#Sweet cravings could be indicative of multiple things-

[i-am-a-meat-popcicle]

Honestly the only thing Hanneman had to say to me was "Lore" and suddenly I was all over that old man.

[sundrop-writes]

[Hope this is okay]

Could you do a wee thing about the Teen Wolf guys supporting their [mate/partner/wife/other] giving birth?

Your teen wolf stuff hits me right in the feels and I am thinking of this one a lot lately.

see, this is why I love keeping old requests in my inbox, because then when I am feeling the creative flow for that fandom again, I can just go back to those requests

also, I just picked four of the first guys from the show that came to mind, but please let me know if you want me to talk more about Vernon or Jackson or others. they are underappreciated and I love them too

Teen Wolf requests are OPEN. Please read my Rules before requesting!

How would the Teen Wolf boys help you through giving birth?

Included: Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall, Derek Hale, and Stiles Stilinski.

Warnings: usually I try to do GN!Reader with my reactions, but this one called for Fem!Reader - so the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant; obviously, there is mentions of giving birth and the types of medical complications that can come with it (though I purposefully didn't go into too much detail with the unpleasant aspects of giving birth); in every single one of these situations, the reader is dating the specific character and the pregnancy would be due to having sex with them, even if it's not explicitly mentioned; mentions of the reader's stomach 'getting rounder' with the progression of pregnancy, but this isn't meant to indicate that she was previously thin, just a mention of pregnancy causing the stomach to look more filled out; mentions of general Teen Wolf themes like danger, the main characters being targeted by killers, etc.; and I think that's pretty much it for this. This is mostly just fluff about our favourite guys. And like usual with my reaction fics, it's unedited.

A/N: Also I apologize in advance because I kind of went haywire toward the end and just had fun coming up with dramatic situations where someone could give birth. It's the fanfic writer in me - nothing can be peaceful, everything has to have some kind of drama.

...

Isaac would be incredibly sweet and attentive.

Isaac is someone who is good under pressure - in fact, because of his (deeply unfortunate) childhood, he genuinely thrives under pressure. He didn't react well when he found out that you were pregnant - at first, he believed that he wouldn't be well suited to being a father, and he genuinely believed that you wouldn't want him to be the father of your baby, so he tried to run from the whole situation for a while.

But once you assured him through love that you knew he would make an amazing father, he had the whole duration of your pregnancy to settle in to the idea of it, and he shifted from skiddish and timid and seemingly constantly terrified to hurt to you to someone who was far more confident as your partner. He turned into a genuine support system.

He became someone who cradled your stomach, constantly had a hand on your back, always ensured the safety of you and your unborn baby - whether it was something as small as you lifting a box or carrying in groceries, he went out of his way to take care of you.

So during your labour, he was nothing short of a servant. He put a cold cloth on your head, made sure you always had water with a straw ready at your lips the moment you turned your head, made your voice was heard so that you got exactly what you wanted and needed. And of course, he was the type of partner to bring you a giant serving of whatever food you were craving that you hadn't been able to have during pregnancy once you had been medically cleared, and he had been assured that everything with you and your new baby was fine.

He would do anything for you, and he had no problem letting everyone around you know that.

...

Scott would be a nervous wreck.

Scott is someone who is really unsure and when he has time to think about things too much, he begins to panic. So him having multiple months to think about everything that could go wrong with your pregnancy would just mean that he has multiple months to panic about it. He is excited to be a father, yes - but he is also absolutely terrified about it.

So when you called him and told him to rush to the hospital because you had gone into labour, Scott found himself stalled. He rushed to the hospital, found out what room you were in, and then - for some idiotic reason - found himself stuck in the hallway. His brain was desperate for ways to cope, and as he sat on a plastic chair outside of your room, bouncing his knee, he kept thinking about the fact that if he didn't go inside your room, then nothing could go wrong. At the very least, he wouldn't know it if anything went wrong.

But eventually, his mother came out - looking to get you a cup of water - and she gave him a harsh, disapproving glare when she found him sitting there when you had complaining that he had been late and not answering his phone. And after a stern talk where she told him that it didn't matter if he was scared, parents have to push down their fear and just do it anyway (because that's what she had been doing for him during his whole life) - he finally stepped through the threshold and found you sitting on the bed.

You were in some pain, but otherwise - perfectly fine.

And when he held your baby in his arms for the first time, he realized that what his mom said was absolutely true. He would just have to face this like he had faced deadly Alphas and hunters and giant killer lizards - terrified, pretending to be brave, and most of all: with love in his heart reminding him what was most important. He would push past all of his fear because he loved you and your new baby.

...

Derek would be incredibly protective.

Right from the moment that you found out you were pregnant, Derek was incredibly protective of you. He was weary of you riding in the car with anyone else driving but him - and in fact, he traded in his Camaro for something with much higher safety ratings, and a roomier backseat so that he could install a highly rated carseat (which looked odd to outsiders when your pregnancy wasn't even showing and you didn't have a baby to put in there, but he wanted to be well prepared). He insisted on preparing all your food himself to make sure it was safe, and any time you slept, he stayed away to keep watch over you.

From the moment he knew you were carrying his baby, he became a slave to his wolfish instincts, needing your safety to be his top priority at all times.

So naturally, this meant that he didn't trust you to be locked up in some hospital to give birth. After a lot of discussion about why it was important to him, you agreed to participate in a ritual that was ingrained into the Hale family for generations - giving birth outside. It was a werewolf thing - the need to commune with nature, especially when a baby's life was just beginning. Derek set up a very nice tent for you, and called upon the Hale family emissary - Deaton - to help you through your birth.

But other than that, he was very strict about who else was allowed to be around, still incredibly protective over you. He held your hand the entire time, coached you through the pain with soothing words and a strong hand on your back. And ultimately, your baby was born under the light of the full moon, the first member of the new generation of a strong Hale family that Derek once believed to be dead.

...

Stiles would be an unexpected hero.

Someone who threatened to faint at the sight of blood and once nearly vomited just at the mention of having to amputate Derek's arm during a similar type of medical emergency - he literally became your rock. It was a well known fact that Stiles loved to research, and from the moment that he found out you were pregnant, he had a book in his hands, a highlighter between his teeth as he tried to force himself to remember all the relevant information about breastfeeding, infant neck support, foods that could be harmful to a nursing mother.

And as your stomach grew rounder and your due date drew nearer, something that Stiles grew increasingly obsessed with researching was field deliveries. You had a birth plan in place - you were going to go to the hospital, and Melissa and Stiles were more than prepared to advocate for what you wanted - a drug free, natural delivery with very little medical intervention.

But for some reason, Stiles - every the paranoid one, especially after everything he had been through - was growing increasingly fixated on the idea that you simply wouldn't make it to the hospital once your labour started. So he had to soothe himself by researching stories of babies who had been delivered in the backs of taxis, babies who had been delivered on the side of the road, babies who had been delivered on boats in the middle of the ocean and technically didn't have a legal country of origin.

And he also became increasingly obsessed with researching any possible complications you might have during labour - because he believed that he would have to be the one to deliver your baby. And when you came across him with his laptop open, watching delivery videos again like a how to - you told him that if he didn't stop fixating on this, stressing you out, then you were going to give birth in the middle of the floor.

Little did you know - once again, his intuition had been spot on.

So when you got stuck at The Beacon Hills Animal Clinic - the power knocked out due to a raging thunderstorm, a circle of Mountain Ash that Deaton had put down being the only thing keeping you, Scott, and Stiles from being torn apart by a pack of raging Alphas - and of course, by your luck, just then your water broke and your contractions rocketed forward two minutes apart...

It was then that Stiles stepped up and actually insisted that it was one of the better situations you could have been 'stuck' in. You were surrounded by medical supplies - the Mountain Ash was keeping the Alphas at bay. You had all the time in the world, and all you had to do was trust him. So you held Scott's hand and stared into Stiles's eyes, and he used all of his well researched knowledge to bring your baby safely into the world.

...

If you enjoyed this, definitely check out the rest of my Teen Wolf Masterlist

[campymoon]

Extreme TW: self unaliving thoughts, depression, BPD, just scroll. It’s a vent post

If I can post on here about wanting to be raped and yall either like or scroll I should be able to post about this too.

I think I’m going to give it another week honestly.

I told myself if like didn’t get better by my 22nd bday I’d end it but now my 24th is like a month away and… yeah. I have an amazing and wonderful partner and I promised not to because I believe in the afterlife and want us to be together forever but I believe he deserves to spend eternity with someone normal. Someone easy to love and someone who’s as pure and perfect as he is.

My family is… dysfunctional and doesn’t care about all the things I’ve done for them, sacrificed for them nor do they even listen when I speak most times unless I yell.

Multiple friends have left me and I’ve been abandoned too many times. And I wouldn’t survive if my partner one day betrayed me or left me. Sorry I love him with everything but have also been waiting to be with fully since 2019…I feel like I have to beg just to discuss our future and when we do I feel like a fucking moron because he brings up a million different points that I “don’t consider”.

And I’m painting him really harshly I’m splitting on him rn (BPD) he’s very sweet and patient and loving but I’m so alone and tired of being alone and having to struggle alone while he just gets to do whatever he wants (overdramatized but it feels that way when I’m upset).

And I’m just so so SO TIRED of being told I have to push back my passions, happiness and goals just because that’s “how it is” and I need to “sacrifice” fucking everything that brings me joy or peace. When I was a child I was SA’d. I was like 5, then again at age 9 by my stepbrother till I was like 16 but my parents didn’t believe me and made me eat alone in my room for weeks. I wasn’t allowed to go to friends houses, parties or have a bf until I was 18, no job till 19 then coerced into the military into a career I hated to be bullied and abused more by strangers. Blah blah blah sad back story bs.

I could tell any person close to me in my life that I was actively being abused and all they’d do is say “aweee I’m sorry” (I’ve literally told the closest people i know that I’m being sexually harassed and they just give me a sad face. I’ve seen people buck up faster to STOP ME from retaliating to violence or aggression more than anyone has actually protected me from any abuser).

I tried sex work but uhhhh duh. I was an obvious flop (which isn’t like a “pity me” statement it’s just the truth).

And even though I loved it without making any real money from it and without the motivation I stopped.

I’m just tired. Tired of never being put absolutely number one by anyone. I wanna be loved like how I love. Unconditionally, irrationally and with compassion and empathy. I wanna have my tears move you like yours move mine. I wanna have my laughter bring out yours. I want it all. I crave it. This isn’t about just romance either I wanna form this is about all types of love. I wanna feel it like how I give it. And I NEVER FUCKING DO!

Then my issues get accidentally used against me. And it absolutely broke my heart. Imagine not going to your dream state for your dream school for someone and that someone says that you not having a figured out career or college degree causes hesitancy in moving in with/marrying you? Ofc I wanna fucking kill myself! I don’t wanna be here NOTHING I DO IS EVER ENOUGH NOR WILL IT EVER BE ENOUGH!!! I’ve been told so many times “You are enough. You deserve to be loved.” By the SAME PEOPLE WHO LEAVE ME! Who tell me I’m too much!!! Who say they can’t handle me!?

I’m told I can’t not speak when I’m angry. Then when I speak when I’m angry I’m “being rude”/“not thinking about my words”/“mean” but when I try to slowly think out my words and explain things EXACTLY as I mean them with indicators that I don’t mean offense nor that I’m angry with anyone IM STILL IN THE WRONG?!

I just wanted to be an artist in Colorado.

And now im just gonna be another dead loser nobody will remember in a few years.

[huenjin]

the devil’s tango.

summary — and when your demon boyfriend's best friends ruin your valentine's day plans with said demon boyfriend by lighting up a restaurant in flames, they make sure to apologise well. or, in which jisung, changbin and chan show you all the ways a devil can fuck a woman.

pairing — 3racha x reader

genre — smut | demons!au

ratings — 18+

word count — 14.4k words

warnings — mentions of flame, indications of objectification, mentions of themes of afterlife, heaven and hell | smut specifications under the cut

note — the way this was written only thanks to @chaangbin​ and her sprinto discord thing pwp and is totally inspired from this one nsfw asmr i chanced upon on reddit. happy reading and sinning, babes.

smut warnings —

i. groping, dirty talk, objectification, car sex, marking, slight temperature play, thigh riding, dirty talk, slight blood play (jisung gets a slight rush !!), grinding, fingering, sir kink, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, vaginal stimulation, ruined orgasm;

ii. changbin calls you baby girl (!!), choking, cunnilingus, dirty talk, dumbification (changbin talks a loooot dirty, heads up !!) nipple play, breast play, pain kink, spitting, marking, so so so much marking omfg, intercrural sex, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex (better safe than anything else irl okay?), squirting, overstimulation, reader slips into subspace, changbin's kinda hard on the reader; chan bring you back from subspace because he's protective like that !!!

iii. tattooed!chan — chan has this huge dark feathered wing tattoo in his back omf and the reader has a tattoo kink, of sorts— dick piercing!chan, tongue piercing!chan, so !! much !! making !! out !!, calls you princess throughout the story because you are one, nipple play, breast play, daddy kink, grinding, spanking, pain kink, degradation (but chan like gives reader heads up in such a nice way because chan best boy !!), teasing cause chan won't give it to you just like that !!!, so much begging, pussy slapping, clitoral stimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it!), bulge kink, creampie, slight after care.

Chan thinks Valentine's Day is a marketing scheme by the very commercial, capitalistic world. 

Not that his devilish self cared when he could have all the luxuries in the world in his hand by the very thought of it. Chan doesn't care even more because you, his girlfriend, loved Valentine's Day more than anything in this world, second only to your love for him. If anything, you loved Valentine's Day this much because of him.

And that is exactly why he is driving down the neat lane to this newly opened restaurant, right across the town, that you have been hyping up for months now. His fingers wrap around the steering wheel, shoes pressed flat against the gas as his other hand lies gently on your exposed thigh, thanks to your little black skirt riding up to his delight.

"Thank you for doing this," you mumble, your right hand shifting to place itself on top of his hand and grip at it softly. "You know, even after you hate all the couples out there, ever to exist."

Chan laughs, a hearty one in fact. His thumb rubs against the palmar side of your hand — one of the many affectionate things your devil does for you, albeit all the times he reminds you he is second to Lucifer himself.

"I don't hate them all." Lie. Chan knows that's an obvious lie and so do you. You click your tongue and your boyfriend bites his lower lip in a sheepish action, momentarily glancing at you before bringing his attention back on the road. "I like us. We make such a power couple. If anything, we should be the only couple to exist. Valentine's Day should exist for only one couple and that should be us."

Raising your eyebrows before letting it fall, face softening up instantly as you gaze at your boyfriend's side profile, you coo, "Aw. I see finally that there are things the devil too doesn't get at his will."

"You were one amongst them," Chan sniggers, his hand slowly trailing upwards as they shift from underneath your hand's grip. "But look where we are now."

Your breath hitches as his fingers slightly trace parallel lines as they move upwards and your eyelids flutter a bit. The pads of his fingers are hot against the coldness of your skin and the temperature difference is great enough to raise goosebumps on them.

"Chan." It's a whisper. Almost as if a great amount of determination is required for you to make this decision to turn him down. "You are driving. Plus, let's not ruin the night already. You've booked us a nice table in this amazing restaurant on this beautiful night."

"But I could make it even better." Chan licks his lower lip as he presses on the brakes, the heavy traffic stopping him from proceeding further. His hand is now completely underneath your skirt, short enough to his pleasure, fingers edging so close to your panties that your head involuntarily shifts back and your lips part.

You have been dating him for months now and every single time he touches you, you feel like a starved woman craving for every drop of his affection, desiring every part of him. Chan has been more than willing to comply, however. Your body reacts to his touches and his kisses like you are on heat and every time your boyfriend points it out, you blame it on his extraterrestrial, hellish skills; that he had you in his control.

Little do you know that it is the other way round. That Chan chooses to stay in the mortal world for you, to be with you. That he knows he will have to part with you one day when you shift over to the other side and maybe you could have sinned enough to be with him in the other world too. However, Chan knows how much God loves playing his cards and for that, he'll seize every single moment he gets with you.

All because he loves you. He is in love with you. 

Chan realises this a few weeks back. Of course, he feels the weird thing humans call butterflies when you are so understanding of him being hell's very spawn. However, it is when you cook dinner for him as you wait for him to come, or how you ask him about his day and listen ardently that he realises: hell could never be worthy enough to have someone as beautiful as you. He shouldn't deserve you — fuck, the very act of him laying his filthy eyes on you should have sent your guardian angel into a frenzy but you chose him. You chose to be with him and for that, he'd mayhaps, thank that lousy old God up in the heavens. 

"Dinner first," you strictly say. You remove his hand from underneath your skirt, wrapping your hand around his as you hold it up to kiss his knuckles. "When we get back home, I promise. In fact, I'll be the one to jump at you as soon as we reach the doorsteps." Chan laughs, mumbling, "Ah, my baby girl, my princess," under his breath and turns to look at the signal that has changed to green. He presses on the gas, speeding to reach the place on time as per reservations. 

Having Chan's hand in yours roots you in confidence from your biggest fear deep down — that he would fade away from your life one day and worse, he'd take away the memories with him to rid you of the pain from his absence. His calloused hand grips onto yours and you hold it close to your chest, shutting your eyes for a minute because this is what Valentine's Day is all about for you. Bang Chan and everything your devil of a boyfriend is. He has shown you both heaven and hell and even though you did not believe in the afterlife, you do not mind going to hell, especially not if he is there with you. 

"Why is there smoke up in the air?" Chan asks himself in absolute confusion as he takes the right on the road to the restaurant. Upon finding a neat parking spot about a hundred meters away from the restaurant, he gets out of the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you like a true gentleman. 

"Why, thank you!" You giggle, hand slapping right across your lips at the unpleasant sound that leaves your mouth and Chan smiles so widely at you, almost as if he is looking at his whole world right before him. You get out of the car and Chan closes the door right behind you.

"You look so damn pretty today, baby," Chan hugs you by the waist temporarily and snuggles into your neck, only to leave a quick kiss against it. You push him slightly and Chan chuckles, raising his right hand, that is not held by you, to protest. "I'm not making a move. We did get dressed well so let's have a nice romantic dinner first and when we get back home—" His voice drops a note lower. "We'll have a hot night and let this Valentine's Day wrap up rightfully as it should."

"And what's the right way, Mr. Hotshot Devil?"

"With my dick wrapped around your sweet little pussy," he smiles, lips extending so wide across his face that your cheeks heat up. He leans closer, pressing his lips against the pinna of your ears as he whispers, "You'll be begging me over and over and I'll treat you like the good little girl you are for me."

Your breath hitches and a flustered broken gasp leaves your lips as your fingers dig into his forearm. Chan's harmonious laughter over having made you a flustered mess rings in your ear till it is cut off by loud screams and foggy vision thanks to dark grey smoke. 

"That's a lot of smoke," you comment worried as your boyfriend takes you by his hand and walks you down the road to the restaurant. He takes small strides to let you walk at ease. "I wonder if something is on— Fuck. The restaurant is in flames. It's on fire. Fuck."

Chan's eyes widen and he stares at the fire long enough to see two figures making their way towards you. Two very familiar faces too hard for him to ever forget, especially because Chan has spent more than a millennium with them. 

"Jisung? Changbin?"

"Do you know them, baby?" You whisper into his ears, hiding slightly behind him as you cower at the magnanimous presence of the two individuals before you. 

"Sometimes I wish I didn't," he rolls his eyes and folds his arms as he looks at the two younger demons in a gaze filled with doubt and suspicion. 

"You lie!" The taller of the two says. "We had ramen together and you know ramen is exactly the way for people to bond."

"That's Jisung," Chan introduces as he slightly brings you forward. Your fingers play with the end of your short skirt, trying to bring it further down as the two men — demons, you presumed — looked at you and almost seemed to be studying you. "And the one by his side is Changbin."

"We've been friends for a while," Jisung informs and judges at Changbin who still continues to stare at you in displeasure. Did one of Chan's friends already not like you? You guess it is normal but deep down you know it hurts. You have always had the innate tendency to make sure that everyone liked you and the very thought of Chan's friends disliking you puts you to this sorrow as much as you hate to agree to it. 

"Stop scaring my girlfriend, Bin," Chan glares back at the shorter of the two before drifting his attention to Jisung and enquiring, "How did this even happen?"

"That's on me. I crashed my car into the restaurant," Jisung rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Your eyes widen and you look further beyond the two men to see a beautiful red Maserati driven into the restaurant, caught in flames just as the whole building is. 

"The people!" You scream, rushing forward. Chan holds your wrist in worry, holding you back, and you look at your boyfriend with eyebrows furrowed in concern. "They are my people."

Changbin scoffs, mumbling under his breath, "Stupid humans and their weird sense of morality at all the wrong times." Your heart drops at his words and Chan lets go of your hand, only to take a step forward in Changbin's direction, eyes narrowing at the demon. 

Jisung laughs hesitantly, slipping right between the two males and pushing them away. He looks at you and rushes forward to lean close to you. You are taken aback by the sudden invasion of your personal space but something in his eyes holds you fixed, enamored by his whole being. 

"There are no casualties, sweetheart. Don't worry!" 

Jisung leans back soon after, standing firm on his toes, and turns to look at your boyfriend. Smiling as wide as you've seen any devil smile, he prompts, "Since all our Valentine's Day plans got ruined, what if we spent it together?" He glances at you and you look away, eyes catching Changbin's who still looks at you in suspicion. 

"I—" 

"Jisung," Chan warns.

Jisung rushes to Changbin's side. Directing his attention towards you all while nudging the hell out of Changbin's side, he wiggles his eyebrows, "He may seem rude like this but trust me, he's the tsundere kind of lover."

"What the fuck," Changbin mumbles and turns his head away. "I'm not saying anything."

Your boyfriend is very flustered at the very happenings around him. Jisung suggesting a possibility of a wild night, the restaurant going into flames, and his girlfriend, albeit looking scared, positively looking at this whole proposal — maybe it has been too long since he has been away from hell for the mere chaos to fluster him.

Without a word said further to his friends, he pulls you away. You bite your lower lip, nibbling and pulling at the dead skin. Chan quickly takes your hand in his, eyes fixing on yours and staying in silence for a short while till he finally asks, "Are you okay?"

"Can I be honest?"

"Yes, please."

"Are all your friends this hot and a solid mess?"

"Should I be offended?" A soft chuckle leaves his lips when he sees you joke nervously. 

"No, no." You hit his arms, jokingly. You draw circles onto his arm and bring the topic forward finally. "I know I might have looked like I was taken aback — I was — but remember how we had this talk once about bringing people into our sex lives," you gulp, "I think this is a great moment to see if we'd like it in our relationship."

"Are you sure?" Chan's hand frames your face and you lean into it. 

"One hundred percent."

"These are demons, baby," he hesitates. 

"And you're a demon too. Stop stating the obvious, Chan. Plus, I have you."

"Are the two of you done?" Jisung asks loudly. You hold Chan's wrist and drag him towards his friends. Changbin raises an eyebrow at the sudden beam of confidence that radiates from you. 

"We are. I'm Y/N," you finally introduce yourself. "Sorry for being awkward in the beginning—"

"Oh, don't be," Changbin mumbles, gaze still wary of you. "Jisung tends to have that effect on people."

"Hey!"

"Anyhow," Changbin finally smiles tonight. "Thanks to someone," He glares at Jisung, "We lost both our dinner and our car. So do you mind if we travel with you?"

"Oh, no," you clasp your hands together. "We'll give you a ride back to our place. Chan could cook us something," you smile at your boyfriend and he merely shrugs.

"And we can let the night roll into whatever it is, right?" Jisung's gaze is different, almost like he's insinuating a thousand different sex positions in one look. 

"Yes," you say after a long pause and an audible gulp. "We can let the night roll into whatever setting it turns to."

"Lead the way, princess," Jisung's arms move in abduction and you smile, skin wrinkling by your eyes at his chirpy self. You walk forward to the car and Chan slows down his strides to walk with the boys. 

His arms wrap around the shoulders of both the demons and he pulls them closer to sharply whisper. "You fucking hurt her and I'll have both your arses burning in the hottest flames in hell. I swear to Lucifer."

"What if she likes it?" Changbin raises an eyebrow, almost provoking Chan and your boyfriend glares back at him equally, gritting his teeth and almost growling. 

With clenched teeth, he restates, "Keep it tame," and lets go of them.

Chan should know better. Nothing is tame for the men in hell.

Changbin calls shotgun, putting you next to Jisung in the back seat while Chan drives the car.

"This is consensual, right?" Jisung asks again. There is concern lacing his face and Changbin sighs, mumbling, "She has said she wants us more than ten times, Sungie."

"Chan, you're alright with me fucking your girlfriend in the back while you drive?"

Chan's breath hitches, coughs entailing and you smile at how lost he looks for a minute as he turns back in worry, slowing the car down. "In the back or in the back of the car?"

"You never know. Maybe she might like it."

"Don't you dare!"

"Fine," he begrudgingly agrees. 

"As long as she's okay with it. Do not make her uncomfortable at all, guys," Chan sighs and turns back, pressing on the gas and almost taking all his thoughts out on it. You blush, cheeks staining a shade lighter and heat rising up as soon as you feel Jisung edge closer to you. In the front seats, Changbin talks to Chan, catching up on every single thing they have missed out in these years.

In the back seat, however, Jisung has different plans. A whole different plan to break you down into putty in his hands. 

"So, it seems like you are the girl that Chan wouldn't stop talking about and fawning over," Jisung's voice is huskier in the low tone he chooses to speak in to keep the conversation just between the two of you. "Nice to meet you, lovely. I'm Jisung. Now that I see you, I realise what all the fuss is about. You really are breathtaking."

You giggle, "You flatter me. Do all demons sweet talk this well?"

"Only the finest," Jisung winks. His hand wraps around your forearm and he slowly asks again, "It is alright for me to fuck you, right?"

The crudeness of the word in front of not just you but also two other demons leaves you flustered. Jisung pushes your hair strands that have gotten loose and fall to cover your eyes, behind your ears. 

"Yes, it is," you repeat for what you have counted in your head as the eleventh time. "It's totally alright, Jisung."

"Then, can I come closer?" You nod and Jisung edges forward, closer than he already is. "You know how us demons work, right?"

"Uh," you look down at your hands on your skirt. "You get wild every now and then." Jisung hums in approval, cupping your face with his left hand.

"Bingo, you're right!" Jisung grips your face a little stronger than a second before. "We, demons, love to go wild." He scoffs and continues, "Your boyfriend loves to play nice and pretend like he doesn't lose control and has only virtuous thoughts. All a big fucking facade to hide the fact that he just wants to bend you over and fuck you—" Jisung kisses your neck right underneath your face. "—Again and," he kisses your jugular. "Again and again." 

"I however am not. I like to do a lot of things to you."

Jisung bites sharply into your neck, sucking at the skin. The lewd noises resonate in the locked car and you know your boyfriend can hear each moan and each sound that comes from the back seat. The car moves only faster and Jisung's action matches the pace. He lets go of your neck only to crash his lips against yours, sucking in your lower lip as he kisses your hard. His arms snake around your frame and push you against him. 

You moan against his lips. It's volatile, you realise. Jisung's kisses are volatile. One minute they are harsh against your lips, strong enough to bruise them with cuts, and the very next minute, there is nothing softer than his lips or the goosebumps that trail your skin that he touched after untucking your shirt.

His skin is hot against yours, hot enough to raise goosebumps again on your skin. His lips are warmth personified and his grip makes you want to go unhinged 

He pulls back, lips parting and looking sinfully delectable. "It's in moments like these, princess, I realise how different our body temperatures are. How much warmer demons always are compared to humans. It must feel nice to have warm hands over you, doesn't it?" Jisung removes his hand from your bare skin and from underneath your white shirt. You gasp at the lack of contact, your skin feeling irritably cold all over again, and move closer into him.

"What a needy human," Jisung chuckles, and in the very blink of your eyes, he unbuttons your first two ones, exposing your black bra, laced to perfection, to him. "That's a pretty one. You really did go all out for Chan, did you not, princess?"

"I did. I wanted him to fuck me stupid and make me his tonight," you agree boldly and the car jolts to a stop suddenly. You are pushed forward into Jisung's warmth, your half-naked self pressed against Jisung's nice shirt. Changbin chuckles, looking at Chan and you turn to the side to see the traffic. You whisper again, "I still want him to fuck me stupid tonight."

"Oh, you are going to be all of ours tonight. We are going to make you such a slut for demon cock, princess. Make you greedy and desperate for it."

You are in the public. You are on the road, visible for any child or adult to look into your car only to see all the lustful deeds out in the open. You should have felt embarrassed, quivering in nothing but shame. However, all these triggers are for you to get wetter, panties sticking to your core and your grip to tighten on Jisung's arms. 

Jisung's hand moves back to unhook your bra. He lets it fall off your shoulders slightly before taking your left breast in his arms and bringing his face closer to it. He sucks on your left nipple, nipping on the areola around. His hand massages the right breast over the black lace bra and your head lolls forward. Your hand tightens around his shoulder and you desperately crave some friction in your nether regions. 

"Can I sit on your thigh, please?" You beg and Jisung's mouth leaves your nipple only to look up at you. 

"Only if you call me sir."

Jisung has an immaculate grip on your waist as he lifts you slightly, holding you mid-air and not letting you settle down on his thigh until you call him by what he desires to be called.

"Please let me sit on your thigh, sir."

"You're a good girl," and Jisung drops you down on his thigh. You blush at how Jisung calls you a good girl. You like being called names. Be it a good girl or a slut, the words coming out from them right during sex made you feel unique and special. Your skirt rides up and your wet panties are pressed flat against his nice formal pants. He kisses your lips again, this time biting into your lower lip and drawing a bit of the blood. The copper taste does nothing for the demon exactly, besides indulging him in a slight high he could almost get off on. You seethe against him and your hips grind down on his thigh almost unknowingly. Your lips part behind your panties, the two materials underneath and his flexed thigh providing you enough to ease the lust and thirst of wanting to feel more. 

"Does this feel good?" You moan in response and Jisung's eyes sparkle. "Ah, look at the expressions you are making." His hands grip tightly on your hips as he resolves to go back to your breasts and suck on them till the nipples harden for him and the areola swells up. His hands help your hips to move against his thigh quickly, soaking his navy blue pants darker. Your covered clit rubs over and over against his flexed thighs and the moans that leave your lips are loud and unhinged.

"Sir, ah, ah—" Your hands drop to hover your palm over his covered cock that rubs against your outer thigh. "I want more, sir. Fuck, fuck, I want more. Please, sir." And just as you begged, Jisung bites slightly into your breast just when he lets go of your hips and plunges two fingers into your wet lips, pushing the panties and skirt aside slightly. With your pussy filled with his fingers, Jisung continues to suck on your breasts and little kisses and hickeys all over them. 

Your moan is the loudest so far this night in that minute. His fingers are long and bony and they hit your walls and push against them exactly the way you like. Your pain and pleasure senses, both activated, seemed to be mixing signals leaving you with a slow, slow path to euphoria. "You like that, princess? Tell me."

"Your fingers feel so good, sir." You move against his thighs quickly, grinding on it rough as your pussy is stuffed with his fingers. "Sir, sir— Fuck, sir. There." Jisung curves his fingers, the joints by his finger rubbing against your spot, deep inside that has your thighs shivering and your whole body aching for more. He rubs against the spot till you gasp over and over again and he's laughing like the very devil he is.

"Oh my god, you're so wet for me, princess. You are dripping." Jisung quickly stills you on his thighs, his other hand digging into your hips. "I'm going to go a little—" He pulls out slightly before thrusting his fingers back in. 

"Sir, oh my god," your voice pitches higher and Jisung takes the positive signs well. He pushes his fingers back in after pulling them out. His forefinger moves away from the middle all while they are deep inside of you, stretching your walls apart and the sensation rules you up further as you move down, pulling him deeper and making you feel fuller than a second before. His fingers scissors inside of you, enhancing the sensations against your soft wet walls 

"You're so needy, princess. You like that, huh? Does it feel nice to have my fingers wide apart inside of you? Do you like it when I curl them up?" And Jisung curls them, eliciting a loud groan from you and your head dropping into his shoulder as you can feel yourself edge closer. 

He thrusts them faster. The lewd noises from your arousal gushing out and being pushed back in thanks to his fingers is intensified in the small space and your moans are like spice. Jisung sucks on your neck as his fingers hit your spot over and over again till the knot tightens so much that tears well up in your eyes and you pray he pushes you over the boundary. 

"You like my fingers thrusting fast, princess?" You nod and Jisung orders, "Words, princess."

"Yes, sir. I love it. I love it. I love— Ah! Ungh—" 

His thumb brushes finally against your clit and you bite into his shoulder. "Such a good princess. You deserve to cum, don't you? You were such a good girl." Jisung's thumb presses into your clit. His thrusts stills for a short second and your impatient self slides yourself up to fuck his fingers. The obscene sounds get louder with every second as you move closer to your orgasm. 

"I think I should introduce another finger. Princess got my two fingers sopping wet." Jisung's third finger now plunges into you, pushing you apart even further and your breath hitches. He thrusts at a great speed, "We'll be faster, a little bit faster. That will be alright, right?" You know you are close, just a little bit of clitoral stimulation and Jisung's three bony fingers thrusting up into you, hitting the spots—

The electric motor revs and the garage door opens. Chan slowly moves the car into the garage, darkness seeping into the car. Jisung thrusts sloppily, once and then twice before pulling them away from your core, leaving your walls to clench on nothing desperately. You cry, "No, no, no, no—" 

His voice is husky as he says, "Looks like we are here, princess. We are home." Slowly, without breaking contact with your eyes, Jisung sucks on his forefinger and then the middle finger and then the third slowly, tongue wrapping across it, dancing almost like a whole orchestra was playing in the background. 

Chan rushes to open your door. He sees your haphazard hair, unbuttoned shirt and exposed breasts and he groans. You are insatiable just as he has always known. Your eyes are lost and mind far away at dreams of achieving orgasm. Chan buttons up your shirt and helps you get out of the car. His hold on your frame is tight and he kisses the side of  your forehead.

"Chan's making pasta," Changbin announces and walls towards you, raising an eyebrow at your sight. 

"We already have a whole meal here." Jisung licks your arousal from his lower lips. Chan rolls his eyes, before calling out loudly, "Jisung!"

"Yes?"

"You're helping me with dinner."

"But why me? I want to fuck Y/N," he whines. "All I did was tease her in the back of the car." 

Chan leans into you and whispers, "Feel free to hit him when you want to. You'll have me to reason out and save you from anything." You laugh lightly, head slowly focusing on your boyfriend. He shifts his attention back to Jisung, "Because I said so and it's the least of hospitality you must show."

Jisung groans, before reluctantly agreeing, "I have a huge appetite, so heads up." You stare at Jisung, head with thoughts far in the past than in the present. 

Fuck appetite. Fuck Han Jisung. Figuratively, and if fortunate, quite literally. You have a ruined orgasm for the first time that night and all you have an appetite for is one — to be humble — mind-blowing orgasm to take you to the end of the world and back.

Your boyfriend is a gentleman.

In the years you have known Chan, you know for sure that heaven and hell is nothing but a lie. Ironically. The stigmatization of having to be only bad or only good is so skin deep in humans that the very thought of a devil being nice seems like an illusion. That is, if the whole concept of heaven and hell is not an illusion already.

Chan is nice. He is nice to you and that is all that matters to you. He treats you like a princess because you are his princess — the only person worth staying on earth for. 

So when he lets the guys go ahead and pulls you behind a wall right before the huge living room of his apartment is in view, you know he has something to say. That, or he has a kiss to steal.

"Are you okay?" 

Chan's eyebrows are furrowed, eyes softening in worry as his hands lift up to cup your face, thumb rubbing circles into your cheek. You break a smile, leaning forward to brush the tip of your nose against his and you place a delicate peck on the same spot. 

"More than ever. I told you, baby, right? That I'll tap out the minute this gets too much for me."

"I'm just so worried. You've never—"

"Are you guys making out?" You hear Jisung's voice resonate against the walls and you turn your head, stifling the laughter that bubbles inside of you. Jisung yells again, "Chan, pasta!"

"I'm coming," he yells back, dropping his hand from your face. "I'm coming. Oh, if only Lucifer burnt you alive!" 

"I'd have to be alive for that, ha!"

"Go," you chuckle, kissing his lips only to pull back in a short second. "I'll hang out with Changbin."

"He's. . ." Chan sighs. "Just remember to be comfortable, baby, okay?"

"I know. I trust them. Beyond everything, I trust you."

You hold Chan's hand in yours and pull him away from the shadows of the wall, bring him before his friends. Changbin raises an eyebrow at the two of you, before taking a step forward as Chan follows Jisung to the kitchen.

"That leaves us together alone for a while," Changbin suggests, arms folded over each other as he takes quicker steps towards you. He doesn't tower over you much but his entire persona that he broods is enough to make you whimper, lips to part unknowingly and eyes to widen in want. "I should probably introduce myself properly. I'm Changbin. I've known your boyfriend since forever. We became demons around the same time."

"Oh," you respond, mouth patching up with the excessive want.

"I'd like to get to know you, sweetheart?" Changbin is close enough for you to feel the warmth that exudes from his body. His arms drop for a small second before his right one lifts up. His thumb and forefinger grips on your chin to angle it up slightly for you to look at him properly. The name he calls you by makes you gasp under your breath, loving the endearment and he notices. Changbin notices how much the term has its effect on you in this minute.

"Do you like being called a sweetheart, princess? An angel, maybe? Do you like dressing up in pretty pink lingerie for Chan? Maybe you want to be a baby doll on top of me for the night?" Changbin lets go of your chin before taking a step back and walking towards Chan's sofa. He sits down on it, thighs spread apart as his arm rests on the side. His attention drifts back to you, lips quirking up in brief excitement. "Or despite dating one of the most sinful creatures ever to exist, you like being called a good girl?"

Your thighs clench together and you grip at the end of your skirt. Changbin laughs at the reaction he draws out from you. He taps on his thighs and beckons for you, "Why don't you come be a good girl on my lap, hm?"

You take shy steps towards him, before sitting on his thighs that he now has pressed together. Either of your legs dangle on the sides of his body and Changbin holds your hips as he pulls you closer. Your skirt crumpled up, exposing so much more to him and Changbin is in delight at how pretty you look on top of him.

"May I?" And you nod, mumbling a soft yes. His hand slowly trails above, starting from the point right above your knee joint. It's slow and sensuous for a soft second as his fingers slowly climb up your thigh before the tables turn over and Changbin's hand rips the panties from underneath your skirt and throws it to the side. Your eyes widen, cheeks heating up as you hold onto his shoulder at the sudden force. 

"We won't be needing that for the night now, do we?"

You bite your lip and Changbin's hand hovers over your sodden lips from the previous encounter with Jisung. He rubs his palm over it as he locks his gaze with yours and asks, "Respond, princess. I need to hear you respond."

"No, we won't need that."

"That's my good girl," Changbin praises you and presses the heel of his palm into your clitoral region and you moan explicitly and unhinged. He rubs it slightly and your burning core oozes more of your arousal out into his hand, burning for that long forgotten orgasm you had hoped for. Using his other hand, he rips open your blouse, the top button letting free from the dress at all the harsh happenings it has been through for the night. 

"Oh dear, look at that," Changbin clicks his tongue repeatedly before plunging his fingers into your core and pulling your bra down with his teeth at the same time, grazing slightly at your breast that it leaves you thrusting yourself on his fingers that drive hard into you. 

You whimper, "Changbin, fuck," and he lets out an amused sound. He thrusts his two fingers in and out of you as he lips wrap around your nipple, lapping at it. He lets go momentarily, hot breath fanning all over your mound and he asks,

"Do you like this or maybe is it some pain that you like?" 

And within a second, Changbin's teeth bite into the flesh by your mound. His unoccupied hand cups your mound, massaging it before flicking your nipple. Harshly. You gasp, head dropping forward as you lean into Changbin's chest, whimpering repeatedly.

"Baby girl likes that, doesn't she?" He flicks it again, pain shooting up your nerves and you slightly bite into his neck. He speaks into your skin. "She likes it a lot."

Changbin says he likes art. He talks about how he loves the purple colours that blend into the pink and then, the colours of your skin. He sucks on your bosom, littering the area around your areola with pretty, pretty marks all while his fingers are plunged deep inside of you, pads of the same rubbing your walls while his palm rubs the collected arousal into your core, pressing into your clit and stimulating it 

Your senses are alert and every breath, every moan that is present in the air is hyperbolised in your ears. You can feel Changbin's rough fingers slowly pull out while his mouth trails down to wrap his lips around your areola, tongue wrapping around your nipple and he laps at it like a starved animal.

"Chan's too nice to you, too gentle, too kind to you. Treats you like some porcelain doll. I don't blame him for that," Changbin taunts you. He pulls his fingers out from your dripping core and his mouth leaves your breasts. Your walls contract at the sudden absence of his fingers and you grind down onto his thighs, expecting — begging more.

Changbin flicks at your stimulated clitoris. It sends a rush of both pain and pleasure intermingled up your spine, hitting your brain cells, leaving you lost and in a trance. He continues the mockery, "I usually don't fuck with humans. In fact, I even condoned Chan for doing that. No offense to you, baby girl, but humans are delicate, too fragile, for my taste. No matter how sex crazed or ravenous you are, you are still no match for a demon by comparison."

Changbin kisses up your neck, marking you up as he draws out his mockery. You think it is weird that this time round Changbin doesn't intimidate or anger you. Rather every word he says sends a trail of arousal shooting downwards, making you wetter with every passing second — making you anticipate for so much more. It is embarrassing at how wet you are from every single teasing you have been put throygh for the night. 

"You may think Chan is different but he isn't, baby girl. He's just as demonic as we are, just as fucked up as every creature from hell is. He might hold back for you, but when you push his buttons well enough, you know he'll unleash it all. Even Jisung. The only difference between them and yours truly is that—" Changbin pauses. His lips quirk up and his hand unbuckles his belt, metal clinging as it comes undone. He unzips the pant and shoves it down as he lifts himself up with you with such ease that your fragile, weak and overstimulated self is in surprise. He pulls his dick out from his formal pants and it is hot, hard and everything you crave at this point. 

You think it's unfair for a man with this big an ego to have this thick a cock and you were this close to blaming God for being unfair when you realise this isn't his territory. And history has proven that Lucifer has always been kind to his followers. 

Changbin strokes his cock, thumb rubbing at the slit at the hot head. You salivate, almost ready to drip from the corner of your mouth when Changbin cuts your thoughts — filthy thoughts, too dirty to be spoken of; filthy, filthy thoughts on how heavy his cock would be on your mouth, on how wide his cock would stretch your mouth and how deep he'd go, perhaps all the way to your throat — and holds your thighs, pulling you closer into him to position you in such a way that his cock is straddled right between the flesh of both your thighs.

"The only difference between me and the other two, baby girl, is that," Changbin's voice drops an octave lower as he almost growls, "I don't make a habit of suppressing it at all. I can grab you by the throat just like this—"  The demon holds you by your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck hovering right across your jugular and carotid, pressing them slightly. It is scary how you are here trusting a demon fully aware that an inch deeper and you would be accompanying him in your journey to the other world. Or mayhaps it's your trust in your boyfriend. Changbin's fingers are wrapped deliciously around your neck and your pussy leaks juices, coating his dick that is pressed against it. "—and thrust my dick so deep into you and fuck you so hard that your body, mind and soul is broken beyond repair."

Your mouth opens wide, tongue resting against your lower lip and Changbin spits into your mouth, ordering you instantly, "Swallow," and when you do, he lets go of your neck for a second, caressing the roughened area and mumbling, "You're a good, good girl for me, aren't you, baby girl?"

You nod, voice hoarse as you beg like a kitten in her worst heat, "Please, please, please—"

"Please what, baby girl? Use your words like the good girl you are."

"Fuck me, Binnie. Fuck me, fuck me. Need your dick in me. I'll be a good girl." 

Changbin laughs loudly, almost as if he is mocking you. He is, because his fingers wrap around your neck once again as he thrusts his cock upwards. It slides against your wet lips, striking against your clit. "How could I fuck you when your thighs are this inviting? Look at how wet they are because of your arousal. You are leaking, baby. What a good whore."

"Binnie," you gasp, barely phrasing with his hold on your neck as he thrusts back upward. He holds your close as you equally grind on him. "Binnie, I want more. I want more."

"Be a good girl and I'll reward you, baby girl. Be a good girl and let me fuck your thighs." You nod and grind down. "How does it feel like, baby girl, to have my hard cock rubbing against you? Squeeze your legs tightly around me—" You wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his back. "Fuck, just like that." 

The squelching sounds are loud and prominent. The friction of his cock rubbing against your wet skin is amplified in the silence. Your hips move slightly trying to get as much as contact possible on your clit. Your head is empty, voices hindered and you can only think of how badly you want to get fucked, how badly you want Changbin to treat you more roughly. 

Changbin is vocal. Very, very vocal. He whimpers at every rub, moans loudly and grunts as you grind down on him. The filthy words that leave his mouth does not stop — "Your skin feels so warm and cool against my cock. Oh fuck, can you feel your clit throbbing against my dick, baby girl? You naughty little fucking thing."

His pace quickens as he thrusts further, grunting, "You are fucking delicious, baby girl. Chan's been keeping a whole asset away from us."

"Binnie, Binnie—" you moan, breasts rising and falling with every occasional jumping you do on his thighs to match the pace of his thrusts. "Choke me harder, please."

"What?"

"I want you to choke me harder."

"Fuck," and Changbin listens clearly. His fingers dig a little deeper and you are gasping, arousal dripping even more and staining his navy blue formal pants after coating his cock further. "Fucking grind on my cock. Baby girl, you are making me rethink my policy on humans."

"Ungh," you whimper when his cock stills and grinds onto your clit, focusing only on that. Changbin chuckles. His voice is laced with tease, "Easy there, baby girl. If my cock were to accidentally slip into your pussy, who knows what I might do." 

"Please, please—" You barely speak out when Changbin's grip on your neck loosens for a bit.

"Did I fuck the words out of you, baby? Did I fuck you stupid? I haven't even fucked you with my dick yet and look at you already. You would want that right, baby girl? For me to fuck you dumb, fuck you stupid. I'll have you ride my cock till all you know is how to be a good girl for me and how to take my big fat cock."

"Yes, yes, yes—" 

Changbin stops right when your whimpering increases, pitch shooting up higher and your chest rises and falls as he halts. However, in one swift motion, he pins you on the sofa, him on top of you and he stares at you. You are a disoriented mess, hair spilling onto your face and everywhere, clothes open partially but enough to spill everything and your legs — thighs specifically — are glistening in the lights.

"It sucks that you are Chan's girl, sweetheart? Do you think he'd mind sharing more than once?"

Changbin does not wait for your response. With the support of his hands, he brings his body down, head in direct contact with your skirt stained with your arousal and the precum that oozed out from his cock. He sucks deep purple marks into your thighs, trailing them all the way to your glistening core. And then, his mouth is on your sodden lips.

It's a miracle at how you are able to keep your eyes open. All the teasing this night has made your body heavy and yet, like some starving woman on sex steroid, your pussy aches for more. His lips are on your wet ones as he licks at the lips, pushing it apart as he takes in your arousal, lapping in to take it all. It is merciless. The demon he is, is marvellous, hot and a sex god at that. His tongue licks your lips, tip teasing your entrance as he rubs your clit, slowly. he draws small circles over it, tapping at the engorged button till your toes curl in, knees lift up to bend for your feet to press down. Your eyes are squeezed shut and your fingers pull at his hair every time you feel the knot tightening. 

The room is filled with lewd noises and your moans are loud enough for everyone in the house to hear. Changbin licks stripes after stripes on your lips, lapping up your arousal as he hums in delight. Another stripe up your wet lips and he soon wraps his plump pair around your clit and sucks on it, loud noise of suckle resonating and causing you to move your hips slightly. 

Changbin's sharp teeth graze over your clit, nibbling slightly till you feel the knot clench in your stomach. The vortex forms deep within you again, the sign of an impending orgasm and you can only pray that he doesn't leave you begging like Jisung did. It's coming. You are so close, again, for the second time this night and you needed it. You are sure that you would go crazy if you did not receive the release you had so prayed for. Changbin rubs your clit furiously, lips moving back to your cunt as he eats you out. Changbin's tongue flicks to perfection, hitting your sensitised bud over and over again till you snap and come undone all over his face, arousal squirting out and over his entire face.

Your legs quiver as Changbin laps it all up, tongue swiping across your lips till he has drunk every single drop of your arousal. Your eyes that were squeezed shut opens and you see the mess you have made on his face. 

"Fuck, I'm sor—" You try to lift yourself up to help him when Changbin pulls you by your legs closer to him and wraps his lips on your clit, sucking on the bud till it borders overstimulation and you are screaming out in both pain and pleasure, your abdomen pitting at the sight of another orgasm with his actions.

"Binnie, fuck, oh fuck," Tears well up at the corner of your eyes on being overstimulated. You can feel your brain getting fuzzier, sense hyperbolic at everything around you. You are falling into something you are unfamiliar with. "I'm sensitive, fuck. I'm so sensitive."

He moves forward, overstimulating you and your eyes roll up at all your nerves being triggered to send the excess messages of stimulation to your brain, knots tightening and you are ready to combust once again until Jisung walks out of the kitchen, announcing, "Dinner's ready."

"Too bad I had my fill," Changbin sniggers, tongue extending out of his mouth to lick your arousal off the corners of his mouth. Your chest rises and falls and you try to focus in on something on the ceilings — ah, the spokes of the fan, yes. Three. Three. Three. Three. Changbin quickly notices the change in your demeanor, "Baby girl? You alright?"

"Princess?" Chan's rushing to your side as soon as he hears something is up with you. You giggle, laughing soon enough as you look up. Changbin stands up from your side, concern filling him when you start laughing. Jisung, on the other hand, walks to keep the pasta on the table behind the sofa. "Princess, are you there with me?"

It is the rush of endorphins that cloud your brain. Your heart beats fast, breathing rapid and it's a different kind of high you are in. You hold onto Chan's sleeve, giggles nonstop as you mumble in between, "Chan, uh, Chan! Chan!"

"I've got you, princess," he says softly, before wrapping his arm around your thighs and the other over your torso before lifting you up. "I've got you. I'm right here." You cling onto his shirt, snuggling into him as he verbally assures you. 

He stops midway in his path, turns to look at two of his friends, especially glaring at Changbin, before firmly saying, "Eat and leave. I'll talk to you later. I have to take care of her."

"We could hel—"

"Not today. Not now. I'll—" Chan sighs, holding you closer to him as you mumble words incoherently, smiling to yourself. His face softens, as if he's trying to comfort Changbin who looks guilty for the first time before Chan in eons of years together. "We'll talk to you later."

"Okay."

"And guys?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for tonight. I know she liked it. A bit too much, if anything."

Chan holds you close.

So close to him that even the rush of endorphins in your brain isn't loud enough to hear how loud your own heart beats next to his faint beating one. 

His arms wrap around your frame, hand holding your head close into his chest as he soothingly rubs the back of it and at every short interval, he coos into your head, "I'm right here, baby." Your body shifts to a relaxed position from the very tensile state it was in that second thanks to his voice, at his words and at his very being.

"Relax, baby. This is going to pass. You did so well, so, so well."

And you giggle into his chest, eyes closing warmly for a fraction there before looking up at him. Chan believes if synesthesia was a thing for demons, he would see the colours behind your eyes. How the crimson red slowly — so, so slowly — turned to darkest shades of pink and then the softest ones and Chan knows. He knows for sure that this is it. This is his whole world.

Chan feels jealous of humankind for the first time.

He is envious about how it would not be him that grows old with you, has kids with you and gets to be physical with you at every point. He knows he can't do that with you forever. He cannot do this with you forever. And even if he did decide to fuck it and do it anyway, you'd leave him one day. 

Chan knows he could never do much. He cannot change fate or turn himself into human for you. That is impossible. And yet he hopes — ah, a dangerous thing for a demon to have, something they mustn't possess — that every moment he spends with you is infinite and never dies. 

Your body tightens up again, goes rigid in his hold and he worries for you. That is Chan's first mistake, or so he believed years back. He cares for you. He cares for you in ways a demon shouldn't. He cares for you enough to know that demons have feelings or at the very least, he does. He cares enough to call it love. 

"It's alright," he mumbles and you mumble back, "We couldn't spend time together tonight."

"It's still eight. We have time," Chan smiles and rubs the hair off your face, only to press a soft chaste kiss on your forehead. "We have a lot of time. You should rest. You were such a good girl tonight."

"I was," you hold onto his shirt before letting your hands trail underneath and Chan realises the endorphins are slowly calming down, keeping you in a safer position than you were minutes back. "Wasn't I, daddy?"

"Princess, you really had a lot today, do you—"

"I want to. I—" You kiss Chan, hands cupping his face and lips pulling at his before letting your tongue twine with his. You moan unknowingly as your body rises to lean further into him. Your fingers graze the small stubble by the side of his jaws as you find yourself getting lost in him, in the feeling of his hot tongue lapping around yours.

"Mmh," Chan moans before holding your jaw tighter, leg wrapping around your frame. In a swift motion, he pins you down underneath him as he still kisses you. His lips are beyond tempting as you draw every kiss out, draw every moan out from him. He pulls back the minute you lift your hips to grind onto his crotch, feeling himself against your bare core. "We should stop—"

"No. You're my Valentine. Not Changbin or Jisung. You'll always be my Valentine," you respond, tugging him down into you by his shirt. Chan's eyes widen before softening as he looks at you — looks at you like you are everything better than him, hell and afterlife. 

"But you really had it rough today and—"

"I want more. I want so much more rough and I want them from my boyfriend. No one else." Your hand grades the stubble again and Chan leans into your hold. "The fact that you've never been rough with me and that I had to hear about it from Changbin and Jisung did no good to my ego, baby."

"They were—" Chan pauses on his own this time. You don't interrupt or cut him. He knows he can't lie to you. He knows how much he holds back but Chan knows that he has no issue with that. It's a safer option for you and yet here you are tonight asking him to be himself, be everything he is and show you how far he can go — he was going to fucking lose it at that alone. 

"You know they were not lying," your voice lower. "They are demons, you had said, and that I should be careful. But Chan, baby, you are a demon too. So why do you hold back? Is it because I'm a human?"

"Yes," Chan reluctantly agrees and you sigh. You drop your hand from his face and Chan's lips pucker in response. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You know you won't," you reassure him. "You could never hurt me unknowingly and even if you did, you know you'd take care of me till I'm back to the same."

"There shouldn't be a situation that leads to the worst case scenario, Y/N."

"But I want that. I want you to show me everything and I want to know if I'd like that. Give me a choice. I—" You gulp, scared of telling it out loud finally now that you have come to a partial conclusion to it yourself. "I liked Changbin being rough on me. I liked it a lot. I liked Jisung edging me. I liked it so much that all I could think about till Changbin touched me was of Jisung giving me an orgasm."

Chan's hand presses down by the sheets adjacent to your face and he holds it tightly. If care was an emotion he shouldn't have felt, jealousy is another that should never have a place in a demon's mind. Especially not when they were all brought up with the thought of sharing. 

He hates how Changbin got to be rough with you before him. Something so petty and so, so territorial arises in him that he wasn't even aware for him to feel this. He knows he gave consent. He knows he was there to hear it all and yet hearing you say you liked it brought in exactly two emotions in him that conflicted each other so much that he knew he was going feral — a) delight, over you being so content and over you being so understanding of demonic natures and b) jealousy, over another demon having had you in ways only he had before. 

"Chan?"

"Yes?"

"You were lost there for a minute."

"You promise me you'll tell me to stop if it gets too much, right?"

"Always," you peck at his lips. "I'll always do that. I just want everything you are and you have to offer. I don't want to know stuff from others. I want to feel them through you."

And Chan kisses you again. This time however, it is a lot different from the previous kiss you drew out from him. His lips find home in yours as they come upon you, imperatively. The kiss gets deeper each time, tongues chasing and lapping each other, earning continuous whines and whimpers coming out from both of you. Your arms wrap themselves around his neck, your fingers trailing up his nape to his hair, gripping the small hair at his back and Chan kisses you passionately, his hands cupping and tilting your face, angling it so that he could intensify the kiss as he desired.

He's desperate to show you everything he is.

The very second your mouth had brushed his, Chan knows that you are the one for him. It had always been you. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could feel the tingle over his lips and your warm breath wafting over his chin. It is exactly as he had carved in his mind, etched so deep that it could never fade away.

His hand is prominent on its grip on your neck, as you lift your chin higher — so you can press your lips harder into his —  while your hands fist into his shirt — white, clean and perfect all for the night only for it to be discarded to the very corner of the bedroom the two of you share. His free hand drops to wind around your waist, arm pressed between the bed and you and in one swift movement, he pulls your body flush against his.

Gasping at the motion, Chan seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth, your lips parting further in response. His tongue swipes across yours, curling around your tongue and gently massaging it. The metal ball at the tip of his tongue provides a sharp coldness and you hiss into his mouth, only for him to provide more contact with the metal that it leaves you emitting moans into him. 

It is electrifying. Every single thing with Chan has been exciting, unpredictable and leaves you begging for more. It is perhaps mankind's adhesive nature towards sin itself that made you like this — that made you into such a moldable clay in his hands and you don't mind going to hell for this. Because every single moment you lived on earth, if it were with him, would be relentlessly passionate. You would never want to swap with anything, even if someone handed heaven to you on a platter.

Because Chan is your heaven. 

When you feel his tongue flick against yours, slightly, grazing it, your hands uncurl from his shirt - only to wind up his chest, along his throat, towards the nape of his neck. You find yourself lapping around the metal ball on his tongue, rolling your eyes shut. 

With every passing second, you find yourself drowning into Chan. His body is pressed flat against yours, chest against yours, his saccharine taste coating your senses till that is all you can think about, and his warm breath all over your face. You find yourself drowning into him — you always have — his entire presence encasing your senses as you lose yourself deep into his entire being.

Is this how people were dragged into hell? Tempting. 

Chan pulls back and you smile at your boyfriend, like a little girl happy to have received her candy. You glance down at your shirt that is half open as a result of everything that happened tonight and proceed to unbutton the rest and remove it off your body. Chan's eyes linger more than ever on the marks that Changbin has left all over your body — marks that have turned dark purplish red and he seethes at the very sight of it in anger. 

"If we do this again, on your request, of course," Chan kisses over all the marks slowly, taking his own time to lick it over with his tongue before pressing his lips against it. "I'm going to be physically present. Not going to let anyone mark my baby up like this. That's for me."

And Chan sucks over it. His hand goes behind your back to unhook your bra and toss it aside. His hand lands firm on your breast, fingers playing with your nipple as his mouth slowly moves down to kiss your other nipple before sucking on it, lewd sounds emitting from his mouth.

"Daddy, fuck—" Your back arches, hips jutting upwards into his pelvis only to feel his covered growing length rough against your sticky skin. Chan uses his free hand to hold onto your waist and lift you slightly, allowing you to hook your leg over his waist, tight enough to tease you.

Chan hums in approval as you grind up, exposed core moving and staining your favorite formal pants of his, all while his tongue laps at your areola. The metal ball right at the centre of the tip of his tongue is pressed to your nipple and the difference in temperature has your mind spiralling. 

His palm squeezes your breast, thumb running over your nipple before he purposefully leans down and gives you a taste of his warm mouth. You gape open at the contact of his mouth on your nipple, teeth purposely grazing against the skin only for the metal ball to soothe over the burn.

Puckering his lips, he presses them to the sensitive spot by your jugular before sucking harshly. Responsively, a low mew resounds from your lips, leaving them in the open for just you and him to hear to.

"Do you remember the safe word?"

You nod, "Red for you to stop, yellow for you to give me time and green for you to proceed."

"Perfect," and Chan moves so quickly to remove your skirt off your body as he hovers over your completely naked self, fully clothed. You have always wondered if Chan would ever be into power play, especially with how he could project himself sometimes. Like in moments like these. You make a note in your head to ask him about the very thing. 

Chan kisses your lips, tugging at your lip before dipping himself further, getting lost in you. He rubs his tongue across your lower lip, metal ball harsh against your coral lips. He kisses your cheek and then, your pinna.

You feel his warm breath against your ear, shuddering in impact. You are about to ask him to stop teasing you — that you've had enough foreplay the whole night. However, in the next second, his hand lowers and lands on your inner thighs in a loud spank and you gasp, not expecting it. He hits the same skin almost a second after before the pain recedes and you are moaning out loud, brain wiring differently as heat pools between your legs.

“Fuck," he swears under his breath. His hand edges closer to you, dangling so close to your core that he can feel your arousal by your thighs, all over again and over the dried ones by your thighs. "You’re so dripping wet,” Chan mutters, only to laugh and comment, "At least I can credit this to myself."

Chan leans forward, next to your ear again and mumbles, "Baby, I'll be using words that would come off as very demeaning but I need you to know that I would never use them unless we are in the mood. You are and will be my baby girl, my princess forever. Is that alright?"

"It is," you blush, heat shooting straight to the core and you can feel yourself leak further, embarrassingly, right when Chan's hand is so close to your lips.

"Fuck, you are dripping. Such a filthy whore," Chan taunts and you feel it, deep in your gut. You've never seen this side to Chan but fuck, you love it. You love it more than Changbin having called you a good girl. You want to be called a whore, a slut — as long as you were his whore, his slut. 

Chan collects the arousal that you drip out, coating his fingers and palm. Moving his fingers, he collects your arousal that leaks from your gaping hole and watches the transparent stick to his fingers. The bulge in his pants is hard and seems too painful to be confined. You gulp evidently, throat parched. Chan's hand edges closer towards your lips and languidly strokes your slit with his fingers coating in your arousal. The pads of his finger circles your hole and you mewl, clutching slightly onto his shoulder. 

"Daddy, please, need your fingers in me."

"You've been fucked by two demons already and you are still so horny," he scoffs. "Impressive." He raises an eyebrow. Almost like he is teasing you further, he continues to play with your cunt. You whimper, gasping and hoping to feel the burn of the stretch that would come with him thrusting his fingers up.

Each small action Chan does has you moving forward in pleasure, hoping for the same as you try to move with his hand, all in an attempt to drive his digit deeper into you. Nonetheless, Chan controls the pressure and the pace and no matter how hard you try to move, he never lets you have his way, clearly showing that it was him in power here, not you. Growing tired of his teasing, anticipation filling you to insanity, tears brimming your eyes, you whine, “Fucking hell, Ch— Daddy, come on."

Chan chuckles, kissing your clavicle, biting into the skin above and sucking furiously enough to mark you. You sigh, breath exhaled out desperately. "Please, please, pl— Ah!"

Chan hits your core with the pads of his finger, labia silently flapping in impact and you moan at the pain that shoots up from your sensitive core. This causes you to moan, body moving forwards in a surprised reaction. The palm hitting the clit sends electric sparks throughout your body, your brain almost fusing. The sound is sharp as it rings through the air before you feel pain along the vulva. Crying in pain, you mumble softly out before holding to him softly, “Please,” you implore. "I need you, daddy." 

The sensation of the pad of his thumb swiping against your swollen, needy bud causes you to buck into him, your cunt soon contracting around nothing. Chan mumbles as he lowers his body silently, kissing your skin on his way. He kisses the skin right above your acetabulum, tracing his lips down till he kisses your core, a soft peck over it. 

It is a stark difference in your clothing that takes you aback; of how you were completely naked while Chan was completely clothed and yet that excited you. The power he has is enough to have you ooze out more arousal that would prompt the sheets to stain further. 

Chan licks at your core, once, twice and then he is sucking at your clit, like a man walking days in a desert with no water source. His mouth is against your core, licking on it, the cold wet metal ball pressing against it, before he sucks on your engorged button. The lewd noises that leave your mouth are pornographic and your legs have lost their strength.

You are about to say a word before Chan curls his fingers up into you and your back arches slightly at the feeling of his fingers in you. "D-Daddy!" 

You feel Chan searching your walls for the spot he has felt enough that he finds it in a few minutes. He rubs against the same spot that brings the loudest reaction from you before dragging his fingers back slowly only to slip his fingers easily into you again, the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs. The sheets are stained. His pants are stained and so is his white shirt. 

"No demon I've fucked before would have sex this close to being out of the world. Fuck, princess. Your slutty pussy is clutching onto my fingers." He rubs your walls and your enlarged button. Your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately as you press into him. 

Chan's fingers are fast as they thrust in and out of your core. You could find yourself getting wetter and wetter with the lewd sounds that resonate the walls. The demon presses his metal piercing flat against your clit and you gasp. "F-Fuck, Daddy!"

And as Chan sucks on your button of nerves, his fingers thrusts into you at a relentless pace, pushing right at the spot that has you feeling the endorphins spilling into your bloodstream. You feel the knot that tightens in your stomach, ready to fall over the cliff till Chan's teeth graze your clit and you lose it.

“Come for me, my princess,” Chan urges. His command, paired with the way his tongue dances across your clit and how his rough thick fingers drags against your sweet spot, has you careening off of the brink of pleasure and into an oblivion. You can feel your bloodstream soaking slowly with the rush of endorphins. You need a moment to calm down from how good that orgasm is, as Chan slowly rubs you through your high. 

You think Chan is about to drag his fingers out of you and away when he picks up the speed of his fingers. He toys with your sensitive clit. 

"Daddy, ah—" You feel the pain slightly of being overstimulated, slowly getting intense and intense. You are crying and he slows down, looking into your eyes, expecting a colour to be screamed and when you don't, smiling softly, he continues, kissing you and swallowing every cry you have. 

You feel your skin standing at the very precipice of being sensitive to anything. In a split second without any warning, his mouth still on you, Chan holds your clit between his forefinger and thumb before twisting it and instantly, you feel something deep within you tighten up.

That was it. Your breath is disoriented. Your jaw falls loose and you let out a loud cry as a powerful orgasm cuts right through you. Chan drops his hand on to the bed as you squirt on being overstimulated. Your arousal soaks his shirt, fabric sticking to his body and he is amused. Your thighs shake, quivering uncontrollably as your back curves, body lifting up. Chan's other arm wraps around you as he kisses you through this. Your muscles tremble, ache and are sour. Eventually, you find your hips stopping gradually as you fall victim to the pleasure, squirting slowly receding. His hand is covered in your juices and he chuckles against your lips after pulling back, placing you lightly on your back.

"That was so fucking hot," he looks at you proudly, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes are closed, post that powerful orgasm, tears staining your cheeks. He moves only after your eyes open, making sure you are alright and are able to breath right.

"Daddy," you smile and Chan smiles brighter. That's his girl. That's his girl, alright.

"You've got my shirt messy, princess." He chuckles and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as your head drops to the side to look away. Chan holds your face with his messy hands and kisses you, drawing out another long kiss to rid you away from any other thoughts besides ones of fucking him tonight. 

You pull away and mumble, "It's not fair that you were dressed completely in the first place."

"Is that so now?"

"Yes," you huff and your hand trails up Chan's arm, fingers digging into his arm. "It's a damn bother." 

Chan unbuttons his shirt, taking his own time with it as his fingers roll against them before popping the material out of hold from the button. Your hand lies in wait by his waist, fingers rubbing against the curve of his ass and you stare up at him. With every button that he maneuvers his shirt out of, you can see his tattoos more and more clearly.

The feathers that poke out through the corner of his shoulder, flat on the coracoid process, more present superficially right above his clavicle, are detailed. You can see the feathers variant in their styles as they fall from a greater source that lies behind him.

Chan's tattoo had always been magnificent, as if they were rebuking the almighty as he acknowledged his very being. The ends of the black feathers also tease into the head of his biceps. Two beautiful wings, bold and powerful, arise from his spine and exhibit loudly on his back.

Your mouth gapes open at the sight of it as Chan bends forward to unbutton his pants, the wings clearly visible to you and your heart leaps at the sight of it. Chan raises an eyebrow at you, staring down at his tattoo, as soon as he pulls down his pants. 

"Ah, the tattoo kink," he chuckles. "How could I forget."

"It's not a thing," you blush.

"Please," he laughs, eyes wrinkling soon. "There's no way you could lie to me, princess." 

You blush. Crunching forward, you stretch your arms, fingers pointing to draw against the outline of the wings. "It's beautiful," you whisper. "It's so fucking beautiful, Chan." He chooses to ignore the call of his name because nothing else would sound sweeter in this moment than his name itself. What you would do to give everything in wrapping your lips around his flesh by the corners of the wings and to ruin it with your own marks.

He unsheathes himself off the confines of his undergarment. Chan has always been bigger in comparison to every single one you had seen, girth firmer than you had envisioned and the frenum piercing has you salivating. It shines under the dim lighting of your room, your eyes unable to drift away from it, lips parted slightly.

You let out a small mewl — the walls of your core throbs against his member at the sensations of the piercings rubbing against the same — enhancing both your senses. Chan notices how your thighs quiver and he raises his eyebrows in sheer amusement.

"You really don't fail to surprise me, princess," Chan sniggers. "Look at you eye fucking me all while I just unstrip."

"Please," your eyes glisten and Chan coos. "Please. Need your cock in me, daddy. Need your big fat cock to fill me up and stuff me stupid." Your hands move down to hold his engorged length in your hand, rubbing the metal balls on the head with your fingers and feeling the coldness in a sharp contrast to his hot girth.

"You've been such a good, good whore tonight. Daddy's going to reward you well. So well." His hand trails down your frame and you shudder as they move down your sides.

Chan moves slightly, his hands bracing on either side of yours. The strong muscles of his arms twitch as he bears the entirety of his body weight on them. You push your body upwards and you stretch your arms up. You run your hands over his naked shoulders and his back, grazing his tattoo a little more before tangling your fingers into his hair as you tug him further over you. 

A soft gasp slips from your mouth when his weight presses over you: his defined chest over yours and his hips pressing into yours in the most enticing way. His cock brushes against your thighs slicken in your arousal and you moan. The metal ladder framing underneath his shaft is cold against your skin and you can feel the goosebumps that arise atop your skin all the way to spread the heat to your core.

Chan's arms wrap around your body, holding you so close to him that your chests brush against each other. You feel his hardened erection sharp against your thighs, brushing against your core and you whimper in his hold. "Please."

"Please what, princess?"

"Fuck me, daddy."

Chan's lips crash onto your swollen ones with a force that has to be reckoned. He grinds his heavy cock into your core, rubbing over your clit. It leaves you moaning, holding onto his deltoids with a ferocious grip, fingers digging into the muscle.

Holding onto the opportunity that presents itself to him, Chan seizes and dives his tongue right into your mouth. They glide across your tongue, your body arching in pleasure. You feel the metallic ball of his piercing run over your tongue in a wistful want, you wrap your own around it before kissing him at the same intensity. Chan's groan hits back through the air in barely a whisper as you swallow most of the sound. Immediately, you let go of his lips and your hand reaches out for his cock slowly coated in precum, you squeeze it softly.

Before you can think straight, you can sense Chan holding his cock in his hand to position himself and with a mere grunt, he enters through your twitching core. His thick girth pushes your walls apart as they move further down into you. Your grip on his deltoid slips to his biceps, desperate to catch hold of something. All that leaves your mouth are parched breaths and desperate moans. 

The lewd noises from his dick seeping through your wetness to enter you and stretch you out resonates through the wall only to hit back to both of your ears. Chan's gaze shifts downwards to watch his cock spread open your lips and disappear into your being — all it does to the demon is excite him more. 

You feel the piercings against your wall, dragging across your softness. The slight dentations cause you to moan as Chan moves it against it over and over again, ensuring to hit your spot as much as possible with every thrust. 

"You're dripping all over my cock, fuck," he grunts as he slips out only to thrust back in carefully. You grind back this time round, trying to match his pace with your fragile body. It takes you aback when you feel Chan grow into his complete girth inside you, stretching you out with an intense burn.

"Daddy," you choke out, words caught in the back of your throat. "Too big, ah."

“No, it’s not, princess," he bites his lip. "We both know you can take it. You're doing so well,” Chan coos. You find him slowing down with every thrust, making sure you are alright. His fingers ghosts right adjacent to your side, caressing your breasts with affectionate touches. 

Slowly, the pain fades away, only to be replaced by a rush of pleasure with every thrust. The hard metal of his piercings drag against the sensitive nerves of your wet core, enough to stimulate every other nerve in your body, rubbing it over and over again. 

Chan notices your face calming and how you were truly living in the moment. He takes this as a sign enough to thrust quicker, metal piercings striking the spot furiously. The sudden intrusion has your lips parting, eyes rolling back and tongue falling out in ecstasy. Your thighs, that quake, spread apart to take more of him, to let him have more control over you. Your walls clamp down on him, holding his cock tightly and magnifying the thick length of his. The moment his length pokes at the end of your cervix, you jerk, throat drying up instantly as a reaction. He was so thick and so full that he reached all the way to your cervix, ready to show you what it truly is like being fucked by a demon.

Chan grunts as he presses his hand down on your belly after pressing a short kiss. There is a slight bulge and Chan loves how you are, almost as if you are made for him. This leads your wall to press around him. His length pulses against your walls and you feel him completely, in his length and girth. Your walls ripple around his length accepting him completely — in his large, engorged, thick length.

"Fuck, I love this. Hell, I love how your juices coat my length and your lips kiss around my cock. Perfectly fitting my cock as if you were made for me,” he mutters. "Aren't you? You're mine. All mine." 

“So pretty, princess,” he coos. With every thrust of his length into you, your body is jolted back and forth, rocking the bed loudly, at an impeccable strength along with your boyfriend's.

In between all the thrusts of his cock, the way his piercings mercilessly drags inside you, triggering every single nerve bundle ever to exist in your body, you feel the clouds of euphoria come at your being. You slowly find yourself losing your being into the sheer bliss of Chan's actions.

With one more rough thrust, you are unable to hold back and with a loud cry, you come undone around Chan's cock. Feeling your walls clamp vigorously around his length, he lets out a deep growl and continues to thrust his hips into you. It is these thrusts that draw out your orgasm, bringing forth waves of bliss and euphoria, slowly seeming to shut down all your senses. The results of your intense orgasm still fluctuate through you. Your thighs tremble and toes curl. Your walls wrap so tightly around his cock that it drives him close.

His cock pulsates in your warmth and you know it too. "Oh fuck! That’s it, princess,” Chan groans out. He thrusts back into you messily, trying to keep up with the same initial pace. However, he falls out of the same relentless thrusting in the pursuit of his own orgasm. Burying his cock as deep into you, he erupts inside of you. He plays with your clit and comes undone in your core as he swears under breath, unfiltered compliments showered upon you. 

His thick cum fills you up. Buried deep, he empties everything of his load, coating your walls with thick stripes of his residue. Slowly, you find yourself back to your senses, body more alive, having ridden yourself of the giddiness of your orgasm. Your body shudders under him in your haze of orgasm.

Chan pulls out his softened cock out from you, glistening under the coated mixture of yours and his orgasm. He holds you close and rubs the side of your face gently as he compliments you, "You did so well, princess. I'm proud of you."

You kiss his lips in response, a soft, chaste one. Chan continues showering you with compliments as he falls by your side, holding you close into his sweaty naked being. He lifts himself soon enough to attend to you when you pull him down, locking him with your grip on his wrist.

"Let me take care of you, baby."

"Five minutes more, please." You look at him with a puppy like expression and Chan sighs, knowing fully well that there would be no way that he could deny your request. 

"Fine, princess," he rubs your hair away from your forehead and pulls you impossibly closer into his chest. 

"Chan?"

"Hm?"

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

Chan chuckles, kissing the top of your head and then your forehead as he teases, "You worked too much for a Valentine's Day, baby."

"Please," you stretch the syllable and speak into Chan's chest. "If anything, it is the wildest one I've ever lived to attend."

And as Chan holds you through the night, attending and taking care of you, his phone beeps soon enough,

[1] Voicemail from Changbin Happy Valentine's Day, beautiful and to you too, Chan. Call me back when you hear this. Bye.

[1] Message from Jisung This is how technology works??!!!! Oh my God. Fancy. Anyhow, Happy Valentine's Day. This goes down in my history as best Valentine's Day ever, bitches. P.S. Best sex ever too. Let's have a foursome sometime soon.

[moonlit-reveriee]

NSFW Alphabet

ft. technoblade

concept: a collection of my own personal nsfw headcanons for techno, one for each letter of the alphabet

@saturnsstufff ‘s discord saw it first ;)

A = Aftercare 

I like the idea that techno actually gets very clingy after sex. He’ll get up and grab a glass of water or a towel if either of you need it, but if he’s able to, he’ll stay glued to your side the whole time. Even if he won’t admit it, he needs to have that intimacy after sex. He loves the feeling of your body pressed against his as you both cool down. Usually, his hands will be absentmindedly drawing patterns over your skin

B = Body part 

Kind of an oddly specific one, but he loves your shoulders. He loves to casually rest his chin on them as he holds you from behind, and bury his face in the crook of your neck as he presses heated kisses on your pulse point. He also considers the way a person carries their shoulders to be an indication of their strength, and how could he see anything but strength in you.

He hadn’t put much thought into his own body before meeting you. He’s learned to love parts of himself because of you. Particularly his scars. They way you gently run your fingers across the rough surface of them, in both intimate and casual settings, made him crave the touch. Now when he looks at them, he thinks of your hands moving across his skin

C = Cum 

Fun fact: pigs have 30 minute orgasms

Early on in your sexual relationship, he was very embarrassed by just how much of it there always was. But once you started praising him for it, that became a very different story. He started to take pride in how well he could completely fill you up without even trying

D = Dirty Secret 

He would probably never admit it to you, but it’s become a habit of his to think about the last time he had sex with you during battles. He starts to make sure you two always have sex the night before a big fight, so his mind can wander back to it during the haze of battle. He’s not sure if it’s a coping mechanism or what but it certainly helps

E = Experience 

You are his first ever sexual partner, but somehow he just.... already knows what he’s doing?? He’s very nervous and considerate the first time, but he does everything perfectly. Once you tell him that, he’s very happy and secretly a bit proud of himself

F = Favourite Position 

He loooves to have you in his lap. Either facing him, back to chest, it doesn’t matter. He’ll do everything with you in his lap. Cockwarming, fingering, thigh riding, anything you and him are physically able to do in that position

G = Goofy 

He’s usually a bit more on the serious side. Sometimes the two of you will quip at each other during foreplay, but once he gets going, it’s all business. In the moment, he likes to treat is as something special (doesn’t mean he won’t tease you about things after the fact)

H = Hair 

He likes to keep himself clean-shaven most of the time. When he’s relaxed and doesn’t have to go to any public events for a long period of time, he’ll let a small amount of stubble grow on his chin. You can always tell when he slacks off on it, cause the stubble on his face brushes roughly against your skin as he kisses down your body...

he doesn’t really shave much below the neck, but he keeps it clean and trims occasionally

I = Intimacy 

He’s surprisingly romantic when he wants to be. It’s definitely a side of him only you’re allowed to see. Alone together in his bed, he’ll whisper sweet nothings to you as he slowly draws you to your climax. Even when he’s speaking the most lewd and naughty things to you, he somehow makes them sound affectionate and full of love

J = Jack Off 

He loves to watch you masturbate. The first time was a complete accident. He came home late one night to find you curled up with his blankets, breathing heavily as you massaged yourself over your underwear. It wasn’t long before you noticed him in the doorway and jumped, worthlessly attempting to hide what you were doing. He wasn’t sure if it was the blush on your face or the fact that the blanket you chose to cover yourself in was his cape but something urged him to sit on the edge of the bed, still in his armor, and ask you to continue. It was beautiful to simply sit there and watch

K = Kink 

He’s a little bit possessive. He loves to mark you in subtle ways so you always remember that you’re his. Especially if you’re going on a trip without him. He’ll drape you in gold jewelry and leave a hickey just out of sight on your neck for good measure. The part that he loves the most about it though, is that you know exactly what he’s doing and show off his signs of possession with pride

L = Location 

He prefers to keep most of your sexual acts to the area in and around his cottage. Other than in bed, he loves to press you up against a wall. Sometimes you two get distracted while tending to the farms and end up heatedly making out in the snow. One time, you decide you wanted to lay out some blankets on the floor and do it right in front of the fireplace. He adored the way the firelight danced across your skin. (He’s thought about taking you down to the syndicate room and laying you out across the table. But he came to the unfortunate conclusion that during meetings, he’d never be able to look anyone straight in the eyes ever again. So he’s shelved that idea for the time being. Maybe once the group has disbanded...)

M = Motivation

He loves to be praised by you. During regular day-to-day life, he doesn’t like to accept any compliments from you, usually just brushing them off or responding with a joke. But when you two are alone together and intimate, he drinks that shit up. How can he not believe it when you look up and him with lidded eyes and tell him just how good he makes you feel. Just moaning against his lips as he kisses you is enough to keep him going for a while

N = NO 

He will never do anything that involves seeing your own blood. It sets off the voices too much. One day, you randomly got a nosebleed while cooking dinner together. He could smell it before he even saw it. When the voices recognized the deep red color dripping down your face, they wouldn’t stop chanting. He tried to help you clean up, but it became too much to ignore. He had to go out back and slaughter at least a dozen zombies before they shut up. And even then, he was left with a pounding headache. You were extra gentle and sweet with him when you cuddled up in bed together that night

O = Oral 

If you’re on the receiving end, be prepared for him to be down there a looooong time. Once he gets his mouth on you, it’s hard for him to pull away. He loves your smell and taste too much. He tries not to get too carried away, but there was one time he made you come 5 times in a row with just his mouth. He was very thorough with his aftercare that night.

He isn’t the one receiving very often. He only really likes it when he’s tired. He loves to sit back in a chair and watch you gently suck him of on your knees in front of him, one hand gently weaving it’s way through your hair

P = Pace 

I always imagine him on the slower side. He likes to savor every moment, making sure that every thrust or movement of his hand is intentional and perfectly placed. He takes time to watch you carefully to make sure you’re getting exactly what you need. He’ll go harder before he goes faster

Q = Quickie 

As much as he loves to treasure your intimate time together, there are times where he just needs it. Every once and awhile, he’ll be desperate for it and quickly have you against the wall before heading out to run some errands. Sometimes he’ll pull you in, make you cum, and head out the door without saying a single word. He usually feels the need to make up for it when he returns, but you’ve assured him many times that you love sex with him at any pace

R = Risk 

Since he’s still fairly inexperienced despite his skills, he’s not super adventurous himself. More often than not, you’re the one bringing new ideas to the relationship. He’s willing to try the new things you suggest. You’ve had a discussion about your limits, and you both understand what goes too far for each other

S = Stamina 

He can go multiple times in a row if he wants to, and for a long time. He lowkey loves it when you tire out before him, and you let him keep going while you lie there sleepily in his arms

T = Toy 

He doesn’t own any sex toys, but he likes to make sex toys out of everyday objects (as long as they’re safe and properly cleaned of course). He likes the idea of never being able to look at that object the same way again, especially if it’s something either of you use around the house frequently. He would get his hands on some actual toys if you wanted him to. If toys are involved, he prefers them to be used on you, not on him

U = Unfair 

He likes to randomly tease you during moments that are absolutely not sexual. Maybe you’re brushing out his hair, complaining about the knots in it. He’ll suddenly respond with “that’s not what you told me in the bedroom last night” leaving you to sit there in shock while he laughs. Or he’ll quote things you said to him during sex completely deadpan and watch as the blush rises to your cheeks

V = Volume 

He’s not extremely loud. When he is loud though, he growls. You’ll be able to feels his chest vibrating when you lean into him. Sometimes you can even feel the vibrations through his lips as he pleasures you with his mouth, which is an absolutely crazy and wonderful feeling.

During very domestic moments, he likes to talk a lot during sex. If he comes home from working all day, and he’s missing you greatly, he loves to tell you all about his day while his cock gently rocks inside of you

W = Wild Card 

This part is definitely just gonna be me fulfilling one of my personal kinks, but I love the idea of techno going through a heat since he’s part piglin. Maybe it only happens like once a year, but when it’s that time, his senses are kicked into high gear and he’s desperate for you. The two of you have a routine for it by now. You prepare the bedroom by gathering every blanket in the house, and prepping a week’s worth of food & water that can be eaten quickly during the moments when techno’s haze of arousal drops. Once he feels it start to set in, he locks the bedroom door and allows his senses to become completely enveloped by you

X = X-Ray 

I like to believe that a lot of the hybrid races are PACKING. It’s one of the many things he’s nervous about on your first time, but seeing the way your able to take him so well every time is such a turn on

Y = Yearning 

Both you and him can be too tired to have sex at times, but if he’s able to have you, he’ll take everything he can get. He loves to take care of you if you’ve had a long day, and he knows you’ll do the same for him

Z = ZZZ 

If it’s nighttime sex, he can pass out as soon as aftercare is over. But if it’s morning or midday, he can have sex and go about the rest of his day no problem. Since his orgasms are so long, he likes to make you cum more often than he does, and watching you cum invigorates him

[bonny-kookoo]

Cat Eyes (JJK x Reader) ❤️☁️🔞🐾

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!AU, Human!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Fluff/romance, Strangers to lovers?, slight angst, smut

Warnings: discussion of homelessness and unfairness against hybrids, mild mention of past abuse, trust issues, Sweet Koo, smut because duh, lovemaking it’s so sweet yall, dirty talk but only minor, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, doggy style, mild biting, yeah that’s it this time wait for part two oh my

Summary: on the streets, cast out. Just another week for you, but somehow you wonder if this stranger might mean a change for you.

Or alternatively: Jungkook feeds you and you’re kinda grateful for that.

Its cold, but you've been preparing for that outcome for a long time already. Being born as a hybrid, a simple housecat at that, you had nothing special or rewarding about you, making you just a pet getting passed around from person to person as soon as you got too boring to keep around.

This was a regular thing for you. The fact that you got kicked out so many times already made you wary of actually possessing any belongings at all, not even owning a phone or clothes you could consider your own- merely the things you currently wore, drenched in the water that had been dribbling from the skies in rough speeds, hood over your head already useless at keeping your hair and ears dry. But it was okay. This was normal for you, after all.

Sitting down between two glowing vending machines located behind a small convenience store, you tried to warm yourself up with the small amount of heat radiating off of the two metal machines- not really being successful, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

It's been three weeks already like this, trying to find a place to catch some sleep before roaming the streets again, searching for food and sometimes even finding a bit of money on the street. You didn't have a collar, so you had to hide your hybrid features well- not like you'd like to show your dirty fur anytime soon anyways.

Yawning before turning a bit, shoes squeaking a bit with the amount of water inside them, you closed your eyes, mind focusing on the buzzing next to your head, trying to use it as a form of lullaby to soothe you into sleeping a bit. Yet you were disturbed by someone pressing the buttons and inserting money into the vending machine, the loud noises of the soda can banging against the metal interior loudly enough to make you press your ears flat against your skull. You hoped whoever was craving the beverage was a human or didn't pay attention to you; but again- you were out of luck.

"Huh?" Came the humming question of a male voice, and you instantly tensed up as a warm hand was placed on your wet shoulder. "Hey.. you okay?" The voice asked, and you imagined his Umbrella shielding him from the rain, the pitter patter of it on the plastic fabric an indication that he probably used one. You weren't an impressive predator like a Tiger or a Leopard, but you certainly could distinguish noises from one another to see things around you, even without using your eyes. "Can you hear me?" He asked gently, and you wanted to turn around, scoff in his face that yes, you did, you just chose not to. "Do you have an owner.?" Well, piss. Seems like hiding your features didn't do much as well.

You only turned a bit, hood catching on a pointed piece of metal from the vending machine, making it reveal one of your wet ears to him, as well as a piece of the side of your face. You only saw him with one eye, but you already knew he was on the far opposite of the food chain- expensive suit and sparkling rolex on his wrist, connected to the tattooed hand holding his black umbrella almost mocking you as he looked at you with pity. You spotted his ears, or more lack thereof, already wanting to cry at them; a human like him didn't know the things you were going through. That's probably why he'd asked if you were owned immediately, and you wanted to laugh. Yet your croaky voice didn't say these things. It only stated the obvious. "No." Because you really didn't- the official timespan was two weeks, after that, a formerly owned hybrid was officially considered a stray if it went missing. You didn't belong to anyone other than the state itself- which was why you had to hide so well, to not get thrown into an adoption center again.

The stranger furrowed his brows a bit, before leaving. Well, at least he took the hint, you thought, before he came back again, placing a white bag with some plastic items down in front of you, before putting his umbrella over your head, the rain suddenly stopping from falling down on you. You looked downwards, at the plastic container- sushi? Dumplings? And another one that steamed a bit- rice? You didn't get it, but still turned around a bit, watching him warily as if you were waiting for him to yell sike and run away. Yet he didn't, simply scooting a bit closer to not get the rain onto his head, and waiting. The sound of cars passing by and some music being played somewhere was the only noise surrounding you for a bit, before you hesitantly reached out for the containers, always keeping an eye on him. He simply smiled when you started to unpack the plastic foil of the cheap chopsticks, digging into the hot rice as if it was a five star meal. You could practically feel it warming up your belly, making you suppress a sigh as you got lost in consuming the food he'd bought.

Only once you were finished, not being able to eat everything, did he actually move. He grabbed some of the leftovers, eating them until he took the boxes and put them into the trash nearby. You looked at him with a questioning gaze. Would he want anything from you now? You didn't trust his angelic features at all if you were being honest. "You're probably not gonna want to come home with me and thats fine." He said, before looking at you. "I'll leave the umbrella here, alright? Lets hope the rain stops soon." He mumbled, getting up, making you look up to him as he slowly turned around, giving you a small wave. "Goodnight. Stay safe." He simply said, before jogging to his car.

Huh. What a weird guy.

Jeon Jungkook was his name as he'd introduced himself on the second day of visiting you behind the convenience store, and he was indeed a weird human. He made it a simple casualty- visiting you every day after work with food, having full conversations with you, and asking about your day and life in general. He himself noticed a slight spark returning to your eyes, interest peaking in those orbs as you talked to him more and more. You were a quiet girl, not really giving away much about you, but managing to make him feel like he knew you. You were smart, and he liked that. After almost a week of daily conversations, he finally popped the question.

"Do you want to come home with me?" He asked, making you look up from your can of soup he'd bought you this time. You thought for a bit before shrugging. At this point he'd invested so much into feeding you that it felt like you had to- simply as a form of repayment. He smiled, before leaning his head a bit to the side, voice low and serious. "You don't have to. I'm simply offering." He said, and you put down the empty can, nodding.

"Alright." You said, and he grinned, standing up and putting the trash away before closing the umbrella still hanging over the vending machines, turning around. His eyes widened a bit at just how short you were, yet he found it endearing. He led you to his car, not caring that his cream colored interior could be stained with your admittedly dirty clothing and shoes. He'd pay someone to clean it the next day, and all would be fine.

"So uhm.." You began, unsure what would happen now. "What am I supposed to do when we get to your place?" You asked, and after a moment of realization, his ears turned red.

"No no no, I'm, oh my.." He cleared his throat for a moment, before he threw one leg over the other, as to make himself seem more sure of himself than he actually was. "I'm not that kind of person." He explains calmly, as he waves his hand to the driver, who nodded, before the window to the front closes, giving you two some privacy. "I simply saw you there and.. I don't know. I couldn't just leave you there." He said, and you nodded.

"So it's for your repuptation." You said. "I guess you're an investor then?" You knew people like him. Their initial thought was nice, but at the end of the day it was only for personal gain. Well, at least he'd keep you around for some months before the public would slowly forget about you again. You've been through that as a young kitten.

But he shook his head. "I am an investor, yeah- but I don't plan on showing you to the public eye. I don't want anything of you other than your company." You opened your mouth again, but he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second. "Not like that." He began. "My apartment is.. big. Huge. But it's also empty. A friend of mine had told me I should get a hybrid, and I genuinely considered. I was actually at a shelter the day we first met." He explained, and you nodded. "I didn't find anyone I was.. okay with, I guess. I can't just let anyone into my life, you know. Most people only want something, just to leave right after. When I saw you, yeah, at first it was pure pity, I won't lie." You nodded, watching him. "But the more we talked, the more I realized how compatible we were." Well, this was new. "I won't be home much, because I work a lot, but I don't like being lonely." He turns to you, serious. "If you're comfortable with it, I'd like you to simply be a companion. Someone who shares my home with me, accompanies me to those absolutely boring dinners I have to endure every week or so, and who sometimes maybe comes to work with me. If you simply want to stay home however, that's fine as well." He says, and you nod.

"Can I.. think about it?" You ask, and he nods, a gentle smile adoring his lips. The rest of the ride is filled with comfortable silence, and you almost drift off to sleep, but you arrive at his apartment complex before you can fully float away. There's nothing said between the two of you as he leads you inside the hallway of the building, a hand on the small of your back as if to make sure you won't get lost, his figure always close to shield you from wary eyes of the security and other residents walking by. Inside the elevator, silence is still present, until someone joins you two; a tall man, a little older than your now soon-to-be Master, who looks at you, and then at your Master.

"Ah, so you have finally found someone for you? I'm happy for you Jungkook." He says,a smile on his lips. "My name is Kim Seokjin my dear, may I ask yours?" He speaks, and you look at Jungkook close to you as if you were expecting him to answer for you- like it was typical. But he only smiled as well, nodding towards you in encouragement, so you, quietly, answered with a small bow of your head. "Ah, a shy one isn't she? But very pretty, I have to say." He said, and Jungkook chuckled as if to accompany that statement. "Ah, well. Please think about the company dinner next saturday, and oh!" Seokjin said as he left the elevator, hand holding the elevator door open for a moment as he looked at you one last time. "Bring her along, yeah? I heard that Jimin is bringing Yoongi as well. A good chance for her to make friends.!" He said, before winking, and waving goodbye- leaving you and Jungkook inside the elevator to climb a few more levels higher.

"Don't feel pressured now, please." Jungkook said, as the elevator chimed, the two of you stepping out as he walked past you to open his apartment door. "You don't have to if its too soon." He said, before opening his door.

He didn't lie when he said his apartment was big, but you never truly saw a skyline like that. It was a breathtaking view outside the windows, and it took a moment until you could finally avert your eyes to scan the rest. It felt.. almost sterile, in a way. Nothing truly screamed his name at you, neither the furniture, nor wall decorations. A few pictures were hung up, but other than that, the apartment looked like it got pulled straight out of an interior design magazine. "It's pretty bland, isn't it?" He lowly said, as he turned on some of the lights, hanging up his coat on the hanger next to the door as he untied his shoes. "I know it does. I.. hope that'll change, maybe." He said, before he made his way into the open kitchen. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can just show you your room and leave you be as well, yeah, that would probably be a good idea. Let me show you." He said, and you followed him after taking your own shoes off as well.

It was a rare occurence to have a room for yourself- so much so, that you only remember having one as a kitten, when it had been necessary. Stepping inside, you noticed the crisp air; he'd opened the window to air it out, it seemed. There was a bed in the corner, a wardrobe and a mirror- as well as a door that connected to a bathroom, right now void of light. "I'll leave you be for now. There are some of my old clothes so you have something to sleep in- don't worry, I washed them so you won't get my scent on you just yet, I know it makes hybrids a bit fussy." He chuckled, and nodded towards you with a smile. "If you want to, you can come out, if you don't stay inside, I won't be mad. I'll have the day off tomorrow and after, so we should use that time to get you some clothes if you want." He suggested, and you nodded into his direction. He bowed a bit, before leaving the room, and you alone.

You waited a bit so his footsteps got out of reach, before you walked around a bit. The room was bigger than the one you had as a kitten, but still small enough to be considered a guest room. Your first goal however, was the bathroom. Grabbing the clothes he had left you, you noticed immediately that it had been washed with hybrid proof detergent- a brand called 'noscent' which was typically used for newly homed hybrids so they wouldn't get overwhelmed. How he knew of that was unclear to you, but maybe he did have a hybrid before, or a friend told him. It didn't matter though, because you knew this was timed. Better make the most out of it. So as you climbed into the bathtub, soapy scent around you as you washed yourself squeaky clean, you felt okay again. Now was the time to mend yourself together, figure out what your master liked so you could make your stay as comfortable for everyone involved as possible, and just enjoy the good sides while rushing the bad.

But somehow there was a weird feeling in your gut.

Maybe things were really about to change this time.

The next morning was calm. Apart from something clattering in the kitchen, you awoke by yourself, shocked to see it almost being twelve. Why had he not woken you up, when he so clearly implied yesterday that he had plans with you today? For a moment you wondered if maybe this had been a test, but judging by his whistling in the kitchen, he was in a good attitude still.

So you went for it.

Simply brushing your hair and tail, you stepped out the room, smell of food immediately meeting your nose. "I was about to wake you." He said without turning, as he grabbed another bowl to fill. "I figured I'd let you sleep after all that change so you could rest well. Good morning." He said, finally turning around, making you gasp internally a bit.

You knew that his hand was tattooed, but what now showed was his entire forearm covered in ink. Completely different from yesterday, he wore a simple grey sweater and sweatpants combo, hair in a messy tiny ponytail on his head. He looked so.. young, yet masculine, not at all like the businessman you had encountered before. But it was a nice change; because if he let you see himself like this, he really was intending to have you around for longer, and was working towards a more personal companionship. Maybe he really did want you as a companion for himself, not his outside persona.

You sat down at the table before stopping immediately, eyes widening. He seemed to notice this however, chuckling as he placed a warm hand on your shoulder, helping you on the chair properly. "You can sit at the table with me, don't worry. Please move around freely; my home is as much mine as it is yours now, okay?" He said, and you nodded. "Thank you." He said, and you watched him for a moment, before you started to eat.

"How.." You started, and he wiped his lips with a tissue before looking at you, attention now on your words. You were grateful for that small gesture. "How do you know that much about hybrids?" You asked, and he smiled.

"Yesterday, Jin-hyung said something about Yoongi, you remember?" You nodded, a bit eagerly, since you were used to remember things that your master said all the time. "Good girl." He said, and it made your skin tingle a bit, as he cleared his throat, a bit shy after letting that slip. "He uhm, Yoongi-hyung is a cat-hybrid as well. His owner is Jimin, who's my coworker. Yoongi was a rescue a few years back, who I asked a bit about what to do if I take someone in who.. you know, wasn't from a shelter. He told me a few things." He explained, and you nodded.

"Why are you calling him Yoongi-hyung though, if he's a hybrid?" You asked, before taking another spoonful. You liked warm food. It made your belly warm.

"Ah." He mused, as he finished his plate, leaning back. "I'm not really following the whole foodchain-order stuff, to be honest. Yoongi-hyung is older than me, my hyung, so that's that. Oh, that reminds me, how old are you?" He asked, and you answered.

"I think.. 22?" You said, and he seemed a bit sad. Did you say something wrong? Did he want someone younger? Someone older?

"Ah, sorry.. but, you think?" He said. "So.. you haven't celebrated your birthday, at all?" He asked, and you shook your head. "Ah thats no good. We'll celebrate it this year, promise!" He said. "You're a bit younger than me, by the way. I'm 25." He said, and you nodded, saving that information inside your brain for future reference. "If you're done we can either go shopping, or if you don't want to, we can shop online. We should do that now though, otherwise you'll have to wait too long for delivery and stuff." He said, and you nodded.

"Do you have a collar for me then?" You asked, and Jungkook grabbed your empty plate to put away. A collar wasn't something he could just not give you- he knew from Yoongi that it wasn't demeaning in any way. Wearing a collar was a form of comfort, it wasn't just an accessory, it was a physical evidence that you were claimed and safe.

"Yoongi gave me one of his older ones, but we can buy a proper one you like today." He said, and dried his hands on a dish towel as he looked at you. "Go and get your shoes, I'll give you one of my coats to wear, and then we can go, yeah?"

Shopping was always a hard one to crack.

This was when you would somehow have to figure out by simply picking the opossum on the road to know if its dead or not- in a sense of; simply point, and wait for the blow. With Jungkook however, there never was one, and it confused you how calm and somehow even happy he was. For example, when you pointed at a pretty expensive collar that wasn't your style just to see how he'd react, you didn't know how to react when he smiled. "Ah, let's look for something more delicate, yeah? The price doesn't bother me, but I doubt that heavy chains suit you kitten." He had simply said, and somehow, the petname made your ears turn towards him, making a nearby bunny hybrid and her owner chuckle.

He'd somehow managed to wiggle under your skin in just a day.

Because somehow, every time he looked at you, helped you reach something, or talked to you about what you liked, it felt so genuine. It felt like he really cared.

"Okay, how about.. oh, this one!" He said, pointing at a collar hidden behind glass- one covered in velvet, with a pretty pattern and a silver plate on the front where your name would be. It was expensive; absolutely mind blowing however, but what made your eyes glisten were his words. "There's a jeweler next door, so we can have your name and ID, as well as my emergency information stamped in." Because, until now, you only had the one's where you slide a paper with all needed info underneath a clear cover- it was easier to replace or give back. But, getting it stamped onto such an expensive collar was definitely something that would last- well, forever. "Or- wait, hey hey, whats wrong? If you don't like it we can buy a different one-"

"I love it." You said, and he led you away from all noise, into a more secluded part of the shop, where he squatted down to properly look at you. "I just.. I..it's..-" You began, and somehow he understood, and had this absolutely frustrating smile again, as he helped you wipe your tears a bit less harshly than you did yourself.

"I haven't said it clear enough yet, haven't I?" He asks, voice warm. "I plan on forever, not just for the moment. What I said when you first came into my apartment was directed at you. I hope you'll make my home feel like a home one day. How can I think about giving you away, when I just got you?" He questions, and you shrug. "I know trust isn't something you give away easily, and thats completely fine. I can also Imagine that you're not too sure of things right now, considering where you came from. But I promise you, I really do-" He says, and takes your hands in his. "I'll stay by your side for as long as you let me." He finishes, and you nod after a moment. "Alright? Alright!" He says, and takes your hand to buy the collar, your eyes still sparkling when you later on watch the lady at the jeweler stamp in your name- and his at the bottom.

Maybe this really was permanent.

At the dinner table with all his colleagues, and the infamous cat hybrid Yoongi next to you, you felt less awkward than you thought you would. Yoongi was a huge help, his calm demeanor helping you to stay composed as well, even under the watchful eyes of the rest of the people. Seokjin had been sweet as well, immediately making you feel welcomed. Jungkook never let you out of his sight, and it made you feel save as well.

It felt good.

Yoongi and you conversed here and there, and occasionally, Jungkook or Jimin, Yoongis owner would chime in, which made it feel as if you were always a part of this. You started to smile a bit, converse more openly, all until a waitress came and turned everything upside down.

"Would you like us to escort the pets to a different table, sir?" She asked Seokjin, who you had learned owned the company Jungkook and his coworkers worked for. He cleared his throat, and shook his head; almost an apologetic look in his eyes as he looked at Yoongi, you, and Taehyung- an independent Tiger-Hybrid with working license, he'd told you. He seemed to clench his teeth as to stay quiet, as the waitress left, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind.

"I'm sorry, please continue." Seokjin said, but the reminder of your status made everyone a bit.. uneasy the rest of the night.

"I'm sorry about the waitress, by the way." Jungkook said, as he helped you into your coat, when everyone was leaving. You shook your head, but he held his unsure expression. "No, I really am. It was uncalled for, and I'm genuinely upset that she phrased it like that." He explained, and you smiled.

"It's okay, Master." You said, which made Yoongis and Taehyungs ears shoot towards your direction, as if on instinct. They didn't look, no, they were discreet. But they still wanted to know what would happen next. "She probably didn't know- after all, it's still quite uncommon to keep hybrids as equal partners nowadays. Change comes slow." You said, but Jungkook suddenly seemed even more serious as he placed his hands on your shoulders, as you looked up at him.

"Jungkook." He said, and you leaned your head to the side in question. "Please, don't.. please just call me Jungkook." He explained, and you nodded, unsure why he was so upset by this. He sighed, before he traced your metal nameplate with his thumb for a fracture of a second, smiling again. "Let's go home." He said, and you nodded, walking after him as he lead the way, not noticing the way that Yoongi and Taehyung shared knowing glances at each other.

When Jungkook came home, he didn't know what exactly made him realize at first. Maybe it was the way your shoes were placed where there used to be none, or how the clothing hangers held your coats and scarfs as well now. Maybe it was the scent, or the rug that was placed on the lightwood laminated floor because your feet were always cold- or maybe it was your body on his couch, covered by a thick blanket he'd bought you recently when the winter became colder. No, it wasn't that- it was what came next. Your ears which flicked into his direction from their place ontop of your head, and the words you uttered next. "Welcome home Kookie!" You said, and he smiled.

He simply walked over to the couch, letting himself lean ontop of you as he squeezed himself behind your body on the couch, holding you securely to his chest as you turned around to face him. He looked tired, but happy and you took in his scent, so distinctive you could probably tell his from a million others just after a second. He sighed, before he ran a hand over your back, cold palm warming up slowly. You were both unsure what exactly you two were- but it was clear that this wasn't just an owner-hybrid companionship anymore. No, the way Jungkook looked at you had something in it that you knew only lovers had; which made you feel so comfortable around him, after all.

So it was only natural, in a way, that after a moment or two, or maybe more (you didn't really notice anymore), you two found each other in his bedroom, a place you had spent your nights before as well. But this time there was no sleeping involved, at least not in that moment, as his hands roamed around, lips chasing yours as you mewled underneath him needily. He wished he could record it, but even if he did it would never sound as sweet as it did right now. Everything felt so good he didn't even care about his own noises, as you two began to shed your clothes one piece after another, until there was nothing to cover you anymore.

"You're so sweet, you know that?" He hummed against your neck, as you squirmed underneath his hands, his inked fingers wandering down between your legs, were you were aching for his touch to make you fall apart. "Even right now, with my fucking hand between your legs, you look so cute." He chuckled, while you could only rut into his palm like a touch-starved pet. He was teasing, and in a way you hated it, but somehow you couldn't tell him to hurry. No, you didn't want him to hurry at all, because you were at the point of realization;

"I love you, Koo." You said, and he stopped for a moment, some seconds that made you feel absolutely humiliated, before he groaned, pushing your legs against your stomach.

"You can't drop something like that onto me like this, Kitten." He scolded playfully, with no harm intended. No, he simply took hold of his already leaking length to guide himself into you, making you squeal in delight before you sighed out. "I love you too, I adore you so much, I swear to everything I have.." He said, as he began to move, almost as if he was unable to quite control himself. Technically, you were the one to act like an animal; but instead, it was him nipping at your skin, and growling out curses that sounded way too filthy to be uttered out from those lips.

You loved it.

The way he held you, played you like a well tuned instrument, how he sped up his pace without warning because he knew you could take it. You were his good kitten after all, all his, and he knew you would be good. You were lost in your own little cloud as his hand went between your bodies again, fingers suddenly flicking your nub in a sadistic movement that had you scream without sound- pleasure shooting through your veins so violently you were unsure if it was pain or heaven that you felt.

"Ah- Koo- I-" You pressed out, but he simply moved his hand away, never stopping however. "I can't-" You said, but he pulled out before you could finish, flipping you onto your stomach where he pulled your lower body upwards, entering you again as he teasingly stroked your tail which flopped down to one side to make space and give him a clear view of where you were connected so intimately.

"You can, kitten. And you will." He growled out, noticing how you were slowly clenching again. "I can feel you, greedy kitty." He growled out, pace growing harsher and harsher as the sound of skin against skin got louder and louder. "Come on. Give me one more, yeah?" He said, and you were unable to answer him. "Come on- come on, there we go-" He pressed out, a whining sound leaving his lips as well as he grew more sloppy, more desperate as you came again, your clenching core pushing him over the edge as well as he spilled inside you, before he pulled out, watching almost hypnotized how his cum dripped out of you after a moment.

"I love you." He said, uncaring of how you two probably stained the sheets right now. "I really do." He said, whispered like a promise, as he pulled your body against him, palms still kneading your breasts.

Because if you thought he was done with you, you were very wrong.

I apologize for how short it was, but I only have my phone for now. Sorry if this sucks, it's not my best work, but I didn't want to leave you hanging and without content for this long.. :< Love, Bunny <3

[forever-rogue]

Hello! Just read your Boba x pregnant reader fic and oh boy, if you've got the time and the inclination, I'd love another installment! Maybe expand on your line: "If you thought he was protective over you before, then you were in for something else." Protectiveness is my jam and I'd really enjoy seeing what Boba might do if someone threatened/kidnapped/endangered the person carrying his child... You're the best! ❤️❤️

Oh, I love, love, love the idea of protective Boba 🥺 I hope you enjoy! 

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader ; warnings: pregnancy

Can be read as a standalone or a companion piece to these -> Part 1, Part 2

Star Wars Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Boba," you turned on your heel and huffed at your husband, finding him underfoot once again. You'd asked him about a million times to give you space and alone time, but apparently your Mandalorian didn't know what either of those things were. All you had wanted to do was make some cookies in peace and quiet, "I think I can handle making cookies. Alone."

"I just think it's better for you to have someone around," he said gruffly, a little smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth, "what if something happened?"

"Oh, you silly man," you huffed at him before taking your dish towel and swatting him away, "what in the maker forsaken galaxy is going to happen? I'm baking - not chasing after some sort of quarry!"

"The baby-"

"If anything were to happen," you finished mixing the dough before raising a brow as Boba tried to dip a finger in and take a scoop, "someone would be close by and I could call out to them. It wouldn't be a problem and nothing will go wrong if I'm alone for ten minutes. Now stop eating all of my dough."

"Cyare," he quickly pulled out his hand and instead settled it on your small bump. You had seemingly popped overnight, your pregnancy not easily noticeable before. But now? It was clearly evident and Boba seemed to have only become more protective, "I want to keep you both safe."

"I know," you whispered as you put your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze, "and you've done an amazing job. But you have so much to think about already, don't let this worry you too."

"I lost you once and I am not letting it happen again," he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You sighed contentedly before resting your hand on his cheek, "if that means staying by your side, I will do it."

"I understand that," you promised him, "but I need some room to breathe too. And, on top of that, no one is going to mess with Boba Fett's wife. They know better."

"I-"

"Boba," you took a step back and slowly started to push him away and out of the kitchen, "give me some space and let me finish the cookies. That's all I'm asking for right now...if I need you, I'll call. Please?"

"Fine," he huffed lightly as he pressed a kiss to your lips before reluctantly leaving, "I call dibs on the cookies!"

 »»————-　♡　————-««

You might have gotten some alone time that day, finishing off your cookies in peace but after that...it wasn't much better. At least on Boba’s end; maker, you loved every man she was amazing in every way, but he was borderline over protective. In reality, you didn't mind - the fact that your husband was fawning over you and your unborn child was endearing. 

You'd only snapped at him a few times here and there when the hormones got to be too much, and you couldn't help but explode. Luckily, Boba was a smart enough man to give you some spaces during those moments. He always tried to make it up to you with some sort of treat, usually whatever you were craving at the moment.

But as you progressed in your pregnancy and your belly continued to grow and swell, he only got worse. Some days you weren’t sure how you even managed to go to the ‘fresher alone. Some days you wondered why he got so intensely protective; there had been no issues throughout your pregnancy and the baby was healthy and active. Oh so active, sometimes it felt like they were doing somersaults in your belly, restless and therefore causing you to be restless as well. One thing you did know was that the movement always increased when Boba was around. 

As soon as the baby seemed to hear Boba’s voice, the excited kicking and moving started. The first time it had taken you by surprise, but now you were well prepared for it. The look on Boba’s face when you had grabbed his hand and pressed it to your belly so he could experience the sensation had been priceless. At first he had been taken aback, shock and awe crept into his features, before the biggest and brightest smile ever tugged on his lips. It was nothing short of pure adoration as his dark eyes softened and he gently kissed you, whispering words of love into your ear.  

It was after that he made it a practice, when you were tucked and laying together in bed, to keep a hand on your belly as he spoke and sang softly to your unborn child. It easily became one of your favorite parts of the day - your whole world was there, tucked safely under warm, plush blankets.

You knew why he got like this, why he was so careful and protective over you. For how gruff and tough he could appear, he was a gentle, calm man underneath it all. He was a good man, he only wanted the best for his people - you and your unborn children first and foremost. 

Boba Fett had lost everything that mattered to him multiple times in his life, having to start over and pick up the pieces more than once. First it was when he lost his father as a boy, then when he lost you and almost his life, and now? He was never going to let it happen again. He would do whatever it took to keep you safe, healthy, and happy. And you loved that about him, because you would do the same for him. Just as he’d lost you - you’d lost him too. And you weren’t leaving his side ever again. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was a warm summer day, nearing the end of your pregnancy, when you’d decided to go and check out one of the open air markets to see what kind of wares and exotic fruits and treats were available.

Boba, of course, accompanied you, further flanked by his own retinue. His hand was on the small of your back or wrapped around your waist almost the entire time as you examined everything. Despite his protective nature, he was able to enjoy himself as well, a smile almost never leaving his face.

At one point, as he busied him with talking to one of the stall owners, you grew thirsty and hungry. Boba was so enraptured in his own conversation that he didn't notice you slip from his side as you wandered back to one of the stalls you had spotted earlier. 

The market was busy and bustling, and there were a few times you had to side step people to pass by. Most people were kind enough to make room for you, but of course, as always, there were some people that didn't care and just remained rooted in their spots.

"Excuse me," you kept your voice polite and calm as you tried to pass by a particularly gruff looking man. If he heard you he didn't do anything to indicate and remained turned away from you as he carried on in his conversation. A sigh escaped your lips as you tried not to grow irritated - but you were hungry, tired and pregnant. You tapped his arm, this time deciding to be more bold, "excuse me."

"Kriff off," he jerked out of your touch and almost knocked you over from the force of his movement, "go around girl."

"I can't," you huffed, indicating all the people around you before pointing at your belly, "I just need to slip by real quick."

"Too bad," he reached over and to try and push you back out of the way, but before he could get too far, and a hand wrapped tightly around his wrist, twisting his arm sharply.

"Don't even think about it," Boba’s voice was laced with venom as he stared the man down. He was in his full armor, presenting a menacing picture as the dark T of his helmet was trained on the man, "touch her and it will be the last thing you ever do."

A look of pure horror crossed the man's face as he realized who Boba was. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish out of water, trying to figure out what to say that could get him out of this situation.

"I-I-I didn't mean to," he stammered nervously as you just offered him a small smile, "I didn't know she was…"

"My wife? It does not matter who she is- you will never touch her again, nor will you ever touch anyone else," Boba's voice was low and predatory as he tilted his head in question at the man. He quickly nodded before mumbling out a few incoherent words, "now leave and don't let me see your face again."

"Y-yes," as soon as he could pull his arm out of Boba’s grasp, he started to quickly run away, wearing his way through the crowd.

You turned to look at him, an amused and thankful expression on your own face. He put his hands on either side of your face as he looked you over to make sure you were safe and sound. Nodding at his silent question, you pressed your forehead against his helmet, "I'm okay….you came just in time."

"You were supposed to stay by my side, Cyare," he whispered so only you could hear as you gave him a sheepish smile, "what if something had happened and I wasn't there?"

"Thank the Maker you were," you said softly, "you were so into your conversation and I didn't want to interrupt and I got so thirsty and hungry so I just...went."

"Oh my sweet girl," he sighed softly, "please just be careful. If something had happened-"

"But it didn't," you reassured him, "and it won't. I know you'll always protect me, Boba - protect us."

"Always," he promised, "come on - let's get you out of here and find you something to eat and drink."

"That sounds perfect," you agreed, as he slipped your hand into his, a warmth washing over you as he laced your fingers together. Almost as if the baby could feel what you were sensing, the fluttering and movement in your belly picking up. You halted for a moment as Boba gave you a concerned look that you quickly shut down as put his hand on your help, “the baby’s happy too. Happy that they’ve got the best father - you.”

“I am the lucky one,” he insisted softly, “for I have the two best things in the galaxy right here, and that is more than I could ever deserve.”

“Don’t say that Boba,” you hushed him, “you deserve everything in the galaxy, and I am lucky to be loved by you and at your side. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“How could I?” he whispered gently, “you always remind me. I love you, Cyare.”

“We love you too, Boba,” you reached over and gently lifted his helmet to reveal his lips, giving him a soft kiss as he smiled against you, “always and forever.”

“Always and forever.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[initiala]

Oh hai.

It's not dead or abandoned! Remember how I started this for @cssns​ 2018???? Just, y'know, life happening, and also several global catastrophes. But it turns out that writer's block is really cured by procrastination, which is why I was able to finally figure out some spots I was stuck on while not packing up my apartment to move.

Please enjoy this overly delayed post-wedding fluff and smut.

Also on AO3 and FF.Net

______________

The holidays weren’t really something she paid attention to, not after her parents died. Her mother had loved any excuse to have a party and Emma had grown up with the nondenominational trappings of Christmas in their house, but the tradition had died with Snow and David when she was sixteen. She normally spent the last week of December pulling extra shifts at work, covering for people who had families and wanted the extra time off, and never had a second thought about it. The Pack had their own holidays, particularly around the solstices, but nothing compared to the warm, colorful parties of her childhood -- and frankly, nothing ever would. 

So when their short honeymoon fell over Christmas Eve and Day, Emma didn’t think anything of it. Killian made no indication that he celebrated it, and when they returned home on Boxing Day it was to a chilly apartment without any of the decorations that dotted the windows up and down their street. She turned up the heat a little while Killian took their bags back to the bedroom to be sorted out, and she double-checked the windows were locked tight while turning on a few lights in the living room.

The colorful twinkle outside meshed with the light snowfall in a way that made her heart twist painfully in her chest, a flash of her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears and a brief memory of her father cornering her mother under the mistletoe. Her thumb went to the band on her finger, a lump forming in her throat, and she remembered why she normally worked herself to the bone this time of year.

Work was a distraction from missing them.

“Emma?”

She whipped the curtains shut to put an extra layer between the cold glass and the warming room, between herself and her memories, and turned to face her husband as he came into the room. “Love, what’s wrong?” She shook her head, but his large hand engulfed her own as it went to discreetly wipe at her eyes. “Darling, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten this but I can smell when you’re sad,” he said, his voice soft as he pulled her into his embrace. “We’ve been home five minutes, you can talk to me.”

Fuck, she hated talking about her feelings and her parents and particularly her feelings about her parents. But she’d promised -- she’d vowed -- that she’d be more open and honest with him, and she was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to get lucky and guess what all of this was about. She hadn’t told him enough about her parents to let him put all of the pieces together. “I just… I miss my parents,” she said softly, and let him hold her as he made a sympathetic noise and murmured soothing things in her ear. “Mom really loved this time of year. She threw the best parties, one year she actually got fairies to make it snow inside and me and the other kids had a snowball fight. She loved the colors and the whole family thing and she really loved the smell of pine trees -- it kind of gave my dad a headache. But we made it work because Dad always said how it put an extra sparkle in Mom’s eye and he loved her enough to put up with it. I normally try to work a lot through this time of year, everyone wants extra time off, but I was kind of hoping this year we could have some new memories to make this time of year less sad. And it helped, it really did, but then I just saw the lights outside and the snow and it just… it hit me a little harder because I’ve been trying so hard not to think about them. So I miss my parents and I’m sorry this time of year is going to suck no matter what and--”

Killian shushed her softly and she realized she was crying as he thumbed the tears from her cheeks. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “If I’d known… well, I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t blindfold you everywhere -- well, I could, but not in the fun way --” He grinned as she swatted him on the chest. “So testy, my love. You don’t have to be sorry about missing your parents. You just need to let me know, so I can comfort you or let you sit and mourn them in peace, or drive you to distraction. And if I need to do so more this time of year, well, let it be my burden to bear. You don’t have to bear this alone, Emma, you can always rely on me.”

And didn’t that just make her get teary all over again? “How the hell do you always know the right thing to say?” she asked, burying her face in his chest.

“Because I’m magic,” he rumbled under her and she pinched his side. “And we’re too alike, you know. Now, what do you need?”

She sniffled and took a breath, taking mental stock. They really needed to unpack and get everything sorted out for laundry, but while that would keep her hands busy her mind would wander and she really didn’t want to keep thinking about the past. But she knew that leaving everything until tomorrow or the next day would bother Killian; she didn’t want to be alone right now, either. “Can we bring the bags back out here and watch TV while we unpack? I know you just put them away but--”

He was already nodding, though, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Whatever you need, love.”

Since he’d been the one to put them away and she was being the emotional asshole, she figured it was only fair that she bring the bags back out. She had no idea how he’d done it all in one trip, not with how narrow the hall was and how much she disliked scuffing her baseboards with the wheels, and surreptitiously eyed them as she made multiple trips back and forth.

No scuffs. “I’m magic,” she mumbled in a sarcastic imitation of her husband’s accent, shaking her head.

Killian had the TV on to the classic movie channel and the unmistakable scent of chocolate lingered in the air. “Dash of cream liqueur, whipped cream, and cinnamon,” he said, handing her a mug as she sat down.

Emma smiled into it, letting the warmth of the drink and the liqueur slide into her belly. “Did I ever tell you Mom’s the reason I like this?”

“Mm, no.”

She watched as he deftly unzipped the largest bag and started sorting through it; she’d done little more than toss everything in without caring about wrinkles, and the whole thing reeked of sex and wine -- they’d had not nearly enough of both over the last few days, but apparently enough to let the scent sink in to all the fabric. A different kind of warmth settled under her skin, but she wasn’t in the mood to act on it just yet. “According to my dad, Mom drank this all the time when she was pregnant with me. Her biggest craving; not that she didn’t like it before, but it was like another level. So then it became our thing, once I was old enough to have some, just sitting together on the couch or in the kitchen or wherever, with our matching cocoa with cinnamon.”

Killian glanced over at her, a glint of mischief in his eyes, and her heart swelled suddenly with reaffirmation of how much she loved him. His bangs fell over his forehead in a way some might call rakish, but when he looked at her like that -- lips quirked up in amusement at his own joke he was about to tell, unable to hide his glee at his own cleverness -- she could only call it boyish. “Sweet tooth before you were even born, eh Swan?”

Maybe not a joke then, but teasing, like they were twelve and he was pulling her tail. “I’m a wolf of taste,” she said loftily, setting her mug aside and pulling up another suitcase to go through. “Unlike some mangy curs around here.”

“Mangy cur?” Emma squeaked as she found herself pinned under him on the floor, his nose brushing against hers and heat flooding her body. His grin promised absolute filth, the hard length of his body pressed against hers deliciously, and the scent of his arousal was enough to make her dizzy. “Didn’t realize we were comparing pedigrees here, princess. Too bad you’re stuck with the mangy cur and not some stuffy purebred.”

“I happen to like the mangy cur,” she whispered, their lips close enough to tease.

“Good,” he growled. “Because he likes you too.”

She moaned into his kiss, which was far gentler than she was expecting, and he let up on her arms enough to allow her the space to embrace him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, then down his back, where she teased the patch of skin revealed by his sweater riding up. “Emma.”

He pulled back and she smiled at how he already looked wrecked. She glanced over his face, refamiliarizing herself with the little details she already had memorized but still loved looking at: the old scar on his cheek, the ginger hairs in his beard, the little freckles and the way his eyebrow seemed to jump up on its own when he got curious about something. He caught her eye with his again and one corner of his mouth ticked up, a sudden shyness in the way his eyes darted around, like he wasn’t sure she was staring at him . “What?”

She shook her head, reaching down and slipping her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, earning a surprised -- and pleased -- noise from him as she pulled him in for a quick kiss. “I just… really love you,” she said when they parted.

His cheeks reddened, but just around his cheekbones, and she loved that she knew that detail about him. If she was further back, she’d be able to see his ears turning the same color, and if she really got to him she’d be able to get his nose to match. She liked the way he could get around her, quiet and unabashedly himself, someone who couldn’t take a compliment seriously and waved off words of praise. It drove her a little crazy, but she’d made her vows to voice her feelings to him and she was going to make good on those vows.

“I love you too,” he said, his nose brushing against hers, and he leaned in to kiss her again.

The laundry could wait.

 ---------------------------------------------------------

“ There she is!” Ruby hollered, ignoring the glares from the other bar patrons.

Emma also ignored the knowing looks on both Ruby and Dorothy’s faces as she shrugged out of her coat. She knew her hair was mussed and she had beard burn on the side of her neck -- Killian had a particular fondness for this dress and the lack of coverage it provided -- and she was definitely late for their night out, but she only felt the slightest hint of guilt over that. Besides, both Ruby and Dorothy knew what it was like to be newly mated, so they could cut her a break. “Hey, thanks for saving me a seat.”

She flagged down a waitress to take her drink order and then grabbed a handful of peanuts. “So… how’s it going?” Ruby asked in a sing-song.

“Babe.” Dorothy elbowed her.

“What? She’s got sex hair and she reeks of it. If that’s her excuse, she’d better dish.”

Emma rolled her eyes, cracking open a shell. “We didn’t have sex, thank you, he just… made it hard to leave.”

“Oh I’ll bet something was hard.”

“Ruby.”

The waitress arrived with Emma’s drink and they ordered one of those mixed appetizers platters to share, as well as another round of drinks. Emma gulped half of her drink after the waitress left again before saying, “I won’t kiss and tell.”

As Ruby made a face, Dorothy reached for her own peanuts. “Some of us appreciate that.”

Emma downed the rest of her gin and tonic; she hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate it, and seeing as how this was a wolf bar the drinks were made to match their metabolisms, but this was the first time she was getting to hang out with her friends since her wedding and she wanted to have fun. Tipsy, ridiculous fun, with no husbands and no responsibilities. Girl time. Catch-up time.

Only, she realized as the conversation started to actually move towards catching up on each other’s lives, she just had stories about Killian.

“Okay, I forbid you to talk about your husband for thirty seconds,” Ruby said, pointing a french fry at her for emphasis. The appetizers had been replaced by entrees, and Emma rolled her eyes as she took an enormous bite of her burger. Fine, she’d just chew instead. “You have to have been doing something other than banging each other silly or going to work.”

Emma took her time with her food, drawing out Ruby’s challenge and taking some small joy in the agitated tick in her friend’s eyebrow. “Well it’s not like you don’t know what I do for work,” she said finally, reaching for the ketchup. “And we’re in a post-holiday lull, so it’s gonna be a bit before things get interesting.”

“One of us has got to get a different job,” Ruby declared, while her mate rolled her eyes indulgently.

Emma didn’t bother to respond, instead flagging down the waitress for another G & T. There was definitely a happy buzz going on under her skin and she wanted it to continue; the burger would only dull the effects before too long.

“Bitch on the prowl, ten o’clock,” Dorothy said suddenly, looking towards the door.

Emma and Ruby turned to look, with what felt like most of the bar’s patrons and staff following their lead. A woman she didn’t recognize was taking off her coat, revealing a dress that would send normal humans rushing to her side in an instant; here, it only added to the allure of her scent. She was obviously in heat, unattached, and looking to rectify the situation.

Already two men were walking towards her, jostling one another to make her acquaintance first; Emma just looked back to her tablemates with a look of resignation. “They’re not wasting any time,” she said.

“Neither is she; she must be the first one of the season,” Dorothy said, watching the situation near the door with mild interest.

“Just glad it isn’t me this time.”

“If there wasn’t any concern about like, us not being turned into a science freak show, I would absolutely watch our version of a trash dating show.”

“Babe, we have too many seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list as it is,” Ruby said.

“Correction, we don’t have enough seasons of Love Island on the to-watch list.”

Emma glanced back at the display happening on the other side of the bar, letting the sound of her friends teasing each other blend into the rest of the noise. This woman was definitely taking no prisoners, making eye contact with one of the men while her hand rested almost possessively on the arm of the other, her lips spread into a wide smile. Hell, she was charmed by this kind of display, especially when the woman demurely glanced at the second man under her lashes for a moment. Maybe Dorothy was right about a dating show… She watched as the woman laughed at something one of the men said, throwing her head back to give everyone a good look -- and smell -- at her neck, and Emma found herself dazedly wondering when she might be able to slip away back home and ravish her husband.

“Oh no, we’ve lost her.”

“Pheromones side effect, tragic really.”

She blinked back to attention. “What?”

Ruby looked annoyed, but Dorothy at least seemed sympathetic. “She’s still in the honeymoon phase, babe, it’s gonna be a while before everything settles down. The coming season doesn’t help.”

“Okay, you can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Emma snapped. Her drink had been refreshed without her notice and she downed it. “I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll shut up about Killian and whatever.”

Ruby started to respond, but Dorothy silenced her with a look. Whatever silent argument they had, Ruby lost and she huffed as she went back to her meal. The reaction stung -- it’s not like Emma hadn’t sat through hours of Ruby pining and then gushing over her own mate, she could stand being the recipient for a while -- but Emma felt it wasn’t worth it to argue and ruin the evening by just turning it into a fight.

Eventually, they started talking again, Ruby breaking first with some pack gossip. The night never got to the raucous levels any of them might have hoped it could get to, but was overall a nice time and Emma even forgot about getting her feelings hurt. It felt good to get out of the house for a while with friends -- but when someone wolf-whistled as the woman in heat from earlier waltzed out with an entirely different man clutched possessively at her side, Emma thought it might be even better to get back home to her mate.

Even short periods of absence seemed to make the heart grow fonder.

 --------------------------------------------

As the new year rolled through to its second month, Emma and Killian quietly celebrated the one-year anniversary of their meeting, marveling at how much had changed in just a year. Killian noticed that Emma seemed to greet each day with increasing wariness, and his own awareness of the mating season coming into bloom turned into some kind of insatiable itch under his skin.

He’d never participated in mating season before meeting Emma. He’d been soured from pursuing any sort of relationship after the disastrous affair with Milah, and even when he’d been half underwater with alcohol he’d decided he’d never again get snared by any she-wolf’s trap. And to his embittered mind, mating season was just another trap, luring men into siring pups or trying to turn a one-night tryst into a long-term commitment. Even after he’d sobered up and straightened himself out, he’d still felt the sting of rejection in his phantom limb and did his best to stay occupied and aloof in spring.

Until Emma.

He’d known from the start that she was different, that chance encounter with her packmates. She had fire, and the way she’d immediately come at him on the offense had piqued his interest immediately. Then the wind had shifted and he’d immediately known what the source of the problem with her packmates had been, the full-blown scent of a bitch in heat burrowing down to awaken his most basic instincts. He’d done his best to remain a gentleman and let her walk away, as she’d clearly had no interest in acting on her own hormones, and once her scent faded on the wind he’d walked away as fast as he could without rousing anyone’s suspicion. He’d thought that was the end of it, until a chance meeting at a bar led to a delightful night of conversation and drinks…

And the most wonderful, passionate woman he’d ever had the pleasure to offer himself up to the next day.

Poor love had been so miserable when he’d come to see if his magical hangover remedy worked for her that he’d hardly reacted to the overwhelming bouquet of Emma in heat. He’d acted immediately to try and rectify the errors in her spice cabinet, mixing his potion and letting her recover. And as he tidied up the mess he’d made, it became increasingly hard (in many senses of the phrase) to ignore the fact that he was absolutely surrounded by pheromones and the obvious lingering scent of everything she’d done to relieve herself of the ache over the last several days. And when she’d emerged from her blanket nest again and stood there with only a shirt and her knickers and legs that went on for miles and giving him every last chance to run before they’d do something they’d regret?

He’d never wanted someone more in his entire life, mating season or not.

It wasn’t long after he returned home, he realized that long weekend in her bed (and her shower and her kitchen… and one particularly enjoyable occasion with her back pressed to the window and the lights in the living room turned off to keep the outside world in the dark to their activities) would never be enough for him. Liam accused him of moping, his friends thought he needed to get out and meet someone new to get Emma out of his system.

Looking up now, watching her enter the room shyly and holding out a simple padded envelope, he knew just as well now as he’d known then: he could never get her out of his system, even if he tried.

“What’s this, love?” he asked, accepting the envelope from her as she settled in the crook of his arm.

“Early valentine’s present,” she said simply.

They had a reservation at a restaurant that day, so he was a little confused as to why she didn’t want to simply wait until then. “Any particular reason why this is an early gift?”

Her scent changed, a little surge of arousal, and amusement laced her voice, “I kind of figured it was safer to give these to you in private.”

Well now he was intrigued. “Very well then, thank you and I accept.”

Reaching into the envelope, he felt photos -- a stack of actual printed, glossy photographs. He glanced down at his wife -- fuck, he’d never be over that, his wife -- and watched her chew her bottom lip nervously as he pulled the photos out. 

Each photo featured Emma in some way, posed and primping and perfect in all her glory. These weren’t amateur photos by any means, and even her hair and make-up looked like someone else had done the job -- not that Emma did poorly at her own appearance, but she wasn’t one to add such accentuation to her eyes to give them that smoky effect. Killian swallowed hard as he went through each photo, his heart thumping especially loud in his ears: Emma looking directly at the camera in some sort of modernized glamour shot; Emma from behind, shot from the waist up, looking coyly over her shoulder as she slipped a shirt -- was that one of his? -- down her arms to expose her back beneath a wave of blond curls; Emma laid out on dark satin, her hair spilled around her like a halo, wearing what was definitely one of his button-downs and nothing else from the way she gripped it closed. “Emma, how did you--” his throat felt nearly as tight as his pants as he paused at the next photo, her eyes downcast as she lay on her stomach, the curve of her breast visible in the opening of his shirt.

“I am people who know people,” she said simply.

On and on it went, all of them sensual or titillating without pushing the envelope enough to qualify as lewd, until the last one: she reclined on her side, propped up on her elbow, on a pelt that matched her own. Completely bare, her back faced the camera, her hair spilling down her shoulders as she looked to the side, not quite looking over her shoulder but enough to give the viewer a look at her demure profile in an otherwise completely shameless photograph.

“Jesus Christ, Emma…”

She rested her head against his shoulder, by all appearances merely a content wife who was pleased her husband liked her gift, rather than the mischievous seductress she truly was. Minx. “You like them?” she asked.

“Very much. And may I add, excellent call on a private viewing,” he murmured, nosing her hair. “Had anyone else even glimpsed these, I would have had to rip their throats out with my teeth.”

She hummed and he grinned as her scent flared. “The whole murderous, possessive alpha male thing shouldn’t be such a turn on,” she commented, and squeaked as he hauled her up in his lap.

Placing the photos on her lap, he tapped the last one with one finger. “This one should be blown up and professionally framed, I might hang it up in my office. Your arse is a work of art, love.”

“It is,” Emma agreed, “but wouldn’t that go against the whole ‘if anyone else saw these I’d kill them in cold blood’ thing?”

He tweaked her nose; she really was a terrible mimic of his accent. She always made him sound like a Mancunian somehow. “I didn’t say it had to be the main office, and while I admit that intimidating any potential contractors to a better profit turnover would be better, I can’t say I’d be able to get much work done with such a distraction.”

“And it being in your home office would do any better?”

“Well,” Killian said, drawling on the l’s, “for one thing, I wouldn’t have to travel far to take care of any, ah, problems that might arise from a viewing.” Emma snorted, no doubt feeling exactly the sort of problem he spoke of pressed against her bottom. “Though why would I need to look at this if I have the real thing waiting for me?”

“Who says I’ll be laying in wait for you?” she asked, poking his chest. “If our history says anything, I’m the one who pounces on you the moment you walk through the door.”

“Or sooner.”

“Or sooner,” she said. Looping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head. “You really like them?”

He opened his mouth, prepared to remind her that he’d already answered that, but then he noticed the slight furrow of her brow, the nearly invisible downturn of her lips, her wide eyes flicking between his as she tried to read his expression. Killian softened, in several ways, remembering how difficult she found it to be vulnerable; he suspected the act of posing and taking the photographs had been easy -- Emma was a beautiful, confident woman and she knew it -- but now came the hard part: seeking approval. “I love them,” he told her seriously, tightening his hold around her. “A pale substitute for the real thing, but this on my desk,” he flitted through the photos to the glamor shot, “will remind me of the gorgeous woman I have waiting for me at home. And get me through the long , hard days when we don’t see one another.”

She gave him an overly patient look at where he’d emphasized his speech. He leaned down and kissed away the wrinkle between her brows, breathing her in. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve someone such as you, my darling, but I’m grateful every day to whatever thread of fate drew us together.”

Her breath hitched and her arms tightened around him. She shifted, tilting her head up to kiss him; the intensity of it nearly overwhelmed him, telling him without words how much she loved him and appreciated what he’d said. He felt her fingers in his hair, grazing the sides of his face and neck, her lips moving against his with a hunger he recognized well. “Let’s move these,” he rasped, doing his best not to just throw the pictures all over the floor, “before we make a mess of them.”

Killian gladly let Emma take control then, pushing him flat on his back on the couch and straddling him. “Show me what you really think,” she said, and whipped her sweater over her head, the offending garment falling almost protectively over the stack of photographs on the floor.

 ------------------------------------------------------

The dream started the way it always did: she was sixteen again and her body wasn’t cooperating as she tried to climb the height to the challenge grounds. Most of this was pulled from memory, the sounds of her mother and Regina fighting, the bitter cold, the tang of blood on the wind, but while the stones under her were covered in ice and snow, she’d been able to climb with only a little trouble. She’d been more worried about what she’d find than making sure her feet were going in the right place.

In the dream, though, it was like moving through molasses. Images came in flashes -- her mother lunging and scoring a blow on Regina’s side, Regina’s snarl and the moonlight glinting off the ceremonial silver knives, her father bleeding to death on the ground. Her voice stuck in her throat as she tried to scream for help, like her mouth was sewn shut.

She was helpless to stop what was happening; she always had been, and even in a dream she couldn’t change the reality that her parents had been murdered in front of her.

But for the first time she was able to get to the top, only to find Regina fighting Killian instead of Snow. He had no knife, no weapon at all, swinging wildly with his fist and kicking where he could, but Regina seemed to have the upper hand as she dodged his every move. It looked like she was completely fine with letting him tire himself out first before she had to do anything; Emma tried to scream, tried to get them to stop -- why would Killian be fighting Regina? -- but her mouth wouldn’t work.

Killian lunged and Regina dodged with ease, moving on the offense for the first time as she slammed her elbow into his back. He fell with a cry and suddenly a rifle was in her hands. A crack sounded in the frozen night and then Killian lay still on the ground.

Her body moved, freed from whatever had trapped her in place. Regina was gone, and Emma flung herself at her mate’s form. He lay sprawled on his stomach, a dark, wet patch spreading across his back in the same place where he’d been shot last fall. She packed snow against the wound, an animal cry ripping from her throat in a desperate plea for help. She turned him over, trying to see if he was conscious, but he was white as death and as cold as if he’d lain there for hours instead of moments --

Emma woke, a scream stuck in her mouth as she fought to get the blankets that were tangled around her and constricting her movements off. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tumbled to the floor; the solid impact shook off the confusion between dreams and reality, but it couldn’t get the image of Killian bleeding out in the snow out of her mind. She curled in on herself as her mind blended it with the same sight of her parents that she’d relived over and over again for more than a decade, her chest aching as she tried to stifle her sobs.

It was late, but she hadn’t gone to bed as Killian had still been at work. She’d dozed off on the couch, something she hadn’t done in a long time—in the last few months, the combination of Alice’s crystal magic and the ever-present scent and feel of their mating bond in the bedroom had helped ease both of their night terrors. Their den represented safety and security, giving them peace of mind to rest easily.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

Emma took deep breaths, trying to calm down. She reached for where she’d left her phone, using the hem of her shirt to scrub her face dry with her other hand, and checked to see if there were any messages. A few warm tears leaked out still, even as she checked the time and noted that Killian had texted not long ago to let her know he was on his way home.

As if on cue, the sound of keys in the hall reached her ears, and a moment later they scratched at the lock and then the door opened. “Sorry I’m so late, darling, I—what happened?”

He was at her side in an instant, gathering her into his arms. She lay her head against his shoulder gratefully. “Bad dreams, it’s nothing.”

“Sweetling, the fear-scent hit me full in the face when I came in, it’s not nothing.”

His heartbeat under her ear soothed her, some of the lingering tension in her shoulders easing with the steady thrumming. Her arms went around him and his hold tightened, just a little, as if he could protect her from her own demons just by holding on tight.

She wished he could.

“Bad dreams,” she said again, clearing her throat after her voice came out thick. “A lot of the same, mixed up together in a shitty new brain cocktail I didn’t order.”

He knew about the recurring dream with her parents, and the newer ones from the incident in the fall, so it wouldn’t be hard for him to put together what she meant. He kissed the side of her head. “I’m sorry, darling. Why didn’t you just go to bed?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. I was waiting for you to get home and just nodded off.” Her book, forgotten until now, lay face-down on the floor, pages bunched up and wrinkled now from when it had fallen from her lap in sleep. “If I’d known you were staying that late I would have just gone to bed.”

Killian sighed. “I’m sorry. I was working on a contract and needed feedback from the overseas partner; it’s morning in Singapore so I knew I could get prompt replies. I should have said something earlier.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I still feel terrible.” He kissed her again and stood, bringing her up with him. “Come on, let’s have a nightcap and you can tell me how to make it better.”

She smiled wanly. “I just need you. That’s all I need to make it better.”

Emma allowed him to lead her to the kitchen. “You have me, Swan, you know that. You’ll always have me.”

 -------------------------------------------------------

She woke slowly to the gentle, teasing press of lips against her own. There was a murmur in the back of her mind that sounded like ‘ wake up, darling ’ and she had the bewildering sensation of being in two places at once before a finger brushed against her neck and arousal surged through her body. Instantly she felt more alert, kissing Killian back with newly awakened vigor, and he groaned as she pushed him back, reversing their positions so she lay atop him. “Cheater,” she accused, only allowing them a moment to breathe before coming together again. 

He stroked her mate-mark once more and the swell of arousal almost hurt; she clenched her thighs together, trying to ease the ache that lay between them, but Killian’s hand moved down, coaxing them apart to tease his fingers between her folds. “So wet for me,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I wonder why,” she said, biting her lip at the feel of his fingers on her flesh, the warmth pulsing through her body, the sparks of pleasure with every stroke. He ducked down, pressing his lips against her neck and she whimpered at the touch, feeling like she was melting into putty in his arms. “ Tease .”

“I’m a cheater, a tease,” he murmured against her skin, punctuating each word with another kiss. “What’s next? Scoundrel ?”

She cried out as his fingers thrust home, filling her with that delicious stretch she craved. She could feel him moving his fingers inside, teasing her further, and she didn’t know how she wasn’t just soaking his hand with how turned on she was right then. With each thrust of his fingers, he seemed to lift her up and it took her far too long to realize it was a combination of his own urging and her unconscious compliance as she rose up above him. She threw one leg over his waist and felt the head of his cock bump against her thigh; Killian withdrew his fingers and she looked down to watch him rub her juices off his fingers onto his cock as he took it in hand, quickly positioning himself in place for her to sink down on top of him. "Oh fuck me," he moaned as she began to move, her lips finding his mate-mark.

His fingers dug into her hip as she rode him, skin slapping as she chased her pleasure. The combination of their teasing each other’s mate-marks was driving her nearly insane with lust -- she barely noticed when she peaked, the need for more clawing its way through her veins. Killian protested when she lifted herself off him, but he seemed to pick up on the general plan when she turned and got on her hands and knees.

She gasped, sharp and shallow as he pushed in again, her hand grabbing a fistful of blanket for purchase. He felt so much bigger this way— always had since the way he’d taken her that first time. "If we're going to do this like animals, might as well look the part,” he’d said then, and she certainly felt like an animal now as she pushed back onto him in earnest, back arching and throat rough as she keened, pleading for more.

“Greedy girl,” Killian panted through grit teeth, his hips slamming against hers as she cried out. “Drenching my cock, begging for it.”

“ You woke me up,” she retorted, gasping again as he hit a good spot. “There--do that again, fuck .” His hand found her hip again, nails stinging into her skin just enough to pull a groan out of her. Again, he snapped his hips forward, but it’s less frenzied than before, sharper, calculated, and the breath that punched out of her lungs at the next thrust felt laced with fire. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, felt her heart stutter at the way his mark stood out dark against the morning light.

She slipped against the sheet, nearly buckling, but his hand was there before she could, sliding up the length of her torso to curl his fingers around her shoulder. Too-fast, she found herself surrounded by him, his weight half-draped on top of her as he pulled her flush against him and oh, oh . Fuck tumbled out of her again as she twisted to claim a rough kiss. Distracted, his hips slowed at the contact, but she pushed back again with a roll of her hips.

The hand on her shoulder urged her down, his weight shifting off her back as he reared back and her head pressed against the mattress. The angle was just right, a keen tearing from her throat as he resumed speed, driving into her hard and fast and -- “ Fuck, Killian! ”

His hand slipped under her, between her legs, found their way to her overstimulated clit and teased, drawing circles around it and pressing--

Killian’s phone started to vibrate on the nightstand. Emma felt her orgasm slip beyond reach for the moment, her concentration broken, and she groaned in frustration. She didn’t even know what time it was, but it had to be too early for anything but an emergency. “Killian, you should see who that was,” she mumbled, her head shifting against the mattress as he pounded into her.

Her husband snarled and that sent a little thrill down her spine, reigniting what had been lost. “Whoever it is should fucking know better than to call when I’m balls deep in my wife.”

She had no idea how to articulate how absurd that was, but he moved his hand again and squeezed her breast, leaving wet streaks of her own arousal along her skin and her core clenched around him in anticipation. He exhaled sharply, another little growl escaping him, and she pushed back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. She felt his fingers move along her skin, dancing up her back and nails scratching just enough to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake, until they found her mate-mark once more and started tracing around it, lightly circling, pressing just enough--

She saw stars. Burst of color behind squeezed eyelids and an impossible wave of pleasure crashing through her, her legs feeling numb and buckling under her as he rode her through her orgasm until she heard a grunt signaling his own. She slid weakly down onto her stomach, her skin still tingling and her core still shuddering, dragging air into her lungs as fast as she could to try and calm her racing heart. She felt the bed shift behind her, heard Killian’s heavy breathing, then felt him settle between her legs. Before she could fully understand what was happening, she felt his nose brush the sensitive seam of her ass, and then dip lower as his tongue found her dripping, abused, and still fucking aroused cunt. “ Jesus --”

Emma tried to push herself up on her elbows, tried to army-crawl up the bed and away from her insatiable husband’s questing tongue, but he satisfied himself with only a few laps before pulling away. She twisted, flushed and glaring at the smug grin on his face. “Who’s greedy now?” she asked.

“I do love the taste of us together,” he admitted, righting himself and settling back on the pillows.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and summoned all of her strength to get up and go clean herself. Wobbly as it was, she managed the trip to the bathroom and even brought him a washcloth to clean himself up before giving her weary legs a rest and laying next to him. The heady feeling of arousal still burned inside, though more like a smoldering ember pile than the full-on inferno he’d worked her into before, but she pushed it away; she wasn’t in heat yet and her body had limits.

For now.

“So what was that for?” Emma asked.

“Do I need a reason to wake my wife and lavish her with my attentions?” She poked him in the ribs, a particularly ticklish spot, and he squirmed. “Cut it out,” Killian said, giggling. “Your smell woke me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “My smell?” she asked, her voice flat. “You know, from anyone else those might be fighting words.”

He took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “And far be it from me to challenge you, darling. No, I believe it may be close to time, your scent has… shifted somewhat.”

Emma let her head fall back with a groan. Motherfucker. Well, it was to be expected; it’s the normal time for her to go into heat, it was just… the worst. Though, having a mate would make it exponentially easier than previous years; she had that to look forward to, at least. She just hated being completely ruled by her hormones, hated having so little control over her own body. And of course Killian would be the first to pick up on it, of course he’d know her so well that he’d pick up on even the slightest change in her scent. Idly, she wondered if he could tell because he’d smelled her in full-blown heat before, but in truth she believed he’d know any changes in her body and her scent almost before she did.

Puts the kibosh on any cutesy surprise things whenever we get around to having pups , she thought wryly.

“Judging by your enthusiastic response, you’re still unhappy about the prospect,” Killian remarked.

She sighed. “It’s not that. I love nothing more than using you as my personal sex toy, I just… hate everything else about it.”

“We could try a last-minute honeymoon,” he suggested. “We did talk about going somewhere this spring.”

“It’ll be wicked expensive, not to mention both of our bosses would kill us for leaving so last minute. And don’t even try to tell me Liam would be understanding, he’d find something to harp at you about.”

“Technically I’m my own boss.”

“Yes, but what captain leaves the helm to go fuck his wife silly for a week?”

His teeth flash in a grin that sends a shiver down her spine. “I’m sure plenty do, particularly when the captain’s wife is as beautiful and alluring as you. And I do have minions to keep things running, you know I don’t do everything right?”

“You have to stop calling your officers ‘minions’.”

“I pay their salaries, I can call them what I like. Besides, which is less of a mouthful, Chief Operating Officer or minion?”

“Coming from the man who takes an hour to tell a five minute story.”

His grin widened. “One of the many charms you love about me.” She rolled her eyes and the bed shifted as Killian reached for his phone, which pinged a reminder that he had a missed call and a voicemail. “Though I could have reason for it, seeing as how one of them called at a most inopportune time.”

Emma worried her lip between her teeth as he listened to the message, the tinny voice reaching her ears perfectly as questions even she knew could have waited a few hours were relayed. If he was right, and it was reasonable to assume he was, then it would be easier to just combine the honeymoon and her week in heat. It was extremely annoying that there wasn’t any way to really tell when her body would go into heat, outside of paying attention to signs like any subtle changes in scent, and they couldn’t have planned this ages in advance. The thought of paying all the last minute booking fees made her skin crawl, but she also knew he wouldn’t suggest such a thing if it wasn’t feasible.

Marrying up a couple of tax brackets was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Killian tossed his phone back on the bedside table, muttering darkly to himself, and she settled against him again. “How about this,” she started, “we take today to make sure a quick getaway isn’t going to be a problem, and then go in a couple of weeks? I don’t think it’s going to happen in the next few days and we need some time to get our shit together.”

“Eloquent as always, Swan,” he said. “And the full moon is next week, so we should schedule around that as well.”

Remembering that gave her another sense of relief: for some reason, it wasn’t common for their kind to go into heat the week of the full moon. Some did, but it was extremely rare, and always led to complications with the litter. She thought it might have something to do with how her monthly shifting stopped when she’d been pregnant before, nature realizing that changing forms while pregnant wasn’t good for the mother or the fetus, but it wasn’t like there was anyone she could ask about that. Again, something else that the more scientific-minded of their community were studying, but it was difficult.

And it wasn’t like there was The Scientific Werewolf Monthly to publish any of that research.

Maybe there should be.

“Well, that settles that,” she said, her mood buoyed by the lunar calendar. “We’ll go in a couple of weeks. Plunk me on a beach somewhere that’s not Boston in winter and I’ll be set.”

Killian’s expression was a thrilling mix of joy and sin. “Then I’d better make sure it’s a private beach, because I have no plans of letting you wear anything more than a bikini the whole time we’re gone,” he said, shifting to loom over her as he spoke, the last words breathed against her lips before he caught hers up in another kiss.

 ----------------------------------------------------

The wave of pleasure that had been building inside finally crashed over her, sending ripples up to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes. She sighed, sated for the time being and pushed away the latest of her spent toys, reclining back on the silk maroon sheets to watch as he took his leave from her bed. They all knew the drill, the men lurking in wait for her summons; she hated for them to linger, but she did indulge in the view as they stumbled away from her room.

For now, though, Regina was tired. That was the third one today, and it was barely noon on the first morning of her heat. She rolled her head on her neck, as much as she was able, joints cracking and muscles stretching. She wasn’t a young pup anymore, as difficult as it was to admit some days, so while being ravished three times by three different, handsome young things in one morning certainly sounded like an ideal way to spend one’s time, it was proving to take a toll on her.

She didn’t like to think too much about what that would mean.

She didn’t care for the reminders, the lines at the corners of her eyes getting a little deeper if she looked too long, the silver strands she kept carefully colored, and now her body tiring a little sooner than it had the year before.

Any slip might give rise to rumors, and rumors often lead to those same men lurking downstairs foolish ideas about power.

No, for now she would rest a bit, take lunch, and assess what else she could do to keep her hand on their leashes until just the right moment.

Her phone rang midway through lunch. Annoyed, Regina answered in her usual, clipped way. “This had better be important.”

- She’s leaving town for a week, her and that British wolf of hers. My sources say it’s probably their honeymoon, but we have to remember the season. If she comes back pupped-- -

“I can make my own conclusions, thank you Sidney,” she snapped, her mood darkening. “Keep tabs on them if you can, and the Nolans. We may have to move faster than anticipated.”

She hung up before he could agree to anything -- it didn’t matter, he didn’t have to agree. He just had to follow orders.

She sat still for a moment, staring at her plate, then moved suddenly, throwing her tablet against the wall. The news that Emma Swan, previous heir apparent to the pack she now ruled, had taken another mate after all the work she’d done to destroy that last relationship had sent her into a rage that kept her people on their toes for weeks. She didn’t need any reason to allow support of any kind for that little bitch to rise, and a newly mated pair with a fresh litter on the way would definitely give reason for people to remember and feel sympathy for the girl. To start rumors or petitions to restore her place.

To revolt.

She’d put in too much work expanding, improving, and keeping her pack in line to let the memory of the old alphas resurface.

Snarling, Regina got to her feet. Rage mixed with arousal, the need to take control of something overpowering anything else, and she pressed the intercom that would summon another one of her playthings to the bedroom.

She hoped he had stamina, though she didn’t quite care if she ended up breaking him in the end. He was easily replaced, just as all the others were.

She was in control here. Not them. Not any of the hotheads she dealt with on a regular basis.

And never, never Emma Swan.

[saturnsummer]

flutter and kicks

notes: from lay's @/__ryubeom tweet + a pregnant solhwi anon ask. in headcanon form since it's more spontaneous! 

hello tumblr fam! i know, it’s been long... but ficfest and all has kept me kinda busy. a little different this time! a headcanon after a long time, since it’s more fun and easy on the eyes!

extra notes: drumstick reference to hospital playlist episode 4! a little reference to @scripturiends twitter au “dynasty” at the end. have fun! as usual, grammar mistakes by me!

attorney sol and prosecutor joon hwi have been married for a couple years, now well into their early thirties.

sol and joon hwi always take walks in the parks and wondered what it would be like if they had their own.

sol was initially hesitant, with her experience of broken families and having no dad figure. what makes her think her child could grow up in a loving family, if she didn't have one she could be a role model or look up to?

but joon hwi had it worse, having been an orphan from young, and raised by his uncle, his cousins, aunts and relatives ostracising him. yet, he still believed in the happy family he always wanted with sol.

he dreamt of kissing his kids good morning, sending them to school before going to work and sending his wife to work. on nights, they would work on their kid's homework together in fun ways and tuck them in bed after bedtime stories. they would spend the weekends at parks, meeting with seungjae's kid, and the children of their friends.

sol came round eventually, seeing how joon hwi never stopped believing. this time, it was different. joon hwi is not her father, nor is he her step father. he is han joon hwi, the man that saved her lives multiple times. han joon hwi, the man that stood by her when lee man ho was her biggest threat to her family. han joon hwi, the man who loves her, despite being a klutz in school.

he is han joon hwi, the man that loves her for every imperfection and perfection she has.

sol and joon hwi start trying for a baby, which is especially timely when kang sol's mom asks when is she gonna have a grandchild to hold and byeol pipes up saying she would love to have a brother as opposed to sister. (15 years with sisters have made her wonder what it would be to have a little baby boy in the house instead.)

a few weeks after their first time trying passes and sol has been feeling more tired. she's been busy with case after case at kang and park, so she doesn't think much.

only when she misses her period, she freezes. as stressed as she was, even in law school, she has never missed her period or was late. with shaky breaths, she wonders at the slightest chance of having a little life grow in her, as her hand unconsciously travels to her stomach.

sol is excited, but nervous at the thought that maybe nine to ten months later, she would have a child she can call her own in her arms.

over the weekend, sol raised this to joon hwi. joon hwi stops everything and even though he is beyond excited, he stays calm looking at how nervous sol is. together, they go out to get two pregnancy tests, where sol takes it.

the ten minutes of waiting were a complete torture for sol, as she paces back and forth.

"sol, stop pacing. you're going to burn a hole in our floor."

"joon! what- what if it really happens? i'm not ready! how are we ready? you just started your career in the prosecutor office, and i'm buried under cases! i can barely take care of my mom and byeol and myself, what about the child? oh no, what if i'm a bad mom?"

"honey, sit down. look, we'll get through this together okay? no one is ever ready for their first kid. remember seungjae-hyung? he freaked out the day juyeon-noona went into labour and he's a doctor! it's okay, just calm down, alright? do you want warm water?"

when the timer rings, they look at both the tests, showing the double lines indicating a positive test.

sol was pregnant. sol was going to be a mother. joon hwi was going to be a father. their family was starting.

shaking, sol finally let her emotions hit as her tears fall. she was so caught up worrying about herself, life, her work, family; she hadn't had time to process her own feelings on her own. she wanted the feeling of joy of holding her child. she wanted to know what it was like to share a mother's bond with a child.

joon hwi, looking at his wife, only hugged her as she teared up in happiness. his dream of having a family is finally coming. even better, his best friend, his biggest cheerleader, was next to him.

"what are you crying about? you should be happy!"

"j-joon h-hwi ah... we're going to be parents.."

but their journey was far from over. they booked an appointment with juyeon and made juyeon stay quiet about this. seeing the ultrasound and hearing the heartbeats of their unborn child was enough to move sol to another round of sobs and joon hwi held his wife's hand while the tears ran down his face. together, they smiled, knowing that a life was born and growing.

all could have been hidden, but seungjae walked in that moment, asking if his wife wanted to join for lunch. sol and joon hwi were prepared to lie, but having a printed ultrasound scan in their hands, and the fact that they were in juyeon's clinic, a OB-GYN clinic, confirmed suspicions.

"juyeonnie, do you want to go for— joon...hwi?"

"oppa..."

"ah, congratulations sol. congratulations joon hwi." seungjae only smiled looking at the best people he knew become parents. he recognised the pride in joonhwi's eyes, the same eyes he had when juyeon told him they were expecting.

the new parents smiled at their brotherly figure as they wished them a good lunch.

but out from the corner, yeseul spotted joonhwi and sol as she walked into the clinic and she locked eyes with sol. sol slams the door shut and drags joon hwi back and groans, letting a defeated whine.

"sol-ah, what's wrong?"

"yeseul is here! she's probably here for a regular check up, the one she told me about last month!"

and with that, their phones started beeping with countless notifications.

yeseul could put two and two together, especially when it wasn't just sol, but joon hwi in the clinic as well. she texted her boyfriend, bokgi, who spat out his soup when he was eating with yebeom, who sent a string of messages to the group chat.

when sol opens the door again, yeseul only gives a sheepish smile.

"yeseul ah..." sol sighs and joon hwi only smiles, too happy to hide this secret.

"sorry unnie, i can't miss the moment. congrats unnie, oppa! hello, seungjae-oppa, juyeon-unnie!"

"thank you, yeseul. we'll see you next week, as usual?"

behind them, seungjae grumpily argues with his wife.

"why are my ex-classmates seeing you more than i do? i literally work, like, five blocks down at the police station! they live all over seoul!"

"honey, let me see yeseul first, okay? then let's go get lunch. i heard they are serving drumsticks in the canteen today.”

-----

pregnancy wasn't easy for sol. she insisted on working, despite attorney park's orders to take on lesser cases in court. sol couldn't find it in her heart to reject her clients.

yeseul, working closer to sol, would lunch with her to make sure she eats for the sake of her baby. joon hwi did his best to join, despite sol's arguments to not bother and that she can care for herself.

her morning sickness was bad, and she would wake up giddy and nauseous. many times, joon hwi wanted to call jiho to ask him to cover him, but sol would not let him do it. she'll pull herself together and go to work, and promise to take work lightly.

on days she couldn't get out of bed and she was too tired, her mother would come over and cook her nutritious soups, stock their fridge with vitamins and supplements and tonics for sol.

sol's cravings were also odd. she was never one to like sweets, but she found herself craving sugary cakes, cookies and pastries. joon hwi made it a point to stock their cabinets with cookies and buy a cake whenever he could for his wife.

joon hwi was honestly the best husband anyone could ask for. he helped to tidy the house, clean the house while sol was resting. he made soups and tucked sol in bed on her down days.

sol felt bad that she was being cared for and doing nothing in return, but joon hwi would always remind her that she was already doing the most important job, which is to literally grow their kid inside her.

many nights before bed, they would sit together and their hands would rest on her stomach, as they whisper sweet things to their to-be child.

when sol first felt the kick of her child with joon, they smiled so wide, all exhaustion from reports and arguments in their offices were gone. all that mattered was their child responding.

yeseul was beyond excited, as she helped sol with getting furniture and clothes. the study group came together to help them set up a new cot in their small apartment, as the ladies sat while looking at the men, fixing a cot with much difficulty.

aunty yeseul was the first to buy a stuffed bunny for her unborn child, and sol b, even though she was usually cold, offered to babysit in the future.

eventually, attorney park made sol work at home instead of going to the office. she argued that professor kim eunsook was able to teach while pregnant, but attorney park only said "yang jonghoon's orders" and it was enough to shut her up from any complaints.

of course, professor yang. the only person attorney park really is afraid of and listens to.

when they found out that sol was having a boy, joon hwi was lost in thoughts, wondering if he will grow to be like himself. but sol only placed a hand over his and gave a comforting smile.

"remember what you said at the beginning? whatever it is, he will be of the next generation. from him, it will be different."

they then would discuss how they wanted joon hwi's dimples, sol's twinkling eyes and cheekbones and joon hwi's charming smile.

closer to the due date, jiho stepped in to cover for joon hwi as he started to work half days, afraid of leaving his wife at home. sol, now heavily pregnant, really only commuted to the bed from the bathroom and then to the table, where she would spend most of her time reading or doing something relaxing.

yeseul made sol put her on speed dial with sol b, just in case, and so they would be the first to know too.

the morning came when sol woke up to a wet bed and shook joon hwi awake when the contractions kicked in. joon hwi snapped out, grabbed their hospital bag and guided sol to the car where both of them spent the next day in the hospital as sol went through nine hours of labour pains, and another two hours pushing her baby boy.

joon hwi never left once, standing by her side and holding her hand as she pushed her baby out, wiping away the sweat from her face.

when the time came for him to be held in his mother's arms, sol only smiled, knowing that as tough as the past ten months of working, no caffeine and staying up late nights was, it was all worth it for the little life in her arms.

as his son's hand grabbed onto joon hwi's finger, joon hwi made a promise to love this child unconditionally, to guide him in the right direction and bring him up well. sol was right. from him onwards, it will be different.

welcome to the world, seungjun.

[onceupona-chaos]

The Storm

Notes: So, I did something. Maybe there will be a part II, but I wanted to post this one first and now I can only hope whoever read this, might enjoy it. Also, forgive for any mistakes, English is not my first language, but I wanted to try something knew and practice a little.

Warnings: language, self-harm and slightly NSFW.

Enjoy! 😊

Elain was trying hard to pretend she wasn't picking a fight with a bush after spending the entire afternoon working in a elderly faery's garden. She didn't know how old Arya was and didn't ask either. Despite the wrinkled face that made her expression look grave at first sight, Arya was gentle enough to bring a fresh lemonade cup every few minutes. Even if Elain hadn't finished hers, it would be replaced by a full cup with two ice cubes and the right amount of sugar - and a warm smile from Arya.

So when she had sent word asking if her garden could be fixed, Elain gladly embraced the distraction, even though it didn't seem to be a particular good day for gardening, if the cloudy sky was any indication.

Kneeling on the dirt, she had been digging and pulling for hours now as she tried to get rid of the ivys surrounding the beautiful blooming roses.

Usually her gardening was a pretty distraction - her mind would focus entirely on what she was doing, her hands moving on their own accords, until every single thought that made her throat tighten was nothing but mist in the distance.

But lately something's changed.

Hateful thoughts, old anguishes, almost familiar as any part of her body, and new ones found themselves in her mind, making her remember what she longed to forget. She didn't bother to wear gloves, wanted the feeling of rough rocks and sharp thorns against her skin. Wanted to focus on the physical pain, to be as far away from her own mind as possible.

And yet it wasn't enough to keep those too many thoughts, cravings and needs at bay.

Her frustration grew with each passing second, her work getting sloppy when a thunder filled her ears.

It was definitely not a good day for gardening.

Elain couldn't decide what was worse: that her work no longer pushed her thoughts away or that she was literally fighting a stubborn rose bush, pulling a branch out with both hands and groaning a curse that would make Cassian proud.

Elain pulled and pulled, the branch slowly, Gods, so slowly giving up - and then it broke in half, leaving the part covered in thorns still buried deep in the ground. She didn't hesitate though, just wiped the sweat off of her forehead, grabbed the branch, thorns and all biting her skin, and started again.

When Arya came back once again, the lemonade cup hit the ground.

She looked at Elain, taking in the blood staining her cobalt dress, big red drops running down her hands. "It's nothing to be worried about, it's already healing."

It wasn't a lie. But Arya still insisted that Elain went home, claiming that a beautiful lady like her shouldn't remain covered in blood and sweat. A scream caught in Elain's throat that bagged for a few more minutes of distraction, just a few more. But she knew Arya was thinking about her well being, so she made a gentle smile bloom on her face and thanked her for the limonade.

"Hurry up now or you're going to get caught in the storm."

Indeed, Elain could already smell the rain, the air charged with electricity, the wind colder than usual, the promise of thunder and lighting.

Yet her steps were lingered, heavy as she walked by the vibrants streets of Velaris

When the first drops came… she tilted her head and let them pour over her, only wishing it could wash away every burden in her heart.

It didn't take long for the cold rain to soak her, making her own bones shivered. A walk back to the lake house would took long enough to make her catch a cold and since being stuck in a bed was the last thing she needed, Elain made her way to the town house. It was still empty, but at least she could warm up and wait for the rain to pass by.

Elain had just crossed the front door and immediately sighed as she felt the cozy warmth. She was freeing her hair from the braid, combing it with her fingers, taking in the sitting room of the empty house - and froze. Because that was a very, very light fireplace. She only had time to take a step back when the scent of mist and cedar hit her nose.

_______________

After a long visit to the eyes and ears under his command, one would think Azriel would take a warm bath and go for several hours of sleep to put away the feeling of the cold rain against his wings that had chased him for miles and miles.

He could have winnow into shadows. But he hoped the exhaustion of flying through the storm combined with a hot bath to relax his sore muscles would help his body to give in to some poor, few hours of sleep.

Azriel had just gone out of the bath, his hair still damp, when he heard the front door shutting. A shadow curled around his ear, registering someone's presence, and he made his steps quiet as death, aiming for the sitting room.

He hadn't seen Elain alone since Solstice and even at the few dinners on the river house he still tried to attend, Azriel could barely look her in the eyes, the memory of her pain too much for him to handle.

But there she was.

She was staring at him, wild-eyed, soaked to the bones. He allowed himself to drink the sight of her, let his eyes travel slowly through her face. Usually, in those dinners, he would hardly steal a glimpse in her direction - well aware of Rhysand's eyes almost daring him to challenge his orders. But here, alone… It was exactly this kind of situation he tried so hard to avoid, knowing it would be the death of him.

Azriel's eyes dropped to her body, the wet fabric hanging to every curve, and spotted the dark red stain on her dress. He scanned her furiously, looking for injuries, stooping at her bloody hand. There were only a few drops, the rain must have washed the blood away - but it was enough to make him want to roar at the sight of it, the predatory instincts inside him ready to kill and kill and kill whoever was responsible. Before he could say anything though, Elain blurted, "I… I thought the house was empty."

Her voice was almost a whisper above the rain, but the words hit him with the force of a thunder. Azriel swallowed hard. He knew she wasn't looking for him. Not after Solstice. But the way she'd say it...

Without even thinking, he closed the distance between them. Elain lifted her chin to keep her gaze locked with his.

Even in a filthy, soaking dress, her damp hair grabbing to her neck, her bloody hand… She was so breathtakingly beautiful, so full of light.

He took her hand in his, so delicate between his scarred fingers. The soft skin marked with small scars, no doubt from her gardening. He turned her hand, exposing her palm and saw the multiple, small bruises. His calluses brushed hers as he asked, "What happened."

She was shaking slightly, not only from the cold rain, "Usual gardening."

He couldn't take it. It was some kind of cosmic joke to be in an empty house with her, so many words hanging between them. He wanted her to know them all, but some he didn't know how to say, and others he couldn't .

Azriel almost choked on his own pain. He stared at her, letting every feeling unsaid, his own longing and despair, rise to his eyes, unable to stop it as he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Her doe eyes flickered, and Azriel knew she saw beyond those words. She knew he wasn't talking about her bruised hand still in his, the only connection between their bodies.

And when Elain squeezed his fingers, he knew she understood him. Perhaps not everything, but enough.

Azriel didn't know for how long they stood there, watching each other, their hands still intertwined, the rain pouring outside, the sound of heavy drops hitting the roof interrupted only by the rumble of thunder. Without knowing who moved first, he realized his face was inches from hers, enough to share breath. Elain inclined her head and brushed his nose with hers, the gesture so tender.

A moment later, their mouths collided at last and everything else faded away.

Her mouth was soft against him, and the scent of jasmine, honey and rain filling his nose made his eyes roll back behind his eyelids.

Such a sweet kiss as if The Mother or whoever was wanted Azriel to just have a taste of what he couldn't have. Despite every cell in his body screaming at him, Azriel made to pull away, but Elain held him in place and brushed her tongue against his bottom lip. He moaned her name and yielded himself to her.

The kiss wasn't desperate or frantic as Azriel had imagined it would be for so fucking long. No, the kiss was slow and deep, like pouring honey. Their thongs danced with each other, stroking and caressing.

And her taste… like honey and spring sunrise. He couldn't get enough. He needed more, needed her printed in his very bones, until their souls intertwined.

He was breathing hard, one of her delicate hands wandered across his chest and arms, the skin beneath her fingers burning. Elain traced every muscle, every inch of tattoo ink, as if to reaffirm he was real, that he was there. She buried her other hand into his hair, pulling slightly, and Azriel let out a sound between a moan and a purr, barely audible above the rain.

The world faded away and there was only her, only her mouth, her scent, her body. He needed her closer, wanted to merge himself with her so they would never be parted.

Everything about that kiss was so sweet and so sensuous as if it was a song sent from heaven to lure him to the deepest of hells, where every sinful idea would take form. It was his paradise and ruin, and he was utterly, thoroughly hypnotized.

He'd lovers, many throughout the centuries. But he never felt so drowned, so lost and found at the same time. Nothing had ever felt so good, nothing. Azriel could only pray to the old gods that at least one part of him would be his at the end of it.

They continued that taunting dance, touching, exploring, seducing. Their tongues met stroke for stroke until Elain parted and sucked on his bottom lip, and any sane part of him ceased to exist.

Azriel groaned and his hands moved from her waist to find that generous, gorgeous backside of hers, squeezing possessively with both hands, making her moan into his mouth. Elain ondulated her hips, pressing herself against him, and gasped when she felt exactly how much she was affecting him. How much power she had over him. A small smile curved her lips and Azriel traced it with the tip of his tongue.

More more more

Azriel could feel her shaking in anticipation, smell her arousal in the air.

He was going to devourer her inch by inch. He was going to -

Elain suddenly pulled back just enough to look at him in the eyes, and Azriel almost fell on his knees. Sheer desire was printed on her face, those pink, perfect lips swollen, making his mouth watering. A blush stained her cheeks, and he wondered what other places he could make her blush. He needed to know them all.

But all of that was nothing compared to that look on her face. The honey-brown almost entirely gone, her eyes flashing with molten desire as if those black expanded pupils were windows to her soul and his particular way through.

Both of them were breathing each other's air. Elain stared and stared and stared at him as if she was undoing every single wall and shield he'd ever raised.

Azriel let her. Didn't need them with her anyway.

He cupped her face with his hand and brushed her cheek with his thumb, making her shiver. His eyes never left hers, and he could almost see a bridge of light and dark taking form between their souls, honey-brown and hazel in each end.

When his thumb moved to trace her bottom lip, Elain cupped his hands with hers, mouth parting slightly before she kissed the tip of his finger. Azriel didn't know who he was, where he was, because there was only her, only that female accepting every part of him.

Then Elain sucked his thumb into the wet heat of her mouth. Pure desire ran through his body like a lighting straight to his groin, and he had to brace his other hand on the wall to keep himself standing, to not fall on his knees.

Elain let go of his thumb, her eyes glimmering in a way he'd only dreamed about. She inclined her head, baring her throat, and Azriel knew he was in deep shit.

He couldn't help the sound that came out from somewhere deep inside of him, his nostrils flaring at the sight of her delicate, creamy skin covering her pulse point and totally exposed to him - and only him.

Offer and permission.

A thunder rumbled outside, but all Azriel could hear was his blood singing her name as he lowered his head and brushed his nose along the side of her neck, breathing greedily and letting her scent fill his nose, his lungs. Elain arched a little, asking for more.

More

Azriel then kissed her neck tenderly. Wanted to savor every second of it, every taste of her. Didn't want to rush this - not with her, not when he had the chance. He prayed that the storm would never end, wanted to take his time, worship every part of her body until one stroke at the right place would be all that would take to make her come. Hard.

He kissed the spot beneath her ear and where her neck met her shoulder. Elain's hand tightened, pulling his hair in silent command. Azriel bared his teeth, brushing his canines against her pulse point. He pressed lightly - just enough to make his teeth sink into her skin, claiming her.

Elain moaned louder at the sensation and tightened her hold on his hair - and pure male smugness washed over him. Because he was the one she bared her throat to. It was his mouth on hers, his hands covering her ass. He could already smell his scent on her, mist and jasmine, cedar and honey.

And it was his name she moaned.

"Azriel."

Before Azriel could unleashed himself, he first dropped to his knees.

[ellsey]

Agents of Shield Rewatch 7x09 As I Have Always Been

First of all, we’re not going to discuss how many times I’ve seen this episode because...welll...the number is pretty high. But this is legit my #1 favorite episode of all time. This episode is an example of this show firing on all cylinders and just at it’s absolute best. And it’s really one of the last times we get to see our family all working together, and that’s where I think this show gets its strength. 

Anyway, this may get super long idk I just have a lot of feelings about this ep.

The number of times Chloe must have had to film waking up in this thing is probably pretty high

Ok first things first, my very favorite thing is Sousa using that box of gloves as a pillow because having spent a good portion of my lower to mid-20s in labs I will not pretend like I haven’t considered doing that

“I was so much happier asleep” MY MOOD EVERY SINGLE DAY

94 km away...I’m going to try and keep track of these numbers

Sousa’s face at the smell of Deke’s 80′s cologne hahahaha

And now we’re in our loop #2 (but who knows the real number)

Ok, since I used to be a med tech (aka I worked in a hospital lab), I have questions about why they have so many green and blue tubes there. I mean...green tops are heparin tubes so I guess you can use those for basic chemistry tests, so that might be usable for multiple things. But those blue tops? That’s sodium citrate and the only thing I know of we used those for were coagulation tests. Which require some specific equipment. Does Jemma plan to run that many PT/PTTs?? And on what???

LOOK I HAVE A LOT OF QUESTIONS ABOUT THAT OK

And yes I remember those anticoagulants by heart still

The repeating title card is :chef’s kiss:

Daisy very quickly realizes she’s looping

91 km now

I’m wondering if there was something cut here by the way Sousa says, “See?” to Simmons as if we are missing some part of a conversation they had

My guess would be Jemma was all “You can go rest in your bunk you know Agent Sousa” and he’s like “Nope, gotta make sure Daisy rests” and Jemma’s like “...do you though?” and Sousa’s all “Yep. She will not do it on her own. Trust me.”

Maybe there’s enough for a fic plot in there

Ok, we’re now on loop #3

Daisy also very quickly realizes that she’s waking Sousa up with her boots and is very quiet so he can get some sleep

Awwww

I kind of wish I knew what May was sensing from Daisy right about now

I love love that Robo Coulson is so over this

The way he says “This guy” KILLS ME

So Coulson knows of 87 loops, but we know in this case Daisy didn’t wake him for 2 loops this time...we’re going to be doing some mathing soon lads

Also we just covered loops #4 and #5 since the ep started

Coulson says this is loop #90 which matches up still

And loop #6 for us now

Daisy was kind of loud there but didn’t wake up Sousa sooo...idk

79 km now

I love that Daisy realizes that to solve faster she needs the entire team

This must be loop #7 because Deke now says they are 65 km from the vortex

“It’s kind of hard to access” YOU DON’T SAY

And now people know about Jemma’s implant which...FINALLY

Phlebotinum is an amazing word bless

Making yourself cough like that seems like a rough day of filming 

And directing

Deke’s face when Nana is dead though :(

Loop #8

It was sabotage!!!

But also Daisy died so we’re starting over memory-wise

Loop #9

48 km

Daisy legit forgot about her boots waking Sousa up too ha

Loop #10

And this time we wake up Coulson again

41 km

Enoch, Deke, and Jemma standing there is so freaking hilarious

Jemma is so done even though she doesn’t remember any of this hahaha

Loop #11

This is the one where we try to get Elena out and helping

Loop #12

Phlebotinum!

Sousa finally woke up on his own I guess

That smile when he says, “Reminds me of my SSR days” like

He lives for this chaos he just doesn’t want to admit it

Also look at him being a smart agent here

And let’s talk about the trust Sousa has in Daisy for a sec

He not just immediately believes her about the time loops, but he immediately understands what she is saying about what is happening. Thus he knows this isn’t really a sacrifice play because he’ll come back AND he’ll have saved her the trouble of forgetting. But also, he trusts her so implicitly that he’s willing to risk his life for her. 

It’s beautiful y’all

And poor Daisy has to add watching Sousa die to her list of traumas cool cool cool

Although that does give me writing ideas...

Loop #13

Daisy immediately pops up to ensure herself that Sousa is still there napping away and like

I legit thought this was going to be the peak Dousy moment in this episode when she stops and just watches him breathing for a bit hahaha

She does not want to leave him there either and then the way she says, “We’re making progress” then adds a kind of soft “thanks to Sousa” like

Daisy is going through some stuff here

Coulson is going through some stuff too

Clark Gregg is killllllling this

And Coulson realizes that Enoch is the problem

“Oh dear” ENOCH HAHAHAHA

Loop #14

“Why do you care?” “Because you don’t”

Ummmmm MY HEART

But Daisy is not just accepting that he’s willing to die for her, she wants to know why now

Which obviously we will circle back to in a few loops or so

See, Jemma says she has to be awake to remove them implant...I guess the difference before was that Enoch wasn’t removing it?

Idk that makes no sense

Loop #15

Send in Sousa to distract Enoch

That “Hello!!” omg Sousa no

Sousa is surprisingly bad at this

Sousa’s muffled “Sorry” KILLS ME

As does Daisy’s face

Loop #16

Appeal to Enoch’s sense of irony

Loop #17

Have Jemma countermand her previous order

Loop #18

Bring in the whole gang

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS KILLS ME

“Where’d he get all those weapons?”

Poor dead Deke

Them realizing it doesn’t matter because they’ll all come back

The way May looks like she’s relaxing

Sousa’s feet framing Daisy’s face

Legit this is amazing and I love it

Loop #19

“Actually, I can take a loop” 

WE LOVE TO SEE IT

“It all phases me, just maybe not my face”

Ummmmm sir

Your face

While lovely it definitely gives you away

The saddest thing to me about this is that Daisy can’t seem to understand why he’s always willing to help and wants to watch over her. It’s like she still doesn’t think she’s worthy of being treated like this.

“Some of my favorite people are people like you” I CRY

Whew there’s a lot to parse here. 

First of all, I think Daisy actually really likes that Sousa is seemingly not phased by anything (or at least, not super bothered by it) because her life is always going to be chaotic that’s just facts

Second, in this very short time of knowing her, Sousa definitely has her pegged. He knows that she craves other people, but is also probably a bit scared to want to be around other people. He knows she’s hopelessly stubborn, but that’s because she cares so much. And he knows that she needs someone to have her back no matter what, because she won’t have her own.

Of course, there’s also a personal element here as indicated by the next part of their conversation. 

Also of note, when Daisy is pressing with the questions, wanting to know why he’s always there for her, she’s leaning forward while he sits back. 

Now though, when the question is a bit more personal, she sits back in a very protective stance. I think she’s a little scared of what he’ll say to her question. Because she realizes that she likes him. A lot. And what if he’s just like a generally good guy and this has nothing to do with her?

But of course, it has everything to do with her as indicated by what Sousa says next. “Not for everyone. It helps if they’re fun to be around, and if they say what they mean, and if they have that super power where they can rock things around which is very impressive.”

And Daisy’s immediate response?? SHE SMILES. Like...this is what she needs and what she wants but what she’s been too afraid to go after. And here it is just falling in her lap.

Now that everything is out in the open, they are both leaning towards each other...

Also I love that she says, “That’s awfully specific” and he doesn’t shy away from her. He just agrees with her. They both know what that really means.

And they both like it

Legit here I was chanting KISS KISS KISS but I thought it was a missed moment

I am so happy I was wrong

So the new plan is to misdirect Enoch by having Sousa go in to take the implant out, but really Sousa is leading Enoch into a fight with him, Mack, May, and Elena and like what a squad

But also this was a super plan, and I wonder if Coulson was involved or if this was Daisy/Sousa original

Either option seems likely

“Next time, same thing but faster” 

Daisy is really good at following instructions y’all

Loop #20

Daisy asks for help and Sousa immediately agrees to help and THAT IS WHAT DID IT FOR DAISY JOHNSON FRIENDS

Like...I know she’s feeling under the gun for time because Coulson said same thing but faster

But also, peak romance is someone just wanting to help her no questions asked which, given her history makes complete sense

She needs a constant, someone who will be there for her no matter what

I feel like this started in some ways with Lincoln. He was just so sweet and helpful to her. And granted he had his own demons to deal with, but in the end he was willing to give up everything to save the world and Daisy herself.

But he also showed Daisy that she could expect love and support and she was worthy of that (even if she doubted it later)

So here’s this guy, who’s just smart and kind and good and clearly into her

So, knowing that this could be one of her lasts chance to do this and realizing that at any rate he’ll totally forget about it anyway, she makes a move

And like this kiss?? It’s hot y’all

You can tell Daisy just like lol Imma kiss him, but then they are both caught in this moment and go back for me

But also he definitely led for that second kiss 

“That was nice” like hahahaha amazing undersell Daisy

And then she traces his collarbone like whoa I need to fan myself for a bit

“Now we need to drop a space robot”

I can’t tell what Sousa is more confused by- that statement or the kiss itself

Imagine being Sousa though. You just got woken up by this beautiful woman who asks for you help then kisses you when you say “Sure thing.”

He’s truly living the dream

Oh also we’re 11 km from the vortex now

It turns out Enoch is the answer to all our problems

But also we have to kill him in the process :(

And then poor Simmons has a breakdown over leaving Alya presumably, but also she’s a better mom than me because after 3 years in space with one of my little super geniuses I’d be more than ready for a vacay idk

I love my kids but they are...a lot

And finally, Loop #21

I guess Daisy left Sousa to sleep for this loop

<1 km from the vortex too eek

Enoch immediately understands what is happening :(

I love that Enoch has reached the point where he feels like this entire crew is his family and would sacrifice themselves for him

Enoch didn’t feel lonely until he had friends :((

This whole thing is breaking my heart...not just Enoch in the process of dying, but Coulson actually talking about his deaths and Daisy having to try and process all this

“Yet, this is the nature of families. I have seen it countless times on countless worlds. People arrive so we celebrate, and people leave us, so we grieve. We do what we can with the time in between, but the cycle is always there. No one escapes it. Not even me.”

This really got to me. My family has changed a lot through the years. People have come and gone. Babies have been born. People have died. And nothing I do can change this cycle. Sometimes it makes me happy; sometimes it hurts. But nothing I do can change that process, and that’s not always easy for me to accept.

I think Daisy and Coulson are having a moment here too, where Daisy is telling both Coulson and Enoch that even though they are not human, that doesn’t make them any less alive to the people who love them

RIP Enoch, you were the bestest Chronicom to ever robot

And of course we get one last buzzkill with Nathaniel and Kora

Queen Kora you deserve better

Ok first some timeloop math. We saw 21 loops on screen, but loop #5 was loop #90 for Coulson. So if we figure Daisy died say...every 10-15 ish time loops and it took her 2 or 3 to wake Coulson up, we can probably add an additional 25 time loops or so. So we’re probably looking at around 130 loops roughly.

Of course this begs the question, did Daisy decide to kiss Sousa more than once? It’s possible. I kind of like to think she did. 

First of all, mad props to Joel for nailing that death scene. He was absolutely incredible. And clearly this episode rates 1000000000/10 on the Dousy scale because like...everything. The talk, the kiss, the sacrifice...amazing. I was 95% sure I was getting ending Dousy after this. This episode also gets 50000/10 on the Teamwork! scale because our team did so well and were strongest when they worked together. And of course Enoch gets a 10000000000000000/10 on the Good Chronicom scale because he legit was the bestest Chronicom that could ever not-live.

Since we’re in a timeloop and not in a particular time period, I’m going with the Dousy-est of songs, “peace” by Taylor Swift.

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {18}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: "The one where Nesta explodes.” Sorry, friends.

“How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall? ― Ellen Hopkins, Crank

“To Feyre and Rhys!” Mor called, lifting her glass to the middle of the table, where it met Feyre’s, Elain’s, and Amren’s. “I can’t believe you’re getting married to my cousin. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

She sighed, and Elain beamed from beside her.

“We’re so happy for you both,” she promised.

Feyre grinned. It had been a week since Rhysand proposed, and now, on Saturday night, the girls had all decided to go out to celebrate, leaving the boys at home. 

“Speaking of happiness, I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time at Azriel’s,” Feyre said, eyeing Elain. “At night.”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink as she rolled her eyes.

“Every night but one,” Mor muttered, and when Amren’s brows rose, she clarified, “Azriel stayed at her townhouse last Saturday night and came home Sunday looking very, very happy.”

Feyre slammed her glass down on the table. “You had sex?”

Elain groaned, hiding her face. “We’re supposed to be talking about you, not me.”

“Definitely had sex,” Amren muttered, grinning, as she took a sip from her glass.

“Yes,” Elain breathed, face as red as a tomato. “We did. Now, let’s move on.”

“How is he?” Mor asked. “I mean, I’ve heard rumors over the years, but he’s, you know, never clarified.”

“Is it big?” Feyre asked, brows wiggling. 

“I vote there’s more in girth than in length,” Amren followed.

Mor howled. “True.”

All eyes shot to Mor.

She blinked. “What? I’ve lived with the guy on and off for years, and if his morning wood is any indication, Amren’s not wrong.”

Elain shook her head, unable to control her laughter. “As much as I love this discussion, I vote we move on.”

“Okay, okay, moving on,” Feyre said, laying her palms flat on the table. “As soon as you tell us if we’re right or not.”

Elain took a deep breath. “Fine…...Yes to girth, now, moving on.”

Feyre fell into Amren, tears coming out of her eyes at her sister’s embarrassment - her sweet, gentle sister. 

“Be glad I’m not asking you the same questions,” Elain said, downing her glass.

“Oh, I’ll happily answer,” Feyre chuckled. “Hell, Rhys will happily answer. He likes to brag.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Yes, but every word that comes out of his mouth while he brags is complete bullshit. Besides, talking about my cousin’s penis physically makes me ill.”

Once their laughter died down, and Feyre promised not to mention anything about Rhysand’s dick, she looked to Amren. 

“How’s Cass?”

Amren’s brows furrowed. “Oh, you mean after he spent the night in jail for beating up a bar full of people?” She shrugged. “He’s been decent. Goes to work, comes home, drowns himself in whiskey, and does it all again the next day. At least Bryaxis is there. Cassian keeps his cool with Ax next to him.”

“Because of Nesta?” Elain asked, surprised.

Amren shrugged. “He won’t talk about it, but she hasn’t been around and he lies awake at night cursing her name, so I assume so.”

“You’d think he was in love with her,” Feyre said, then stilled. “Holy fuck, he’s in love with her. Nesta. Of all people.”

“I don’t understand what the fascination is, myself,” Mor muttered.

Elain nodded, slowly. “I love Nesta, but she insists on making herself miserable at every opportunity. It’s been that way since we were in high school. Self destruction without a cure.”

Feyre knew that Elain was thinking of her own issues with depression, with thoughts of suicide lingering in the back of her mind. Feyre had been there, too. So had Mor. And Amren. But Nesta was a different breed...it never went away. And she wanted it to remain, that depression. She held onto it, craved destruction. 

Nesta was so much like their mother.

Feyre couldn’t help but be pissed off, though. She had led Cassian on, had let him feel something - Cassian, who never felt anything serious about a woman. Cassian, with his uncontrollable anger living alongside his will to bring joy to everyone around him. Nesta had taken advantage of him, and Cassian was living through the aftermath.

“I saw that guy the other day, too,” Amren went on. “Tomas.”

Elain stilled as Feyre’s eyes snapped to Amren. “What?”

“Yeah, he’s back, I guess,” she said, shrugging. “Basically lives there now.”

Feyre was already grabbing her purse and scooting out of the booth. Elain wasn’t moving, was staring at the table, hands shaking.

“Where are you going?” Mor asked, hesitantly.

“To Nesta’s. Come on.”

~~~~~

Nesta was sitting on her couch, staring at the blank t.v. when a pounding came on her door. She opened it a minute later and her sisters rushed in, Feyre first, Elain trailing after.

She sighed. “And what do I owe to this unexpected surprise?”

“Where is he?” Feyre asked, eyes narrowed. “Tomas.”

“Not here,” Nesta mumbled, shutting her door behind her. Her head was light, mind blurry. She was having trouble keeping herself upright. “Came to say hello?”

“Amren said he’s been around,” Elain said, quietly. 

Nesta knew they would find out, eventually, but she hadn’t thought they would come storming into her apartment on a Saturday night.

“Why do you care?” Nesta asked. “I’m busy-”

“Cut the shit,” Feyre snapped, and met her sister’s eyes.

Nesta figured it was her fault, she was the one who had told Feyre, who had told Elain. The night Rhysand had been taken to the hospital, when Nesta had driven her youngest sister to the place where their mother had taken her final breath. She had found Feyre, while they were all waiting for Rhysand to wake up, and tried to bring her a little bit of comfort. 

“You’re lucky to have Rhysand,” Nesta had said, sitting next to her sister in the hospital’s cafeteria, as she sipped on a cup of coffee. “I know you love him. He loves you, too.”

“Speaking of love...this whole thing with Cassian…” Feyre had started, avoiding having to talk about Rhysand, no doubt. “What’s really going on? What happened with Tomas?”

Nesta had shrugged. “Don’t know. He just left. It was for the best, anyways. He was who I got my drugs from, and nothing more.”

Feyre had stilled. “I thought you were done with that shit.”

“I’m trying,” Nesta had promised, hoping to bring her sister comfort. “It’s easier now that he’s gone. When Tomas is around, he gives it to me and I can’t say no.”

Feyre nodded, reaching across the table to grab her sister’s hand. It was the first conversation they’d had in a long, long time. “And when Cassian is around?”

Nesta snorted. “Cassian is….When Cassian is around, he makes me want to live. And I haven’t felt the want to live for as long as I can remember.”

“Where are they?” Feyre asked, voice hard, bringing Nesta back to the present.

“Where are what?” she asked, innocently.

Elain didn’t speak.

She simply watched, tears in her eyes.

Fear in her eyes.

“The drugs,” Feyre hissed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nesta snapped.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Feyre said, shaking her head. She walked into the kitchen and started digging through drawers, throwing shit around. “I can tell you’re high off your ass right now!”

When Feyre found nothing there, she went into Nesta’s bedroom.

Nesta was close behind. “Get out of my fucking apartment.”

But Feyre had already dug around, was already pushing Nesta out of the way and strutting into the bathroom. 

She opened the top drawer.

Nesta was standing in the doorway, hands shaking.

Feyre pulled out everything. Bottles upon bottles of pain pills, and a packet of fine, light brown powder.

“Fucking heroin?” Feyre breathed, looking slowly at Nesta. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Nesta tried to snatch it from her sister’s hand, but Feyre was sober, and much, much faster. She took everything into her hands and shoved it into her bag before brushing past Nesta.

Nesta quickly followed her back into the living room. “Fuck you!”

“Did mom’s death mean nothing?” Feyre yelled, and Elain was crying, and the fact that Elain was crying made Nesta feel like shit. “How could you do this after mom fucking died from it!”

Silence enveloped the apartment, the only sound coming from Elain’s quiet sobs. 

Nesta took a step toward her sister. It took everything in her to keep her voice steady as she said, “Maybe I wanna die, too.”

Feyre stilled and she closed her eyes, jaw locked. Then, she started shaking her head. “Don’t say that shit.”

“You wanna know the truth?” Nesta asked, arms outstretched. “You wanna know the fucking truth, Feyre? Well, here I am! So shut the fuck up and listen if you wanna know the fucking truth!” Her hands were shaking, her head pounding. She took another step toward her youngest sister, “I envy mom for taking too much shit that day. She got to leave this shitty world that day, and me? I’m still stuck here! No matter what I do! I’m here, living in this endless hell!”

Feyre said nothing. She stared at her sister, jaw hard, eyes lined with tears. 

Nesta was breathing hard. She felt like shit. Felt like shit that her sisters were crying, felt like shit that she was never there for them. She felt like shit because the only thing keeping her from feeling like shit, all the fucking time, was the drugs. She felt like shit because she relied on them, felt like shit because it was the only reason she kept Tomas Mandray around. She felt like shit because her mom left them all, because she loved the drug too much, so much that she couldn’t stop, so much that it killed her, took her away from her husband, her daughters. 

Nesta felt like shit because Cassian didn’t make her feel like shit.

But he deserved better.

At least she had done right by him. 

“You don’t have to live like this,” Feyre whispered, and took her oldest sister’s face into her hands. “You don’t deserve this.”

Lie.

It was a lie.

A lie that had been told to Nesta many times, one she wasn’t sure she could ever believe to be true. 

“I deserve worse,” Nesta countered, feeling nothing.

Feyre’s forehead fell into Nesta’s. “You deserve the world, if only you’d let yourself have it.” 

~~~~~

“You’re fucking drunk.”

“You’re fucking drunk.”

Cassian chuckled as Azriel shook his head. Yes, Rhysand was undoubtedly drunk and loving every minute of it. It was getting late, though, and Azriel, as the guardian of a four-year-old who would be up at the crack of dawn, needed to get some sleep.

“Alright,” Cassian laughed, slipping on his shoes before throwing Rhysand’s shoes at him. “I’ll walk you home before I head home.”

Rhysand let his shoes hit him in the abdomen before frowning. “Is Feyre home yet? I love Feyre.”

“I know,” Cassian muttered. “Put on your shoes and we’ll go see.”

“But shoes make my feet feel trapped,” Rhysand said, staring at his shoes. “Why would I want that for my toes?”

Azriel was laughing as Cassian picked up Rhysand’s shoes. “Then I’ll carry them and you can go in your socks.

“Good,” Rhysand slurred, stumbling toward the door. 

“Text me when he’s safe inside of his apartment, please,” Azriel begged.

Cassian promised he would as the two went out into the cool, Summer night. Rhysand jumped as his phone began to ring. He searched his body helplessly before Cassian, laughing, pulled it out Rhysand’s pocket and answered.

“Hello? Rhysand’s phone.”

“Your hand touched my dick, asshole!” Rhysand yelled.

And Feyre laughed on the other end. “Sounds like a good time over there.”

“Your future husband and the father of your children is a drunken mess, but don’t worry, I’m walking him home.”

“Thank you,” Feyre said, voice quiet. “Can you tell him I won’t be home tonight?”

“Sure,” Cassian said, dragging Rhysand by the arm, down the sidewalk, as he stared up at the moon with wide, violet eyes. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, just at Nesta’s-” As if remembering who she was talking to, her words trailed off. “I’ll be home in the morning though...if you could let him know.” 

“I will,” Cassian said, clearing his throat. “Um, is Nesta alright?”

The line went quiet. Then, Feyre said, “She will be.”

“Did Tomas hurt her?” he asked, unable to stop the question from coming out of his mouth. 

“Tomas isn’t here,” was all she said. “Make sure my fiance gets safely inside of our house, will you?”

Cassian chuckled, although the light never reached his eyes. “You just like any excuse to call him your fiance.”

“True,” Feyre said. “But I mean it. My fiance is a sloppy drunk.”

“Oh, I know,” Cassian said. “I’m walking him up the stairs, literally having to hold his hand.”        

Feyre laughed. “You’re a saint. Thanks Cass.”

“Yep,” he said. “Bye.”

He hung up and shoved the phone back into Rhysand’s pocket.

Once he made sure Rhysand was safely inside of his apartment, Cassian left, and before he even walked out of the front door, Rhysand was snoring on the couch.

Cassian climbed into his truck and sat in the silence for a minute.

Feyre and Nesta didn’t get along. Something must have happened, something must have been wrong. Something must have happened.

As Cassian started his truck, his mind began to wander. Then, he just got mad, reminding himself that he shouldn’t care. Nesta had made it very clear that she didn’t want him in her life. And he had told her the same.

Although, when he said it, it had been a lie.

When he pulled up in front of his own building, he had grown tired. Nothing sounded better than making his way up the stairs, closing himself inside of his apartment, and going to sleep.

But when he made it to the second floor landing, Feyre was standing in the middle of Cassian and Nesta’s apartments, holding a bag of-

“What the fuck?” he asked, and when the girls shushed him, he grabbed it out of her hand. “What are you doing with this shit? You can’t just wave it around in the open, shit, Feyre.”

She rolled her eyes. “I was giving it to Mor to flush, idiot.”

“Why do you even have this?” Cassian snapped.

And then it dawned on him.

He looked at Nesta’s closed door and sighed.

Cassian’s hand fell to his side, grabbing the little plastic bag tightly in his hand.

“She’s fine,” Feyre whispered, knowing full well the string of thoughts that were running through his mind. “Me and Elain are going to make sure this shit stays out of her apartment.”

“And Tomas?” Cassian asked, voice low. “Did she get this shit from him?”

When Feyre didn’t answer, Cassian was turning around, to storm off, to beat Tomas’s ass, but Feyre caught him by the wrist and pulled him back. She took his face into her hands, and even though he was a head taller than she was, she made him look down at her.

“You’re going to take that inside and get rid of it,” she whispered. “Then, you’re going to get your ass in bed. Beron’s already pissed he had to pick you for a bar fight this month, don’t make him take you to prison for killing some useless dealer.” 

That anger was simmering, was beckoning to be released, but Cassian saw the fear, the exhaustion, in Feyre’s eyes.

He nodded.

Feyre sighed, and kissed his bearded cheek before telling them all goodnight.

“Cass,” Mor whispered, after a moment of him staring at the closed, apartment door across from his. “Come on.”

Amren took his hand, and when he looked at her, she was wearing a small, sad smile. “Time for bed.”

Cassian nodded and, every step he took feeling heavier than the last, he followed Mor and Amren into his apartment.                                                          

He sent the drugs down the toilet and threw the bag away, just like Feyre had asked.

But he didn’t go to bed.

Instead, he went to the couch and sat down, Amren on one side of him, Mor on the other. 

He should have seen it as a sign. Should have known something was wrong with Nesta, that something wasn’t right. But he had pushed her away, let his anger in and allowed it to cloud his judgement.

Mor and Amren stayed with him. They each laid their heads on his broad shoulders and comforted him, as the night passed him by in utter silence. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[write-haikyuu]

Soft, sweet, and light (ft. Aone Takanobu) | scenario

I finally broke out of my writer’s block! I think. But really took forever with this one because I wanted the plot to flow. tbqh im not sure if it does ;-;. But please enjoy!

word count: 1400 summary(?): Aone Takanobu loves dessert. But he loves you more. 

Aone Takanobu hated pain. Not because he was weak or because he had low-pain tolerance. It was simply because he was capable of enduring so much pain that when he did feel pain, it hurt. A lot. That’s why, after an excruciating visit from the dentist, this gentle giant trickled into your shared apartment with cotton balls stuffed against his left cheek. His lifeless form plopped onto the couch. Though he didn’t say much, the scowl on his face today indicated that the painkillers had finally worn off. As he attempted to cup his face, you immediately slapped his hands away. You both glared at each other. Before leaving the office, the dentist had warned you multiple times to make sure he wouldn’t touch his face after the wisdom tooth extraction. Crossing his arms, he huffed with his bloated face. Aone simply felt defeated. 

You walked over and sat on the edge of the couch. Reaching over to smooth out his hair and you softly spoke up, “I’ll go prepare you some food for dinner ’kay?” Placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, you made your way towards the door and headed out to the supermarket. Having dated Aone for this long, you were already aware of the unspoken, telepathic communication that the two of you shared. Though you did have to admit, when you first transferred to Date Tech you definitely thought that locked stare he exchanged with you meant that he was going to devour you or something like that. To think about it now is only a laughing matter considering how much of a softie he truly is.

Making your way to the supermarket, you already listed out the things to make for dinner. Feeling a little more spontaneous than usual, you figured it would be nice to make a soft dessert for Aone tonight as well. Still, you just couldn’t place a finger on what he would want. Though most people would think he would prefer spice, protein, or something that would immaculate his athletic build, Aone actually preferred soft, sweet, and light foods. 

Trailing off those own thoughts, you passed by notable landmarks shared between you and Aone. A wave of nostalgia rushes over you as you walk past your high school Date Tech, followed by the crepe shop next to it, and a shaved iced cafe down the street. Each pertaining its own milestone to your relationship with Aone. Thinking back towards your high school days was already cheesy enough, you couldn’t help but come to a smile as you thought about all those times Aone truly had been there for you. 

On the week Date Tech’s annual cultural festival, you and Aone were assigned to make mochi together to sell for a booth. With all the ingredients gathered, you were dead set on taking the lead on this one. “Don’t worry Aone! My grandma taught me how to do this!” You puffed your chest proudly and began to search up Youtube tutorials anyways. Eventually, after multiple failed attempts, you stooped to the floor of the classroom and sighed in defeat. The sticky rice paste has essentially become a liquid to drink, and you ironically happened to be drenched in sweat as well. Aone chuckled as he grabbed the pestle in your hands and began pounding the mochi on his own. Before you knew it, Aone handed a piece of the rice cake over to you. Your eyes gleamed as you took a bite, impressed at how tender and sweet the mochi was. When it was his turn to take a bite, he couldn’t help but notice that you had a piece of powder stuck to your cheeks. Without a warning, Aone reached over to you and gently grazed his fingers across your cheeks to remove the powder off of you, his touch feeling your soft and squishy cheeks. 

When you completely bombed your midterms the constant sulk and pout of disappointment it was a recipe called for crepes. Though you were adamant about just going home to study even harder that day, Aone persisted with his efforts to treat you out to make you feel better. Refusing to turn towards the direction of your house, his robust posture made its way in the opposite direction. Aone walked towards the crepe shop quietly anticipating that you’d crave in and follow him too (to which you always did). When the two of you stepped into the shop, it wasn’t the aroma of freshly made crepes and diverse palette of toppings that overwhelmed Aone, rather it was the sweet and light scent of your shampoo that he whiffed at as you ran past him to look at the menu. While you spent eating away the feelings of disappointment and despair, Aone was silently disciplining himself as he tried to resist from taking another sniff every time you complained and pulled your hair. It was like the room was perfumed with your sweet scent as you impatiently waited for the crepes to come out. The look on your face once you finished your plate was pure satisfaction and absolute contentment. Aone then realized that he wanted to be the one who could always help you make that face. But with his painfully shy personality and your utmost oblivious ignorance, he just didn’t have it in him to confess that to you at the time. At least not yet. 

At last, on the night of the first date, you and Aone had gone out for the movies and had dinner together. Since he was still mostly shy, it was quite apparent that you did most of the talking (not that you minded). Though it did take you by surprise to realize how much he had been listening to you when the two of you came across a shaved ice cafe. Aone tugged you back as you continued walking. He pointed out the plastic display of flavored shaved ice. He could have sworn drool was escaping from your lips as your eyes widened with excitement. “Aone, that’s a great idea! Let’s grab dessert before we go home!” In the spur of that moment, you gleefully held his hands and dragged him into the cafe. As he sat there waiting for you to take the first bite, his cheeks flushed colors of the red bean toppings. Before he could even take his bite into the dessert, your hand abruptly knocked over the entire bowl. As if it was in a slow-motion, the ice splattered onto his pants as the red beans toppled over his head. The syrup dripped along his hairline. Complete utter shock and silence on your end, and nothing but disbelief and astonishment on his. 

“AONE I AM SO SO SO SORRY!” You patted his shirt down and apologized for the millionth time that night. But Aone wasn’t angry. In fact, the whole incident only proved to him how much more he had fallen for you. Because no matter how clumsy, wild, and silly you could be, Aone would always be there with you. He grabbed your hands to halt you from trying to make up for the mess and without missing a beat he softly pressed his lips against yours to tell you that all was forgiven. And indeed, all was forgiven that night. 

Now back to the present moment, you and Aone were sitting across the dinner table together. Your dinner plates were scraped empty and the meal came to end as you placed your spoon down, calling it quits. Aone huffed in contentment. He slouched back happily and patted his tummy as he watched you finish off your meal. As he stood up to begin cleaning up the dishes, you stopped him and stood up almost instantly. “Wait! I have a surprise for you!” You ran to the fridge and told him to sit back and close his eyes. Though you knew his wisdom tooth extraction prevented him from going out for dessert like your usual dinner routine together, you also wanted to do something to help relieve his pain and make him feel better too.

“Tada!~” You handed him a small plate of Kuri Kinton, a traditional Japanese dish made up of mashed sweet potatoes and candied chestnuts. Aone excitedly sat back down on the dinner table, anticipating to take his first bite. But before he could even, you swiftly grabbed the only chestnut on the plate and scarfed it down, nearly choking yourself to death. “No. Hard. Foods!” you laughed as you chewed it all up, a piece of syrup stuck to your cheek. Aone stared at you in disbelief before breaking out with you in laughter. His cheeks were puffy as ever as he watched you stuff your face up as well. Aone loved soft, sweet, and light foods. But he loved you more.

[kalboykiyay]

Alright, So I did Swan next because I've got some shit to say! A lot of shit to say!

Purple (Best Friends)

Fox: Best Friend- This one explains itself, Swan and Fox seem to have the best relationship but it's in a very subtle way. They probably have a bunch of inside jokes, let's be real.

Blue (Good "Friends")

Cowboy: Would Protect with life- this is interchangeable with Rembrandt's ngl, and it's not just because Swan craves the sweet release of death. Though I still stick by the notion Swan wanted Cowboy to join the Warriors out of some sort of watchfulness, because like, he really just said "Cowboy comes too." But like, what if Cowboy didn't wanna join the gang? Swan really just spoke for him like a parent or something, but if I continue with these two, I'd probably be inclined to make an entire post on just Swan and Cowboy's Relationship. Which I just might do honestly.

Rembrandt: Would kill a fool for- Okay, I'm inclined to believe that Swan is actually protective of Rembrandt. The little tap when they're getting on the train (Thanks for pointing that out, Ariyn), him telling Rembrandt to stick close by, the patient and kinda softer tone when he told Rem to go look around in the graveyard (he didn't even seem all that mad when Rembrandt protested, in my opinion), and him checking on Rembrandt during the Punks fight (they're literally beating his ass but as long as Rem is okay, it's all good). So yeah, you hurt Swan's cygnet, you're going to die. End of story.

Green (Friends, but not close)

Snow: Trust- I don't think there's anything to "find" in Swan's Relationship with Snow. Strong sense of trust and Swan could probably confide in Snow.

Cleon: Fellow Parent- This one kinda explains itself. They watch over the the kids and... What the fuck do these two talk about? Are they even friends? Iono, fam.

Cochise: Fun to be around- I'm of the notion that Swan and Cochise have a pretty good relationship, but I think that there relationship says more about Cochise than it does about Swan. Swan is a loner, but I doubt Cochise is the type of person to just let things be considering that it's implied that he tried to join the gang multiple times, so I'm inclined to believe that he probably wasn't going to just leave people who looked like they could use a friend alone.

Yellow (Nothing Overly Noteworthy About Their Relationship)

Ash: One of the babies- Okay, I'm inclined to believe that these two could've been close but they didn't get to have that opportunity because of Ash's untimely demise. If Ash had stayed around until the movie, he probably would've been treated similarly to Rembrandt.

Vermin: Not exactly the brightest- this one is pretty straightforward. Swan thinks Vermin is a dumb bitch and that's all. In all seriousness, I just don't see Swan and Vermin being friends. Like, they can get along, but I don't think Swan would be able to deal with Vermin's complaining for an extended period of time, and Vermin (based on the way he responded when Swan told him to sit down and shut up) probably doesn't care much for Swan either.

Orange (Mild Dislike/Discomfort)

Ajax: Frustration- okay, look. After reading the original script, playing the game and taking time to reflect on Swan and Ajax's Relationship, I've concluded that Swan doesn't actively dislike Ajax. Like, sure Ajax is a total prick and a god tier piece of shit, but I'm not inclined to believe that Swan and Ajax's strained relationship is because Swan is frustrated with him. In the original script, when Snow indicates that he thinks they should go back for Ajax, Swan says, "I've had it with him." And you could see it on his face when Ajax left that he had, in fact, had it with him, so he let him leave. You can see that he gets more frustrated over the course of the movie but it's obvious that he's at least trying to keep his patience with him and while it was mean of him to insult Ajax (If you want someone to do something, being a bitch about isn't gonna get them to help, especially if they're somebody like Ajax) but he eventually figured that it wasn't worth it.

Damn, I had way more to say earlier but I forgot. This is all I got for now and now I'm probably going to have to do a deep dive on Ajax's character after this.

[ddaenggtan]

666 birthday candles | m

a few of your friends help to make your birthday extra special. 

pairing | seokjin x reader x yoongi ft surprise at the end :)

wc | like 4kish? | also on ao3

warnings | HOOO BOY ALL THE WARNINGS, threesomes, unprotected sex, PWP, oral: male, oral: female, lots of oral, multiple orgasms, overtimulation, throatfucking, deepthroating in general, throat bulge, degradation, praise, Sir kink, voyeurism, exhibitionism, cum eating, dom!bts, part of the 666verse so Fae Jin and Werewolf Yoongi and Vamp Reader

a/n | this is absolute total complete filth, 100% written for @peekaboongi’s birthday, even though it’s late bc i suck but uWU i hope that you like it and also that y’all like it in general. this is part of 666verse, so features the same MC as the others, but this - like the others - can be read as a standalone

Walking into your apartment, it was immediately obvious that someone else was there that you didn't expect. You stop in the doorway, eyeing the shadows of your furniture and taking in whatever scents and sounds you can. There's a faint breathing echoing through the air, and a single waft of the air tells you who it is. Still, as you head toward the kitchen to check for any notes about your pet, something sits ever so slightly off about things.

"Should I hand you the bottle directly, or would you like me to fetch you a bowl?" You ask the air. There's a muffled laugh, which surprises you, and then a slightly annoyed huff as Yoongi catches the bottle you toss him. He's leaned against the wall of the kitchen, hidden from view of the door, and you wonder just how he got in.

"Ha. Ha." Yoongi's voice is dry as can be, a clear indicator that he's still not a fan of your dog jokes.

"So, what earns me the pleasure of your company tonight? Did you forget to take your medicine again?" The grin you give him is nothing less than shit-eating, a single brow cocked so he knows exactly what you mean. You try not to take too much pleasure in the way his cheeks turn slightly pink.

"It's nothing like that," He says, pouting ever so slightly as he fiddles with the cap of the water bottle. He hasn't opened it, which doesn't surprise you; it's mostly there as something that he can fiddle with while you two talk. "It's just...y'know. Thought you might like company tonight. Considering."

It takes you a full minute to realize what he's talking about, and when you do, your eyes narrow.

"Didn't realize that you still had a key." You raise your voice just enough to make it clear that though you haven't looked away from Yoongi, you aren't talking to him anymore.

"Didn't realize that you never changed the locks," A voice says from your living room. It's dark and shadowed, which is why you would have missed him altogether had he not laughed at your earlier joke. You just hadn't realized who, exactly, was standing there.

"Not much need for it when I don't have to worry about intruders." You cross your arms over your chest, ignoring the warmth already growing in your chest at the sight of him.

Seokjin always looks good, and now is no exception. The human world suits him, even moreso the bespoke suits he likes to flaunt around in these days. You almost miss the old days, with the crushed velvet and silk of his finery, but you have to admit that these modern clothes highlight his shoulders and waist in a way that the old ones never did. Your eyes never leave him as he turns from where he's inspecting the art on the walls. He looks at you just like he did that first night you met, in that ballroom in Italy.

"Happy birthday," He says eventually, a small smile gracing his lips. Yoongi hums in agreement, and you almost wish you could forget he was there. The memory of what happened in that alley is there whenever you close your eyes, though, and what happened after....well, it wasn't as forgettable as some might think from a werewolf on the smaller side.

"You didn't even bring me a present," You whine playfully, pouting your lips just enough to draw Seokjin's attention. His tongue darts out to wet his own and you bite back a smile. It's always nice to know that you can still affect him.

"We are your present." You turn at Yoongi's words, cocking a brow at him once more. "From a...mutual friend, I suppose. Although, I think that present might be more your type-" Seokjin quiets him with only a look, and the curiosity in you is piqued.

"Which mutual friend?" You ask. "We have several." Yoongi just ducks his head and grins, his slightly sharper than usual canines becoming more pronounced when the shadows hit them. A realization hits you all at once, and your eyes dart back to Seokjin.

"Yes," He says with a smile. "That mutual friend." You stay quiet, unwilling to let on just how excited you are about this turn of events. You'd had a private little celebration earlier, of course; a nice little dinner of Italian, with a Frenchman for dessert, before stopping by the club for a while. Namjoon's gift was particularly nice, though you'd left it in your office for those nights where you're too busy to come home.

"Where's my pet?" You ask suddenly, looking around for him.

"Taken care of for the night," Yoongi says. "Didn't want him getting in the way. Or whining at the door to be let in." He laughs a little, no doubt picturing just what that would be like, but you turn to Seokjin.

"We'd never hurt him," The fae prince tells you. "He's with Namjoon, and you know how they adore each other." You can't help but nod; they do adore each other, for many good reasons, and you know Joon will take care of him while you're otherwise occupied.

"Well then," You say, breezing through the room to stand at the entrance of the hallway. "Should I get things started on my own, or will you both be good little boys and come play?"

In an instant you're pressed against the wall, Yoongi's weight heavy against your back as he presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to the spot behind your ear.

"You sure are acting cocky tonight," He whispers. You can hear Seokjin moving around, distantly, but your focus is solely on Yoongi and the hard length you can feel pressed against your ass. "I haven't forgotten what it was like to see you bent over and begging for my cock in you, sweetheart. Should I give you a reminder?" His fingertips play at the hem of your dress, dancing along your upper thigh while his other hand is tortuously slow at pulling the zipper down your back.

You know Yoongi, you remember that night in the alley, and you are distinctly aware that while his control is impeccable, you can take more than the average human can. Which is why you're not afraid to poke the beast a little.

"I don't know," You tell him, a smirk growing across your lips as you do, "Do you really think you're up for something like that? You're so small, don't you need your rut to make you good at it?"

He growls into your ear and the sound shoots straight down to your heat. You think you might hear a chuckle from someone nearby, but you can't be sure because Yoongi's got your dress around your feet and flips you around so your back hits the wall. Before you can even breathe, he's got one hand on your hip to hold you in place, one hand teasing circles around your nipple, and his mouth pressed against yours in a kiss so hot you're surprised the sprinklers don't start. You've never been more glad that you decided to go bare underneath your dress.

"You," He groans into the kiss, pinching lightly at the hardened bud between his fingers, "Need to be taught some manners."

You whine when he pulls away, missing the heat of his body as the cool air of your apartment makes your nipples pebble. He doesn't give in, though; instead he simply pulls on you until you're both at the open door to your bedroom.

Seokjin looks up as you enter, and he looks entirely too at home lounging on your bed. His suit is gone, in a wrinkled pile at the foot of the bed, and the boxer briefs he has on leave little to the imagination. You can hear Yoongi stripping out of his usual flannel behind you, the metallic shink of his pants zipper following not long after, but your attention is focused on the golden skin and wide planes of the fae's body.

It takes milliseconds for you to settle in his lap and pull his lips to yours. It's been too long since you've tasted him, in any way, and the craving that burns underneath your skin is too strong to ignore.

"Patience, my sweet," Seokjin whispers, laughing slightly under his breath as he does. First we have to tell you how this is going to go." You frown, confused, until Yoongi settles in behind you, warm skin against yours and his voice low in your ear. It's almost hard to concentrate; his breath fans across your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and you suppress a shiver.

"Do you understand, sweetheart?" Yoongi asks when he's finished. "Does that sound like fun to you?"

You glance at the nearby mirror, antique and treasured. You can't see yourself, just the way Seokjin's hands rest casually on your hips as he waits for your response, and how Yoongi hovers behind you, sitting back on his calves with one hand tracing patterns on your thigh. Even in the reflection you can see the messy desk behind you all, the way the chair's pulled out from where you'd been sitting there before your errands; heat pools in your stomach, wetness slips down your thighs, ideas swirl in your head of what could come after this, and you nod.

"That sounds perfect, sir," You tell Seokjin as you grind yourself back into Yoongi's length. It's impossible to tell who moves first; the three of you are a blur of hands and lips within moments. You think it might be Yoongi sucking bruises into your neck as best he can and Seokjin circling your clit with his long fingers, but then, it could also be Seokjin's hands kneading your breasts and pinching at your hardened nipples while Yoongi moans softly at the feel of you against him.

"Please sir," You whimper lightly, fixing half-lidded eyes on Seokjin. "Please, I want to taste you. Can I?" The fae prince smiles and pulls his hands away, sliding himself out from under you and Yoongi.

"Lay on your back," the werewolf behind you says. "Let him use that pretty little throat of yours."

You do as you're told, more than willing to give up control for tonight if it means they'll have their way with you. You get comfortable, letting your head hang slightly off the side of the mattress while Yoongi settles between your thighs, just running his hands along your soft skin.

Seokjin looks even taller from this angle, impossibly more broad shouldered, and it only turns you on more. He slides his dick out, situating the band of his underwear just beneath his balls, and your mouth waters at the sight. You'd almost forgotten how big he is; length and girth both, and you have enough experience with him to remember that he absolutely knows how to use it.

You rub your thighs together - just enough enough to relieve that pressure building between them - and Yoongi laughs.

"Look at this," He says. "We haven't even touched you and you're already wet. You're such a good little slut for us, aren't you?" You nod and your tongue darts out to lick your lips. Seokjin doesn't miss the action; his eyes are trained on your face, watching for any sign that you've changed your mind.

"Open your mouth for me, my sweet." You don't even hesitate to obey him, letting your drop open enough that he can slide the tip between your lips. Yoongi groans at the sight, no doubt remembering how it felt to be in that very same position, and his grip on your thighs tightens ever so slightly.

"Fuck, it's just as good as I remember," Seokjin breathes. You tease at his slit ever so slightly with the tip of your tongue, letting it ghost along as he sinks deeper into your mouth before pulling out almost entirely. The weight of him is absolutely superb and you want more.

"Thought you were going to use my throat?" You prod with a coy smile. "Or is it just Namjoon that does that?"

Something hardens in the fae's eyes, and you can barely prepare yourself as he sinks into your mouth once more, hitting the back of your throat with ease and yet still leaving a couple inches left. Your hand wraps around it before you can think, squeezing lightly as you moan around him. He lets out a soft curse, eyes fluttering closed as he pulls back out and then sinks in again.

"You really ought to behave," Seokjin warns. He looks up, away from where his cock disappears into your throat. Seconds later, your thighs are pushed up to your chest, baring your heat and ass to Yoongi. Pain explodes over the skin there, and your cry is muffled against the length in your mouth.

"That's the first of your birthday spankings, princess," Yoongi warns. His hand massages the area lightly, coaxing the pain away while Seokjin continues to use your mouth. "Remind me how old you are? Should we see if you can make it to that?" Another slap hits your ass, in a different spot, and Yoongi massages the pain away there as well. He doesn't stop with just two; he keeps going, until your back is arching up off the bed and Seokjin's dick is slipping all the way down your throat, buried to the hilt in your wet warmth. You can feel the fae shudder, no doubt holding back, and you drop your hand to squeeze lightly at his balls.

It draws his attention enough for you to lift an eyebrow at him; it's enough for him to get the message, hopefully, since your mouth is full of cock. You can feel pre-cum leaking down your throat, your ass is still smarting from the last spank Yoongi gave you, and you're so unbearably wet that you're humping the air.

"God, do you know what you smell like right now?" Yoongi asks you as Seokjin drills into your mouth. "It's like absolute heaven. You're so wet and ready for us, you're fucking dripping, and why? Because you've got a cock in your mouth? Because I spanked your ass until it's this beautiful pink, and you're choking on some fae dick? Is that how much of a slut you are, that all it takes is a little bit of cock and a few smacks for you to soak your sheets?"

"Fuck, is she really?" Seokjin asks, panting slightly. "I bet you taste so good right now, my sweet."

Something wet and warm makes its way up your folds and you hear Yoongi growl. "She fucking does." It's all you can do not to come on the spot as he pulls your thighs apart and attacks your pussy with his mouth.

His tongue is everywhere, all at once; dipping into your entrance, teasing your clit, licking broad stripes up and down before tensing so he can fuck you with it. You couldn't stop your moans if you tried, vibrations echoing around Seokjin's dick. One hand moves to wrap itself lightly around your throat, and you can feel how his dick meets his palm with every thrust.

His hips stutter ever so slightly, and you think you might hear him curse again - quietly - as he comes down your throat. It must have been the sight of Yoongi's face buried between your legs that tipped him over the edge, and that thought paired with the way Yoongi's conducting a symphony of your moans just with his tongue pushes you over the edge as well.

The werewolf doesn't let a single drop escape him; he laps it up as if it were the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, and keeps going. You ride the waves of your orgasm on his tongue, and before you even know it, he's drawing a second out of you as well. Seokjin pulls out of your throat as Yoongi dutifully cleans your cum and teases your clit once more. His grip on your hips is like iron, and actual bruises are starting to form where his fingers dig into your flesh.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you pull him up to look at you. The sight is incredibly erotic; his messy black hair gripped in one of your hands, your own wetness coating his lips and chin as his eyes glow that unnatural red and he growls lightly. Yoongi could eat you out for hours - you know from experience - but you've got something better in mind.

"Will you please fuck me, sir?"

The red in his eyes brightens even as its overtaken by his lust-blown pupils and his grip on you shifts so that he can pull you down the bed until your hips meet his. He doesn't even hesitate as he sinks his cock inside you, both of you moaning at the feeling. He pulls out and slams in again, and again, and again, driving you further across the bed each time. You're all too aware of your audience, even as your shoulder hits Seokjin's thigh, and when you look at him, he's got one hand fisted around his cock, pumping himself in time with Yoongi's thrusts.

You cum again, but the werewolf doesn't slow. No, instead he sinks as deep as he can and stays there, grinding his hips instead of thrusting them so that he brushes up perfectly against that spot inside of you. Electricity sparks in every nerve ending across your body, your orgasm doubling in force and making you clench so tightly around Yoongi that he's forced to stop moving entirely. It's that that truly does him in, and before you can stop him, he's pulling out entirely and letting his cum coat your thighs and pussy.

Seokjin comes not seconds later, warmth spurting across your chest and chin. Yoongi slides a finger through the mess he's made between your legs, gathering your cum as well as his before he leans up to gather some of Seokjin's as well. You watch as his fingers disappear between his lips, and his eyes flutter closed in ecstasy at the taste.

Still, you can tell that he's spent, and Seokjin's recovery period isn't quite what it used to be, so you're content to let them rest. They both settle at the head of the king-sized bed, leaning against the oversized headboard.

A hand encircles your ankle, tugging you to the edge of the bed. You shiver in anticipation and a finger presses hard against your clit. The overstimulation after so many orgasms is on just the right side of painful, and you have no doubt that you're growing even wetter.

"Did you like that, baby girl?" He purrs, slipping a mixture of Yoongi and Seokjin's cum into his mouth. You can just barely see the edges of his fangs, pressing softly against his bottom lip as his tongue flicks up his finger to gather every drop he can.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

"Would you like me to fill that pretty slut pussy of yours with cum, then?"

You nod again. The dark hair is tousled and gorgeous, only slightly damp with sweat. That and the bulge of his suit pants are the only sign that watching the three of you had any effect on him.

"Use your words for me, please. Would you like me to fuck you full of my cum?"

"Yes, please, Sir," You whimper. He smirks, a wry and somewhat crooked expression as his head tilts ever so slightly to the side and he bites his lip, highlight the fang as it presses into the flesh there.

"Good girl," He tells you. The light twinkles off Jungkook's suit jacket as he peels it off, and you think that this might just be the best birthday you've had in years.

[x-ximenas]

Midnight (Pt. 2)

Prompt: Midnight - 5SOS. A bit of Stay - Post Malone

Pairing: Female!Reader/Roger Taylor

Warnings: Mentions of sex (I don’t go in full detail, but there are big innuendos), sad sad things  and my terrible grammar and punctuation remember English’s not my first language.

Word Count: 3,488 words

A/N: So sorry for taking this long to put this up, been having some trouble with my finals, but I survived!! If you liked this bit, I’d love to hear some comments! If you’d like to be added to a taglist for upcoming parts comment, dm me, ask me… just communicate with me!

A/N pt.2: Like most of the time, I took a few literary liberties, there are some movie things, there’s some real stuff, so… yeah.

A/N pt.3: If you’re looking to read some Brian stuff, I have a multipart story (pt. 1, pt. 2) -sadly not finished- but if you read it and like it I’ll do my best to do something about it.

// Part 1 // Part 3 //

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The light was streaming through the almost translucent curtains, warming the room up nicely; birds were chirping at each other, content at today’s weather, thankful for a sunny day instead of the typical foggy grey-ish looking one. It looked as if today was a promising day, one to spend outside, walking in a park, maybe having a picnic with your friends; a day to fall in love and to be truly happy even if you were just having a lazy day with your lover.

Roger woke up due to the light that burned his eyelids, indicating that it was early in the morning and that he had to leave before Y/N woke up. Last night was different to him, it felt different at least, they rarely talked about that kind of transcendental stuff -the future, you know?-, they rather just joke around, as if they were real friends, as if they weren’t naked under the covers and they were just lazing. 

Last night felt special, he reckoned, they seemed more connected than usual and Roger was okay with that, but simultaneously he was really scared about it, he didn’t tend to form substantial bonds with the people he kept this type of relationships, he rather just do what his body craved for and leave, no more words required, just the carnality of the whole ordeal. But with Y/N was different, there were so many interesting things that he enjoyed about her, and unlike the other woman that he frequented, he had to work to get to her, she was unique because she was herself and nobody else. So why was he so afraid?

With a sigh, he looked over his shoulder, Y/N was still very much asleep on the other side of the bed they were still lying on, small snores slipped from her mouth intermittently, she looked calm, a similar feeling resting on Roger’s chest as he gazed at her with tenderness, a feeling that soon was replaced with pure guilt.

He stretched his arms over his head and stood up wanting to crack his back but stopping so that he wouldn’t wake her up. Even though he had considered staying multiple times he always decided against it, so as usual he just grabbed his things from where they laid randomly on her floor and took them to the hallway, where he started to dress himself in the clothes he found on the way out of her flat.

Like most times, guilt rested on the pit of his stomach making him feel fidgety and uneasy, he hated leaving and he hated lying. He groaned as he rubbed his face with both hands, last night repeating in his head, the question, her skin, her lips, and how she opened up her soul, he was really stupid for ignoring such raw moment and even more for not speaking up.

“Say you’re mine” He groaned, his head lulling forward in concentration, sweat dripping off his face, mixing with hers as it cascaded down the valley of her chest.

“I’m yours.” She moaned into his ear, earning a grunt in return as she clawed at his back, surely leaving some red marks.

The small pang of pain apparently edged Roger as he responded in an animalistic manner: “Yes, you are.”

“And I’m yours” he mumbled, before kissing her, such mumble was lost by the feeling of each other’s lips and the slapping sounds their bodies made as they rocked against one another, the headboard moving in harmony.

He's never felt more alive...

He looked around her flat, taking everything in, truly second-guessing if he should leave or not, but his mind was suddenly taken off the topic when his eyes caught sight of a little notepad lying on her countertop, a pen next to it. A thought crossed his mind and he decided to listen to it, so he grabbed the notepad and pen and wrote down a simple sentence for Y/N to read once she wakes up.

As if a note could make his departure any less hurtful, as if it could cover all the things he was keeping from her.

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Mirroring Roger's wakening, Y/N woke up with the tender touch of the unusual rays of sun grazing the exposed skin of her back, echoing the touch of Roger's coarse fingertips, even in her sleep she swore she could still feel his touch. Unlike earlier in the morning the birds have ceased chirping and the only hint of their presence were their silhouettes intermittently blocking the sunlight; they were basking in the gift that was the sun, its appearance was bizarre, so when the clouds decided to let the star come out and play, nature sung along to the tune that the light gave off.

Even though her brain already knew that Roger was no longer laying next to her, the ghosts that danced on her skin made heart hopeful, she longed to find him in the same place he was in when they decided to fall asleep; reason why when she turned her body on herself and face the other side of the bed, her fingers stretched in search of her partner's body heat, yet she found nothing but coldness and the empty bed, leaving a similar feeling on the centre of her chest. It's amazing how, after all this time, she can still keep her hopes up.

Y/N's hand mindlessly patted around the place where Roger used to rest, and with a saddened sigh, and after finally giving up, she lied on her back, her hand coming up to rest on her forehead, the feeling of emptiness spreading throughout her body at a much slower pace than pleasure spreads out. With a shake of her head, she decided to begin sitting up on the bed, firstly using her elbows then the heels of her hands and when she finally was in a comfortable sitting position she moved her body closer to the headboard as to lean her head on the cold surface. 

Yet another sigh escaped her lips as she rubbed the tiredness off her eyes, she didn't necessarily know why she was tired, maybe it was the outcome of last nights events or... she was tired of running around in circles, chasing Roger endlessly on this ridiculous cycle. Now, she groaned in frustration. Y/N had found herself stuck in yet another series of emotions, as of lately her feelings have ranged from love and appreciation to despair and anger, Roger really had her fucked up.

She swiftly threw the scarce covers that were left on her to the other side of the bed making her shiver, consequence of the quick exposure to the sudden gust of air that came through her open window. Her arms flew up to her breasts in an attempt to cover herself both from the cold and the physical vulnerability related to being naked. And like that, she made her way to her bathroom, despite being in her own flat that little walk felt as if it was emulating the popularly known "walk of shame". 

Without much going through her head, she started to get the shower ready for her liking, the water hot, but not hot enough to burn her skin red. As she jumped under the constant beating of the water her mind went numb and her actions quickly switched to auto-pilot, she wasn't up to giving the Roger situation more thought, knowing that if she let her head keep weaving this fantasies she will end up hurting herself even further, parallelly, she also knew that picturing tragic and saddening endings to this thing they had going on wasn't any good for her mental health, either. She was perfectly aware of how her mind could wander off and she was afraid that if she let herself do so, she might end up facing Roger and finally wrapping things up before they wrapped themselves, not a happy outcome, though.

Finally turning off the water of her shower she stepped out of the fog with a towel loosely wrapped around her chest as she held another towel to her hair, giving it a soft yet lazy massage as if to dry it up. On her way out the bathroom to her room, she quickly exchanged the hair towel with a brush, carefully unknotting the mess that was her hair.

With a huff, she opened her closet doors, looking for something nice to wear on an equally as nice day. She was going out with Kat and Donna once again, just this time they decided it was wiser to meet in this sweet little café before heading to Biba instead of meeting at a pub to watch Y/N's lover perform. She quickly threw on her underwear and some bell-bottom brown suede pants, a white button-down sleeveless shirt with a barely-there flower design; and for shoes, a pair of heeled brown and beige suede loafers.

She took a quick glance on her full body mirror, trying to make up her mind on how many buttons she was going to leave unbuttoned. After making up her mind, she was begging to the gods that the mark Roger left wasn't visible if she were to bent over a bit or if the flap of the shirt were to move slightly. Huffin out, her eyes quickly diverted to her face -she decided to ignore the hickey, it was there, fuck what people thought- her hair was brushed out, parted by the middle, sho all she did was brush the front strands behind her ears with the help of a white headband. As she got closer to examine her face, she quickly made up her mind to not over-do her make-up, she'll just brush her eyebrows, add some black mascara to both her top and bottom eyelashes and paint her lips a soft hue of pink.

With a shake of her head, she made her way to her small living room, deciding it was rather wise to water her plants and feed the cat before she went out with the girls. As she poured water on the mildly dry soil she muttered soft encouraging words, complimenting the way that their flowers bloomed or how green their leaves were, caressing the beautiful plants that made her home look lively, plants that she took care of religiously, keeping her somewhat grounded and making her small flat look lively, turning it into a home of her own. Next, she opened the door to her flat, knowing that it was almost certain that Whiskers was standing patiently outside waiting for her daily treat, although Whiskers wasn't hers, she loved him endlessly, he was a lovely cat, endlessly spoiled by everyone that lived in the building.

After leaving a small plate with food outside her door, she took her bag and left the flat, locking the door behind her -a thing that she had initially forgotten about-. As she walked down the street, she took notice on how despite it being sunny outside, a nice gentle breeze of air run from one side of the city to the other, and how when she got tired of the burning sun and she decided to hide herself in the shadows the buildings casted she got cold. Still, she made her way to the café near Biba that the trio frequented, her stomach groaning in protest as she realised she hadn't even had the care of taking an apple or some other snack to eat on her way to the café.

When she got there, she found herself facing the quiet little café, Donna nor Kat anywhere to be seen, so she made her way to one of the tables in the back, a waiter not far behind her, offering a menu with a soft smile. She quickly scanned the menu, pretending to make up her mind in something to eat, the waiter just stood there with a smile, Y/N went there quite often and she always ordered the same thing, he was taking her order in consideration, because the people behind the bar were already making her usual.

"I'll have... I don't know, the usual I guess" she answered, there you have it, bingo!

Everyone in here knew her already, the trio had the tendency to hang out there every once in a while, sometimes they just went there to relax or study, other times they reunited to chat and eat, prepare themselves before heading to Biba or whatever store they had in mind that day.

Y/N waited for her friends to arrive, they usually arrived on time, but strangely enough, the pair were taking a little more time to get there. You see, Kat and Donna were roommates, which made hanging out way easier for the three girls, they could all chill in Kat and Donna's place and have Y/N share a bed with one of them. Also, that meant that when they decided to go out Kat and Donna arrived simultaneously, and usually quite punctually, maybe they overslept.

Though Y/N's thoughts were quickly diverted when she saw Roger walking past the café, a know quickly forming on the pit of her stomach and maybe even her throat when she saw the same brunette from the night before running to catch up with him right in front of the large window showcasing the place, right in front of Y/N. It all seemed like a very poor written joke and she was having none of it, especially after seeing how the brunette's hand looked for the warmth of Roger's, smiling up to him and getting a smile in return... why couldn't she be her? It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, she felt played with, was she just that? A toy?

The clearing of a throat broke her out of her sad daze, as the waiter from before looked at her with an understanding smile, placing her black tea in front of her along with a croissant and a pain au chocolat; she smiled in return, though the smile never reached her eyes and the hunger she once felt when she arrived quickly dissipated into a feeling of nothingness, sickness even.

With a mumble of a 'thanks' she started to play around with her food, adding sugar and milk to her tea, even though she didn't really think she was going to drink it, too afraid that it would propitiate her sickness. But she didn't need to eat or drink anything to make the queazy feeling in her stomach grow, no siree, all she needed was to see Roger and the girl walking into the café, holding hands, finger intertwined.

Her gaze never left him as her eyes quickly watered, and he felt her eyes on him, how couldn't he? He had seen her the moment they stopped in front of the little place, he knew this place from Y/N's stories, he was well aware that this place was Y/N's little place and here he was, standing with another woman by his side, oh how he felt stupid right now, he knew he shouldn't have walked in there, he knew he was making a huge mistake, but he wasn't able to stop Gina -that was the brunette's name- from entering the warm looking café.

Roger had met Gina not too long ago, he had bumped into her at Biba to be exact when looking for clothes with Freddie and Mary. He wasn't planning on talking to her, but she was too kind and too sweet, and he was too stupid, he never dared stop her from talking. And one thing let to the other, and next thing you know they were seeing one another, Gina didn't know about Y/N and Y/N didn't know about Gina, until know, and he could feel the betrayal in her eyes without even looking at her, he had turned Y/N down so many times, too scared to fuck things up; but here he stood with another girl under his arm, a real douche.

Y/N's hand shakily rose, calling for the waiter, she was taking her food with her and she was heading back home, she couldn't stand the thought of being near them, she didn't know if it was out of pain and hurt or maybe even disgust. He quickly arrived by her side and she gently gave the food back to him, asking if he could wrap it up for her to take and if he could tell her how much she had to pay for it. And so he did.

He returned to the table with her food in a little bag and the bill for her breakfast, so she was quick to pull out some pounds, not caring for how much money she was leaving as tip, she was aching to leave and so she did, only bothering to write a quick apology note to her friends, she knew they'd understand.

As Y/N left the café, Roger finally dared to look at her and in doing so he could tell how badly he had screwed up. Y/N looked gorgeous, with her hair flowing down her back, barely being put back by the pearly white headband that rested on her head, her eyes, despite the sadness that had found its home there, were gorgeously framed by the darkened lashes, lashes that were starting to stain her lids, as they were wet from the tears that threatened to escape her eyes -he had made her cry, and it made him feel awful every time-; her lips that once were painted a light shade of pink were turning a paler shade by the second, as she was removing its colour every time her tongue darted out to wet the drying skin, same skin that was being bitten down as a way to anchor herself to stop the tears from forming. There she went, one of the most beautiful girls he had ever been with, he should've run for her, he should've chased her, but his feet felt heavy as his hand was wrapped around someone else's.

Y/N quickly hailed a passing by cab, wanting to get home as soon as possible, yearning to leave the awful scene behind, same scene that replayed in her head. Roger didn't kiss Gina nor anything close to it, but the proximity that they shared gave Y/N chest pains. She looked out the window absentmindedly as she told the cab driver were to take her, her fingers tracing small figures on her legs, trying to keep herself grounded. Don't cry...

As Y/N's gaze was kept on the outside, she took notice on how the weather changed, the sun that she was awoken by was no longer in sight, hidden behind the typical London clouds, it appeared as if rain was soon to approach but it didn't, it just taunted the brave folks walking around unprotected from the unstable weather. The birds that were once caught flying around had made up their minds and decided on heading back to their respective nests; the warmth that hung on the air had been replaced by stronger winds, leaving Y/N feeling cold not only externally but from the inside as well.

Y/N handed the driver some money and headed to her flat, her feet dragging as she went. The weather had indeed forgiven her, for as she passed the entrance to the complex rain started to pour. With a sigh, she got her keys out, only stopping herself from entering to pet Whiskers, who purred at the saddened woman, he could feel it radiating off of her and he didn't know what else to do to comfort her but this sole thing.

Once she closed the door behind her she fell to the floor, her back against the wood as she just let the tears roll down her cheeks, no sobs came out of her mouth, no sound escaped her, she just wanted to let everything out at once before pretending everything was okay. The living room's window was open, intensifying the lack of warmth in the place, she lived alone but never felt the solitude, not until today, the only company she kept was Whiskers, her plants and Roger, though she quickly realized she had to stop counting him as a company. The tears that were streaming down her face were leaving wet patches on her shirt and pants, not like she minded, but it made her shiver every time wind blew through the window.

She didn't know how long had she been sitting there, just crying her eyes out, but once she felt she had no tears left to cry she stood up, placing the cold food on the countertop and as she was about to open the bag her eyes drifted to a small piece of paper, lying out of place.

Sorry for leaving, dove. Maybe I'll stay one day... A future for the two of us.

// Part 3 //