing he’s got. Now he just needs to get ready…mainly taking a shower and getting a new shirt.

“Right…my clothes.” Jaime mutters, looking down at his stained hoodie and shirt. He will have to take a shower before she arrives at his house, then he can freshen up and hopefully look a little better than he does now when they go out.

He sighs, getting up from the chair, grimacing at the mess that’s in the kitchen before slowly walking out of the kitchen, he’ll clean up later, he has a date.

————————————————

Jaime is drying his hair with a towel after his shower, in a rush because his girlfriend will be here soon, and Khaji-Da is not helping him, telling him to hurry up and just rush so he’s not late or unprepared when she gets here.

He grumbles to himself while the bug on his back continues to pester him, throwing on a black shirt and jeans, he quickly grabs a clean hoodie, zipping it up halfway as a knock on his door echoed through his room.

“I’m coming, hold on!” Jaime stumbles over himself before righting himself before opening his bedroom door to find his girlfriend smirking and trying not to laugh, clearly, she had heard his stumbling.

“What, did I interrupt something, Jaime?” She chuckles, a small grin on her face as she covers her mouth slightly to hide her giggles, her words are lighthearted though, she’s teasing him. She gives him a hug though, just wanting to hug him cause she could.

“No, uh, I thought maybe we’d head down to the cafe downtown…” Jaime chuckles, hugging her back with a small smile, a soft blush on his cheeks, when he releases her, he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly with a small grin.

“Alrighty then, let’s go, buggy.” She smiles happily, taking his hand into hers, pulling him along with her as they head out of his house.

“Always gotta call me that…” Jaime muttered to himself with a small, adoring smile as she grabbed his hand, he heard a small laugh come from her as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Simp.” Khaji-Da states really bluntly in his mind. It definitely caught Jaime off guard but when he pushed to know where the scarab learned that from the only response he got was, “The Impulse.”, which made Jaime groan quietly to himself, his grip on her hand tightened slightly.

The two walk along the sidewalk, talking and laughing together while holding hands, it’s an adorable sight to see, they’re absolutely in love, Jaime blushing softly when she chuckles at something he says, Khaji-Da is oddly quiet while they walk, as if letting them have their little loving moment without interruption.

Soon, the small cozy cafe comes into view as they turn the corner. It's a cute cafe, the building is similar to the cottagecore style many like. She smiles as she pulls Jaime along with her, who is smiling as he watches her light up at the sight of her favorite cafe.

Once they enter the smell of freshly made coffee invades their senses, it’s a comforting scent, making the already soft environment even more appealing to the young couple. The sound of quiet music fills their ears as they walk over to the cashier, hand in hand, ordering their usuals whenever they come here to hang out. After they get their orders they wander over to a small table, sitting down as they continue their conversation, both adorned with soft smiles and loving eyes.

As they say, time flies when you’re having fun. The two had gotten so into their time together that they hadn’t noticed the dark clouds rolling over the town until they had gotten up to leave, the sound of rain hitting the windows drowns out the quiet music inside the quaint cafe.

“Oh, it’s raining…” She murmurs, looking up at the sky as she holds her hand out, letting the rain hit the palm of her hand.

Due to neither of them expecting rain, none bothered to bring an umbrella, they’ll have to walk back to his place through the rain unfortunately. Yet, she doesn’t seem to be upset, still smiling as they head out of the cafe and into the rain. Jaime is still holding her hand, feeling bad that they’re both getting soaked from the rain after having such a fun time at the cafe but seeing her smiling still makes his heart just a bit warmer, a small smile spreading onto his face.

————————————————

“Ah…I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you thought our anniversary would be like…” Jaime mutters sheepishly as he unlocks the front door of his family’s house, letting themselves inside. He helps her with her now very soaked coat, placing it off to the side so it can dry. “If you want, you can borrow some of my clothes so you’re not just wearing wet clothes.” He blushed slightly when he offered his clothes to her.

“It was perfect, Jaime, I love just being with you, I had a great time…” She smiles softly at him, reassuring his worries as she brushes some of his wet hair from his face, leaning forward to give him a chaste kiss on his wet lips. “And I’ll be taking that offer of dry clothes by the way.” She chuckles as pulls away, walking up the stairs to head to his room to pillage his closet for one of his hoodies.

The chaste kiss made his blush grow darker as he watched her walk off with the most dorky and loving expression he’s ever made towards anyone.

“She’s too good for you, Jaime Reyes.” Khaji-Da mumbles from within his mind after a moment, breaking his oddly long silence, noticing how the short kiss made Jaime smile and his worries melted away, as well as how it made his heart rate spike.

“Shut up, dude.” Jaime sighs before going to join his girlfriend so they can watch that movie he suggested back at the cafe.

——————————————————

(IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I GOT WRITERS BLOCK IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING, I HOPE THIS IS STILL OF DECENT QUALITY FOR YOU!!!)

[therhythmafterthesummer]

How do you think Chris (pre getting together) would have comforted her on a bad mental health day or on a day where she’s sad?

I’m in my feels rn and am in need of some wolfie comfort immediately 😤😤😤

P.S - Love you, Rhythm! Hope you’re doing well always! 🩷

- N. 💄

sorry i held onto this one for so long! i just really wanted to write something for it. here's how i think that would go...

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series. you don’t really need to read any other instalment to understand/enjoy this piece). | Word Count: ~2k | Themes & Warnings: fantasy/supernatural AU · roomies idiots to ??? · fluff · hurt/comfort · pre-relationship scenario

minors do not interact.

Fridays were supposed to be the days to unwind. They were supposed to be the day in which you could let loose and forget about work for the next forty-eight hours. At least, you figured they were supposed to be like that for most people.

This Friday particularly, though, had been absolute hell. The whole week had felt like you’d been impersonating Sisyphus and work had been your boulder. You supposed some weeks just… were like that. 

Tonight, all you wanted to do was sit in your room, in the dark–preferably in complete silence and just be nothing. If anyone else came to you and so much as muttered a word you were sure you’d break down and start weeping right then and there. 

Which was why, as soon as you found yourself in your flat, you went straight to your room. There was no energy left for showers or baths. All you did was take off your clothes and bury yourself under the covers.

You had a total of ten minutes of complete silence before the front door practically burst open and boisterous voices filled your home. It kick-started a twitch in your left eye, it had frustration tears pooling on your waterline, but you couldn’t just… ruin their fun. 

You supposed this was the downside of having a roommate. And not only was he a roommate, but he also happened to be the alpha of a pack of wolves, which meant that more often than not your friends and neighbours made themselves at home.

It was fine. That was fine. You loved your friends, you loved to hang out with them and joke and have little parties in your flat. You loved them all, you knew it very well. But, tonight, every little noise they made made you absolutely furious, which made you feel worse because, logically, you shouldn’t be feeling furious at something like this.

Dealing with these conflicting feelings was hard, so you tried your best to just… tune everything out. With your pillow over your head to muffle any sound as best as you could, you laid on your bed, fully naked, probably leaving mascara stains on your pillowcase, but you honestly couldn’t be bothered to care.

You managed to mute all background noise… the downside was that you’d done so by replaying events of the week over and over again in your head. How you dropped your coffee mug in the middle of the lunch room on Tuesday, that very passive aggressive email one of your colleagues sent you, how you’d stumbled over your words in a meeting today… 

It felt like your heart was preparing itself for a marathon with how fast it was beating, but for the most part, you were trying to ignore it. You were trying to ignore everything.

At least, until you heard a knock on your door.

“You up, pretty girl?”

Your roommate’s voice was slightly muffled, but you heard him well. Any other day, you would’ve probably felt your mood immediately lift at the sound of his gentle voice and the pet name he often used to refer to you. But, today, you couldn’t even find it in you to answer.

Eventually, you heard him walking away, and it was honestly like a weight had been lifted off of your chest. 

Which, again, made you feel horrible.

You loved your friends, and your roommate was no exception. Although, you weren’t sure if it was fair to compare the feelings you had for your friends to the ones you had for him… 

Regardless, the fact that you felt relieved that you didn’t have to talk to him made you feel terrible. The rational part of your brain knew that this was all due to your exhaustion, but even that couldn’t push away the feeling that you were a horrible friend because you were annoyed by his presence.

Your phone vibrated next to your head, and you immediately sighed in response. 

You were tired and cranky… but you were also chronically nosy. So you picked up your phone and read the notification on the screen.

> Xtopher 🐺: hey pretty > were gonna watch an episode of that series Felix likes > feel free to join us if you want :]

You figured it was easy for your roommate, Chris, to know you were home. You’d left your shoes at the entrance, and, considering his supernatural senses, you were pretty sure he could always hear and smell whenever you were here.

You genuinely appreciated that Chris took the time to send you a text, it somehow reminded you that he wouldn’t just hate you all of the sudden because you didn’t respond to him when he knocked on your door–it probably wasn’t even the first time you’d done that, anyway.

Sleep wasn’t going to claim you anytime soon, and you were out of spoons for the day, but you’d be damned if you slept without removing your make-up. So you spent the next hour rummaging the metaphorical drawer that was your brain, just so you could hopefully find that last emergency spoon you knew would be buried under the events of the week.

By the time you’d found it, a while had passed since you’d heard your neighbours saying their goodbyes, and your roommate going in and out of the shower.

You had to do this now. If you didn’t stand up from this bed right now, you’d break your one and only self-care rule. You couldn’t let the mean part of your brain win, you just couldn’t… Your week had already been bad enough, you had to have at least one win.

So you stood up from your bed, threw on the first sleeping gown you found, and left your room. 

Cleaning your face was honestly a blur. You tried to do it as fast and efficiently as possible. While you did, you debated on whether or not you had enough energy to even eat tonight, but, ultimately, you really didn’t. You weren’t even hungry, just zero appetite. 

So you made it back into your room as soon as your face was clean so you could put moisturiser on your face–there was no energy left for any fancy skin care routines, so moisturiser it was. If you had to put on any extra products you’d start crying for real…

“Hey”.

“Jesus!” You whipped your head towards the door, with your hands still on your cheeks where they’d been rubbing in your moisturiser.

Chris stood at your door looking at you, wide-eyed, dressed in nothing but his lounging shorts. Any other day, the sight of his bare chest would’ve agitated the critters that had been living rent-free in your belly lately. 

As it was right now, you were starting to feel genuine distress in his presence. Which, once again, made you feel like a horrible friend. Distress wasn’t an emotion that you would’ve associated with Chris in normal circumstances, but you figured this week had gone backwards enough for it to be today.

You swallowed, and turned back to look at yourself in the mirror, focusing on finishing tonight’s pathetic excuse of a skin care routine.

“You alright?” Chris’ tone was… tentative. Almost like he knew you were, in fact, not alright. 

You lied anyway.

“M’fine…”

When you finished with your face, you walked right past Chris and into the bathroom to wash your hands. ‘Spread what’s left on your hands to moisturise them, too…’ you could hear your mother’s voice ringing in the back of your mind, but, honestly? If you had to deal with the feeling of cream on your hands for a second longer you’d commit crimes.

As you washed your hands, you felt Chris’ presence behind you, right outside the bathroom. 

“You sure?”

“Positive”, you were, clearly, not fine. But you didn’t want to continue this conversation further, if you did, you feared what might come out of your mouth.

“Y’know you can talk to me, ri–”

“Yes! Yes, I know. I know, Chris. I really do, but I don’t want to do that, you know? I don’t wanna talk, don’t wanna hear, don’t wanna really exist for what’s left of the day, okay?! Maybe it’s better if you mind your own business instead!”

God, you were the worst person on the planet… Here he was, worrying about you like he always did, offering comfort and support, and you weren’t even capable of keeping the annoyance out of your voice, you couldn’t even stop yourself from saying things you didn’t really mean. Why did you let it escalate so quickly? Another one for the tally of Stupid Things I Did This Week that you can sulk over later…

Chris stared at you for a moment, with his eyebrows high on his forehead, opening and closing his mouth for a bit.

A knot started to form in your throat, and no matter how hard you tried to swallow it and ignore its presence, you just… couldn’t.

“My God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you…” You sighed deeply, pressing your fingertips on your eye sockets. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, I’m just so, so exhausted, and I just… I need some silence, okay? I appreciate you asking, but I really need to just… be quiet. I need you to know it’s not you, this is completely on me, but please would you just… not talk to me?”

You really felt like you wanted to cry, you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole… Especially because Chris wasn’t saying anything. Which was a very stupid reaction to have when you had just asked him to not talk to you.

When you removed your fingers from your face, you jolted on the spot at the sight in front of you. 

You knew Chris was a werewolf. Hell, you’d seen him in his wolf form numerous times already, but sometimes it was hard not to be startled by it.

Chris sat on the floor of the hall, right outside the bathroom, looking you right in the eyes while his tail swished from side to side on the tiles.

You wondered if he’d even fit through the doorway. He was so… big. So big, and so… so cute.

The logical reaction would’ve been to be at least a bit intimidated. He was pretty much at eye-level with you, he was stronger than you, he could very well hurt you with a snap of his jaw, but his eyes were just the same. Gentle, comforting… You were sure that if there’d been twenty more wolves next to him, you would’ve been able to tell him apart from the rest just by his eyes.

Chris whined, and he stomped on the floor with his paw to get your attention. You blinked at him for a bit, and only then did you notice you had actually started to tear up.

Chris whined again, and then huffed. That seemed to be enough to snap you out of it. You could feel your lower lip wobble, but you still walked closer to him, leaving the bathroom to stand in the hall with him.

As soon as you were out of the bathroom he stood on his four legs, and walked further into your space to nudge your hand with his nose. It was odd, really, but looking at him like this seemed to ease some of that squeezing sensation in your chest.

The realisation that he wouldn’t be able to talk to you while in his wolf form was steadily helping you calm down, or, maybe… It was more so the fact that he was trying to respect your wishes, while also not leaving you completely on your own. 

“M’sorry…” You apologised again, because you truly were sorry.

There was a small part of you that always worried that days like these would make him suddenly realise you were the worst roommate on the planet, that maybe you were a horrible friend. But, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t hold it against you. That was just the type of man Chris was.

With a minute shake of your head, you placed a hand under his jaw to support his head, and the other on top so you could scratch him behind the ears. Just because you could.

Even if Chris wouldn’t outright admit it to you, you knew he liked it. His wagging tail was more than proof of that.

“Are you my emotional support animal now?” You mumbled, tears were still running down your cheeks, but only sporadically now.

Chris just huffed, and if you looked hard enough, you could’ve sworn there was amusement in his eyes.

He removed himself from your space and turned in circles a couple of times before he was gently taking your wrist in his mouth. You could feel his teeth barely poke your skin, but you could tell he was being very careful.

He pulled a bit. You figured it was his way of telling you to follow him, so you started to walk. Only then did Chris let go of your wrist to start making his way down the hall.

Wiping the tears on your face–ignoring both the discarded lounge shorts by the bathroom door and the fact that you most definitely ruined tonight’s minimal skin care with your tears–you followed Chris to the living room.

As soon as he was in front of the sofa, he nudged the coffee table away with his head, and grabbed one of the blankets you left in a basket nearby to throw it on the floor. He spun on the spot a couple of times, before he plopped down and started pawing at the floor, looking right at you.

You wanted to cry again, but this time, it wasn’t because you were overwhelmed or frustrated. It was just the fact that Chris was… offering comfort cuddles. In his wolf form… in a form that’d make it so he not only wouldn’t talk, but would just be essentially a heated pile of fluff.

And you really, really appreciated it. Mostly because it made you feel like less of a failure, like you weren’t such a horrible friend after all.

Ignoring the fluttering in your heart, you made your way to where he was, took another blanket from the basket, and laid down.

With your head leaning on him, feeling him breathing steadily under you, you simply stared at the ceiling. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that you were laying on the floor, or just his warmth, but after a while, you started to calm down.

Your eyelids felt heavy, you could barely hear anything that wasn’t Chris’ quiet huffs. Eventually, he moved. You lowered your head to the floor for a moment while he took a cushion from the sofa and dropped it next to you, which you took as a sign to use it as a pillow.

Once you were comfortably laying down again with your cushion and your blanket, he simply curled around your body, keeping you warm.

You felt your heart swell, maybe even beat a bit faster against your ribcage, and as you cuddled closer to the big lump of fluff that was your roommate, you couldn’t help but mumble a quiet ‘Thank you…’ right before you fell asleep.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

tagging everyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments. if you don’t want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know ! If you want to be added to the tag list, you can fill in this form. be aware that you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

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[aggro-my-beloved]

Prom? (Shaw Pack x Listeners Imagine)

note: I just made an A03 to post my works on as well, please feel free to follow and interact with my stuff there if that's more comfortable for you! (@aggro_my_beloved)--I also realize it's not prom season, but I never got to go to mine and am simply coping. TLDR: let me live :)

pairings: miloxdarlin' (non-canon), asherxarden (non-canon), davidxasher? (non-canon) davidxangel, miloxsweetheart, samxdarlin', asherxbabe

warning(s): mentions of childhood trauma, gambling addictions, alcohol addictions, sex addictions, an overall depiction of a horrible father.

summary: The pack reminisces about Dahlia High's prom night, and Marie may have overshared a little too much about hers.

word count: 2.2k

estimated read time: 10.5 mins

2010

Marie drew back to admire her son, donning a crooked cotton tie, his father’s black leather loafers scuffed to hell and loose on his feet, as well as a toothy smile. The improvisations of his wear are minor faults, hardly noticeable to the naked eye with thanks to his mother’s stitchwork. The three-piece suit tunic that once hung to his lower thighs, and pants that skirted the floor now fit him like he was born in it. 

“Look how handsome you are,” Marie clasped her hands and guided them to shield her face. It may hide her gummy smile but does little for her eyes prickling with tears. 

“Ma, please don’t cry.” Milo’s plea proved fruitless, as the interlocked fingers separated to wipe desperately at the dark circles beneath her eyes. Perhaps it was the endless nights the woman spent hunching over a sewing machine or the number of times Mrs. Chen, who owned the dry cleaner on 3rd, sent the old suit through the cycle. The stench of cigarette smoke was seemingly embedded into the fabric no matter what she tried. “Like bad tattoo, Miss Greer—it cannot be undone!” 

Milo didn’t mind the lingering smell, for he’s had years of training his nose not to curl in the backseat for fear of his dad’s scornful gaze clocking him in the rearview mirror. One particular coughing fit from his younger years resulted in the boy being sent to his room for being disrespectful—but he heard his father explaining to his mother amidst his tramping down the hall that the glaze over his eyes and reddening cheeks was “simply hay fever.” 

He hoped that, for the sake of his date, he could mask the smell with enough cologne to go somewhat undetected.

 

“You don’t think Dad will be upset about his clothes missing, do ya?” Milo’s nervous chuckle hangs in the air.

“When he waltzes in the door from this week’s business trip, I doubt he’ll be awake enough to notice.” Marie’s copious euphemisms for Colm and his dangerous compulsions did not go unnoticed by Milo at age seven. The ten years added to his belt only gave him time to decode them. Awake really means sober. Business trips are in reference to casinos, bars, or brothels—a very flexible term, to the boy’s surprise. He wants to applaud the front he’d seen through like glass since childhood.

 

“Besides,” her hand occupies itself with the navy tie, still askew, and aligns the windsor to perch evenly below his folded collar, “this is your night. You deserve to feel special, and so does this date of yours.”

 

Milo scoffs, fighting his eyes not to roll up to the popcorn ceiling. Facing his mother’s curiosity was no harder than the water stain from the upstairs neighbor’s dishwasher.

 

“How’d I know this would come up?” 

“Come on, I’m your mother. I deserve to know who my little boy’s become so smitten for.” 

“You’ll see them one day, ma. Patience is a virtue, after all.” It’s Marie’s turn to scoff and turn her cheek.

“Please, I only said that to get you to wait till Christmas for your Xbox.” She eyes the clock on the wall, reading six-thirty. 

“You said the gang would be here to pick you up by now, right?” Milo also cocks his head to see the time. 

“With Ash driving, they’ll be lucky to make it here alive.” His mother’s eyes are boring into his instantly, with furrowed brows and a frown to complement them. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” Another nervous chuckle filled the space before it was cut off by a gasp. Milo’s hands pat around his jacket pockets, eyes flying around the room frantically. “Shit, I forgot-“

“No, you didn’t.” Marie shuffles to Milo’s desk, opening a lower compartment where she’d stowed away his boutonnière and his date’s corsage. “I figured this would be a spot you never check. You said their favorite color is—“

“Yes, yes oh this is perfect! Thank you, ma.” Milo leans forward to kiss her cheek and envelope her petite body into a hug. 

“Still don’t know this person’s name, don’t you think that’s kinda odd?” A series of knocks resound on the front door, cueing Milo to sigh and extend an offer he knew his mother couldn’t refuse. 

“Would you like to meet them, ma?” 

Marie raced him down the hall before he could finish his question. There’s an untimed beating in his chest that he can’t stop. Is it from the excitement of tonight, or who he’d be spending it with? 

“Hi there, I’m M-“ 

“Hey, Mrs. Greer.” The figure lowered their head to the ground and dug the toe of their shoe into the concrete outside. Their hair appeared silky to the touch, skin looking just as soft as it glistened in the setting sun. The jewel tone of their wear complemented their complexion—comparable to a god(dess), their aura was all beauty and grace. 

“Tank?!” Marie gasps. “Oh my gosh, please don’t tell Milo I called you that. He isn’t supposed to know I still eavesdrop on his conversations. You know what, let’s pretend this conversation never happened.” 

“What never happened?” Milo tried not to choke on the cologne he’d spritzed on himself before dashing to find his mother. 

Marie and Tank exchange a knowing look and suspicious smiles. They reply in unison, “Nothing.” 

He squints his eyes, emitting a skeptical hum. “Already keeping secrets from me, huh?” He folds his arms defensively. “I expect this from you, but you…” His finger wags back and forth from his date to his mother.

“Consider it a trust exercise, babe.” Tank steps inside fully to clutch Milo’s hand with a shy smile. 

“Babe,” Marie whispers, “so that means…you two?” 

“Oh c’mon Mrs. G, it was only a matter of time.” Blonde, spiked hair, and sunglasses peek around the corner of the door, and Asher’s dazzling smile introduces itself to the three. “Who knows, maybe there will come a day you realize what you’ve been looking for has been here that whole time.” He lifted the sunglasses to shoot Marie a wink. 

“Oh god, please ignore him. He’s on his third redbull and feeling extra bold.” Tank explains with a shake of her head. “Keep dreaming, Asher.” They add.

“And feel free to not wake up.” Milo chides, urging the two to giggle. “You look good, by the way.” He and Tank lock eyes.

“Thanks,” their eyes flicker up and down to take in their date. They add in a low voice, “You’re not so bad yourself.” 

“You don’t have a date, Asher?” Inquires Marie. Silence falls between the three teens before they’re all laughing wildly at the parent’s cluelessness. 

“What’s so funny? Asher’s…” The boy’s eyes grow big, awaiting Marie’s words of flattery and reassurance. His ego deflates when she starts over. “He could have a date if he wanted to.” 

“He does.” Milo squeaks through his laughter. “Well, in a way.” 

“If you can call it that.” A low, rough voice disrupted everyone’s laughter as David marched into the room. 

“David. Oh! Wait, you two…huh, strangely that makes more sense than I thought.” Marie hums, shrugging her shoulders.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m confused.”

Marie opens and closes her mouth, unsure of how to respond. “Wait, you two aren’t...?”

“I’m going with Arden. She and I agreed that if we couldn’t find dates by this weekend, we would go together.” 

“Pity date.” Tank coughs into their elbow. 

“Where is Arden? Is she hiding back there?” Marie cranes her neck for a better angle at the apartment’s threshold.

“Waiting in the car with Chrissy and Amanda. And it’s still a date.” Asher argues, sparing a glance towards his fellow pack member. “That’s more than big guy over here can say.” Asher juts a thumb toward David’s looming body in the back. 

“Awe, David, why aren’t you going with anybody?” Growing a few inches this past summer (in several places) along with enough facial hair for a 5 o’clock shadow promised David enough street cred for a few romantic ventures. His pack mates went as far as placing bets on which of their peers would win their friend over enough to accompany him to the dance but were all left in shock as he turned every choice of theirs down. Marie’s question didn’t faze David. He’d explained it a million times to his friends and father this past week. 

“Going stag. It’s just a personal choice.” The mom snorts at this.

“I remember when I went to my senior prom. It was the same night your father and I got together. Nobody had asked me, and he was planning to “go stag” as well. A couple of drinks of punch and one slow dance later, we were in the locker rooms just—“Four pairs of eyes were on Marie now, who realized she’d gotten too caught up in reminiscing. 

“Uh, forget about it. The end’s not that important.” She waves off with darkening cheeks and a sheepish smile.

“I think it’s kind of interesting. I bet the songs and outfits were so much different years ago.” Tank interjects with a smile. 

“Yeah, how long ago was your prom, Ma?” Adds Milo, who takes the opportunity to snake his arm around Tank’s waist. They sidle up closer to him as a result.

“How old are you?” 

_________________________________________

Present Day

“I can’t believe how long ago that was.” The four friends peer down at the photo of them gussied up and taken by Marie. Asher was still in his sunglasses and throwing up a "rock on" sign with his tongue out, David had his arms crossed and was rolling his eyes at the ridiculous pose. Tank and Milo stood back to back, finger guns held under their chins and against their chests with goofy smiles. Fourteen years of the developed picture left it with sun spots and wrinkled corners, but the memories of that night still felt new to each of them. 

“We look sick as hell!” Asher nods. “Well, except David. He just looked sick of us.” 

“Some things never change.” Angel pipes up, daring to bring a finger to the corner of their mate’s mouth and lift it. 

“I think it was just you that he was sick of, Ash. There’s only so much pop music this stick-in-the-mud can handle.” Tank points. 

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea to play Taylor Swift the whole car ride there! You’re pointing fingers at the wrong guy.” Asher raises his hands defensively. 

“Well, it wasn’t me either. Only Amanda and Arden listened to her.” 

“Didn’t Christian request the DJ to play Paper Rings at our wedding?” Babe tilts their head in wonder, breaking their concentration away from the photo. 

“I’d love to see you in that getup now, darlin’.” Sam chuckles against Tank’s ear.

“You’ll have to dig in my closet for it. I’m not even sure I still own that.” They laugh to themselves, suddenly nostalgic for their high school days. 

“I have a question: whatever happened between you two?” Sweetheart inquires, looking between the past couple. There wasn’t a trace of jealousy in their voice, their aura, just pure curiosity. 

“I think it was just a summer fling. By the time graduation came around, neither of us felt that mate connection with each other. So what was the point of pursuing it, you know?” Tank nods along to Milo’s brief explanation as if they were mentally checking off every word. 

“Ooh, ooh! Remember how good the punch was?” Ash interrupts. 

“I’m surprised you remember. You had half the bowl.” Says Milo. 

“So?” Asher replies. The three all choke back laughter. 

“The shit was practically jungle juice! I could taste seven different liquors from one sip. And I’m pretty sure David escorted you to the locker rooms 'cause you were about to hurl.” Tank says. 

“The locker rooms, huh? Did you two happen to share a dance…one of the slow variety?” Milo quirks an eyebrow. 

“...it’s a possibility,” David mumbles with a scowl. Everybody on the couch begins giggling mischievously. “Wasn’t my fault the little shit wouldn’t let me drive him home because Hey There Delilah started playing. Anyway, it was barely a slow dance, he was just leaning on me the whole time whining about how nauseous he felt.”

“Hope y’all left room for Jesus in that gym,” Babe smirks. 

“I think I also shared a slow dance with uh…Kathy Boone? No, Karly B–”

“Karly Brown! As in our classmate in the third period, Karly Brown? So, you technically went to prom with Karly Brown?” Tank leans forward on the loveseat occupied by them and Sam, who’s now invested in his mate’s eager tone. 

"Two slow dances with two different people? On the same night? You little slut!" Angel hisses teasingly. 

"I can't believe I got Karly Brown's sloppy seconds," Asher whines. I thought what we had was special, Davey!" The alpha chooses to ignore their pestering in favor of Tank's question. 

“In a way, I g-guess.” David shrugs. “Why?”

“You two owe me twenty bucks!” They declare. "Suck it!" 

[darksigns-exe]

the taste of the divine - noah x laurie (ofc)

warnings: Swearing, gentle femdom, use chastity device (cock cage), mommy kink, use of butt plugs (m receiving) oral sex (f receiving), pegging (m receiving)

word count: 4.6k

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“I think I just need to get out of my head.” He says a little shakily. 

Noah isn’t sure where this anxious energy is coming from, either. He’s fidgety, agitated. He can’t find rest no matter how hard he tries. He doesn’t even have anything wild on his calendar. He’s just restless. 

Laurie looks at him with a deep sense of worry. He doesn’t like when she looks like that, not because he doesn’t like how much she cares for him, but rather because he doesn’t want her to worry. 

“Come here, will you?” She asks softly, patting the spot next to her on the sofa. 

Noah follows quietly. He finds himself settling into that space so easily. He hasn’t outright asked for it yet, but Laurie always seems to know when he needs her to really take the reins. 

He settles against her side, lets himself melt against her smaller frame. 

“Can you tell me what you need?” 

That’s the issue, though, he doesn’t quite know what he needs. All he knows is that he needs her to take him apart bit by bit. That he needs to feel himself reduced to the most base part of his soul so that they can put the pieces of him back together afterwards. 

Saying it out loud is a different thing, though. It’s still a little daunting. He’s sure that he’ll eventually be able to ask her to turn him inside out without stumbling over his words like this. 

“Can you take care of me again?” Is the best he can manage. The honorific gets lost in his mumbling. Knowing Laurie, she has still somehow picked up on it. 

Above him, Laurie lets out a soft sigh. She presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Oh baby.” She says softly, “You want me in charge of it?”

He lets out a barely there yes, but it’s enough for her. Laurie carefully ushers him to sit up, so that they’re face to face. She keeps a gentle hold on his hand, and he’s more than thankful for it. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You can say no at any point, there will be no hard feelings. Understood?”

He nods, looking somewhere between intimidated and shy. 

“Words, Noah. I’ll need to speak up for this.”

“Understood.”

“Good.” She gives him an almost wicked smile, “You’re going to go over into the bedroom and undress for me. I want you to fold your clothes and place them up on the dresser. After that, I want you to sit on the edge of the bed and wait. I’ll be with you in a moment. Is that all clear?”

“Yes.”

She cradles his face in one of her manicured hands, and Noah feels his heart skip a little in anticipation. A kiss is pressed to his cheek and he can feel the remnants of her lipstick staining his skin. 

“Take your time. There’s no rush at all. Is that okay?”

He confirms, still feeling a little shaky. 

Laurie releases her hold on him. 

“Go on, my love.” 

Noah takes a final breath before he scrambles off the sofa. He feels Laurie’s eyes burning into his back as he makes his way over into their now shared bedroom. He knows that she has experience with this, but he hadn’t expected her to be this prepared. They’ve dabbled in this kind of play before, and Laurie had made it very clear that she wanted to help him explore it. He can’t help but feel a little bitter about the thought that someone before him might have felt her gentle hand on their cheek. 

Noah has no idea of what she’s planned for him, and it makes him nervous. He does as she’s asked, strips down until he’s bare and folds his clothes. He feels horribly exposed, even though she’s seen him like this all too often. 

When he sits on the bed, he finds himself automatically placing his hands on top of his thighs. Noah doesn’t know how much time passes until the door clicks open. 

In the dim light of the room, he can barely make out her shape. 

She doesn’t say anything and just quietly checks that he’s done what she asked him to do. 

“Good boy.”

The praise sears through him like fire. 

“Ready for the next part?”

“I’m ready.”

She’s standing right in front of him by then. All soft bodied and warm. Her hand cards through his hair, forcing him to look up at her. 

“We’re going to put a pretty little plug in you. It’s a little bigger than the one we’ve used before, but you’ll be fine. Before that, though, I’d like to lock your cock up. I know it’s a big thing, but the aim of this is for you to give up control. I think you’ll like it.” Her hand shifts towards his cheek, “Does that sound okay?”

“If I decide that I don’t like it?”

“We’ll take it off again. All you have to do is say so.”

“I want to try.” Noah says surprisingly firm. 

“Lie back for me, sweetheart.”

“Can I see how you do it?”

She pauses for a second, fixing him with a minimally concerned look, “Of course. Sit up against the headboard.”

He does as she asks, sits all prettily until she gently tugs him just a little bit forward. 

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Tell me if something feels off, okay?”

His chest heaves with nervous breaths when she carefully moves the ring over his shaft. She’s so calm with it that Noah’s sure that she has done this before. He doesn’t have time to question how this thing works. 

“That’s the first part done. How’s it feel?”

Noah dares to look down for the first time. It’s just a ring that sits at the base of his cock and behind his balls. It’s new. It feels strange. It’s tight, but not uncomfortably so. 

“It’s good.”

“Do you need a moment?” 

“Can I see the rest?”

“The actual cage?”

He nods “Yes.”

The plastic feels too light for what it means. He doesn’t know how it’ll fit, how it’ll feel in general. The idea makes him feel a little dizzy, though. He’d asked her to take control from him, he’d wanted this. And now that it’s practically dangling in front of his face, he feels a little scared of it all. 

“Do you just want to see how it feels first? We don’t have to lock it immediately.”

The tenderness she gives him when they play like this always makes him shiver. Laurie’s always so gentle with him, so caring. When they’d first started to talk about kink in this way, and she told him that she prefers to be in charge, most of the time his mind had gone straight to cuffs and whips and whatever else porn had sold him. That this kind of dominance could be gentle, too, had been entirely new to him. 

He can’t imagine them being different now. Noah hadn’t thought of himself as anything really when it came to this kind of thing. But when Laurie tells him to be good, he can’t help himself. Doing as she asks is a natural instinct. 

“Noah?” The stern edge to her voice makes his head snap up, “I asked you something.”

“Can we just try it for now?”

Her face softens immediately, “Of course, my love.”

He holds the plastic piece out to her. Laurie sits in front of him, one hand on his knees as she gently pries his thighs apart just a little bit more. This he knows. 

“Tell me if something feels off, okay?” 

“Okay.” He mirrors.

Noah tries to think of anything but her, when she takes him into her hand. It’s such an odd feeling. He’d thought that it would be a tight fit, but it’s surprisingly comfortable. She’s so careful with it, too. 

“How’s that feel?” 

Her hand is still holding it in the position it would be in when locked. 

Noah thinks for a moment. 

He wants to try at least. Even if it’s just out of curiosity. 

“It’s good.”

Laurie smiles then, all soft and sweet, before she presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“Hold it up for me?”

Noah nods. 

He watches as she picks up a small key from the night stand. 

“If you want it off at any moment, let me know. We’ll stop immediately.”

“I will.”

“Good boy.” Her thumb drifts over his cheek briefly.

His eyes follow her hands when she moves to lock the cage in place. He feels himself twitch inside the plastic. 

“There you go.”  

The key returns to its place on the night stand. 

His tummy feels all kinds of twisted up. It’s not bad, though. To his surprise, he likes it, likes how small it makes him feel. 

“How do you feel?”

“Good. I like it.” 

And he really does. There’s an odd sense of comfort that comes with it. He’s entirely hers right now, and that sets his mind at ease. 

“Do you need a moment or are you good to go on?”

“We can go on.” 

Laurie has him move onto his hands and knees in the middle of the bed. Normally, Noah prefers to be on his back for this part. He wants to see her, wants to see how it affects her, but with what they’re doing today this feels right.

Her fingers drift across his skin. He’s on edge, unsure of where she’ll touch next. Lips press to his lower back, lower still against the soft round of his backside. Her thumbs drag along the length of his spine, and he moans with relief. It’s not enough to ease the knots out of his back, but it feels divine. 

“Gonna be cold for a second, honey.” She whispers before he feels the first touch of her finger against the taut muscle. 

Laurie draws slow circles against his entrance, carefully works her pointer finger into him. The ache isn’t so bad any more. He’s gotten used to it and the stretch of her fingers by now. The comforting hand on his waist helps too. It’s a constant reminder that she’s there, that she’s taking care of him. 

Noah feels himself getting lost in the feeling. His soft sighs quickly turn into whines when she works a second finger into him. 

“You’re doing so well for me, my love. Always such a good boy.” She coos. 

The praise always makes him sink further into that headspace. The more she praises him, the better he wants to be for her. 

Noah presses back against her, desperate to feel more. 

“I know what you want.” She gives his waist a gentle squeeze, “You’ll get it if you’re good for me.”

“Please.” 

Her fingers still at his plea, “You’ve been so very good. Don’t get bratty now. I told you, you’ll get what you want if you’re good.” 

Noah cranes his head back, trying to get a glimpse of her, “Please mommy, I’ll be good. I promise.” 

Laurie gazes at him with a tenderness that makes him want to crumble beneath her. 

She pats his waist softly, “I know you will. You love being my good boy, don’t you?”

He whines out a yes, and that seems to be enough for Laurie. She picks up her slow and steady rhythm once again. They’ve done this part a few times, and Noah knows that he has to keep his mind empty if he wants to last. He can’t tell how long they’re here like this. The press of her fingers against his walls almost makes his arms buckle a few times. And when Laurie eventually removes her fingers from his hole, Noah finds himself whining at the sudden emptiness. 

“You’ve almost made it, baby.” Her gentle voice seeps through his already fogged up mind, “Just the plug now, and then we’re done.”

He feels her lean towards the night stand, but Noah can’t bring himself to look at what she’s doing. He doesn’t have to wait long, though. Her hands soon return to his waist. 

“How are you feeling?” 

It takes Noah a second too long to reply, because a moment later she has moved to his side. 

“Noah?” 

Laurie cups the side of his face, to make him look at her. 

“Talk to me, love.”

He blinks at her a few times, shifting uncomfortably. 

“Do you want to take a break?” She asks softly, thumb drifting across his cheek so sweetly. 

“Just a second.” Noah replies shakily. 

Laurie tilts his head up just a little bit more, before she leans in to kiss him. 

“You’ve been so, so good for me.” She whispers against his lips. 

The sweet, gentle praise, she showers him with, seeps into his mind. And when she moves back behind him, Noah patiently anticipates the dull pressure of the plug. He whines when he finally feels it. Laurie takes her time with it, slowly easing the plug into his hole. His breath catches when the widest part of it stretches him open. It slips inside so easily that Noah doesn’t even have the time to moan. 

“There you go, my darling. All done.” another squeeze of his waist, “Want a little break now?” 

 His head perks up at that. 

He sits up next to her, shifting a little when the plug moves inside of him. Laurie pulls him in for another gentle kiss. Her hand feels so awfully small against his cheek, but it’s always so reassuring. Laurie moves them so that Noah is resting against her belly, arms wrapped around her middle as best as he can. The sweet things she whispers to him barely reach his conscious mind. He feels so safe and comfortable when they’re like this, so well taken care of. The gentle care she gives him eases his worries like little else does.

As comfortable as he is, he can’t stop his restless shifting. Laurie cards her hand through his hair, carefully pushing some of the strands away from his face. 

“Think you’re up for more? I know this is a lot at once.” 

He turns his head so that he can look at her, “We can go on.” 

“Still comfortable?”

“Very.” he can’t hide the smile that so desperately wants to force its way onto his face. 

“Good. Do you want to get on your knees for me? Show me just how good you are?”

He nods and almost immediately tries to worm his way out of her embrace. Laurie laughs softly at his eagerness. 

“You know where I want you.” She continues, “Be good for me and wait. I’ll be right back with you.”

He wants to protest, wants to whine when she walks past him. But he knows better by now. Whining won’t get him what he wants. And so Noah only lets out a hum when her hand runs through his hair and down the side of his face. He doesn’t turn when he hears one of the drawers behind him slide open and close again. Noah hears her moving, the rustling of clothes, and a moment later Laurie is back in front of him. She’s shed her shorts, leaving only the shirt of his that she’d borrowed earlier in the day. 

Noah lets his head drop to the inside of her thigh when she’s properly seated. It almost feels as if his mind is set onto a singular goal. He waits patiently, eyes fixed on her face. He feels drowsy in the best way possible. The things he’d been agonising over had faded into the background of his mind, leaving him only with the desire to be good for her. 

“Mommy?” He asks quietly. 

Laurie looks at him with a softness that makes him shiver, “Hm?”

“Can I?”

“What do you want, love? You’ll have to be a bit clearer.”

“Can I put my mouth on you? I’ve been good, haven’t I?” the desperation in his voice is evident by now. 

Laurie pulls him closer with a gentle hand on his cheek, “You’ve been so good. Go on.” 

Noah surges forward as soon as her thighs are parted wide enough to for it. His hands curl around her thighs, fingers digging into her skin. He sighs when his tongue makes contact with her folds. The taste of her floods his senses and Noah lets himself get lost in the sensations of it. Laurie’s fingers tangle into his hair, holding him close, even though they both know that she’ll have to pry him away later. 

He kisses and laps at her folds so carefully. By now, Noah has a good grip on what she likes, and he’s more than happy to give her exactly that. The pretty sighs that fall from her lips fuel his slow exploration. The gentle scrape of her fingers against his scalp feels like heaven and mixed with her sweet taste he can’t imagine himself anywhere else. Not that he wants to be anywhere else. 

“Always make me feel so good, love.” she sighs, “You’re so good for me.” 

He looks up at her, warmth filling his insides. She’s so beautiful, and he’s so in love. Laurie gazes at him with so much softness, so much love. Her grip on his hair tightens, as she pulls him deeper against her again. He whines against her when she pulls at his hair just right. Noah feels so dizzy with it. Between the different stimuli, he doesn’t quite know what to focus on first. The plug shifts inside him, making him gasp and moan against her. Above him, Laurie mirrors the sounds he makes, sighing with every pass of his tongue through her folds. 

He feels her shudder through her climax, but her hands remain in his hair, and he knows that she wants him to continue. Noah remains between her thighs, until she pries him away. He doesn’t know how long she had allowed him to stay between her thighs like this, but from the ache in his knees, it must have been some time. His head thumps against the inside of her thigh again. Noah draws in a deep breath. He can feel the residue of her release on his face. 

Laurie seems to be just as breathless as he is. The thin sheen of sweat that covers her face makes her skin shine so prettily. 

“You were so good for me, my dear.” she says so sweetly, “I think you’ve really earned your treat.” 

Noah feels himself perk up at that. 

Laurie gives a little laugh in return, “Come up here, will you?” 

He scrambles up to his feet, almost tumbling over on top of her as he does. Laurie’s hands quickly find their way to the sides of his face, pulling him in for a kiss. 

“On your back, Noah.” another kiss, “I’ll be right with you.” 

Noah does as she asked, positioning himself in the middle of the bed. His hands open and close over and over again, unsure of where wants to leave them. He watches as Laurie steps into the harness. He’s been waiting for this since they started. Noah loves how attentive she is with him. She takes such good care of him, always intent of making him feel good. 

The sight of the strap on always makes shiver a little. They’ve worked their way up to one that isn’t too far off from the size of his own cock. It looks enormous on her. He squirms, anticipating the feeling of it inside of him. 

“Think you’re ready for it?” Laurie asks, as she comes to kneel between his legs.

Noah nods quickly, “Yes.”

Her hands run across his thighs. Noah feels the muscle spasm beneath her touch. One hand remains on his thigh, while the other moves towards the plug. Laurie’s eyes remain fixed on his when she tugs at the plug. She scans his face for discomfort, and when she doesn’t find any, she continues to pull at it. Noah’s hands grip into the bedsheets below him, trying to stifle the whine that sits behind his lips. It breaks free eventually when the widest part of the plug passes through him. It’s over a moment later. Laurie squeezes his thigh when he lets out a faint little whimper. 

“You’re doing so good, love.” she whispers, “So, so good.” 

Laurie uncaps the bottle of lube again. The nervous anticipation in Noah’s belly threatens to bubble over. He winces when the cold lube touches his skin, earning himself another calming squeeze of his thigh. She covers the toy in lube, her small hand fitting around it just barely. 

It’s a dizzying sight.

Noah can’t keep his eyes open any longer when he feels the dull head of the toy against his hole. Thanks to the preparation, the toy slips in easily. His thighs spread further, giving Laurie more space. Noah feels himself whimpering, gasping as it sinks into him. Laurie leans across to kiss him, when the toy is fully seated inside of him. 

“Feeling good, love?” she asks softly. 

He can’t bring himself to speak up this time, and thankfully Laurie doesn’t force the words out of him this time. Instead, her hands find their way to his waist. Her fingers drift across the skin of his tummy. 

He gasps when the toy shifts, as she readjusts her position a little. Noah gives the faintest nod, signalling that he’s ready to continue. He’s glad that she’s giving him this grace. Usually, she’s so very intent on him giving verbal responses. 

Laurie pulls back until just the head of the toy remains inside. She keeps her thrusts slow, drawing out the end he craves so much. He feels himself fraying at the seems with every thrust she gives. What Laurie gives him is enough to keep him right at the edge of it, but not enough to send him over the edge. One of his hands releases the sheets and instead comes to hold onto her thigh, needing to feel her skin somehow. Laurie’s hand curls around his, entangling their fingers to ground him. It’s enough to get Noah to open his eyes again. He needs another moment, before he can bring himself to look at her across the length of his body. He can’t look at where they’re joined for very long. She looks gorgeous, eyes blown wide, lips parted and spit-slicked, cheeks tinged pink. 

“Does that feel good?” she asks, sounding a little breathless already. 

Noah tries his best to articulate a yes, but it comes out as a breathy whine. She smiles and the movement of his hips stutters just a little.  

He whines out her name, gasping when she hits just the right spot. Seeing his thigh hiked up against her waist, her hand gripping into his skin, melts his brain even more. His back arches off the mattress, and the sweet words Laurie speaks turn into fuzz. Noah swears that his vision whites out when his climax hits him. It’s overwhelming, and Noah feels as if he’s floating several feet above his own body. The feeling becomes too much a moment later, and he squeezes her hand twice to signal it to Laurie. 

She stops moving immediately. 

Laurie gently guides his leg back down to the mattress. 

“You did so well for me, Noah.” she says, barely above a whisper, “Do you need a moment?”

“You can pull out.” he croaks, his voice so rough and worn out. 

His grip on her hand tightens when she does, and he only whines when she gets up off the bed. Laurie doesn’t shush him like she sometimes does, doesn’t tell him to stop whining and that she’ll only be away for a moment. His eyes fall shut again and Noah lets himself revel in the feeling for a moment longer. 

The bed dips down again and he feels her undo the lock. Noah can’t stop the sigh that falls from him when she carefully pulls the cage away again. It feels as if it has been ages, but at the same time he’d gotten used to it so quickly that he had barely noticed it towards the end. 

“I’m going to get a wash cloth and start us a bath, okay? I’ll be right back.” the words barely reach his drowsy mind. 

He feels a little more settled when Laurie returns a little while later. Additionally, to the wash cloth, she had picked up one of the cookies they’d gotten from the café earlier that day and a bottle of water. Noah sits up against the headboard, letting his head drop against it when she sits next to him. He should be used to the routine that follows. But she’s so gentle with him when she cleans the residue of his cum from his skin. Being taken care of like this always makes him feel so very loved. Laurie tends to him so sweetly that it makes his heart soar every time. 

“How are you feeling?” Laurie asks when he’s settled against her in the tub. 

It’s more than a little cramped, he barely fits into the damned thing and his knees stick out of the lush, warm water. The comfort of this part is unmatched though.

“Good.” he replies, “I don’t think that I’ve ever felt like that.” 

Laurie presses a kiss to his cheek, “Think we’ve gotten you out of your head?” 

He pauses for a moment, tempted to be cheeky about it. Instead, he nods. 

“Thank you, Laurie. You always take care of me and I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Another kiss to cheek, “Thankfully we don’t have to think about that case, because you’re not getting rid of me. Ever.”  

Nor would he ever want to. He can’t attest all of his progress to Laurie, but she’d always shown him so much unconditional kindness and love that he’d at some point started to see himself worthy of that. Noah doesn’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way he’d found a sense of profound happiness. The comfort he finds in these small four walls they share, their little routines, the gentle little touches they exchange throughout the day slowly mends the cracks in his chest. And he’s sure that he wouldn’t have found any of this if it hadn’t been for her. 

He tries to pay it back as best as he can. He knows that he’s clumsy with it sometimes. It comes so effortlessly to her and Laurie is adamant that he’s doing more than enough to her. But on some days the sandwiches he brings her – not from the shop but their own kitchen – don’t feel sufficient to express the love and gratitude he feels. He knows that she doesn’t expect grand gestures from him, they’ve had this discussion more than once. All Noah wants is to give some of the love she gives him back.

“All this work to get you out of your head, just for you to get lost again.” Laurie tuts behind him. 

“Just thought about how good this all is.” Noah answers after a moment, “I love you so much.” 

He tries to crane his head back to look at her. When he can’t quite reach her, he tries to turn and his shifting slashes some of the water out onto the tiles and the carpet. None of it matters though when gets to look at her and Laurie whispers an I love you too against his lips. 

taglist: @deathblacksmoke @circle-with-me @sitkowski @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens

@malice-ov-mercy @chels3a-smile @ferduttini @somebodyels3 @itsafullmoon

@shilohrosechicken

[weasleycream]

ㅤㅤㅤ୭.ᰍㅤ𝅄 ֹ " 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 " 🧸 Ⳋ

ઈઉ ㅤִㅤ𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 ; 𝑅andal 𝐼vory x 𝒮tudent!𝐹em!𝑅eader

ઈઉ ݁  ㅤִㅤ𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ; Use of bad words, mentions of blood (nosebleeds), Meaningless dialogues, Bad grammar in English, Something (quite) short.

ઈઉ ㅤִㅤ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ; 1.5k+

ઈઉ ㅤִㅤ𝗨𝗻𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱

ઈઉ ㅤִㅤWell, I did this on a whim, something about Randal bothers me and I haven't found much about him, so I wanted to do something short to get rid of the desire 🥹.

It was not at all strange that in her classroom they regularly talked about Randal Ivory 'The school phenomenon', she knew that she should not care at all what they talked about and much less if she was not aware or integrated, but it bothered her. that since the redhead's arrival they have not stopped talking horribly about him.

They didn't bother to lower their voices even when he arrived that day, with his typical crooked and uncouth smile, it seemed like they did it on purpose when they raised their voices as he walked past them, hearing all kinds of unpleasant things about him. He sat next to her, staring at her to giggle as blood began to ooze from his nostrils and reach the corner of her mouth, where he nonchalantly licked the blood away and cleaned what he couldn't taste his sleeve.

Somewhat nervous, she turned her gaze and smiled roughly, greeting him "Good morning, Randal… How are you?" She asked him kindly, turning her bright, dreamy orbs to the glasses one again, hearing a laugh from him again.

"Heh… How are you, Y/N?… You know, I walk like a stuffed lizard, so free and fresh…" He blurted out without any logic in a silly way, narrowing his haggard eyes and widening his smile, slightly showing his small canines.

She laughed in response at the idiocy he said, to respond by turning her body towards him "Pretty good, actually, you somehow brighten my days here… And tell me… How does it feel to be a stuffed lizard, I'm curious about your world" He played along in a tender way, flashing a silly smile.

"Well, you know, it feels good, I guess… Heh.." He said briefly and without any wavering in his voice, looking at her intently, "You're quite pretty, would you like to go to my house?" She asked suddenly surprising the girl in front of her, who blushed at the small compliment given by the redhead.

"Ahm!… Well, I don't know, I don't think I can go… Do you think it's Saturday…? I'll be alone and I could go for a while…" She responded hesitantly to the unexpected invitation, mentally organizing her schedules, receiving a nod and shrug from the boy. "Well, how about you give me the location and I'll come on Saturday morning?" He asked, to see how the brunette nodded frantically in a sudden change of mood, returning to his nosebleed as he carelessly tore a sheet of paper from his notebook, then took out a bitten black pen and wrote something barely legible, small drops of Blood fell onto the paper staining it a deep crimson. She gave it to him and he saw it, apparently he was going to have to walk a lot on Saturday to get to that forest.

Standing in front of the colorful scruffy house, she swallowed hard, she was thinking about not knocking, but it had taken her more than two hours to find her dear friend's house, she swallowed hard, and decided to knock after long minutes of thinking. He waited a few minutes, thinking about knocking on the door again, just when he was going to do so, a fairly tall man, with somewhat long hair cut like a 'mushroom' and brown in color, dressed in elegant but simple clothes, with a sort of of blush on his cheeks, and eyes wide open and neutral. That man lowered his head slightly, staring at her to press his lips more into a completely straight line, if he could.

"You must be my little brother's best friend. He didn't say you were so small… Hmm, I'll talk to him about it later. Come on, you're going to get dehydrated standing there." He responded strangely, with a thick and neutral voice, without even blink, making the girl extremely nervous, making her give a smile that looked more like a crooked grimace, and a slight nod.

"Eh- Delighted, Sir… My name is Y/N.." she introduced herself in a low voice, raising her head a little to look at her face, waiting for a response before a minute of uncomfortable silence.

"I know, Randal is always talking about you when he comes home from school. Call me Luther." She mentioned in the same tone as a few minutes ago, freezing the female's blood, who gave a nod in response. "Well, I'll let Randal know you're here."

And with that, the tall man turned around heading towards the stairs that looked down a narrow dark hallway. He left her alone in that gloomy and chilling room, watching how, in what seemed to be the kitchen, a small blond teenager in sailor clothes, took out piles of food in a frightened manner, only to run away as soon as he saw her in the distance, dropping some cans of food on the ground.

He waited a few more minutes, rocking on his feet childishly in his place, listening as hurried footsteps quickly descended the stairs, revealing Randal, who fell at the bottom of the stairs, hitting his face against the solid floor of the room. rug. The boy quickly got up and walked quickly towards her again.

"I'm glad to see you here, Y/N! What do you think of my house, the cats decorate it in a charming way" He greeted her by giving her a loud kiss on the cheek, staining her with drool, making her nervous in an instant.

She shifted anxiously in her place, looking at him again with a slight blush. "How are you, Randal?… And well… I don't know what cats you're talking about, but it's a pretty nice house." She spoke nervously, returning the small kiss on his face. Randal's cheek, more delicately, leaving a small mark of lip gloss on his face.

"Hmm… I see, well, it doesn't matter, you'll see them later. Are you hungry? My brother Luther knows how to cook excellently, we were just going to have lunch" He invited, taking her hand, intertwining their fingers, dragging her to the kitchen. She shivered as she felt the coldness of his rough, calloused skin, and she tightened her grip and followed him timidly.

They arrived, and he saw Luther (who did not know how he had gotten to the kitchen, if he never saw him pass through the living room again) cooking, it looked and smelled like meat stew, but not just any stew, it had a strange but pleasant smell. . She stood next to Randal and remained silent, listening to the brothers' momentary conversation, immersed in her thoughts, remembering that 'tender' kiss the boy gave her.

Half an hour later, when the food was almost ready, two men arrived who could perfectly have been twins, both with somewhat long hair cut in the same way, but of a different color, wearing strange hats that looked like ears. of some domestic animal, and casually strange clothes. After they arrived, Randal left for a moment "Wait here, Y/N, I'm going to bring my other pet so you can meet her and we can all eat together" The girl nodded strangely, she didn't remember having seen animals yet, but Even so, I was not going to reproach anyone present for anything.

Sitting down, after about two minutes of waiting, Randal arrived dragging a boy who was equally skinny, but pale and noticeably nervous, who, upon seeing her, tensed up, as if he were shouting for help with his eyes, noticing her constant trembling. "Well, this is Sebastian from Tomato Smitch Chicken Legs, but just tell him Sebastian, Luther gave it to me for my birthday, doesn't he look cool?" She introduced and explained how she was wearing glasses to the girl, who in her seat paralyzed, nervous and surprised, with fear running slightly through her veins.

"Ahm… Well… Hello, Sebastian…" He greeted quietly with a trembling voice, raising his hand slightly with a grimace that wanted to be a kind smile.

She saw how the boy did nothing, and just stared at her in fear and with cold sweat running down his face. After a long time, everyone was sitting at the table, with a plate full of food in front of them, she talked to Randal at times, who caressed her hair and gave wet and noisy kisses on her cheek and forehead on occasions, even going so far as to give her a kiss. small kiss on her neck, being immediately removed by her and her brother Luther, who did not want his 'cats' Nyon and Nyen (who had been introduced to him after Sebastian before he forgot them) to witness strange scenes, before their eyes.

Her head was beginning to hurt from nervousness, her face flushed at the signs of affection from her friend, Sebastian's insistent look silently asking for help, the other murderous look that Nyen gave her every time Luther spoke to her or looked at her, the indifference of Nyon and Luther. That day, especially, in that house, he was going to be so long that his hair was beginning to stand up with anxiety.

Well, I know it's very short (for what I like to write) and it doesn't make much sense, but come on, NOTHING makes sense in Ranfren, and it's something I did in a hurry, because I have like five drafts right now, but still, hope you like💔🥹.

[waklman]

Pool Rules

summary: you get yourself into trouble trying to surprise your boyfriend during swim practice.

pairing: bob floyd x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n. fluff, like one suggestive joke. 18+ blog in general.

olympic swimmer au

the last lap masterlist.

“Floyd, security detained your girl again,” Jake flatly announces, stalking into the locker-room with his very own girlfriend in tow, leading her inside with their hands entwined.

“Again?” Bob pivots on his damp feet, zipping up his arena jacket back up out of courtesy. 

Really, it should alarm him more that you’ve been snagged by pool staff, but this was the third time it’s happened, this week.

“It was so mean!” Jake’s girlfriend chimes in, microfiber towel thrown over her head. Not bothered enough to ask if Bob’s decent, she rips the cotton draped over her eyes and Jake grits, wrestling to get it back on. “They just—they grabbed her thinking she’s some random fan that snuck in! Isn’t that horrible?”

“Would you just—get out of here Floyd.” Jake redirects the scolding to his teammate, still fighting against his girlfriend as she erupts into a bout of giggles at Jake’s struggle to keep the towel in place. 

Understanding that Jake’s frustration isn’t fully targeted towards him, Bob nods and steers his body towards the exit, leaving his pile of dry clothes behind on the bench.

Assuming you’ve been stuck into that detainment room, Bob makes his way up there, swim tights still dripping wet.

Nearing you in his climb up the stairs, he sighs remorsefully, turning the corner. They probably stuck you in the grubby plastic chair that you swore flattened out your butt. And despite his tireless efforts to convince you otherwise, you were fully set on the fact that your rear quite literally sunk.

With a gentle knock to the door, the athlete cuts through his own stream of thoughts. And in getting no answer to the polite gesture, Bob pauses, waiting out a few more seconds before cautiously letting himself inside.

He’s not the least bit surprised to find you sitting in that very chair you hated so much, pouty face painted in streaky lines of red white and blue. As usual, you look like you’re ready to cheer on the U.S team at any given moment. 

Wordlessly coming to a stop in front of you, Bob lets you stain his white nylon jacket with your patriotic face paint as you slump forward, landing flat on his stomach. In all fairness, his bare legs do wet the front of your shirt in return, but it doesn’t seem like you care all that much when you whine and curl your hands behind his thighs to pull him closer.

“Hi there, pretty girl,” he looks down at you, his shriveled hand petting the back of your head. All it takes is the feeling of you leaning into his palm, for the tight wounds of Bob’s muscles to finally loosen, despite his wearied efforts to alleviate the strain post-practice. 

“They still didn’t recognize me from last time,” you dejectedly share, ignoring his greeting. “The guys that put me in here didn’t even believe Seresin when he tried telling them I was your girlfriend.”

Doing a quick scan of the dusty room, Bob notices that they’ve left you unsupervised this time. From a technical standpoint, the athlete can’t exactly blame them for not realizing who you actually were. Because everytime you did pay Bob a visit, you wore bizarre USA themed outfits to cheer him on—that altered your appearance each time. 

He hated to admit it but, Bob was impressed that Jake could even manage to tell you apart from one of the crazed fans camping outside the training center.

But, even if you were one of them, Bob knows there’s a partially pathetic side of him that would still forget how to expel a breath if he saw a girl as cute as you choosing to root for him, instead of one of his teammates. 

“You know why? It’s ‘cause you get prettier each time you show up looking for me. They can't believe how I got so lucky with you," he finally suggests with a small smile, coaxing you to stand up.

“Let me see what you got on today, Champ,” he reaches for your limp hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before lifting it above your head, to twirl you around.

A shy giggle bubbles out your chest when your boyfriend spins you, whispering about how pretty you looked as he runs his eyes over you. 

Not wanting to make you dizzy, Bob slows down the movement, his hands moving to your hips to steady your balance. “Where’d you get this from? It’s cute,” he leans back slightly, chuckling when you proudly puff your chest at him. 

Pulled up on each of your legs are knee high socks, one blue and one red with white stripes lined at the hem. And stretched across your t-shirt is a saturated Getty image of your boyfriend, gold medal between his teeth.

Lifting yourself on your tippy toes, you glide your fingers through his damp strands, pushing it out of his face. “Would you believe me if I said I had it made? I think it’s my favorite picture of you,” you confess.

A surge of butterflies suddenly flutters in your stomach, when your eyes slowly drift down to his flushed chest, that just barely peeks through the small gap of his unzipped jacket. You swallow, spotting a droplet of water still clung to his skin that runs down the line of his torso.

“Oh yeah?” He teases, pulling your attention back to his face. Though Bob’s trying to act coy, a rare side of him that had his coach choking on his sandwich the first time he witnessed it—there’s a matching tint of pink on his cheeks that gives him away. 

Lightly tugging on the roots of his hair, a mischievous look washes over your features. 

“Mhm, I just love having you on me honey,” you playfully bite back. And there goes the controlled breathing practice Bob spent half his life perfecting.

“Okay, that was—that really wasn’t fair,” he falters, feeling another wave of heat settling into his already flushed skin.

"Oh I'm sorry, didn't know we were playing fair now," you egg on, watching your giant boyfriend grow shy.

Bob only pokes his cheek with his tongue, until he takes in the fact that you’re wearing a shirt with his face on it. And he couldn’t see it any earlier because you’ve been trapped up here the whole time.

“I don’t know why they keep doing this to you, I’m sorry Champ,” he feels the need to apologize, drawing you in for a hug.

Bob considered himself a fairly polite guy, but when his girlfriend’s been given a hard time repeatedly—he feels less inclined to be so nice in his next run-in with security. 

But instead of showing his sudden wear in patience, he relaxes completely—finding it nearly impossible to retain any tension in his body when you gently scratch at his scalp.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, twirling a piece of hair around your finger. “You found me anyway.”

“They made you sit in that chair though.” 

“My butt is probably so flat,” you let out groan at the reminder, pressing your feet to the ground. 

Not a second later, Bob goes to squeeze your butt. “Not, really,” he decides, seriously. "Even if it was, I don't think I'd care."

“Don’t you lie to me,” you scold, brows pinched together.

“M’ not. Did you want me to check again?”

Before you can anything, a uniformed man stands under the door frame, lifting his eyes off his clipboard. Almost in sync with eachother, you both stiffen hearing the noise.

“Alright young lady, I cleared things up with—Oh..”

note: swimmer bob swimmer bob swimmer bob!! as always thank you for reading, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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tags: @Genius2050 @eli2447 @s-u-t @averyhotchner @et-homephone @olymosity @wkndwlff @cruelmissdior @eternallyvenus @queerqueenlynn @sushiwriterhere @ravenhood2792 @Natdrunk @goosterroose

[loverangels]

somethin' stupid

pairings: laurie laurence x fem!reader

synopsis: you had watched the boy you loved run after another girl your whole life, yet when he falls back to you as his second option you have to make a heartbreaking decision.

a/n: literally all angst 😭, use of (name), mention of drinking

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Through foggy windows and layers of love, you had watched Laurie Laurence devote his adoration to jo march. Despite being there as a friend to step back on, despite the comforting moments where you were a shoulder to cry on, and despite the fact that you were utterly and profoundly in love with the boy, it didn't seem to change anything.

Moments were hard, watching Laurie and your best friend Jo during the times where the three of you hung out, watching Jo being her carefree self not needing to try to get Laurie's attention, the alternative to you, whilst Laurie chased her around and danced with his feelings around her.

And then there was you.

Jo had confided to you of her fears of the laurence boys feelings, and Laurie confided to you his feelings for Jo.

'i just don't know what to do!' Jo exclaimed 'i love Laurie I do but...not the way he loves me. My love is as strong, it just comes from a different place'

'i love her and I think...I think if I showed her how much I love her she'll tell me loves me just as much' Laurie sighed leaning his head on your shoulder. 'shes the only one for me'

and you? well you were just there.

a witness to the horrible testimony despite your shattered heart.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

You knew what had taken place the moment you had watched Laurie out of your window, almost somberly walk back, home his head hung down, hands stuffed in his pockets and tears stained down his cheeks.

You knew Jo had refused him.

You should have felt a relief, the cold rush over your body as though you had just taken a refreshing gulp of air.

You felt almost cleansed and you were ashamed of yourself for that.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Four years.

You had never thought how lonely you would be, every night it seemed as though you cursed yourself for ever wishing such a horrible thing upon Laurie because now...now it had been four years since you had seen him.

Your mother had passed away not too long after Laurie had left for Europe.

Not only were you dealing with the grief for the boy who you loved, but also for the turning point of losing a mother.

With the some of the last money you had, you arranged a nice small ceremony for her, inviting the marchs' and Laurie.

However it seemed as though Laurie hadn't cared enough to arrive back.

The marchs' gave their condolences comforting you, yet it seemed as though the one person who you needed the most didn't need you.

At the end of the first year you decided to go abroad. To Italy. You packed all the last possesions you owned and rented your small home out to a family whilst you were abroad.

Landing in Italy you had opened a tailor shop selling plain dresses and mending old belongings. As you made a name for yourself and gathered more money you had made a wider range of clothing and now luxurious elegant gowns.

So that's what you did.

Rich women with rich needs would come to you to stitch together a gown of their dreams, and you would make quite a good living out of it.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

It had been years and you were thriving, you had a fiancé who had quite some money and was a thoughtful man, you yourself had made yourself a name and money and you had some friends.

And now you were here dragged by Amy to some sort of party in paris.

How you ended up there was beyond you.

The room was buzzing with excited chatter and flirty glances, the floor lit with somber lighting, shirts loosened and curls detangled.

Engaging happily with Amy about Aaron, your fiancé, a glass in your hand as you swirled the remains of your drink.

"...and we're to get married in summer," you continue, your voice carrying a practiced cheerfulness. "Aaron and I were debating on May, but having it in the summer seemed perfect—" You pause mid-sentence, noticing Amy's gaze shift behind you. Her eyes widen, darting nervously between you and whatever—or whoever—she sees.

Your heart begins to race, dread and curiosity mingling as you slowly turn to follow her line of sight. And there he is. Laurie. Theodore Laurence, strewn across a couch in the midst of a lively crowd, his drunken smile and magnetic presence exactly as you remember—and yet entirely unfamiliar. For a moment, the world tilts, the din of laughter and clinking glasses fading into silence. It’s been four years. Four years since you last saw him, four years since you tucked your feelings for him into the quiet corner of your heart, convinced he’d never look at you the way you wished he would.

And yet, here he is, thrown casually on the arm of a velvet couch, a charming grin aimed at the young women beside him.

Your chest tightens as the sight of him threatens to undo you. He looks so at ease, so... content. You force yourself to breathe, but the air feels heavy, laden with emotions you thought you'd buried long ago. Your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass as he glances up—and for the briefest moment, your eyes meet.

Air caught in your throat as you swallow the lump weighing down on your heart, as you tear your eyes away, whipping back around to Amy almost at a loss for breath.

Shaken you excuse yourself from Amy and her pitiful eyes when she gives your hand a squeeze, as you walk past and outside onto the porch, letting your eyes close as the cool breeze softens your muscles.

After a few minutes of regulating your breathing, you turned around, your fingers brushing the ornate railing of the Parisian railing of the poarch. as you hear the soft click of the door opening behind you. The distant hum of party chatter and laughter carried on the breeze, but it was his voice, low and familiar, that pierced through it all.

'(name)'

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you froze. You hadn’t heard him say your name in years, not like this—gentle, hesitant, almost uncertain. It sounded older, heavier somehow, as if he bore the weight of those four years just as you did.

You turn slowly, the soft glow of the garden lamps casting faint shadows across his face. He was still Laurie—blacken hair and sharp-featured—but his boyishness had given way to something sharper, something a little more tired. He stepped towards you, and you instinctively took a step back, gripping the railing tighter.

"You followed me out here?" Your voice cold, more so than you intended, but the storm of emotions building in your chest left little room for restraint.

He stopped short, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. "I had to."

"Had to?" you echoed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "That’s funny, because you didn’t have to—" you bit the words off, closing her eyes briefly, as if reining in your anger. When you opened them again, your gaze was sharp and unyielding. "You didn’t have to come to my mother’s funeral. Or write. Or even—" you shook your head, your voice cracking slightly. "You didn’t have to do anything, did you, Laurie?"

He flinched, and for the first time, you saw the guilt etched into his features. "I—"

"Where were you?" The question came out like a whisper, but it hit him like a blow. "Where were you when I needed you most?"

Laurie looked down at his hands, as if searching for an answer there, before finally meeting your gaze. "I was a coward," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "When Jo said no, I ran. I didn’t know how to stay. Not with you, not with anyone. I thought—" He took a shaky breath. "I thought I was doing you a favor by staying away."

"A favor?" You repeat, incredulous. "You thought abandoning me—when I lost the only family I had left—was a favor?"

"I didn’t know what to say!" he burst out, his voice rising. "I didn’t know how to look you in the eye and face what I’d done. And I ruined it. I ruined everything."

"You didn’t ruin it," you said finally, your voice trembling. "You just… left. And you broke me, Laurie. You broke me."

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, broken only by the faint strains of music drifting out from the party inside. He looked at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I’m sorry," he said.

But sorry wasn’t enough.

You turn your back to him, gripping the railing as you stare out into the garden. "You can’t just show up here and expect everything to go back to the way it was," you say quietly. "I’ve spent years putting myself back together. And I don’t even know if I want—" you stopped, shaking your head.

"If you want me in your life," Laurie finished for her, his voice soft. He stepped closer, but this time, he didn’t try to reach for you. "I understand. I don’t deserve it. But I’d like to try, if you’ll let me."

You turn to face him again, eyes searching his for something—anything—that would make this easier. What you saw there wasn’t the boy you fallen in love with. It was someone else entirely. Someone older. Someone who had suffered in his own way.

"Small steps," you said at last, voice steady but firm. "If we’re going to fix this… it’s going to take time."

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he nodded. "Small steps," he repeated.

The faint trace of a smile tugged at your lips, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Good."

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Over the span of a few weeks, you and Laurie had spent many occasions together, slowly constructing back the fondness you both held for each other. Tension was still palpable and strained at times, yet often you found yourself grinning and laughing at him.

Right now Laurie had arrived outside of the hotel you were residing in and you agreed to let him tag along.

As you shopped for a wedding dress.

When you told Laurie you were engaged you were too busy avoiding his gaze, and acting as though you were indifferent to his opinion, than to notice his crestfallen look and clenched jaw as you told him about Aaron.

Now, with the same bitter taste on his tongue, laurie was trailing along you as you busied yourself with the racks of dresses.

'you havent told me when the wedding is' Laurie spoke as you picked a certain dress that had caught your eye.

'oh' you simply remark 'its taking place in Rome in June'

And that's the last thing you say before you walk into the dressing room, dress in your hand, leaving laurie drowning in the words that threaten to leave his tongue.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

The silk glided over your skin as you stepped out of the dressing room, your breath catching at the sight in the mirror. The gown clung and flowed in all the right places, the corset cinching your waist perfectly while the long, flowy sleeves cascaded like a whisper of elegance. Tiny pink roses and green leaves embroidered on the fabric seemed to bloom in the soft light of the shop, each detail a testament to the craftsmanship. The bow at the small of your back tied it all together, making you feel—for the first time in a long while—utterly beautiful.

You turned slightly, running your fingers over the delicate embroidery, your reflection almost unrecognizable. "It’s perfect," you murmured to yourself, a small smile tugging at your lips.

The sound of footsteps made you glance toward the door, and there he was. Laurie.

He froze the moment he saw you. His hand still on the door, his lips parted slightly, as though he’d forgotten how to breathe. His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, drinking in every detail as if he was committing it to memory—the softness of the silk, the curve of the corset, the gentle blush of the embroidery, the way the gown moved with you like it was made for no one else.

"You—" he began, his voice catching. He stepped closer, his expression shifting into something almost reverent. "You look… breathtaking."

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you ducked your head slightly, a laugh escaping despite yourself. "You’re being dramatic."

"I’m not," he said quickly, almost too quickly. His voice was softer now, his eyes locked on you. "I mean it. You look… like a dream."

You felt the compliment settle in your chest, warm and fluttering, as though it had been a long time since someone looked at you quite like that. You smoothed the fabric of the dress nervously, glancing back at your reflection. "Do you think Aaron will like it?"

The words hung in the air like a crack of thunder.

Laurie’s expression changed instantly, the warmth in his eyes replaced by something harder, sharper. His jaw tightened, and he took a step back as if the name physically pushed him away.

"Don’t marry him," he said suddenly, his voice low and urgent.

You blinked, stunned. "What?"

"Don’t marry him," he repeated, louder this time, his eyes searching yours. There was a desperation in his voice, an almost frantic edge. "I can’t— I won’t let you."

Anger flared in your chest, your heart pounding as you turned to face him fully. "What are you talking about? You won’t let me? Laurie, what—"

"I love you," he interrupted, the words tumbling out as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his voice breaking. "I love you, (name). I have for so long, and I was too stupid to see it, to admit it. But I see it now, and it’s not too late—"

"Not too late?" you cut him off, your voice rising. "Not too late?" Emotion surged through you, hot and overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, the words poured out. "Laurie, I loved you from the moment I met you. It was always you, me, and Jo. And I waited for you. I waited even after you left, even after my mother died, even after you didn’t come back. And now—" Your voice cracked, your eyes stinging with tears. "Now, when I’ve finally moved on, when I’ve built a life for myself, this is when you tell me you love me?"

"(name)—" he began, stepping toward you, but you held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"No," you said, shaking your head, your voice trembling with frustration. "I won’t be your second choice, Laurie."

"You’re not—"

"Really?" you snapped, your eyes blazing as the tears spilled over. "Jo didn’t marry you, so now you fall back to the person you know would? That’s cruel. It’s mean, and I won’t give you the satisfaction."

The silence that followed was deafening, the air between you heavy with words unsaid. Laurie’s face crumpled, his shoulders slumping as if your words had struck him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

You turned sharply, retreating to the dressing room, your hands trembling as you pulled at the laces of the corset. The dress that had made you feel so beautiful minutes ago now felt suffocating, the silk clinging too tightly to your skin. You slipped back into your regular clothes, blinking back tears as you tried to steady your breathing.

When you stepped out, the shop was quiet. Too quiet. Laurie was gone.

The woman behind the counter gave you a sympathetic look, her hands clasped in front of her. "He paid for the dress," she said softly, as if afraid her words might shatter you completely.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and forced yourself to smile. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you left the shop, the weight of everything pressed down on you, but you held your head high, determined not to let the tears fall. Not here. Not now.

[hazbinstohell]

Maroon

Songfic Idea from the Song Maroon by Taylor Swift...(Because it just fit my aesthetic way too much) If you haven't heard it, find it on Youtube! (Also, this is purely self-indulgent, if you enjoy great! If not, don't like it XD My other fanfic will be updated soon, and it will move over to AO3! Hope to see you there!)

Summary - It wasn't supposed to be this way...but here we are, and the color made her want more.

It had begun innocently enough. A song to listen to. Talking about the hotel, or maybe even talking about the redemption of other sinners.

What led from innocent talks to hour-long debates, Charlie remembers at some point listening to the stories of his "old days" with a mixture of fear and awe. He was pretty entertaining on his own. She enjoyed the old vinyl records of songs that he would play over the radio and would take care of them like they were her own, cleaning and dusting the things that he didn't even let Nifty touch, and he loved to show her more of the jazzy tunes that he had.

One day, Charlie's fights were unbearable with Vaggie, so she took a whole bottle of Rosé up at first to drink away the sorrows in her own room, that was until she ended up in his bedroom...and somehow sitting on the edge of the couch in his room, somehow her feet had ended up in his lap as he tapped her shin absentmindedly as a jazzy tune played, and he'd talk about another silly thing or a murder from his days alive, which she would try to tear apart the wrongs of it and he'd just call her sweet.

Charlie took a moment to realize that they had somehow ended up on the floor and giggled as she wondered how they got there in the first place. Alastor waved the bottle as she laughed out loud, "It was the cheapest one I could find..."

Alastor gently filled her glass, "Well dear, I do think he isn't buying the majority of the liquor around here anyways..." It was the first of many more nights. It took her mind off responsibilities and allowed her to be close to one of the people she felt the farthest from. Another night, he had swept her right up into a dance, her giggling at the fact her shoes had fallen off at some point, and their drinks had been spilled, her white shirt having a stain from the wine that he had spilled in their shenanigans.

Charlie had hummed soft laughter as she tried to dab it with a cloth. It was right near her collar, staining it and her neck, "Shit, Al. This isn't going to come out..."

Alastor touched her collar, the sharp finger gently coming to unbutton a part of the shirt, where more of the wine had spilled. Charlie doesn't realize at that moment that the wine on her shirt has changed things, as Alastor watches her face a moment before leaning in to lick at her neck. Her skin flushes everywhere, and Alastor almost seems like he enjoys it as her skin becomes redder as his lips trail up to her own...

Days become weeks of this. Nights of music listening and talking and dancing become nights of lips and tongues and touches. She spends whole maroon nights in his room to leave early morning, marks being left on her neck and collarbone having to be hidden the best it can during the day. She cannot see him around the hotel, or her skin flushes the same color it does every night. Vaggie realizes that Charlie is no longer into their relationship, and they decide that maybe it's time to end it on a good note...instead of a hazy mess of sobbing and just nothing but anger.

At least, Vaggie thinks so. Charlie feels horrible lying to her, but, she had lied to her for THREE YEARS about who she really was. Alastor had agreed when she mentioned it, but she was already sitting on the edge of the bed, as his fingers were leaving trails on her thighs, maroon blood from the marks he left on her flesh. She'd realize that any memory of her was second to the legacy of him over her. Besides, her favorite color may have always been the same color of her blood and his coat.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (26) Manipulate

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 26)

Summary: Rosie finds an unmarked box in her wardrobe. When John scolds himself for lacking as a parent, Rosie sets things straight.

Twenty-Six Years Old

Six months after my return to London, I was moving out again. The internship at the ministry of justice paid surprisingly well. I couldn’t help but think that a certain uncle had been using his manipulation skills again… In addition to my wage, the generous inheritance from Nana and Timothy’s income from his published novel, were more than sufficient to buy a decent flat in Stockwell. 

Nana had clearly wanted that 221 Baker Street was well looked after, and gifted it to her two boys, and insisted in her will that if Deidre, or Dee, as she preferred to be called, needed a home, 221A should be hers. And for the last two years, 221A had been occupied by Dee. My parents got along with her like a house on fire.

“It’s like having a younger version of Hudders down there,” Papa stated.

“Agreed. The sassiness runs in the family, I presume. Dee’s skills in the kitchen are sadly things she did not inherit from her aunt, though,” Dad said.

“Definitely not! She almost sat the flat on fire when she was boiling eggs,” Papa filled in.

***

Moving out the first time, had been poles apart to this move. That time I was going on an adventure, and I knew it was for just a period. When I moved in with Timothy, it was forever, and that was more bittersweet than I’d anticipated.

Moving to Paris, I had only taken clothes, some books, my laptop and the like. Stripping my room bare, was something entirely different. There were so many memories, and I knew I had to get rid of some of them because the flat wasn’t exactly big, and there were Timothy’s things to consider as well.

Over the next weeks I felt that I lived inside a cardboard box. They were everywhere, even downstairs to let me have some room to move around upstairs and leave the bed free to sleep in.

On the floor inside my wardrobe, I found an old box that had remained hidden behind clothes, rucksacks, shoes and a bag with blankets. It wasn’t marked and I couldn’t remember having placed it there. I opened the flaps and gasped in surprise.

“How are you getting on?” Dad called from the stairs and seconds later he entered my room.

I looked up at him with a stunned expression. When he saw the box, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily.

“Right. I’d forgotten all about that one,” he said sheepishly. “I’ve failed to keep her memory alive for you, haven’t I?”

“Dad,” I scolded him. “You had far more important things to cope with when she died. Raising me with Papa is the greatest gift you could’ve given me. Never be sorry for that. I don’t remember her at all. From what I’ve gathered she did some horrible things to you both. No, stop. She did. I may not know the full extent of it, but it doesn’t matter that she was my mother. Remember what Papa said about extended and chosen family. They can be way better than the biological one. Not that I would want to replace you, mind.”

We both looked down at the photo of my mother and Dad on their wedding day. I didn’t recall when it had been replaced with the wedding photo of Dad and Papa. It felt strange and a bit eerie to look at Dad embracing another person like that. I took it out and placed it in the box that was going to the bins.

“Rosie!” Dad exclaimed, more out of shock than anything else.

“It’s wrong, Dad. I don’t need that. To me she’s the one who gave me life, but she was never in it when it mattered, and I’ve never missed having a mother. I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world having you and Papa as parents. You’ve done a great job, and uncle Myc, Nana, Molly, Granny, Pops, and uncle Greg have been brilliant carers as well. Now, what else is in here?”

I found Ted, still stained with tomato sauce, a white baby blanket with a bee pattern, tiny boxes containing a curl of my hair, my first tooth, a book where my growth, my first real meal, my first words, my first steps, my first trip, (to Barts), my favourite toys and books were painstakingly written down in Papa’s handwriting. My eyes filled with tears when I realised how much love lay behind those notes.

“He didn’t let me near that book with my horrible handwriting,” Dad said in a choked voice, clearly as emotional as me.

Another book caught my eye. The one uncle Greg had mentioned. A book with children’s names. It was worn, and I didn’t know whether that was from Papa searching for male names starting with a G, or my mother’s search for names meant for me.

“Did you…”

“No,” Dad cut me off. “She’d already decided on a name once we got back together. After…”

He didn’t have to finish that sentence, and I’m glad he stopped himself. Just thinking about it made me nauseous. 

I hadn’t told Timothy about her yet, but I knew I needed to. He would eventually ask. The lack of photos of her would ensure that. I reminded myself to ask uncle Myc how much I could reveal. Not that I knew more than half of it myself.

After I’d put the box aside, I leant into Dad where he sat beside me and placed my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me and pulled me in for a hug.

“I’m so glad you decided to move back here with me after she died,” I murmured. “We would’ve been miserable without him.”

“Yeah, two years was enough for a lifetime,” Dad said and drew me closer, kissing the top of my head.

“I bet Papa is relieved that he can walk around in just a sheet now that I’m moving out for good,” I quipped to brighten the mood.

Dad chuckled and he was unable to hide the glint in his eyes at this prospect.

Also available on AO3

All the love to the other magnificent participants <3 Thanks to everyone for the endless support and especially to those who normally don't read parent!lock, but despite that are walking the extra mile. I'm in awe!

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

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[solargeist]

(I was bored, so I give u a tiny fanfic of the aftermath of Grian getting his wings)

-----------------

Grian trembled weakly. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Grian didn't know. All he knew was that the overwhelming pain was gone. Why had that even happened? Had he done something wrong? Was this because of the tiny mistake he had made yesterday while practicing spells?

Grian heard his door open, and he didn't have the strengt to lift his head to see who had come in. The person approached his bed, and sat down. Grian felt himself being lifted up from his bed and into the embrace of someone. That someone rubbed his sore back gently and cooed.

They fucking cooed.

"Your wings are so bright and beautiful, even when they're covered in blood." Oh, it was Aether.

Hold on... WINGS?!

Aether wiped Grian's tears away with a napkin. "Don't you agree, Sunset?"

Grian blinked and slowly turned his head to look behind him.

Sprouting from his bleeding back were white wings, the feathers stained with his own blood. Grian briefly noticed his blood splattered on his sheets, even a bit on the wall.

"W-what...?" Was all that Grian mumbled out.

Aether petted his hair comfortingly. She summoned a water bucket, a cloth, and bandages. "Once the blood is off I'm certain that your wings will look even more beautiful."

The next 20 minutes happened in a blur. All Grian could think was that he had wings. He had wings. Aether cleaned the blood off and bandaged his wounds, but Grian couldn't bring himself to even thank her.

"...W-why did I grow... wings...?" He mutters when Aether has finished tending to his bleeding back.

Aether chuckled gently. "You're turning into one of us, Sunset."

Grian blinked again. He stared at Aether's long sharp talons and the extra eyes on her face. Grian almost shivered at what it would feel like when he got those.

Grian felt himself lean into Aether's gentle touch as she continued to pet his hair and run her fingers through his new wings. He was shaking.

And now Grian realized what a horrible choise it had been to join the Watchers.

oooooo inbox fic !!

poor guy :( it took growing wings for him to rly realize how awful that choice was adjgkjkad just laying there face down and hopeless ..