#THAT MUSKY ASS MOTHERFUCKER

[1captainjordan4]

Morning after ✨

[bitchlessdino]

repeat rebound (m) Ch.4: repeating hook ups

Chapter list

Pairing: Fem!reader x fwb!soonyoung

Genre: Crack, smut, fluff

word count: 3.0k

tags: mean dom!soonyong, rec. oral, pussy slapping, hair pulling, unprotected sex, tender moments, domestic moments, kids, dilf!wonwoo, brief junhui (barely even there)

Summary: The best way to get over someone is to get under someone. Again and again and again.

author note: after 84 years, its here. Here's to more complicated situations.

tag list @nikkell @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @i-dont-give-a-fok @darthlunaa @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan

You paid the price for tampering with Soonyoung’s patience. Soonyoung and you left the wedding together, letting Mingyu know you’d be fine without his ride back (quite the understatement), and found yourself once again buried within the sheets you defiled once before. You mess with his locks dressed in a musky hair wax, running your lips over his feverishly.

Your moans are swallowed down his throat and he digs his hips–covered in a single pair of underwear–into your bare core. His stiff length taunts the flesh under your ass, and your legs hook around his torso daringly, wanting–needing–him to be closer than he is right now. Soonyoung can sense your frustration, grinding harder until the pitch of your whines had the potential to shatter glass.

“Fucking needy, hmm? Should’ve thought that long and hard before kissing that motherfucker.” He grits before pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth.

His hands grip the side of your thighs, pulling your legs up and against him, rubbing his wet erection between your divide, but don’t give you the pleasure of pushing himself inside. The friction of the cotton briefs frustrated him as much as it did you, feeling the slight chafe tugging against his sensitive girth, but it’s what you deserved. He warned you about being a brat enough times.

“Soonyoung…fuck me, please…”

He shakes his head, a devilish side grin appearing on his face. “You’re so fucking stupid for my cock. Are you going to apologize then?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Are you really? I don’t believe you.”

Your torso is lifted high off the bed, almost standing upright, and Soonyoung hacks a violent spit on your spread-out folds. You grip the sheets on either of your sides, heart pounding at the sight of his gaze piercing down at you. You watch as his arm snakes around your hips, the tips of his fingers slapping against your pulsing clit, and you yelp, twitching as shivers run up your spine.

“I’m going to have you screaming for me. Is that clear, Y/n?”

You nod quickly, squirming as he holds you still, appearing stronger than you expected to be.

“Good. That should make up for disobeying me,” He says, slapping your clit again, seeing that familiar reaction.

His tongue goes running strips over your slit, not shy to plunge it through you, unmistakably swirling circles to catch the drippings from your walls. Slick sounds of his tongue making rounds make their way to your ears, Soonyoung’s mouth catching every thrust of your cunt makes. He emits a loud moan that shifts into dark chuckles, vibrating throughout your body, and his name itches in your throat. Saying his name wouldn’t be enough, you already knew that, yet you both knew he had to earn those screams and he was going to. Faking it wasn’t an option to just have a quick fuck. You wouldn’t have wanted that either.

Your hand reaches out to cover over his hand that teases the shape of your clit, feeling the stroke of his fingers in every fluid motion, and holds his dark, watchful eyes as you melt into his control. Your jaw drops, moans authentically getting louder, Soonyoung’s tongue fucking and rubbing your clit faster. It’s almost as if you’ve both been starved, waiting for this moment to arrive.

When he gets as he’s promised, he lets your arousal linger, slapping your clit as his head nods back in ravenous licks up your pussy, slowing down only when your hips falter, your whimpers fade, and a gasp of relief leaves your body. He lets your body down, seeing your chest heave up and down. He massages your inner thighs, mind you, proof of his work dribbling down his chin and seeping out of your cunt.

“You’re not tired, right? You’re done when I say you’re done.”

Following Soonyoung’s lead became second nature. Even straddling his laps, towering over him, you bend to his will, biting back aches of pleasure soaring through your body. His cock, hard from missing in action, stretches out your pulsating walls. His hands on each breast, your hands on either shoulders, you rock into his thrust like clock work, muttering obscenities that he could never get over.

He mouths over one breast, fondling the other. His free hand manages to pull your head back and tug at their strands, watching you ride in a state of euphoria, hunger lingering on every section of your tongue as his lips push back against it.

You didn’t stop at one orgasm that night, nor two, or three. If you were honest, you lost count after a few hours into the night, and slept in until noon. It was a miracle if you woke up at all, given the events of last night. Stirring in bed, you realize Soonyoung is still asleep. Unlike the last time you’ve slept over, you were savoring the moment of being in his arms rather than running away. You wonder if that’s what he would’ve wanted.

Instinctively, you nuzzle closer against his chest, and in his sleep, his arms wrap you around closer. “Soonyoung?”

He doesn’t answer.

Testing the theory of his consciousness, you push your head down to slip from his grasp, and he only grips you tighter, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin. “Don’t go, you’re like a hot water bottle.”

“Don’t you have work or something?”

“If I did, I’d tell them I wouldn’t be coming in. I’m too comfortable. I don’t sleep as well as this, or wake up in bed as nice and warm as this.”

You flush hearing that, fitting your chin around the crook of his neck. You inhale his natural musk, somewhere between a typical man scent and the ocean: you’ve concluded it was pleasant. He hums at the sensation of your breath on his bare skin. His hand comes up to finger through your bed hair. As you speak, there are those soothing vibrations against his chest. “Have you ever considered that I have work to do?”

“It’s Sunday. Most people don’t work on Sundays.”

“What makes you think I’m ‘most people?’”

His chuckles were hearty, and a hand of his strokes over your bare back. “You’ll never be ‘most people.’ Probably why I like you.”

Did he swallow romance novels without you looking? You tear away from his neck to meet his eyes, noticing how he fondly stares down at you and what this is doesn’t feel like a hookup. His hand curls over your face, eyes lowering to the sight of your lips, swollen from sleep. His thumb goes to part your lips and there’s this tender, yet sensual, ambience that you can’t quite ignore. “Are we staying in today?”

You blink at him. “We?”

He closes the gap. The comforting feeling of your plush lips meeting one another evokes a sense of floating on a cloud. The carnal desire festering in the pit of your stomach, defiant of let you argue, falling back seamlessly in his intimacy. You’re feeling his hips grind back into yours. You moan a pretty moan, giggle a pretty giggle, bite back a pretty cry. Soonyoung feels you shake under his touch, just how he likes it, and a smile stretches across his face. “I’ll make you breakfast”—kiss—“after I eat you for breakfast.”

When did his fingers get between your legs? How are you already so wet? Good lord, what was happening?

You’ve had morning sex before, not that long ago, with Jeonghan. But this was falling dangerously close to Lee Chan–shudder–territory of intimacy. Boyfriend intimacy.

Your voice grows louder in his ear as you try to collect your thoughts, form words, sentences, anything. “I-I’m not trying to be a rebound.”

His eyes meet yours with confusion as he pauses, seemingly perplexed, “I thought I liked me.”

“I—“ You shut your eyes, “I do like you, Soonyoung, but I think we’re both acting rash right now.”

He scoffs, offended, “You say that after we’ve had sex? Twice?”

“It’s…sex. None of us should be trying to jump on the next rebound, you know. We’re both getting over other people, this isn’t exactly healthy.”

He pulls away. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry—“

“No, no. I get it. So, maybe I got a little attached. You’re probably the first person I’ve been this insanely into since my ex.”

You feel a sense of flattery, as you shake your head in disbelief and prop yourself up on your elbows. “That’s insane—“

“Yet, here we are.”

You furrow your brows together. “I kissed someone else yesterday.”

“And I kissed you, again and again, to make up for it.” He points out, grinning.

Your lips curl up in a small smile, but immediately dissipate. “Soonyoung—“

“No, I get it really—I’m sorry. I didn’t even consider that you were probably still getting over someone, too.”

“If it matters, you’re hot.”

He lets out a bitter laugh.

“No really, you’re hot, you’re sexy, you are amazing at sex—how you got broken up with, I’ll never know.” You go on.

Soonyoung sighs, looking back at you as if expecting to hear more you had to say.

“Not to mention you have a great sense of fashion. You’re surprisingly sweet for a modeling deal waiting to happen, and are really, really good at fucking. How in the hell does someone,” You throw your hands around aimlessly, indicating an impossible sex move, “do that, not not just have a bunch of hoards of people at your front door waiting for a turn.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not a machine, I’m human.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He tucks you back to his side. “So what I’m hearing is, you like having sex with me.”

You softly laugh. “A lot.”

“Well, at least I have that going for me.”

“You have way more than that going for you. You’ll be fine.” As you begin to pull away, thinking it’s time to leave, he reels you back in. He blinks back at you expectantly. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“We—I just told you that—are men really this bad at listening?”

A sultry chuckle leaves his lips, “It’s fine. You don’t want to date me,” he draws his face closer. It gives you barely enough space to breathe, blinking back at him, with a leap in your chest, “ but…I said I’d eat you for breakfast.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“It’s just sex.”

A weight has been lifted off your shoulders. “Oh, then, by all means good sir, breakfast is served.”

Soonyoung stays true to his promise. Approaching his kitchen, you let out a relieved sigh as you’re sitting on a counter stool, the pool of raw arousal still radiating from your core, despite the aftercare. Soonyoung’s bare back is towards you, flipping pancakes like it was a normal occurrence before plating it with chocolate syrup and strawberries. How domestic.

“Thanks. I was starving.”

“I would hope so,” He smiles.

You blink at him, a pang resonating ni your chest. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He leans over from the counter, his damp hair meets his piercing gaze.

“You know exactly what, you evil, sexy incubus.”

Confused, he tilts his head. “What’s that?”

“Never mind.” You return to your free meal, peeking at him, cleaning up after his dirty pans and bowls, and you see the shift of his back muscles as he flexes.

You pause your chew, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth with the delicious view, lightly pounding your chest. You make a harsh swallow, the food in your mouth sliding down like a hard lump, while your eyes trail down to the shape of his narrow waist. God fuck.

“So, what are your plans besides not dating me?” He teases, a slight bitterness in his words, still facing away from you.

“That,” You start to answer, lifting up a fork in his direction, “is a good question. I don’t know yet.”

You can almost hear that smug tug of Soonyoung’s lips. He wipes off his hands with a paper towel, tossing it aside before confirming your suspicion. “I guess it won’t have anything to do with me then.”

“Ding, ding, ding. Correct.”

“Great, what do I win?”

“Peace and quiet.”

“Your prize sucks.”

Soonyoung comes from behind the kitchen counter to sideline you, leaning over with a daunting gaze. “I’d like to make a request instead.”

You raise a curious brow. “What kind of request?”

He watches you amused. “We keep having sex.”

“Soonyoung–”

“Ah, ah. Let me finish. We have sex when we’re both single and needing it. You can do whatever you want with whoever,” he adds with a nonchalant wave of his hand, “but as long as it's not exclusive, you come right back to me.”

The thought of more sex with Soonyoung did make your pussy quiver. “You want to be fuck buddies?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re already attached to me. You’ll get possessive.”

“That was before understanding our circumstances. I am perfectly capable of keeping things…beneficial. No commitment, no life building, no deep feelings, or misunderstandings. Just companionship.”

The way Soonyoung talked strayed between a 14-year old discovering sex for the first time, to an experienced professional negotiator, and right now he was leading you in a direction that could convince you to buy a time-share in Tampa. Then again, sex with Soonyoung was much more tempting than a time-share.

“What’s in it for me?”

He gives you a befuddled look. “Mind blowing sex?”

“Deflate the ego for me, will you?

He snickers,“You admitted it to yourself.”

“And if I was just softening the blow of rejection?”

He leans a little closer, unfazed by your lack of reaction on your face because he could see it all in you body language. He glances down at your lap, legs still unsteady from the teh work of hi tongue between your legs not that long ago. Delicious. “There was nothing soft about me inside you when you scream my name loud enough for the people in Athen–”

“Ok, ok. I get your point. Fine. But I would like to add one condition to this…‘agreement.’”

“What? ‘Don’t fall in love with you?’”

You pull yourself back from his presence, intimidated by even the thought of that happening. “That’s a given, of course. What I mean is we keep this between us. For now. No more making it complicated for anyone on the outside.”

“What about Jeonghan?”

“What about Jeonghan?”

“Isn’t he your bestie in the whole wide world or something?”

What Jeonghan didn’t know wouldn't hurt him. “I won’t tell him either.”

Which would’t be hard. He hadn’t responded to any of your messages recently. God knows why. Although, you do remember he said he'd be on a business trip out of town for a while, so you had to assume that was the reason.

Soonyoung grins at your answer, turned out by the orchestrated secret he’s in on. “Good. Wanna fuck again?” And there’s the sick, horny teenager thoughts.

“You really are insatiable are you?”

You leave his place around–holy fuck, its 4pm–after another go on the Soonyoung carousel and take your walk of shame, avoiding cabs, right back up to your apartment. Your eyes seem to be deceiving you when a figure stands before you several feet away from your door, knocking at a neighbor a few doors to your right. He seems to notice your appearance as his eyes shoot up in surprise.

“Y/n?”

What the hell was he doing here?

“Daddy!” The door cracks open and a familiar-looking girl hops up and down at the sight of him.

Wonwoo goes down to pick her up and hold her in his arms, a smile stretching over his face. “Hi pumpkin.”

At the speed of light, his eyes dart back at you sheepishly. “Didn’t know you lived here. Taking care of my daughter while her mom’s away.”

“Her mom?” Okay, you knew he had a wife–moments before you were going to ride him like a mechanic bull at cowboy theme bar, might you add–and you knew he had a daughter, but what did he mean, her mom? Wouldn’t it have been better to call her his fucking wife? Better question, why do they live ap–oh.

The woman identical to the photo in his living area pops out with a man beside her, smiling at the father and daughter duo and kissing the young one’s forehead. “You’ll have so much fun with daddy, behave for him okay?”

The sweet girl nods before her mother looks back at Wonwoo. “Thanks again, Woo.”

The broad shoulder man shrugs, genuinely seeing no reason for thanks. “She’s my daughter too. You and Jun have fun.”

The couple wave, taking the other route away from you, luggage following rolling behind them. You stare at this stranger you almost had hot, passionate sex with and the reason you left in haste bounce in his arms. What was happening here?

“Looks like I have explaining to do,” he jokes dryly.

“Maybe?” You agree, just as shy about the whole situation, “About that night–”

“Maybe another time? I want to have Winnie get her lunch.”

Oh my fucking god, they named her after a cute bear obsessed with honey. That’s fucking adorable. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have thing for hot dads. And Wonwoo was one hot dad.

You nod. “Sure, sure. I’ll make sure to have my piece to say, so. You know where I live, ha ha. 615 by the way.”

He nods, parting away hairs from Winnie’s head, smiling back at you gregariously, “Oh course,” he holds up his daughter’s tiny head, “Say bye-bye to the nice lady.”

“Bye-bye!”

You grin, gushing from the pure scene before waving back at her and seeing them disappear behind the door. The moment his door shuts is the moment your door opens wide and closes just as swiftly. You press your back in disbelief from the scene you had just witnessed, mentally slapping at yourself for not asking and running away like an asshole. And great, not only were you blatantly proven wrong, you made the conscious mistake of confronting him? This was going to be a very, very awkward turn of events. You had better start practicing your awkward apology now.

Why the hell do all the consequences of your actions have to come knocking basically at your door?

[vyglitchcraft]

Hear me OUT who in Task Force 141 has the best smell? I know its sounds WEIRD but hear me out

Also this is gonna get a BIT lewd so yeah warning this gets SUGGESTIVE

Ghost I'm thinking something edgy, an intense dark smell that isn't for everyone. A metal smell with gunpowder and coffee with a hint of black tea from how much he's addicted to caffeine, it sticks to his clothes and bedsheets. Although after a mission he probably smells well like war, blood, concrete, and well yeah but that's for every soldier. Simon's body odor tho is...pleasant if you have a musk kink but if you don't, it's strong as fuck enough that you will force him to shower after he comes home

Price smells awesome, he's like a smoking hot DILF! This man smells woody, musky, he smells like a well aged whiskey. He probably also has a hint of that brand new leather car smell if that makes sense. He smells sexy okay? I'm a slut for this man. Again this is him if he's not fighting, everyone smells like shit after going to war. Besides all that, his scent doesn't linger unlike Ghost, sure it sticks to stuff like clothes but that's it. He also smells like nicotine which is something you either despise or love but its not there after he showers so its fine

Roach! Smells like a frat boy, he wears cheap cologne but it's what i imagined because i headcanon him as the youngest one in 141. But if he doesn't wear cologne, he doesn't exactly smell at least nothing that is notable, besides a bit of coffee and a hint of beer, he doesn't smell much. But on a bad day now it gets bad, this boy sweats like motherfuck, he just smells like sweat that's it. Unless you like the scent of a gym locker room, please grab this boy and pull him into a shower. And yes do it like you're showering a cat, he gets horny after a long mission so its best to make his impatient ass wait

Soap? He smells like soap...no literally hear me out, he smells really neutral so he takes in the scent of any soap or shampoo that he uses. He probably smells like nicotine but that's because he hangs around Price a lot. Although he's not completely scentless unlike Roach, he smells like rust or metal similar to Ghost but more intense with a fireplace smell as well but it gets a layer of any product that he uses. Also his smell doesn't stick at all so that's quite nice! Not my favourite but i like it

And i can't imagine Gaz, Farah, Or Alex's smell

[luckyaes]

Can you please send mommy a direct message 🥹🙏

Sorry I’m only for the he/him holes and he/him poles so kindly get the fuck off my page and find some other desperate and insecure motherfucker to prey on. Musky ass bitch

[casuallivi]

Three is a Party

kicking of elrielmonth22 week five with a high kick! *excited karate noises* At some point during the writing i popped Pony by Ginuwine, and that's how you know i went deep in my head, LOL 😅😆

Summary: When Elain chosed Azriel she didn't expect to have a third part involved in their relationship.

Warnings: Listen, this is extremely NSFW, the filthiest thing I shared to date! I wont say much because: suprises. Read at your own risk. Post ACOSF.

Word Count: 7054 (of basically smut, because that’s who I am as a person today)

.............

The colors of dusk painted the open sky behind the opulent towers of the House of Wind, long shadows covering the empty training ring where Azriel landed.

He slid the glass door open trudging inside, wings heavy from the long hours patrolling the Coast. The interior quiet without the newly-mated couple humping on every corner of it, Cassian gone to Illyria, surveying a new focus of rebel spree, Nesta following behind to stay with Emerie, leaving Azriel and The House behind. Not that him –or The House– cared. He spotted the interrupted mess of flour on the countertop and smiled, her unforgettable scent beginning to fade from the kitchen. Azriel hadn’t stayed up here for longer than training hours since the wedding, eventually stopping coming all together since Mor returned to replace him. Nowadays all of his free time was spent in a small apartment, bustling with indoor plants, near the Palace of Bone and Salt. The reason Azriel was here and not in his girlfriend cozy apartment? The perfumed note waiting for him in her bedside table.

Meet me at the House of Wind.

So here he was, climbing the stairs to reach his neglected room, whistling and skipping steps like an overly excited youth. Then the sound came. Azriel stopped, ears fluttering to capture the sound again, not believing what he was hearing. An army of angry shadows swarmed him, the siphons on top of each hand flaring to life, all of his senses focused on the distinct sound of female moaning and panting, because they were not being produced by any female. Azriel knew those delicious high-pitched moans well enough to gather that she was not playing with herself. Even if his memory was altered by the most intricated of spells, erasing every aspect of his essence, Azriel would still remember every little thing about her, especially the sounds she made being pleasure by him.

His nostrils flared searching for confirmation in the lingering scents on the hallway. He found nothing but himself and Elain, deep churning cedar and jasmine intertwined, dripping with heavy musky notes of arouse and lust, her honeyed cum perfuming the air like his sweetest punishment. A deep snarl escaped his lips when Elain moaned louder, dark hot jealousy freezing his veins, cobalt waves of power rattling the expensive paintings on the walls. The door to his room was slightly ajar. Azriel pushed inside, being greeted with a vision able to drive him insane for a variety of reasons, good and bad ones.

There she was.

Elain.

His beautiful Elain wearing nothing but his heart, naked in all her glory, straddling his lap, hair pushed to the front, leaving her slim back on disposal, the vision disrupted by her long creamy arms tied behind her back by a black silk fold –the twin to the one in his pocket. She kissing him deeply, her tongue slipping in and out of his mouth like his cock slipped in and out of her slippery pussy. He slapped her ass, which was decorated with various round marks varying in tones of pink and red, opening her, fifthly grinding her up and down his length. Elain cried, stretched and gushing around the thick intruder, feeling overheated, sweat running down her body, intertwining her fingers and pushing her breast forward, trying to gain momentum to meet him thrust by thrust. He chuckled at her efforts.

“Oh gods, oh my, my, oh,” she babbled lost in pleasure, eyelids fluttering.

Motherfucker. Azriel cursed under his breath, jealous that he wasn’t the one coaxing the melodious harmonies from her.

After finding out why he rejected her on solstice, Elain shared a piece of mind with Azriel, beating him with the fresh petunias she happened to be holding. “Your coward,” a strike from the left, “bat, stupid, stupid,” a strike from the right, “you left me!” She stroke his shoulder, “you could have,” stroke on his head, “told me! You called a mistake! I cried for you!” Another strike, “get out! Get out! Get out!”

Azriel didn’t avoid any of the hits as she vented her anger, petals scattering around them. He deserved worse. “Elain, please. Let me explain,”

“No!” she snarled a little breathless. “You didn’t explain when it mattered, now I don’t want to listen. I have no interest in a man who doesn’t want me. I’m not doing that again. Get out!”

True to herself, Elain didn’t listen to him that day or any other (no matter how hard he tried to speak with her when they saw each other), it didn’t help that she had moved out from the River House, making it harder for him to “coincidentally” come across her. But Azriel was not about to repeat his mistake, he would not pretend her indifference wasn’t killing him, nor that he liked to avoid her, a stupid thing he stopped doing after their fight.

Shameless as only a male knows how the be, he discovered her address with little to none effort, abusing his abilities to leave a white tulip at her doorsteps, apology notes tied to the thin stems. I love your handwriting, she told him once, so he wrote her, every day, until Elain, who was a much better person than him, decided to end his penitence. One day he winnowed to her place to find her sitting on the doorsteps, all ninety-nine tulips sitting in a big transparent vase with a cobalt bow around it, alive and fresh as if they had just been plucked. Elain extended her hand, waiting for the hundredth, and Azriel gave her.

That day he talked, and she listened.

He told her everything. Even things that no one else knew, secrets regarding his powers, exposing the real nature of his shadows, how they were a sentient being in more ways than other supposed. The further he developed his powers, the powerful the shadows became, until one day he came: The Shadowsinger. The truth was that name meant more than a way to refer to him for the nature of his powers. Azriel’s shadows liked to take his shape.

The Shadowsinger was “living and breathing” creature born from swirling tendrils of darkness, who possessed their own old magic, curving and shaping as the Illyrian they choose to call master: Azriel. With a mind of his own, the bastard mimicked Azriel with the precision of a twin, from the tip of his toes to the tip of his wings, the massive frame, which was made of darkness, evolving to real life flesh and bones, color blooming from the pitch black form, the skin acquiring the same bronzed tone, wings measuring the same length, hands baring the same scars, the only visible difference being in the eyes.

Where Azriel had hazel ones, his shadow-self were pitch black.

For half millennium two of him roamed on earth, a secret he kept sealed in the deepest vault of his mind. Now she knew. And Azriel could finally breath, knowing there was someone who he didn’t have to hide from, who he didn’t have to keep himself in check with, he could simple be. Life was good.

Except for the fact the bastard walking around with his face. When Azriel was too tired to hold him in check, the fucking Shadowsinger separated himself from his controlled shadows, “awaking” and walking around as if he was the owner of the skin, delighting in pain and pleasure, causing havoc and fucking whoever he charmed (which wasn’t hard to do with his looks).

Now here he was, fucking his girlfriend.

Since when had this stunt being going on?

Through the frenzy of their noisy fucking, he stilled Elain's hips, smirking at Azriel.

"No!" she chocked trying to bounce with no success, unable to move with his strong hands stopping her. "I want to come." She whined frustrated.

"It seems like we have company, little seer." Shadow-Azriel drawled out, licking her shoulder, his pitch-black eyes looking over her straight into Azriel’s churning hazel ones. "Like what you see?" he challenged his master, lifting his hips into Elain, making her whimper.

"I told you to stay away from her," Azriel growled in a menacing tone. The shadowsinger cocked his head at him, sneering. "You didn't, why should I?" The scent of challenge filled the room, mixed with subtle notes of interest coming from Elain, who had finally turned to look at him.

“Untie me.” She asked calmly (the calmer one could sound with their breath all over the place) to the one under her, who swiftly set her free, rubbing her pink wrists when she got down from his lap. Illyrian and Shadow stared at each other. Elain was the one to broke the silence. “Hi.”

Azriel glared at her.

“Hi?” he repeated incredulous. “Hi?!!”

Shadow kissed her bruised wrists, trying to get her attention, biting the inner flesh just for the hell of it. She nudged him away, asking Azriel. “Are you jealous of yourself?” eyes sparkling with mischief.

“He is not me.” He replied coldly, sulking “shadows and old trickery, that’s what he is.”

“And who’s shadows are they?” she asked softly, absently rubbing his counterpart knee.

“…Mine.”

Elain smiled, cheeks flushed. “Come here, love.”

“Nah, let him go back to his boring duties. Don’t worry, I can entertain our girl.

Azriel flipped him, striding to bed. He wouldn’t voice it out loud, but sometimes he felt envious of the Shadowsinger jovial expression. He maintained his blank feature coated with a pinch of politeness and the trademark confident stance, except he was freer from the jaded expression that seemed to perpetually stare back at him in the mirror, a tired soul who led a hard life.

“Well, your boyfriend is back,” Shadow declared with petulance, "the boring one."

"Her only boyfriend." Azriel grumbled, grabbing Elain’s chin, "I’m your boyfriend. Me."

She gave him a peck.

“Of course.”

His shadow-self scorned.

“What am I, then? Chopped wood?” Elain giggled, “keep laughing pretty girl, I have wood for you down here.” He lifted his hips suggestively, his erection jumping. She gulped down, looking back at Azriel, big doe eyes melting in pure mischief. “Take your shirt off.” She commanded.

“Do it yourself.” He snapped back, stopping at the edge of the mattress.

Elain crawled closer to kneel near him, her arousal thicker than ever while she pushed his cold jacket down, undoing the slacks of his shirt to brush them off his powerful shoulders. “You’re so pretty.” His wings twitched at her words, eyes focused on her lovely bare tits, grabbing them, pressing his thumb on the swollen bruised nipple, tracing the bite marks on the aureole. Elain held his shoulder when he squeezed both tits, pinching her nipples hard. Her fingers trembled as she moved to the cords in his pants.

“That’s not my shirt, flower.” Azriel teased, toeing his boots off.

“I know.” She replied, the pink blush from her cheeks and neck spreading across her lovely tits. He made no effort to help her take the leather down. When she was done, Azriel stood there, clad in boxers and socks, wings spread in full length as Elain drunk him in, licking her lips, legs pressed together. She slipped a finger inside his underwear, pulling and let it slap against his skin.

“You look ridiculous.” His shadow commented.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Elain’s heartbeat was increasing its pace by the second. At first she felt slightly embarrassed to be naked with two male in the room, embarrassed to be aroused by it. She gulped, focused on wandering her finger pads across Azriel’s sculpted chest sleek running down her shut thighs. She wanted them. She wanted her beautiful brave Azriel, and she wanted his vicious dirty counterpart, the one who called himself Shadowsinger, using her lovers frame to walk free in the world of living.

Elain wasn’t naïve. She knew what the Shadowsinger was attracted to, he had felt her instantly; the seer lurking beneath her skin, her own slice of darkness and mist and magic trying to break free into the world. The Seer and The Shadowsinger couldn’t get enough of each other, and every time he saw Elain, the shadow-Romeo tried to woo her.

“Come on, Ellie.” He begged behind her for the hundredth time that afternoon, pushing her braid to kiss her shoulder. “One time. Let’s do it one time, and if you don’t like I’ll bring it up again.

She rolled her eyes, driving her elbow hard on his gut in attempted to shake him off her. The House plopped more flour on the counter, wining a smiley “thank you,” from Elain. The lights twinkled.

“I won’t cheat my boyfriend.” She vowed, mixing the ingredients on the table top, kneading the dough with renewed strength.

Boyfriend.

The word still sounded a bit foreign to Elain. Proper human ladies didn’t have boyfriends. They had a coming of age ceremony, were introduced to society in a ball, got engaged and got married. The fae were much loose when it came to relationships. Elain knew she wanted Azriel, she had known for a long time. However, after having a disastrous almost-wedding when human, she lacked the confidence to be someone’s fiancée again. Yet she had accepted his ring.

A beautiful white-gold band she always wore on her right hand, a heart-shaped pink sapphire flaked by two smaller diamonds on each side resting on top of it. Azriel were a similar band, with no stones in it, her full name engraved on the inside with her own handwriting. Elain Acheron. She cried when he asked her to put it on his finger, after placing her ring on hers. Therefore, she was Azriel’s girlfriend, he was her boyfriend, and life was good. If you don’t count his shameless shadow-self wanting to get inside her knickers every other day.

“Is not cheating, little seer. I’m like him, only better.” He winked, hugging her from behind, squeezing her waist, kissing her neck. Her lids grow heavier when he started nibbling on her skin, her traiteurs body convinced the scarred hands slipping behind her apron, cupping her breasts, were the same ones pleasing her bed a few nights ago.  

An involuntary moan escaped her when his teeth grazed her skin, and she slapped her mouth loudly, leaving white flour prints in her face. The Shadowsinger being handsy was no news to her, but her body reacting to it was.

“You’re not him.” She countered weakly.

“I’m a part of him.” At that he could feel her interest, smiling, he continued, “I was born for him,” he used his knees to part her legs, stepping between them, flattening her palms on the counter. “Azriel won’t mind.” He throwed to close the deal, biting the place where he had kissed.

Elain gasp-laughed.

“I don’t think you know him very well.”

“He won’t mind me.” He clarified turning her face to him, waiting. “We’ve shared before.”

Elain shivered.

“You have?”

“We have.”

His thumb skated across her lower lip, his head suddenly bending down to kiss upper one.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled with her eyes half-closed, her head leaning back against him.

“Making sure your apron checks out.”

She looked at him quizzically before remembering the apron she had on: I kiss better than I cook.

He kissed her again, an innocent peck, testing. Elain sighed, throwing one hand back to pull his hair, pushing him down to kiss her properly. His kiss felt like Azriel’s but tasted different, darker, as if he was trying to devour the light out of her.  “You want to make love to me?” she asked a heartbeat later, shy.

The Shadowsinger laughed, holding her neck to kiss her ear, licking the elongated new curve, pulling it with his teeth. “No little seer, I want to fuck you.” Elain opened her eyes again, the pupils dilated, big and round with lust. “I saw your skin glow once. I wonder if you do that when you come.”

“Why don’t you find out?” She dared him.

The first bolt was quick, messy, dirty. When she said “yes” he knocked her bely down on the kitchen table, not caring for the fresh pasta dough flour on it, kneeling behind her and pushing her dress up to eat her out. Elain was still shaking from the first orgasm when he slapped her ass with a forgotten wooden spoon, startling her,

“What are you,” he slapped again, smearing the remains of buttery cream on the pinkish skin, licking the mess created. “Oh gods.” She moaned.

Azriel had slapped her ass before, but he had never hit her with an object. Ever. Let alone with a kitchen tool. Her cheeks flushed.

“Look at you, getting hot with a little spanking.” He caressed her spine, rubbing his clothed erection her bare ass, “we’ll have so much fun. Just don’t tell Az.”

“What?” She startled

He thrown her over his shoulder and carried her upstairs, claiming “table sex is for horny youth. Grown women need to be properly spread in a grown bed.” At the time Elain giggled. Had she known how truthfully spread she would be, she wouldn’t have giggled, she would have screamed for help. But not too loud, or else The House might have saved her.

Now here she was.

Naked in bed with her lover, a lover that came from her boyfriend, said boyfriend staring at them. The three lovers studied each other trying to decide what to do next. Azriel glanced at Elain, smelling her arousal thicker than ever. There was no denying it, she was sexually overwhelmed by having them in the same room. She was desperately turned on.

Losing his patient with the couple of frozen deers, Shadow tackled her on the bed, spreading her knees to plunge two fingers inside her, not moving them. “Still soaked,” he teased. Elain gasped a moaned, eyes wide, grinding against him, shameless, wetness smearing from her parted thighs to his hand.

“If memory serves you were demanding to come.”

“Yes,” she panted in agreement.

“Use your words, babe.”

“Please, please make me come.”

"So so wet." Shadow taunted in a playful voice, turning to Azriel. “Our girl was having fun when you interrupted us.”

Elain lifted her hips from the bed, widening her open legs, silently begging him to move. He didn’t

"See, she wants to come.” He smirked while looking down at her.

Azriel climbed on the bed, slapping the other male hand away. Elain cried in frustration when the fingers slipped out leaving her needy. She just needed a little more. Just a little bit. She wished someone would give it to her. Azriel. Shadow-Azriel. She didn’t care anymore. She wanted to feel good.

Elain pulled Azriel down on top of her, sneaking her eager hands inside his underwear to grab his ass. She loved his ass, it was hard and firm like the rest of the chiseled body, except that when she pushed his ass forward, she was usually rewarded with his cock rocking into her. Like now. Elain grind on him shamelessly, Azriel capturing her mouth in a wild kiss.

His shadow-self moved away, giving them a better space to work with, palming his throbbing erection lazily, a smile playing on his lips. He thought it was funny how the once shy beauty was now very excited to receive attention. Azriel kissed her neck and she grabbed his hair, yanking hard to detached him from her. She didn’t need foreplay, she enough of it already, now she wanted to come. Quickly.

“Down.” She commanded with a raspy voice.

The simple four-letter words had Azriel shivering.

Fuck, she was sexy.

He kissed his way down, gently running his fingers across her nether folds to sink them inside, using his thumb to play with her swollen clit. Feeling his breath right where she wanted, Elain pushed her hips up while using all her new strength to push his head down. Azriel didn’t budge. She wanted to cry. He laughed. She wanted to kill him. Ever the competitive jerk that he was he was, he tryed to show her who was in control. He kissed her thighs, going all the way down to her knees, kissing and licking back up, licking all the way to her crotch, his tongue coming dangerously close to her leaking folds before withdrawing.

Elain trashed on the messy bed, frustrate tears forming in her eyes. She extends a hand to the other him beside her, who softly captured it, kissing her knuckles. “Help me.”

“I’m not the one playing with you now, babe.”

He sucked her finger, smearing her with hot saliva, making obscene noises on purpose. Elain hated him too. Her breath hitched when Azriel finally ran his nose between her legs, deeply inhaling her scent, then his tongue was on her, savoring her slowly, sucking and licking her clit. His mouth and fingers worked together on her already excited body, picking up the pace left behind by his shadow.

Elain’s breath turned heavier, her moans high pitched as the orgasmic wave washed over her, legs closing around Azriel’s head, holding him there, clawing the sheet. He licked her clean, finishing with a kiss, straightening to kiss her the mouth, his lips glossy and shiny from her release, a satisfied smile on his face.

Beside her, Shadow let out a disappointed puff. “That’s four, and still no sign of enjoyment from my lovely seer.”

He mumbled, counting her orgasms, moody about her skin not glowing once.

“Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.” She teased.

He squinted at her.

“You are a gluttonous one, aren’t you?!”

Ignoring him, Elain grabbed at Azriel, rubbing his hard on before removing his boxers. He climbed on top of her,

“No missionary!” Shadow called, using his authority voice, one Azriel had perfected thru decades of commanding, and that now was making him growl for being interrupted. He really wanted to kill his shadow-self. To bad the bastard couldn’t die. “Do her reverse cowgirl, or from behind.”

They looked at Shadow. Azriel quirking a brow, Elain blushing furiously.

“I want in.” He said simply. At that, Elain’s heartbeat increased, her dark eyes blown wild. He paused. “Is that okay with you, babe?”

Azriel was also staring at her, both male not even breathing, waiting for her answer. Elain swallowed, her throat dry all of sudden. “Yes.” She mumbled so low their fae ears barely pick up, her neck tomato red. Azriel blown a breath, putting his elbows beside her head, hands on her hair, spreading his wing to shield them, luring her attention only to him.

“Rude.” He heard coming from outside.

Her heart was beating like crazy, so fast he was afraid she would pass out on them.

“Elain, look at me.” She did. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I would never, ever,”

“I know.” She interrupted. Not wanting to feed his insecurities. Elain trusted Azriel with her life. She always had.

“I would never, ever force you do anything you don’t want to.” He finished. Needing to reassure her. Needing to reassure himself.

“I know. I trust you. Both of you. I want this.”

“Then why are you frightened? I can scent it on you. Fear.” He uttered the last word in a small voice, his arouse giving place to huge distress. Azriel was starting to panic. The one emotion he never wanted Elain associating with him was fear. Azriel could live with Elain hating him, loathing his very essence him, cursing his name to the wind, but he could live with her being afraid of him. He could not stand it.

“Hey, hey, Az. Look at me.” Elain held his face, the fine cutted stone digging on his cheek. “I’m just. You know I don’t have–That I’m not. I’m not experienced like you.” She stammered.

“I know.”

“It’s just a little first-timer-scare, that’s all. Can’t you scent the other things? How much I want you? How I can wait to have you inside of me? I want all of you.” she guided his hand between her thighs, proving her words. “Okay?” When he didn’t answer she locked her legs around his waist, pulling his weight on top of her completely, kissing his pout. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now make love to me.”

Azriel let out a deep breath to shake his insecurities, moving to sit back against the headboard.

“You shouldn’t leave me out of the important conversations, I can calm her too.” Shadow said getting on his knees

“Mother have mercy, do you ever shut up? Do I have to find a gage for you?”

Before Shadow could open his mouth, Elain cupped her breasts, jiggling them, saying,

“I could feed him these, that would shush him.”

The room went deadly quiet, then both males laughed. A joyous contagious laugh that left her feeling proudly to coax those sounds out of him.

“Fuck, I’ve forgot how funny you are.”

Smiling, Elain turned towards Shadow, face upturned. He gave her a quick peck and she went over to Azriel, straddling him in reverse, who kissed her spine, helping her to slid onto his dick with ease, since Shadow had already stretched her earlier. “Oh gods, I love sitting on you,” she mumbled bouncing up and down with enthusiasm, Azriel gripping her hips in a bruising grip, moaning her name with reverence as if she was his personal goddess. Her eyes darted to Shadow, who’s eyes were glued to her bouncing tits. She squeezed them, lifting one to her lips, licking the best she could to entertain him.

“I love you,” she moaned staring back. “My beautiful Az. And my beautiful Shadowsinger.”

“Huh, El. I’m not beautiful.” Shadow protested going over to the couple, “handsome, hot, perfect, incredibly sexy. You can call me one of those.” She gasped a laugh, eyes flashing white for a split second. “There she is, my seer. I’ve been trying to coax you out for hours, and you come when I’m talking about myself? Naughty, naughty vixen.” He grabbed the back of her neck, guiding her down to where he was kneeling.

"Beg." Shadow demanded pulling her hair, forcing her to look in his eyes. “Beg, and I’ll glow the hell out of you.”

Elain braced herself, face to face with his erection, biting her lower lip, sure she had flushed all the tones possible.  Azriel sneered at the irony of feeling overshadow by his own fucking shadow, his hand circling around her to play with her clit. Elain whimpered, leaned back against him, Azriel sucking on her neck while she rode him, squeezing her inner muscles around him, eyes growing heavy. She squeezed his thighs and leaned forward to Shadow. “I want you.” She pleaded. “I want all of you.”

Elain skipped the foreplay, sucking all she could, but she was struggling to be flexible in that position. His hands gripped her hair. “Babe, can you let me fuck your mouth?” he asked in a soft voice.

She obeyed, relaxing her mouth, allowing Shadow to thrust into her, his hips going from slow to fast, head titled back, eyes shut in ecstasy. “Fuck.” He cursed looking down at her, watching his cock entering her tight wet mouth, saliva dripping down her chin as she gagged on his dick. Soon the moaning filled the bedroom, Elain and Azriel panting in unison. Feeling the heat spreading from her lower abdomen, her walls spasming out of control, Elain started to mumble around Shadow’s dick, and he removed himself, not wanting to get bitten.

Azriel’s thumb kept the rhythm in her clit, making her cry louder and louder, both males delighting in the sweet sounds of her pleasure. Her muscles clamped around him, legs quivering as her world exploded, tears running down her face, black spots dotting her vision. Azriel slammed on her a few more times to meet his release, holding her down to come deep inside, branding her with his seed. He leaned back against the headboard, breathing her scent to recover.

Shadow stroked himself the entire time. He watched Elain leave Azriel’s lap, his cum running down her trembling thighs, as she went to him. When she managed to stay on her knees he wrapped her arms around his neck, rubbed their noses together and kissed her. Elain sighed over his lips, using her tongue to deepen the kiss, her hand skating down to jerk him. She didn’t know how he liked it, but she knew how Azriel did; tight and fast. The Shadowsinger, who was already on the edge, came with a few more rough tugs, his cum splattering on her stomach, filling her hands.

Her knees gave out, Shadow’s strong arms coming to support her, letting her down gently. Elain melt into him, gulping rapid mouthful of air, felling every nerve in her body tingling, sparkling, nestled comfortably between her Azriels as she continued to spasm, muscles clenching and unclenching, burned form the aftershocks of climax.

.

.

.

Once the shivers subsided, Elain sighed at the sensations of both males touching her in different places, soothing her, pleasuring her. She laid on her side, Azriel in front of her –playing with her sensitive breasts– and Shadow behind –kissing her shoulder.

Suddenly feeling shy, Elain locked eyes with Azriel, who chuckled, quickly identifying the subtle change in her passionate eyes.

There was nothing sexier than Azriel bed-rumpled-hair, wet curls plastered to his forehead, a silly smile on his lips, eyes filled with love and burning desire. He closed the space between them, teasing her with a couple of pecks that evolved to searing kiss, tasting every inch of her mouth with his ravenous tongue. She glowed. The Shadowsinger spooned closer, his semi-hard pressing against her, tongue lapping her throat, leaving sticky paths of saliva on her skin, his hand wrapping around her body to stroke her folds.

Elain gasped on Azriel’s lips, pushing back against his shadow-self, loving the feel of his finger exploring her. Her boyfriend pulled back to trail kisses on her chest, teeth scrapping red lines on every part of her sternum, biting around her breasts to leave vivid purple marks on her skin before giving attention to her nipples. Meanwhile Shadow’s lips descended her back, tasting from the length of her spine to the small of her back. Up and down he went, leaving his trail of open mouth kisses, teeth imprinting on her hips, licking and swirling across the small dents on top of her ass. He moved her leg to top Azriel’s rib, spreading her open to lap the inviting crack of her behind, thrusting his tongue in and out of her little hole, his dick getting harder the louder her moans pitched.

Elain gasped out of her mind, and for a few seconds, she felt different.

Her eyes flashed white.

And stayed.

The Shadowsinger held his breath before throwing his hands in the air, celebrating. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you look so hot! Let me look at you.” She turned to her other side as Azriel left the bed. Shadow grabbed her face, peppering it with kisses.

“Hi.” She breathed with difficulty, having spent a considerable amount of energy to take over completely.

“Hey gorgeous. You came to play with me?” she nodded.

The Seer sat back on her heels, white eyes roaming all over him, before settling on his hard on. She bent and kissed the tip, moving to the stunning adonis belt, kissing both sides, her tongue darting over the sweaty skin, Shadow gently gathering her messy golden halo in his first to better see her face, “Tell me what you want.” He hissed when she bite him hard enough to bleed. She kept licking, tracing every little bump and curve from his abs, circling his nipples, his neck, his chin, his lower lip, which she clamped between her sharp teeth. “I want you to suck my tongue. And fuck my ass.”

“Never ask twice.” He pulled her down on top of him, stroking her back, moving down to her lovely bum, squeezing and mashing the luscious flesh in his big hands. “Has anyone fucked you here before, love?”

She shook her head, pinching his nipples painfully. “Azriel played with Elain.” She mumbled with resentment, trying to scratch his torso, letting out a frustrated groan when her too-short nails didn’t sink deep enough. “I saw him doing it. Showed her how good it was. Gave her courage. Yet he never played with me.” She finished with a pout.

“Did you come out to him?” he asked amicably, whooshing a breath when she grinded on him, her sleek fold going all the way to the head, letting is dip inside, teasing, before grinding back down to the base. His balls twitched, heavy and aching like her full breasts.

She shook her head again, moving to whisper in his ear.

“I can’t come out when they are in bed. Elain locks me deep, deep, down. Controls me. She’s possessive.”

“Sounds like her.” Azriel chuckled returning to the bed. He didn’t know Elain could control the seer well enough to lock her. They would have to dive on that topic later.

“Don’t worry, love. We’ll fix that.” Shadow promised, ignoring Azriel’s thoughts about boring training and stupid mastering of abilities. Everyone knows the best abilities are the ones who can run wild, like Shadow himself. Besides, it was in his best interest to frequent Elain’s bed, making this more than a one-time deal, and bringing his Seer to the mix was not a choice, but a priority. He spread her ass cheeks, the tip of his thumb dipping inside and outside his favorite hole. “How she’s looking over there?”

“Perfect.”

Azriel tossed him a small bottle of lube.

The Seer pushed herself up and straddled him backwards, bracing herself on his thighs, waiting. He quickly drabbed the mix on his cock, groaning at the view. She bit her lip when Shadow pushed the head inside, wincing at the initial sting of pain. He slid a little further and stopped. “You good?” he asked her, hands running up and down her body, working to sooth her.

“Yeah.” She answered staring at Azriel, who watched her with eyes so dark he become the perfect twin to her Shadowsinger. “Missed me?” she asked looking at him from under her lashes, coy.

He smiled at her attempt to pretend shyness.

“Dangerous question. If I say no, Elain will sulky saying I don’t like all parts of her, and if I say yes, Elain will sulk saying I prefer you.” He shrugged. “I’ll abstain.”

She laughed.

“Look at you, expert in Elain Archeron.”

“I do what I can.”

“Kiss me.” She demanded with urgency. “Kiss me and I’ll tell you whatever you want. I can tell you so many thigs,” she placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. “I can tell you for how long this will beat. I can tell you your future. Do you want to know?”

Azriel grabbed her chin fiercely, bringing her mouth closer. “Is Elain in it?”

She cocked her head, squinting to better see the images only she could see.

“Yes.”

“That’s all I need to know.”

He captured her lips, kissing her with wild passion, stealing the breath away from her lungs. Behind her, Shadow could feel her muscles relax further, allowing him to continue to impale himself on her. “Fuck,” he muttered once he was fully inside, eyes shut tight in disbelief, her muscles hugging his cock in a delicious tight grip. When his hand moved to stimulate her clit, Azriel stopped him, sending a new rush of shadows to cover his hand mimicking boxing glove. The Shadowsinger cursed, focusing in freeing himself. Meanwhile Azriel thrusted two fingers within, circling her clit with his thumb.

The Seer let out a deep moan, completely overwhelmed with Shadow moving in and out of her hole while Azriel pleased her in the other, gasping into Azriel lips who hadn’t stop kissing her. She pushed her hips back, silently urging Shadow to quicken the pace, and grabbed Azriel’s cock, stroking him.

“I want you.” She voiced licking her lips. “Both of you in-” she chocked, “inside me.”

Azriel stilled, and so did Shadow. Azriel’s relationship with Elain was relatively new, their bargain real and pulsing strong as any bond would, the possessiveness burning fresh between their tangled souls. It had crossed Shadow’s mind to ride his Seer as Azriel rode Elain, but he wouldn’t be the one to voice that. He waited, his master’s voice ringing in his head as he searched for confirmation with Elain.

She whined in confusing confusion feeling Shadow slide outside, gasping at the emptiness left behind. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay.”

“Get on top of him.” He ordered, completely turned on.

Struggling in her trembling legs, she mounted Azriel, who watched the two confident ringlets of brown appear near her irises. He kissed her, happily sliding back in her warming heat, barely holding back from slamming into her. The Seer felt Shadow’s swollen head seeking passage once more, and for a moment Elain squeaked, half-sarced, half-turned-on. The Seer held her hand. Together. She projected and they pushed back, crying softly as the head dipped inside. All four froze, not moving or breathing.

“Oh gods.” Elain sobbed lost in pleasure.

She couldn’t believe she was doing it.

She was fucking Azriel and his shadows.

She felt so naughty.

She moved.

Her back arched, Azriel moaned, Shadow thrusted forward.

The heavy moaning could be heard all over the top floor, the stones walls echoing their cries of passion as thin layer of sweat slide down her lower back, Shadow’s grip on her waist painfully strong, nails sinking in her smooth skin, yet he didn’t drag her, he let her move in her own pace. Her skin glowed violently as she pushed back, gasping at the sensation of both males inside, feeling stuffed and hot and horny.

Elain gripped Azriel’s upper arms as the Seer twerked back into Shadow, desire dripping between her thighs, creaming around Azriel’s cock, clenching her hole around Shadow’s, stealing deep moans from both of them. Someone slapped her ass, someone mashed her tits, someone pulled her hair, someone bit her nipple, and she went insane with lust, eyes closed mouth hanging open, pushing back and forth, loving every inch of her men inside of her.

Azriel gripped her face, kissing her hard. No more words were said, the four of them busy with keeping that perfect rhythm driving them crazy, no thoughts of self-loathing, or alliances, or prohibition coming to mind. Only the thrill of the fucking, the enormous physical connection, the blinding glow of her skin, the emotional bond being deepened, the links twirling on top of each other, growing and spreading like ivy amongst their souls, thicker and stronger than the feeble mating bond slumbering deep inside her –weakened day by day.

Elain whimpered and moaned nonsense into Azriel’s mouth, feeling higher and higher, the Seer keeping the rhythm steady, trying to hold onto one of Shadow’s hand around her waist. He held her firm, keeping her from buck off amid her high overdose of sexual frenzy, pulling her up to bite her shoulder, hard, drawing blood, needing everything from her, from her pleasure to the pulsing life inside her veins. He tongued her neck as she panted and writhed, founding release along with Azriel, crying and convulsing and trembling.

She fell on Azriel’s sweat chest, unable to stand upright for another second, his shadow-self still moving behind her, slamming into her beautiful behind, chasing his own release. His back arching when he found it, her spasms milking him dry.

Shadow fell on top of her, morphing his weight lower to avoid crushing her, completely spent. Once he recovered, pulled back slowing, delighting in the sight of his cum coming from her pretty pink swollen holes, using his finger to put some back inside, her sweet moan ringing like a bell in his mind as he laid beside her.

Elain cracked her neck to kiss him and turned back to Azriel, curling on his side, burring her nose on the crook of his neck, breathing his scent, night-chilled mist calming her racing pulse, deep rich cedar serenading her soul, a splash of jasmine and honey mingled with it. She wondered if she was starting to smell like him to.

They stayed like that, lost in each other’s embrace for what could be hours, of months, or years. Elain didn’t care how long had passed, all she needed was right there with her.

“Aren’t you going?” Azriel asked to his shadow-self, through the pleasant sound of breaths regulating.

“Me? Why? I’m very comfortable here,” he plopped on the pillow to prove. “Besides, Ellie likes me here.” He snuggled behind her, kissing her bruised shoulder, purple from his innumerous bites, nuzzling against her neck. “My seer likes me here too, she glowed so prettily, I want to make her come every day to watch that show.” Shadow started to kiss her on everywhere he could reach, making Elain giggle. She turned her head, eyes flashing white when she gently kissed him on the lips, receiving the second prettiest smile she had ever seen. Losing only to Azriel’s.

“Ellie, has no need for you. I’m here.” Azriel repeated the pet name with discomfort, unable to hide his jealousy.

“Oh, that means I can return when you go? Noted.”

“Don’t push it.”

"We should use toys next time," shadow-azriel muttered ignoring his master, making Azriel growl.

"We? Who's we? There's no we, there’s me and Elain. Stay the fuck out!"

"I like we." Elain muttered with her pacifying tone, eyes big and brown as a fawn’s coat, blinking in the way she knew it made it impossible for him to deny her. She kissed his chin. "I would like a we sometimes…"

Azriel undid her pout with his teeth, "Cheater."

"I learned from the best." Elain smiled winked at Shadow, who winked back, slapping her ass one last time before his form started to melt back into shadows, skating against her naked skin as a lazy kitten, spilling out of the bed and disappearing from sight, granted Azriel his hard-earned privacy.

******

Once I read a lovely HC about Elain going to the house of wind to make little cooking experiments since the house was amicable in providing her with eachever ingredient she needed. I don’t remember who wrote it, but i loved it, so Elain being in the house was inspired by it <3

Petunias: resentment and anger

White Tulip: forgiveness

The ring

(if you liked it, let me know 😏 don't be shy, you can talk to me, even your emojis will be loved and cherished 😍😚)

[ackermelon]

I woke up and realised that I had sent a text to my friend at 4 A.M. the previous night. I had no recollection of that, but the text simply said, "I just know Zeke smells like sweat all the time." Half-asleep me knows what's up.

Anyway, so this started a long conversation about how some anime characters would smell. Here are the highlights (attack on titan and haikyuu):

Attack on Titan:

Erwin: I think he'd smell like sweat, but not the overpowering, fly-killing, coma-inducing, kind. It's like, natural, subtle, and weirdly comforting. He looks to be the type to never get cold. Like, he just radiates heat, and he tends to sweat, even in winter. However, he knows how to manage it and still smell decent.

Hange: Wet dog. I'm sorry, but they look like they shower once every blue moon. Occasionally, Moblit would hose them down, but after he... you know, Hange focused more on work and less on themself.

Levi: Sorry to be bland and "like the other girls", but he smells like detergent. Everyone says that because it's true. He does all the cleaning, and makes sure to remain clean himself. He would also smell like soap, but only a little. I feel like he's the opposite of Erwin: his body temperature is naturally cold, so he doesn't sweat as often, unless they're outside the walls fighting titans and shit.

Jean & Connie: Sweat. All the fucking time. However, after the timeskip, they started taking the time to clean themselves to save the people around them from having to inhale their revolting body odour. Towards the end of the manga, they invest in some quality perfume because it was about time they got laid.

Colt: He would smell like fresh laundry; like, his natural scent would be so refreshing - very clean and warm. I described it as, "infused with serotonin." But maybe that's just me, considering I would risk it all for this delicious man.

Floch: Nasty. Call me biased because I hate this son of a bitch, motherfucking stinky poopy asshole. I feel like I could smell his nasty ass breath through the screen. Piss yellow teeth and lots of cavities. He doesn't even have to raise his arms for us to smell his deadly body odour. I feel like gagging just looking at his face; imagine having to smell him too.

Summary: Realistically, they would all smell like sweat; I'm pretty sure Isayama said that pretty much all the characters have bad hygiene. I wouldn't blame them considering their life was at risk from the second they'd left the womb. However, I believe some of them manage it better than the others.

Haikyuu:

Daichi: He definitely uses body spray, but it's much less subtle than Axe, and it actually smells good. He doesn't use it everyday - mostly on the days he has vb training or whenever he feels like it. His natural scent is... oh boy, lordy lord. Let's leave it at that.

Sugawara: Fruity. Suga smells fruity. He loves berry and citrus-scented perfumes and he never leaves the house without spraying some. It's not overpowering, but you instantly smell it when you get near him. It's perfect.

Hinata & Kageyama: Listen, they shower everyday, and they come out of that shower smelling pretty good. However, whatever happens in the 7.32 minutes after that undos the shower completely. Like can they sit down for a second??? They reek of sweat. Hinata doesn't even notice, but Kageyama carries baby wipes around to try and manage the odour. Hinata starts doing the same halfway through his second year.

Tanaka & Nishinoya: ... You know what's coming.... Team Axe spray. They spray, inhale and ingest that shit. They go through 16 bottles a month. However, they drifted away from that cursed product during their third year and started using a cologne they stole from Akiteru's bag (he forgot it at Tanaka's house after he finished "hanging out" with Saeko). Yes, they did find condoms in there and Tanaka now greets him with a glare.

Tsukishima: This man always smells good. Always. You will never catch him lacking. Usually, he wouldn't wear any artificial scents or perfumes, but when it comes to occasions.... My God. This man will pull out the most luxurious, most expensive perfume you have ever seen. He has a lot of savings which he uses to buy shit like that. But yeah, you will instantly get down on one knee if you were to catch a sniff of him.

Yamaguchi: He isn't a big fan of perfumes, but his natural scent is phenomenal. He often smells like his body wash, which is just a nice, soapy scent.

Kiyoko: Flowers. Expensive Marc Jacobs perfume. Heart eyes for my queen.

Kuroo & Bokuto: As first-years, they were loyal to their bottle of Axe. However, they did notice that they were basically repelling girls (that didn't matter as much when they became second years and Kenma and Akaashi came into the picture <3). They ended up "borrowing" Daichi's body spray during training camp that year and their loyalty shifted to that. They have yet to return the now empty bottle to its rightful owner.

Kenma: Doesn't give two shits. If he smells like soap, then he smells like soap. If he smells like piss and diarrhea, then so be it.

Akaashi: This man... This man. He moisturises daily. I just know it. He would borrow expensive lotion from his mother since he isn't the biggest fan of perfumes. Vanilla, yes. And whenever he doesn't use scents, he would smell like laundry powder, Lavender. Or just heaven in general.

Oikawa: We all know this man is broke but pretends he isn't. We just do. He uses cheap dollar store perfume and tells people it's fucking Gucci. You know he would. No use denying it. People just go along with it because he always looks submissive and breedable.

Iwaizumi: Definitely a cologne guy. He puts it on after his daily shower and it lasts all day. Aoba Johsai members are all in love with him. He's the human manifestation of a gay awakening. As for Iwaizumi Hajime, 27, athletic trainer, he uses a more expensive cologne and the MSBY players, their opponents AND the audience all fawn and drool over him. They didn't come to watch or play the game, they came to watch Iwaizumi Hajime and perhaps catch a whiff of that musky scent. He's thick though so he doesn't notice.

Summary: I don't think these high schoolers would go without some sort of artificial scent, with some exceptions of course. Let's just appreciate the ones that don't use Axe spray. If I wanted my nose hairs gone, I'd wax them.

Thank you for listening. Feel free to add on.

[hotdamnhunnam]

💦 Thirsty Thots 💦

what a view to wake up to…

Pairing / Warnings: Charlie Hunnam x Reader, rimming, as in reader is obsassed with Sir’s delicious ass and gives it a good worshipping 🍑🛐

…… so liiiiike imagine you wake up in a hotel bed and the first thing you see standing there across the room is Charlie Hunnam naked.

And you see him from behind, as he’d just woken up to look outside the window and this view of him completely blows your mind... howww can you even fucking take it?!!?!??!

He’s a motherfucking statue. Even more so from the back view. When he’s in the role of Jax he looks so sexy with that huge reaper tattoo, but there’s something insanely beautiful about his bare back too. And how the curved line of his spine… leads to the crevice of his ass between two globes of muscle so sculpted it’s honestly divine… you suddenly fling yourself at him ‘cause it’s all that you can do.

Imagine kneeling down behind him to press kisses all across his meaty cheeks. Then shove your face into his crack and holy fuck he smells so good it makes you weak. Musky and masculine and rich… he reaches back to grab your head and push it deeper just to seal your fate as his asslicking bitch… you want to tell him that his asshole tastes like heaven but you’re too turned on to speak. He’s getting off too on the fact that you’re a kinky little freak.

You reach your hand around his hip to take his thick cock in your grip. Stroke him slowly from base to tip, slick with his precum as it drips. Your other hand plays lovingly with his big heavy balls, your every move making his sweaty sphincter throb and clench and pulse. His hole tightens around your tongue as you suck on it with your filthy slutty lips. Sir Hunnam’s godly gorgeous butt truly exists for you to worship.

You feel blessed to get to wake up to this view… and even more blessed that Sir lets you kiss and lick and suck his perfect fucking ass ‘cause this is honestly your favorite thing to do.

💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦 💦

I really hope y’all are enjoying these Thirsty Thots so far, and would love to hear from you if you are!! 🤗💖

Main Masterlist

Thirsty Thots Masterlist

[laketaj24]

Serotonin III

A/N: Hey! Here’s the final part!!! I hope you enjoy it! I am working on three requests for Mr. Baker and Part 2 to The Business! My taglists and requests are open! Let me know what you think! Happy Reading!

Pairing: Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Language, Nudity, Lowkey Pettiness, Smut, orgasm denial

Inspo Song: Acting Like That : Yungblud ft. MGK, Travis Barker

Serotonin Masterlist,  MY MASTERLIST

Meg: I can’t believe you left me at the club! I was joking with your petty ass!

Colson: you said if I wanted her, go get her. I did

Meg: so you really are choosing her over me?

Meg: hello?

Meg: I know god damn well you getting my texts, you asshole

Meg: Colson.

Colson: who is this?

Meg: real funny

Colson: what you want?

Meg: Are you still coming tonight?

The hours  passed since he left seemed like seconds; maybe you’d fucked up. Overreacted by busting his phone up and making him go.

Shit.

The fact that he left his phone left meant Colson knew you’d fucked it up this time. You tossed the phone on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, and to make matters worst, you couldn’t even text and say come back because you had the phone. You’d fucked up.

Guilt played a weird role in your relationship, making Colson feel guilt, easy as pie. He did shit all the time, and even when he didn’t, his little ass found reasons for him to still feel some guilt. Guilt rarely rested on your shoulders, but here tonight, it rested heavily on your shoulders. You stare down at the text messages, there were several avenues you could take to resolve the issue. The first was just say you were sorry; apologies meant a lot. But a text wouldn’t do; for starters, it wouldn’t do because you had his phone. He wouldn’t see it. Secondly, Colson would eat the texted apology and spit it out in your face if you did that to him. Your arguments had been more than toxic in the past, and you may or may not have told him text apologies were trash. The only actual resolution was to drive over to the house and do it face to face. Unfortunately, that would not be an easy feat either.

You dressed quickly, taking one of his out of the box outside your bedroom. You slide on his purple EST sweatsuit. His aroma still lingered even though it’d been washed. The musky scent of his earthy Cologne intertwined with his weed because the man smoked enough for his whole team. It was a scent you’d grown accustomed to, felt like home, even sliding back into his clothes.

The drive over usual took forty minutes, traffic and all, but today it lasted ten, or it felt like ten, and no matter how many times you rehearsed your apology, it still tasted like dirt when you said it.

“Colson, I overreacted.” You braced a smile in your rearview mirror and then leaned into the steering wheel. “Colson, you’re gonna forgive me because you’re a fucking cheater.” You growled and slammed your fist into the passenger’s seat. “Colson- I am sorry I broke your phone. I will go with you to buy another one.” You laughed and reached for the vape filled with the THC vape. It’d be best to be high talking to him. The vape hits smooth, the fruity flavor hitting your tongue before your lungs, and then a plume of smoke fills the car as you exhale. Fuck.

The knock on your window scares you, but only a little as Slim waves. He points down, signaling you to roll the window down. You do, and the plume leaves with the small gust of wind the fresh air brings. “What are you doing out here Y/N? It’s three in the morning?”

“Shit.” You glance at the fluorescent blue digits on the clock. “Damnit.”

“Yeah, you good?” Slim smirks knowing the answer.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“I can go get him.”

“No,” you said quickly. “I’ll come in a few.”

“bet, I’m gonna lock this gate.” He laughed as he walked away.

He faded from your view, and you slinked down in your seat, regathering what you were planning once more. Ten minutes passed, and you hit the vape four more times, feeling your body relax and the tension dissipates. It was time; either he forgave you, or you would just sleep in the car until he did. Every light in the house was on, upstairs and down; they never slept at night. They just slept until the next afternoon and started the party all over again. It's the one reason you refused to live with him; your sleep schedule would be fucked.

You stand at the grand doors and knock a few times, hoping they hear you over the loud ass music that played in the room over. It stopped abruptly after a few seconds, and you could hear his long strides headed to the door.

“If you don’t have food, go back home.” Colson’s playful voice came from the other side.

“I-,” You chuckled. “I don’t have food; everything was closed.”

“When I apologized to you, I had fucking food. Go get food and come back. The pizza place on Simmons is open until five.”

“Colson, please.”

“You can call Door Dash or whoever, but the entry fee is food.” The music started back, Dopeman – lyrics raged from the door, and your mouth dropped.

This fucking asshole had audacity and some fucking nerve, You banged against the door, but this time the music did not stop. He was being serious, a food fucking entry fee. Fuck him! Ten minutes passed, and he did not budge. The music continued, and you swore you could hear actual drums being played inside.

Fine. He wanted food; you’d bring him food. It was hard to strip in the back of a car, but you did. You stripped out of your clothes and grabbed the one pair of heels that never left your car. You called them fuck me heels, but it wasn’t because you were trying to get fucked. They were six inches and incredibly hard to walk in; you hated them. The most said was usually FUCK ME, when you wore them. If Colson wanted to be an ass, you’d level the playing field. You liked putting on a show too. You laid on your horn for a minute, knowing it would get his attention, clicked the headlights to your car, and stepped out into the crisp air of the night. He didn’t have too many neighbors but now was their opportunity if they wanted to see you naked. You stood bare ass in front of your car awaiting the jealous Colson. You knew well to show his face, and like clockwork, he arrived.

“What the fuck are you doing!” He yelled, charging from the house. “Y/N.”

“You said to bring food. Well, come eat.”

“You’re not fucking cute.” Colson snapped as he slid out of his jacket. He quickly wrapped your body in the black leather jacket and tossed you over his shoulder. “Fucking spoiled ass. You could have just went and got the motherfucking pizza.”

“It’s late.”

“I know what time it is,” He hissed. Colson entered the house, eyeing his friends. “Don’t even look at her.” He warned as he carried you up the steps; his hand came down on your ass with each step until you two finally reached his bedroom. Colson tossed you onto the plush black comforter and stood in front of you, “Why are you here?”

“You left your phone.” The line seemed innocent enough, but there was little innocence behind it.

“You broke it.” His confused look makes you laugh; cupping your mouth, he smacks. “Don’t come over here tryna laugh at you throwing shit at me Y/N.”

“I thought-.”

“I know what you thought.” He pointed at you, “So don’t try to sugarcoat it. You thought I was dicking  you down and then going back to her. Then you read them messages and realized you were a whole asshole.” He stated matter of fact.

“So, you’re not gonna let me talk.”

“Did you let me talk before you tossed me out? Why are you here anyway? It’s four in the morning. ”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You attempted to kick off the heels, and he grabbed your foot, stopping you from sliding it off.

“That guilty conscience is heavy, huh??” He cracked a smile and shook his head. “Leave them on.”

“You won.” You whispered. “I fucked up,” the omission tumbled from your lips unwillingly.

“Was that an apology?” Colson teased.

“I’m not saying it again.”

“Oh, you gone say that and more.” He laughed. “Sorry, ass apology.”

“Col-,” You giggled, “I’m tired. Can I apologize tomorrow, please?”

He kneeled in front of you, rubbing his hands up your legs, his touch ignited something in you, even if you were sleepy. “Oh and the next day too, shit, I’m never gonna let you live this shit down. So you can apologize all the fuck you want, but you’re not going to sleep right now. I haven’t had you in my bed in months. I wanna fuck you to sleep.”

“ I’m halfway there.” You smiled lazily at him, raking your fingers through his hair. “We have all tomorrow for make-up sex.”

“You the only person that’s doing the making up.” He reminded playfully.

“So you’ve said.”

Sleep found you minutes after you snuggled into his lean frame; you missed sleeping glued to Colson no matter how hot he felt. He nestled into you as well, pulling you against his chest, tracing his long fingers down the line of your back, humming tunes to an unwritten song when he thought you were sleeping. He didn’t sleep much tonight didn’t prove any different as the hues magenta cut across the once dark sky outside the window.

“Morning came fast.” You mumbled.

“It’s been three hours.” He whispered. “Shit, You still tired I can see it in you. You don’t have to get up.” He pulled the cover over your body and sighed. “I gotta be somewhere at eleven.” Colson groaned. “I’m gone cancel that shit.”

“No, do what you said you were going to do. Get some sleep.” You climbed out of bed, pulling drapes closed and bringing darkness back into the room. “It’s no point in missing money.” You said his words back to him.

“Yeah, whatever.” He watched you, his tongue between his teeth. “I really thought you were not coming over here tonight. I was tryna find ways to apologize to you for shit I didn’t do. It’s already fucked up when I have to apologize for this shit I did do.”  Colson adjusted his pillow and waited for you to return to the bed.

“I know I fucked up, damn.” The walk of shame was generally when you’d fucked a one-night stand, but right now, it was walking back to the bed to face him. “I get really pissy when it comes to you. Like—I wanna fight.” You cut a smile and sunk back into the bed, this time angling yourself to face him.

“Why fight me? I didn’t send the text?” He pulled you towards him and rolled himself on you. The weight was comfortable and one you’d craved. “Huh?” Colson exhaled before he leaned down and took your nipple in his mouth. He held the small nub between his two teeth, tugging a little before he began to suck.

“You’re gonna be tired.”

“Man fuck that interview.” He whispered before diverting his attention to the other nipple and repeating the same actions. You were already wet for him; one look could get you ready. Eager for him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your pussy against his boxers. He could make the foreplay lasts as long as the sex, and you both had things to do later. There was no time for the slow sex; you damn near wanted to be punished – but he wasn’t in that mode.

Colson pushed his boxers down and lifted your waist from the bed, putting you in the perfect angle to take him but instead of slamming into you as you desired, he teased. He stroked the length of his cock down the line of your pussy, soaking himself in you before finding his way to your entrance and stopping.

“Stop playing.”

“I want that apology.” Colson smiled, looking down at you.

Your pussy jumped with anticipation. “I’m sorry.”

“Fake ass apology,” He pushed an inch into you and then pulled out. “Make it real.” He whispered.

You groaned, frustrated, slapping his chest in a tantrum. “I said I was fucking sorry.”

“Mean ass apology--,” he shook his head. “That’s how you wanna play, let’s fucking play.” Colson slammed into you, and your mouth opened in pleasure. His pace was intense, knocking the breath out of you with each stroke, but you didn’t want to breathe; you wanted to cum all over him. “Say that shit as you mean it.”

“I said-,” You scratched down his back halfway, and he pins your hands above your head, thrusting into your harder and faster. “Oh,”  Tremors take over, rocketing through your body. “Yes,” You buckled against him. “Yes.”

“Yeah, keep saying yes.” He pulled out of you, slapping three fingers to your clit. “I bet you won’t cum.”

Your eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry.”

Another slap to your clit, and the pleasure had faded just a small tinge of pain, and he started to fuck you once more, long strokes, hitting your g-spot each time. “I don’t believe that shit; this pussy is just greedy. You wanna cum, you ain’t sorry.” He whispered.

“I am sorry.” You whined as your body climbed back up to the precipice of a release. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Your swollen clit throbbed, one stroke away from cumming, and he stopped slapping your clit again, bringing pain that made you cry out. “I am sorry.” You cried. “I should not have thrown your phone.” You mewled. “I should have talked to you.” You pleaded. “Believed all that shit you said.”

“Why?”

“I don't know, let me cum.” You pulled at the one hand that had secured both of your wrists. “Please, daddy.” The lustful tone made him smile.

“You can call me daddy all the fuck you want… you ain’t getting what you want yet.” You rolled your hips, coaxing the movement from him, and he shook his head. “Stop being a fucking brat.” He warned. “Just tell me why you’re sorry.”

“Because I want to be with you.” You admitted. “I love you.”

He grinned. “You better mean that shit too.” Colson started back fucking you slow, releasing your hands but making sure he was in control. You flooded with relief feeling him give in to you, gripping your hips to meet his thrusts, all while burying his face in your neck to nip his favorite spots on your body. This is what you had wanted all along, to be with the man who’d somehow drove you insane but simultaneously become an innate piece of your life that brought you a balance you didn’t know you needed. He was, in a way, as your serotonin.

 A/N: I know I described my Meg in this fic, but just a lil disclaimer she is not Megan Fox lol I realized that could be confusing.

Taglist: @taytayize123 @ctrlszn​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @jae-writes-fanfiction​ @bigsisbria​ @placeoffreedom​ @kyla-queen​​ @missdforever​​ @gottatoxicattitude​​ @bang-kim-bap​​ @msreshel​​ @blowmymbackout​​ @titty-teetee​​ @strawberry-skyes​​ @mauvecherie​​ @savageiz​​ @luci-her​​ @littlelovebug98​ @babyboy-cody​​ @hellshedevil​​ @daddyavesxx​​ @crystalbaby12 @jeonsblackgf​​ @fangirl199812 @thatonegrl-1 @isyoongi​​ @lifeisabitchandsoareyou​​ @cartoonlover101​ @therandomthoughtsofmsparker​​ @bowwowzer @fandomfic-galore​​ @mayaslifeinabox​​ @lasren​​  @szaplsdrop @heavenly1927​​ @mvrylee​​ @canyoubuymetoast​​ @littlelovebug98​

[aftokrvteira]

night out (m)

pairing: eren yaeger/jaeger x fem!reader warnings: nsfw, drugs, cheating, sexual intercourse. word count: 2.8k

summary: you and eren go out as friends because your boyfriend is out of town. it’s all pretty innocent but there’s some unresolved sexual tension between you too. why not solve it?

“You look nice” he says when you close the car door. You smile, putting the seatbelt on, feeling proud of your wardrobe choice. It’s the first time he’d said something nice to you since you met him.

“Thanks, it’s a new dress” you say, getting your phone out of your bag to text your boyfriend and tell him you’re about to go to bed. You feel guilty for lying to him, but you know how he is. He would’ve lost it if you knew you were going out with Eren, even if it was an innocent outing because you two were just friends. You were bored and wanted to do something new with your saturday night. It wasn’t like you didn’t like to text with your boyfriend while he was away visiting his family but you were always the kind of girl who liked to keep her weekends to party. That’s why you texted Eren and you were pleased to see that he delivered a positive answer.

“Oh, so I’m the first who gets to see you in it?” he had that shit-eating grin you despised so much. It makes him look an asshole. Like a very attractive asshole. You roll your eyes and he laughs “I’m sure he’ll like it.”

“So, what do you want to do?” you ask, putting your phone away “I was thinking of having a couple beers at the bar that’s near the school and then go to a club that I’ve dying to go to” Eren says that anything would be fine and he starts driving to your first destination. He lets you choose the music and you immediately play your party playlist, feeling excited about it. It’s been almost a month since the last time you had the chance to go out. Having a boyfriend was kind of restraining.

“So... for how long will he be away?” Eren ask. You’re busy moving your shoulders to the rhythm of the music and didn’t bother to stop to answer.

“He’ll be back next friday” you say “He asked me if I wanted to go with him but... I don’t know, I don’t think I’m ready to meet his family” Eren raised his eyebrows “What? We’ve been dating for like six months” he laughs again and shakes his head.

“I was really surprised when you texted me, to be honest” he shrugs “I’ve heard that you’ve been quite unavailable these days, last time I ran into your friends and they told me that you weren’t feeling okay”

“Oh, so you ask about me?” you smile, wiggling your eyebrows at him “It was movie night. I had my period. Jean always stays at my apartment to take care of me”

“I see” Eren stays quiet for a second and then just turns up the volume of the music. This doesn’t bother you because your playlist is pure fire and you have this feeling of freedom that seemed dormant inside of you. You just want to go out and have some fun. It will be your secret.

When you two walk into the bar you feel like you’re home. You’ve always loved that saturday night feeling, where everyone is relaxed and excited for what’s to come. You grab Eren’s wrist to guide him to your favorite spot: right next to the terrace window. It has a nice view, it’s closer to the bathroom and to the bar and waiters have to walk by that spot quite often. It had everything. You sit down and immediately ask for a round of beers.

“So, Eren... tell me about your life. I haven’t see you around lately.”

“We’re close to finals week, I’ve been trying to save my ass from spending another summer at school” he answers, taking out his lighter to open his beer. It’s a trick that amuses you, almost as much as the way the neon lighting makes Eren’s inked forearms look so enticing. Without a word he takes your beer and opens it too, with the same trick “Not all of us can be ass-kissers.”

“Fuck you” you say, rolling your eyes, taking a long shot from your beer. It tastes bitter and it’s amazing. You realize how long has been since you had a beer. Eren smiles and clinks his bottle with yours.

You like hanging out whit him. Eren’s funny and is always on board with your ideas. He’s also a jerk and a fuckboy but that was the reason you kept you distance from him when you met him in high school. He was your crush at the time and you were not the only one. You decided it was best to just be his friend and avoid being hurt. Maybe that’s why your friendship has lasted up until now.

The more beers you drink you start to feel more and more relaxed. The music is fire and you have that tingly feeling on your skin that warns you that you’re on the verge of being tipsy. You even dare to share a smoke with Eren, passing the cigarrette over the table in between sentences. The conversation is interesting and fun, Eren knows exactly what to say to make you laugh and you’re enjoying yourself to the fullest.

“I’m ready to go to the club” you say “I’m drunk enough to dance.”

This time, when you’re walking out of the bar you feel Eren closer to you, you feel his warm hand on the lower part of your back, guiding you through the groups of people at the bar. You like the sensation so you just let him be. it’s fine. He’s your friend, he’s trying to keep you from falling or tripping.

When you get to the club you touch up your make up and decide to leave your jacket in his car. You feel the cold night air against your warm skin and the sensation causes chills to run down through your body. You wrap your hands around Eren’s arm while you two wait to get inside and can’t help but notice the muscles and the tattoos. His sun-kissed skin is smooth and by being close to him you get a hint of his musky scent, a mixture of smoke and cologne that you find quite intoxicating. His tattoos are dark and mysterious, all of them designed by himself.

Eren’s POV

While we wait I’m trying not to think inappropriate things about her. Since she took her jacket off the first thing i noticed was that she wasn’t wearing a bra, judging by the way her nipples perked up through the fabric of her white dress. It was a cold night, it was normal, but she was being so...tempting. And I knew it wasn’t because she wanted to be, it was just the way she was. Always a temptation, always forbidden and out of my reach. She was right there next to me, attracting the gazed of almost every guy we walked by and completely unaware of it. She just wanted to go to a club and dance and I was the one she chose to do that.

It was the first time I was actually grateful for Jean’s decision to go the fuck away for so long. That motherfucker was and idiot but he was also very, very lucky.

I place my hand on her back again and I lick my lips when I give her a gentle push to make her walk inside the club when our turn came.

We’re suddenly surrounded by colorful lights , loud music and a sea of people dancing and drinking. I look at her and her eyes lit up. She grabs my hand once again and immediately drags me to the dance floor. She quickly catches the attention of a waiter and asks him for a round of shots for both of us. He came back and he have me the tiny glass with a smile.

“Let’s have a good night” she says and drinking all of it in one go. I did the same and as the burning liquid went down my throat an idea came to my mind.

“Have you ever tried ecstasy?” I ask, leaning down to speak in her ear. I can smell her sweet perfume. She shakes her head but she doesn’t seem disgusted by the idea. I can’t help but smile “You wanna try?”

“What?”

“I have some” I say, taking out the pack of cigarettes and shaking it in front of her. She keeps quiet for a few minutes. I know she’s thinking about it, that she’s thinking about him and what he would say. I narrow my eyes and, to encourage her, I take out one of the pills and show it to her. It’s small and discrete. I place it on my tongue and swallow it. “To have a good night.”

She doubts it for a moment but then just sighs and smiles at me, extending her hand. I take the pill on my hand.

“Say ‘ah’“ I murmur. She blushes but still, sticks out her tongue for me and the sight of it gives me enough to think about the million sinful things I want to do to her. I put the pill on her wet pink tongue and she swallows it.

“Let’s do this.”

***

I don’t know how much time has passed. Everything seems blurry and distant for me. My attention is reserved just for her and the way she’s dancing. Her skin is glistening due to the sweat. The straps of her dress hang loose on her shoulders. It’s like the music is adapting to her and her moves and I’m hypnotized by the way she moves her hips, how her hands caress her torso and her legs, going up and down.

I place my hands on her hips and it’s like my fingers are burning the fabric of her dress under my touch. I would kill to feel her skin against mine. She seems to like the contact and I go ahead, caressing her waist and abdomen, adapting to her rhythm. I couldn’t help but sigh when she starts to rub her ass against my crotch. She’s getting closer, dancing against me, placing her hands over mine, guiding my fingers all over her body. She lets me touch her breasts over her dress and I squeeze them. I hear her moan and I can’t help it anymore. I make her turn around and as soon as our eyes meet, I kiss her.

Your POV

You know that this is wrong...Isn’t it? Eren’s lips feel amazing and taste amazing. His tongue is soft against yours and you can feel how his hand is in your ass, reaching down until he grabs the hem of your dress and just lifts it and gives you a spank. It’s dark enough and you like it. You like the way he’s touching you, as if he was desperate. You can’t think of anything else but him.

When he pulls apart from the kiss his eyes have a dark spark and you shudder, realizing how wet you are all of a sudden. He takes your hand and this time he’s the one dragging you through the sea of drunk people to the back of the club. He ignores the people in the bathroom and just shoves you inside on of the stalls, locking the door behind him. Almost immediately he kisses you again, pressing you against the plastic division. He bites your lip and you moan, loving the roughness of his touches. You’ve always loved it rough. 

“Suck my dick” he whispers in your ear, before licking your neck. You don’t ask questions. You manage to kneel in front of him and he’s already unzipping his pants and pulling them down. Soon enough his erection is right in front of your face and your mouth water from the sight of it. It’s long and hard when you take it in your hand. The tip is red and swollen and it’s already shining, covered in pre cum. You sigh as if you were falling in love with his cock before giving it a lick from the base to the tip. Eren groans, leaning back and you smile. You give him a couple of strokes before taking it in your mouth. It tastes sweet for some reason and you giggle because of it. Some tears start to accumulate in your eyes when his dick reaches the back of your throat. Saliva drips down from your lips and your chin as you suck his cock. Your eyes meet his and you just love the sight of his face. He’s biting his lip and some loose strands of brown hair are framing his features. Eren looks hot and filled with desire and it’s an image you want to keep in your brain.

“Do you like it?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod and feel his hand caressing your cheek. Suddenly he tugs your hair to keep your head still and starts to fuck your mouth, thrusting harder every time. You tremble when his glans hits the back of your throat and tears run down your face, mixing with your saliva. You place your hands on his ass as you close your eyes “Oh, god you’re amazing... Such a cock-hungry slut... I could fuck your little face forever.”

He pulls away to let you breathe and you smile at him. His words are turning you on to a level you didn’t know you could. He tells you to stand up and pushes you against the wall once again.

“Turn around” he commands and you obey, immediately bending over because you know whats coming and your pussy throbs just with the thought. He lifts your dress to your waist and pulls down your panties. He gives you a spank and another, making you moan. He pulls apart your folds and you hear him make an amused sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and he smiles at you. “You’re really wet... Is it okay if I fuck you like this?” You nod, biting your lip. You don’t care about anything in that moment. You just want Eren to fuck you.

No warnings beforehand, he shoves his cock inside of you, filling you all the way up. You gasp. His hands are holding your hips firmly as he thrusts in and out of you, only letting go to spank you or to pull your hair. You barely have time to adjust to his dick and you can’t help but moan.

“Eren...Eren, fuck, go faster!” you plea, placing one hand on the wall to support yourself from falling. You bring the other one to your neglected clit, letting out a soft purr when you start stimulating it. It’s so swollen that you shiver every time you move your fingers against it. Your walls clench around Eren’s dick and he groans, moving faster and deeper. “Oh, fuck, I want you to cum inside!”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” he asks, out of breath “You want me to fill you up, slut?”

“Yes! Yes!” you moan, your fingers moving frenetically over your clit, bringing you closer to the edge “I’m yours, Eren!”

He gasped and dug his nails into your skin, giving you a last thrust. You feel how his hot seed fills your insides and the feeling alone makes you cum loud and clear. He pulls out and you feel semen dripping from your cunt to your leg. You keep massaging your clitoris, smearing his cum all over your pussy, still riding your orgasm. Eren pulls up your panties and gives you a little kiss on you lower back. You sigh and turn around, leaning against the wall. You can’t help but smile, even though you’re coming down from your high and guilt’s starting to build up.

Eren comes closer and gives you a kiss, a deep kiss but you pull away, ashamed. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

“So...”

“This can’t happen again” you say and he nods. Its the first time you see him act this awkward. “We won’t talk about it, okay? This never happened.”

“Sure. It’ll be... our secret”

You kept quiet for a few moments, standing in front of each other. You wanted to blame it on the drugs and on the alcohol but...to be honest, you were into it. You enjoyed it. You’ve never orgasmed like that before, not even with Jean. You tried to compare them but it was impossible. Jean was nice and gentle, he tried to show you how much he loved you every time you had sex. Eren was like a predator, rough, dominant. Did you really had to choose?

“Do you want to go back to my place?” you ask. Eren gives you a confused look. “It’s still early. I have beers. I don’t like to be alone.” you notice that he’s thinking about it. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah”

“Let’s go then.”

[connieslover]

close to me

༄ؘ fem! reader

༄ؘ modern au, fluff

✧˖*°࿐ short imagines of eren and armin being in close proximity with you.

  𐐪𐑂 eren yeager 𐐪𐑂 °

you were walking in the corridor of your school, whistling to a tune of a song and all of the sudden there was a hand on your wrist, dragging you to an unknown place.

“eren? what are you doing?,” you asked, wondering about the sudden rush. the male with the man bun gave you a cheeky grin before responding,

“okay well...i might’ve ticked jean off and now he’s coming for my ass.”you rolled your eyes, letting eren drag you.

after spotting an empty locker in a deserted area of the school, eren opened it, stepping inside it. you could only sigh before stepping after him. it was a tad bit too dusty for your liking. the locker was thankfully big enough for the two of you to fit, but not large enough so that your head wasn’t literally in eren’s chest. 

“out of all the places we could hide in, you decided this would be the best place?” you queried, awkwardly attempting to scoot a bit further away from the male by moving your upper body back.

eren only gave out a small chuckle before the two of you were enveloped in silence. it wasn’t a painfully tense silent but instead it was a comforting one. not knowing at what to ponder about, your gaze fell onto eren. over the past few years of knowing him, he grew taller. you didn’t realise how cramped he was until you noticed that his neck was slightly bent so that his head didn’t graze the close ceiling every now and then.

“am i that good looking?” eren’s voice you snapped out of your trance. with your cheeks dusted pink you scoffed and turned your head.

“no. i was just thinking about how stupid you look,”

eren rolled his eyes in response, “do you think horseface would find us here?”

“hopefully not,” you spoke, “say eren, uh, why did you drag me along with you? i kind of have a study session to go to,” your hands reached to the locker door as you remembered the study session mikasa invited you to. yet again, eren grabbed your wrist, stopping you from exiting.

“well to be honest, i just wanted to...spend time with you,” he answered sheepishly. you could only blink twice in surprise. 

and then you finally realise how close the two of you were. his musky scent was overwhelming you, nearly knocking you into a daze. when you tilted your head upwards to speak, you swore your heart nearly stopped beating. 

his emerald eyes were stuck on you. he stared at you with a gentle gaze. his stray long brunette hair touched your cheek which was reddening due to the close proximity between the two of you. 

your sweet moment and what could’ve been your first kiss was interrupted.

“I FOUND THEM JEAN!”

𐐪𐑂  armin arlert 𐐪𐑂 °

“DAMN PAPA YOU A RARE BREED, NO COMPARING AND ITS MOTHERFUCKING SCARY-”

the voices of sasha, connie, jean and you screaming the lyrics of doja cat’s streets deafened eren, the poor driver who has been tortured to listen to your wonderful vocals.

it was around midnight and you, eren, mikasa, armin, connie, sasha and jean decided to go for a late night drive. mikasa and eren were sat at the front whilst connie, sasha, you and armin were squished in the second row and jean was left at the back alone (he lost in rock paper scissors). 

you absolutely adored late night drives. something about the quiet ambience of the night was remarkable. whilst the city was asleep, the moon, the stars and you and your friends were awake. late night drives made you feel like you were in a coming of age teen movie. 

“look! the ocean!” armin gaped, driving your attention away from sasha who was eating her second bag of french fries. you leaned towards the window that armin was sitting beside, looking at the sparkling water. 

armin on the other hand gulped as you leaned forward. your eyes were locked on the view and you didn’t even notice how close you were to his face. 

“look over here!” connie chirped. you immediately turned the other way. armin let out a quiet sigh of relief, his heart thumping rapidly. every time you turned to look at the window which was beside him, he’d have to avert his eyes away from you, flustered. thankfully, you didn’t take notice of it.

“theres a left turn so hang on everyone,” spoke mikasa, gripping the handles. 

eren was one reckless of a driver. it was a surprise as to how no cops had pulled you guys over yet. everyone found his random fast speeds and turns exhilarating. well... everyone except armin. the poor boy would pray for his life every time there was a turn. 

eren spun the wheel with great excitement, making the car follow suit. sasha let out a squeal whilst connie and mikasa hung onto their hand grip like their life depended on it. 

you had your eyes shut, your hands unconsciously latched onto the person closest to you. armin. armin was flabbergasted at the sudden contact and the swelling of your chest against his arm didn’t help his crimson cheeks and flustered state at all. 

once you felt the car slow down you fluttered your eyes open, then realising your hold on armin. your cheeks tinted red and you immediately let go,

“i-uh sorry!” you squeaked, placing your hands on your lap.

armin quickly turned his head to the window to hide the shyness prominent on his cheeks, “it’s fine,”

well now armin wouldn’t be too terrified of whenever eren had to take a turn.

[coollyinterferes]

Character Interview || Repost, don't Reblog

NAME  :   Robert Edward Orville Speedwagon

NICKNAME  :  Boss, aniki, “bastard!”/"that son of a bitch!” (usually from rival gang members, so the insult varies sometimes lol), Rob (used by a few friends), derivatives of his last name −Speebs, Speeds, Speeb, Speedy, etc− but these he will only accept them from certain people, otherwise he will do his best not to cringe on the spot or will do it inwardly. Uncle Speedy and etc later on (as in once George and the rest of the children come into his life, more specifically~).

AGE  :   25 in the main verse (may vary depending on the verse)

SPECIES  :  Human/Stand user in the main/time-travel verse | Vampire in the vamp!verse | Werefox in the monster!verse

—— Personal! ♡

MORALITY  :      lawful   /   chaotic /   good   /   neutral   /   evil  /   true .

RELIGION  :   Non-practising catholic (was raised as Catholic, like most other Victorians, believes in God, but that’s pretty much about it)

SINS   :     greed   /   gluttony   /   sloth   /   lust   /   pride  /   envy   /   wrath  .

VIRTUES :     chastity   /   charity   /   diligence   /   humility   /   kindness   /  patience  / justice.

KNOWN LANGUAGES :   English is his first language. Conversational Spanish, Italian, French, Portuguese, German and some more. Some conversational Mandarin Chinese as well (this one thanks to Li −canonly known as Kenpo, his Ogre Street friend−) and bits of Irish (this one thanks to Tattoo, his other Ogre Street friend). He can read and understand some Japanese (kana and some okurigana/kanji) but can’t really speak or write it. Same case for some other languages that he can also recognize and more or less understand bits of them but can’t really speak them. As you probably guessed, he’s learned most of these through his many journeys around the world.

SECRETS  :  All of the stuff in regards to the stone mask and all the events and incidents that came out from that (it was stated that the only ones who know everything about it from start to end are Jonathan and Speedwagon, the others who might know a great deal of it would be Straizo and Master Tonpety). He also tries to keep a low profile in regards to his homosexuality whenever he’s out of the slums to save himself some trouble due to the stigma at the time and the potential legal consequences, going only for the gay codes of the time (long hair, cleanly shaven face, colorful accessories, etc) so I guess that could count? Other than that, and in the verses that it applies, his stand mayhaps?? That’s what allows him to leap through timelines in the time travel verses (it possesses other abilities and skills but, since Robert doesn’t even know about his stand’s existence yet, he hasn’t trained with it and thus he doesn’t know about any of it’s abilities, not even about the time travel oof).

—— Physical! ♡

BUILD :     scrawny   /   bony   /   slender   /   fit   /   athletic   /   curvy   /   herculean   /  pudgy  /   average   .

HEIGHT  :   5’11”, close to the 6’ mark (181 cms)

SCARS   /   BIRTHMARKS  :    The most recognizable one is the scar marring the left side of his face (going from the top of his nose to his jaw), but he has plenty more scattered all over his body, some more visible than others, some larger than others. Most of them come from fights and his general criminal lifestyle, some of them even come from some of the torture sessions he’s endured as part of that (so it isn’t surprising that they were either caused by knives, gunshots, burns, shards of glass and etc). Most of his scars are located on his chest and arms, some more on his hands/wrists and fingers (hands/wrists and fingers mainly from when he was learning to use his buzzsaw hat), though he has a few more on his legs/thighs, lower abdomen, and a couple more on his back. In the main verse (usually set in the late stages of PB), he will have a few more from the events in PB −burn scars on his hands from the fire at the Joestar mansion, one on his shoulder from the attack he received from Jack the Ripper, an ice burn across his abdomen from thawing Zeppeli’s arm, and a couple more and not so visible ones on his arms from minor injuries (cuts) he got while fighting and fending off zombies−. Most of the ��PB scars” aren’t too visible thanks to Jonathan (he used his hamon to heal Speedwagon’s injuries shortly after).

ABILITIES   /   POWERS  :  He’s able to tell an evil person from a good one by their smell alone. He’s a resilient man and quite a strong one, too (stronger than the average guy, as he was shown killing zombies using his brute force only and a sledgehammer). He's good at hand to hand combat, he’s also good at using knives and guns, and at wrecking shit with a sledgehammer. I also hc that he's capable of creating veeeeeery small amounts of hamon (this as a result of Zepp's "accidental" slip) if he really puts his mind into it. Due to his current limitations with it, his hamon can’t be used for fighting, but it does enhance his healing process, making it slightly faster than that of an average human (with some proper training, chances are he might be able to do more with it, tho). His stand, in the verses where he has it, can perform time travel, which happens at random at first (he gradually gains control on his stand once he learns about it and starts training with it). Due to stands being a reflection of sorts of their user and their fighting spirit, and as an extension of Robert’s own hamon healing abilities, his stand also possesses healing abilities that can be used both on himself and on others, though this requires some training prior, as the healing relies entirely on Speedwagon’s own life force and can be fatal for him if used carelessly at first (once properly trained, it won’t represent a real danger for him to use). Much like Robert himself, his stand is also capable of packing some punches and causing serious damage on it’s opponent despite his stand being more of a “support” stand rather than a fully combat based one.

RESTRICTIONS  :  He's mostly a regular human in the main verse, so he’s at a great disadvantage against stronger supernatural beings such as vampires and pillarmen, for example. As stated above, the amounts of hamon he can currently create are small and, thus are difficult −almost impossible− to use for combat (again, this can change if he gets some proper training). His lack of knowledge on his stand’s existence can also count as a restriction for the time being, as he doesn’t know about it or it’s abilities and, thus, can’t use it at his will for now (it operates mostly in an “unconscious” level at first, usually after getting triggered). He also tends to wear his heart in his sleeve when it comes to the few people he truly holds dear and considers special to him, so that can be used against him if he’s not careful enough.

—— Likes / Scents! ♡

FOOD  :    He isn’t really picky with food since he grew up in absolute poverty and sometimes went for days without a single bite of food or eating stale (sometimes even moldy) food so like… he’s cool with pretty much anything nowadays. He’s also an adventurous man, so he’s always open to trying new and even “exotic” stuff. Other than that, pastries are one of his top fave things ever (creamy ones mainly but not exclusively).

DRINK  :   Tea −citrusy/fresh types mainly like lemongrass, same with berry teas−. He doesn’t mind sweeter teas but, since he usually has them with the pastries, he prefers something more “sour” to balance things out. He also likes coffee, liking it strong, kind of sweet, and hot (just how he likes his men lol). As for alcoholic drinks, he’s all for beer and gin. He also enjoys some of the sweeter ‘posh’ wines Jonathan normally has at his home.

PIZZA TOPPING  :  As far as I know, pizza toppings weren’t as creative and “crazy” in the 19th century as they have been over the last few decades, so he’s only used to more ‘traditional’ stuff like variants of Pizza Margherita, for example. However, in the time travel verses/modern!AUs he will definitely try all kinds of pizza toppings (yes, this includes pineapple pizza as well as entirely sweet pizza toppings and so on) and actually likes some of them.

COLOUR  :    Purple (shades like those of his waistcoats i.e.), pink, greeeeeeenvert, black.

MUSIC GENRE  :    More than a genre itself, he enjoys and appreciates music that can make him feel something. Toss some pub songs there for obvious reasons lol.

BOOK GENRE  :     General fiction mostly. He also enjoys reading some romance novels every now and then whenever he gets the chance to get his hands on a gay romance one, either featuring two males or two females (he doesn’t find the appeal in “traditional” ones for a variety of reasons).

MOVIE GENRE  :    Non-applicable in the main verse. Time travel verses −if he even gets the chance to watch a movie− and even in a modern!AU, his go to genres would probs be similar to his book genres, lol, just add some comedy there but like, not the ‘cheapest’ and cringey kind of comedy.

SEASON  :     Autumn and Winter (harsh winters are a pain in the ass in Ogre Street, but he can handle them fairly well overall)

CURSE WORD :   Fuck / Shit / Bloody and variants of it (like Bloody Hell) / Arsehole / Wanker / Damnit / Bollocks, Ballocks and all of it’s variants / Bastard / Motherfucker / Zounderkite (victorian for “idiot” but with even harsher and ruder connotations than just using “idiot” lol) / Beardsplitter (one of the victorian words for “penis” xd). There are plenty, plenty, more but those are the ones I can think of rn. He comes from the darkest pits of the slums after all, so yeah... Lots of cussing can be expected.

SCENT ( S )  :    Sweet and masculine musky scent, mainly, with an occasional subtle note of gunpowder and/or tobacco depending on whatever tf he’s been doing. Maybe a vague note of blood if he just got out of a fight. Some vague vanilla too but that one only around the time when he lands a temporary job in a bakery in London.

—— Fun Facts! ♡

BOTTOM OR TOP  :   Top leaning verse. He only bottoms occasionally for serious/long term boyfriends that he genuinely trusts, partly due to how being a bottom was (wrongly) perceived as being submissive by most people, and how dangerous being seen as such can be in a place like Ogre Street if the word gets out (not to mention that there’s been people there who have given him shit just for being gay), and partly because he also prefers to top and likes it better, lol.

SINGS IN THE SHOWER  :   Yeah. He started doing it as a child as a way to keep his mind distracted from how cold as fuck the water he’d wash himself with was (he usually bathed in rivers or washed himself with buckets of water some maid forgot outside of a household and that he managed to steal). He’s become a lot more used to cold baths over the years so a distraction is not necessary anymore, however, he still sings or hums sometimes whenever he has a song stuck in his head or if he’s particularly happy about something (this continues later on in life as well,even after cold baths are no longer part of his life, so it’s a habit that he never actually leaves).

LIKES PUNS  :    He loves them! Lame ones, good ones, cheesy ones, silly ones, witty ones, dirty/vulgar ones, etc. Heck, even dad jokes can be found in his repertoire! Chances are that, if you come to him with a pun or joke, he will give you one or two (maybe even more) in return.

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

Tagged by: @le-princesse-chevalier​​ (( thank you so much for the tag!!! ♡♡ ))

Tagging: @historias-multorum @jojoingjoseph @gazelessmenagerie @usfv @featherchan @kindersturm @iiguess @storiedocs @quirofiliac @rotrioted @breatheflcra @emcraldsxchcrrics @arrhythmiiia @mechahero @voltagecrow @promiseled @joesrparchive (tagged your main but the tag applies to any and all of your muses that you might want to fill this for >:D) @rzrbite​ @mistymiddiana (if you’re up for it) & also tagging anyone and everyone who wants to give this a shot! Just take it and say i tagged you~ Multis and peeps with 2+ muses, feel free to do this for as many of your muses as you wish!

[miraclesnshit]

HeY y’AlL I mAdE a NeW vId!

 “ i KISSED my FRIEND? | Storytime | NOT CLICKBAIT! “

The video starts as many of Gamzee’s videos do. He has the camera pointed directly at himself, and he’s sitting in his rumpus block, dressed in something soft and casual that hangs loosely on his scrawnier than average frame. The couch and coffee table can be seen behind him, along with several strands of multi-colored lights. There’s clearly a person sitting on the couch, but they aren’t fully in frame as gamzee is blocking them, juts a foot or hand, or? Is that an ear? Here or there.

“Hey y’all! What’s up? It’s ya boy Gamzee here with a motherfuckin story for y’all. A real grippin type epic motherfuckin tale. So I got this friend yeah, and he’s like real cool and sweet. Y’all mighta seen me bloggin on him if you follow me on bubblr. His name be Dave.”

Dave leans into the frame, holding up a peace sign. Any troll watching would instantly recognize that this friend was certainly not a troll. Gamzee turns to look over his shoulder at Dave, smiling wider than he had in any of his other videos.

He chuckles. “He’s so fuckin cute y’all I can’t even. Shit, what was I all talkin about again? Oh yeah! Dave haha! Dave all came over last night to get his wicked chill on with this clown, and y’all I bore motherfuckin witness to and participated in some straight up miracles. He all asked me if he could get to kissin a clown, and this clown said, oh fuck yes! And we all totally got our smooch on.”

He stares at the camera dreamily for a moment before he continues. “Y’all I ain’t ever coulda dreamed up how good it was to all kiss a motherfucker. And like, y’all rightly know I’ve thought on it a lot, I mean kissin in general. I ain’t all told you none I been thinkin on smoochin Dave. Most def all have been though. He’s so soft and like, warm. Snugglin with a motherfucker be like bein all cozy under a blanket you just all wanna stay wrapped up in forever. Just all runnin ya fingers through a motherfucker’s fine ass nugfluff and kissin them sugar sweet lips. Smells so motherfuckin good, all like that musky smell a the trees and shit and somethin else I ain’t really able to put a finger on.” He sighs happily.

“Y’all ain’t even know how soft n’ sweet this human’s lips be. A motherfucker could go mad just tryinna drink up all that miracle sweetness. They hide be so much motherfuckin softer than a troll’s like one lil wrong nick of ya fangs and you’d rip em open. And you kinda all wanna just get yaself a lil nibble, just all see a lil glimpse of that sweet elixir what makes em so warm, but they so soft and sweet you just wanna be all motherfuckin soft, kiss on em tender like, touch on em the same. Just all give em that gentle type affectionate shit. Fills a motherfucker up with all sortsa righteous, wicked good vibes..” He pauses again, looking like he’s lost in a little fantasy. 

“Haha yeah anyways y’all it was real good be what a clown is tryinna be spittin.” He looks over his shoulder at Dave again and smiles. Wandering over to his couch where the human is sitting, flopping down next to him and leaning up against him affectionately before the video cuts out.

[icantlose]

🔥🔥 ' fuckin BATHE you furry wet dream musky husky uwu looking ass motherfucker holy shit '

SEND

“Is it even a roast if it doesn’t make sense? I legitimately have no idea what the fuck you’re even attemptin’ to say, kiddo. What the hell is an ooo-woo?”

[incorrect-echovn-quotes]

Leo: I'VE COME TO MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT; KUDZU THE RACCOON'S A BITCH-ASS MOTHERFUCKER. HE PISSED ON MY FUCKING OTTER! THAT'S RIGHT; HE TOOK HIS RACCOON FUCKING MUSKY DICK OUT AND HE PISSED ON MY FUCKING OTTER, AND HE SAID HIS DICK WAS

Kudzu: Ｔｈｉｓ ｂｉｇ

Leo: AND I SAID "THAT'S DISGUSTING" SO I'M MAKING A CALLOUT POST ON MY TWITTER dot COM; KUDZU THE RACCOON YOU'VE GOT A SMALL DICK, IT'S THE SIZE OF THIS WALNUT EXCEPT WAY SMALLER. AND GUESS WHAT? HERE'S WHAT *MY* DONG LOOKS LIKE-

Leo: *booooosch!*

Leo: THAT'S RIGHT, CHULA! ALL KNOT, NO QUILLS, NO PILLOWS, LOOK AT THAT IT LOOKS LIKE TWO BALLS AND A BONG. HE FUCKED MY OTTER SO GUESS WHAT, NOW I'M GONNA FUCK THE TOWN! THAT'S RIGHT THIS IS WHAT YOU GET- MY SUPER LASER PISS!!!

Leo: EXCEPT I'M NOT GONNA PISS ON THE TOWN, I'M GONNA GO DEEPER! I'M PISSING ON THE MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINES!!!

Leo: HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, MAYOR MOORE?? I PISSED ON THE MINES YOU ＩＤＩＯＴ.

Leo: YOU HAVE TWENTY-THREE HOURS BEFORE THE PISS drrrrrrrroplets~ HIT THE REST OF THE TOWN. NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT BEFORE I PISS ON YOU, TOO.

[mybukz]

Work-in-progress: When Plan's Stolen by Fate by Deborah Wong

Image by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

When Plan’s Stolen by Fate (Novel excerpt from “One Maple Summer’) By Deborah Wong

It’s July 2010. I’m praying the germ-infused Boeing 777 will land in one piece at Vancouver International Airport, and my Nokia 1202 from back home will function. The Pacific Coast forces may have stolen a bit of my luck as I now have no signal—the battery was well-fed and ready to kick ass.

“If you need any assistance, please don’t hesitate to call me,” Sandy, the UBC accommodation officer says. Her smile shines sunnier than the Kellogg’s TV happy family commercial.

I thank her and she hugs me.

“Is there a public phone I can use around this area?”

“There’s one at the concierge but it’s under repair. You can try the one at the Student Centre, about ten minutes walking distance.”

“Alright, thanks for the info.”

“No worry. Take care.”

My heart sinks faster than the Titanic; my headache from the jet lag keeps me up like synchronised car hydraulics coupled with Eminem’s rap. To make matters worse, I’m unable to call my parents about my safe arrival—thanks to my dead phone. Sitting here alone, I want to throw myself off the bouncy comfortable bed, snooze off, and let the tantalising air joyride into a lullaby. No one would yell at me for falling asleep; I smell like an overripe durian.

The digital clock in black and white on the wall states 4:44pm.

With a foggy light brain, I try to balance and change into a fleece hooded sweater and denim shorts. I have no choice but to head to the Student Centre. I hope to stumble—miraculously—onto a phone booth. I roll my Holy Rosary in my pocket.

I step out of the dorm and lock the door like an infant experiencing the glaring evening sun at the foreign land. The cold breeze sweeps onto my face and penetrates my head and whole body. I solemnly declare my brain frozen without the help of immense scoops of Haagen Daaz.

I hear thumping footsteps. I brace for the worst. My hand grips the tree, and I prep myself to fly kick à la Bruce Lee’s Enter the Dragon.

As the footsteps get closer, I punch out my left fist and yell.

When I open my eyes, a man in glasses frowns. “Are you okay?”

I clear my throat and adjust my hooded jacket, embarrassed. “Of course, I…was practising my Kung-Fu.”

He smirks. “You picked the wrong place. What if I carried a knife and I stabbed you as self-defence? You’re lucky I’m not a pervert. You never know what a motherfucker will do. Next time don’t hide behind the tree.”

“Okay, thanks for your advice.” I choke as I feel my face heat up like a red lobster.

“Have a pleasant day and a great summer.”

“I know this sounds crazy but if you don’t mind, could you please lend me your phone? I need to send a text home.”

He turns and studies me.

“I know this sounds weird but I just got here and my phone isn’t working. I really, really need to send a text to my dad back in Kuala Lumpur, to let him know I’ve reached here. Why don’t I pay you a dollar?”

He thinks for a while. “Alright, I won’t charge a cent.” He takes out his Blackberry. “You want to type it yourself?”

“It’s better if you type it for me. It’s your phone anyway.”

“Okay.“ He types like a world champion, listening to me. “You may want to take a look before I send the text.”

I quickly read it. “Okay, you can send it now. Thank you.”

“That’ll be fifty cents service charge.”

“WHAT.”

“Hey, I was joking. I may charge if you’re texting your boyfriend. Anyway, welcome to Vancouver and UBC. I stay in Pacific Crescent.”

“Where is that?”

“Go straight from here, right behind the Asian Studies building, near the Nitobe Memorial Garden.”

“That place looks posh. I’m sure it cost you quite a bit.”

“I have friends coming over very often; hence staying in a dorm isn’t a smart choice. An apartment feels more like a home to me.” He glances at his gunmetal watch. “I need to rush to the convenient store. It’s a great pleasure knowing you.”

“Do they sell any sandwiches or pastries?”

“They only have selection of sandwiches, instant salad and packed sushi.”

“Great, maybe you can show me the way?”

“Sure, no problem…”

“I didn’t get your name.” I walk beside him.

“I’m Jun Nakamura.”

I have not been in this foreign land for twelve hours and I’ve been invited to this house party. Jun tells me Mansfield Heights is the most eventful student housing area in UBC, coming alive only in summer.

There’re blue poles along the cemented walkway and red lightings at each corner. If anyone looks suspicious, ready for misdemeanour or voyeurism, one presses the emergency intercom, a safety object for students, a deterrent. On the other hand, if I were in such situation, I’d run for my life and be sure to look out for this emergency button.

“There’s surveillance camera installed in each lamppost for supervision that links directly to the Vancouver Police Department,” Jun says. His hair is ruffled into pointy soft spikes. He is wearing peasant’s crinkled cut washed jeans and a white t-shirt that reveals his fine avid gym-goer chest.

“So, what kind of party your friend’s having?”

“Booze drinking, cigarettes smoking, chatting and whole loads of eating; take a look around you, it is Friday night but we have to clear the coast by midnight.“ He stops and studies me. “Have you been to any house party before?”

“I did but it was long time ago.”

“How long is long time?”

“I think about fourteen years ago.”

“Whoa, that’s like immeasurable yards away. Anyway we’re here.”

Jun ambles to this NHL nightclub bouncer lookalike, except he has a crimson face and dirty blondish hair. Their greeting is front and back palms slapping and then fists punching like the ghetto Harlem boys.

“Oh c’mon, we don’t welcome underage here.” He stares at me.

“I’m already twenty-eight.”

He laughs. “Sorry, my bad…But you don’t look like your age.”

“So, am I invited?” I raise my brows.

“Of course, you PYT, I’m Montgomery Peterson. Everyone calls me Monty.”

“I’m Maxine Cheong, nice to meet you, Monty.”

Out of nowhere, a girl hops into Jun’s arms, giving him a bear hug, and a quick peck on his cheek. She has porcelain skin and raven shoulder-length hair. “You’re late!”

“Kendra, I want to introduce you to Maxine from Malaysia.“ Jun lets go of her.

“Oh, how un-fucking-believable…” She covers her mouth and smacks his arm. “So, you decided to change your taste for the better, huh?”

“Well, I’m not Jun’s girlfriend,” I smile, curtly.

“Don’t be so serious and spoil the party, or else I’ll throw you out.”

I turn to Jun. Everyone seems to have gone quiet.

“I was just joking. I’m Kendra Choi.” Her tone becomes friendlier.

“Maxine Cheong.”

“You have the coolest name here in Vancouver so far lucky-lucky you.”

Jun returns to the crowd after answering a phone call. “It’s Makoto and he’s stranded at the guardhouse with Yosuke and Paul. The security guard refused to let them in, despite their party invitation pass.”

“Speaking of that guard, he kept calling me a Mongolian and asked whether my family slaughtered horses for a living,” Kendra says.

After Monty and Jun leave to rescue their friends, Kendra and I bump past party-goers before reaching the house living room. She speaks into my ear. “Sorry to disappoint you but it’s still too early to spot a drunkard.”

“I guess they’ll become Intoxicated Cinderella by midnight.”

All the seats are occupied. I have to sit on the carpeted floor, among vinyls of Ozzy Osborne, Green day, Dave Matthews Bands, Cypress Hills, Queen, David Bowie, Rage Against The Machine, just to name a few. Kendra has returned from the washroom.

“Monty once formed an indie rock band during his teens. The band was quite a success from Port Coquitlam to White Rock. But then a fight broke out a day before they were supposed to sign a million-dollar record deal. You wanna know why? The bassist caught the lead guitarist fucking his girlfriend in their trailer. Hell broke lose. All the instruments were damaged by the bassist who ran amok. Worse still, the boys have to pay off the loan and the damaged instruments to the music shop.”

“What instrument Monty played?” I refuse to accept an opened cap bottled drink from a random guy.

“Drums and percussion. He was also a turntablist,” she says with a shrug and a snort, “but one lesson that no other guys will ever learn: do not let your girlfriend join the band practise. Girls fall head over heels with men who play guitars or drums.”

I grab a can of Dr. Pepper from the refreshment bar, while Kendra fills up a plate with finger food. A guy by the banister eyes us before taking up with a girl. Both head upstairs after the guy winks at me.

We spot a three-seater sofa.

“These seats are meant for both of you, my exotic princesses,” says a Hispanic-looking man. He has been feeding another man with bacon stripes.

The Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged record is spinning in the vintage oak wood player. I’ve always been mesmerised by Kurt Cobain’s baritone voice.

“I don’t like his grinding dick voice.” Kendra walks to the player and lifts the needle with the cue lever. “Thanks to Janis Joplin, Joan Jett and Amy Lee, rock music is in my blood now.” She puts on a vinyl of The Runaways, that Cherry Bomb song filled with chattering noises and perfumed muskiness.

“I love X-Japan. Do you like them?”

“Me too!” We do a high-five. “But if you want me to wear a hanbok and play the gayageum in front of Korean men. No way José! Over my dead body! It looks damn submissive. I’ve been referred as a ‘leftover woman’ for not yet being married.”

“You’re not alone. I hear that very often. It happens to me as well. And what a cruel term is that? Nowadays in the Asian community, single and unmarried women are hiring men online to be their boyfriend to please their folks during festive seasons, or to attend their friend’s wedding.”

“Women have the earning power and are financially independent too. Some will have to succumb to the social pressure of not wanting to be called ‘leftover’, hence they get married and start a family, work their peachy-butts out, struggle to get promotion at work, earning more monies for the sake of their children. In the end of the day, it’s always easy to say. But to preserve such feminist though is difficult.”

“I’m in my thirties and not looking forward into getting married,” she says.

“Let’s make a toast to both of us, the most attractive leftovers.”

I raise my paper cup.

She pokes her nose. “Damn, how come I don’t even know you’ve been drinking orange juice? Let’s get you a beer.”

“I’m still recovering from jet lag. Sorry.”

“You should come over to my place one day and we’ll cook up a storm.” She stretches to grab two bottles of beer. “I invite Jun along too. He’s good at ramen, sushi, butter-poached seafood and miso soup.”

“Isn’t that…a big task for him?” I take a bottle but put it aside.

“Give me a break. That guy’s a chef.”

“Jun…is a chef?”

“That smoochy-bear, he is freakingly dedicated and talented. He has worked in Washington DC’s Marriott for couple of years, and then quit after he was promoted to an assistant chef. As to why he quit, well, Jun doesn’t talk about it.”

“…must be those shitty management politics.”

“I still think teaching is the best work so far. Less office politics.”

“You’re a teacher?”

“I teach English to adults and young adults in Tokyo.“ She wipes bread crumbs from her mouth. “And I know this is something uncommon. Even my grandparents are strongly opposed to anyone of us working there due to the Japan-Korea Disputes. So what’d you do for a living?”

“I’ve worked in an insurance company’s claims department for three years. It’s a huge department but most employees quit after the three-month probation. I handle mostly personal accident, employees’ medical bills reimbursement and at times on workers’ provident fund dispute.”

“Any weird cases you’ve dealt with?”

I lean my head on the sofa. “I was reading a decomposed body autopsy report in the food court and a waiter cringed when he saw those bloodied photos of torn phalanges on the claim file. He asked whether the man’s still alive. I said he should be lucky that his fingers didn’t fly into his colleagues’ mouth. His reaction was like this…” I imitate the painting from The Scream.

“Your work is very CSI-ish, so to speak. By the way, I’m curious as to how Jun and you get to know each other.”

“I bumped onto him when my cellphone isn’t working and he helped me to send a text message home.”

“I think you’ve missed the most crucial part.” Jun is walking toward us with a bottle.

Kendra sniffs Jun’s neck. “You smell like fresh from the crispy oven.” She puts her arm over his waist. “He is always so helpful, but inviting you to his friend’s party is his first time. Lot of girls are trying to get their hands on him too.”

Jun whispers to me. “She’s out.”

She clutches her beer bottle, a smile forming on her face. “But you serve a good impression on me, but my experiences taught me not to trust an acquainted human girl too much.”

Later that night, Kendra follows me like a puppy afraid to lose direction. Her eyes stay on Jun whenever we’re engaged in an ear-to-ear conversation because of the loud music at the DJ stands. She puts three Budweiser in front of me. “You have to bottoms up. I don’t care.”

I still have those butterflies in my stomach and don’t have much appetite. But towards the second bottle, Jun pulls Kendra to the kitchen area, and asks Makoto to bring her more food.

Approaching midnight, Makoto offers to drive me back to the dorm, even though it’s only ten minutes walking distance. I’m unable to find Monty to bid goodbye. Jun tells me he’s already passed out near the toilet bowl, and he carries grumpy Kendra into the back of Makoto’s car. I wind down the window, inhale the gentle ocean breeze as the car moves along Marina Drive, but the tranquillity ends with Kendra counting chicken and sheep in a slur.

*

Deborah Wong: "My works have been published on numerous online journals and paperback magazine, including Crack the Spine, Rat’s Ass Review, Eksentrika, Thought Catalog, Liquid Imagination, Strange Horizons. Some are forthcoming from Frozen Wavelets and Seagery Zine. I have performed at local reading groups and open mic poetry sessions. I am currently working on a fictionalised travel memoir and some speculative poetry and fiction. I have an ongoing artwork-poetry crossover project with an emerging Australian artist on Instagram. You can follow me on Twitter @PetiteDeborah ‘When Plan’s Stolen by Fate’ is the first chapter of my work-in-progress semi-autobiographical novel ‘One Maple Summer’. The novel is about my intensive creative writing workshop at the University of British Columbia in the summer of 2010. At 28 I traveled for the first time 12 thousand kilometers to the other side of the continent. My debit card and cellphone failed, and the one-month stay at a pen pal’s place turned out not as imagined. However, things navigated otherwise when I received accolades from my creative writing course instructors. Discovering the melting pot of diverse cultural background of acquaintances made traveling worth a lifetime.”

[tendriltherapy]

Private Lessons

With your home still orbiting the clown-focused land, it’s not a long trip  to pay the Bigtop tent a visit. Clown Church (Clurch) isn’t in session with the Ringmatron right now, just a standard array of Subjugglator antics, so with a few simple questions and an exchange of honks and gropes, you mosey down a side path to find the door to the tall, powerful clown woman’s quarters, which you knock at with just a bit of nervous tension. Not because you fear the clown cleric beyond the respectable amount one fears a stronger, older member of your new cult - but rather, because of the prospect of a private session with her, and falling ever deeper into her intoxicating clutches. 

The brightly-painted door creaks open slowly into a dimly-lit room, and the Ringmatron’s alluring voice beckons from within. It’s ostensibly quieter than when she’s preaching to the crowd, yet there’s something about her gravitas that makes it fill your ears exactly the same. “Come on in, sister. I’ve been hoping you’d up and drop by. Go on and shut the door behind you.” she calls, in a tone that makes you shiver. You hastily comply, slipping in and nudging the door shut with one pronounced hip, orange troll-eyes blinking to grow quickly accustomed to the dimmer light. 

The Ringmatron’s chambers are rather lavishly appointed - colorful tapestries and bolts of fabric cover the walls and arc across the ceiling, all clashing but somehow proving rather harmonious to your altered Subjugglator sensibilities. A door leads off to a side room of some sort, and a large recuperacoon occupies one corner, placed not far from a lavish wardrobifier. The tall woman - her tophat off and her corset loosened - lounges amidst a pile of cushions, sprawled out rather sensuously despite the bottle of Faygo she’s sipping from, beckoning you a little closer. Just the faintest of flickers flashes in her eyes, and you shiver where you stand before drifting over.

“Well hello there, little sis. You’re lookin’ real good since your baptism threefold. Real motherfuckin’ good indeed. You feelin’ good, too?” she asks, and you nod slowly, shivering once more under her powerful gaze, replying that you’ve “Never motherfuckin’ felt better”. The high-ranking Priestess chuckles throatily, holding her half-drunk bottle of green soda for you to take, while she herself rises to her feet to tower over you.  You swirl the bottle idly in your hand, then take a sniff, and your pupils dilate - that’s the now-recognizable smell of sopor, distilled into Faygo form. Your priestess grins and gestures for you to help yourself, and you do. The sweet and sour stuff burns as it slides down your throat with more viscosity than the normal cola flavors, but it’s the best motherfuckin’ burn in the world. A now-familar tingly bliss begins to radiate - slowly but surely - out from your belly. “Good girl. Feelin’ real good, right? Like it was all and motherfuckin’ meant to be all along.” she says, and you nod with another shiver at her words - you’re not sure if she’s talking about the soda, or your newfound status as an adherent, but your sopor-dosed gut tells you ‘Both’ is the right answer. 

“So what brings my favorite new little motherfucker down to visit little ol’ me?” she asks, a powerful hand coming to rest on your shoulder and kneading gently, guiding you to step ever closer to her looming height; she’s something like two or three feet taller than you, putting you at perfect height to nuzzle absently into her midsection. You mumble a reply - 

“I just up and wanted to come see my Ringmatron,” you say, “And... to ask for any ideas to come back home to the Carnival all easy-like when I leave the session.” 

The Ringmatron chuckles again, carding her fingers through your black hair and rubbing a slow circle around your horns that makes a tiny coo escape you. “Leave? Now, why’d you ever wanna do a silly thing like that? You said it yourself, the Dark Carnival here can up and be as much a home as you could ever want. But I guess if you gotta go out an’ take care of some righteous fuckin’ business, it would only make pure sense to let you come back right here lickety-split. Don’t want you straying too far from our little family after all.”

You nod in agreement - it felt so good to join in with the Clown Church’s neverending festivities, in your current state you couldn’t dream of staying away for too long. Still, you do want to go explore for more knowledge and majyyks, and - as you explain to her - to possibly spread the Mirthful Motherfuckin’ Word while you’re at it. A rumble not unlike a purr of approval rattles through her frame, and she pulls you close against her half-dressed frame, burying your face against her lower belly. At this proximity, you can smell everything - the sweet tinge of a few flavors of faygo clinging to her, the musk of sweat, the cloying chemical fug of sopor, and of course the potent pheromonal buzz of her bulge only inches from your face. You emit a quiet half-moan, half-honk that nearly gets lost against her body. She hears it though - or feels it, and replies with a quiet honk of her own, a guttural little noise that speaks to your transformed senses on a base level. 

“I think I’ve up and got a quick fix, but why don’t you and me go have a nice little steam in the sauna? You look like you’re needin’ a real good fix... plus what kinda fuckin’ Ringmatron would I be, not to give the newest motherfuckin member in the flock plenty of private tutoring?” she says, keeping your face pressed to her musky frame as she guides you blindly into the next room - a fairly standard bathroom for the most part, save for the fairly large, purple-stained wooden structure accessible from one side; a sauna. A familiar chemical scent wafts out to greet you as she opens the door and tendrils of greenish fog drifts out. Your bulge throbs in your sheath, the sense of anticipation growing stronger. The Ringmatron laughs, feeling your throb against her leg, and rumples your hair before beginning to disrobe you, pulling your arm and leg warmers off in quick motions, then unclasping your bra with an unexpected tenderness, followed by guiding your thong off with cool, strong hands. You’re like putty in her grasp, and you watch with earnest impatience as she herself disrobes, discarding her corset and pants to expose a body thick with muscle and fat and curvature, her breasts bigger than your head and capped with cork-thick nipples; her bulge and balls hanging low. Silvery-purple scars crisscross her here and there, signs of the rough-and-tumble lifestyle of the Purpleblood cult. A dark purple blush fills your cheeks as you’re granted such a private and full view of her. With a hand gliding down to rest on your hip and squeeze your ass, she leads you into the sopor-scented sauna, shutting the door behind you with a click. 

The sauna is appointed as one might expect - sturdy wooden benches surrounding a bed of warm coals, a bucket of fluid with a ladle in it nearby. But the fluid in that bucket is a telltale green hue, and the box slid under one of the benches looks suspiciously full of lewd and well-used items, proofed against the heat. “Come get cozy, lil’ sister.” your Priestess beckons you, taking a seat in the corner and spreading out comfortable, patting her lap. Even before steaming up, the warmth feels intoxicating and fuzzy on your now coldblooded body, and you drift closer with a dreamy, dopey grin on your face, wiggling your bare rear in front of her before settling down in her lap, legs likewise splayed. While one hand comes to rest on your torso, lightly groping and teasing across you, the other extends to grab a ladleful of green fluid and splash it onto the hot coals, releasing a potent blast of pure, sugary-sweet sopor steam into the air. You breathe it in deep and a long, languid honk slips from your lips as the intoxicant hits you. 

“Good girl, breathe it nice an’ deep. Ain’t nothin’ better-feeling than a hot motherfuckin’ sopor sauna... aside from maybe a righteous pailin’ with a mirthful companion at the same time~” she murmurs, likewise enjoying the intoxicating fog filling the room. Both your bulge and hers begin to stiffen up as the vaporized sopor coats your body in a tingly, increasingly-blissful dew, and you watch with a stoner’s fascination as her bulge throbs and pulses up to full mast, dwarfing even your own beast of a member. The two bulges rest atop each other, your heavy balls drooping down either side of the priestess’s shaft to rest near the top of her own pouch. You’re about to reach out and touch at least one of those bulges, before they’re both grasped at once by the woman whose lap you occupy. “You just sit back and relax, little sis’. Your Ringmatron’s got this aaaaalll under motherfuckin’ wraps~” she reassures you, and you hazily comply. Her cool, sopor-slick hand glides slowly up and down both of your shafts in smooth, steady strokes, pumping them both up to their full, ample heights. She pays extra-special attention to the head of yours, pulling the foreskin-like sheath all the way down to your base to tease it directly. Little dribbles and spurts of purple geneslime ooze from your glans and coat her bulge, and you murmur the tiniest of little moans and honks. “Cutest lil’ honks, lil’ sis... Gonna treat my new lil’ adherent right, earn some right proper motherfuckin’ honks outta you by the time we’re done.” you hear her murmur in a husky tone into your ear. You moan and honk a little more earnestly for her, her hand rewarding you with a firm squeeze all the way up your shaft, which milks out a thick, languid dollop of slime from your tip. 

Her ministrations continue like this for several minutes, just a slow steady double-handjob and an occasional fresh splash of sopor-cola onto the rocks to refresh the hot, intoxicating steam. But finally the Ringmatron seems to want a little more, and with the hand not holding your bulge, she lifts you up like you’re a feather. Her own bulge rises up steadily, and she plants its tip - lubricated by your own geneslime - against your purple pucker. “Bear down, lil’ sis, let this bad girl fill you aaaalll the way up~”  she encourages you, and you comply, pushing down with your pelvic muscles as the horse-sized shaft spreads its way into your waiting pucker. Your eyes cross, flutter, then roll back for a moment, teeth gritting at the immensity of it all. But then she grants you a little sip of sopor-Faygo and returns one hand to your blge, and all is right in the world. Her bulge slips in steadily, a noticeable lump visible through your gut as it fills you up. You’re not even sure how your body is managing to take it, but by the Mirthful Messiahs, it feels truly Miraculous. She slides you down, down, down towards the root of her bulge, cooing in approval of the long, drawn-out half-honk, half-groan along the way. Her skilled fingertips work your glans, your shaft, your balls, encouraging the latter to churn up a nice healthy load while you slip ever downward. Finally your cheeks come to rest on her thighs, fully sheathing her bulge inside you. She doesn’t pump, doesn’t thrust, just lets it pulse powerfully inside you with little flexes of her abdominal muscles while she works over your bulge.

“I knew my newest lil’ sister had some wicked talent in her even during your initiation, takin’ bulges like a champ, all while hangin’ on my every sacred word. Makes you feel good, doesn’t it, gettin’ pailed while hearing the good word? Makes you feel complete, feel right?” she coos into your ear, and you can only agree. With both hands now free to stroke and fondle and please, she keeps up the soft, tender, yet insistent ministrations, all while continuing to murmur to you. You can’t see her eyes flicker, but either you’re too stoned to think straight or her Chucklevoodoos are at work again - just like during your initiation, you can’t quite seem to make surface-level sense of her words, but at the same time they speak to your inmost core, bypassing the active mind entirely and filling your subconscious up to overflowing with mirthful words, wicked knowledge, and clowny thoughts. By the time her stroking is finally milking an orgasm out of you, you’ve got a broad, fucked-silly grin plastered across your face and each sticky pulse of your geneslime spurting from your bulge is accompanied by a long, hoarse-voiced, earnest HOOOOONK! A bucket or more worth of your rich, cold highblood geneslime oozes thickly across the floor, adding to the purple planks’ indelible stain. 

When you finally come down from your sopor and preaching-induced high to relax in the afterglow, you notice your belly bulging noticeably; seems like just like during your initiation, your Ringmatron’s release has been slow, subtle, and steady - constantly flowing into you the whole time rather than coming out in a gush. She fishes around in the box under the bench for something before she begins to lift you free from her shaft, your body twitching and moaning and one smaller, weaker orgasm escaping you at the intense sensation of removal. But before a flood of her blessed seed can be spilled from your wide-stretched hole, she pops a large plug in, filling you back up and keeping you corked. "Best leave that in a few hours, sis. No sense wasting a drop of your Ringmatron's special fuckin' geneslime, right my sister?" she says, to a drunken nod in reply. 

With tenderness she helps you redress, peppering your body in small kisses all the while, looking quite pleased for some reason you can’t quite parse. All you know is you feel invigorated in body and spirit, your mind abuzz with sopor remnants and your priestess’s blessed words. You glance in the bathroom mirror as you pass and giggle at your giddy, still-broad grin, noticing dimly how good your grey skin looks. Was your hair always so shaggy? You’re not sure, but it looks motherfuckin’ good. You pause to refresh your sacred face-paint, while the Ringmatron continues past you to do something in her room. When you emerge, a fresh coat of greasepaint on your features, there’s a new door in a previously unused wall of the room, its bright colors peeking out from between the tapestries. She hands you a Sylladex card for a MIRACULOUS PORTAL, the new door’s equal. “A quick way home for my favorite new wicked sister. It’ll always bring you back to the Dark Carnival wherever you are, and when the Miracles line up just right, it’ll bring you right here to me for a little... private tutoring.” You clutch the card to your chest like a treasure, nodding eagerly. She rumples your hair and teases your hornbases one more time, before lightly swatting your rear and sending you on your way. You wander back out into the Carnival to enjoy the rest of your night. Your spirits and faith have never been higher.