#his whole body can do that teeth thing at any point it's great

[rubeau-art]

I like to think about him.

Even though this isn't relevant until much later in the story, I need to rotate him and figure things out because it does effect some things earlier on. Just in terms of how certain things work in the world.

Also he's fun to draw all crunchy-like!

[nanaslutt]

Ok so I was thinking about soul swap (??) With gojo. Gojo doing🫣 stuff to his body in which readers soul is from readers body. Or can have reader doing stuff with her body..hope u understand kinda high rn. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Body swap with Gojo

contains: fem reader, masturbation (m&f), reader & Gojo’s perspectives, perv!gojo & reader, multiple orgasms, “first orgasm” (experienced as the opposite sex), dirty talk, teasing, mutual pining

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Gojo this is fucking serious!" You yelled, still getting caught off guard when Satoru's voice could be heard in your ears even though you were the one talking. "Okay okayy, I'll text Ijichi to come to get us, relax your little head." He responded in your voice. This whole thing was so fucked up. The two of you were fighting some curse together-- Gojo had no real reason to be there but he insisted on it for "safety reasons" (he was bored). You had gotten hit once by the curse right before you finished it off, and nothing strange had happened until Gojo came up to you and laid his hand on your shoulder to make sure you were alright, and that's when it happened—the soul swap.

Gojo pulled out his phone and held it out in front of himself, waiting for the face ID to scan him in. The man that currently resided in your body shook the device, frustrated. "Oh, this fuckin'..." He gave up, typing in his password as the device buzzed again and again, refusing to let him in. His antics made you giggle, turning your head to the side you sniffed to conceal any laughter he might pick up before you went back to watching him call for help.

"Ijichi? Heyyy, little problem~" Your higher-pitched voice reverberated through his speaker, no doubt confusing the poor overworked man on the other end. "Why do I have Gojo's phone? Funny you ask.." Gojo went on to pace around the area, throwing your hands up in the air as he explained the situation to Ijichi. You took the opportunity to look down at your temporary body, running your hands down the sides of Gojo's massive coat, which actually fit him. You felt the hardness underneath his clothes, pouting your bottom lip out in surprise, you figured Gojo would be fit, but you never knew for certain.

You had been a teacher at Jujutsu High for as long as he had, and the two of you had gotten quite close—which is why you didn't put up a fight when he insisted on coming on this mission with you, now you were starting to regret your decision. "Checkin' out my body while I was callin' for help? Perv~" Gojo teased, blocking your body off in a cross with his arms dramatically as he spoke. "Don't flatter yourself Satoru, you had something on your jacket." You lied through your teeth.

"It feels weird to hear my own voice chastise myself.." He pouts, placing a hand on his hip. "Yeah, well it doesn't feel great to see you flaunting around in my body either." You respond, holding a dejected look on Satoru's features that he probably has never made in his life. "Oh? you don't like me inside you?" He teased, covering his mouth as he giggled mischievously. "Please don't say gross things in my voice," you responded, rolling your eyes as you started to make your way out of the run-down building so Ijichi could see the two of you from the street.

"You're so serious~" He teased, using your shorter legs to run up to you and wrap himself around your arm, leaning your head against his arm as the two of you walked. "Also why did you not tell me you had to pee so bad." He said, making you choke on your own spit as you stopped in your pursuit of the road. "You are not under any circumstances going to piss while you're in my body." You emphasized, making a point to look into his eyes when you spoke.

"Why? Don't want me to see your cunt? heh." He laughed, once again using his filthy mouth to defile your voice. "What do you think Satoru?" You said, deadpanning at him. "Ahh~ you make my face look so scary~" He teased, curling your body up to his own arm once more as the two of you pushed forth towards society once more.

Once Ijichi's car, and the anxious man himself, came into view, you pushed the body that was clinging too tightly to your arm off of you. "Are you two alright?" He asked, coming up to your body. "Oh, Ijichi ~ you're such a caring man~ why don't you-" "That Gojo Ijichi, don't forget.' You reminded, looking blankly down at the dark-haired man, who had started to blush at your words. After an apology from the nervous man, and a quick slap to your body's shoulder that made Gojo whine through his laugh, the two of you got into the car.

The drive had started off with more shenanigans from Gojo in your body, trying to fluster Ijichi, which you quickly shut down by slapping Gojo's large hand over your own mouth. After that though, the drive started to quiet down, the three of you falling into a comfortable silence save for the radio playing some generic song in the background to fill the void. You noticed Gojo had started to bounce his leg in your body, peeking out the corner of your eye you saw your head was tipped back on the headrest, your eyes were squeezed shut, and your lip was pulled between your teeth; you looked like you were in pain.

"Gojo." You whispered, making him drop his chin and look at you, before he smiled through the uncomfortably, "I wasn't lying about needing to-" You quickly cut him off, waving his hands in front of you, "I know, I know." You said, before heaving out a sigh, "This fucking suuuuck." You drawled, letting your own head tip back agaisnt the headrest as you heard your own voice giggle at your unfortunate situation.

—

"Satoru hurry!" You yelled, tapping your foot anxiously on the ground as you stood in front of the bathroom door with your arms crossed, waiting for Gojo to finish his business. "Don't rush me! It's hard to pee with a blindfold on you know." He sighed, your voice coming through the door muffled. You had tied Gojo's own pitch-black blindfold over his eyes before you let him go into the bathroom, making sure he couldn't see a thing. You wanted him to leave to door open so you could make sure he really didn't peek, but then you put yourself in his shoes and realized you wouldn't want Gojo to watch while you were.. so you abandoned that thought.

Right before you were about to yell at the man for taking too long again, he opened the door, the blindfold off of your eyes and in your hands. Your face tunred beat red, your jaw dropped and your lungs filled with profanities and curses, ready to spill but- "I took it off to wash my hands captain stick-up-her-ass, relax~" He said, giving you a smug look before he pushed past you and started walking down the hallway. You bit your tongue as you watched your body move down the hall, "Where are you going?" You asked, placing your hands on his hips.

"Well~ I was hoping you could show me to your room because.." He held your hands out in front of him before he gestured to your body, which was covered in dirt, debris, curse blood, you name it. You could feel a headache start to come on, rubbing your fingers against his temple you sighed, realizing he was going to have to take a shower. You followed in his footsteps down the hall as you passed him, leading him to your room. "Thank you~" He cooed, a pep in his step as he followed behind you.

Once you reached your room you gripped your hand on the top of the door as he slipped under your arm and made his way into your room. You were caught off guard for a second, you knew Gojo was big, but you never really realized your size difference until now. Feeling yourself grow hot in the face you quickly snapped yourself out of it as you followed him into your room.

"Ahhhhh~" Gojo moaned in your voice, plopping him and his filthy body down on your pristine sheets. "You have two seconds to get off my bed before I use your own technique to kill you." You said with his deep voice, making him sigh as he reluctantly dropped his legs back down onto the floor and dragged his body off the sheets, standing as he crossed his arms at you. "Im tireddd, you seriously need to work on your stamina." He said, rubbing your thighs with your hands, "This body is exhausted, I feel like I'm going to collapse." He complained.

You ignored his comments as you dug through your drawer, trying to find something sufficient for him to change into. You settled on a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, collecting them under your arm you threw them in his direction, the man skillfully catching them in his hands. "You don't have anything a little sexier?" He said, holding up the ragged band tee in front of him while he tucked the shorts under his arms. "Please." You begged, your eye twitching when you turned to look at him.

"You should probably.." You froze, your face heating up at the words you haven't even spoken yet. "Stop making me look so bashful, it's unbecoming." He said, a face of displeasing spreading itself on your futures. "God- Fuck, please just go take a shower and don't.. don't- don't be weird!" You sputtered, throwing your hands in the air in defeat before you opened the door and stepped aside so he could leave your bedroom and head for the shower rooms. "Yes ma'am~" He cooed, looking up at you through your lashes at you while he walked past you and started down the hallway.

Once he was out of view, you shut your door behind yourself as you slid down the wood dramatically, burring your face in Gojo's massive hands as you tried not to think too hard about what he might see, or what he was going to do with your body.

--

Gojo locked the door to the shower rooms behind him, screw anyone else that needed to wash up he needed to be alone right now. Your pleas and begs to not look at your body too long or be weird with yourself getting thrown out the window when your frame came into view in the full-length mirror that was in the bathroom before the shower stalls. He whistled at what he saw, turning himself around he looked over your shoulder and stared at your ass through the mirror.

Gojo was having the time of his life checking out his new temporary body. He was astonished at how pretty you still managed to look with messed up hair and ruined clothes. He stared intently at your body as he turned back around and started unzipping your jacket slowly, biting his lip when your body clad in a tight black t-shirt came into view. "Fuck, this is insane." Gojo laughed to himself, feeling a familiar yet unfamiliar warmth blossom in your stomach.

He let the jacket drop to the floor before he crossed his arms over your body and gripped the bottom of your shirt as he slowly dragged the fabric up and over your head, a shaky breath escaping your lips when he saw your bare flesh, the top half of your figure only being clad in a bra. "She'll never know." He giggled to himself before he turned around again, slipping your fingers under the hem of your pants he slowly and seductively slid them down your body, the heat in his stomach growing when your pantyclad pussy came into view as he kicked the pants to the side.

"Who knew all I had to do to get you naked was to do it myself." He said, watching himself in the mirror. Fuck, your voice was turning him on. He might be the one in control of your body right now, but the soul residing inside was still Gojo Satoru, the man who got hard watching you stretch your arms over your head before you spared. He turned around and reached his hand behind his back to unclasp your bra, biting his lip and smiling when he felt your tits fall freely in the air.

"Fuck." He wined in your voice, making your body grow wet as he slid the garment off your body and let it join the pile that had built up on the floor. He brought your hands up to your breasts as squished them together, kneading the soft mounds in his hands, pinching your nipples, jiggling them around, he touched and manipulated them in all the ways he could thing, all while he giggled at his own ministrations. "Now to see this cunt~"

--

Back in your room, you were still on the floor, your head had left the confines of your hands as it rested against the door with your eyes shut. You were going over in your head the way you looked from his point of view; how much smaller than him you were, the height difference, his deep voice, how warm his body was, how- what the fuck was that? You swore you felt something twitch in his pants. You dropped your gaze hesitantly to his lap and noticed a large tent was poking up right where his crotch was.

You had got to be joking. While fantasizing in his body, you had accidentally riled yourself up to the point you were sporting a boner? This was unreal. How did it go away? How long would it take? Oh god, why was his pervy body so sensitive? You did notice the familiar warmth in your lower regions, only in this body, instead of almost feeling your arousal throughout your whole body, you felt it more focused on his crotch.

You bit your lip, shutting your eyes as you tipped your head back against the door again. You couldn't stop your mind from wandering back to all the little things you noticed while being in his body, you wanted to stop you really did, you could not be like Gojo, you were not a perv, you were not a hypocrite.. but one look couldn't hurt anything right? Gojo would likely be in the bathroom for a while, he would never know if you just looked at it, right?

With a heavy sigh, you stood up and walked up to your full-length mirror, unzipping his jacket quickly and throwing it on your bed you lifted his shirt up on his body and stared at his insane physique. His abs seemed to glow under the light in your room, and the indents and muscles on his frame seemed to go on forever. How did he manage to stay so fit when he was constantly eating all those sweets? Men..

The bulge his body was sporting in his slacks made the whole view look so much more erotic, you bit your lip, your breath picking up the more you shamelessly gazed at his body in the mirror. You lifted his shirt more to get a view of his rock-hard pecs, a shaky breath leaving his lungs at his long and toned torso completely unobstructed by clothes to your eyes. You had already come this far.. looking a little more wouldn't hurt right? It's not like you were going to touch anything and besides! Gojo was absolutely doing the exact same thing right now.

Although the thought of Gojo checking out your body the way you were doing to him right now made your face heat up, you once again felt that same twitching under his pants. "Ugh, fucking quit that!" You chastised his dick, your face scrunching up in annoyance as you spoke to it.

You slipped his fingers under his waistband, you slid the fabric down lower- his v-line became more visible to you, lower- a white happy trail was exposed, lower- the base of his cock was unveiled as you could now see it throb under your gaze. You slid his pants down to about his mid-thighs, biting your lip as a shaky moan left his lips, making you feel dizzy at the erotic sound. His cock dripped a thick drop of pre onto the floor beneath you as you watched it hang freely in the room, twitching in the air.

He was so big it almost made you mad, realizing at that moment his cockiness and confidence not only came from his good looks and impressive talent but also from his massive cock. You dropped to his knees, perching yourself on them as you pulled up his shirt and bit the fabric between your teeth, letting yourself have a full view of his body. "Fuck." You moaned, the sound coming out muffled from the fabric tucked between your teeth as you let his warm hands come up to caress his body.

You felt every indent and ridge his body had to offer as you smoothed his massive hands over his body. Any guild you might've felt earlier being washed away at the unreal sight in front of you. The throbbing in his crotch was becoming unbearable the longer you worked yourself up. You tried to stop your hands from dropping any lower, you really did, but when you felt the way his hand wrapped around his cock, the relief, the pleasure, you had no regrets.

--

Gojo sat on the floor of the shower with a slack jaw as he watched your small fingers piston in and out of your tight cunt, moaning and whining at how warm and wet you felt around your fingers. "S-Satoru, Satoru-" He moaned in your voice, getting himself off on hearing your voice moan out his name. "Fuck- this feels so fucking good-" He whined, tipping his head bak agaisnt the shower wall.

He thought fingering himself would feel uncomfortable, but he was sorely mistaken. Your body was made for taking things inside your tight little cunt, the feeling of pleasure immediately washing over his body from just sliding his fingers inside your cunt. He had already cum twice from fingering your body and rubbing your fingers over your sensitive clit, he just couldn't get enough. He had no idea how long he had been in there for, but the water was still running hot so it couldn't have been that long.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, yesyesyes-" He moaned in your voice, wanting to get the most out of this experience while he could, he didn't know if he would ever get to be this up close and personal with your body again after all. He tweaked your nipples in his fingers, biting your lip as loud moans echoed off the walls of the bathroom, his hips humping into your fingers as he felt himself approach another orgasm.

"Soooooo fucked- heh- S-so fucked up" He groaned, your voice raising in pitch as he fought the urge to keep your legs apart, moaning out his name once more when he came. Your body curled in on itself as he continued fucking his fingers in and out of your cunt, working himself through the orgasm. "A-ahhh ngh- fuck-" He wined, pulling his fingers from your walls as your legs snapped shut, and your cunt clenched around nothing. The friction your thighs brought on your sensitive cunt as you came down from your orgasm felt heavenly.

Your body relaxed under the pelting water droplets hit his body, your gasps filling the bathroom as he tried to catch his breath. Gojo couldn't help but think how much better it felt to come as a woman, he felt like his whole soul left his body each time he came, the electricity that zapped through his whole body and made his mind cloudy was a feeling that could not be beat. He almost started mourning the curse you had killed, he wanted to experience this all the time.

With a sigh he pulled himself off of the floor, standing on shaky legs as he shut off the water and giggled to himself as he took the towel down from the side of the shower. "Fuck, it feels a little sore down there.. hope she doesn't notice, heh." And with that, the white-haired man started to dry off your hair and dress your body back up in the nice clean clothes you had given him.

--

"Fuck- fuck- o-ohmygod" You rapidly stroked your hand over his cock while you stared at Gojo's body in the mirror. It was a weird feeling, being aroused by this body while you had full control over it, but the fucked up situation almost made it more exciting. Gojo's balls felt so heavy and warm under your palm as you massaged in between your fingers. His back arched in the mirror every time you ran your hand over the sensitive tip of his dick.

It had taken you a minute to get used to the feeling and to find the right rhythm, but once you did, you were going fucking insane. You don't know how Gojo had lived his whole life with such a sensitive cock, every time you stroked over his length his body jerked and twitched, pre cum dripped from his dick, and his breath hitched, it was a mess. His needy whines and deep groanes you had occasionally let slip was driving your arousal up the walls, the way his abs clenched under your ministrations, and the feeling of his cock twitching when the stimulation got too much; you were feeling drunk.

"Right fucking- there- yess~" You groaned in his voice, stroking his cock slower but rougher as you squeezed your fist tightly around him. You wished you could fuck someone while you were in his body. If his hand felt this good, could you imagine how a mouth felt around it? Or a pussy? An ass? The possibilities and fantasies you were painting in your head were making his balls tighten, a familiar feeling coiling itself in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit, think I'm gonna cum." You vocalized, wanting to hear his voice, as the effect it had on you was embarrassing. You might be incapable of saying the filthy shit Gojo says on a daily basis, but you were sure as hell good at moaning and vocalizing your pleasure when something felt good. You wanted to hear how his voice sounded when it moaned out your name, but the embarrassment was too much, just thinking about it made you blush.

Your breath picked up as you thrust his hips to meet your strokes, both losing rhythm as you brought his body closer and closer to orgasm. "A-ahhh- fuck its coming its- fu-fuck-" You groaned, watching with a slacked jaw as long ropes of cum spurted out of his dick. Some of the ropes coated his hand and eased the slide on his cock as you stroked him through his orgasm, some being shot out onto the mirror in front of you, making the whole scene look pornographic.

His orgasm felt different from the ones you were used to, but it felt just as good. The heat was stronger in the pit of your stomach, and his cock was ten times as sensitive as your clit usually was right when you came. You felt different afterward too, a wave of shame and realization flooded over you when you realized what you had just done. "Ughhhh.." You groaned, being able to blame the unreasonable hornieness on this new body of yours as you washed the shame from your head, using a nearby towel from the other night to wipe off your dirtied mirror and his sensitive cock.

You winced and sucked a breath in through your teeth at the oversensitivity you felt while you wiped off his softening cock; silently curing him as it was still massive when it was flaccid. As soon as you tucked his cock back into his pants and straightened his apearance back up, you heard a knock on your door that nearly sent your soul flying out of your body.

"Let me innn, it's cold out here~" You heard your voice whine from the other side of the door. You took a deep breath before you walked over to the door and pulled it open, being faced with a damp-haired you. "Why do I look like shit? My face is so red." Gojo complained, walking past you as he dumped your clothes in your hamper before he walked over to your mirror to fix up your still-wet hair.

"Just got hot," You brushed off his remark. "How was your shower?" You asked, avoiding eye contact as you watched him fix your hair in the mirror. "Ohh you know~ Hot." He giggled. You rolled your eyes at his words, dismissing him as you plopped his heavy body on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

"I need to get my body back." You mumbled under your breath, making him look over to you from his place in front of the mirror, "What was that?" He asked, making you bite your lip between your teeth as you sighed heavily, replaying the last couple minutes over and over in your head. "Oh, nothing." You replied, biting the inside of your cheek.

part 2 :)

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

[monstersflashlight]

Hello! ^^ Could I please have a teeny tiny smutty request? Idk if it's monster fuckery if the "monster" is an apparation, but I like horror smut/romance and realized I find very attractive freakishly tall uncanny beings in wide-brimmed hats (Lady D counts too, but she's less creepy and more violent) Especially if they are creepy muhehe. Acting with gentleness that just feels not right. Well, here I wrote some little opening to get the vibe? (I'm a little embarrassed to write anything nsfw qwq) The feeling when you are walking home and have your usual paranoia that someone is watching or following you. For the last few days you've even been seeing something white between the trees in the forest across your house. Or in your windows at night. You shrug it off as a pole or light oddly reflecting. You need stronger glasses anyways, so it can be anything when it's so far. But when you've went to sleep you let your balcony open to let fresh night breeze in. Sadly, not only breeze went in. You heard the door sliding and opened your eyes. Your blood froze and scream died in your throat in pure paralyzing fear. You expected a robber and would use pepper spray you keep on your nightstand. But it's not. The giant figure clad in white is bent forward and in it's knees too to even fit in the room that's was not built for someone like it. It's head isn't moving in sync with it's body, keeping it turned your way while a gentle smile appears on it's face. Such a contrast to it's eyes that glow with malicious intent and too long arms reaching towards your paralyzed form.

Hi! I think this would be great as a demon, like sleep paralysis demon kinda thing, hope that works! <3

Fem!sleep paralysis demon x gn!reader || tw: heavy dub-con

You stare at her as she approaches, her smile is soft but uncanny, you feel your whole body shiver at her look. But you can't move. She keeps walking towards you, the contrast of her eyes and her smile creeps you out to the point of anguish, but there's something else... Heat travelling down your body that excited you in the most unexpected way. Heat pooling in your lower abdomen as you get... aroused? Your brain is kind of fucked up, but you are definitely feeling something else besides fear at that point. Her smile gets bigger, creepier, too many teeth showing and way too sharp. But you can't look away.

You think you hear her talk, but her lips don't move. But you know she told you not to be afraid, not to be worried... She's not going to inflict any pain. You don't know why, but you know she's telling the truth. She looks scary, and you might be minutes away from peeing yourself in fear, but something about her tells you it's okay. Whatever she's going to do, it's okay. You are okay.

The first contact of her way too long fingers against your frozen body is like an electric shock, makes your body arch and your eyes roll back into your head, you open your mouth in a silent scream as she laughs creepily. Another shiver runs down your spine at that sound, a tear softly running down your cheek as she lowers her body over yours.

She touches you all over, so much and in so many places at once that you can't process all the sensations at once. Your nipples, your neck... Every erogenous zone in your body is pressed and caressed at the same time as her face floats over yours, her eyes pinning you down without any force, her smile getting so big you think she could open her mouth and swallow you whole. But she doesn't talk again. She caresses your body, touches your every cell... And you lay there unable to move, being forced to enjoy whatever she's doing to you.

You wake up with a shout, your body shaking with the aftershocks of an orgasm and completely alone. Instead of being scared, you can't stop thinking how to make her appear again.

[barleyo]

Hybrid.

Recom! Miles Quaritch X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: Hey, guys! I'm back from hiatus, sorry, I've been gone for so long. I got this idea while listening to one of my favorite nsfw asmr creators (feelgoodfilth, please go check him out y’all). Love you all, thanks for reading!

Tags: breeding kink, medical fetish, p in v, handjobs, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies

Wordcount: 1.7K

“Colonel Quaritch?”

“Hm, yeah?”

The woman walked into the small waiting room, taking only a few steps while clutching a clipboard to her chest. 

“I’m ready to run your tests. Would you follow me to the back office?” Her lips pressed into an awkward line, the pissed look on Quaritch’s face telling her that he wasn’t in the mood for a smile.

He stood up, head leaning down uncomfortably in the room. The ceilings got a bit higher when they turned the corner to her office, allowing him to reach closer to his full height. An examining table sat in the middle of the office, and an overhead light stood above it.

“Do I–?” Miles’ hand loosely pointed over to the table.

“Oh, yes, please. Careful of the light, Colonel.” The woman took her seat on a spinning chair, scooting it toward the table with her wheels. “Careful– careful now,” she said, holding her arms out as he roughly sat on the table, trying to protect his large body, as if catching him would have done any good. 

He snorted, lip pulling into a bored, fixed snarl. “Yeah, so sorry, miss,” he said, voice anything but apologetic. 

She gave a small nod, eyeing her papers clipped to her board, scanning over them quickly. 

“Ah– no matter. So, Colonel Quaritch, I have to run a few simple tests and check-ups before we start the extraction process. Please, hold still.”

Extraction.

“Lord, this damn thing couldn’t take any longer, could it? Fucking Christ,” he snapped, patience thinning by the minute.

The RDA just wanted to piss him off at this point, he thought. The whole situation left a bad taste in his mouth, from start to finish. Creating recoms with lab grown Na’vi bodies was getting too expensive, so this was the alternative. Why make them from the government and taxpayers’ money when they had all they really needed: a few female recoms, a few male recoms and a way for them to mix.

“I know, I’m sorry– I know this can’t be pleasant for you,” she said. She was trying to be as sympathetic as possible, but it wasn’t a great process for her to deal with either, especially when the medical wing was understaffed. 

“You have no idea, girl.” Miles groaned impatiently and spread his legs out, trying to work out the stress and kinks from his joints. “Can we just get this over with?”

The nurse nodded and scrambled over to her desk, pulling out an otoscope. She ushered him to lower his head to her level, having already pumped her chair up to its maximum height. “Hey, hey, hold still,” she inserted the tool, holding his blue ear to stop it from flicking as she looked through the lens. “Okay, all good.” 

“What’s even the point of this? Can’t I just jizz in a fucking cup and leave?” He took a deep breath and his nose twitched in irritation. 

“That– that comes later,” she said, face warm at his vulgar language, “just a few more tests, I promise. Now,” she pointed at her mouth, “open up, I need to take a look at your teeth.”

“What? Why?” Miles drew his eyebrows together, looking her up and down. 

“I’ve got to make sure your teeth are healthy, and strong before we pass your DNA down to our other soldiers,” she said while still pointing her fingers at her mouth. “C’mon, show me that handsome smile, eh, Colonel?”

A sigh escaped his muscled chest, stripes seemingly shaking as he breathed. 

“Fine.”

She brought a small light to his mouth, lifting her head up high to see all of his teeth. They were sharp and barred at her, shining in the reflection of her light. 

A few other meaningless tests were performed, each draining Quaritch of his patience more and more. If he had to do one more fucking thing, he was going to—!

“Here you are. Now just take this and, uhm, you know,” she said, passing him a sterile cup to fill. “Fill it to the top, if you can.”

She looked away and started to turn to her desk before she heard a zipper. Her head snapped over to the table to see Miles removing his heavy cock from his cargos, giving it lazy pumps.

“No, there’s– there’s a bathroom for that…!”

“It’ll take like two seconds,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “not leaving just to blow a load.”

She barely heard his response as she watched. She was too busy feeling her grip on the corner of her chair tighten, eyes hooked on the sight of his pretty, blue cock growing in his fist.

 “I, uhm, I think,” she paused, still watching as her voice trailed off.

“Huh? You think what?” He looked at her, smirking at her knuckles going white as she held onto the chair. “I think, little miss, that you want to come help me with this. Am I right?”

“That’s not professional,” she coughed out, turning her head away from him, arms going up to cover her chest. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t you want to help a patient in need? Don’t leave me here to suffer,” Quaritch teased, feeling his impatience being replaced by smugness. 

She bit her lip, eyes squinting as she thought. 

“Oh, nurse,” he called, voice smothered with satisfaction, “I need your help.” He let go of his dick, feeling it spring back to hit his clothed abdomen. A string of precum stuck to his shirt as his cock twitched. 

She walked over to him, pushing the wheeled chair to the corner of the room and out of her way. Taking his cock into her hand, she looked up to meet his blown, amber eyes. “Just to help? T-to hurry the process, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, “but, I wouldn’t mind if you took your time.” 

Giving a few, testing strokes, she held as much of his cock that she could manage in her small fist. She went slow, from tip to base. Miles shuttered a bit, hips threatening to snap up into her hand. 

“You’re a little fuckin’ tease, aren’t you? Gonna– fuck,” he clenched his jaw, “gonna actually take your time, huh? Ain’t know you’d listen t’me.”

Taking her other hand, she takes her fingers and traces around his tip, collecting the slick and rubbing it in. She felt it kick in her hands, and gave it a sharp squeeze.

“God, just– let go, c’mon.” 

She let go quickly. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to!”

Quaritch took a breath through his nose and patted his lap. “Come here, come on. That’s right.” 

She sat, facing him. Her blue scrubs made euphoric friction against his cock, gliding across the length as she got comfortable. 

“I’ve gotten a taste of you, darlin’,” he started, “I won’t be able to hold back. Can’t cum inside that fuckin’ cup.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, mouth parting slightly as she felt his hands reach under her shirt. “Colonel?”

“Ain’t no point in growing another recom in a lab with my DNA,” he started, leaning to her neck, letting the warmth of his breath hit the exposed skin, “when I could put my DNA inside of you. Gonna let me breed you? Huh?”

He held onto the swell of her breast under the shirt, running a thumb over her hard nipple. 

“Gonna let me fuck a hybrid into you?”

Her mouth hung open for a second, unanswering. “Colonel….”

“Answer me, missy. Gonna do it? Let me fill you up with a fuckin’ alien baby.”

A slow nod was all he needed to see. In a swift movement, she felt her body turned and pushed, her back on the table. 

“Careful, please,” she mumbled, lips raw from her chewing them nervously. 

“No time for ‘careful,’ honey, I gotta take you nice and rough.” Quaritch pulled her pants and panties down, balling the fabric up and tossing them into a corner in the office. He brought his fingers to her cunt, collecting the slick leaking from her hole. “Worked up, huh?”

He placed one hand over her thigh, pulling her legs apart. She instinctively tried to close them back, unsuccessfully. 

“Keep ‘em open, I need to get you prepped for me.” He took one finger and rocked it into her, reaching to the far back of her walls. “All this talk got you wet already,” he said, feeling his finger slip in and out with ease. 

“Wait, I’m close, really close,” she said, legs starting to shake. 

A  dry chuckle left Quaritch’s mouth. “Yeah? I won’t stop you. Cum.” His fingers curled into the gummy spot in her, abusing the sensitive area. A soft clenching trapped the digit, tightening over him for a few moments. “There, there you go.”

“Thank you, yes– fuck!”

“One load ain’t enough for you, huh?” His eyes were completely blown and lust-filled. “God– your greedy little cunt, milkin’ me dry.” 

“Please, one more time– one more. Want your babies so bad!” she moaned, voice completely punched out. Her whines were breathless, and broken. 

Quaritch gave a soft hum as he continued at the same pace, slotting his hips between hers roughly. The squelches of her messy, wet cunt filled his ears and egged him on further. Dribbles of his cum from earlier dripped out of her with each of his thrusts.

“I’m just gonna seed you, girl. Spill my fuckin’ cum all in you for second time so it takes.”

Her walls clenched around his cock at his words, a soft moan escaping her lips. 

“You like that, yeah?”

“Yes, yes—” 

“Keep clenching on me, keep me nice and hard,” he growled into her ear gently licking the shell of it after he finished talking, “God– you got me right on the edge.”

“Don’t make me wait,” she sobbed, feeling herself go blind from pleasure.

“So greedy, so– so impatient.” Quaritch held onto her hips, using her hips for further leverage as he fucked her into the table. 

“Cum– cum in me, please, Colonel, one more time.”

Her begging threw him over the edge, and he spilled his second load into her, his cock kicking as he did. 

“Fuck, sweet girl, there you go. Not even gonna pull out of you, gotta keep you plugged up.” He sat up, pulling her on his lap, dick still inside. 

“Do you think I’ll actually, uhm, you know?” she sighed, looking a bit concerned.

“Get pregnant? I don’t know, girl. Maybe not. Or maybe you will, and you’ll get full with some little recom soldier babies.” He ran his hand over her cheek before speaking again, “Maybe I should fill you up again. Third time’s a charm.”

[finniestoncrane]

Gotta be honest with you, I need to hear every single Digger headcanon you have because they 2 you've shared are just so good.

General Headcanons

KTJL!Boomer Headcanons yippee!!! woohoo!!! someone wants to listen to my bullshit!! i am so happy to write down more of my headcanons by the way, but for anyone wanting any make sure to let me know what you want the 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of nsfw things, it's fuckin boomer so of course, there's a whole load of nsfw headcanons and i mention piss because duh

General Headcanons

this is a sort of universal belief i suppose but i do think he lives in his van and i will live and die by my faith. he likes having everything he needs with him at all times. he will spout some bullshit rhetoric about living a "buddhist" existence with few material goods. and he's half right in that he has two pairs of underwear, and a collection of empty (or maybe not completely empty) beer cans rattling around back there

he's passed out twice while getting tattoos and he will yell and scream and argue that it was because his blood sugar was super low and not because he's a total wuss

he smells amazing. not like... good, don't get me wrong i don't think he smells nice. BUT he smells fuckin great. he has a natural deep musk that just hits the receptors nicely, the kind of smell that's laden with all the right pheromones to engage your caveman brain and have you swooning over him

bad habits (which i count as a bonus tbh) include: picking things: ears, skin, nose, anything. drinking to excess and then never learning a single lesson. masking all of his emotions until he's certain you won't make fun of him for having feelings. pretending to hate people that he loves because he can't be seen getting hurt. leaving his clothes lying around and relying on the smell test to get him through the process of getting dressed. kissing you in the morning before he has brushed his teeth. having no concept of personal space: he will steal blankets, he will curl around you in bed, he will sit too close to you on the sofa, he will hang off your body, he will hug you from behind and not let go, he will stand beside you all the time. refusing to take things seriously until he really has no other option. bad temper, and then defusing the situation by kicking something

yes, he has great tits and strong arms, but in my heart of hearts i know his stomach is not flat and in my head he has the sweetest lil beer gut to ever exist. it gets worse once he's just finished eating or drinking, and he cradles it and makes jokes about it being a girl or a boy. and while they might not have added it into the game, they did add in his sweet lovehandles on those hips, and he likes being grabbed by them and pulled into a hug. reminds him that when he's no longer big buff boomer, you'll still be super into his hot body

i think he's 45 years old fuck you. i think youngest he's 40, there's no way he's near me in age. we can consider sun damage to an extent but he has wrinkles, he's a dad, he's got big ol bags under his eyes and a slightly receding hairline

he's competitive, but not in an aggressive way, more in an annoying way. like you play a board game with him, and he'll do everything in his power to distract you, or use the rules against you. and if he loses, he doesn't go in a big strop, maybe a tiny huff with a few whines. who can refuse him a pity win when he's looking up at you all sad with those big green eyes and batting those silly eyelashes?

if there is something about you that he can mercilessly tease you for (without making you cry) he will harp on about it constantly. it's his way of showing that he's comfortable around you, enough that he can make you want to punch him in the throat. he can give but he can't take though, so remember that before you point out that he is in fact ginger, or that his freckles make him look so cutie-patootie, or that his tattoos are kinda dumb

you have to laugh at his jokes and puns, it's a requirement and he'd be tempted to make you sign a contract saying you will adhere to this rule. it gives him a boost, makes him feel proud. plus he is genuinely very funny, and the dorky nature behind his silly jokes is so endearing

Relationship Headcanons

when he falls for someone, he falls first and he falls hard. he also falls pretty easily, and he's no stranger to heartbreak, but he has his terrible coping methods to keep him going

he finds it easy to find something about everyone that he likes, because he's just prone to liking people. he thinks everything and anything is sexy, and he can find your good traits like a pig sniffing out truffles

he regularly brings home gifts for his partner, stolen or otherwise. no one needs to know how you aquired such an expensive piece of jewellery or that really nice original looking bit of art. maybe you just happen to save a lot of money by living in the back of his van with him!!

gifts are just one of the ways he is surprisingly thoughtful for a boy with no thoughts behind his eyes! dates are another thing he's fuckin stellar at!! wherever you're going and whatever you're doing you are guaranteed to have fun, that's just how he is. he makes everything tolerable, and he can turn a shit day into a great one

he's desperate for friendship, far more than he is for anything romantic or sexual, although if the two could go hand in hand that'd be an ideal scenario. he might claim to be chill and looking for a quick root, but he's far more interested in finding a partner who can be his buddy as well as his lover

there's never going to be a moment when he's not touching his partner by the way, like that is just something you are going to have to put up with

hand on your shoulder, hand in your hand, hand on your waist, hand on your thigh, hand on your back, hands around you as he hugs you from behind, hands around you as he hugs you from the front, hands around you as he hugs you from the side, hand on your butt, hand on your chest, hand on your stomach, hand on your cheek. the man has borderline separation anxiety

holding hands is his favourite though, especially when paired with his habit of loudly announcing your status to anyone within earshot. "oh this is my partner!" "yeah i'm their boyfriend!" "i'm fucking that beautiful bit of arse over there, thanks for asking!" like thank you, digger

he's surprisingly emotional, and surprisingly open once you get past his protective exterior layer. he's still always joking around and trying not to take things seriously, but the minute you or he needs some serious feeling time he is down for it

i don't think he would ever choose a sexuality. personally, i feel like he's bisexual or pansexual, but digger would say he's just sexual. he'll go for anything with a pulse who was happy to see him. there's a bit of digger for anyone (or anything...)

he'd be quick to take things to the next level with a partner he really loved. like he comes to pick you up one day in the boomer-van and he's like "tah-dah" and in the bacl there's a plastic storage box duct taped to the wall with your name written on it. this is how he would ask you to move in with him. you might need to get rid of a lot of your posessions but he wouldn't be adverse to you cleaning up the van or making it your own though!! i bet he'd love to have fairylights on the ceiling and some rugs on the floor

NSFW Headcanons

he has a piss kink. i know that is not a thing for most people, but i have evidence backing this up. it's barely a headcanon at this point, it's just straight up fuckin canonical fact lmao!! anyway i don't think it's a goes both ways thing most of the time. he likes to be the one pissing, it's where he refuses to be a switch and will only be the dominant one, usually

speaking of being the dominant one, it's what he's most comfortable with since he's a loud, brash, bold and heroic villainous boy, but he really doesn't mind switching things up. he can be a gentle dom, a bratty sub, and any combination in between. really, he is up for literally any activity or kink or fetish or position you can throw at him

he gets very vocal during sex. he spouts all kind of filth at you, confirming what he's doing, what he wants to do, and what he's going to do to you. his preferred terms are surprisingly gentle though, calling you kitten or pup, princess or prince, love, babe, baby. a combination of them all. aside from that, he is loud. volume is not something he can control when he's deep in the heat of the moment and he is the literal definition of animalistic. he growls while he fucks you, and he howls when he cums, and he has referred to himself as a dingo before...

of course, if you're getting particualrly nasty, or he's in a far more feral mood, he'll be growling low into your ear, calling you a dirty, nasty little cunt while he grabs your body and keeps you close

he's into any kink, sort of believing in trying anything once (or twice... or three times...) but there's a few he just LOVES. ones that if you mention them, you run the risk of having him cumming in his pants or rutting up against your leg like a desperate, badly behaved puppy

obviously, previously mentioned piss kink, but specifically if it involves some level of servitude or worship. like you on your knees holding his cock for him while he goes to the toilet, you offering to lick him clean, or letting him piss on you because you're so beneath him and he's yours to mark and claim. begging for a taste of him or pleading for him to use you gets him going too when you combine it with this

body worship or worship in general gets him going too. he's so desperate to be loved and wanted and adored and needed, so having someone beg for him, tell him they want him, they need his cock, his fingers, his hands, his saliva, his drool, his cum, anything he's willing to give them. top that off by calling him captain and he'll melt into a sticky little puddle

he's also way behind on comfort, so a little bit of gentle love mixed with kink is a great way to help him relax. feed him a tit or a hard cock, let him suck until he's soothed himself. hold him on your lap and stroke his hair while you tell him he's amazing, and so good at everything he does

cowboy digger is reporting for duty at the breeding ranch! get you some horns, a teeny tiny cowprint outfit, a tail and a bell and he'll either milk you dry until you're crying from overstimulation, or he'll ride you until he's pumped every last bit of cum into you, making sure you're ready for him to be the daddy

he'll fuck with the hat on. he's a socks on kinda guy too. he just gets way too into it way too quickly and forgets anything else but rutting and grunting

this could have been soft, if it wasn't george, but he loves when you fall asleep on him, like your head resting on his chest or his stomach or his lap or his shoulder. he'll be sweet, of course, and place a little kiss on the top of your head. but then he will try and sneak a look down your top or at your ass or to see if you have a visible bulge he can ogle

[gffa]

One of the biggest hurdles with the Lockwood and Co. books is that they're set entirely from Lucy Carlyle's point of view and there is a whole lot of body shaming that really set my teeth on edge when I first read it. Some of it is still just awful, but I've come around on that I can read a lot of it as Lucy's unexamined issues from childhood rearing their heads in some nasty ways.

Her relationships with all the characters around her are contentious and full of conflict even just in her thoughts, she's so nasty to George, to Holly, to the Skull, to Kipps, to Barnes, etc. It most especially comes out with Holly (and Kat Godwin before her, then Flo Bones as well) and it's very easy to read Lucy as reacting badly to her own attraction to women, her envy of them and her inability to let herself be attracted to them, because she's closed off so tightly.

But it's also her relationship with the Skull, who she constantly argues with and says she hates, she has nothing but poison for it in her thoughts, but as soon as it goes missing, she's desperate to get it back.

It's also in her relationship with George, who she constantly nettles and thinks mean thoughts about, but it's obvious that she cares about him deeply and has grown to love him as a friend, even if she can't necessarily admit that to herself.

Her entire dynamic with Holly is centered around how feminine Holly is, how pretty she is, how Lucy just cannot stop thinking about how Holly dresses, how she does her hair, how soft her skin looks, how her little hand motions are so delicate and proper. And, yeah, some of it is envy and feeling insecure, that other people will like Holly more than her, but it's also just so much attention on all the little details that it comes off as unrealized physical attraction.

And then suddenly, I'm looking at all of the relationships Lucy has with people, where almost all the people she likes and respects are ones she's nasty to. Which clicked into place for me when she went back to visit her home town and was miserable there, the poor relationship she had with her family suddenly making so much sense in the way she rejects people before they can reject her, that she's so terrified of being vulnerable that she schools her thoughts and actions and words into prickly meanness so that she doesn't get hurt when they don't want her.

Lockwood is the exception to this, because he's the one who took all her nastiness and kept being mostly kind to her, he allowed a certain amount of vulnerability to himself and Lucy slowly started to come around on him and thought nicer of him. Sure, part of it is that she has feelings for him and so her thoughts are kinder, but I think it goes hand in hand with the way Lockwood is the one that never really sniped back at her or egged her on in any way, he started to feel safe to her, he started to feel secure to her.

And then she breaks his trust! She sneaks into the locked room to find out about his history, in a moment of anger and frustration, she breaks the thing that he asked them not to poke into, and she knows he would have every right to be angry enough at her to kick her out! But he's nice to her about it! He says, no, it was time to tell you guys about it anyway. He's open and vulnerable about something that she desperately feared rejection over!

Which is of course why her feelings reach a certain point and she has to acknowledge them, she can't deny them anymore, so the slightest push (the ghost wearing Lockwood's face, saying that she would do this to him, get him killed) has her running off from the agency and going independent, because she's terrified that she'll get Lockwood killed/terrified of actually stepping across that line into having feelings that could really hurt her if she's not accepted.

She's complicated and messy and I love her, she's a great character with a great, dynamic arc--but it does require reading into some of the more problematic elements of the character and taking a more generous view of them, even when I know much of the real answer is that the author probably didn't see the problem with the way he would have her describe characters (especially anyone that was overweight) and you have to find the mental line you're willing to walk with that. But if you're okay with wincing through some of the earliest stuff, I think there's a really cool Hot Mess Lady character waiting on the other side.

[yellowflowerbub]

small business

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary. you and gojo run the snacks stand for your class together

wordcount. 1k

pairing(s). teen!gojo satoru x reader

tag(s). friendly banter, gender neutral reader

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The school festival is busy. Students scurry through the building and the outskirts of the premises like rodents, every inch of the school from closet to hallway is drenched in the stench of school spirit. Silence is something you won’t hear until you return home as the whole of the student body fills the air with inaudible conversation. 

The room you inhabit has little to no decoration, in comparison to the rooms adjacent to your own, the classroom is wholly bare. The stand you’ve thrown together consists of brands of sweets organized at random. In front of the table is a sign that reads, “Candy 400 Yen Each”. Running the stand and sitting behind the table along with you is Gojo Satoru. He doesn’t appear to be any more elated to run the stand than you are.

“Can’t we just pack up?” Gojo groans, he’s been steadily complaining for the better of an hour. It’s almost admirable how someone can remain this verbally annoyed for this long.

“No, we haven’t gotten anywhere near our class’ goal.” You reiterate while recounting how much you’ve earned as of now. 1,600 yen. 19,400 yen to go.

He whines, leaning back in his chair, “But we’re nowhere near getting to our class goal!” 

“I just said that.”

“How can they expect us to get that much money in a day from these kids? Everyone keeps walking past our room ‘cause it looks like there’s no one in here.” He twists around in his chair restlessly, kicking up his legs over the armrest and planting them back onto the floor, folding his legs under one another before pulling his knees up to his chest.

“That’s a great idea, Gojo. You should go out and tell people that there actually is a stand in this room.” You suggest, pushing on his shoulder as you do.

His glasses plummet to the tip of his nose as he jerks out of his seat, “I can’t do that! They’d just walk past me. I’d rather jump off the roof than have an underclassman ignore me and chase after them. God that sounds humiliating.” 

You don’t bother responding to him. At some point amongst the nagging, a student wanders through the door. Gojos eyes shoot to the student then to you. 

“Hi, we’re selling sweets for our school's fundraiser. Everything we’ve got is on this table.” You gesture to the array of candy. 

The student looks nervous, almost unreasonably nervous for the circumstances. They feel around in their pants pockets and pull a few coins from one of the back ones. “Can I buy two chocolates?” They ask holding up the coins in one hand and a two in the other. 

“Sure, that’s 800 yen. You can drop it in that jar to your right.” 

They hum, grabbing the candy and flipping the coins in their respected place. 

Gojo looks antsy. The tips of his thin fingers drum on his thigh and his poor posture, fixed eyes, and chattering teeth make him look predatory. Too bad this energy is directed toward the kid who looked like they’d shit themselves before they came in. 

“Why stop at two pieces of chocolate? We have too much shit to only grab one thing.” He speaks like a salesman, a stark change in tone from the groaning and whining senior he made himself out to be a moment ago. 

“Oh,” They sound startled, “Well, I’m just not that.. hungry.” 

“Bullshit,” They jump, “I know an exhausted student when I see one.” He does not.

“Really, I promise I’m not tired at all.” They stammer yet Gojo persists.

“Look at those bags under your eyes, you must not have had any sleep last night. Boy have I got just the thing you need.” At this point, you’re sure this is the cap on how much money you’ll be making today.

“If I put more money in, will you let me leave?’

“Yes.”

Without another word the student drops the rest of what remained in their hand straight into the donation jar and leaves as quickly as they’d come. You resist a strong urge to drag your hands down your face. 

“Dude.”

“Yup?”

“You’re so oblivious it’s infuriating.”

Gojo scoffs, “I am not! You’re too much of a pushover to see when a customer needs to be pushed a bit.”

“‘Pushed a bit’ is an extreme understatement. You nearly made that kid shit themself.” You outstretched to tip the donation jar toward yourself, “Speaking of shit, stop swearing while we’ve got customers.”

His countenance twists into one of genuine confusion, it hadn’t wrapped around his diminutive mind how he could come off as pushy. In his eyes, some people, especially those younger than himself, needed a little push, “Really?”

“Yes.” You deadpan.

Despite his idiocy, Gojo is immensely intelligent in reading people. Of course you probably wouldn’t be making any more money if word gets out that some asshole is berating underclassmen for the few bucks they’d brought to spend however, that kid was loaded.

“Holy- that kid had 8,000 yen on them! We’re close to being done with this now!”

You could see Gojo being physically inflated with pride. With his pointer finger he nudges his shades further up the bridge of his nose, “See?” 

You continue to count the money once more.

“I’m like, the best at reading people.” He boasts, “If it were just you here, you would’ve let everyone waltz out that door without asking them for anything else. I’m just too good. Maybe I should look into sales.” It looks like he'll burst if he pumps his pride any further. You might not be able to drag him down to earth, he’ll continue to drift away until his ego is out of plebeian reach.

“Do you think I’d look good as a car salesman? Hm~?”

“Absolutely not, stick to sorcery.” He deflates. 

“Damn! You’re so ruthless. I’ve got some feeling in my heart!”

“Unfortunately, most of it is complete and utter idiocy.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: in honor of the new jjk season coming out

Feedback and Reblogs are Appreciated!

[zikariogirl]

‘ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 ‘ — 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧-𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

❥ 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: ‘𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥’ 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐚𝐛𝐝𝐮𝐥

summary ┆ working at wusang was a dream come true for you. you had great friendships there and even began to develop feelings for a certain intern. but things started to change — big reveals left you shocked, and instead of running away you felt yourself become more captivated by him. . . and he seems to notice you as well. nothing in this world really matters to jang han-seok, but you? he will burn the whole world for you.

key: bold = english

warnings ┆mild smut (i will put a warning to let you guys know where it begins and ends)

After slowly accepting the fact that your boyfriend was not only a psychopathic CEO — but a murderer as well — spending time with him and going on dates has become a bit more easier. You decided that there’s no reason to add more stress onto your relationship, especially when Cha-young and Vincenzo are still trying to dig for more information regarding the true chairman of Babel. Luckily, to your knowledge, they haven’t discovered that Han-seok is Joon-woo, so the both of you have been living with a peace of mind and enjoying every second you could spend together. Any fear or any doubts you felt towards Han-seok has completely vanished at this point.

You were both in his apartment trying to bake some cupcakes, but instead, Han-seok found it funny to plaster some of the baking mix on your face. “Baby!”

He rarely lets out a genuine laugh, and when he does it is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. Needless to say, you’re the only person who gets to hear it considering that he pretty much despises the rest of the population in the world.

But you weren’t going to let it slide, so when he least expected it, you got him back by rubbing baking mix on his left cheek and nose.

“Ah, you got me,” he mischievously smiled. “You sneaky little devil.”

“I do learn from the best.”

“Oh I’m sure you do.”

Without warning, you felt him place his hands on your waist as he lifted you up and set you down on the counter, positioning himself in between your legs. You were at eye level with him, and your heart beat raced as you began to wonder what devious idea did he have hiding up his sleeve.

“You better not cover me with baking mix,” you warned.

“How about I give it a taste test?”

“Oh, okay. You can use this spoon to–”

He took you by surprise when you felt his lips against your cheek, licking and sucking on the baking mix that rested there. “Hm, delicious, how about here?”

He placed some baking mix on your lips before leaning in and repeating the same action. You caved into the kiss, letting out a small moan when you felt his teeth graze your lower lip as he gently pulled on it with his teeth. You knew he was about to pull away, but your needy side kicked in and you quickly hooked your arms around his neck, re-connecting your lips in another passionate kiss.

Han-seok pressed himself close to you, his fingers slipping underneath your shirt while gripping your waist tightly. You could feel his erection pressing against you, and that was enough to send you over the edge as a warm wave shot up your body. You still haven’t had sex, but there were moments where the two of you would get super intimate before being either, interrupted by a phone call, or you would grow shy and stop before it could escalate.

Right now, though? You wanted this. Your fingers were beginning to scrunch up his shirt from the neckline and you were both too engrossed in one another, that you didn’t hear the front door opening.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir!”

The two of you froze at the same time, but reacted differently to the intruder. While you ducked your head in embarrassment, Han-seok clenched his jaw as his body — menacingly and slowly — turned to face Han-seo.

“Do you. Fucking. KNOCK?!”

You both flinched at his loud voice and you silently prayed that your boyfriend would take it easy on his brother.

“I’m sorry! I-I’m so sorry! The door was unlocked so I thought it was okay enter, sir.”

Cue you mentally slapping yourself since you were the last person to come in to his apartment. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s my fault because I forgot to lock the door.”

“No, no,” Han-seok had a crazed look on his face. “Don’t apologize for the idiocy of others. It’s not your fault.”

“But–”

“He’s right,” Han-seo cut you off with a nervous laugh. “I’m an idiot for not knocking. It’s my fault.”

You wanted to argue and say that it was indeed your fault, but knowing these two, it would be pointless. Han-seo would just become more persistent in blaming himself and if you tried to defend him, then it would cause Han-seok to lose his shit and possibly go after his brother behind closed doors. Instead, you nodded your head at Han-seo, not wanting to press onto the matter.

“So, brother, are you going to stand there like a dumbass or are you going to tell me why you’re here?” Han-seok’s voice dripped with irritation.

“Sir, the research team has found crucial information that I believe you may want to know.”

“About what?”

“Its about Vincenzo.”

The three of you sat down with one of the investigators from the team, consulting and talking about Vincenzo’s true identity. You didn’t know what to expect. You assumed they were going to expose him as a con artist or someone who’s stealing money from his victims, but what you least expected to hear was that Vincenzo was a part of the Italian mafia. The fucking mafia. The blood drained from your face at the news, your mind beginning to replay every little encounter you had with him, hoping that you didn’t tick him off in any way, shape, or form. Your eyes were trained on the coffee table in front of you as you refused to look at the pictures that Han-seok held in his hands.

Holy shit, does Cha-young know? What if she’s completely unaware of the monster she has by her side. There’s a high probability that he didn’t disclose such risky information, or, she knows about it and is using that to her advantage to take down Babel. You need to double-check with her; also to make sure that she’s okay.

“So he’s one of the best consiglieres in Italy?” Han-seok questioned with a hint of excitement.

“Yes, he’s a consigliere both acknowledged and dreaded by all of the Mafia families there,” the investigator answered.

“And Vincenzo really did everything I see in these photos?”

“It’s the tip of the iceberg. He’s much more brutal than you think.”

“I knew something was wrong,” Han-seo groaned next to you while he rubbed his face.

“Hey, look,” Han-seok shoved a gruesome picture towards his younger brother, a sinister smile appearing on his face the moment Han-seo cowered away. “Look at this.”

“This is sick,” you grabbed the photo and crumbled it in your hands. “It’s not funny.”

“Wow, so angry,” Han-seok poked at you in a taunting tone.

You were not in the mood for his immature games. Vincenzo was a threat to everyone. Who knows what his true intentions are? He’s a menace who threatened Han-seo, Ms. Choi, and Mr. Han, and sickeningly left behind his initial to taunt your group. What will he do the moment he finds out about Han-seok’s identity?

You felt like throwing up.

“Come to think about it, he’s attacked us a way the Mafia would all this time,” you pointed out.

“You’re right,” Han-seok stood up as he began to list everything with his fingers. “Terrorism, threats, negotiation, mockery, and murder. I was completely wrong. Vincenzo wasn’t just a sparring partner. He’s like a Mayweather.”

His laugh echoed throughout the living room, making Han-seo stand up, with both desperation and fear resting on his features. “Will you let him go on as a sparring partner?”

Han-seok cackled. “You crazy? I’ll have to kill him, or he’ll kill us.”

And he was true to his word. Han-seok went ahead and got in touch with his contacts — as he likes to call it — to lure Vincenzo out to a secluded area, and kill him. You on the other hand, attempted to fish out information from Cha-young, trying to see if she knew anything about Vincenzo’s true identity. She either knew about him being in the mafia or just straight up had zero clue on what was happening, and you were convinced it was the first option, because she urgently asked for your help as she feared for Vincenzo’s life.

The moment Han-seok found out you were going to “save” Vincenzo, he jumped at the opportunity in chauffeuring your group to his location, but you knew the truth behind his intentions — he wants to make sure Vincenzo is dead.

You pulled up in front of Geumga Plaza as Mr. Nam and another tenant hopped inside the back of the SUV.

“Who is this?” You questioned.

“This is Mr. Lee. He’s a master of breaking people’s necks,” Mr. Nam responded before being grabbed by the neck by Mr. Lee.

“Your first love?” Mr. Lee demanded.

“An Seong-eun.”

“Your treasure?”

“My bike, Cheetah.”

Both you and Han-seok were utterly dumbfounded at the interaction that just unfolded in front of you, but Cha-young looked completely unamused.

“I’ll take care of the killers as soon as we arrive,” Mr. Lee stated with a serious expression.

“Alright,” you shot him a hesitant nod before looking over to Han-seok. “Let’s go.”

He stepped on the gas as the tires screeched into the quiet night, your adrenaline slightly kicking in the closer you got. You weren’t the type to wish death on someone, but if Vincenzo is as dangerous as he is, then he needs to be eliminated. At this point, you don’t care if Cha-young knew of his identity and was just using him to get back at Babel and Wusang, your only concern was Han-seok’s safety. There’s no doubt in your mind that Vincenzo would jump at the opportunity to kill him if he were to find out the truth.

The feeling of disappointment overcame you the moment you guys arrived, and it was self-evident that Vincenzo was alive while the men Han-seok hired were either dead or just knocked out. Cha-young ran and embraced him in a hug while you stood next to Han-seok.

“He’s alive,” you whispered.

“I can see that.”

It appeared that Cha-young and Vincenzo were discussing something, but the sound of a phone vibrating next to you caught your attention. You turned to look at Han-seok, who wore a panicked expression on his face as he clutched his left coat pocket.

“Who’s calli–”

“Fuck,” he silently hissed while clenching his teeth.

You frowned at his behavior, not understanding what was happening. When your eyes followed his and focused on Vincenzo, it didn’t take long to figure out who was calling. Your blood ran cold and your palms grew sweaty. Vincenzo was getting closer to you by the second and you couldn’t risk Han-seok getting exposed.

You subtly turned to face him while reaching for his pocket. “Give me the phone.”

His eyes widened at your request. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m not asking you twice,” you angrily whispered. “Give me the phone. He won’t suspect me.”

Not wanting to argue with you, Han-seok carefully passed the phone over to you, giving you the opportunity to shove it inside your own coat pocket. Just as you expected, Vincenzo didn’t question you when he walked past you, but he did shoot you a glance upon hearing the phone vibrating in your pocket.

You felt like you were about to die in that moment.

But much to your relief, he didn’t question you and only let out a deep sigh as he hung up. “There’s no answer.”

“That’s odd. He would answer if he wanted to know what happened.”

You remained emotionless throughout the whole interaction, but deep down you were shaking in fear, that not even Han-seok’s tight grip on your hand was enough to calm you down. The two of you left the scene the moment Vincenzo’s henchmen showed up, and Han-seok drove for a while before swerving the SUV onto the side of the road. He immediately stepped out and slammed the burner phone onto the ground, letting out a few curses and yells.

“Are you okay?” You asked while stepping out of the vehicle.

“He almost got me,” Han-seok breathed out. “How did he beat the three of them all at once?”

You were immune to his yelling and outbursts at this point, and all you could do was stare at him with worry as he repeatedly stomped on the phone.

“We need to think of a plan to take him down.”

“We?” He turned to look at you. “No babydoll, you’re not getting involved anymore.”

“What?”

Han-seok made his way towards you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It won’t be long until he finds out that I’m Han-seok, and the first thing he’s going after is you.”

“That’s not–”

“No. Stop. Listen to me. He will go after you as a way to blackmail me. You’re a walking target at this point, so no more visits to their little law firm. I’m sending you away to the States.”

Hold up. You took a step back as you stared at him in shock. “What? You’re sending me away? Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m playing around? Yes ______ I’m serious.”

“You can’t do this.”

“Oh yes I can, and you better not fight me on this. Get in the car.”

Earlier you were shaking in fear, but now you’re shaking in anger. He’s your boyfriend, not your legal guardian. You’re a grown woman who can fend for herself and you don’t need his or anyone’s protection. How dare he think he can just order you around?

When you made no move towards the SUV, he rolled his eyes and spun you around, slowly pushing you towards the truck.

You dug your heels into the ground. “Han-seok stop!”

He only shoved you harder. “Shut up before you piss me off.”

What the fuck is wrong with him?!

You tried to turn your body, but Han-seok had your shoulders in a tight grip. He left no room for you to move and it infuriated you by the second.

“Let me go.”

He ignored you as he tried to push you in the vehicle.

“Han-seok!” You managed to kick his shin which caused him to loosen his grip on you. You wriggled out of his grasp and took a few steps back. “Please listen to me.”

He was livid while he looked at you, and you were unsure if he felt that towards you or Vincenzo. His nostrils were flaring and his fists were clenched. You’ve never seen him this mad before in your life.

“Baby…” you softly muttered. “Please calm down.”

His chest was still heaving but he made no move to grab you anymore, so you saw that as your opportunity in walking towards him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Almost immediately, his arms encased you in a tight embrace and he buried his face in your neck. Han-seok held onto you tightly as you ran your fingers through his air, murmuring soft and soothing words into his ear, causing his erratic breathing to slow down.

“Shh,” you cooed. “I’m right here. He’s not going to hurt me. I’ve seen how close him and Cha-young have grown, so there’s no way she would even let him touch me. If you want me to stay hidden, I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is being a thousand miles away from you because baby, at that point, I would much rather be captured by Vincenzo if that meant I would be closer to you. I can be your spy, informant, or whatever else you need me to do. If you need me to kill someone, I’ll do that too. I absolutely adore you Han-seok, and I am willing to do the most fucked up shit for you. I’m not leaving you. You’re stuck with me until you grow sick of me.”

You felt him sigh on your neck before placing a gentle kiss on your skin. “Shit, I fucking love you.”

You froze at his words, but as the seconds passed, your lips curved into the biggest smile you’ve ever experienced. You waited so long to hear those words leave his mouth; to have them be addressed to you. Ever since you first met Han-seok — former Jon-woo — almost a year ago, you immediately fell in love with him. You daydreamed about him confessing his feelings to you, about the two of you growing old and having a family together. You were deeply and utterly in love, and to experience this moment now, was a true blessing.

“I love you more, Jang Han-seok.”

-

“I fucking hate you Han-seok.”

You were sweating liters — no scratch that — buckets of sweat as you leaned against the treadmill. Ever since you devoted your loyalty to your boyfriend, he’s been physically pushing you like crazy. Every day you’ve gone to work out with him and he even hired a martial artist trainer to teach you basic self-defense moves, in case you’re ever in a situation that requires it. You understand why he’s doing all of this but dear god, was it so much.

The sound of a whistle made your body jolt as you quickly shot Han-seok a glare.

Yes, the idiot brings a whistle to your sessions every time.

“Come on babydoll, pick up the pace!” He clapped his hands. “You got this!”

“I’ve been running for the past thirty minutes!” You plopped yourself on the treadmill as it slowly moved you towards the edge, gently dropping you on the floor. “Can we please take a break.”

“You think Vincenzo or his goons will give you a five minute break mid-fight? I don’t think so.” Cue him blowing the whistle. “Now pick up the pace! Hustle!”

“Geez, are you preparing me for Vincenzo or for the fucking war?”

“Baby, this is a war.”

“Says you,” you mumble. “I just wanted to stay home and play Call of Duty.”

“Babydoll, I’ve told you a thousand times, Call of Duty is not good firearm practice.”

Oh great, he mentioned that again. You embarrassingly told him that you could practice using a firearm by learning how to aim and shoot in Call of Duty first. Let’s just say, Han-seok nearly died from laughter when you first brought it up.

“Do not insult NoobMaster69,” you defended yourself. “I’ve gotten so good.”

“I’m sure you have,” Han-seok’s tone was taunting as he made his way towards you. “By the way, have I ever told you how hot you look when you sweat?”

“Mm, no I don’t think so. Enlighten me.”

He grabbed your hands and lifted you up on your feet, and the devil himself wasted no time in gripping your ass. You immediately felt him growing hard against you and your body reacted the same way when you felt a sudden feeling of heat pooling in your area.

After that night where the two of you confessed your love for each other, you went back to his place and basically ripped each other’s clothes apart. That night was filled with both passion and hunger. The two of were craving each other’s bodies for a while, and finally getting a taste of it was so overwhelming that you couldn’t stop. You both went round after round, going at it like animals, before completely knocking out and taking the following day off so you could rest.

Ever since then, neither of you could take your hands off the other.

“The way your body shines with sweats makes me go insane. Your beautiful skin looks so mesmerizing, makes me want to bite you.”

He hoisted you up and placed you on top of a counter, causing you to squint your eyes at him. “Wait don’t you have to go in to work soon?”

“We can make this fast babydoll.”

- smut begins here -

You shot him a smile before connecting your lips together, your hands reached down to pull your leggings off while he fumbled to untie his sweat pants. He pulled you close, lightly tapping his tip against your clit, the action making you both jolt and moan into his mouth. He wasted no time in filling you up completely and pushing you down so you laid with your back against the counter. His movements were fast and rough while he gripped your hip with one hand and had the other wrapped around your throat.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned while gripping the arm that was holding your throat.

“You look so beautiful babydoll,” he groaned, his eyes connecting with yours. “You take it so well. Good girl.”

Fuck, you love it when he praises you.

He knew your body too well already, and while he was thrusting in and out of you, he began to rub your clit with his thumb, the sudden action sending you over the edge. You came all over him as you squirmed underneath his hold, your screams and moans echoing throughout the workout room, as his pace quickened. He was slamming into you repeatedly before he quickly pulled out and spilled his seed all over your stomach, his hips slightly thrusting as he jerked himself off.

- smut ends -

“Fuck, I want to come inside you so bad,” he huffed as he grabbed a towel.

You giggled. “Baby, I told you I’m on birth control.”

“Still a risk I’m not willing to take.”

“Fair point,” you smiled and closed your eyes while he cleaned you up. "Are you going to be busy after your meeting?"

"Yep. I'm going to meet up with Cha-young since we're going to exchange intel."

Now that was news to you. You sprung up and furrowed your eyebrows. "Are you sure that's a good idea? What if she just baits you or gives you false info?"

"The information I'm giving her isn't too important. Don't worry babydoll, I have this all planned out already," he shot you a smile before quickly pecking your lips. "I'll see you tonight okay?"

You nodded your head in return and watched him walk away, feeling relieved that you now have some time to test your theory about Vincenzo. Ever since Han-seok was almost caught by him, he has stuck you to his side every second of the day. You barely had time on your own and you understood where his worry came from, but come on, you’re a girl for pete’s sake. Every girl needs her privacy at some points.

You quickly took a shower and changed into something comfortable. You felt a bit nervous attempting to test your theory, but doing this will only ease your conscious and his.

It felt so odd stepping foot into Geumga plaza; the last time you were here was almost two months ago. You weren’t sure if everyone was going to shoot you a stink eye upon arriving, but the moment you saw Mr. Nam’s eyes light up at your figure, you smiled.

“_______!” He sprung up from his seat, causing a half tired Vincenzo to flinch. “Why haven’t you stopped by?”

“I’m sorry. I kind of felt like I didn’t belong here since I work at Wusang.”

That was true.

“You can always leave them and come work here,” Vincenzo yawned before turning to look at you.

“I think I’m okay for now, but I still took Cha-young’s offer into consideration.”

“Oh! Is it because of Joon-woo?” Mr. Nam wiggled his eyebrows.

“Maybe,” you replied with a grin.

“Have you two kissed?”

“We may have given each other a little peck here and there.”

The two of you giggled like little schoolgirls while shaking each others hands in excitement. Vincenzo groaned at the sight in front of him as he rubbed his face.

“Do you two really have to talk about this right now?”

“Oh come on Vincenzo, it’s not like I haven’t noticed how close you and Cha-young have gotten.”

“What?” He stared at you, completely dumbfounded, while the tip of his ears began to turn pink. Both you and Mr. Nam giggled again and ran towards his desk.

“Is that true Mr. Cassano? Do you like Miss–”

“No,” he immediately responded while avoiding eye contact.

“Oh he totally likes her.”

“He does,” Mr. Nam geeked. “Mr. Cassano, if you both were to get married, can I be your best man?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t tell me you prefer Mr. Lee over me!”

“What? No! I meant the wedding is not going to happen Mr. Nam.”

“But you two would make such beautiful babies!”

“Who’s making beautiful babies?”

The two men beside you froze at Cha-young’s voice, neither of you expecting her to show up. Vincenzo quickly began to type gibberish on his laptop, Mr. Nam ran towards his desk before tripping, and you? Well, you grabbed a nearby magazine and pretended to read it.

“______? Why are you…” you heard her pause before letting out a scream. “No!”

“What?!” The three of you questioned.

“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant with that idiot’s baby!”

“What?!” The color drained from your face as you processed what she asked you. “Who said that?!”

“You did!”

“I did not–”

“Who’s pregnant?”

Now it was your time to actually freeze. You should’ve assumed that Han-seok was going to be tagging along with Cha-young, but it never occurred to you that he would show up here. Oh boy, the moment his eyes landed on you, you wanted to run away and hide. He looked pissed.

“You!” Cha-young thankfully broke the dangerous stare down he was giving you as she pointed at him. “You impregnated my best friend?!”

Now it was Han-seok’s turn to freeze as the color drained from his face. His eyes shot open and he genuinely looked mortified. “I… no wait… you’re pregnant?!”

Whatever anger he was feeling towards you before was gone, but at this moment, you felt so embarrassed and awkward. No one gave you a chance to explain yourself because before you knew it, Cha-young ran towards Han-seok and began to hit him with her folder.

“You moron! How dare you not consult with me first! You think it’s okay to just impregnate her after barely getting together?!”

“What?! I’m innocent!” Han-seok defended himself from her blows. “We’ve been careful!”

“Joon-woo!” You covered your face in embarrassment, not expecting him to out your business like that.

It was complete chaos in the Jipuragi Law Firm. After a couple of more seconds, Cha-young and Han-seok calmed down before everyone slowly turned to look at you — more specifically your stomach.

“I’m not pregnant,” you whined.

“Oh thank goodness,” Cha-young breathed a sigh of relief as she made her way towards you. “Also, why the hell haven’t you visited me?! I should beat you up as well.”

“I’m sorry. Things have just been hectic.” Your apology was sincere, but at the same time, your moments with Han-seok has lately been more important than anything else.

Cha-young only huffed out in annoyance. “Fine I’ll accept your excuse. Anyways,” she turned to look at Han-seok, “you ready to go?”

“Sure thing ex-boss,” he beamed his innocent smile before looking at you directly. “Can ______ come as well?”

“I actually need her for something.”

You did not expect Vincenzo to speak up, let alone need you for something. You shot him a questioning look, and before you could even ask, he once again replied.

“She’s going to help me with a certain case.”

“Wh-wha..?” You were too stunned to speak.

Han-seok’s shoulders grew rigid, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he had to keep his identity a secret, you know he would’ve stormed across the room and snatched you up.

“Really? About what?” To everyone else, he might’ve appeared curious, but you knew that your boyfriend was silently losing it.

“It’s confidential as of now,” Vincenzo grabbed his belongings before standing up. “Let’s go.”

“Where though?” You questioned. You didn’t necessarily feel safe heading out with a fucking mafia member. You were one-hundred percent sure that he wouldn’t harm you, yet you still feared for your life.

“It’s not anything dangerous or scary,” he reassured you. “You’re a girl, and I need your opinion on something.”

Now he was making no sense, but nonetheless, you nodded your head and followed him out. You sent Han-seok one last look, trying to tell him that you’ll be okay, but the moment you stepped out of Geumga plaza you felt your phone vibrate.

‘You better turn your location on right now.’

That was a demand, not a question. You quickly did as he asked before hopping inside the SUV with Vincenzo.

“You okay?”

Your palms are super sweaty and you feel like you’re going to pass out any second. No, you’re not okay. You have no clue as to why he needed you to come with him. Is he planning on using you for one of his dirty tasks? Does he know the truth and is actually kidnapping you? What if he’s going to try to torture information out of you?

Oh god, you regret coming along. You should’ve listened to Han-seok and take him up on his offer on tagging along with him and Cha-young. The three of you were so close before, and it would’ve felt nostalgic having the three musketeers reunite for a bit.

“I didn’t think shopping for jewelry would put you in a nervous wreck,” Vincenzo’s voice brought you back to your senses.

You blinked at him, feeling unsure on how to respond. It took you a while to process his words before you answered back like a lost idiot. “Huh?”

Huh? That’s all you could say?

He quirked up an eyebrow. “Are you deaf too?”

“Okay now you’re just being straight up rude.”

“Because you’re not answering me.” You could tell he was getting a bit annoyed, something that made your skin crawl. God, you were so on edge because of him.

“Okay… so enlighten me then. Why are you bringing me along?”

Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable, making your curiosity peak as your eyes trained on the shifting of his shoulders. What he said next almost made you lose your shit.

“Do you know if Cha-young likes jewelry?”

Four hours and fifteen stores later, you managed to help Vincenzo find a gorgeous pair of earrings for Cha-young — though a part of you hoped it would’ve been an engagement ring he was searching for. Nonetheless, this confirmed your suspicion of him fancying Cha-young, and it also eased your worry in suspecting that he would hurt you in any way. You felt accomplished on your mission in getting closer to Vincenzo, more importantly, squeezing your way onto his good side.

After your boy-girl shopping trip, he dropped you back off at Geumga plaza, claiming he had somewhere to go and stating that Joon-woo and Cha-young should be back any time soon. You were currently swirling in one of the chairs in the office, playing Call of Duty mobile, as Mr. Nam typed away on his computer, drinking what appeared to be some soju. The sound of his phone ringing caught your attention, but what made it more peculiar was the way he stared at you in horror.

What the hell is going on?

“Yes, she’s with me.”

He’s talking about you, but who’s on the other line?

“Got it. Okay.” Then he hung up.

Not wanting to be left in the dark, you stood up and made your way towards him. “What’s going on?”

“Um nothing… actually no… Cha-young will explain everything.”

“Explain what? I have a right to know since it was obvious that you were talking about me.”

His phone pinged, resulting in the two of you to stare at it at the same time, and before you knew it, you ran to grab his phone, making him yell and push you back as he held it up high. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you needed to know what was going on. You aimed and kneed him where the sun doesn’t shine, and Mr. Nam let out a choked up scream before collapsing on the ground. You snatched his phone from his grasp and read over the message that Cha-young sent to him.

‘Please don’t tell her yet. I don’t know how she’ll react knowing that Joon-woo isn’t who he says he is. He’s definitely using her to get information from us so let me break the news to her slowly.’

They know. They fucking know.

How? Who told them? What clues were left behind? Was Han-seok being followed? You were sure that your group tossed out the important pieces to the puzzle, that way the Jipuragi Law Firm could not piece together what was destroyed. You guys hid his identity so well, so what the fuck happened? The situation slowly dawned on you when you remembered what Vincenzo said earlier.

“Wait here. Joon-woo and Cha-young should be back shortly, but I have somewhere to go.”

“Where?” You questioned.

You knew he was hiding something, but what exactly? All Vincenzo did was smile and say that it was something important.

You pieced it all together; knowing too well that Vincenzo was most likely on his way to end Han-seok. No, over your dead fucking body. You ran out of the office, ignoring Mr. Nam’s pleas as you whipped out your phone and called Prosecutor Jung, letting him know to check up on Joon-woo as soon as possible.

Vincenzo may or may not be there, but you’re not taking the risk. You are not letting that bastard take away the love of your life. The fear and anger that shook through your body made you almost loose your footing as you wasted no time in calling your boyfriend. He didn’t answer, something that made your worry spike ten times more. You hastily called Ms. Choi who picked up on the first ring.

“What–”

“They know.” You were safely out of Geumga plaza at this point. “They know he’s Han-seok.”

You didn’t have to explain more to her, because she knew who you were talking about. “How?”

“I don’t know yet, but I just found out from looking at Mr. Nan’s phone and seeing Cha-young’s text. Ms. Choi I’m afraid something happened to Han-seok. He’s not answering his phone and…”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as you began to hiccup with tears running down your cheeks.

“Okay, calm down,” you could hear the frustration and annoyance within her tone. “I’ll try calling him as well. If he calls either of us, let me know.”

“O-Okay.” You hate being weak in front of others — absolutely despise it — especially when it comes to those who show no fear. “I called Prosecutor–”

Then the line went dead. You looked at your phone, your body furiously shaking when you noticed that it lost battery.

“Motherfucker!” You screamed and punched a nearby wall, ignoring the pain that shot up your arm. You simply couldn’t stop. You were livid, your emotions were in no control as you repeatedly punched the brick wall in front of you. Your mind began to envision a certain male figure; making you lose more control of yourself.

“You Mafia bastard!”

You wanted him dead. Funny how things can quickly change within a blink of an eye.

Searching for a cab was surprisingly difficult, but you were thankful that the driver was kind enough to let you borrow his phone. You immediately dialed Ms. Choi’s number and felt relief hit you when she answered.

“Ms. Choi, it’s me.”

There was a long pause on her end before you heard his voice on the other line.

“Babydoll? Are you okay?”

“Han… Han-seok?” You shakily cried.

“What’s wrong? Whose number is this? Fuck _______ where are you right now?”

“I-I’m in a cab right now, on my way to your apartment, but please… are… are you okay?”

You heard him breathe out a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry about me. Take a detour and head to the Prosecutor’s office. I’m currently here with Ms. Choi, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll see you in a second. I love you.”

“I love you too, babydoll.”

The drive to Prosecutor Jung’s office felt like it dragged for ages — even though it was ten minutes away. The moment the cab came to a halt, you scurried out and made your way inside, desperately searching for Han-seok. When your eyes caught sight of him, it felt like you could finally breathe, and before you knew it, you were sprinting towards him. He turned at the sound of your footsteps; looking like he experienced hell as well. In two big strides he was already in front of you, and he scooped you into his arms and held you tightly against his chest.

That’s when you let the tears come out. You were hyperventilating onto his shoulder, gripping the coat of his suit tightly with your sprained hands before they moved to touch his hair, all while he cooed in your ear and left soft kisses on your shoulder. Hugging him has never felt better before. You can be at peace knowing that he’s safe in your arms, but how long will that peace last now that Vincenzo knows about his true identity? The war has just begun, and you plan on fighting in it, to protect the one thing that means the most to you.

No one is going to take him from you. No one is going to ruin your happiness.

You pulled away and took a hold of his face, bringing your lips together in a desperate kiss. He responded almost immediately, but the sound of someone smacking their lips behind Han-seok made you stop. You slowly turned to look at an easily annoyed Ms. Choi, who watched you two with her arms crossed.

“Do you have something stuck in your teeth or do you have a problem with me kissing my boyfriend?” You snapped.

Your comment definitely caught her off guard, and it even threw off Han-seok as well.

“Hey hey,” he directed your attention back to him. “No need to be aggressive baby. You–” his eyes finally trained on your knuckles. “What happened?”

The way his voice got dangerously low made you shudder. “I punched a building, I’m sorry. I was so angry thinking that Vincenzo possibly hurt you and I just couldn’t stop. I’m okay though, it just stings.”

Han-seok proceeded to kiss your knuckles with delicacy. “Mm, so you do get crazy for me, huh babydoll?”

“No one’s taking you away from me.”

“And no one will. I won’t allow that.”

After being in the clear to leave, the three of you were heading towards the exit, both you and Han-seok holding each other close by intertwining your fingers together. After finding out that Han-seok feigned innocence when Prosecutor Jung showed up — thank the lord that you called him — you all collectively agreed to continue to lie about him being Han-seok. As far as you know, Vincenzo has no solid proof against him, which means he can still play the role as Jang Joon-woo.

“You’re leaving already, Mr. Chairman?”

The sound of Cha-young’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. You were hoping that you wouldn’t bump into her, but of course nothing is inevitable.

“Cha-young,” Han-seok spoke out.

“Of course,” Ms. Choi hissed in irritation. “Mr. Jang is a victim of attempted murder. There’s no reason at all for him to kept here.”

Cha-young ignored your supervisor as her eyes were trained on you. “I hope you know he’s lying to you ______.”

“Cha-young, there must be a misunderstanding,” Han-seok tried to explain in a calm tone.

Your body had a mind of its own the moment Cha-young began to slap him, because you shoved yourself forward, pushed her, and slapped her back just as hard. Everyone went silent while her eyes looked at you with betrayal, and for a second you felt a wave of disappointment hit you. Why did I do that? She’s my best friend. Then everything began to flood back. Her and Vincenzo trying to ruin your happiness; to take him away from you. You’re not going to let that slide, and she absolutely deserved to get slapped in the face for even putting her hands on Han-seok.

“______ stop,” Han-seok pleaded while pulling you away from Cha-young. “She needs to hear me out.”

Neither of you said anything, giving him the perfect opportunity to clear his name. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Fine, let’s say it’s no big deal for a person to fool another person. You had fun, I feel like shit. You turned my best friend against me and you’re also lying to her. But this is on another level. You brutally murdered innocent people and shamelessly put on an act without feeling any guilt about killing them. That means you are less than human and don’t deserve to live.”

You heard enough. Once again, you placed yourself in between Han-seok and Cha-young. “You need to stop. You’re lucky Joon-woo decided not to press charges against your crazed mafia bastard. If anyone is less than human, it’s him.”

Cha-young scoffed. “Are you serious right now?”

You didn’t feel like entertaining the conversation more, so you took a hold of Han-seok’s hand and made your way towards the exit, but not before saying one last comment to Cha-young as you walked past her.

“You better keep your dog on a tight leash.”

But of course, she always has to have the last word.

“Take good care of your master. We’re done.”

-

The ride back to Han-seok’s apartment was definitively eerie, no one bothering to utter out a word. The severity of the situation was finally settling in, knowing that Han-seok has a target painted at the back of his head, and soon you will too. You’ve come to terms with knowing that Cha-young is no longer going to talk to you. Whatever relationship you had left with her has vanished. Vincenzo is going to come for you all; you will have to plan accordingly to take him down.

It wasn’t a surprise to see Mr. Han and Han-seo waiting for you all in the living room. Han-seok shook his coat off and threw it on the floor, not bothering to take a seat as he began to slowly pace in front of the couches. You took a seat in one of the arm chairs that sat behind him, your body facing the rest of the group. After a few more moments of silence, Han-seo decided to speak.

“It’s a relief seeing that you’re okay, sir.”

“Yes, yes. We’re glad to see that you weren’t harmed,” Mr. Han agreed.

“Damn it,” Han-seok muttered out. You turned to look at him, noticing that he was bent down and slightly grazing the floor with his fingers. He appeared to flick something off before standing up. “The floor got all dirty!”

“That bastard almost shot you, yet you’re worried about the floor?” You deplored.

“Yes babydoll, I am,” he replied almost sarcastically. “Why did they have to come in here with their shoes on?”

Really? You pray that he’s just messing with you.

“Why wasn’t Vincenzo arrested?” He questioned Ms. Choi. Before she could utter out a response, Mr. Han spoke instead.

“Prosecutor Jung concluded that his gun was fake and he should only be charged with intimidation.”

Now that was news to both of you.

“His gun was fake?”

“I think Prosecutor Jung fabricated it,” Ms. Choi explained.

“He calls himself a prosecutor of integrity, but he’s colluding with a Mafia member,” Han-seo scoffed in annoyance.

Oh lord, was that true? You were the one who called Prosecutor Jung to Han-seok’s place, but you weren’t aware that him and Vincenzo could possibly be working together.

“I called him to your place,” you answered while anxiously biting your nails. “When I found out that Vincenzo was possibly going to your place, I called Prosecutor Jung. I didn’t know he could be working with Vincenzo.”

“We don’t know that for sure. We’ll have to do some digging,” Ms. Choi stated before turning to look at Han-seok. “Why don’t you stay low for a couple weeks?”

“Nope, no,” Han-seok plopped down in the armchair next to you. “I’m fine. Let him kill me if he can.”

“Shut up before I slap you,” you snapped, not realizing that you were slightly shaking. Was it anger? Anxiety? Who knows, but you felt very irritable right now.

“Wow, really?” He laughed and leaned his body forward. “Okay, give me your best hit. Come on.”

You had enough. Without saying another word, you stood up and walked towards his bedroom, not wanting to cry in front of the others. You tend to get overly emotional when you grow angry, and you’re not sure why Han-seok is trying to push your buttons after this whole situation. Maybe he’s just trying to act tough and cold in front of the group, but whatever he’s doing, it’s pissing you off. Could he at least be more considerate of your emotions? He saw the way you were back at the station — broken and hysterical.

None of this is a game to you. He could’ve died if Vincenzo chose to show no mercy. It’s frustrating to see that Han-seok fails to grasp how severe the situation has gotten.

Letting out a groan, you plopped yourself on the bed, but the stinging sensation of your bruised knuckles hitting the duvet made you hiss. You inspected them carefully and noticed the dried blood; you also saw the area beginning to swell up. You made your way to the bathroom and began to search Han-seok’s cabinets for any first aid equipment.

And speak of the devil, you heard him walk inside the room.

“What are you going?” He questioned with curiosity.

“Do you have any rubbing alcohol?”

He frowned at your question, before his line of vision focused on your hands. He swiftly marched over to you and grabbed both of your wrists.

“Are you sure they didn’t hurt you?”

You don’t even want to think about that moment. You remember feeling so hopeless, useless, and lonely.

���Babydoll don’t cry please. Just tell me what happened. Did anyone hurt you?”

You didn’t even realize that you were crying, but now that he mentioned it, you couldn’t stop. He brought you in for a hug, careful to not hurt your hands, as he let you cry against his chest.

“I thought I lost you,” you bellowed with anguish. “You… you weren’t answering my calls. I cou… I couldn’t get a hold of you. All I could think about was how that bastard possibly took you from me… so I just lost it and punched that brick wall so many times, pretending that it was Vincenzo.

“He’s fucking dangerous, yet here you are… joking and saying that he can try to kill you. Do… do you not realize how much you fucking mean to me? How frustrating it is to see you gamble with your life. Baby…. please just lay low.”

He kissed the top of your head as he rubbed circles on your back. “I am.”

Your eyes sprung open before looking up to see him. “What?”

“I’m going to stay at my father’s vacation home for a while. Han-seo will handle everything here temporarily.”

You were relieved to say the least, and you couldn’t help but smile at him, your heart leaping in your chest when he smiled back at you.

“I want you to come with me,” he explained while caressing your cheek. “I want to keep you close.”

He doesn’t even have to ask you twice, the answer will always be yes. His fingers tucked themselves underneath your chin while his thumb grazed your lips. You softly kissed it, feeling a warm hum of affection building inside you as you met his gaze. Without a word, he leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a tender, meaningful kiss. You felt his fingers wrap themselves behind your neck while you placed both of your hands on either side of his face.

You held each other closely, as if making sure that this moment was real and you were both safe. Today was a close call — something neither of you could risk happening ever again. Others may see your relationship as sick and twisted, but nothing is more powerful in this world than love, and that’s something that’s holding you two together. You’re each other’s motivation; the sole reason of not giving up. Han-seok would kill every single person that tries to take you from him if he has to, and you? Well, you would do the exact same.

You may not be sinister or sick as him, but you’re crazy in love, and that’s enough motivation to keep you going, to fight for what is yours. No one — not Vincenzo or Cha-young — will take Han-seok away from you.

And if they do, then you can play the crazy mourning girlfriend, and strike them both when they least expect it.

-

a/n: i was lowkey imagining han-seok and the reader hugging like this at the station. the ANGGSSTT

also… be prepared for more angst in the next part.

[desceros]

rise donnie mating season head canons?

If you want only.

pfffft do i wanna think about rise donnie during mating season.... absurd....[tries to hide my sweaty palms]

so i go back and forth on how much turtle-brain gets activated, but regardless, donnie is a biter. (i mean. i think he's always a biter.) like, sink his teeth in to the point where it hurts, sometimes draws blood biting. and he's quite aggressive about putting you where he wants you, so if you move even a little bit, he's sinking his teeth and nails in to keep you in place.

i tend to think of it lasting about a week most times. it hits him a little slow, like he can feel it coming up on him a week or so before it's going to hit. before he had you to help him through it, it was a miserable experience. the whole time he's horny, nothing is scratching the itch properly, he just wants to get back to work. then you come into the picture, and oh, oh it's fucking incredible; there are a few little hiccups here and there i'll talk about later, but in general, he ends up really looking forward to it because afterwards he feels completely rejuvenated, like it's a new year and he's ready to go

sometimes... on my naughtier days........ i like to imagine that he's not really capable of hearing a safe word during the thick of things. and that really scares him a lot. the first couple of times, it scared you, too, just a little; but after a few seasons where you realized that hey, you're fully on board with everything he's got to offer, you talked about it and you're good to go. donnie's.... never really good to go, but he trusts you enough to know your limits.

the first time you have sex during mating season, it's still pretty normal. it's heating up in him, he's still got his brain in his skull, he's just uncomfortably horny. he tries to make it sweet bc he knows the absolute railing you're in for, and no matter how many years you go through it together or how many times you promise that you love it, he's always a little moody about how much he hurts you, and he likes to make up for it.

i headcanon donnie to be the king of giving head (helloooo sensory bliss), but i think this comes and goes during his heat. like, sometimes he gets his head between your legs and he is just fuckin down there for hours. you're going to cry. good chance you'll pass out. it's gonna be so much that you're not going to be able to handle it. and sometimes he's too busy stuffing you full to do anything but pin you to the bed.

most of the time, during his heat, he's got you face-down and fucking you from behind. it's how turtles do it, and that's what his little brain likes. though one time, very memorably, he missed his heat sneaking up on him and you started in a pool. somehow you managed not to drown, but the tumbling underwater with your boyfriend's dick what felt like up to your throat was a pretty great experience.

donnie is always noisy in bed. during his heat this continues, but he talks a lot more about breeding you. you ask him, once, afterwards if he has a kink and wants to explore it outside of his season; and he says no, not really, but something about the hormones in his brain just scream that he's gotta fertilize your eggs.

i picture donnie as a switch, but i think during his mating season that's out of the picture. he's fucking you, period. you're not going to be on top. you're not going to eat him out. he's going to be putting his dick inside of you, and that's where his come is gonna go. no eating it, no painting it anywhere, just inside.

after he puts his dick away for the last time and gets his brain back between his ears, the first thing he does is check and see how badly he's fucked you up. he bandages any wounds you haven't already tended to yourself, gives you a full body massage to work out the kinks of where he bent you in all kinds of funny positions, and then the two of you have a ritual where you take a bath together. it's really tender and sweet, and you scrub each other down and talk about what happened, what you liked, what you didn't like. then, while he goes off to get some food for the both of you (because he doesn't want you to leave his room where his brothers can smell you), you change the sheets on the bed, and after a quick snack the two of you collapse and pass out for like. twelve hours

[queercontrarian]

Azris Week 2024: Contact

Azriel and Eris are not quite as overt in showing their affection as Azriel's family is. You might not even know it's there... unless you know where to look.

this summary is shit also let's all just pretend i posted this on the right day okay? thank you

@azrisweek

“I’m getting old,” Cassian groans, letting his heavy body drop onto the bench with a crack that doesn’t bode well for the structure of the piece. After all, the birchin is almost as old as Cassian is now. 

“Must be the constant losing because I feel great,” Azriel lies through his teeth as he sits, much more careful than his brother to not damage the old furniture more. He does feel great; winning always feels good, especially when it’s their traditional snowball fight and even more so when it’s his fourth year in a row. Still, he too can feel the years bearing on his bones and joints, especially now that he doesn’t spend nearly as much time training his body as he used to when he was still Spymaster of the Night Court.

“The only reason you can keep up your winning streak is because you don’t have any children to run after,” Rhys complains, stretching his leg out in front of him to gently massage his knee. ”You have no idea what real tiredness is until you’ve chased a nearly eighteen year old across all seven Courts trying to keep him from causing the whole continent to blow up.”

Azriel snorts. “Actually, I do know a thing or two about how that feels.”

“Oh fuck you, I was never that bad,” Rhys replies, but it has no real bite. He leans back and closes his eyes. Azriel shrugs, which Rhys can’t see now but might just feel through some brotherly intuition or simply the fact that they’ve known each other for nearly their entire lives.

“And anyways, it can’t be that hard,” Azriel adds, “You love your children, that’s why you had them. That’s why you continue to have them.” He shoots a pointed look at Cassian. He and Nesta just welcomed another two children into their home: twins, no more than ten years old, both from the far islands which crown the north of Illyria. That makes for five kids that his friends have adopted so far. Luckily, the House of Wind has enough room for all the youths they invite to join their family, and Nyx and Jasmin both go nearly green with envy since Noura is the only cousin with siblings. That is, until Elain gives birth again, which won’t be for a couple months now.

“True that,” Cassian mumbles, eloquent as ever as he too leans back against the wall. “Why don’t you have children anyway?” 

Azriel just stares at him, trying to decipher what it is his brother is really asking. It's not exactly like having a child is something that could just happen to him and Eris like it did for Rhys and Feyre. He knows of course that Eris will be expected to produce an heir some day, but it’s been barely fifteen years since he became High Lord. They still have time, time to figure out how they will construct this future family of theirs, time to be a family of just two. Azriel isn’t ready to share his husband with another soul yet when he already shares him with an entire Court, but that feels like too earnest of a thing to say here and now. It’s not that he thinks his brothers wouldn’t understand, he just doesn’t want to bring it up yet.

“It’s not like we don’t try,” he says finally with a sideways grin on his face, waiting for Cassian to look at him again. “We try so hard, you know, every night, but it just doesn't seem to be happening for us.” Cassian cackles and then coughs as he breathes in the hot air of the birchin, enriched with a thousand healing herbs - at least that’s what it smells like. 

“I’m sure you do,” he rasps through coughing and Rhysand smirks too, though Azriel doesn’t know if it is at the joke he made or Cassian’s face, which has taken on the color of pickled beetroot. 

“You’d never know,” he says, and Azriel just gives a noncommittal hum.

“Right?” Cassian agrees, his voice still rough though he’s stopped coughing for now. “I mean, you’d never know if you just saw you guys.” 

Azriel frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Just, you know. You don't really act like a couple. I mean, compare that to me and Nesta or Rhys and Feyre; they’re all over each other.” 

Azriel has half the mind to turn his back to them to show them the clear proof that Eris, too, is all over him more often than not, and likes to leave his mark, thank you very much, but that feels childish. The truth is they don’t act like the other couples in the Inner Circle. That doesn’t mean they love each other any less.

“What, just because we don’t fondle each other in the presence of others?” Azriel responds, unable to suppress the slight defensiveness, his inner walls shutting down almost automatically. He knows his brothers mean no harm, but it still feels like a challenge. Eris and him are just much more private people than his brothers and their partners.

“Yeah but there’s private and then there’s whatever you guys have,” Rhys voices his opinion from the bench across the room. Azriel barely has time to admonish him for reading his mind without asking - which is something he promised he wouldn’t do anymore when Azriel became Lord Consort of Autumn, but old habits seem to be hard to break - when Cassian adds, “It’s not like it’s bad or anything. It’s just different from what we’re used to.”

“I suppose,” Azriel says. He’s not trying to spend the limited time he and his brothers have nowadays bickering - even though they are of course dead wrong…

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

▪︎

There is no way they will be able to talk to all these people tonight but Eris seems to be hellbent on trying, and if the High Lord is convinced of something it is harder to change his mind than to go along with it. Azriel has always been the type to choose the path of least resistance. Eris's hand is firm on his back as he leads him through the crowd of fae gathered in the throne room. He can feel Eris’s heartbeat, reverberating through their bond. It rarely feels stronger than when they are next to each other.

He’s been standing on the balcony for a while when Eris finally joins him. His wings are practically being baked in the hot sun of the Day Court but it’s still bearable. Better than being inside anyways.

“Taking a break, are we?” Eris says with a smile. Azriel just rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t really want to stick around to watch my family stick their tongues down their partners’ throats,” he grunts, and Eris laughs.

“The topics of conversations have changed quite drastically since this morning,” he admits, and that’s putting it lightly. The official visit that had been scheduled for diplomacy reasons has been derailed entirely. Now it seems more like they were only moments away from an orgy taking over the room.

“Just… stay with me for a little while,” Azriel asks, with more vulnerability in his voice than he would usually allow himself. It’s hot, he’s tired, he feels a little overwhelmed. He shifts slightly to his left so Eris can lean against the railing next to him. Their arms brush against each other and Eris reaches for his hand, locks their fingers together. 

They watch from the sidelines as the courtiers inside bicker and flirt and debate and disappear off into their own little corners away from prying eyes until Helion finally calls them to order (“So unlike him,” Azriel mutters and Eris grins). 

Minutes turn into an hour and the afternoon sun sinks further into a beautiful sunset. Finally Eris separates himself from the railing and makes a step back towards the hall. He turns to look at Azriel, their hands still joined between them.

“Ready to go back in there, Shadowsinger?” 

Azriel raises their hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Eris’s hand.

“Yes.”

▪︎

Azriel never thought listening to two brothers argue could be calming, but with Sasha and Bas bickering on the couch opposite him he feels like he could fall asleep at any moment. Then again maybe it’s not the heated discussion about grain import but the friendly fire that the Lady Vanserra had lit in the family’s private drawing room, the dog snoring at his feet, the sound of the wind outside the stained glass windows. Maybe it’s Eris’s hand, curled at the back of his neck, playing absentmindedly with his hair.

Azriel sighs and leans in closer, Eris’s low chuckle a familiar and comforting melody in his ear.

▪︎

People have slowly been filing out of the great ballroom for the past two hours. Personally, Azriel is elated. He does not mind balls, in fact there are two very good arguments why he should enjoy them a lot more than he does - those arguments being that usually, he gets to see his half of the family, and he gets to see Eris even more dressed up than he is on the day to day. Still, he likely won’t ever get used to being the host, and he is very glad that at least for now it is over. There is only one more breakfast to get through tomorrow before the last of their guests leave and he will only have to share his husband with one Court instead of all seven of them. 

“There you are.” Speak of the devil. “Ready for this to end?” Eris’s smile is slightly lopsided, and the way he holds his shoulders betrays his exhaustion, but he looks happy and it instantly lifts Azriel’s mood as well. When he turns to fully face his husband he can’t help but reach out to smooth down the spangles on his coat, which still looks practically impeccable. He knows it would bother Eris though, if he noticed it. 

The male places his hand over Azriel’s own and pulls him closer by his arm until they are standing only a few inches apart. 

“Dance with me,” Eris says, the look in his eyes so earnest that it feels impossible to deny him anything.

“Here?” Azriel asks weakly, his resolve already crumbling before he can even try to say no.

“Yes. Here, now.” 

“Alright.” 

There’s barely anyone in the hall now anyway, and even if there were a thousand guests still around them it wouldn’t matter; all Azriel can see is Eris.

▪︎

Azriel feels like they've been sitting here for hours, listening to Helion drone on and on about regulations in the creation of new subsections of the principal disciplines of magic. Eris at least manages to pretend to show interest, but Azriel is pretty sure that it's very evident on his face that he wants nothing more than to take another break from this meeting, or better yet, leave it be for today and return back to their room. 

He is distracted again when Eris moves his hand to rest between them on the narrow wooden armrest of his throne. He watches, mesmerized by the way his husband's many rings glint in the sunlight as he begins tapping his fingers against the armrest.

Tap tap tap. A signal?

Azriel glances up at Eris, who is still following the debate that has now started between Helion and Kallias, but his expression is a bit too fixed to be natural.

Tap tap, Eris's pointer finger sounds softly against the wood. Slowly, Azriel places his own hand next to Eris's, eyes tracking every movement his husband makes, watching as his mate extends his pinky finger until it rests against Azriel's own scarred hands. Slowly, so slowly, their fingers entwine, Eris’s rings scraping against his skin. When Azriel looks up, Eris is still staring straight ahead, a slight smile on his lips.

▪︎

The House of Wind is as crowded as ever on Starfall, but Azriel can barely hear his family cheering for the spirits as they travel across the sky, nor can he hear the music or the noise of the party. He’s too wrapped up in his mate, standing as close to him as he possibly can to take in his warmth, his scent, his quiet words even as the world around them seems to get only louder.

Under the light of a thousand stars, of spirits and candles and magic sparks Azriel leans in closer to wrap his arms around his mate just as Eris turns to kiss him.

Eris doesn’t say a word when Azriel slumps onto the couch next to him. He only moves his leg a little so he can fit comfortably, shifting his book from one hand to the other. Azriel sighs, his head rolling back as his muscles slowly relax from the long day. Eris’s thigh is leaned against his, with no pressure but a warm, comforting presence that makes him melt deeper into the couch. 

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The trip from Night to Autumn is an arduous one, even more taxing in the winter months when it's cold and wet and generally unpleasant to be flying in the Solar Courts. He wants nothing more now than to simply curl up here with Eris, not talking, not moving, just listening to the rain patter outside their window, the fire crackling and the sound of Eris’s breathing. He sighs, his shoulders slowly relaxing as he lets the day pass by again in memory, from the early morning snowball fight to Solstice dinner, which had dragged on forever. He loves and misses his family, even more so now that they live so far apart, but his longing for Eris, for home, always wins out. 

Azriel stretches his tired body out across the whole sofa with a sigh, feet hanging off one end as he reaches for one of the pillows to rest his head in Eris’s lap. Eris helps him maneuver his wings into a more comfortable position and Azriel can hardly hide his groan of relief when all the weight is finally taken off of his back and he can feel fully at ease. Eris’s fingers get tangled in his hair as he starts to gently massage the back of his neck and his head with one hand and Azriel can feel his mate’s pulse against his ear, on his lips, across the bond, like the steady beat of his own heart.

“How was your trip?” Eris asks finally, though he still doesn’t look up from his book. 

I’m getting old, Azriel thinks, I missed you. They are so wrong about us.

“I love you.”

Eris smiles.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

@gufu-vire is completely 100% to blame for this casual cannibalism (a dude gets his dick eaten like gordon ramsey sampling food but he kinda deserves it tbh), gore, very dark/black "comedy", raphtav i guess, haarlep is there too, devils be devilling

Read on AO3

-

“Suppertime. My favourite time of day.”

Raphael sat looming at the head of the dining table, set with candles and cutlery to the lovely backdrop of a roaring fireplace, a fancy napkin tucked into his collar. In the seat next to him was Tav, equally prepared, nursing a goblet of wine. A huge covered platter manifested in front of them, the kind used to display full carcasses of great birds or whole roasted hogs. Muffled screaming could be heard from inside it. The devil rubbed his hands together and reached out to remove the lid, revealing a naked, bound, and gagged man presented on the plate with fruits and nicely cooked vegetables. The poor man’s bloodshot eyes spun wildly, only widening in horror when he realised where he was and who was in his company. Paralysed from the neck down by magic, all he could do was look around and shriek.

“Hmmm…a lot of supple flesh on this one,” purred the devil, hungrily appraising the meal.

“Looks a bit gamey to me,” commented Tav. Raphael ignored her, carefully selecting a large, sharp, serrated knife made specifically for cutting meat.

“I can’t quite decide what I want to sample first,” he said, lazily dragging the blade’s tip across the man’s body. Tender skin split shallowly wherever it went. “The flank, perhaps? Or the thigh? Ah, or maybe the belly…”

By this point the man had chewed his gag enough to spit it out. “What in the name of the Gods are you doing?! Stop!” He cried. “Please! Just let me go! Please!”

“Now why would I do that?” Raphael drawled, darkly amused. “If I released every pig that squealed before it was stuck, well, then I’d never eat a thing, would I?”

“I’m not a pig, you sick bastard!” Yelled the man. Raphael tilted his head, looking condescendingly down his nose.

“Aren’t you? My sweet little mouse informed me of your, quite frankly, atrocious lack of decorum at the Caress, and that has me suspecting otherwise…”

“I thought she was a whore!” Hollered the man.

“And yet, when she informed you she was not, your unwanted advances continued, violently so in fact. My, what a conundrum you’ve found yourself in…”

“Lady, please,” the man turned his watery eyes to Tav, who had been silently sipping wine and watching this unfold. “You have to tell him. It was just a misunderstanding! I was – I was drunk! Don’t let him hurt me, please!”

Tav plucked a grape from the bunch resting next to the man’s hip and popped it into her mouth.

“Oh, you won’t get any sympathy from my mouse,” laughed Raphael, “she is far less forgiving than I am. She’s the one who brought you here to me, after all.”

“And who the fuck are you then, huh? Her dad?” Snarled the man. Like many animals, when backed into a corner, fear turned to anger and they lashed out. “Or are you just some sanctimonious prick who thinks he’s better than other men because he asks first?”

“Sanctimonious? Oh, no. Far from it.” All humour had dimmed from Raphael’s expression. With eerie stoicism he rolled his shoulders, never breaking eye contact as his human form melted away in a burst of flame and his true, fiendish nature was free. He flexed his wings as wide as they would go. Thrashed his tail. Leered and bared all of his hellish teeth; relished in the base terror the man exuded as he realised just how much trouble he was truly in.

“Nonononono wait, puh-please!” The man blubbered. Fat tears streamed down his pallid cheeks. “We can – we can make a deal! You – you’re a devil, right?”

“Yes, I am a devil,” Raphael rumbled. He leaned forward, closing the distance between his face and the man’s, his irises burning as his dark eyes glittered with sadistic malice and glee. “And here is the deal I’m offering, you contemptuous wretch: I am going to kill you, and I am going to eat you. Not necessarily in that order. What do you think? Are we tempted?”

“Bloody bards…always so dramatic,” Tav muttered. Once again she was kindly ignored.

“Please, I’m begging you,” the man sobbed.

“Quite the sudden change of tune!” Raphael said. “But I’m afraid I’ve already made up my mind. What was it you called me just a moment ago? Ah, yes. A prick. I believe that’s the perfect place to start.”

“Finally,” said Tav, but she was drowned out by the man’s awful, guttural screams as Raphael cut the first slice.

Clinical, with a butcher’s precision, he handled the man’s flaccid cock as one would handle a hefty sausage, lifting it above hairy, shrivelled testicles so he could chop at its base. The jagged edges of the knife sawed through foreskin, muscle, sinew and tubes, vibrant blood gushing from ruined flesh. Most of it soaked into the man’s pubes and flooded over his thighs. Tav handed Raphael a plate – the good china – and he dropped the severed penis onto it, adding a few vegetables for good measure.

“What is all that screaming about?” Haarlep swaggered into the dining hall, pursing his lips at what he saw. “Oh, you’re having idiot for dinner and you didn’t invite me? I’m hurt.”

“Hi, Haarlep,” said Tav.

“Hello, Mousie,” the incubus cooed, blowing her a kiss. Raphael scowled.

“Pull up a seat, if you must, otherwise you can leave.”

Haarlep pulled out a chair and sank himself into it, grinning. “Oh no, I’m definitely staying. I never pass up an opportunity to watch you gobble down cock.”

Raphael sneered as his pets laughed. The man on the table wheezed and gurgled, marinating in his own blood as the stump where his cock used to be kept spurting. He would not die. Not until Raphael allowed it. Not until he’d watched himself be consumed.

“Poor thing,” Haarlep crooned at the bleating meat, his salacious hands wandering over his harnessed body. His very-much attached cock was always a breath away from being hard. “Tell me how it hurts. Tell me how you suffer. You’ll do that for me, won’t you? Say you will.”

“By the Nine Hells, Haarlep! Not at the dinner table!” Barked Raphael, outraged.

“Ugh. Spoilsport,” muttered the demon, but he obeyed.

With delicate manners befitting his stature and standing, Raphael cut a piece from the penis, speared it onto his fork, and slipped it into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, savoured the noisy swallow. The man watched, aghast, because he couldn’t do anything else.

“Mmm…pleasant texture. A little on the stringy side, but the flavour is quite enjoyable.” Raphael took another bite, this time with a dash of carrot and parsley. “Would you like a piece, mouse?”

Tav sighed. “This guy is here because I didn’t want his cock, Raphael.”

“Fair point.”

Haarlep snorted, snatching the bloodied blade and his own plate. Ready to pick the meal apart like a starving man at an all you can eat buffet. “I want those testicles.”

[devilat-thedoor]

Sweet to Taste

okay so i ended up writing the whole thing🫠

it’s not a blurb anymore, it’s a full, filthy and smutty oneshot. but i’m leaving it here for @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf and @gvfpal because thems my babes💖🤍 love you, guys and hope you enjoy😏(it’s not proofread at all, so forgive me for any mistakes)

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader x Sam Kiszka

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut(Unprotected sex[stay safe, friends], Oral[m&f rec], Fingering, Tiny bit of overstimulation, Voyeurism if you look closely.) Read Discretion Advised! let me know if i missed anything.

🌟🌟🌟

You always found yourself in these silly little games with Sam. It would start as a debate and quickly turn into one of you challenging the other in some kind of bet. Tonight, as you all sipped your drinks in the back of the barroom, the youngest Kiszka hit you with a daunting task. “Fifty bucks says you won’t get up on the bar and dance.” He sipped from his seltzer, eyeing you over the can with a slight raise to his eyebrows.

“Fifty?” You scoffed at the offer, “Fifty isn’t worth getting kicked out this early in the night, Sammy.” Rolling your eyes at him, you lifted your own drink to your lips.

“Okay, fine. A hundred, but!” He held his finger out as you opened your mouth, “You have to really put on a show, Y/N.” He emphasized his point by playfully shaking his hips. A hundred bucks just to shake your ass on a bar top was easy money. Plus it always felt great to win a bet against Sam. You turned your head towards the bar, crowded with people talking and waiting on their drinks. Admittedly, you were a little anxious about being up in front of all of the strangers and as you were about to turn it down, he gave you a smug smirk, “If you’re too scared to do it, just say that.”

If anything, you were fueled by his taunting and he knew it, “Fuck you, Sam. I’m gonna do it and I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you cough up that money.” You held your hand out, prompting him to shake it and seal the deal.

“No way, I’ve gotta see this.” Jake piped up, pushing away from the pool table to join the conversation between you and his younger brother.

Sammy shook his head, eyes still on yours while he spoke to Jake, “She’ll chicken out, I know she will.” His gaze raked down the length of your body, spending extra time on your legs that were covered in fishnet tights. The black, leather miniskirt you wore stopped high enough on your thighs that even the slightest bend would expose your ass and both of the boys were drinking it all up.

You threw the rest of your drink back, pushing the glass into Jake’s hands and turned on your heel to head for the jukebox. Making sure to add a purposeful sway to your hips, you glanced back over your shoulder to the brothers, rooted to their spots as they stared at you. A spark ignited in your belly at the looks they wore and you smiled to yourself as you chose a song, knowing that you would leave here with one of them tonight. After deciding on a tune, you went to the bar to wait. You knew they were still watching your every move and you were gonna have fun with it. “Hi, handsome.” You leaned into the man on your left, “These tattoos are nice, did they hurt?” Staring up at his face, you trailed a single finger down his bicep. His response was drowned out as you locked eyes with Sam, his lip caught between his teeth, and then Jake as he ran his fingers over his mouth. The way they both eyed you lit your skin on fire and you tried to distract yourself, interrupting the tattooed man, “Buy me a shot?” You gave a sweet smile and he agreed, signaling for the bartender and asking what you wanted, “Two shots of tequila, please.” She poured the drinks and slid them across the bar just as your song faded in through the speakers. You picked one of the glasses up and tossed it back, feeling it burn its way down. The man went in for the second shot but you grabbed it before he could and took that one too, offering him an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, hun. I’ll make it worth your while though.” You grabbed his shoulders, hoisting yourself up onto the stool in front of you and climbed onto the bar top as the first line of Pour Some Sugar On Me played. Pulling yourself up to stand, you started by strutting down the bar, letting your heels click against the wood with every beat.

Lookin’ like a tramp, like a video vamp. Demolition woman, can I be your man?

You stopped, kicking a bottle from the surface and whirling your hips in a circle as you pushed your fingers into your hair. Your eyes flashed to Jake as you slid your jacket off of your shoulders, revealing the cherry red, lace bralette you had on, and held it above your head to wave it in time with your winding hips.

Sometime, anytime, sugar me, sweet. Little miss innocent, sugar me, yeah

He was watching, arms crossed over his chest with an impressed smile over his face when you tossed your jacket into the crowd. The chorus started and your eyes fell upon Sam, gawking in shock as you dropped to your hands and knees, earning a slew of gasps and whoops from other patrons.

Pour some sugar on me, in the name of love. Pour some sugar on me. C’mon fire me up.

You whipped your hair around, shaking your ass as you crawled across the bar. Stopping to pluck a little plastic sword from somebody’s drink, you slithered your tongue around the cocktail cherry and sucked it into your mouth. You rolled onto your back, having entirely too much fun, and arched your hips into the air, writhing on the wood top while sliding your hands up your chest and into your hair.

Red light, yellow light, green light, go. Crazy little woman in a one-man show.

Suddenly, a pair of hands were grabbing your legs, pulling you from the bar, “Alright, show’s over.” You looked up to see the bouncer, as he placed your feet on the floor, “Boss is gonna have a fit when he checks the cameras.” You couldn’t contain your laughter as he led you through the swarm of people who were all cheering you on with wolf whistles and hollers.

“I’m sorry, Hank! It was a bet!” You were laughing so hard that tears were dripping from your lashes, Hank, the bouncer, was trying to stifle his own smile while pushing you through the door.

“You’re done for tonight, Y/N. Someone will bring your stuff out.” He pointed a scolding finger at you with a smile before retreating back into the building.

Wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands, you managed to yell through your giggles, “You’re such a buzzkill, Hank!” Jake was coming out, carrying your jacket in his fist, followed by Sam who had your purse. “HA! You owe me a hundred dollars.” You stuck your tongue out, teasing Sammy.

“Yeah, you’ll get your money.” He rolled his eyes and handed you the bag.

Giving him a pout, you moved towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso and looking up into his eyes, “Weren’t you impressed with my moves?” His eyes briefly dropped to your lips as he licked his own.

You felt a hand grazing up the back of your thigh to gently cup your asscheek, “She really did outperform our expectations, Sammy…” Jake’s breath was hot on the back of your neck and you shifted on your feet, clamping your legs together at the pooling in your panties.

“You’re right, Jake. It was quite the show.” Sam brought his thumb up to brush over your bottom lip. “Too bad the whole bar got to see it.” You could feel his growing cock pressing into your hip while his brother was sliding his hand between your thighs from behind you.

Your eyes began to flutter at the intoxicating feeling of having both of them so near and you could feel the same primal need radiating from the boys, “If you guys want a private show, just say the word…” You let out a shriek as Jake pried you from Sammy’s body and all but dragged you to his car. Stumbling to keep up with him, you half turned to see the younger Kiszka following closely behind, “Where are we going?”

He pulled the back door open, ushering you into the backseat, and pushed it shut while Sam climbed into the passenger seat, “Your place is closest, but if you’d rather go to mine-.”

“My place is fine.” You answered too quickly, cutting Jake off, and saw the brother’s share a look that had you body thrumming with anticipation. Dropping your head against the seat, you couldn’t form a thought that didn’t involve what was about to transpire. “Jake, drive faster.”

Sam turned around in his seat to face you, “She’s a needy little thing, brother.” His index finger weaved through your fishnets, pulling them back to let the material snap against your thigh, while he locked eyes with you, “So impatient, Y/N… What is it that you just can’t wait for? Hmm?” He snapped the tights again, leaving you squirming on the backseat.

“If you keep toying with her, she’ll leave a mess on my leather seats.” You could hear the amusement in the older boy’s voice, “And I’ll just have to put her on her hands and knees to clean it up.” He wasn’t wrong, you were practically dripping at the feeling of Sam’s fingertips walking further up your leg. But then they were gone and you looked up to see him facing forward again as the car pulled into your driveway.

The second the engine cut off, Sam was out of the car and hauling you from your seat to crash his lips against yours. Your hands frantically grabbed at his clothes, his arms, his hair, searching for anything they could find as he broke away, “Keys.” He laughed at the confusion scrawled across your face, “Where are your house keys, babe?” 

“Oh… Uhh…” You fished through your purse, pulling the key ring out, “Here.” He took them from your hand, tossing them to his brother and before you knew what was happening, he picked you to sling you over his shoulder and ran to your front door. “Sammy!” You were squealing loud as he scolded Jake to hurry up.

The deadbolt clicked and he pushed the door open to watch Sam carry you inside. No sooner did Sam have you on your feet when Jake was pulling you into his arms, gripping your ass with a tight squeeze as his tongue licked at your bottom lip. You moaned into the kiss, allowing his tongue to dance with yours while one of his hands traveled lower to slip between your thighs again. This time, his fingers grazed along your panties and he let out a deep groan, “Fuck, you’re soaked, baby.” You smirked as you leaned in to kiss him again, but Sam yanked you away, forcing your attention back on him.

His lips danced along your jaw and down your neck, “Hmm…And you said I was needy?” You broke away from the both of them and sauntered down the hallway, disappearing into your bedroom. By the time they caught on and followed, you had stripped your skirt off and were leaning on the bottom of the bed in just your bralette, matching red thong and the fishnets. Music was playing from the small speaker on your nightstand and if you had any anxiety over the predicament you were in, it all dissipated with the way they hungrily stared at you, waiting for your signal. You turned around and bent over the bed and started sliding the tights and your thong down your legs, moving slowly to give them a full view of your ass. Once you kicked them off your feet, you crawled up the mattress, swaying your hips as you went. When you made it to the pillows, you sat back on your knees to pull the top over your head and tossed your hair to the side as you looked back at them over your shoulder with a devilish grin, “You just gonna stand there and gawk?”

You spun around to face them completely, keeping your legs crossed and angled perfectly to cover your chest and your core. Jake shuffled across the room first, coming to stand at the foot of the bed as he pulled his shirt off, “Open up for us, beautiful. For me.” He kneeled on the bed, watching you expectantly, “Let me see you.” You held eye contact with him as he gripped your knees and gently pushed them apart to reveal your glistening cunt. You leaned back on your hands and spread your legs wider, enjoying how captivated he was in your display. “Sammy, do you see this?” Jake was trailing a hand up the length of your leg and your breath caught in your throat as he stopped right before he could reach your sensitive spot. 

Your eye flicked up to Sam, standing beside the bed now to get a glimpse, and he noticed the uneven rise and fall to your chest, “You gotta give her something, Jake.” He pushed the hair out of your face, “Poor thing is just aching to be touched.” His fingers grazed down your cheek, blazing a path straight to your breast as he brushed his thumb over your nipple. A satisfied hum left his throat as he watched it harden.

Your attention went back to Jake as he blew cool air against you, “Can I, Y/N?” He was so close, all he had to do was flick his tongue out, “I wanna know if she’s as sweet to taste as your song suggests…”

“Please, Jake. She’s so fucking sweet, I promise.” You were pleading, lifting your hips to meet his mouth while he just watched with a sinister smirk. If he wasn’t going to give in, you would just have to replace him. Lifting your foot, you pressed it to his shoulder, pushing him away from your body. When he gave you a questioning look, you returned his smirk and reached up to pull his brother down on top of you. Sam’s lips were on yours in an instant, only detaching enough for you to pull the shirt from his body. You could faintly hear Jake cursing but all of your focus was on Sam’s bulge, pressing against your pussy from inside his jeans. You rolled your hips, reveling in the friction that denim provided, “Do you want the first taste, Sammy?”

He paused from licking along your jaw to look at you with an eager nod. Pressing his lips to yours one more time, he started working his way down your body. He bit down on your breast and pulled the nipple into his mouth before continuing his descent. Every hot, wet kiss he left made your head swirl and by the time he settled between your legs, you were a squirming mess. You sat up on your elbows to keep eye contact with him and the second his eyes met yours, he wasted no time. His tongue came out, licking at your entrance and dragging up to flick over your clit before retreating back into his mouth. “She wasn’t lying, Jake.” He was gloating to his brother, “Her pussy is fucking saccharine sweet.” Before Jake had a chance to respond, Sam was diving back in.

You dropped flat on the mattress only to arch you back off of it again as your hands grasped at the thick comforter, “Oh. Oh fuck, Sammy.” His tongue worked over your clit in a steady rhythm and after every few licks, he would drop down to push it inside of you. “God, don’t fucking stop!” You picked your head up to look down at him, but your eyes landed on Jake instead. His jeans were gone and he had a hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it while he watched his brother devour you. A nagging need to wrap your lips around him had you fighting through moans to beckon him, “C-mmm. C’mere, Jakey.”

He was rushing to your side, climbing on the bed to kneel beside you. Your hand went straight to his hard dick, grasping it as you started to stroke. He was going back and forth between your tits, squeezing each of them when you leaned towards him, spoiling the head of his cock with soft kitten licks. “Wanna feel you swallow me, baby.” He grabbed the back of your head and slowly pushed his hip forward. You retracted your hand and allowed him to slide deeper when Sam pushed a finger through your entrance, forcing a groan to vibrate over Jake’s cock. “Holy- Whatever you just did, Sam… I need you to do it again.” He slid himself further, just barely hitting your throat as his younger brother curled his long digit, drawing a deep moan from you and causing you eyes to roll back.

“Jake, you gotta get a taste of her.” Sam sat up, prompting his brother to pull out of your mouth with a pop. You watched as they proceeded to switch places, “How’s her mouth?”

Jake laid on chest, in the spot that he’d claimed first, “Fucking divine, brother.” Right after the words left his mouth, he was gripping your legs and rolling over. The next thing you knew, he was on his back, below you, while you straddled his face.

You were about to protest the position until his arms hooked your legs and pulled you down onto his mouth, “Jesus, Jake!” You lurched forward, using your palms to catch yourself as he sucked your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue over it. It didn’t take long before you were grinding against his mouth and riding his face. “Shitshitshitshit.” Your knuckles were white from the grip on the blanket.

Sam appeared in front of you, now fully nude, and brushed the hair from your face as he ran the tip of his cock along your lips, “You wanna show me how nice this pretty mouth is?” His pupils were blown, making his dark brown eyes turn almost completely black, and all you could do to answer him was open your mouth and let him in. Your tongue danced along the underside as he slid past your lips. He gathered your hair into his fist and began rocking his hips, “Take it all, Y/N. I know you can.” He continued fucking into your mouth, keeping an even pace as he bounced against the back of your throat. You felt Jake shifting between your legs for a moment before his tongue slipped into your pussy, pushing as far it could go while his nose brushed over your clit. The sensation had you moaning around Sam’s length and it caused him to jolt, slamming himself into your throat. “She’s fucking gagging on me, Jake.” There was a hint of laughter in his tone as he said it, but then you felt two fingers stretching you, stroking over your g-spot with the perfect amount of pressure as Jake’s lips found your clit again, and you couldn’t concentrate on anything outside of cumming on his face.

You pulled your mouth from Sam with a gasp and sat up, circling your hips on Jake’s tongue, “I’m gonna- Oh fuck, I-I’m.” Your thighs closed on his head as you collapsed forward, breathless and shaking with full body convulsions. His hold on your legs only tightened and he kept lapping at your folds, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation, “P-please. I can’t…” Your eyes flashed to Sammy in a silent plea as tears threatened your eyes.

“Hey, ease up, Jake.” He tapped his brother’s arm, “You’re gonna make her tap out too soon.” His words worked enough that the elder Kiszka released you, allowing your body to fall limply to the mattress. Sam lifted your head to lay on his leg and swiped the hair from your sweaty forehead, “If you’re done, you gotta tell us, babe.” His voice was so soft and sweet, you could listen to him talk for hours. You were feeling pretty exhausted, but all you wanted since this night began was to feel one of them inside of you and you got lucky enough to have them both here.

You shook your head, rising to a sitting position, and climbed into Sam’s lap, “I want you fuck me until you cum.” His hands slid up your thighs to grasp your hips as you looked back at Jake, “And then I want Jakey to fuck me until he cums.” When you turned back to Sam, he lifted you just enough to slip his cock inside of you and you gripped his shoulders as he bottomed out, “Fuck, Sammy…” You dropped your head to his shoulder with a wince, giving yourself the time to adjust, before slowly lifting off of him to glide back down. You kept your movements relaxed but it wasn’t enough for him. His arms snaked around your back, squeezing you against him as he laid back and began hammering his hips into you. The sounds that filled the room were vulgar but you couldn’t be bothered to care. He was driving you straight to the edge again and you welcomed it, clawing at his skin like a wild animal.

No words could form in your brain or on your tongue, all you could manage were ear shattering cries as you started to tighten around him. “You’re fucking soaking me, Y/N.” The rhythm he’d had was beginning to falter, “I’m gonna cum, babe. I gotta pull out…” You heard the words leave his mouth and shook your head, meeting him with a look that he almost didn’t decipher, “Are you sure? I-.” His brows were pinched as he fought off his impending climax, but when you cut him off, frantically nodding your head as your jaw hung slack, he lost control.

“I want it, Sam. I fucking want it.” You were holding his chin in your hand, forcing him to look at you, “Look at me while you fucking fill me up, Sammy.” His eyes began to roll but he brought them back, locking them directly on yours as he stopped breathing. You felt his jaw clench in your hand as he came, his face contorting. A warmth spread over you at the feeling of his release, painting your insides, “That’s my good boy.” You pecked his lips and released his face as you climbed off of him. He shrunk back against the pillows with a blissful smile over his face and you turned to Jake, “Are you ready for me, sir?” You ran your tongue across your lip as you eyed him, silently preparing yourself for a grande finale of an orgasm.

He was standing beside the bed, holding his dick in his hand, “Are you ready for me, beautiful?” He grabbed your ankles in a flash and hauled you to the edge of the mattress before pushing you to lay flat, “Spread, baby.” You obeyed without hesitation, hooking your hands behind your knees and opening yourself up for him. “Prettiest fucking pussy.” His thumb ghosted over your clit, sending a shiver throughout your body, “She’s a bit sensitive, huh?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was talking to himself. You let out a sharp hiss as he pushed into you, his thick cock stretching you more than Sam’s did, “Shh. You’ll get used to it, baby… and then you’ll be addicted.” He cooed as his hand rubbed over the insides of your thighs, but the gentleness of his hands was soon overpowered by the way he slammed into you.

He was playing your body like an instrument from God himself. Cock driving into you with the perfect rhythm, hitting your sweet spot with every entry. His thumb strumming your clit like you were a song he’d played a million times. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he took your left leg and pull it over to the right, leaving the lower half of your body twisted to the side while he still got a perfect view of the euphoric expressions you made. “Jake… Jake, I-.” You tried to tell him how good it felt, how great he felt, but the words failed you. He just gazed down at you, a proud smile on his face, as he fucked you deeper.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He had a handful of your ass, watching you nod your head, “I wanna hear you say it. Tell me.” Your mouth was agape, but nothing aside from pathetic whimpers would come out, “Come on, pretty baby. Tell me how bad you wanna cum.” There was a mocking tone to his voice as he started to slow his movements, giving you an expectant look.

The spring was wound so tight in your belly that it was almost painful. You swallowed hard and managed to choke out whatever your brain would permit, “I need it, Jake. I- Fuck.” You were gonna start pulling your hair out if he didn’t give you an orgasm, “Jake, please… I need you.” You saw something shift in his body language and he pulled your left leg back over to hook his waist, allowing him to lean down and catch your lips. The kiss was sloppy, tongues and lips clashing, but it all felt too good to care. When he started trailing kisses down your neck, your hands went to his back, holding him close, “Let me have you, Jakey. I fucking need it, baby.” You were whispering in his ear, letting your teeth graze the cartilage. There was no refuge from the mind altering pleasure he was providing and you were crashing down around him like a tidal wave as the rubber band snapped, catapulting you into a different realm. The climax hit hard and you were working your hips in tune with his, riding it out while willing him to cum, as well.

You could hear him mumbling against your skin, but you couldn’t make out any of the words until lifted his head to look at you, “I’m- Shit, baby… So fucking tight. I’m cumming.” You watched as his face twisted, similar to the way Sam’s had just a bit ago, feeling the first bit of his release. 

“That’s good, baby…” You stroked your hands down his back as he finished. You turned your head to look at Sammy, still laying against the pillows with drooping eyes and a dopey smile, “You guys were both amazing.” You reached up to grab his hand as Jake pulled out of you. Sam yanked at your hand and you crawled up the bed to lay beside him, curling your body into his side, “You feeling good, Sammy?”

He fought the sleep that threatened to close his eyes, “Hmm. I feel great. You felt fucking great.” You giggled at his sleepy, fucked out voice.

“What about you, Jake?” You held your hand out to him and pulled him down onto the bed as he took it.

He climbed in behind you, fitting against the curve of your body, “Fucking fantastic, baby.” He murmured into your hair as he let out a tired sigh. You smiled to yourself as you laid your head on Sam’s chest and draped a leg over his while Jake spooned you with an arm firmly around your waist. A silence fell upon the room as you soaked up their warmth. Just as a slumber began to take you, you made a promise to yourself that this was definitely not a one time thing.

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[magicalbats]

By Candlelight

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 7708

Warnings: rimming, cunnilingus, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, squirting

A/N: A birthday present for the lovely, amazing, talented, utterly priceless @chickenparm I'm so glad Genshin brought us together and we've been able to make so many fun memories together 🩷🥺🩷

⭐

The two of you sit in amiable silence while you listen to the clock chime the hour. Twelve sonorous gongs to signify the end of one day and the start of another. His heartbeat remains steady against your back as Childe gathers you somehow closer to his front than you already are, strong arms giving you a tight squeeze, and you let him do it because you’d long since set aside your differences with the rascally Harbinger in favor of more … intimate pursuits. It would have been a surreal feeling, being there with him like that, had it not been so damn gratifying. 

“Happy birthday, comrade.” He presses a firm kiss to your cheek from behind. Trying and failing not to smile, you lean your head back to rest against his shoulder so you can look at him. The space separating your nose from his is so scant your breath intermingles and becomes one, sharing the oxygen between yourselves in turns. 

When your ribcage decompresses on the next exhale he breathes in, like he was trying to pull your very essence deep into his own body. In the following moment when he lets it out with a barely audible sigh, you do the same and suck in a deep breath to taste him on the back of your tongue. There’s a symbiotic quality to the way you occupy each other's space and you can’t imagine it being any other way now. Your stand off with him in Liyue felt like a far distant dream, one you would rather not revisit or dwell on too much, rather than a very real thing that had happened many, many moons ago. 

It seemed almost implausible at this particular juncture, given your close proximity and the vulnerability both of you showed one another. But Childe, despite his faults and flaws, and what he now laughingly called ‘past mistakes’, was not someone who’s loyalty you could ever doubt. You’d earned his respect just as much as he had slowly earned yours. Whatever this was, regardless of how you decided to label it, you knew it was genuine. You may have bested him in battle once (and by the skin of your teeth, if you were being honest) but in the grand scheme of things, looking at the bigger picture as a whole, it was he who had won the war. 

The smile you give him is but one of the many spoils he’d earned for himself. 

“Thank you, Childe. I’m glad you talked me into this.” You say, referring to how he’d incessantly pestered you about taking off together to celebrate your birthday in the blissfully private seclusion of the Fontaine countryside. He hadn’t taken ‘no’ for an answer no matter how many times you’d said it but he very rarely ever did. It just wasn’t in his nature. All the better for you, considering your eventual compliance had clearly pleased him a great deal and you very much enjoyed seeing him grin the way he did. Big and boyish, and unrestrained. Like being able to do something special with you meant the world to him. 

There’s a small part of you that is certain it does. It must. He was surprisingly sentimental and tender hearted for someone who seemed so unapologetically troublesome to everyone around him, and that very much included you. 

But there were facets at play here and you were now nestled in a clawfoot tub with him, as normal as any couple that may or may not have tried to kill one another at some point in time. And although Childe had tried to insist that he wasn’t made of mora and that the seemingly limitless funds he’d thrown around in Liyue were not his own, the villa he’d rented out for the two of you appeared to tell a different story. It was a lovely place, fully furnished and already stocked with everything you might ever need during your stay when you’d arrived with him earlier that afternoon. He’d really gone the extra mile and it did not escape your notice. Not by a long shot. 

You were eager to show him your gratitude for the thoughtfulness, and you happily tip your face up to accept the kiss he bends close and presses to your mouth. He takes his time with it, kissing you slowly, savoringly, as if his thoughts on the matter were the same as yours. That didn’t make sense though. He was the one who’d orchestrated such a romantic getaway and you had much more to be thankful for in that regard than he did. But if he was going to turn this into a competition to find out who could best the other then that was fine with you. 

You’d come out on top one way or another. 

Finally pulling back after a long moment, Childe looks at you through the dark thicket of his lashes. You want to keep kissing him but instead you quickly find yourself lost in the deep, deep blue of those depthless eyes. They reflect nothing at all of the flickering candles dotted around the room, casting everything in a low flickering glow, and yet they are not the empty voids you’d once thought them in idle passing. There’s something behind all that azure now that seems to make them twinkle from within and it’s decidedly fascinating to observe. 

“You are very welcome, mój rybeńko. I’m glad you like it here.” He tilts his head slightly, as if to regard you from a different angle. Whatever he sees in your face makes his mouth split in a wide grin and he gives a quick, teasing pinch to the meat of your hip, making you jolt. “If you keep staring at me like that I’m going to get impatient, you know.”

“As if you’re not already the most impatient man I’ve ever met?” 

“Hey, now. It’s not even five minutes into your birthday and you’re already throwing insults at me? That doesn’t seem very fair.” Pretending to be hurt, Childe breathes out a rather dramatic sigh as he slumps to dock his chin against your shoulder. The tousled mess of his hair brushes your cheek in the process and it tickles enough to make you laugh. 

“There, there,” You gently soothe him. Bringing your hand up out of the water, you reach back to run your fingers through that coppery brown mop and he hums a soft sound of appreciation in response. “You’ll get over it. I didn’t say it was a bad thing, did I?” 

“I’d hope not.” He murmurs. “You can be just as impatient as me with the right incentive.” 

“Oh?” You carefully close your fist at the root of his hair, giving it a faint yet no less suggestive tug. It was no mystery what he was referring to and you knew he was right about that. Childe did tend to make you feel restless in a way that was unique to him and him alone, and you couldn’t always tell when it was annoyance at his boyish antics or when it was the pure, unfiltered desire you couldn’t deny you harbored for him. Sometimes it seemed like they were one and the same. 

Even now there’s a spark of challenge in his gaze when he nudges his face up to peer at you from your shoulder. The scales always seemed as likely to tip in one direction as the other, and you never could be totally sure if you were about to fuck or fight. But in this particular instance though, sequestered away in the quaint mountainside villa he’d rented for the two of you, the outcome felt like it was already predetermined. There was only one way this could end. You were greatly looking forward to it, if you were being honest, after dancing around each other for the half a day you’d already been here. 

It looks like Childe is in full agreement of that as he rather possessively reaches down to squeeze his hands around your waist under the water. Your breath comes a little quicker at the gesture and you secretly delight at the soft way your skin pudges under his long fingers. He wasn’t an overly large man by any stretch of the imagination but his hands were big. His feet were quite sizable too, and his cock … 

You can feel it stirring against your backside now. A small suggestion of movement that excites you a great deal and prompts you to loose a quiet groan when he drags his hands higher, palming over your ribs until he finds your tits a heartbeat later. Arms sliding forward, Childe cups them with a savory squeeze and a low, anticipatory sound of his own. The masculine vibration seems to compliment your feminine sigh in near perfect harmony, as if his vocal chords were perfectly tuned to match yours on the opposite end of the spectrum. 

“Do you want half of your birthday present now, sweetheart?” He presses his lips to the jut of your shoulder in a soft, lingering kiss. “Or would you rather get out of the tub and let me spoil you some more first?” 

It’s not really necessary to think about that too deeply. You were most partial to having your cake and eating it too, and past experience told you that Childe would be more than willing to oblige you in that sense. He always did, even if he gave you a hard time about it on occasion. It was just another angle to the game. 

Giving his messy hair another slow motion tug, you pull until his head comes up and you can look him in the eye. Oh, how he loved when you did that and his reaction doesn’t disappoint. The inner twinkle behind his matte irises morphs into a full blown bonfire, smoldering something hot and unnameable that makes your body lock up with fast mounting tension. You’d thought you were ready for him before, when you first decided to climb into the bathtub together, but this … the two of you were just stoking each other's flames at this point. 

“Now. I want you now, Childe. Please.” 

The soft inflection in your voice has its intended effect. A certain edge creeps across his face and darkens his expression with the first real pangs of true arousal. It leaves him looking much less like a boyish scoundrel and more like a man in his prime considering how best to lay claim to your body. 

You wonder, too, how he’ll decide to proceed from here even as you shift slightly to better observe him. Still nestled between his legs, your hip brushes against his stiffening cock when you move. The sensation makes you tingle all over and burn even hotter for him, your eyelids becoming heavy when he offers your tits a muted squeeze. It would be all too easy to start making demands and you were tempted. Given your status as the birthday girl (his words, not yours) you were certain he would do anything at all you asked of him for the next twenty-four hours but you were far more interested in finding out how he wanted to shower your body in attention first. 

There would be plenty of time for you to take the lead later, after your curiosity had been thoroughly sated. He always enjoyed a little power play so it would be a treat for both of you anyway. 

“You’ll have me now, if that’s what you want.” He tells you with a hint of confidentiality lacing his tone. “Do I get to call the shots?” 

“For the moment you can.” 

Childe snorts a quick laugh but he doesn’t argue the point. Instead, he gives your chest one final, kneading pinch and then drags his hands back to hold you around the middle. “Get on your knees for me, pretty girl?” 

You send him a slow, considering look before deciding that you didn’t have enough information yet to figure out his angle. There were a few different things he could do with you in that position and the only way to narrow it down would be to find out for yourself firsthand. 

So you rock forward, making the water slosh around you and lap at the sides of the tub as you get repositioned with your legs folded under you. The porcelain basin is comfortably big enough for two — further proof that Childe had gone above and beyond in picking out where you were to celebrate your birthday together — and you have plenty of room to maneuver around. But before you can get fully settled like that, he gently nudges you forward with his hands around your waist. 

“Scoot down to the opposite end. Keep facing that way.” 

Your pussy flutters in unmistakable excitement as you comply, going up on your knees so you can shuffle forward. Wet nipples strain against the cool air and it takes every ounce of willpower you possess not to simply turn on him right then and there. Wrestling with Childe for dominance didn’t seem like the best idea in a tub filled with bath water though so you refrain from acting on the impulse. You would have him exactly how you wanted him later on, in the comfort of the large bed the villa boasted. Or on the floor. Or the kitchenette counter. Archons, maybe you’d even take him out on the balcony attached to the bedroom and ride him out there. You were relatively certain he’d enjoy that. 

For now, you try not to let your mind wander too much as you bring your hands up to brace along the rim of the tub, giving it a good squeeze to ground yourself. Childe moves around behind you, much less careful about it than you'd been, and some of the water sloshes over the edge as a result. You think to chide him for it but then his hands are on your hips, blunt fingers digging into plushy flesh hard enough to bruise. Your mind goes delightfully blank at the sharp pressure and you offer up an inviting arch of your back when his palms start to drag higher. Over the feminine curve of your waist, squeezing love handles along the way, across your ribcage and then back down again until he finds your ass. 

Taking two pinching handfuls of your cheeks, Childe allows himself a moment to simply knead the flesh and jostle it as if in fascination. He likes watching the meat of your behind jiggle and bounce, especially when it was clapping back to meet the hard thrusts of his pelvis tit for tat. You knew this very well. He didn’t exactly try to hide it. You had an idea where this was going now, and you breathe out a quiet exhale when he finally spreads you open some moments later. 

“Such a pretty pussy. Every time I see it I can’t help but think I must be the luckiest man in all of Teyvat.” 

You look back at him over your shoulder, not at all surprised to find the appreciative, almost sappy expression on his face while he admires your cunt from behind. It certainly pleases you though, and you give your ass a playful shake to taunt him. “I’d say you’re probably right about that.”

Childe shoots you a quick, heated look that speaks volumes and belies his feelings on the matter. It was true. Perhaps not on an objective level but for him, for the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, the man from Snezhnaya, it was very much a fact. The no doubt expensive villa was only a very small portion of the evidence he’d already provided to prove that. 

The way he roves his attention back down and hungrily regards you is much more substantial. He resembles a half starved man now, and your breath reflexively catches in your throat when he stoops over you without another word. A quick, wet pass of his tongue over your asshole startles a jolt out of you. You’d expected him to dive straight into your cunt but you’re certainly not complaining about this turn of events. 

Knuckles creaking, you grip the edge of the tub tightly while he kisses at the puckered hole for a brief moment before giving it another swipe with his tongue. It almost seems to tickle and you arch to better present yourself to him. He carefully prods over every wrinkle and crease, using just the tip to tease along the rim until he at last sets his sights on the vulnerable center when you start to fidget in impatience. 

“Ooh …”

Your eyes slip shut as his tongue worms inside you and just penetrates your body. It’s a somewhat odd sensation but a decidedly pleasant one. Your pussy tingles in response, as if in phantom pleasure shared between them, already growing uncomfortably wet to match your need. Childe staunchly ignores it for the time being though and just continues to eat your ass like it’s the best meal he’s ever had. He slurps and sucks, swirls his tongue around for good measure and mouths at you with his lips until you can feel the tight muscle gradually relaxing under his insistent ministrations. It softens for him, obediently relaxing into the encompassing warmth, and you shudder faintly when he flicks over the raised rim with a fleshy nudge. 

His hands squeeze where they’re latched onto the swell of your cheeks, keeping them spread and your defenseless little hole vulnerable to his attack. He’s relentless with it even when you gingerly rear back to grind yourself on his face. His responding groan, thick and muffled, assures you that he was enjoying this almost as much as you were. It wasn’t enough though. You needed a bit more friction than this if you were hoping to find release any time soon. 

“Childe … if you’re going to do it then just do it. Don’t keep teasing me like that.” 

He barks a quick, breathless laugh as he pulls away behind you, leaving your spit coated asshole to weakly twitch against the rush of cool air that comes in to replace his mouth. “And you had the nerve to call me impatient? What a joke.” 

One of his hands abruptly retreats only to swat across the meat of your behind, making you yelp in surprise. Chuckling faintly, he slides the other inward to tease the blunt of his thumb over your puckered hole. Whatever sharp remark you’d been forming on your tongue immediately fizzles out and morphs into a low, heady groan. He was still taunting you with it but at least he was headed in the right direction now.  

“Bastard …” 

“Hah. I love the pet names you give me, mój rybeńko. Mine seem so dull and drab in comparison.” 

It takes quite a bit of effort for you not to snap at him to quit being a smartass but you manage, somehow. Twisting your upper body, you instead look back at him again and pin Childe with a pout that you hope is more imploring than it is needy. If he interpreted it as the latter there was a very good chance he would just keep dangling what you want out of reach and never give it to you unless you begged him for it. You’d rather not stoop to that level — not because you were above such things but because he would consider it yet another win for him to tally up and it would rush straight to his head. His ego didn’t need any further inflating. 

He just looks at you though, a small, sly smile playing at his rogue's mouth. The steady pass of his thumb over your asshole doesn’t retreat but he does increase the pressure enough to make you subtly twitch. There was nothing you wanted more than to feel him penetrating you in that moment. 

“Childe …” You intone, making him laugh. 

“It looks like you’re about to ask me very nicely for something, pretty girl. Of course under normal circumstances I’d wait to hear you out first but … it’s your birthday, sweetheart. You don’t need to ask me for anything today.” 

You feel it then. His thumb curls down and finds the vulnerable center of your entrance, slowly pushing in on the muscle until it gives with a gradual stretch. Your mouth hinges open but nothing comes out other than a faltering, threadbare sound of pleasure. The resistance he meets is cursory at best and a surge of white hot static floods your system at the same time he pops past the barrier. It feels especially good when your sphincter weakly contracts around the intrusion and pinches at the thick column of his finger in a pulsing spasm, trying to suck him in deeper. Then, surprising a gasp out of you, he hooks his thumb to catch on the interior rim and gently starts to pull, further loosening the tight ring of muscle. 

Your need for him growing by the second, you eagerly rear back to feel the press of broad knuckles digging into your skin. Childe’s lopsided grin is victorious as he watches you watch him finger your asshole open. It's getting harder to keep your eyes focused and fixed upon him when every fiber of your being wanted nothing more than to give itself over to the pleasure and simply bask in it, but you force your gaze to follow the motion when he bends down again. Oceanic eyes stay locked on yours as he opens his mouth and bites into the fleshy curve of one cheek. He doesn’t do it hard enough to break the skin, just enough to hurt and make your sphincter clench around his thumb. You felt like you were going mad. 

Retracting his teeth a moment later, Childe replaces them with a soothing tongue. He laps over the dental indents he’s left behind and then kisses the tender spot before working his way lower. His lips trace a path over the delicate back of your thigh before angling inward to find your cunt. You outright seethe at the first brush of his mouth against your lips as you push back to meet him. His thumb gives a muted wriggle inside of you, teasing the nerve endings with the suggestion of something much more substantial stretching you open. He has to stoop quite low to reach like this, and all you can glimpse of him now is a shock of messy copper and the pale expanse of a scar littered back just beyond. 

He stays true to his word though and he doesn’t make you ask for it. Nuzzling his face right up against you, he slots his mouth to your slit and starts to work you open with the tandem use of his tongue and lips. The voracious way he groans, hot breath puffing against sticky creases and folds, makes you shudder for him. 

“Oh, fuck.” Finally losing the battle, you face forward again and let your head hang between your shoulders. Just let yourself focus on the satin sensation of having your pussy lips spread, the flick of a wet tongue soon following to drag through the accumulated slick inside. He gives his head a dull shake to better settle against you, and you bite down on your lip to stifle the frazzled sound that tries to crawl up your throat. 

But it’s an effort in futility. The sound rips right out of you when Childe finds your clit, tongue swirling around the sensitive pleasure button to knock it back and forth. You keen, softly at first, and then with more harried conviction as he relentlessly batters the fleshy nub until you involuntarily quake. Your asshole just keeps squeezing his thumb, either trying to milk him for all he was worth or milk your own orgasm, you couldn’t be sure which. It doesn’t really matter though because he eats you from the back only long enough to make sure you were ready for him and then he pulls away to look at you again with a loud, wet smack of his lips. 

“You’re already such a mess for me, sweetheart. What am I gonna’ do with you, huh?” Crooning softly, he brings his other hand close to hook that thumb into the meat of your labia. He pulls you open gently, admiring the sight of your cunt spread for him and your ass stuffed with his finger for a savory moment before loosing a stilted sigh. “Ready to be a good girl and take me?”

“Yes,” You practically hiss. “I want it.” 

A quiet groan of satisfaction filters behind you, as anticipatory as it is laced with approval. He wasn’t always the smoothest operator. Some of your first disastrous intimate exchanges were fond memories that still brought a smile to your face even now. But sometimes, in the process of incessantly running his mouth, Childe could occasionally strike upon gold and this was decidedly one of them. Just the thought of taking him in deep, of having him pound you straight into a shaking orgasm, has your body sporadically clenching as if in faux release. You weren’t just ready, you were primed for it. 

He shifts behind you then and starts to slowly pull his thumb out of your ass. You whine at the loss as much as at the sensation of your interior gripping at him, flesh clinging desperately to flesh, but he doesn’t appear to pay it any mind. His digit comes out with a barely audible pop to leave your sphincter weakly contracting around nothing. Directing both hands to your bottom, he sinks battle hardened fingers into the cushiony give and spreads you open again. You can feel the loosened ring of muscle winking up at him expectantly and you brace for the slide of his thick cock. 

It doesn’t come though. Not where you’d expected it to. 

You’d been so sure he was building up to taking you up the back that the abrupt press of his cock head into your pussy catches you off guard. A shrill, startled sound erupts out of you as Childe shoves himself into the palpitating sleeve of your body, sinking deep on a single thrust. Clutching at the edge of the tub hard enough to make the joints ache, you throw your head back and blindly keen at the ceiling. He merely grunts behind you, the tremor in his voice evident as he gives his hips another push to bury himself further within you. The stretch is immaculate for as unexpected as it is and it drives you crazy. 

Childe keeps pushing, pushing, pushing, forcing your cunt to make room for him until you feel the unmistakable weight of his ballsack settle against you from behind. You’re dizzy with it and you rock forward on your knees, bleating like some wounded little thing. Then you eagerly push back on him, grinding yourself on his length, and it punches another sensitive groan out of you. He mirrors the sound in the same heartbeat, the vibration of that low, masculine rumble rushing straight to your cunt. It may not have been what you’d expected but god, it felt good. 

“Archons, you’re perfect.” He sounds about as frazzled as you did in that moment. This knowledge doesn’t do much to calm the erratic rhythm of your pulse but it does fill you with a helium sense of swelling pride. Even for all his cocky surety and self confidence, he was still a man with all the same weaknesses as any other. Getting his dick wet with some regularity hadn’t yet changed that. 

“Fuck me, Childe.” You groan, for his benefit as much as your own. “Fuck me hard. Please.” 

Letting out a slow, faltering breath, he obliges you and starts to move. Angles his hips back in torturous slow motion to ensure both of you felt the gradual drag of his cock against your interior in stunning high definition. Your guts try to cling to him again but the fleshy glide is smooth and sticky with arousal, and you whine low in your throat at the loss. Then he pushes back in with one long, drawn out thrust that slowly fills you up again. The tight press of his balls against your labia makes you shudder, and the involuntary reaction seems to bleed right through you into him. He trembles stiffly as well, gripping your ass cheeks so hard you were sure to find blooming splotches in the shape of his fingertips come morning, but the dull pain just excites you even more. You were soaked and only getting wetter. 

That fact becomes even more obvious when he starts to thrust in earnest, working his way up to settle into a fast, steady pace, and your pussy loudly squelches on each rapid fire plunge. The way he continues to hold you open while he fucks you doesn’t exactly help, and the resulting noise is almost enough to embarrass you. If it had been anyone else, anyone who was not as unapologetic and loutish as he was, you probably would’ve been wilting in shame. But Childe actually seems to enjoy it on some level, for he groans hotly in response when your cunt noisily slurps around his cock and the rhythmic plap of his hips meeting your skin quickly grows even sharper. 

Sliding one of his hands inward over the bouncing swell of your ass, he finds your abandoned hole again and starts to worm his thumb inside. Your already strained breaths catch at the penetration but he slips in past the ring of muscle just as easily as before. You feel indescribably stuffed now, your body singing in fast thrumming ecstasy while you wildly clench around both intrusions. 

“Fuck.” He hisses. “You get so damn tight when I do this.” 

Your cotton stuffed head is a little too shot to formulate a response now, so you just wail your pleasure for the whole villa to hear. That he’d likely planned for this to happen and picked out a rental destination with privacy at the forefront of his mind was obvious, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for it in that moment. You weren’t sure if you could have kept your volume in check even if you’d wanted to. 

Especially not when you already felt so sickeningly close to the edge that the weight of your impending orgasm very nearly chokes you up. You weren’t just going to cum. It felt like you were going to implode. 

“Ooh! Gods! Ch - Childe! I … oooh, shit, mm’gonna’ cum!”

The sound he barks out in response is like something between a laugh and a groan. Like he couldn’t quite decide which he wanted to do more. To your stumbling surprise, however, he doesn’t keep fucking into you. Doesn’t speed up or go harder to shove you over into the waiting abyss below, just out of reach and only getting further away when he abruptly stops instead. The sloshing water continues to move even when he doesn’t and it laps at your heated skin in a taunting caress. Failing to keep your reaction under control, you whip your head around to look back at him incredulously. 

“What are you doing!” You demand, a little more shrill than you’d intended. 

Childe pins you with a relatively steady yet still pained look from where he remains hunched over your bottom half. The way his battered knuckles seem to be turning white from how hard he’s gripping your ass does not escape your notice but it also does absolutely nothing to placate you. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m giving you exactly what you want, moja miłość.”

“What —“

His rumbling groan and the way he screws his eyes shut for a brief moment makes it clear that it’s just as difficult for him to fight the urge to keep rutting into you as it is for you to accept it. You don’t understand it though, why he would stop like that when you were so close, and you fix him with a wide eyed question as he gingerly rocks back to ease his cock out. You’re not sure if you should be pissed at him or not when he carefully stands up behind you, leaving his thumb stuffed in your ass for the time being, but you bite your tongue to stay any of the sharp remarks forming there. He had about ten seconds to make his next move and then you’d be taking matters into your own hands. Literally. 

Bending over you now, Childe curls his hand to push down on the inner rim of your asshole as if testing the give. You moan at the pressure, very softly, even though you try not to. Something clicks into place in your mind, and your gaze frantically darts between his darkened expression and his stiff cock where it dangles between his legs. Just the warm flicker of the candles is enough to make the wet skin glisten, so thoroughly coated in your slick that it almost looked like he was lubed up with sticky grease. It probably wouldn’t have been enough for your first, second or even third time but … he’d fucked your ass enough that your sphincter was well trained to accept him now. It was often the safer choice when an unplanned pregnancy could mean disastrous results for the both of you. 

But your pussy weakly contracts around nothing, missing the stretch and the weight of him inside of you. It wanted to be stuffed and filled, and pounded almost as much as your ass did, and you can’t stop yourself from whining when he pokes and prods at you some more before finally sliding his thumb out again. Feeling needy and desperate enough that you think you really might just cry, you plaintively shake your bottom at him in humble supplication. 

“Childe, please …” 

“Hush, pretty girl. I’m going to take care of you, don’t you worry about that.” 

Shuffling forward a pinch so that his feet bracket your knees, he reaches down to grip his cock at the base and then lowers himself in a wide legged crouch. He guides his cock straight to the center of your waiting, puffy hole, using his other hand to squeeze one of your cheeks and spread it from the other. You practically blubber at the first press of his blunt head even as you give a tiny little push to more easily accept the insertion. Childe takes it slow and easy though, giving your entrance a chance to adjust and accommodate him. Inch by tortuous inch, he slips inside until you feel the unmistakable pop when he fully breaches that fluttering ring of muscle. The rest of him comes much quicker after that, and much smoother. Your sphincter can’t close like this and it also can’t work to push him out. It tries, valiantly clenching around his thick length as if to find purchase along all that smooth skin, but it’s useless. He slides in right down to the hilt and seats himself inside you as far as he can go. 

The sound that finally rattles out of you is wild and stretched paper thin. Some sort of wordless animal noise that makes your eyes vibrate in their sockets. 

Heaving a deeply bothered sound of his own, Childe seems to hesitate a moment. Like he was finding his bearings and making sure he had a good grip on his own self control before starting up. His large hands squeeze around your waist, making love handles pudge up between his fingers, hard enough to make you wince. But it’s nothing compared to the intense drag along your guts when he at last begins to angle his pelvis back, using those long, somewhat gangly legs to pull out until only the glans remains wedged inside you. Your asshole eagerly spasms around the mind numbing penetration before he pushes back in, stretches it back out to the full width of his cock, and you outright shriek in delight. 

He settles into his pace much slower than he had when he was stuffing your cunt but it doesn’t take long for him to have a good rhythm going. Your ass isn’t half as noisy either, and the solid plap, plap, plap of his pelvis meeting your bouncing cheeks almost completely drowns out the sounds of soft, wet flesh clicking into place. Much to your groaning relief, the thrumming tension from before comes rushing right back up to the surface almost immediately, making you writhe underneath him. It was a slightly different sort of pressure but it was just as good. Just as potent. Hell, it may have even been better, considering how the deep plunge of his cock makes every single nerve ending in your lower body light up like a firework. Suddenly you didn’t mind so much that your drooling cunt was being neglected. 

“Harder.” You gasp, clutching the tub so tight your fingers hurt. “Fuck my ass harder, Childe!”

Groaning, he hunches further over you and does just that. With his front almost flush against your painfully arched back, his range of movement is much more limited and he can’t quite achieve those long, drawn out thrusts anymore. But to make up for it he ruts into you faster, humping you so enthusiastically it makes your tits bounce. The burning stretch rapidly becomes overwhelming and you simply allow yourself to ragdoll between him and the side of the bathtub, moaning loudly in ecstasy. 

His hands sliding off your sides with one final, possessive squeeze, he reaches one of them up your body to cup a swaying breast in his palm. Blunt fingers fumble to find your nipple, giving it a quick pinch and a tug to make you wail. The other slides down and dips between your thighs. Calloused digits brush over the apex of your mound, briefly caressing your swollen clit to make you judder and shake for him, before reaching further back. You’re so punchdrunk on fast pumping endorphins that you almost don’t even realize what he’s doing until it’s too late. At the last possible second it slams into you like a sack of bricks and you lurch under him with a frantic, startled shriek of pure joy. 

All at once, Childe shoves two of his fingers into your waiting cunt. A third quickly joins them and although the stretch is not nearly as satisfying as his cock, it still has you seeing damn near double while you sway inside the tub. His reach is quite limited from this angle so he can’t bury them in you straight down to the knuckle, but he insidiously curls them to press hard into your upper wall. Stars erupt across your vision at the intense pressure as your pussy absolutely floods with sticky slick. The throbbing pulse in your ass doubles and then triples, toeing the line of being unbearable now, but there was no escaping it. He had you so completely trapped under him that you couldn’t have scuttled away even if you’d tried. 

The only thing you can do is cry out and helplessly rock against him, pushed forward with each quick, piston-like thrust and then pulled back against him again with his hold on you. It was overwhelming in the best possible way. You’d never felt quite so fucked out as you do in that moment with both holes stuffed and aching, Childe’s cock relentlessly carving out a space within you for himself while his fingers attack that tight cluster of nerves just on the other side of your inner sleeve. His seemingly limitless energy reserves had never felt as much a blessing as it does right now. You weren’t sure how many other men could have kept up the effort in this, frankly, awkward position long enough for your orgasm to build up again but he does it with ease. His pace doesn’t even so much as falter when you start to shake in earnest, warning tremors tearing through your body faster than you can comprehend. He just tightens his hold on you and keeps going, slamming into your ass too quickly for you to brace against it. 

It felt like you were going to shatter into a million little pieces. 

“Ooh, sweetheart … you’re really soaking my fingers.” He manages to huff out, barely heard over your own mindless bleating. “I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I? Huh?” Pausing, Childe turns his head to press a brief kiss to your trembling shoulder and then he laughs, breathless and thin. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you? I can feel how hard you’re squeezing me … ahh, fuck. I’m gonna’ cum too. You feel so damn good though, how could I not?” 

A wounded, highly undignified sound bursts out of you as your orgasm starts to really bear down on you now. The tension running through your body like a livewire is suffocating in its potency, and thinking about him shooting his load deep into your ass just makes it even worse. It felt like you were drowning in it, and you helplessly buck underneath him. His hold on you is as good as iron though and he keeps you clutched against him no matter how wild you get. 

The first trickle that comes out of you almost goes unnoticed, but you realize what’s happening the second time your pussy eagerly squirts all over his hand. Even in your fucked out state you’re acutely aware of it running down his wrist and dribbling down your inner thighs in warm, very noticeable rivulets. Childe groans when you do it a third time, as if the slick was being forced right out of you thanks to the building pressure in both holes, and you screw your eyes shut with a strangled scream. You almost couldn’t believe it but there was no denying the obscene amount of fluid coating your skin, and it only becomes all the more obvious when you at last tip over the edge. 

It’s the sound of his gruff, half strangled groan right next to your ear that finally does it. You cum with a lurching gasp, shaking so intensely he has to readjust the way he’s holding onto you to keep you in place. Your pulsating cunt erupts, shooting slick everywhere while your ass contracts around his cock in an uncontrollable series of spasms. You judder and writhe, twisting through your release even as he continues to fuck into you from behind. It’s as much to ride you through it as chase his own, and you let out a weak, thoroughly dazed mewl when Childe grunts his own pleasure just a short moment later. 

His cock eagerly twitches as it pumps your ass full and he goes still over top of you with a harried little whimper of his own. You can’t help the way you jolt at the sound, so sweet and vulnerable that it rushes straight to your well used cunt. You’re a bit too satiated in the aftermath to think about round two just yet though, so you focus on trying to catch your breath while he recovers enough to pull out. It takes a prolonged moment for him to get his bearings straight but, eventually, he carefully works to untangle himself from you, and then plops back to sit in the water. You didn’t doubt that that had been quite the workout on his legs and you almost start to feel sorry for him — but when you gingerly shift around to glance back at the troublesome Snezhnayan, he looks nothing if not pleased. Quite proud of himself, actually. 

“Are you sure that was supposed to be a gift for me?” You ask rather sweetly, offering him a knowing smile. “Or were you just challenging yourself and hoping to get a good workout in while you were at it?” 

“It was a treat for both of us.” He tells you candidly. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t like it. Just look at how pruned my fingers are!” 

He holds his hand out and you squint at the three middle fingers, noting that they were indeed rather wrinkled. You quickly reach up to shove at his wrist though, pushing him away so you can get turned the rest of the way around and fully face him. Your body throbs slightly as you get settled again, especially your stretched asshole, but it is a decidedly good kind of ache. The distant sensation of his cum sitting hot and heavy in your guts brings a dopey smile to your face, even when you try very hard to keep it at bay. For better or worse, Childe seemed to have that effect on you more often than not. 

“Alright, alright. We both enjoyed it. Me especially. Happy?” 

He positively grins from ear to ear. “Very.” 

Comfortable in the afterglow, you carefully draw your knees up and wrap your arms around them, just looking at him. He was much too charming for his own good, you decide for the upteenth time since you’d met back in Liyue. How you’d gotten here, sequestered in this quaint Fontaine villa out in the countryside, was probably anyone’s guess at this point but you were glad it had turned out this way. It was hard to imagine your life without him in it after he’d already wormed his way in. He wasn’t the sort of man one could easily forget, after all. 

“So what’s next on the itinerary?”

Childe hums in thought, his wide smile taking on a sly, mischievous edge now. “Wanna’ go into the bedroom and sit on my face for a while, girlie?” 

Your body stirs with immediate interest. You’d thought you were well sated for the time being but, well … Childe tended to have this effect on you too. It would have been incredibly frustrating had he not been oh so very fun to fool around with. 

Now you’re grinning too, an almost perfect mirror to his expression. “Is that even really a question?”

⭐

[exhaustedpirate]

in your moon-lit eyes

here it is, my first project for the last year of CSSNS and I went for werewolves! and what are werewolf stories without sexy times? a million thanks to my beta @thejollyroger-writer and check out her awesome art to accompany this fic!

Summary: Treading through a forest at night alone is a terrible idea. Doing so during the full moon is even worse. You never know what sort of creatures you may find. Killian Jones finds that out in the worst way… or so he thinks.

Word count: 10350 words  

Rating: Explicit

read on AO3

This was a terrible idea.

He could be at home wrapped around his warm blankets and watching some random movie on Netflix. He should, actually. But, apparently, he thinks it best to traipse through the woods on the coldest night of the year while being turned around by the strong winds.

Killian Jones is going to die in these woods and all because— 

A loud snap of a twig sounds behind him, and he turns for all but a second before rushing his pace as best he can in the ankle-deep snow. If he doesn’t die of the cold, maybe some animal will jump him and kill him. He pulls on the scarf around his neck to cover more of his face.

Great, like this whole thing isn’t scary enough. He hopes they omit his stupidity in his eulogy. If his body is even found. 

That’s not helping.

A warm light acts like a beacon between the trees, did he actually make it or is that the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel? It doesn’t matter at this point, really. Whatever waits for him at the end of the light will surely laugh in his face if they find out he died trying to return a— 

A louder, more forceful, snap echoes behind him and he turns around sharply, a growl louder than the winds. He hears it before he sees it, bursting through the trees. A wolf just as tall as he is approaches him, mouth open with bared teeth, ears turned back and eyes glinting with murderous intent.

He feels his blood drain from his body and his body freeze in fear, unable to blink, to breathe. Pure panic flows through Killian’s veins even as his brain urges him to move. The animal approaches slowly, its black fur contrasting sharply with the white snow. Distantly, over the pounding beat of his heart in his ears, he hears another growl from behind him. Just his luck.

To his surprise, Killian doesn’t become dinner to two hungry wolves. 

The wolf that approached from behind him jumps just as the darker one does, but instead of sinking their teeth on him, they clash in front of him and he stumbles to the cold ground. He can see now that the new wolf has light fur, a darker shade from the surrounding white. 

They are fighting each other. The darker wolf fights in a deranged, desperate way, its eyes landing on Killian’s any chance it had. The lighter one looks more cautious, its movements calculated, practised. His life rests on that wolf’s paws.

Killian moves for the first time when the darker wolf sinks its teeth on the other wolf’s flank, reaching out at his rescuer’s loud whine, despite everything. That distracts his attacker, its eyes so full of hunger, he stops once more. It approaches slowly, its tongue licking the blood off its maw.

No more saviours, Killian Jones. This is it. Liam is waiting.

He closes his eyes, not wanting the last thing he sees to be the inside of a wolf’s mouth. 

But death doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a loud shriek and thumping paws rushing away from where he stands. He opens his eyes slowly, and sees the last thing he expected: the light furred wolf panting heavily, its eyes on Killian with an angry glint overcome by pain and tiredness.

Before he can take a breath, before he can move, the wolf’s eyes roll to the back of its head as it slumps into the ground. Killian is unable to move for moments after, his brain trying to take stock of what happened. In the last minutes he expected death, he found relief, only to repeat the cycle once more. Now, here he is, in an unknown forest with an unconscious wolf in front of him and blood splattered over the white snow. 

He should run away. Wolves are wild animals, prone to violence, and that’s what he had witnessed — wolf on wolf violence. But even if he could ignore the guilt at having been the one to initiate said encounter by his mere presence where he shouldn’t be, he knew this was no regular wolf. 

Nevermind his decade-old interest in the supernatural, Killian knows the difference between wolves and these wolves, having spent just as long studying and practising the care of animals. So he knows, more than anyone else, that the unconscious wolf in front of him wasn’t a mere wolf but a werewolf. And a werewolf who had saved his life.

With a steadying sigh, Killian looks at where the warm light is coming and hopes it belongs someplace warm, someplace safe. He slowly approaches the animal, worried that it might not actually be unconscious despite its clear stillness and slow breathing.

Crouching, he pulls the animal’s heavy paws over his shoulders, its large head lolling onto its left paw. He wraps his arms around its back and pulls experimentally. When the wolf remains unmoving, he continues to pull, slowly making his way towards the light.

He is very happy to be right. It was not a metaphor for death, it is a cabin. The warm light is brighter since the cabin’s door remains open, as if someone exited in a worry. 

“Hello?” He calls with panting breaths from the doorway. “Anyone home?” There is only silence and he sends one more little prayer to whoever has been keeping him safe that he is not entering some psycho killer’s home.

Killian pulls the wolf towards the dwindling fireplace, laying it on the warm rug. He rushes to close the door, shivering at the sharp improvement in temperature inside the cabin. As he takes his jacket off and rolls up his sleeves, he inspects the wolf’s unconscious form. The wound isn’t too deep. Deep enough to hurt, to rip the skin but he’d seen much worse. This will be a walk in the park. Ha!

The cabin consists of a single room: kitchen, living room, dining room and bedroom all in one,  so he assumes the single door at the end of the cabin to be the bathroom. There are no sentimental trinkets, no scattered picture frames of loved ones, no paintings or even a TV — that last one isn’t surprising, they are in the middle of the woods. But there are books, just as good entertainment as a TV, in his opinion.

He quickly throws a few logs to revive the fire to chase away the chill still clinging to him before turning to the animal with a professional eye. He needs some sort of disinfectant. It won’t do to let his saviour die of infection. He looks around to find a small collection of bottles. Grabbing one, he uncorks it, taking a sniff of the delicious rum inside.

He sighs in reluctance to spill such a treasure. But needs must. 

He takes care not to jostle the wolf too much before wrapping its wound with the scarf he still had around his neck. The animal is large, heavy, made even worse by its dead weight, no other bandage would have contained the wound. Once he finishes, he has worked up a sweat and the excitement of the night is taking its toll. He slumps against the couch, wolf head on his lap, keeping a sort of monitoring on its well-being with his hand on the wolf’s neck.

“Thank you for saving me,” he whispers tiredly. He lets out a breath, his body slumping in exhaustion, eyes shutting on their own. Before he knows it, Killian is fast asleep.

---

Killian wakes up slowly to a warmth at his feet. The first thing he notices is the pain in his body, especially the way his ass hurts from the hard floor. He opens his eyes, taking stock of his surroundings. He is in a cabin, and he can see the bright sun high in the sky and blue skies through the slanted skylight. 

Right, last night. The cold forest, getting lost, the wolves. He sighs, then shuffles in his seat, trying to bring some relief to his body but as he moves, he hears a deep breath.

The second thing he notices is the way his hand touches bare skin, the weight of a head on his lap. Looking down, he realises why — there is a woman, a naked woman curled on the floor.

Startled, Killian scrambles away, jostling the stranger into wakefulness. He stops, a couple of feet away from her as he watches her raise her head from the floor. He knows her, it’s her.

Of course, any recognition doesn’t stop her from widening her eyes as she takes in his presence and her nakedness, shrieking in shock before she pulls a blanket down to cover herself, moving faster than he ever thought possible.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my home?!”

Killian’s mouth opens and closes, not for the first time at a loss for words in her presence. Her eyes clear as they look at each other, the panic and rough awakening washing away as she rises to her feet. Her sighed “oh” tells him she recognises him, too. 

“M-My apologies,” he stutters and clears his throat at his rough voice. “I-You—”

“You’re the dumbass who almost got himself killed by traipsing around the forest at night!” 

She winces as her arm hits her side and she wavers on her feet. He scrambles to his feet, holding out his hands to keep her standing. But she tightens her fist on the blanket around her and holds out her hand in front of him to stop him.

“You’re hurt,” he explains, keeping his distance while looking between the stained blanket and her eyes. “I cleaned up the wound and bandaged it last night but…well, you were rather bigger then.” His eyes twinkle with mirth while hers widen in surprise.

“How…Why—”

“I couldn’t leave you to die in the forest after you saved me,” he explains with a small smile and a shrug.

“I wouldn’t have had to save you if you hadn’t been so stupid as to walk through this forest alone during a full moon.” Her voice is hard and her eyes deadly, even if her hands still tremble and he can see the pain she tries to hide.

“You’re right, you’re right, I know,” he sighs, this really isn’t the best time to tell her why he was there. “But please, let me help you, it’s the least I can do.” She is quiet, her eyes focused on his face, searching his eyes. His heart is racing and his hands feel damp now. “I’m a veterinarian, I’ve treated millions of animal bites.” His smirk is half-hearted at best.

Her eyebrow rises. “I’ll be healed soon.”

“And in the meantime, you’re prone to infections.” She hums in contemplation. “It won’t take long and I’ll feel better knowing I was able to make it up to you. All I need is a first aid kit.”

She shuffles her feet, and the movement must disturb her wound because she winces and forces the blanket tighter against the wound. “Fine,” she groans.

He follows her eagerly as she opens the only door in the cabin, revealing a small bathroom, like he suspected. “I’m Killian, by the way. Killian Jones.” He curses the breathless tone of his voice.

“Emma Swan.” She says distractedly as she carefully sits on the toilet seat lid. Swan, of course. That explains why the— “The first aid kit is in that cabinet over there.” 

He quickly retrieves the small kit and is glad to find everything he needs. When he turns back to her, he notices that she’s arranged the blanket so it covers her private areas but keeps the wound area visible. The bite mark looks less angry now than it had last night, but the punctures are deep, still dark red — they go up to her stomach and down to her belly button and he is sure they have the same placement on her back. She protected him.

“Are you just going to stand and stare?” Her voice lacks the bite he expected and when he looks up at her face, he sees a pink hue to her cheeks even as her eyes remain exasperated.

��Apologies, love, I was just…analysing the situation,” he stutters. He really needs to get a grip on himself.

“Right.”

Not wanting to make her more uncomfortable, Killian places the open kit on the sink, grabbing the disinfectant and some cotton balls. “This is going to hurt, love,” he says as he holds a cotton ball close to the wound.

She scoffs. “Right.”

He holds his breath as he presses the disinfectant to her skin. Emma gasps, her hand grabbing his wrist and digging her nails in. “Son of a— Fuck!”

“I warned you,” His eyebrows furrow in concentration, feeling no delight in hurting her. “Just take some deep breaths.”

Emma does as he says, and her grip loosens a bit. Killian carries on his work, focusing on tending to her wound, knowing that the faster he gets this finished, the better it will be for her. He makes sure to disinfect every inch of the wound, not wanting to think of how soft her skin looks or how she smells like the rum from the night before and forest and a hint of cinnamon.

“Is it done?” She is panting, her chest rising and falling fast from the pain. 

“Aye,” He clears his throat and grabs the gauze from the kit. “I just, hmm, need to wrap this around the wound.” He explains looking between the wound and the blanket she holds against her naked skin.

Emma follows his gaze. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Swan, I-”

“It’s fine,” She waves her hand with a forced relaxed movement, even if she doesn’t look at him. “It’s not like you haven’t seen boobs before.”

“Well, I don’t usually expect to see a woman’s breasts after only meeting her for less than an hour,” he tries to tease, trying to keep his voice light, hoping she doesn’t notice how his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest.

Her chuckle is quiet. “Right, well…” Her hands loosen their hold on the blanket. “Here’s to another first.” The blanket falls to her lap, keeping her covered below the waist. 

Killian knows he needs to remain professional, not act like some sort of pervert. Even if they are the most perfect breasts he has ever seen. He spares her chest only a quick glance before unfurling the roll of gauze. “Can you-” He clears his throat. “Can you hold the leading edge of the gauze, love?”

Her eyes meet his and he swears they look darker than they had before. “Sure,” she breathes out.

With her pointer finger carefully in place, he unrolls the gauze around her back, making sure to cover the wound. His chest presses against hers and he hears her sharp intake of breath. As he brings the gauze to her front, Killian can’t help but notice how her nipples have gotten harder. His tongue runs along his lower lip and he hears her breath grow shallower. 

“You can let go,” he whispers. It takes her a moment to do as instructed and he wonders if she is as affected by their proximity as he is. 

Killian wraps the gauze around her body, choosing to focus on the soft feel of the bandage rather than on the way her breath shifts or how his jeans get tighter by the second. With every inch of the wound covered, he tucks the gauze behind her back, unable to keep from feeling the softness of her skin and smelling the citrus scent of her hair and hearing her harsh breathing.

“All done,” he breathes, backing away from her as fast as he allows himself to go. 

Their eyes meet and the green in hers is all but swallowed by her black pupils, her lips are parted in fast breaths and her chest rises and falls quickly. She looks like a predator looking at her prey, and Killian should be scared, should run from the cabin, but he finds himself entranced by her gaze.

“Emma—”

The sound of his voice shatters the moment and Emma’s eyes return to normal, her shoulders tensing. He steps away, acknowledging her tension to his unwanted proximity. Killian puts away the kit, giving her a break from his gaze and when he turns back he sees the blanket back over her shoulders.

“Do you, hmm…” He scratches the back of his neck, unsure where to look. “Do you need me to bring you some clothes?”

“Oh, hmm, no, I got it.” 

Emma stands up, far too fast, and he notices her swaying before she does, his hands grabbing onto her arms for support. “You should eat something,” he whispers, her green eyes capturing his gaze. “So you can get your strength back.”

She pulls back from him and he clenches his fists, stopping himself from holding her again. “I know what I’m doing.” Emma walks determinedly but carefully out of the bathroom. “You know,” she says from the closet area. “I appreciate your help and all but you should go, there’s not going to be any wolves outside during the day.”

“Right, right,” Killian runs his hand through his hair and exits the bathroom, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Hmm, thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Killian nods once, grabbing his jacket — he would like to say that he tried but there had never even been a chance — and walks to the front door. The doorknob is cold but after being so close to Emma’s warmth, anything would be. There is resistance when he tries to open the door. When it does, he finds out why: a mountain of snow covers almost the entire height of the door, blocking their way out.

He closes the door in silent surprise and turns his back to it. Emma looks up, and there is relief in her face before she finds him still inside her home. Her face scrunches in confusion and surprise, her shoulders tense. “What — What are you still doing here?”

“Well, uh—”

“You’re supposed to leave!”

“Actually, it—”

She is fairly steady on her feet as she walks towards the door. “Leave.” Emma turns the doorknob and gasps when snow hits her still bare feet. 

“I was trying to tell you,” Killian says as she looks at the blockage. “It appears I’m stuck here.”

Emma groans and slams the door shut, forcing it against the snow that wanted to come in. “I can’t believe this!”

“I’m sorry, Emma but I don’t control the weather!”

She turns sharply towards him, the intensity of her gaze making his heartbeat quicken and he watches as her eyes grow dark with hunger and her breathing turns raspier. Maybe taking shelter with a werewolf, even one that saved his life, hadn’t been the best idea. Add it to the long list of them, in the last 24 hours alone.

“It’s fine,” She finally says with a rough voice, breaking their eye contact and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Just… Just stay out of my way.”

“I’ll prepare us some food, it’s the least I can do.”

“Fine, fine, just—”

“Stay out of your way.” His smile is thin as she looks up at him.

“Exactly.” She looks like she’s shaking herself out of the thoughts going through her brain before she crosses the room to the dresser.

So his morning is not going as he expected. Not that he had had much of a plan apart from where to find her cabin. He had been looking for her, and considered it lucky that she had found him before he could die of hypothermia in the forest, but the circumstances were undeniably more complicated than he could have planned.

Killian focuses on… lunch, he guesses, as they must have slept later than he thought. Like he said, the least he could do. He finds the coffee machine, thanking every deity that at least she has power, and sets it to brew. He finds eggs and bread and turns on the gas stove to scramble the eggs while his mind wanders. Wanders into fanciful notions of fate.

With the plates in hand, he starts to turn. “Lunch is—” Emma is right in front of him when he faces the table, dark eyes focused on his neck. “Ready.” 

She looks sharply up at him and appears to shake herself out of some thought or other. “Good,” She takes the plate from his hand, making her way to the small table at the corner. “I was starving.”

Killian sighs and follows her to the table before coming back for the coffee mugs. They sit in silence with only the sounds of them eating and drinking. He feels it dig into the skin of his thigh and he wonders if he should just rip off the bandage as it were, just tell her why he came to find her. Maybe she’ll even find it funny that he almost became a wolf’s meal just to—

“You weren’t surprised.” 

Her voice startles him out of his thoughts and he looks up at her furrowed brow. “Pardon?”

“You weren’t expecting to wake up next to me, specifically, but you weren’t surprised about the werewolf thing.”

“Ah,” He looks away, scratching behind his ear. “I did say I’m a veterinarian.”

Her unimpressed stare would make him laugh if this was a laughing matter. “Right, I’m sure veterinary school has a major in werewolf.”

“It was an extracurricular, actually,” He lets out a breathy laugh and even her expression softens with the sudden joke. “I wanted to know everything I could about werewolves so I, hmm, so I wouldn’t be caught unprepared again.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “For all the good that did me.”

He looks up to find her looking at him, an understanding glint to her eyes. “Yeah, I think I should give you some slack for being an idiot and traipsing around the forest during a full moon.” He shares a small smile with her. “This wasn’t your first encounter with werewolves then?”

“No,” he breathes out, blinking against the memory, before grabbing their empty plates and mugs and taking them to the sink. “I was young the first time I saw one, I didn’t know what they were until I saw what normal wolves looked like.” He chuckles wryly, starting to wash the dishes, very aware of her eyes on him. “My brother Liam loved nature, we would go camping, on hikes, we helped on farms. Because of him, I could identify more than a dozen types of insects before I was in high school.” He smiles wistfully and hears her hum, clearly noting the impending unhappy turn of his story. 

Despite Liam’s actual love for nature, there had been a need for them to spend time away from home — they would camp out in nature when his father went out to drink so they wouldn’t be his targets when he came back, their hikes were well-timed for when their father hosted his weekly poker games with his horrible friends, and the farmers were generous to pay them for their helping hands, money that they hid from their father. He didn’t find out about any of that until their father died and Liam took custody of him.

“We were camping on a new spot, we’d settled down for the night, made a fire and Liam was telling these stories from his job when we heard growling. Liam sent me inside the tent so I could warn the forest rangers,” Killian takes a deep breath, turning off the tap. “They told me to stay put, that they were on their way, told us not to run, not to turn our backs.” He grabs a cloth and focuses on drying the dishes. “But they kept approaching and Liam kept trying to reassure me, it was all so loud.”

His hands stilled as he dried a plate. He could still see their glowing eyes, dark bodies, could hear his own cries, Liam’s reassuring voice, and the growls. It was all so loud.

“Liam grabbed a log from the fire, waved it in front of him to scare them, it should have worked,” Killian whispers, his eyes far away. “But there were so many of them and they surrounded him. There were so many of them,” he sighs, closing his eyes. “They jumped him, Liam screamed, I screamed, and then the rangers showed up.”

It got louder after that. Jeeps running, voices shouting, Liam’s continued screaming. 

“He was barely alive when they took him away,” Killian continues with a heavy breath, putting down the last plate and leaning against the counter. He keeps his eyes on the ground. “He died in the hospital and I didn’t say goodbye.”

“Killian—”

“The doctors didn’t tell me anything, they told everything to the social worker,” he continued. “He had to tell me that my brother had lost too much blood and that his lungs had been punctured too badly and then I couldn’t even go home because Liam was dead and I was still a minor.”

“That’s horrible.”

“And I kept wondering, you know? Why would wolves attack someone like that? Years later, I realised they weren’t wolves at all and I started obsessing over the existence of werewolves because I didn’t want to end up in that position again, and then I did, and I was still that scared lad inside the tent and—”

“Killian.” 

Her hands are on his shoulders and her eyes on his, stopping the words in his throat. He now feels the tears on his cheeks, didn’t even realise he was crying. He didn’t think he had any tears left to cry after that day, almost 15 years ago. But they were still there and he was crying in front of her. Her.

Killian looks down, shame filling his chest. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you this. Especially you.”

“Especially me?”

He sniffs, wiping away his tears. “Aye, I mean you’re a werewolf and we just met.”

“And yet, you have already seen my boobs.” He lets out a surprised laugh, looking up to see her soft eyes and kind smile. Wow. Her brow furrows and her eyes grow worried. “Are you scared of me?”

“I— I—” He wants to say no, that he could never be. But he wants to be honest. “I was.” He takes a gentle hold on her wrists, keeping the comforting weight of her hands on his shoulders, thumb slowly rubbing her skin. “I thought I was going to die in that forest either by that other wolf or by both of you but then, well, you saved me.”

Her cheeks flushed red and she slowly pulled away from his touch, arms crossed over her chest. “His name is Henry,” At Killian’s frown, she clarified. “The wolf who attacked you. He’s young, recently turned, this is his second full moon. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I assumed,” He shrugs and she looks up at him, surprised. “I read a lot about how full moons affect werewolves.”

“And yet—”

“We’ve established that I was stupid, already, Swan.”

She snorts a laugh and it makes him smile. “I found him during his first transformation and we talked, I tried to help. But this time you were there and so he lashed out.”

“I’m sorry—”

She waves away his apology. “It’s like I said, I’ll heal soon.” She shrugs.

“You weren’t affected,” he says after a minute. “You didn’t attack me.” 

She shrugs with a deep breath. “I’ve had a lot of time to control this, and with time, Henry will learn too.” 

“How long have you been like this?”

“If we’re getting into my origin story, I need to sit down. This still stings.” She waves towards her side before gesturing for him to join her on the couch.

They sit on opposite ends, even as he turns towards her. She sighs, and he watches as she closes her eyes to focus. “I was 16. I was living in the streets of Boston and I met this guy, Neal. He was older and I thought he was so cool,” She shakes her head in shame and he places his hand on top of hers on the couch cushions. She takes a deep breath, keeping her eyes on their hands. “We were together for a while, crashed at empty motel rooms, and it all looked so exciting back then. One day, he tells me he has to leave. He has to leave because someone bad is looking for him. He tells me he stole something from them and they have been trying to find him.”

Her breathing gets quicker and he holds her hand. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupts, her hand tightening its grip on his. “Neal tells me he wants to give it back but he’s afraid and so I volunteered to do the drop for him. I didn’t know what to expect but I thought I was in love and that if I did this then we’d be able to be together and have a future.” She scoffs. “He tricked me, he sent me to the middle of a literal wolf’s den and they were furious when they found that the bag was empty.”

Her hand grips his painfully hard but he says nothing, simply listening.

“I must have blacked out. I woke up alone in an alley and my body felt different. Everything was so loud and hot and overwhelming. My first transformation was so painful and I was alone, I didn’t know what to do. I ran. I ran until I found myself here in Storybrooke.” Emma takes a deep breath, her grip loosening on his hand and he rubs her skin with his thumb. She pulls her hand away from his grip and he forces himself to let her go. “Granny found me and helped me. I got this cabin after the sheriff died and I work at her diner.”

“Why here?”

“Graham was a friend, he cared for me and I cared for him. He left me this place in his will and I needed a place to deal with the full moons. Granny helped me but I needed reassurance, I didn’t want to put anyone in danger.” 

“And now?” 

“I like this place,” she smiles softly as she looks around the living room.

“What about Ruby?” Emma turns to him with a frown. “I work with her. Veterinary, remember?” She rolls her eyes and he smiles. “I asked her about you but she didn’t say anything.”

“You asked her about me?” She smirks but there is a red tint to her cheeks.

“Well, aye,” he scratches the back of his ear with a matching blush. “I would see you around town and — just — does she know?” He stutters to try and change the subject.

“She does,” she nods, her smirk softening. “She’s my best friend and a big help.”

Her tone hid something. “Is she—?”

“Yup. She was born like that so yeah, big help.” She chuckles.

Killian sits back with a sharp exhale, hand in his hair. “Wow, I never thought I’d find myself in a town with so many of you.” He pauses and turns to Emma, watching as she hides her frown. “I mean, I came here for a fresh start. I went through a rough break-up and just wanted to drive until I found my place. My car broke down by the town sign and while I waited at Granny’s, I heard Ruby talk about the problems her clinic was going through. I wanted to help and I ended up staying. That was almost two months ago.”

“She talks very highly of you.” 

“Oh, well, the feeling is mutual,” He blushes and sees a spark of something in her eyes even as she tries to hide it with a smile. “She is a good friend and an even better partner. I just never thought she was a werewolf too.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, I — I mean,” he stutters and lets out a groan at his inability to express his thoughts. “I thought it would be a problem. For more than a decade, I’ve feared and hated werewolves for what they did to my brother, that I forgot to consider that there were people behind the animal. I admire Ruby and care so much for her that I can’t think about being afraid of her.”

“And me?” He turns to see her watching him intensely and he is unable to look away.

“You saved me,” he breathes out. “In a short moment, you turned my world upside down. You made me reevaluate all that I thought I knew. It’s not a problem, Emma.”

Her eyes stare into his in silence, his heart thumping against his ribcage. Her hair is like gold under the late morning sun and her skin looks so soft. He can’t stop himself from running a finger down her forearm, feeling its warmth. Her breathing hitches and her eyes widen.

He wants to kiss her. The thought barrels into his mind so fast that he feels his own breath get stuck in his throat. He knew how beautiful she was, remembers thinking it during the second they had looked at each other, but that was nothing compared to the desire filling him now.

“I don’t know if you remember,” he speaks quietly, not wanting to shatter the moment. “But we’ve seen each other before.” She hums and his lips tick up in a small smile. “We, um, ran into each other a couple of days ago in the supermarket?”

“I — I remember.” 

He swallows against the lump in his throat. Rip the bandage.

“I asked Granny about you and she told me where you live.” Emma frowns. “You dropped this.” From his pocket, he takes out a small silver pendant, a swan carved on it. “I found it on the floor after you ran away.”

“Oh.” She takes the pendant from his hand, her fingers touching his.

“I, uh, I came here to give you that.”

“You went into the forest, at night, through a full moon, just to give me this?” Emma asks with an even tone, her shining eyes gazing into his.

Killian takes a deep breath. “Aye.”

“You’re such an idiot.” She breathes out, and before he can defend himself again, her lips are on his and there are other more important things he could be doing with his mouth.

Her mouth is hard against his, her hands strong on his shoulders and her tongue demanding entrance. He places his hands on her neck and waist, urges her to slow down, needs her to slow down. He has spent so much time dreaming of kissing her that he can’t have their first kiss be an impulsive mess. She lets out a breath and allows him to kiss her calmly, softly. Her hands dig into his hair and he moans against her lips. Her kisses stray to his cheek, to his jawline, small nibbles making him breathe heavier, his hand clenching on her waist. 

Her lips are soft when they get to his neck, focusing on his pulse, her tongue licking and tasting. His breathing is harsh, pleasure coursing through his veins to pool at his crotch. Her teeth sink into his skin and he gasps. She quickly pulls away, wide eyes on his neck and whatever she sees there and his face. 

“Emma—” He brings his hand up to touch her face but he barely feels the softness of her skin when she pulls away to stand. 

“No. No.” She shakes her head and he is still as he watches her run to the bathroom and lock the door behind her.

“Emma?” He follows her, calling her name from the other side of the door. “Emma, is everything okay?”

“No, no,” She answers and he can tell she is pacing on the other side. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He ignores the stab to his heart and clears his throat. “I mean, I was a willing participant.” He tries to joke but all he hears is a groan from inside. “Emma, please, open the door, let’s talk about this.”

“No, there’s nothing to talk about, it was a mistake.” Her voice is panicked and he pushes down his emotions. 

“Fine, we’ll forget about it,” he forces himself to say. “We’ll call it an act of gratitude, I returned something precious to you and you saved my life. What do you say?” There is silence from the other side. “We’re stuck in this small cabin together, Emma, don’t hide away in there.”

The silence continues for a moment longer and he holds his breath. The lock unlatches and he takes a couple of steps back. The door opens to a much calmer Emma but with a guarded expression. “Neal gave me that pendant,” she says and her voice is quiet. “I felt so special. After he abandoned me, I saw it as a reminder not to trust again.”

He presses his lips together, his hands eager to reach, to comfort, to beat this Neal to a pulp. “I’m sorry, love, I almost wish I had lost it in the snow.”

Her chuckle is weak but it’s real. She takes a deep breath. “Do you like to read?”

The question takes him by surprise and her smile widens. “Hmm, aye, I do.”

“Good,” She walks past him to the living room, stopping at the bookcase. “As you can see, there’s no TV so—”

“I am good with books,” He grins at her and surveys her collection. “The Princess Bride? I haven’t read this in years.” He takes the book off the shelf, noting its overused state, and turns to watch her looking at him with curiosity.

“It’s my favourite, actually.”

“Fan of dashing pirates?” He raises his eyebrow before sauntering to the couch, sprawling on one side. 

“Actually, yeah,” she smirks as she grabs a different book, an adventure book, he notices, and imitates his movements to settle at the other side. “Are you a fan of princesses?”

“I did dress up as Buttercup my last year in college,” he answers, focusing on opening the book. “I even found a few Westley’s to complete the ensemble.” He turns to her with a wink.

Her mouth is parted for a few seconds before it stretches into a smile. “Oh, I would have paid to see that!”

“I cut quite the figure in that dress.”

She lets out a delighted laugh that he can’t help but match. Emma leans back on the couch as her laughter dies down, watching him with interest. “You are definitely not what I thought you would be.”

“I could say the same about you.” He smiles back at her.

Her eyes are so green that even the lowering sun can’t keep them from shining. His lips still tingle from her kiss, his hands still ache for the touch of her skin and yet, he is unable to have her once more. He wants to feel her touch, her kiss. But he’ll follow her lead, he wants her to be able to trust him — he doesn’t want to take, he wants it to be given.

“We should, hmm,” Emma presses her lips together in a small smile and raises her book as a way to finish the sentence.

Killian nods, understanding the need for a reprieve. “Aye.”

They turn to their books as one, letting silence fill the small, warm cabin. He wishes he had picked up an unfamiliar book, something he’d never read before. He knew the story of Buttercup and Westley like the back of his hand, had read it as many times as his second-hand book had allowed. And while it was still easy to get absorbed in their universe of adventure and romance, he was still very aware of Emma’s presence, her breathing, her warmth. It’s not uncomfortable but he feels the tension in every hair on his body.

Night falls in the quiet and the full moon’s light joins the artificial light in the cabin. Emma inhales sharply and he turns to her for the first time in hours to watch as she looks up at the skylight. 

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Emma nods, dragging her eyes from the large face of the moon. “It always catches me by surprise the way it calls to me.”

He joins her with his neck stretched on the back of the couch to watch the moon for a minute. When he turns, he finds her watching him. “Is there anything you need?”

Emma shakes her head, in more than just an answer. “No, it’s been a while since I’ve been a slave to it,” she clarifies with a small smile. “It just makes everything so much clearer and intense.” She takes a deep breath. “Are you hungry?”

He snorts in surprise. “Aye, actually.”

“Great,” she grins. “Make us something good.” She winks at him before making herself more comfortable on the couch.

“Right,” he laughs. “I have to earn my keep, don’t I?”

“Exactly.” Her smile makes his heart flutter in his chest, the brightness and beauty of it stealing his breath away. “Just a hint, I’m a big fan of grilled cheese.”

He stands up, dropping the book on his empty seat and grins. “That sounds less like a hint and more like a menu.”

“Get to it then, chef.” 

His laughter follows him into the kitchen. 

“You know, while I cook,” Killian calls from the kitchen. “You should probably check on your injury. You said you heal fast, right?”

“A chef and a doctor, maybe I should keep you around.” She grins before heading to the bathroom.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He mumbles under his breath.

Killian tries to stop himself from imagining what a life with Emma would be in this cabin, how they would spend their evenings. The smell of cheese fills the whole cabin and with it, the sound of a hungry werewolf’s feet padding to his side. 

“Something smells delicious.” He tries to keep himself from reacting to her voice so close to him. 

“Grilled cheese, just like milady ordered.” She grins up at him before taking the plate from his hands. “How did the wound look?”

“It’s scarring,” She lifts her shirt only enough to show him the barely-there bite and he nods. “Is it approved, Doctor Jones?”

He laughs delightedly at the sound of it from her lips before joining her at the table. “Aye.” 

Though the food is good, the company is better. She tells him about the book she was reading, an adventure in Egypt with a very clever librarian and a brave if arrogant adventurer. They return to their books after tidying up the kitchen. Buttercup is about to attempt to stab herself in the chest when a yawn startles him. It has been a long day.

“Maybe it’s time to sleep,” Emma suggests, closing the book. She bites her lip as she looks around the cabin, her eyes landing on the bed.

As much as he would love to share one, they had agreed to put that kiss behind them. “I’ll take the couch,” he says, dropping his book on the coffee table. 

“Oh.” He wonders if he truly hears disappointment in her voice or if it’s just wishful thinking. “Right, that’s great. I’ll bring you some blankets.”

Emma moves faster than he could, rummaging around a wooden chest. The couch is comfortable and wide enough to fit his long body, but he can’t help but wish he could share the slim bed with Emma, to feel her body close to his. Then again, that would also be a dangerous and torturous situation.

He removes his sweater and jeans, folding them neatly on top of the table. Blankets land on the couch and he turns to see Emma standing far closer to him than he expected. Her eyes are wide and her pupils almost black and he wishes he could read her mind. 

“I—”

She shakes her head, taking a step back. “Goodnight.” She blurts out before wrapping herself in her bed, the only thing visible is the top of her blonde head.

“Goodnight.”

Killian takes his time getting comfortable on the couch, forcing himself not to search for her silhouette in the dark. He forces his eyes closed, forces his body to relax, to find sleep so that he might forget his desires. He isn’t cold under the blankets, but there is a lack of warmth that he recognises as the one he felt from her skin. He forces himself to sleep and begs for relief.

---

This was a terrible idea.

Her skin is filled with prickles, a need to move, to run, to touch, to be touched. Her nose is buried in her pillow, hoping her own scent will distract her from the intoxicating scent of his sleeping body. His scent is delicious torture, she knows it well, not only from the day they’ve spent in each other’s company but from all the times they’d pass each other in town.

Her breathing is ragged and she feels as if she can’t take a proper breath. She clenches her hands against the sheets, hoping that it will stop her from succumbing to her nature. She wants to feel his skin against hers again, to feel his pulse against her lips. It has been hours of torture in her bed and she forces herself to endure a few more.

It doesn’t work.

She is standing next to his sleeping body before she has taken her next breath. He is on his back, one arm behind his head and the other over his stomach and his legs are crossed. The blanket that she gave him is at his waist and she can feel how warm his body is even from a distance. His lips are parted and his breathing is even and quiet. His heartbeat is calm and she can hear his blood in his veins. 

Her nose is a whisper away from the bulging vein in his neck. Just as she remembered, like the sweetest fruit, like the most powerful poison. She feels his warm breath on her fingertips, sees his eyes move underneath his eyelids and she wishes to know what he is dreaming of. She feels the soft skin of his lips on her forefinger. She wants to feel that softness on her own lips again. She wants to take, to claim him. She wants— She needs—

Emma swallows his surprised breath with her lips, with her kiss, their mouths moulded perfectly to one another once more. She forces herself to pull away, even as her hand clenches in the fabric of his t-shirt. His eyes are wide and she is sure hers are much the same. 

“Emma…”

Her name is a whisper from his lips, the most bewitching of enchantments and the most beautiful of songs. Like before, he isn’t stopping her, isn’t refusing her kiss, her touch, and she hears his heart beating fast and loud against his chest. His breathing is ragged and his warmth has risen several degrees. She wants him. She needs him.

Their lips lock in a passionate kiss, his warm hand burning the skin of her neck. She pulls her leg up to straddle him, wanting to be closer and closer. His other hand lands on her waist and she feels the stirring of his arousal beneath her, making her moan against his lips.

Killian pulls away, his thumb on her lips but she is far too gone to stop now, kissing his finger, the palm of his hand, the thumping pulse on his wrist, her tongue licking, tasting. Words pause at his throat, chest filling with a sharp inhale.

“Emma.” His voice forces itself firmly under all the passion that is surely matching hers. “I thought—”

“I know,” she interrupts, her nails running down his chest. She knows — knows that she was the one who stopped their kiss before, knows that she’s the one who ran. She was scared of her desires, scared that he would be afraid of her nature, but she feels the urge of the moon. Feels it urging her to take him, to claim him. “But I need you.” Her teeth nip against his bottom lip, her hands finding their way inside his shirt, and she swallows his moan with a kiss. “Please?”

He looks at her, searching, and she feels her skin crawl with need. His breathing is rapid, his heartbeat under her palm and echoing in her ears, she grinds her hips down against his, involuntarily. He nods, a frantic motion as his hands grip her hips, whether to stop her or to quicken her movements, she isn’t sure he knows which either.

“As you wish.”

His hand grabs her neck and pulls her in for a kiss. His mouth takes control, and she is glad for it — she feels overwhelmed by his taste, his scent, his other hand grabbing her ass and urging her to move against his growing erection. It’s too much and not enough.

His teeth nip her bottom lip as her thumbs find his nipples. She feels his chest hair on her palms and is eager to feel it against her breasts. His hand runs up her bare back and she is glad to have removed her bra before jumping him. His breath stutters as he finds nothing stopping him from feeling her skin and his hand moves back down only to run up her side, shivers making her buck in his lap. His thumb finds the underside of her breast and he inhales sharply. She pulls her lips away from his but keeps eye contact. She sighs as his hand cups her breast, his rough palm on her nipple making her moan. 

“Fuck,” he moans, his thumb flicking her nipple. It’s too much. It’s not enough. She removes her hands from under his shirt to pull her own off her body. “Fuck.” He repeats before he pulls her down to run his lips down her chest. 

His mouth finds her nipple and she digs her fingers in his hair, keeping his talented mouth right where she needs it. His hand stimulates her lonesome breast while his other hand finds its way inside her shorts and underwear. She stutters out a moan when she feels his fingers on her clit. 

“Killian,” she moans and is surprised when he raises himself into a sitting position, his mouth more firm against her breast. “Killian.”

“Say it again,” he demands as he sucks on her nipple and his fingers slide into her wet folds. “Please, say it again.”

“Killian,” she moans, tugging on his hair to bring his face up to hers. His eyes are blown-black and his breathing is heavy. “Killian.” She presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. “Killian,” She moans as she tugs on his bottom lip when she feels his thumb circling her clit. “Killian.”

“Emma,” he moans and she can see why he wanted her to say his name again. “Emma,” It’s like a shock to her system, like a warm blanket on a cold night, like a kiss, like a bite. “Emma.” 

“Fuck,” She groans and pulls his shirt off, needing him naked, needing to see him, needing to feel him. “I need you.”

“I need you too.”

With his hands on her ass, he raises her up on her knees. He tosses the blanket to the floor before pulling off his underwear. After, he pulls her to lay on top of him and she feels his erection against the fabric of her shorts and the tingling of his chest hair on her nipples. His mouth crashes against hers and she is overwhelmed with sensations but needs more, needs it all. His hand pulls down her shorts and she takes them off the rest of the way. His body is warm when she lays back against him and she lets out a satisfied sigh.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers against her lips, his hand running up her bare leg while his other lays on her neck. “You’re brilliant.” His fingers skim the roundness of her ass before moving down. “You’re intoxicating.” His fingers find her wetness and she gasps.

“Please, please, please,” she mumbles as her hips grind against his fingers.

He takes her in a passionate kiss just as his fingers slide inside her. Her moan is lost in his mouth and she digs her nails in his arms. She moves her hips in time with his hand, urging him to take her faster and she gasps when he does. She wonders if this is only a very realistic fantasy, if it’s possible for someone to make her feel this way so easily. She can’t wait anymore. 

She pulls away from him, his fingers slipping from her to land on her butt cheek. His eyes are hazy with lust and hers are much the same. She sits on his lap and feels the thickness of his cock against her, teasing her, calling her to her. He inhales sharply and holds his breath, watching the stars shining up in the sky behind her, the glow of the moon illuminating her bare back, waiting for her next move.

“I need you,” she repeats and grinds against him, covering his length with her essence. He nods, his jaw tight and his hand clenching on her ass. 

Splaying one hand on his chest for balance, she takes hold of his cock, lining it up to her awaiting cunt. With locked eyes, Emma raises herself up and allows it to enter her. He is thick, hard and warm, and she takes it all in one slow drag. They both breathe out as one, embracing how full she feels, how right she feels around him. How perfect it is to be joined.

His hands run up her thighs, settling at her hips. She closes her eyes at the softness, the warmth of his touch. “Emma,” he calls quietly, his hands urging her hips to move, and she finds him watching her. “You feel amazing.”

She moves slowly, unrushed. She lets her body adjust to this amazing intrusion as she studies him, the effects of pleasure in his face, his furrowed brow, his parted lips, his tightening grip. Her fingers clench over his chest at every wave of pleasure this languid motion brings. Their eyes lock as she moves and she feels it like a caress over her body. His hands drag slowly up her torso and her back arches in expectation of his touch. She gasps as he palms one breast while thumbing the other’s nipple. 

“More,” she moans, bucking up and down faster on his lap. “More.”

Emma whimpers as he directs one hand away from her breast but grins when she feels his thumb on her clit. “That’s it, love,” he urges her, his voice tight with restraint. “I want to see you.”

Her nails dig on his chest when his feet find purchase on the couch cushions to thrust up against her. His gasp turns into a moan at the pain mixed with pleasure and dimly she wonders how far she could take it without breaking him. His thumb presses down on her clit and she throws her head back, her orgasm catching her by surprise, a loud moan spilling from her lips.

He slows down his ministrations, allowing her to ride out her climax, her body buzzing in need of more. She lets out a breath and locks eyes with him once more, a silent demand in her green eyes. Killian sits up, changing the angle of his still hard cock inside her and making them both inhale sharply. Her arms wrap around his neck, his soft hair between her fingers.

“You want more?” Emma nods, their noses bumping with one another at the movement, and she thrills at the smirk on his lips. Is this what prey feel under her stare? “I’ll give you more.”

He crashes his mouth on hers, a hard, burning, desperate kiss. His hands run up her back, and she arches against his chest, moaning against his lips at the feel of his chest hair against her hard nipples. He manoeuvres them so that she’s on her back on the couch, his hot, heavy body on top of hers making her feel safe, cared for, in a way she’d never felt before.

The new position sends him deeper inside her, shivers running down her body. He chances a slow thrust of his hips. “Give me more,” she moans, sighing when he complies. “Give me everything.” Her nails dig into his back as he starts a steady pace. “Everything.”

Killian groans as he speeds up, setting a faster, deeper pace, their foreheads pressed against each other. The breath is stolen from her lungs every time he hits that spot inside her, the spot that demands that she take him, that she keep him, that she claim him. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him ever closer and she feels his laboured breathing on her face.

“I want you,” she whispers, nails dragging deep in his skin and she thrills at his moan. “I need you.” She kisses his cheek, his jawline, his neck, inhaling the smell of his blood, his essence. “Can I take you? Can I keep you?”

His hips falter in their rhythm as he pulls back to look into her eyes. She lets him see, opening herself up to him in more ways than the obvious one. His eyes are wide but even that couldn’t hide his desire, and he nods.

Her grin is barely stretched over her lips before they part in a gasping moan when he resumes his thrusts, pushing in deeper than before. She kisses his neck, licking the sensitive spot below his ear, following his vein. She kisses and sucks on his skin, he groans against her skin and his hand tightens on her skin before she bites down until she tastes his blood on her tongue.

“Fuck!”

She feels him spill inside her, a string of curses groaned against her skin. His orgasm triggers her — his talented ministrations joined with the taste of his delicious essence. An all-encompassing climax that makes time stand still, makes her feel like she’s flying. She pulls away from his skin, the mark of her bite on his neck filling her up with pride and satisfaction.

“Emma,” he breathes out, before groaning at the feel of her tongue cleaning up his wound. The renewed taste of his blood makes her moan and clench around him. “Emma,” he whispers.

She pulls back to look into his eyes, the starry night behind him making him look almost ethereal. He moves them to their sides, legs tangled. “I’ve been wanting to taste you for a while,” She confesses and tries to hide her blush at his tired smirk and raised eyebrow. “You smell good,” She shrugs, her fingers following the veins of his arms. “I was trying to keep in control, I didn’t want to scare you or take you against your wishes. But I’ve wanted to…”

His smile becomes more genuine and she lays her hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling his steady heartbeat. “I’ve wanted you for a while too,” he confesses, pressing a chaste kiss on her lips. “Since I first saw you, I wanted to talk to you, to kiss you, to be with you. When I saw that pendant on the floor, I made it my chance.”

She looks down at where her hand is threading through his chest hair. “Bet you weren’t expecting all of this…” She lets sarcasm hide her worry.

“No, I wasn’t.” He tucks a finger under her chin, bringing her gaze up to his. She finds him still smiling, his eyes open and trusting. “But I’m not complaining. This was perhaps the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

“Yeah,” she breathes out, arms wrapping around him. “I’m not complaining either.” 

“Well, you complained a lot earlier.” He raises his eyebrow at her, a smile taking the accusation out of his remark.

She rolls her eyes. “That’s because I could barely control myself at a distance, much less in such close quarters.”

She expected arrogance, or pride, but he just looks worried. “Am I allowed to hope that this won’t be a one-time thing?”

She pressed her lips together to hide her smile. “Is your stamina that bad? I could go for anot—” She is interrupted when Killian pushes her against her back once more, his half-hard cock pressing against her.

“Oh, I haven’t had my fill of you, you minx.” He grins, grinding against her clit to make a point and thrilling when she lets out an involuntary moan. “But I meant,” he licks his lips and looks at her with sincerity. “After today? When we’re no longer snowed in?”

Emma wraps her arms over his shoulders, her fingers tracing the marks she left on his back. She tries to find that feeling in her gut that warns her, tries to find reasons not to accept what he’s proposing. But she can’t. There is one thing she knows for certain: she can trust Killian Jones.

“When we’re no longer snowed in,” she starts slowly, feeling the tension that accumulated in his body. “I know a great restaurant for our first date.”

His smile is bright enough to put the sun to shame and she knows she made the right decision when he kisses her like he never wants to do anything else. Because neither does she.

[ratratratratratsewer]

Hello! I see on your pinned post that you do G&B requests and as a writer who sucks at writing (who is trying to write). I find it hard to write and understand characters that are not my own. I have a ✨Request✨ (you don't have to do it if you don't want to ofc) Can you do just general headcanons for some of the NPC in the game (examples: Jean, Barry) Thanks for your time and stay hydrated!!! ♥︎

Hello, thank you for your request. And honestly I'm as much a bad writer and the only reason I take requests is because it helps me improve my writing and have more creativity in understanding a simple character's behaviour even with their short amount of time of showing up:)

Anyways, you too keep yourself hydrated!

I could only do 3 of the more 'popular' NPCs since their behaviour stood out the most and actually show their own different personalities. (well, jacob is somewhat biased..)

But no worries, I'll start to work on other NPCs when i'm ready. For now, they might be ooc cause it's simply headcanons. Fun police please don't find me 👁️

1. Jacob:

- It's like the whole fandom agrees that he's muted/doesn't talk much. He talks by body language and expression, though it's more leaning into body language.

- Guy can speak, but only when he has to. Most of the time he rather keeps it to himself.

- Jacob is honestly a chill guy, he might be silent most of the time but he got some incredible listening. The type of guy to remember things you said from a whole decade ago. He doesn't give a fuck on anything, you could push him around or hugging him, pulling him and he wouldn't care as long it not bad intentioned. Great at detecting lies.

- He can't smile. I mean he can, but it would turn out wanky wonky, stiff as hell. Basically 😬 but well expressed if he's grossed out by something. Just imagine a simple 😐 face turning into something more detailed and expressive to exaggerate his disgust towards anything.

- Doesn't acquire bitches. (That's suck man..)/j

- Used to have long hair but shaved it off because wearing a shako is hot as fuck, plus it would get in his eyes. His team probably slapped his shiny bald head at least once a day, or just rubbed it aggressively every time he took his shako off. It's an addiction.

- People don't know his actual name, they just call him Jacob and he now is Jacob. (Personal headcanon..)

- Elders love him, no but like he would be really nice and respectful towards elders. Unironically would stack candies they gave him and refused to share, he barely eats them smfh.

2. Barry Williams:

- Your stereotypical English man, thick accent and a ginger.

- This guy would have the funniest laugh you would ever seen in your entire life, to the point if he laughs at something, it is contagious because his laugh is hilarious. A full on snorting and broken pitched, wheezing, coughing and he's gripping his stomach typa shit.

- Big hands, very warm hands. Bear paws. His hands are also sweaty. Barry himself is hella beefy.

- A gap in his teeth, always has the food stuck in there every time he eats and has to spend time getting it off. Accidentally poked his gum once and died right on the spot.

- Would coo at any babies or animals if he manage to see one in sight.

"Look a' them!"

- Bigg teethy smile, got his eyes wrinkled in glee and the dimples completed it. Happiest smile. Like look at him go :D (go englishman go)

- A dog person probably, he likes dogs, he loves dogs. Dogs also love him, wants a dog a while ago but due to the circumstances, he can't :(

-Dislikes being whispered in the ear, it itches as hell and he doesn't like people's breath fanning over the side of his face.

- Eats alot, he's not really picky. His appetite probably the size of 3 people combined. He can eat to keep his body going, but definitely not full enough.

3. Jean.

- A humble guy, despite his obvious talents and his excellent works along with his effort for literally anything.

- Fancy mustache he takes really fucking good care of it. It so fancy to the point his fellow teammates would actually thought of him being a higher rank but instead he's just the same as them.

- I'm sorry, but women and older women definitely adore him (who wouldn't). He's a respectful, handsome looking guy. Dude always got a group of people staring at him while he's minding his own business. Probably deny that he doesn't have admirers.

- A good talker he is, people couldn't really bring themselves to dislike him. He got acquaintances almost everywhere, people recognize him and he recognizes them too. Even if they didn't know him shit, he just knows them.

"Ah, ---- talked about you before. |||| isnt it?"

"😧"

- A romantic frenchman, Jean enjoys poetry and arts. He found himself admiring the works of buildings as he passed by, statues, drawing, novels.

- Would act like those dads who would have their hands on any kind of architect. Or watching a dude fixing stuffs with such focus.

- Sneezed like hes releasing the demon inside.