#but they are so happy to invite the foreigners

[neiptune]

i don't want you like a best friend

cw: 4.2k wc, female reader, soulmate au, friends to lovers, tendo may be the only person in the world without a mark and it's quite hard to convince him that, most times, the universe doesn't know shit

“Holy shit, this is the best thing I ever tasted”.

“Don’t lie”.

“I’m not!”.

Tendo narrows his eyes, unimpressed.

“You said that about the last five bonbons”.

“Listen, the one with port and cinnamon was great n’all but this is a cookie dough brown butter bonbon. I’m blown away. I want to sleep with this one. I want to buy it dinner and then take it to bed”.

That’s when Satori laughs, loud and boisterous as he still allows himself to be around you. It makes you smile, seeing him happy.

“Tell me the secret to crafting these”.

“Again?”, he snorts, “I already explained the process a million times”.

“Wanna hear it again. I like how you talk about it”.

“Okay, weirdo”, there’s fondness and a silent invitation in the way he pushes the little box of his latest experiments towards you.

It’s soothing, comforting, listening to instructions you’re already familiar with. Tendo goes over how important it is to choose flavors that are fun and still be attentive enough to make sure the chocolate stands on its own: flavoring components should never completely ride over it. He skillfully exercises subtlety when coming up with new combinations, always keeps the interior so creamy and smooth the treat ends up melting in a delicious puddle on one’s tongue. The outer layer should never be too thick, chalky or cakey: that’s why he prefers to form most of the chocolates with his hands instead of using a mold.

There’s creativity involved in what he does but there’s also science. It requires a lot of patience, most of his work is made of tedious steps repeated over and over again within specific time limits and a perfectly calculated temperature. It fits him, you believe: Tendo’s always been diligent and persevering, no matter what the world threw at him.

He puts a lot of work in his boxes too, especially the ones he has to ship. They’re all triple-insulated, double-stuffed and always perfectly packed. A cute, colorful thank you card always goes hand in hand with each purchase, if he receives orders for a birthday or a special gift he’d even write a personal note as an addition. As a foreigner, it hasn't been easy to establish himself as a reliable chocolatier in a city like Paris, but he now has a pretty loyal clientele and the shop is basically never empty.

“That one’s my favorite”, Satori’s eyes zero on the bite-sized bonbon you’ve picked from the box.

You hum, appreciating the way the chocolate melts in your mouth. It’s not as good as the previous one but you recognize the artistry with which the flavors fuse with each other, chocolate ganache with clementine and hazelnuts, just a hint of lemon zest.

“They’re all incredible, ‘Tori. You’re very talented”. Tendo smiles.

“Thank you”, he mutters, grateful, “now, can we talk about it?”.

“There’s nothing to talk about”, you dangle your legs from the counter of the little production kitchen in the back of his boutique shop, closed for the day. It’s incredibly tidy, smells of soap and citrus.

“You impulsively booked a flight across the world because of a guy”.

Ouch.

“I flew across the world to visit my best friend”, you scowl, “thought he’d be happy to see me”.

“I’m fucking ecstatic, ma chérie”, it’s probably the happiest he’s been in years, “but we need to talk about it. Tell me what’s on your mind?”.

He can see the bags under your eyes, the usual brightness missing from your smile, playful vibration to your jokes absent. He knows you’re hurting and while he’d be thrilled to keep you in Paris for as long as you wish, Tendo has to know what’s broken before he even attempts to mend it. His gaze falls on a specific portion of skin of your wrist and a sigh slips past his lips.

“He broke up with me”, you articulate slowly, “said we weren’t compatible. Said it’s safer to abandon the delusional ideas that drew us close to each other and do things how they’re supposed to be done. According to the plan”, there’s a grimace on your face that pairs well with how you spit out the last words.

“Did you show him?”.

“No, you know I don’t do that anymore. He didn’t see mine and I never wanted to see his. He agreed to that”.

“Right”.

“And then, I don’t know, he did what everyone always does. Changed his mind”.

Satori sighs. Truthfully, he’s always been a little sad about your mark being permanently covered with thick foundation, concealer or whatever else. It’s been years. He misses seeing the little crooked triangle on your wrist.

“Well, maybe…”, he starts but is soon interrupted by a loud scoff.

“Don’t”.

“But they’re not wrong. The universe has it all layed out for you, maybe it’s time you stop being so stubborn”.

“I don’t care about the universe, Satori. The universe is not going to take away that choice from me, it should belong to me. I don’t want to be destined to someone, I want to be chosen by them”.

He deflates in the plastic chair he’s sitting on. Can’t really argue with that logic.

Ever since middle school, when your mark first appeared, you never wanted to succumb to the whole the cosmos has already decided who the perfect person for me is bullshit. You simply can’t accept giving up the freedom of falling in love with whoever you wish to pursue, regardless of the universe agreeing or not. That’s why you never really cared about matching marks and all that jazz, always dated those who seemed not to care either. But after a number of failed relationships, it became painfully obvious that deep down, everyone always believes marks are the real deal. It’s why you decided you never wanted to see the mark of the next guys you’d date, and certainly didn’t want to show yours anymore. Sometimes it’s even hard to remember it’s still there, underneath stubborn layers of concealer. You hated it your whole life.

“You’re right. It’s your life, you should live it however you see fit”, they’re idiots for giving up on someone like you in the name of a dumb sign or whatever anyway.

“I thought you’d understand this more than anyone, you’ve always hidden your mark too. I don’t even know what it looks like and it’s okay! It’s yours! Shouldn’t belong to anyone else’s prying eyes”, you pick another chocolate truffle from the special box he’s sorted for you. It’s red velvet flavored.

Tendo insisted on calling his shop like that, rouge velours, deaf to the literal translation not being entirely correct. The french need to associate the word gâteau to it, it has to be a red velvet cake. But he didn’t care, adamant in going with just red velvet.

It was a joke you had blurted out at the end of high school, sitting on the curb outside your favorite konbini on the way home, another summer evening made of snacks shared underneath the street lamps. Satori said he wanted to move to France and learn how to make handmade chocolates, open a shop and everything. You suggested it should’ve been called red velvet, would’ve paired well with his hair. It never crossed your mind that he would take your suggestion seriously.

Frankly, Tendo’s not changed much since high school. He’s a little taller, broader in the shoulders, prefers a buzz cut. He’s still cheerful, less loud if you’re not around, enjoys singing made up tunes to himself while he works, occasionally takes part in volleyball games when neighbors or friends from the gym invite him. More than anything, he’s still the kindest, most generous friend one could have.

You used to be a little jealous of Ushijima, never one to accept easily to be downgraded in the best friends ranking system. As a teenager, it was hard to acknowledge that Satori’s heart is simply big enough to fit everyone he cares about in there. Not many people realized how much of an honor that was anyway, so there was plenty of space.

He still calls Ushijima to check up on him and the fact that they declared to be best friends during a television show didn’t leave a sour taste in your mouth as it would’ve back then. Wakatoshi is a nice guy, it definitely grew on you and it now gives you comfort knowing that Satori gets to throw the blanket of his affection over more than one person’s shoulders.

Not a day goes by without missing him, different time zones making it even more complicated to keep up with each other. Yet, he’s always the one willing to stay up late to talk to you, insists that while you work in the morning, he enjoys crafting chocolates in the middle of the night. That hardly matters, since you know he has to wake up early to open the shop.

“Hard to hide something you don’t have”, he grins from where he’s sitting, in front of you. Your dangling legs come to a halt.

“What?”.

“I don’t have a mark”, Satori shrugs, “not a big deal”.

“That’s impossible”.

“You’ve seen me naked”.

“Because you didn’t lock the damn bathroom door!”, your face heats up at the memory belonging to so many years ago. He snickers.

“Well, if I had a mark you’d know!”.

You pause, incredulous.

“Did you check your nails? Maybe it was in your hair and you shaved it off. Everyone has a mark!”.

“I don’t have it”, he knows, he’s checked every inch of his body for too long before giving up, “don’t act so shocked, it makes perfect sense”.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”.

Satori shrugs, a timid smile on his lips.

“I’m damaged goods. I wouldn’t expect to be the right fit for anyone, the universe decided to spare me and a potential unfortunate match the embarrassment”.

To him, it’s perfectly normal that there’s no one right for him out there. Or rather, that he’s not the right person for anyone. Who would want that, anyway? The guy who’s always been too weird to be looked at normally. The guy who always stands out the wrong way. If the universe has decided to be merciful enough to spare him the disappointment flashing over someone’s face upon discovering that he’s their soulmate, the only thing Tendo should feel is gratitude. 

“Don’t say shit like that ever again, Satori. Damaged goods? What the hell? You’re the best person I know!”, you almost throw the chocolate box at his head, “anyone would be lucky to have you as their soulmate. Anyone. I’m certain you’re the perfect match for a lot of people but I find it very hard to believe they’d deserve you anyway”.

You’re his best friend, you’re supposed to say all that. Yet, kept silent by that fiery glare of yours, Tendo can’t help but feel his chest warm up.

He didn’t necessarily have a crush on you in high school, that’s what he told himself anyway. When you started going out with Eita, part of him was relieved you went for someone normal. His teammate fell into the right category: Semi was attractive, had good grades, knew his way around girls. It was a good reminder of what Tendo wanted for you, of what you deserved. He cared deeply about your happiness and would’ve went to impossible lengths to shield you from all the bad there was in the world. That still hasn’t changed. Your best friend was what he was always destined to be and it was more than what he could’ve asked for, anyway.

And so it wouldn’t have been right to fantasize, to admit to himself that for the first time ever since he was a kid, Tendo wished to be the opposite of what he was. He dreamed of a different childhood, school days filled with friends, practice bursting with laughter instead of whispers, not a reason in the world to direct him curious or grossed out stares. He wished he was handsome, charismatic, funny in a way that made girls laugh in sincere amusement instead of discomfort. He wanted so badly to be everything he was not, for you.

When he admitted to himself that he loved you, deeply, ferociously, in a way that would’ve scared off any other human being, high school was over and so was his volleyball dream. Another fantasy coming to an end. Satori announced he wanted to move to Paris, expecting life, distance, a different time zone, your boyfriends, to make the friendship too heavy of a task to keep up with.

And yet, you stayed by his side. Most importantly, you wanted him to stay by yours. Tendo has never been much used to the feeling of being wanted, his presence wasn’t exactly desired by other people throughout his life. But you and Paris both taught him that maybe he does have something to give, something people can be willing to accept. So what if that something isn’t romantic love? He’s already luckier than he ever imagined he would get. He’s going to be okay, as long as you’re his friend. He’ll manage.

“Satori”, you snap him back to reality, “I mean it. Fuck the universe”.

Honestly, the only thing he’s mad at the universe for is making you so deeply unhappy. Tendo’s not sure he can forgive the cosmos for failing you so many times.

“Yeah”, he agrees lightly, “fuck the universe”.

Maybe Tendo had a point when he referred to your little vacation as ‘impulsive’, given that you never really travelled outside of Japan before. Yet, what initially was an easy escape from your disappointing reality and a wonderful excuse to finally visit your best friend, soon turned into a delightful adventure.

You reciprocated Satori’s hospitality by being as useful as possible: you’d keep his place tidy and clean, get groceries, cook dinner. He’d insist on ordering out, would try to snatch the vacuum cleaner from your hand, sometimes Tendo would come home later than usual with his hands filled with groceries just so that you didn’t feel like you needed to refill the fridge. But you liked being there and you loved taking care of him, especially since he vehemently refused to go back to sleeping in his bed and offering you the couch instead.

On his rare free days, Satori gladly gives you a tour of the city and his favorite places. When he’s working, you’d explore Paris on your own, the little map he drew by hand safely nestled in your pocket. Yes, you obviously have a phone, but the map makes each stroll all the more special.

Being with him and feeling genuinely appreciated, in a city so wonderful and far away from home, made you realize that perhaps the universe got it all wrong. Maybe there’s no one out there with a mark similar to yours. Maybe you’re not a match for romantic love in the first place. You’re already lucky enough as it is, with a friend so wonderful you can share lovely dinners with over episodes of silly tv shows, in a tiny apartment filled with affection and laughter. It’s the best you’ve felt in years and the idea of leaving has never felt as dreadful.

But everyone has to get back to their life eventually: there’s your job, bills, rent, you haven’t visited your parents in a while. All these things you’re having a real hard time caring about as Tendo offers another glass of wine, the bottle you’re sharing practically empty resting by his feet.

It’s your last night in Paris and he insisted on cooking for once, a full course dinner paired with an expensive Clos de la Roche. Notes of woods and cherries dance on your tongue when you take another sip and you shut your eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. How did you end up on his bedroom’s floor anyway? Was it him who suggested sitting on the carpet with your backs pressed against his bed? No, you’re almost certain it was you. Satori tries to be less weird as a grown up, by his own admission: he leaves odd suggestions and ideas to other people, too busy trying to fit in now.

You find yourself observing his profile as he torpidly blinks, his own gaze focused on the hands holding his glass. The line of his jaw, the perfect curve of his nose. You think he’s pretty, spiky hair no longer there to tear away one’s attention from his features.

“Did you date a lot, here?”, you ask, genuinely curious. He turns to look at you, amused.

“A lot? When did I ever date a lot?”, Tendo chuckles to himself but you recognize the hurt simmering underneath the humor. It hurts you, too.

“Well, did you date?”, your impatience feels surprising but there’s no time to dwell upon unfamiliar feelings, not as Satori hums with a lethargic nod.

“Yeah, a few times”.

“They didn’t ask about your mark?”.

Tendo’s lips twitch as he remembers how ecstatic the women he went out with were upon finding out that not only his mark didn’t match theirs, he didn’t even have one to begin with. He was the safest option they could ever date, no risk of forever.

“It’s easier to date someone you know you’re not gonna end up with”, he shrugs, “they felt more comfortable, it was fun and momentary, thus risk-free”.

You click your tongue in disapproval and Tendo cocks his head, confused by your scowl.

“They, they, they. I always hated this about you, you’re always focusing on what other people think. I want to know, how did you feel?”.

Maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s the fact that you’re about to become a fugitive presence in his life once more, but for once Satori feels like huffing out his frustration.

“Like shit”, he admits with a sly smile, “I could fall for just about anyone and I’ll always know they’re not my person. I won’t ever have a person and it makes me feel like shit”.

You’re not sure why tears are suddenly pricking the corners of your eyes. Maybe it’s because it’s really hard to remember the last time Satori allowed himself to be vulnerable around you. It always felt like he talked more to Wakatoshi, man to man or whatever. You never felt like you could be fully there for him and now it’s almost too late again, only a few hours before you fly off to the other side of the world.

“I hate them”, you murmur, “it’s just cruel. You’re not supposed to be anyone’s temporary fixing”.

“I’m not ever going to be anything but that”.

“No, Satori-”, in the process of positioning yourself better in order to face him, you kick the not entirely empty glass previously resting by your leg. It’s gonna leave a stain but you’ll find a way to take care of it before you leave, this is more urgent. This requires you taking your friend’s face into your hands, to bring it closer to your determined gaze. “That’s not true. The universe doesn’t know shit, okay? I know you. You don’t need a fucking mark. In fact, you know what? I’m happy you don’t have one. Thank god. I-”, he gently puts his hands over yours and leans over to tenderly kiss your forehead. Your train of thought derails as he fixes you with an amused, fond stare.

“It’s okay. Really”, Tendo lowers your hands and then leaves them cold, head falling to the side, cheek pressed to the orange duvet cover of his bed. You’re pouting, looking more beautiful than ever underneath the dim lights of his room, and so he can’t hold his tongue.

“You know, I find it incredible that you haven’t been able to find your person yet, universe or not. How’s it possible that someone as wonderful as you is being dumped by complete idiots just because they believe in some stupid pre-decided romantic assignation?”.

You mirror his position and rest your head on the softness of his bed. Despite being still on the floor, it almost feels as if you’re lying next to each other.

“They don’t believe I’m wonderful. I guess I’m just momentary, too”.

He scoffs. Deep down, Tendo also believes everyone should be granted the freedom to pursue their desired relationship, especially you. Don’t they know how lucky they are? You ignore destiny to give those dumbasses a chance and they leave before they even get to realize what they’re missing out upon.

“I think marks are bullshit”, Satori gently takes your hand and traces your fingers with his own slowly, eyes still boring into yours, “in a world with no marks, they’d be on their knees thanking their lucky star you showed interest in them at all”.

You hum, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

Before Tendo interrupted your little motivational speech, you were about to tell him why it makes you happy that he doesn’t have a mark after all. Looking at him now, it’s all the more clear. It’s horrible and selfish and childish but, this way, you will never have to go through it: you’ll never have to find out that the one person who’s always been by your side, the one person who knows you better than you know yourself and still manages to love you, also isn’t the one.

Tendo is the greatest person you know, the only one you’d trust with your life. His heart is your favorite part of him: always stayed big enough to fit in all those who asked for access, kindness embedded so deep within him he never let the world’s cruelty affect it. Satori never stored an ounce of that nastiness people loved oh so much throwing at him, it let it become an armor instead. Steel made of insults, cruel jokes, mockery. It breaks your heart that he still wears it. It would break your heart to discover that someone like him isn’t destined to be yours after all, that the universe wouldn’t be benevolent enough to assign the best friend you ever had as your soulmate.

“You don’t mean that”.

You blink, slowly, actually fighting to keep your eyes open.

“What?”.

“What you just said. You’re drunk”, he chuckles quietly and, horrifyingly, you realize your mouth decided to voice those thoughts out loud.

The shock lasts a few seconds. Tendo is no longer fiddling with your fingers but your hand is still in his and the more you look into those crimson irises, the less uncomfortable you feel about what you just said. Is it the wine or is it just right?

“You think I wouldn’t be happy if the universe assigned you as my soulmate?”.

“I think you wouldn’t hate it”, Tendo softly ponders, “but that’d be far from ideal”.

“Hey, you don’t get to decide that. Me and the universe would be agreeing for once”.

Satori swears his heart skips a bit. All those years, all that badly harbored hope, the entirety of his restraint crumbling pathetically after a few drops of expensive wine. You don’t mean that, you can’t mean that.

“You could look at me like that?”, the question is supposed to underline how ridiculous the idea is, but he realizes he just sounds wishful.

“I know you think it’d be hard but it really isn’t”, you laugh softly. You’re looking at him like that right now. As you abstendmindedly play with his fingers, thumb gently rubbing circles on the skin of his wrist, you appreciate the pink dusting his cheeks, the slightly furrowed brows, the sweetness of his questioning gaze.

Tendo exhales slowly. Neither of you is resting their head on his bed anymore, too captivated by each other. “I’m not sure I’d survive the discovery of you of all people, not being the one I’d be destined to stand with for the rest of my life. Because what a waste would be, for that person to be someone else”, it’s nothing but a whisper, raw honesty doing something funny to his stomach as it slips past his lips for the first time. There’s no one but you, honestly. He knows there’ll never be anyone else. The universe has planned love for those around him and an eternal curse for his heart.

“A terrible waste”, you agree and the hand not busy interlacing your fingers with his, suddenly closes around the soft fabric of his hoodie to bring him closer. Satori doesn’t dare move, let alone breathe, effectively paralyzed by the idea of indulging something you’ll regret the second it happens.

Except you don’t. When you kiss him, tentative at first, all the pieces fall right into place. Your lips curl into a small, knowing smile as the world slows down. Then finally, finally, he kisses you back. It’s deeper, a hand pressing to your cheek, it’s corrodingly tender and you feel yourself melting into his touch, into the genuine reverence he holds for you.

Tendo feels something unravel from within, the tangles and knots of hurt, uncertainty, combust and disappear into thin ashes. He’s too lost in the moment, too drunk on how close you’re holding him as your tongue brushes against his own, to pay any attention to the itchy feeling over the skin of his wrist. Right where your thumb is pressing, a crooked triangle appears at last.

[hanjsquokka]

strawberry cake.

kim seungmin × fem!reader — high school! au, childhood friends to potential lovers, fluff

summary — seungmin only needs one present on his birthday, and it isn't the sugary dessert you made for him.

word count — 1.1K

warnings — fluff, fluff, FLUFF!!

author's note — happy seungmin day 🩷 i actually managed to post a fic on a member's birthday, who am i. initially thought of my baseball ksm fic but i know i'm not gonna finish that lol and his instagram posts were very inspiring. i think i watched this happen in some movie or tv show i watched, i don't remember 😭 but i thought it was really cute, lmk what you guys think <3

please consider leaving feedback in the comments or reblogs as they really make my day 💕

Kim Seungmin didn't like celebrating his birthday that much. Sure, he liked receiving a few gifts from his friends and a happy birthday here and there, but he didn't like the blowout parties that you loved. On your birthday, you would plan this whole thing, inviting friends from school and neighbors to celebrate your birthday. You were a social butterfly, so he understood why you did that. You loved being surrounded by people you cherished. Your birthday was just an excuse to call everyone over and spend time with them.

Seungmin, however, liked keeping his celebrations more reserved. His mother greeted him in the morning, making his favorite breakfast to eat and favorite lunch to take to school. His dad handed him some cash to buy something to eat after school, which he usually didn't do and opted to save it for a better cause. His sister offered to take him out for lunch on the weekend. 

Of course, being the wonderful and amazing best friend that you were (your words), you always went out of your way to do something. Like this year, you presented him with a small cake slightly smushed in your lunch box with haphazardly thrown purple sprinkles.

“I made it from scratch,” you added with a big grin as you sat in front of his desk. His friends had left a few moments ago to play on the school grounds. He'd stayed back, finishing up the last of his lunch and letting it settle in his stomach before he ran around playing soccer. A small smile formed on his face; he could never dislike your enthusiasm for his birthday.

“It looks... artistic,” he said in an amused tone, looking up from the lunch box to your face, which was scrunched up in a frown.

“I didn't know the box would be small... And hey, I baked this for you; at least show some appreciation!”

Seungmin laughed. “Sorry, thank you for making this cake for me.” He meant that; he knew that you knew it too, because your shoulders relaxed, and you prompted him to take a bite and tell him how it tasted. There was a little too much sugar for his liking, but he didn't tell you that, instead nodding his head in approval and eating more of it. It was strawberry-flavored, his favorite. It warmed his heart that you always went out of your way to do things the way that he liked.

When he looked back at you, you were tucking a strand of hair back as you ate a spoonful. The longer he looked at you, the faster his heartbeat went, his body feeling hot right up to the tip of his ears. It was a weird feeling, but not foreign. Lately, it had been happening more often. He started seeing you in a different light, something other than a friend—not just any friend, but a childhood friend. He wasn't naive; he knew what crushes were, and he knew he had one on you.

It was a realization he had come across a few months ago when his family and yours went to the carnival over the summer and the two of you had gotten separated. He came home that day, heart tap dancing in his ribcage and a never-ending smile on his face from the way you jumped with excitement after you worked together to win the obviously rigged carnival games and winning a plushie.

Some part of him knew that. You liked him back as well; he hoped his brain wasn't playing tricks on him when he saw the way your eyes lit up after seeing him. The innocent friendship you two shared was morphing into something different—a good different. 

That evening, while the two of you were walking home after the extra classes you had, the crisp evening air sent a tingle down his spine as he walked along the pavement, listening to whatever you were talking about and adding his own insights whenever he felt like it.

“Oh, hey, look! Tteokbokki!” You said excitedly, pointing to the food cart run by a middle-aged woman serving the steaming hot spicy rice cakes to a few customers. With a tug of his arm, you dragged him over and ordered one spicy one for both of you to share. He didn't like eating spice as much as you did, but he didn't want to say no to you. After a short debate, he used his birthday money to pay for the food, and the two of you walked along the riverside slowly as you ate.

“Mm, these are good,” you let out a satisfied hum and continued eating.

“They are,” he agreed. The spice was present at the back of his throat, but it was weirdly good after the oversweet cake he had during lunch.

“It tastes good after eating that sugar monster I made, right?” Seungmin turned his head to look at you. “What? Don't give me that look, that cake was so sweet, how did you even finish the whole thing? It tasted like I dumped a whole box of sugar in the batter.”

“True… But you made it, so I wanted to eat it,” he admitted, feeling his face flush lightly. If you teased him about it, he was going to brush it off and blame it on the tteokbokki, but your own cheeks mimicked his, tinging red at his sudden admission. 

“Still,” you protested, “I'll have to make a better one that doesn't taste like cavities.”

“I like the oversweet one. Maybe I'm an extra sugar kinda person.”

"No, you're not.”

“It wasn't even that bad.”

“Now you're just lying.”

The two of you dissolved into laughter, finishing up the last of your food. The walk home continued in relative silence for a while, him mulling over his words and wondering if he made you uncomfortable because you were too quiet. Before he could make an apology, you spoke quietly.

“I'm glad you liked it, but I still wish I could've given you a better birthday present.”

He stared at the path in front of them, the streets lit up by lamps and porch lights. “You already gave me the perfect birthday present.”

You tilted your head to the side. “What?”

“You,” he blurted out, regretting his words the next second, but once he saw your flustered reaction, his nerves calmed a little. “Now let's go home and act surprised at whatever my parents planned.” You giggled in response and nodded, your footsteps falling in sync as you walked beside him.

“Happy birthday, Seungmin.”

“You said that like ten times today!”

 

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©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

[schnaf]

.

[seraphdreams]

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK? | GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. the campus power outage gives your sly classmates a proper chance to get to know you.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader, college au, dark content, kidnapping, use of toys, one (1) mention of “you cryin?”, vibrators / dildos, fearplay, eiffel tower position, blindfolds / restrictions, dubcon, squirting, double pen if you squint. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 4.0k

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! happy friday thee 13th !! i know y’all remember me saying i wouldn’t write jjk anymore but i caved! so here’s my comeback to writing them , i literally can’t get gojo out of my head. as always, comment / reblog if you like it ! i’d muchly appreciate it ♡.

“isn’t she lovely, satoru?”

“fucking beautiful.”

a pair of crystalline-like eyes followed your bare figure down from your heaving chest to your lower abdomen where they settled on your glistening folds. you were spread open, laid against the armrest of the couch you were splayed across, hands bound taut by what felt like cheap, abrasive rope.

of the softer voice you had heard, its owner pulled out a silk piece of cloth from the pocket of his sweatpants, carefully binding it over your eyes, eluding your already subdued line of sight.

their mannerisms were recognizable, the two men who’d gotten you into that pathetic situation.

they were none other than gojo satoru and geto suguru from your foreign affairs class. prior to, you hadn’t shared much of a striking moment with them for their names to be ingrained in your memory, other than the times suguru would ask for a pencil, and gojo, a copy of the notes. it wasn’t until the start of the fall semester that you had grown closer to them.

they’d invite you to the campus’s library on account of needing you, /and only you,/ to tutor them, along with accompanying them to parties held by the school’s fraternity, and back to their dorm when things got boring — they took quite a strong liking towards you, despite your persistence on rejecting each advancement they made on you.

it wasn’t like you found them unattractive, or even unbearable. they just had more rumors than they could keep up with hanging off their reputation; rumors consisting of them switching girls much like they switch clothes simultaneous with how they weren’t particularly shy about their hookups, were among the ones you’d grown familiar with.

but, as the end of the semester grew nearer, you felt a need for excitement and a change of direction; especially in the form of gojo and geto.

“y/n?”

walking back from your overtiring night classes, the call of your name from a familiar voice whipped you straight out of fatigue. it was none other than the duo that seemed to follow you step by step, like puppies with their owner, as you turned around to catch a finer glimpse of them.

“hi,” your voice came out dulcet, and slightly hoarse. “why’re you guys out so late?”

“could be asking you the same thing.” suguru retorts, strands of long, inky black hair framing his mirthful expression. he had always been handsome to you, over six foot tall with sharp facial features that involuntarily caused him to exude an intimidating presence yet, he had a tame personality to back it up. there was a reason he was popular on campus.

he was also remarkably attentive when it came to you. suguru would make it a habit to check up on you from day to day, under the guise of morning texts and showing up to your dorm with limited edition beverages from your favorite cafe.

it wasn’t considered flirting if he was constantly referring to you as a “friend,” right?

satoru quickly came up behind him, resting his arm over the shoulder of the black haired man. he was donned in his signature style of attire, tinted glasses low on the bridge of his nose despite the sun being hours away from rising, which you had presumed was just his fashion choice. he looked better like that, anyway.

“i was just coming back from my night class. it let out early,” your words flowed airily into their ears, the tone cordial as ever.

it was the thing they loved most about you — your doe eyes, plump lips, and sexy curves that they’d fantasized about tracing every inch of with their tongues. you were too perfect, and far beyond naive. The ideal victim.

“pretty girls like you shouldn’t be out so late. it’s dangerous.” gojo held an emphasis to his last vocables, the warning you should’ve taken, yet brushed off as concern. because, of course it was. your friends were only “concerned.”

you nodded your head, lips involuntarily jutting out in a soft pout. “i know, i know.”

gojo was the rather flirtatious half of the duo, often opting to remind you of his undying attraction towards you that never seemed to get through to your glitter-filled mind. you were wrapped around his finger whether you knew it or not — you were but the final reward for him when having the others back to back failed to feed his salacious desires.

“you should swing by, though. satoru and i aren’t doing much,” geto spoke, looking at the blue-eyed man hanging off his side. “right, satoru?”

gojo perked up, a sly smirk making its way to his lips while he beckoned you closer with the movement of his fingers. “yeah, it’s friday. you deserve some time off, pretty thing.”

he wasn’t wrong. most of your time was spent dealing with school in which you barely had a moment for yourself. not to mention the fact that it was convenient, the commute to their dorm held less distance than it would’ve had you walked all the way back to yours. it worked out perfectly, for both parties involved.

with the mindless nod of your head and an “okay”, you made your way towards the two, and began to stride along in the direction of their place.

things were off about the duo, though, but not quite strange enough for you to think anything of it. the route was the same, some vacant corridor that always kissed your skin with its glacial breeze, leading to their hall, and down just a few steps was the doorway to their dorm.

as you patiently wait for geto to scan his keycard, the sensation of featherlight touch ghosting along the mast of skin that your tiny cropped top allowed to be exposed, shook you from your veil of comfort. you had come to realize it was gojo who took it upon himself to rest his hand on your lower back.

the world around you felt recognizable, yet you couldn’t shake the suspicion that deep down, something’s wrong.

the latch of the door beeped, signaling that it had been unlocked successfully, and with a sturdy hand, geto opened the door to allow for you and gojo to slip past while he kept his distance, treading leisurely behind.

satoru flipped up a light, the whole place illuminating immediately after. it looked different from the last time you came over, posters that littered every wall in the living space seemingly replaced by minute frames of artwork, all cohesive with the neutral nature of their dorm.

lit at the coffee table across from the couch where you decided to settle yourself at, was a single-wick candle that filled their air with its hints of fresh sage and amber musk.

“lemme take care of your bag,” suguru extended his arm out to you with a soft smile on his face. gojo sat down beside you, ridding himself of his glasses while you gave geto your tote. “i need to get something from my room so i’ll just put it on the bed that way you won’t have to worry.” he continued.

“thanks, sugu.” you returned his warm smile with a beam of your own.

gojo’s tongue clicked as he rolled his head back against the headrest of the couch. “marry her while you’re at it too, huh?” his tone is painted in vexation that wasn’t clear enough to distinguish between mirth or solemnity.

you heard geto chuckle as he made his way to the bedroom, waving off satoru’s comment. “wouldn’t hurt you to be nice every now and again.”

“you jealous, ‘toru?” you taunted to the ivory-haired man, relaxing further into the couch as his arm took purchase around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. “and if i am, baby? what’ll you do t’me?”

it wasn’t hard to get lost in his eyes, especially when they seemed to draw you in with that playful expression of his and kept you craving more of his attention. he’s so annoying.

you brushed off his query with an eye roll, turning your focus back to geto as he sat on the other side of you, a small box taut in his grip.

oddly enough, the soft whirring of mechanics died down along with the luminescence that filled the dorm shutting off, leaving the three of you in pitch black darkness, with only the faintest sliver of light emitted coming from the candle.

it painted an eerie picture, one that caused the pace of your heart to quicken as your body involuntarily tensed.

“oh?” suguru was the first to voice his mystification. he set the box aside, taking a haste look at gojo; which was more of a silent cue to the latter, reminding him of their true intentions.

what you assumed was geto’s hand over your thigh, diligently ran along the expanse of your lower half until its fingers curled at the hem of your bottoms. “aren’t we lucky?”

his touch was unfamiliar, nonsynonymous to you as the chivalrous suguru you knew. the sensation was weighty with lust, hungry against your skin, enough so to cause you to wonder.

“suguru, your—“

just as you were about to question the man before you, his eccentric best friend cut in.

gojo created the slightest gap of distance between your bodies, mainly to take advantage of the sight before him — geto working diligently to rid you of your garments, stripping you bare, safe for the thigh high socks struggling to contain the spill of your plush thighs.

“what? you afraid of the dark?” satoru’s teasing aided in affirming your suspicions. and the fact that you were utterly helpless, only sprung on his arousal as well. “we’ll take good care of ya.”

geto’s left hand found its place back on your thigh, more-so to spread your legs for the two. “you trust me, don’t you?” he smiled, that same smile that was painted over by an ulterior motive. he stood up, finding his knee in between your thighs, centimeters from your heat. “satoru, the rope?” he held his hand out for gojo, feeling satisfied once his request was fulfilled by his best friend, handing him the cord from the opposite end of the couch.

the words you wanted to say struggled to bubble up in your throat, rendering you speechless and anticipating. in one hand, suguru took both your wrists, tying them taut by the cable and stepping back to get a better view of your helplessness, specifically the way it leaked from your cunt and soaked into the cushions.

all the same events that explained the predicament previously mentioned.

after the unfortunate affair of being blindfolded, you felt lithe fingers drum at your clit. it was a teasing, rhythmic sensation that made it clear to you in the strongest way it could, that gojo was the one with reigns over your body now.

“our feelings are so hurt, babe,” his voice feigns offense, and although you couldn’t see him, you sensed that his signature smirk was etched over his features. and that, it was.

he toyed with your heat, running his index and middle fingers along your slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he could before sinking them into your hole. “you kept rejecting us in the past, but,” as his words trailed off, the pace at which his fingers pumped inside of you quickened. “we’re treating you fucking good, right?”

even though it was just two of his digits, the stretch that they’d allot to your hole was delicious, the tips of his fingers deliberately curling against your gummy walls, right at your g-spot which only made the shaking of your thighs worse.

“god—” you rasped, nodding your head. your heat made no effort in slowing the way it greedily sucked in his fingers. it was almost as if you were waiting for this, fantasizing how it’d be like to be one of their girls.

with every foolish thought came foolish actions.

satoru awaited your answer, speeding up to an impossible pace when you didn’t respond within his time bracket. “wanna hear you say it, baby. tell me how good I'm making you feel,” he demanded.

it felt as though your mind was going to break, the pleasurable mixture of sensations causing your head to spin and orgasm to build within you. you only allotted the fortitude for soft babbles, trying your hardest to conjure up something coherent. “f-fucking good! ‘s so fucking good!”

the pad of his thumb finds your clit, rubbing vigorous circles over the bundle of nerves. “attagirl,”

wet squelches were sonorous in the air, so much so, that the students inhabiting the dorms just across the hall could probably hear the filth taking place at that very moment. not that it was something new to them — it was just another satosugu friday night.

you couldn’t take anymore, your thighs threatening to close around his arm, yet his free hand kept you spread.

“i think she’s gonna cum, satoru,” geto coos, leaning down beside you while watching as gojo edges you closer and closer to sweet release. “can you squirt for us, princess? make a mess?”

before you could retort, your release rippled within you, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. evidently, geto’s questions were answered instantaneously the moment you soaked satoru’s fingers with your essence. your chest heaved, your breath growing ragged just moments after.

if only you had the reins to see them — touch them.

gojo slipped his soiled fingers into his mouth, moaning at the saccharine flavor you left him with. if he could live off the taste of you alone, he’d know for sure that he’d die happily.

“are you really that sensitive?” suguru queried. in his hand was the concealed box, filled with toys; some that could vibrate, along with others that were clearly meant to stretch you out. he pulled out one of the thicker dildos, running it along your slit in paintstroke motions.

“do you think this could make her squirt just as fast?” his inquiry to gojo made it undoubtedly clear that they’d been plotting against you from the very start; it wasn’t just some spontaneous idea.

gojo’s focus was unwavering on the dampness seeping through his sweats, his palm rested atop his hard-on as he watched the pleasant sight of geto sinking the silicone into your hole. amidst satoru, he was concerningly gentle. he had kept one hand at your thigh, draw soft patterns while he kneeled between your legs to give himself a better view at how hungrily your cunt sucked him in. “‘toru’s always so rough, isn’t he?” suguru cooed,

you mindlessly nodded your head; it wasn’t like you agreed, but you were stuck between heaven and bliss, not knowing which felt better. whereas gojo was, albeit, impatient and loved to get the good parts, suguru was refreshing, like a cold glass of lemonade on a warm summer’s day. suguru started up a thrusting motion with the toy, building it up to a speed that had your back arching and thighs quivering under his hold.

“you’re so tight, darling. you a virgin?” his soft voice speaks out.

as you were about to respond, gojo’s large hands found themselves at your tits, kneading the flesh while his fingers tweaked at your stiffened nipples. “this virgin’s pretty hot,” satoru commented.

“n-not a virgin!” your reaction came in the form of a cry, seemingly at the increase of stimulation within your gummy walls, the tip of the silicone cock nudging so sweetly against your gspot that the nothingness of your sight morphed into white hot pleasure.

you had fallen perfectly into their trap — what would’ve taken a considerable amount of effort, and even thinking, was handed to them easily though the power of the gods; they’d be sure to thank them later for their service .. or maybe you will.

suguru removed one hand from your thigh, relocating it to dig aimlessly through the box. he was satisfied when he pulled out a tiny bullet vibrator, switching it on to the most mild level and gently circling it against your clit. “mm, i don’t think i believe you,” an amused smile etched on his features watching you squirm in his hold.

with pleasure stemming from the most sensitive parts of your body, it’s difficult to chase away the feeling of yet another, messy, mindnumbing orgasm. “geto..!” your whines fell to deaf ears, suguru hyper-focused on the way your puffy clit twitches underneath the toy. he knew you were close; anyone within a mile’s radius could tell that, and perhaps he was covertly evil, because the loss of stimulation that came soon after he pulled the toys from your heat was pure work of the devil.

he spoke up just as he switched his attention from your aching cunt to your heaving chest. “if you’re not a virgin you shouldn’t have any trouble taking us both, right?”

oh?

they were like that. you should’ve known — the two did everything together, it’d be foolish to deny the possibility of them fucking together.

your obstructed vision was finally restored when gojo took off your blindfold. he figured it’d be much better if you saw how you were about to be obliterated — and obliterated you were.

he took your hand in his, standing you both upwards.

you wobbled beside him, your legs feeling like jello from the insane amount of stimulation your cunt had to endure. “look at her, suguru. she can barely stand,” gojo teases. “and we haven’t even got to the good part yet.”

he wastes no time in freeing his hard cock from the prison that was his boxer briefs. his length was long, bulbous head flushing a soft pink as beads of pre-cum dribbled down his shaft. he gave himself a few experimental pumps before turning you around and bending you over.

without the stability to keep yourself bent completely, you crashed into geto, who was no more than an inch away from your face. you looked up, sheepishly as he rid himself of his hoodie, faced with his toned abdomen.

“we haven’t done this position in a while, huh?” there’s a cocky smirk on geto’s face. one that was his own, yet it wasn’t the suguru you’d known.

since when was he the conniving type? did all his time with gojo finally rot his brain? or were you staring at a man you truly never knew?

suguru’s hand slipped just under the waistband of his sweats to free his cock. the tip tapped harshly against your lips before he took a firmer grip at the base to smear pre-cum over your already saliva drenched lips. “open up, pretty baby.”

instinctively, you slid your tongue around the head of his cock before suckling the sensitive area, only gradually taking in more. on the other end, gojo pushed himself into your core, letting out a low hiss at how eagerly your needy cunt took him in.

“she’s fucking tight,” he groans, squeezing at the plush fat of your hips while rocking his own into you.

“don’t get greedy now, ‘toru,” geto’s voice is soft as his hand in your hair gently guides you to take him deeper, up and down his cock. it’s evident you’re pretty damn good at giving head from the adoration in his eyes when he looks down at you, silvery orbs with hearts for pupils locked onto your vacant ones.

“what a well trained whore you are.” he praised, beginning to buck his hips up into your mouth, not rigorously, but enough to prod at the back of your throat and scatter tears to your waterline.

gojo slipped his thumb into your puckered hole while his thrusts became harder, with fervor. he wasn’t one to be patient nor hold back, especially when it came to someone like you, with a pussy so tight and moans so sweet, he’d have to break you just a bit. where’s the fun in that if he doesn’t?

his balls slammed against your clit, creating a potent string of pleasure to course through your body. throbbing was pertinent within your walls, each drag of his cock along the ridges inside you posing you weak from the shocks of euphoria. a hard slap came crashing down at your ass, gojo’s sizeable hand repeated the motion occasionally to watch the way the flesh rippled.

your moans were muffled by the intrusion of cock getting fucked into your mouth. the room reverberated in an array of messy skin slapping in tandem with groans and whimpers. it was music to their ears, a song they’d want on repeat if it were possible.

“shit.. ‘m gonna cum,” geto’s dulcet tone alerted. you watched in pride at how the muscles of his lower abdomen flexed in the onset of his orgasm. his rhythmic thrusts faltered, morphing into a resonance of scattered heavy thrusts that led him closer to his orgasm until he eventually jettisoned his seed into your mouth. the taste wasn’t as bitter as you were used to, it was almost pleasant and you swallowed every drop before he pulled out ever so slowly, his chest rising and falling while his cheeks were dusted in a soft rose flush.

“you were so much better than i imagined,” his fingers wrapped around your jaw, gripping ever so gently as he bent down to messily kiss at your lips, groaning at the taste of his orgasm on your tongue.

“yeah, yeah. good for you,” gojo started up in his usual bratty tone, sounding more guttural than his typical self. “can finally cum in her without you messin’ me up.”

suguru was used to gojo’s sharp tongue, his complaint not seering as deep as it would’ve had it been their younger years.

whorish moans slipped past your lips, your balance wavering as gojo picked up speed. he was far deeper inside your plush cavern, hitting at the spongey spot with precision that had your whimpers turning into babbles. “s-sho good .. you fuck me sooo good,” gojo took amusement in your slurred speech, pulling you up by the waist until you were completely upright.

it felt as though he couldn’t reach any deeper, yet he did, the feeling spreading all over your body, you were almost 100% certain that you could feel it in your ears. tears had filled your waterline and came cascading down your cheeks before you could even establish what it was. satoru held you close, your bare back pressed against his chest. it was an overwhelming feeling, one that made you lax enough to rest your head on his shoulder.

he smirked, gripping your chin with his fingers to get a better look at you.

“you cryin’?”

that familiar sensation bubbled up within you, what had felt like your nth orgasm had come in blissful surges, his cock coated in the translucent milky essence of your release.

with haste, you were fucked through aftershocks and overstimulation as satoru chased his high.

he had stamina for days, having built it up through multiple one night stands, and yet, he wasn’t quick to pull out like his counterpart, no. there was something of love that came with cumming inside you.

the skin of your thighs clung together with a mixture of your cum and his as he pulled out of your twitching hole. you stumbled a bit, getting back grounded on your feet, the two men tucking their third legs back into their garments.

a flickering noise was sounded from the building, different from the soft flickering of the candle that was beside you. quickly, the surgance of electricity illuminated the dorm, bringing much needed light to the situation at hand. you looked down at your bound wrists before the rush of embarrassment washed over your being once you had taken your naked, used body into account.

gojo carefully whisked you both back onto the couch with you sitting on his lap. “guess our fun’s over, huh?” he pouted, unbinding the rope that rubbed uncomfortably against your wrists. you weren’t exactly sure of who his rhetorical query was aimed to, and you would’ve spoken up had your throat not have been aching from the constant whining or even the pounding of a thick cock fucking bruises in the cavern.

geto was now situated behind the couch, leaning over the both of your figures.

“over? she’s spending the night.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — @valentinevampyr @oneofthesevensins @ryukatters @dabibreeder

[mochinomnoms]

In regard to interspecies romance

Humans have a fairly easy time pursuing the other species in Twisted Wonderland, though there are exceptions to that rule.

multi (separate) x reader [wc] - 2,252 [note] - one of the first things i ever wrote, though i never posted cause i didnt edit it. thought i would anyways cause its kinda cute. Edited 12/14/23 to add a readmore

Despite their animal like tendencies and courting methods, it's incredibly common to see human-beastmen couples and families. Perhaps it's due to how similar their behaviors are to their animal counterparts, but humans are fond of how beastmen flirt and display affection. Beastmen are offended by the comparison, but it's hard to deny how similar, and cute, they are to the common wolf, hyena, or lion.

Wolf and other canine beastmen enjoy being close to their mates. They like to be physically affectionate, almost playful with their partners. They'll nuzzle into the crook of their neck—no matter how much bigger they are compared to their human—lean against them when they walk, and will happily be by their beloved's sided at all times. Furthermore, they primarily show their effectiveness as partners by being great providers, regardless of gender, and showing off how tight-knit their packs are. After all, family is very important to them, and they'll expect to have one, no matter how big or small, with their partner in the future.

If you catch Ruggie trying to slyly and smoothly place a hand on the small of you back when moving through crowds, no you don't. If a person notices Jack momentarily grabbing (gingerly, mind you) your sides as he slips behind you to reach the potion ingredient on the shelf above you, don't mention how his touch lingers ever so slightly. Maybe take it with a grain of salt when Jack tries to invite you to visit his family over break, as friends, of course. And when Ruggie brags to you about how well he watched over the neighborhood kids growing up, how he'd make for a great family man, it's all hypothetical.

Feline beastmen are more reserved in their affections in public, especially compared to canines, and even more so for lion beastmen. It's more common for them to show affection in more subtle manners, such as buying their partner's food and drinks without being asked, going out of their way to help them when they're struggling at school or work, and are able to spend hours just in their general vicinity. As long as their beloved is around, they're happy. In private, though, expect to have their entire body draped over them, weight and all, shoved into their personal space to the point that it becomes a foreign concept. Leona embodies this to his entire core, too prideful to perform PDA, but just prideful enough that he knows he can take up all your time and space with no consequence. Unless that consequence is your love and affection, which he supposes he could suffer through if you hear him purring, don't point it out.

All lion beastmen hold their pride close to their heart (no matter how much a certain prince would deny it) and their partner is no exception. Their pride is an intrinsically developed social network made of an extended, but closed family network. It requires all new partners to be carefully and slowly introduced to the rest of the pride, more so in Leona's case due to the royal family being traditionally made up of Sunset Savana nobility. You won't be the first non-beastmen, but are the first foreigner in a very long time to be introduced. Don't worry, though, Leona is nothing if not patient, and his family are just happy to know that he's found someone.

On the other end of the spectrum, however, are human-fae relations. Uncommon, though not for a lack of trying on humans' parts, due to most of the fairfolk residing in the isolated Briar Valley. The complicated history between the two species, ancient to humans but still relatively fresh for fae, doesn't help either. There's also the unfortunate consequence of humankind's rather short lifespans compared to the average 1,000-year lifespan of the fae. Unless the fae is in their final hundred or so years, they'll almost always outlive their partner without magical interference.

It's not impossible though, and as younger fairfolk leave the valley to explore the world, more marriages have resulted in half-fae children, both human and beastmen. As partners, fae are devoted to the health and safety of their loved ones. Increasing tenfold into nearly coddling territory with non-fae. Compared to them, their humans and beastmen are awfully fragile and naive, and require their protection. This can cause animosity between them, however, and only fae that are willing to learn and change their old ways result in happy, long-lived marriages.

They're also generally known to have lengthy courting methods: not dating, that implies something casual, no they court. Once they've established interest in you, their end goal is marriage, no ifs, ands, or buts. Fairfolk are generous with gifting during courtship: all gifts are about an equal-exchange and your acceptance of their gifts is a reciprocation of their feelings. At the end of the courtship, you can expect a small feast to be displayed at a ceremony held between their and your family. This is an especially important ceremony when courting humans and beastmen: fairy food can often cause lasting damages to those that consume it without permission. By offering their food to you and your kin, they are welcoming you into their world and telling you that they will never intentionally bestow harm to you or your kin. If you choose to accept the food, then you agree to do the same til the end of your days.

Lilia is a strange case, having already lived a long life and being well traveled, a gleeful participant in the strange customs and traditions of humans and beastmen. He'd much rather participate in other's dating and courtship rituals than his own people's. It's fascinating how fleeting the process can be, yet it can result in everlasting devotion. Don't mistake his flexible nature for disinterest, however. He's still a fae, and if you start finding silly little knickknacks of his on their desk, you can expect to never be rid of him.

The Draconia family-line is steadfast in their traditions, even if Lilia raised the latest prince. So don't expect anything other than the previously explained rituals from Malleus, even if you're not aware of them. Taking gems, jewelry, and clothing made of the finest material you'll ever lay hands from his hoard means little to him if it means you'll accept the gift (and him). Even if you aren't aware of how courtship works, the moment you pick up the black ring with the big oval emerald and Briar Valley crest, you're practically engaged in his eyes.

The courtship is long, even for Malleus who was one step away at every turn to skip over the entire thing in favor of just eloping. All for the person who decided that the great and terrifying Malleus Draconia was actually just a simple Mr. Hornton, a friend, companion who just wanted someone to stay by his side. If it means calling you his spouse, his fellow ruler, and the only love of his life even a moment sooner, then he'd be willing to throw tradition and ritual out of the very tall tower window just to do so.

Many years later, when you reminiscing how the two of you first met, and how long it took you to notice his feelings, you'll offhandedly mention the random gifts you found at your doorstep. How you wish you knew who was leaving those precious stones and golden amulets with no indication on who the admirer was. Upon further questioning, you'll tell him that you didn't even know you were being courted until two months into the ritual. It'll then click in Malleus's mind how utterly lucky he was that the two of you even got together in the first place.

It may be surprising, but human-mer relations have been extraordinarily rare. Only a handful of them have popped up since the times of the Sea Princess, who left her home for a human prince. In fact, you could probably count them on one hand! Perhaps this is due to the difficulties of having a romance between land dwellers and undersea folk; after all, it's much easier for humans, fae, and beastmen to interact when they all live on land. Merfolk can come up to the surface, and have been doing moreso in the last century, but having a relationship with someone who quite literally could not breathe in the same air/water as you is near impossible. At least, not without significant effort on one or the other's part.

Nearly all the human-mer romances that have occurred in history resulted in either one or the other abandoning their home to turn into a human/mer and live the rest of their days with their love in their new world. Certainly a romantic notion to be sure, but it most definitely require their love to be truly eternal. Or else you might run the risk of resentment brewing between the two. With a slowly growing need to easy access transformation potions and spells for business and diplomatic reasons, such romance is not far from reach, at least for those with money to spare. The next issue though would be the significant difference between land dweller and undersea folk's courting methods.

Perhaps it can be contributed to the more...feral nature of merfolk. Most of them still retain more animalistic features and behaviors than the average beastman. The twins are no exception to this. Even if you were to remove their claws, mucus covered skin, and 6-ft tail, you're still left with eyes suited for a deep-sea predator, nose that can smell the tiniest drop of blood in a pool, and rows of razor sharp teeth begging to bite down on your neck. The deep-sea is not only cold, but quite ruthless. So, it'll probably come as no surprise that moray eels will prove themselves as suitable partners by fighting either their competitors or you. If they can prove that they can hold their own, protect you from the horrors of the deep, then they have the right to go for your heart. That's not to say softer sentiments don't exist, and while similar the twins are still two separate people with different tastes. These tastes show during courting, though mers have a more casual date-like ritual.

Like fae, merfolk court via gifts, particularly handmade or ones they found themselves, and Floyd is awfully fond if gifting you the strangest things. A tooth that was knocked out from the student who shoved you a little too hard, a rock you tripped over in P.E., or a sand dollar he found on a trip to the beach were a few of the many items he gave you. Jade is similar, though he's more fond of making his own gifts. A necklace made of seashells found at the beach you had your first date in, a terrarium he made from plants that remind him of you, but your favorite was the small garden he started tending to on your kitchen windowsill. Breakfast was particularly delicious when made with his fresh mushrooms. Expect soon after the gifts lots of physical affection, public and private.

Don't be mistaken, they'll still bully you. But each of Floyd's bone-crushing hugs will be accompanied by a soft headbump from his forehead to yours. Jade's teasing, mean remarks will follow with a swift, sweet peck to your knuckles. They'll grab your notebook and hold it above their head until you agree to give them a kiss or punch them in the stomach, both are acceptable responses. Be a little mean back, they like the idea of a sweet and cute little human that can throw a punch. Your their sweet little human, and you make life in the deep exciting. Just don't ask about their flushed face every time they see you yawn, they aren't quite ready to explain that one yet.

Azul intensely studied a variety of topics before coming to land, even briefly glossing over dating, romance, and marriage before deciding he wouldn't need it anytime soon. He regretted that soon after meeting you, though he made do with what he knew. And what he knew as food. A combination of octo-mer courtship and being the son of a cook, Azul will discreetly court you by personally cooking and feeding you your favorite meals. It's the result of the dangers of ancient octo-mers eating their spouses after mating. Afterall you can't eat more if your already full. While not something they have to worry about now, it's an old ritual still used today, Azul has hear the way to a person's heart is their stomach and can wholeheartedly agree.

What's surprised you the most was what followed after, especially for someone as physically reserved as Azul: octo-mers are extremely clingy and affectionate. He doesn't have the heart to do anything more than handholding and chaste kisses to your cheeks in public, but he yearns to wrap all 8 tentacles and two arms around you so tightly that your gasping for a breath that he steals with his lips. He won't mention it, but he can taste the salt from your skin and the pulse from your wrists with his suckers. Take it from someone who grew up with a refined palate, he thinks your taste is equivalent to ambrosia from the gods, though that might be the lovesickness speaking.

i have a hard time writing savanaclaw for some reason, but imma working on it now! also tagging for all the guys is stressful idk what i should enter, like fullname or just first name idk man!! pls reblog and comment! lmk what you time, xoxo

[ozzgin]

Omg i love your Yandere serial killer with a split persona so much 😭😭, can you do more headcanon about him?? Like does he aware of his other persona seeing reader kinda scared to talk to him normally thank u

Yandere! Serial Killer Scenarios

Featuring the kind, quiet man who has no idea why you look at him with terror in your eyes. This time with an official character design!

Content: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror, dubious/non-consent

[Main Story] | [More original works]

You only attempted to escape once.

His frequent warnings had begun to wear off, and your mind dared to wander towards hope. One day, during his evening walk, you ran to your bedroom and pulled out a train ticket you'd hidden earlier inside a drawer. The small piece of paper weighed heavy in your hand. Come, now, you scolded yourself. It was weeks of careful planning: anticipating his schedule, erasing your tracks, preparing the essentials. You could already smell the worn leather seats, and hear the jarring whistle of departure. Then you'd be far away from this maniac, all but a terrible memory to be locked away.

There was no time for hesitation. You grabbed a small bag and sped towards the station, frequently looking over your shoulder, muttering silent prayers. Once you made it to your compartment, you exhaled in relief. A relief you hadn't felt in months, washing over your body and relaxing your tense muscles. You climbed the stairs, and searched for your seat. Has someone misread their ticket? You found your spot occupied by a stranger.

"What did I tell you about running away?" his deep voice echoed across the empty hall.

The walk back home was silent. You were convinced this was your end. You'd arrive at the house, and he'd cut you into pieces. Your lips curled in a horrified grimace, mind flooded with foreign feelings: your nails plucked apart with pliers, a burning sting after each detachment. The roots of your teeth grinding and screeching within the bone of your jaw, until all that's left is a fleshy, gaping wound. Plop, plop, as each little souvenir falls into the jar.

He slammed the door shut and stared you down. You looked at the floor, but all you could see were the grimy ID cards of all the women who never made it out of this damned house. You were next.

His large hand ruffled your hair, and you glanced up in disbelief.

"This stays between us. Mother better not hear that her soon-to-be daughter in law tried to run away. Especially now that she's warmed up to you. Are we clear?"

You nodded desperately. God, how pathetic of you. But being trapped was better than rotting underground like the rest of them. You just wanted to live.

You can always tell whether it's him, or him. It's the silence. Or lack of, for that matter. He likes the quietness, the muffled ticking of the clock, the busy rattling in the kitchen, your laughs, your chatter. You'll sit together and listen to the rain, or read your books across from each other. There's no need for words, you know you can be at peace.

He likes music. When you hear the record player, you know it's your cue to perform. You exit your room - it's better if he doesn't call you down himself - and descend to the main area. The stairs creak louder, the wallpaper begins to yellow. It's almost as if the house ages with the music, and you tumble back in time.

He's been waiting for you, naturally. How's a man meant to spend his evenings, if not with his adored wife? He'll reach out for your hand, and invite you to a slow dance. Those are the worst moments. The tight, suffocating hold, his deranged stare drilling into your very soul, the whispered promises: that you're forever his, and you'll never find happiness anywhere else. He knows it. It's the same for him, really. Everything he's ever needed lies within your embrace.

Some days, the charade doesn't last long. You simply won't be in the mood to be kissed, to be stripped naked and fondled by his murderous hands. So you'll just pout and gaze ahead. It angers him terribly.

"Wretched whore. Do I look like a beggar?"

He'll shove you aside and make his way out, taking his tools with him. He hates asking for your affection and would rather take his anger out somewhere else. You know he won't hurt you, or force himself on you, which means someone else will have to pay for your disrespect. And yet, it's the only freedom you have around him - the privilege of refusing him and living to see the next day. The rest aren't as lucky. You'd rather not think too deeply about it.

My honey, I know With the dawn that you will be gone But tonight, you belong to me Just to little old me.

What a bizarre thing, to harbor such hatred towards the one you love. You've never met anyone kinder. He's thoughtful, patient, caring. He knows everything about you and lives to serve you. He's your best friend and your lover. He's the one you want to marry one day. But he's also...well...him. And you can't have one without the other.

"No, Mother, it isn't tacky," he barks at the shattered mirror, adjusting your necklace. "And you know what? It's up to (Y/N) to decide if she wants to wear your wedding jewelry."

"It's nice", you respond curtly. You look into the empty reflection and nod. He likes it when you take his side in front of Mother.

"I knew you'd agree. We're a match made in Heaven, aren't we?" he smiles and zips up the old dress. You shiver: wearing a dead woman's gown was not part of your wedding plans. The corset is tightened, and you gasp. His hands are tense.

"I know he proposed to you. And what a stupid grin you had on your face when it happened! You never act like that around me."

He doesn't call me a bitch, for starters, you think to yourself. You shuffle on the bed, trying to loosen up the garment, but he swiftly pins you down onto the mattress.

"Not that it matters. Would you like to know why?" he inquires with a familiar glimmer of jealousy in his dilated pupils. "Because I'll always be your first. You know it, I know it. He never will.

At the end of the day, you belong to me."

To compete with oneself. Nonsense. Utter madness, all of it. The house; the drawer filled with gory trophies; the nightly talks with Mother dearest, whose bones have most likely turned to dust by now; the bloodied scalpels; the embrace of a man who fills you with warmth and terror.

You're part of it now.

[yellowharrington]

save a horse (ride a cowboy!) -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 3.9k

warnings/notes: smut and porn!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. age gap (joel is at least 10 years older). drinking (both reader and joel), unprotected PIV, oral (f receiving), spanking, dirty talk, car sex. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: recommended listening: save a horse (ride a cowboy) by big & rich. honourable mention to austin by dasha bc it's been on repeat. please take the time to leave comments/reblog if you liked it <3 thank u for reading!! divider by @cafekitsune

summary: meeting an older man at the bar and spontaneously fucking him in his truck was not on your list of things to do for your first summer back in austin, but what can you do?

You hate going dancing.

Sweaty clubs with bodies brushing up against one another, sticky with the hot summer heat, confined to the walls of a crowded bar and beer sticking to the bottom of your shoes. Not the way you plan to spend your first Saturday night back in Austin for the summer, but Maddy is so convincing, your hand clasped around yours, a pleading look in her eyes. 

“I promise. It’s so fun. We’ll invite Kaylee and Erin and it’ll be a whole thing.”

You rolled your eyes at her, slipping your hand out from between hers. “Fine. One drink, one dance.”

She squealed with excitement and clapped her hands together, stepping up from the small cafe table. “We can pregame at mine. Wear that black top you have.”

You nod, thinking of the top in question. A corseted black thing that didn’t leave much to the imagination, breasts spilling out of the stop beneath the tight stitching. You think it probably got shoved to the back of your closet somewhere.

~

Joel hates going dancing.

Well, he doesn’t hate dancing. He just isn’t good at it, and hasn’t gone since his very early twenties. And he certainly would not be interested in spending the evening with Tommy at a country bar in downtown Austin, surrounded by women who would grimace at a pair of old men taking up a table.

But Tommy is convincing, hands gesturing around him annoyingly, until Joel gives in. “Fine. One drink. Then I’m leavin’.”

“This city is swarming with beautiful women,” Tommy says, knocking back another sip of his hot coffee. “And you’re too holed up inside to meet any of ‘em.”

“I like my own company,” Joel starts, bringing his own coffee mug to the sink. “Some of us are happy by ourselves.”

Tommy snorts, a hand clapping onto Joel’s shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, big shot. We’ll see when there’s a bunch of hotties in front of ya, then you can tell me that you like being alone.”

Joel gags at his use of the word ‘hotties’, and pulls his work boots on. “I can still change my mind, ya know.”

~ 

Night falls over the suburbs of Austin, taking the sunshine but leaving the humid, sweet heat in the air. You’re surrounded by your friends at Maddy’s apartment, a light pink gloss swiping across your lips. You’ve managed to dig out the top she had mentioned earlier, tied in a tight bow at the back. Your dark jeans hit just below it, letting slivers of smooth skin show, which somehow seemed sluttier than the fact your boobs were practically falling out of the top. Your jeans outlined the plump curve of your ass, a pair of dark cowboy boots adorning your calves. The last time you’d dressed like this was a long time ago, so it felt a little foreign, but not uncomfortable.

The cab ride to the bar is eventful, with 4 girls singing along to the songs on the radio at the top of your lungs. You were already a drink or two deep, having done some brightly coloured shot at Maddy’s house, taking it without thinking. You still weren’t planning on doing anything insane tonight, and bar drinks were expensive, so this was probably the best it was going to get for you.

The car pulls up to the bar and waits for you all to pour out, flashing your IDs to the bouncer, sliding inside past the thrums of people already inside. The bar was almost full, dance floor packed, drinks being poured by every bartender. Neon signs and amber lamps served as the only lighting for the establishment, already making things feel fuzzy around the edges for you.

Joel sits at a rickety wooden table in the corner of the bar with Tommy, scratching the wet label off of his beer bottle. He had fished out a plaid t-shirt from his closet, his usual jeans taught across his thighs and a pair of nicer boots than his work ones on his feet. His hair was pushed back, curls still lapping at the nape of his neck and curves of his ear. He was noticeably older than the other patrons of the bar, painfully aware of that fact, he felt rather uncomfortable. Tommy didn’t seem to mind, feet tapping at the beer-washed hardwood. “Stop lookin’ so mad,” he remarks, close to Joel’s ear. “You’ll scare ‘em all away.”

There are groups of people pouring in from outside, bachelorette parties and frat boys, making Joel feel unbelievably out of place. It was hard to lighten up when he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing here.

The doors open once more, your group of friends pushing their way through the sea of people, hand in hand. Joel notices, one girl in a cowboy hat, one in denim jean cutoffs, one with a big belt buckle that glints pink against the light. 

Then he notices you.

His face softens as you follow behind your friends, as they push to the front of the line for a drink. He’s got 10 years on you, easy, but that doesn’t stop his cock twitching against the zipper of his suddenly too-tight jeans.

Soft curves, a top that fits you just right, and jeans that accentuate the dips and lines of your body. You’ve got warm energy, a bright smile adorning your glossed lips. 

You barely even notice him, until you turn around and make eye contact, your shining eyes meeting his. He’s too handsome for his own good, biceps and shoulders pressed tight against the sleeves of his shirt. He’s got his thighs spread across the chair he’s sitting in, towards you, almost like he wants you to come and just sit right on his lap.

You offer a small smile across the dim bar, taking your drink and following your friends to the last open table they’d spotted. A high top, back to the stranger now, giving him the opportunity to see your shape. He swears you’re sticking your ass out on purpose, so he can see the soft skin where your jeans meet the bottom of your top. 

“Joel,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the bustle of the bar. “If you’re gonna be so fuckin’ miserable, we can go. There’s another place-“

Joel stops him, teetering his beer towards his brother. “This is fine. We can stay for another round.”

~ 

You pull yourself away from the group after finishing your round of sugary drinks and shots, your head beginning to buzz. “I’ll get the next ones,” you giggle, pushing yourself out of your seat and steadying yourself on the ground. “Green tea shots?” The girls hoot and holler back to you, as you turn on your heels towards the crowded bar. 

Joel gets up, almost looking panicked, when he sees that you’re leaving your group. He downs the rest of his beer and tips his head towards Tommy, as if to ask, “another?”. Tommy nods and sits back in his chair, continuing to observe. Joel makes a beeline, able to slide right beside you in line.

You can smell the cologne and laundry detergent on his clothes while he stands behind you, shuffling on his feet. You can almost feel his nerves, radiating off of his large form. 

He can smell your perfume and shampoo, it’s intoxicating. 

Joel is served first, the bartender leaning forward to listen to his request. “Two Buds, and uh,” you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. If you couldn’t see that it was him, someone would have a black eye.

“What are you drinkin’, darlin’?”

His voice is sweet like honey as he dips down to be so unbelievably close to your ear, his hand now on the side of your arm. Heat spreads up your neck at his proximity. 

“Oh, I’m getting like 4 shots, you don’t have to-“

“What kinda shots?”

“Uh, green tea. Green tea shots.”

“And four green tea shots.”

The bartender nods as Joel slides his cash across the bar, turning, and looking down at you slightly. You feel impossibly small in that moment.

“You really did not have to do that, thank you.” You’re on your tip toes, a hand pressed against his chest now, lips as close to his ear as you can get. 

He shivers. He can’t remember the last time someone was this close to him in this way. 

“No problem,” he waves it off, taking the two beers by the neck of the bottle and moving over slightly for you to grab the shots. 

Your ass brushes across the front of his jeans, and he knows it’s intentional.

“Thanks again for the drinks,” and you’ve disappeared back into the crowd in a second.

Oh. Nevermind.

He can’t help but feel a little dejected, slinking back to his seat with Tommy and passing him his beer. “Struck out, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Joel watches your table still, annoyed, but not entirely surprised. Pretty stupid of him to think you’d want to fraternize with a man such as himself, so much older than you. Maybe he’d come off too strong?

His head is all but hanging in his hands when he watches you get up again, your friends coming along with you. He averts his eyes in embarrassment, not noticing that you’re making your way over to his table.

Tommy notices.

“Ladies!” He draws out, hands thrown up in the air. Joel looks up then, locking in eyes with you immediately.

“Didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did ya cowboy?” A smile tugs at his lips as you extend a hand to him. “After you were so nice?”

He laughs a little, your other friend taking a hold of Tommy and pulling him towards the crowded dance floor. He’s very easily persuaded.

“Come dance with me!”

“Oh, I’m not a dancer,” he laughs, warm and honeyed. It makes heat pool in your core.

“Neither am I. Come anyways.”

All he can do is obey, taking your hand and letting you lead him away from the table. 

~

The music pulses under your feet as you end up in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder. He can’t stop looking at you, leaning down to speak into your ear. 

“I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said I didn’t know how to dance,” he explains, and his breath is hot against the curve of your ear.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it when we start goin’. Just follow me.”

And I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

Cause the girls

They are so pretty

Joel’s eyes are parked on your body as you start to move along to the steps of the line dance, feet tapping against the hard wood of the floor beneath you. Your hands are up by your face, clapping along to the beat. He tries to follow along, at least stepping in the right direction, clapping at the right time, but it’s no use.

Your body is insatiable - hips rolling to the pounding music. The curves and lines of your ass, paired with the soft tissue of your breasts nearly busting out of the top you chose to wear. Your skin is supple, shining against the dance floor lights that are favouring him right now as he lets a red blush engulf the skin of his cheeks and neck. 

He wonders what it looks like underneath, peeled off and bunched up around your ankles, or thrown on the floor of his bedroom. He thinks of fingering the ties of your shirt, loosening them and pushing it off, his hand across the front of your throat as he makes you look at yourself. How pretty you are. Goosebumps spread across the exposed skin of his arm.

You grab his hand suddenly, and he’s taken out of his daydream. Your eyes are fiery as you let yourself get even closer to him, feeling bold enough to put his hand across the small of your back.

“Follow me,” you command, as he looks down at the footwork you’re doing along to the song.

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy!

He attempts to follow it again, egged on by the feeling of your hot skin against his thumb. He could honestly maybe cum just from this touch alone if he really tried.

It’s not actually as hard as he thought, if he concentrates. A few steps, repeated over and over again, until it comes naturally. You notice how easily he picks it up, smiling up at him, beaming up while he’s lost in thought. 

The song picks up, and the whole floor is enthralled by the dance. You see Joel’s smile light up the room, and he hasn’t dared to move his hand from your back. You don’t mind.

When your body turns toward his, he halts before almost running into you, still following the steps along to the song.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

Your words take him by surprise, but they are not unwelcome. 

“Yes.” His hand envelops yours as he takes a look at Tommy, seeing that he’s still in the throws of the song with your friends.

Your hand leads him off the dance floor and towards the club bathroom, but he stops you, lips close to your ear again. “My truck is parked out back, if we want, a little more, um,” he clears his throat, “privacy.”

“Show me the way,” you smile, letting him pull you out the doors and into the darkness of the parking lot. 

He fishes for his keys nervously when you get to the side of his truck, an older model with blue paint. He can’t remember the last time he did anything like this, if he ever has, and it’s getting to his head.

“Let’s get in the back seat,” you say, taking him out of his trance. “Wanna feel you.”

He lets you in first, pushing across the bench seating as he slides in beside you. There’s a moment of awkwardness, before your hand reaches out to touch his denim-clad thigh. His breath hitches.

“Relax,” your smile is intoxicating to him, and he’s drinking you in. “We’re just here to have a little fun.”

He lets himself lurch forward, your lips pressed against his fervently. They’re rough and chapped, but cold from the beer he’d been nursing earlier, offering you some reprieve. 

Your hand snakes up his chest to the side of his throat, pulling him in to come closer and delve deeper. His tongue comes out to lick across your teeth and press against the soft wetness of your tongue, as his hand comes up to palm your breasts over your top, grabbing at any flesh he can get his fingers on. 

He quickly and deftly finds the bow Maddy had tied on the back, pulling it loose and letting the fabric relax so you he could pull it off of your form.

His hands began to explore the soft skin of your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you arch into him and let a strained moan come from your lips.

“Fuck,” is all you can think to say, because his large hands are spread across your back, forcing you closer, and into him. Soft moans escape your lips as you let him take what he needs from you.

“Off,” he commands suddenly, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your jeans and yanking them down, after you pop the button and undo the zipper. Your boots have come off at some point in the tussle, and now you’re naked in the back seat of a stranger’s car with not much to say for yourself.

You push his flannel down his shoulders as his weight hovers over you, revealing how strong he really is. Rippling biceps beneath his tight shirt, strong chest, kind eyes. 

You’re lying beneath him, when his hands come up under your thighs to push them apart and expose your pussy to him. He kneels between your soft thighs, thankful for the dark night sky around him, as he delves into your heat with his warm tongue.

You see stars when he makes first contact, a broad stripe of his tongue sending you into space. He’s hungry for it, immediately suckling onto your clit and wrapping his lips around it, strong hands still pushing your thighs apart. He’s taking his time to taste you, wild and intricate, feeling the bulge in his jeans strain against the zipper.

“Oh, fuck,” you manage to get out, in between breathless moans. Your hand came down to tangle in his hair, feeling the soft locks between your fingers, enjoying the way he’s making your hips roll onto his face. You can’t help but rut against him, soaking his wet mouth with your slick, using him to get yourself off.

He’s moaning into your pussy, working his own now-free cock in one of his hands, while the other delves two fingers into your core. Your breath catches in your throat when he fills you, stretching you open and wide for him, hitting the perfect spot to make your stomach start to spasm as you threatened to unravel beneath him.

“Fuck, so good, so so good,” you laugh breathlessly, the ecstasy beginning to take over as he continued to work your pussy, and you felt the familiar white-hot feeling along the back of your thighs.

“I’m gonna, — oh my god,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before he was tonguing at you harder, eyes flickering up to watch you. “I’m gonna fucking come.”

“Good girl,” he growls into you, only offering you momentary reprieve from his tongue before using the rest of his energy to help you ride out your orgasm on his face. Your hips bucked and spasmed against him, the windows fogging up with your hot breath as you fucked yourself on his fingers. He let you pull on his hair as moans tumbled from your lips, breathless and spent.

When you managed to come down, he took his fingers from inside you and pumped his cock a few times, now bobbing in between the two of you as he slid himself up your body to kiss up your chest and capture your soft lips into a kiss.

“Sit back,” you whispered, pushing on his chest to bring him back sitting upright. His jeans were pooled around his ankles now, and you had pulled his t-shirt over his head to meet the other clothes on the floor of the truck. You positioned yourself across his lap, pumping his cock a few times and feeling the girth around your fingers.

He looked blissed out, head against the headrest, savouring the feeling of your pretty hand around him. If he looked down between your two bodies he might come right then, at the sight. 

“You did so much work, baby,” you coo, sitting down on his thick cock and bottoming out immediately, just to watch his lips fall open and eyes flutter close at how tight you are. “Made me cum so easy.”

Your lips latch onto his neck as you kiss and lap at the rough skin, letting your hips rock back and forth, slowly at first. Getting used to his length inside of you would’ve been tough if he hadn’t opened you up so easily beforehand. 

“Move,” his hands come to your waist, lightly forcing you to grind down on his lap. His cock was hitting inside of you so perfectly as you swallowed him into your body, looking down as his head lulled back against the seat. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he started, letting you set the pace of your hips, hand coming up to paw at your breast once more.

“You like this cock, don’t you?” You nod, letting your hand come to the seat behind his head and steadying yourself before beginning to bounce in his lap. “Yeah, fuck, yeah I do.”

He’s in his element now, any and all shyness from the newness of the situation melting away as he pounded into you mercilessly. The truck was no doubt shaking back and forth a little, a steadying hand print the only window to the outside world. Joel didn’t even care if people could see, they’d just be jealous.

“I’m gonna, fuck-,” he starts, eyes cloudy at the edges, vision fuzzy as he looked up at you. You were fucked out, cock-drunk on him, watching as he was coming undone underneath you as you squeezed around him. “Oh yeah?” You tease, not letting up on the rhythm of your hips, his hand coming down to your ass in a firm slap.

You moaned then, arching your back into him and sitting back. “Where do you want me?”

He’s desperate to cum now. Even the thought of your pretty face beneath him, taking his hot ropes on your soft pink lips is making him jerk forward into you with need.

He pushes you off, and you wince from the loss of contact. He’s fisting his cock above you right away, pink tip ready to explode any second at the sight of you, tits pressed together. Your mouth is open, and he sticks his fingers in between your lips as you moan around them, tasting yourself.

“Cum all over me,” you start, pinching your nipples with your free hand. “Fuck, I want it.”

It’s enough for his knees to buckle and hot cum to shoot all over your stomach and tits, painting you white with his seed. His eyes squeeze shut as you watch him ride his orgasm out, balls emptying onto you as he slows down and regains consciousness, taking a second to drink you in when he can open his eyes again. 

Your breath is heaving as you take a finger to swipe some of his cum onto your finger, dipping the digit into your mouth. His brows furrow together as he pulls you up to kiss your lips, devouring you, hands coming up to each side of your face as if to thank you for such a good time.

“Been a while since I did anything like that,” he laughs, and you follow shyly. “You got like, a napkin?” You giggle, as he grabs something in the front seat for you to clean up with. “Thanks. That was fun.”

He nods in agreement, catching his breath before pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I suppose we should go back in there,” he checks his appearance in the rearview mirror, all blushed and fucked out. 

You put your top back on over your body, turning towards him. “Can you lace me back up, please?”

His hands begin to work at you, tightening a bow at the bottom much like it had been done before.

A thought crossed your mind that made a giggle escape your lips. “What?” Joel asked, amused, pulling his jeans back on over his hips. 

“I don’t think I ever got your name.”

He laughs too, thinking of the events that had transpired given neither of you knew such a basic piece of information. 

“I guess we can stick with cowboy.”

[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch.1

Caress ° Bang Chan

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, SMUT 18+ ONLY wc: 1431

Warnings: fraternity skz, inexperienced reader, experienced chan and stray kids, kissing, frat party, a bitch, insecurities

The art of pleasure masterlist

A/N: Hello, thank you so much for the support on this series!! This chapter is pretty tame BUT IT IS THE FIRST, so don't worry about it!! Channie girls don't worry he's gonna get some later ;)

Another semester. Another party at the only frat house on campus, it was nothing out of the ordinary. The usual room filled with flowing alcohol and the usual people, dancing to the usual songs. You’re sure it might be the idea of fun of some of the people that surrounded you but not yours, obviously not yours. That was why you were the only unusual thing in there. You weren’t a party animal, you weren’t so extroverted as to go to a party to have fun. Unfortunately it was also your best friend’s birthday who happened to be the president of the fraternity, so you really couldn’t have said no to his invitation. 

The scene in front of you shifted. A drunk girl started approaching you.

“Oh my god, Y/N! You’re here, I’m so happy to see you,” the girl, from one of your classes, threw her arms around you and squeezed tightly. The feeling of her foreign body pressed against yours made you shiver uncomfortably. 

“Oh, c’mon Y/Nnie, loosen up a little!” Alice said with a sly slime. Before you could commit murder in cold blood in front of your whole year, your two (out of three) friends pulled you away into a more secluded area of the room. In front of you laid a messy circle of people, intently focused on a spinning bottle.

‘Yuck’

“I can't believe people still play spin the bottle at their old age,” Shuhua mumbled as disgusted as you.

“You read my mind,Shu.”

“Omg Y/Nnie! You want to play spin the bottle? Wouldn't it be embarrassing tho? Since you're a virgin at your big age,” Alice fell into a fit of giggles, soon followed by her friends.

“God, she cannot be serious,” you whispered to your friends while you all collectively side-eyed the bitch. And that was exactly what she was, nothing other than a bitch. But then why was your face burning in shame and your heart racing? Why were your palms sweating so much? You shouldn't have been that affected but you were.

For the whole night you couldn’t help but think about Alice's words, because no matter how spiteful they were and how much of a bitch she was, they were also true. You were a virgin “at your big age”, but that had never bothered you until you had entered college. Never in your life had you seen so many people get involved with each other and in some ways you felt pushed aside and in the dark about this magical new world that everybody had already discovered, everybody but you. 

The red solo cup in your hands wrinkled slightly under your fingertips as you squeezed it. You shouldn’t have been thinking about those things, why were you hyperfocusing right now?

“You’re supposed to collect the cups, babygirl, not strangle them,”a masculine voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts. Bang Chan, the birthday boy and your best friend. You and Chan had known each other since your first year of college, he had saved you from making a fool out of yourself the first day and walked you to your lecture hall. Since then he had stuck by your side and helped you make some new friends even if you were extremely picky with people.

“Ew, Christopher, I told you not to call me that,” you grimaced at the cringey name. He just giggled.

“I know, but I like annoying you too much,” another giggle. A small smile threatened to break your “angry” facade, this carefree side of him was a rare sight and the fact that he was showing it to you was making you giddy.

His warm hands snatched the trash bag away from you before clasping around your smaller ones. 

“Seriously, what is going on?”

Lying wasn’t an option, he was way too observant for his own good, he always knew when you lied even when you didn’t yourself. You scoffed.

“Just something Alice said,'' and with that you tried to grab the bag from behind him to resume your job. No movement, he had an iron grip on you.

“What did she say?”

“Just her usual nagging, you know how she is,” you tugged and tried to get away from his grip to no avail.

“Tell me,” he wasn’t asking and that was obvious to the both of you.

“She said that it’s embarrassing to be a virgin at my big age.”

Chan finally let your hands fall to your sides and in exchange wrapped his arms around you and squished you against his chest.

“Bitch, she shouldn’t have been here, she wasn’t invited,” his chest rumbled with his words, “I’m sorry Y/N, I hope you know she’s in the wrong.” 

With your arms wrapped around Chan and your face squished against his chest, with the gentleness of his voice caressing you, you found it hard to lie so you just stayed silent.

“Oh baby, don’t think about it, okay? She’s wrong and there is nothing wrong with you. Let’s go to bed, I can clean up tomorrow morning.”

For the whole night you tossed and turned with always the same thought in you mind, hoping not to wake Chan who was sleeping soundly next to you for once.It was no surprise that early in the morning you felt exhausted, your limbs were heavy and your mind was foggy, but you still couldn’t fall asleep. 

“Did you sleep at all? I heard you move around a lot,” Christopher groaned next to you, his arm lazily draped over your middle.

“Sorry,” you tried to utter in your half dead state.

“I had an idea while I was sleeping,” he dragged your body against his and started to gently rub your arm to ease you to sleep. You only hummed in response.

“You should let me and the kids teach you about sex, you know us and we’re good people, we would never push you to do anything. We can take anything at your own pace, we’ll teach you well,” he spoke like he was saying the most natural thing in the world and not suggesting you get passed between him and his other seven friends. Sensing your confusion, Chan gently shushed you and started rubbing your arm again.

“Think about it, we can talk about it when you wake up.”

A witty response was about to come out of your mouth but darkness enveloped you like a hug. Chan hugged you tighter to his chest and sighed. ‘That went well’, he thought.

When you woke up, a blinding light was filtering through the window. Damn Christopher who never closed the blinds.

“Good morning,” the said man chirped happily from next to you. The moment you laid your eyes on him, the conversation from that morning resurfaced to your mind. The frantic beating of your heart sent a shot of adrenaline through you.

“I take it you remember what I asked you,” he put his phone back on his nightstand to fully give you his attention.

“Chris..” you started but he swiftly interrupted you.

“We’re not doing it out of pity, we are all attracted to you, we wouldn’t make it awkward and if you refuse it’s gonna be like it never happened,” Chris answered all of your questions like he could read your mind. You were confused, your heart (and your vagina) wanted to say yes but your head told you to refuse. 

‘Fuck it, stop thinking.’

“Okay, let’s do it.” Chris stayed silent, only your synced breaths could be heard in the room. The tension was thick and full of desire.

“Can I kiss you, pretty girl? Just a kiss and you can stop me anytime you want.”

“Yes, please.” With that Chris  pulled you in his lap in mere seconds and attached your lips together. He wasted no time and pushed his tongue in your mouth, still his movements were gentle and slow just like yours were slow and hesitant. His whole persona dripped in gentle dominance, it made you hot and sweat and made your pussy throb. His hands roamed your body and tentatively groped around, testing your limits. Your lips moved more and more confidently the more time they were attached to Chan’s.

Your lungs burned from the lack of air but you didn’t care, you were drunk on his touch, his taste, you were drunk on him.

Chan was the first to break the kiss and immediately giggled when you tried to kiss him again.

“Patience baby, we have a lot of time.”

Taglist:

@kflixnet  @hann1bee  @bahng-chrizz  @staysinbloom  @laylasbunbunny @caitlyn98s

[suntoru]

─ ✰ HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY.

─ SYNOPSIS: rin misses you. he wonders if breaking up with you was really worth it.

─ WARNINGS: 1.2k words!! angst, regret, pining, exes, perhaps ooc rin, probably bland but!! it’s here

─ AUTHOR’S NOTE: RIN GIRLIES HERE IS UR MAN &lt;3

— rin’s eyes anxiously dart around, scanning for your face somewhere in the stands, an unconscious habit he hasn’t been able to drop. the roar of thousands of fans cheering him on, yet strangely, the absence of satisfaction lingers within him.

it’s weird, even he knows it, that he still hopes his ex comes to his soccer matches. he’s fully aware that you are unlikely to be present, but even so, a lingering sliver of hope refuses to fade. and it’s strange, because he was the one who broke up with you to pursue his career, he was the one who broke your heart, he was the one who'd made you cry... so why does his heart feel so damn empty when you aren’t there to watch him soar?

fuck. this isn’t the time to be thinking about this. so with an annoyed huff, he pushes his feelings aside, and plays ball.

as the final whistle blows, everybody in the stadium erupts into cheers, confetti cascading down to honor the exceptional achievement. japan won nationals, rin scoring the winning goal by himself, marking tokyo's historic first-ever victory. his eyes widen with disbelief, puffing from the exertion of the intense match. the weight of the moment settles on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but look up, expecting to see the familiar sight of your proud face in the crowd, your pretty eyes catching onto his— oh. that’s right. you won’t be there anymore.

his smile falls the slightest bit. the sensation of pride and joy seems to snap almost instantly, and he doesn’t know why. this… this was his goal, his dream. the thing he wanted most in the world, in the palm of his hand. and really, he should be more happy, but he can’t seem to shake off the sinking feeling in his stomach.

his radiant smile begins to falter, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as the waves of pride and joy that had enveloped him seemed to snap abruptly. this achievement, this culmination of his dreams and aspirations, now lays within his grasp. one would expect satisfaction and happiness to course through his veins, yet an inexplicable unease settled in the pit of his stomach, casting a shadow over the moment. ignoring all his teammates’ cheers and screams, he speeds towards the locker room to get changed and go home.

his house really isn’t any better. (he questions if it’s really ‘home’ without you.) the concept of "home" now feels strangely foreign, a place that should be comforting but is instead tinged with an undeniable sense of absence. it's as if the essence of warmth has been drained away.

the once-inviting space lacks the comforting sprawl of your giant stuffed animals overtaking the bed or the mountains of your clothes taking over the closet. a peculiar emptiness lingers, a void that cannot be filled by mere physical belongings. the silence within the familiar walls is unsettling.

rin finds it quite odd not feeling your arms wrap around his torso, giving him a peck as you asked about his day. it’s strangely… quiet as well. there’s no you singing along to some laufey song completely out of tune, no alarm going off because you burnt the takoyaki, or the constant hum of the tv playing in the background. it's a quietude that, rather than offering solace, only accentuates the hollowness of the space. he’s not so sure he likes it.

he stares at the shiny, gold metal he had received. his mind, despite receiving a sparkly, golden-hued award— an emblem of achievement— stubbornly fixates his thoughts of you. he finds himself gazing at the metallic surface, a token of success that pales in comparison to the vibrant memories of your presence. he recalls your playful curiosity, imagining how you would have marveled at the gold medal, playfully testing its authenticity with an endearing chomp. he misses it. he misses you.

and he wonders what you might've changed his contact to. stupid ex, maybe? loser bitch? he deserves it. but he can't help but wonder, is there a possibility he'd still be 'rinnie', or 'my love' with a heart that never made sense because it looked more like a cheeky smile to him? (he wishes he had treasured you just a little bit more.) is he blocked? or is he just another number in your phone now? do you reread the messages he sent to you?

because he does. your contact name is still ‘loml’. he has every single photo you sent saved. he stares at the old "i love you" texts night after night after night. it's pathetic, really, but his heart aches for those moments when you'd scold him for overexerting himself, when you'd sleepily wake up at two am just to make him a hot meal when he came back late, when you'd stick those tacky hello kitty bandaids on top of the scrapes he got from soccer. he misses your good luck kisses, the ones where you'd pull his face down to your height and let out a big dramatic 'mwah!' in front of all his teammates— where he'd grumble and complain but his cheeks were undeniably a bright rosy red.

but above all, the vivid memory etched in his mind is the pain he inflicted upon you. your voice trembling, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you desperately clung to his arm, seeking an explanation. "what do you mean, rin? i don't understand. did i do something wrong?" your words quivered, on the verge of shattering, yet he callously shrugged you off, meeting your tear-filled eyes with a chilling glare.

"you're just a distraction. sorry, but soccer's more important to me."

he recalls the way your hand slowly fell away, the slow nod of comprehension, and the sight of your trembling bottom lip as you fought valiantly not to crumble. he was stupid. so, so stupid. he wishes he had pulled you into the shelter of his arms, confessed his foolishness, and reassured you that he didn't mean those hurtful words. or better yet, he wishes he didn’t say them at all. and he wants to ask, have you moved on? do you find your heart fluttering for somebody else, threatening to beat out of your chest like you once made him feel?

to be loved is to be seen. you saw him beyond the carefully constructed mask, piercing through the layers of the egoist the world molded him to be. in your gaze, he wasn't just the world's best striker or sae's little brother; he was itoshi rin. and that was enough for you.

oh, how utterly foolish he was to let you go. are you still as pretty as ever? (of course you are. you’ve never not looked absolutely stunning to him.) do you still smile as brightly as you once shone, his precious shooting star? he hopes you still find a reason to break into a grin every day.

but the question that is constantly on his mind like a broken record player. if he were to grovel and beg, surrendering his pride on his hands and knees, would you accept him back?

for a moment, he considers it. calling you. his finger hovers tentatively over the ‘audio’ call button, mere millimeters away from hearing you again. rin so desperately wishes to hear your sweet voice, see your angelic face, to be able to bask in your presence once more. would you be shocked? happy shocked, or enraged shocked, or maybe you wouldn’t pick up at all. would he go to voicemail? if he left one, would you listen? do you miss him as much as he has missed you all this time? (it’s been a month, but to him it felt like years.) yet, as the gravity of his past actions weighs heavily in his heart, an inexplicable hesitation ensnares him. you… don’t deserve this. you’re healing right now, he’s already chosen himself once, it would be utterly selfish to do it again. with a heavy exhale, he gingerly sets down his phone, fixing his gaze upon the ceiling above.

and suddenly, soccer doesn't feel like his passion after all. he wonders if it was really you.

his bed feels a little bit too cold now.

© KAEFFEINEE 2022-2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[uyuforu]

Boda by Signs, Houses, Degrees

Boda (1487) is an asteroid discovered in 1938 by Karl Willhelm Reinmuth in Germany. It was named this way after Karl Boda. Boda in Spanish means "wedding", so it was natural for this asteroid to represent that. Boda is an asteroid we look at when we want to know more about what kind of wedding one will have. The Boda Persona Chart also means the same thing, and it gives more details about one's special day.

This observation is for Natal Charts. You can also check it in Briede, Groom, Juno Persona Charts. For Boda PC, check the Sun & Asteroid Boda.

Boda Aspects

Book a private reading: menus ; Q&A ; rules

Aries, 1H, 1°, 13°, 25°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could happen quite fast. It can be a rushed wedding, meaning you could want to get married very fast after engagements, or it's a wedding that is happening out of the blue like for example, suddenly getting married in a Town Hall. The wedding could happen in Spring time. It can be also a very fast ceremony, and it could also be an indicator of a private wedding, maybe also just the two of you. You could feel a certain competition on your wedding day, maybe try to do better than someone else, or you want to show off you can have the best wedding of the year perhaps. There could be some fights or arguments during your wedding. You could also want to lead a lot during your wedding so you will maybe decide when things are happening. People could be passionate and spontaneous too. You could also want to party with everyone afterwards. A lot of dancing and moving. Because this placement can also indicate having in the 1H, you could feel like the main character during your wedding, the whole attention will be on you.

Taurus, 2H, 2°, 14°, 26°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be well prepared, and you could want to take your time with it. It can also be a spring wedding. This could be a normal or basic wedding, traditional too. You could spend a lot of money, and a contract like a prenup can be signed. The wedding could look very beautiful, romantic, very well designed and organized. People could also look very classy. It could be in nature, or outside, in a beautiful garden for example. People could be very polite during the wedding. The food could taste amazing, and the buffet could be a big part of the wedding's success. The wedding could look expensive, luxurious and just very classy. It can look ethereal too. All your family can be there and your loved ones too. You could really be happy about your day. It can also mean you could share a lot of romance with your spouse together and the vows could be very romantic. Someone could sing at the wedding too, or the first dance will be very romantic.

Gemini, 3H, 3°, 15°, 27°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be very joyful, and people could be smiley and happy. They could also be very much into talking, chatting. This could be a foreign wedding, it could happen in your spouse's country too if you marry a foreigner. Foreigners could attend the wedding. People from different backgrounds too. But you could feel like people don't really care and actually enjoy the conversation. You could prepare speeches, your vows can also be particular. You could also do some games during the wedding party. You could post your wedding on social media too, or people could post it. People could also be into gossips and there could be rumors about your wedding too. This could be a very humorous wedding too, people could make a lot of jokes during speeches. You could also invite your neighbors. This could be a big wedding too, at least because it can mean there are a lot of people. This placement could mean you could marry twice, not with two different people necessarily but for example, once in your homeland, and a second time in your spouse's homeland. Or you could want to renew your wedding vows and marry again later. This could also be a spring or summer wedding.

Cancer, 4H, 4°, 16°, 28°

જ⁀➴ Wedding could be very much familial, a lot of family members attending your wedding. It could happen in your homeland and, for some of you, it could happen in your home actually. It could be a wedding near water, the sea, at the beach perhaps. People will be emotional and cry a lot, maybe more family members, and to be even precise, the mother (your mother or the spouse's too). You could want to follow a traditional wedding, and maybe even let your family decide for you. You could also be pregnant during the wedding (it is a possibility, it doesn't have to necessarily happen). The wedding could also be influences by the moon. Only people you love dearly are there. You could cry too. It could be a religious wedding too. Perhaps a sign to lose your virginity after your marriage (doesn't have to be, don't take it too seriously). Moreover, the wedding could have delicious food, food form your homeland, traditional food, def a lot of food generally. Wedding could happen during Summer season. Could also be a sign of a private wedding. Since it is very traditional, you could also wear something related to your family, for example the dress of your mother, or something from your grandmother. If you are a man, you could also have the ring wedding that is passed from generations.

Leo, 5H, 5°, 17°, 29°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be really shiny, really amazing looking, and just incredible to look at. It could really be with extra details that just let you like wow. Very extra and could be dramatic too. The wedding could look expensive. Famous people could be invited, and the wedding could be famous too. You and your spouse could be the center of attention, and you will make sure that this is your day. The wedding party will be wild, and everyone will have fun. Very creative and joyful wedding. The entertainment is at its highest. It could take place in a place that is considered creative, not common yet amazing. It can be a summer wedding. People could be super happy, and look very joyful at the wedding. You could not stop laughing too and smiling. Nothing will bright shiner than you and your spouse. You will def feel like the main characters. People can remember the wedding like it was such an event not to miss. People will keep talking about it even years later.

Virgo, 6H, 6°, 18°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be very well organized, almost perfect looking. You could hire people to organize your wedding. People could actually compliment you for how good and perfect the wedding is. You could look very neat, clean and very well put together, but people could also feel like you look cold and distant. Guests could look very good too, and respect the theme. You will maybe ask people to dress a certain color to suit the theme perfectly. This could also indicate you could be stressed during your wedding, or really focused on making sure everything is prefect rather than enjoying the big day. You could want to put very healthy food, and maybe also ask guests to raise money for a charity rather than giving actual gifts. You could have a summer wedding. The wedding could also be traditional.

Libra, 7H, 7°, 19°

જ⁀➴ Wedding could be very romantic, very beautiful. The ceremony could be very lovely to watch, and people could cry (or some cringe) at how romantic it will be. The wedding could take place in end of the summer or during fall season. It could be in nature, or around a lot of flowers, somewhere with a very beautiful scenery or place. Well dressed people. A contract can be signed, like a prenup for example, but it could also be another one. Aesthetic will be very important for the wedding, and the groom & bride could ask people to follow a certain theme. Music could be played during the ceremony, such like harp perhaps. People will have fun during the wedding party, at least this will be the vibe you will want. You will have a desire for everything to go well, everything to be in place, everything to feel peaceful, and you will do everything to be a good host, for people to have a good time. But the key to this one is romance at its fullest.

Scorpio, 8H, 8°, 20°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be a private one, it could really be more than private tho. You could really just invite people who are very close to you. The wedding could be even secretive, you could get married and don't tell anyone for example. Just the two of you. You could spend money on the wedding. You could feel an intense connection with your spouse that time, and you could even want to sneak to.. release the tension lol. There could be something spiritual happening during the wedding. You could also discover some secrets during the wedding. Someone could be jealous too. There could be something happening with someone you don't like. The emotions could be intense too. You could cry or not control your emotions. People could also cry but silently. There could be a fight happening too during the wedding. You could be pregnant during the wedding too. The wedding could happen during fall, or it can also happen at night.

Sagittarius, 9H, 9°, 21°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be in foreign lands, or away from where you live. The wedding could be fun, interesting, wild, spontaneous. You could marry suddenly without being prepared. Foreigners could attend the wedding too. If you marry a foreigner, it could be in their country, homeland. You could have a wedding without much preparation, you prefer spontaneity. You want people to be happy. You will perhaps want to include everyone, so some games during the wedding party could happen. You will want people from different backgrounds to meet, it could be a very open-minded wedding too. Wedding could happen during the winter season. You could also have took time to prepare your wedding without any rush. You could have a religious wedding, but this could also mean to have a spiritual wedding. A contract could be signed. You could decide to marry in different countries. You could also decide to not spend much money on the wedding but rather on the honeymoon.

Capricorn, 10H, 10°, 22°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be very elegant, very luxurious looking. You could spend a lot of money on your wedding, you want to make a certain first impression. The wedding could really be astonishing looking. You could ask people to come with very elegant clothing. The wedding will look expensive. You could also invite a lot of coworkers, or important people can be there. Your In-laws could have paid the wedding too. It could also be hosted by your In-Laws. A contract can indeed be signed, and it can also be a prenup. It could also be a wedding to show off money or possession. The wedding could have a certain popularity afterwards. It could also be famous for some reason. Def a wedding people will remember. It can be a bit cold and rigid tho, perhaps not a lot of people will cry or show much of how they feel. Some people could attend just to show themselves. Wedding could happen during Winter season. Your father figure could be important too during the wedding. He could also be the one paying for the wedding.

Aquarius, 11H, 11°, 23°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be in foreign lands, or just in a place that is not usually taken for weddings. It could be very unusual, and maybe also avant-garde, breaking rules. Revolutionary wedding. It could also be a wedding that is not celebrated the way people consider "normal" in your culture. Since it is also relate to technologies, you could film your wedding, ask people to film your wedding. This placement makes me recall one couple who filmed their wedding The Office style. Quirky yet super original and funny. You could post your wedding photos and videos on the internet, or even make a live of it for people to see it or for the people who couldn't attend. Your wedding could also be posted on the internet as inspirations on Pinterest for example. The wedding could happen during Summer, maybe on Valentine's Day. Because Aquarius is again rules, it can happen during a time usually weddings don't happen, or you could also ask people to dress a certain way that is not "classic" for a wedding.

Pisces, 12H, 12°, 24°

જ⁀➴ Very emotional wedding. People can cry, you can cry, everyone can cry. Could happen around water, mostly the sea or at the beach. Also could be on a boat. Could be happening in foreign lands. Foreigners can attend the wedding. There could also be problems related to alcoholism or anything else. You could find it stressing, strangers could try to sneak in or some troubles could happen. On a good hand, the wedding could be very romantic, music could be played, and there could also be poetry reading. It could be a private wedding. It could feel like destiny, or you could have been predicted about something in your wedding. You could also have dreamed of your wedding. The wedding could happen during Winter season.

Thank you for reading!

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[surielstea]

Debts and Gifts

Fic requested by @weirdo-fun

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader (marriage of convenience au)

Summary: Azriel and Reader are out shopping for solstice when Reader stumbles upon someone from her past and Azriel’s sees to it that she forgets about him.

Warnings: PDA | Reader is a former courtesan | very, very slight nsfw, public (ish) | Azriel being feral for reader at all times.

3k words.

It was the last market day before Winter Solstice, which meant pop-up shops and vendor carts lined the main streets of Velaris, selling anything from hand-made jewelry to warm meals.

The streets were teeming with last-minute shoppers dressed in their warmest coats, everyone seeking warmth so much so that one of the cocoa vendors had a line around the corner.

I stood at one of the less crowded establishments, staring at the crystals beneath the protective glass, twisting my wedding ring around my fourth finger, a habit I picked up the moment it was placed on my finger.

"Come, this way," A familiar voice says and I turn from the crystals to face him, the dark-haired male holding out his scarred hand as an invitation. I pull my scarf up higher, hiding my flushed cheeks as I intertwine our cold hands. It was just so the crowd didn't split us up.

"I still have to get Rhys a solstice present," Azriel murmured, using the advantage of his height to look over the bustling crowd.

"The High Lord is the last on your list?" I giggle teasingly.

"Who says I got anything for you?" He lifted a dark brow at me and I frowned, squeezing his hand slightly.

"I think Mor and Cassian would beat you up if you didn't get anything for your wife," I state and he tenses slightly as if he's never heard me call him my husband before. I have, of course, many times to win arguments or just to tease him, so what was the difference now?

— flashback —

As a girl born in the Hewn City, I really didn't have much of a choice when it came to my line of work. It was a Courtesan or a housewife. And I wasn't exactly wealthy enough to afford the pretty dresses or delicate perfumes that would draw in the suitors in the first place. So courtesan it was.

Madame Welder was an older lady but I swore there wasn't a wrinkle on her. She was also the only person I've ever been afraid of, and I was her favorite disciple, lucky me.

It was my bidding day today, a day in every courtesan's life that would determine her fate of success. A day when men across courts would offer an obscene amount of money to take her virginity.

I dreaded this day. "At least you look pretty?" Mor smiled from beside my head, her hands planted on my shoulders as I stared at myself in the mirror, the dress I wore was more conservative than I had been expecting, don't get me wrong it wasn't modest by any means, but I've seen other girls dressed in sheer white chiffon for their own bidding days.

The gown was made of delicate white silk, and my décolletage was enunciated by curtaining fabric, covering just enough to prompt curiosity. The length was short, but not alarming enough for me to be embarrassed.

I did look pretty. I didn't exactly feel it.

"Yeah," I murmured. "At least I look pretty," I sigh, spinning on my heel, deciding the sight of myself was too foreign to handle. I walk towards my vanity and reapply my slightly faded lipstick.

A knock at the door made me flinch, I wasn't ready for this.

"Dearest, it's time," My Madame’s voice says through the door and my spine stiffens. I looked to Morrigan with creased brows.

"Everything will be fine," She smiles at me so casually the facade makes me believe her for a moment. "I'm taking care of everything alright?" She hums, coming closer to cup my cheeks. "Alright?" She repeats and I nod, my shoulders slightly relaxing and she smiles a bit brighter.

"Good."

The Shadow Singer had bet on me that night, in fact, he bet the largest sum that my Madame had ever made off a girl. She was more than happy to usher me off towards him.

"Az? What are you doing?" I whisper shout at him the moment we're in solitude. "Did Morrigan not tell you the plan?" His brows furrow, creasing in the center.

"The plan— what are you talking about?" I shake my head confused.

"We're getting you out of here," He says simply and I blink, then blink again, making sure I wasn't imagining this.

"I can't just leave, I'm indebted to my Madame," I explain and he rolls his eyes as if I should've already figured all this out.

"I just paid her more than she's made in her career, you don't owe her anything."

"But—" I begin.

"No buts, Morrigan and I devised a whole plan to get you out of this wretched city, you're not ruining it because of your good morality," He tuts, cutting me off and a frown pulls at my lips.

"No, Az it's not that," I sigh with a shake of my head. He cocks a brow, waiting for an explanation.

"Every girl under Madame Welder's wing is, more or less forced into entering a bargain with her," I pause, only to swallow thickly before continuing. "A girl cannot leave her organization until she has met the qualifications," I finish but his confusion still lingers.

"The qualifications being?" His head tilts and I rock slightly on my stiletto heels, my feet aching.

"There's only three, the first is that the girl has made Madame Welder a certain amount of money," I murmured and Azriel snorted. "I think I crossed that one off, the others?" He leaned back against the hallway wall, so very casual as he gracefully swept his hair away from his eyes.

"The second is that it must be after your bidding day, which we now needn’t worry about,” I murmur, upright about the third and final requirement. He noticed my stress but said nothing, waiting for me to finish.

“The third is marriage.” I finally manage to spit out and he blinks, his shoulders relaxing as he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank the cauldron I thought it’d be far worse,” Azriel hummed and I looked at him like he was crazy. “We'll find you someone to marry,” He waved me off.

My brows creased. Someone would have to give up their chance at love so I could have a chance at freedom? It didn’t feel right. I’ve never been free, marriage meant surrendering my family name, which meant that I was one-half of someone else that I barely knew.

“Who would possibly give up their freedom if only to grant mine?” I narrowed my gaze and he shrugged. “We’ll get married,” He suggested and a pink flush warmed my cheeks. “We can figure this out, I’m not leaving you here,” He shakes his head, grabbing my hand in his. I squeezed it in reply, my blush still blazingly hot across my face.

He suddenly pulled me down a hall and I yelped as he took me towards the exit of the slightly crumbling tower. “Where are we going?” I asked with pursed lips.

“I bought you for the night didn’t I?” He cast a glance back towards me with a sly wink. If I wasn’t red, I most certainly was now. My spine stiffened but I continued to race after him. “Relax,” His thumb brushed over the back of my palm reassuringly. “We’re going to find you a ring.”

———

I was grateful for him that day, even more grateful that it was him Morrigan selected to bid for me. Not that I'd ever admit it aloud, but gods was I glad it was he was the one, out of all the others, who ended up putting a ring on my finger.

"Stay close," Azriel snapped me out of my thoughts but before I could register what he said, he pulled me into the crowd. I squeezed onto his hand tighter as I weaseled my way through people to keep up with him. He let go of my hand in favor of slipping it around my waist, holding me close to him as we traveled through the sea of people.

Lucky for us, most people of Velaris feared Illyrians so everyone made an effort to avoid us at the sight of Azriel's wings.

"What are you thinking of getting Rhys?" I ask as we weave and bob through the crowd.

"I have no idea. What do you get a lord who already has everything?" He sighs.

"A lint roller?" I suggest and he turns to look at me, slightly confused but I brush him off. "How about a new pair of shoes?" I try but his skeptical expression remains.

"He's not Morrigan," Azriel grumbles and I roll my eyes, continuing to shuffle alongside him. "What'd you get him?"

I shrug. "A new fancy jacket, say what you want. The male likes his clothes," I state and he only nods, his mind reeling.

We continue to walk in silence for a few minutes before he suddenly tightens his hold on me and pulls me in another direction.

"You really have to stop yanking me everywhere, I'm going to get whiplash one of these days," I huff as we enter a small, cozy bookstore. I look at him incredulously and he brushes me off.

“Since when does the High Lord read?” I scoff, walking down an aisle of colorful, and very enticing spines.

“We’re not here for Rhys,” He shook his head and I looked at him bewildered, my brows bunched. “Go on, pick out a book,” He waved me off and I blinked, still slightly confused. He sighed, giving me a soft smile.

“I got you a gift already, but I figured I wouldn’t exactly be fulfilling my role as the best husband ever if I didn’t spoil you,” He flashed me a pearly smile, showcasing a pair of dimples that I loved so dearly.

“How many can I get?” I ask him cheekily, as a joke surely, only expecting him to get me one but instead, he reaches to his side and picks up a wicker basket from its stack. “You can fill this up,” He handed me the basket and my eyes nearly popped from the sockets.

“Gods I could kiss you,” I muse, crashing into him in a hug. He didn’t stumble, but it took him a moment before he hugged me back. Registering what I said, I quickly pulled back. “Sorry,” I murmur, clutching the handle of the basket tighter.

He chuckled softly and shook his head. “That was the reaction I was looking for,” He smirked and I blinked, my breath caught in my throat.

He jerked his head towards the books behind me and I closed my mouth, realizing I must’ve been staring at him like a gaping fish. “Thank you,” I say, normally this time, and spin on my heel to examine the titles and covers of the many volumes.

I was in the midst of skimming through some adventure tale when a glimpse of someone caught my eye. I looked up, spotting a blonde male in the aisle beside mine. My breath hitched and I quickly slammed the book shut, putting it back on the shelf and walking as fast as I could without running towards the other direction. I foolishly bumped into a hard chest before I could turn the corner.

Fortunately, it was only Azriel. His shadows swirled around my ankles worriedly. “Everything alright?” His hands come to my shoulders and I swallow thickly. “Yeah,” I nod, glancing back to the male in the other direction who I wish I didn’t recognize. I looked back to my husband but his gaze had already followed mine, picking up on what I was running away from.

“You know him?” His expression hardened.

“No!” I blurted out, terribly loud and I clapped my hand over my mouth nervously. He gave me a pointed look and my shoulders slumped. “Fine, yes. He was a patron at Madame Welder's organization,” I say with a hushed tone. “He always kept an eye on me. If you weren’t the one that won on my bidding day, it would’ve been him,” I explain in a murmur and his face contorts, not into anger but rather… amusement?

“What’s so funny?” I scowl.

“We’re married.” He grabbed my left hand, holding it up to showcase the ridiculously large diamond on my fourth finger. “Remember?” He tilts his head but my frown remains. “As far as I can tell, there’s no ring on his finger. This means two things, one: you’re taken. And two: you’re doing a lot better than he is,” He said unambiguously. I swallowed down my nerves.

“Yes, but this,” I gestured between the two of us. “It isn’t real,” I argue, keeping my voice low.

“It can be,” He smirks, and my flush returns. “To him, at least,” He goes on.

“What do you want me to do? Kiss you in front of him?” I cross my arms.

“I mean unless you want to keep hiding behind me then go right ahead, but when he looks over at you and recognizes not the ring on your finger, but your shyness he’s going to think you’re the same girl you were ten years ago.” He explains.

“I’m not.”

“I know that, but don’t you want him to know too?” He raises a brow.

“You’re just trying to manipulate me, so desperate for some touch in your life,” I narrow my gaze on him.

He smiled, then shrugged. “Have it your way, I’ll be over here.” He began to stroll towards the male I was so terrified of being seen by.

I cast a glance at the blonde and noticed he was walking closer. “Wait he’s coming over here,” I grabbed Azriel by his shirt and he stumbled towards me finding purchase on the shelf beside my head, caging me against it.

“Oh, now you want my help?” He taunted and I rolled my eyes.

“Shut up and kiss me already,” I pulled at his shirt again and he wasted no time in following my command.

His lips were tender against mine and warmed me so thoroughly that I thought about stripping from my winter jacket. We’ve kissed before, for our wedding, and a few times after that in front of crowds to prove our love, but it didn’t feel like any of the previous kisses this time.

Because this time it was just us, the rest of the world melting away as my arms sling around his neck, one of my hands tangling into his black hair while my other one traces lines on the top of his taut wings.

He pushed me back onto the shelf, cradling my hips as he pressed against me, needing our kiss to be deeper.

It could’ve been a peck, could’ve been an innocent, chaste moment. But when his tongue swiped at my lower lip I understood that both of us wanted so much more than that.

I opened my mouth, granting his tongue access and gods did it feel good to be explored so fervently by him. He was hungry, like he’d been aching to taste me for years and he wasn’t prepared to give me up anytime soon.

He shifted, kicking my legs wider, and pressed his knee against the apex of my thighs. Every nerve in my body thrummed in reaction, my back arching off the shelf, my chest pushing against his. I needlessly gripped his hair, using all my energy to resist grinding against his leg.

“Az,” I murmur onto his lips, trying to convince myself to pull away but my willpower wasn’t strong enough, because to be honest, the last thing I wanted to do was end this.

“Hm?” He murmurs in reply.

“We’re in public,” I reminded and he nodded, very aware of our surroundings, aware of everything in fact. His shadows were slithering up my torso sporadically. He removed his knee from my core and a soft sigh escaped my lips. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” He whispered, then kissed me gently once more, just a soft peck this time. I was slightly shaky as he pulled away entirely. I nodded, licking my lips and savoring the lingering taste of him.

I turned back to the bookshelf, completely forgetting about the blonde male across the way until an unfamiliar voice spoke from beside me. “Pardon me, can I get by you?” I turned to the sound, finding the blonde male. I froze for a moment. It wasn’t him. I had no idea who this man was. I was so stupid to think someone so wretched from the Hewn City would be here, in the most protected city in the world. I catch myself, quickly peeling my leaden feet from the floor, scooting closer to the shelf so he could pass.

Azriel looks at me, slightly alarmed. “It wasn’t him,” I murmur, and this time my husband’s amusement actually forms into a laugh.

“You just wanted me to kiss you,” He teases and she crinkles her nose in spite.

“It was your idea,” I huffed, stomping away to a separate aisle, far away from him. But he caught me quickly, his arms slinging over my shoulders as he hugged me from behind while I examined a display table of Sellyn Drake's new novel.

After what felt like only another moment my basket was filled and Azriel had paid for each book, making me promise that I’d be surprised when I opened them on Solstice morning.

We stepped back out into the cold, my hand in Azriel’s while his other held my heavy bag of books. I smiled greedily, looking up at him. A gust of wind blew past us and it wiped away my smile, a shiver running down my back as my eyes stung from the cold.

“Come on, let’s go home,” He pulled at my hand and I looked up at him curiously.

“What about Rhys’ present?” I say and he shrugs.

“You’re cold, I’ll find something for Rhys another time,” He proposed and I nodded, squeezing his hand a little tighter and inching closer. I blamed my body for seeking warmth but we both knew that the kiss we shared meant more than we played off.

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[stairain]

Brushstrokes.

You weren’t entirely sure what being Spencer’s muse meant, but it certainly wasn’t what he had in mind.

Warnings: Dom Spencer, Sub Reader, vaginal penetration, foreign object penetration.

WC: 1.5K

You’re not exactly sure why you agreed to this, but you were happy to be a part of one of Spencer’s new hobbies nonetheless.

Your boyfriend had recently taken up painting, and he decided his latest subject and newest project was going to be a portrait of you.

So there you were, sprawled out on your living room couch in nothing but a barely visible slip dress.

He was deep in concentration as his deep eyes shifted back and forth from your body to the canvas. 

“Are muses allowed to talk?”

You ask, knowing he had asked you not to move, but being a human mannequin was harder than it looked.

Spencer glances up at you briefly with a small smile as he paints the curve of your jaw, seemingly in a trance as he creates the image.

“Not really.” 

He was nearly finished anyways, so it wasn’t like you were messing anything up, but he’d never pass up the opportunity to tease you.

“But I think I can make an exception for my muse.”

His gaze slowly lowers from your face as he paints, his eyes lingering on the curve of your waist for a long moment as you readjust your body. 

“For someone who's just laying there, you keep distracting me, in a dress that hardly covers a thing..”

At the teasing tone in his voice, your lips part in a baffled scoff. 

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one who told me to wear this and you’re the one who told me to get in this position.”

His grin only broadens as he sets his brush down and lays it on the nearby table, slowly working over to you and getting right up next to you on his knees. 

Spencer reaches out a paint stained hand to touch your leg, but you jolt away before he can. 

“Hey, you’re supposed to be painting.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you jokingly scold him.

“I’m almost done, I just need to make sure I’ve got the right angles to properly capture my muse.”

He says, continuing his advancements as he runs the tips of his rough fingers along your soft thighs. The feeling has you shivering, as it never did take much for him to turn you on. 

But it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he’s not being entirely honest with his intentions, and you watch through lust lidded eyes as he reaches towards his canvas and work station.

His nimble fingers quickly grasp a clean plastic paintbrush, one with a thicker base that would be used for much larger, and broader strokes. 

With the snap of his fingers, your focus turns back to him immediately, and he grasps your chin in his fingers. 

“Now be a good muse, would you?”

Wordlessly you nod, looking his face up and down for any sign of what that might entail. 

As he lets go of your face and leans back, the hand holding the brush nudges at your knees. They were laid on top of each other as you were still in your previous position.

But that wouldn’t do any longer. As soon as he bumps his knuckles into your legs, you’re spreading them as wide as the couch allows you to.

He maintains eye contact with you as he slowly drags the tip of the paintbrush from the tops of your knees down to the folds of your uncovered sex. Your body jumps at the feeling, but you still lay there pliant for him.

The dark plastic rod swirls against your slick wetness, and despite using the opposite end, he could’ve been fooled if this was its intended use. 

He breaks your shared gaze to drag the brush downward, closer and closer. 

Your lips quiver as he inches towards your hole, and you barely manage to stutter out your words. 

“Y-You’re supposed to be painting..”

Spencer’s eyes snap up to yours immediately and it makes your throat run dry. The corners of his soft pink lips curl upwards, and he looks back down to where your cunt invites him in. 

“And you are supposed to be quiet.”

He says as he sinks the end of the paintbrush into your pussy. With the intrusion, it leaks onto the soft couch beneath you.

You throw your head back against the arm and fight the urge to entirely swallow the brush whole. 

The object, although not nearly as thick or long as your counterpart, sinks deeper into your walls, the cold plastic quickly burning hot with the tight heat that surrounds it. 

Spencer’s got his fingers gripping where metal meets bristle, and watches in a crude fascination as he begins to fuck you with the end of a paintbrush. 

As he pushes it deeper, you lift your head and look up at him, but he’s nowhere close to meeting your gaze.

Instead, his hazel eyes are trained on how every time he withdraws the brush from your soaked pussy, a thick layer of your arousal coated the dark plastic. 

He licked his lips and you could hear just how heavily he was breathing as he pushed it back into your tight slit. 

It sinks all the way into you, without any trace of resistance. He’s careful not to be too rough with it, and it becomes clear he’s not going slow to torture you, but instead to admire you. 

The way your soft walls flutter around the paintbrush as if it were second nature, and the way you’re practically leaking a puddle underneath you. It’s all too much for him to be spoiled with at once.

Under his breath, he curses out gentle profanities. And his unoccupied hand slowly reaches down towards the front of his trousers. 

There’s wet paint on his palm and it smears against light fabric as he cusps the heavy bulge filled in his pants. He gives it a hearty squeeze and lets out a strained sigh of relief. 

Your eyes dart down to his dirty hands palming his aching cock. And your soft lips twitch into a nervous smile. 

“You’re getting distracted..” 

Voice quivering and legs shaking. 

Spencer doesn’t even have to look up at you to know the smug smirk adorned on your face. He simply nods once.

You notice the shining gloss in his eyes, a shine that holds fascination and adoration. 

“Yeah.. You don’t mind, do you?”

You shake your head immediately, as if either of you possessed the immense power it would take to tear him away from you. 

He nods back and gives himself one last squeeze before he removes his hand from himself and places it on you instead.

His thumb finds solace against your inner thigh, reaching out to gently spread your glistening pussy. 

Like a true artist, he studied his subject in the most effective way possible. 

Spencer thrusts the brush in and out of you, stroking it as deep as you’ll take it. The hard tip stamps into your spot repeatedly and your entire body jolts with the intensity. 

“S-Spence..”

You moan out, feeling downright filthy and pathetic that you’re about to cum because of a paintbrush.

The tops of his fingers turn white with how tightly he’s holding the brush, and he’s biting the thin skin right off his lip. 

His thumb moves to rub gentle circles at your clit, the pressure on your sensitive button being what sends you right off the edge. 

As he shoves the tip right against that gummy spot that has you seeing stars, you’re leaking a sticky sweet substance around the rod. 

Your jaw goes slack in a silent whimper, and it’s not a moment too soon before he’s pulling the paintbrush out of you entirely and running his pink tongue along the soaked plastic. 

With pleasure drunk eyes, you watch as he swirls the muscle around until every last taste bud is coated with an essence that’s simply you.

The sight causes a spark in your stomach, feeling downright worshipped with the way he so desperately licked up your release. 

Once he’s sure he’s cleaned it thoroughly, he flips the brush around. It’s a sudden change in sensations when the bristles of the brush tap against your sensitive folds. 

An accident, you think. 

But just when you thought he’s had his fun, he drags the brush against your cunt, collecting the trails of slick that coated your plush skin. 

The substance soaks into the toe of the brush, cascading down each individual bristle like the highest quality of paint. 

And when he’s certain he’s collected enough, he brings the defiled brush to canvas and runs it along the surface, covering each square inch of his painted muse. 

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence as he finishes the final touch of his painting. He attempts to capture the glow and shine of your person the best he could. 

It’s a disgusting and endearing act of artistry, using the essence of his beloved as a smooth varnish to his finished masterpiece that was entirely you. 

[wandasaura]

LOVE IS A RUTHLESS GAME

summary — it’s been months since natasha’s submitted to her wife, but that’s about to change. you’re lucky enough to watch the entire scene unfold

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, the chaotic duo of lucky and fanny, sub!nat, sub!reader, face slapping, pussy slapping, edging, cockwarming, face sitting, nipple stimulation, degradation, praise, dildo riding, dom/sub dynamics, teasing, begging, delayed orgasm, orgasm control, mentions of exhibitionism, oral, bondage, finger sucking, cum eating, threesome, aftercare, men/minors dni

authors note — we’re not even going to address the fact that this was meant to be an entirely separate fic and that now i have to write a part two because it got too long to add any more. this is literal filth, but there are some cute/goofy moments + mean wanda

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

It was bound to be a great day when Natasha got a phone call from Yelena asking if she could watch Fanny and Lucky for a couple of hours; some work conflict having come up on short notice and Kate was already out of town. Those couple of hours had turned into an overnight arrangement rather quickly, but you were just happy that Natasha agreed to keep both dogs for the night and hadn’t sent the excitable pups back through the door they came in at when Yelena dropped the bombshell. 

Wanda was less than pleased to have not one but two dogs running around her perfectly kept house, and had turned her glare on Natasha multiple times because of it. It turns out that Kate and Yelena let the pups run wild, furniture wasn’t off limits and wiping their paws at the door was entirely foreign. You had looked at Wanda in sheer amusement when she’d tried to get the two tail-wagging pups to understand the concept of drying their paws before stepping onto her hardwood floors. They’d merely shook their coats and trotted past her, muddy paw prints adorning the couch seconds later. It was safe to say that Natasha was beyond the point of simply being in trouble with the Sokovian. The Russian had been tiptoeing around for hours, her eyes filled with unbudgeable worry as she scouted each room for Wanda’s presence before even considering entering fully.  

When Natasha appeared again, hair tied up in a bun and blue light glasses slipping down the slope of her nose, that same gleam of hesitance brimmed in her calculated green eyes. You were curled up on the couch, Fanny’s head on one thigh while Lucky’s head rested on the other. Your eyes were staring straight ahead at the television screen, an old movie you hadn’t seen in ages holding your attention, but the dogs had decided that giving Wanda grief since their arrival had officially tired them out. Lucky snored, you found out rather quickly. Fanny was quiet, but your heart ached when she whined every so often and the little paws folded beneath her shaggy belly twitched and jerked like she was trying to run. You didn’t know much about dogs, had never had much interest in having one of your own, but you could appreciate their warm comfort. The Sokovian that was being searched for had gone out back an hour ago, a book in her hands that was already half finished but rather lengthy. As she’d passed you on her way out, careful not to let the dogs out with her, she’d told you she wouldn’t mind an interruption if you wanted to join her, but Natasha had pointedly been left out of that invitation. 

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Natasha asked cautiously, fixing the black framed glasses so they sat on the top of her head, no longer needing them for the work assignments she left behind in her office. There was never any shortage of work to be done, never any space between deadlines and start-ups, but the women found a balance easily, something you admired as more than just their girlfriend. They were never CEO’s first. They were wives, girlfriends, sisters, friends, people. Pursuing a career in computer science has shown you the harsher sides of corporate companies and the intricacies that running a successful business entails. You’d shaken hands with too many sour old men that devoted their lives to the office and were somehow surprised when their wives left them. Wanda and Natasha would never understand how easy they made it look, and how inspiring they are, being successful women in positions of power. 

“My girlfriend, is she?” You quirked a single eyebrow, an expression you had more or less adopted as your own since the start of the summer. Seeing you wear an expression that Wanda practically owned never failed to make Natasha weak in the knees. “Getting a divorce that I don’t know about?” 

“After tonight? We might be.” Although Natasha was merely teasing, playing into the game that you had set up, you frowned at the genuine concern in her simple words. Yelena had put her in between a rock and a hard place, even if it wasn’t entirely intentional. She had definitely left out the part about needing someone to watch the dogs overnight on purpose, but Wanda’s reaction to the news wasn’t her fault. Natasha always checked base with Wanda before she agreed to anything that involved more than just herself, Yelena had no reason to assume anything different of today, but in the chaos of receiving the phone call only minutes before a virtual conference, it had fallen away from Natasha’s mind until the doorbell rang.  

You smiled sympathetically at Natasha, wanting to kiss the creased skin between her eyebrows until it was smooth and soft with ease, but you were effectively nap-trapped by the Golden Retriever and Akita who you didn’t really want waking up anytime soon. They’d finally calmed down, there was silence over the house again, and disturbing the peace felt like initiating a war. “Wanda will get over it.” 

“Wanda hates dogs.” Natasha rolled her eyes like that was the most obvious answer ever, which it was, you knew extremely well how passionate Wanda was about not liking or wanting a dog, but she didn’t hate dogs enough to completely walk away from Natasha. You sighed, deciding that disturbing the nap the two pups were taking on you was less important than resolving the rising issue between your girlfriends. 

Fanny yelped when you shrugged her head off of your thigh, but Lucky remained quiet and merely resettled into the cushions that were warm from where your weight had sat. You grabbed Natasha’s hand without any explanation, not that you needed one, but still she let you guide her through the house without questioning where you were leading her. Her expression grimmed when she spotted Wanda lounged beside the pool, a recently published law book in her hands that was nearly finished as she turned yet another page getting closer to the official end. You didn’t spare the time to admire how fast she read, merely slipped through the sliding glass door and dragged Natasha along with you. 

The door was closed quickly, because although Lucky and Fanny were seemingly content on the couch for the time being, probably missing their Moms as the hours rolled by and the heavy sun became lighter with dusk, you didn’t fancy taking the risk of them wandering outside to find where you’d gone.  

Wanda peered over the edge of her book, sunglasses that were no longer needed now that the unforgiving sunlight had become crisp with wisps of orange, perched on the top of her head in the same fashion as Natasha’s. They were eerily similar, always so in tune with the other even when the tide got choppy. There was no question about how or why they worked so well together, they just did. 

“Please tell your wife that you’re not going to divorce her.” You deadpanned, not even sparing Natasha a glance as you firmly addressed Wanda, who raised both eyebrows in question at your demand. Wanda’s eyes, sparkling beneath the sun, looked between you and Natasha with something unreadable deep beneath them. “She’s being unreasonable. That’s my job.” You pushed further, sensing that Wanda’s silence was around for the long haul if you didn’t make the severity of the situation known. Natasha was uncharacteristically not herself in the moment, and you despised every second of it. 

Wanda sighed, allowing her hands to relinquish the grip she had on her book. It fell onto her thighs that were warm from constant sunlight, the only shadow thrown over her illuminating body. “Natalia, don’t be dense.” She rolled her eyes, accent strong as the day she’d learned how to say her first sentence. The air was thin around the three of you, Natasha’s grip on your hand tight and unnerving. This was not the way Wanda addressed things, for a second you stopped to consider that maybe Natasha had a point to be so concerned, but that fell away when a whimper so soft it sounded like another tale that the wind tried to tell reached your ears. 

Wanda wasn’t annoyed. No, that is absolutely not what was going on. You’d thought she was, had every reason to believe that she was, until a ghost of a smirk splayed across her lips tinted pink from how many strawberries she’d eaten beside the pool. Their dynamic had been only a whispered thing, soft stories and recounts of the nights where Natasha gave herself over to Wanda, but in the almost year that you’d been present in their home and in their lives, you’d never seen it play out. You had no reason to when you were merely around to be a release for Natasha, but now you were their girlfriends, and it dawned on you harsher than the unforgiving sun that it had been months since Natasha relinquished control. This wasn’t about her being paranoid, this was about her wanting to be reprimanded, wanting to let Wanda take over. 

Wanda stood from the lounge chair, bowl of strawberries and her book the only things that said she was ever laid out at all. She was close enough to smell when her feet stopped carrying her forward, and you noted that she must’ve gotten a new perfume because there was something reminiscent of grapefruit lingering around her. You held your breath when Wanda’s palm connected with Natasha’s cheek, the slap sounding harsher than it was. You’d grown familiar with loud echoes after soft slaps, your ass had been discolored by them too many times. There was nothing that could’ve warned you about the harsh treatment, but Natasha didn’t waver behind you. Her knees didn’t fold like yours would have and her shoulders never shook like she feared the next hit. Slapping was a hard limit for you, but Natasha merely sighed at the contact of Wanda’s palm hitting cheek. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve played with you, hasn’t it, kroshechnyy tantsor?” Wanda cooed, a glint of danger breaching her eyes. This was not how she handled you. You’d seen her be harsh, cruel even, but she looked downright mean as the sun glimmered against every inch of available skin that already held a lingering tan. Natasha was allured by the look in her wife’s eyes, and you noticed that she hadn’t yet spoken at your side. 

“Is that what you want? You want me to play with you, milaya? Want our little duckling to know what a slut her Daddy is?” Wanda pressed further, edging Natasha right into a state that was only able to be categorized as submissive. You could hear the stories of their dynamic a million times a day, but nothing would have ever prepared you for the sight of it to be unfolding right in front of you; unfiltered and perfectly easy. “You can speak, milaya. Tell me what you want.” 

“Please, Wanda.” There it was, the first utterance of Natasha’s gravely voice in the minutes that it had been since you dragged her outside. It was light, airy even, softer than a million seeds falling from the pappus of a dandelion. 

“Detka,” Wanda looked toward you, her eyes so much softer than they had been as she peered into Natasha’s soul and dared her to push back. You hummed, inclining your head to the side in an expression that radiated innocence and submission. Even if she wasn’t playing with you, Wanda was still your dominant, you still felt she deserved to be shown respect as she floated nearer and nearer to one of her favorite headspaces. You adored every shade of green that lived within the Sokovian’s eyes, but there was something so captivating about the shade of Juniper that attempted to drown her pupils when she let herself hold all control. “I am not going to be soft with Natalia. You are welcome to join us in the bedroom, but if it gets too much for you, I expect you to leave. Do not stay because you think you’ll be able to handle it.” 

Your brain was a mess of spiraling thoughts, wondering the state that Natasha would be left in when Wanda was through with her, and the extent of which they played at all. There were so many unanswered questions that you hadn’t been at liberty to ask before, but now you had every right to know what turned your girlfriends on, and there was no way you’d be missing out on whatever the scene had to offer. Despite the heavy gears turning in your head that were effectively dampening your panties, you managed to nod your head albeit hesitantly and jerkily. “Okay.” You breathed out, earning a smile from the Sokovian and a tight squeeze of your hand from the Russian. “Are you okay with me watching?” You turned the question on Natasha, assuming that considering Wanda was the one who had extended the invitation she wasn’t opposed to your presence in the room as she unraveled all the tight knots Natasha had been putting into place. 

“Oh honey.” Wanda preened with an edge to her tone that had Natasha whining at your side, “Natalia is quite the fan of having an audience. My little slut thinks it’s quite the turn on to be the main attraction. Isn’t that right, shlyukha?” 

Natasha nodded quickly, her eyes clouded with lust and desperation that wasn’t unusual, but had never been so translucent. You wondered if you looked the same when Wanda had you beneath her thumb, pliant and eager to be ruined, but now was not the time for daydreams about your own submissive nature. 

“Oh.” A whispered response fell off of your tongue as your cheeks became hot with the presence of a blush that was a result of anything but embarrassment. Your stomach tightened at the information, imagining what scenarios had led to that discovery and how intensely they’d played into it. Natasha was not shy. She had no reason to be with her perfectly smooth and silky skin and tits that could win awards if there was ever such a competition to judge. She was breathtaking, you knew it and she knew it, but you’d never expected to hear that she was into exhibition. A sense of pride flooded your system when you could pinpoint the appropriate term on the tip of your tongue, Wanda’s mini lectures paying off. 

“Mmm.” Wanda hummed, a smirk on her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she practically undressed Natasha. The woman was barely upright anymore, her knees weak as she readjusted her stance time and time again, and you weren’t oblivious to the way her thighs pressed together trying to relieve the ache in her core. If Wanda noticed, which she did, nothing was said about the vain attempts. “Detka, be a dear and help Natalia into the bedroom will you? I want her in a single-column tie before I get up there.” 

Natasha groaned beside you, her head as heavy as a ragdolls as it lulled back and faced the dwindling sunshine like a lonely sunflower would. The train of spiraling thoughts that had been running circles around your brain came to a halting stop at the request, a tinge of pink rising across your neck as you fumbled with your intertwined fingers, not even remember when you had dropped Natasha’s hand, or maybe she had been the one to drop yours, “I don’t– What is that?” 

Wanda, patient as always, merely smiled and inclined her head toward Natasha, an expectant hardness lingering within her sage stare that was darkening by the minute in tune with the depleting sunlight across the sky. It wasn’t cold by any means, still in the warmer months of summertime, but the air around you felt frigid either way. The only thing that could bring warmth back to your body was the touch of your girlfriends. “Natalia will show you. Won’t you, malen'kaya shlyushka. You’ll show our duckling how you like to be restrained to the headboard?” 

“Yebat.” Natasha whimpered, her eyes flickering toward you, filled with desperate longing that didn’t seem to be Wanda’s main concern at the moment. You gnawed at your bottom lip, your eyes hooded and dark, twinged with lust that was steadily growing. “Yes.” Natasha exhaled, eyes flickering back up to meet Wanda’s when the lawyer shifted her stance and inclined her head expectantly. 

“Good girl.” Wanda’s praise was curt and dismissive, not filled with warmth and satisfaction that you had grown so used to in recent months. You found yourself frowning, because even if the praise hadn’t been intended for you, you still hung onto her every word. Wanda, ever observant, didn’t fight the fond expression that slipped across her features as she turned her sharp gaze to you.  “You’re a good girl too, moya utenok. Now go help Natalia. I’ll make sure the ties are okay, Natty won’t get hurt. I just want you to try your best. Okay?” Despite not recognizing the anxiousness that settled in your belly amidst the desperation that brewed simultaneously, the proposition of being the one to restrain Natasha had worried you, but your shoulders relaxed at Wanda’s assurance that your attempt wouldn’t be the final verdict if she found anything less than perfect with the knots you bound her wife with. You nodded, a whispered response filling the air that separated your body from the Sokovians. 

Natasha grabbed your hand, whether it was to steady herself or to ground you, you weren’t entirely sure, but you laced your fingers together and set your course back toward the house where Fanny and Lucky were waiting at the sliding glass door. You’d forgotten about the four legged pups since coming outside, but their hot panting that dirtied the glass implied that they hadn’t forgotten about you. You didn’t try to keep them inside as you slipped in, figuring that keeping them away from the breakable indoors while the three of you were otherwise occupied was the best plan of action if you were going to save Wanda a heart attack. 

“Natalia!” Wanda’s voice was precisely projected as it reached both yours and Natasha’s ears, the thickness of her accent wearing slightly as she forced the words through her diaphragm carefully. It was still a wonder how many years the lawyer had spent in the United States, but it had been enough to ease the traces of home out of her tone naturally. “YA khochu, chtoby utenok byl na rozovom remeshke, kogda ya priyedu tuda.” 

Natasha’s breath stuttered in her chest, and though you were picking up on the simple terms of endearment that they uttered to you routinely, you understood nothing of the sentence that had been just loud enough to settle through the space you occupied. Natasha did however, and when she closed the sliding glass door and guided you deeper into the house, she whispered shortly against the shell of your ear, “Wanda’s trying to kill you.” 

You paled slightly at the confirmation that whatever Wanda had requested, had been in regards to you. Unable to predict what the lawyer could have wanted, you didn’t think to ask, not wanting any distractions that would interfere with the ropes you were instructed to bind. The bedroom was saturated in darkness when you entered through the door, curtains drawn and lights switched off. The only sounds that suggested the room was occupied came from yours and Natasha’s footsteps, but even they were softer than usual. The energy that Wanda possessed had taken its toll, and both of your bodies were eager for sensations that only the Sokovian had the authority to grant. 

Natasha reached for the light switch, drenching the room with artificial brightness that tore shades of cream from the pillowcases adorning the bed. Traces of you lingered across every expanse of space, the room no longer just theirs but yours. Yours to share gentle kisses concealed by darkness in. Yours to sing and dance in when rain pelted the widows and work had been forgotten. Yours to share these intimate moments. Yours. Just yours. 

Natasha tilted her head toward the closet, a space you had grown familiar with for more than just the necessity of needing an outfit in the morning. Your hands reached for the black case that you knew held instruments and toys for a scene like this, but you were stopped before your fingers could ghost against the smooth material. Instead, the Russian reached toward a shelf above the racks of suits and dresses, grabbing a red leather briefcase bound securely by a silver combination lock. Natasha placed it on one of the lesser occupied shelves, her fingers working at the black engraved digits with a practiced ease. 

Despite the submission that you had seen from Natasha minutes prior, she looked down at you with dominance that was familiar and welcomed. Her voice was stern as she spoke to you quietly, not even sparing a glance at the lock that she continued to work open. “We don’t want you in this case unless we tell you. What’s in here is not for you to be playing around with. The combination is our birthdays, I trust that you won’t go snooping around where you don’t belong without permission.” 

“Okay.” You whispered a response, finding that you were practically incapable of speaking at any other volume, entirely consumed with the weight of their presence and not wanting to disturb it. “Natty?” You peered up at your dominant, knowing that tonight was about her but unable to clear the lingering bliss in your head as you looked at her with nothing but sheer admiration. 

“Yes, dorogaya?” Natasha smiled at you softly, her hand reaching to cup your cheek though the tips of her fingers were chilled slightly from the metal she’d been grasping at. You didn’t shy away, leaning into her touch as she let herself be consumed with only you, not the promise of being tied to the bed and fucked into oblivion. “You still okay with watching? Neither of us are going to be upset if you need to leave. Wanda and I don’t have the same rules as we do with you.” 

You shook your head adamantly, wanting her to understand that their hot and heavy dynamic was not the cause of your soft question. “I’m okay. Just wanted to say I love you.” 

Natasha smiled, kissing you softly in the dimly lit closet. The only light that penetrated the space came from the bedroom, but you didn’t need additional light to see the affection in her eyes. “I love you too.” She murmured against your lips, but as quickly as your sacred moment had come, it fell away and your attention was on the case that Natasha pulled open with eager fingers. 

The case, although small, held toys and items that made your eyes bulge and your belly quiver. A collection of knives wrapped pristinely in thick black leather occupied a small fraction of the briefcase, beside it three half melted candles with wicks the color of coal. A pink dildo with a suction cup attachment at the base caught your attention, wondering why it had been displaced from the rest of the dildo’s and strap-ons that the slavic women owned. You didn’t recognize anything else in the case; a bundle of rope that you assumed would be used to restrain Natasha, multiple thin link chain attachments, and an instrument that almost resembled a pizza cutter but the blade was prickled with sharp nubs that looked rather dull. Your eyes searched for Natasha’s, but she was busy rummaging through the case for something unspoken about. Your breathing shuddered when she collected a small bottle of lube in her hands, passing it over to you with a wink. 

She grabbed the dildo and the rope next, closing the case just as quickly as she had opened it although the seconds it took her to find the objects she wanted felt like agonizing minutes. Her eyes, submissive and hazy, found yours in the dimly light brightness of the closer, a soft incline of her head pointing in the direction of the bedroom. “Come on.” You nodded jerkily, following her back into the master bedroom where Wanda’s presence still lacked to be. 

Natasha didn’t head for the bed like you’d been expecting, she headed for the single chair in the corner of the room that had never seen an ounce of attention from the women who preferred to hang around in the living room where sunlight bled in at every angle. You gasped when she stuck the dildo to the seat of the chair, almost a grimace in her face when she turned to look back at you. Although she proceeded to explain what Wanda expected of you, there was no need for an explanation. The bottle of lube in your hands wasn’t for her, it was for you. Another rush of excitement sparked in your belly like connecting live wires, and you barely concealed your whine when Natasha began to strip out of her clothes, leaving them in pristine piles on the nightstand. The lace panties were the last to leave her body, deep red and thin as they slipped down her legs and pooled at her feet with glistening wetness visible across the center. You swallowed thickly, eyes caught on the sight of her core that, although mostly concealed by thighs that you wanted around your head, glimmered distinctly beneath the overhead light. 

Your eyes trailed upward, drinking in the sight of her tensing abs that had only been so prominent last summer; the summer you arranged to be her submissive. Natasha found it easier to work out in the summer, when the weather was inviting and the workload lulled. Her hours spent in the home gym hadn’t been in vain, and the ripples in her muscles held your attention for longer then they should have. You didn’t want to pull your eyes away from her chest, where the sienna color of her breasts became rosy at her nipples that were pebbled and eager for stimulation. Another shuddering breath slipped into the space, but as easily as you’d lost your composure Natasaha was strapping you back into it and handing you the rope. 

She laid starfish on the bed, her swollen and glistening core fully in sight as her thighs spread to allow access to whoever pleased to touch her first. Wanda had said nothing about binding her legs, and the almost silky rose in your hands wouldn’t reach to tether them down. Natasha, head thrown back against the pillows and red curls spilling across them, looked at you expectantly with intense green eyes. Never had this much control been placed on your shoulders, but you wouldn’t disappoint either one of them. Your thighs straddled Natasha’s waist, your chest falling in front of her face as she raised her arms and instructed you through the process of restraining her the way both she and Wanda liked. A whimper fell from your lips when Natasha leaned forward to mouth at your nipple through the thin t-shirt you wore, her hips grinding upwards and forcing sensations of pleasure through your core. You faltered on top of her, panting for breath as you tried to keep your attention on the ties you were making across her wrists, though it proved difficult when her teeth settled firmly around your nipple and tugged. 

“N-Nat.” You whined, hips rocking with their own intention as you dropped your hands to the pillows and let yourself enjoy a single moment of the pleasure she was provoking. Your clit throbbed, your panties are drenched and clinging to your core. You were certain that if Wanda chose this moment to come up the stairs, the sight of you would be painfully erotic. Natasha fully naked, you fully clothed, hips grinding and thrusting and broken moans of pleasure echoing off otherwise silent walls. She could destroy you even beneath you and partially immobile, you were no longer blind to that fact. “S-Stop.” As much as you didn’t want her to, you weren’t sent upstairs to give pleasure and earn pleasure, and the thought of Wanda having a reason to punish the both of you was not a fire you wanted to start at the moment. 

Natasha did stop, but she hummed in disappointment as her head fell back against the pillows, framed by your wrists and hands that still braced the majority of your weight. The knots around her wrists were as good as you would be able to get them without any further instruction, but you had no idea if they were good enough for Wanda’s standards. You didn’t have the opportunity to dwell on the potential failure, able to hear the door sliding against the track and the softness of Wanda’s voice as she told Fanny and Lucky to stay. 

“Do they feel okay?” You checked in softly, peering down between your arms to assure that her face gave no indication of discomfort. The Russian didn’t respond, instead pulling at her arms and humming something that was inaudible with her teeth grinded together and lips pursed tight. “Nat, I need you to tell me if they feel okay.” There was panic in your voice that pulled Natasha back into the moment, eyes searching yours before she realized that the soft sounds Wanda made as her feet braced the hardwood were growing closer and closer. Her footsteps weren’t yet on the stairs that led to the room you occupied, but close enough to remind you both of how you weren’t in the positions she’d requested. 

“They’re perfect, detka.” Natasha smiled encouragingly, bucking her hips beneath you once more, though this time the action was a reminder to shuffle off of her and settle yourself on the fuschia toy that was admittedly an eyesore within the neutral toned room. Your clothes came off in sloppy movements, not folded neatly like Natasha’s as they piled onto the floor and became wrinkled. The bottle of lube was unneeded with the thick ropes of arousal that clung to your inner thighs, a whine ripping from the back of your throat as you eased yourself onto the toy but forced your hips to remain still, not having Wanda’s permission to ride it just yet. You felt exceedingly full, each groove amongst the shaft pushing against the sensitive interior of your tight channel. Your eyes fluttered closed when you sucked in a breath, jostling your body just enough to earn a sweet sensation of pleasure within your velvet walls. Your eyes had been closed when Wanda entered, but they snapped open at the sound of Natasha mewling on the bed. 

When your eyes found the Sokovian, she was leaning overtop of Natasha, both knees digging into the mattress beneath her though it barely sunk with her additional weight. Her fingers were adored with glimmering rings like they always were, though now they threaded into the intricate knots you had made with the beige colored rope and pulled tightly. She hummed her satisfaction when she found nothing wrong with the structure of the ties, juniper eyes searching for yours as she smiled proudly. 

“Good job, little duckling.” She praised sweetly, though the words dripped with danger as she possessed that same glint of passion in her eyes that had appeared beneath the sunset. “I didn’t know my sweet girl would be so skilled at tying her Daddy up.” Your core pulsed around the toy in your core, wetness seeping into the smooth faux leather beneath you. A whimper fell off your lips before you could keep it in, and Wanda’s lips twinged into a smile of fake sympathy. “I bet that pussy’s so full, malyshka. Why don’t you tell Natalia how good you feel, this poor little pussys aching for the same treatment. Isn’t that right, slut?” You gaped at the resounding slap that echoed off Wanda’s palm as she let her hand fall across the Russian’s hot cunt, wetness glistening beneath the light as the Sokovian pulled her hand back to inspect, toying with the arousal that remained on the expanse of her tinted pink skin. “So wet. Did you enjoy having your little girl tie you up, Natalia?” 

Natasha moaned desperately, her hips chasing after Wanda’s hand that wasn’t willing to repeat the former action. Her head bobbed against the pillows, curls becoming frizzy and wild from the frantic  nod that became the only answer she provided. Wanda, seemingly satisfied with Natasha’s chosen silence, turned her gaze back to you, the demand to share your experience heavy in the silence.

Your cheeks, pink and flush, became hotter at the premise of vocalizing the sensations that were admittedly dull with lack of any major movement. “You’ll learn very quickly that I do not ask twice, milaya. Use your words before you earn the same rules as Natalia.” You didn’t know Natasha’s rules, they’d never been discussed, but her silence was enough to guess that she wasn’t allowed to speak without permission. 

“It feels g-good. I feel so full, N-Nat.” You cried out, hips twitching for movement that you wouldn’t allow. However short your explanation was, Wanda seemed pleased as she turned her attention to Natasha, who up until this point, had received the bare minimum. 

Wanda’s fingers sought out Natasha’s nipples, and although yours remained untouched and entirely fine, you winced at the force behind her synchronous tugs. Natasha’s back arched off the bed and into Wanda’s hands, either an attempt to seek more or to lessen the sting entirely. The wanton moans that fell past her lips like a symphony were indicative of the pleasure the action had provided, and although her legs weren’t bound, you didn’t miss the twitch of her muscles as she strained to remain still. 

Your core pleaded for more, walls fluttering around the intrusion of the toy that you hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. The stretch felt intimidating, and so eagerly you wanted to bring your hips upward only to sink back down and accept the presence again. Your nails dug into the arms of the chair, knuckles white from the strength of your grip. Across the room, Wanda was tongue deep in Natasha’s mouth, the only sounds that existed around them being the wet smacks of lips losing suction and gasped breaths. Natasha, with her hands bound, fought against the restraints trying to reach out and touch Wanda, but her efforts failed each time she pulled, the knots unwilling to loosen enough for her hands to slip through. Wanda pulled away with a pleased hum, her fingers back at Natasha’s nipples as she twisted them harshly in tune with the other. 

“Please.” Natasha cried out, writhing on the bed as her legs closed tightly, slick thighs rubbing together in an attempt to bring even an ounce of pleasure over her desperate body. Wanda wasn’t pleased by her efforts, hearing the slap land on Natasha’s cheek before you could process seeing it. Wanda was quick, efficient and cruel, but Natasha wasn’t backing down. The lawyer wriggled and thrashed on the bed, a symphony of Russian falling off her tongue as she kept her eyes wide and on Wanda. 

“Do not make me remind you of the rules, Natalia.” Wanda growled lowly, her voice thick with traces of an accent that suited her well, but only worsened your fate as you tried not to let your restraint crumble, wanting desperately to be good for her. You whined on the chair in the corner of the room, unable to stop yourself as you watched Wanda strike Natasha a third time, the Russian a moaning mess beneath the Sokovian as her cheek took on the faintest handprint of pink. “Is there something you need, moya utenok?” 

“C-Can I– Please–” Your desperation had finally won over, and even without Wanda’s permission your hips grinded and thrashed against the leather beneath your thighs, guiding the dildo into that perfectly spongy part of your walls with ease. The sounds of your arousal were embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet room, and you could feel Natasha’s eyes on you as she laid stiff and still beneath Wanda. “Please?” 

Wanda hummed thoughtfully, but when she spoke, your blood ran cold with dread and shame. “It seems neither of you need my permission anymore.” She gave you a pointed glare, and your hips stuttered to a stop, no longer searching for pleasure as you shrunk beneath her glare. “Is that what you’d like, moya utenok? For Mommy to let you do whatever you please?” 

Frantically you shook your head, eyes wide and brimming with tears that had no reason to fall but gathered against your waterline anyway. You hated the mere idea of that ever happening, and you were in no mood to test the truth behind her implication. “No! No Mommy!” You pleaded with her, aware of how pitiful and distressed you sounded as your cries shattered the silence. Natasha, though still beneath the fog that had gathered at the forefront of her mind in the face of Wanda’s brutal ministrations, nudged her knee upward, shaking her head at Wanda when the attention fell back down to her. 

When Wanda’s eyes returned to you, they were softer, greener, filled with a gentle affection that had been impossible to find second earlier. “Do you want to ride the dildo, moya lyubov’?” Her voice was softer, kinder, taking on the tone she’d always devoted to you alone. It was a complete turn around from how she’d been addressing Natasha, but the presence of her accent hadn’t wavered. 

“Please Mommy!” You cried out, unsure of how many minutes you’d been impaled by the thick toy, but enough for the sun to have completely settled beneath the moon and taken its warmth with it. The window was open beyond the pulled curtains, a lingering breeze sweeping past your naked skin before it fell short of the bed where Wanda and Natasha remained entangled. The Sokovian’s hands were braced on the Russian’s abdomen, thighs around her waist squeezing tightly and restricting movement. 

“Go ahead, dorogaya. Let me hear those pretty sounds whilst I see how many edges my little slut can handle before she’s begging for mercy.” Wanda smiled eerily sweetly, casting her eyes back down to Natasha who was flush with arousal and the beginning of a grimace. “How many was it last time, hm? Ten?” 

“Eleven.” Natasha corrected, her eyes wide and pleading as she maintained eye contact with Wanda, her fingers twitching as she remained bound to the headboard that you’d thought was going to snap with the might of her struggles. “Wands, I want–” 

“I don’t care what you want, Natalia.” Wanda quipped before the rest of the sentence could ever exist outside of Natasha’s scrambled thoughts. The Russian nodded frantically, swallowing thickly in complete submission but even her reclaimed silence wasn’t enough to satisfy Wanda who pinched the skin of her thigh until she winced and moaned needily, entirely unmade and pliant to be shaped into something new; something a little bit like you. “What do I keep you around for?” 

“To please you.” Natasha’s voice was breathy and soft, the willingness to fight that had begun to swarm within her eyes that tinted a shade similar to evergreen entirely dismantled, replaced by a desire to submit without hesitance. 

“Dumb little sluts do not get to decide how I take my pleasure. Do not make me regret not gagging you.” Wanda scolded, and Natasha was eager to nod her head in understanding, whimpering into the near-silent room when her obedience was rewarded with a single finger circling her pebbled nipple. 

Your hips grinded against the dildo buried deep within your pussy, guiding it across your slick walls near perfectly each time. Wanda’s eyes were transfixed on Natasha, but every few minutes she glanced back at you, and when she did, you could only whimper. In the minutes that it had taken to accomplish such a satisfying pace, Wanda had eased her mouth down to the spot where Natasha needed her most, tongue not daring to be kind as it circled and flicked at the throbbing bundle of nerves that had pleaded for attention since the start. Shattering moans and whispered pleas fell off of Natasha’s tongue, but each time the Russian grew too close to the edge, Wanda pulled away and her hand slapped harshly against Natasha’s cunt. 

At the seventh edge, you’d never seen Natasha so beside herself. Pear shaped tears fell down her perfectly rosy cheeks and dampened the pillow cases when they eventually dripped off her unblemished skin and landed silently against the cotton covers. Her wrists had grown red from the relentless writhing and pulling, but her attention was solely on Wanda who offered no break. Three fingers worked the Russian open and scissored her wide, never fully pulling out before they slammed back into her at a pace so brutal it would be no surprise if she felt the aftermath for days. Your own orgasm was drawing closer as you watched Natasha submit and Wanda claim, and each snap of your hips only further invited it along. 

The eight edge had Natasha wailing, throwing her head back as her hips jerked upward and chased after Wanda. Like every time before, the Sokovian voiced no sympathy, and her hand came down heavy and punishing against the swollen skin that adorned ropes of arousal. Natasha yearned for more, her face begged for Wanda to repeat the simple action of slapping her cunt, but just like the seven times that had come before, her unspoken request was denied. 

“So pretty when you cry for me. Moya khoroshen'kaya malen'kaya shlyukha. Is that what you are? My pretty little whore?” Wanda teased cynically, juniper no longer a shade amongst the blackness of her eyes entirely dilated by lust adorned pupils. She looked entirely ravenous with her hair tousled and chin glimmering with Natasha’s arousal. 

“Y-Yes.” Natasha cried out desperately, her voice scratchy now as it reached your ears. Your hips continued to stutter against the dildo, but without permission to cum, you forced away the growing tension that pulled at every muscle in your belly and begged for relief. 

“Let me hear you say it.” Wanda pushed further, the tips of her fingers tracing the softest shapes into the slickness across Natasha’s inner thighs. 

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation that crossed Natasha’s face before she was desperately crying out, “I’m your pretty little whore! P-Please Wanda! Please!” 

“So fucking desperate.” Wanda tutted, a single finger sweeping through Natasha’s folds, though she pointedly avoided the Russian clit that throbbed for even an ounce of attention. Wanda was off the bed in seconds, coming straight at you with her glistening finger outstretched. You didn’t need to ask what she wanted, leaning forward to accept the arousal soaked digit into your mouth with eyes as wide as saucers the second she was close enough. 

Wanda hummed, pleased with your desperation, a fond smile pulling at her lips. “Good girl, malyshka.” She groaned at the feeling of your tongue sucking her fingers clean, your tongue lapping across the expanse of her knuckles as she pressed against your tongue, not hard enough to force you to gag, but enough to make your brain fill with static pleasure. You jumped when hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck, leaning into her despite your skin not yet touching. “I know you want to cum, sweet girl. You’ve been so good waiting for Mommy’s permission, I didn’t forget about you. You can cum whenever you want, but that’s it. You don’t need to keep up with Natalia.” Wanda whispered so softly against the shell of your ear you questioned if she was even real. The harshness that she had addressed you with before entirely dismantled. You leaned your forehead against her shoulder, panting as your hips hadn’t stilled on the toy saturated with your arousal. Although the dildo was suctioned to the chair, one of your hands forced it to remain at the perfect angle between your thighs, and each time you drove your hips against the toy, your clit caught on the knuckle of your thumb only spurring you further into a frenzied state as you chased the orgasm you were finally allowed to have. 

Wanda’s touch was gone far too soon, but your eyes traced her steps as she retreated back to Natasha. The redhead was beside herself as she wiggled and squirmed, chest heaving breaths that weren’t quite full. Wanda didn’t hesitate to restart her efforts at working Natasha toward relief, though this time she was much less graceful. Her fingers provoked squelching sounds from the tight cunt they occupied, her arousal coated tongue flicked unforgivingly and quick. Natasha looked like the rawest depiction of beauty as she cried out and whined, desperate to tangle her fingers into Wanda’s hair but to no avail did she succeed. 

It had taken you only minutes to reach a high that had your toes curling and your thighs trembling. Without the grip of either of your girlfriends steadying your hips as you came crashing through your orgasm, your body jerked and writhed for more and less simultaneously. A melodious whine fell off the tip of your tongue before it was overshadowed by a moan that had your lips vibrating at the reverberations. Every muscle in your body tensed before it became nothing but jelly, leaving you a heap of sweat and arousal on the chair suddenly feeling very naked and exposed before the rapidly cooling breeze that snuck in through the open window behind you. Natasha’s eyes were locked on you, her head turned toward the side as she took in the sight of your self-inflicted orgasm. In the year that you had been involved with the Russian, she’d never allowed such a thing. You’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to pleasure yourself in all the best ways, but that wasn’t really what happened anyways, you’d followed all of Wanda’s instructions, you’d waited for permission to fall over the edge, even without the touch of another, you’d never really been in control. 

Your peace was shattered by a sharp and exceedingly needy while falling off of Natasha’s lips, her gaze snapping back toward where Wanda was perched between her thighs as another orasgam ended before it even started. You almost felt bad, almost. Although you weren’t even able to imagine the kind of torment that came with being edged in the same room as your girlfriend that had permission to cum whenever she wanted, Natasha wanted this. It was hard to feel sympathy for a woman who walked herself into a trap and had been the very one to close the door. A smile splayed across your lips when Wanda slapped her cunt, and you couldn’t help the giggle that came soon after when Natasha rattled off the long list of curses she knew in English. Your orgasm had brought a new sense of clarity over your once hazy mind, and now the actions that had seemed so cruel and ruthless, merely resembled affection and mutual trust. Natasha was a strong woman, but she was seemingly a slut in the same breath.

Wanda’s eyes met yours, glimmering with something sharp as a smirk replaced the permanent thin line that sat on her lips whenever Natasha was the focus of her attention. There was amusement clear in her eyes, something twisted lingering beneath the surface that you longed to know the reason for. “You find something funny, malyshka?” 

Revived from the pliable state that you’d fallen beneath at the first instance of Wanda’s unfiltered dominance, your eyes lingering on Natasha’s face for barely a moment before you returned your gaze to Wanda and feigned perfect innocence. “Natty bit off more than she can chew.” You stated simply, aware of how you were betraying the woman that you yourself had bound to the bed, but more aware of the fact that Wanda seemed pleased with your admission. 

“That she did.” Wanda hummed, her fingers toying with Natasha’s sopping entrance that begged for more, but she wasn’t willing to give in. “Come here, my little duckling.” Wanda inclined her head toward where she was perched between Natasha’s thighs, and although your legs felt like jelly beneath you, you didn’t hesitate to comply with the demand. Your breath stuttered when the dildo finally slipped out of your pussy, the veiny grooves rubbing against every hypersensitive inch of your walls. None of the other dildos had such prominent veins, and although it was admittedly one of the smaller toys you’d taken since beginning a relationship with Wanda especially, you felt painfully empty without it inside of you. 

Your steps were wobbly and slow, reminiscent of Bambi if you remembered correctly, but Wanda was in no rush to have you at her side and so she waited with an encouraging smile on her arousal drenched lips. It was warmer beside the bed, that was the first thing you noticed when you’d finally reached where Wanda laid. The wind didn’t dip so far into the room that Natasha felt the chill cold, yet you wondered the response she’d have to being encased by the soft breeze. She was responsive as it is, a shift in temperature was certain to have her mewling for something that wasn’t allowed just yet. 

“Since you find Natalia’s position so funny, detka, I want you to edge her while I ride her face.” Wanda smirked, and suddenly you weren’t finding Natasha’s position so funny anymore. Being allowed to eat either one of them out was the ultimate privilege, something you almost always had to beg for, but now it was being offered without bait, yet it came with a price that felt too steep to pay. Having to deny Natasha an orgasm sounded absolutely horrible. All you ever wanted to do was make her cum quickly and effectively. Wanda was aware of how eager you always seemed to be at the proposition of feeling either of their orgasms on your tongue, and either she’d forgotten that, or she didn’t care at all. 

“But– Wanda!” You whined, desperately hoping that you’d change her mind, but you knew the reality of your situation; either you got on your knees and complied with her request, or she carried on doing it herself. No matter your decision, no matter if it was your tongue or hers, Natasha wasn’t seeing an orgasm until she’d surpassed her last record. 

“Not so funny now is it, milaya?” Wanda grinned like the cheshire cat, and you properly felt like a scolded child beneath her wild stare. You shook your head adamantly at the question, a smile no longer ghosting across your bitten lips as you looked between her and Natasha’s pink and swollen cunt. It was properly abused, fucked out and dripping onto the sheets yet still begging for more of what she wasn’t yet allowed. “What’s your choice, utenok? My little sluts running out of patience.” Her word was true. Natasha looked ready to crumble at any minute, her eyes bouncing between you and Wanda with nothing but desperation in her heavy gaze. 

“Do I have to edge her?” You whispered timidly, looking pleadingly up at the Sokovian. Wanda didn’t respond, merely quirked an expectant eyebrow down at you and shifted her position. You sighed, shoving her out of the way in a manner that was less than graceful, but thankfully it went unreprimanded. 

“Good choice.” Wanda hummed, already standing beside the bed and stripping eagerly out of her clothes. Her skin was tinted with lingering traces of the sun, thin lines adorning her shoulders from where bathing suits had forbidden the kiss of daylight. She looked entirely ethereal as she shimmied out of her own black panties, letting them pool around her ankles for merely a moment before she kicked them away and took her place overtop of Natasha. Her thighs framed the Russian’s face, individual freckles adorning her shins and thighs begging to be kissed and fawned over, but no such thing would happen tonight. With a sharp request for Natasha to stick her tongue out, she sank herself lower and lower until her pussy made contact with the hot and ready muscle. “I’ll tell you what, moya lyubov’,” Wanda began, a cynical smirk on her lips as she grinded her hips against Natasha’s face, dampening the flush skin with her arousal. “if you can get Natalia close with only your fingers, I’ll allow her to cum when I do. If you can’t, we add four more edges.” 

“B-But I want to taste her!” You cried out, looking at Wanda with wild eyes that begged her to fold, but she wouldn’t. This was the kindest she’d been all evening and yet it was still so painfully cruel. 

“Well that’s a shame, sweetheart.” Wanda pouted, but her words were anything but sincere as she rocked against Natasha’s tongue and drug her clit against the textured surface, falling into bliss the longer she kept up with her ministrations. 

You whined, settling on just using your fingers, not able to bring yourself to edge Natasha even further, or at all. Even if she was merely your girlfriend in this moment, all you ever wanted to do was cause pleasure, not be the one to take it away. Your fingers brushed through her folds gently, but Natasha still flinched away and tried to close her thighs. Your body between her legs forbade her from doing so, leaving her entrance easily accessible. You winced yourself, knowing that your fingers were frigid against her hot and worked up cunt, but you didn’t give her the chance to grow accustomed to the feeling. Wanda wasn’t slowing down, and you knew she’d be cruel enough to force you to stop if she were to cum before Natasha grew close. You set a brutal pace, not sparing pleasantries like you’d typically do. Your fingers curled against the softest spot of Natasha’s walls the way you knew she enjoyed, and you committed the sound of her squelching pussy to memory. You’d seen her wet before, you’d gotten her wet before, but you’d never taken the time to unravel her the way Wanda had. She was properly soaked, sheets drenched and darkened beneath her trembling thighs. 

The pad of your thumb found her clit when her walls tightened around your fingers, rubbing skilled circles against the sensitive bud that begged for release you hoped you could provide in time. You didn’t offer praises, didn’t let encouragement slip into the silence filled by only Wanda’s moans as hers became muffled against the cunt riding her face. You were certain they’d fall on deaf ears at this point, entirely positive that Natasha was too far gone into Wanda to even hear you utter her name. Instead, you encouraged her with the pressure of your thumb against her clit and the punishing speed at which you pumped your fingers in and out of her cunt. You had her right on the edge, right at the point of coming apart completely, but Wanda wasn’t close. In your overzealous attempt to match the pace in which the Sokovian had set, you walked not only you, but Natasha into a trap. 

“Stop.” Wanda demanded, and you had no choice but to comply, your fingers coming to a halting stop within Natasha’s cunt that was so desperate for something sweet. You whimpered at the feeling of Natasha’s velvety walls fluttering around your fingers, her clit throbbing beneath your thumb as her hips squirmed wildly on the bed. There was no way you’d be sleeping here tonight, not with Wanda’s insurance that you never sleep on sheets that aren’t perfectly clean. “I’ll give you another chance, moya lyubov’, do not let it go to waste again.” Your eyes snapped up to hers, unsure of whether it was yet another game she was playing, but when her head tilted the the side and her lips pursed, whether it was to hold back her own moans or to intimidate you, you weren’t entirely sure, you knew she wasn’t. 

You nodded frantically, all attempts to get Natasha to the edge resuming, and it wasn’t a hard feat. The Russian was sensitive, so slick your fingers had almost slipped out, but she was already climbing that hill of pleasure again beneath your thumb and around your fingers. It took seconds, mere seconds to have her at that perfect place again, but unlike the last attempt, Wanda was right along with her. The Sokovian moaned as her head fell backward and her hips stuttered, Natasha’s binded hands unable to provide support like she otherwise would’ve. You didn’t wait for permission to fall from Wanda’s lips between her broken moans and breaths, tripling the efforts you’d already set in place to get Natasha thrown off that cliff and into bliss. Your tongue found her clit the second she toppled over, soothing the harsh sensations that you’d previously provided. You moaned at the first taste of her on your tongue, licking and sucking at every expanse of sensitive skin until she was writhing beneath you for an entirely separate reason. 

Your fingers fell away from her cunt at the first indication of oversensitivity, but your tongue kept up its pace, licking her out until you were certain that not an ounce of arousal clung to her skin anymore. That wasn’t enough for you however, and your tongue lapped at the arousal that dampened her thighs, licking it away with eager swipes. At some point, Wanda had eased herself off of Natasha’s face and had begun to undo the binding around her wrists, but you hadn’t realized the Russian was free of her restraints until calloused hands gently reached for your face and pulled you up to see her eye to eye. 

You looked absolutely ravaged with her arousal clinging to your chin and lips, and a blush across your cheeks from your own orgasm. Eagerly you crawled up onto the bed fully, only faintly aware of the ache in your knees and back from the position you’d been laid in as you unraveled her completely. You straddled her lap when she guided you into doing so, your arms twisting around her neck before you dug your face into her shoulder, hiding away from the light. 

“What can I do for you?” You asked softly, voice muffled by her shoulder but she’d understood you perfectly, her hand coming up to stroke along the back of your head as she held you in place. You were vaguely aware of Wanda walking back into the closet, but you didn’t question what she was searching for, content to just be back in Natasha’s arms.  

“Just let me hold you, malyshka. You did such a good job for us.” She praised you quietly, her voice scratchy and raw from the hours of screaming she’d done. You hadn’t realized how much time had slipped away since she’d guided you into the closet by your hand, but the clock on the nightstand hadn’t lied to you yet, and the illuminated numbers indicated that two hours had been devoted to breaking Natasha down. 

“I should be telling you that.” You huffed, curing further into her body, desperate to encase yourself in her warmth. Natasha didn’t mind, letting you curl around her like a little koala as she held you sweetly in the center of the bed. “I never wanna edge you again.” You mumbled against her neck, turning your head so you were pressed directly against her, your soft breaths tickling the sensitive skin of her ear. 

Natasha laughed at your admission, and a gentle finger guided your chin up so your eyes could meet fully and properly for the first time in hours. “You ever edge me again, your ass will be over my lap before you can even say your sorry.” There was no bite to her words, but you never wanted to find out if she was being serious, so you merely nodded quickly in response. “I know Wanda scared you earlier. She gets lost in her head sometimes, she didn’t mean it.” Natasha soothed, but you’d already figured that her words from hours ago weren’t honest. They’d assured you at least a hundred times that the only way you were ever getting away from them, is if it was your own carefully thought over decision. 

“I know.” You whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against Natasha’s in a soft kiss. It was the softest touch she’d felt in hours, and eagerly she leaned into it, giggling at the taste of her own arousal when your tongue brushed against hers. “Ya tebya lyublyu.” You murmured against her, giggling when her lips curled into a grin and she peppered kisses across every inch of your face that she could reach in this position.

“Ya tozhe tabya lyublyu.” She mumbled back, her eyes dancing behind you when Wanda reappeared from the closet. You settled against Natasha’s chest, not wanting to leave her embrace anytime soon, and it didn’t feel like she wanted to let go either. Your eyes fell upon Wanda, who at some point, had thrown a t-shirt on and tied her hair back up into its once occupied messy bun. You made grabby hands at the woman, an action that you had recently learned she could never deny. 

“Privet, moy sladkiy malysh.” Wanda smiled fondly, coming to join both you and Natasha in the mess of sheets. You hadn’t noticed the clothes in her hand before, but you watched as she sat two t-shirts down on the pillow cases that were still damp from Natasha’s tears, and a bottle of cooling lotion quickly joined the pile. She snuggled close against Natasha’s side, her fingers tangling into the Russian’s hair in the same soft and tender way you’d grown accustomed to. “What do you need, Natty?” She asked softly but received the same answer that you had, Natasha just wanting the both of you close for a while. 

Wanda sighed softly, already beginning to detangle herself from Natasha’s arms. “Let me put lotion on your wrists, then I’ll give you both all the cuddles.” 

Natasha groaned, her stubborn attitude already peaking through the surface level haze that twinkled within her eyes. “They don’t even hurt that bad, let me hold you.” 

“You say that every time, and every time I listen to you, you make me get out of bed at three in the morning.” Wanda rolled her eyes, but affection was clear as day in her tone as she didn’t fight the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. “Hug your duckling, she deserves some cuddles for being such a good girl.” Wanda winked at you, and you blushed beneath her smothered praise, hiding your face in Natasha’s chest much to both of their amusement. 

“The best girl.” Natasha pressed a kiss into the top of your head, her lips lingering for longer than necessary, though you weren’t complaining. You settled against her chest, watching Wanda unscrew the cap on the lotion and squeeze a generous amount onto the palm of her hands. Tentatively, you reached your own hand out, wanting to help ease Natasha’s pain in any way possible. Wanda didn’t question your action, squeezing the tiniest pea sized dollop onto your fingers and instructing you to be soft, but make sure that it was all evenly applied. 

Natasha gazed down at you with tender softness in her eyes as you gently took her wrist into your hands and rubbed in the lotion. She couldn’t help the tears that glimmered in her waterline as you eased yourself into her aftercare routine without hesitation, just another part of their life that you so easily integrated into. You beamed up at Wanda when you were done, giggling when the Sokovian kissed the tip of your nose and praised you softly. 

It wasn’t until you heard Lucky bark through the open window that you remembered about the dogs that were still outside and probably hungry by now, the sun having faded into darkness hours ago. You looked between Wanda and Natasha, a crease in your brow as you asked, “Um, do we even have dog food?” 

malen'kaya shlyushka – little slut

ya khochu, chtoby utenok byl na rozovom remeshke, kogda ya priyedu tuda. – i want the duckling on the pink strap by time i come in

privet, moy sladkiy malysh – hi, my sweet baby

[fever-fluff]

Cat's Out of the Bag, Claws and All

Synopsis: You’re sick of Cassian and Rhysand sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong. And Azriel’s tendency to let things slide when it comes to himself isn’t helping. Word Count: 4k (not proof read)

“I just think you’re becoming a bit…”

“A bit what, Cass?” Azriel was not in the mood for this. Sitting in Rita’s, in a booth right to the back while his two brothers pestered him on his love life was not how he wanted to spend the night after he’d returned to Velaris. You had been absent from his bed when he’d finally made it back in the early hours of the morning. Though he wasn’t worried. You had duties to attend to for Rhys as one of his foreign relations advisors, normally starting as soon as you woke in order to enjoy your evenings free of work to spend with him- even if he was the one still doing paperwork.

“Don’t you think she’s a bit too… extreme?” Azriel snarled at Cass’ blatant insult to you. But he held his hands up in peace, Rhys cutting in before he could do more damage. “What we’re trying to say, Azriel, is that it seems like you aren’t yourself lately. You’ve been showing up more recently, which is not a bad thing and we’re happy to see more of you. But it’s the reason of these increased showings that has us worried.”

Azriel supposed it was true. He had been showing up more – to social events that is. He was always present when it was just their inner circle, but the regular accepting of invitations to social events that didn’t need his presence was a new thing, something that you had gently insisted on since the two of you had become so close.

He was never one for meaningless interactions and had been pushing himself outside of his comfort zone for quite some time now by giving in every time you looked at him, pleading with those eyes of yours. He could never quite say no when you asked, and begged him, so nicely. But he nodded all the same to the two that he understood what they were trying to say, “I guess. I honestly didn’t think it was such a big deal. It makes her happy.”

“That’s the thing Az. Sure, it makes her happy. But does it make you?” Cass was trying, really trying not to say the wrong words and have this blow up in his face. Azriel thought for a moment, of all the times he’d watch you interact with others he didn’t even know the name of, never mind their importance to your work, while you linked your arm around his and had him trail along. He was always uncomfortable in the light, always wanting to slink back to the shadows. But you were the opposite, always blooming so lovely in the presence of everyone you deigned to offer your time to. He sometimes wished he could coddle you away from all their adoring eyes and have you all to himself. But he would never cage you like that.

“Not particularly. I do it for her, but sometimes I would rather sit at home while she goes about her work.” His admission was quiet, feeling that if he said it too loud it would carry on the wind and into your ear as you slept.

“What we’re trying to say, brother, is that spending your life with someone is all about compromise. You need to tell her when you don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable.” Since when has Cassian ever been so wise and all-knowing? He’d bet five gold marks Nesta had whipped that piece of sense into him after he’d thrown another of her books out the window, insisting on ‘a lovely stroll through Velaris’ instead. Azriel knew he was just jealous of the new male protagonist in her recent book series, garnering all her attention throughout the day.

But Cassian’s words had stuck in the back of his mind and refused to leave. Had he been compromising on his comfort for your own? You’d never pressed the issue with him, but he supposed he’d not put much of a front up against it in the past, agreeing almost immediately every time you’d asked for his company.

“You know I respect her and the work she does” Rhys had ordered another round as they settled in for the night of drinking ahead, “she’s one of the best at her job that I’ve ever seen, placating Eris is a testament to that. But she is intense, she has to be. I don’t want that to jeopardise you or your happiness with her in any way in the future. Putting up boundaries with her now is the best way to do that.”

Azriel knew his brothers had always had his best interest in their hearts when it came to things like this. Rhys’ intervention between him and Elain on Solstice years ago was a testament to that. He would have been hurt in a way he would never have come back from. Elain and Lucien’s bond was one of the strongest he’d ever seen – even rivalling that of Rhys and Feyre’s once given the chance. Then he’d met you. You had courted him from the minute you’d met, and he’d preened under the attention he’d longer centuries for. You weren’t his mate; no bond had snapped for him in the time he’d gotten to know you. But he’d worked past that and found that someone choosing to be with him purely of their own volition made it much harder to doubt whether he was worthy of you or not.

So, as they drank on, Azriel let their words mill over in his mind, finally agreeing with their concerns, and decided tomorrow he’d tell you how he really felt about all the parties you were asking him to attend.

Waking up to a hungover Azriel was a rare sight, but an amusing one none the less. You’d gone to bed last night early after reading a note he’d left, saying Rhys and Cass had asked him to drinks to catch up after being away for three months. You were upset, naturally, as you hadn’t seen him either during that time. But Azriel was a people pleaser, and he’d accepted their invitation with no qualms. So instead of wallowing in self-pity of not spending the first night with him back falling asleep in his arms, you had invited Mor and Feyre over to take your mind off it.

They’d left soon after midnight, Feyre wanting to get back to Nyx seeing as his father would be away most of the night. But all those sour feelings had left the second you’d awoken curled into his strong, tanned arms this morning.

Trying to shift in his hold, you’d felt him curl further into you with a groan, wing casting over the two of you to block the ray of sun peering in between the curtains. You laughed, sending a small gush of magic to pull it closed, cutting the bright light off. His hum of appreciation vibrated against your neck while you reached to play with the tresses of dark hair falling in front of his eyes. It was getting long again – which you preferred on him – but he’d cut it soon now that he was home.

“Good morning, love” you’d never tire of the purr the name elicited from the Illyrian warrior beside you, and it rumbled lowly as he reached into your touches further. “How were drinks with Cass and Rhys?”

“Long. Too long. Wanted to come home to you.” his voice, gods his voice. You loved it, the deep tones in the morning unlike anything else you’d ever heard.

“Yeah? I should have realised I’d need to rescue you, nab you back to have you all to myself.” One thing you’d realised in pursuing the Shadowsinger was his need for directness. His heart had been torn so many times that it wouldn’t beat for anything else. And you’d been more than happy to provide.

The morning was slow, full of sweetness and adoration you’d both been missing in his absence. Neither of you had been pressed to rise before noon until your stomach had grumbled its dislike of the lack of food. And so, you’d found yourselves sat at the small table in front of the windows overlooking Velaris, coffee and pastries in hand.

Azriel had woken from his drunken haze, and appeared caught in his own world, more so than usual as you noticed him missing the handle of his mug, for the second time. “Something on your mind, my love.”

His sigh was enough to know you wouldn’t like what he had to say, and your mind wandered to unpleasant thoughts of Rhys already assigning him to another mission far from home. “I swear on all that is good if that High Lord of yours assigned something else to you last nigh-”

“He hasn’t. And don’t forget he’s your High Lord also.” Azriel hated when you spoke against any decisions made by his family, which was rare. You were on the same page as them, mostly. But there were some things you disagreed strongly on. Not always living in Velaris had given you another taste of the world, and it faired well for you in your work here. But there were times when it caused temporary rifts between you and your friends, and you weren’t inclined to change if it could be solved with words instead of blades. But when it involved Azriel, you found yourself more and more inclined to picking up something sharp and slicing it into anything that wanted to steal him from you.

“We were… talking. Last night. About a couple things.” Azriel was not as sweet with words as his brother, but to see him lose them completely was new altogether. Putting the pieces together from the non-existent puzzle he’d left for you, you felt your breath hitch slightly, “About us?”

“Yeah…” you didn’t like this Azriel. The unsure and unconfident kind. He had a silent strength you’d admired since the first time you’d met. You’d fallen in love with the male that wasn’t this, and you hated seeing him act like anything lesser than he was.

“Azriel. Whatever it is, please speak to me about it. I want to know.” You’d moved from your chair, coming to sit on the side of his as you laid your hand next to his, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to take it. But the warmth that encased yours was comfort enough to know it wasn’t something that would break the two of you.  

“I – don’t want to go to the – social events anymore.” Your brows pinched in confusion, where was this coming from? “Care to tell me why?”

“I’m not a fan of them. At all really. And I realised I was doing something that wasn’t making me happy. It made you happy, which I’m glad, but I can’t do it anymore. S’ too much.”

You watched Azriel retreat into himself at the admission, but you said nothing as you saw his gaze flicker over the room until it finally landed on you, searching for any anger, or hurt. “If you think I’m angry, I’m not. I understand what you mean, and I’m glad you could tell me.”

“You are?”

You huffed a laugh, “Yea, I am. So long as they’re your thoughts and not your brothers, right?” he nodded, “They are.”

“Okay, no more unnecessary social outings, for you at least. I’ll still have to attend them, considering.” He nodded again, “of course, I wouldn’t assume otherwise.”

You kissed him lightly as you made to get ready for the day, the conversation ending quicker then it began. These mornings were all you really had alone with him, both your professions taking up the rest of your days and swallowing the majority of the daylight- and twilight.

He’d winnowed soon after from the garden after kissing you goodbye, seeming lighter now that he’d voiced his discomfort, and you released a sigh you’d been holding since.

There was a party in three days, one you’d assumed Azriel would attend with you. But now that he’d expressed his feelings about them, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Instead, you’d prepare yourself for the emotional and verbal onslaught to come without the Shadowsinger by your side.

You hated these things. Really, really hated them. being in a room full of fae looking to raise their status, their family name in the long list of nobles was always a tiring feet to be around, but it was a necessary evil to your work. Mor stood beside you in all her ethereal glory, and the pair of you looked nothing more than astounding. Emerie was somewhere in the crowd of people, charming her way through each table she rounded. You were sometimes envious of the support she lends to Mor at these times, the two made a good pair in these places, balancing the other out that lead to progress you would only dream of making in such short time.

But it seemed tonight all you would find for yourself was concealed and blatant admissions of fae asking about your seemingly juicy availability.

“Ladies, it’s an honour to have received an invitation to such a grand celebration, pray tell” the male who’d sauntered his way over to the two of you leered in you direction, “has the lovely lady finally been freed from her cage? Should I thank the Shadowsinger for his decision to set you free from you confines that is the Court of Nightmares?” You blanched at his obvious attempt but concealed it under a smile too easy that it felt tight, “I believe you’ve been fed the wrong fruit from the vine my lord, Azriel and I are still quite the pair. I do hope you don’t mean to sully his name when he is not here to defend himself?” your sinister pout had the blood leeching from the males cheeks, and he stuttered himself into a stupor until he could find his feet to walk quickly away.

Sighing, you grabbed a fresh glass of wine, the last going sour from the interaction. Mor’s head leaned to yours unceremoniously, “Mother, that’s the fifth one in the last hour! How often does this happen?”

“Any time Azriel isn’t with me. When he’s accompanied me in the past it stopped a lot of this for the most part. But with my reputation among the courts here and abroad, anyone will try to get their claws into the person holding the most honey pots.” You were feeling the effect of it much sooner than ever before, the mental strain making your mind lag. You’d really hoped Azriel would have been here tonight, but you couldn’t lean on his strength every time.

“That’s why you’ve been bringing him along…” something seemed to click with her. “You know he hates these things. But you wanted him here for support, for you.” You nodded without hesitation, confused as to why her face seemed so stricken by the knowledge.

“There’s something I have to tell you” Mor’s tone was sullen. As she explained, you listened and felt anger wash over you in gulfs. Oh, you were going to murder someone, and soon.

The following weeks after Azriel had admitted his feelings to you were…odd, to say the least. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. you had been the same as ever to him, loving and oh so understanding when it came to his every need. You didn’t press him to attend the gatherings you had to, opting to inform him instead of your departure. While you were gone, he would catch up on all the paperwork he had waiting, and by the time you came home, his arms would be open and waiting for you to fall into.

But something was still off. He felt it in the way your shoulders slumped more than they usually would after socialising all night. It was still taxing to you, but you had always smiled after when he had attended them with you. Now, you barely had enough energy to lift yourself from his hold, falling straight to sleep once he’d guided you to bed.

Those nights, when you’re too tired to tell him about your day, and instead just curl up against his side, Azriel thinks about the moments of when you’d first met.

Your connection to him was almost instantaneous, you’d follow him everywhere you could. The idle chatter you started with had eventually turned to long and deep conversations, sweeping him along into the early hours of the morning.

Your first kiss, when you’d found him after a more draining mission. You’d helped him bathe, nursing the tension from his back and mind with loving but firm touches to his skin. He’d turned to you in a burst of confidence and captured your mouth with his before he had anytime to think himself out of it. You’d melted into him almost instantly, and the rest had been a blur of tangled limbs and sheets.

The weeks after had been full of secret touches and longing looks, until Cassian had caught the two of you in a heated kiss after venturing to the kitchen for some late night tea. Always the one known for having loose lips, the whole house had known before Azriel could’ve knocked him unconscious, but you had laughed and squeezed his hand in reassurance, letting him know that you didn’t mind being claimed by him, if he were okay with you claiming him. No, he didn’t mind that at all.

Gods, he had been in heaven ever since. Having someone to come home to, to reach for in the long family dinner when before he had to watch the mated couples around him stare adoringly at one another. He now had someone to call his own, and he was so glad it was you.

But you seemed to be getting worse as the weeks rolled on, and he couldn’t quite understand why, until Rhysand pulled him into his office.

“She’s taking a leave of absence from her position.” Azriel’s world spun on the wrong axis as he processed the words coming from his brother’s mouth.

“She hasn’t spoken to you about this?” he shook his head, mind spiralling as to why you’d do something like this. You loved your job, more than anything. It gave you a purpose, something to give back to the world.

Cassian ventured in not long after, seeming to already know what was going on, “you’re not communicating again. Azriel, this is gonna really affect your-”

“Affect his what, Cassian?”

The three of the bristled at the sharpness of your tone. Azriel cast his gaze over you. Your eyes seemed darkened by a tiredness that hadn’t been there until a few weeks ago. Even your posture, always one to hold your head high, looked slumped against Mor and Feyre, who stood behind you.

“I was just saying that you both should talk a bit more about-”

“Oh, I’m sure you have a lot of comments on what me and my mate should talk about.”

Azriel stopped.

Everything stopped.

Your- your what?

You sighed, your admission seeming to go amiss amongst the thoughts swirling in you mind, but Azriel couldn’t comprehend how you’d said something like that so…so… casually.

“Azriel, Can I speak to Rhysand and Cassian – alone?” he didn’t feel himself answer, but Mor and Feyre seemed to understand and guided him into the hallway, where the three of them waited with baited breath to hear the onslaught you’d ensue. It wasn’t a secret, how much you detested some of the decisions they made in this court. Hels, you had even come to Eris’ defense more than once during the time of the alliance to put him on the Autumn throne. But this was different, and he knew it deep in his bones.

Mate. You’d called him your mate. But there was no bond. Nothing had snapped in all the time you had known each other. He loved you, infinitely. but that had been a choice you had both made in all that you had gone through, not for some fate woven between you.

“I know, it’s a lot to take in” it was Feyre, “I think we should sit down, get some tea while we wait until they’re finished.”  

So the three of them walked away from the voices on the other side of the door, and made for Feyre’s studio.

“You two need to butt out, now.” You were fuming, white hot rage consumed you as you looked to the grown males in front of you. But they weren’t acting like that, not in all the time you’d known them.

“You-you called Az your mate?”

Shit. Had you? Oh gods he was probably going insane with the thoughts in his head. No wonder he hadn’t answered you. How were you going to explain hiding something so profound from him for as long as you’d known each other.

“What of it.” you were snapping now. You don’t ever snap. That was your charm, ever the collected one, no matter what. But gods they had stuck their noses where it didn’t belong. And you detested it.

 The statement had seemed to shut the two of the up quite quickly, so you continued, happy for the lack of interruption. “I understand you’re looking out for Az; I do. But this is getting to the point where it’s ridiculous. Have you ever considered the weight in which Az holds your words? They’re like gospel to him.”

“We were just trying to help, nothing more.” You snorted as the High Lord’s words. Feyre and Mor have known of your secret since you met Azriel, but it seemed the two of them have truly kept it privy to your circle of three.

“Have you ever thought, for a second, that maybe sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong does more damage than good?” you were breaking now, the emotions you had welled up the past while cresting. “I wasn’t asking Azriel to those gatherings because I wanted him out of his comfort zone. Gods, I know he detests them.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I needed him. It’s not easy listening to fae ask about your hand in marriage while your mate sits happily at home.”

You took a breath as the two said nothing more. “I came here to tell you that my leave was because I was overwhelmed. It’s a lot sometimes, even for me. And I hadn’t gotten a lot of time with Az without interruption since we met. I was going to tell you both today, about… the predicament. But it seems I’ve let the cat out of the bag, claws and all.”

Gods, how were you going to explain this to him? You’ve kept him in the dark for months. He’ll never forgive you.

“We-acknowledge our misstep. We truly didn’t mean to hurt you, or Azriel. And for that I apologise, for us both.” Rhys’ face was sullen enough for your anger towards the two wash away, and you nodded. “Believe me, you’re not the one who’s hurt him.”

With nothing else to say, you made for the door. Cassian’s voice stopping you just as you reached for the handle, “Just, make sure you get him to listen. He’ll go into his head, and its not a good place.”

You nodded.

 “I know.”

There will be a Part II

[munsonsmixtapes]

Just Like That

virgin!Eddie x experienced!reader

summary: you teach Eddie how to give you a hickey

cw: MDNI (18+) heavy petting, both Eddie and reader receive hickeys, shoulder kisses, grinding, Eddie sucks on reader’s tits

You sat next to Eddie on your couch while a movie neither of you had seen played on the TV. It was your first date as a couple and as much as you were enjoying it, something felt off. You were just sitting there when you were usually tangled up in each other in some way. You could definitely be in each other’s company without fucking, but neither of you liked it very much.

You slowly reached for Eddie’s hand and he let you take it. You pulled his up to your mouth a pressed a sweet kiss to it before letting it fall back between you. You felt his eyes on you, but you kept your eyes on the TV, trying not to think about how he was staring at your lips which was causing them to tingle.

You slowly turned to him and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, desperate and hungry. His hand cradled your jaw while the other gripped your waist as he pulled you closer to him, your thighs pressing together at your close proximity. Eddie licked into your mouth and you moaned as your hands wound into his hair, pressing into his scalp.

You pulled away before Eddie was ready and licked your lips which only made them look more inviting to him.

“Can I get on top of you?” What kind of question was that? Of course you could get on top of him.

“Yes,” he replied, his breathing more labored than your own. You took no time to straddle his waist and settle yourself down on his lap before pressing your lips to his once again. Your arms wrapped around his neck, caging his hair between your arms and his neck while his hands wrapped around your waist, resting right above your ass.

Eddie brought your bottom lip between his and gave it a little suck, causing you to mewl. He nibbled and sucked on your lip, loving the response you were giving him which only made him do it more. You let out another moan and wondered if could do to the same thing to your neck. You knew for a fact that he could scandalize the skin, giving it a nice bruise that you could show off to everyone to show that he was yours.

“Do you want to give me a hickey?” You asked, pulling away again and you could see Eddie’s cheeks go pink.

“I’ve never given one before.” That didn’t bother you. Eddie had experienced so many firsts with you so what was another one?

“Do you want to?”

“I really do, but do you think you could show me?” You would have been happy to. But it was also just a great excuse to mark him up.

“Of course, baby. Gonna warm you up first, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

Your lips were on his once again but just as he was getting into it, you pressed a kiss to his cheek and moved your way down until you got to his neck. You started off with a few pecks but eventually pressed open mouthed kisses to the skin while swiping your tongue along it. Eddie knew that wasn’t what a hickey was, but damn did it feel good.

He closed his eyes as you worked your magic and you eventually began to suck on the skin, Eddie letting out a whimper at the foreign feeling. You had heard that sound so many times before, but you never quite got used to it.

You continued to suck in the sensitive spot and Eddie swore that he could let you do it for hours. The way you were licking and sucking on his skin was driving him wild. He never knew that he could feel pleasure in that way without the both of you not having to get naked. Maybe if he asked nicely, you’d mark him up again.

His hands cradled the back of your head and you felt his fingers press into your scalp in response and you tried not to make any noise at the feeling.

Just as he was getting used to it, you lightly grazed the skin with your teeth, causing Eddie to let out a full on moan. That sounded like an invitation to continue and you did, scraping your teeth against the forming bruise once again.

“God,” Eddie moaned. “Love the way that feels.” If you felt the tent forming in his pants, you didn’t say anything.

“More?” You asked. You knew what the answer would be, but you just wanted to tease him.

“Fuck yes,” he responded, breathless. You were on him again, this time, giving the side of his neck a full on bite, which he seemed to love by the sound that he made.

You diffused the sting with your tongue by licking a stripe across the spot; giving it a few more sucks before pulling away. You reached for the bottom of his shirt and lifted it over his head before you were back to that spot, moving your way down to his shoulder.

“Want one here?” You pointed to the very center of his shoulder and he whimpered in response.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” he nodded eagerly. “Please mark me up.” With that, you moved your lips to his shoulder, kissing it as you slowly introduced your tongue. You weren’t as quick to scandalize him this time, taking your time with just kisses to the skin. Eventually, you began to suck on the spot and Eddie mewled once again. You grazed the skin quicker that time since you knew that he liked it and he let out another moan.

“So good, doll,” he whined and you scraped your teeth along the spot again, causing his hands dropped to your waist, digging his fingers into the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, leaving crescent shapes along it.

Once you finished up, you pulled away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand to get rid of the spit. You thought that you had scandalized him enough to where he was ready to do the same to you.

Eddie’s eyes met yours, both of your pupils blown from the pleasure you had just experienced. His gaze moved to your lips that were pretty and pink from all of the things you had just done to him and he had to have a taste for himself.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, his hands flattening against your waist and rubbing along the spot the had caused damage to. This one was nothing like the others. It was gentle and full of what could have only been described as love.

“Ready to show me what I taught you?” You asked and Eddie nodded eagerly. He wanted to make you feel as good as he did when you were marking him up.

He slowly inched his face closer to the side of your neck and you moved your head to give him more access. His lips met the spot right above your ear and he started off with soft pecks just as you had done before eventually introducing open mouthed kisses with his tongue. You felt yourself getting wet and he hadn’t even really done anything yet.

He then began to suck on the skin, slowly, almost as if he was unsure of what he was doing, but he eventually got into it, doing it just hard enough to get a whine from you. You could feel his boner through his jeans and began grinding against him, your underwear getting soaked at the thought of riding him but also at the absolute pleasure you were experiencing.

“Just like that,” you told him, absolutely breathless. “Sure you haven’t done this before?”

“No,” he mumbled against your skin. “You’re just a really good teacher.” His teeth scraped along the spot and you continued to grind against him in response, harder this time. The scraping eventually turned into a full on bite and that completely undid you, making you go limp in his arms.

He did just as you had and diffused the sting with a couple of licks before he began to suck again, your moans getting louder as he sucked harder.

“Fuck,” you whined. “You know exactly what you’re doing.” You leaned your head back and Eddie caught it, cradling it gently as he continued to scandalize you, giving you one last graze with his teeth before finishing it off with a few kisses peppered to your neck.

“Need more,” you whined and took your shirt off as you did so. You were wearing a pretty, lacy bra that you had put on just for him and Eddie was getting hard just thinking about having his mouth on your tits.

“Wanna have your way with these?” You asked and Eddie just nodded, unblinking, like he was hypnotized. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your chest, his tongue lightly moving across the spot as he did so, his hand slowly moving up your back. He gave the spot a rough suck before moving to the other side to give it the same mark.

As he was doing that, he slowly unhooked your bra and moved back so it could fall between you and he let out a gasp as if he had never seen your tits before. He threw the bra aside and pulled you into his arms before sucking right on the top of your tit. Your back arched at the feeling, causing your stomach to touch his.

You wound your fingers into his hair as he licked and sucked and gave his hair a yank when he did something you particularly liked, causing him to whimper at the feeling each time. He left hickeys all over your chest and tit, leaving your nipple for last. Eddie licked a stripe across it before bringing the whole thing into his mouth, sucking as hard as he could while he simultaneously made the stinging sensation go away with his tongue.

You threw your head back and shut your eyes tight as you moaned and moaned at the feeling. How was it that he had never done this before? Sure, you had taught him, but he was a natural, knowing exactly what you liked without even having to ask. That couldn’t be taught. He was just that good.

Once you thought it was over, he brought the thing between his teeth and gave it a tug, causing you to pull on his hair the hardest you ever had, your vision going slightly hazy as you reached your peak in your absolute euphoria.

“Eddie,” you moaned the loudest you had that night and he took that as an invitation to continue, biting down as hard as he could without actually hurting you and you went limp in his arms once again but still wanting him to have his way with you despite how depleted you were.

“Love the way you look with my marks, honey,” he said. “Want me to do the other side?” He asked, his mouth hovering over your other tit that had not gotten the same treatment.

“God, yes please,” you begged, your voice whiny just the way he liked. He did the exact same thing to your other tit, licking and sucking all over it until it was the color he liked before moving on to the main event. He brought your entire nipple into his mouth and licked and suck before giving it a tug with his teeth, your back arching even more as he gave it one more bite.

You completely sunk into him and that was when he knew it was time to call it quits. Your eyes were glazed over and you looked liked you were close to falling asleep, the night of euphoria completely wearing you out. Eddie carried you to your room and helped you change into your pajamas before getting you into bed where he joined you, pulling you into his arms before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You both drifted off to sleep, your mind replaying his mouth on your tits over and over until the next morning when you let him do the exact same thing again.

[kissagii]

Calm days are a foreign concept for defense force officers like Hoshina. If he’s not risking his life on a mission, he’s training, or working with recruits, or studying, or doing paperwork, or completing whatever other time-consuming task finds itself on his plate.

So when he somehow manages to get off work on time (instead of his usual few hours late), his first destination is your office.

“Hey there honey, you almost done?” Hoshina asks, peeking his head in through your door to find you working sleepily at your desk. You look up and smile at him the moment you recognize his playful tone. “Got a few more things to get done… you can come sit if you want.”

Hoshina takes the invitation immediately, pulling up your spare chair and sitting beside you, peering over your shoulder at the papers on your desk. He watches you work in silence for a minute before asking, “Can any of this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“Most of it, probably,” You say softly. With a sigh, you take your eyes off your work and lean to rest your head on his shoulder. Hoshina’s calloused finger hooks under your chin, gently coaxing you to lift your head and meet his eyes. Abruptly he pecks you on the lips, grinning.

“I love you,” He says, smiling playfully in a way that shows his small fangs. In your moment of stunned confusion, he grips your face gently between two calloused palms. 

Before you can protest or ask what in the world he’s doing, he kisses you again and again and again and again, soft and fleeting, on your forehead and cheeks and nose and lips once more. You find yourself being pulled closer and closer to him with every moment. It’s impossible to read him and his sudden onslaught of affection: is it motivated by pure adoration, or is he just feeling a little silly? Either way, his kisses are a reprieve from a stressful schedule and it’s hard to imagine anything better.

Unable to stop yourself, you smile and kiss him on the lips just once. Your kiss is longer, lingering, drinking in the softness of Hoshina pressed against you. He’s so warm and tastes so intoxicatingly sweet, it’s addicting. Breaking the kiss is nearly impossible.

“Sou,” You giggle, pushing him away gently, “This is my office. What if someone walks in?”

“What’s the harm? It’s not like we’re doing anything naughty,” Hoshina pouts, still holding your face. “Unless… do you want to be doing something naughty?”

“Goddamn you Soshiro, just kiss me again.”

The vice-captain’s kisses are all grins and giggles, soft and playful, gentle hands and sweet lips melting into you. 

“You’re my favorite person ever,” He says between kisses, “So cute… and so tasty.”

If Hoshina could have his way, he’d have time to kiss you like this every single day: uninterrupted and in love, not worrying about kaiju or paperwork or recruits. Five days out of seven would be calm days in his perfect world, the other two full of kaiju just to keep things interesting. 

“I love you so much, honey bun.” Hoshina basks in the sweetness of the moment, the sweetness of your lips against his. He’d have it last forever if he could.

But perfect calm days don’t exist for defense force officers.

The door creaks open, then almost immediately slams shut once more. Hoshina sighs, then walks across the room to see who is responsible for the disturbance.

“WE’RE SORRY, VICE-CAPTAIN HOSHINA!” Two individuals in the hallway shout in sync – Iharu and Reno, by the sound of their voices.

The vice-captain dismisses them, and their hurried footsteps fade into the distance. Hoshina grins playfully when he reenters the room.

“C’mon honey, let’s go home before someone else comes looking for us.”

he makes me very happy :)