#that should convince you enough of how good it is

[prael]

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

[softtdaisy]

when hearts find their way / Aaron Hotchner

summary. if Hotch decided to break up with you to protect you, he regrets it anytime he looks at you. And he looks at you a lot.

words count. 2,443

a/n. just a short story, she said, just to start writing again. And here comes my first Hotch fic with more than 2k words. It's a first, I hope you'll like and well...I'll write something happier another day (it has a good ending I promise)

Hotch wished he could stop looking at you.

It wasn’t like he needed to focus on you right now. Not outside the office. Not at Rossi’s party to celebrate another year as a completely alive team. Not when you’re clearly out of danger.

Well, except if he counted Emily’s and JJ’s drinking with you more than usual. 

But that wasn’t a real danger. Especially when there were plenty of people not drinking tonight to make sure everyone will go back home safe. Including Reid. Including himself.

However, Hotch was incapable of putting his eyes away from you.

Too scared there might be an unknown treat around here. Too scared you might disappear if he dared look away. Too scared you might find somebody else to end the night.

That was the scariest thought above all. 

He clinched on his drink harder, blaming himself for being so stupidly attached to someone he shouldn’t. Someone he already told no before. 

“And I thought we locked up Hotch in the office to get Aaron tonight,” Rossi said, standing next to him. Hotch let out a small and single amused sigh. He took the risk of closing his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, you were still there. Thankfully.

“I’m fully here, David.” he answered, turning to his friend who looked more than amused by the situation. There was one problem with being close with your coworker: when their work is to analyze people, you can be sure they will do it with you too. “Having fun?”

“More than you I guess.” Hotch opened his mouth to respond to it but didn’t get the time before Rossi put his hand up. “Or your level of fun is watching over her?” 

Was he that obvious? Technically, he had been standing alone in the corner of the room for a few minutes now. “I’m not watching over her.” Of course, it didn’t convince Rossi. Worse, it made him laugh. 

“Oh you clearly are, Aaron. I know you’re not a man of many words but you should consider that speaking is better than stalking.” 

He sighed, taking another slip of his drink. “Would you stop, please?” 

But Hotch had to be honest. Because he did take profit of the silence and the small break Rossi was giving him to take another look. He saw you dancing with Morgan. The first thing that came to his mind was that he was safe.

Safe from what, you idiot? It’s not like he had any right to be jealous or possessive. Or even protective. You weren’t his. And it was his fault. 

Hotch could never forget how your expression went from desire, the need to kiss every single piece of face, to the sadness and the anger of being rejected. “We shouldn't do that.” He heard himself say. Four stupid words. Four stabs right into your heart. 

“I’ll give you some advice.” Rossi said to interrupt his thoughts. And Hotch gave up, fully concentrating on whatever he had to say to prevent himself from reliving the night that ruined everything. 

“Either you talk to her and make a move. Or you leave her alone. But stop playing with that girl's heart and mind.”

“You say that like she cares.” He knew that by saying that, he was admitting there was more than a professional conflict between you. Not that anyone in this house was even believing that it was only professional. You don’t look at a member of your team like they were the loss of your life. Not the biggest, but close.

“Oh she does.” Rossi said, looking at you. So did Hotch. And for the first time tonight, he caught your eyes on him. Just for a second before you noticed and went back to your discussion with Emily. But it was enough for him.

__

Later that night, Hotch learnt that Rossi wasn’t the only one aware that something was going between you two.

He was one of the first to sit at the table, in front of JJ. They talked for a few minutes and more members of the team started to join. Until JJ got up suddenly and called your name. “Please, take my seat.”

“What? Why?” you replied, confused at the offer when there were still some places available at the end of the table. You didn’t take the time to look at JJ’s seat, next to who she was. It was like she gave you the time too anyway.

As soon as you approached, she put both hands on your shoulder to make you sit. “It will be easier to check on Henry if at the head of the table.” she replied, putting a kiss on your hair before leaving you still very confused. For a few seconds.

Until you looked up and met those brown eyes that you started to know by heart until they became a mystery again. 

“Very subtle, Jennifer.” you sighed. But you weren’t mad. Not at her for reading you and trying to help you. And neither at Hotch. You could tell from the little frowning, because everything was always little when it comes to expressing himself -but thankfully not little on other things-, that he was as confused as you are.

You saw him lean closer to you, his hands on the table to stay stable. And you did the same to hear him. “I didn’t…it’s not…”

You could restrain the smile on your face. You could blame it on the alcohol to not accept it. But it was a genuine reaction to him, opening himself to you. A little. “I know.” you replied, naturally putting your hand on top of his. 

When Hotch freezed at your contact, you assumed you went too far. Again. And immediately take your hand off, lean back on your chair and start a new conversation with Reid to avoid your boss.

When Hotch freezed at your contact, he actually was just thrown back to weeks earlier when you couldn’t stop touching him. And for a brief second, he remembered how good it felt to be appreciated. 

Sadly, it didn’t last long. Because he was incapable of keeping people he loved in his life.

Most of the dinner was bittersweet for Hotch.

The team was loud and most of you laughed so hard you had a stomach ache. And the food was so nice that Emily asked multiple times if Rossi was sure he couldn’t adopt her. The answer sadly stayed no.

And Hotch would lie saying he didn’t have a good time. 

But he would also lie if he said your lack of interaction didn’t hurt him.

He noticed how you always make sure to not meet his eyes when he couldn’t stop looking at you. With the way the candle’s light was dancing on your face, he felt like discovering your traits again. 

Or how you only responded when he talked to you directly. Which he stopped after a few tries.

Hotch wasn’t the only one noticing that. None of the team felt like stepping in a story they didn’t know. Even if they heart felt for their boss who felt disarmed for the first time -at least, for them. And for you, because you had your reasons to act like that.

But in the end, they did step in. Without meaning to.

When the party came to an end, they all started to organize the ride back home. JJ jumped into Reid’s car while Morgan brought Emily back to her place. Everybody left slowly. 

Until there was you.

And Hotch.

“Of course.” you mumbled when you saw him and Rossi talking in the hallway. They didn’t notice you yet and you took the opportunity to watch the man that broke your heart. Because you had to be honest, Aaron still held a special place in your heart. He looked so good tonight and especially right now, with his shirt more unbuttoned than before and his jacket laying on his arm. You loved his hair a little less styled after many hours or how his eyes looked more glassy from the wine and the fatigue. 

You loved many things about that man. Which made the heartbreak even more difficult to accept. 

“Oh, you’re here.” Rossi noticed you and opened his arm to add you in the conversation. “Hope you enjoyed the evening.”

“It was perfect David, thank you.” you replied with a genuine smile that created the exact same one on Hotch. When you turned to him, he was surprised that your smile didn’t drop. “Can we go?” you asked and he simply nodded.

“I’m sorry.” Hotch said once you were both sitting in the car. “I didn’t plan this.” 

If you had any doubt that it wasn’t his fault, you were now sure that he wasn’t the thinker of this situation. From the way he couldn’t look at you or how his hands were shaking before he put them on the wheel. “I know.” 

Without a surprise, the ride was calm. Hotch was a silent driver, focusing on the road and the music coming from the radio for a low volume. And you appreciated that. You did back then when you saw each other because it was peaceful. You still did. How ironic that the ride to your place felt more like home than the idea of going to your own apartment.

It was a memory of a better time. Of coming home from cases with Aaron, going to your place because it was more serene to him than his silent home. The only thing missing was his hand grabbing yours now and then during the drive. Multiple times, Hotch actually started to move his hand before remembering he couldn’t do that no more. 

When he finally parked, you turned to him to thank him. Even, maybe, probably, apologizing for your attitude tonight. But he spoke before you.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

You frowned. “Driving me home? I mean, Rossi could have given a room for the night but I really appreciate you dri…”

“Breaking up with you.”

The silence came back. Because you didn’t know what to answer. Sure, he shouldn't have done that.

Aaron shouldn’t have looked at you after spending another night with you. Not after sharing a hotel room with you in San Francisco during all the cases. Not after making love every single night that week there to forget about the atrocity of the world outside. To feel loved. To give love. 

Not after making you believe that this could become a routine. Something normal. Something real. Something that he thought could become real too.

No, he shouldn’t have looked at you from where you were laying: on your bed, still naked under the sheet. While he was putting on his shirt from yesterday. And said “We shouldn’t do that.” Four words. Not more. Not an explanation because of course Aaron Hotchner didn’t have to explain himself. He was the boss, after all. 

And you were so mad that morning, knowing that this could come but believing it wouldn’t, that you didn’t ask for more. You only gave him an emotionless “ok”.

“After San Francisco,” Aaron started, “I got scared. Because I’m your boss. Because this felt natural. I really wanted this to continue, but at what cost? Too many scenarios came to me during the flight back. What if something happened to you during a case. What if we break up and we can’t work together properly. What if someone finds out. Who should leave, you or me? And you knew I was being selfish because if that happened, I know people above would make sure I wasn’t the one fired.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was your heart, but when he looked at you after opening his heart to you like that, more than ever before, you felt the tears coming. Because for the first time since the break up, you were able to stop this idea of an arrogant Hotch that took what he could and threw the rest away. You saw again the Aaron that you fell in love with: the broken man that was trying his best to breathe and find happiness again. 

“In any scenario, I lose you. I stupidly believe that having control over that loss would be easier. But it’s even harder to know I broke your heart and mine at the same time and couldn't do anything to fix them.” 

“But why…” you said softly, moving a little closer to him. “Why imagine and accept the worst when everything was great?”

“Because life has always been difficult and I stopped believing good things could happen to a man like me.” he let out a sad laugh. “I lost my wife, I didn’t know how to be a good dad to my son, I sometimes feel overwhelmed and incapable of doing my job right. Why would things be great with you?” 

It was a genuine question. Aaron felt like happiness was an unknown concept in his life. Anytime something good happened, something bad came right after. He couldn’t even appreciate the soft hand you put on his cheek now.

“Because you deserve to be happy, Aaron.” you whispered. He let you put your forehead against his. You remembered how it appeased him back then. “Please, stop rejecting the ones that want to love you. We are here for you.”

“We?”

“There still can be a us if you want to.” 

Aaron closed his eyes. He needed to think about that. He wanted you. He wanted to give himself to you. But it meant fighting against his fears. Can he be strong enough for you? Like you could read his mind, you added “We can fight together.” 

Slowly, he brought a hand to your neck to have you even closer and to kiss you. A soft, sweet and small kiss on your lips. A promise that he couldn’t say outloud but he wanted you to understand. Sure, Aaron needed love. But he needed someone willing to fight against the world with him and for him. 

“You know, things could have been a little easier if you told me that instead of breaking up with me when I was naked.” you said against his lips which made him laugh. 

“Would you accept compensation for that moment?”

“I have all night, all day and all my life for you.”

Holding hands, you brought Aaron back to the place he felt the more at peace these past years. But in all honesty, he started to think that maybe any place with you would be a peaceful one. 

[iloveazzifudd35]

only like myself when I’m with you.

guys I made the executive decision to try and write a pazzi fic in one sitting and I literally almost just died I don’t know how you all do it but here we go

5.2k words 😭 like i literally feel dead.

Let me know how i did tho this is my first one and please give me feedback. Also I edited as I go and got a lil tired by the end

theme: friends to lovers

tw: smut at the end. Most of the story isn’t so if u don’t like it stop when u get to to the French fries being eaten it gets freaky 😛

2021

Paige walked into Ted’s, hair damp from her shower after a tough loss to notre dame. 

She was frustrated with herself for how she played. She knew she should have put more shots up, regardless of her teammates consistent reassurance that she did everything she could, it wasn’t enough for her. 

With Azzi hurt, she felt like there was a part of her that was missing on the court, and she didn’t feel herself. With no Azzi, there were no light taps on her back that sent shivers down her spine when she made her free throws, none of the gentle soft spoken whisper she would hear during the huddles. Her mistakes felt bigger. With Azzi hurt she felt a responsibility to take on her role in the court. If Azzi couldn’t play she felt like she needed to fill that gap, that role, and today she let her down. 

As she walked through the doors she heard KK’s booming voice even before she saw them. 

Paige unzipped her drawstring hoodie letting it fall off her shoulder revealing her black crop top under neath. She smoothly made her way over to the table, stopping to order a dirty Shirley from the bar and 2 shots of tequila. 

“Paige!!” A voice yelled out coming from the table. Turning around from the bar with her tray of drinks she walked back towards her teammates. 

“Where’s Azzi?” Paige asked, scanning the group noticing a hole where her curly haired best friend was.  

“I think she was with the trainer after the game, she will probably be bye later.” Ice said, schooching over so Paige can squeeze in between her and Kk. Paige let out a sigh taking both the shots instead of leaving it for Azzi like she intended.

As much as she hated herself for it, but she needed to hear Azzi’s voice, to hear her tell her she didn’t play bad, that she was okay. Most of all she needed to tell Azzi how much she loved her, and how much she missed seeing her dimpled grin when she sunk a three, or seeing her cheer when paige scored off her. She felt like a burden, Azzi was out hurt with a knee sprain after just 3 games her freshman season, and would give anything to just touch the court again, while Paige needed her to tell her how she played.

Since they were on the USA team 4 years prior, they had an unmistakable bond. Defining the lines between friendship and something more was always a challenge for them. 

Their title remained “Best-friends” to everyone else, teammates, coaches, family, fans, but both girls could tell the feelings ran deeper than they both realized. Touches lingering, snuggling up against each other. Paige even spending an entire month with her family where they kissed for the first time. Since then they continue to kiss each other, to touch each other- which they had convinced themselves was completely normal for best friends to do. 

“She’s like my sister” Paige would tell slam magazine, along with herself, trying to assess what these unknown feelings were. 

Friends that occasionally crossed the line was normal for their relationship, they were just a little closer than others that’s all. As much as she convinced herself of this, the sleepovers she would have with Azzi where they would share a kiss and cuddle up against each other, the tension in the air was thick. 

Paige wanted nothing more than to stick her tongue down Azzi’s throat and kiss her until they couldn’t breathe. She wanted to go all the way. She wanted to make Azzi feel good in anyway she could, and craved Azzi’s touch more than anything, but fear stoped her. 

As much as she knew Azzi loved her, and vice versa, there was no way of knowing how far she could take it. She has herself convinced she was straight. Her feelings for Azzi were simply platonic, which made no sense seeing as she wanted to literally f***. 

But it was fine. She ignored the feelings. Her and Azzi were best friends, who yes kissed sometimes, but it was nothing more than that, she was almost positive that there were other friends that did that too. 

——————

Azzi on the other hand felt just as conflicted. The kisses she shared with Paige in the safety of her room were the most seen she had ever felt. When she was with Paige she felt as though she was unstoppable. Nothing was wrong when she was with Paige, no injury mattered, no person, no coach, no team, no game. Her nights with Paige moved in slow motion, snuggled up against her skin she could hear her heart beating against her. 

Azzi sometimes would push the limits, backing up into paige as they lay in bed together, hearing the shift in her breathing and the way her hands stiffened scared to touch her as if she was made of glass.

Azzi wanted nothing more than to lay with paige forever, to make her feel like the most special girl in the world. 

Azzi knew the pressures of basketball better than anyone, she knew how much Paige put on her self, the weight of the entire team, especially now that she was injured. She hated that Paige would blame herself for losses, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her up and kiss every worry and doubt away from her, but they were just friends- best friends- who occasionally crossed the line.

——

Paige pulled out her phone and pulled up Azzi’s contact checking her location. With the trainer as Ice said. 

Paige wasn’t surprised. Azzi never gave up, if Azzi could spend every minute of the day in that rehab facility with the trainer she would if it meant she would be closer to playing again. It was one of the things Paige loved and hated about her. She knew she would need a break, but also knew Azzi was too stubborn to accept that until she was cleared by the doctor. 

Paige put her phone back down trying to distract herself from the Azzi sized hole in her heart. She felt the tequila pumping through her blood, the music pounded in her head. Taking a sip of her Dirty Shirley she stood up with Kk and chose to sing (and absolutely butcher) some Sexyy Red. 

An hour, 15 songs, 8 maraschino cherries, 3 shots, and 2 dirty Shirley’s later, Paige shakily made her way back to her seat feeling the effects of the alcohol in effect. She picked up her phone unable to hold back any longer

 Me: AZZZZIIIII WYA👀👀👀

💗: I’m still with the trainer.

        She had me use the cold tub for my knee,        she said it would help with loosening the ligament. 

         Why?

Me: OMF HATE THE COLD TUB 

       miss u thats y

💗: I know it’s awful, but it’s good for u 💗

        I miss u too paige, I’m almost done I have 20 minutes left, 

       where are u?

me: teds 😛

💗: why r u at teds? It’s literally 4 o’clock…

me: u saw the game, and we have tomorrow off. 

Plus the whole team is here I’m not by myself. 

Might as well be since ur not here tho

💗: paige u played well, it was a tough game don’t be so hard on urself. 

Me: idec anymore, I can’t change what happened… but u can by coming and making me feel better 😼

💗: ur already drunk and it’s 4 o’clock paige omfg

Me: I’m not even drunk I just wanna be with u 

💗: do I need to text ice and ask what u have had?

—- 

Paige looks up from her phone and glances at ice and kk singing to drake

—-

Me: I don’t think u will get the response u are looking for 😁 

💗: ugh paige, fine I’m coming to get u 

Don’t drink anything else ur gonna be so sick tomorrow 

Me: YES AZZI COME PLEASE 😫😫😫

actually make me come instead 

💗: I’m not responding to that💗

——

Putting down her phone Azzi got out of the tub. 

As much as she didn’t want to admit, reading paige’s texts she wanted nothing more than to do just that and touch her until she screamed. But right now paige wasn’t thinking straight- literally. 

Her only goal was to get to paige before she literally tried to come find Azzi on her own, which she had tried before.

—-

Paige on the other hand was very satisfied with herself for convincing Azzi to come, unfortunately not in the way she really wanted, but she would settle for this way. 

Azzi’s message ringing in her ear vanished the second she saw the waiter bring out another dirty Shirley

“One more drink won’t do anything now, I’m already drunk.” She thought to herself allowing herself to indulge on the fruity beverage. 

5 minutes later she was sucking up nothing but air through the straw. She sighed defeatedly, making her way over to Aubrey to see what she was drinking.

“I miss Azzi” paige slurred reaching for Aubrey’s sex on the beach. 

“I can tell” Aubrey chuckled pulling her arm away, but paige was destined to have some more. 

“She’s so pretty, don’t u think. It doesnt make any sense. I feel like she was literally a gift from god himself. No one deserves her.” Paige continued finally grasping onto the drink as a big tear rolled down her face.

Aubrey looked at her disheveled state and sighed. 

“Aw paige, don’t cry, Azzi is pretty, and I think she will find someone really nice that will make her really happy some day! I think there is that kid in her accounting class that has a thing for her why don’t u try and set them up?” 

“FUCK NO, Azzi is mine…” paige pauses sniffing in, “I want her, I love her, but what if I’m not enough for her. I want her to be happy she deserves to be with like a god or something idk… “ she trails off rubbing her eyes as tears dripped onto her lap. 

Aubrey rubs her back awkwardly, not really knowing exactly what to say, 

“Paige, azzi loves you more than anything in this world honestly. You see the way she looks at you? Like trust me ur not alone on that. Azzi would be lucky to have you!” 

And just like that paige perks up, maybe it was the drinks, or the extra vote of confidence, or even just the mention of Azzi looking at her, she felt better. 

Paige leans into Aubrey’s embrace and mumbles quietly. 

“Paige what? Speak up I can’t hear u” 

“I BEEN LOOSING FRIENDS AND FINDING PEACE BUT HONESTLY THAT SOUND LIKE A FAIR TRADE TO ME” she shouts singing along to the song in the background. 

Aubrey just shakes her head laughing and mutters something about feeling bad for Azzi and watches as paige bounds back over to Kk and Ice. 

Paige is downing two more shots when suddenly she hears her favorite laugh in the world.

She spins around so fast she knocks over KK’s drink 

“Ugh, Girl boo” Kk shouts disgustedly shaking her head as paige races towards Azzi, stumbling, and getting knocked over by someone she ran into. 

Getting herself back up, without even stopping, she continues to charge towards azzi, throwing herself at her. 

“YOU CAME” she shouts 

Azzi can smell the alcohol mixing with the lavender shampoo she used. 

“Paige oh my fucking god ur actually hammered!” She says hugging paige back and holding her up for support. 

“I feel totally fine Azzi” she slurs, but her body language says other wise as she feels her hands exploring Azzi’s body as she leans into her 

“ I want you so bad” she whispers into her ear 

Azzi shivers at her warm breath hot against her ear. She feels her cheeks redden…

“Paige you’re so drunk, come on you are cut off, let’s get you back home.” Azzi giggles while dragging her towards the door. 

Paige didn’t argue, she just let Azzi pull her to the door. She didn’t care where she was as long as she was with Azzi. 

Once they got to the car, Azzi glanced at her, Paige had a huge cheesy grin plastered on her face, but Azzi saw through it. The second the last bit of alcohol was out of her system, Azzi would be there to pick up the pieces and hold her while she continued to go over every second of the game an micro analyze every mistake she made. 

Regardles, Azzi felt a small tug at the side of her mouth seeing paige this pure, even if it was because of the alcohol, knowing that her presence contributed to any of it was enough to fill her heart. 

Azzi opened the door for her and stuffed her long limbs in before shutting the door. 

As they drove Azzi could feel paige’s eyes on her. She would turn to look at her back and paige would immediately blush and giggle to herself. 

Azzi laughed at her antics. Paige was acting as if she was in middle schoool, and Azzi couldn’t hide that she secretly liked all the innocent attention paige was showing her.

As they pulled up to paige’s dorms, Azzi lugged paige out of the car and brought her towards the door bringing her all the way up to her room all while paige babbled incessantly about random things. 

Once they made there way to her room, Azzi sat her on the bed, but paige pulled her down on top of her.

Azzi tried to regain her balance but even drunk paige’s grip was firm on her arm. To be honest Azzi could have pushed her off if she really wanted to but a part of her enjoyed being on top of her…

They stayed there a second in silence.

Azzi’s beautiful face was enough to immediately sober Paige up. 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful u are.” She slurred, releasing her grip off of Azzi’s arm and tracing her finger over her features slowly. 

“You don’t have to Paige.” Azzi giggled at paige’s finger softly tracing over her face, outlining every freckle and crease in her skin. 

“I want to tell you though” Paige pouts. “ I want to tell you every day. I wanna touch you like this every day.” She said proudly as she moved her arms pressing Azzi into a hug on top of her. 

Azzi smiled warmly, but knew that paige was only saying this because she was drunk, whether she meant it or not, she was drunk. 

Azzi sighed against her chest, ultimately wanting to lay there forever. 

“You need to sleep this off, I’m gonna get you some water and advil ur gonna have the worst hangover of all time tomorrow.” Azzi remarked pushing herself off of Paige before she could grab her again. 

Paige reached out her hands squeezing her fists together and releasing repeatedly like a child. 

“ I want you to snuggle with me.” She pouts. 

Azzi laughs at her childlike behavior. 

“Paige baby you need to change first then I will come snuggle with you.” 

Paige looked lazily up at her widening her big blue eyes pulling at Azzi’s shirt to sit herself up. 

“I need help. Do it for me” she whispers leaning into Azzi still gripping her shirt.

Azzi gulps and feels her breath shift. Paige and her had changed infront of each other before but Azzi always made it a point to look away to give her privacy, but lately she has been realizing it was more for herself then for paige. If she looked at her once she may never stop. 

The way paige was willingly giving herself to her so easily putting her arms over her head hinting for Azzi to take off her shirt, she remained eye contact with Azzi the entire time. 

She watched as Azzi looked at her body. She watched the pink cover her cheeks as she pulled off her shirt. She noticed the way she avoided looking at her skin directly. 

Azzi, out of respect, attempted to slide her shirt onto her without really looking.

“Uhm Azzi, you can look at me you know.” 

Paige said teasingly smirking noticing Azzi’s face grow redder matching the team USA t-shirt she slid onto her.

Azzi attempted to laugh it off, quickly pulling off her shorts and pulling on a pair of green pj pants, but the tension hovered. 

Paige pulled at her curls while Azzi fiddled with the draw of her pants trying to fix the tie that mysteriously got all tangled. 

“If you wanted to take off my clothes you could have just asked…” paige trailed off smiling leaning in to smell Azzi’s hair.

Paige loved the way Azzi smelled, she always had, and always will. She could smell her coconut curl cream all the way to her vanilla shampoo. 

Azzi’s smile deepened as paige ran her fingers through her hair. 

“I promise I will be right back Paigey, I am gonna grab you some stuff and get you your tooth brush.” Azzi says walking towards the door before Paige has the chance to pull her back again. 

“Pinky promise?” Paige whines.

“Yes I pinky promise Paige, I will be right back I swear.” Azzi replied finally leaving the blonde.

Azzi feels content, although Paige was drunk, she knew there was some level of truth to what she confessed to her. 

The only doubt that crossed her mind was that Paige would not remember what she said tomorrow. 

She tried to shrug off the doubt, paige’s future hangover was her main priority at the moment. 

She had seen Paige drunk before but never like this, she had always been there to moderate her, but this time she hadn’t. 

“Literally what would she do without me.” Azzi sighed with a smile. 

After grabbing a water bottle, Gatorade, some Advil, and searching the entire apartment for snacks (ending up with half a bag of tru fru- thanks Kk), she walked back into the room slowly. 

Peaking through the door Azzi saw Paige passed out on the bed her mouth slightly open. 

Azzi had to stifle her own laugh as a string of drool trickled out of her open mouth. 

Azzi grabbed her phone snapping a picture laughing to herself, before laying the supplies beside her and climbing into bed gently in hopes to not wake her. 

Azzi wrapped her arms around paige and paige subconsciously snuggled up closer to her letting out a happy sigh. 

Azzi couldn’t lie, there was no place she would rather be, she wished the circumstances were a bit different, but she had never been happier to be with Paige in bed. They had spent numerous nights together having little sleepovers, but to feel needed is to be loved, and that’s exactly how Azzi felt. 

Paige has never felt more cared for by another person, than she did with Azzi. 

Even though it was still early in the evening, like between 6 and 7 o’clock Azzi didn’t care. Paige needed her, so with Paige she would be. 

Honestly if Azzi had a choice she would go to bed early every night if she could if it meant getting to be this close to Paige. 

Paige on the other hand didn’t get much rest, waking up at 11 to run to the bathroom and throw up. 

Azzi feeling the emptiness next to her immediately got up grabbed a blanket off of Paige’s bean bag chair and the water off her nightstand, following her into the bathroom and placed the blanket on her lap holding her hair back.

“I’m never drinking again.” Paige croaked leaning her forehead against Azzi’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay Paigey, I’m here.” Azzi said soothingly rubbing her hand against her back. 

Paige turned to look at her, eyes glazed, some of the alcohol still running through her veins. 

“I love you so much Azzi.” She whispered. 

“I love you too Pai-“ Paige cut her off before she could finish putting her finger to her lip. 

“No I don’t just love you like before. I love you like I wanna be with you forever and ever. I love you because you would hang the moon for me.” Paige says softly. 

Azzi is surprised by this, she doesn’t exactly know what to say. Paige still is surely drunk, but she doesn’t know just how drunk seeing as she has thrown up a lot of what she drank. 

Before she had to chance to say anything, Paige ends up throwing up again, breaking the loud silence. 

After another 20 minutes of sitting there, Paige’s body leaned up against Azzi, Paige falls back to sleep. 

Azzi, feeling the limpness of her body, carries her to her bedroom and plops her back into the bed, tucking the sheets tightly around her before climbing in with her. 

The next time they wake up fortunately it is morning. Paige is still asleep, so Azzi decides to go look for some sort of hangover food to give Paige when she wakes up. 

After looking in almost every cabinet there was literally nothing. Azzi resorted to running and jumping into her car to grab her some fries from McDonald’s. 

Almost 10 minutes later, Paige started reaching behind her noticing the empty space behind her on the bed. Paige darts up immediately regretting it feeling the blood rush to her throbbing head. 

She struggles to find her phone in the covers. When all of a sudden she hears the door unlock, and her nose picks up on the salty smell of the fries, her mouth immediately watering, and in walks Azzi. 

Her heart fills, tugging Azzi towards her a few fries flying into the air. 

“I thought I scared you away with what I said yesterday, or this morning, I don’t even know…” Paige trails off muffled into her chest. 

“You remembered?” Azzi says extending her arms so she can look at her. 

“Uhm ya I wasn’t even that drunk.” Paige says putting her hands up. 

Azzi raises her eyebrow. 

“You were pretty drunk.” 

“Okay well whatever that’s beside the point, I meant every word I said. I love you. I always have loved you. I can’t imagine my life without you. You take care of me, you love me, why can’t we just be together. I don’t wanna just kiss you. I wanna do so much more. I wanna love every inch of you, I wanna do everything with you, have a family maybe, get a house, I don’t know, and I don’t care as long as you are in it.” Paige says gasping for air as she trials on until Azzi cuts her off. 

“I love you too Paige. I just didn’t know how to tell you she says, tears forming in her eyes at Paige’s words. 

“You didn’t have to say anything I could tell. You make me feel like nothing else matters.” Paige sniffled back tears of her own placing her hands on Azzi’s face. 

“I wanna spend the rest of my life with you too. I love you so much Paige, and I always will.” 

Azzi says grabbing the bag of fries and holding it up. 

“You were so hung over late last night already I thought you might need some hangover food… I also thought I could make it back before you got up but I guess I was wrong, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Azzi says opening the bag and grabbing a fry and shoving it into Paiges mouth stopping her from talking. 

“Ketchup?” Paige asks mouth full. 

“Wow, no faith in me huh?” Azzi says pulling out two packets of ketchup and squirting it into another fry watching Paige open her mouth again expecting Azzi to feed her again. 

She complies sticking the fry into her mouth with a laugh. A little bit of ketchup fell onto Azzi’s finger. Before she notices, paige sticks out her tongue and sucks on her finger. Her cheeks hollowing as she bobs up and down on her finger teasingly. 

Azzi’s breath shifts with the tension in the room growing thick. 

“You wanna take off my clothes again?” Paige smirks looking at Azzi’s finger covered in her saliva. Without saying anything they connect their lips. Azzi pushes Paige back against the sheets leaning over her pinning her arms above her head. Paige just smirks watching as Azzi takes off her sweatshirt revealing her beautiful breasts underneath. Paige strains under Azzi’s restraint wanting nothing more than to wrap her lips around her chocolate nipples, but Azzi only tightens her grip.

“You let me get you right first, then maybe I’ll let you touch.” Azzi says pressing her lips against her neck tracking kisses all along her jaw and trailing down her stomach. When she gets to her waist she sucks and leaves three hickeys along her waist band. 

“All mine.” She says softly almost a whisper, making Paige whimper against her touch. Her hips subconsciously thrusting towards her desperately needing to be touched. 

Azzi wraps her fingers lips around her sweatpants and pulls them down along with her panties. 

“You have definitely been this wet since last night when I took your clothes off the first time huh.” Azzi said confidently stroking her inner thigh observing the way her legs twitched for her. 

Paige let out a shaken breath, raising her pussy towards Azzi’s mouth craving her fingers, her mouth, literally anything. 

Azzi instead reaches over to the bag of French fries and eats one.

“No way you are eating a fry when my pussy is literally in your face.” Paige whines frustrated, attempting to close her legs to squeeze or get some form of closure from the throbbing at her  clit. 

Azzi lowers herself at that, leveling herself with her aching pussy. 

“Tell me how bad you want me.” Azzi says dominantly leaning over Paige again and running her fingers closer and closer to where she wants her most. 

“So bad, please anything. Azzi please, need you.” Paige whines attempting to release her hands but is abruptly stoped by the overpowering sensation of Azzi’s tongue against her clit. 

Azzi starts by pressing soft kitten licks at her clit, releasing paige’s hands from her grip so she can use her other hand to separate her folds. 

“Such a good girl for me huh.” Azzi whispers into her pussy as Paige lets out a loud moan. 

Azzi licks her tongue all the way from her entrance back up to her clit, continuing to tease her switching back and forth between soft kitten licks and small circles. Paige is now a series of moans and whines. Azzi experiments, seeing what gets her to moan the loudest. She ends up sucking on her clit lapping at it, then sucking again. 

“Yes oh my fucking god yes Azzi, right there. Don’t stop.” Paige whimpers attaching her hand into Azzi’s hair and pushing her down to add pressure. 

Azzi hums into her pussy continuing to lick and  dip it into her hole.

“So close omfg.” Paige says in between moans. 

Hearing this Azzi stops. Paige looks at her distressed when all of sudden she thrusts two fingers into her stretching her out and pounding into her. 

“Oh god Azzi.” Paige moans throwing her head back and Azzi reattaches her mouth to her clit pounding her fingers in and out of her. 

“I’m gonna cum oh my god. Don’t you dare stop.” 

Azzi feels paige’s gummy walls tighten around her fingers. Smirking she continues to pound into her motivated by her loud moans. 

A band snaps in her stomach and Paige crumbles beneath her into a series of moans pulling at Azzi’s curls as Azzi continues to ride out her high. 

“Azzi oh my god why the fuck is that the first time we have done that.” 

Azzi laughs. 

“ya I don’t know” she says laying down next to her on the bed. 

She is ready to cuddle, a little aftercare hopefully, when all of a sudden, paige is on top of her kissing her shoving her tongue into her mouth massaging her tongue with her own. 

“I can’t be the only one with no pants on” paige says with a smirk. Briskly ripping them off and shoving her hand against her panties. Azzi moans loudly in shock, the feeling of paige’s fingers against her core was one she could get used to. 

“Wow this wet just from my pussy?” 

Azzi nods shakily letting out another breathy moan as Paige toys with her clit through her panties.

“Use your words baby.” Paige says pulling her panties to the side and running her fingers through her slick. 

“Yes all from you.” Azzi moans begging to be touched. 

Paige waists no time thrusting her pointer finger inside her in and out while using her thumb to rub at her clit. 

Azzi clings to her as she feels her legs start to shake. 

“ More please more” Azzi begs craving more of paige to be inside of her.

Paige adds another finger continuing to pound in and out of her hitting her G spot Azzi arches into her grinding against her fingers to get more friction. 

“You need more sweet girl?” Paige questions pulling her fingers out to put them in Azzi’s mouth. Azzi bobs her head against her fingers, nodding. 

Once they are covered in spit, paige pulls them out of her mouth and plunges three back into Azzi grabbing her cheeks and pulling her into a long wet kiss swallowing her moans. 

She begins to feel Azzi’s walls tighten.

Azzi can feel that band in her stomach ripping.  The orgasim crashing down on her hard with every thrust of paige’s fingers. 

“Holy shit im so close” azzi groans 

Paige presses down on her stomach with her other hand. Instantly Azzi lets out a series of moans as her band snaps and she gushes her juices out. Paige lowers herself to clean Azzi up licking up every bit and savoring her juices before coming back up and kissing Azzi letting her taste herself. 

“You’re amazing” she whispers into her ear snuggling up against her. 

“Ya ya, I love you too.” Azzi responds her focus beginning fade. 

They lay there together just enjoying each others company. 

After like 30 minutes Azzi can’t take in any longer. 

“Paige?” 

“Yes baby?”

“I’m hungry”

“There are some fries.”

“I don’t want that. We worked up an appetite. I need real food.”

“Fine we can go get some.” Paige sighed rolling out of bed throwing on a pair of sweats before handing Azzi some of her own. 

They walked out of the dorm together running to Aubrey. 

“Guess you’re not that sad about how you played anymore huh.” Aubrey said chuckling at the two staring lovingly at each other. 

“Nah nothing really matters anymore.” Paige said wrapping her arm around Azzi securely. 

All her problems seemed to fade aways with Azzi near. And it seemed like there was gonna be a lot less problems now that she had finally bagged her. 

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Cannibals [Chapter 8: Magma and Sky]

A/N: Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), grief and torment, a fun field trip to a volcanic rock, Red and Aemond have a very honest conversation, enjoy our special guest stars!!! 😉🔮🐍

Word count: 5.1k

❤️ All my writing can be found HERE! 💙

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇

“I was with somebody else.”

You startle and look up to see Aemond standing under the arch of the arbor grown over with a quilt of red roses, twisted and thorny and thick enough to drape you in shadows. You are sitting cross-legged on the stone bench and reading a book about all the known varieties of bats; Helaena found it for you in some dusty, ill-lit corner of the library when she was searching for texts concerning insects. It is still the waning days of summer in King’s Landing, and Viserys is the king, and thin threads of sunlight like golden strands of a spider’s web fall down through gaps in the arbor. Last night was the first time Aemond touched you like more than a brother, claimed you, transfixed you, and you are already alight with the lust-red craving to do it again.

Here, now, in the garden of the Red Keep, Aemond won’t meet your eyes. Instead, he stares fixedly into the contorted nest of roses, wild green punctuated with blooms of crimson like blood or rubies or glowing embers. You have no idea what he means. You reply after a moment, closing your book: “With somebody…?”

“Before,” Aemond says, like it takes great effort. He is still not looking at you. “Years ago. It wasn’t my intention for that to happen, I didn’t plan it, I didn’t ask for it…but I didn’t stop it either.” His reticent blue gaze drops to the cobblestones. His voice is very soft, barely audible. “In a brothel…there was…”

Now you understand. “I know, Aemond.”

His attention jolts back to you, a fracture set, a lightning strike. “You do?”

“Aegon told me. He felt badly about it afterwards, he thought he shouldn’t have done it, but he…” You gesture as if you holding a goblet of wine, and Aemond nods. He was drunk, he was reckless, he mistook it for a favor. But he was wrong.

“You will benefit from what I’ve learned,” Aemond says, as if still trying to convince you not to be appalled or angry. In truth, you are neither. “I hope that is some comfort to you.”

“I don’t find comfort in anything that causes you pain,” you reply honestly, tenderly. A warm breeze blows in off the sea, tasting like salt and rustling the roses and the leaves. This morning you tucked a single flower into your braid, a blue forget-me-not. Now you touch it self-consciously. “Do you mind that I’m so unpracticed?”

Aemond seems to find the notion ludicrous. “No. No, of course not.”

“But you’ll have to teach me everything.”

“That’s how I want it to be. I’m of the belief that if two people wish to be together, there should be no other parties involved. I had meant to be pure for you. I’m sorry I’m not. It is a regret of mine that I carry always. It is a failing.”

You shake your head, sensing his distress as if it is your own: a gnawing anxiety, a sickening drop in your belly. “It wasn’t your fault, Aemond.”

“So I am forgiven?”

“I never considered it to be a transgression.”

“Oh. Good.” His mood lifts; there is a phantom of a smile on his lips and a lightness in his stride as he takes a taunting step towards the stone bench where you sit. “And how do you feel? After what happened last night before dinner?”

And you grin with glinting eyes as you answer, setting your book aside: “Still hungry.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Seven days on a ship, and you don’t speak to Aemond once.

The weather is bad, grey and windy, sometimes snow, sometimes sleet, sometimes hail that pelts the wooden deck, and the vessel rocks in bleak violent waves. Aemond had arranged for the ship to meet him near Heart’s Home, where the glacial mountain river flows into the Narrow Sea, where you used to collect seashells to shatter and rearrange into the faces of the people you left in your old life. He had known you would not be able to travel by dragon. And so now Vhagar flies somewhere out there in the cold iron-colored sky and Aemond stalks below deck, haunting your doorway, painting the walls with his shadow.

A maester prods your ribs and says some are fractured but they will heal with rest and time. He gives you tastes of milk of the poppy—just enough to sand the edges off the pain so you can sleep—and compliments the cleanness of your scar. Two maids bring you meals and help you dress, wash the soot and blood from your skin, comb your hair. But Aemond does not touch you. He tries once as the maester is examining you, and you look at him with hatred that is primal and infernal and black like volcanic glass, and he snatches his hands away and makes no further attempts. But he watches you, and he waits, and he tries to piece the truth together. You can feel the bewildered turmoil in him. The ricochets of it echo in the mausoleum of your skull.

When you are awake, you stare at the ceiling or at the floor. When you are asleep, you dream of Jace and Luca. They turn to torrents of blood in your arms, or crumble into ash, or are buried in the earth and you are digging for them with your bare hands. You dream that you are locked in a closet or a trunk and no one ever comes to let you out. You dream that you are at the bottom of the ocean in cages of leviathan skeletons, dragons that lived and died before Vermax or Dreamfyre, before Meraxes, before Balerion the Black Dread, before any of the beasts that perished in the Doom of Valyria. You dream that Helaena is falling from the sky and you cannot catch her, cannot save her. You dream that Mother is telling you that you’ve failed.

Then you wake one dreary morning and hear the sailors shouting that land is in sight, and you climb up out of the depths of the ship and stagger to the bow, hooking your fingers into the rigging to steady yourself as the ship pitches and reels in rough surf. Aemond is standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, his black coat drenched with rain and sea spray, his scarred face far away, miles away, years away. Out of the mist rise the dark jagged walls of the castle that sits atop the island of Dragonstone, where Aegon the Conqueror once plotted his invasion of Westeros.

You ask: “What did you do with him?”

Aemond whirls, stunned that you have spoken at last. His silver hair, half-tied back, hangs in long dripping waves. Your own blows wildly around you. “What did you say?”

“The baby. His body. You took him away from me. What did you do with him?”

“He was burned as a Targaryen.” Aemond’s voice goes quiet, gentle. “Not because Jace was one, but because you are. His ashes were cast into the sea.”

Aemond waits for you to respond. You don’t, you can’t. You close your eyes and see Luca swaddled in one of his blankets; you feel Jace’s dark curls threading through your fingers.

Aemond reaches tentatively for your arm. “Red, I…I didn’t…I never would have…”

You turn away from him and walk from the bow to the stern—your cracked ribs aching, the maids fluttering around you and chastising your sodden ink-colored dress, saying you will catch a chill and die, and if you did you wouldn’t care—and you wait there for the ship to dock.

When you step onto Dragonstone, it’s the first time you’ve returned to the island since you were a child and you tried to claim Vermithor. You don’t understand why Aemond has brought you here, and you don’t ask. You follow the pathway up towards the castle as Aemond trails silently after you like a shadow. Behind him, the maester and your new maids trudge begrudgingly up the countless stone steps and shudder when they hear the distant snarls of the beasts that have lairs here. Cold frothing waves thrash against the shoreline. Gulls circle high overhead, squawking mournfully. Magma flows beneath the black-glass rock; you can feel the radiating heat of it, scorching blood in the arteries of the earth.

Just inside the castle, someone is waiting for you. And it is the first time you’ve truly been roused since Aemond and Vhagar descended upon Heart’s Home.

“Aegon!” you shout, and he rushes to you as swiftly as he can, his walking stick tapping against the floor, his muscles straining beneath knots of scar tissue, his chipped teeth flashing white when he beams. He embraces you like a drowning man grappling for a piece of driftwood in the currents, almost knocking you off-balance. He is laughing, he is smacking graceless kisses onto your cheeks, he is marveling at your face to make sure you’re real.

“You’re alive!” he says, cackling triumphantly. “All this time we had no idea where they’d hidden you, we thought we’d never see you again, but here you are and you’re alive—”

“She’s hurt,” Aemond tells him severely. “Stop yanking her around.”

Aegon furrows his scarred forehead as he checks you for injuries. “Are you really?”

“A few broken ribs. They’ll heal.” Your fingertips go to his mangled cheeks and scalp, to what you can see of his chest. You’ve never witnessed wounds this bad on someone who lived. “Your burns…”

“They felt even worse than they look, if you can believe it. But I’m still here.”

Not all of us are. “Helaena…”

“We heard,” he says, tears glistening in his large ocean-blue eyes. He holds you one more time, more gingerly now. “And those butchers will die for it. All of them. The Bitch Queen and her aged uncle-husband and her idiot children too.” He steps back from you and looks to Aemond. “Our spies have brought word from the mainland. The people of King’s Landing are in open rebellion, they blame Rhaenyra for Helaena’s death. If they can get into the Red Keep, they’ll murder her and free Mother. The Hightower army will soon cross the Blackwater Rush.”

“Daeron knows to wait?” Aemond replies.

“A raven has been sent. I can’t say if he’ll listen.”

“He’d better. Tessarion may have proven herself quick and ferocious, but she is small. She must not fly against Silverwing and Syrax alone.”

“I told him!” Aegon says, exasperated. He means: What else can I do about it? He is still clutching his stick and leaning heavily upon it. He can’t fight as a soldier; he can barely even walk. “So what happened at Heart’s Home? Were the bastard and Vermax there? Did you kill him? Did he beg for you to spare his life, did he weep for the memory of poor pathetic little Luke Strong?”

Aemond doesn’t respond. He winces instead, then shakes his head like he’s telling Aegon to stop talking. You look down at the stone floor, and in the relentless grey gloom of the castle, the island, you feel the white-hot searing of grief and fury in your throat, and if you were a dragon it would not be invisible but a fire that consumes flesh all the way down to its bones.

“What’s wrong?” Aegon asks Aemond, alarmed. “What did you do?”

There are echoing footsteps on the stone staircase, and you are startled to see a woman descending. You’ve never met her before, and you would know if you had; her skin is like moonlight and her pale eyes wide and staring. Black hair hangs to her waist, and it makes you think of swaying branches of a willow tree, or strands of seaweed washing up on the beach outside the Red Keep, or feathers of ravens. She wears a velvet gown the color of moss. Her belly is rounded, just beginning to show. She rests a little white paw of a hand on it and studies you curiously, tilting her head. She is four or five months pregnant.

You gape at her, then turn to Aemond and Aegon, both of whom have averted their eyes. “Whose child is that?”

No one answers you. Instead, Aemond says to the woman briskly: “Your insights were accurate. You will be rewarded accordingly. At the conclusion of the war, you will take up residence at Harrenhal. Until then, you will make yourself scarce here.”

She curtseys; it is a strange, awkward motion, angles in all the wrong places. “Yes, my prince.” But she hesitates before leaving, still watching you. As she strokes the arc of her belly, things kindle in her coin-silver eyes like embers exposed to air: fascination, envy, a vague vicarious fondness. You stare back, thunderstruck. Her long fingernails are filthy with soil or ash.

Whose child? Aemond’s?

You cannot ignore a sharp, nauseous lurch in your own belly, a place where no life grows. Beside you, Aemond is palpably uneasy. You can feel it sweating out of his pores, you can hear it in the sick thudding pulse of his bloodstream. You are reminded of a confession he once brought to you in the garden of the Red Keep as you sat under the shadow of an arbor of scarlet roses.

“Back to the kitchen, witch,” Aegon flings at the woman. “Or the garden, or the cliffsides, or wherever you were haunting before your intrusion.”

She points a talon-like fingernail at you as she begins to ascend the steps. “She is here, but is she yours again?”

“Out!” Aegon barks, and when she has vanished he sighs wearily, as if this is a recurring inconvenience.

You look at Aemond, repulsed, bewildered, betrayed. He says: “Come with me and I’ll explain.”

For a moment, you do not acquiesce. You only glare savagely at him, and if this was before he left King’s Landing a year ago—before Rook’s Rest, before Rhaenyra seized the city and imprisoned you, before Heart’s Home, before your marriage to Jace, before Luca—Aemond would grab you and drag you to wherever he wanted you to be, and he would know that when you fought him you didn’t mean it. But he doesn’t touch you now.

Instead he implores you in a hushed voice: “Please.” And you follow him out of the grey and into the flickering amber light of the Chamber of the Painted Table, where a sweltering hearth crackles and candles burn down into pools of white wax. Westeros is illuminated by fire, like all the places Aemond has burned over the past year. There are chairs positioned around the table. You sit by the Vale; Aemond takes his place across from you near the Reach, where the Hightowers hail from, where your youngest brother Daeron has spent the war waging his battles and torching his enemies. A maid brings two goblets of red wine. You can’t drink it, just like Helaena couldn’t eat blackberry jam after Jaehaerys was beheaded in front of her. Aemond watches you push the cup away and then tells the maid to bring cider instead. You wait without speaking, the only sounds the splitting of wood in the fire and the rumble of the ocean outside and the distant growls of dragons. When the maid reappears with cider, it is a cloudy goldish color and hot and tastes of fermented apples. You sip it listlessly. The maid departs and closes the door behind her.

“It was an exchange,” Aemond says.

“An exchange?”

“Her name is Alys Rivers, she is a bastard of House Strong. I found her working in the kitchen when I took Harrenhal. She is an enchantress, she has some magic to her, just like we do. She said she might be able to help me find you. But she needed something in return. A son, a child built of our ancient Valyrian blood. An heir, a castle, a future. And since Aegon has been rendered impotent by his injuries, and Daeron is far away in the Reach and still a boy himself…”

“You lied with her?”

“Well, I’ve done it before,” Aemond says. And then, when you don’t immediately grasp what he means: “Been with a woman who wasn’t of my choosing.” He draws invisible paths on the Painted Table with his fingerprints. Firelight ripples across his face: a downcast eye, a scar to match the one that cuts down from your left collarbone. “She scoured the woods surrounding the Gods Eye for herbs, and feathers and bones, and all manner of strange talismans. She tried for months to conjure a vision. Then one day she saw it in the flames of the hearth: three black ravens, three red hearts. The sigil of House Corbray of Heart’s Home.”

“And for her services you promised her Harrenhal.”

Aemond nods. “She and her descendants will rule it as House Whent.”

“A new noble house?” you mock bitterly. “And what will its banners be? A burning castle? The charred skeletons of its murdered inhabitants?”

“No,” Aemond says quietly. “Bats.”

You look at him. His blue eye flicks up to your face again, to your black mourning gown—you will wear no other colors—and your unbraided silver hair that drips with rain and seawater.

Aemond asks after a while: “Do you like wearing your hair that way now?”

Distractedly, you touch the damp silver tresses that are unbound, soft and feminine and weak. “Jace told me I wasn’t a warrior. He wanted me to look like a lady.”

“You were wed to him,” Aemond says as if he still cannot comprehend it.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Soon after Rhaenyra took King’s Landing. It was Mother’s proposal. She convinced Rhaenyra to agree to it.”

Aemond is lost. “Why? He was a bastard, a traitor.”

You flinch. “Mother thought it would encourage the Blacks to spare us if they won the war. Rhaenyra thought it would give her heir legitimacy. Neither Jace nor I wanted the match.”

“But now you…you miss him? You mourn for him?”

“We grew accustomed to each other. There was true affection, there was warmth.”

“Did he…were you…?” Aemond cannot decide how to say it, or perhaps he just can’t bring himself to. You can tell—from the way his gaze drops from your face to your body, a mystery cloaked in soaked black velvet—that he is thinking of your wedding night, something you were supposed to share, something you spoke of often with desperate, willful, blazing yearning. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not purposefully.”

There is a flare of wrath. “It needn’t have hurt at all.”

“Why did you come after me?” you ask, and your voice breaks and tears spill down your cheeks, and your ribs throb and your throat is full of fire like a dragon’s. “Why did you kill all those people in the Riverlands, why did you burn Heart’s Home, why couldn’t you just…just…just leave me there?” Luca and Jace would still be alive. Lady Caro would still be alive. Tens of thousands of people wouldn’t have burned or starved.

Aemond is incredulous. His voice grows louder; firelight engulfs him like he is drowning in a lake of it. “I swore I would find you if you were ever taken away.”

“I waited for you. I wondered where you were. I stood in the rookery and stared out into the Mountains of the Moon and agonized over why you couldn’t hear me or see me, why you didn’t arrive on Vhagar to save me, but you never came, and so I tried to forget the promises we made to each other because I believed you’d forgotten me—”

“I never forgot you.”

“But I was different!” you sob, bolting to your feet, pressing a palm to the glow of the Painted Table. “With Jace, I was different! I learned to be his wife, I learned to be a mother, and I was fine there, I was safe and I was happy and you destroyed my life!”

“I could feel that you were in pain,” Aemond is saying as he stands and rounds the table to meet you. “It was months ago, it must have been when you…when you were in labor…physically, I could feel it, I thought they were torturing you, I thought you were dying, and how would I know anything else if all I’d been told was that you were stolen by the enemy? You think Daemon is above depravity? You think it’s so unreasonable that I believed you to be in peril?!”

“You were reckless and cruel,” you seethe, shoving him away. “You always are. You’re always killing people.”

“When I flew over Heart’s Home, I knew you were in the forest. I saw the trees through your eyes. I thought I was freeing you, I never anticipated that you would return to the castle. I didn’t know you cared for the lives of anyone inside.”

“You should have left me there,” you choke out through tears.

Aemond tries to take your hands, and again you strike him hard, meaning it, hating him. “I would never have abandoned you,” he says.

“Why not?!” you scream at him. “Because you believe you possess me like a sword or a jewel, because it is sacrilege to let another man touch me?!”

Aemond is shaking his head. “It’s more than that. You know it is.”

You scoff at him, vengeful cynical disbelief. “In eighteen years, you never once told me you loved me—”

He seizes your wrist, drags you to him, cradles your face with his left hand and skates his thumbprint over the crest of your cheekbone. “I have loved you forever,” he says. “And if I didn’t express that in a way you understood then it was my mistake, and I’m sorry, and I’d do anything to change it. I thought you knew. I thought we both knew that…that…” Aemond’s lone eye gleams desperately; he is pleading for you to hear him. “Do you have any idea what this past year has been like for me? It was hell. Aegon almost died at Rook’s Rest and I brought him back but I was alone, I had Criston and maesters and soldiers but I was still alone because Aegon was unconscious and you weren’t there, and neither were Helaena or Daeron. Then King’s Landing fell to Rhaenyra and there was nothing I could do about it until I was sure Aegon would live, and when I learned you’d been taken away…I set the realm ablaze, I waded through an ocean of blood, and I did it because I swore that I would find you and bring you home. And now I have but you…you…you don’t even recognize me. It’s like you don’t remember what we were. Only I carry it now, I’m cursed by it, I’m consumed by it.”

You break away from him and Aemond lets you go, but he follows you around the Painted Table, shadowing you, chasing you. You pitch at him: “You were always so rough with me.”

“Because you wanted it that way and I did too, we craved it, we needed it, we’re the same.”

“You liked that I didn’t have a dragon of my own, you aspired for me to be helpless—”

“No I didn’t,” Aemond insists. “I tried to help you claim Vermithor, right here on this fucking island I risked my life when we were children to pursue him with you. And he did not yield but I wasn’t to blame for it. I cannot give you a dragon. You have to bond with one yourself.”

You glower at him, swiping tears from your streaming eyes. “You hardly ever spoke of dragons to me.”

“Because I knew it pained you! Because I have felt the agony of being a Targaryen without a dragon and I didn’t want to remind you of it!”

“You should have left me with Jace at Heart’s Home,” you moan, collapsing into a chair and weeping into your open palms. “I would still have my son. I would still have my family.”

Across the table, Aemond slams his fists against the wood. “Jace could never fathom who you really are. It’s impossible. He wasn’t like us, he’s wasn’t one of us. We are Aegon and Visenya, we are Baelon and Alyssa. Jace wasn’t a Valyrian. He was a Strong, and part of you would have needed to die to live with him.”

You stare desolately down at the Painted Table, glowing golden lines in the shape of the Vale. “Jace hated that I loved you. You hate that I loved him. I’m always at fault, and yet my crimes are so harmless.”

Aemond is staggered; he is heartbroken. “You loved him?”

I told him I did. “I felt something for him. I grew to miss him in his absence. I desired him when he returned.”

Aemond goes to the hearth, rests one hand on the stone mantle, and gazes into the flames. You can feel it like an echo, like a reverberating tremor in the earth: he is broken. You cannot summon compassion for him. Each time you begin to, you feel the still lifeless weight of Luca in your arms. After a long time, Aemond speaks. “I have to return to the Riverlands. I can’t leave Criston unprotected. Daemon and the Northmen will meet our armies in battle soon. Vhagar and I have to be there. If I can kill Caraxes, I think this will be over.”

You turn to him, dimly startled. “You’re going now?”

“I have to make the world safe for us and our family. Even if I’m not here anymore.” Aemond studies you, afraid to ask the question that burns in his throat. “Do you…” He breathes deeply, salt and misery and smoke from the fire. “Do you still want our side to win?”

“I hate what we’ve done to each other. All of us.” The dead innocents, the destruction of our house, the extinction of our dragons. “And you murdering Luke started it.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees softly. He crosses the room and stalls in the doorway, looking back at you. He waits for you to say that you will miss him, or that if he returns there might yet be a future for the two of you, or that you will be distraught if he is killed in combat, or that you love him.

As the fire pops and crackles, you shrink into your wet black mourning clothes and say nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sprawled across the volcanic-rock throne in the nightscape gloom of the Great Hall of Dragonstone, Aegon gulps cider until his pain vanishes and his mind is a dull sloshing sea. You are slumped on the steps beside the throne and drinking with him. Neither of you speak it aloud, but it stands in the room like a ghost: you have both held a dead son in your arms, you have both lost a husband or a wife to this war. Torches burn along the walls. Outside, rain pours and the dragons creep and snarl. Sunfyre is here too, Aegon has told you. He can’t fly yet—perhaps he never will again—but he is alive and hostilely defends the cave where he dwells from the other creatures of the island: Grey Ghost, Vermithor, the Cannibal.

The Blacks believe Dragonstone to be abandoned, and in any event they are too preoccupied with their myriad of troubles in the Riverlands and King’s Landing to take it upon themselves to investigate, and so you are safe for the time being. You get drunk in the home of your ancestors, the Valyrians who carved out a stark, grim existence here, who dreamed of greatness, who despite all their magic failed to foretell their ruin.

“Do you know what he asked Sylvi?” Aegon slurs. “The woman from the brothel. Not the very first time, the first time…” Aegon smiles nostalgically. “Well, it’s like your first time riding a dragon. It takes you away and you’re just…” His hand flows in the shape of a wave. “Holding on. Mesmerized by it.”

“Sure,” you say, remembering not your wedding night with Jace but the evening when Aemond dragged you halfway out of the chair by your vanity and licked you, swallowed you, devoured you until you could not help but cry out, and you sank to the floor with your heartbeat thudding in your ears and Aemond lying beside you, smoothing back your hair from your burning face.

“Aemond only went to Sylvi a few more times after that. But she told me what his requests were when I inquired.” Aegon looks at you meaningfully. “He wanted to know how to make it good for a maiden. And who do you imagine he was thinking of?”

You don’t reply. You guzzle your cider instead. You want all of your bones to stop aching: your ribs, your skull, every place that Aemond ever touched you. You feel a strange smoldering inside, like all your bone marrow has been quarried and replaced with embers, pulsing, glowing. You feel something dangerous and primordial drawing closer.

“He never would have hurt you intentionally,” Aegon says gently, clumsily petting your loose silver hair as if you are one of the hundred cats Grandsire brought to the Red Keep after Jaehaerys was slain. “He worships you. He always has.”

“I can’t forget what he did.”

“Can you forgive yourself for letting him leave that way? If he dies thinking that you hate him?”

You swallow a mouthful of cider, hot and intoxicating. The room spins. Lightning flashes outside. “Maybe I do.”

“No, you don’t hate him,” Aegon says rather wistfully, with the solemn surety of drunks.

Alys Rivers wanders into the Great Hall, the train of her dark green gown whispering over the stone floor. Aegon scowls at her. She stops at one of the misted glass windows and gazes out into the storm.

“He flies to his death,” Alys murmurs sorrowfully, as if she wishes she could change it.

Aegon groans. “Shut up, witch.”

“Above the Gods Eye, the red and the blue, tangled threads cut by fate—”

“Be gone!” Aegon shouts and hurls his goblet of cider at her. It misses, strikes the wall, clatters to the floor and spills its contents in a puddle. Alys does not seem to notice. You sit upright on the steps by Aegon’s throne, watching her.

“He flies to his death,” she repeats, melodically like a chant or a spell. “Unless, unless…”

Alys looks at you, then turns to peer through the window again. Outside in the darkness, a monstrous beast growls, not Sunfyre or Grey Ghost or Vermithor.

[writingroom21]

you thought no one was home but stepdad!rafe came earlier and as he was walking past your room he caught you humping the pillow and quietly moaning “daddy”

Rafe slams the door as he enters the house. His left hand tosses his brief case as his right loosens his tie. Today could not have gone any worse. Everything was planned out to the minute He was going to get breakfast with his wife to placate her need for a united front. Then he was going to meet his client and wow them with his deal. Which of course led to them signing it and Rafe making millions of money. All for him to end up drinking at the country club hitting on the new waitress in hopes to fuck her. A great plan if it actually happened.

But no, Jacob Conry decided he wanted to go with some other realtor. Now his whole day is thrown fucking off. Rafe storms up the stairs needing to find his secret stash coke. Lord knows if he doesn’t take a bump soon what will happen. He was just lucky that everyone was gone for the day. His wife was at work and you, his step daughter, was supposed to be at work. He’s going to have at least 5 more hours before the two of you should be back.

As he makes his way to the top floor and passes your door he hears something. It was faint so he thought nothing of it until he heard it again. Rafe stops dead in his tracks just one step away from your door. “Daddy.” A soft whine is muffled by your door. Taking a step back Rafe presses an ear against the door to hear moans coming from inside. He pauses because he thought you were at work. Against his better judgement he pushes the door slightly open to see you sitting up on your bed. As he opens the door some more he can see your baby pink pillows between your thighs.

A low groan leaves his throat as he watches you shift your hips back and forth. Your hands are slowly running their way up to grab your breasts. “Give them a good squeeze baby.” He whispers as his hands find the bulge growing in his pants. Rafe’s almost convinced you could hear him because you do. You squeeze them and tug at your nipples. “Please daddy. I need you.” The way you whined out the words has him ready to cum in his pants. Without thinking Rafe unbuttons his pants, sliding them down just enough to pull himself out. Spitting in his hand, he covers it to use the lubrication to jerk himself off.

Your hips grind into the pillow faster, the muscles in your thighs contracting. Soon you are moaning loudly, practically hunching over as you shake. “Rafe, feels so good daddy.” Hearing you moan out his name as you orgasim shuts his brain off. His fist is moving fast up and down on his shaft. “Oh fuck, baby.” You jump at hearing the voice, throwing a blanket over yourself as you turn to your door. Rafe’s wide eyes stare at yours as his fist still fucks himself. Your eyes travel down to where his hand is. A soft moan escapes your lips when you see how big he is. 

“Like what you see baby?” He takes a step into your room. The soft shades of pink and blue filled his vision. You nod your head as his eyes stay on you. You watch as he walks to the chair at the corner of your room. His large body takes up most of the space as he sits down. “Take the blanket off.” There’s a dark look in his eyes as he watches you expose yourself to him. A smile spreads over his face as you spread your legs without having to be told. “Who were you thinking about?”

Your cheeks turn red as you look at your sheets. “You, Rafe.” He tsks and shakes his head. “Not my name.” You look in his eyes. “You, daddy.” He smiles again as he starts to stroke himself. “Good. Now show daddy how much of a good girl you really are. On your knees now.”

Taglist : @rafedaddy01 @rrafeswhore@10ava01@selfcontollover07

Let me know if you want to be added

[grandline-fics]

Hey dear! I really love your writing,so so much! And if you were still open for requests I would love to see you write Smoker with the prompt 'Kiss to prove a point' If that is okay? <3 Thank you so much and thank you for sharing your amazing writing! <3

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Kiss to prove a point

WARNINGS: Hi there! Thank you so much for this request, there's very Smoker love on my blog which I'll have to try and fix haha. I had a lot of fun coming up with the scenario for this prompt and I hope you like what I wrote.

CHARACTERS: Smoker

WORDS: 1,276

A/N:

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

When people looked at Smoker they took in the tall imposing figure; the broad shoulders, the scar, and the constant scowl and nearly hostile stare that kept everyone guessing on whether he was incapable of being in a good mood or if someone had pissed him off the second he woke up that morning. Some on the G5 base now joked that Smoker scowled when he was a kid and his face got stuck that way, his expression only changing to evoke angrier emotions, never positive ones. The subordinates of G5 obviously worshipped their commander, it was just they needed to find something to comment on, to joke about and use it as a way to see that he was human just like the rest of them. While focussing on Smoker’s constantly grumpy face was always a classic for them, a new topic had arisen to entertain the masses: his blossoming relationship with you.

The term blossoming was very, very loose for the G5 Marines because nothing in anyway juicy or scandalous had so much as occurred on the base between you two. At this point they would have  taken something borderline tame. Just something. Anything to show them that their boss was actually in a relationship. Because as far as they knew one morning they all came down to the mess hall and Tashigi gleefully passing along the news that you and Smoker were officially dating. That was it, just the Captain’s solid confirmation of the romance. Nothing changed though. You both were the visions of decorum and stellar professionalism. 

Now you were the more cheerful of the pairing-which wasn't hard by comparison- but when you and Smoker were seen talking in the corridors or in the other's office it was always respectable, enough space between you both as it had before Tashigi stated you were an item. There was no quick jolts out of each other’s presence like you’d almost been caught getting cosy, no flushed faces or lingering looks shared. Hell, no one had even seen you touch the other even something as simple as you putting your hand on his arm would have given them something. After a week of waiting they came to the conclusion that Smoker was clueless and they felt sorry for you.

“Should we say something?” One asked in the middle of the training yard one afternoon. “Not even in a prying way…maybe he just doesn’t know?”

“Know what?” A second questioned with a frown.

“Maybe he doesn’t know how relationships like this work?”

“Yeah he could be unknowingly neglecting them?” The third suggested make the first Marine nod firmly, happy that someone was on his wavelength.

“Exactly! It’s not prying exactly, just offering encouragement?” He stated with a proud smile. “And if the Vice-Admiral’s in good spirits then the entire base’s morale will improve too.”

“Guys…I’ve had a thought.” Another Marine uttered nervously. “What if it's too late? What if they’ve already broken up?” Silence fell over the group as they now considered the very possible scenario. Poor you, already fed up of no change in your relationship with Smoker had ended things but you were both so professional that no one knew anything. 

“No!” One of the Marine’s laughed, more to convince himself that couldn't be the case. “Tashigi would have said!”

“What? So soon after telling us they were together?” The Marine asked with a solemn shake of their head. “Announcing a breakup so soon after would be a greater wound to Vice-Admiral Smoker’s pride than anything.” Once again the dejected silence fell over the group, mourning their commander and idol’s dead love life. 

Sharply behind the group, a loud and obvious throat was cleared and every Marine snapped their heads around to freeze and pale at the sight of Smoker staring down at them; arms folded, eyes narrowed, and teeth slowly grinding against the cigars in his mouth. “The point of the training yard is to actually train your bodies and skills, not train your tongues to gossip like teenagers.”

The group flinched at the harsh words but they swallowed their fear enough to meet his stare.

“W-we’re sorry sir but we-”

“I heard.” Smoker sharply cut off the pathetic excuse before he had to suffer hearing their ridiculous opinions in his personal life another time. “I just don’t know how any of it is your concern.”

“Morale!” Smoker rolled his eyes at their unified explanation. When in doubt, that always was their go-to reasoning for immaturity. One dared to continue with hope in their eyes. “Please at least tell us you haven’t blown things yet. Don’t be afraid to make them feel special, it’s okay to show you care.”

“I haven’t-” Smoker stopped himself to roughly run a hand down his face at exasperation at the group. He was beginning to consider he was being too soft with his subordinates and let out a sharp huff. This was all Tashigi’s fault. Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut? “You have no need to worry. Everything is…everything is fine.”

“Just fine?” One of the Marine’s questioned with a tense frown. “Sir…”

“What now?”

“Fine is how you describe the mess hall’s food…not a new relationship.” The Marine told him. “If you're not careful they could be seduced by someone who’s not afraid to even hold their hand.”

Smoker was about to launch into a full tirade at the group for meddling in his life and inferring he wasn’t treating you properly. He’d been very close to throttling them when they hadn’t realised he was there and neglecting you in some way. Now hearing it being said to his face only angered him more. Thankfully for their benefit, you’d appeared in the training yard in search of another Marine. Your eyes locked on to the Marine in question, spotting him amongst the group in front of Smoker and began to approach.

Feeling something snap in him, Smoker swiftly discarded his cigars and closed the space just as you drew closer. You gave him a cursory nod and prepared to step around him, only to gasp when Smoker’s arm caught you around the waist and turned you to face him properly. Your eyes widened when Smoker’s lips settled over yours, luring you into a slow and gentle kiss. As always with Smoker, his presence enveloped you completely, settling you into a sense of calm and had you responding to the kiss immediately while quickly forgetting your surroundings. The second you returned the kiss Smoker heightened it once more, inwardly smirking in satisfaction at your eager reaction and the fact that this would now promptly shut up his squad and teach them to never doubt him or his ability to know how relationships work. 

Reluctantly Smoker parted and pressed a final peck against your still parted lips. Blinking out of your daze you stared up at your lover, breathless and pleasantly surprised. Pressing your lips together you finally felt you were being stared at and glanced to the side to see your slack-jawed audience and cleared your throat, forcing a polite smile to the group before looking away again. “It’s not our anniversary is it?” You asked softly to Smoker while he offered you a rare chuckle that was often left when you were both in private.

“Nah, everything’s fine.” He told you, finally releasing you. “Don’t think about it.”

“Easy for you to say, I’ll be thinking about this all day.” You laughed before walking away, the kiss effectively making you forget why you even came out to the training yard in the first place.

——————————————-

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[persicipen]

𑑛 “TOUCHY” ﾉ ALBEDO, DILUC, KAEYA. GENSHIN IMPACT

gn reader ﾉ words 1.4k ᯽ making out in public. diluc’s office in dawn winery, so not that public. slight exhibitionism. touching them under the table. jerking them off. pouty and pleading reader ﾉ rewritten ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

ALBEDO ﾉ

Perhaps he knew your intentions beforehand. He doesn’t mention it or give you any indication, and yet you keep glancing his way when you get comfortable in the chair and expect him to follow your lead.

“Could you tell me why am I even bothering with giving you special potions when even without them you’re so needy, hm?” Albedo smiles into your flushed cheek, letting go of your wrist.

He turns to the side, focusing on the sketchbook before him. One would think that he’s just sulking over the newest research and scribbling ideas on the paper; that’s why he’s hiding his face behind the golden curtain of his hair. Precisely, that was his intention, and he’s happy to know that no one would suspect him of allowing you into your perverse desires.

You look up at him with a pout on your lips, whispering in a muted voice, “I promise I’ll be good! Please…”

After a moment of consideration, the alchemist shrugs nonchalantly, as if he couldn’t care less. Oh, but he does, especially when it comes to his laboratory at the knights’ headquarters and how you manage to convince him to allow such activities there. He’ll never admit it out loud, though, not even if it means keeping your desperate moans from the other knights.

“Fine,” he murmurs after pretending that he’s lost in his work again. “You can touch me.”

That is all you need to hear — hands already working on his belt unabashedly. Before anyone who could notice what was going on, your hand sneaks under the cloth. Ah, judging by the way Albedo sighs as you wrap your palm around the hardening cock, maybe it’s not that difficult to get caught after all.

With slow strokes, you continue pleasing him as well as you can without attracting unwanted attention. Smearing the delicate precum around his tip, lubricating his shaft just to make your moves dulcet to his senses. Though it may take some time, there’s nothing better than edging him gently until he loses his cool right here and then.

As expected, it doesn’t take too long before he whispers a ragged warning.

“We should stop, I need to focus on—”

Your hand stops moving along with his words; you simply keep your palm wrapped around his cock, squeezing it tighter. Ah, that seems to do the trick, as you notice the growing smile on his face.

“Ah, well,” he swallows back another moan, threatening to leave his lips. “I suppose five more minutes will be enough.”

The smirk he shows you sends a pleasant shiver down your spine, just like his own hand does when it rests on your knee, making his fingers brush up and down your thigh teasingly.

DILUC ﾉ

The request that has been hanging in the air between you two left him utterly shocked and embarrassed. Battling with the thoughts of what’s proper and the fever taking over his senses as you keep looking at him with your sweetest pleading eyes, he grunts heavily. You two are alone in his office upstairs; there’s no way someone could walk in on you. Unless Adelinde comes in without a reason.

“We shouldn’t…” He breathes out, barely audible even to himself when the blood is rushing through his ears — and somewhere else too, but it’s such a shame to admit it. “Why do you always d-demand such things from me? It’s highly unbecoming for— oh!”

Just as you planned, the very moment he says those words, you kneel before him, eyes focused solely on his expression that contorts in pain from the restraint.

“Are you sure?” you ask, blinking innocently at him.

Even if he wants to reply, he has no strength to do it; he’s just opening and closing his mouth as his cock keeps pulsing in the tight embrace of his trousers. Archons, he knows he can’t win against you! You’re just too dear, too beautiful, too kind. He so easily gives in to your sweet manipulation, but only because he associates your touch with love.

Despite his apprehension, he is the first one to groan in defeat, “Alright, please…”

What makes him regret his decision almost instantly — and makes him melt right away all over again — is the bright smile that blooms on your lips. Just as innocent as it always was.

“Of course I’ll take care of you,” you whisper back, quickly undoing his belt with skillful fingers.

As his cock springs free, warm and heavy on his stomach, the tip already smeared in pearly precum, he cannot help but look at you with tenderness. Despite knowing how naughty you are, how perverse your ideas may be sometimes, he’s still gentle towards you. He loves you for that as much as he does for anything else.

When he reaches out to you and caresses your cheek, you lean into the touch, looking at him from your position right in front of his erection. You decide to torture him further, licking the pad of your thumb to wipe pearlescent droplets off his tip, relishing in the way he bites his lower lip to muffle the moans.

His hand moves to your hair, pushing them aside so he can watch your every move as you swallow his cock into your wet mouth.

KAEYA ﾉ

The tavern at this hour was a busy place, almost too busy for your liking, though the chatter and the cheerful singing created an intimate setting, one where no one was really looking at you despite being in the crowd. Perhaps Kaeya wanted it like that, not really interested in taking you home straight away, not when you have had the idea of touching him now.

Not yet, though, because in this moment, he was happily nursing his drink. The usual one, as he would often tell you that simply nothing else beats its taste, and enjoying himself while watching you from behind the glass.

After a moment of staring at you intently, he says in a smooth voice, “If you want me, why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking about, sweetheart?”

And you’re the one left to blush at his suggestion. He wasn’t exactly wrong. So what if you wanted to get him aroused right here and now? That shouldn’t be something to feel embarrassed about! Even if there were a few people sitting not too far from you, minding their own business.

With newfound determination, you glance at your partner for the night and give him your best attempt at pouting.

“Please? Pretty please? We’ve been here for nearly an hour already and…”

It works. He must be really into that. And into you, but of course. Usually, he would tease you for a while longer, making you say in detail what you wanted from him — all before giving in, of course — but maybe he felt generous today, or maybe he was excited, too, as evident by the darkening blue of his eyes.

Soon, you reach out under the table, sliding your hand up his thigh slowly but surely. At last, you are cupping the bulge through his pants, feeling him twitch and stiffen. Kaeya lets out a shuddering sigh, keeping his gaze glued to your face, lovingly eyeing how you bite your lower lip in concentration.

He wraps his fingers around yours, moving your hand just like he would when he took care of you. Oh, what a pleasure that was. You realise you missed his touch more than you thought. It shows how desperate you were to hear his low groans right by your ear — or rather, to watch his lips part slightly and listen to his breath hitching in his throat.

To let you sneak inside his tight pants, he puts the half-full glass on the table just to focus more on the warmth of your palm. You stroke his heated cock properly, spreading leaking pre around its tip like a glaze, tapping at the slit when it produces more. His chest rises and falls, faster and faster as he leans down closer to you, enough to make his forehead rest against the side of your head.

“You’re making me go crazy, dear…”

[n0vazsq]

Over | Marc Bernal x Reader

pairing . . . marc bernal x ex!reader

summary . . . Visiting Marc's house after his injury wasn't on your agenda, but when his mother asks about you two, you're surprised she doesn't know you two broke up

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.8k+

warnings . . . angst!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . died, cried. sobbed.

. . . It had been a week since Marc's injury, and still, there was an unspoken weight that filled the silence of the house. His mom was confused. She couldn’t understand why you weren’t there.

You, who had always been by his side. She had expected you, the way she expected him to wake up from his surgery, the way she expected him to smile after a long day.

But when Marc had told her you were 'busy', something in her expression had shifted, something fleeting, but there. She didn’t push, trusting him, assuming there was just some miscommunication.

But there was no miscommunication, not really. You were no longer a part of Marc's life. Not in the way you had been. Not in the way you thought you would be forever.

The breakup had been messy, an explosion of words unsaid and feelings buried too deep. One day, everything had seemed fine, normal, even.

The next, Marc had pulled away, the space between the two of you growing impossibly wide. There were no fights, no big confrontations. Just a slow, painful unraveling that neither of you could stop.

When he ended things, it wasn’t with anger or bitterness. It was with a quiet resignation, like he had already let go of something long before you ever realized it was slipping through your fingers.

You had begged him to talk, to explain, to tell you that you mattered enough to keep fighting for, but Marc had only said that he needed time. That things between you two weren’t right anymore. And though he didn’t say it, you could feel it.

He didn’t want to fight anymore.

Not for you. Not for us.

It hurt more than anything else had, and maybe that was the worst part, the knowledge that you weren’t even worth fighting for, that you were just another casualty of his own confusion, his own exhaustion.

And so, you walked away, leaving him to figure out his own mess. It felt like a lie, like you were betraying him by leaving, but it was the only thing you could do, the only way to protect what little dignity you had left.

You hadn’t expected to be here today. You hadn’t expected to find yourself standing in front of Marc’s house, a basket of chocolate and flowers in your hands, the pathetic excuse for a 'get well soon; gift that you had convinced yourself he might appreciate.

A simple gesture. That was all you had. But when you had heard that Marc was back home, something inside of you twisted. You couldn’t leave him in that state. Not without at least letting him know that you still cared.

You didn’t want to see him like this. You didn’t want to be reminded of what you’d lost, of the way his touch used to feel, of the way his voice had comforted you when the world seemed too much.

But you couldn’t stay away. You had to see him. You had to pretend that you hadn’t already broken.

Marc’s mom greeted you at the door with her usual warm smile, her arms outstretched in a gesture that should have felt familiar, comforting.

But today, it felt like an intrusion, like a reminder of everything you’d lost. The last time you had stood on this doorstep, everything had been different. Marc had still been your person. You had still been his.

"Oh, you're here!" Marc’s mom said, a touch of surprise in her voice. "How's everything? Marc’s been asking about you, you know." She looked at you, as if she had expected you to walk through the door just as much as she had expected him to recover.

You froze for a moment, the words she said wrapping around your heart like a vise. Asking about you? He didn’t know anything about you anymore.

"Yeah, I’ve been good. Just… busy," you said, your voice faltering slightly as you glanced down at the basket in your hands. It felt heavy now, like a symbol of everything you wished you could take back.

"Busy?" Marc’s mom asked, her brow furrowing as if the word didn’t quite sit right with her.

"But Marc said you were busy with studies, and I figured that was all. But you two-" She trailed off, her eyes searching yours for something that you weren’t sure you could give her. "You two were always so close. What happened? I thought you’d be right there beside him, especially after everything."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of her words crushing you. The expectation. The realization that Marc hadn’t told her the truth. That he hadn’t told her that the reason you weren’t here was because you had no place in his life anymore.

You had been replaced, not by someone else, but by the slow erosion of something that was supposed to last.

"Marc didn’t… tell you?" you asked, your voice trembling, barely above a whisper. You hadn’t meant to ask, hadn’t meant to make this more painful than it already was, but the words slipped out before you could stop them.

His mom’s eyes widened in confusion, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of disbelief. "Tell me what? What are you talking about?"

You felt the tears start to sting at the back of your eyes. The truth was heavy, suffocating, and you didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to admit that everything had fallen apart in a way that made you feel like a stranger in a place you once called home.

"We… we broke up," you said quietly, your voice cracking on the last word. The finality of it hit you in that moment, the cold weight of reality sinking in.

It felt like a betrayal, not just to Marc’s mom, but to yourself. You didn’t even know why you were here. What did you think would happen? That things would somehow be okay again?

Her face softened instantly, her smile slipping into a frown, confusion clouding her features.

"But… Marc never said anything about that. He said you were just busy. He never said you two weren’t together anymore." She looked at you, searching for the answers that you weren’t sure you had, her gaze imploring, gentle, but insistent. "Why didn’t you come to the hospital, carino? He wanted you there."

The words felt like a slap, a reminder of the version of yourself that you had left behind. The version of yourself that was still tied to Marc in ways you didn’t know how to untangle.

You wanted to cry, wanted to explain everything, but there were no words that could make this better. There were no words that could take back the hurt.

"I couldn’t," you whispered, your voice barely audible now. "I couldn’t pretend like everything was fine when it wasn’t. I couldn’t watch him, watch you all, thinking I still belonged here when I didn’t."

Your chest tightened, the ache in your heart blooming into something unbearable. "I thought I could handle it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t pretend. I couldn’t stay."

There was a long silence between you, and for a moment, you thought she might say something else.

That she might try to convince you that it wasn’t too late, that maybe Marc was waiting for you to come back and fix it. But she didn’t. Instead, she just nodded slowly, her face a mixture of sadness and understanding.

"I see," she said softly, her voice holding more than just the weight of disappointment. It was the weight of something broken, something irreversible. "Well, if you ever want to talk to him, you know where he is." She stepped back, her eyes still holding that faint trace of hope that had once been yours too.

You nodded, your heart in your throat, but you didn’t say anything more. Because you knew, deep down, that you couldn’t go back to that place. Not now. Not after everything that had changed.

You turned, walking back to your car, the basket of chocolate still hanging heavily in your hand. You didn’t look back. Because if you did, you might see Marc standing there, eyes full of unsaid things, things you couldn’t fix anymore. And you didn’t know if you could take seeing that.

As Marc sat in his room, the familiar hum of his thoughts was louder than ever. His mind kept circling back to the moment you had left, when everything changed.

He had told himself, over and over, that it was for the best. That maybe it was just the right time for both of you to move on. But the silence in the room, the one that used to be filled with your laughter, your late night talks, was deafening now.

His gaze wandered toward the window, where the pale light of the afternoon settled over the yard. It wasn’t until then that he noticed you, standing by your car, staring at the ground for a moment as though trying to gather the courage to walk away. His chest tightened.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he missed you more than he cared to.

His fingers itched to reach out to you, to explain the things he never had the courage to say, the reasons he hadn’t fought harder to keep you. But he stayed frozen, watching as you stood there, a heavy weight between the two of you.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, but he watched you long enough to know you were struggling with something, your posture stiff and uncertain.

Was it guilt? Regret? Maybe both. Marc’s heart skipped a beat when you finally turned away, the distance between you and his world growing wider with every step you took. He had let you slip away, and in that moment, he realized just how much he had been holding his breath, waiting for you to come back.

The truth was, Marc had always been scared; scared of not being enough, scared of being a burden, scared of losing the only person who had ever truly understood him. He had never told you that.

Instead, he had convinced himself that stepping away was the easiest thing to do, not realizing that by doing so, he had pushed you out of a life he now realized he wanted. The quiet ache in his chest was unbearable now, the weight of what he'd lost pressing down on him in a way that felt suffocating.

As you finally got in your car and drove away, Marc stood by the window for what felt like hours, unable to tear his eyes away.

He didn’t know what would happen next.

Maybe you would never come back. Maybe there was no fixing what had been broken. But as the last glimpse of your car disappeared down the street, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would spend the rest of his life wondering if things could have turned out differently.

It was too late now.

It was all over.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @notm4d1 ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @bernalswifeyy ,, @nngkay ,, @justaf1girl (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[gale-gentlepenguin]

What if Antinous and the Suitors were loyal to the throne and wanted to crown Telemachus. So instead of hearing them planning on attacking his family, Odysseus finds them trying to convince Penelope and Telemachus to have the latter ascend the throne.

I just think of the telemachus’ birthday parody.

That but unironically.

But the question is, How different would things be?

(What if Antinous and the others WERENT evil.)

-So the song legendary is altered slightly. The first part is the same with Telemachus. But the second part addresses Telemachus’ nervousness at becoming King. Explaining the situation of how the kingdom is a bit shaky ever since the Trojan war ended.

-Antinous and the others are there mentioning the need for a king.

-“Boy, when will it be time for you to take the throne.”

-Telemachus being nervous he says he’s unsure.

-Antinous and the others talk and mention that some training should help clear his head.

-“Little Wolf” is very different. It’s not a mocking fist fight. It’s a training session where the men are helping train him up.

-Athena appears and mistakes Antinous words as an insult and thinks Telemachus is being bullied.

-It’s only after Telemachus lands a good hit on Antinous. Telemachus explains to Athena that they aren’t bad guys, just concerned citizens.

-Athena still bonds with Telemachus. But now less worried for Telemachus. Is able to go to help Odysseus.

-Meanwhile Penelope is basically handling the ruling, but doesn’t need to deal with the suitors.

-The castle also isn’t ransacked by the suitors.

-Though the problem actually comes up during god games. Athena couldn’t convince Ares with her words. As Odysseus has no reason to make more bloodshed when he gets home.

-suffice to say I think Athena actually fails to win the god games.

-Odysseus remains trapped. After a while, Calypso decides to wipe Odysseus memories. The man she loves is suffering and was mentally broken. So to have him move on. She does that. Now her lover, but part of him mentions feeling empty. The song (No more pain) and (Something’s missing) replace I’m not sorry for loving you and Dangerous.

-The new saga is called the Coronation saga.

-Penelope’s song “my love will live on” as she is still waiting for Odysseus. But she can’t stall and has Telemachus to take the throne.

-Telemachus does take the crown. He is king of Ithaca. (Likely when Odysseus had his mind wiped).

-Telemachus singing “A king like him”

-The Suitors became loyal soldiers to Telemachus. And with Athena there helping advise Telemachus, to avoid what happened with Odysseus. Telemachus became a great king. And he even fell in love and got married. This adds an additional 5 years.

-The last Saga is called the Memories saga. Because it’s Telemachus finding out from Athena the truth. He goes to Right the wrongs.

The songs are called (“What happened” “Sins of the Father.” “Calypso” “Remember us.” “Reunion”)

-What happened- Telemachus learns the truth and where his father is from Athena. Who tells him it’s impossible. But he is going

-“Sins of the father.”- Telemachus meets Poseidon who mistakes him for Odysseus. And Telemachus beats Poseidon akin to 600 strike but with Athena’s help

-“Calypso”- Telemachus encounters Calypso who refuses to let Odysseus go. That he is hers and Telemachus fights her. And Calypso is about to kill him when she is stabbed by Odysseus. Who is a mind broken mess

-“Remember us.”- Telemachus and Athena trying to help fix Odysseus. And it’s only when Penelope is mentioned that he snaps back to reality

-“Reunion.” Where Odysseus and Penelope finally reunite but both feel guilty. Odysseus of his sins and forgetting while Penelope let her doubts cloud her mind and she tried forgetting Odysseus. But their love was strong enough that they embrace.

[thebaldursmouthgazette]

I think it’s really weird that so many people are interpreting leaving the veil up as “keeping the status quo” and therefore bad.

First of all there are some “status quos” worth keeping. For example, medical personnel washing their hands to avoid infecting their patients is currently the status quo in most of the world. We don’t want to get rid of that, because then more people will die for absolutely no reason. Destruction for the sake of destruction is not a good approach, and just because something is currently the way the world works does not make it bad.

The veil was bad and destructive (to the status quo in fact! But also like, the world in general) when it went up, but that was several thousand years ago. And during those several thousand years, the world adapted to its presence. Mortal society and spirit society both adapted to its presence, and both would be destroyed by it coming down. And to what end? A world that is different, but no better, than it was before. There is no real benefit to the destruction of the modern world, the biggest benefit is that it will ease Solas’ conscience that he has undone something he regrets (and only at the cost of lives he doesn’t consider real or of consequence)

But secondly we aren’t keeping the status quo, we’re destroying it. You are all just focusing on the wrong status quo.

When speaking to Mythals fragment she speaks from the perspective of a god, conversing with foolish mortals who are “a thousand years from knowing the proper words” to describe what Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are doing. If you tell her the people of Thedas do not need gods she calls you “a petulant child who complains that your room does not have enough pretty toys” and tells you “you’ve no idea how many monsters lurk outside the walls of the house your parents created to keep you safe”. She says something similar if you deny her godhood as an elf.

Elgar’nan names himself the “world’s creator” and claims that he was trying to restore glory, casting the mortals of Thedas once again as foolish children, incapable of making decisions for themselves, needing him to guide them so they could blossom and thrive.

Solas too, has acted since inquisition like he is far wiser and more knowledgeable than all the mortals he encounters. He does not even truly consider them people. While he does not claim the title of god himself, he certainly holds himself like one, and treats mortals as foolish children all the same. This is reflected in his first ever words to Rook: “you have no idea what you have done” in a disembodied voice, echoing with power around the fade prison. He knows best. All who oppose him just don’t have the capability to understand. They’re just mortals, you see.

Before the final battle Viago declares that “Thedas will be free”. It’s a riff on his “the crows rule Antiva and Treviso will be free” slogan, designed as a direct response to the daily announcement by the occupying antaam in Treviso that "the Antaam will rule Antiva, and Treviso will learn to kneel."

But free of what? What statement of freedom is being made on this day? It is freedom from the “gods”. Freedom from the machinations of people who have put themselves in a position of godhood, and declared that they should govern the world because the mortals are foolish children who do not understand enough to make their own decisions.

The veil never needed to come down. That is something Solas decided was necessary. And he ignored every mortal trying to convince him otherwise because he decided he knew better. These mortals did not need to be listened to. They are tiny children, incapable of understanding his actions and the reasons for them.

With the deaths of Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, and the banishment of Solas, Thedas has declared itself to not need gods. The people of Thedas are not foolish children incapable of understanding. They’re not going to calmly place their head on the chopping block, trusting that it’s okay because Solas knows best and sure it looks to them like they’ll all die horribly, but they’re just naive children who do not understand as Solas does. They have said no, we do not need you. We do not want you. We do not think you are our betters. You are not gods, and you are certainly not our gods.

We’ve not maintained the status quo, we’ve demolished it. We’ve gone up to the people claiming godlike superiority and told them to go fuck themselves, they’re no better than us.

But I think some of you aren’t seeing this because you believed Solas when he told you he knew best.

[prael]

Day 7: Rockstar

Loona/ARTMS Jinsoul x male reader smut

words: 3,223 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. That's probably the order she would put them in.

It might seem cliché, but there's nothing new under the sun. Life on tour is an endless cycle of late-night gigs and after-parties searching for something to drink, take or fuck. It's an addiction, the lifestyle, and Jinsoul isn't an exception to the rule.

Every performance goes exactly the same: play to a sold-out crowd, have a little something backstage, give some autographs, follow the drink wherever it leads and then end the night fucking her lead guitarist. Rinse and repeat. It's easy enough to follow the routine once you've got the hang of things.

She convinced you to pick it up for the first time back in high school. She told you that you had real talent and should really give the whole music thing a shot. She said you had natural charm when you held a guitar and could make everyone in the room pay attention, so you played along because you wanted to see if her words were true or not.

As it turned out, she was right. You might have never played anything in your life before joining Jinsoul in the practice room, but you're a quick learner, talented too. You followed her instructions, listened to all the little details of what being a rockstar means and eventually made it big. Together.

It isn't like you owe her everything for helping you through this life but you appreciate everything she has done for you, nonetheless. If Jinsoul had said jump, you'd be asking her how high but unfortunately for you, you can't exactly tell her this without looking like that one crazy stalker fan (that's an entirely different story).

When you're with the others though, performing together on stage with thousands of people screaming out their love and adoration as your fingers dance up and down your fretboard, well, there are no words to describe the feeling. You're addicted. It's thrilling, nerve-racking, terrifying and amazing all at the same time.

And the truth is, you feel it just like she does. You step off the stage and reach for whatever bottle you can find because the adrenaline coursing through your veins is electrifying, but the buzz always leaves too quickly. So, in order to prolong the high, you take it back to the hotel. Groupies, liquor and the hard stuff; everything is fair game.

-

Jinsoul has her hand wrapped firmly around your waist as she brings her body close to grinding against your thigh while singing into the mic. Her breathy voice sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers continue to glide effortlessly across strings while staring out into the sea of faceless bodies cheering as they sway from side to side beneath strobe lighting.

The lead vocalist grips tightly onto your shirt as her tongue darts over your earlobe, causing your skin to prickle with sensation before leaning away again. She grins wickedly, knowing what kind of effect she can have on you before returning to strutting across the stage. She dances in time with each chord progression you create. Watching as Jinsoul plays with her fans who push forward eagerly at any opportunity, hoping their fingertips can graze hers for even half a second, she laughs. The flashing lights are flickering in a seemingly random pattern, illuminating her features and casting shadows upon them all at once.

It's the encore. Fans chanting and begging for more. All their attention fixed solely upon Jinsoul; her movements so captivatingly beautiful yet dangerously provocative. Everything about her radiates confidence—power—lust. You watch carefully when she bends down to place a chaste kiss on a fan's hand; you watch when she takes the lollipop from one guy's mouth and puts it between her teeth. Smiling smugly to herself after spitting it out back at him. And you can't help yourself either... It's impossible not to get drawn into her orbit whenever she gets like this.

As much as everyone loves a good show, it ends too soon. Everything finishes with your eyes meeting hers through sweaty bangs; hands clapping in unison along with the rest of the band as they thank the audience for coming out tonight.

A smile still remains plastered firmly on Jinsoul's lips despite how exhausted she appears after performing for hours straight. Sweat beads glisten across her brow and drip down her temple as she pants heavily from exertion but still maintains that air of invincibility and untouchability, like always.

The lights dim and you're making your way off stage with Jinsoul hot on your tail behind you. You turn around intending to compliment her performance, only managing halfway before suddenly she presses her palm flat against the wall beside your head, pinning you against it. Her eyes glint mischievously at seeing how flustered you've become, having her so close to your face again.

"I know I did amazing." She says simply, before licking her upper lip seductively.

Before you know it her hand is already wrapped around the nape of your neck pulling you toward her and into a rough kiss filled with needful desperation. Tongue sliding past yours in earnest exploration before sliding away again to drag along the roof of your mouth instead. A gasp leaves your lungs being stolen away by Jinsoul, who eagerly swallows it down as if it were nourishment enough to sustain herself completely on its own.

"I need a drink," she murmurs huskily before pulling on your wrist leading towards the dressing rooms where several bottles await you in ice.

-

Another night, another fucking blur. It started in the dressing room with your band members; congratulating themselves for playing such an incredible gig together whilst downing shots and racking lines until they forget why exactly it is that they should even celebrate anymore.

You know little of what happened between then and now. Just snapshots. An image in your mind of Jinsoul dancing on a table surrounded by strangers all cheering her name. A memory of a bathroom stall where you found yourself with your pants pulled halfway down to your knees, some girl whose face remains indistinguishable giving you sloppy head. Then there are parts where you recall talking animatedly with some fan asking what's your favourite track from their album, others asking you to sign their breasts because they didn't bring anything else to write on. More of just flashes, really—snapshots of moments lost forever amongst booze, drugs and cigarette smoke.

It must have been a miracle that got the two of you back here alone without any incident or accident happening beforehand, considering neither of you could walk properly without stumbling over something unseen every couple of steps taken forward. Regardless, however, eventually, you do reach the hotel room door, which swings open violently crashing loudly into the wall behind it. Kicked by Jinsoul, who couldn't care less about causing damage or waking people up around you because she wants nothing more right now than to get laid.

Jinsoul's lips crush against yours almost immediately, stealing your breath away just as soon as it escapes from your lungs. Teeth clash clumsily while tongues slide hungrily within each other's mouths, fighting fiercely until finally breaking apart once air becomes scarce between you both.

Your mouth travels downward along her jawline, sucking bruises into soft flesh wherever possible—finding purchase there to continue making marks upon unmarred skin otherwise unknown and wanting—a place forbidden by nature yet entirely inviting, nonetheless. Fingertips dance gracefully across her curves until her legs give out, sending the two of you falling onto the bed without caution or warning whatsoever.

She's pulling off her ripped jeans. You're helping remove everything else until she sits before you fully exposed wearing nothing but those sinful fishnet stockings covering perfectly toned calves leading upward towards her thighs. They contrast beautifully against her flawless pale complexion; smooth as marble but warm beneath your touch, unlike the cold stone ever could hope to achieve.

Time and time again, no matter how often you've done this exact thing, seeing her bare like this never fails to amaze you. This angelic creature baring herself shamelessly beneath bright lights—openly inviting your gaze as though daring it not to look elsewhere but at her. And god knows how difficult resisting temptation truly is...

"Fucking come on." Her speech is slurred.

Her impatience shows clearly through alcohol-glazed eyes staring expectantly up at yours, silently pleading desperately for action. She doesn't need to ask twice, though; you gladly oblige, willingly pressing palms firmly upon inner thighs. Pushing gently outward, spreading wide welcoming hips before pressing two fingers roughly inside her slick, wet cunt.

Jinsoul's body arches upwards off the bedding instantly from pleasure, throwing her head backwards against pillows as loud moans escape parted lips. You're sloppy. Messy. Drunkenly probing into her pussy, desperately trying to hit that spot deep within her core, which always manages to drive her absolutely insane.

"No," she groans in frustration. "Fuck me." Every word she speaks takes an effort to enunciate clearly, each syllable struggling against the haze clouding her mind from reason. "Fingers aren't enough..."

You understand immediately what she means when she looks at you with those half-lidded eyes filled with need; lustful desire burning intensely within pupils dilated to full width now. She wants you to fuck her. Hard. With your cock buried deep inside her until she forgets everything else, but how amazing it feels being filled completely by you.

And so, you oblige once more... removing fingers covered entirely, coated thickly in Jinsoul's juices before quickly fumbling at your trousers. Undoing zippers hastily and pulling them down past your knees where they fall onto carpet flooring forgotten alongside all other articles removed already.

She's watching you undress, her eyes roaming your body with their haze. Lips curling upwards into a smirk before licking over teeth, hungrily anticipating what comes next. She knows exactly what she wants from you. Knows just how badly she needs it right now, too.

She sees you're ready, and without a word, she climbs onto all fours. Leaning forward on hands and knees before lowering her face onto the sheets below, presenting herself fully exposed before you, waiting eagerly for what comes next. And as soon as your tip brushes against her entrance, wetting itself upon her lips, it's all so familiar to you. You've been here a hundred times before.

You slap down hard onto her ass, making the skin turn pink. Jinsoul yelps out, surprised, but enjoys the sensation nonetheless. You repeat this several more times until her butt cheeks burn deep crimson under contact with each strike delivered forcefully across them. She groans loudly with each blow struck upon sensitive flesh, causing pain mixed deliciously together alongside pleasure.

When done playing games, finally, you grab her hips firmly—tightly enough that fingerprints will remain bruised tomorrow morning—before plunging forward into Jinsoul's cunt, burying yourself balls-deep within her core instantly. She always says sex after a show is special. Whether it's the adrenaline, the drink, the drugs or whatever the hell else that fuels you, you give it to her good every single time.

Your thrusts become rough and quick almost immediately. Skin slapping loudly together with each movement made forcefully enough to cause ripples across flesh bouncing back from the impact. It's messy. Dirty. Filthy. But Jinsoul loves every minute of being fucked hard like this—every moment spent pounding into her pussy again and again relentlessly.

She feels so good around you. Hot. Tight. Wet. Your cock slides smoothly between slick folds, easily finding purchase within soft walls stretching accommodatingly around its size. She moans loudly, screaming obscenities with each thrust given, encouraging you further until eventually, she climaxes, screaming out your name in ecstasy.

Jinsoul collapses forward onto the bedding below, completely spent from orgasm. But you're still as hard as ever. You follow her down, boning her into the bed with your pelvis slapping hard against her ass cheeks, smashing them repeatedly against skin reddened by prior contact already.

She gasps in shock at feeling you still going, unable to do much else except accept how wonderfully incredible it feels being fucked senselessly. You pound away at her pussy, relentlessly continuing your assault. Thrusts becoming faster now, quicker in pace. You can't be sure, but you think she's cumming again. The way her body shudders uncontrollably beneath you, convulsing violently while her voice cracks mid-moan. She cries out in ecstasy, calling for god knows who or what, but fuck if it doesn't make you want to finish too.

You're entranced in ecstasy, lost within a haze of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending within your body. And before long, you're cumming hard into her cunt. You're collapsing down against her. Chest to back. Her willing body pressed into the bed beneath you. But still, somehow, she manages to reach backwards, grabbing tightly onto your arm with one hand, pulling you closer towards her until your lips meet hers once more.

Your tongues dance together in perfect sync, tasting one another intensely as they battle for dominance between mouths. Kisses become sloppy. Desperate. You both need more from each other than you currently have within yourselves to give.

And finally, when you break away, breathing heavily, she murmurs, "Nothing beats this, right? Nothing... feels better than fucking you."

You know she's right. Nothing does come close to how amazing it feels to be inside her.

-

The next morning you wake up with your head throbbing painfully, feeling hungover as hell. Not a lot of the night before remains in your head except for vague images of Jinsoul dancing on tables surrounded by admirers cheering her name, or maybe you were the one doing all that. You don't remember.

You roll your head to the side. To the empty space beside you.

"Jinsoul?"

There's a numb tremor that runs up your body—a feeling caught somewhere between confusion and pleasure.

You find yourself reaching out to touch her, wanting desperately to feel the warmth radiating from her skin but instead finding nothing except cold air and soft sheets. She's gone. It's not like this is the first time this has happened though...

"I'm right here, idiot," she says softly.

She wraps her mouth around your cock again, slowly bobbing her head up and down along its length. There's the feeling again. It's her; dragged out of your sleepy haze one suck at a time until finally you're able to fully appreciate everything about it.

Her tongue laps over the tip. Her hand strokes gently at the base while the other plays with your balls. It's fucking amazing. It always is whenever she does this. You watch as she takes you completely into her mouth, wrapping her lips around you before slowly pulling back off. Her cheeks hollow slightly as she sucks hard on the head, causing you to groan loudly and buck your hips upward involuntarily.

She looks up at you through thick lashes. Her eyes were stained with last night's makeup; mascara smudged across her face creating dark circles around her irises, but still somehow managing to retain their natural beauty despite that fact. You smile at her and she smiles back, before taking you deep once more.

Your hands grip tightly onto the bed sheets beside you as she begins pumping faster now, bobbing her head up and down your length with renewed vigour. What a way to wake up in the morning, huh?

"Fuck," you hiss between clenched teeth. "Keep going."

Your hips thrust up again, causing Jinsoul to gag slightly at the sudden movement suddenly coming from beneath her. She looks up at you, meeting your eyes again before winking playfully.

She pushes her throat onto you until her lips meet the base of your cock. You moan loudly, unable to contain yourself any longer and reach out, grabbing roughly onto her hair, forcing her head forward even further.

She gags once more but doesn't stop moving her mouth up and down along your shaft. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer. You don't know how much longer you can last like this, so you tug firmly at Jinsoul's locks again; signalling to her that you're about to cum.

She releases you from her mouth with a loud pop, then wastes no time in crawling over you. Straddling her hips above yours, she guides you to her entrance before lowering herself onto you. Her cunt is already a mess, wet with excitement, and stained with last night's debauchery. It doesn't bother her, riding you like this in the morning. She loves it.

The sight of her naked body bouncing on top of yours is enough to make anyone lose their mind and fuck if you don't want to see this every damn day of your life. The way her tits bounce in tandem with each movement made, how her mouth hangs open slightly in ecstasy as she throws her head back, letting out a moan now and then. Fuck, she's so goddamn sexy.

She knows what she's doing, too. Knows how to draw this out as long as possible, prolonging your pleasure for as long as she can without breaking eye contact with you. She rides you hard; hips thrusting forward aggressively, then slowing to a laboured grind that leaves you reeling for more.

"Good morning," she coos seductively.

You're mesmerised by her—completely hypnotised by everything about her. And before long, you're reaching out, grabbing onto her waist, guiding her movements as best as you can manage.

She leans over and kisses you hungrily while continuing to fuck herself on top of your cock. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, swirling around inside, tasting every inch available. The kiss is hot, wet and messy, but perfect, nonetheless.

Jinsoul breaks away from you and places her hands on either side of your head, steadying herself as she rides you harder and faster now, bringing both of you closer and closer towards orgasm. Your fingers dig into her skin, gripping tightly onto flesh for purchase as you feel yourself nearing climax.

It's too much. It's all too fucking good. You can't take anymore. You're not going to last another second longer. You need release. Desperately.

At the very last, you buck her off, throw her down to the bed and climb to your knees, hovering over her as you begin jacking yourself off furiously. The sight of her lying there, legs spread wide open, waiting patiently for you to cum on her only intensifies the sensation building within your core.

"Fuck!"

With one final cry, you erupt onto Jinsoul's stomach, painting white streaks across taut skin stretched taut across toned abs. Up to her tits too, ropes of cum covering pink nipples standing erect beneath it. You collapse next to her, completely spent from exertion. She laughs softly, running fingertips through damp hair and sticking messily to her forehead before wiping away sweat beads dripping down her chin.

"You always finish quick when we do this in the morning," she whispers teasingly.

You laugh too. "You just look too good."

She rolls over, planting a quick kiss on your lips. "Good enough to give me another in the shower?"

You grin.

She matches it with a knowing stare.

This is the life.

[hyperions-light]

Rook’s notes on the Lighthouse/Caretaker for the codex ask!

Thank you for asking! [Codex prompts here] These are very fun so far!

- This place is alive? Moves to accommodate guests, changes layout. Many places accessible using acrobatics. Some inaccessible currently (tried, dangerous).

- Seems to have assigned me Fish Room. Think they are watching me (good?). Able to rearrange furniture but not request more. Annoying.

- Solas lived here? Depressing. No wonder he’s so miserable. Found weird, sad little room with his stuff in it. Going to ask him if he’s bored in the Fade Jail next time. Maybe he will be less annoying if he has something to do? Can try to mentally recreate books, maybe.

- There’s a. Ghost? Demon? Spirit? Asked Bellara, she says spirit. Very turquoise, many eyes, bad clothes (do spirits wear those? Ask Solas). Seems helpful? Provides gondola rides and is more polite than gondoliers in Treviso. And it’s free!

- Spirit is in Lighthouse now. Very cryptic, even more than Solas. Wonder if that was a requirement in Arlathan (ask Solas). Still not dangerous. Seems to help with accessing new parts of Lighthouse. Asked why I couldn’t just go everywhere now, got vague nonsense. Ugh.

- Should bring random Crows + civilians here to see if it does anything. Viago? Might be funny!

- Found out Library is covered in depressing murals of things Solas regrets. Probably impolite to bring up. Does he like being miserable? I don’t cover my walls with all the missions I fucked up. Strange, sad, bald man. Going to ask him if he wants to play cards next time. Maybe letting him win would cheer him up.

- Manfred is my new best friend. We’re exploring the Lighthouse together.

- Who’s Felassan?

- Solas says to stop contacting him about unimportant things (no).

- Spent indeterminate amount of time trying to convince Lighthouse to replicate animal habitats. Did not work and Davrin looked concerned.

- Was having Davrin show me how to carve animals (looks fun) but got distracted by Assan and impaled my hand. Davrin was upset about this. Said it was fine, but he insisted we visit Emmrich. Discovered Lighthouse speeds magical healing. Worth it.

- If I start bringing cats here will it make a room for them?

- Tried bringing cats. One almost floated away. Do NOT bring Neve’s favorite.

- Bellara and I were using the magical floating ornaments above her room for target practice, and one of them suddenly exploded! Practical applications?

- How come no one else ever visits Varric? Tried to ask Harding if she’d been to see him, but she didn’t hear me? Strange. Visit more-- maybe others will come with? He must be lonely in there.

- Remember to ask Solas if he needs to eat. Think I could manifest Lucanis’ paella if I tried hard enough.

- Taash and I are going to try and build some traps. Borrowed explosives from Antoine. Think Lighthouse is sentient enough to identify intruders if I talk to it.

- Tried to ask the fish about Solas. Maybe they saw him while he was here?

- One of the wisps left Neve’s room suddenly, so we followed it around-- they are DEFINITELY the ones moving people’s stuff. Also maybe causing books to appear? Neve says we need more evidence.

- Emmrich said Harding made the plants grow because she loved them (of course she did). Going to ask her to make me taller via caring about me.

- Sat in the pantry for a while trying to talk the Lighthouse into manifesting a new bed for Lucanis, now that Spite isn’t a problem. Convinced nobody can sleep on that thing. No luck. Try carrying couch from library?

- MANY, LOUD objections to Taash and me building traps. Still think it could work, but promised Davrin I’d return explosives. No one here lets me have any fun (except Taash, Bellara, and Spite).

- Spent a while trying to see if the Lighthouse would let Harding move any of the giant floating chunks of rock. Also attempted exploding arrows + asking politely. No luck.

- Emmrich brought Johanna’s skull here! Amazing! Asked Emmrich to carry my skull around with him after I die so I can see new stuff. Did not understand the reasons he said he couldn’t. Will keep bothering him.

- Friends keep leaving things in my/the fish’s room. Need more drawers.

- Lace says Taash and Bellara can put up memorials to Cyrian and Shathann in her garden, if they want. Think it’s a good idea. Emmrich agrees.

- Made it to the top of the Lighthouse! Made Assan promise not to tell the others how to get up there. Reminds me of the rooftops in Treviso.

- Makes sense now, why Varric never got his own room. Going to put his stuff in Lace’s garden. I think she would have liked that.

[arcane-vagabond]

Hey again...

So I've kind of already mentioned it, but figured it was time to make an actual post.

A lot of you already know that I've been a participant in fandom for over a decade now, starting out in the original Hunger Games fandom and then quickly working my way to SuperWhoLock and a couple of others over the years. I took a step back from fandom because of different things going on in my life, and it wasn't really until Summer 2023 that I decided to get involved again. This time around, though, I had stories that I wanted to share and used writing fanfic as a way to navigate and cope with how crazy my day to day had become. Writing became my way to escape the uncertainty that had come with losing my job and keeping me sane while I hunted for a new one.

I could never have imagined how a silly, little U.S. military propaganda movie would change my life in such interesting ways.

I've been writing since I was old enough to tell stories, ideas floating in and out of my head faster than the speed of light, and even though my friends told me all the time how much they loved the ideas and my actual writing, I had convinced myself that I'm not a good writer. I held onto that belief for years until a story concerning a blond aviator as a an outlaw in the old west consumed me to the point where I thought I would go crazy if I didn't start to write it. So I did, and then I got the crazy idea to start posting it - just wanting to see if other people would like it too. To my absolute shock and awe, they did! A lot of people actually did! So I kept writing, and I quickly added new stories too which people seemed to enjoy. I made so many new friends, and people really did seem to enjoy my writing which made me so, so happy.

Stories have always been so special to me, and coming up with new ones and sharing them with others has always been a passion of mine. I love talking about them with other people, talking over theories and characters til I'm blue in the face. What's going to happen? Why? How will this affect the other characters? All things I love discussing, but...fandom doesn't like to do that anymore. All it is anymore is an endless sea of likes, which are...okay, but why are people refusing to talk to me? Are they bored? Are they shy? Was that last chapter too lackluster? Should I have added more action? Romance? Surely not because people are demanding more? More scenarios, more smut, more words, more, more more. Maybe I should step away for a day or two, just to give myself a break? Okay, yeah, that should be fine. Okay, what about a week? I have some stuff going on at this new job that I need to deal with. Okay, now people aren't even sending requests in. Now even fewer people are commenting or sending messages in. Why? Did I do something? Was I away too long? Surely people know that I'm a person behind this screen. Oh, now most of my friends are leaving the site...Now I haven't talked to anyone in weeks.

So...what's the point? Seems like people aren't even reading what I'm putting out these days, so why continue writing for a silent audience?

This is all to say these are some of the thoughts that have been going through my head lately, and I've decided that it's not healthy. Demanding attention from people unwilling to give it is not serving me anymore, and neither are the jealous and hateful people who hide behind the anonymous feature. People who have screamed at me since I started because they've been jealous of the attention I've gotten in the past, trying to get me to quit the entire time. Well, you win. You get your wish, congratulations. I hope you feel happy with the number of people who read your fics because surely they'll come read yours now that I'm not posting anything. Hating on me and my work was never going to make you a better writer or person.

As for me, I'll probably still make posts from time to time if I don't go back to my old blog again. I've decided to dedicate time to writing my actual novel that's been in the works for 12+ years now, and I have a renewed excitement for it now that I know my writing is worth reading. Thanks, strangers on the internet! And who knows, maybe TG3 will prompt me to write fanfic again one day.

For now, my stories will stay posted, but that may change as I decide more on what I'm doing, so please don't be surprised if one day they're actually gone. I've already cleared out my inbox, so...sorry if I didn't manage to get to your request.

I'd like to thank @sorchathered @pinguhub and @attapullman for the late night calls and vent sessions. @goldenseresinretriever and @fanficfandomlove for being constant rocks and sources of inspiration for my fics. And @roosterforme for being a solid head to rely upon and gab with. You guys rock, and I hope you'll stick with me for the journey that lies ahead.

Until next time.

Liz~

[kittenfangirl20]

Charlie: But it has been proven that a Sinner can be redeemed.

Abel: They think one Sinner isn’t enough, they want more proof and Michael thinks that humans don’t deserve a place in Heaven.

Charlie: That’s awful.

Adam: That is how he has always been, he hates humans except for Lilith.

Lucifer: It is because he believes that he is God’s greatest creation and God said that was Adam.

Adam didn’t realize that God held him in such high regard.

Lucifer: I also remember God made Adam not long after I told him that I was lonely and that I wanted someone to love me. I think God made you to be my soulmate who would love me with all of his heart.

Adam: I like to think that as well.

Lucifer: It also should be said that Hell wasn’t supposed to exist and God wanted all humans to come to Heaven once they died. But when the Forbidden Fruit incident happened humans knew good and evil which created a place for evil to exist.

Charlie: Maybe if we can show that some Sinners can be redeemed then they may be more willing to end Extermination Day.

Abel: That could work.

Adam: Good luck in convincing Michael, he hates humans and everyone looks up to Michael in Heaven because he beat Lucifer.

Lucifer: Only because he cheated, I am much stronger than him.

Adam: You are the much stronger angel. We can focus on the wedding and the baby, but we can also work on redeeming as Sinner as well.

Lucifer: I swear I will kick Michael’s ass for hurting my family.

Adam, Abel, and Charlie meant everything to Lucifer and he wasn’t going to let someone hurt them and get away with it.

Charlie: Speaking of wedding I want to take Adam shopping for what to wear at the wedding, Vaggie is coming along so we can buy it for him. Please.

Lucifer: You don’t need to spend your money on it, here is my card. Buy yourself and Vaggie something nice to wear too.

Lucifer handed Charlie the credit card and Charlie took Adam’s hand as they went off to find Vaggie.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Abel Son of Adam and Lucifer

Back in the days of Eden when Lilith was convincing Eve to eat the Forbidden Fruit, Lucifer was making love to Adam. Even though Lilith lied and said that Adam was trying to control her, they were both happy to see each other. Adam told Lucifer that Eve was pregnant with his child and how he wanted to be pregnant with Lucifer’s child. Lucifer agreed to what Adam wanted and made love to him. He decided that he would stay in Eden with Adam and Lilith could go or stay if she desired. But Lilith was caught and told the angels that Lucifer convinced Eve to eat the Forbidden Fruit. Lucifer was banished with Lilith to Hell and Adam left Eden when they banished Eve from it saying that he would help her create humanity. Eve gave birth to Cain and Adam gave birth to Abel. Thousands of years later it was believed that Adam was killed in Hell, but he became a fallen angel. Lucifer was shocked to get a phone call from Rosie.

Lucifer: Hello.

Rosie: You may want to come to Cannibal Town right now.

Lucifer: Why?

Rosie: You know how many of my cannibals cleaned the battlefield? Well a certain angel was taken from the battlefield and woke up before his body was butchered.

Lucifer: Adam is alive?

Rosie: Yes and he is a fallen angel now.

Lucifer hung up his phone and sprouted his wings to fly to Cannibal Town. Susan was complaining outside of Rosie’s home saying that she wanted to eat Adam. Lucifer walked past her and walked it. Rosie was sitting with Adam who now had black and gold horns as well as greyish skin, shimmery black wings, fangs instead of teeth, black sclera in his eyes, and lamb like ears. He was picking at the cookies Rosie provided looking absolutely miserable. But when he looked up at Lucifer he looked hopeful.

Adam: I want to see our son.

Lucifer: Abel? Adam I..... I don't know if I can swing that.

Adam stood up: Why not?

Lucifer: The Extermination just ended, Heaven is more than a little pissed off at the moment they aren't going to do me a favor.

Adam looked down sadly, he needed to let their son know that he was alive and okay. Relatively speaking of course, he was stabbed in the back. He sniffed, Abel was probably worried about him when all the angels came back and he didn't.

Lucifer: Thank you Rosie for keeping Susan away from him.

Rosie: No problem your majesty, she's a stubborn old bitch but I can take her.

Lucifer put his arm around Adams waist: Come on Addie, let's go.

Adam nodded sadly going with Lucifer, he opened a portal to the Morningstar Manor where Adam collapsed on the couch and cried.

Lucifer handed him a cell phone: You can call him.

Adam sat up and took the phone: Yeah! I'll call him, he'll answer the phone for me.

[gingermintpepper]

I saw it in your tag game post that you're also fond of the Apollo-Heracles conflict 👀 for a myth that appears in only a couple of sources, it sure has a lot of presence in the vase paintings (no seriously, everytime I think I've seen the last of it, I find ten more)

SO do you have any favorites among the paintings that represent this story??

OMG OMG THIS ASK IS A GIFT. IT IS A GIFT THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR LETTING ME TALK ABOUT THIS

I also think it's extremely interesting that it's a story so popularly portrayed by vase paintings and in such a variety of ways!! It's certainly one of the stories that gets left out of written compilation of Heracles' legend a bit (which is a shame, I think it's a fantastic story) but Apollo had a very peculiar relationship with Heracles in general that I just kind of find amazing (and very, very funny).

Apollo is not a god with any legitimate grudge against Heracles, but he does argue with the mortal a bit like he argues with his favourite brothers 😂Part of why I love the story of Apollo and Heracles fighting over the tripod so much is that it is such a little brother thing for Heracles to be upset with the proclamation his elder brother has given him and so, he throws a great fit, taking up the chair and declaring that he'll just give himself a better prophecy! And Apollo, instead of being a marginally professional big brother, decides to fight him for it until their father has to break up their cat-fight. Like was that not just the plot of the Homeric Hymn to Hermes? Is this not exactly how Apollo treated Hermes when he was a child and now those two are inseparable? 💀

Because of this, my favourite vase paintings tend to be the ones that highlight the personal squabbling between Apollo and Heracles the most. There are some very elaborate ones that have the full host of them - Athena, Heracles, Apollo, Artemis, usually a dog and a doe, I've even seen a couple that had birds and plants etched on them, but the simplest ones that show Heracles about to bonk Apollo with his club out of frustration or depict Heracles nyooming away from Apollo while Apollo (presumably) yells curses about how he's going to fling Heracles head first into Tartarus for daring to take his things? Yeah, those are the premium big brother/little brother things I'm looking for.

(Photo. Marie-Lan Ngyuen)

(Photo. Museo Claudio Faina)

Also the one in the Theoi.com archives is a real classic - perfect energy.

[moeblob]

Look, I just think it's VERY funny and on brand that I thought of an entire premise of colorful characters for half the cast and immediately drew the only one void of color.