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ellieslittlewh0re · 10 months

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ִ ⋆｡ °✩ ❝ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄 𝐋♡𝐕𝐄 ❞ ✩°｡⋆

(𝒘𝒌) 5k

〚𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒〛 ✰ rockerstar! ellie x groupie! reader ✰

〚𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒〛 ellie williams. her name was everywhere- the underground music’s next breakout star, and for a good reason too- a honeyed voice mixed with gravel, her passion, energy, the fact she was everything rock and roll should be. also, let’s not forget the sex appeal.

〚𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒〛 sex, love, drugs, and rock and roll. !!TW!! for descriptions of drug usage ( c0cain, L$D) fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), strap on usage (r! receiving) overstim kinda, dom e!, sub r!

It started with a video- a grainy, shity quality one at that, but still a video. She was center stage of some grungy bar from the looks of it, spotlights illuminating her face enough to see stands of her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, and a chipped cherry red electric guitar hanging from her shoulder. She was magnetic, hypnotizing- not just with her performance, but her looks as well.

From that day on, you just had the desire to get closer to her in any way you could.

It had been two months since you started following her band while they toured across the West Coast. You had been to every show, seen every performance, and Ellie was starting to catch on.

The first time she saw you, you immediately caught Ellie's attention- I mean, how could you not? You were by far the hottest girl in the venue that night, swinging your hips so effortlessly it put the rest of the girls to shame. Ellie remembers that night vividly because she was so pissed she couldn't find you after the show to bring you back to her shitty motel room and have her way with you. But Ellie quickly forgot about you when the company of two other girls took your place that night, along with a few too many hits of whatever her drug of choice was during that time.

So, that's how you ended up here- at a run down gas station bathroom touching up your makeup in the middle of the fucking desert, and a van full of strangers that you were currently hitching a ride with waiting outside at the pumps.

And Ellie? Well, Ellie was doing what she always does before a show- drugs, and lots of them, whether it was molly, coke, weed, tabs, or maybe even a deadly concoction of all the above, she didn't care as long as it made her feel alive- claiming it made her perform better or something, but really she just liked being fucked up while fucking girls after the show.

While Ellie was living this "glamorous" rockstar lifestyle, you were on the complete opposite end- quitting your day job to follow some girl around who doesn't even know your name and catching rides from people who definitely look like they have seen the inside of a prison cell- AKA, you were a groupie.

The air was hot, stale. A thin layer of orangy, rust-colored sand coated the windows and the van's gaudy upholstery. The landscape outside flashed like an old fashioned reel movie, cacti, shrubs, Joshua trees, and repeat.

It was desolate, and if the road and occasional mile marker wasn't there to remind you, you would've thought you were on a different planet.

"Your stop is next, daisy." The man with a handle bar mustache yelled from the drivers seat, meeting your eyes in the review mirror.

Daisy. A nickname given to you by the group when they first picked you up further up north. You had a daisy tucked behind your ear, and from then on, you were daisy.

It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, venue isn't really how you would describe it. It was more like a diner turned bar turned into whatever the fuck it was currently. You waved your goodbyes to the the group of not-so-strange strangers, all of them bidding you 'farewells' and 'good lucks' before you watched the red tails fade into the pitch dark of the desert.

For once, you were early. Turns out a bunch of traveling hippies and outcasts aren't on a timed schedule, who knew?

Even though you were early, the dirt patch of a parking lot was packed, cars in various stages of deterioration lining the sides of the building, and people gathering outside to avoid the cramped interior. But you weren't here to socialize or drink and get high- you just wanted to see her, dance to the strum of her guitar, and let her voice consume and overtake you.

It was 40-ish minutes past midnight, meaning Ellie and her band were late, but that's not a surprise. She had a bad habit of keeping the people waiting, but she was a busy girl- hanging out backstage or at a hotel, a room full of girls for her to pick from, and no shortage of drugs and alcohol. But tonight, she went a little too overboard. Her band mates were practically carrying her across the motel parking lot to their van, trying to get her to sober up on the way to the venue with water and motivational speeches that mostly consisted of "get your fucking shit together".

The short 30 minute drive to the venue was barely long enough to get Ellie back in the right state of mind. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, and her speech was a little slurred, but she's used to preforming under these conditions.

You waited patiently of course, babying a strong cocktail mix since you didn't dare get drunk and risk not remembering every detail of the night- every detail of her.

When the crowd shifted their attention to the back entrance of the building, silent murmurs at first before a load cheer erupting was when you knew, she was here, and she looked like heaven- a black tank top that was torn near the neckline, a studded belt loosely securing a pair of baggy, black patchwork cargo pants.

The crowd parted a pathway for her as she made her way through the room with her bandmates following behind, a cigarette tucked between her lips as she'd occasionally stop to sign whatever was thrown at her- a piece of paper, cash, a pair of tits- which she'd always happily comply, but if she saw a girl she liked, she would lick her pointer finger and index, smearing part of her signature on their cleavage while the marker was still wet to subtly let you know that she wanted your company for the night- at least, that's the rumor you've heard.

You found yourself holding your breath- she was so close, a mere body or two keeping you at arm's length from her. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and see the details of her chipped black nail polish holding the marker between her fingers.

Ellie hands the notebook and marker back into the wave of hands, looking up while blowing out a cloud of smoke, and that's when she sees you. She was about to walk off, but she stopped for a second. You don't look like you belong- you were different, sweet, and innocent-looking compared to the rest of the audience. But she doesn't let her eyes linger long, she has a show to put on after all.

She turned, and walked towards the stage stairs, and centered herself behind the mic. She shifted her weight on her feet, and took one last drag of the cigarette before suffocating the embers on a ashtray near the edge of the stage.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" She barely could make out before the crowds hollering drowned out her voice. She laughed into the mic while plugging a cord into her guitar that was connected to a beefy looking amp.

Her ego was at its biggest right now- just her mere appearance could make a group of strangers act like dogs, and she fucking loved it.

She played a few cords on the guitar, ensuring the tune was where she wanted it before looking back up into the crowd, "c'mon, you can do better than that." And even though her mouth was covered by the mic, you could tell she was smirking.

The crowd cheered louder, fists clenched high above the sea of heads, and chanted her name over and over exactly how she wanted them to.

And for you? Well, you were also chanting her name, maybe not as loud, but you were too busy squeezing your way through to get to the front.

She needed to be able to see you.

And she did see you- you were front row, playfully singing and dancing along, your bright, twinkling eyes boring into every little thing she did- from the way she'd run her hand through the front of her hairline, ridding her face of the baby hairs and bangs, down to the way her fingers curled over the frets of her guitar. She made sure to look elsewhere into the crowd, interacting with everyone, but her eyes always found themselves back on you.

Ellie closed out the show with an encore, most of the crowd was overly intoxicated at this point, stumbling, and starting meaningless fights with whoever was closest- aka the usual time you'd leave, but you couldn't, at least, not when Ellie was walking towards you, her eyes set on you. You glanced to your right then your left- confused, and definitely was searching for an explanation as to why she was getting closer. Surely, it was someone else who caught her attention, but it was only you nearby.

You take a step back from the stage as the tips of her dirty converse near the edge. She bends down at the knees before sitting all together, dangling her legs over the edge. She doesn't say anything, and you didn't either, maybe from intimidation mixed with confusion as to why she chose to sit here out of all places.

She reaches her tattooed arm behind, shifting her weight to pull out a pack of cigarettes, and offering the carton to you, but you shyly decline. She smirked, a dimple deepening on the one side of her cheek, "So-" She said, her voice momentarily muffled by the cigarette between her lips, "-you don't look like you're from here, where'd you come from, baby?" She ignited the end with a metal lighter, holding a free hand up to cover the flame which only amplified the warm glow of the flame on her face.

You chuckled a nervous laugh, looking down at your fingers as she blew out a puff of smoke, "M' not. I'm from up north. " Your voice trembled, leaking with submission and uncertainty which only fascinated her more, but also she was frustrated- most girls wouldn't need a conversation to know what Ellie wanted from them, and you weren't looking at her.

She grabs your hand, and pulls you closer to the space between her knees. A sharp breath gets caught in your throat as she does this, your cheeks hot, and your gut feels like it's jumping being this close to her- enough to smell the fumes of her cologne mixed with ash. You watch her fingers come up and hover over your chest, her fingers gently dancing along the skin of your clavicle to examine the charm of your necklace, but really it was just a flirtation tactic to her.

"What's a girl like you doing in the desert in the middle of the night, huh?" She asked, dropping her voice down to an almost whisper- raspy, and thick with suggestion. You shake your head side to side, a nervous tick of yours when you felt uncomfortable, but being uncomfortable isn't always a bad thing.

"I uh-" you paused, mentally wavering if you should tell the truth since it does seem a little pathetic. "-I wanted to see you play."

Ellie's eyebrows raise, her bottom lip puckering into a frown with a slight nod. "Is that so?" She hummed, rolling the edges of the charm between her fingers. Ellie was certain she had seen you before. It wasn't a trick of the light or getting your face confused with some other hot chick- you were unmistakable. But she didn't want you to know that she found you out, not yet, not now.

Ellie learned in further, your knees almost buckling out from under you, feeling her breath against your lips. She played it off like she was getting a closer look at your necklace, extending the religious symbolic charm out so the chain tugged on your neck. "Do you believe?" She asked, still looking at the damn necklace, furrowing her brows like she was in a deep philosophical thought.

You swallowed dryly, wishing you still had your drink from easier, "N-not really-" you stuttered, "it was a gift from when I was younger."

Ellie chuckled, but it wasn't lighthearted or sweet- it was dark, methodical, and a tad bit sadistic.

She released the charm from her fingers, letting it hit your bare chest with a muted thud before looking up. Her eyes were a darker shade than you remembered them being- irises blown out and framed beautifully by a thick band of dark eyelashes.

Her hand reached out and gently grabbed you by the wrist before yanking you closer so your tummy was flush with the side of the stage, leaving only a few inches between your tits and the denim of her crotch.

You inhaled a sharp, breathy yelp as she did this, your hands not knowing what to do or where to divert your eyes- her hands on you, her face so close to yours that you could count the freckles on her cheeks, even the ones that are faint enough to miss- or maybe how her thighs were drifting apart, and you were in between them.

Her hand comes up, which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut, but the wrinkles around your eyes relax as you feel her hand on your face and her lips on yours. You moaned instantly at the contact, resting your hand on her thigh where it felt most comfortable. Ellie took this opportunity to slip her tongue inside, using the muscle to work against yours. Her hand snakes down your side, squeezing the soft flesh of your hip before pulling away, leaving you breathless, and hazy.

Her eyes were intense looking into yours, her lips wet and craving a deeper satisfaction.

She only said one thing, a simple sentence that would separate you from being just some regular fan,

"Come with me tonight, and I'll show you something worth believing."

So that's how your night shifted- how one decision to follow some band across the state had finally paid off because now you were here- a hotel room, alone with the band's most valuable member snorting lines of a white powdery substance off of a mirror topped end table.

Ellie held the rolled 20 between her fingers, putting the end of it to her nose while the index on her other closed the opposing nostril shut. She dragged the end of the cylinder across the smuggled surface, inhaling deeply until the white line disappeared behind it.

"Fuuck-" She sighed, throwing her head back, and swipes the bottom of her nose with her thumb,

"Here-" She held out the rolled 20 for you to take, but you lean away,

"I don't do that stuff."

She looks at you curiously, a furrow between her brows that suggests she found your refusal even more entertaining.

Ellie leaned forward and turned her body to face you on the edge of the dusty duvet, "What-" She scoffed, "'think you're too good for it?"

You shook your head violently, indicating a 'no', "No- no, that's not what I meant-"

Ellie laughed, causing you to stop mid-sentence, "I'm just fucking with you, doll. I should've known." She smiles, and you return the smile in relief that you didn't actually offend her.

Your eyes divert to the wallpapered walls- a faint pattern of stripes with cream-colored baseboards, a warm yellowed lamp on the bedside being the only source of light in the room to contrast the night outside.

You felt her hand creep up your thigh, tempting the skin below the hem of your dress before it disappeared underneath the fabric altogether. She leaned in, her other hand on your face to encourage you closer, whispering a "so soft" in a raspy breath before connecting your lips with hers.

It started slow- her lips overlapping yours like a soft current on a still morning before it turned into a ranging one during a windy cast. You moaned into her- soft and delicate mews between each detachment, and it fueled her.

Ellie's body overpowered yours, using her strength to her advantage. But it's not like she needed it- you were putty in her hands, fully committing yourself to her, letting her push you into your back, and her body hovering on top of yours.

You squirmed beneath her- each bump, and drag of her knee between your legs left you feeling more desperate.

"Ellie-" you broke the kiss in a breathless euphoria, looking up at her with a needy expression. Ellie knew that face well- it's not like she had all this experience and didn't know what to do with it, so- she got up, leaving you alone on the bed, and walked over to a black duffle bag decorated with pins of miscellaneous logos and bands.

She riffled through it, pulling a small clear plastic bag out before joining you back on the bed.

She opened the baggie, pulling something out no bigger than the size of a postage stamp, and tearing it into smaller halves before looking up,

"Do you trust me?" She asked, her green eyes piercing into yours, causing a wet sensation to spill from the heat between your legs. You swallowed, not really sure what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway, "Yes, Ellie... I trust you."

She placed the colorfully decorated paper on her tongue and held the sides of your face, kissing you and slipping her tongue inside, transferring whatever it was into your mouth before pulling away. "Swallow." She demanded, tilting your face up by your chin, and you did it without hesitation- straining the walls of your throat as the mystery stamp slid downwards.

She smirked, and swiped her thumb over your bottom lip, "good girl."

She followed it up by doing the same, placing the tab on her tongue and swallowing, but she made it seem so much more intentional like a ritual of some sorts.

Ellie leaned away from you in the bed to rest her back against the headboard and pillows, "C'mere" she said nonchalantly, patting her thighs.

With shaky knees, you did as you were told and crawled your way up her legs until you were straddling her waist.

Her hands come up to rest on your hips, her thumbs tracing circles through the flimsy fabric of your dress, "so obedient" she said lightly, almost under her breath to herself and not at you directly.

Her hands started to wander- first on your hips, then down to your thighs, gliding them up to the plush beneath your skirt. You felt her fingertip squeeze and caress, sending chills up your spine and a hot/cold sensation throughout your body.

Next, her lips were on yours, and her fingers were tightening the follicles on the back of your scalp as the kisses became more intense. Your back instinctively arches, and you reach a hand between your legs to soothe the ache, but she stops you with a firm grip on your wrist, "Gettin' impatient, huh?" She said in a cocky tone, smirking against your lips. You whimpered- nodding your head, and grabbed her hand, inching it closer to your core.

Ellie chucked at this- the kind of chuckle that was half way a scoff, and half way felt like an insult.

"Damn- you need me to fill you up that bad? 'thought you were one of them good girls."

She tisked her tongue against her teeth, but still let you guid her hand where you needed her.

The back of her knuckles grazed between the pillowy folds over your panties, going agonizingly slow before turning her hand over to fully palm your cunt.

You melt on top of her, resting your head against her shoulder, all the while dragging your hips against her hand.

She turns her head, her warm breath fanning against the helix of your ear, "You're so wet and I've barely touched you."

Her words echoed throughout your brain like her voice waves were sending signals to every part of your body. And her touch was magnified- each cell, fiber, and pore was experiencing a new sense of heightened, whether it be because of the drugs or not, you couldn't be sure.

"El-Ellie, please... need you."

Your words rang a siren song to Ellie's ears, creating a sticky pool between her own legs. She muttered a guttural "fuck" before she grabs you by the sides of your thighs, flipping you over so she was on top of you.

She was already yanking down your underwear, and tossing them to the side before you could comprehend what was happening. You felt her fingers stinging to the flesh of your thighs, prying them apart like she couldn't wait to see you, to taste you.

You sucked in a sharp breath as her tongue lightly traced a line down your folds before her lips met your clit where she pulsated the bud between her lips, letting out a moan as she made contact, "fuuck-" She curses before flicking her tongue over your bundle of nerves, igniting a colorful array of shapes behind your tightly closed eyes.

She was messy but precise- using her tongue along with the motion of her head to send you that much further. Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging harder the closer you got which was the perfect time in Ellie's eyes to add a finger.

She slowly pushed her middle finger inside, stopping halfway at her knuckle to let you adjust before slamming it all the way till her knuckles were snug against your puffy lips.

You wriggled beneath her, reaching out to push her away with a palm to her shoulder, but that only makes her add a second finger.

You cry out loudly through heavy breaths, the veins on her forearm coming to the surface of her skin from how much force she was using, and her mouth putting in just as much work.

You were climbing higher and higher, the peripheral of your vision going white-

"Ellie... I'm- I'm gonna-" You don't have much time to warn her before your body starts to spaz, starting at your hips and up into your chest like volts of electricity through a highly active current.

Your knees close around her head, your back arching high off the mattress, and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. She slows her pace as you come down before pulling her fingers out and lifting her head.

With your eyes closed, and an arm draped over your face, you feel her pat the inside of your thigh before her weight leaves the bed.

She comes back a couple of minutes later, only opening your eyes when you feel her weight return to the mattress.

Your eyes go wide as you take notice of the new attachment- a black, strappy harness with buckles near her hips, and a crude shaped silicone cock bulging at her crotch.

She lowers herself over you, her hands on each side of your head before she leans down to kiss you, slipping her tongue inside. She pulled back, momentarily admiring the way you looked just from something as simple as oral and some fingering- glossy eyes, puffy lips smeared with her spit, and if she looked down- how your inner thighs glistened.

Her lips trial from yours, staring at your neck, then your chest, and finally your tits which Ellie had absolutely no problem with pulling the straps down to expose them, leaving the fabric bunched around your stomach. In her eyes, everything she wanted- no, needed was accessible this way.

Ellie looks up, placing a delicate kiss on the skin of your lower stomach, "Got one more fr' me, pretty girl?" She asked softly, tenderly, but it still managed to come off more intimidating than a question should sound.

You nodded shyly, a small whine emitting from the back of your throat, looking down at her with your breasts out for her viewing, grabbing pleasure, and your legs spread wide, ready to take her.

She lifted her upper half up, slim fingers holding the base of her cock, and lined the artificial tip with your entrance. She glided the tip up your folds, coating it with your slick, and let out a sultry exhale since she could practically see your walls clenching around nothing in preparation for her.

She teased you for a bit- only giving you a couple of inches before backing away and repeating, each time causing you to whine harder and harder out of frustration. Sure, Ellie was having her fun watching you squirm, grab for her, and fuck- how your hole gapped each time she pulled out, a clear, viscous fluid leaking from it, but she was growing just as impatient- feeling your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, pleading variations of her name and "please" and who is she to deny you when you ask so nicely?

She thrusts her hips forward until her crotch was flesh with your ass, your legs in the air, and her hands pushing on the back of your thighs.

"Is this what you wanted, huh?" She gritted, pulling her hips back only to snap them forward again.

You cried out loudly, curling your fingers around the bedsheets until the blood stopped circulating, turning the skin there a lighter shade than the rest of you.

She pushed harder on the back of your thighs- your knees pressed up against your chest, and using what you can imagine is all of her strength to thrust into you. She was reaching the deepest part of your cervix- grunting and moaning on Ellie's end while you mewled high-pitched noises mixed with the wet slapping of her cock repeatedly slamming into you.

Ellie's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly upward, and her lips parted as insufficient, short breaths seep from them. Her hips started to falter from the endless abuse her clit was suffering behind the base of her strap, her boxers now a sticky, cold mess that stuck to her cunt and thighs.

She collapses on top of you, snugging herself between your legs to connect her lips to yours in a desperate effort, overpowering all your senses with her. She continues to fill you over and over again, both of you moaning in between breathless lips.

You wrapped her arms around her as her head hung low into your neck, digging your nails into the skin of her shoulder blades.

"El... mmhm- I'm gonna-" You babbled before biting your lip to silence the cry that was bubbling in the back of your throat, and Ellie wasn't far behind.

The pistoning motions of her hips turned into a grinding one- keeping a steady pace and rolling her hips forward, "M-me too- fuck... stay with me, yeah?" She said in between soft pants, the warmth of her breath brushing against your lips as her hand came up to gently but firmly wrap around your neck.

Ellie's head goes fuzzy as you looked up at her with your half-hooded gaze and your perfectly rosette lips that are just begging to be wrapped around something, so- she released the hold she had on your neck and brought her two fingers that were previously inside of you to your mouth.

She didn't even have to say anything for you to part your lips wider, slipping her fingers inside and rolling them over your tongue.

You moan, closing your lips around her as her fingers reach further back, causing tears to fall from the corner of your eyes.

"That's it-" She coaxed, her eyes focused on the split trailing down your chin,"-such a good girl."

She motioned her fingers in and out in a vulgar manner, bitting her bottom lip before pulling her fingers out all together to fist the bed sheets beside her.

"Fuckfuckfuck-oh my god-" She grunted incoherently, dropping her head to space between your neck and shoulder. Her forehead glistened with proof of her efforts as she rushed the pace to ease the itch between her legs.

You tightened your legs around her waist, pretty little noises falling on Ellie's ears as you both peak.

She rolls her hips- making it slow and deep until your voice grows tired and quiet before pushing her upper half away from you.

You wince at her absence, feeling your walls retract back to its original shape like the sand inside of an hourglass.

She plopped down beside you with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion, pulling up the bottom of her tank top to wipe the slick/sweat mixture from her chin and nose, giving you a few seconds to admire her hardened stomach and prominent 'v' which lead your eyes down to the fake dick still standing high between her thighs.

She catches you looking, the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk as she lets out a low chuckle.

You meet her eyes, realizing you have been caught, which causes you to look away quickly, but her hand grabs yours.

"Gettin' shy on me now after all that?" She said, pulling at your hand to silently instruct you to get on top of her, so you did.

Her hands rub up and down your thighs, and her bottom lip snug between her teeth. She eyes your body, starting from your tits down to her cock that is resting against your lower stomach.

"Wanna do me a favor?" She asked, palming the fat of your thigh that spilled over the heels of your feet. You hummed at her- a sweet, genuine hum that was full of eagerness to assist her, which almost made Ellie feel bad for what she was about to say- key word almost.

"Put that pretty little mouth of yours to use and clean me up."

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moonshine-nightlight · 3 months

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Voluntary Sacrifice

inspired by this prompt/setup by @snowkissedmonsters as well as their art

The local werebear is in heat and its become a town concern. You, who's always been fascinated by him and doesn't much to lose reputationally, volunteer to help him through it.

If only he believed you were doing so voluntarily, instead of being forced by the council.

Can you convince him of your sincerity before the full moon rises?

Male werebear x human reader, Heat, NSFW

Status: Complete (One-shot)

Length: 12k

AO3: Voluntary Sacrifice

Prompt:

You live in a human town in a fantasy world. In recent history, werecreatures enlisted to fight alongside humans throughout a bitter war in the territory. The result of that alliance is a (sometimes tense) tolerance between these two species who generally do not get along.

In the wilderness near your town, a werebear veteran has made his home. Bearish in appearance and manner, he vastly prefers solitude and is actively hostile to visitors. Sometimes he comes into town to sell meat and pelts from his hunts. The other humans are frightened, but you find him fascinating and peculiarly handsome.

A slew of livestock deaths precede an emergency town meeting. There's no question who the culprit is, or why. The town elders understand that a werecreature in heat is aggressive and dangerous. The town's interspecies liason officer, a veteran who fought beside the werebear, explains that it's not a deliberate attack on the town's livelihood, but even so, the maulings cannot continue. It may only be a matter of time before a human is injured.

The liason suggests hiring one of the workers at the town brothel to act as a "heat soother," but the brothel workers don't want the job. There's still a stigma over non-human creatures. The werebear is dangerous, violent, monstrous. Who knows if a human mate would even survive.

Tentatively, you volunteer for the role. You have no living family that could be shamed, you're naturally infertile so there's no concern over cubs, and... Well. You like the idea of it, though you keep that last point to yourself.

You are escorted to the werebears cabin by the eager liason officer, who's just glad the precarious human-werebeast alliance is no longer in jeopardy. Answering the door, the werebear looks surprised to see the two of you...

Then annoyed.

I told you, he growls at the liason, I will not take a forced mate.

The officer coos and assures the bear that you are here voluntarily, which he seems to doubt very much. He throws you both out of his cabin and slams the door.

“Good luck!”

You stare after Anton, the liaison officer, as he rides away, at a complete loss of what to do now. You’ve felt a headrush of sorts, like sliding down a hill in winter, since you first resolved to volunteer to help Temar and his slamming of the door in your face was an abrupt stop before you even reached the bottom. You cross your arms, telling yourself its because of the mild chill, not out of anxiety or embarrassment.

But you are, so so embarrassed. You don’t know exactly what you thought his reaction to you might be, but stonewalled indifference and complete refusal to even entertain the idea of mating with you wasn’t one of them. Heat licks at your cheeks from the way he’d looked at you, his lip curled in a snarl, something more than even just annoyance in his eyes. You’d felt the urge to shrink right then and there and only surprise kept you frozen upright.

You know you weren’t as young as the other unaffiliated women in town, weren’t as pretty, weren’t as agreeable, but surely he couldn’t smell your infertility or whatever made you feel so out of place with everyone else. What about you had been so offputting he’d not even considered you for a mate? You’d almost hoped that whatever made you so unappealing as a human mate might make you more appealing to a werebear. So much for that.

You’re not one for much dignity as it is, no one to stand on high graces, and you try not to let others’ opinions bother you, beyond where they interfere with your own ability to make your living. But even you can’t bring yourself to try to convince him to mate with you when he so clearly has absolutely no interest. Did you sacrifice what little standing you did have a reasonable and respectable person by volunteering for this only to not even be able to manage it? Was it for nothing?

You had only found the courage to approach him because of the surface-level reason of slaughtered livestock and fear for a person’s injury, but now, now you felt almost responsible for not being able to prevent such an occurrence. All because Temar found you unappealing.

You can’t leave without even saying more than a hasty word to him though. Maybe there’s some other way you can help. You’ve wanted an excuse to get to know him better for years, since you first saw him. Even before that, when someone stopped by your shop with some of the pelts they’d bought from him.

Beyond his attractive appearance being more than enough to draw your attention, he’s lived such an interesting life. The liaison was liberal with his stories and his own accomplishments in the war, but he never short-changed his friend. You also found the stories of people who have crossed him or questioned him entertaining more than scary. His refusal to play along with the petty etiquette of the town was funny, as were people’s puffed up reactions. Perhaps you should have expected this reaction after all, maybe he just doesn’t like humans.

The thought against brings embarrassed heat to your face once more as you remember how he’d looked in the doorway. His beard and mustache, short but full, the scar across his nose, those dark brown eyes. His hair was shaved on both sides, but long in the middle, pulled back into a loose bun and peppered with gray like his beard. Tall as you remember, but stockier—his frame particularly broad in the narrow doorway. You’d always found him especially handsome. There was no question what sort of were he was.

Before today, the closest you’d been was at the general store, behind him line for some flour, putting to rest the rumors that werecreatures only ate meat. His presence had fascinated you, large but contained. Wild but settled. Immovable, but not aggressive. Deliberate. You’d found your mind drifting to thoughts of him that night. Your mind liked to turn the idea of him over, half speculation, half pieced together clues from overheard gossip. When you were particularly lonely or even just particularly cold, it was comforting to know he was on his own too. He seemed to prefer it even. You preferred your solitude most of the time as well—half caught between feeling like an outsider for the inclination, half relieved since that’s where you ended up. You wouldn’t mind another friend who felt so, a bit of company you didn’t need to perform in front of. And it would be nice, to be useful to someone else who had no one.

You know he needs help now, more than ever. The liaison had assured them at the meeting that Temar was making every attempt to contain himself. Which reassured you that you’d not missed a callous trend in his nature, but also made you want to help more—not help with the abstract problem, but help him. The next best solution that had been discussed—and would likely need to be implemented now that it turned out you’d failed, you realize with a sinking heart—was to institute a town wide curfew until this ran its course. But maybe there is still some way you can aid him, even if not by soothing his heat directly.

You stand up straight, pushing off the railing you’d been leaning against, and resolve to at least try to talk to him. After all, you understood his continued solitude, but it felt silly during the meeting, that he wasn’t there to lend his own input. Surely he had the most insight into his situation. He must know what he needed. You raise you hand to knock on the door when it opens before you even get the chance.

“If you ain’t gonna have the sense leave, then get in,” a gruff voice orders.

Your feet are moving before you fully register the words. Relief floods your veins. Well, that was easier than you expected. Perhaps things were turning around.

They were not. Any hope you had for some softening of his attitude was quickly dashed.

It had seemed promising: the smell of cooking food, the heat that filled the main room from the large fire, the sound of crackling logs. All ease some of the tension in your bones immediately—not to mention that same deliberate air Temar had, the one that made you feel steady and safe. Safe enough to want what you want, without your usual instinct to hide such thoughts and feelings until you were alone lest others use them to hurt you.

You try to focus on the room itself, from the handmade furniture—you’d have recognized Ben’s work if it was—to the scant decoration. The cabin was simple, unadorned, but solid. It suited him. It made the few personal items he had stick out all the more. The large blanket and rug to make the room feel lived in. The well-cared for hunting gear in the corner. The collection of copper kitchenware, clearly used often.

Nearly as soon as you finished your preliminary survey of his home, he makes it very clear he still did not want you. “No notion of what’s going on in that fool Anton’s head, leaving you on my porch like bottles of milk,” he sighs, looking disgruntled and you fight the urge to apologize. He tucks a strand of hair that escaped his bun behind his ear and your fingers itch to do the same. You clench them tighter behind you, upset at how wild your thoughts are in the face of his rejection. “Fess up, what did they tell you? I don’t know what those old fearmongers at the counsel did to make you come here, but I’ll not hold it against you—only them.”

You tilt your head as you watch him pace over the fire, trying to keep your eyes on his head, not how well he fills out his trousers. You realize belatedly that you must still need to clarify. “There was a town meeting, but I volunteered, like Anton said,” you reply tentatively. He’d heard what his friend said. Right? Maybe that was why he’d refused? Not because he found you so abhorrent.

Temar scoffs. “Anton wouldn’t recognize subtle coercion if it stabbed him the back.”

You frown, starting to get a little frustrated with his seeming inability to hear you properly. “Be that as it may, I can. It’s the truth.”

Temar raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Right,” he says flatly. “Just like five years ago, when I moved here and Miss Ketevan was left on my doorstop around harvest time. She just wanted to offer some apples before high tailing it out of there once her grandfather was out-of-sight. Must have been crying and yelling for some other reason.”

Your frown deepens. The last of your family had died around then and you’d not joined a town meeting for a full year, plenty busy with grief and figuring out how to run the dye shop without any guidance. Keti was a younger than you but had a reputation as a troublemaker so she had been in the gossip plenty. Her grandfather, Carlos, was on the counsel and had seemed to consider her something of an embarrassment.

You thought she’d run off with the milkmaid, not because she was a failed sacrifice to the new werebear neighbor. It does throw into relief some other statements at the meeting. Like Anton’s emphasis on volunteers as he’d stared Carlos’ down, which had led to no one but you speaking up—not even the brothel workers. They’d not said but you knew they feared clients shunning whoever they sent, let alone however they felt about the stigma and fear associated with werecreatures.

“I have no idea what did or did not happen five years ago, I wasn’t at any of those meetings nor at your house,” you say with a shrug. “Keti’s moved to the other side of the river, according to her sister, and is quite satisfied there. None of which was brought up at the meeting today.”

“What do they have on you?” Temar asks, squatting to stoke the fire, as if you just didn’t want to tell the truth his face. Ignoring everything you were saying while still trying to get answers from you. You liked tell about how stubborn he was in gossip. You liked it less at this moment. “If I can aid you and you can go on home, you’re welcome to ask.”

“They don’t have anything on me,” you reply slowly, trying to match his even tone so he doesn’t think your lying. The embarrassment that comes with volunteering so plainly to mate with him comes and goes in waves, but having to repeat it to him is a different flavor all together. “I am here of my own free will.”

Temar scoffs and huffs. “If you don’t want to tell me then fine.” He heaves himself back to his feet and peers out the window. “Sun’s going down. You can stay here for dinner and for the night. That better satisfy them, because you’re leaving first light in the morning.”

You turn away from his back, staring blindly at the countertop covered in ingredients for dinner. The one you interrupted with this piss-poor intrusion. He was likely just trying to give you an out, an excuse to save some dignity. You should’ve known you’d have no skill at seduction, not that you’d believed you’d need it. You’d hoped he be satisfied enough, in need enough that you’d suffice by being willing and not unattractive. Or so you thought. How pathetic. “I just wanted to help,” you say softly, more to yourself than him.

You sigh before walking over to the counter and picking up a knife. “Thank you for your hospitality,” you manage, your voice stiff with discomfort, but unwilling to completely give up yet. “Allow me to assist with the food.”

Dinner preparation is tense, quiet, but a relatively smooth affair. Temar’s already got the chicken dumplings nearly done so you leave that to him and handle the rest.

He only speaks to point you toward where things are when you ask. You’re happy he’s letting you do this much as you’ve more than got the message he’d prefer to do it all alone. You try to concentrate hard enough not to think about anything else.

“These dumplings are delicious,” you say belatedly, after you’ve already scarfed down two of them. They really are, hot and flavorful.

Temar grunts in response and you can’t help but pout, wondering if he thinks everything you say is a lie. You try at some other small talk, but nothing gets more than a yes or no out of him—after the first few, he just makes some vague noise of acknowledgment as he steadily eats through three times the portion of food you got, which had been more than generous. You’d been skeptical of how much he was making until you’d seen how much he was eating.

Did he also have to eat more before winter, like a normal bear? Was he going to sleep through it too? You swear he still came in with pelts, but you don’t really know. You’re more than aware that he’s not likely to give a straight answer if you ask. You ask anyway.

He gives you a look like you’re touched in the head. “No, I don’t hibernate. I stay in more, sleep more since its dark more, but I’m not actually a bear.”

“I know!” you protest, blushing, “but I’ve heard there’s overlap of some kind, forgive me for not being an expert. You’re the only werebear I know by name.”

“You know nothing,” he retorts, words finally bursting from him in a fit of frustration. You’re taken aback, but eager for any information given his recent impression of a clam. “You say you volunteer and yet you don’t know the first thing about werebears, let alone heats. You expect me to think you know what you’re saying you got yourself into when its clear no one explained anything.”

“Well, then you tell me,” you bat back, fed up by now with being treated as a criminal for even entertaining the notion you might be a suitable mate for him. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t have called me a liar even if I’d written a book on werebears and their heats.”

As his way seems to be, he ignores you to keep focus on whatever incorrect train of thought he has stuck in his head. “Even if you’re ignorant, didn’t your family object? Doesn’t someone have sense or self-preservation?”

You glare. Of all the—. “No—” you reply hotly before he cuts in.

“I thought that was something y’all paid attention to,” he drawls, waving with his fork. “ Fraternizing with the werecreatures is still a no-no right?” He leans forward, eyes bright, like a predator finally spotting their prey. “Is it them that the council is leaning on?”

Unfortunately for him, its a false sighting. “Don’t have any,” you reply bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest. “They died. About five years ago.”

You wonder if he’ll make the connection and to your surprise, he seems to as his brow furrows. “I see.” He leans back in his chair as if surrpised to notice he’d moved at all.

“Besides, I’m grown,” you’re annoyed you even have to remind him. He’s treating you like a child, ignoring you, calling you ignorant, making you out as a liar. Like a fool. You’ve long resolved not to let anyone treat you like a fool. “I make my own choices.”

He scoffs in that same manner that’s truly getting under your skin. “Right. How could I forget.”

“I don’t know,” your voice is sharper than its been all evening. “Seeing as I keep reminding you.”

Discomfort creeps into his frame and he looks down at his plate to mutter, “What even made them come up with this plan? Was this Anton’s idea?” He warms up to this new wrong idea—it was Jessaly on the council who had mentioned “heat soothers” seconded by Carlos. Anton only stepped in to mention volunteers. “Because if so, I’ll be having words with him next chance I get, strong words. I anticipated an order to leave town or to be taken to jail or a fight. I’m surprised the council even risked the chance for cubs.”

That last part completely derails you from your planned support for Anton. “Oh,” you can dismiss that concern easy, so you don’t hesitate to, “I can’t have children.”

That stops him completely, freezes him in his chair. “What?”

His reaction surprises you. “I thought…” You thought he could smell the infertility on you. You thought that was part of why he’d refused, like the others. If he couldn’t tell, you still didn’t think he’d have a reaction like this, like everyone else. “I can’t. My monthlies stopped only a few years in and a doctor confirmed the nature of the issue. It’s noted in the records because my engagement to—” You don’t even want to say his name, for all you don’t blame your former fiance. You hadn’t even been that excited about the marriage, but the reality of no marriage ever, well, that had been more of blow the coming years dealt to you. You manage a shaky smile. “No risk of children with me.”

You meet his eyes valiantly and he stares back. You hope you’re right when you don’t see any blooming realization that you’re broken, that you’re any more undesirable, but you’ve long given up trying to tell. Still his focus makes you babble, “I don’t want children anyway.” That at least is the truth and the reminder steadies you. You thought you’d gotten over the worst of this self-recrimination years ago. You were happy not to have that burden, that expectation, that danger in your life. You just want Temar to think well of you, and this always changes how people perceive you, no matter how much you wish it didn’t. That is what truly gets under your skin. Your shoulders drop some tension as your smile softens, becomes more genuine. “Better me than someone who did. It worked out for the best that way.”

If only it meant no partner, no chance for sex beyond work at the brothel—which you were not interested in despite them asking—or visiting one, which you have in years past. Or the affairs some of the less reputable had tried for in the past. They always made it clear in the end, even if you were alright with the infidelity—it was only because you were ‘safe’ that they wanted you.

“Neither do I,” he says, causing you to look up at him. His expression turns defensive as he clarifies, “That doesn’t mean anything anyways. Still the most foolish idea I ever heard.” He stands up abruptly to refill his plate with a fourth helping.

You eat the remainder of the meal in silence.

Finally, your plate is clean and your belly is full. You manage to take Temar by surprise by snatching up his plate in addition to yours, bringing them over to the wash basin before he could do some himself. You’re determined to do something useful while you’re here and he’s feeding you.

Maybe all lack of eye contact was for him and not you. Maybe you’ll have better luck staring at the water. “So, is there anything you’ll actually let me do to help?”

Another huff, almost a growl of frustration, and Temar replies, grit in his tone, “I told you I ain’t taking a mate just because the town’s made my heat their business this year.”

You don’t even bother arguing the point again and consider his words. You hadn’t thought about other years. There’d never been notice of it so you assumed it wasn’t actually an annual event. What made this year so different? Instead of asking, you return his own volley. “I heard you. I didn’t mean that, though I must mention that the town is only involved because it has become their business this year.”

Temar doesn’t answer, but you can feel his gaze on your back. Being the focus of his attention is electrifying. “Other than having a mate,” you remind yourself outloud. “Are there other things that I can help with? Measures to be taken, information to be shared. Anything?”

There’s silence behind you before he stands up from the table, the scrape of his chair loud. You hope to the gods he’s actually doing something, thought of something in response to your question rather than just leaving. Although technically, you suppose, that would also be a response to your question.

You methodically scrub the dishes while you listen to him move about the main room of the cabin. He sits back down at the table, bringing something with him. You can’t dry this tankard any more thoroughly so you turn around to see if he’s simply ignoring you or not.

He’s bent over something on the table, a piece of paper? You frown and walk over to get a closer look. As if he can sense you, once you’re close enough he points one thick finger at the paper. “Who’s land is this?”

You frown as you study what you realize is a map of the town. Unlike most you’ve seen, it doesn’t have roads or even real buildings on it. Abstract symbols represent structures—you think—and the town center and main street buildings are one big marker. Nothing indicated for individual stores. It takes another minute to realize the outlined shapes covering the map are the property lines, not buildings, roads, or rivers, though some overlap with where you know those to be. Leave it to a werebear to have a map of the town by territory.

“If you don’t know—” he says, huffing per usual.

“Apologies if I need more than a minute,” you huff back, more than fed up and far more assured after the time spent with him that he has no plans to kick you out tonight. “I’ve never seen a map like this.”

He quiets down and you manage to follow your memory of the road out to… “The Meskal’s Farm, Evanna and Leon.” You also manage to make the connection, although you’re not sure he meant for you to. They’d been the most recent farm that had suffered from slaughtered livestock.

Temar brings over a slate with some notes in chalk already written out. He’s got shorthand notes, similar to those on the map, but all unlike any you’ve seen before. He jots down what must be their name above some already existing notes. You squint, trying to make sense of the letters and numbers. “Two ewes and one lamb,” you correct, hoping you decoded right.

He freezes and you hold your breath for annoyance or anger, but instead he merely erases one number and writes in another. “I assume this was discussed with the council?”

“Yeah,” you see no reason to beat around the bush. As you continue to squint at his notes, leaning over his broad shoulder to see better. “The Oche’s steer had to be put down, but they salvaged the meat. Anton reassured them it was edible and bought some himself so the rest of the town followed suit.”

“Still, I’ll be paying my debt, it just might take some time,” Temar replies gravely. “I’ll not have anyone say I don’t pay what I owe or think I don’t owe it, like some uncivilized beast.”

“I can pass that along,” you offer, still reaching for some way to contribute, to help. His integrity touches your heart, makes that urge to give aid stronger. Anton had something vague to the affect, but the town had little confidence in Anton’s assurances. You have confidence in Temar’s.

“I would appreciate that,” he sounds a little belligerent, a little abashed.

You smile, happy to have found anything useful to do and lean in again, to study his map more closely. You mentally map out the other families who had damage and notice they’re all in a line from his property west and against the forest. He does seem to be attempting to keep to limited area. How much control does he have? Could you help corral him somehow?

You reach to point. “Is this the river or—” You start to lose you balance from the awkward angle you’re at. Your other hand reaches for the next closest thing to steady yourself—Temar’s shoulder.

Next thing you know you’re knocking into the table and he’s standing several feet away, a snarl on his face. “Don’t.”

You’re stricken by the vehemence from a such a small, almost-touch of his person. It had been too easy to forget he disliked you so, is so offended by your very presence. “I’m sorry!” It’s as if he thinks you were attempting to trick him. You hasten to clarify, hands raised in surrender. “I wasn’t trying—”

Temar leaves the room before you even finish speaking.

Temar braces himself before he goes back in the main room, his forehead pressed against the solid wood of his walls.

He’s hoping he’s gotten used to your scent, built up a tolerance, but knows it’ll only have gotten stronger for each moment you’ve been here. Gods know he’s only become more susceptible to it. How anyone in all his life has such a bewitching scent, he’ll never know.

The second he’d opened his front door, he’d wanted to drag you inside and never let you out. The beast inside instantly proclaiming Mine. Only mine. He’d barely heard anything Anton said over the roaring in his ears. The slam of his door had been as much panic defensiveness as it had been frustrated aggression.

The line between those two does seem to blur most during heat.

You stayed out there, looking so lost and somber on the porch, lip caught between your teeth as you thought. He’d had to get you to stop before he took over the task for you. An early sign of heat madness surely because of fucking course it was far worse having you in his home. Where his beast said you belonged. Where you could say all the words he was salivating to hear as truth even though he knew them to be false.

Those council assholes would pay for putting him through this torture. Temar knew he was a werebeast and yet this was inhumane even for his kind. He tried to find a proper target for his aggression, but you’d given him nothing to work with, persistent in your tale. As if a kind, quick-witted, pretty thing like you would ever subject yourself to a beast like him unless you felt you had no other option.

Distractions haven’t been helping, trying to keep his eyes off you was impossible to sustain, and stonewalling didn’t ever seem to deter you for long. It’s as if you were perfectly designed to get past all of his defenses. There are still so many hours until sunrise—if Temar’s even going to last that long, even be able to let you go at that point. After you’d seeped into his home, his life. You seem to fit so well.

You play at being kind like a master actor and he hopes that’s not all a front. You’re smart, independent, but oh so willing to help. Duress, he reminds himself, you’re here under duress. The fuckers in town must have forced you here somehow. He can’t believe how low they’ve stooped, taking advantage of your lack of family, of your infertility to make you into a sacrifice. The perfect sacrifice.

His beast still wants to try to breed you, undeterred by logic, but it’s his human head that’s unfairly tempted by the knowledge. When he’s in his rational mind, he stands by what he said. The risk of children, others with his condition, his ostracization from society is something he’d never condemn an innocent soul to suffer. Not mention he likes his solitude, likes only being responsible for himself and only answerable to himself. It’s why the council involving itself is so frustrating. Its why the idea you might be here of your own free will is so appealing. Lack of such a child-bearing risk is even more appealing, more alluring than he’d ever realized it would be. Than it had any right to be. Why are you so damn perfect for him?

Clearly distance was not helping. Perhaps it was even making his beast stronger, without you to look at him and, for all your knowledge of his nature, expect a rationale man to look back.

Temar walks back into the main room, feeling like a man condemned, only to immediately regret his choice as he rigidly locks every muscle he can to prevent his beast from pouncing. He’d thought you’d stopped trying to seduce him with your faux willingness and pretty eyes. Your soft, steady kindness…

Even he’d admitted to himself once alone that you likely hadn’t meant anything by hovering so close, by trying to steady yourself on him. Your fall onto the table, not to mention the complete startlement on your face from his reaction. But what the fuck is this?

“What are you doing?” he asks through clenched teeth, hoping the beast inside isn’t giving away the feral lust coursing through his veins.

“What?” You look up, surprised he’s back, but there’s no embarrassment in your face. If anything, your expression smooths back to usual faster than he feels it has a right to. “Oh, I hadn’t realized how wet my apron had gotten from the dishes, sorry about the wasted water.”

“Why have you removed it?” Temar’s voice was strangled as the words passed through his lips. Ordinarily, he knows it would barely register with him, but you removing any article of clothing has his beast pulling at the chains he’s trying to use to keep it inside where it belongs.

“Well, I didn’t know how else to dry off,” you reply, brow furrowing in confusion as you dab at yourself with part of the folded-up apron. Temar can see the damp stains where the water had soaked through the light green fabric underneath. “Besides, I don’t want to catch anything, sitting around in wet clothes. It’ll be dry by morning if I leave it by the fire.”

Temar’s mind is already overrun by the reminder he’d invited you, like the numbskull he is, to stay the night. You’re unlikely to sleep fully dressed. You’ll take more than just your apron off in his home. You’ll strip down to your chemise. He can see the edges of it under your dress—white cotton poking out. Nothing more under that except soft skin—skin he isn’t allowed to touch.

Temar tries to combat the pleasing images of you splayed naked in his bed with images of your bruised and bloody from his claws, his strength, his carelessness. They’re impossible to sustain with you so hale and unbothered in front of him. The comfort of his den discourages such violence from his thoughts, his heat poisoning his mind against him. You aren’t here by choice, he reminds himself.

It’s hard to believe when you cross his room with self-assured confidence, bending down to arrange your apron by his fire, acting as if you’ve no fears to worry you. Your hair is ruffled from either the dishes or taking off your apron and you pat at it absentmindedly. Temar wants it spread across his sheets, his pillow, mussed and messed by his hands while he claims you for himself. The town clearly doesn’t appreciate you, doesn’t value you what they have. He’d treat you right. He’d make sure you loved being his.

With a shake of his head, he blinks and the image before him resolves to you seated on a chair, delicately rebraiding your hair. He can’t keep his eyes off the swift movements of your fingers. Temar imagines what it would feel like if you did the same to him, this simple careful, everyday task. You look up at him from under your full eyelashes, looking perfectly innocent and not a creature pulled from his greatest nightmares and most sincere dreams. “So do you have a plan for managing however many days are left? Have you gone into heat in previous years? How did you manage then?”

The flush that blooms on your face is endearing and attractive. Temar wants desperately to know what you’re thinking when you say ‘heat’. You’ve avoided saying the word nearly the entire time you’ve been heard. Temar knows the rumors that fly about the human population about werebeasts, about heats, he’s overheard it all. From eating human mates to potent fertility and everything in between. Which ones have you heard? Which do you believe in? Likely none of the violent ones or you’d find the prospect far more intimidating than whatever bullshit the council is using to coerce you.

“Temar?”

“You’re right, I’ve already managed to work out a solution on my own, making you presence doubly wasteful.” You flinch at his words and every instinct screams at him to sooth you, to take it back—whatever is needed to make his mate stay. Temar turns rather than continue to watch your reactions to his harsh words. Despite knowing its necessary, it hurts to see your hurt and only encourages the beast to want to soothe, to steal your mind from any hurt by drowning it out with lust and heat. “Follow me.”

“You’ll sleep here,” Temar points out, continuing to refuse to look back at you or his bed for that matter.

His control would surely shatter if he saw you so close to it. He imagines how easily he could push you down on the furs and sheets until he had you spread out like a feast for him and him alone. How he would savor you. How he wouldn’t let you up until he was more than satisfied. A glutton of lust.

The cold metal of the door knob jolts him out of his thoughts. “I’ll be out back.” The crisp air, the brisk breeze, blow your scent from Temar and clear his head. He nearly sighs with relief as he walks off to the right, purpose in his steps, a reminder of his duty as he follows the familiar path.

“Here.” Its clear no matter where you thought he was leading you “pit” was not on the list. Your eyebrows lift nearly to your hairline as you stare down, allowing him precious seconds to gaze at you without a mask of stoicism or frustration, only naked hunger.

“You asked where I weathered heats of the past?” Temar neglects to mention that the first couple years in town rendered his heats short and taxing. Just a handful of nights around the late summer full moon, when the first chill to the air heralding the coming winter. Between his beast’s discomfort with new territory and his own war memories haunting him, his heats were not a concern. It’s only last year that his heat was how it used to be in his youth.

Wild. Hungry. Enduring.

This year is worst yet, not only because of the tight grip it has on him and how he can tell, despite more than a week in, that he has days to go, but also due circumstances outside of his control.

You’re smart enough to spot it. “Did something happen to this…?”

Temar puts you out of your awkward misery. “There was a flood after that storm a couple weeks ago. It dislodged that tree and a wall collapsed.” He’d hoped his heat wouldn’t return with the vengeance it did and so had put off excavating. “In the end, the den took longer than I thought to rebuild, to dig deep enough again. Still not sure I have,” he confesses when you look at him with such open, receptive eyes.

You frown and squint down at the den and Temar doesn’t like the reminder of how dark it’s getting. This entire evening has been a distraction, from the knock on his door, to the meal, to now. He ought not neglect the den any longer, not let his beast draw this out until it can overpower his conscience.

He puts down the ladder, hands grateful for something to do besides itch to settle on your hips. “I’ll be needing to get everything out of here, before the moon finishes rising.” Temar descends as quickly as he can, jumping the last few feet and turning to survey the den.

It was nicer before, he thinks with some dismay, some shame at you seeing such a bare hole in the ground. It’s primarily filled with tools for digging and fortifying, none of the minimal furs and blankets that should be givens for a den. The roof had been damaged when the tree fell in so he hopes it doesn’t rain. Temar resigns himself to waking up covered in dew. It’ll still be better than waking up covered in blood, even after verifying it was all from livestock.

“Temar?” His name on your lips draws his attention back up, like a flower to the sun, like a fish to water, like blood to a bear.

“Can I help you clear it out?” Temar just stares at you, part of his mind still surprised you’re here. Still here. Still offering to help. Help him. You cross your arms again and Temar wishes it didn’t look so good on you, the way it pushes up your chest, makes your arm muscles more prominent. What sort of shop did you say you had again? “Look, I’m another pair of hands, ain’t I?”

“Technically,” he allows, speaking without thinking. All his thought concentrated on your form above him, ripe for the plucking.

You seem to take that as permission and start climbing down the ladder. Temar turns so quickly to avert his eyes from your ass that he forgets to forbid you from coming down. You touch down lightly and Temar reluctantly faces you again, a puppet on the strings of his inner beast, to soak in the sight of you in its den.

The cabin belongs to Temar, the man. The den belongs to Temar, the beast.

Something of that must come across on his face as you pause, one hand on the ladder. “Does it break a rule, for me to be down here?”

A den is a personal, sacred space, with only those closest allowed entry. The beast does not allow you to lie. “No.” A prospective mate is more than a natural allowance. It’s expected.

You nod with satisfaction. The beast preens in approval at your persistence, at your ease in its den. “Then I’m helping. What’s next?”

Wordlessly, you point to the table with the hand tools.

“All of these?” you ask, even as you begin to gather them.

Temar turns away, unable to watch you ascend, and focuses on the final wheelbarrow he needs to move out, the planks he’s using as ramps he’ll need to remove. “Gotta get everything out of here so it don’t get broken.” Also so he can’t use it to escape. When he’s more beast than person, the use of tools doesn’t come naturally, but he’s relentless. Safer to keep them out of reach. That’s the real challenge—keep himself out of reach.

“Right.” There’s a pause while you move around behind him. Temar tries to focus on the feeling of the smooth wood of the wheelbarrow handles, the shudder of the wooden planks below as he moves it out of the den. “How come the walls are like this?”

You must be gesturing to the flat stones embedded in the dirt walls. “Harder to climb, although I haven’t had time to finish the back wall that collapsed yet. Claws don’t do well on smooth stone. A lot if the grout needs to be redone. Something for tomorrow.”

“Smart,” you say, sounding impressed.

Temar grunts in response, trying to focus on pulling the crude ramp out of the den and not on puffing up at your approval. Not seeing how else he might earn your esteem, might otherwise impress you.

“What’s it like,” you ask, quietly but clearly. Temar had been wondering if you’d ask. Waiting. “When…”

You trail off so he’s not sure if you meaning being a werebear or being one in heat. He supposes the answer isn’t terribly different. “Simpler, harsher, more vivid,” he says, “Less control when in heat than the rest of the time. In the army, we were trained to control the transformation, taught how to keep our minds more intact—it doesn’t work like that for heat. Getting locked up is how it was dealt with even there.” Not that they lasted long back then for anyone.

“I’ve heard of the loss of control.” You don’t specify if you mean in general or in heat, but Temar supposes it doesn’t matter either way.

Perhaps this would be a good time to remind both of you what’s at stake, how dangerous Temar is in heat to anyone vulnerable around him. “Just a beast at that point.” Temar doesn’t look you in the eye as he keeps talking, heading back down into the den now the planks are out and it’s the only way down. “Can’t understand human speech. Can barely tell human from animal. No reasoning with me. I’ll do what I want when I want to. Damn anyone else.”

Not that you’re as intimidated as he wishes you were. “What about other weres?”

“Aye.” Temar doesn’t mind confirming that, not when he knows it can’t encourage you. “Thats a mite different. We can handle each other better, can find that sliver of common ground. Family can calm you, your own territory, and of course, if you’ve got everything you want, you won’t go roaming for it. Won’t get angry and frustrated you can’t find it.”

“That all the time, or just in heat?” He can still hear the shyness in your voice whenever you say heat, but its obvious your curiosity is too great. Temar surveys the den while he considers his answer, hands you left over plates and cutlery from his noontime meal, eaten down in the den while he worked furiously to get it ready for tonight. He’s careful not to let his fingers brush yours, not to look you in the face, lest he see some fear there that hadn’t been before. Lest the beast see a lack of such fear. Temar truly felt caught between a rock and hard place.

He can see the question you’re dancing around and cuts to the quick, praying you’ll be sensible and leave since he wouldn’t be able to make you anymore. He’s not sure he even could back on the porch. “Its dangerous for any human to lay with a werebeast. Injury from strength or claws or teeth is impossible to prevent. Even if you’re mates.” He reminds himself as ruthlessly as tells you. It was rare, but it happened. Heartbreaking accidents. “Even if you’ve known each other for years. Someone in my troop had killed their husband in a heat frenzy once.”

“Not always though,” you reply, too hopeful by far, too logical not to notice the exaggeration. “It can’t be or weres would have died out.”

“No, not always,” Temar allows. “The tendency towards multiple children in a litter helps. But usually longer held relationships fare better. If the were isn’t in a bad mood, isn’t stressed—if the partner cooperates right.”

He hands you the last item that needs out and once you get to the top, he says, “Pull up that ladder, now.”

You pause, standing stock still and for a second he wonders if you’ll even listen. Temar’s not sure he has the strength to ask a second time.

“Sure.” You pull up the ladder.

His human mind eases at that, at the sight of you more than seven feet overhead, out of reach. His beast disagrees, seething in displeasure and unfulfilled lust. Naturally, you can’t leave well enough alone and sit down, legs dangling into the den. He knows he could grab your ankle at this, yank you down and—

Temar turns to study the den once more. It won’t stick in his mind with you clouding his judgment the way you are. He narrows his eyes, forcing himself to assess if its deep enough, the walls defended enough. “I still need to get the cover fixed, if that damn blacksmith ever manages to be around when I stop by. The back wall needs to be stoned, but if I try to climb it like it is, it’s just as likely to crumble which’ll keep me in just the same. It’ll do. It had better more than satisfy those bastards on the council.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose it will.” You shrug, as if you’d forgotten about them. “Will you let me visit? After I leave in the morning—” you add swiftly as if to cut off a correction Temar for once wasn’t offering. “In case there’s anything else I can help with? I meant it when I said we could help each other out. I admit I do not relish the chore of fetching all fuel for my fire in these coming months and perhaps I can provide something for you? I’m a skilled weaver in addition to my work with dyes. If you would not be opposed?”

How can you forget the council so easily? Dismiss them offhand like that. Why do you speak of ‘after’ so lightly? As if you expect to see him again, as if that’s something you might want. Temar’s thoughts turn in circles once more over your duress. He must remember you cannot be here by choice. It’s getting harder by the minute. By each minute you sit on the edge of his den, not a care in the world. Not a notion of his steadily deteriorating self-control. His lack of giving any indication of his growing need has gone from helpful to sinister, a wolf in sheep’s clothing no longer trying to reassure, but to lure closer its prey.

“Perhaps,” he manages to say.

You continue to talk, but the words’ meaning slip through his fingers. The change is pushing itself on him while he wiles away a few more minutes in your presence. Just to try to burn off excess energy, Temar turns to push one of the stones in better, to align it flat with the rest of them. Except… he can feel your eyes on his back while he does so.

Your scent to spikes.

He wheels around, wildly, and belated realizes the height you’re at, brings your loins far more to a height with his nose than ever before. Did his display of strength inspire something of lust in you? His beast roars for you once more at this indication of receptiveness.

The moonlight colors your hair, emphasizing your etherealness, the wonder at your very presence. How much Temar wants to hold you in his hands, claim you for his own. How much he wants to bring you down to earth, push you under him and take his pleasure from you.

He takes a step closer and it feels like the first sprung leak in a dam. The first domino to fall. The spark of fire on dry, dry tinder.

“R-un.”

In retrospect perhaps the most provocative thing Temar could have done was instigate a chase. Actually, the most provocative was definitely you listening and running.

You pull your legs up swiftly, battling your skirts to get your feet under yourself with a haste that surprises even yourself. Only one word and a glimpse of those glowing eyes, and you’re dashing for the cabin. Adrenaline pours into your veins as you the image of the fur rippling out over Temar’s body as he gave that last command fills your mind.

In retrospect, the fur had been spreading steadily since you’d taken away the ladder without you fully registering it. His voice had been changing, although that you’d noticed plenty. The lower tone was a little harder to make out, even more pleasant to listen to, stirring up those lascivious thoughts that hadn’t left your mind since the town meeting was called. You swear his muscles had swelled too. The way they had moved beneath his shirt, which fit tighter with each minute that had passed. You’d felt spellbound, even though you swear that’s not a rumor associated with weres, and unconcerned by said compulsion.

Given the seriousness with which Temar gave the order as well as his earlier apprehension, you feel guilty for the mad sort of excitement rather than fear that courses through you. A roar, harsh and throaty, comes from the den behind you. It's one of rage and frustration. A beast that’s just realized it's been trapped. That it can’t get to what it wants. A loud thud follows. A growl of continued frustration hurries you on, feet pounding the ground as you run. You can almost trick yourself into thinking you hear your own name mixed in with the next roar that comes from where you’ve left Temar behind.

Due to your haste and unfamiliarity with Temar’s land and the fallen gloom, you end up missing the door along the back of the cabin and re-enter through the front. You lock that door with shaking hands and a pounding heart. The sounds of nature, of wind, of the echoes of Temar’s growl, are replaced by quiet solitude and the crackle of the fire, still burning in the hearth. You attempt to catch your breath. You try to let the mundane familiarity of the cabin and the silence calm your nerves. It’s not working very well.

You’re not sure what prompted his yell or his roar. Temar had said if he had everything he needed, he wouldn’t want to go searching for it, so it must have been his inner beast’s continued frustration at the lack of a desirable mate, which you continue to attempt not to take personally.

You’re still keyed up from the experience and seeing him actually start to transform, which still held some magic to you having never witnessed such a thing before, as well as all your interactions with him this evening. Temar seemed somewhat open to the idea of being friends, which was nice, you remind yourself. He is still immensely fascinating to you—this night has only made that more apparent. He feels less onerous to be around than some of your other acquaintances. He doesn’t put up any fronts and you feel like you don’t have to either. Even when he was clearly frustrated or angry—which you believe is exacerbated by whatever physical and mental toll his heat is putting on him—he never raised his voice. Temar only ever physically moved away from you, not towards you.

Speaking of physicality, he was so strong. The way he moved, carried, and shoved the tools out of his den had been impressive. The skill and strength it must have taken to make it in the first place, from the manual labor of digging it out, to stonework, to the manner of transportation in and out were all impressive. You’ll have to make sure to stop by Nicolas’ forge tomorrow to ensure Temar can get his roof fixed. But for now, your mind’s eye lingers on how his muscles had flexed, how easily he might be able to move you about, lifting you, arranging you to best please him.

You shake your head to try to rid yourself of such thoughts when none of them are going to come true. Temar is the one who’s having a hard time, not you here in his home. He hadn’t complained about the den, but you can tell it must be a far cry from what it was before the damage, it saddens you to think of him out there and alone. You long to comfort him, even though you know he doesn’t want your comfort. His roar had only proven his frustration and unhappiness, how unfulfilled he must be, stuck in the pit. You swear you can still hear yet another roar mixed with your name.

You take another look around the room and sigh, finding it far less interesting without him present. You’re still wound up from today’s jostling ship ride of events. Your hormones are out of balance after plans and hopes of helping Temar through his heat. While ending your night alone in Temar’s cabin, in his bed, while he’s stuck out in a hole in the ground isn’t where you expected or how you wanted the night to end, you suppose it's better than him still out in the woods where he might cause more damage or hurt someone.

Your hands go to your buttons as you start to undo them. An early night is in order. Just because Temar doesn’t want you, doesn’t mean you have to go unsatisfied. Your outer clothing drops to the floor, leaving you in your underthings. Draping the cloth over the couch, you wonder if he might be able to smell what you get up to in the morning. Would it be cruel to leave such a trace behind? you wonder as you slip over to the bedroom door. Or would it be your due after his refusal?

Something to worry about in the morning. You’re too hot and bothered to care much now. You turn the knob and enter the dark room. Your eyes just barely adjust enough to make out the outline of his large bed of furs when you’re pushed back against the door, slamming it shut.

An almost subsonic growl fills the small room as you look up and up to meet glowing yellow-green eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, even faster than it had when you’d been running only a few moments ago. A cloud moves from in front of the full moon and the beast that Temar must be now looms over you.

Heavy hands—or are they paws now?—pin you to the wall, one spread over your sternum and the other engulfing your hip. Your hands reflexively reach out and curl around his arm, fingers sinking into dense, soft fur. With the hand pressing against your chest, you barely manage to make a sound more than a surprised inhale, anything else compressed by Temar’s savage strength and your own shock.

Fight or flight seems to have tried to kick in only to unexpectedly leave you both at ‘freeze’ while you stare one another down. The moonlight illuminates his face, throwing into relief the complex mix of man and beast Temar now is. The same black salted with gray that had been evident in his beard is now more evident in the thin layer of fur covering his face. His jaw is larger to accommodate the sharp teeth and prominent fangs now present. His mouth is open as he pants and huffs, eyes fixated on you. You can still see the man in the beast, but he’s more than he was only moments ago.

You hold perfectly still as Temar leans down and starts to huff and sniff at your neck, shifting his fingers as he does so. You can feel his claws snag in the looser weave of your chemise as he does so. Has he always smelled like the forest? you think in a shocked haze, like the pine trees and the freshly turned earth with an undercurrent of musk. He growls into your neck while you stay pinned like an insect on a card, unable to do anything else when confronted by the reality of his transformed appearance, of his touch when he had recoiled from you so vehemently before.

You jolt when he manages to do more than growl, when you realize it isn’t your imagination that puts your name on his lips. Heat sears through you to hear the need in his voice, the demand, by the idea that you’ve managed to make such an impression on him that he managed to speak at all. Then those lips cover your own in an uncoordinated but wanting kiss. Instantly, your mind is wiped clean of rejection, and disinterest, and undesirability. Those ideas can’t exist in tandem when he kisses you like he’s starving.

When you break apart, you breathlessly gasp out his name, a hand cupping his jaw. You suck in shallow breaths, as if you only just stopped running, as if he’d been chasing you since he’d told you to run. You tremble with shameless lust at being sought after specifically—he hadn’t just been demanding after vague wants but for you.

He manages your name once more, tongue and jaw and teeth making the word hard to understand except that all your senses are straining for him, desperate for anything to help you understand him, to understand this change. “Mate.”

You don’t know if it's a question or not, but it's all you’ve been offering since you first showed up on his doorstep. “Yes,” you reply breathlessly, suddenly more desperate than ever in his hold. Desire burns through you for him. You tug futilely at his jaw, push desperately against the massive paw on your chest to reach him. “Temar. Mate.”

You don’t fool yourself into thinking your strength is what moves him, but perhaps your words do manage to penetrate his mind because he presses his lips to yours once more, immediately deepening the kiss. He fucks into your mouth with filthy promise. Your head is held between the door at your back and him, hot and massive, crowding you, boxing you in, cutting off any escape. Escape is the absolute furthest thing from your mind.

His grip on you strengthens, the hand on your sternum moving to bracket your neck. His thumb rests lightly against the column of your throat, the claw drawing a line of danger on your collarbone. His fingers hooked over your back, their claws digging into the meat of your shoulder. They haven’t broken your skin but you know they could, the sting of them makes you want to arch both away and into them.

You tremble as you realize how securely and sinfully caught you are by this werebear, by Temar. You know that he could hold onto you like this for hours and nothing you could do would be able to force him to let go. You never want him to. Instead you melt in his hold. His hand pinning you by your hip is likely the only thing keeping you on your feet and not just a pool of lust at his.

His need is evident given the way his hips rock against your own. The press of him against your whole body is unlocking some hidden need in you and you attempt to push back, to rut against him in return. You feel desperation growing in your bones, in the heart of you, something wild and wanting that can only be sated by him. Temar rumbles his approval, moving more deliberately against you until a growl of frustration escapes him.

When he pulls back, readjusting his hold on you, you open your mouth to protest, to say something, anything to get him back. It’s reflexive after how this night has gone, but unnecessary now. Temar picks you up with no apparent effort, only impatience, and tosses you onto the bed.

You land with an oof, scrambling to think around the rolling heat that moves through your body threatening to drown you at such a display. You’ve barely made any sense of yourself after being flung through the darkness when he’s dropped low and moved on top of you. His movements are strong and decisive as he pushes your chemise up. He noses his way between your thighs, spreading them apart to make room for him. You barely have time to consider being embarrassed about being exposed, at how wet you know you are, when his wide tongue, inhuman roughness obvious, covers your cunt.

Your yelp of surprise turns into a long drawn out moan as he licks at you, vigorously, hungrily. He places a massive hand on each of your thighs, claws stinging just enough to quicken the pulsing need between your legs. You twitch and shiver as he pushes your legs further apart to accommodate his bulk. Your heated skin finds the remaining fabric bunched around your waist too much and you hastily try to shuck it the rest of the way off as fast as you. It's the most uncoordinated you’ve ever felt due to the manner in which Temar is concentrating on sucking your mind out of your head via your cunt.

Free at last of the uncomfortable and restricting garment, you reach down, fingers threading into Temar’s wild mane of hair on instinct alone. You don’t kow if you’ve even stopped moaning since his tongue attached itself to your cunt. Simultaneously, it's too much and not enough and all you can do is try to hang on for the ride he’s determined to take you on. Sweeping you down into the heat of feral lust with him.

One of his hands leaves your thigh to clamp down across your stomach and hold down your hips. Your fingers tighten as he holds you in place to take what he wants from you. His unwavering focus is on eating you out, so starving for you that for now even the beast is content with your taste, leaving his hips rutting against the bedding.

Temar wrings sounds from you know you’ve never made before. You never want anyone else to even try. Fuck, so good, you think. Or maybe you say aloud because you swear he grunts his approval and his tongue somehow manages to reach deeper.

The black pad of his thumb rubs your clit perfectly and you scream you shatter. He growls triumphantly as he greedily drinks down every last drop of your release

You feel unspooled and languid, molten in your pleasure. Temar too seems satisfied with the meal he’s made of you for now as he pulls back, licking his lips. His fingers tighten their hold on your hips as your only warning before he flips you over. Dazedly, automatically, you try to brace yourself. He grunts in approval at how he has successfully maneuvered you onto your hands and knees. Right where you wanted to be ever since you first understood that he was in heat without a lover. Since you realized you wanted to be that lover.

One of his hands leaves your hip to stroke up your spine and you shudder at the feeling of calluses, iron strength, and claws. Instinctively, you arch into the motion, wanting to encourage him to touch you as much as possible. You’re so grateful you’ve already tossed your chemise gods know where. “Please,” you gasp out.

He rumbles with approval and as if having heard your unarticulated thoughts, drapes himself further over you. He pulls you against the cradle of his hips with one firm motion eliciting a squeal from your lips. It's evidently not close enough, as he wraps his fingers around your shoulder and pulls again until he can rut his cock against where you feel oh so empty.

With you where he wants you, Temar releases his hold on your shoulder to lurch you both forward, him bracing you both with that hand on the bed. It leaves you clearly trapped under him. You close your eyes to savor the position and you’re struck by the image you two would paint, were you able to see. Perhaps that should be more intimidating or even frightening than it is, but you like the heavy weight of him, the power evident in his body as he cages you in.

The ache between your legs only grows more acute. “Temar,” you plead, attempting to move your hips against him despite the hold he still has on one of your hips. The gnawing hunger and persistent emptiness are starting to hurt, desire buzzing along your every nerve.

“Mine,” Temar proclaims as the head of his cock finally catches perfectly and he starts to drive into you. The stretch and ache of him causes your moan to fracture under the strain. It’s been so long, but you're so wet it almost doesn’t matter. He’s so thick, so long, you’re losing all sense of anything outside of where the two of you are joined. The last few inches cause a pleasurable burn as you clench around him. Gods it's been too long since you were filled like this, if you’ve ever even had someone with his girth before.

Temar growls contentedly once he’s fully seated inside you and you gladly take the precious few seconds to adjust. Soon enough, he pulls nearly all the way out of you causing a desperate whine to build up in the back of your throat until he thrusts back in, ripping a ragged sound from your throat that might resemble his name.

He picks up speed with each movement of his hips, getting surer and stronger each time. You feel your whole body move and jolt with his each and every thrust. Your hands scrabble fruitlessly at the bedding under you, trying to brace yourself or get a grip but you can’t, uncoordinated and weak from your previous orgasm as well as the overwhelming way Temar is fucking you.

He’s going to ruin you and you’re going to thank him.

His control seems to be fraying the longer he’s inside you. You can see the claws tipping his fingers get longer where they dig into the bedding and you can feel the way they dig into your hip. The pain is the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure of him finally hitting that perfect spot inside. You can feel your inner walls flutter from the sensation. Temar must like that because he groans and makes a noticeable effort to strike that same spot repeatedly.

The unrelenting attention pays off immediately as you can feel your need wind tighter and tighter while your mind empties of thought except for the sensation and heat Temar is bringing forth from the depths you. The continual barrage of his cock finally shoves you over the edge of pleasure once more and you obligingly shatter.

He groans as your clenching around him seems to be all he needs to let go. He hilts in you one last time and you feel him come hard. He fills you up with his seed, warmth spreading, and continuing to make little half thrusts, as if trying to make sure it stays deep within you. You’re still coming down from your orgasm but the sense of satisfaction expands in your chest now that Temar’s reached his peak too.

You close your eyes, limp underneath him, but more content than you’ve felt in ages, in perfect harmony with your werebeast mate.

At some point, you feel him tip you both over onto your sides, though he keeps his cock firmly seated within your heat, keeping you full. Temar’s rumble is full of satisfaction and he engulfs you in his hold, making it clear neither of you are separating anytime soon.

You don’t know how long you lay there on your side, blissfully fuck out, still full of him. You don’t care. You enjoy floating in the hazy afterglow. Eventually he slips out of you, pulling a gasp from you and a whine from him. He nuzzles against you, as if to comfort you. You’re too boneless and witless to do anything more than nuzzle him back.

At some point you do notice him start to move against you once more. His large hands are running along your body, as if committing it to memory. It’s not until he starts to focus on your nipples, rubbing his thumb in increasingly tight circles. Desire starts to zip through your sluggish veins and you whine, twitching in his loose hold. He seems to appreciate your reaction, nudging your head with his until you turn it to face him better. He catches your mouth in a consuming kiss, more coordinating than any previously but just as hungry. It's deep and filthy and leaves you vibrating for me.

His hand covers your cunt, still swollen and wet from your combined cum, in addition to the desire within you he’s stroking back up into a blaze. Your sensitivity causes your hips to stutter as you’re caught between wanting more and being too tender for it. He loses interest in using his hand once you’re pushing towards him more than you are moving away. Pulling you down his body once more, his fur causing goosebumps to ripple across your flesh until you’re back where Temar at least seems to think you belong: in the cradle of his hips.

“Oh! Temar, you—mm, o-oh,” you attempt to say something to address the reignition of his desire, but before you can, his stiffening cock has managed to press against your cunt just right, moving through your lingering wetness and the spend that’s leaked out of you since said cock last left you.

“Mate,” he intones, lust certainly back into his voice. He pulls you up off the bed, securing you to his chest with the hand still clutching your chest. You’re not sure his other hand he's left your hip since it settled there. “More.”

“I, yes,” you reply, trying to pull yourself back together. Of course while in heat, he’d want to—you cut your own thoughts off with a surprised moan as he pushes back into you. Your fingers clench in the sheets as your sore, but slick muscles allow him back inside. The overstimulation is giving your head a rush.

Luckily, this time Temar seems more deliberate and rhythmic with his thrusting rather than frenzied and desperate. His other hand resumes kneading your chest and rubbing against your stiffened nipple. The change in angle seems to keep him from going too fast and luckily requires none of your strength. In fact, the sensation of him fucking you while you lay limp in his grasp is quickly bring your own lust back at a dizzying pace you don’t expect.

He shifts and the angle gets even better, causing you to moan loudly in encouragement. You sag against him, your bones feel liquid from the way he’s been relentlessly thrusting within your cunt. His grunts and your pants fill the room. You’re still so hot, with sweat rolling down your back only to be absorbed into his fur. The sensation ensures you never forget who and what is taking you. You glory in it, in knowing he chose you.

You feel like he’s determined to fuck you until you can’t see straight, can’t move and you’re beyond willing for him to try.

Gods, he’s going to make you forget your own name.

Something curls deep in you, winding around itself with each passing second he continues moving within you. He hunches forward, just enough to press against you, to change the angle some minuscule amount, and that spring releases. You fracture around him. As before, that appears to be all he needs to push as deep as he can and spill his seed in you one more time. The sensation of his release, of the desperate way he continues to try to fill you are the last things you remember before the pleasure pulls you under.

-/-

In the morning, or given the angle of the sun, the afternoon when you wake after a sleep longer than an hour, Temar surrounds you still. You’re in no rush as you take the time to regain your bearings and take stock of your aches. Without opening your eyes you can tell he’s looking at you. “Regret?” you ask simply, stock still in his hold, voice scratchy from overuse. You lost count of how many times aTemar fucked you last night. It's all a blur of heat and desire.

“No,” Temar rumbles, adjusting his hold. “Mine.” The added growl behind the words even in his human form sends a shiver down your spine and reignites the ache in your muscles in the most pleasing manner.

It's more than you were hoping for, and yet you can’t help but ask, cautiously, “For the rest of your heat?” Some small part of you is still expecting to be sent on your way far sooner than you’d like to be.

“I suppose you’ve convinced me,” Temar replies, the amusement in his voice unable to stay hidden under his put upon reluctance. “If you’ve made this foolish choice, I suppose I’ll let it stand—for now.”

“You may be stubborn, but I think we can agree I won this battle,” you point out. You finally blink your eyes open for long enough to look over your shoulder and meet his brown ones. He looks indulgent when you cup his cheek. “What makes you think you’ll fare better in the next one? I’m not sure I want for this to end with your heat.”

“I thought you’d say something of the sort,” Temar replies with a roll of eyes. He nips at your ear and pats you on the hip. “We can discuss after your bath.”

You hum, pleased immensely by the prospect. “See? Perhaps it’s you who is mine after all.”

---

Extra thanks to everyone who followed along with the original posting! all your comments and tags and asks were super encouraging!!

#my writing #terato #voluntary sacrifice #werebear #werebear x reader #monsterfucker prompt #heat #complete #not osha compliant #werebear heatsoother #now helpfully combined in one posting #and up on AO3 #story: voluntary sacrifice

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poppy-metal · 4 months

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patrick doing something that really pissed off art, like really pisses him off, and instead of apologising he just give you to him, patrick’s pretty girlfriend. patrick watched as art blows you from behind, grunting and groaning like an animal. patrick gave you a talk before, and just like you were told, all you whimper is “sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry art,” over and over with every brutal thrust and every squelch of your wet pussy. arts rough, and he’s mean but he’s still art. pulls your hair back yes, but presses slobbery kisses to your neck. barks commands at you, like “shut up” or “stop moving”, yes, but then can’t help himself praising you, “so pretty” “so tight” “so warm”. and patrick watches everything with a smug smile on his face. god i just need art to just be so mean to me and make me cry and make it better and make me beg and beg for me and i can’t take this anymore

mean art save me save me mean art..... i imagine in this situation art doesn't actually know you that well. you're almost an extension of patrick in a way, patricks girl, patricks plaything. its the most disrespectful he's ever been - given that he has the permission to be. he can't find it in himself to throw his anger out at patrick how he wants, he can't punch him, pound his face into the ground until his knuckles are bloody because thats not art. hes not a violent person. hes not. but all that anger and resentment has to go somewhere, its like a poison, the way it eats at him. and patrick knows, knows if he doesn't offer something - concede something his relationship with art will crumble. and he cant have that. its fucked in a way, the way its not even something he has to think about for long at all - they get into an argument and art has turned on his heel, already cold, already icing patrick out and patrick is quick to grab his wrist, tug him back. "hold on - "

it should be horrible the way your boyfriend offers you up on a silver platter like you're a piece of meat. it should anger and humiliate you to be used as a bargaining chip between them to maintain peace, your body like a vessel that will exorcize their demons towards one another. patrick cant just say sorry, he cant say those words, he cant be vulnerable like that, open himself up to art for the fear of art breaking his heart.

and everyone thinks art is a lovely guy. and he is. most of the time, to most people. especially to women. his grandma raised him. he grew up catholic. you always treat a lady with respect.

unless that lady is patrick zweigs girlfriend.

he shouldn't accept but he does. the promise is too appealing. staking claim over a tree patrick has pissed all over. putting his mark there. so when patrick offers you up, art only pretends to be disturbed when he storms off. its the principle of the thing, he has to act affronted for his own moral compass. he texts patrick later. "fine."

for all you should be up in arms and upset you're not. that's your own fucked up dilemma. loving being the center of attention between two opposing forces. loving the idea of patrick giving you over and expecting you to put your pussy to work to his satisfaction - endure his closest confidants aggression to show how good you are. to show how much you can take - patrick likes you dirty he likes you bad he likes you arching your back and moaning for his best friend to fuck you harder while he watches, because he fucking asked you to.

patrick cant say sorry - but you can. with the tight glove of your wet cunt - with the warbled whines punched out of your throat with every thrust inside your body - "hes sorry, so sorry, sorry, sorry art - oh god - take him back, please, oh-" and you feel the way art winds a fist in your hair, yanks your body till its bending back to meet his hard chest as he pounds and pounds and pounds.

"not there yet," he grunts, and he shoves you back down, you press your tits to the mattress, make eye contact with patrick as you spread your thighs wider and accept every plunge - "tell your girlfriend if she wants me to forgive you she needs to squeeze my dick harder."

patrick licks his lips, eyes dark. you know hes turned on by this. you want to taste the evidence of it in your mouth, filling your throat but this isn't about patrick getting off. its about art. so he tells you, "hug his cock with your pussy, baby, you know how. just how i taught you."

your eyes roll back as you obey, obey, obey. bearing down on the cock thrusting in and out and gripping at it with your muscles as tight as you can - art groans long and hard behind you, nails digging into the fat of your waist. rolls his hips into yours, "fuck, that's good. good fucking girl - keep doing that -"

he hunches behind you, lips brushing the shell of your ear, "you need to respect yourself more," he pants, biting your lobe and pulling it between his teeth, "but not until i cum."

#ask #frens <3 #fixing their friendship for them w your pussy <33333 #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut

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finalgirllx · 6 months

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thinking about mattheo riddle | when you're jealous minors dni

Being Mattheo Riddle's partner demands a certain level of spunk to handle him daily. Your attitude captivates him, but it can never match the intensity of his own jealous streak, making you the 'level-headed' one in the relationship.

Though Mattheo is fiercely loyal while committed to you, his attractiveness and natural charisma easily manipulates others into believing that he is actually into them. He is fully aware of this and gladly claims that 'knowledge is power', using it to his advantage. Therefore, he is a notorious flirt, getting off on his ability to melt others down to a puddle with a mere wink. This doesn't typically bother you because you are the 'level-headed' one, and he is normally quick to shut down anyone who mistakes his hollow flirtations for advances.

But that doesn't stop them from trying, and try they do.

Sometimes, you are clued into another's motives before Mattheo is. It happens when you aren't at his side and are instead chatting with friends when passing him in the hall during break times. You will witness someone who previously fell for his appeal approach him with a glint of romantic interest in their eyes, unapologetically daring to laugh at everything he says or feel his muscly arms in an attempt to bridge a physical connection with him.

You aren't supposed to be the jealous one. You're the even-tempered one. You trust he will tell them to kick rocks, yeah?

But once they do touch him, it's over.

Reaching your boyfriend's side at a nearly impossible speed, you greet him by leaning against him and leaving kisses anywhere you can reach (cheek, shoulder, neck…). You focus on love-bombing him to send a signal while also fitting in a murderous glare at the invader.

"Who is this bothering you, Matty?" you ask, to which he smugly smirks and wraps an arm around you, returning the overtly affectionate kiss.

"They're being friendly, love, no worry," he quickly reassures you. And if they are still not deterred, a prompt fuck-off will do.

As relieved as you are to be at Mattheo's side, you glare at him in annoyance over having to intervene, only to watch his expression transform into a wicked grin.

You have grown to suspect that whenever you 'catch on sooner,' it is just him hoping you step in. Since your public displays of jealousy are much fewer and further between than his own, Mattheo finds your anger incredibly hot. He revels in raising your heart rate like the handsome prick he is.

For reasons you can't understand, the furrowing of your brows and scrunching of your nose when you're irritated immediately overtakes his rational brain, causing a 'problem' he needs your help with immediately. Mattheo usually shows his gratitude for your possessiveness by dragging you to the nearest empty room and reminding you how glad he is that you belong to each other.

#kind of a sister-piece to my enzo blurb #i just love writing about jealousy #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #theodore nott

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monsterfuckerconfessions · 2 months

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I'm sad and kind of frustrated that my preferred flavour of monsterfuckery seems to be out of vogue and much harder to find these days. I see lots of pushback defending monsterfucking along the lines of "recognizing the good and normal in monsters / loving the things that society says are monsters / envisioning monsters as things that will treat us gently and respectfully / seeing ourselves (marginalized groups) as monsters that are still good and loving" and I just... Good for you, I guess; do your thing. I see the rationale and the sociological/psychological reasoning. But it's not for me, and some days I feel like I'm in my own personal hell when all the new monsterfucking I can find is consensual and sweet.

The appeal of a monster, to me, is the danger. The fear. The lack of consent. The violence and pain along with the pleasure. If we want to get psychological, it's a fantasy about guilt-free sex— a story in which the victim has no power and therefore no responsibility to stop the sex, or to seek it in an appropriate way; in which the victim doesn't even have to work for their orgasm because (I imagine) even pleasure is being forced on them.

It's a rape fantasy with extra tasty set dressing, and I'm tired of defending that fantasy even to other monsterfuckers. I recognize that what I want is original flavour un-deconstructed monstrosity, and other people are writing against that narrative for their own reasons. I just wish the stuff I liked was easier to find these days.

Give me big clawed hands that take without asking, and thick knotted bumpy cocks that force orgasm after orgasm, and sharp teeth bared in a grin of delight at the sound of screaming and crying and begging for it to stop. Give me unwanted infections and forced transformations that turn the body into a sexual horror. Give me beasts that hunger and threaten and ravage.

Give me monsters that are monstrous.

#monsterfucker confessions

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chronicbeans · 8 months

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Nurse's Office

Needed to write a platonic Alastor x Nurse Reader Angst fic after I saw that fight between him and Adam like holy hell.

TW: Injuries and Blood, Medical Tools/Procedures, Anxiety/Slight Panic, Spiraling Mental Health

So... When you got started at the Hazbin Hotel, you didn't expect to be a nurse there. Sure, you have the skills, but you usually don't have a nurse working a hotel. Now, though, you completely understand why they'd want to hire you for that, and not the room service position you applied for. Over the little time you've been here, you've seen more injuries that you could've ever imagined at a single hotel, with so few guests.

After the fight with the angels, though? You have been working on overdrive. You've had to patch everyone up, and you can't even find Alastor. You keep doing a head count after every person you treat, seeing if you can find him, but he doesn't show up. Your anxiety only gets worse once you check on Vaggie, the last person you had to help, and he still didn't make an appearance.

You don't want to assume the worst, though, so you grab some medical supplies, put them into a bag, then head out into the debris. He has to be somewhere. Even if he's not alive, he still deserves to be found. He also couldn't have gotten far! Yeah, he kind of... disappeared at one point...? You didn't get a good look, but he did disappear from your sight. But you don't suspect he'd have went far from the hotel while injured. Just far enough to be safe. That's what you hope, at least...

You continue wandering around for a few hours, your legs feeling exhausted after a while. Climbing over all the rubble, breathing in some of the settling dust, and straining your eyes to see up ahead is tiring... that, and you keep scraping your hands and knees on the sharp rocks and broken concrete. The most disheartening part, though, is that you still haven't seen him... Then, you spot it.

A tiny little splatter of blood.

Then, another splatter nearby...

And another...

Yes, a trail! You don't know who it's going to lead to, but you can see some lights in the distance. It at least leads somewhere. You quickly begin to follow it, seeing the red light get brighter and brighter. The radio tower comes into view. You know that it has to be Alastor, at this point. Why hadn't you thought of it sooner? You climb down the rubble, beginning to make your way over to the ruined tower ahead of you.

As you get close to the bottom hatch, you hear some footsteps against the floor. Immediately, you knock on the hatch, making your presence known. "Alastor! It's (Y/N)! I'm coming in there! If you're on the door, you better get off. Don't even try to stop me from getting in, either, because I'll climb through one of the windows if I have to." You pause, hearing the footsteps stop for a moment. After a few seconds, you crawl into the radio tower.

The place is a mess, to say the least... which, you expected. You stand up, then immediately scan the room for Alastor. It's a bit dark, and knowing him, he's probably going to try to hide, somehow. He hates being seen as weak, and from all the blood you've seen so far, he's gotten injured. Badly.

"Alastor? I know you're in here. I heard you walking." You walk around the room, checking every corner. Then, you notice an oddly moving shadow, alongside a puddle of blood. You walk over to it, frowning. "I know you're there. Come on. I'm here to help." You sigh as the shadow makes a little grunt noise, much like a deer would. You then cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at it. Looks like you'll have to appeal to his ego a little.

"How do you think people would feel if you, the great Radio Demon, died here alone in the shambles of his radio tower?" The shadow grows quiet as you say this, and before you know it, Alastor appears before you. He looks terrible, holding his stomach with one arm and the broken remains of his microphone in his other hand. You take a step towards him, but he backs away a bit.

"I'm fine, dear... It's nothing I can't handle. Just give me some time to regain my energy, then I-" You shake your head instantly, gesturing to his wound. "No, Alastor! Look at you. You almost died! Sure, maybe you can regenerate, I don't know... but I spent an hour or so looking for you, with the sole intention of helping you! I didn't come here for you to tell me "No, I don't need help, even though I'm severely wounded"! I came here to assist you."

You watch his eyes widen, his already strained grin becoming even more strained. His ears then pull back, the look in his eyes becoming more distressed. He mutters something, before nodding. Then, he leans against the wall, before slowly easing himself to the floor. "Fine, dear. If you truly came all this way, I guess it would be rude if I said no to your help." You are a bit shocked he gave up so easily, as well as how uneasy he looks. You decide to just help him, though.

You crouch next to him, taking out your medical tools from your bag. "You're definitely going to need stitches... my healing magic can only do so much, but it should work better if I close the wound first." You smile gently, before you point to him. "Though, I'm going to have to, at least, unbutton your shirt and coat to do so. Are you comfortable with that? I know you are very iffy about being touched..."

Alastor then begins to show more visible signs of discomfort, his eyebrows furrowing, and a slight static hum droning from somewhere nearby. You pick up on it, beginning to think aloud. "I can try to find some way to maneuver around the fabric, instead, since it was cut open-" "No. No. I trust you, dear." You blink a few times, wondering why he is acting so oddly. "Are you sure...?" "Yes, dear. I know you well enough to trust you." He then pauses, before quickly adding "You're a medical professional, after all. You've probably seen more than an upper torso, before. I trust you to not be a degenerate."

You simply chuckle, nodding. "You better! I'd say we're good friends, after all." You then quickly unbutton the clothing, before grabbing some sterile gloves and disinfectant. As you put the gloves on, you hear him mutter something, once again. Then, when you grab a set of tweezers and a cotton ball, he makes an odd comment. "We're great friends, yes...? If I told you a secret, you'd keep it, right?" You nod as you pick the cotton ball up with the needle, cover it in disinfectant, then begin to disinfectant the wound. "Yeah. You can tell me. It'll probably keep you distracted from any pain you feel, too."

Instead of a hiss of pain, the static noise grows loud for a moment. Then, it quiets down a bit as he talks. "I'm not entirely sure if you know this, already, but I made a deal... My soul is owned by someone else. I regret it more than anything..." You let out a little hum, your expression changing to one of shock. You grab the suture needle, as well as some thread. "Why are you telling me this?"

"(Y/N), my dear... I trust you more than many others. I've seen you working in that nurse's office of yours. You care more than the average sinner about others. Almost to a hilarious degree. I can imagine you patching up a soldier on one side of a battle and sending them out, then immediately do the same with someone from their enemy's side." He then laughs, before coughing a bit. "You care... but don't care when it comes to the right things to interest me. I trust you to not care about this, even if it means you'll keep secrets from me."

You nod, before gently smiling. "I'll keep it a secret... I know others could hold this against you and use it for an advantage. So, I won't say a word. Plus, you're right. I'm a bit of a chaotic middle ground. I don't like taking sides." You then get the needle into position, beginning to actually sew him up. "So, tell me... Is there anything else you're anxious about?"

His ears flick, the static growing once more. Then, it dies down again. "I don't want to be remembered as an altruist... I don't want to be seen as someone who had died for that hotel and his friends. I know that there's probably some people there who believe I died... and knowing Vox, he probably found some way to watch what happened. That man is practically obsessed with me, after all, dear!" He laughs, again, causing you to have to pause your suturing. After a few seconds, he begins coughing more. He sounds genuinely upset, despite his laughing.

"Why wouldn't you like that?" Alastor seems to disregard your question, instead beginning to talk about his deal once more. "There has to be an exit to that deal... a loophole. Something so I can get out of it..." You begin to continue, almost done with your work. "Are you sure...? What was it?" "I'm sure, and it's private matters."

You finish up, thing up the last suture's knot. Then, you take off your gloves, putting on a fresh pair, and grab the bandages. "... Alastor, are you alright...?" He looks to you, his eyes wide. "Why are you asking...? I am perfectly fine. Not a problem here. After I get free from my deal, I'll be-"

You narrow your eyes at him. "Alastor... you're frowning."

Alastor seems to grab at his cheeks for a moment, an odd, anxious grimace spreading across his face. Then, he begins forcing another grin. His tone is a lot more frantic, as if he has begun to spiral. Or, perhaps, just begun to outwardly express that he's spiraling. "I wasn't frowning. I am fine, dear." "You're not fine... but, if you say so, Alastor. I won't push the topic." You bandage his wound, before sighing. "Okay, so... This magic works oddly. You'll be-"

Before you can finish, he begins standing up. "Hey, wait-" He, holds a hand up, shushing you. Then, he points to himself. "I'll take care of the rest. You should handle your own wounds, dear. Don't think I haven't noticed your scrapes and cuts. You look like you've ran through a thornbush on your way over here." He begins buttoning up his shirt and coat, and you're shocked to see it repairing itself as he does so. Clearly, while your friend's power is limited, he's hiding more secrets than you expected...

"Fine... You better not leave me here by myself as I do so, though." You go from a crouching position, to a sitting one, as you clean off your tiny cuts. You hear him go quiet, for a moment, but can't see his expression due to your focus now being on yourself. After a few moments, though, you hear him chuckle.

For the first time, you hear his voice clearly, with no radio waves obscuring it. "Of course, dear. I never would dream of that. The others, though? Maybe..."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #platonic x reader #platonic #Hehehe I might make a sequel idk

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ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 4 months

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Hello everyone! Since the "Morgana wants to be allies with Emrys" au received so much support, here's a continuation of that au!

NOTE: You can find part one of this au here!

To recap, in this au, Morgana is never told that Emrys is her doom, and instead assumes that the whole "Emrys is your destiny" thing means that she needs Emrys as her ally in order to achieve her destiny and conquer Camelot. She seeks out Emrys to no avail, but Mordred reveals to her that Merlin is Emrys. She then tries to get Merlin to join her, but he refuses. So, Morgana is trying to fight Arthur for Merlin's friendship so that she can finally take Camelot for herself.

Without further ado, onto the new stuff! Arthur and Morgana first try outdoing each other in terms of physical gifts. Morgana notes how Merlin still lives in relatively poor conditions, so she sends him things like nicer clothes, magic books, and the severed heads of his enemies. Arthur, who still doesn't know about Merlin's magic, gives Merlin new chambers, new furniture, and better pay. This leads to Morgana sending him a chest full of golden coins and jewels, and Arthur has to outdo her and give Merlin an even bigger chest full of gold and as send one to his mother. Morgana has her men steal the chest while it was en route to Ealdor and send it under her name instead.

Arthur gave Merlin access to the royal gardens so that he could just grow his medicinal herbs instead of having to go all the way out into the woods, and then Morgana refurbished the castle run-down nearest Ealdor, had it decked out in all the best finery that magic could conjure, and dedicated it to Merlin.

Merlin, meanwhile, just wanted a break, but he wouldn't get one.

Eventually, Arthur and Morgana get the memo that physical gifts wouldn't work, so they switched tactics.

Morgana then tried to appeal to Merlin a different way. If he wanted Arthur so badly, then she could provide him with an even better version of Arthur! Morgana selected loyal Emrys-worshipping druids who looked and spoke similar to Arthur and sent them to Camelot to try and woo Emrys to their side.

Merlin, waking up and seeing six knock-off Arthurs standing around him: Wait a minute, I've had this sex dream before!

Arthur, barging into Merlin's room because he's late and seeing six knock-off versions of himself standing around Merlin's bed: ... ARTHUR.EXE HAS STOPPED RESPONDING

When Arthur could finally comprehend what was going on, he had the look-alikes all sent to the dungeon. He's not sure who he was more pissed off about: Morgana sending those men, or Merlin looking like he was interested in them. But Arthur couldn't stay mad at Merlin for very long, so his rage was settled on Morgana once more. But how could he outdo a stunt like that?

As Arthur was plotting his next move that night, he caught sight of Merlin sneaking around the castle. He knew that Merlin would never betray Camelot, but Merlin sneaking around right after being offered gifts by Morgana is rather suspicious. Maybe there was more to the situation that Merlin was keeping from Arthur? In any case, Arthur had to follow Merlin, if only to ease his own fears.

So, Arthur stealthily followed Merlin and witnessed him using magic to kill an assassin sent by Morgana. Arthur is shocked by the revelation that Merlin has powerful magic, but all of a sudden Morgana's crusade to lure Merlin to her side made much more sense. He now knows that if he loses Merlin, he'll be losing all of the magic that's been thanklessly protecting him for years.

So, Arthur does the only thing that he can do: repeal the magic ban. The threat of execution for his magic is the one thing that could possibly drive Merlin from his side, so Arthur would simply remove it and thus remove any reason for Merlin to ever leave Camelot. Merlin would be happier and finally feel safe in his own home, and Arthur's wouldn't lose his closest friend (and secretly the object of his affections) to his harpy of a sister. It was a win-win for Arthur!

Arthur, of course, faced staunch resistance from the council, but he was the king at the end of the day, and so the magic ban was revoked. Arthur had a whole speech to the people and a celebratory feast after the repeal of the magic ban was signed into law, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Merlin as he proudly proclaimed to his citizens that magic would no longer be persecuted in Camelot. Arthur knew that he would be late to the feast as he spent the next few hours after his speech holding a sobbing Merlin in his arms, comforting him and whispering sweet reassurances in his ear.

Morgana, upon hearing the news of Arthur's repeal of the magic ban, was furious. It was her destiny to bring magic back to the land with the mighty Emrys by her side, and her idiot brother's!

Morgana became so infuriated by this that she marched her army of sorcerers right up to the gates of Camelot and demanded that Arthur hand over Emrys, or else she would march into the land and tear him away from Arthur by force.

Morgana, yelling at the walls of Camelot: Emrys, get out here! I have hundreds of shirtless himbos with swords for you to choose from! Take your pick! You don't need Arthur!

Arthur met Morgana at the walls (after ordering Merlin to stay behind in the castle so that Morgana couldn't take him and leaving a dozen knights behind so Merlin couldn't use magic to escape and follow Arthur like the annoyingly loyal and devoted friend that he was) and tried to negotiate with her, but Morgana wouldn't budge. After a while though, Arthur had an idea.

Arthur offered Morgana the chance to return to Camelot as a noble guest and live within the castle again, granting her full access to Merlin at all times so that she could try all of her tricks to lure him over to her side. In exchange, Morgana would call off her army and send them away and NOT try to kill anyone while she was living with them. Arthur's offer stated that if she did manage to get Merlin on her side, then she could, as she said, fulfill her destiny and try to take the throne from Arthur.

Arthur's logic was that if Morgana ever did get Merlin as her ally, Arthur's reign was already over then and there. If Merlin ever willingly turned his back on Arthur, then it surely meant that Arthur was no longer fit to be king. However, Arthur was certain that that would never happen. So, to Arthur, this deal would keep Morgana in the castle and keep her from killing anyone, allowing him to try and make amends with his sister.

Morgana thought over the deal for a while. To her, while living in Camelot and not being able to kill her enemies and claim the throne while she was there would be disappointing, having unimpeded access to Emrys would make achieving her destiny much easier, and once Emrys was her ally, they could easily conquer Camelot from within. Yes, Arthur was a fool, and this deal was a straightforward plan for her to take her rightful throne!

To Arthur's surprise, Morgana accepts her deal and sends her army away, willingly entering Camelot, much to the citizens' unease. Morgana glares at him and the knights as they make their way up to the castle.

Morgana was given her old chambers back, which hadn't been touched in the time that she was gone. All of her old clothes and jewelry were still there too.

Morgana settled in very quickly, she didn't have much to bring with her anyways. She'd have to have Mordred send Aithusa over to her though, since the young dragon hadn't been with her at the gates.

For now though, it was time to get down to business: she had to get Emrys to join her cause.

Granted, that might be a bit harder than she anticipated, given that the man in question looked like he had swallowed a lemon when he saw her in the castle. Clearly, he was wary of her, but she was certain that they would grow closer, as their glorious destiny intended!

In the meanwhile, Arthur had foolishly given her a seat at his council, so that she could advise them on magical topics and affairs. She did take great pleasure in seeing the lords and knight at Arthur's round table squirm at the sight of her though.

It didn't take long for Morgana to see how useless and inept Arthur's advisors were at actually running a kingdom. Dear gods, it was a miracle anything got done at all with how much those worthless lords squabbled with each other over inane topics! And all the while, her idiot brother sat in his chair, almost falling asleep!

Morgana was about to get up and storm out of the pointless meeting, but stopped when she saw Emrys, who was standing behind Arthur holding a pitcher and looking at the soon-to-be-deposed king (such a disrespectful job for someone as powerful as Emrys!) with a disappointed frown. Wait, this cold be how Morgana wins him over!

She has to prove to Emrys that she would be a better, more efficient ruler than Arthur! Then he would side with her!

So, Morgana threw herself into outwitting Arthur's useless council and winning arguments against them, making the whole thing much more productive really. She strongarmed them into discussing topics that actually mattered and not their own personal petty squabbles.

She was so busy watched Emrys's reactions that she completely missed how Arthur's eyes lit up with joy at seeing bits and pieces of the old Morgana shine through.

From there, Morgana is slowly redeemed as she tries to prove herself to be a better ruler than Arthur. Arthur has trouble ensuring that the harvest will be plentiful enough? Morgana can use magic to make crops grow with ease! Arthur has trouble negotiating a trade treaty with a neighboring kingdom? Morgana knows how to intimidate them into making a deal favorable for Camelot! Arthur's worried about an invading army getting too close to Camelot! Morgana can blast them all away with the wave of a hand!

Slowly, the people of Camelot become less and less scared of Morgana. As she's redeemed, Merlin gets closer with her again, almost sharing the friendship that they once had. Morgana sees this as a sign that she's close to winning Emrys over, so she doubles down. Morgana gets better, Emrys grows closer, and the cycle repeats itself until Morgana finds herself looking at Arthur and doesn't feel any of that familiar dark rage under her skin that usually accompanies the sight of her brother.

Maybe... maybe she could get used to the idea of staying in Camelot indefinitely, at least until her brother got himself killed. But the world seemed to already be doing a good job of throwing Arthur into deadly situations without her, so maybe she could just sit back in Camelot and teach those idiots in the council how to actually get some work done. Yes, that sounded like a good plan.

And that's all for this au! I hope you all enjoyed it! I have a little surprised planned for my next post, so be sure to stay tuned!

Also, here's everyone who asked for this continuation! Thank you so much for your support! @kj-owl, @smileytrinity, @nannersthespellcast0r, @nalua93, @wolfnight2012, @lucifertookmyshoe, @ath99, @thisinhumanplace, @hopeaha, @lightoftheemeraldstar, @valiantkittenwitch, @adragonhoardingstories, @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego, @the-king-and-the-druidess, @jellytamalies, @keenest-of-heart

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin au #merthur #emrys #morgana #merlin prompts

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umemiyan · 10 months

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𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / unprotected piv / noncon creampie, breeding + mentions of pregnancy / dom/sub dynamics / petnames (good girl, baby, sweetheart) / biting

“c’mon, be a good girl and let me cum inside this pretty pussy.”

he tries to persuade you as though he hadn't earlier promised that he would pull out, that he wouldn't attempt to sway you from your position of not being willing to take the risk and let him finish inside.

you vigorously shake your head and hum in disagreement at his proposal. toji's a dirty fucking liar but you somehow still find it in yourself to love him, to allow him to slide into you completely raw, knees almost up to your chest as he fucks you into the mattress because he has two different types of holds on you.

“aww, why not, sweetheart? you don’t want me to fill up that sweet little belly?" he punctuates every sentence with a heavy thrust, voice a malicious tease in your ear paired with an equally selfish grin. but then he moves to hold your gaze with a commanding intensity. "gimme fuckin’ words, baby. i need words.”

you gulp and gasp for air, his hips stopping long enough to allow you a moment to breathe. “i don’t want a baby.”

toji offers an amused scoff at your response. “yeah? s'that right?" he's convinced that a part of you is lying and that you wouldn't even think of letting him fuck you raw if something about the risk didn't appeal to you. "too afraid to be a mommy for my babies?"

those words ignite a flame of anxiety within you, but curiously enough also make you clench around him as he picks up the pace a little, holding back a growl as his fantasies wrack his brain.

"s’too bad," he says, tone growing more serious, "i think you’d be pretty good at it, even if you act like a brat yourself half the time.”

it almost doesn't sound like he's joking anymore, but how could he not be? there's no way toji could truly want a child—he can't even afford one, but all the possibilities make your thoughts go muddy and incomprehensible. you simply turn your head to the side to avoid looking at him straight on, flustered and overstimulated from previous orgasms, but he uses a strong hand to grab your cheeks and steer you back in the right direction.

“what the hell did i just say about using your words, huh? you better fuckin’ speak up or i’m breeding this tight little cunt right now." it almost seems as though he's offering you a choice with his hips speeding up and wrecking your insides like this. he's in control, but he's desperate, sweat beading along his forehead as he chuckles breathlessly. "hell, i might do it anyways with you suckin’ me in so good.”

gasping, your eyes go wide. “no, no, no!” you meekly protest, but it's too late—he pins your wrists to the bed and angles his hips to more accurately hit your deepest points, cock driving into you with even more purpose now.

“shit…” he curses and feels himself start to lose his composure, quickly slamming into you a few more times before halting balls deep and twitching his release out inside you. the hot, fresh surges of cum warm your womb as he stays rooted in place, determined to force his seed as deep as it can possibly go. in his mind, that’ll only make it easier for it to take and bring his current vision to fruition: you round and full with a baby that’s undoubtedly his. this is the image that flashes through his mind and makes his cock pulse with an orgasm that’s nearly paralyzing, teeth biting into the flesh of your neck like you're the pretty animal he's just claimed and mated.

once the storm has settled, his hot tongue licks over the mark in your skin to soothe it followed by a kiss and one more slow roll of his hips for good measure. "that's a good girl," the large pad of his thumb brushes the tears from your lashes as if he isn't the one who caused them. his hand is a little rough but still affectionate as it grips your face again and forces you into a possessive kiss.

toji pulls out of you with a wet squelch and a shit-eating grin. "gotta fight back a little better next time if you don't want me to get you pregnant."

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #cw breeding #cw dubcon #my writing.#re: toji fushiguro

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 months

Text

Interruption

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

*LIGHT HARDERSSON SMUT*

Summary: You interrupt your mothers at a bad moment

There's so many upsides to you and Pernille living in London. Too many for Magda to even count but, this, this by fair is one of her favourites.

"M-Magda," Pernille whines as Magda ruts into her, her nails dragging down Magda's back.

Magda continues to thrust, hitting all the right spots. Despite the distance, she still knows Pernille's body like the back of her hand. She knows how to get Pernille to whine and clench around her strap.

One of Pernille's hands clamps around Magda's neck, pulling her closer so they can kiss. It's wet and sloppy, all tongue and no finesse, months of pent up tension finally coming to a head.

"Magda!" Pernille whines again, her legs going to grip Magda's waist, pulling her ever closer.

"Are you close?" Magda asks, nibbling at Pernille's pulse point and punctuating each word with a hard thrust. "I'm close. If you want to cum, you have to do it soon."

"Don't tease." Pernille grasps at Magda's hair, tugging her back down to kiss. "Or you'll be on your back again."

The idea is appealing. One of her favourite images is Pernille riding her, pinning her down with a hand on the chest.

"Do you want that, Magda?" Pernille nips at her pulse point, her tongue languishing over the red mark. "Do you want me to ride you? If I do, then it might be you who doesn't get to cum."

Pernille's words are teasing but Magda knows they hold a grain of truth.

Pernille's ruthless when she's riding, intent on nothing but her own pleasure and she always looks so beautiful doing it that Magda can do nothing but watch in awe.

"Well, Magda?" Pernille taunts, her hips rolling," Should I ride you?"

Magda's so tempted to agree but she just redoubles her efforts, her hands moving to grasp Pernille's hips so she has enough purchase to properly thrust.

"Oh?" Pernille says, voice low as she bites at Magda's neck again," So you are capable of making us both cum?" She grinds down on Magda's strap. "Get to it."

Magda moans, loudly and she picks up her pace causing Pernille to throw her head back in pleasure.

They're both so lost in each other that neither notices the door being pushed open and you slip inside. You're still half-asleep, rubbing at your eyes with your hair sticking up in odd directions.

You yawn as you waddle towards them.

You tilt your head to the side. Momma is on her back on the bed, her wrists pinned over her head by one of Morsa's big hands. Morsa is sitting on top of her, frantically moving her bottom half and causing Momma's body to jolt.

"Morsa, Momma," You say, still sleep-addled and tired," Why're you naked wrestling?"

Morsa lets out a long string of Swedish that you know you're not allowed to repeat. She rolls off of Momma and off the other side of the bed, frantically tearing at something on her waist.

Momma's clutched the blankets to her chest and has caught you by the arm to stop you from investigating what Morsa's doing.

"Princesse." Momma's words are panted out and breathless. "What're you doing here?"

"There's a monster in my wardrobe," You reply dutifully though you stand on your tiptoes to see if you can peer over the bed to find out what Morsa's doing," It's going to eat me."

Morsa pops up from the other side of bed, buttoning up her sleep shirt and hurrying around to grab your hand. "Well, why don't we head on back to your room and I'll scare it away?"

You give her a look. "Momma says monsters go away on their own," You tell her," It'll eat us if we go back. I sleep here tonight."

Momma and Morsa exchange looks and Momma clears her throat.

She's still holding the blankets to her chest as she reaches out to you, one hand coming to cradle your cheek. "Princesse," She says softly," England monsters are different to German monsters. Why don't you let Morsa scare it away and tuck you back into bed?"

You stamp your foot. "Can't go back just in case!"

Morsa sighs. "Listen, princesse," She crouches down in front of you. "Sometimes, the monsters disappear as soon as your eyes close. I have a feeling that's what'll happen today. So, why don't we get you all snuggly in bed?"

You nod, allowing her to take your hand before you say," In the Big Bed."

"Princesse," Morsa tries again as Momma begins to pull her pyjamas on," We're a bit busy in the Big Bed at the moment. Momma and I-"

"Naked wrestling," You answer," You shouldn't wrestle. It's mean."

"Princesse-"

You pull away from her and tug yourself up onto the Big Bed, crawling over to your usual spot in the very middle before flopping your head down onto Momma's head.

"Night-night."

"Hey, wait a second-"

"Magda," Pernille says softly," She's already out."

"Do you want me to put her to bed?" Magda offers even though she's already climbing back into bed again and tucking you in nice and tight.

"I think the mood's ruined," Pernille laughs, smoothing down your hair," We better just leave her here."

Magda jokingly sighs like she's being inconvenienced. "Well, if we must."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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maxwell-grant · 10 months

Note

So is Worm good from what you have read

"Yes" doesn't begin to cover it but yes. Worm is a brain-rewiring mobius strip disguised as a bible disguised as a superhero web serial that either cured your cancer or shot your dog or both depending on who you ask, and it has many extremely dedicated, brilliant scholar priest surgeons publicly dissecting it on this platform on the regular to the point I don't think I have much to add to the conversations surrounding it, even if I do have some The Thoughts about it. I had never even really seriously thought about superhero prose before and Worm isn't a thing I go back and reread frequently but it did a complete and total 180 on the way I think about superheroes and even fiction, and I've never stopped thinking about it since I've read it.

It is a monumentally impressive story with completely absolutely incredible characters that I cannot stop thinking about. No matter where it was going, even past stretches that were less interesting or more of a slog to read or worse, I could not put the story of Taylor Hebert down for one minute. Tattletale fascinated me every step of the way, I had to keep up with her. Rachel Lindt was a character I feel like I'd been waiting my whole life for. What was I gonna do, not see them through? I feel like Worm easily loses you if you don't particularly connect with the characters enough to justify to yourself the amount of time you'll spend with them, but man, I could not unglue my eyeballs from these people enough (I love all the core Undersiders, to be clear, I'd say it's Rachel > Taylor > Tattletale > Aisha and Alec and Brian, there are very small gaps between these, I just don't go berserk for the last three like I do for the first three, I'm taking Bitch and Skitter to the grave I'm dead serious)

Worm irreparably destroys your ability to engage with superhero fiction the same way ever again, as evidenced by the fact that it destroyed the author's own ability to engage with his own superhero fiction ever again. And everybody who read it has one or several gripes with it with some major dealbreakers in the mix. Tumblr's kinda the only place online where you can really talk about them at length without the spectre of John Wildbow hanging over the discussion, which enables discussion to the point where yes, maybe it does look like to outsiders that nobody can agree on whether Worm is good or what is it even about or whether it even has worms in it (it has at least one, although it's a very big one).

And it is good, it has the Undersiders in it and the Undersiders are one of the greatest groups of characters ever put together, but everyone has at least one major point of contention with Worm whether it's the timeskip or the length or the racism or the gross fatphobia or aspects surrounding the Dallon-Pelham Torment Nexus and etc. I'd say it has maybe the most racist vision of Latin America I've ever seen in a superhero text a hair short of pro-colonial tracts in Golden Age comics and that is a tall fucking order by any metric (part of why I started WEON4 as a project was motivated by spite, to try and make my own stories about non-American superheroes even if just as practice). It is Complicated, and that winds up making it so fascinating to talk about.

Worm has self-sustaining ecological systems of posts up here, far away from the Spacebattles and Reddit battlegrounds where it has different ones and that's not getting into Weaverdice or the sequel or Wildbow's larger body of work, which I haven't gotten to and probably will not any time soon because Worm was enough of a commitment as is. Do I recommend Worm to everyone? It is certainly not to everyone's tastes and I personally find it difficult to describe it simply enough to make it sound appealing or not like a pyramid scheme. But yes I do think it's good, in fact great, in fact, amazing, except when it isn't, and except it Plainly Sucks, but then something like Taylor vs Mannequin or Kevin Norton's interlude or "You needed worthy opponents" happens and it fucks harder than anything has ever fucked before and you don't walk away from it the same, so yes I guess "good" will have to do now.

It's certainly a lot but I definitely found it worth my time to read and then read the texts written about it here. You'll have to take my endorsement of Worm as proof of it's quality and proof of how deranged it makes it's readerbase, they're not mutually exclusive. If you can make it, Worm and the wormosphere has layers and layers to wade through and talk about and enjoy, despite how we're all so very small in the end *gunshot*.

#replies tag #worm #worm spoilers #wormblr #wildbow #superheroes #web serial

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ihave-atummyache · 8 months

Text

pleasure doesn’t exist without pain

OT8 Imagine

summary: the boys find out a secret about reader that they weren’t expecting.

NSFW (asf)

9.2k ish words

this was the request i just made a post abt (:

in’s was super indulgent and based off this very specific clip from his live bc it had my eye twitching and i almost burst into tears!

https://x.com/afterglowhjs/status/1751074353603653860?s=46&t=pAqDLKEEBzfhkcnjJvRafQ

Bang Chan:

Sex between you and Chan is so soft, so loving, so tender, so perfect. He always makes sure you cum, sometimes (most times), more than once. He gives you the most amazing head of your life and then proceeds to fuck you until you're cumming every time.

But if its so perfect why do you want to ask him to be rougher? Why do you want him to make you cry? Why do you want him to absolutely break you?

These questions have been buzzing around your head for the past few weeks and you feel slightly guilty. Your perfect and amazing boyfriend wouldn't dream of hurting you in anyway and you know this. That being said, it’s also what makes it more appealing. You feel safe with him and know that he would never do something to intentionally hurt you unless you want him to.

You tried to make his animalistic side come out on its own. You thought your best bet was to try to provoke him. You thought if you were able to piss him off that he would fuck you into the mattress, using you like some kind of sex toy but you weren't so lucky.

Your boyfriend is too perfect, too sweet. He is an angel and if he feels even the slightest bit of animosity or frustration towards you, he quickly voices how he feels and forces you to work it out. Then, without fail, he proceeds to make love to you.

But you don't always want to make love. Sometimes you just want to be fucked like a slut and tossed around. Chan definitely has the capability but he doesn't put those perfect muscles to use in the bedroom.

"Chris?" You yell out from the bedroom. You're dressed in one of his t-shirts and his favorite pair of underwear. It was just a light pink thong with lace and flower petals but you’ve always noticed how he especially admires this pair. Even when you're doing laundry, if you have this pair of panties in your hand, he stops what he's doing to watch you fold them.

"Yes?" He calls back to you and you sit back against the headboard, letting one of your legs fall of the edge of the bed, exposing your cunt to him for when he walks into the room.

"Come here," You call back and you hear him get up instantly, and then footsteps making their way towards you. You bite down on your lip when he pushes the door open. His eyes immediately drop to between your legs before they dart back up to your own eyes.

"Y-yes?"

"Are you busy?" you prompt, your hand absentmindedly twirling your hair. He gulps from his place at the door and takes a few steps before he's kneeling on the bed, his body between your legs.

"Not anymore," he replies and leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. You immediately push your tongue into his mouth and he groans against you, leaning forward and pressing his thigh against your core. A shaky breath leaves your mouth at the contact and he takes advantage of the opportunity and quickly switches to being dominant in the kiss.

His hand trails to between your legs and presses against your soaked cunt. You mindlessly grind against his hand, desperate for something to alleviate the pressure of your desperation.

"I love these on you," he speaks against your lips before he does something unexpected. His teeth catch your bottom lip and he pulls lightly. You instantly whimper and grind down into his hand more at the slight sting. It isn't nearly as much as you want but it's definitely a start.

"I love when you get all needy like this, baby. My sweet girl," his voice is gravelly, accent thick and his fingers dip into your core to find you already soaking wet and stretched out. He pulls back and raises his eyebrows at you.

"Oh?" he prompts and you look away, bashfully.

"Was thinking about you but I didn't want to interrupt you so I tried to do it myself but it wasn't good enough," you confess to having just played with yourself moments before he walked into the door and he chuckles.

"I'm never too busy for you, sweet girl," he pops his fingers into his mouth and sucks your essence from them before grabbing your panties and dragging them down your thighs. He wastes no time and immediately plunges into your warm cunt. He feels instantly intoxicated by you and starts fucking into you, dropping to his elbows on either side of your head.

"H-harder," you whimper out and his breath fans across your face while he studies your expression.

"Harder? If I go any harder then I'll hurt you," he replies and you shake your head at his excuse, finally reaching your breaking point.

"That's what I want. Hurt me. Use me. Treat me like a sex toy, Channie. I'm all yours," you confess and he halts for a moment, studying your expression and you just put on your best puppy dog eyes, trying to convince him.

"What if you can't walk tomorrow?" he asks, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Even better," you reply and thats all it takes. Chan leans back on his heels and presses into you as deep as he can before pulling out, just leaving the tip in and slamming into you again. You scream out at the feeling and he does something even more unexpected.

He places his hand over your mouth then uses his pointer finger and thumb to close your nose, making you actually not be able to breathe. He does it so perfectly, like something he's done before and the lack of oxygen makes a thought suddenly dawn on you.

Has he had this side of him hidden inside of him this entire time but he didn't want to hurt you?

And you were right on the money. Your boyfriend views you as precious china, an antique doll that he doesn't want to break. Instead, he tried to keep his dominant, rough side hidden to avoid hurting you.

Your eyes start to roll back into your head and Chan moves his hand, making you gasp for air.

"If you're just a desperate pain slut, then I can treat you like one. Is that what you want? You want to be daddy's good little slut?" he asks and you moan, clenching around him. He has never refered to himself in such a manner and the complete 180 from your usual angelic and sweet boyfriend has your head reeling.

"Y-yes, daddy. I'll be a good girl for you," you promise and he pulls out before grabbing your hips and flipping you to your stomach, not even giving you time to scramble to your knees. He pushes back into you and wraps an arm under your hips. His other hand finds the back of your neck and he pushes your upper body into the mattress before drilling into you. The position has you flat on your stomach besides his arm beneath your hips and you’re completely and your boyfriend’s mercy, pinned to the bed below him.

"Who's making you feel this good, baby?" he suddenly groans out and you feel your arousal dripping onto the bed. His hand makes contact with your ass and you jolt at the contact before clenching around him again.

"Don't tell me I already fucked you dumb? I'm just getting started, sweet girl,"

Lee Know:

"You're the worst," you grumble out and cross your arms over your chest, making your best friend laugh at you again.

"It's not my fault you suck at everything," Minho teases and you gasp in fake shock and gently slap his arm. You sit down in a chair that had been set up next to the fire pit, your back to your failed attempt at pitching a tent and your best friend.

"I don't suck at everything. How was I just supposed to know how to pitch a tent?!" You grumble and let yourself slouch down in the seat, resting the back of your head on the back of the seat.

"I thought it was common sense. It isn't that hard, princess," he teases you and you roll your eyes at him, "Weren't you a girl scout or something?" he adds on and you let out a chuckle.

"I was a girl scout for one year and the only thing I remember doing is selling cookies. We did not do what boy scouts did at all," you joke and he laughs.

"I can light a fire though," you add on and a smile graces Minho's face. The sun was beginning to set and the way the orange hues from the sky were hitting his face and chocolate eyes was enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

He really is so incredibly good looking. You can't help having some reservation with pursuing anything since you are best friends and he's never done anything to imply that he is as into you as you are into him.

"Looks like you have a new task now, princess," he nods his head towards the fire pit in front of you and you walk over to grab a piece of fire wood. You ruffle Minho's hair, knocking him off balance and making him fall over into the dirt.

"Hey!" He complains and grabs at you but you're quick to dodge his hands.

"Stop calling me that, then," you give a sarcastic smile and he narrows his eyes at you before you turn your back to him and grab two pieces of the fire logs and making your way back over to the fire pit.

You place the logs down into the dirt and grab a fire starter block and a lighter before setting it on fire and leaning forward to put it on the fire. Your hair falls from behind your shoulder but Minho's hand quickly grabs it, making a makeshift ponytail at the back of your head.

You jump slightly at his touch, not realizing that he had made his way over to you.

"Shit! You scared me," you exclaim and turn your attention back to the fire to avoid Minho's gaze on you.

"Does this even count as knowing how to start a fire? You just used a lighter," he raises an eyebrow to you and you shrug.

"Tomayto, tomato. The fire is started, isn't it?" You ask and face him again and he chuckles, his hand still tangled into your hair.

"Yeah and yet you still somehow almost managed to set yourself on fire. If I wasn't here, who would take care of you, princess?" he teases and you scrunch your nose up for a second before turning and blowing on the fire a few times to try to make the flame larger.

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here in the first place. And stop calling me princess. I know what I'm doing!" you try to defend yourself and Minho's grip in your hair tightens, pulling you back to look him in his eyes.

It would have been a relatively innocent action if it weren't for the groan that escaped your throat the instant he pulled your hair slightly. Before you can even process the noise that just left your mouth, your eyes are locked on his. He wears a look of pure surprise on his face and your eyes grow wide as a blush makes its way up your neck.

"I um. I- uh. I just-"

"Did you like that?" Minho's question intterupts your poor attempt of trying to come up with an excuse for your reaction to him pulling your hair. You stare blankly at him as his face drops to an almost stoic one, void of much emotion.

"Answer me, princess," the words leave his mouth as his grip in your hair tightens. The nickname seems to have gained a new meaning and your bottom lip makes it way between your teeth as you fight to keep your eyes open.

"Y-yes," you stutter out and a tiny smirk makes its way to his face before he raises a perfect eyebrow at you. He shakes his head, tsk'ing at you, a fake pout on his lips.

"What a shame. Who would've known that someone with such an innocent face had such a dirty side. Turns out you're a little pain slut. Is that right, princess?" he instigates you and your jaw goes slack at the tension that has suddenly fallen between the two of you. You let your eyes drop, focusing on the hem of his sweat shirt instead.

His hand wraps tighter into your hair and he pulls, forcing you to turn your head up and lock eyes with him once again. He's still standing over you while you sit on your knees. Warmth from the fire begins to cover the side of your face mixing with your blush and making you even hotter.

"I told you to answer me when I talk to you. Is it that hard of a concept to comprehend?" His tone has suddenly changed and you quickly shake your head to which he tightens his grip in your hair more, making tears spring to your eyes.

"Use your words." This sentence comes out like a command more than a suggestion and you can't help but to immediately obey him. Something about him just makes it impossible to not submit to him.

"Yes sir. That's right," you can't help how whiny and pathetic you sound. The position he has you in has you sinking into your subspace quickly.

"Pathetic."

The word bounces around your foggy brain and more tears fill your eyes at the degradation and pain of his grip in your hair before a tear forces its way out and down your cheek. Much to your surprise, Minho leans forward and licks the salty liquid from your cheek.

"You're in luck. You like pain, and I think you look so pretty when you cry. I think this will work out great for the both of us," he whispers out before leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours in a hungry, desperate, and long awaited kiss.

Changbin:

You just had to be at the studio. Changbin just had to get a little too carried away, not even noticing or simply just not caring about his actions towards you.

He had just slapped your ass, completely absentmindedly. Nobody else in the room but you two, thank God, or else anyone else would've been able to read you like a book. You have been harboring the fattest crush on Changbin for the longest time but you're just friends.

You weren't even necessarily closer to Changbin than any of the other boys but you often found yourselves alone together. The first time you ever hung out just the two of you, the crush developed in your chest and you have been down terribly bad ever since.

He pulls the headphones back onto his head and you stay in your spot, leaned over the desk. He was showing you a part of a song that he had been working on for the past thirty minutes and finally made it sound the way he wanted. You told him it sounded good and he said thank you while gently patting your backside.

It would've been an otherwise innocent gesture if A) you didn't have a massive crush on him and had been soaking wet since you got alone with him, B) you didn't notice how big his hand felt against your ass, and C) you weren't the biggest pain slut in the world.

He didn't even hit you hard enough to hurt but the action itself was enough to remind you that he could. It was enough to make you imagine how his hands would feel.

"Binnie?" You speak up and look down at him, his gaze is focused on his screen and his headphones are on his ears but he still senses you looking at him. He quickly pauses the music and pulls the headphones down around his neck.

"You need something?" He asks and you clear your throat before speaking up, trying not to sound as pitiful as you feel.

"Do you have a water bottle?" You ask and he shakes his head and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet.

"No. Here go to the vending machine though. Bring one back," he hands his wallet to you and you take it from him.

"Yes sir," you reply and walk out of the room towards the vending machine. You fail to notice the way Changbin's breath hitches in his throat at the comment.

You get to the vending machine and open his wallet, putting two dollars in and getting the water bottles. When you go to close the wallet, something falls out.

"Shit," you bend down to pick it up and freeze right before your hand grabs the wrapper on the ground. A condom. Not just any condom, you would notice that gold wrapper anywhere. A magnum.

You gulp and grab the condom, stuffing it back into his wallet. You can't stop your brain from going to the worst route it could pick for you in your state and you start imagining Changbin's cock. A magnum? He's big enough for a magnum? The thought alone has you biting down on your lip and letting your mind wander as you make your way back to the studio.

"Here," you speak up. Changbin's back is to his computer now and his headphones are off while he's typing on his phone, facing the couch you have been sitting on for most of the night.

He looks up and hold his hand out as you toss the water bottle to him and then his wallet. He catches both with ease, hot.

You feel your face heat up and quickly open the water bottle, taking a few gulps.

"You okay, pretty? You look a bit flushed," His eyebrows drop and your heart speeds up at the nickname and the question. He always calls you flirty little nicknames, most of the boys do, but right now it was too much for you to disregard or tease about as your face gets even hotter.

"Y-yeah. Just a little bit warm," you confess. You clear your throat again but your eyes stay locked on Changbin's.

"I have a question," he suddenly speaks out and looks down at his phone again, breaking eye contact. You appears to be typing on his phone again.

"Okay," you reply, anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

"Did you like it when I spanked you?" His words catch you off guard and you choke on air, coughing a few times and reaching for your water.

"W-what?" you stutter and take a gulp of your water, soothing the burn in your throat. He puts his phone back down and looks up at you again.

"Lix told me something about you the other day and I was testing a theory," he replies and stands, making his way over to you. He kneels in front of you, pushes your thighs open, resting his hand on either one of your knees.

He reaches forward and rubs a thumb up where your cunt is dripping and you inhale a sharp breath at the contact. He nods in approval before standing back up and leaning over you, making you lean back on the couch. His arms are on either side of your head and you can't stop your gaze from observing his perfect biceps and chest right in your face.

"Look at me," he commands and you immediately obey, turning your face to lock eyes with him.

"You're pretty. I'm never joking when I tell you that or call you pretty. I would love to see you ruined under me," he suddenly speaks and your mouth drops open in shock at his words.

"Then ruin me. I know what Felix told you. It's true. I do want you and yes I used to have a dominant," you confess. You already know what Felix told him since you had just recently confessed this to him when you had been drinking too much.

"What do you like?"

"I like pain. I like to cry," you confess, your voice low as he leans in closer to you. His arms flex as he puts more weight on them and you can't help thinking about how easy it probably is for him to just toss you around like a ragdoll.

His hand trails down your body until he reaches the top of your shorts and he stops. He pulls his hand back slightly before landing a slap to your soaking pussy. A moan leaves your throat and your head falls back against the back of the couch. He hand settles on your thigh, preventing you from letting your legs close.

"You want me to use you, pretty? Use you until your body is spent? Use you until the only thing on your mind is my name?" His lips brush against yours when he speaks and you have to stop yourself from moaning at his words. That's exactly what you want.

You lean forward and bite gently on his plump lower lip, "I want you to use me until we get a noise complaint," you speak up and he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

Hyunjin:

"You want to play a card game?" You suggest to Hyunjin and he nods eagerly. Everyone else had turned in for the night but you and Hyunjin were still having a good time and weren't ready for bed yet.

"Do you have any here or do we have to go to my house?" you joke and he stands and opens a cabinet, where there were many stacks of board games but only a normal deck of cards.

"I have regular cards but that's it," he replies and you stand, grabbing your sweater and slipping it on then grabbing your keys.

"Looks like we're going on a field trip. I have a bottle of wine if you want to help me drink it too," you suggest and Hyunjin smiles, pulling his own hoodie on and you both slip your shoes on before walking out the building and making your way to your house. It was only about a five minute walk so you often would just walk between the two houses.

This is the first time you and Hyunjin have been alone together in a while. Well at least since you accidentally hooked up...

How does one accidentally hook up with someone, you ask? Well, a big group of both your and his friends and the boys' friends went and stayed at the beach in a beach house a few months ago.

Because there was a few more people than there were beds so some of you had to double up in a bed. You were at the store with one of your friends when they made the sleeping arrangements and somehow you ended up getting partnered in the bed with Hyunjin.

You didn't think you were attracted to Hyunjin in that way until you were faced with him at night. Sure, he's a handsome dude and everyone knows it but you didn't realize just how handsome he was until you were laying in a bed with him.

It was the last day of the vacation and you had just settled into bed, scrolling on your phone when Hyunjin came out of the ensuite bathroom, just sweatpants and obviously no underwear. His dick print was basically screaming at you and it took everything in your power to not look.

He had water droplets all over his chest and torso, his hair still dripping from the shower and you just asked him if you could fuck. Straight forward, like you always were and he agreed. He was, of course, a sex god and sent you to another realm.

The part that made it bad was the fact that everyone in the house heard you two banging and constantly brought it up, which kind of drove a wedge between you two. You drifted slightly apart after that because of your friends' constant teasing and you're hanging out again because everyone has finally decided to let it go.

You punch in your code and walk in, locking the door behind you and tell Hyunjin to go sit down on the couch, which he does. You go to your closet and grab all your card games that you have collected over the years and carry them to the living room before sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. Hyunjin melts off the couch and settles onto the floor across the coffee table from you.

"Which one, Jinnie?" you ask as you start to take all the card games out of the container that they're in. Most of them are drinking games and he mindlessly looks at all of them before you stand.

"Okay, you pick and I'll go get the wine," You suggest and walk out of the room. When you come back with the bottle of wine and two glasses, he had picked some random game and you two started playing.

A while later, the wine glasses are completely forgotten about and you're both just taking turns taking swigs straight from the bottle.

"I wanna play something else," Hyunjin suggests and looks over at the games again. A black and pink box catches his interest and he grabs it, placing it on the table while you finish cleaning up your previous game.

"What's this one?" He inquires and you chuckle as you put the other box back in the container and open the new one.

"It's like a super raunchy truth or drink," you explain and pull out the first card.

"Have you ever had sex with a friend's partner and not told them?" You ask and Hyunjin's eyes grow wide as he immediately shakes his head.

"I would never!! That's so fucked up!" He exclaims and you burst out laughing at his reaction.

"Okay, okay, Prince Charming. Your turn," you push the box towards him. He wiggles his fingers above the cards before picking one and pulling it out.

"Have you ever had a partner refuse to indulge in one of your kinks?" His brows furrow as he reads the card and you sigh before nodding.

"God, yeah. All the time," you roll your eyes and reach for the wine bottle, wrapping your hands around the neck and bringing it to your lips.

"Really? What was it?" Hyunjin's voice is suddenly extremely curious and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"Um... a few different ones actually. I found out I'm into some really interesting stuff in my years of being sexually active," you joke and put the wine bottle back down and Hyunjin's hand wraps around yours on the neck of the bottle.

"Tell me," he insists and you chuckle again before glancing up at the ceiling.

"Um, the one that most people aren't into is masochism," You reply and his eyebrows furrow again.

"What is that?" He asks, his head tilting cutely to the side.

"I like to be in physical pain, sexually. Sometimes if something hurts me, it'll turn me on. Like I accidentally burned myself the other day and then I had to go get myself off because it turned me on so much. I've always been curious about wax play because heat always turns me on for some reason. Gettting burnt and stuff? Ugh. It just hurts so good," you ramble and the more words that leave your mouth, the harder Hyunjin finds himself getting.

"I'll help you," he suddenly suggests, the wine and few shots from earlier talking for him. You immediately snap your mouth shut and lick your lips.

"Hyunjin..." you start but he shakes his head, stopping you from speaking anymore.

"Hearing you say all that has turned me on so much. I just imagined your face covered in tears and you begging me to stop. I imagined all the marks left on your body afterwards and... I'm so hard right now, y/n. Plus, we've already fucked. We don't have to get past that awkwardness," he suggests and you bite down on your lip again, pressing your thighs together.

"Are you sure?" you ask quietly and he immediately nods, standing from his spot and grabbing the top of your arm, pulling you up with him. You follow along as he guides you to your room. Honestly, he's right. You already trust him and you know he wouldn't hurt you intentionally so why not?

"Hyunjin, we don't have to if you don't want to. I mean it," you try to speak again and Hyunjin turns quickly, placing his hand over your mouth and pushing you against the wall. Your body slams against the wall, making a moan reverberate through your chest.

"Stop talking. For the rest of the night, you will ask for permission before you do anything. Ask permission before you talk, ask permission before you move, ask permission before you cum. Do I make myself clear?" His tone is dripping with authority and his eyes are dark, in a way that you have never seen them.

"Crystal," you reply when he moves his hand and he gently strokes the top of your head.

"Good girl," then his lips are on yours.

Han:

"I mean he's so perfect. Like everything about him is perfect. I mean it!" you insist on video call with your friend while you put on makeup. You had came over to Han's for a date and decided to do your makeup here instead. He left the room a while ago to go work on some stuff with one of his roommates in their room so you called your friend to keep you company.

"How the penis-ing?" she asks and you burst out laughing, letting your head fall back.

"Penis-ing? The sex is so good. He's so gentle and it feels like it's like... all about me y'know? It's...nice," you bite down on your lip. Your best friend can read you like a book and she also knows all your deepest, darkest, kinkiest secrets so she already knows what you're thinking before you can say it.

"Not rough enough?" she asks, her voice going a bit quieter and you let out a sigh before leaning back in to finish your eyeliner.

"Talk to him maybe? He is so sweet. Maybe he doesn't want to hurt you, y'know? You said it's all about you so that's nice," she tries to give you advice and you look down at her again.

"Don't get me wrong! I do love it! But sometimes like... I just want to get used like a sex toy, y'know. He's so like muscle-y and he is like genuinely scarily strong. I know he could just toss me around if he really wanted to. Do you know what I'm saying?" you squint at her and she gags at the comment.

"The thought of you having sex genuinely grosses me out, I hope you know that," she replies and you roll your eyes at her before continuing your thoughts.

"How do I even bring that up? 'Hey, Hannie. I love how you have sex with me but I was wondering if maybe you could use your pretty hands and slap me around a little bit? Can you use your big muscles to throw me around? Oh and make sure to leave marks that don't go away for weeks! That's my favorite!' like I sound like a perv," you groan and she laughs, obviously amused at your predicament.

"Honestly, fuck it. Yeah say it just like that. He knows you're an idiot already so that won't surprise him," she shrugs and you flip her off and then there's a knock at the door before Jisung enters.

"Hi, jagi," his voice is soft when he enters and you grab your phone, turning your best friend to face your boyfriend.

"Hi, Jisung! I have a question. Can you fuck y/n like a sl-"

"OKAY! BYE LOVE YOU!" You yell out, quickly and hang up the call.

"What did she say?" Jisung asks with a chuckle and sits behind you on the floor, resting his head on your shoulder and looking at you through the mirror.

"N-nothing," you feel the blush rise up your neck and it doesn't help when he presses a kiss to the reddening skin.

“You’re so pretty,” his voice is muffled as he nuzzles his head into the side of your neck, making you giggle, his breath and eyelashes tickling your skin.

“You’re prettier,” you reply, almost like a reflex. You genuinely believe that he is the prettiest person in the world, even when he doesn’t think he is.

“You love me so bad,” he replies and rests his chin on your shoulder to look at you through the mirror again. You let out a sigh and nod.

“Unfortunately, that is true. But you love me worse,” you raise an eyebrow at him and he rolls his eyes at you and wraps his arms around you waist. Your eyes dart down to his hands that are playing with your shirt absentmindedly. Those same pretty hands that you want to slap you and choke you.

“You really think my hands are pretty?” He asks and you nod before you freeze. How did he know you thought his hands were pretty? Did you just speak out loud?

“Did I say what I was thinking out loud just now?” You suddenly ask and your eyebrows drop to a furrow and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“It’s nice to know you think about my hands that much, though,” he winks at you through the mirror and you roll your eyes. You put your lip gloss on before leaning back into your boyfriend, resting the back of your head against his chest and looking at the two of you in the mirror.

You quickly pull out your phone, snapping a picture of the two of you in the mirror before tossing it onto the floor again.

“You love the way I have sex with you but you want me to use my pretty hands to slap you around a little bit? You want me to use my muscles to toss you around and you want me to leave marks every where that don’t go away for weeks. Is that right?” He asks, completely nonchalantly but your eyes grow wider with every statement he adds onto his sentence.

“Y-you- I- I- um,” you start to stutter out and a mischievous smirk covers his face. You start to sit up but his grip around your waist tightens, keeping you in place. The way he so easily overpowers you really puts into perspective just how strong he actually is. Just how much stronger he is than you.

“You could’ve told me that, my love. I will fulfill every single one of your wishes until the day I die,” he speaks into your ear, his eyes still locked with yours in the mirror. His hands move to the top of you shorts and hook into them before pushing them down your thighs and letting you take them off the rest of the way by yourself.

He places his hands on either one of your knees and pushes them open, exposing yourself to not only him, but to you as well. You get a clear view of your dripping pussy in the mirror in front of you. He gently drags his nails up and down your thigh and you let out a shaky breath every time he gets closer to your core. You can see your cunt clenching around nothing, desperate for his touch and you quickly turn your head, looking away in embarrassment.

“I didn’t tell you to look away,” Jisung grabs your chin and turns your head harshly to look at yourself in the mirror. He finally lets his other hand inch down and he dips one finger into your begging pussy, making your eyes fall shut.

A sharp sting and slapping noise make you snap your eyes open.

“I don’t like to repeat myself,” his gaze locks with yours and you look at yourself, a red mark already forming on your cheek before your eyes make their way back to your dripping cunt wrapped around your boyfriend’s finger.

“Clenching around me so hard when I hurt you. Such a good an obedient pussy. Too bad it’s attached to such a disobedient girl,” he bites on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and you let out a groan as he sinks another finger into you.

Felix:

“I mean it’s common for a lot of women to not cum with men. I mean most men don’t really know what they’re doing and they’re just trying to get a quick nut, y’know?” you explain and stir the pot, your back to Felix.

“Really? If the girl isn’t cumming, then what’s the point of even having sex? That’s so selfish of the man,” he replies and you chuckle.

“So you’re telling me that every girl you have ever slept with has came?” you inquire and look over your shoulder at your friend, scrolling on his phone while he waits on you to be done with dinner.

“As far as I know. I know its easy for girls to fake it though. I like to think I’m pretty talented. I have a great tongue,” he teases and you chuckle and turn your attention back to the pot in front of you.

He gives good head? God, what you wouldn’t give to experience that first hand… the thought of Felix touching you in any kind of sexual way has you dripping into your panties beyond belief.

“It’s more fun if everyone cums. Oh! That was good. I should put that in a song,” he trails off and you chuckle at the statement.

“I think Chan would be highly against that as a lyric,” you counter and reach across the stove, turning the top to simmer and grabbing two bowls to prepare the meal for you and Felix.

You grab the two filled bowls and sit across the table from him. He pours you a glass of juice before digging into the meal in front of him.

“So why do girls even have sex with men? I mean if it’s usually disappointing, then what’s the point?” He suddenly speaks up and you furrow your eyebrows for a second before shrugging and shaking your head.

“Honestly, I’m not even sure. I mean I do it, too. I think it’s kind of like that thought of ‘maybe finally he’ll know what he’s doing’ but in the end, it’s usually disappointing. Most men don’t even know where the clit is and if they do, they don’t really know what to do with it,” you explain and Felix let’s out a little sound of acknowledgment, nodding as he continues to eat.

“Has a man ever made you cum?” He suddenly asks and you shake your head, deciding to be honest with him.

“No. I mean, I have came during sex before but it was like… my job to get myself there. Does that make sense?” you ask, tilting your head to the side, which Felix can’t help but thinking is quite cute, despite the conversation.

“Like you had to touch yourself?” he asks and you nod, taking another bite.

“Thats pitiful. I would have been so embarrassed if I was him. Having to watch a girl get herself off when I’m literally right there?” He makes a disgusted face, like he was genuinely disgusted by the idea of you having to get yourself off while having sex with someone else.

“It is what it is. He used to-” you cut yourself off when you realize what you were about to say, a bit embarrassed that you were getting so comfortable around Felix.

“No. Now you have to tell me,” a smile makes its way to his face and you can’t help but mirror it before looking down at your bowl to avoid eye contact.

“He used to… fulfill one of my kinks so I let him stick around for a while. It was kind of like the lesser of two evils I guess?” you end the sentence in a question and look back up to Felix, his eyebrows raised at you.

“Can I know what the kink is? If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to,” you can tell he is genuinely curious but also doesn’t want to overstep.

“As long as you promise not judge me after you know,” you point your fork at him and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“Swear I won’t. I’m into weird shit,” he insists and you chuckle at him trying to make you more comfortable to tell him.

“Okay, if I tell you one of mine, you have to tell me one of yours. Deal?” you propose and he nods again. You sit your fork down and smirk a little at the memory of your ex who used to slap your pussy so well.

“I have a bit of a pain kink. He was able to give me that without it being weird. And the aftercare was so good, but he just never made me cum…” you place your chin in your hand and let your eyes wander around the room.

“I have a kink that goes hand in hand with that. I guess it’s dacryphilia? I like when my partner cries or gets teary eyed,” he says and you look over at him, his eyes already on you.

“It would appear we may be sexually compatible, y/n,” he jokes and you chuckle but you can’t help wondering again… what would his hands and tongue feel like all over you.

“Are you imagining us having sex right now? Or is it just me?” Felix’s voice pulls you from your thoughts and you tongue runs across your teeth as you nod in agreement.

“You’re not the only one,” you reply and he chuckles, leaning back in his chair to look at you better.

“I have an idea,” he suddenly speaks up, his voice impossibly deeper than before. You raise your eyebrows, prompting him to continue, as you lean on the table, folding your hands together.

“How about I make you cum so many times that you can’t think straight? So many times that it starts to hurt. So many times that you can’t tell if you’re begging me to keep going or begging me to stop?” He asks and leans forward onto the table as well, studying your expression.

“You really think you can make me cum? I won’t fake it,” you instigate and a smiles covers his face.

“Oh, I know I can, angel,” he insists, a cocky smirk on his face.

Seungmin:

You push your hips harder against Seungmin's bulge and he lets out a shaky breath, pulling one of the headphones off of his head.

"Y/n," he warns you and you freeze at his tone, "Stop it now," he concludes before pulling the headphone back over his ear. You let out a frustrated sigh and let your legs spread slightly further, pressing your core against his bulge and letting the pressure try to bring some sort of release.

Since you had originally straddled Seungmin a few minutes ago, you regretted the decision. He looks so good when he's focused and hearing the curses leave his mouth every once in a while had you throbbing. You could easily pull his cock out and ride him into the sunset right now... but you were trying your best to behave.

"Y/n is there? Tell her I said hey!" You hear Felix's voice through the headset and you chuckle. Seungmin shakes his head grumbles something about you being annoying, earning a gently slap from you.

"You two need to go ahead and get married. Your tension is crazy," You hear Han's voice and you feel yourself blush at the comment, if only they knew the truth.

You and Seungmin's relationship had escalated past the point of no return a while ago. You two have always had an undeniable tension and would often bicker but a few weeks ago, in the middle of one of your usual disagreements, Seungmin had kissed you and then proceeded to fuck you against the back of the couch in the living room.

You hear him chuckle at Han's comment but he doesn't respond. You grind against him again and you finally feel yourself winning when his hips subconsciously buck up into yours. He still doesn't take his eyes off the screen and continues to click away on the mouse.

"What did I say?" His tone is thick with annoyance and dominance and it makes you subconsciously sink into a slight subspace.

"Huh? You talking to us?" You hear Han's voice through the headset.

"No. I'm talking to y/n. She's being a fucking brat," He says it so nonchalantly before finally muting his mic and taking the headset off. He places it on the desk behind you and looks up at you for a moment.

The only light on in his room is from the monitor behind you. It casts a glow around your head, almost like an angel. He would've called you an angel had it not been for your constant and desperate rutting against him while he was playing the game. He turns his focus back to his game over your shoulder and continues to click before he speaks again.

"I told you to let me play one game and you're too desperate to even let me do that? You need cock that bad, sweetheart?" his tone is condescending and it shoots straight to your core, making you whimper.

"This isn't fair. You're turning me on on purpose, Min!" you whine and he chuckles. He knows how easily you react to his words and how wet you get when he degrades you or talks down on you.

"It isn't my fault that you're such a slut. I'm sitting here being mean to you and you're humping me like a bitch in heat," he replies, his eyes still not leaving the screen behind you. You moan again, feeling tears of frustration prick at the back of your eyes.

"Please? Just put it in, Minnie? I'll be good. I promise," your frustration bubbles over and you find yourself, begging for his cock, desperate for his touch.

"I'm supposed to believe that when you've been nothing but bad for the past hour? Behave before you get yourself in trouble," he demands, but you don't listen, instead rutting against him again. He lets out a deep groan and then a humorless laugh.

"Fine. You want cock that bad?" He asks and sits back in his chair to look at you. The way you were straddling his thighs and you only having on a t-shirt and underwear was enough for him to finally give in and let you get what you want.

You nod vigorously as a smirk covers his face he lifts his hips, forcing you to put your weight on your own knees and pulls his sweats down enough to free his painfully hard cock, already leaking with pre cum from your insistent teasing and grinding.

He grabs your hips and positions you above his cock and slides your drenched panties to the side before pulling you down in one motion, giving you no time to adjust before he starts to thrust up into you at a brutal pace.

You let out a scream as he begins to ravage you, the stretch feeling so good and so painful at the same time. Seungmin isn't small by any means and between the burn of your unprepared pussy and the tip of his cock bruising your cervix, tears were already steaming down your cheeks.

He wraps a hand around your hair, pulling your head back and exposing your neck to him. He leans forwards and bites down on your neck, making another moan leave your mouth. He chuckles against your skin and whispers out 'I knew it' before releasing your hair and grabbing both of your hips, forcing you down until your clit is flush against his pelvis and his cock is pushing into your cervix.

"This was meant to be a punishment for acting like a brat but I think you like this a little too much. Does this hurt?" He asks and experimentally thrusts up into you, pushing against your cervix again and makes your whole body jump as you let out a yelp.

"Y-yes," you cry out and he pulls you off of him slightly to give you a relief. His nails dig into your hips and you grind your hips, his cock exploring your insides for a moment and making your legs shake.

"Then why are you clenching around me and moaning like some horny slut? You really are just my pretty little whore aren't you?" He asks and suddenly stands, laying you back against the desk beside his monitor and wraps a hand around your throat before he's fucking into you again.

His hand makes it's way to your ass that's hanging off the edge of the desk and he smacks, sure to leave a mark in the morning.

"You're my favorite hole to use," those were the last words that you hear leave his mouth before your ears are ringing and you feel yourself scream out, cumming around Seungmin. However, his brutal pace doesn't pause for even a moment, forcing you to ride out your high and get sent into painful overstimulation.

"You like it to hurt, don't you, baby? I'll keep fucking you until you're crying and begging me to stop," he speaks through gritted teeth as he continues to use you on top his computer desk.

I.N:

You and Jeongin are sitting on the couch, your legs tossed over his lap and some random show playing. Honestly, you couldn't tell a single thing that was going on in the show.

You can't peel your eyes away from Jeongin's hand as he mindless plays with your fingers. His other hand is scrolling through some social media on his phone and he hasn't noticed your fixation.

He has such pretty hands. And he leaves them so nicely decorated with rings and bracelets. He'll even sometimes wear nail polish and has no problem letting you paint his nails if you're bored which just heightens the obsession that you have found with your boyfriend's hands.

You imagine them wrapped around your throat, choking you until you see stars and being able to see the imprint of his hand around your neck the next day. You imagine him forcing his fingers down your throat, making you gag and soaking them before he plunges them into your waiting pussy. You imagine him leaving handprints all over your ass and thighs that last for days from him grabbing you and hitting you.

You get lost in your thoughts and Jeongin noticed a few minutes ago that you had zoned out, which he didn't think anything of. It wasn't until you subtly rub your thighs together when he realizes you were probably not having the most pure thoughts.

"Babe?" His voice breaks you from your thoughts, making you jump slightly and a blush rises up your neck. He knows he's caught you red handed by your subconscious reaction.

"Sorry. I zoned out," You smile at him and he locks his phone, placing it on the table in front of him. He leans back and rests his head on the back of the couch, his gaze remaining on you, now looking at the show playing.

"What were you thinking about?" He suddenly asks and you don't look away from the t.v., although you can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of your face.

"Nothing," you shrug and still don't face him. He reaches towards you grabs your jaw, forcing you to face him. His thumbs rubs gently across your lower lip and you have to suppress a moan at the action.

"You weren't thinking about the things my hands could do to you?" He deadpans and your eyes grow wide. How could he read you so well. A smirk covers his face and he lets out a chuckle, sitting up and letting his hand rest at the base of your neck, he was practically covering your entire collarbone with just one hand.

"You didn't even notice how you were rubbing your legs together on my lap, did you?" His fingers start to gently play with the "J" pendant on the necklace thats sitting against your neck. It's a gift he had given you a while ago and you rarely take it off. You don't reply to him, trying your best remain grounded and ignore his touch against your neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Your voice is quiet and his tongue darts out, wetting his lips.

"You're not a very good liar, y/n. What were you thinking about? My hands on your neck? I can feel your heart pounding every time I graze along your pulse..." he trails off, rubbing your neck gently with his fingers before letting his hand wrap around the column of your neck and squeezing.

A shaky breath leaves your throat and he sits up more, pressing his other hand against your chest and feeling your pounding heart.

"Yes," you confess, breathlessly and he raises his eyebrows at you. He was getting you into a space now where you would be able to admit or say whatever he wants you to.

"What else, baby?" he prompts you to continue, releasing his grip slightly and instead grabbing the back of your neck and leaning in to press a kiss to your throat. You let your head fall back to give him more access. His other moves down and rests on the outside of your bare thigh, toying with the hem of your shorts.

Suddenly, a light slap to your thigh breaks your concentration from his heavenly lips on your neck and you let out a strangled moan.

"Tell me. Tell me what you were thinking about," he rubs at the spot his hand made contact with. It was just meant to grab your attention but from the thoughts you were just having, it did much more than grab your attention.

"Harder," your voice is breathless and your boyfriend's entire body freezes for a moment. He pulls back and studies your face.

"Harder?" he raises his eyebrows at you and you nod.

"Please? Hit me again. Harder. Please?" Your words are slightly slurred and he lets out a chuckle before pulling back and landing another smack to your outer thigh, a bit harder than before and you let out a groan.

"I was thinking about your handprints all over me. I was thinking about you choking me so hard I start blacking out then I saw myself choking and gagging all over your fingers and crying. It hurts so good..." you babble and he lands another slap to your outer thigh, much harsher.

He lets out a chuckle at your pitiful state and lets his hand gently knead over the reddening flesh. Your eyes are already glossy looking back at him and he has to fight every urge to crawl between your legs and fuck you right here, right now.

"Why didn't you say that, then? I don't mind giving my spoiled slut whatever she wants. You want me to hurt you?" he asks and you immediately nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you.

"I do," you confess, still a bit foggy and he chuckles again, dragging his nails down the outside of your leg and making you whimper in response.

"How could I deny you when you look so cute like this?" He roughly grabs your face and smashes his lips into your own.

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