#i can just imagine them eyeing each other and craving each other carnally while also despising and being jealous of everything

[protect-daniel-james]

gotta say I love all this "would Unai have won a title with Arsenal" debate (although it's silly and pointless; Unai was working with a completely different group of players, plus he wasn't able to create the same sense of *family* that Arteta has, didn't have that safety net of club background etc.) - mostly because it adds the extra spice for when they finally meet. hopefully it inspires some more lovely graphics

[eldritch-spouse]

I'd give almost anything to be squished between Vesper and Santi.

[You'll give your holes, that's for sure. Fem reader.]

" Are you sure I'm ready? "

Santi watches you squirm in place, picking and plucking at an outfit that shows more skin than anything you've ever put on before. He assured you, several times, that by the standards of Lust you're being very conservative.

The incubus rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundredth time, but tries to be patient. After all, going to Hell, even if just for a little visit, isn't something all humans treat casually. Especially not his darling match, poor thing that you are, so ignorant of his origins, his nature. Visiting the King of Lust specifically is twofold the stress for your little head, he must imagine.

" And why wouldn't you be, love? "

You huff.

" I... I don't know... What if I get nervous and say something really stupid? This is a -What did you call them?- An Icon of Hell, I can't be making a fool of myself- "

" Dearest. " The dark demonoid interrupts, lifting himself off a lush bed to stand behind your figure in the mirror. " Vesper may be a King, but he's also my friend. I only want him to know about us, you're going to do just fine. "

Averting your gaze from his, your lips are still firmly set in a frown.

Santi whispers sweetly. " Don't you trust me? "

" Y- Yes. "

There's a grin. He plays with the hem of your scarce top enough to let a nipple flash for a lurid second.

" Then do this one favor for me, I promise you'll like him. He's quite the character. " Understatement.

He can hear your heartbeat pound inside the vehicle.

The trip through his birth Ring has been uneventful for the most part. It could only have been that. You may be considered fresh meat by his kin that inhabit this particular zone of Hell, but you're accompanied by a high-ranker and being escorted in a limousine sporting the royal insignia.

No one would dare interfere.

It doesn't stop the curious glances, the oohs and aahs, or the sights Lust often has on display. The streets are an open ground for depravity, it's very standard to watch pairs and groups of demonoids crawling over each other in a cacophony of moans, humans and monsters alike giving into their carnal whims, lewd smiles on their faces as they're paraded in fetish gear and shown off like the prizes many of them are.

Santi watches your scandalized expressions as you nearly fog up the window in morbid curiosity.

" S- Santi! "

" Mm? "

" They're- Oh lord, they're tied to a post Santi! "

He arches a brow, fingers ceasing their casual groping of your thighs to glance out, seeing some poor sod of a human tied to a street post by the wrists. They look disheveled and pant in exertion, sweaty, infernal obscenities scribbled on their skin while gratuitous amounts of seed ooze out of their orifices. They lean on the post for support.

" Oh, the poor thing- " He jests, failing to keep straight-faced at your glare. " They're going to keel over! "

The fiend who had just finished using the community cumdump gives them a loving pat on the head and reaches from a bag to offer the human water. The two appear to be chatting idly. Santi watches confusion etch itself in your pretty complexion at the contrast of the human's bruised, exhausted state and the care they're shown by the one you recognize as an assailant.

The nature of Lust is conflicting.

It's oftentimes hard to tell whether or not someone is here of their own volition, partaking and letting go because they decided to, or because they caved under the Ring's influence and began to enjoy their unfortunate demise.

Some people argue that Lust is the most merciful Ring of Hell for those that get dragged into the annex, because while you may lose yourself, your last lucid moments are spent in utter bliss, and that bliss is what you'll know from henceforth. Others argue that Lust offers the ultimate humiliation of the soul, turning you into a beast of the flesh that craves only to use and be used.

Santi doesn't quite care. The end result is always the same, everyone enjoys themselves here.

Deciding that perhaps it's best not to let you get too into your own head, the incubus looms behind your concentrated figure and plants soft kisses on the back of your neck, gently coaxing you to turn around so he can pull you into his lap and shower you in idle affections.

" Santi... " You start while he kisses the back of your hand.

" Yes, love? "

" How did you and the King meet? "

What a question.

He doesn't want to think too much about those days, that past which seems so distant yet not at all. He was someone else, back then. Someone harsher, someone you wouldn't have fancied, someone who'd make you quake in fear even if your loins sang. He wouldn't have been able to appreciate you for the treasure that you are, during that period. You deserve more than that, you're worth the world and all its pleasures.

" I don't remember all that well anymore, but I know it was during a party, sweetness. " He vaguely replies.

" An orgy. " You correct him, having started to put two and two together about the cultural cues of a concubus' speech.

" Same thing. " Santi counters, knowing very well there's a difference.

A silence settles for a brief couple of moments where the incubus gets to close his eyes and bask in the comfort of your perfect form, feeling your every muscle twitch against him, the hitch of your breath as arousal has yet to fade from your system.

He's doing this intentionally.

For things to go well today, it's ideal for you to always be somewhat stimulated. Plus, he's always loved watching you writhe and try to conceal your own desires. Not as much as Santi adores seeing you boldly demand he do obscenities to you. For you. To please you.

" You used to live here before, right? "

" Mhmm... " He hums smoothly.

" What made you want to leave Hell? "

Santi halts, gathering his thoughts, coming up with a decently abstract yet still valid answer.

" I wasn't happy with myself back then, love. I figured a change of scenery couldn't hurt. "

Half-truths, oh bittersweet as they are, he almost doesn't feel bad when you smile your blind acceptance.

" I'm glad you decided to leave. "

The monster's heart stirs in its confines.

" What, you wouldn't want to move in here? The heart of Lust? " Santi mocks.

" Fuck no- "

And he cackles.

You've entered mansion grounds.

This sly-eyed imp with pointed hair introduced himself as King Vesper's head imp, and has been escorting you two through the halls of the royal mansion so far.

If you had to describe the place, you'd call it deceptive.

Deceptively ornate. Suspiciously calm. Questioningly beautiful.

There's something amiss, is a better way to put the vibe of this location.

Varying shades of pink fade invitingly into purples and reds that seem to comfort and beckon. Many were the gold-swirled corners and turns that you peered into momentarily before returning to following the guide. The furniture and décor is just standardly royal enough to make you wonder if many of the set ups are meant to be as phallic and yonic as they seem. You could swear one of the walls had patterns carved into it that resembled the vulvas of countless individuals. A statue was poised just suggestively enough that it resembled malehood. Many are the paintings and figurines scattered across walls and vases depicting pairs and groups of lovers entangled in dirty yet passionate acts. Are the objects on the shelves meant to be sex toys or just peculiarly shaped abstract figurines?

When passing by what Lacai called the "Hall of His Majesty's Favorite Commissions", Santi covered your eyes occasionally. As far as you could tell, it appeared to be furnished with many differently styled depictions of Vesper's raunchy adventures with a plethora of his attractive playmates. You trust Santi's judgement that maybe some of them are too potent for the human eye.

Since the moment you set foot here, your grip on the dark incubus' hand has been iron-like, trying to siphon some of his calmness. Santi looks absolutely enamored with some of the design choices present, making you wonder if maybe he'll do some tweaking to your living space later.

" And we've arrived. " The imp, previously idly chatting with your lover, exclaims.

Two incredibly tall doors separate you three from whatever lies beyond. Infernal is engraved in them, statements you can't discern, stylized in a type of perfect, gentle cursive and accompanied by sculpted tendrils embracing the torsos of emerging demonoid figures sporting androgynous builds.

You can't help but get lost in the expressions of such visceral bliss captured in their faces. They appear to be molds, almost. Alive. Suffering the torments of eternal pleasures. Grotesque, beautiful. Maybe you really are Santi's match after all... Or maybe that's this sweet smell you've been drowning in for a while getting into your head.

" King Vesper will welcome you shortly, if you need anything, do scream my name. "

A wink, directed at both of you, and the head servant is gone, slinking back into the previous halls without a moment's notice.

Perhaps your gulp was a little too loud.

" Deep breaths, you know what's going to happen- " Santi pulls you into a big-titted hug, rubbing your goosebump-riddled skin. " No need to sweat about it. "

Much more easily said than done.

Chuckling and giggling is heard from the other end of the doors.

" There there, all set to rights, head on out honey. "

One of the massive doors parts forward, and a small hand struggles to find balance upon it. A grayish monster woman emerges, shaky, glazed eyes unaware of either of you. She tries to rearrange her fur and tuck loose tufts into her clumsily worn suit, but only succeeds in nearly wobbling to the floor. The stacks of paper and cases under her right arm tell you that this woman came here for some kind of diplomatic task, and probably didn't get much done...

Santi politely helps the lady step forward, unable to wipe away the only slightly mocking grin on his face.

" Do come again, I believe our business isn't quite complete! "

The same voice calls.

It's hard to describe it. Strong, potent, undeniably demanding of everyone's attention to a scary degree, but also loving, desperate, begging you to listen, to come closer. Velveteen reverence and the authority of someone who can take it away from you in the snap of a finger, a tempter, a lover, a challenger.

You don't need to think too hard to understand whose voice that is.

The poor woman mumbles some kind of exasperated farewell before she too disappears into the same halls Lacai had left through.

You recall a conversation about royal etiquette you had earlier with Santi. When the King of Lust accepts a request for a meeting, even if he's not being summoned, it's considered polite and common sense to also bring him something to eat. This meal could come in the form of a second person, or the requester themself. You suppose you know the choice the monster girl made.

" Next please! "

A shudder wracks its way down your body, but a firm warm hand on the small of your back prevents you from stepping back.

You're guided forward, into what appears to be a lavish lounge room, sharing the same inviting tonalities from before. Big couches and beds and tall mirrors with rails and steps spread across the room, even what you think is meant to be a pretty discreet altar in the middle, disguised as an artistic design choice. A neatly arranged table is set up next to a balcony, half obscured by darkened curtains. A great chaise lounge is clearly meant for your majesty, the other smaller two are meant for guests obviously.

The two of you stand politely at the entrance, waiting for acknowledgment, and the odor permeating this room is so intensely thick it feels like it's dripping into your skull, caressing every inch of you.

Alarmingly, your skin becomes feverish and you gasp for much needed air, feeling the peaks of your tits perk immediately, a rush of blood flying to your nethers. You feel the overwhelming urge to drop your already light clothes and throw yourself into one of the many soft cloths offered.

Santi too sniffs and rumbles at the atmosphere, no doubt incensed by the scent of what might have transpired only moments earlier. Although he's much more in control of himself than you, a gentle touch guiding you back into focusing on the present. You thumb at the bracelet he gave you, the one that presses into the inside of your wrist, dispensing a countering substance into the thin sheet of skin there.

Said substance is the only thing that's keeping you from crawling on the floor like a dog in heat.

A large, flowing tail swishes, and the two of you finally have the composure to glance right, met with the visage of King Vesper, naked as the day he was spat onto Hell, grabbing belongings from a fancy cabinet. When he turns around, your breath catches.

It's not entirely news to you. Santi described him to you, and Vesper has got to be the Icon of Hell who most desires to be seen by everyone, so you knew he was pink, voluptuous and fluffy in a few sections.

But seeing him in person is a whole other matter. It doesn't compare to any detailed descriptions.

Only Santi has managed to captivate you more intensely than the demonlord standing before you. It's... Well, if you had to try to put it into words, when you gaze into those big, predatory magenta eyes, it's like the shock of when you first glanced at Santi- But without the warmth in your chest.

No, this here is just warmth in your loins.

No soul in Heaven or Hell is stopping your eyes from dancing all over Vesper's body. From flowing tendrils to piercing pinks, heart-shaped nipples, golden chains, neatly-arranged fluff and thighs for days, a second mouth grinning at the two of you- There's so much to focus on, so much to ogle, that your sight nearly crosses for a moment.

He's a lot.

It's hard to steady your breathing.

Eventually, you notice those purpled claws are holding onto a spiral-shafted bottle and three miss wine glasses. You don't know what's inside the bottle, but it looks like a regular wine.

" Your Majesty- "

" Vesper, Santi. We've been over this. " The Icon frowns.

" Vesper. Long time no see. " Your incubus smiles, a slight wag of the tail behind him.

In contrast, the Icon's entire head tendril curls with happiness. " Oh say less! Much too long! And after this news, I would drag you here myself if you refused my invite. "

Santi nods with an expression that clearly shows he doesn't doubt the King one bit.

Suddenly, the ruler's gaze snaps to you, like a hawk spotting its lunch a mile away. He bends, much too close, invading, before grabbing smoothly onto your left hand. This close, you can smell the lush, almost floral scent coming from what must be that mane around his neck.

" And where have my manners fled- You must be this harlot's one and only match, the human I've so been aching to meet. " A thumb runs across your knuckles.

" Hhh- Hello- It's a pleasure, your majesty. "

Brilliant. Flawless. You definitely didn't choke up like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. Santi chuckles, introducing your name to the monarch, who licks his lips.

" You may recognize me as a King, but just as I said to Santi, tonight you know me not as a ruler, but a friend. A lover, even. " The last part swooned dreamily, planting facetious suggestions.

Then, he does something you should have seen coming. Should have remembered, actually, but even knowing what was about to transpire, no one could blame you for blanking.

Gleefully, the Icon reaches down across his own figure, hands drifting along his front to grope and paw at his fattened slit. It looks good enough to make you want to shove your whole face in there, and frankly that might be the intended effect. In mere practiced seconds, Vesper's cocks proudly slide out.

To say he's hung is an understatement, but he wouldn't be the King of Lust if he didn't sport a trial of willpower between his legs. Two of them, actually. Ringed and slick, with this restless tentacle poking and prodding between them, occasionally latching onto one of those lengths before switching to the other like its indecisive. You can appreciate the pigment of his cocks, which is a weird thing to say but true nonetheless. It makes you wonder how they'd look stained by the wetness of your puffed cunt.

More than gawk, you huff some kind of bewildered animal noise, hues flickering between the Lord's own and Santi's face. When Santi kneels, so do you, blinking as Vesper grows half-hard in a twitch or two.

The lump in your throat won't go down while you observe Santi lean forward and chastely kiss the tip of Vesper's right cock, before swirling his tongue around the head as best as he can and leaning back. He made that look like the most erotic thing you've ever seen, seemingly unbothered by the effect that view had on you when he expectantly beckons you to tend to the spare member.

Nowhere near as charming as a concubus, your small lips tremble when you close your eyes and lean in to imitate the act, cheeks aflame. This will be the first person you've put your lips upon after having started a relationship with Santi. You decide not to think too hard about it. A small peck is planted against Vesper's length, and the shudder that rocks your body afterwards has you exhaling hard through your nose. Although you glance at Santi for approval, he smiles and arches a brow as if to tell you that you're not quite done yet. The cock hovering in front of you flexes and you understand you're going to have to put some heart into it.

By the time you decide to try and swirl your small tongue around the King's tip, he's already beading in excitement, the view of a still somewhat timid human trying to appease him probably doing something for the demonlord.

It's messy. You have to turn your head and put more effort into it than Santi, ever practiced, did. Unfortunately, Vesper tastes almost as good as the other incubus next to you, so even if you're struggling, it's hard to let go. You could suck at him all day if it meant keeping that taste on your tongue.

Eventually, when you do pull away, a string of precum follows, snapping onto your chin and making you try to clean it away with your fingers. A bad idea, they're sticky now. Thankfully, Santi is there to lick them clean for you, winking to let you know you did a good job.

" I do so love making new acquaintances. " Vesper seems to ebb satisfaction. He doesn't bother with his exposed malehood and motions over to the chaise lounge area. " Please, both of you, sit. Talk with me. "

And you do. Of course you do. Your legs might eventually give out if you don't.

The King gracefully splays himself on his seat, uncorking the bottle with his index claw and placing the three differently sized glasses onto the table. You and Santi sit closely on one of the opposite chaises lounges.

" Can I get you lovebirds some temptation rouge? " He purrs, beginning to pour the drinks anyway.

Santi nods. " I'll have some. None for the lady, please. "

Vesper pauses his pouring, the alluring stream of purplish delight fading enough to allow you to focus.

He frowns. " Oh come now. "

The high-ranker doesn't budge. " Vesper, this isn't something humans should- "

" Mmm really? I recall you offering it quite generously. " The King taps idly at the shaft of the bottle, his tone petty.

The black-horned demon offers a look that begs Vesper not to push on the matter, which is apparently met with mercy.

" But I understand, you're in love, the world has a different hue. "

" Yes... You couldn't guess how distinct. "

Not quite deciphering the exchange the two fiends had, you choose to speak up when Vesper inches Santi's drink his way.

" I can have some. "

Santi shoots you a look. " No. No, that's silly- "

Santi's tense, sighing.

But a large paw has already been raised. " Hush! The lady has spoken, and who are we to deny her? "

" Surely, just one sip is alright. Besides, she's a virgin of Lust, let her enjoy some of my land's exquisite offerings. "

You watch the King pour half a glass for you. You're no virgin, how could you be with Santi by your side? Though saying that someone is a virgin in Lust generally means that it's their first time visiting the Ring.

You spot a muscle on Santi's arm twitch when you cautiously grab the miss wine cup. You know the contents within are likely a very potent aphrodisiac, perhaps a psychostimulant, something that'll make you trip balls essentially. After all, concubi don't drink or eat out of necessity, so this clearly has a use.

" Thank you. " Santi responds, a bit flatter.

Reclining on the seat, the Icon sips out of his glass, the mouth on his stomach licking its chops at the shared taste. A tail flicks, you note that he's been idly stimulated this entire time by the tendrils still squirming between his two dicks.

" So, tell me sweetheart, what do you think of my Ring so far? "

You hope he didn't catch you staring, but that face says it all.

" It's... " You have to think for a second, finding it difficult to articulate a plethora of mixed feelings.

" Freeing, in a strange kind of way. " You trace the rim of the glass. " It's still Hell, still scary, and I don't understand much of what I see out there... But I wish- " Your cheeks grow warmer. " I wish sometimes... That I could join. "

When you look back up, Vesper is grinning, this very amused glint in those magenta pools. " Mhmm, an honest response. I appreciate it. "

You smile politely in return.

Conversation unfurls easily afterwards as both demons partake of the rouge, their faces darken with time and they seem to sway the slightest amount, bodies restless. When you take your first sample of wine, the room is already thick with a scent you've grown to understand means hungry concubi are looming around.

Pungent. Thin but so sweet that it seeps into every pore in a wave of fruity warmth beckoning more and more of its sampler's attention. You'd have this for breakfast, for lunch and for dinner, quickly turning into some shameless alcoholic. It's of little surprise that all of Hell's confectionary is as addictive as it is to humans, that's how fiendkind tends to assert their power over other species. You suppose Lust, as the Ring of desire, has a particular ease creating concoctions of great addictive power.

Your idle reckoning is entirely derailed by the jolt of wetness from your loins, something you expected but couldn't calculate the intensity of, throat burning as you clumsily choke down the whore noise that wanted to flow forth. Maybe you drank too much at a time? How can those two have several glasses of this and look only mildly buzzed?!

Right on cue, Santi reaches to pluck the glass out of your hands. " Aaand that's enough for you. "

" Hah, oh the poor thing! You know that's properly aged, honey, try not to waste it. "

An embarrassing amount of time clearing your throat later, the King pipes up again.

" Ah, I've been meaning to ask, what is it like? " He waves a hand, his head tendril wraps around it fluidly, allowing the demonlord to toy with it.

" The sex? " Santi prods.

" No, the fighting- Of course I'm talking about the sex, you bumbling slut! "

The incubus straightens, eager to talk. " Oh, well- "

" Nuh-uh, quiet. " Vesper's tail nudges Santi into silence. " I know that part. Oh, sex with a perfect match is like pure ambrosia, it's the richest source of energy, a taste so delectable it fries you harder than the cocktail of an orgy of kissless virgins! You can never go back and you'll never have an experience half as pleasurable, it's the greatest gift a concubus can have but also the bane of their search for newer sensuous experiences because it causes obsessive infatuation- Etcetera etcetera... "

The Icon rises much faster than you'd guess his mass could ever allow him to, only to drop to a crawl, gaze piercing into you with an almost violating intensity. " No... " He murmurs sweetly, stopping to squat mere inches from your already overheated body, the chain anchored by his tits swaying hypnotically in front of you. " I want to hear it from you, darling. Regale me! "

Put on the spot like this, you don't actually know what about your perspective can be so appealing to the King, but his tone is authoritative, demanding. You must give an answer.

And so, you allow the hellish alcohol to speak for you, memory drawing upon the moments of your most intimate moments with Santi. The definition of his body, the noises he makes as he partakes of your form, the form you never gave much thought to yet the same one he reveres and coats in his drool. The whispers against your skin that you can never quite make out and the dance of claws on sensitive areas bordering between the sweetest caress and the plunge of a jealous lover.

" I- " You laugh breathlessly. " Well, I didn't know what sex was before I met Santi, real sex, real desire. There isn't a thing he does that I dislike, every time I lay with him, I only wish that it never ended, and I'm thankful he knows when to stop, because I might just tell him to keep going until I draw my last breath. "

You don't know where all of that came from.

The King's wolfish grin now turns shark-like, and he nods ever so fervently, egging you on. Santi has set his own glass down, blinking in bewilderment at your words, until a rumble bursts from his chest, and he seeks to hug you closer to himself.

" I know it sounds cheesy a- and dumb but I always want to try new things in bed with him because I've always felt so appreciated and- Santi makes me feel like I'll always look gorgeous no matter what I have on or what little accidents we have. I never knew sex could be so fun and feel so good... And I guess I only have him to thank for it. "

Santi doesn't say anything, just pulls you into a searing kiss full of tongue and approval. One you get lost in far too quickly, uncaring of your surroundings, or the demonlord ogling the two of you like steaks on a platter.

Maybe the King was looking for something a little more lewd and descriptive, but it seems the drink took you to a more emotional lane. Either way, what you said apparently resonates with the incubus in question, because he beams like a spotlight, eyes bright and smile so full of heated love it might just melt you.

It wasn't always like this. You remember the rocky start of this relationship. It could have turned into something ugly. It could have hurt you badly. Don't think about it.

" Oh- Oh, love does win! " Vesper dramatically rises, pretending to wipe a tear that isn't there. " So romantic, so heartfelt, I could just about write a whole drama from this alone. "

Eyes closed, getting a tongueful from your now overly-excited lover, you feel hands pawing at your body. His, you initially think, squirming playfully as they nudge your barely concealed breasts and squeeze at your tummy, palming at the swell of your ass possessively. Then, what you thought to be two hands become three, become different. It takes you a second of sloppily making out to finally open your eyes and check.

The Icon is now looming above you both, all glowing eyes and slobbering chops, cocks twitching for attention while he hastily reaches to place both hands on each of you. You're barely able to complain before your shorts are pushed aside with your thong and a large hand is palming at you insistently, met with the rush of wetness Santi's saliva has helped create. Speaking of, the high-ranker himself has already parted his legs to allow the King to tease his girth out of his slit, getting leisurely pumped. You watch each other get fondled for a moment, the shock fading into shameless acceptance and a burning need for more. Your cunt clenches around nothing.

" Mm, why'd you stop? Enjoy yourselves. "

The other grins, placing a finger under your chin and guiding you into another embrace. This one is slower, more measured, not just to savor the moment but to make a proper show for the sovereign of carnality. Santi works just well enough in tandem with the King's hand to draw out a wanton moan from you, eating it up with his own. Vesper apparently finds this very appealing, sighing his appreciation and rewarding the two of you with more attentive touches.

Your clit is flicked a certain way that forces your legs to jerk, and the situation is fixed when Santi readjusts to hold your leg slightly upwards, encouraging you to slide down a little. Just so, just so... Until Vesper has a finger in you, his index. Then two- His hands are large, larger than the average demon's, this is a stuffing on its own.

Whatever shred of composure you had left is gone, starting to keen and whimper as the demonlord immediately hammers onto the spot that usually has tears welling in your eyes. You don't know what kind of faces you're making, but they're probably not pretty in the wake of such intense stimulus. It feels as if your entire body is throbbing with sensation, the peak of it making your nethers pulse like an epicenter of delight.

Vaguely, you feel someone tug your top down so your tits can bounce free with every thrust upwards, turning to spot Santi rocking into the fist offered to him while he bites his lip to the debauched sight you make. You didn't think you'd be getting off to something like this, but seeing the desperation to use you in his eyes has you fuming in arousal, and likewise, he's loving your helplessly wanton exhibitionism.

" Ahh, she likes that. " The demonlord keenly observes. " Don't you, princess? Like the sight of your pretty incubus fucking my hand like a needy animal because he can't have you yet? Does it turn you on how lost he is in you? Do you think I should make him cum like this? You're both adorable, I'm loving this so much already! "

His depraved purring is the straw that breaks the camel's back, you can only roll your eyes and choke out some kind of plea for mercy before squeezing like a vise around Vesper's fingers and soaking him for all you've got, barely able to breathe in-between the thunderous pulsing of your orgasm. He rides you through it, nice and hard and milking the entirety of it for his own selfish gain, until you're spasming and gasping erratically.

Unfortunately, you missed Santi's own climax, finding him sagging against the seat in a state similar to yours, while the King whorishly sates himself with the mix of your released fluids, sucking and lapping at his hands for every hint of slick and humming pleasantly at the flavor you make together.

" Not bad... Not bad at all. Again, now, I can't wait to see your bond up close! "

You're a little bit confused when he plops himself back down on his massive lounge chair, then taps his thighs invitingly. Santi gets the idea however, tickling and nudging your clothes off you before settling on the monarch's lap.

Vesper hums, rearranging him so Santi's back is to his front, and then you are invited on. The resulting position has Vesper serving as a kind of living support with you seated atop Santi, giving the King a perfect view. Casually rumbling his glee, the King takes hold of your hips and steals any kind of autonomy from you by leading the pace, grinding you against the delectable ridges of Santi's hardness.

Laps are delivered to the side of Santi's face, and you know the mouth on the demonlord's stomach is also sampling around, tendrils closing in to shift between stimulating him and coiling luridly around your bodies like he just can't get enough.

One moment the two of you are locked in an desperate rut against the slow pace of regal hands, the next, you feel the sting of the demon's exquisite girth as you're swiftly impaled, the pain much too quickly blossoming into momentous relief.

It's a frenzy of movement you can hardly process. Maybe it's the effects of that drink, maybe it's just the cacophony of pheromones that being glued to a high-ranker and an Icon produces -You hardly doubt that bracelet is doing anything to protect your poor mind at this point- But you get well and truly lost in it. The world spins, only flashes of the experience register in your muddled brain, goosebumps, a swaying vision, waves of pleasure heightened to such a degree that you cease hearing anything but the muffled echoes of your lover's moans.

In that moment, there's nothing more to reality than the monster in front of you, looking as depraved as you, and leaning into it. Santi drools onto his own chest openly, pupils dilated, eyes relentlessly hypnotic as he swallows every twitch of your tormented form's muscles. No hint of higher thought lies in those acidic green hues, only the beastly impulse to have you, to reduce you to a spasming mess, to make you lose your mind and grow addicted to him.

Faintly, you can hear low whispers in a foreign, harsh tongue, and it never occurs to you that might be the source of your current trance. You don't know what it's doing to you or Santi, and you don't care.

You don't care about anything expect the constant pistoning driving you to a filthy paradise. If the Icon wasn't the one moving your legs, you'd be mush by now, point proven further when your top half simply flops onto the incubus' body, useless.

It must have been about an hour or more when the two of you are stopped, and no matter how gentle the winding down was, you still grunt and whine wordlessly in frustration, met with laughter from the two of them. Santi recovered faster, because of course he did. Looking down to where your bodies meet, you're disgraced with the sight of a sticky mess coating not just your mons and thighs, but plenty of Santi's lower half. It doesn't even reek of sex, you've gone nose blind at this point. It's almost terrifying, you have no idea how many times you orgasmed, or how many times he did for that matter, but the overwhelming evidence is clearly there, and your throat is quite sore. Whether from gasping, screaming or simply breathing through it, you don't know anymore.

Vesper says something to your partner in clear infernal, met with a reply you cannot hope to interpret either, and you're pulled forward to kiss the King, the three of you exchanging lips in a disheveled mess.

By the time you start giggling and breathing hard, Santi sighs.

" We... We should stop for now, no? " There's a mildly guilty look on his handsome features. Probably because you're going to be feeling this for a week.

The demonlord huffs. " Ugh- Fine fine, but only because you two were such a show, the imps flocked to the doors you know? I can feel them peeping. "

The darker demonoid snickers in amusement, reaching out to pet your face and try to ground you in reality, to no avail. You're eventually lifted to a stand, latching onto his arm for support and starting to somewhat ferally bite him in adoration.

Vesper follows suit, look too predatory to mean anything good, and both hands coiled around vastly neglected lengths. Making quick work of himself to the filthy view you and Santi make. He's the one who gulps now.

" I have been very patient however, the least my adorable guests could do is give me a lasting farewell. "

Santi looks like he's about to try to politely renegotiate.

" Pretty please? "

You clap and cackle in enthusiasm, entirely out of your gourd. More, more!

The incubus watches you jump in place, then turns to his old friend. " You have spare regeneration ointments, don't you? "

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student. 

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much. 

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

           For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

           Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

           Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

           But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

           Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

           She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

           Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

           When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

           In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

           This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

           She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

           This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

           She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

           Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

           Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

           This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn 

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me. 

           That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

           The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

--

           Spencer is horribly frustrated.

           A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

           At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

           The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

           And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

           Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

           Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

           And play she has.

           From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

           The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

          Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

          “I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

           She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

           “Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

           The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

           The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

--

           “Where are we going?”

           Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

           Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

           Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

           “Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

           Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

           “Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

           He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

           “Spencer, please.”

           Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

           “Yes, my love?”

           Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

           “I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

           “Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

           “I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

           Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

           “You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

           Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

           A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

           “Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

           Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

           Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

           “Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

           “Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

           Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

           “You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

           Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

           Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

           “That’s why.”

           Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

           The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

           “I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

           “Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

           “You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

           Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

           “Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

           Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

           “Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

           A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

           “Jump.”

           It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

           Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

           “Spencer!”

           Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

           His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

           “You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

           Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

           “I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

           Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

            She silences those fears with a kiss.

           “Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

           Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

           “Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

           “Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

           Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

           “I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

           “Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

           She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

           “Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

           “Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

           She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

           While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

           A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

           “It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

           Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

           “As they should. That was sensational.”

           Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

           The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

           “What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

           “I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

           As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

           “I have a few ideas.”

-

-

-

-

-

taglist: @90spumkin @moon-light-jukebox​ @whxt-to-write @calm-and-doctor @jessalyn-jpeg @pinkdiamond1016 @itsametaphorbriansblog @eldahae @itsmytimetoodream @kasaikawa @shadyladyperfection

[sciderman]

you have a lot of headcanons about their top/bottom dynamics? ......hm.......*slides a dollar over tthe table*

i can’t believe how horny this place has gotten. i can’t believe i’m feeding you all like this. i’ve repressed all this for like, four years and it’s all bubbling to the surface. okay, so: 

- peter is pretty selfless when it comes to love - he’ll fall all over himself to please his partner, and he’ll quite happily neglect his own needs to make sure his partner is happy first. this works just fine for wade, who… 

so wade often “comes first”, if you catch my drift. wade gets his way and gets pampered, not necessarily because he demands it (though he does), but because peter is just. an incredibly generous boy, who wants nothing more than for wade to feel good and amazing. and wade’s so, so good and appreciative, that it’s a real treat for peter too. 

- wade’s greedy, that’s no secret. he’s not a very good top at all, because he does kind of make it all about him. he can’t help it. that’s the way he is. especially at the beginning of the relationship, when all that’s in his mind is that he wants to be loved and to know that he’s being loved. 

truly wade is just a bottom at heart because he craves attention, and loves to feel treasured. this works just fine for peter, who loves to shower his partner in praise and other such niceties. truly. carnal bliss. like jigsaw pieces that fit together perfectly. though eventually wade starts wanting to return the favour, considering how nice and good and generous his boy has been. 

- while peter’s not exactly hesitant per say, he’s has a more traditional view on sex and masculinity, which wade thinks is frankly pretty ridiculous. 

wade kind of takes it upon him to break those barriers down, piece by piece. he’d never pressure peter into something he didn’t want to do, of course, but little nudges to push peter out of his comfort zone and unleash the wild spider within. peter has never been able to really be himself with a partner before (gwen didn’t know peter was spider-man, and felicia didn’t know spider-man was peter), so wade’s really the first person who’s able to peel back all of peter’s layers. there’s a she-wolf in the closet, open up and set her free. awoo! 🎶

- low-key, it’s a big part of why 9319 wade was so conflicted about peter’s big “I’m Bisexual” moment. he really wanted to be there for that breakthrough. all those years of trying to chip away at it. 

(just another of wade’s many, many character flaws shining through. greedy. greedy boy. likes to make it all about him. like he deserves credit for his hard work, or something. wade is a self-depreciating narcissist. complicated man.)

wade does like to take ownership over peter’s transformation. he takes pride in his work. wade’s so so proud of himself when he’s able to undo peter and get him to abandon his reservations and just let completely loose. encourages peter to use his strength, lose himself. stop worrying. switch off that big brain. 

part of that is to get peter to accept being pampered and trying new things and new surprises. it’s all a very educational and liberating experience for peter. 

other miscellaneous headcanons 

- heightened senses. peter’s heightened senses. it makes him so easy to unravel, with a well-placed kiss or wade whispering in his ear. 

- wade and peter are evenly matched in wits in any other context, but wade’s able to completely short out peter’s brain on demand. this sucks for peter. peter tries to knock wade off his feet with a few surprises of his own. usually it’s a show of strength or some other clever little use of his powers that wade finds freaky-deaky! (wade: i knew you were holding out on me.) usually, though, the most effective way to knock wade off balance is a show of emotion. wade typically doesn’t know how to counter that. 

- as much as wade acts like a brat, or a petulant child when he doesn’t get his way (which peter loves, honestly) wade is very good at doing as he’s told,  whenever sex is involved. (which peter also loves.) it’s the only time wade likes it when peter bosses him around. 

- wade likes to be told he’s being a good boy. he preens when he’s praised. top or bottom, doesn’t matter. in a sexual context or otherwise. say nice things about him and he’s all gooey like caramel. 

- they both like it rough. they love to be hoisted up, tossed, thrown hard against a wall - they love scrapes and bruises and adrenaline. at the end of it, they’re soft and tender, but they love to spar and wrestle for who gets to take charge. (wade lets peter win, more often than not. and he’s not even subtle about it.) (wade: ughn!  drats! i don’t stand a chance against your strong, strong arms, and your clever, clever brain! curse you, spider-man!) 

- (wade: i do it because i know you’re a sore loser, and i don’t want to wound your ego.) (peter: you do it because you’re a stupid bottom.) (wade gasps, faux-offended.) (wade: i’ll show you who’s a stupid bottom, spider-man.)

- peter simps very. very hard for wade in a pretty, pretty dress. there’s nothing that makes peter feel weaker in the knees than a pretty, pretty girl. and wade wilson? the prettiest girl peter’s ever laid eyes on. the dresses give wade a confidence boost too, so 90% of the time, when wade’s in the dress, he’s wearing the trousers (metaphorically speaking). peter bottoms for wade, all the while wade’s in beautiful, beautiful lace and frills. talk about challenging your preconceived notions of masculinity. 

- both of them are very tactile and touchy-feely. wade loves running his hands through peter’s dumb hair. pulling his dumb hair. 

- peter, peter loves fiddling with wade’s clothes. his suit, the straps, his belt loops, anything. but specifically wade’s pretty, pretty frills and skirts. none of my artwork depicting this specific headcanon are safe for work. sorry. 

- okay and FINALLY have to address the elephant in the room here. web kink.

the answer is: sometimes. it’s not actually a staple, it’s something peter mostly does when wade’s misbehaving. wade has good humour about it, and it’s mostly for a laugh, but it’s really impractical and a bit of a turn-off actually. (wade: i have to wait here. for a whole HOUR????) 

truly, they like touching each other far too much for them to be into the whole bondage thing. wade, actually, really isn’t into bondage at all. it’s really not his bag, as much as he jokes about it. 

peter’s more into it, in a schadenfreude sort of way. it’s entertaining. 

wade humours him - but when it comes to bondage, wade’s actually pretty vanilla. he doesn’t have the best memories when it comes to being restrained, so they don’t do it very often. seeing peter being restrained doesn’t really do anything for wade either, especially since it’s just a charade. peter can’t be restrained. 

i can imagine a scenario where peter is tied up by something very delicate, like red ribbons or something, purely for show. that’s something that’ll do it for wade. more of a romantic gesture, really. 

okay. that’s all for now folks. this is already so much longer than i expected it to be, oh my god. 

[help-im-a-gay-fish]

Okay I had to do some stuff, but here I am rambling about relationship between Killer and Nightmare in Colours of LOVE.

Some of this I might mention before some of it might be your and Jann or Yuri ideas... Anyway!! The way I see that:

Even though this is soulmate au Nightmare and Killer aren't perfect fit for eachother. They are perfect fit in threesome - Ccino softens rough edges of both of them, and changes their attention from being mad on eachother to carrying about Ccino together (especially at first when he is really depressed). But before that... It was hard.

Killer is really open about everything he thinks and feels. If he founds someone who is attractive he will flirt. Even when he is already dating Nightmare. And also he always shows his affection to Nightmare everywhere, in public too. That's cute and sweet, but Nightmare is really closed person so that makes him really uncomfortable. Night often got jealous with Killer flirting with anyone else, got embarrassed with his kisses and all on public, and in general is a bit annoyed with Killer's actions. Killer on the other hand doesn't really understand why Nightmare is so "tensed" (he is not, Night is just much more calm, but Killer don't get it).

They were braking up and coming back again a few times, because they had argued a lot about everything and got tired of this. Right now they are on their "best days" - they started to date again a few weeks ago and right now they are through some stuff, they understand eachother better, and pretty chill about eachother weird actions. Like in the second page Night is a bit flustered by Killer's kiss but he almost used to that. Same as he is worried about being late, since Killer is almost always late, but he is more or less fine by that. On next page (which you haven't seen yet), there are an interesting dialog between them, and I will definitely write some of "subtext" about it when I will post it.

Actually if they haven't met Ccino they would break up again after a few months. And maybe come back again after a week.

Also! Interesting thing about third soulmate: at the beginning of the comic (before Nigh met Ccino) Killer is 100% sure that they have third soulmate, but Nightmare is sure for about 60%. Killer is existed about that, he knew knew that he is polyamorious for a long time, but Nightmare hesitates a lot, because he can't really imagine himself in polyam relationship. It feels weird and also he is soooooo jealous about Killer paying any attention to anyone except him, that he worries to become "third wheel". Will it be different with Ccino?? Who knows (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Hi kotikaleo!!! This was super fun to read.

Firstly I'm going to tag @zu-is-here since she started the studio verse

It's definitely an interesting insight to your comic and the characters!

It reminds me a lot of an early version of my own ideas about the studio verse nightkiller relationship! And I can definitely see the way we have bounced headcannons of each other paying off.

Them still dealing with a softer kind of lovehate dynamic is an interesting one. It doesn't seem to be as extreme as my version, but it's interesting that it's still there.

The fact that they are meant to work as a 3 makes sense as well. If they are supposed to be bounded as a 3 it makes sense that three they their relationship would be unstable. They don't work as a two, but they are soul mates and something would always pull the two of them together.

I'm also curious, since Nightmare isn't 100% sure that the lack of colour is due to them being soul mated to another person. I wonder if he ever felt like the universe got it wrong? And that he'd been mated to the wrong person? Or perhaps he felt it meant that him and Killer don't have soul mates and that's why they have some connections.

It sad boy.

Also if Killer knows he's poly by nature, is that something that causes disagreements with the 2 of them?

And now for mine and @jann-the-bean version.

This story has been something that we mostly developed in tumbler DMs but both me and Jan wrote a story about it. Jan wrote

KillerNight(s)

And I'm writing

Round and round till we all fall down

Nightmare and Killer's relationship started off baddddd, it basically started as a mutual dislike for one another. This is due to their conflicting personalities and morals.

Nightmare was originally quite excited to meet Killer, as he'd heard a lot about the actor. But almost straight away he found Killer to be rude, childish and irritating. Killer found Nightmare to be stuck up, snobbish and entitled.

The two first met at an awards ceremony and got into a yelling match after a few drinks and were separated. From there their dislike for one another was made quite well known to the public because of a social media battle back and forth.

This only went on for a few months however, as the characters of 'Killer' and 'Nightmare' were cast to play together.

Nightmare and Killer agreed to be civil in order to function while working and get the filming completed as soon as possible.

As they worked together, their dislike turned into a playful banter and respect for one another. And then something else shifted.

Now Killer has a reputation for being a player and one who likes to sleep around, as you said, he's open about his interest in people when he has it and enjoys casually flirting with just about anyone.

Which came to include Nightmare.

Nightmare paid no mind to it really, though he couldn't understand why it embarrassed him so much.

Killer comes to find Nightmare to be very attractive and enjoys his reactions when teased, he rights him off though because he was under the impression that Nightmare was straight, and he'd never try to change that.

It was a day when they were talking about Killer's eyes and how it's caused him to struggle, that Nightmare tells him that he thinks his eyes are very pretty and that they are an attractive quality, and something in Killer breaks and he kisses him.

So Killer feels like he messed up and the two avoid each other. But it causes Nightmare to start questioning things about himself.

Nightmare at this point had only every dated women. He assumed that he was straight. But after that kiss a lot of buried feelings are dragged to the surface and exposed, and he realises that he's also attracted to men.

So Jan goes into full details about this, in the fic Killernights, but basically Nightmare confronts Killer about the kiss and Killer tells him he 'has a thing for him'

The two go back to Killer's flat to talk, but their normal banter, leads to flirting and then another kiss. And Nightmare who is curious and suddenly craving new sensations becomes lost to him. Killer who finds Nightmare physically very attractive, also gets wrapped up and the two of them sleep together.

Nowwww this is getting long so I'll try to shorten it down a bit.

Basically, it's an amazing night. It's passionate, enjoyable and a lot of fun for both of them. Upon finding out Night has never been with a man, Killer guides him carefully though the process.

After that night the two can't stop thinking about each other, even though they both planned for it to be a one time thing. Again, they avoided each other until talking after a while.

And killer admits his desires for the other, and offers Nightmare a safe environment to experiment with his sexuality, where he won't be judged.

To cut a long story short, this spirals into a passionate and carnal, on and off booty call/fling with each other that spans for years.

Other that time they grow very close with each other, and come to recognise the similarities that they share, and have soft moments of just enjoying being together with one another.

For Killer, Nightmare is the first person to ever tell him he had beautiful eyes and mean it. The first person who wasn't at all put off by them.

To Nightmare, it feels like Killer is the one person that will never pick Dream over him. And he makes him feel wanted and desirable in a way few have before.

However, their are still parts of their relationship that conflict. Of course a healthy relationship will always have some conflicts. But for Killer and Nightmare the conflicts clash and fight with each other.

That along with both of their past traumas, (I wrote about Killer's back story here) means they find it difficult to talk about genuine feelings and what's bothering them. Causing things to bottle up and blow up over time.

They also find it impossible to admit that they actually love each other deeply.

They tried to be in a full on committed relationship once, (which I'm writing about in Round and Round) but it didn't work out for these issues. As well as the fact that Killer is poly by nature, and therefore gets anxious and uncomfortable in a relationship with one person only. Which he won't talk to Night about for the reasons stated above.

Enter Ccino.

Now Ccino is the missing piece for Nightmare and Killer.

He's soft and gentle spoken, which easily helps them calm down when things get heated between them. He also provides a safe and loving space to open up about what things are bothering them.

Nightmare and Killer's also, as you said, spend more energy caring for and sometimes worrying about Ccino, so they have less energy for the constant fighting.

Ccino was the missing piece. He's the person who will cuddle and read books with nightmare, but also the one who's super into affection, which Killer loveesss.

A relationship would never work between just killer and Ccino, since Ccino wouldn't be able to keep up with Killer's libido and killer doesn't know much about Ccino's mental health. And Ccino wouldn't work in a relationship with just Nightmare because Night's colder and more straight forward personality would leave him affection staved after a while.

They just work together! They are basically soul mates in this universe as well!

P. S Nightmare in this universe was also very veryyyyy jealous when Killer showed interest in Ccino. Which is something he took out on Ccino till Killer stopped it. After falling in love with Marshmallow he regrets this a lot.

I'M SO EXCITED FOR MORE. COLOURS OF LOVEEEEE

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Art History

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Smut, public sex act

A/N: @pedropascalito wrote a NSFW alphabet for Marcus some time ago and had shown interest in a fic where Marcus finger fucks you next to a piece of art.  And like always, other people’s comments give me ideas.  So here we go, y’all.

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer , @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder,  @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  

—***—

“Do you want to do inside first or check out the sculpture garden?” You looked at the map of the museum in your hands.  It had been his turn to choose the location for your standing monthly get away date and he had chosen well, a sprawling art museum housed in a Gilded Age mansion outside of Providence Rhode Island.  The impressive views of the Atlantic Ocean made the grounds an attractive place to start the day.

A slight chill in the air made you glad you chose you tweed cloak instead of the cardigan you debated on that morning.  It was just warm enough to keep the light breeze at bay but not heavy enough to overheat you.  Secretly you loved wearing the cloak, it made you feel like the heroine of some historic romance novel.

“Marcus?”  You prodded him gently with your voice as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. He was still looking at the map in your hands and you watched as something flashed over his face.  You could hear the gears turning in his head – he was clearly up to something.

He looked up at you and that boyish grin that never failed to make your stomach flutter was at full wattage.  He took the map and folded it up, putting it in his back pocket before taking your hand. You smiled as he began to walk towards the gardens.

“They have a spectacular selection of Holbrook sculptures on display.  You’re going to love them.”  As you walked, you passed an occasional person, but it was so quiet, it seemed as if you had the whole garden to yourself, allowing you to imagine yourselves as the only people in the world in that moment.

Marcus glanced down, watching the sunlight play peekaboo with your hair and face as you passed under the Japanese maples that lined the path.  He rubbed his thumb along your knuckles, almost absentmindedly, as you quietly chatted about the art you passed.  His deep voice was soft and your murmurs and comments seemed to flow like silk over him.

While history was more your speed, your passion for the subject matched his passion for art step for step and Marcus’ favorite thing about these dates was the way you bounced off each other.  For every story he had about an artist or piece or even style, you easily came back with facts and figures that put everything into further context. Sometimes you argued over meaning, but it was always stimulating.

By the time you made it to the far end of the garden where the Holbrook pieces were on display, an hour had passed, although with you, it felt like no time at all.  Marcus began to smile as the exhibit came into view.  Holbrook was easily one of his favorite artists and the pieces made his blood sing every time he saw one, a song usually only you could coax out of him.

You stopped to read the interpretation sign before entering the space and Marcus let go of your hand to walk ahead.  Because you didn’t have his wealth of knowledge, you almost always stopped to read the signage, to learn more about an artist or a piece of work.  Your head bowed as you read and from a distance, Marcus had angled himself to watch your reactions.

Holbrook wasn’t an obscure artist, but given the sensual look to his pieces, you discovered why he wasn’t exactly in a lot of textbooks.  You stepped into the garden and it felt as if you had fallen into an erotic daydream.  The almost carnal aura of the space was softened by flowers and trees that were soft and dreamy.

As you began to view the pieces, each one seemed to capture a passionate moment so perfectly that a small part of you felt like you were experiencing memories that were your own but weren’t.  You were examining a piece so intently; you didn’t notice the flush that crept across your body.  But Marcus did.

He stood a few pieces away from you, taking in the subtle changes of your body – how your posture relaxed, the way your eyes began to spark, the blush against your cheeks that could be mistaken as caused by the breeze.  And when you turned to move to the next piece, he could see your eyes beginning to darken.

But you weren’t the only one affected by the art and as you were reading, Marcus had been looking at a piece where one lover was kneeling between the legs of another.  The Kneeler captured the moment when the titular lover was pressing their lips against the inside of the thighs of their object of affection.  

He could feel his pants becoming tighter the longer he looked at the piece, but when he watched at you as you moved from piece to piece, the soft fabric of his boxers became almost unbearable.  His heart always fluttered at the sight of you, but seeing you become aroused by one of his favorite artists made his heart pound against his ribs.

You stood in front of Embracement, that feeling of déjà vu passing through you yet again.  Like all of Holbrook’s pieces, this one was made of marble and yet something about it made it seem soft and yielding.  Before you could think beyond that moment, Marcus walked up behind you, placing his large hands on your hips, becoming lost in the fabric of your cloak.

You turned your head to smile at him, feeling his hard body press flush against your own, his strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulling you close. You drew your hands up to rest on his wrists, feeling his warm skin beneath yours.  It never failed to humble you that someone as handsome and kind and smart would be interested in you.  Although you’d be surprised that Marcus felt the same about you.

He pressed his soft lips to your cheek before dropping his chin to your shoulder.  Standing like this, you could feel his voice rumble through his broad chest as much as you heard it come from his mouth.  His lifted one hand just long enough to point to the piece in front of you.

“Do you know the story?”  When you shook your head, he dropped his arm back down.  “Holbrook was married for years to a woman named Marian.  He said numerous times that Marian was his muse and the only woman for him.  When she became pregnant with their first child, he made this piece to celebrate.”

You looked at it again.  A woman lay on a bed, leaning against pillows as her lover lay between her legs.  Hands were wrapped around the hips and the man’s lips were pressed against the woman’s pubic bone.  Both were naked, but the hallmarks of arousal were evident in the details. Marcus’s voice continued and between your attention on the piece and on his voice, you failed to realize that he shifted his arms through the side openings of your cloak, bringing his hands to rest on your hips, with only the fabric of your skirt and panties between you two.

“Holbrook admitted that the piece came to him in a dream inspired by a memory.  He said that Marian was made to be worshiped by his body and with his art.  Rumor has it that their maid found the two of them laying exactly like this in the garden of their home.”

As the words flowed over you, Marcus’ hands began to move and for the first time you became aware of his touch as his fingertips pulled at your thin sweater to urge the fabric up.  When he finally touched your skin, you felt as if you were being set on fire.  His skin was hot against yours and the flush that had spread across your cheeks earlier began to spread throughout your body.  

“He said that no skin felt as soft as hers, like silk” One hand snaked northward, skirting the edge of your lace bra before cupping one gently.  Your nipples began to harden into tight peaks that throbbed in time with your clit and your hips began to slightly move in time with his words.

“Her lips were reported to feel like brushed velvet.”  His other hand traced gently along the waistband of your skirt before dipping below and into the soft cotton of your panties.  Your breath hitched and you tensed, your eyes opening wide.  Marcus pressed his lips against your temple.  “It’s okay, we’re completely alone.  Besides, no one can see my hands under your cloak.”

You pressed against him harder when his hands didn’t move, and you were rewarded with a low groan as your ass pressed against his erection.  You couldn’t stop the smile from playing against your lips even as they opened into a sigh when Marcus pressed an open kiss to your neck.

Marcus continued to tell the story of the piece, his voice rough with want. You stared at the sensual scene in front you, hoping it would ground you even has the strong, large fingers of his hands slipped through the curls at the apex of your thighs and into the folds of your slit.  Your hopes were for naught.

He felt your hips jerk forward at his touch and again when his fingers pinched your nipple through the lace of your bra.  His smile could be heard in his voice as your body bowed away from his as pleasure danced along your skin.  But that smile was wiped away when you used the new space between your hips to drag your hand along the front of his pants, letting the cloak cover your movements from any prying eyes.

Now it was his turn to jerk his hips, chasing your fingertips as they moved northward.  Your smile was no longer hidden and out in full force.  You moved your other hand from his wrist to deftly unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants.  As you tugged the zipper down, Marcus began to gently rub against your clit.

You couldn’t stop the loud gasp from escaping your throat and he pressed his nose against the side of your face, urging you to keep it down.  You may have been alone, but the museum grounds were still open.  Someone could always walk into the exhibit and catch you.  When you nodded, he rubbed a little faster, his blood hot in his veins as he watched you dropped your head back and bit your lip to keep the groan from escaping your throat.

You forced yourself to focus more as you stuck your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, feeling his cock hard and ready for you.  He dipped his head once again, using the fabric at your shoulder to soften his own moan.  Your hand went lower, brushing along the tip and gathering the moisture you found there.  With a sudden swiftness, you grasped his cock and dragged your hand as far down as your awkward position could let you.

“Fuck, sweetheart.”  His pants enveloped you and you lolled your head to the side to press your lips against his neck.  “So soft, like silk.  Like velvet.”

“Marcus.”  Your voice sounded desperate and he understood.  His fingers dipped lower to gather up your wetness before he plunged two fingers deep into you.  Your body tensed and curled forward as far as his arms would let you – his large hand still on your breast and keeping you pressed against him.

Soon his hand was setting a moderate pace, fingers continuously dipping into your dripping core, reaching that spot inside of you that made your toes curl inside your shoes.  You angled yourself enough so that you could match his pace with your hands, twisting and curling them against the heat of his erection.

Marcus felt as if he were on fire and it took all his will power not to drive his hips into your hands, knowing that at any moment someone could see him.  His blood rushed through his body and his nerves tingled at the thought. He never thought himself as an exhibitionist, but the close call of it all certainly spoke to his baser desires.

You, on the other hand, were lost in his fingers as the continued to pluck as your nipples and touch your very soul.  When he with drew his hand, your whine couldn’t be contained, but it was cut short when he began to rub your clit again.  Your hips continued to jerk as the passion brewing deep in your belly grew hotter and tighter.

“Marcus. . .”  You could barely get his name out, your voice raspy and filled with heavy desire.  He seemed to know what you wanted, and he dropped the hand at your breast down into your panties.  His stuck his fingers back inside of you and let his other hand continue to rub against your clit, the pace faster this time.

Your hands remained on his cock, tightening as your pleasure began to climb closer to its peak with every movement on his hands.  They barely moved now, but that didn’t matter as Marcus let himself fuck your fists like a horny teenager.  Both of your hips were moving faster, your orgasms drawing from your limbs and growing heavier in the pit of your stomachs.

Marcus began to kiss along your neck, open and wet against your skin. You focused on the scene in front you, knowing that the familiarity of this piece and so many others were not because you’d seen Holbrook’s work before.  No, it’s because these sculptures were your life lived.  You didn’t see Marian and Holbrook in front of you.

No.  That sculpture was you, nipples taunt in desire and lips slightly parted for the man laying between your legs.  It was Marcus’ lips that hovered above your public bone, kissing you so intimately until all thoughts were lost to you.  It was not Holbrook’s hands on those hips, it was the man behind you, whose soft skin brushed so lovingly against your own in an almost worshipful way.

When you came, your whole body seemed to explode and for a split second it seemed that the woman in the sculpture turned her head towards you and smiled a knowing smile.  You jerked against his hands, your moan low but deep and Marcus felt it reverberate through his body.  He followed you into the waves of pleasure, coming in your hand over and over until he felt spent.

The aftershocks rippled through your body as Marcus cupped your mound softly.  When you stopped shaking, he withdrew his hands and kissed your temple.  He pulled them completely out of your clothing and reached into his pocket for his handkerchief.  He wiped his hands and then yours, doing his best to clean the back of your cloak and the front of his pants.

Once all evidence of your tryst has been cleaned, he folded up the fabric and put it back into his pockets.  As he slipped himself back inside his pants, you straightened your skirt and looked back at the sculpture in front of you.  Nothing had change, the sculpture never moved and yet you felt an even deeper connection to the piece.

Marcus laid his hands on your hips, turning you towards him so he could drape his arms around your waist.  You did the same and as you looked at each other, the satisfied smiles on your faces seem to glow.  He dipped his head to softly kiss your lips and you willingly kissed him back, the soft sensuality of the kiss spreading through you.  It seemed to last long minutes, each brush of his lips drawing you back in until you could barely breathe.

He pulled his head back and looked down at you, the lust that had been there giving away to adoration and love.  His eyes reflected the same.  While he hadn’t anticipated this happening when he suggested you come here for your date, it was better than anything he could have hoped for.  You cocked your head to look at him.

“What’s going on in that brain yours, sweetheart?”  His voice was wasn’t as raspy as it had been, but it was still rougher than normal.

“I love a good art piece.  It’s very inspiring.”  You smiled.

He grinned and nodded in agreement.

[grelleswife]

Hannamey Headcanons

@bapydemonprincess requested some Hannamey headcanons for an OTP ask meme; my answers are included below!

I'm assuming that we're in a more auspicious version of the Season 2 verse where O!Ciel wins and stays human, although Alois eventually dies and leaves Hannah free to pursue her love in peace.

Pre-relationship

2. What was their first impression of each other?

Mey experienced a full bi panic when she first laid eyes on Hannah in that seductive black dress. The maid didn't recognize her feelings at the time, but she had a crush. Although Hannah didn't show it, the comely young maid caught her eye straightaway. The demonness was quietly amused by how taken Mey Rin was with her; Hannah knows exactly what kind of effect she tends to have on the sapphics >:3. Due to her devilish instincts, she sensed that Mey had a tragic past, and that she'd sent many souls to an early grave (the act of killing tends to "mark" the spirit in ways some demons can perceive), which piqued her curiosity. 4. Who felt romantic feelings first?

Mey Rin! She tends to fall fast and hard in romantic relationships. As a demon, Hannah took longer to acknowledge her growing attraction for the maid as something other than carnal desire. 5. Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Both of them did, to an extent. Mey Rin was distraught because she knew she shouldn't harbor romantic feelings for someone who served an enemy of young master, while Hannah, after becoming acquainted with the pain of grief through Luka's death, was none too keen on being entangled in an intimate relationship with a human. Love could not be suppressed for long, however... >:3

General

2. Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Sort of. Their first few trysts occurred under the cover of nightfall, in the woods near the Phantomhive manor. That way, Mey Rin wouldn't have to risk a visit to the Trancy estate, and Hannah was sufficiently far away from the grounds to avoid Sebastian detecting her. However, their first proper date took place when the Phantomhive servants went on a trip to London. Mey Rin split off from the rest of the group to have a rendezvous with Hannah at a little cafe. They both started off a bit awkwardly (Mey was a bundle of nerves and Hannah felt uncharacteristically shy), but once the conversation got going, the bubbly, smiling maid of Phantomhive soon drew Hannah out of her shell. The demonness bought Mey a plateful of the tastiest pastries on the menu; of course, Hannah didn't eat or drink anything herself, but dear flustered Mey was too caught up in the moment to notice. When it was time for Mey to rejoin the other servants, Hannah walked her part of the way back, and the two held hands. >w< 3. What was their first kiss like?

Mey Rin bid Hannah goodbye after one of the demon's nocturnal visits, but they both lingered, neither wanting to be the first one to leave the secluded forest spot. Hannah took an indecisive step towards Mey Rin. Then she tenderly cupped the maid's face in her hands, bent down, and kissed her. When they parted, she whispered a simple "Good night" before disappearing among the trees, leaving Mey Rin red-faced and trembling. The maid dreamily stumbled through the next day, grinning and tripping on air. The demonness wore no perfume, but she smelt of petrichor, and a whiff of the earth after it rains never fails to remind Mey Rin of that first kiss. 7. Who takes the lead in social situations?

It depends. Hannah is melancholy, withdrawn, and secretive, while Mey Rin tends to be cheerful and outgoing in environments where she feels secure. However, if Mey Rin is nervous or unsure of herself, Hannah will take the lead in order to spare her lover the anxieties that come with prolonged social interactions. She'll gently pat Mey Rin's back or hold her hand to help the maid stay calm. 8. Who gets jealous easier?

Hannah. Demons jealously guard the souls they hold dear, and are very protective of their mates. If Hannah catches someone trying to make a move on her woman, she'll either wrap an arm around Mey Rin's waist and hold her close, or step between Mey and the (real or imagined) rival...giving them a deadly glare that makes the bravest heart quail. She bares her fangs and lets her demonic essence show, her long hair writhing like Medusa's serpents, until the interloper beats a hasty retreat. However, after a few conversations with Mey Rin on the subject, Hannah learns to calm down a little. 9. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other's ear?

Under normal circumstances, I don't think either of them is given to making crass remarks. Hannah prefers subtle innuendos--double entendres or inside jokes that no one but Mey Rin will understand. She'll smirk knowingly when she catches Mey Rin's longing glances at her cleavage (causing the maid to turn into a blushing, incoherent mess). Mey Rin gets a little bolder when she's tipsy; she'll climb into Hannah's lap and whisper about all the things she hopes the demon will do to her when they're alone. Shortly thereafter, Hannah finds an excuse to leave the party early with her lover so that she can make good on Mey Rin's suggestions. ;)

Love

1. Who said "I love you" first?

Mey Rin! She gave Hannah a small gift (a little embroidery piece of an owl), and when she saw how stunned the Trancy maid was at the gesture, Mey Rin blurted out, "Why do you look so surprised? You know I love you, yes I do!" She was mortified by her outburst and slapped her hands over her mouth, but Hannah just laughed and gave her a warm hug. 2. What are their primary love languages?

physical touch and acts of service, with quality time being a close second. Like most demons, Hannah views language as a tool for manipulation--in her mind, actions speak far louder than words when it comes to revealing a lover's true intentions. And since Mey Rin spent most of her childhood and young adulthood deprived of meaningful connections with others, she craves small intimacies like having the demonness brush her hair or hold her when she needs comforting. 4. How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Very often! They're extremely snuggly in private. Mey loves to sit in Hannah's lap or rest her head against the demon's bosom, and Hannah dotes on her human. They have to be cautious about overt PDA in the Victorian period, but no one will look twice if two very good lady friends stroll arm-in-arm together... 8. Who's better at comforting the other?

Mey Rin is a little better at this because she's naturally warm and empathetic. However, Hannah has a quiet, reassuring presence, and she learns to tell when Mey Rin is feeling sad or vulnerable and needs a little cuddling. 10. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

As explained above, physical affection! 12. What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Hannah calls Mey Rin "beloved," her flower, or her little princess; Mey Rin is initially hesitant to speak so familiarly with an ancient, powerful demon, but she'll sometimes call Hannah "honey," "love," or Chinese terms of endearment.

Domestic Life

1. If they get married, who proposes?

Demons' concepts of mating bonds aren't the same as our ideas about marriage, so it never occurred to Hannah to make a formal proposal. But one day, Mey Rin wistfully confessed that she would love to be Hannah's wife, if society were more open-minded about that sort of thing. The demonness couldn't bear to see her human sad, so she used her powers to make a pretty engagement ring (amethyst set in gold) to give to Mey shortly after this conversation. If they couldn't have an official ceremony, then damn it, they'd make their own. 2. What's the wedding like? Who attends?

It's held in the Phamtomhive garden, among the roses (Sebastian and Hannah reached an uneasy truce after Alois's death), and all the Phantomhive servants attend. The triplets are also there to assist with the ceremony, strewing flower petals, carrying the ladies' wedding trains, and so on (my headcanon is that they're babey demons who serve as Hannah's subordinates). Lizzy, Sieglinde, and Ran Mao are Mey Rin's bridesmaids. Both Mey and Hannah wear beautiful dresses (pink and purple, respectively). Instead of having a religious official preside over the ceremony, the ladies exchange vows that they wrote for each other. 4. Do they have any pets?

Oh yes! Hannah sometimes takes in injured wild animals to nurse back to health, like a fox kit that got its paw stuck in a trap, or a robin that broke its wing, so they soon have a smol menagerie on their hands. 8. How do they celebrate holidays?

Mey Rin loves holidays like Halloween and the Chinese New Year, so Hannah learns about the associated customs and traditions to help her wife celebrate. For events like Halloween, they'll coordinate costumes (one year, they both dressed up as witches), and save up lots of candy to give to the local kids. Hannah uses her demon powers to add spooky touches to their home, like magical floating candles and ghostly shadows that appear in the windows when someone passes by. Mey Rin gets a huge kick out of it! 10. Who's the better cook?

Hannah. When you've existed for millenia, you pick up a few skills here and there, such as navigating your way around a kitchen. ;) She loves spoiling Mey with her favorite treats. 11. Who likes to dance?

They both do, though Hannah is usually the one to ask Mey to join her on the dance floor.

[monst]

I loved your Hawks Demon hc's, can I get a continuation to Hawks demon? Nsfw or Sfw, whatever you wish.

Yandere! Demon! Takami Keigo x Fearless? reader Hc (continued)

Ayyyeee I was dying for someone to request a continuation of this. I did Hawks so dirty in the last one as opposed to Aizawa. Like the poor man was invisible for almost all of it. (Don’t know what I’m talking about? Click this link!)

Warnings: Since I really liked Yan. Demon hawks you get both sfw and nsfw! Sexy time themes/actions! Dub/non con 

Also can someone send me the definition of self-control ‘cause I’m sure hc’s aren’t supposed to be this long....

After all this time he truly felt alive. You could finally see him! It was absolutely amazing. The euphoric feeling rushed throughout his body making him tingle in joy. It was a feeling he never wanted to part with. It was a feeling that hit him as soon as your gorgeous eyes had landed on his form. 

He reveled in the attention he got from you. He wanted your attention all the time. After all you he had spent more than a year watching you, being your shadow and, protecting you from other harmful spirits. The least you could do was keep your eyes on him. Oh~ The first time your eyes met his he nearly burst into tears. Hell he didn’t even think demon’s could cry but he was sure he might have..

You weren’t scared which was something he had expected. You were too naive and curious for your own good. It was one of the reasons he had begun to follow you everywhere when you first released him from his confines. Over the course of the year he grew lax in his stalking but now that you could see him this hobby was rekindled. 

You would see him everywhere. When you were at work, going to the store, visiting your family. He was everywhere… Wherever you where you were sure to see the shadow of his feathers behind you or the golden tufts of hair falling into your face as he hovered over you. You had tried to tell yourself that it was okay but after weeks of his constant tag along he was beginning to become an eyesore. 

Was it not enough that you saw him at home? That he watched you while you slept? Dressed? Ate? And bathed? Why was he so hellbent on making your life miserable with his constant presence. Honestly he was really affecting your mood. For some reason his presence made you snippy. You were lashing out at your friends and aquintences and what peeved you even more was the stupid smirk the demon had as you grew angrier. So much to the point where you noticed people started to invite you out less. Even your friends stopped visiting. 

It was his doing. And it was driving you mad. He was basically forcing everyone out of your life. He was using your own wild emotions to do it. The winged demon meant to literally be the sole center of your attention and with people leaving left and right it seemed as though you had no choice but to indulge him. 

Having him hang over you all hours of the day was draining. And it was even worse when you’d get home and he’d play innocent demanding even more attention and cuddles. It fustrated you that you couldn’t refuse him. How could you when you bore the scar from the time you had done so… Ironically you weren’t curious enough to find out what he would do if you did refuse him again. 

Sadly your life had gotten to the point in which you had no one to reach out too. Most of your hero friends were relocated and usually busy and your quirkless friends were spooked away. That asshole was all you had left. You really regretted opening the box. The box! You don’t know how you managed it but you shook him off. Or at least you thought you did. When you arrived at the psychic's shop you had begged her to teach you how to trap him inside. She didn’t get the chance to as she had smashed the box to pieces. And, you were genuinely scared when Takami oozed out of her body.  He looked livid. “Do you want to know what it’s like to be trapped in that box little bird?”

Oh he made sure you knew. Using his magic he fabricated the cutest little box for you. Of course you wailed and begged him to release you. You pounded on the solid walls begging for forgiveness. He felt bad but how else where you to learn? He only let you out to use the restroom and bathe. But as he was addicted to your attention he made sure to always join you inside the cramped box. Those days were truly torturous…

Nsfw 

“Please Keigo please let me out.” You mumbled into his chest. He let out a mock thinking sound. “I don’t know cutie you did try to stick me back in that box.” He mused. “Please it was a mistake I’ll never do it again.” You cried. He scoffed “Of course you won’t I broke it… But I’ll consider letting you out if you give me some attention.” “B-but you already have all of it. I-I see only you. I talk to only you. Keigo what more do you want!” You whimpered. 

“Everything.” He breathed pulling you back by your shoulders his golden eyes drinking in your terrified expression. “I want to suffocate you. Hold you so damn tightly we become one. I want to be your sun. To have you revolve around me. Need me. Want me. I want those pretty eyes of yours to always be on me. I need them to only be on me.” He rambled. His grip on your shoulder tightening with each word. 

“Fine! If that’s what you want then fine.” You sighed leaning your head against his chest in exhaustion. ‘If that’s what he wants then fine.’ You repeated in your head ‘Anything to get out of this damn box.’ “Don’t just say that to get out of here (Name). I’m not someone you can fool.” He hissed. “I-I’m not trying to t-trick you. I’m serious.”

Oh, you don’t know how happy you just made him. You had just promised yourself to him. Now all he had to do was get you to consummate so that you could truly give him everything. “If you want out I need your attention.” He licked his lips desperately. Damn how he craved this. Almost freaking two years! “I already said-” “Here.” He groaned moving your hand to his pants. Your face heating up when you felt his hardening length. 

Your first time with him in that cramped box was a bit painful. His hands had squeezed and groped your body desperately. His mouth drinking in your every cry. His cock pistoned in and out of you savagely. His lips bruised every surface he could reach. Your first time with him was hot, hard and powered by carnal lust. 

True to his word he had let you out. And had lavished your body with attention caring for every bruise and mark. His tongue licked every scratch his nails had left on your body. He kissed the indents of his nail marks on your hips. He apologized for each one. Those were definitely going to scar. Especially when they were just going to be reopened. 

You didn’t have to be doing anything in particular for him to want to ravish you. Just a simple glance his way was enough to ruffle his feathers. He really couldn’t get enough of you. His hands always wanted to wander. Whether you were at work or on isle nine in the supermarket. It was a miracle he had let you out again but it was inevitable. Someone had to go out and work so you could keep the apartment, preferably someone who wasn’t a demonic entity. Sadly you looked ‘Fucking hot’ in your work clothes. You have no idea how many times you had snuck into the bathroom for a quickie at work. 

You weren’t curious to find out if he was bluffing when he said he’d fuck you in front of all your collegues. Just imagining it was horrifying. No one else could see him so it would be as if the air was fucking you. Not only would you get fired but you didn’t think you could handle the humiliation of cumming in front of your boss. 

You hated how experimental he was. Always wanting to bone you in different areas. Some of them very public. He was invisible so he didn’t have anything to lose. This so called ‘bond’ you formed with him when you did the do in the box prevented you from saying no so, you could only ever listen to him and take whatever he gave you. Lucky for you he gave you all he had to offer. All eight inches of it. 

And, he was good. Too good always knowing which angle to thrust into you at. Slowing down just before your peak repeating it over and over so that when you came your whole body trembled. His fingers were magical on your skin and you hated how you anticipated it. And, his tongue ugh his tongue was simple sinful. He’d whisper the dirtiest things into your ear throughout the day watching how you’d get aroused and clenched your thighs. 

His tongue also did marvelous things to your body. Whether it be lapping at a mark or delving into your tight heat. It was crazy how good he was at eating you out. When he made you sit on his face the first time… You still tingle thinking about it. You hadn’t noticed it but slowly you begun to give him more of your time willingly. 

He was funny, capable and damn did he know how to manipulate your body. So much so that you were the one seeking him out. You were the one whining for his attention. You were the one who wanted his eyes on you. And Keigo loved every moment of it. 

[herstarburststories]

Quarantine Boredoom (Dick Grayson x Reader)

✾ A/N: It’s been a certain couple of months since I wrote smut/erotica, but here you go! Although, I think it’s better classified as silly porn aka Nightwing’s type? Anyway! Thanks to my friend for being my beta for this one.

✾ Request: hiya! i saw that your requests are open and then i had a mini asthma attack because i had come back from binge reading your masterlist oops,,,,that got me thinking,,,how funny would it be if reader has asthma and just has to use their puffer during sex? like could you imagine if that were to happen to dick or jason? i’d like to see that happen 👀 also your writing is absolutely amazing!!! keep up the good work!! 💕👌🏻🤠

✾ Disclaimer: fingering.

A purposefully loud huff escaped your lips when your body met Dick's couch. He looked away from the copy of Robin Hood in his hand to raise an eyebrow, but the only response he received was a dramatic sigh.

"(Y/N), are you okay?" Bludhaven's protector ultimately asked, placing his book on the desk to offer his girlfriend unrestricted attention.

"I’ve never been so bored in my life," you grunted, tilting your head in one of your best dramatic performances. "Quarantine isn’t as fun as it looks in the movies."

"I'm sure zombies will appear and we’ll convert to cannibalism soon, (Y/N). Don't worry," Dick replied, humor obvious in his tone. You rolled your eyes, huffing once more. "Also, it’s only been two days. You can't be that bored, right?"

"Easy for you to talk, Nightwing. You still go out on patrol every night. Something you shouldn't do, by the way." You changed the subject of conversation, returning to a topic which you and Dick widely disagreed. Fortunately, the acrobat had an idea of ​​how to entertain you and change the subject to something less likely to end up with him sleeping in the room he currently resided in.

"You know I can’t abandon my role, (Y/N). Especially at a time like this. I take the necessary precautions, like using my sticks instead of punching them in the face, don't worry." His patented wink was followed by the classic playful smile. Before you could rationalize the joke, he continued, "But I might have a hint of ​​how to get you rid of your boredom..."

The suggestive tone in his speech caught your interest instantaneously. "I would love to hear your idea, Dick Grayson."

Grayson's next words evaporated upon his lips, giving space to a malicious smirk as his body leaned over yours on the couch. His mouth easily found its home; your lips, into the slow, lazy beginnings of a kiss.

When you drink for the first time, it is easy to get drunk. Then, you start drinking on more occasions and your limit increases. Two glasses are needed when, a while ago, it would take just one. The organism gets used to it and needs more to achieve the sensation of the first time. With Dick, it always felt like the first time. It didn't matter if he had kissed you two minutes or two months ago; every single touch of him reached a new layer of everything good that someone could transfer to another person, like discovering a new exciting part of yourself.

His hand cupped your cheek, drawing you closer in. The world existed outside that apartment, each minute still had sixty seconds, and Dick Grayson was willing to spend all of them making your body reach a new level of highness for him, without even needing more doses of change to do so. Your heart felt like it was tied to his touch and his only. Dick's hand slowly fell down on the side of your face. His thumb pulled down your lower lip, a farewell present in the intense softness of the gesture.

You giggled, and Richard smiled at you. The playful fingers began their private journey in search of paradise itself on earth. More murmurous kisses were offered as bargain and readily accepted by you. It was a small distraction from the new heights your body was reaching.

Fingers from your chin to jaw, his tongue found yours and caressed it as if he were trained for it. Kissing him was like a dance, it always had been. Grayson's hand stopped on your neck for a moment, but there was no trace of pressure there. Dick just kept dancing, holding on; you wanted to wrap your legs around him, offer some comfort to your wet pussy, even if it was just pressing it against his erection, which was now hard against your leg, to make his self-control more difficult. Yet, you knew better than that. He would have already pulled your legs if that was the plan. His fingerprints on your chest indicated the antics the hero wanted to use.

Dick placed his lips on your neck, lavishing attention upon that spot as much as he wanted. You closed your eyes, unable to decide what you liked most: the bites and gentle suction on your neck or the tender fingers that were already on your stomach. Your hips moved of their own will, seeking the carnal solace you craved as you moaned softly. The former Robin laughed in pleasure at your neediness, moving away from his little branding job to look you in the eyes. He loved to watch you like this, spreading your legs for him while his hand found its way inside your pants.

And now, looking at you and feeling wetness in your panties, Dick decided to keep it a bit slow, as if to see how far you would go. After all, it had been three long weeks without sexual activity. Between his work of detective division vigilante and yours in full-time journalism, 24 hours weren't always enough, but in this moment, all he had to worry about was how needy for him you could get.

Grayson's digits circled your vulva, playing on the edges of its outer lips until he received an impatient sigh from you. He laughed, temporarily satisfied. You looked at him, ready to tell him to do what he knew how to do, but you were silenced by one of his fingers entering your vagina. You pressed your lips together and pushed hips towards him, a nonverbal way of saying that you wanted more. Dick, however, just moved his finger out of your reach. It caused you to open your eyes, stunned.

"Dick!" You were breathless, probably from the rush of sensations he had been — and was supposed to still be — making you experience.

"What?" There was false innocence in his voice that contradicted everything that was happening, especially when he took the finger that was inside you to his mouth and sucked, expression shifting into contentment. "You taste so good, baby. Imagine when you're coming for me."

"Richard John Grayson, if you don’t put— Fuck." The ensuing groan encompassed an ugly word. One of his fingers was still inside you while the other was pressed to your clitoris.

"How am I making you feel, huh?" he asked, despite knowing the answer as well as he knew your sweet spots. Adding another finger, Dick started looking for your G-spot, clitoris being well taken care of by his ring finger. Fuck, he was almost salivating by just thinking about eating you out, your taste, putting his tongue in the warm, wet place his fingers were, but for now, Grayson wanted to watch you enjoy yourself. It was in the way you bit your lip, whimpered for it and moved your hips to get more as if you didn't already have it all when it came to Dick Grayson. "Am I making you feel good?"

"I..." The weight on your chest worsened significantly, almost as if you had put a rock there. You mentally screamed at yourself. Fuck, out of all possible times, you had to be literally running out of breath while your pussy— Come on! The only good thing was that you knew your own body language well enough to quickly understand what was going on. "Dick, I can't breathe."

Dick, on the other hand, was too involved in taking you apart to reach the same conclusion as you.

"I’m making you breathless now?" Indigo eyes meet yours, full of lust. For a millisecond, you wondered if you could handle the random crisis, or if you could be confused about two different things with similar symptoms. That is until the shortness of breath had gotten worse. Fuck.

Well, the opposite of fuck now.

"No, Di— FUCK!" Feeling like the air wasn’t getting into your lungs and the fact that your boyfriend had just found a certain spot inside you while simultaneously rubbing your clitoris didn’t help you remember how to breathe. "I’m literally... My puffer!"

"Wh-- Oh my God, your inhaler!" Mentioning your little miraculous friend that wasn’t between his legs finally brought Detective Grayson's dormant instincts to the surface. He almost jumped away from you, hastily looking for the inhaler. "I'm sorry— I thought... Wait." The scene would be comical if you weren’t coughing in despair, gasping for air and yet simultaneously turned on. He found the puffer on the floor, beside the desk, and handed it to you. Relieved and mildly frustrated, you forced oxygen back into your body for a few moments. You forced yourself to calm down until the inhaler could be discarded next to Dick's book where it originally was.

You faced each other. What could be said? Sorry for forgetting how to breathe while you fingered me? Sorry for confusing your moans of "I can’t breathe’’ for "You’re making me breathless"? Can we agree never to use this expression again? So, I almost died, but am I still up for it? Is my cock still hard after your near-death experience?

For the second time in the evening, words were passed over to make room for another way of communication. The two of you burst out laughing, loud and scandalous. What the fuck just happened? A few good minutes later and you looked at Dick with a smile, your hand full of sin located on his thigh.

"We still got plenty of time. You know, quarantine perks."

Noises of 'you are unbelievable' from him were drowned out by a few more giggles, which soon gave way to corny moans. Perhaps the last two options were the right things to say.

[bubblyani]

Presents

(Klaus Hargreeves x Reader)

A Klaus Hargreeves Christmas One Shot

Rating: Mature (18+)

Author’s Note: Klaus Hargreeves Christmas Smut seemed quite appropriate and truthfully so much fun. Hope y’all enjoy! Merry Christmas!

Christmas Day 

You wondered if there were ever a word that could describe excitement mixed with impatience, for that was all you were feeling. The red painted on your lips was kind to your skin tone, in fact you felt your best.

Zipping up your hoodie jacket, you stared at the tiny box that rested on the sink top. Wrapped elaborately with a thin ribbon to finish, it represented a wish you badly needed fulfilling.

A wish you hoped would come true, on a day like this.

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

Later that day With the cold weather outside, you’ve never entered the Umbrella Academy faster until then.

“I’ll inform Master Hargreeves”

You heard Pogo as he walked away. Tossing your winter jacket, you headed downstairs to the kitchen. You counted inaudibly using your fingers until you heard footsteps grow close.

“Y/N?”

The voice of Klaus Hargreeves made you turn around with a huge smile. He stood there with wide eyes, happy as you ran over to him, leaping for a hug.

“Awww...” your voice sound muffled as you continued, “Hey you...” you said to  his open chest.

“Hey...gorgeous...look at you!” He exclaimed, “Someone’s feeling punk today” Klaus remarked, leading you to curtsy with your short skirt and grey hoodie.

You chuckled.  “You’re the one to talk... wearing Allison’s skirt...” you added. Klaus chuckled back, looking down at his own outfit of an open shirt and leather skirt. “Oh you know...just giving a breathy feel to the bits down there...” he said, “The weather is cold”

“Haha I bet...” you replied, sitting on the table, “But maybe now it needs some warming up, don’t you agree?” You raised your eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

“Oh...baby...don’t give me ideas” Klaus purred, watching you bite your lower lip. Clearly it was bait, as he rushed over to you to offer a long awaited kiss.

“Oh...” he breathed, “I missed you...” he said, kissing you again while he cupped your face, “But...I thought I won’t see you for a while. What happened?” He asked, releasing you from his hold, standing between your legs.

You took a deep breath, “I just...wanted to see you cause ...it’s Christmas” the outcome would be dramatic and you knew it.

And as expected, you watched Klaus scoff out loud. Taking huge steps away from you, he put his hands on his waist.

“Y/N...look around!” He said, extending his arm out, “Does it look like there’s any Christmas spirit in here? I mean I’m most likely to see a Christmas ghost instead...hah!”

“Awww come on...” you said, “there are fun parts in Christmas you can still enjoy..”

“Yeah? like what?” He asked. You shrugged off your shoulders, “Presents!”

Klaus raised his eyebrows in response. “Presents?”

“Yeah ...” you said, “...you like them right?” you inquired with a smile, “Cause I got you one”

“What? Really?” taking one step towards you, curiosity was clearly rich in his voice.

“Yeah...” you replied, looking down over your hoodie pocket “...it’s right....ah man...” you groaned in frustration. Klaus looked concerned.

“What is it?”

“This thing...” you showed a little box that appeared out of the end of your hoodie, “it’s stuck...heheh... I hid it inside to keep it a surprise” you said , “Can you help me pull it out?” You asked politely.

Effortlessly, Klaus managed to pull out the box with ease, making a slight popping sound as he did so.

“Ah!”

“What?”

“You did it. You opened it” you said, which confused him to a great deal.

“No...I didn’t” chuckling, he assured.

And then it was your turn to raise your eyebrows.

“Really?” You asked playfully, putting your hands on the sides of the table, “But how can you tell ...without a good look?”

Klaus gaped, especially as you began to slowly spread your legs wide open. Bringing them up, you placed your pointed feet on the table, allowing him to discover the popping sound was actually your side tie panties loosening up, now giving him a view that made him kneel in response. With his hands on the table, Klaus Hargreeves stared at your exposed womanhood with a longing sigh.

“Damn! I really did...miss you” he breathed, gulping afterwards. The way he stood back up so fast was something you did not expect. But that lustful gaze, you welcomed with open arms.

“Do you like it?” You asked. “Well...let me see...” he said, as you suddenly felt his fingers graze over your slit.

“Christ on a cracker!” He exclaimed softly, while you drew in a sharp breath of pleasure. “I have been a good boy, haven’t I?“ chuckling low, he asked. To which you nodded. “Yes, you have” you replied, before his hungry lips clashed into yours once again.

Savoring his lips, your body did not hesitate to wince and react as his skillful fingers caressed your opening. Be it linear, circular and triangular strokes, they all pleased you.

And with that pleasure, you sensed those fingers moisten with your arousal. Highly motivated, your own hand reached out, palming his manhood that was seemingly awake through the leather material.

“Fuck! fuck... “ Klaus hissed out of frustration, “I can’t take this anymore” he cried, as he pulled his skirt down.

“You could have just pulled it up” You giggled with your response.

“Force of habit...come here” He growled. Resting on your elbows, you positioned yourself until he guided his erect shaft in you.

With a loud exhale, the lust burnt bright in his eyes as he entered you, but you indulged in it.

Placing your weight on the table, you prayed you won’t fall off while he moved. The way he enthused to ravish you, made you thankful. And the way his arousal made home in yours, made you naughty.

“Hey...” you began, “...do you mind?” You asked, motioning towards the zipper on your hoodie, “...its getting a little hot in here”

He halted, continuing to remain inside you as he patiently began to unzip it.

“ Oh god....” Klaus breathed.

The sight of your exposed skin along with the curves of your breasts made his eyes flutter with intoxication. To your glee, he showed his enthusiasm by opening the piece of clothing until it fell off your shoulders.

“..I think I just got harder” He said, by the sight of your own hardened nipples. You swore you never felt sexier.

“Come and get it...Papi” you purred with confidence, sitting up higher.

Klaus Hargreeves proved to be quite the multi-tasker, resuming to move in you, and not forgetting to let his eager hand fondle one breast while his hungry lips tasted your own once again.

Stretching back, your moans grew louder in his mouth, impatiently excited of what would happen next.

Your body rejoiced as his lips began it’s usual journey of carnal exploration. From the jawline, down to your neck and over to the extra sensitive skin on the chest. Sloppy kisses landed on your breasts as his hand parted from it. The tickles and teases of his facial hair were one of your secret cravings, which also included his tongue eagerly marking territory over your erect buds.

You wanted this to last, but you also wanted to be fair. Grabbing him by the hair, you hoped to steer those lips and that tongue to the other one. But fortunately, guidance was not necessary when he was fueled with greed.

“Oh...I fucking love this!” You cried out. This was no lie, for you’d admit it always. The way he tasted you, the way he pleasured you, truly measured up to the equal level of love and enthusiasm he had for any known substance.

Moving along with him in smooth rhythm, you laid down on the table. You found yourself staring at the ceiling, lost in the pleasure that was given to you.

Suddenly the ceiling appeared to look even more beautiful, when you realized Klaus was looking right at you. His eyes, so green, so shimmery. Mesmerized , only his sudden thrusts made you aware of your position, making you hold on to him while he increased his speed.

Finding his smile grow bigger, made you happier,  reminding yourself of the carefree couple you both were, living and loving like there was no tomorrow. 

As you both shared those empathetic, mischievous smiles, you watched him make his declaration through half voiced words and sentences, until he pulled himself out to make his release.

Falling on top of you, he nestled his face on your neck.

“I got you an actual present by the way ...” you panted, as you held him.  He got up to look at you. “What?” He sounded genuinely surprised, “ But I love this one”.

You smiled. “Babe...You deserve more...” you couldn’t help but say it with love. You felt him feel that love while you both found yourself lost in each other. Lips grew impatient as they reunited for gentle kisses. 

“Okay... let’s make a move before anyone comes in here” you said, making him groan in protest.

“What??? So soon?” He said, running his finger along your bare stomach. You tried so hard not to like it.

“Yeah! With your ass out , someone’s gonna think Christmas dinner is having intercourse”

“Intercourse?” He said, “My! you’re polite” he added, inciting giggles from both of you while sitting up. Until he realized.

“Wait! Christmas dinner??” He exclaimed.

As you got decent, you nodded with a smile. “Yep! ...” you said, getting down from the table. Seeing his eyes brighten with joy made it all worth it “...Grace and I will be making Christmas dinner for you gu-”

His passionate embrace interrupted you, yes. But it made it all better. 

“Merry Christmas Klaus!” You chuckled, hugging him back.

“Merry Christmas Y/N!” He said, emotion rich in his tone. Pulling away, his smile never looked so pure.

“Thank you..” he breathed, leaning over to kiss you once again.

A few hours earlier, you hoped for a wish to come true. And when it did, it was better than imagined.

____________________________________________________

TAGGED: @saduh @starlightmornings @bitch4bagels @theumbrellapilots @klaushollandyoung @batfam16 @sku11z-n-r0s3z @klaushargreeves420 @uwu-for-jungwoo @stcrrynightsinneverlcnd @fandomaddicted123 @allhandsontheotherside @planetalia @chokemerobert @bucky-barnestwss @badsext @nathan-sheehan @that-boi-misfits @zoemassingale @whatawildone​ @outerxorbit​ @nellaphine @spookybroccolini​

[hawkland]

Dear Smut4Smut creator

Letter for the 2021 Smut 4 Smut exchange

My AO3 profile: sidewinder

Thank you for writing or creating art for me! I know I’ll be thrilled with whatever you come up with for any of my requests. (And if I babble on or have more prompts for one ship than another, don’t take that as any kind of preference. Some I just am more specific in the kinds of smutty scenarios I’m requesting/wanting at this time, but I love them all the same.)

Please consider the requested tags all the “prompt” you need if so inspired, if none of my suggested scenarios and ideas inspire you. Also, of course, feel free to combine them or use only one as you see fit! 

General Likes

Non-penetrative sex (especially in first-time scenarios). I love extended kissing scenes, frottage, mutual hand jobs, characters so turned on and overwhelmed that they come from barely being touched/before they can get all their clothes off, etc.

Romantic smut more than really kinky smut (though a bit of light bondage/restraint can be fun!)

That said, I have a definite weakness for wing!kink and tentacles... where appropriate :) 

Generally stoic/repressed/strong characters breaking down and needing comfort/hugs/acceptance of their vulnerabilities

Inverted relationship power dynamics - in the sense of a seemingly older and/or more powerful character actually being less experienced in sex/romantic relationships, or having more doubts & insecurities, and needing the younger/less powerful character to take the lead or reassure them.

In art - I really love all styles of fan art and just seeing how different artists interpret my favorite characters. Seriously, and that’s not just a cop-out because I’m crappy at coming up with art-specific prompts.

General Do No Wants

A/B/O dynamics, mating heats

animal abuse/death

anything related to pregnancy/childbirth

formalized BDSM relationships

non-canon gender identities and/or sexual orientations except gay/bi/pan for requested ships/characters 

scat/watersports

unrequested alternative-universe scenarios such as high school/genderswap/coffee shop/etc (however, canon-divergent AUs completely fine!)

Supernatural-Castiel/Dean Winchester

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants: Bad ending/unhappy-ever-after, Sam-bashing, any suggestions of Wincest

I confess I am a very new Destiel-shipper/SPN fan, having only gotten into the show late last year (post-finale.) So while I know there are mountains of stories already written about this ship, sometimes it’s nigh impossible to dig through it all to find stories that scratch the specific fic cravings I have. Hence all the prompts/ideas for them here, some of which I’m sure have been done to death already...but please humor me :)

Long Prolonged Make-Outs

Kissing All Over

Frottage

First Time Sex is Non-Penetrative 

First Time with Partner of the Same Gender

Experience - Experienced/Inexperienced

Experience - Experienced Partner Lets Inexperienced One Explore Them

Playful Sex

Morning After (Incredible Sex the night before)

I love everything about newly-human!Cas in season 9 (and Cas’s hedonistic tendencies in general). I have to imagine that, as a human, he just feels things with an intensity that angels just don’t feel, as if with human lifetimes so condensed, their senses are intensified to make up for it in a way that would be overwhelming for a hugely powerful/nearly immortal creature like an angel.

So give me any story about Cas’ exploring and fully embracing the sensual pleasures of sex (with Dean). I love Season 9 canon-divergence fics where Dean lets him stay in the bunker. Perhaps after his first taste of sex with April, Cas wants to add to his experiences by having sex with a male-bodied human/someone he deeply cares about (ie, DEAN). Dean may still be struggling with his own internalized homo/bi-phobia but it’s hard for him to resist Cas with his insatiable curiosity about how the human body works, having no filters/no taboos and just wanting to taste/touch/experience until he/they both are completely overwhelmed.

Wings as Erogenous Zones

Wing Kink

I love wings and true-form Cas as well. In fact I’m totally okay with canon-compliant, post-finale fic in Heaven if it means Dean can finally see/experience Cas’s true form (or at least glimpses/parts of it) without dying (because, you know, already dead and all that.) Otherwise, I’m always up for AUs where Dean can sense/feel/see Cas’s wings (if Cas wants him to) and they are an incredible erogenous zone for the angel. Maybe even his most powerful one.

Touching All Over

Touch-starved character overwhelmed from seemingly innocent touches

Touch-starved

Awkward First Times

Trauma Recovery

thank god you're/we're alive sex

Tender Sex with Lots of Eye Contact & Barely Repressed Feelings

Tender Sex

Shame in Sexual Desires

Room-Wrecking Sex

Reunion Sex

Characters mutually pining finally get together and have amazing sex

Desperate Sex

Sex gets paused to deal with PTSD then maybe returned to 

I’ll take all the Cas-is-back, ignore-the-finale fics that are possible. Give me touch-starved Cas after his rescue from The Empty. (Dean can be fully into immediately satisfying his needs or, for angst, still struggling with/unsure of his feelings/sexuality.) It’s tender and healing, or maybe it’s explosive with all those years of pent-up desire and needs. You tell me, I love it all!

Sex While Washing Off The Blood of Their Enemies

Sex While Covered In The Blood of Their Enemies

sex under the stars

Outdoor Sex

Car Sex - on the hood of a car

Car Sex - in the back seat

Hotel Sex

tender making out in a car

sex after a long car ride

For these tags, I’m thinking canon-divergent future-fic where Dean is getting older (maybe Cas is too, if he’s lost his grace), yet they still go out on hunts together on occasion to relive the “glory days”. (Sam’s happily settled down and out of the hunting life with Eileen). They enjoy post-hunt sex in the outdoors or in/on the car, or seedy motel, reveling in the adrenaline of the kill, reaffirming their need and love for each other. Yum.

Supernatural - Endverse Castiel/Dean Winchester/Endverse Dean Winchester 

Desperate Sex

Threesome - M/M/M

Threesome - Character/Crush/Another Version of Crush

Turned On By Violence

One last fuck before you die

Drugs - Drug Use

Time Travel - Sleeping with older/younger version of someone you know in your own timeline

Time Travel - Sleeping with older/younger self

Pairing-Specific DNWs: None here. Go as dark as you want, since it’s Endverse.

Um, yeah. Pretty much what the tags suggest. Dean knows its freaky as hell but maybe he catches his future self and Cas having sex and they invite him in. Maybe he sees it as a chance to be with Cas (even this very different Cas) like he can’t in his own time. Castiel is totally messed up over seeing the man he had fallen in love with (and fallen from grace for) as he had been, back then, and can’t contain himself now that he’s gone so deep into carnal/hedonistic pleasures.

The Orville - Gordon Malloy/Ed Mercer

thank god you're/we're alive sex

"We Lived" Kiss Reveals Feelings

Stranded - On Another Planet/World With No Way Home

Huddling For Warmth Leads To Sex

on the run together

Desperate Sex

One last fuck before you die

Fandom-specific Do Not Want: No Kelly-bashing.

I’d love something set in the alternative universe/timeline of “The Road Not Taken”, where the Kaylons have won, leaving Gordon and Ed on the run together.  Just, any kind of desperate situation where they know they could die at any moment, so they might as well seek whatever comfort, love and tenderness they can find being with each other.

Laughter During Sex

Awkward First Times

Friends to Lovers

First Time Sex is Non-Penetrative

Frottage

Something Made Them Do It

Drugs - Experimental Substance Has Weird Sexual Side Effects

Casual Sex while Secretly Pining

Laughter During Sex

Something fun and silly (and sexy), please, using any of these tags! The show just screams out for tropey “something made them do it” scenarios, be it due to aliens, alien food or drink, whatever. Otherwise I’d love a story where they realize they do have more serious feelings for each other than their (up til then) casual relationship has allowed.

The Good Place - Michael/Eleanor Shellstrop

Tentacles - Tentacle Sex

Tentacles

Xeno - Nonhuman Partner is Ashamed of Their Body

Experience - Experienced/Inexperienced

Awkward First Times 

Laughter During Sex

romantic sex

Tentacles - Gentle and Tender Tentacle Sex with Lots of Caresses and Cuddles

Fandom-specific Do Not Wants: No Chidi-bashing (but also, no Chidi/Eleanor endgame references/suggestions).

The ship/canon where I will eternally want tentacle smut! Michael seems so ashamed of his fire-squid demon form. I want him to find out that Eleanor actually finds it kind of a turn-on and would love to find a way she could...experience it. Since we know Michael can create simulations/realities (like he does in “The Trolley Problem”), maybe he can create one where Eleanor can see/experience a version of himself that won’t, you know, destroy the entire neighborhood or burn her to a crisp?

Otherwise I’m good with any kind of first-time scenario in one of Michael’s “reboots” (or later on when they’ve figured things out and are in Michael’s Neighborhood Improvement Experiment). Awkward Michael figuring out his human body’s reactions to Eleanor, them having fun and romantic sex, would definitely make my heart happy.

[zerot0all]

ɴɪɢʜᴛ ʟɪɢʜᴛs | ᴍ

.WOONG POV.

.Small story plot. Straight filth. Instant love.

.Rated M for smut & slight fluff.

Enjoy!

.

.

.

She works long hours at that convenience store, putting her life in danger every single night. Those sick humans have tried countless times to take advantage of her ... but not anymore.

That’s why I stick around. Making sure no one touches what’s mine.

She’s fragile. Soft. Gentle. And beautiful beyond belief.. while I’m a monster who dwells the nights feeding off of the sinful.

I’m not like my brothers. I care for the innocent humans. A lot of them are not bad , not as bad as us. Especially her... she’s different. She’s usually alone and helpless, but she’s also strong. She’s continued to move forward in life amongst all the negative shit that keeps getting thrown her way.

Which is why I’m here ... I’ve suddenly fallen for her. The innocence of her beauty and her shy being. I wish to help her with life ... I want her with me.

“Woong, you’re back?” Her smile brightens up my night , it was nearing dawn when I always make an appearance.

“I was kinda craving some Oreo cookies ,” I lie. The excuse is to be around her when it’s her time to clock out , since she walks home, that’s the only way I can protect her at this moment.

“You’ve become my guardian angel, do you know that?” She grins, lighting my world on fire as her eyes watch me. She’s pure. So fucking pure. And the monster within me wishes to taint her soul.. black.

“Well, I’m always here for you if you need me.” I say as calmly as I possibly could, but the simplicity of her innocence and gratefulness has made my chest tighten. Every second being around her has taken so much out of me, the monster within begging to be freed so he can consume. Feast on her delectable sweetness which courses through her precious veins , but I mustn’t.

“Woong?”

She speaks up, bringing me back to reality as I stand outside her apartment door. She watches me , like she’s waiting for me to say something. That’s when I notice I have been transfixed in everything having to do with her, that I never noticed we were at her place already. I shake my head. Almost embarrassed.

“Huh?” I hum, wondering what she was waiting for. Then she giggles, making every inch of my cold blooded body begin to burn up.

“I asked if you would like to come in for some coffee?” She asked again, moving to the side so I would enter. I glanced at her living room, which was right at eye sight. I could- but I shouldn’t.

I blankly looked down at my shoes. Battling with the demon within me, telling him to remain calm. But the more I took in her scent , he hissed. My teeth chattered , my fangs painfully needing to rip through her flesh and-

“Come in, Woong,” her permission made the invisible barrier come crashing down and the monster grin slyly.

Before I knew it , I was making my way into her small apartment. One I’ve watched and protected from the outside for months , taking care of her like as if she belonged to me.

She doesn’t ... not yet, at least.

“How do vampires drink their coffee?” Her sudden question made me freeze , quickly turning towards her small frame as she headed to her kitchen.

“W-What?” I stuttered.

“Wait, do vampires even drink coffee?” Her heartbeat was calm, as well as her voice. Yet, I was on edge.

“H-How-” i tried to ask, only to have her interrupt me.

“Well, I think about three months back , when that old man got loud with me , I saw the way your eyes turned black as you glared him down. Plus, a friend of mine is a vampire too.”

Her bravery had taken a sudden turn, making me smile. News of our kind wasn’t unheard of , but after centuries of being one with the shadows , we are still getting used to humans knowing about us. We live amongst eachother , still keeping silent about our outings ... the war between human and night creatures has been a battle that will reign on for more centuries to come.

Till, of course ... we take over.

“So, you knew all along. And ... you’re not scared?” I question, eyeballing her cocky demeanor. It was something I haven’t seen in her , yet it was refreshing. Her confidence had made everything about her that much more appealing.

She goes to shake her head, biting her bottom lip as a ploy to get me to break. I blink back her alluring poison, making its way into my very own soul. She’s addicting, yet I haven’t even had one single drop of her blood.

I needed her ... bad.

“You don’t scare me ,” she breathed as we stood in the middle of her living room, the light breaking into the sky outside her window announcing early hours of the morning. Her words ran through my head, triggering the monster. But her pure aura has made me calm, making me take a few steps towards her.

“That’s good , because I would never do anything to scare or harm you.” I confess, letting everything I believe fly out the window, along with the meaning of being a deadly killer. I gulp the anticipation down, dreading her reaction. For months, my nights have revolved around her.

Her world.

Her protection. Her safety and her heart.

“And I believe you, Woong.” Her voice was small, tiny even. The sudden jump in her heartbeat let me know , she was feeling more than what she was actually letting on. But as I took a sudden deep breath, I realized what it was.

My dear y/n, was excited. And as her heartbeat began to accelerate, so did my instincts.

“You do know the rule of inviting a vampire inside your home, right?” I purr, getting closer to my prey, to which she nods.

“And you still invited me in? Do you know how dangerous that is, my dear.” I go on. Each step I took towards her ... she took two back, instantly meeting the wall.

“I trust you .... more than you will ever know.” Her lips trembled , her heartbeat faster than ever, as her chest tainted pink along with her cheeks.

We were inches away , breathing the same air as I leaned down, softly rubbing my nose on her cute little button nose. She gasped shyly, closing her eyes shortly.

“You didn’t invite me in for coffee, huh?” I whispered , anticipating the next move. Her trembling hands began to inch closer to me , finding my waist and holding on to my belt. The signs were all there ... her deep breaths, goosebumps, and her radiating essence which called out for me. I was right ... she didn’t want an early morning coffee date ... she wanted something way more carnal and lustful.

I slammed my hands on the wall behind her, cutting it close from her fragile head, making her jolt up in fright. Her eyes finally opened , glancing up at mine . She gasped suddenly, watching as my eyes shifted from black to blood red. I was hungry , daring to crave her very flesh but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her in that manner.

“What do you want?” I hissed. Her eyes not once wavering from my fearful glare , I was letting the monster out , testing the waters of my possibility of holding back. But with each passing second , her aroma filled my lungs.

“Y-You,” she stuttered , taking short breaths as I pinned her to the wall with my hip. Her mouth hung open on a soft sigh, not sure what made her this brave but she slyly lifted a leg, letting me fit right between her sweet thighs. I groaned inwardly , needing her to do or say more.

“For fuck sake my love, tell me what to do.. tell me how to fuck you, give me orders ... I’m here to please no one else but you.” I was her pet , her fool to do as she may. I wanted nothing more in this pathetic world than to cater to her.

“Fuck me against the wall, make me scream your name. I want the whole apartment complex to know who I belong too.” Her voice was small, gentle but yet my cock sprung to life making me see red. I huffed as I went to her , assaulting her lips with mine. She moaned an approval as I kissed her passionately, tasting her tongue, sucking on it to make her groan.

Her tiny hands fumbled with my belt , unbuckling it with an urge. I grinned maliciously, letting her tantrum reign hell as I also went to her jeans. Unzipping and getting rid of them. Her panties went next , just as I dropped my jeans too.

I was admiring the way she let me do as I please , one of my hands held onto her thigh, keeping it lifted as I grinded into her, while my other held onto her face as I kissed her endlessly. My length was heavy with need as it was cradled by her precious cunt, adjusting it between her folds for minimal pleasure. I wanted to get her wet enough so I can fuck her hard and fast , as much as I wish to make love to this innocent human, I needed to be inside her and finally make her mine. Claim her .. leave my mark on her so no one else would even dare approach her.

Time and space itself seemed numb and nowhere to be found as I finally let my throbbing cock sink into her. She was tight... just as I imagined, she was meant for me.

She was destined to be with a monster.

“W-Woong,” she hummed , seductively as her arms went around my neck, gaining control and balance. She did a quick hop , bringing both her thighs to hang on my hip. It was better , easier even for me to thrust up into her core, her essence dripping down along my leg the more I rammed up into her. Her soft voice began to grow with each thrust , sensual moans carefully spiking up to loud screams.

She was close, I could feel it in the way she hugged my cock, the way her legs shook with adrenaline, her thighs clamping around me, as well as her arms tightening their hold. she kept me close , closer than ever. Her heartbeat raced, meeting mine in a rhythmic flow causing me to growl into her neck. I needed to bite her, drink her blood that has been driving me crazy for far too long.

“B-Bite me ,” she whimpered. My eyes shot open at her command , I paused my erratic fucking to look deep in those dark eyes of hers. They were glossy , on the verge of spilling tears of pleasure and the fact that her words sang a song so catchy in my head , I did as my love asked of me.

My fangs elongated swiftly, meeting her flesh within seconds of coming to light. I bit down rapidly, taking one large gulp as both our climaxes joined together. We stood still , she gasped for air as her cunt wrung my dick dry. Meanwhile , I tasted the very liquid gold the originals have casted myths about. The thick crimson juice tasted of sweet sin , and I couldn’t believe she let me.

I didn’t wish to let her go. I wanted to remain stuck to her , let my cock sit within her pretty pussy. I wanted my mouth on hers forever ... for eternity. But as her breathing calmed , so did I. I released her fragile neck, letting my length slip out as I gently let her down. She swayed a little , a normal effect after getting consumed but I held her close. She smelled of lavender, clean and innocent. Yet, my sick and filthy hands have been all over. I claimed her.

She is mine.

“Wanna spend the ... day?” She giggled absentmindedly at her own joke. Knowing the sun was up, it was sure indeed both our bedtime. But she blushed, seeming as beautiful as ever , she was drunk off of me. I couldn’t help but smile at her , this little angel made a monster like myself fold.

“I’ll spend an eternity with you, my love.”

——————————

[MS]

[ultravioletsoul]

Virgo Shaka x Reader - N/S/F/W Alphabet

Oh dear lawd, I’ve always found it a little (ok, terribly) difficult to imagine Shaka of all people in a romantic relationship. Out of the twelve gold saints, he’s probably the least likely to be in one. It was already too much effort for my brain to picture him holding hands with anyone, let alone expressing any interest in doing the do, but here I am… writing an adult post about him. 

I need to clarify that these headcanons are about Shaka post the Twelve Houses story arc. Honestly, he would have zero interest in anyone before that since he was a little of an arrogant and vain jerk or, if he did, he would be too proud to admit it because how can a god-like figure like him feel that way?? Ludicrous!

Anyways, yes, after the fight with Ikki (what an absolute mad lad that guy is, bless him), Shaka would be more open to the idea of a romantic relationship but I still feel it’d happen under some special circumstances. And he’s going to be a peculiar boyfriend.

This is a very belated birthday gift for an amazing friend because she loves Shaka, ever since I dragged her into Saint Seiya hell ♥♥. Forgive me if it’s terrible *le cri* 

Warnings: Sexual content. Possible OoC. Unbetaed. I have no idea how this happened. 

                                                             *  *  *

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): 

Despite his serene appearance, how collected he acts around others, and the way he carefully reins in his emotions to the point he may come off as cold and detached, Shaka can be surprisingly caring and soft with you after an intimate session between the sheets.

Considering he would only do it with someone he deeply cares about and that it’s not a decision he’d take lightly (people just assumed he was asexual until they learned about you and then were confused as heck), you have to mean a lot to him.

So of course he wants to share the warm afterglow of lovemaking with you, lying together in complete bliss.

He may not be very talkative afterwards, but don’t take it as a sign he is troubled or displeased about something. Your most recent experience is still sinking in his mind and he’s not used to feeling so many strong emotions at once.

Little actions such as playing with your hair, kissing your forehead, letting you snuggle against him, or draping a protective arm around you to bring you closer, are ways in which he would show his affection.

He’d also like to make sure you’re both clean and refreshed before a good night’s rest so don’t be upset if he scoops you up in his arms and takes you straight for a warm bath. 

Just let him pamper you while he’s in the mood for some touching and cuddling ;)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Not actually a favorite part of his body, but he likes it when you gently run your fingers or place feathery kisses across his abdomen. If you tease him and “innocently” draw closer to his cock, he’s going to have hard time resisting you (no pun intended :v) and may turn the tables on you.

Shaka loves everything about you but his favorite part of your body would be your eyes because of the beauty of soul he sees in them. 

As a saint who fights to for Athena and justice, he knows there is evil in this world but you are a lotus flower growing in the mud. And it’s because of people like you why the goddess he serves believes humanity is worth saving.

He can easily get lost in them when he’s making love. It’s one of the few times he wouldn’t want to close his eyes and he would gently encourage you not to break eye contact either. He loves gazing into the depths of your soul as you both reach new heights of pleasure in each other’s arms.

Nothing but that moment with you matters to him. When you’re two alone in that room, you’re the only deity he worships in mind, body and soul.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Sorry to break it to you guys, but Shaka wouldn’t do cum play or anything of the like.

He’d actually be weirded out if you even suggested the idea to him, and he wouldn’t understand what’s so attractive or exciting about it.

He’s a guy who has always been meticulous and methodical in everything he does given the teachings he’s received from his mentor (the Buddha :o). As someone who has engaged in lots of meditation to clear his mind from fears and doubts, personal hygiene and cleanliness are important to him, so he would prefer to keep the mess to a minimum if possible. So no, he isn’t in a hurry to see you doing stuff with his semen.

Shaka likes coming inside you. It’s the only place he ever wants to be when he makes love to you.

It’s a wonderful, intimate moment and he would hold you tightly against him as your souls mesh together into a single being.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

It has never interested him before but, after starting a relationship with you, out of curiosity, he might have read some texts on the subject of erotic love. It was for science, tho!

Now now, of course he isn’t oblivious to the intimate affairs of couples, and nobody has to explain to him how babies are made. You can rest assured Shaka knows perfectly well how sex works. 

He wants to be a better partner for you but, for all his knowledge and wisdom, he’s aware he’s not exactly the most versed man in such matters. 

Despite this, Shaka adamantly refuses to ask anyone for advice, so you bet he’s gonna do the research on his own. He can figure this out.

Shaka would keep it classy, however. Nothing pornographic or vulgar is acceptable. That’s not how he wants to treat you.

Shaka’s approach is purely analytical and educational, and he reads it all with a straight face. The others would never guess what he’s actually up to.

It’s a serious matter for him. He wants to make sure he’s got what it takes to make you happy not only on a physical but emotional level as well.

In the past, the thought of sex wouldn’t have even fazed him. Shaka cared very little about it and honestly he didn’t see what the appeal was.

He still doesn’t much care but when it comes to you, he’s not against the idea. 

Fine, he digs it.

But he’s a little embarrassed to admit it.

As someone who has trained to let go of his attachment for sensual pleasures and desires, it baffled him a little that the thought even crossed his mind.

That hasn’t stopped his curiosity for learning more about how to please you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

Shaka is a virgin. Don’t @ me. 

That’s the real source of his power. Geddit? *fingers guns*

On a more serious note, it is no surprise that he’s not very experienced.

It’s not that he thinks sex is something dirty or bad per se. He just never had the time or any interest in the pursuit of such trivialities. Lust and sexual craving are not traps he would fall prey to. He devotes himself completely to his duty as a saint of Athena, and so he avoids distractions that would hinder the fulfillment of his mission.

You’d most likely get to be the first sexual experience he’s ever had and it’s no simple feat to seduce the man who’s closest to being a god. He believed himself to be above such worldly affairs until he met you and boy…

He was wrong once again.

Finding ecstasy in your arms is nothing short of divine.

Shaka would take his time to be intimate with you, though. He doesn’t do casual sex and needs to be absolutely certain of your feelings for each other first.

However, don’t let his virginal status fool you. He has made his research beforehand (see letter D), he has prepared and knows where to go.

If he doesn’t get it right the first time he’ll try again and again until he has you writhing in pleasure. His own satisfaction is secondary to yours.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Lotus. I’m sorry for being so cliché OMG.

Pic (NSFW)

He spends a lot of time in this position when he meditates, so don’t be surprised if at some point he wants you to sit on his crossed legs and ride him.

Shaka would enjoy the intimacy and closeness this position provides. 

It’s not a position that allows for frenzied love-making, but that’s precisely why he likes it so much.

Buried deep inside your wet core, he can feel your heart beating against his chest in unison with his as he holds you in his protective embrace, and there’s nowhere else he would rather be.

He loves it when you shower small kisses on his face and happily surrender yourself to him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): 

The first times, Shaka would wear a serious expression because he’s concentrating on learning what you like, what makes you tick and curl your toes.

He’s studying you not just on a physical level. Intimacy is beyond simple carnal pleasure for Shaka. It’s a matter of spiritual connection.

He’ll get more playful and cocky (no pun intended) once he learns how to push your buttons.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He doesn’t have a lot of body hair and always keeps his face clean, shaven and moisturized.

His nails are well trimmed. His hair nicely brushed and scented. His body devoid of bad smells. 

That being said, he’s not very hairy downstairs (he’s got mostly a patch of soft blond hair), but he keeps things well groomed. Shaka doesn’t like sloppiness.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

It’s gentle lovemaking with Shaka and nothing less.

However, he can get too caught up in the details and in delivering a good performance that it may be a little difficult for him to really get lost in the moment.

He’s too worried about being perfect and bringing you pleasure that he sometimes forgets about the most romantic aspects.

Reassuring him he’s doing a good job will put his mind at ease. Be appreciative of his efforts and give him your undivided attention.

He’ll be the most doting lover ever because sharing his bed and body with you are very special to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Shaka has an unbelievable control over his sexual urges and, even if he’s in a relationship with you, that wouldn’t change a lot.

He doesn’t usually masturbate, even when he’s been deprived of your touch for long periods of time (which would be when he’s away on missions for the Sanctuary). He can handle it no problem.

That doesn’t mean you’re not on his mind. Shaka always thinks about you with the deepest love and respect.

Masturbating can never compare to the bliss he feels when you’re in his arms. It’s just empty pleasure and would leave him even more frustrated, aching for you.

He would rather show you how much he loves you and missed you the next time he gets to see you.

Mutual masturbation is something he wouldn’t mind doing, if given the chance.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

In all honesty, Shaka is not overly kinky and he’s perfectly content with vanilla sex.

However, he lowkey enjoys being dominated so if you flip him on his back and mount him, he’ll find it a nice game changer.

Ride that boy, seriously. He gets off on being a bottom and the sight of you enjoying yourself so much would drive him to the edge.

Tease him all you want, deny him release or keep him from touching you, he’ll endure it like a good boy.

But if you think you can run the show for too long, get ready because Shaka will get his due.

You’ll have to learn you can’t play dirty and expect him to show you mercy.

Bad girls like you deserve divine punishment  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He’s a bit old-fashioned, so he prefers the privacy and quiet of his own bedroom. Discretion is Shaka’s middle name.

It’s very practical and convenient too.

There’s no better place than his bed: clean, fresh, comfortable and quiet. He can relax and get in the mood without worrying about anything else.

He also won’t mind doing it on the floor, provided it’s pristine and there’s a plush mat with lots of cushions on it.

If he’s in your place, your bed and environment have to be clean and neat or else he’s not going to feel up for any sexy times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

As someone who spends a lot of time inside his head, he needs a stimulating conversation to get him going.

It doesn’t even have to be sexual. You could ask him about his life as a saint or engage him in some philosophical talk. He’ll be happy to share his knowledge with you and will be interested in what you have to say.

Stroke his ego a little but don’t make it obvious.

On the other hand, witty banter turns him on, too. He’s got a sharp sense of humor but if you can turn around his jokes and roast him, leaving him speechless, he’ll want to get even through other means.

And you can imagine how  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Shaka loves foreplay. The more foreplay you have, the more aroused he’ll be. He can spend hours just kissing, cuddling and touching.

A nice bath with him can also get him in the mood. He’ll feel more comfortable if you’re both clean and fresh. It doesn’t matter if you’re about to get dirty again.

If during foreplay or sex you whisper sweet nothings in his ear and praise him, that’s a sure way to turn him on. Praise that boy if he’s doing an amazing job, he’ll try to do it even better.

On the other hand, don’t be shy to tell him if something isn’t working for you. He’ll know if you’re faking it and that will kill his inspiration. He’ll start doubting himself.

He likes it when you talk dirty to him, even if your words make him blush, but refrain from being vulgar. He will find it in bad taste.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

Anything that involves humiliation or degradation of you or himself.

Any weird kinks.

Don’t ask him to get into hard-core BDSM. He won’t do it.

Edgeplay. Anything that would hurt you is a big no for him. He loves you too much and wouldn’t bear the thought of bringing any harm upon you even if it’s consensual.

He won’t do it in public places.

Poor hygiene will definitely turn him off.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He may not be very keen on the idea of oral sex at first, whether it’s giving or receiving. Poor bb is still shy even if he doesn’t want to look like it.

But he may be open-minded about it once he gets more experience with you.

He’ll get there with gentle guiding and reassurance, but don’t rush him if he isn’t ready yet. Let him go at his own pace.

Once he gets past his initial shyness, he’ll be more confident to go down on you.

He won’t mind receiving but he prefers not coming in your mouth or any other part of your body.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Let’s be honest. Shaka doesn’t fuck. Ever. He’s not gonna rip off your clothes or manhandle you or use you like his plaything. That’s not his style.

Don’t get the wrong idea. Despite his cool exterior, he’s still a passionate man. It’s just that his passion burns slower than most.

He will take his time to make sure everything’s perfect so you both can take delight in the experience.

His mindset is one of enjoying the build up and the journey rather than desperately rushing to his destination.

He wants to relish in every kiss, every caress and every sound of pleasure you make, he wants to feel all of you— to reach into your soul.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

Quickies aren’t his thing. Shaka’s sex life isn’t very spontaneous, so suggesting him to pull off a fast one isn’t going to appeal to him.

He can control his urges and expects you to do the same. He can wait until a more appropriate time for intimacy.

Shaka needs preparation to have sex. He wants to be in the right state of mind, he needs to plan the details of that special night with anticipation, he doesn’t want to leave anything to chance or else he’ll find it difficult to be at ease.

Let him have it his way, it’ll be worth it.

Conversely, you can teach him how to be less uptight and not to fret over being flawless.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): 

Shaka is game to experimenting as long as you talk about it beforehand, but don’t expect him to go outside his comfort zone. It’s a feat in itself that you even managed to get him laid.

He prefers sticking to what works for you both, so keep in mind he’s not very adventurous. 

But he’ll do his best to please you and will be open to suggestions on how to spicy things up in the bedroom.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): 

It may not look like it but Shaka has a surprising amount of stamina.

Though he’s a bit slow to warm up, his passion will burn longer.

He won’t tire out easily but if you’re exhausted already he’ll let you rest. If you want to go another round, he’ll be happy to oblige.

He can last for a very long time without releasing inside you, but he’s also learned to have orgasms without ejaculating.

All that meditation and self control stuff? Well, turns out it’s helped him have a wonderful sex life with you :v

Bae can keep going all night long. You’ll sooner get exhausted before he does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He doesn’t own any toys. The only toys he knows are the ones kids use to play.

Blindfolds and restraints are okay. He’ll use them on you if that’s what you want.

He still prefers simple, intimate, vanilla sex. Less is more for him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Shaka can be a big tease when he wants to so don’t expect him to be very merciful if you provoke him.

He loves it when you beg him like a god tho.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): 

He’s not very loud. Shaka is always restrained about how vocal he is, but you’ll definitely hear him grunt and sigh and moan often.

He prefers listening to the sweet sounds you make.

Once he’s close to an orgasm, he can get noisier and will try to muffle his moans by biting his lips or kissing you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): 

At times when tending to his garden in the house of Virgo, he’s thought about making love to you under the night sky and among the flowers he’s cultivated.

Your hair covered in petals as the light of the universe shines in your eyes is a sight he wants to see in this life.

Though maybe he’ll never have the chance to tell you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Ideal size. Not too big, not too small. Proportional to the rest of this body. 

He’s got a pretty cock, honestly. Its texture is silky and when he’s hard it turns a rosy color. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Shaka’s sex drive isn’t very high actually and, if it’s up to him, he won’t have sex very often. He’s for quality before quantity.

You may start wondering when was the last time you even had intimacy.

Don’t be surprised if it’s been 84 years.

He might as well look at the calendar and think “we haven’t done it in a while, next week may be a good time to get it on”.

His training taught him not to grow attached to his desires and he’s tremendously disciplined at that.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t have sexual desires. He just doesn’t let them control him and is not animalistic about them.

Sex isn’t the most important aspect to have a fulfilling relationship. It’s just the icing on the cake, so to speak.

What truly matters is the emotional bond you two have forged. 

You’re not an object for him.

He can live happily without any kind of sexual intimacy if that’s what you want. He won’t love you any less for it and you’ll never hear complaints or reproaches from him.

Shaka doesn’t feel guilty about wanting to make love to you. Just don’t expect him to be a sex beast ready to pounce on you any time. That won’t happen.

Shaka would have no problem if you have a higher sex drive than he does. He’ll strive to make you happy. 

If you take the initiative and try to get in his pants, as long as he’s in a private and comfortable environment where he can let go, he’ll give in. Otherwise forget it.

Plan ahead if you intend to get naughty with him. Shaka will appreciate the thoughtfulness.

Just don’t take advantage of him because as much as he enjoys sleeping with you, he’ll quickly get bored if all you think about is undressing him when you’re with him.

Don’t reduce him to a sex object for your personal gratification, he won’t be comfortable with it. Respect and love him like he does with you. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): 

Shaka doesn’t fall asleep immediately.

He likes cuddling after making love.

He may have his eyes closed but he’s still awake and he’s listening to your every breath, your heart beating, he’s basking in the warmth of your gentle and blissful cosmos.

He can’t believe he has the most wonderful person in the world by his side.

Even if you both know it may not last, that the next holy war approaches fast and he’ll have to fight, you’ve made peace with it. You accept what the future holds in store for both.

However, that thought still keeps him awake at night.

But he’ll never tell you. He’ll just kiss your forehead and stroke your hair until you’re fast asleep.

                                                          * * *

Well, that’s it. I can’t believe I did this. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed (?

[bornpariah-a]

@inquistior​ :  also smile —— WORD PROMPTS

        ❝   ——— Dominic, do stop trying to set Alannah’s hair on fire, would you? You can hardly summon a flame, let alone set something alight,   ❞   he speaks without looking away from Darcy, who’s head turns sharply, a gleeful expression on her face as laughter bursts from the small collection of children that he has around him at the moment. Dominic, a precocious ten or twelve year old ( dorian hasn’t the slightest clue and is guessing, and hardly knows how to guess children’s ages beyond the fact that he’s taller than a small child but not yet grown ) looks utterly sullen, a moue forming on his face, which is rather hilarious sight for all that Dorian doesn’t laugh. Instead, he straightens with his hands on his hips as the six children around him, minus Dominic, laugh. Alanah looks positively triumphant, and reaches out to magickally shock the boy, who jumps with a yelp.   ❝   Impressive, but we have spoken about using magick on each other in lessons,   ❞   he can’t quite keep the humor out of his voice, never could, his mouth curving, though he thoroughly serious and they are all aware of that.

        Both children apologize, head ducking and feet kicking at the dirt.

        The sun beams above them and this corner of Skyhold is not quiet ——— it can’t be, considering that he had rounded up the children near the ramparts, not in the shade but in near full view of the entire courtyard. He wholly lacks self—consciousness and children, being children, lack it for the most part, and where better to practice? To teach them : how to utilize their magic and not be ASHAMED OF IT as many would prefer them to be. There are eyes on them, watchful and sharp and distrustful, he knows, ex—Templars lurking and Chantry members whispering behind their hands. It’s always something of an event, when the mage children manage to corral and drag him into teaching a lesson ( which isn’t to say that he minds, he patently doesn’t ) and an event requires an audience, he supposes. They’re waiting for him to summon a demon to possess one of the children, he knows, or to teach them blood magic or something similarly absurd ——— but he pays it no mind.

        ❝   Come here,   ❞   he gestures to Dominic, pouting still, and the boy shuffles over to him as the rest shift, making room for him to move. “Try again, Dominic,” he does not speak gently ( dorian’s never been well versed in gentleness, never quite learned how ) but there is no jest nor irritation in his tone. Rather : PATIENCE and ENCOURAGEMENT, gazing down at the boy as he appears to flush, faintly pink, and hold out his hand, eyebrows furrowing. He’s straining, the Veil reluctant to move beneath his grasp, and Dorian grasps his wrist gently, shifts his fingers, murmurs instructions, and steps back as fire bursts on Dominic’s palm. A small flame, but a flame nonetheless, which Dorian passes his hand through and is content with the heat that it produces.   ❝   There ——— much easier, yes?   ❞

        A grin splits across the boy’s face and Dorian’s neck prickles, hyper aware as his gaze lifts and he looks around / skips over the people lurking but attempting to be SUBTLE ABOUT IT, as if he wouldn’t take notice. Lands upon : a familiar form, broad and tall, his attention immediately latching onto the smile which is curving at the mouth Dorian knows so well ——— ACHINGLY TENDER, half lost to shadow as Halwn’s head ducks, as his head tends to duck when he smiles in such a way, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks. The Inquisitor is halfway across the courtyard, quite the walk away, yet Dorian ( as ever ) finds himself ensnared in his attention, brows raising as their eyes meet properly and there is something brightly adoring in Halwn’s gaze. Brighter than the sun above them / the snow around them : beautiful.

        Dorian, helpless, can’t help but smile back in return : equally as soppy, he’s abruptly aware, and infinitely revealing. His stomach twists / heart lurches / nausea swelling yet it’s as if the frenetic energy of his body is a SECOND THOUGHT, distant and far off as he looks at Halwn / several seconds too long.

        Laurie pulls at his sleeve and his reverie is broken, attention splitting from the Inquisitor to the children around him as a question is posed and he continues / the ever dutiful teacher.

                                                        ( ... )

        He doesn’t think of them as their quarters for all that he stays in them more frequently than his own, now ——— a fallible form of self defense, he knows, useless in the highest caliber when he’s already submitted himself to the impossible tide and pull of THIS and IT and whatever you may wish to call it, but. It remains to be said that in the privacy of his own mind he thinks of these rooms as the Inquisitor’s quarters, utterly absent of himself, for all that his own clothes are folded into the drawers and he has, imperiously, chosen a side of the bed, though he ends up draped over Halwn or, otherwise, pulled into his arms so it’s all moot fucking point.

        Well. That’s neither here nor there.

        He walks into the Inquisitor’s quarters, rubbing his wrist absently as he goes, dispelling his own enchantments about himself to alleviate any sharpness that may arise from the anchor and its close proximity ——— already he can feel his magick flaring as he turns into the room and their eyes meet, compulsive and automatic, as Halwn looks up from his desk. Dorian can feel himself SMILING AGAIN, and thinks vaguely of when Cole had told him he looked happier. Of when Cassandra commented that he had been smiling more, recently.

        The smile is returned and something within his chest, unsettled and disquiet, sighs. A heaving sort of thing / to accompany the lurching of his heart. Closing the distance is easy enough, Halwn remains seated, the weight of his gaze remaining on Dorian as he crosses.   ❝   I saw you watching my lessons earlier, Halwn,   ❞   he speaks rather tartly, as if they weren’t both aware that they had ACKNOWLEDGED EACH OTHER for far too long, across the courtyard, heavy with something that he could only label yearning.   ❝   You seemed as curious as the unwashed masses, though marginally less furious with the gall of the evil Magister intent on poisoning the minds of vulnerable and impressionable children,   ❞   a grin plays on his mouth as he leans his hip against the desk, eyes peering over the papers scattered along it, somewhat curious but setting it side.

        All day he has been ——— alight? Wondering. Wanting. Et cetera, pointless things and useless things but effervescent things which lay heavy in his chest. The weight of that stare. The meaning thereof. The way that Halwn had been watching him ——— it was with WANT, openly so, that yearning that Dorian had labeled it, not something so base nor primal as carnal desire ( which would have been disturbing and ill—placed given the setting ) but something far simpler. Yet far more complicated. To look at him like that while he interacted and taught children could only mean ———

        Dorian does not think of the future. Not in any concrete terms. The future is amorphous and strange and ill shaped, impossible to pinpoint and impossible to ponder in any meaningful fashion. Today he lives / tomorrow he may be dead / likely he will be dead before the end of this conflict, of that he has no doubt, but ——— it’s fucking difficult to avoid thinking of the FUTURE when you’re in love, he’s come to realize ( and, in hindsight, that really should have been a sign, shouldn’t it. ) When you, in spite of all sense and reason, crave a future with another. When you, through denial and self—rejection and morose acceptance, cannot imagine a future where you both live and you are not together.

        He imagines Halwn with children. Plenty of them, at least two though perhaps up to five ——— there’s no conceivable future where he wouldn’t have children, where he wouldn’t gather them around a piano and play or laugh with them or boost them into the air, swinging and screaming and joyous. It’s a thought that he keeps well preserved and well wrapped and well hidden, tucked into the recesses of his mind, furtive and wanting. Dorian’s not surprise to find that he wants. Not in the least.

        ❝   If you were hoping to join I may be able to handle another student,   ❞   he continues talking as he’s wont to do, mirth sparkling in his eyes and there’s that softness that descends upon Halwn’s expression, the richness of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, the brief tip of his head as he does smile, amused by Dorian’s antics. Dorian, for his part, twists upon the desk and shuffles closer, papers crinkling carelessly beneath them as he props his foot between Halwn’s knees, balancing on the edge of his chair.   ❝   Yes, yes, I know : you are not a mage, though basic magickal theory could prove helpful with the Anchor. Where better to start you than with the children?   ❞   he grins, teeth flashing as Halwn chuckles and hands curve around his hips, always reaching. Always touching. Loving. Always loving. Damned to love.

        All day he has been ——— alight? Lovesick, feverish thoughts tripping in his mind : he imagines Halwn with children.

        Dorian wonders how long he’s wanted to have children with him. To have a ——— family, daughters and perhaps one son, to build a life together somewhere where the sun is bright and a lake is nearby, where his beloved can work the land and he can organize a mass collection of books in a sprawling library that he’ll demand, where children can run rampant on the grounds, laughing and screaming and tumbling, joyful and loved. Loved, and sheltered, and adored by their ——— fathers.

        He doesn’t think he wants to know just how long he’s craved that. Finds the answer lacking. Instead : he curves and kisses Halwn hello and i love you and i want to be with you, forever. His heart constricts, terrified. Dorian drags his hands through Halwn’s hair, grounding, smiling against his mouth.   ❝   Though I suppose we could organize some... private lessons.   ❞

[lucifers-trash-stash]

Run From Me: Chapter Six

Summary: There aren’t many solutions to escape becoming a member of The Mad Titan Thanos’ harem. All you can try to do is to run and pray he doesn’t find you.

Word Count: 3,352

Chapter Warnings: Some violence

Run From Me Masterlist

After seeing Thanos yesterday, I’d been on autopilot for the whole day. When I ate breakfast with Elsy, Tuella, and Aphua, I listened to Elsy clamour away about whatever was on her mind while nodding politely and eating my food, not really taking anything in. Tuella seemed to notice my distant attitude and offered me a small smile, but ultimately left me be. 

I told them goodbye, and for the first time in a long while, I wandered back to my room. I flopped on top of the covers, laying there and staring up at the ceiling. I hated being in this room during the day, but now I took comfort in it. It made me feel like a prisoner, yet also kept me hidden from those that might want to talk to me. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone; I needed to think. 

Closing my eyes, I stretched out my limbs on the bed, grounding myself. I still wasn’t certain how I truly felt about Thanos. It was a confusing mess; one minute I felt hot and bothered, and another minute I felt scared and hopeless. I crave his touch along my cheek, but his stare yesterday reminded me just how powerful Thanos was. He could murder me without a second thought. What if I didn't give him what he wanted? What was stopping him from going back on his word that he wouldn't hurt me?

No matter how I put it in my mind, I kept returning to that conclusion. That no matter what kindness he gave me, he still had so much more authority and influence under the surface. The fact that many of his women refuse to leave their rooms for fear of his might was proof enough of that. 

And yet… why did he still fascinate me? As afraid as I was, I was morbidly curious about him. He was intelligent, and a part of me wanted to pick his brain, try to figure out why he is the way that he is. Another part was interested in knowing how sex with him felt like. I wasn’t a virgin, I knew a few things. But how did he compensate for smaller partners? It was probably much more than simply a tight fit, and I almost wished Elsy had gone into more detail about his… attentiveness. That way I wouldn’t be sitting here spending my time thinking about it and further digging myself deeper into the hole of my embarrassing carnal desire for him. 

I rubbed my palms against my eyes, trying to focus on something else. My thoughts ran back to the Edgar Allan Poe book in my bag. I was so flustered yesterday that I hadn’t bothered opening it back up. How could I focus on such grim prose when all I could think about were Thanos’ eyes? His cool, grey eyes. 

Sighing, I sat up in bed and began to pace around the room. I really wasn’t sure what I was doing, mostly just trying to keep my mind occupied. Wandering over to the window, I stared outside. The vast expanse of the universe always interested me as a child, but I’d never imagined actually being out in the thick of it and certainly not being captured by the Mad Titan that wanted to cull it. With my forehead pressed against the cool glass, I let my eyes glaze over for a moment as I took it all in.

A knock at my door yanked me out of my daydream, and I shook my head to pull myself together. I inhaled deeply, fully expecting a guard to be standing outside and requesting for me to see Thanos in his room. But when I opened the door, it was a much smaller and more petite figure. 

In the doorway, Aphua stared at me expectantly through her sapphire blue hair. Her shawl today was a dark turquoise, hiding her body underneath. I often wondered if she was naturally cold-natured or if she just preferred these clothes. 

After a brief moment of awkward silence, I realized I should probably say something. “Oh, Aphua, how are you doing? What’s up?” I asked.

Before answering, her hands emerged from her shawl, holding a small parcel in her hands. She held it out, pushing it towards me and into my hands. Confused, I peeled the fabric back, revealing a half sandwich and a few slices of ripe Yaro root. 

My brow furrowed, and I looked up at Aphua. Before I could ask what this was for, she said, “You missed lunch. I didn’t want you to go hungry.”

I blinked. It barely felt like any time had passed since I came to my room. Had I really missed lunch? Aphua’s silver-eyed gaze didn’t seem to me like she was lying, so I figured I really must have spent all that time spacing out and doing nothing. 

“Thank you,” I told her, giving her a grateful smile. Aphua’s head tilted down to look at the floor, but I could have sworn I saw a small smile on her lips as well. She left without another word, and I watched as she shuffled back down the hall and out of sight. 

Closing the door behind me, I took a bite of the sandwich. Nothing like an Earth sandwich since it was Gordgan meat instead of ham and cheese or egg salad, but close enough. What I wouldn’t give for a bag of Doritos or a juicy, greasy McDonald’s burger or even a nice bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup from my mother. That last thought made me sad, so I ate my sandwich and turned my attention to my bag. 

Setting the rest of the food on my bed with the sandwich still clenched between my teeth, I pulled out one of my journals. I plucked the photo of my family out of the pages and propped it up on my sheets so I could look at it. Mulling over the memories in my journal, I took another pensive bite. It helped to reread the images of the past even as much as writing them down did. They were more real that way, more at the forefront of my mind. Trying to imagine what my father would say to me in this situation. After a moment of turning that thought over in my mind, I realized that he probably wouldn’t have a good answer for how to deal with simultaneously hating and lusting after a giant purple behemoth that would put Andre the Giant to shame. Mom probably wouldn’t be much better, and I smirked at imagining her trying to come up with solutions like she always did. No problem is too big, she’d always tell me, it can be broken down into smaller pieces and dealt with that way. 

Perhaps it was an issue of breaking things down into smaller components. I bit into a ripened Yaro root slice. Thanos was one big issue that could be dealt with in smaller ways. Keeping on his good side was one way. Would it be easier to deal with him if I obeyed him, gave him what he wanted? Right now I was still untrustworthy, and it seemed he had an eye on my every move. 

With a huff, I fell back against the bed and threw an arm over my eyes. I didn’t want to consider that was my only possibility of getting out of here. But what else was there? If I put my head down and did what I was told, he would eventually ignore me for long enough time for me to plan an escape. Except that wasn’t me.

I let myself drift for a while, letting my mind take me to other places. Every fluttering of my eyes opening and then closing again felt like minutes instead of hours. A serene calmness swept over my limbs, and I laid there, floating out in an empty space. 

I wasn’t sure what had woken me out of my stupor. Out of nowhere, sudden inspiration flit across my mind and I shot up in bed. I stared into space, suddenly aware of what needed to be done. I couldn’t sit here like this, trying to decide what I should or shouldn’t do. I needed to act. I had to find out once and for all where the escape pods were kept. That would be the first step in a series of many steps I would have to take before I could get out of here. If I didn’t do this now, I would forever continue to make excuses as to why I couldn’t.

Quickly slipping on my boots and throwing my jacket on and my bag over my shoulder, I crept to the door and poked my head out into the hallway. Not a soul was roaming outside, so I slipped through and shut the door behind me quietly. Trying to compose myself, I took a few deep breaths before making my way toward where I knew the restricted area was. It was the only place on my map that I hadn’t plotted out so that had to be where all of the important planet destruction activities went on.

I knew there was a chance I would be caught almost instantly, but I was going to take the risk. It was better than what Thanos could do to me if I stayed. Seeing his simmering rage was something I never wanted to experience again. Even if he didn’t, just knowing the possibility that he could easily hurt me was something I didn’t want to chance. Immediate death is better than a lifetime of mistreatment.

After a few more winding passageways, I was here. The cut off point. No one was around this particular hallway, but I knew that what lies beyond would be crawling with Chitauri and other assortments of alien guards. I had to be stealthy, which I had become accustomed to in my many years of planetary travel. But while that was easy to do when those environments were rich with foliage to blend into and other nooks and crannies, that was rather hard to do on a massive ship with long, smooth hallways with no places to hide. I just had to pray that I wouldn’t get caught before I could sneak into one of the control rooms. 

As I slowly proceeded, I made mental notes of which passages I was taking so I could log them in for later. If there was a later. At this point it was do or die, and I had to keep my wits about me now. 

Soft talking came from somewhere behind me, and my body began to tense up. It would be a matter of time before they turned the corner and found me. Frantically, I pushed the entry buttons on the doors that lined the walls, but all were locked and wouldn’t budge. Fuck! I had barely accomplished anything!

I didn’t want it to end like this. Against my better judgement, I scurried a bit quicker down the hallway, continuously looking over my shoulder for the source of the voices. I kept slamming the buttons for each door I walked past, but nothing happened. My heartbeat was deafening in my ears, and I tried my best to focus, but to no avail. 

Hoping to hide behind the corner of the next hallway, I quickly turned without checking to see if the coast was clear. That’s when I slammed against an armored chest, gasping and trying to scramble backwards. But it was too late, and a hand gripped my wrist tightly, causing me to wince. 

Two Chitauri guards stood before me, leering down at my form. I knew that the Chitauri were a merciless species, eager for any opportunity to torture, maim, and slaughter anyone that stood in their way. Trembling, I watched in horror as the one that held me spoke in chitters, “Where do you think you’re going, whore?”

“I’m not a whore!” I sputtered, trying desperately to regain control of myself for long enough to get out of this mess. “I just turned down the wrong hallway was all! You expect me to figure out where I’m going when the hallways are a fucking labyrinth!?”

The other Chitauri guard scoffed. “You shouldn’t be getting lost in the first place. Your only job is to spread your-”

“Don’t you fucking say it you piece of shit!” I grunted as I tried pulling away - failing again - and driving the heel of my foot against his ankle. His boots were armored though, so the effort was futile. 

He began to say something more, but another voice interrupted, “You’ve become quite predictable, haven’t you?”

The three of us turned our attention towards Maw, who slowly approached from an entryway behind the guards. My eyes widened as I gazed inside, realizing just how close I was to some sort of control room. Thanos was nowhere to be found, but it was obvious from the aliens at their respective stations and the technology lining the walls that this was one of the many control rooms that would be required to power such a massive vessel. I would have been more in awe of the set up if I wasn’t in this predicament. 

“We found one of the Lord’s whores wandering around,” the guard that held me spoke up, shaking my wrist as I struggled to regain my balance. 

“I can clearly see that,” Maw coldly snapped as he narrowed his eyes at the two guards. “Let her go. You’ve already tossed her around enough and if you do any more she will receive bruises. I don’t think I have to remind either of you what happened to the last guard that left bruises on his property?”

Without hesitation, the guard released me from his tight hold, but I was about to stumble backwards from tugging away too hard. I braced myself for an impact against the ground, but instead I felt a force hold my back steady and straighten me up, no doubt Maw’s doing. 

“But we must return her to-”

“I’ll take care of it. I wouldn’t trust the two of you to transport her safely considering how you manhandle someone who could hardly be perceived as a thinking organism, let alone a threat.” The two guards exchanged chastised glances before following their orders and walking back to the control room, leaving me alone with Maw. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” I said, attempting casualness with a lopsided smile, trying to weasel my way out of more reprimands. I should have known better.

Unamused, Maw laced his fingers in front of himself, looking down at me. “My patience with you wears thin, Terran.” His hands then unclasped, one sliding down my back as he urged me to move, pushing me back down the hallway from where I’d come from. The action and his touch sickened me, and I shrugged his hand away as soon as he allowed me to. 

“For a woman who is constantly spouting off that she can take care of herself,” Maw began, using his power to make my legs stop and therefore focus my attention entirely on him. His fingers brushed against my cheek, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “You play the damsel in distress rather well.”

“Do not,” I spat at him.

“Really?” His voice drawled in a hum. “Because it seems that through our each and every encounter, you’re constantly needing help. And we provide it to you because we understand how difficult it must be to adjust here.” Maw leaned closer, his head dipping down towards mine. I flinched instinctively, but with his hand gently gripping my chin - careful not to leave bruises - I couldn’t pull away very far. Trying to throw off his magic was just as futile. As if I were an amoeba under a microscope, he tilted his head to the side as he stared down at me dispassionately. “But there will come a time, Terran, when our kindness will dry up. Your little games will cease to be amusing, and Lord Thanos will punish you accordingly. As he should have done far sooner.”

Maw suddenly let me free from his grasp, and I stumbled back a few steps before regaining my footing. With a snide smile crawling up his lips, he glanced down at me and continued, “I certainly think he will. Before this you were just a nuisance, but now you were trying to escape. Perhaps I should tell you of what Thanos does to those who try to run?”

My heart thudded harshly in my chest as I tensed up. I had fucked up bad this time. I could only hope Thanos’ punishment was swift, so I might be able to quickly recover and come up with a better plan than the idiotic one I had just tried to enact. What was I thinking, running around blind? In the moment it seemed rational, but with Maw and his smug grin staring me down, I knew this was the dumbest decision I could have made. 

After regarding my expression for a moment more, he turned away and my legs were suddenly back in my power. I shifted slightly as Maw gestured with his finger to follow him. “Come along now. The longer you stand there silently dreading your Lord’s punishment, the longer it will take to atone for your pitiful attempts at fleeing.”

I trailed behind him, staring daggers into his hands, held behind his back. “At least I tried.” 

Maw scoffed. “If you call strutting straight into a guard infested location ‘trying’ then I suppose you did accomplish that which was otherwise a failure.” Out of the corner of his eye, he looked over his shoulder at me. “Really, do you Terrans truly believe that struggling in a hopeless situation is commendable? Fate is inevitable, Terran, you will do well to learn that fairly quickly, lest you fall into more trouble than you are worth.”

I held my tongue. There was no point in answering him. I had lost. I had to accept that fact and move forward. Otherwise Maw would be happy to stand there and berate me even further. I suppose in a way I had to take his advice. There was nothing left for me to do except to keep my head down, get my punishment from Thanos, and move on from there.

When we arrived at Thanos’ room, Maw almost walked right in without knocking, so giddy with the idea of tattling on me that he almost forgot his own strict manners. He ushered me forth beside him, and I saw Thanos turn in his chair to glance at the two of us. He sat up in a more formal position as we stopped before him at a respectful distance, his stern glance bearing its weight down on me. 

“My Lord,” Maw began, drawing Thanos’ gaze to his subordinate. “I regret to inform you that I found your newest acquisition attempting to leave our ship.”

I tried to choke back a snort. Regret, my ass. Overjoyed, more likely.

Thanos’ steely eyes returned to me. He assessed me for a moment, before finally speaking. “Well?” He asked expectantly, “Does Maw speak the truth?”

I forced myself to lock my gaze with his in challenge. “Yes, Master, he is correct.” I spat the word at him, trying to make my displeasure clear. 

Thanos inhaled deeply for a moment. Without looking away from me, he ordered in a firm tone, “Thank you, Maw. You may be excused. My human pet and I are to have a short discussion alone.”

Even though I was watching Thanos carefully, I could almost sense the smile that curled along Maw’s face as he turned and swiftly exited the room. As the door clicked shut behind me with a foreboding finality, I felt the dread begin to settle in my gut.

I was alone with the Mad Titan, and I had no idea what he would do with me.

[dovechim]

so it goes 03 (m)

➾ alien!jimin x reader

➾ 9.4k, fluff, smut

➾ warnings: tentacles, tit fucking, light choking, double penetration, deep throating, lots of cum. also mentions of blood, violence and torture (unrelated to smut) 👾

➾ a/n: thank you for waiting so patiently for this last part!! without further ado, enjoy sinning :”)

➾ summary: Park Jimin knows a lot about humans. of course he does, he studies them for a living. he knows that they say hello by holding hands, and when they say goodbye, they put their arms around each other. but this particular human, he notes, is unlike the rest- stuck in a slump, going about your day praying for the Universe to stage an intervention in the form of an alien abduction. when he decides to finally fulfil your wishes, he finds that you have a little something to teach him about what it means to live life on Earth the way you do: ugly crying, underwear and all. in return, he shows you the possibilities that abound if you simply adopted their mantra: everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

➾ 01 | 02 | 03 final

You have no idea why Jimin wakes you up in what you deem to be the middle of the night, hastily wiping drool from your mouth when the blonde shakes you awake. Having been a heavy sleeper all your life, he practically has to drag you out of bed and halfway down the hallway before you’re awake.

“Wh-where are we going?”

Jimin doesn’t reply, only motions for you to keep it down as he slides his arm around your waist to support your weight. His warmth against your side feels nice, and still half asleep, you turn to bury your face into the crook of his neck, imagining that it’s your pillow instead. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, you’re adorable in your drowsiness, but Jimin can’t risk getting caught. A thought occurs to him that it would have been so much easier to just teleport, but with your soft lips against his skin like this, igniting a breathlessness in his chest that burns at his lungs.

He deems it more efficient if he carries you, so with one arm around your waist and the other tucked beneath your legs, he presses you close into his chest as he exits the mansion successfully, feet bare against the cold dirt. With his heart pounding in his chest, he can only hope it doesn’t stir you awake as he skirts around the edges of the mansion to the hangar that sits behind it, thanking the heavens that Yoongi hadn’t thought to increase the security measures here yet.

Jimin authorises his entrance and slips inside covertly, breathing a sigh when the doors close behind him. Just for good measure, he inputs a security code to lock the hangar from the inside before he glances down at you, face tucked into his chest.

There is a strange fluttering in his stomach as he searches the fleet of spacecraft till he finds his own private one, tucked behind the larger, heavy duty aircrafts designed for warfare. Every alien has their own personal spacecraft, but they rarely ever use it, instead opting to deploy the standard issue ones built for military purposes.

It’s a little outdated and small, but it feels like home, a private space only he’s privy to. Although he’s never found a need for it until now.

Jimin sets you down gently on one of the passenger seats before taking the captain’s seat, flicking on the controls and warming up the spacecraft. The next time he glances over at you, you’re awake and watching him man the controls, eyes lingering on the toned muscles of his biceps.

“Are we going somewhere?” You tear your eyes away from him to observe the interior of the spaceship. It’s smaller, looks less impressive than the one you arrived in, and from what you observed as Jimin carried you in just now, there seems to be space for only the captain’s cabin, no extra cargo holds or passenger space. “Or are you taking me back to Earth?”

“Do you want to go back?” Jimin worries his bottom lip as he meets your gaze.

“No!” You answer a little too vehemently, taking a moment to calm yourself. “No, I don’t want to go back. I want to stay here.” With you.

“I’m afraid that might not be the best case scenario for you, Earthling.”

“W-why not?”

Jimin can’t help but grin over at you when you ask your favourite question. But his smile doesn’t reach all the way to his eyes, as worry pervades the situation at hand. “Earthling, it’s not safe here for you.”

“Because of how the Universe ends?”

“No, although partially yes,” his answer only confuses you, but Jimin reaches over to pull your seat closer to him so that your knees are touching. “Earthling, you need to stay hidden for the next couple of days. Soon, the colony of females will be sent over for mating season. Although they are not threatening in any way, I can’t predict what their reaction will be if they know of your existence. And I prefer it that nothing happens to you.”

“Oh,” you glance down at the way his knee brushes against your thigh. “Hoseok told me about this. Are you- are you going to be taking part in it too?”

Your expression is calm, betraying nothing as you wait for his reply, but Jimin knows better than to rely on your facial expressions. He picks up an undercurrent of unhappiness that tastes bitter on his tongue, but strangely enough, all he is more than relieved to know this.

“I’m sure he did, but maybe he left out some details. Unlike you Earthlings, we reproduce for the sake of propagating our species. The emotion called love is not involved at all, unlike how it is for you.”

“But are you participating in it too?” When he doesn’t answer your question right away, you shift to turn your seat away from him to put some distance in between you, fearful that he might pick up on the nervous fluttering in your stomach that threatens to swallow you whole.

“No, I’m not. Not this time.” But Jimin won’t let you pull away that easily, and he grabs the arm rest of your seat.

“And why not?”

“Because,” Jimin reaches over to pull you out of your seat, settling you snugly into his lap with his arms tight around your hips and your lips only inches away from his. You brace your arms on his shoulders, fully aware that you’re sitting on his lap in the most intimate way. “I’ve found that I’m already occupied with someone else.”

And then he pulls you down to meet his lips, craving the sweet taste of your essence once more, your soft moans gracing his ears as he tightens his hold around your waist, afraid that you’ll slip away if he lets go. He is unfamiliar with the techniques of kissing, but you quickly show him the ropes with your tongue gently swiping against his bottom lip, teasing and exploring his mouth in a way that drives him wild.

When he pulls away, his already plush lips are blossom pink and swollen, and no human male has ever looked more beautiful than Jimin does right now. His eyes are alight with the glow of a million galaxies lit up only for you, reverent gaze trained on your bitten lips, marks illuminated with a incandescent rosy hue that sings hymns of his devotion to you and you only. Park Jimin is ethereal, and he resembles an angel from heaven who plucked you out of the depths of hell. 

“You’re beautiful,” you gasp as his lips seek to explore the column of your neck, dipping past the neckline of your sleep shirt to dance kisses on your collarbone. 

“That’s my line,” he pushes your shirt up to reveal the plain pair of underwear you’d been provided with, and a smirk dances across his lips at the sight. ���Nice underwear.” 

“Shut up,” you grin back, grinding your hips against him with a fluid motion that does indeed render him speechless. His fingers grip the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise, but you relish the carnal way in which he gropes your ass, urging you to repeat that motion again.

And you’re not one to deny him, especially not when he starts suckling bruises that line your collarbone and dip down into your breasts, so you rotate your hips against him once more, and his answering groans are nothing less than cherubic. You can feel him start to grow under you, and the bulge in his pants feels absolutely delicious under your heated core.

“Wait, ____,” he murmurs into your ear, sliding a hand down your belly to dip into your underwear. “Want to touch you here.”

He’s met with a slick dampness that coats his fingers thoroughly as he slides between your folds, utterly amazed at how silky and warm they are. Jimin’s fingers are thick, but elegant as they locate your clit with ease, which makes your hips jerk in response.

“J-Jimin, wait, do you know how to-“

But he cuts you off with two fingers surrounding your clit, rubbing sinfully as he reaches with his other hand to slide your shirt up over your head. “I know more than you think I do, after all, I have been watching you for a while now.”

Your cheeks heat up at the mention of it, especially when his fingers swirl over your clit in a way that only you know, and his lips wrap around one of your nipples and suck hard. This is a surefire way to get you to cum in minutes, one that you resort to after a particularly stressful day, and Jimin makes sure to use this knowledge to his advantage as he drives you crazy with his fingers and tongue.

A particular twist of his fingers inside you, coupled with his palm against your clit in a tantalizingly sweet pressure has you coming undone around his fingers. The clenching of your walls around his fingers has him smirking. “I remember you particularly liked this.”

“Fucking pervert,” you whisper breathlessly into his neck.

“You love it, you’re dripping all over me and the seat,” Jimin grins in response, fingers sliding over to dip into your core teasingly. “Can I try something?”

When you nod in response, he motions to you to help him take his shirt off, and you oblige, hands running over his firm torso in appreciation as the garment drops to the floor. His abs tense under your fingers, and you dip your head to leave kisses on his bare chest, laving your tongue around his nipple to reciprocate.

And that’s when you notice it- two slits on either side of his body, just under his arms. And then two dark appendages make their appearance, seemingly sentient in the way they curve and arch toward your bare body, but pausing just before they make contact.

“Can I?” Jimin holds his breath tight as he glances up at you, the way you’re watching his curling limbs hover near your heaving chest, desperate to feel your silky skin, tease your nipples and mark your beautiful skin so that everyone knows you belong to him. “Can I touch you, angel?” 

The sight of it only shocks you a little, and you never thought you’d be turned on by how solid and thick they look, their rounded tips igniting a flare in your lower stomach as you can’t help but imagine how it would feel inside you. But more so than anything else is the sight of Jimin under you, eyes ablaze with carnal lust as he scents your dripping arousal, yet his fingers are soft and gentle against your waist, holding you as if you might fall apart without his touch.

“Please,” the word barely makes it out of your mouth as one of the appendages slides just under your breasts, feeling the weight of them as the other wraps around your waist tight, not enough to restrict your breath, but enough to make you feel small in Jimin’s grasp, enfolded and held like the most precious treasure.

“So pretty for me,” Jimin occupies himself with the neglected nipple as one of his limbs fondle the other. “Take these off? Want to see you, angel.”

Reaching for the sides of your underwear, you raise your hips above him to slide them off, the appendage around your waist helping to support your weight as Jimin discards the underwear to the floor. His eyes are immediately drawn to your damp core, and his fingers stroke your lips reverently.

Jimin stands abruptly, turning to place you on his seat and get down on his knees so he can better sample the nectar that drips from your core, calling for him to worship it with his lips and tongue. With tentative licks, he laps up your arousal, spreading your lips apart for better access, sliding your thighs over his shoulder. In the throes of his delight at tasting you, he discovers that you like indirect stimulation the best, and the warm wetness of his tongue just makes everything so messy, but he doesn’t mind at all.

 Above him, spread out for him in such an obscene position, you can’t help but blush. But any thoughts of embarrassment are chased away by the tentacles that caress your breasts, teasing your nipples with their damp tips that almost resembles the sensation of Jimin’s tongue. 

The simultaneous stimulation is too much, and as Jimin slides two fingers in deep to feel the tightness of your walls, you crash down around him, whining and sobbing as you buck against his hold. The resulting tremble of your thighs around his head and the way your pussy clenches hard around his fingers has his cock throbbing with need, and it’s all Jimin can do to hold himself back as he helps you ride out your orgasm, head thrown back into his seat, with his appendages caressing your bare breasts.

Jimin withdraws his fingers and places a kiss on your inner thigh as he glances up at your half lidded eyes.

“Good?”

His cocky smirk makes you roll your eyes at him, sitting up and trying to catch your breath as you close your legs. His tentacles withdraw their touch from your breasts, skimming down your side and soothing you with their gentle touches. But then you notice the bulge in his slacks, and reach for him, palming him greedily.

Jimin’s tentacles immediately stiffen in response as he groans, and you shift off the chair onto your knees as you work to rid him of his pants. The first glance of him assures you that he’s similar to most human males, except he might be one of the thickest you’ve ever had. What he lacks in length, he more than makes up for in girth, and you press a fluttering kiss to the underside of his head, glancing up at him through your lashes.

“I’ve always wanted to join the mile high club, but this isn’t how I envisioned it,” you comment with a wry grin as he steps out of his pants, only to be met with a puzzled frown. 

“Mile high club? Wh-“ Jimin questions, only to be cut off with a gasp as you enclose your hand around his dripping length.

“Might wanna sit down for this,” you shoot him a cocky grin of your own, and although Jimin can’t for the life of him imagine why, he obeys and positions himself on the floor, about to ask but-

A wet, warm sensation engulfs the head of his cock, and he bucks his hips immediately, groans pouring from his lips as you sink your mouth down on him. He is thick, and you can’t get more than the head past your lips, but the salty sweetness of him floods your mouth and you can’t get enough of it.

Jimin’s thighs are trembling, tentacles whipping through the air as you suckle around his head teasingly. Now he knows why you had him lie down for this.

“Come here, angel, want to see you,” he groans, reaching for your hips and prompting you to turn so that he can get a good handful of your ass as you continue to take more of him into your mouth. He spreads your cheeks obscenely, fingers running down your lips. “So wet, and so pretty for me.”

With his palms on your cheeks, you feel the brush of one of his appendages against your inner thigh, travelling higher until they brush against your soaked lips. You can only moan around a mouthful of his cock, arching your back and pushing your ass higher in the air as he keeps your cheeks spread with his hands, allowing him an unobstructed view of your clenching pussy and asshole. 

One of the appendages dips into your pussy first, gathering the wetness before sliding in a little deeper, its bulbous tip stretching your entrance. Combined with your wet suckles around his cock, Jimin pants heavily as he attempts to restrain himself, feeling your walls tighten around his limb as it surges into you further.

Tears are gathering in your eyes as you sink down on his cock further, relaxing your throat as you feel him twitch and his thighs tremble, running soothing, reverent fingers over this thighs and hips. Drawing away for a breath, you watch a trickle of precum slide down his length and lean down to lap it up, teasing your tongue with kitten licks as you approach his base. The other limb slides along your side, hesitant, and you reach a hand back to welcome it. It curls to meet your palm, but changes course to your breasts, nestling in between your flesh for a moment before you understand what it wants. With two hands you squeeze your soft flesh around his appendage, feeling it slide sinfully between the globes of your breasts as you lean over to take Jimin’s cock back in your mouth.

The burn in your pussy reminds you of his exploring tentacle as it slides deep into you, and you can feel the tip of it curling against itself as it spreads you, deeper than you’ve ever felt before until it hits your cervix, causing you to wince in slight discomfort. Jimin soothes you with fingers on your inner thighs, admiring the arch in your spine as your lips are spread wide for him, watching the way your pussy takes him so well.

“Fuck, wish you had this view, angel, your pussy looks so gorgeous when it’s filled up like this,” Jimin gropes your ass hard, feeling your lips curve around his cock.

You’re a little distracted with the appendage that stretches your aching walls, but you force yourself to take Jimin’s cock into your throat at least once, feeling his hot, pulsing head hit the back of your throat as you gag noisily around him. Spit and precum are running down your chin as you withdraw again, the tentacle probing your cervix gently before sliding out, dripping with your arousal. 

Jimin sits up then, hands around your hips as he presses kisses to your neck, turning you around to face him. “Can’t wait anymore, want to feel you, angel. Come here.”

He turns you around, appendages sliding around your body to caress your skin as he seals his lips to yours. You reach down to stroke his member, feeling precum spill over your hand as he moans into your mouth. You prop yourself up onto your knees to guide him to your entrance, feeling his thick head, thicker than his extra limbs, push against you as you struggle to fit him.

“So tight, my angel, relax for me, that’s it,” he soothes you with whispers in your ear as his hands situate themselves on your waist, guiding you down to take him inch by glorious inch, relishing as he spreads you apart slowly. “You feel so good, just like I knew you would, made just for me.”

You can only whimper his name as he urges you to take him all the way to his base, and once you’re fully seated, you feel one of his appendages glide around your neck, wrapping around it loosely as he begins to roll his hips up into you tentatively. You open your eyes once more to be greeted with the sight of his imploring eyes, marks glowing a light rose hue as he fucks up into you with his flexible hips.

“Is this okay?” He whispers into your skin as his tentacle tightens around your throat, hands possessively wrapped around your waist.

“Make me yours, Jimin.”

And with that, he finally stops holding himself back, flipping the both of you so that his hips are framed by your thighs as he drives his cock deep into your pussy with every single thrust. The drag of his thick member against your walls steals the breath from your lungs, as he pounds your pussy relentlessly. Jimin pushes one of your thighs up to your chest, groaning when you tighten around him in response. With his cock pounding into your pussy, a mix of his precum and your arousal drips down to your puckered hole, and his remaining tentacle approaches with intrigue, brushing against your asshole and spreading your juices copiously.

The first breach makes you gasp against his lips, you’re already so full from just his cock, but something inside you wants to be filled even more by this blonde angel, and you arch your hips into him, begging and pleading for him to take your ass. The tentacle pushes into the tight ring of muscle, aided by your arousal and its natural lubrication, and Jimin has to force himself to slow down his pace as he feels your muscles clench around him so tight that he nearly loses his load.

To distract himself, he lavishes kisses on your already bruised chest, marking it with his lips as you adjust to the intrusion. But as soon as you arch your hips toward his with a pretty moan of his name, he resumes his punishing pace once more, hands spreading your legs wide apart as his cock continues to ravish your tattered pussy, hitting your cervix with every thrust, and his tentacle enjoying the warmth of your insides as it mimics the rhythm of Jimin’s hips.

“Feel so good, angel, you’re so perfect, ahhh fuck,” Jimin’s breathing is growing laboured as he struggles to control himself, feeling himself swell inside your warm, velvety depths. “Are you going to come for me, my pretty angel?”

“Yes, fuck, please make me cum, Jimin- ahh- I can’t-“ your whines and moans are unintelligible in your desperation.

“Then cum all over me, ____.”

All it takes is your name leaving his lips to send you over the edge, your body convulsing as you clench hard around him, sobbing as white hot pleasure ignites every single nerve. The appendage around your neck presses down on your throat ever so slightly, restricting your airflow just enough to heighten the sensation of ecstasy that shoots down your spine and curls your toes. Your eyes are tightly clenched shut, nothing but supernovas of white light engulfing your senses as euphoria fills every single pore until you’re boneless, weak in his arms.

The sinful pressure of your tightening walls around him is too much for Jimin, sending his hips crashing into yours sloppily as he reaches for his high as well, cock swelling and his balls throbbing as he releases inside you, cum painting your walls white as he fills you up. The tentacle in your ass engorges with spurts of cum as well, although much less than his cock as Jimin continues to ride out his orgasm, cum dripping down onto the floor as he fills you beyond the brim. The limb currently fucking itself between your breasts spurts cum all over your flesh, making the glide so much more sticky, and you can feel him dripping all over you.

“Fuck, I haven’t come like that before,” Jimin pants in your ear, feeling his cock throb weakly inside you as the last few spurts of his cum are accompanied by gentle, lazy thrusts.

The feeling of his warm cum inside you leaves you strangely content as you cradle his body, legs wrapped around his waist. When he finally slips out of you, his appendages withdraw as well as he sits back on his knees, admiring his handiwork as he spreads your cum-stained thighs apart. Jimin runs his fingers through the thick substance that drips down your entrance, pushing it back inside you. When he deems it not enough, he grasps the base of his still hard cock to catch a glob of cum on your inner thigh, guiding it back to your core and pushing it deep with a thrust. His extra appendages also see it fit to help out, gathering the cum that resides on your thighs and swollen lips to push it back into your asshole, even as Jimin continues to thrust lazily inside your pussy, lips seeking yours in a needy whine.

But the hard floor is uncomfortable, and you let him know this with a playful nip to his lower lip. “You know, now would be a good time for you to put those teleportation powers to good use. I don’t know why you didn’t just teleport here actually.” 

Jimin presses his lips to yours just to shut your smart mouth up. “You’re lucky I love you so much, angel. If not I would have fed you to the Jabberwocky a long time ago.” 

“What’s that?” You try to grab on to him to stop him from leaving when he pulls away, reaching for some tissues to clean up the mess on his spacecraft that the both of you made.

“Just something we use to get rid of unwanted test subjects,” Jimin grins as your face pales. “Just kidding!”

He hands you your clothes, but you roll your eyes. “Why need to get dressed if you’re just going to teleport us straight into my room?”

Jimin pauses, a cute little frown decorating his forehead as he chews on his lower lip. “I guess you’re right, Earthling.”

He reaches for you, one arm under around your waist and the other under your thighs. But when he spots the mess that still lingers between your legs, he can’t help but swipe a finger through it and slide it into his mouth with a teasing smirk.

“Don’t forget what this means, angel. You’re mine now.”

*

You must have fallen asleep in Jimin’s arms as he was teleporting the both of you back to your room, because the next time you open your eyes, you’re buried in a mound of soft sheets that smell exactly like him.

There is a pounding in your head not unlike one of a hangover, and you close your eyes again. A small movement to your left tells you that Jimin is still sharing the bed with you, so you move in his general direction till your cheek hits the warm smooth expanse of what feels like his chest.

Maybe you can stay here on this planet forever, cocooned into safety in his arms like this until the Universe ends, and beyond that, into whatever comes next. That you might be able to call this place home because it lets you defy all the laws of time and space that threaten to outpace every single beat of your aching heart, tethering you to a dreary existence filled with uncertainty and fear. For a moment, it feels like everything might be alright again.

Jimin stirs insistently beside you, lips against your ear as he explores the delicate curve of it.

“You’re feeling something… what is this feeling? I don’t recognise it, it’s not nostalgia.”  Jimin murmurs inquisitively, his deep voice sending a surge of contentment within your chest.

You peel open your eyes only to catch a glimpse of his messy blonde hair strewn all over his eyes, marks glowing a gentle magnolia, lips swollen from your kisses and neck covered in ruby red and wine blossoms. You pick out his features all too easily amidst the dim lighting of your room.

“Describe it to me,” you mouth into the space between his collarbones, breath gentle against his heated skin.

“It’s like the warmth on the first day of spring after a long winter that warms you from the inside out, starting from here,” Jimin brings his hand up, settling his palm over your where your heart thrums contentedly in your chest. “Or when you find yourself enshrouded by darkness, but that tiny little candle that you lit with its flickering flame glows bravely, and you wield it against the unknown that lies ahead.”

You pull back slightly to glance at his curious eyes, brushing aside his hair so you can see the way his eyes are alight with the glow of a million suns, his smile igniting a fierce warmth deep in your bones.

“Hope, that feeling is hope.”

*

Jimin stirs you awake again, but this time, he is getting dressed, back turned away from you so you get an amazing view of his supple ass as he bends over to put on his pants. A hot curl of lust wraps around your core tight, which makes Jimin turn around with an affronted look on his face.

“Hey, I didn’t ask to be objectified like this.” He pulls the fabric up over his ass, concealing it from your view as he leans over to hover his lips above your forehead. He can feel the slight dampening of your spirits, but grins again when you chase his lips. “The ceremony for the female colony’s arrival is happening soon. I have to attend, keep up some semblance of normalcy amidst everything that’s going on. You should stay here.”

Jimin tucks the covers around you more securely.

“Are they here already?” You observe his marks turn into a shade of ominous grey. “Can’t you just stay here? Till it’s over?”

“I can’t, angel. They’ll suspect something is up, and I’m already taking too much of a risk by not participating in the breeding rituals this year. They can’t know about us.” Jimin reiterates with a brush of his fingers against your cheek. “Wait for me here? I’ll come back once it’s all over.”

You only nod in response as he steps away from the bed, but at the last moment, you reach out and grab his hand tightly, interlocking your fingers with his so he can’t go any further.

Jimin stops, surprised, but his features melt into a charming grin when he sees what you’ve done. “I know what this means. It means: ‘stay with me’, right?”

“So you were listening in!” You accuse him with a wry smile, and he matches it with an abashed chuckle as his eyes crinkle with amusement.

“And this,” he loosens your grip on his fingers until he can manipulate his pinky into the crook of your own, “means ‘I promise’. So I promise I won’t leave you.”

He squeezes your pinky hard, and for a moment you’re left breathless at the way he makes your heart skip a beat in pure exhilaration, but also how his smile could replace all the stars in the night sky. Jimin steps away, and your fingers slide out of his, dropping against the sheets with a thud. But before he lets himself out, he pauses for a second.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

You crane your neck over to look at him, expecting him to say something about how you should never leave this room, it’s for your safety, and all that nonsense, but it never comes. Instead, a voice reverberates inside your head from a place you never knew existed, a place you can’t even pinpoint. But the voice in itself is familiar, and that’s all that matters.

I love you.

And then he’s gone.

Your mind is whirling, struggling to keep up with the barrage of thoughts that are forcing themselves upon you. How did this telepathic connection suddenly appear, and why weren’t you aware of it?

Now that you think about it, the pounding in your head from earlier has settled down into a dull hum, but it isn’t a headache. It’s more like the presence of someone else residing in that tiny little corner, their consciousness existing alongside yours and occasionally brushing against the fringes of your awareness.

Can you hear me? You frantically reach out again, having no idea how this connection works and simply hoping that you’re doing it right.

Calm down, ____, his reply comes instantly, and you sag against the sheets. I can hear every single thing you’re thinking of, and it was that overwhelming that I nearly walked into a wall.

His voice is still the same, teasing you as if he’d spoken it aloud into your ear.

How did this happen?

After I brought us back to the room, I noticed another telepathic pathway that wasn’t there before, but I wasn’t sure till I tried it on you, Jimin muses. This has never happened before.

Does that mean you can keep contact all through the ceremony? You ask hopefully, letting out a shaky breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding.

No, I can’t risk my brothers discovering our connection, so I’ll have to shut it down in their presence. You can almost picture the look of regret he has now, humming a low apology in his throat. Yoongi is more astute than he lets on.

You say nothing for a moment, swallowing hard as you imagine the cold, stony faced alien and what he’d do to you, or worse, Jimin, if he ever found out about this. Okay. Come back soon?

As soon as I can, angel. Stay safe.

And those are his last words before he shuts off the connection, and then your mind feels empty without him, smaller too, like walls of your room that are slowly but surely closing in on you.

*

You don’t have a clock in your room, in fact, there’s no sign of any time keeping device on this entire planet whatsoever. So it feels like an eternity since Jimin has stepped out of the safety of your room. 

On a planet where time and space bend around non-existent rules, waiting is the most horrendous form of torture.

You consider just opening the door and peeking out into the hallway, but the thought that Yoongi might be lurking around outside keeps you buried under the covers in relative safety. You trust that Jimin has taken the necessary precautions to keep you safe, so you don’t even get up to try and test the lock on the door.

Until footsteps sound outside, and your door rattles against the force applied on it.

For a moment, your heart leaps in elation, thinking that it might be Jimin, but then you hear unfamiliar voices. The dark, empty recesses of your mind tells you that he still hasn’t opened the connection back up, which means that he’s still attending that ceremony, and that outside your door is-

“Get out of the fucking way. I’ll do it.”

The voice sends a shiver down your spine, because you recognise it to be Min Yoongi’s.

Your eyes dart around the room, searching for some sort of weapon that you can defend yourself with, but you come up empty. All you have in terms of personal belongings is your phone, and you don’t see yourself bludgeoning anyone to death with that any time soon.

You only have seconds till the door bursts open, so you shove it into your waistband hastily, glancing up to meet the cold, venomous gaze of Min Yoongi.

Standing behind him is Jeongguk, and an unfamiliar alien. The third alien looks vastly different from those that you’ve seen so far, its features are smaller, sharper and more delicate. It also has a smaller frame, though still possessing wiry muscles.

That’s when it hits you; it must be a member of the female colony.

Yoongi turns to Jeongguk. “Seize her.”

Panic rises in your throat as Jeongguk advances towards you, and you try to slip out of his grasp, but the raven haired alien is far too agile for you. His hands clamp down around your arm in a punishing grip, hauling you off the bed and to your feet. Your strength is no match for him as he captures your arms behind your back.

“This is the human specimen I was referring to.” Yoongi says, nodding towards you 

The female alien purrs low in her throat, silky black hair tossed over her shoulder as she inspects you closely. “I must say, it took you long enough to surrender her to us. You had me threatening to declare war on you before you finally relented… After all, considering her gender, don’t you think it is fitting that we have custody over her instead?”

Yoongi grins amicably, although there is a certain hardness to his jaw. “Forgive me, Seulgi, but I was facing some… obstacles.”

And with that he gestures to Jeongguk, and you’re shoved out the door with the two other aliens trailing behind you.

The empty void of your mind mocks you as you scream helplessly and soundlessly. Jimin can’t hear you.

“Say, Yoongi, would you happen to have a room I can borrow? I’ll need to conduct some… tests to make sure she can withstand the journey back home. No point bringing home a dead Earthling, right?” She chuckles with a strand of hair wrapped around her finger.

“Of course. Right this way.” Yoongi accedes to her request at once, and Jeongguk forces you to make a left turn before stopping you at a door you’ve never seen before. Unlike Jimin or Hoseok’s labs, this one is completely ordinary looking, but it looks reinforced with steel that renders it completely unbreachable.

Yoongi steps past you to enter a series of long, unintelligible security codes, before his appendages emerge from the slits on either side of his ribs to complete the authentication process. You watch in horror as the damp tips of his extra limbs press against the security pad, and it beeps to grant him access. 

“All yours.”

Jeongguk takes your arm and walks you into the brightly lit room that seems to resemble the interior of a hospital. There is a pristine looking single sized bed in the middle of the room, but the rest of it is non-descript. You are shoved towards it, Jeongguk taking you by the waist and lifting you onto the bed when you near it. Yoongi closes the door and latches it behind him.

Seulgi steps closer to you, pushing you down by the shoulders as Jeongguk straps your wrists and ankles to the bed. “Hi sweetheart.”

Her voice is overly sweet, menacing even, as she grins, exposing rows of sharp, pristine white teeth. The marks on her cheekbones glow a sinister obsidian as she nods her thanks to Jeongguk.

“We’re just running a couple of tests on you, alright?”

“Please, no, don’t do this,” your voice is barely a whimper at the back of your hoarse throat, watching as Jeongguk wheels over a machine with a mess of wires connected to a headpiece.

Jimin, please.

You thrash your head against the mattress when he tries to fit it over your head, but Seulgi places her hands on the sides of your head, her nails digging into your scalp as she holds you still with an inhuman strength. Tears are flowing freely down your cheeks as you sob uncontrollably, but she only laughs as she turns to the controls.

She flicks a switch, and your body automatically seizes up in an involuntary reaction against the perceived pain. But in reality, nothing happens, and Seulgi frowns as she flicks a couple of other switches before huffing in frustration.

“What kind of outdated instrument is this? We don’t have anything like this back home,” Seulgi turns to Yoongi, who’s still standing by the door watching the procedures.

“It’s the latest model of the electroencephalogram that detects brain waves and analyses emotions through electrocution,” Yoongi says with a slight sneer. “I’m not surprised you don’t know how to use it, it’s top secret technology that we only just developed.”

Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest in impatience. “Well? Then get the fuck over here and initiate it for me!”

Yoongi falters, the smirk falling off his face. But he doesn’t want to admit that he has no idea how to use it either. “Only our head of research knows how to operate it, he designed it,” he mutters under his breath. “Jeongguk, guard the door while I go get Hoseok from that ceremony.”

“Hurry the fuck up,” Seulgi hisses, turning to you with a malicious smirk painting her red lips. “In the meantime, I think I’ll have some fun with you, sweetheart.”

She takes out what looks like a gun from a holster somewhere, pressing a button that activates a stream of electricity to run between its conducting poles. When she presses it to the skin on your thigh, the smell of burnt flesh meets your nostrils, and all you can hear is the sound of your convoluted, blood curdling screams that fill the room as agony shoots through every single nerve in your consciousness.

Except it’s more than just electricity, because it cuts into your skin as she moves it along the flesh of your thigh.

When she’s done with that leg, she moves to the other, igniting your skin with raging, scorching flames that feel as if they are melting your flesh, reducing you to a pile of ashes, feeling slick blood drip down and soak the sheets beneath you. Your sobs are incoherent, guttural pleas for mercy that finally bid her to pull away her taser.

“What’s that darling? You want more?”

“Ji-Jimin,” you barely rasp out, closing your eyes tight as your breaths come in ragged pants.

“Whoever that is, he’s not going to be able to save you,” Seulgi presses the taser close to your skin again, and you flinch automatically, pleading for her to stop even as your arms pull against the restraints. “How about I mark up your pretty face, hmmm? You won’t be needing it anymore.”

Just as she presses the taser to your skin, getting ready to set your skin ablaze in torment, the door bursts open, and a familiar voice follows.

“Wait! Stop- you can’t… damage the subject further, or she will be useless to any experimentation,” the voice falters a little, but nevertheless, Seulgi withdraws her weapon.

Your muscles are trembling as you crane your neck to get a glimpse of the newcomer, but your vision is blurry with tears and you can’t identify him at all, although you vaguely remember that Yoongi had been leaving to retrieve Hoseok.

“H-Hoseok, please,” you beg, swallowing hard as you feel agony shoot through every single nerve ending. “Please help me, get Jimin…”

Hoseok places a hand on your forehead, seemingly to adjust the headpiece, but his fingers stroke over your sweaty skin in a minute movement that goes unnoticed by Seulgi.

“Get over here and activate this fucking machine,” Seulgi demands, and Hoseok reluctantly steps away from your bed towards her as she moves away, allowing him to fiddle with the controls.

A low moan leaves your throat as you close your eyes, boneless and just waiting for the pain to come.

But it never does.

There is a shout, and then a high pitched scream. When you open your eyes, Seulgi is on the floor, and Hoseok has her gun in his hands, aiming it toward Jeongguk who barrels towards him. But the smaller alien is swifter, and he presses the gun to the taller alien’s throat, activating it and eliciting a guttural moan as he too collapses onto the floor.

“Hoseok…” you shift weakly, and his hands are trembling as he undoes your restraints.

“Listen, you have to run. You have to get out of here, I don’t know how the fuck you’re going to do it, but just go.” Hoseok breathes right into your face, eyes wide and marks glowing a dark grey. “They know. Yoongi knows about you and Jimin.”

At the sound of his name, you jerk your muscles into action, feeling panic and adrenaline lacing your veins. “H-how? W-where is he right now?”

“Still at the ceremony,” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair. “When Yoongi came to get me, I knew at once it was something to do with you, and Jimin did too. But Yoongi wouldn’t let Jimin take a step out of that ceremonial hall, and my bets are he’s guarding Jimin till Seulgi gets her way with you.”

Hoseok uses the gun to strip apart the sheets on the bed till they’re only about an inch wide, wrapping them around your thighs to help staunch the bleeding. Your muscles are still trembling, breath shaky, so he helps you down from the bed, supporting your weight against him, but then a thought comes to your mind.

“Jimin’s spaceship!” You tug on his arm weakly. “We can escape using that, it’s in the hangar, but we need to get Jimin.”

Hoseok frowns grimly. “You’re too weak, I can’t help you and get Jimin at the same time-“

“Then go. Get Jimin for me. Please,” you beg with your hand on his cheek, leaving an imprint of your bloodstained palm, gripping the material of his shirt tightly. “Please, Hoseok.”

“No, I can’t leave you at the hands of these… monsters,” Hoseok casts a glance at the prone bodies of Seulgi and Jeongguk on the ground. “I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

“Wh-why are you doing this, Hoseok?” You gasp as he helps you to the door. “Why did you betray your brothers for an Earthling like me?”

Hoseok is silent for a moment, his marks lightening to a brief rose hue before it settles back down into a dark pewter. “Because you made me feel something I never thought possible.”

You stop him with a hand on his waist, squeezing a little as you catch his marks changing colours briefly, and then it hits you, that day in his lab where he asked you what holding hands meant. It was the same rose hue on his cheeks then, and you’ve seen it countless of times on Jimin too, that night together in his spaceship, or the morning after tucked away in your bed.

“Then you’ll know how important Jimin is to me, Hoseok,” you whisper. “Please get him for me.”

His jaw tightens, and he nods imperceptibly, helping you to steady yourself on your feet and take a few test steps before he relinquishes his grasp on you. He slips a key card into your hand, “go to the hangar and wait. I’ll get Jimin out.”

He brushes his lips against your forehead in a parting kiss as he disappears down the hallway, and then you’re alone.

*

Your shaky footsteps make it hard to navigate the hallways with efficiency, but somehow you make it outside, and relying on pure memory alone, trace your steps back to the entrance of the hangar. You’ve had to stop a few times out of sheer dizziness, but the fear of getting caught by Yoongi spurs you on, and at last you make it to the hangar.

Weakly, you raise your arm to scan the key card, waiting for the authorisation, but then you hear a voice call out your name, and no, you must be hallucinating, because-

You turn to and see Jimin in the distance, only he didn’t shout your name out loud for fear of garnering attention. He sports a bloodied lip and a gash across his bicep, and his gait seems to be impaired slightly, but nothing compares to the relief that blooms in your chest as he engulfs you into his arms, pushing you inside the safety of the hangar as the shutters slam closed.

Your aching muscles grip him tight to you as he enfolds you within the safety of his arms once more. Tears are streaming down your cheeks once more as you sob into his neck, feeling his comforting murmurs reverberate through his chest that is pressed against yours as he strokes your back soothingly.

“H-Hoseok, where’s-“

“He didn’t make it,” Jimin says grimly, sliding an arm around your waist to support you as he navigates through the fleet of ships till he finds his own. “He fell back to cover me and give us some time to make it out of here. Was a fucking bloodbath, but he fought to get me out and we… we don’t have much time, they’re after us.”

His eyes drop to scan your bloodied lower half, and fury lights his eyes and marks aglow in a bright scarlet so fluid that it resembles lava, as he caresses them tenderly. “I should have known they were planning something, I’m so fucking sorry, my angel, you- it’s all my fault, and I-“

“I love you,” you cut him off, and the words come out in a rush of exhaled breath, of promises kept and regrets washed away, because every time you look at him, a burning flame sets itself alight in your chest, one that Jimin recognises as hope.

Tears are brimming in his eyes as well as he dissolves into a blubbering mess, thumb caressing your cheek.

“Jimin, I’m okay, it’s okay, you’re here now, and I’m okay, we’re going to be okay,” you repeat the words over and over, knowing full well you don’t make much sense, but the words seem to sink in as Jimin lowers his head to capture your lips.

The kiss is a sentimental one, full of regret and remorse. Despite his bloodied lip, you don’t taste the tangy saltiness of it as you get lost in his soothing touch, inhaling the scent that is uniquely Jimin.

As he pulls away, you’re breathless not because of the kiss itself, but the way his eyes light up like the stars that line the Milky Way, his gaze reverent and all consuming.

“We need to get out of here.” You’re reluctant to pull away and disrupt the moment, but he’s right.

Jimin locates his spacecraft easily through the fleet. There is an authorisation pad just beside the entrance of his ship, and you watch as Jimin’s appendages slide out to meet it. This time, the sight of his tentacles doesn’t fill you with abhorrence unlike Yoongi’s, because you remember and associate them with security and comfort. He helps you up the steps into the ship, closing the door after him, and seats himself.

“To Earth, then?” He grins, the crescent moons of his eyes reassuring you as you settle in the chair beside him, facing the switchboard of controls.

Although you’ve been wondering if you’ll ever return home for the duration of your time here, you’d never imagine that it would be like this. All alone in a spaceship with a certain blonde alien, fleeing from the pursuit of his brothers who would most definitely murder you in cold blood upon first sight.

It seems as if it’s been a million years since you were whisked off that stage, sucked up into a spacecraft and abducted by aliens. What would happen if you return now? Would time unfreeze the second you step foot inside that auditorium, leaving you back exactly where you were as if the Universe had merely pressed pause on your life like it was some kind of video game? Would you then, like the heroine in said videogame, be ambushed by a horde of villains upon unpausing?

More importantly, what happens after that? Where is Jimin’s place in your life on Earth?

There are so many unanswered questions that leave you feeling on edge as you shift your gaze to the futuristic mockup that displays Earth on the spacecraft’s screen controls.

“Hey.” Jimin gets your attention again, and his voice is a hushed whisper, concern spreading across his features as he places his hand over yours. You forget that on top of your feelings, he’s also privy to all your thoughts, as his consciousness merges with yours until you are one being, unsure of where you end and he begins. “It’s gonna be okay, you know.”

Your features relax as you turn your palm upwards to grab his hand tightly. “To Earth.”

“Alright then co-captain, prepare for takeoff.” Jimin answers with a grin as he grips your hand tightly in his, turning toward the controls and seeking out one button in particular.

Your eyes follow his gaze to a green button labelled ‘time travel’, and a gasp rips through your throat.

“Jimin, no, wait!” You lunge across to grab his wrist before he can push the button, wincing as your wounds are torn apart, and fresh crimson stains the white makeshift bandages, landing on his lap as you do so.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin immediately has his hands on your waist, supporting your weight as he’s careful not to aggravate your wounds. “Why did you stop me? You’re not going to make it to Earth alive if we don’t time travel. Do you not want to go back?”

“N-no, it’s just…” you glance at the button again, and then back at him.

Outside, the sounds of shouts and approaching footsteps can be heard in the distance.

“Angel, we really don’t have much time,” Jimin bites his lip tersely. “They’re already at the entrance, and with Yoongi’s authorisation-“

“Isn’t this how the Universe ends?” You blurt out, your own heart pounding against your chest, and you hear the shutters creak and groan as they open. “You told me yourself, a pilot who was experimenting with time travel on a spacecraft presses a button, and then the Universe disappears. What if this is it?”

Jimin’s marks are a calm hue of rose pink as he smiles at you, his gaze knowing. “It is. This is how the Universe ends.”

“Y-you’ve known it all this while? And yet you didn’t try to-“

“Like I said angel, this moment is destined to happen, and will happen no matter what,” Jimin grips your hand tightly in his, squeezing hard. “It is structured this way. There’s no use stopping it, and besides, we have no choice.”

He releases his hold, pulling his hand away and leaving only his pinky hooked around yours. “But no matter what happens, I’ll never leave you, I promised, remember?”

The sudden silence that envelops you feels suffocating, but trapped in his gaze like a fly preserved within amber, the fear of the unknown diminishes.

You can only nod, feeling your throat swallow hard as you force back tears. “W-what happens when the Universe ends? What happens to us?”

“Beats me, angel. But we’ll do it together.” Jimin turns back to the controls, and you drink in what might be your last glimpse of him. His side profile is breathtaking: messy golden hair resembling a halo on his head, the gentle slope of his nose, his plump lips as he purses them in concentration. “Ready?”

You nod, and he presses the button.

Then everything goes black.

* 

There is an ache in your neck, and the rest of your muscles are screaming in protest.

Slowly, the roaring silence in your ears gives way as sounds of muted chattering filter in, blending into a cacophony of noise that rips you from your unconsciousness.

You feel a hand on your arm shaking you insistently, uttering something into your ear that you cannot comprehend. Attempting to ignore it is impossible, as the force of that hand on you shakes your entire frame, and the voice only grows louder with every passing second.

Suddenly, you are wrenched back into the world of the living, and with the sudden consciousness come a clarity of mind, and a comprehension of the words that are being uttered to you. Your eyes dart open to take in your surroundings, only to find-

Namjoon, with his hair falling into his eyes as he peers at you in worry. “Wake up! Your presentation…”

The rest of his words fade away into the humdrum of the crowd.

*

*

*

EPILOGUE

“And now we’re just supposed to go back to our normal lives, because that’s what people do. They have these amazing experiences, see all those wonderful things and laugh so much until they cry and it hurts, and then they just go home and clean the bathroom or whatever.”

As you walk up on stage with a stiffness in your legs that could only be imagined, you feel a dart of panic shoot through you as you search for your phone with your script on it. But it’s located right in your back pocket where you last left it, and you pull it out with relief.

You’re ushered straight to the centre of the stage with a mic in hand, and the audience waits, ready for you to begin. Shooting a brief look at the ceiling of the auditorium, you wait a beat longer than necessary. But there’s nothing out of the ordinary in the beams of welded concrete that hold the structure up.

You unlock your phone to access your script, but in your anxiety, accidentally open the photos folder instead. You’re just about to click to exit the app, when the latest photo on your camera roll stops you, a violent fluttering in your stomach that overrides your nervousness.

Jimin is looking at you with the utmost reverence in his eyes, as you’re staring into the camera caught off guard, a gentle smile on his lips as his marks stand out from his skin in a bright vivid carnation pink.

After a moment, you turn to the audience again with a smile.

“So, all this happened… more or less.”