#I imagine getting ripped out and put back in somewhere else would fuck *something* up in there‚ at least temporarily

[wuggen]

Encountering this fun problem post-hair-transplant cuz like. They moved a bunch of hair from the back of my head up to the top, right? And the hair that naturally grows on the back of my head tends much curlier (or at least frizzier) than the hair that naturally grows on the top. So now I've got this like poof of hair at the front, centered in my hairline, that is inescapably significantly wilder and messier than the hair surrounding it

[hitomisuzuya]

HIII SUZUUU first time requesting kind nervous lol. For once finally ur requests are open when I'm up 😭 I've been thinking abt scummy scara way too much lately like literally basically imagine just going on a cute date with him only for him to fuck you dumb the second u guys arent in public 🤭🤭🤭

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Scummy Scaramouche. Smut. Edging. Teasing. Degradation. Some date fluff. Reader is hinted in having a metal allergy cause I am allergic to gold jewelry.

Have I said how much I love when requests are worded like this 😳😌 No one should feel nervous requesting from me. 🥺

It was no secret that Scaramouche was a trust fund baby. And the one thing he liked to do with that money is spend it on you. He has to spoil his precious girl, after all.

If there was a cute stuffed animal you looked at for even a second in passing, it was yours. You wanted a book, he bought the whole series for you. You commented on how pretty a piece of expensive jewelry was, he bought it without hesitation. Especially if it was silver. Your skin was finicky about certain metals.

Scaramouche thought silver was prettier, anyways. Not prettier than you. How dare a metal even consider coming close to you.

He always touching you in some way as you walked. An arm around your waist, holding your hand, even sitting down somewhere he had his hand on your thigh. You were taken, damn it, and he needed to make the perfectly clear to anyone who looked.

"Scara, you've spent enough money on me already," You fretted, making him chuckle as he stopped in front of a lingerie boutique in town.

"Nonsense, I insist," Scaramouche replied. Oh yeah, he always insisted. Especially if it meant picking out lingerie for him to rip off later.

God, just picturing how you would look in the lacy black, blue, and purple lingerie to picked out for you was starting to make his cock twitch. "If you need any help, I can come in with you," He said, wishing the changing room door had some kind of keyhole.

"No, Scara, it's okay. I can manage," You said, blushing from how enthusiastic he sounded about helping you put everything on.

That wasn't the point. He needed to see how you looked in them. His imagination was starting to drive him a little crazy. His fingers were shaking with need, and the anticipation of getting his hands on you.

Even the lady behind the counter was starting to give him a stern look. He probably looked something like a dog frothing at the mouth.

With many bags in hand, back you headed with Scaramouche to his dorm. No sooner were you a few steps from it, he was making you drop bags right in the hallway, pushing you against the wall. His hands roamed greedily over your body, biting at your lips as he kissed you.

"Mmmm~," He purred, hooking his fingers through your panties, "you wore the one I hoped you would out of the store." He could hardly wait when you had given him only a price tag to take up to the counter with everything else.

Throwing open his dorm room door, Scaramouche stumbled inside with you, his lips never leaving yours. His hands pawed at your clothes, standing behind you in front of his mirror so he could watch himself remove the lacy purple lingerie. "Purple always looks so pretty on your skin," He kissed and bit at your shoulder as he unhooked your bra, groping your breasts before tugging it off.

Guiding you over to his bed, he pushed you down on it, spreading your legs as he licked a long the inside of your thighs. You squirmed, his spit rolling down the inside of your thighs to soak against the fabric.

"Ha, getting wound already. What a needy slut you are," He purred excitedly, hastily tugging your panties off. His eyes drank in your form spread out before him, just as hastily taking off his clothes. "Can't wait for me to fuck you dumb on my cock, hm?"

You whimpered, grinding needily against him as he pressed the tip of his aching cock on your clit. It sounded so fucking sweet to him that he had to hear it over and over again.

Scaramouche groaned every time he heard you whimper, relentlessly teasing the tip of his cock against your entrance. The way you squirmed on desperation, your walls fluttering and clenching around it was a drool worthy sight to him. His mouth said as much, drool dripping down onto your chest.

"Scara, please, put your cock all the way in me. I can't take much more," You pleaded, reaching down to grasp his cock to try and urge it inside of you. "Cum inside of me."

That sent him feral. Folding your body, and throwing your legs over his shoulder, his slid his cock slowly inside of you. Groaning, he cursed when his cock rested against your sweet spot. Pulling out to the tip, he slowly pushed himself back inside so he could feel your walls clench tight around his cock as he bottomed out again.

Every thrust made you see stars, your eyes rolling closed. Wrapping your arms around him, you clung to him. Scaramouche was determined for the entire campus to hear how good he was fucking you.

"Fuck, look at me when you cum, slut," Scaramouche hissed, pounding himself inside of you, his entire body quivering, his cock throbbing with his approaching orgasm.

Your eyes snapped open, tears welling in them as his lips captured yours to swallow your moans. He bit at your lips, pulling away when your legs started to tremble in pleasure.

"Scream it, whore. Who's fucking you this good, hm?" Scaramouche pushed your legs farther up towards your head, his husky moans only rose in octave as he drove he cock deeper inside of you.

"Scaramouche! Scaramouche! Scaramouche!" The way you chanted his name like mantra, your release flooding around his cock made him cum suddenly inside of you. He left his cock resting deep into your sweet spot, his warm cum ribboning inside of you. You felt every throb of his cock.

Panting, Scaramouche pulled out of you after a few long minutes of feverishly fucking his cum back inside of you. Rolling off of you, he latched one of his lips around your nipple, sucking on it as he scooped some of his cum onto his fingers.

Your back arched off the bed, gasping when he rubbed and hooked his fingers over your sweet spot. You still hadn't entirely come down from your orgasm.

Scaramouche only wanted to continue to make his precious girl feel as good you made him feel. By cumming again all over his fingers.

[youronlylie]

hello people in my phone

BOONE head cannon list, just a mix of stuff that'll probably change later ( THERE WILL BE MORE ) 1/?

• He undoubtedly was ripped/heavily worked out being in the ncr, after moving to novac and loosing his wife he undoubtedly lost a lot of muscle but...guys he still is literally like beefed.

• He cannot fucking cook for shit, he understands what shouldn't be put in your body but from there he has no clue.

• Going off of cooking, he has strict times where he eats, like routine from the ncr.

• For some reason he strikes me as a guy who really enjoys fruit whenever he can get his hands on it.

• Cannot tolerate any sort of spice.

• Smells very mettalic, sweaty, like man must.

• Has a soft spot for cats.

• 1000% is not bald, just shaves his head as he probably prefers the look.

• I feel like with a romantic partner, since he isn't one much for talking his love language would be physical touch or gift giving, I could imagine him seeing stuff he knows they'd like and saving it for later, excited to see how they'd react.

• He would definitely have a special place in his heart for fantasy movies, he doesn't seem to be able to express himself well and I feel like the creativity of something like lord of the rings would get him going.

• I seriously cannot pick so I'll include both, he is either an extreme cuddler with a romantic partner or on very rare occasions, he's just terrible at expressing emotion.

• If the courier and him are something like romantic partners he'd definitely never be able to sleep, often awake staring and listening for noises, waiting for the next cascade of legionares but it never happens and he eventually learns that.

• I don't think he'd ever get married again unless it'd be over 20 or so years in the future, it's a type of commitment that I don't think he could mentally handle whatsoever unless he is totally over Carla.

• I definitely do think boone could find love again in another person, he's scared and alone, fearful for any sort of attachment.

• 10000% has really really nice man hands, like large hands with nice fingers.

• Is definitely tall but not close to arcade tall, 6' ish at MOST, I just feel like looking at his build and concept art that he is definitely a tall man.

• Secretly really has a thing for drawing whenever he can, especially when he was nested at novac, sitting up top the dinosaur scribbling stuff on old receipts or whatever else it helps him get his emotions and thoughts out.

• irl he would be so patriotic it's not even funny, like he'd go all out for fourth of July but is the somber type so he'd cook hot dogs and whatever else then sit in the corner and watch everyone else.

• Has a thing for memorizing features, very very very intuitive and will remember almost anything you tell him.

• He is so the type of guy to enjoy snow, like yeah he'd probably be kinda pissy for a bit but if you pushed his buttons enough I feel like he'd mess around with the courier.

• He absolutely like no doubt has nightmares, like the ones where you erupt in cold sweat and your throat is sore.

• If he does sleep like ever, along with nightmares he grips the sheets, rolls around a whole lot, mumbles. In the ncr he was the total opposite, stone faced, layed straight and slept some what peacefully until later on in his ncr years.

• Yearns for someone, even platonic, to just sit beside him, no words and scratch his back and kinda just touch him lightly. I don't think he'd cry but it's something I could imagine would bring him close to tears.

• He absolutely probably finds almost everyone annoying, like, he just is done with everything and doesn't give two shits about what anyone has to say unless the courier puts some sense into him.

• Really disagrees with gambling, just doesn't like it.

• Wishes he had a nice farm house, out somewhere away from everything, where it has everything he needs and could be away from absolutely everyone. ( of course after extracting revenge on the legion )

• He wants to learn how to play guitar, either he has tried and is horrible or has just never gotten the chance, I have a feeling he'd really be into (irl) like classic rock or something smooth.

• Cannot look at people with features his wife had the same, down to personality or looks.

• Absolutely dreads deep down without realizing going back to novac when the courier disbands him.

• He would like having books read to him, he's a listener not a reader, likes hearing people's voices just not his own.

• At a point probably had a nickname for his rifle, something like Beth or something that was a joke between him and Manny.

• Manny 1000% at a point tried hinting to boone or even confessing his love for him, either the point never got across or they got over it together. ( somewhat ish at a point )

• In all reality I play him out to be a really sweet guy, which I can imagine and he can somewhat tend to be but he ultimately really doesn't care, he'll kill in order to get what he wants ( so be it revenge or whatever else ) even if he isn't necessarily fond of it.

• At a point, consumed by guilt he forgets what Carla looks like and that eats him up inside, like the teeth gritting soul crushing ache for revenge, and a year or two leads him to completely forget her complexion.

[takamiwife]

Got sick and can not stop coughing at all and yhe worst part is my period started the same time rip

Could i request a lil comfort thing for hawks or dabi comforting the reader who is sick and also feels even worse cause she has rlly bad cramps?

AWW I HOPE YOURE FEELING BETTER :(( sorry this is likely out after you’re all better but this still deserves to be written !! if you’ve submitted something to my inbox dw, i have seen it and it’s in my drafts, im just going in order!! 💞 also, there’s some sex and the city spoilers toward the end of it, for season 3, so just watch out for that if you’re watching it/interested in watching it!

well, sick season was back and hit you full force. you woke up, your throat feeling like it had been scratched by a thousand cats and your nose stuffed. you groaned, your voice barely coming out above a whisper. you shuffled out into the kitchen, nearly passing out from reaching up into the cabinet to get some tea.

“baby? are you okay? you’re up early” keigo yawned, following you out into the kitchen

all it took was for you to turn around, looking at keigo; tired, darkened eyes, puffy cheeks, and your body being able to stand.

“jesus, you definitely are not,” he frowned, putting a hand to your forehead. “you don’t feel like you have a fever… here, come on, sit down,” he guides you over to the couch, watching as you slump against the comfortable throw pillows. he hands you the remote and moves back into the kitchen, immediately making you some tea — you never seemed to have an appetite when you were sick, but hopefully you could handle this.

after adorning your tea with honey, he moved back to the couch, placing them in front of you, replacing the throw pillows with his own body as you lay on his lap.

you whimper, holding your stomach; as if everything else wasn’t bad enough, the universe decided to curse you with cramps too.

he stroked your hair, using a few of his feathers to retrieve the pill bottle from the bathroom, not wanting to move from his position. he opened the red-capped bottle, tapping a few pills into his hand. “here, cmon, you can sit up for me right?” he coos, helping you sit up and make sure you toon the pills, hopefully to at least help with the pain. “there we go, that’s my girl” he smiled

“don’t you have work?” you say quietly, moving your head back down to his lap.

“i can be a little late, they can manage without me. don’t worry about it, alright?” he said softly, running his hands along your side.

now, had you woken up with dabi, it would go a little different.

you lay in your shared bed, surrounded by his scent, but your boyfriend was nowhere to be found. he had been out all night doing.. god knows what with the league, and you had woken up with all of the worst symptoms imaginable. you scrolled on your phone, praying he’d be back soon so he could help you.

luckily, something listened, as he cracked the door open, trying his best to be quiet; a surprisingly sweet gesture from him when he was out all night on missions.

“shit, are you okay?” he kneeled in front of you. “you look awful”

“thanks for the reminder,” you say through a stuffed nose. “my throat is on fire, i can barely breathe through my nose, and of course i have to have fucking cramps..”

“well.. hey, at least you aren’t pregnant” he shrugged

you glare at him, a small part of you finding the silver lining a bit amusing

“can you.. help me, please? you know, like a good boyfriend?” you hide your smile

“uhh…” dabi trailed off, playing with a strand of your hair. of course he wanted to help, he just.. didn’t really know how. he didn’t really get sick, and if he did he just popped whatever pill was in his cabinet and said fuck it and continued on. “yea.. what do you want? we’ve probably got a whole stash somewhere - xanax, percocet, oxy, if you want something a little stronger.. uh, a little coke might not hurt, just rub it on your gums”

“are you insane?” you stare at him blankly. “do you just have, like.. tylenol? midol? anything like that? and not.. crushed up and in a line. in pill form”

“yea, yea, let me go check. pussy..” he muttered, shooting you a smirk.

you used your little strength to smack his arm, unable to hide your smile.

after digging around under his sink, he was finally able to find some normal, non-hard drug tylenol.

he returned to you, holding onto your side as you sat up, taking the pills with a swig of water.

“you uh.. really don’t feel good, do you?”

“you couldn’t tell?” you ask through your scratchy voice.

as you lay back down, he looked at you, your eyes closing as you groaned. he tried to remember back when he was a child; there was a short period of time where he got quite sick during the winter, and his mother was nothing short of a saint. cartoons, warm soup, medicinal tea, cool wash clothes on the forehead.. the whole nine yards. it was clear that what you needed right now was him, and he was more than willing to give that to you.

“c’mere..” he shuffled beside you, pulling you onto his chest. “are you.. hungry? do you want anything warm? that’d help your throat, right?”

“not right now.. just wanna sleep right now..” you say into his chest, and he pulls the warm blanket over you, kissing your head as you fall back asleep, finally sound and able.

now, as you fell back asleep on keigo’s lap, he knew he couldn’t ignore his work any longer or they’d have his head on a spike. in an indiana-jones style move, he replaced his lap with a pillow, draping a blanket over your sleeping form. he kneeled in front of you, watching you sleep as he kissed your forehead.

“i’ll be back soon, okay? i’m sorry i have to leave..” he whispered, brushing some hair away from your face.

luckily, with the day being quite boring, within about three hours of working, he was able to convince his side kicks to take over for the day; “you guys can handle this, i have a sick girlfriend i need to take care of. i mean, what horrible things are going to happen, it’s a random tuesday.”

back at home, you stirred back to life, the pain now having subsided a decent amount. you reach for your phone on the coffee table that sat beside your tea, clicking keigo’s contact. he picked up rather quickly, his voice being a comfort on the other line.

“hey my love, finally awake huh?” you could hear his smile through the screen.

“yea, i just woke up”

“ah, well your throat sounds a bit better. how are the cramps?”

“um, a lot better.. sorry to make you late, but i appreciate you staying with me”

keigo chuckled

“they were fine without me, love. actually, i just left them”

“what? but-“

“but nothing. i’m on my way home, want me to get your favorite?”

you sit up, smiling. “…if it isn’t too much trouble”

“i figured you’d say that. i’m already on my way there. i’ll see you soon, okay?”

“okay.. i love you”

“i love you too”

still being held in dabi’s arms, you slept surprisingly soundly despite everything. he slipped out of your grip, making sure you were comfortable before going to the raggedy kitchen downstairs, searching for anything that could make you feel better. but he was doubtful the crumbs in the dirty cupboards would help much. so, with no other choice, he put on his hoodie and a mask, pulling it up over his nose, less likely to be recognized.

so, after walking a few blocks to the nearest convenience store (that also happened to have a deli), he returned home with your favorite soup, a box of tea bags, and an ice cream bar for you to enjoy later if you felt better. after placing the ice cream in the fridge, he made a nice warm cup of tea (thanks to the help of his quirk) and brought that, along with your soup up to the room, setting it on the bedside table.

“hey,” he shook you gently. “i got you something.”

“mmh.. you’re supposed to let sick people sleep.” you whined.

“fine, go on and sleep, but your soup is gonna get cold”

you opened your eyes; okay, you were quite hungry now. you reluctantly sat up, placing your back against the wall.

“there she is,” he grinned slyly. “morning sunshine” he said, handing you the cup of soup with the plastic spoon. “and there’s um.. tea, too.”

“wow, you really went all out, huh?” you smile from over the cup.

“of course i did. it’s for you, after all.” he brushed it off.

“well, thank you honey.” you coo, gently scratching his chin. damn, he loved when you did that.

he sat beside you, occasionally accepting bites of your soup.

“if i get sick from this, you’re so dead” he

“you’d love me taking care of you, don’t lie”

“…fair enough”

within about forty five minutes, keigo had returned home, takeout bags in hand as you paused your show. he placed them down on the coffee table in front of you, unpacking them.

“thank you, kei. i mean it, really. you didn’t have to do all this.” you say, smiling at him as he came back with plates for the two of you.

“what do you mean? of course i did. i love you, and you didn’t feel good, so of course i had to help you feel better.” he said, placing the food onto a plate and handing it to you.

“well, still-“

“still nothing,” he cut you off, leaning toward you. “you take care of me all the time. this was nothing compared to all you do for me.”

your heart swelled as you stared at his determined face.

“now, catch me up. what’s going on with the girls?” he gestured to the tv.

“well, carrie just cheated on aidan with mr. big…”

after a few hours of lazing about and watching your favorite show on dabi’s phone, he returned to the room with his hands behind his back.

“i got something else for you, too… figured since you’re feeling better..” he pulled out the wrapped ice cream bar, holding it out to you.

“oh, baby..”

“i know it’s not the best, but it could help your throat feel better and.. i dunno, you like ice cream, so..”

you sit up on your knees on the bed, pulling him into a hug.

and as you enjoy your treat, he sits beside you.

“so, feeling better?”

“much. thank you, doctor.” you tease.

“well.. good. i don’t like seeing you like this.”

you lean your head on his shoulder, holding your ice cream up to him.

as much as he hated seeing you sick, dabi loved taking care of you for the day. of course he wanted you to feel better, but.. he wouldn’t mind another day of holding you in bed.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

sunflower, chapter six

A/N: I wrote a little bonus blurb to this chapter, check it out here ♡ (and the smut in the beginning is from this fic I wrote a while back, just changed the names)

summary: opening the door to see the person you like, right after you read some delicious smut? Sure, that’s not gonna make it hard for you to concentrate…

warnings: reading an erotic novel, mild embarrassment, teasing, being all hot and bothered, talk of virginity, the smut she’s reading is just from this stranger things fic I wrote a while back

word count: 1015

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

previous chapter - series masterlist - next chapter

“God, you’re so fucking cute!” Lorenzo squealed and nipped your boob.

“Being such a good girl for us,” Dmitri groaned in your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand up.

“Making all those gorgeous sounds,” Lorenzo chimed in, “you’d think you were the musician.”

Jaw slack, breath ragged, your eyes darted across the page. Completely curled in on yourself in the weird position you’d found yourself in on the couch. It didn’t matter that your left leg was starting to go numb, you could not move even an inch, just sit there, and take in the story.

A few rhythmic knocks ripped you away from your daze. Practically tossing the paperback onto the coffee table, you straightened yourself out and went to answer the door. Face completely flush, a tomato really, you swung it open.

You should have predicted that it would be Spencer standing there, honestly, who else would it be? But to see him immediately after reading something like that made you look at him just a little differently, not that you hadn’t been drooling over him before, this was just a new kind of high.

You attempted to say hello, but choked on your words, just standing there, with heavy lids.

“Hey,” he smiled, waiting for you to let him in, and when you didn’t move to do so he quirked an eyebrow, “may I come in?”

Although you didn’t really register his words, you still nodded but didn’t move aside for him. A tingle fluttered down your spine at the sound of his voice. It did not help he had been the star your mind had picked in the imagining of the book’s plot. Picturing him doing the things… saying those words…

“Y/n? are you okay?”

Closing your eyes, you raised a hand in an effort to make the time stand still in order to find the answer to that question. Where you okay? Yes. Yes, you were. Now that he was here, standing in front of you, were you still okay? Maybe?

Deciding to just hum in agreement, you finally moved to the side, letting him pass, closing the door behind him.

Finally finding some words, you asked, trying and failing to sound casual, “how was your day?”

Looking around the room a bit, he smirked, “it was fine, though probably not as good as yours.”

Scrunching up your face in confusion, he raised his eyebrows at you and nodded down towards your coffee table.

Oh god. Oh fuck! It was still there. Why did you just put it on the table? Why not hide it behind a pillow? Rushing over to snatch it up, you swiftly hid it behind your back, “it’s nothing,” you tried.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he grinned, walking around you, trying to get a look at the cover, “hearts aflame by-, what does it say? I think it’s got to be a pretty good book to cause this reaction from you.”

Scrunching your face up, you threw your head back and admitted, “okay, yeah fine. I was reading a, uh, romantic book. I’m allowed such luxuries as erotica! Why, do you have a problem with it?”

Immediately losing his short-lived teasing mood, he defended nervously, “what? No, I don’t have a problem with it, I’m from Vegas, I don’t have a problem with it,” then quickly added, “I’ve read my fair share of erotic literature as well!”

“Well, good,” you exclaimed awkwardly, then turned and hid it somewhere in your bookcase. “There is no problem with me reading something like that, even if I haven’t-, I-,” struggling to figure out how much you wanted to share, ”I can still enjoy them even if I can’t fully relate.”

“Oh,” he said quietly, then promptly widening his eyes in realization and repeating, “oh! Oh okay!”

You’d expected him to have a different reaction when he found out. You were 25 after all. “Okay?” you hesitated.

“Oh, yeah,” he reassured nervously, “I was around your age too when, you know.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded slowly.

“And you know, I don’t expect anything from you, I mean even if you weren’t a virgin, you’d still-, I,” looking down at his hands, “you decide when, how, even if! I’d still be completely contempt with that!”

“Well, um, I do want to do stuff,” you looked down at the floor, “with you, at some point… I think about it quite a lot…”

“You do?”

“Yeah, Spencer. I might be a virgin, but I’m not a nun,” you giggled.

“Oh,” he blushed, “okay.”

Quiet surrounded you for about a minute before he quipped, “so that book…” biting his lip to hide a growing smile, “you think I should read it?”

“Um, I don’t think you’d like the plot. I mean, Cherry Vixen is good at what they do, but it’s no Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like it,” he smirked, cocking his head to the side, “maybe it could teach me a little more about you-”

Cutting him off you suggested, “oh, okay Spencer,” searching, trying to find some subject that could make him stop, “how about we play some chess?” coming up with the solution as you spoke the words.

Getting the hint, he stopped his teasing, “sure. You wanna go use mine?”

“Well, I don’t have a board, so yes,” you stated, “also, you should probably teach me because I have no idea how to play.”

“Deal,” he agreed with a warm smile.

Muttering under your breath as you walked out into the hallway, “hah, yeah, I’d like to see you try and do those things…”

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you echoed.

“What did you say?” he chuckled lightly.

“Nothing! Let’s go play some chess and forget about this…”

Walking in front of you to unlock his door, he reminded you teasingly, “oh, but I have an eidetic memory. Even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t dare to forget.”

next chapter

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[captainnait]

(Decided to reuploded this post because literally no one saw it. . . Oh well. Might as well tag @whocaresifwearecrazy since they could be interested in this idk)

Something that literally no one asked for - a TTwM compilation!!

I enjoyed gathering all the questions for this one. I'm not sure if I found *all* of them, but. . . Yeah. Some clips (4 out of 13) aren't mine, so I left the source in the description.

Also I wrote a little analysis/commentary thingy for all of these, which you can read down below. It's mostly just me rambling about Bob and Milan and how stupid these two are, so don't take it too seriously. I just— I just need to get this off my chest, okay 😭 also sorry for the broken english in some of these. I was half-awake when writing lol

Anyway, would really appreciate if you watch this compilation. I might do some others in the future idk. Enjoy 💖💥

As for commentary, here it is ✨

"Ode to a Garbage Can": I put this one first in the compilation, because (imo) it shows Bob's and Milan's overall dynamic perfectly - Bob tries to be as positive and supportive of Milan as he can (although with a mild success), while Milan. . . Well, he's just being himself - extremely forward and harsh, but, in the end, not minding Bob's attitude, and even engaging in a playful back-and-forth with him. It's simple, it's nice and it's going to be a repeating pattern.

. . . Aaand it's probably the most analytical I'm going to get here. Probably.

Anyway, can't say much else about this one. They're silly

"A Crappy Question": Bob here sounds so genuinely guilty 😭. And the fact that he immediately tries to make up by helping Milan with his classes— it's pretty wholesome. . . Milan slapping the living shit out of him in the end isn't tho lol

"Get Your Finger Out of Your Nose": Milan calling out Bob on literally anything is also the main point of a lot of these. And, tbh, if I worked as a janitor somewhere, where mfs like any of ydkj hosts work, I wouldn't be so happy either bruh

Anyhow, the gross out humor in the end is nothing unusual for this game. But damn, the way Milan said "chucklehead" at the end. . . He loves that idiot I'm sorry 💥💥💥

"Urinal Chips and Dip": Bob being an idiot and getting what he deserves will NEVER not be funny to me

"Wait a minute, is this a trick question? 😠" "For you? Yes 🙄" I can't with them—

Also Milan helping Bob out a bit at the end was surprisingly nice. . . And uncommon too

"Swapping Spit": Milan calling Bob "host boy" at the start caught me off guard completely when I first heard it. And yet, somehow, he gets even more wild with the nicknames later on in the other questions lol

"Moron? Hey! >:[" Bob sounds so hurt here 😭 i like to imagine that before that he wasn't catching any insults from Milan at all up until this point. He's clueless like that

"Ugh, Milan! Why do you say things like that?" "To make you blush" Okay that's just straight up flirting—

Also Bob doesn't sound so opposed to that huh. . . Interesting. I wonder when this is going to come up again—

"Things Nobody Wants To Lick": OKAY FUCK I'M SORRY THIS ONE IS JUST INSANE. MILAN JUST CASUALLY RIPS HIS SHIRT AND SAY TO "LICK UNDERNEATH HIS SWEATY ARMPIT"? AND NOT ONLY BOB IS IMPRESSED WITH MILAN'S BODY (as he says himself), HE ALSO ISN'T OPPOSED TO HIS REQUEST IN THE END (even though it wasn't even addressed to him btw)? AND EVEN ADVICES TO SAY "THANK YOU!" AFTER THE PROCESS?? HELLO?? WHY SO 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂? WHY NO ONE TALKS ABOUT IT—

Ahem. Anyway, "Bob-friend" is such a great nickname, 10/10, amazing job, Milan.

Bob's "MILAN! WHAT? 😨😳" is literally my favorite thing ever

"Please? Look, begging is not gonna help, my friend" yup, I figured

(I'm not even going to comment on the last few lines lol this is already too much)

"Seven Minutes in the Broom Closet": And just when you think it can't get gayer than the last one. . . This title. What the fuck are they doing in the closet—

Bob mistaking alliteration with liter is just so him

"Haha, you said pee :D" this man literally has a mind/humor of a toddler

And yeah, Milan leaving Bob confused with his words/sayings is. Everything

"I'm Not Your Chew Toy": I'm pretty sure this is the shortest question in this category in terms of dialogue

I love that this one highlights just how patient can Bob be with Milan's rather snappy attitude (which, to be fair, is pretty reasonable for him to have)

"Gift Ideas from the Bathroom": This one. This is my favorite question in the whole game probably. . .

Milan calling Bob "Robert" (which continues running joke of Milan calling Bob different nicknames). Milan sharing his collection with Bob, who seems to be not only interested in it, but also wants to implement it in the question. Bob being a clumsy ass moron and dropping the jar, with Milan following with his (almost) catchphrase "I'm not cleaning that". Milan sharing his culture with Bob and feeding him a homemade soup, with Bob being absolutely joyful and excited to learn new things from his favorite person (while also being taken care of by said person). Milan's little "jerk" at the end, that sounds just a bit too soft to sound like an actual insult, and more like an affectionate pet name. I love this. This is amazing. If this isn't not one of the most wholesome moments in ydkj series, idk what is tbh

"Little Red Outhouse": "Hey Milan, how you doing? Good to see ya 😁" "It's a pleasure for you to see me 😇" "Yeah, i— Uh what? 🤨" This is one of my favorite exchanges between them. Milan has such a way with words sometimes idk. . .

Not much to say about this one, except the fact, that Milan washes Bob's microphone in the toilet bowl, becomes much more disgusting when you know, that in one of the questions Bob smooches his microphone. You're welcome 😇

"It Happens to the Best of Us": Crying Milan is the last thing I expected from this game, but here we are ig. As much as I feel sad for him, I can't deny that his crying voice is incredibly stupid (/pos)

"It was a horribly sad incident which took place today" I like how even when he's distraught he still tries to flex his english skills. What a king

The way Bob instantly goes "yes sir" right after Milan tells him to shut up is just. . . 😭 no comments

"Don't Forget to Wipe": Ah yes, the one where Milan blackmails Bob. Anyway

"Hm, would you like to know" THE WAY HE SOUNDS HERE I— 💥💥

Also the way Milan interrogates Bob here is just so funny to me. He's like an annoyed and slightly disappointed owner that find out his dog made a mess in the living room again. . . Weird comparison, but oh well (I've been writing this commentary for way to long)

"There's a Swosh™ on My Tush": I love this one. Mf just plays basketball in the middle of his work day and that's it. No disgusting twist, just basketball

. . . Well, except the last few seconds, where Bob straight up drools on Milan's shoes. . . Like a dog—

Okay, nah, that's it, that enough of these guys for me today istg

[x-manson-annotated]

X-Manson Annotated Chapter 4 - Part Eight - THE ESCAPE

I'm sorry for how late this section is coming. It's a lot to pour over the various bits of it. Here, we'll be talking about the escape from the school perpetrated by members of the new mutants and kitty pryde. However, the events surrounding it are very murky and I may lean heavy on interpretation for this next section.

Four children actually escaped.

But more started to escape, but couldn't because of a mess up on their end.

Human children born to mutant parents are common, but usually the children are stillborn?

*I know this isn't what he means, but i'm imagining Xavier's also going out at night looking to mug someone.

The cult is kidnapping people from the town?

ACAB.

*Illyana's stepping disk.

Paige, Sam, Kitty, and Dani made it out. I'm still not sure why Kitty and Dani are named. The original text frames the story as Paige and Sam being dead, but they got out of the house.

I suppose I'll know more later.

(Holy shit. I'm going to reframe this as normal prose so we can get a good idea of what's happening. I'll be using their actual names for this. There's a bit of editorializing here, so bear with me.)

The escapees stood around, looking at the square, just beyond the gates that lead up to the school. They looked at Pete Wisdom and Nathaniel Essex. Paige gestured up the road that lead to Xavier's School. With not a single utterance, Paige collapsed to the ground, coming down hard on her knees, still pointing at the school.

"Oh God no, no, no!" shouted her big brother, Sam. He could immediately tell there was something wrong with his baby sister.

Dani looked around, repeating "Where's Illyana?"

Her voice was frantic, but her repetition was broken by Kitty, "Oh shit, Yana fucked up...We have to run. No one moves." Essex spoke up, "Are you from the school?" Dani was frantic still, "That stupid little bitch." Kitty looked to the group, "We have to run NOW!" "We're dead," said Sam. "Oh fuck," cried Kitty before fleeing into the dark, running right through a brick wall like a phantom. "We have to hide," said Dani, momentarily breaking from her mania. "This way," said Essex. Dani followed Nathaniel Essex away to safety, but that left Pete Wisdom alone with the other three. Rooted to the spot. He looked back and he could see movement in the school's courtyard. He reached out for Paige and the girl began to wail a horrible, piercing noise unlike any kind of scream he'd ever heard outside of horror movies. Sam pulled his hand back and it collided hard with his sister, knocking her over so he and Pete could drag her back to the house. Nobody circled around the house as far as they could tell.

Benway makes a spelling error.

Illyana didn't make it. Not sure how. Normally she has to be on the disk to transport herself and others.

Nathaniel finds the signs of mutilation on Danin and possibly Paige.

Storm has come into the doctor's house and has kidnapped Paige and Sam and taken them back to the house. By this time Kitty and Dani are already gone. But they've also taken Essex with them.

*Xavier has gotten to the cops.

*Limb, amputated. Another error on benway's part.

*This description on my first read through made me think that "Psyche" was in fact Xuân Cao Mạnh. But the amputation of Xuan's leg would have come later and she never used the name "Psyche" i only realized this after rereading some old New Mutants.

I don't know what this joke's significance is. A remark about her time at the school?

She has that verbal tick throughout.

I'm not sure how common that is with crack users.

*Kitty. But you knew that.

*Xavier could remotely operate the psychics in his cult remotely by ripping out their consciousnesses. This leads more to one of the psychics mentioned at the airport being Karma.

How did Sam learn this?

** Is Illyana from Salem? One of the people kidnapped from there? Somewhere else?

Illyana being his "Sister" is supposed to act as a cover for sexual abuse? If so, why put it on the cover if nobody beyond the cult knows?

Jean Grey's powerful enough even when she's cored to help people escape. Fuck yeah, Jean.

Order of Operations:

Kitty, Jean, Dani, and Sam form a psychic connection.

They form a plan with Illyana to get out of the house using Illyana's stepping disks.

They blind the psis in the house using a device.

Rasputin comes to the room, looking for Illyana. She stalls him, gets left behind when they fuck off.

They end up outside.

Kitty and Dani flee.

Sam and Paige are recaptured alongside Essex.

Illyana not having a lot of control over her powers is a reference to early new mutants where she didn't have very much control over where her disks let them off at or when. Hopefully this illyana is lost to time rather than dying in that awful place.

Dani got hooked on crack to make her mutant ability useless to the cult.

No Ororo/Callisto toxic yuri to be found here folks, only horror.

That wraps up chapter four. holy shit. We're close to the end. This chapter has a lot of meat to it, I hope that I've accurately cataloged everything i found here and interpreted it well.

[polaroidpascal]

IM SO HAPPY THIS MADE IT TO A TUMBLR POST BC I WAS LOSING MY MIND READING THIS !!!

( LONG. ASS. REVIEW. UNDER THE CUT BC IM GOING INSANE )

Nodding, throat all of a sudden dry when you stand and he manages to steal a look at your bare legs. Up until then, he’d only seen the oversized grey sweatshirt from the waist up, and then he finds your shorts sitting somewhere along the middle of your thighs—all skin until socks above sneakers. The latter scuffed, overly worn and likely loved. Things he assesses quickly, training coming into use even when home.

oh to have frankie stare at me from across the diner and check me out… a girl can dream

The song begins before he has come up with an answer. Having been too focused, too busy silently working out what flavour your gloss is.

i can’t fully explain why this is driving me insane but it just is.

A light laugh escapes him, shaking his head, scratching at the back of his hair as he sighs. “Only if you pose for it.”

THIS SLY MF— FRANKIE WHEN I CATCH YOU…

That’s when he spots a half-bad sketch of himself. A little heart on his jawline, one of his fingers tracing it on his skin, running over the patch that doesn’t fill in like the rest of his beard, before seeing an arrow with the name Frankie at the end and some dots.

this would scare me SO BAD like DONT LOOK AT THAT but ofc he’s very cute about it and makes me reconsider my stance 🧎‍♀️

“You think you can handle that, Blue?” “What?” Swallowing, dropping his voice as he glances over his shoulder before staring at you. “Being full of me.”

that’s it i’m a goner omfg FRANKIEEEEEE 😫

Your warm, sweet—all plump lips that have the remainder of your gloss. Tacky, he thinks. Smirking the thought to your lips as he cradles your jaw, as he licks into your mouth and earns himself his first moan.

i’m literally a puddle. this callback is so good. and the “earns himself his first moan” made my stomach flip. like it’s his reward for being so intoxicatingly hot… i’m just 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 this part got me SO FUCKING BAD

“You can still change yours though,” He smirks, almost snarling out, “Not a fucking chance.”

this fucking animal omfg i need him so bad

“Answer me then, is this all for me?”

h-hello… HELLO??? 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

“Not so hard, was it?”

ohhhhhhhhh my goddddd… as much as i love and ADORE sub!frankie… WHEN HE’S LIKE THIS I LOSE MY MIND HES SO HOT 😭😭😭

“That’s it, use me, Blue. Take what you want.”

i’m gonna get a noise complaint with all this screaming i'm doing

Nodding, “Had to, Morales.” “Frankie,” he says, urges.

such a small little thing but oh my god, him insisting on being called frankie instead of morales is so… it’s just so hot idk how else to put it. i love this little part.

It’s dizzying, the way he snaps—gripping your back as liquid pleasure rushes through him, making all sounds mute. Except the ones of his skin slapping against yours—of your whines and breaths as he jolts, as he twitches. Coming hard as a groan rips from his throat.

OKAY LISTEN— idk if this was the intention or not but i imagined him finishing with a delayed groan bc the “making all sounds mute” and then the groan after and something about that little detail… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 again idk if it was intentional or not but i literally had to sit back for a second and BREATHE 😮‍💨

heartbeat hammering against his in a rhythm that doesn’t match, but could, he supposes.

idk i just love this line so much

i am indescribably excited for this. every kink listed for the chapters is making me 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 i’m positively ITCHING for more like my mind is running rampant. i cannot wait for more omfg YOU'VE DONE IT AGAIN 🧎‍♀️

the meeting

francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader | collection masterlist

summary: stumbling into a diner in the dead of the night, frankie morales doesn't expect to find anyone there. then he meets you. what begins as a one-night-stand-turned-weekend becomes a no-strings-attached arrangement.

pairing: pre-tf/delta squad francisco morales x fem!reader (nicknamed blue) rating: smut. 18+ warnings: smut. nickname is given to the reader by frankie: blue. no y/n. no physical descriptions. one-night stand. p in v. blueberry pie... is actually pie. pre-TF. dual POV. wordcount: 4.6k an: originally posted on AO3. i won't be doing a taglist for this series, so i'd recommend bookmarking on there for email notifications.

You only realise the rain is heavier when the bell chimes.

Lifting your head, dragging it away from blurring pages, you quickly spot the thick droplets pounding, hammering their tiny water-based fists against the glass beside you. The battling temperatures continue to do all it can to fog and smear it, making visibility impossible from the inside to the out.

It forces car lights to blur into scarlet reds and soft whites from your place; makes the bright diner sign out in the parking lot—spelt out in neon tubing—to be hidden, slowly swallowed and consumed by the growing storm.

When you'd first arrived, it had only been a small shower. Sometime between your first coffee and now it had shifted into a downpour—the outside rumbling angrily, accompanied by flashes that ripple across full and fuming clouds.

Stretching, raising arms above your head, you glance out from your booth and land on the figure who'd set the bell off.

They're unzipping, haphazardly throwing down the hood, parting their jacket before you see the side profile of their face. You’re transfixed, unable to blink as they rustle the short hair atop their head—the outside they’ve brought in dripping onto the worn welcome mat of the diner.

It’s Doris who hurries to greet—a favourite of yours.

She’s the kind of person who doesn’t judge when you order more coffee when it’s gone midnight or you’ve barely moved to stretch your legs; she doesn’t ask if you’re sure you should eat another slice of pie or question if studying in a busy diner is as effective as the library.

Doris keeps her nose out. And does so in a way that makes you think, that if you needed advice, she’d give it to you. Just like she quickly begins doing (unsolicitedly) to the mysterious, almost midnight visitor.

Y’from outta town? Doris asks, rich in cheer, all sing-song-like and innocent to the point it would trick even a dubious soul that she doesn’t gossip.

You wait for a response, focusing on taking small sips of your coffee. A break from the books, from note taking and soaking information. Not eavesdropping, not at all.

No. Just got in late. Saw the sign, and thought I’m a man who deserves a warm drink.

Smiling, almost smirking, you take a larger mouthful. Lie, your brain says; a charmer, you think immediately after. Taking in the slope of his nose and the way he looks lost, unsure—as though there had been no thought after escaping the night and the storm and stepping inside.

Of all the places in the empty diner for him to sit, he chooses the booth next to yours. Jacket sliding off, folding it, placing it at the end of the booth bench he’s sitting in as he faces you.

He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t glare when he meets your eyes. Just passes you over, acknowledges but not by too much. It’s you who breaks the stare.

Then Elvis begins playing—as he routinely does. Singing about mail and returning to sender as you tap your pencil against the textbook. Dropping your gaze, and doing your best to ignore him.

You’re not sure your best is going to be good enough.

Six minutes and thirty-nine seconds pass, and in that time you take further glances when you think it’s safe to do so.

For one, taking in how he scratches at the back of his head as he attempts to understand the menu. Next, how broad his chest is, and how it forces the thin fabric of his tee to stretch when he pulls out the menu, lays it down and dips his head lower between his shoulders.

By the following chance you afford yourself a glance, his thumb is pressed to his lips as he studies the plastic, two-sided menu, flipping it over with a crack, before doing so again a few moments later. Undecided, troubled—nostrils flaring as he sighs and you try not to glare through your brows.

You blame the fact it’s been a while for why thoughts are sparking.

Practically unable to stop staring at how thick his fingers are, to stop your body from reacting to the width of his thumb. Your thighs press together under the table, mind running away with itself before it’s snapped back to the present when he flips the menu again.

It’s easier to busy yourself by tapping the toe of your sneaker against the metal pole of the table. Discreet, rubber side up, dotting your paper with the pencil as you urge him to order.

Internally pleading him to.

Counting to thirty and then to sixty, before you drop the pencil and rest your cheek on your palm, staring—more bold and unafraid of confrontation than you might have been minutes ago.

“You having a hard time there or something?”

His head snaps up, eyes a little wide. The stare dripping with surprise before he snorts. Before his index and thumb are lifting the menu, tapping the others against the back.

“What do you recommend?”

“You’d take advice from a stranger?”

Shrugging, he dips his chin, but his eyes remain on you. Dark, yet warm—glancing at you as though he wishes to let them up and down your frame. Before he drags them to the empty plates, the ones stacked, ready to be collected.

“No one else for me to ask.”

You smirk, dropping your hand from your face and straightening your spine. “Touché.”

Then, you make him wait. Take as much of him in as you can. Pencil in hand as you trace the eraser end over, and over a graph in your book. Because he’s handsome, good-looking, in a way that’s understated but you know would make you double-take somewhere else.

It’s the eyes, you try to reason.

A unique mix of doe-eyed and sharp.

Exhaling, you tap your pencil louder before saying, “The coffee is good, and so are any of the pies. The pancakes are good, but not when Ernie is on. And Ernie is currently on—they always taste salty? I try not to think why.”

It’s his turn for his lips to slide into his cheek. “Which pie?”

“Huh?”

He points, right to the plates. “Which pie have you been eating?”

For a second, you take him in. Head tilting, back straight, lips rolling together as you try to place him—nostrils flaring as you take a steadying breath. “Blueberry.”

“Alright then.”

To your surprise, he orders you one too.

It sitting, temptingly in a space between notes, postits and your book. Your stomach grumbles in protest, desperate to taste another slice, knowing the importance of fuel and nutrition to ensure that you don’t fall asleep at the table again.

You wait until he sinks his teeth into it. Tuning in for any groan, any evidence of surprise at how good it tastes. You flick your gaze to him, watching, waiting, eventually stabbing your own fork into it before the filling bursts in your mouth, exploding sweetness that’s balanced by a gentle tang—the crust, as always, both crumbly and smooth, all buttery, a treat. Homely. That’s what it reminds you of, home.

A thing, from the look on his face, he feels too.

“Told you.”

It’s a sight to watch him run his tongue across the front of his teeth, fork sliding across the crumbs on his place. “Not bad for a stranger.”

You release a short laugh, one that you try to bury against the cup you bring to your lips.

“I’m Francisco—Frankie.”

He drops his eyes, embarrassment—most likely. Shyness is another option.

Even with no expectation for a trade, you lick your lips and offer him something else. A nickname as he smiles, eyes narrowing. “—not going to just hand you my name, you could be a murderer.”

“I could be.”

“Your nickname doesn’t suit you.”

“Thank you?”

He laughs, low, but light. It’s then he asks if you’re working, to which you share studying. That you find it easier here, less distractions—

“More pie?”

“There’s that too. What about you? Just fancied a break from the storm?”

Sheepish, that’s the word you’d use. The back of his fingers runs along the stubble on his jaw. “I’ve just landed back. Needed… wanted a minute.”

You nod, letting his words simmer as a bolt of lightning catches you in the corner of your eye.

“Guess we’re one step further away from being strangers.”

He hums, and you dip your head, turning the page of your textbook as it becomes the only noise while one song transitions into another.

Frankie tries not to smile when you jump at a clap of thunder.

He hides it behind his coffee and tries to stare out as another bolt sketches itself across the sky. Then, you ask him if he’ll watch your things so you can use the restroom.

Nodding, throat all of a sudden dry when you stand and he manages to steal a look at your bare legs.

Up until then, he’d only seen the oversized grey sweatshirt from the waist up, and then he finds your shorts sitting somewhere along the middle of your thighs—all skin until socks above sneakers. The latter scuffed, overly worn and likely loved. Things he assesses quickly, training coming into use even when home.

What he doesn't spot is a coat or an umbrella.

A thing which ticks in the back of his head as he wonders how long you’ve been here to have racked up the number of plates and the different glass and cupwear. It ticks over, maths whirring when he hears the bathroom door squeal and the sound of you approaching.

Your thank you comes across softly as you lean back into the seat of your booth chair, rolling your neck—and massaging your temple before reaching for something in your bag.

It’s a test, he thinks when you begin to apply gloss. Sliding it over your lips, not glancing up at, as he tries not to even let his eyes wander. To follow.

He fails.

Watching, seeing it glistening, the exposed lighting above the two of you sparkling on them like glitter.

And, he tries to drink his coffee; tries to think of what the next song could be. Whether it will be Elvis again or something else.

The song begins before he has come up with an answer. Having been too focused, too busy silently working out what flavour your gloss is.

Whether it would be tacky against his mouth—

“If you keep staring, Frankie, I’ll think that you want to take a picture.”

A light laugh escapes him, shaking his head, scratching at the back of his hair as he sighs. “Only if you pose for it.”

Your laugh is loud, sweet—gentle on the ears as you pout and roll your eyes. “You’re distracting me.”

Frankie swallows that you’ve been distracting him since he sat down.

By the time it reaches the third hour he’s been here, Frankie finds himself opposite you.

Having relocated, taken some pity on you to help “test” you on something. It had ended quickly when his hands held your notebook and spotted your illustrations along the edges. That’s when he spots a half-bad sketch of himself. A little heart on his jawline, one of his fingers tracing it on his skin, running over the patch that doesn’t fill in like the rest of his beard, before seeing an arrow with the name Frankie at the end and some dots.

“Morales. My surname.”

Grabbing your notebook back, eraser removing the dots, he watches as you write out his name. Immortalise it against the lines pages of your studying. Committing him there, a memory you can keep or erase, the choice entirely yours.

“Now, give it here.”

For a second, you look like you wish to argue, before you surrender, smirking. Pencil placed down as you lick your lips.

Amongst his name, are notes. Swirly handwriting that becomes more chaotic the longer he thinks you’ve sat here. Some circles, some with bubble clouds drawn around them, doodles on doodles—and then there’s your textbook. Post-its and scraps of receipts sticking out from different parts.

“You studying for an exam?”

Nodding, stretching your back in your seat, a little groan emitting.

“How long have you been here?”

Smiling, more telling than wicked—the opposite, he suspects, of what you intend. Your hand reaches for the pot Doris has left, tilting your cup, his eyes spotting its emptiness before your fingers wrap around the handle the black handle on the glass pot.

“Put the coffee pot down, Blue.”

Laughing, the edges of it cutting into your cheeks, “Blue?”

“Better nickname—because at this point, you’re nothing but blueberries and coffee.”

“Oh. Is that right?”

Wrapping his fingers around the handle, smothering over yours, he stares—ignores it, the pulse from your fingers, the warmth. The way his throat dries and he wants nothing more than to slide a palm up your leg to see if it’s as smooth as he thinks it will be.

“What would you say if I said I think I’d rather be full of something else…”

Your words hang, linger.

Lips sliding up into his cheek, feeling your hands loosen from under his. The silence thick. A second away from it all shifting, ruining, mood dampening and changing. So he leans, elbow resting, then forearm—finding some form of confidence buried under the responsibility he usually has to carry.

“You think you can handle that, Blue?”

“What?”

Swallowing, dropping his voice as he glances over his shoulder before staring at you. “Being full of me.”

There's a definitive pause. A glide of your eyes up and down him. Dragging, practically scraping. “Oh, I think I’d like to give it a go, Morales.”

Placing your notebook down, sliding it across the table—tracing his tongue across his teeth. He nods before muttering get your coat.

That’s when you hand him your name, your real name, and he tries it silently before he follows you up out of the booth.

He follows your car—close, not allowing another vehicle to squeeze in between, but not tailgating.

There are barely any blocks, but he doesn’t chance it. Parking behind you, exiting as you do from yours, throwing his bag over his shoulder, as you wait for him outside an apartment building at the end of a small walkway.

Frankie considers the option to turn back.

To consider his choices, to opt out of something that could become complex, awkward. But, he doesn’t. Not when he holds the door open after you’ve let them both in, or when he rides the elevator to the fourth floor, to the fourth door, four-oh-four you whisper as you stick your key in and the lock sounds in the night.

He doesn’t give it another second when the door shuts behind his back, hand grasping, swallowing your gasp when his mouth slides over yours. Bag thumping to the ground, palms wrapping around the sweatshirt as he forces it to cling to your waist when he presses you to him. Your warm, sweet—all plump lips that have the remainder of your gloss.

Tacky, he thinks. Smirking the thought to your lips as he cradles your jaw, as he licks into your mouth and earns himself his first moan.

“Can still change your mind?”

You shake your head, peeling your sweatshirt off—revealing practicality. A little grey sports bra, nothing impressive, nothing you feel embarrassed for. Your nipples are hard, peeking through the fabric as the light from your kitchen paints you in gooey yellow.

“You can change yours though?”

He smirks, almost snarling out, “Not a fucking chance.”

Throwing your sweatshirt, you slide both thumbs under the band that meets your skin and take that over your head. He almost lunges, crashing his mouth to yours, hand cupping one breast as his thumb rolls over it—circling over it. Walking you back aimlessly, unsure of any route, eyes assessing, watching, until he moves you against a wall.

One hand against it for leverage, his other slips down the band of your shorts—passed cotton, it digging into his wrist as two fingers glide through your slick. Feeling your want, your need, able to spread it, smother it over your clit as you whimper, as your arms knot behind his neck and pull his mouth to mould to yours.

“All for me?”

“Shh,” you whisper, grinning, one of his thick fingers sliding from your swollen clit to dip into your pussy. Your hips grinding into him, against his palm, groaning—almost moaning against your mouth at the feel of you. More so when he catches you whisper, “Please.”

“Answer me then, is this all for me?”

Nodding, lips ghosting over his before he slips another finger in. Sliding them in and out, curling. Feeling you tighten around him, clenching.

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“Not so hard, was it?”

His fingers curl, finding that spongy spot that has you whining a completely different noise—has your fingers digging into him, leaving little marks that’ll take hours to fade. He hopes they bruise.

The more he thrusts his fingers, the more you flutter—the more you rut into his hand. The more the noises you emit become strangled, mewls that are wrapped in a moan.

“That’s it, use me, Blue. Take what you want.”

“Fuck, m’gonna… fuck, I’m so—”

Frankie smothers your babbling with his mouth, licks his tongue into your mouth, vanishes them, erases them. Half-about to confess how hot it is that you’re so riled up, all because of him. That you’ve barely invited him in before you’re humping his hand, desperate, aching all for him.

Your fingers tighten around his forearms, hips shuddering, moaning right into his mouth as he feels your slick coat his fingers, his palm. Working you through it until you’re nudging his hand free, pulling it up to your mouth and meeting his eyes.

Then, you’re a fucking sight, a vision. Tongue sliding between his fingers and up and over them, tasting every part of yourself from his hand before his palms clutch your cheeks. Before his mouth is on yours and you’re guiding him to the bedroom, to your made bed of pale shades and decorative cushions.

“Condoms?”

Your hand reaches, shifts awkwardly for the handle, as he swipes at your hand—leaning over, reaching. He spots them, foil in the centre of papers and—

“Fuck, Blue,” he hisses. Looking down, finding his cock in your hand, mouth hovering closer, teasingly, breath fluttering over the leaking tip as you ask you clean and he nods.

Almost set to choke out words when wet warmth envelopes his cock. Cheeks hollowing, doing all you can to take as much of him from this position as he drops his head back, as his fingers grasp at your sheets, as the condom crinkles in his fingers before it scratches, protesting and reminding of its importance.

He’s throbbing in your mouth. Too in awe of the actual fucking sight of you—a person he met four hours ago—who is now a dream come to life.

“Stop, baby,” he groans, hand on cheek, easing him out of your mouth, “Wanna feel you come around me.”

Your eyes narrow in fury as he shifts back, rests back on his knees, eyes unable to tear away from how you lick the small taste of him from your lips, thumb swiping at the spit that had slid around your parted mouth as he rips the foil open.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Lifting up, taking the condom from the wrapper, sliding it down his cock. “Oh, I want you. Wanted you the moment you walked in.” He laughs, watching your hand wrap around his length. “I mean it—I don’t… don’t do this. But, I had to.”

Taking your hand from around him, leaning you back before lifting your leg, he lines himself up—sliding the head of his cock through your folds. Smearing himself in your wetness, coating him, watching you try to style out your little changes in breath.

“Had to?”

Nodding, “Had to, Morales.”

“Frankie,” he says, urges. Slowly pushing himself in, head tipping as he watches how you stretch around him, how perfect you are, how good.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan as he bottoms out.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders and your chest arches into him. Your hooked leg tightening, forehead pressing into his neck as he rubs a circle on your back, comforting, aiming for relaxation as your head lifts, as eyes—glassy, lust-blown and filled with want.

“Good girl. S’good for me.”

Then you flutter, loosen a little, grind your hips—

“You like that, Blue?”

“Move, Frankie.”

“Yeah?”

“Please. Please, Frankie—fuck me, fuck me—”

Your words fade, swallowed by a whine as he begins to move. As his hips begin to snap to yours in a rhythm so unrelenting, so desperate. Kissing you between heavy breaths as he lifts you slightly, changes the angle, and swallows a different moan that almost makes him grin as his fingers spread out along your back.

Because fuck you feel good.

A thing he’s sure he groans, says, spills.

Your mouth close to his ear, hands tugging at him, pulling—feeling you everywhere, taking him, all that he’s giving you. As his arm hooks under your leg, spreading you a little more, placing a palm down to the bedsheets as he squeezes the cotton as you tighten around him.

He knows you’re close, can feel it, can see it, a look that he’d seen only in diluted light*,* but now gets a real view of.

And it’s enough to push him over the edge.

“Say my name, baby. Please—”

“Frankie—fuck, m’god, Frankie, right…”

It shifts into a cry, your body tensing as your pussy flutters, tightens—contracting and constricting. Then there’s your nails, the ones clawing at him, scratching. Digging into him in a way he wants you to over, and over, again as he moans.

Because you feel good. Perfect.

His breath fans across your neck and he finds himself so hard, so desperate as he slides in and out, hand grasping at your hip, easing, helping—

“Come for me, Frankie. Need it, need you t—”

“Fuck, m’give it to you.”

It’s dizzying, the way he snaps—gripping your back as liquid pleasure rushes through him, making all sounds mute. Except the ones of his skin slapping against yours—of your whines and breaths as he jolts, as he twitches. Coming hard as a groan rips from his throat. His hips stutter, losing their pace, hearing your whine change as overstimulation layers thickly before he slowly lets himself collapse against you.

A thing, he suspects, you’re eager for. Arms encasing around him, holding him—heartbeat hammering against his in a rhythm that doesn’t match, but could, he supposes.

Then you kiss him.

Drag his mouth to yours, bodies both slick with sweat, glistening, shimmering as your tongue licks a thank you at the back of his teeth and his fingers grasp one of your breasts, sliding a sweat-soaked thumb over your peak as you groan.

He’s not sure of the hour, but he knows it’s morning when he wakes.

The shower’s running. Steam billowing into the bedroom from the ajar door with warm light leaves a line that guides him to you.

A part of him thinks he should leave. Should take the easy option, knowing things—how you feel, how he feels. Hand on your hip between the first and then the second—the time on your clock barely acknowledged as you ask him what he does, where he’s come from.

It rolled from him, the truth. A thing that should frighten him, that he should have held back—

You serve?

Yeah.

Against your sheets, the ones that smell of you and then him and then the two of you, running a hand over his face. Recalling the way you touched his cheek, brushed your palm, staring, before you whispered:

Lemme guess, a pilot?

Eyes widening, hand on your chin as he made you look at him, silently asking, how do’y know, how d’you see me? You kissed him instead of answering.

It's why it would be easy to go—to leave in the mid-morning, disappear, vanish.

But his feet are taking him to the bathroom door, pushing it open with two fingers—the same two that tipped your chin up, made you look him in the eye as you came on his cock—steam greeting him before it clears. Before he sees your back to him, half-covered by droplets and glass until he’s padding across tiles, remembering your words the last time when you’d been shimmering with sweat—

“I can’t do serious, Morales. So if you have a taste of me, don’t fall in love with me.”

He’d snorted, sliding his mouth down your stomach, thighs twitching against his palm as it remembered the other ways he’d already made it shake. “It’ll be you falling when I’ve done with you.”

Your fingers slide the glass open now, that conversation there, hanging like fairy lights that you both ignore as water cascades down your skin—and he steps in, welcomed, lips finding yours as the glass shakes when it slams back into place.

It’s a few more hours until he’s dressing, until he’s drinking a cup of coffee and finding himself having trouble making an excuse to leave.

Because these things aren’t easy, comfortable. Yet this is.

Opening the door, the scent of coffee from the pot you made still filling your place, you let him pass—hovering, lingering.

“Hey?”

Glancing at you, how you’re biting the nail on your thumb, one foot on the other. “Maybe, call me—when you’re next in town? If you want.”

“Thought you didn’t do strings.”

“We can be friends… can’t we? Friends who…”

“Fuck?”

He watches you nod, laughing, before he mumbles friends into the air as he lags. Swallowing. Fingers lightly tapping against his jeans before he rests his arm against the door. “Blue?”

“Hm.”

“What if I said I’m not expected anywhere for two more days.”

Your teeth bite your lower lip, scratching at the back of your head, before that same hand grabs a fistful of his shirt, moving closer, chin tilted up. “I’d say, I think I could handle a bit more of you, Morales. If you want?”

an: a huge thank you to @luxurychristmaspudding for reading this and helping me spot the hilarious typos (you're a real one). to @pedgito for holding my hand so tight since i said "i think i want to do a kink list" and then spinning a wheel which unveils the kinks in the next few pieces. i'd be lost.

[chicken2potato]

4/21/2023

Te quiero a ti solamente.

It was so good to hang out with you last night. Every time I’m with you, it just feels like a blip, like seconds have gone by, when in reality it has been hours. 

I still love you. I think a part of me always will. I mean, it’s been almost ten years and you’re still on my mind all the freaking time. 

When I went down to Kentucky, I thought that I knew what I wanted from my life. I saw friend after friend get engaged, married, and have a family. Countless times I tried to wish that was me. But in the end, I came to realize that that wasn’t what I wanted. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to settle down with the love of my life and create a beautiful life together. But I didn’t want what they had. They were all cookie cutter molds. All the same. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I knew deep down, that wasn’t what I truly wanted. 

I want to live my best life with my favorite person by my side. Whether that’s creating a family, or traveling the world, or neither. I just want to share my dreams and my passions with someone who truly understands me. Someone who actually knows me. Someone who is my everything. Someone who loves me unconditionally. Whether that’s as friends, or as something more.

I love you. Te quiero. So much. I’ve tried over these years to put it aside, to move on. But I literally can’t explain how I can’t do that. Everything reminded me of you while I was in Kentucky. There were so many times when I would see something funny on Facebook or somewhere else and I would want to send it to you. Or when something crazy would happen and I would want to tell you all about it. Throughout all this time, you’ve always been my best friend, even if we weren’t talking. You were always the person who knew me. You were always the person that I could go to without judgement. You were always my person. I have wanted to reach out to you on so many occasions, it’s not even funny. 

Even now, I find you, find us, in everything. I don’t care if we never date again. I don’t care if we never get married. I don’t care if we never build a life together. I am so beyond thankful that I at least have you as my friend again. I have missed you so much. And even if you find someone else and move on, I’ll still love you. And I will be so happy for you to find happiness and find someone. Just please, let me stay your friend if you ever do find someone. Because I need you. I need my person to at least be my friend. I care about you so much. 

I wish I could take away the demons that you are fighting inside your head. I can’t imagine what you go through on a daily basis. I can’t imagine the strength it takes to continue on every day. I am so proud of you for coming this far. I wish there was something that I could do to help you. You don’t deserve the shit cards that you were dealt in this life. You have one of the biggest hearts I have ever seen in someone. I am inspired by your strength and your ability to continue to be an amazing person in spite of everything. 

I feel bad for giving you that look. I promise I don’t try to. I just really love you... I don’t want to confuse your life any more than it may already be. I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to manipulate you and that I’m trying to get back together with you. Would that be awesome if we did? Absolutely. I would love that. But I just want to be your friend above all else. I want to be there for you. I want to be someone that doesn’t hinder you, but helps you excel and attain your goals. I really love you, Rowan. So fucking much. 

When I realized that I wasn’t ever going to get you, back in high school, it felt like someone had ripped out my heart and my lungs and stomped on them a trillion times. I felt so stupid for fucking it up somehow. It hurt so much to keep going. I think I distracted myself with the whole religion thing. Wanna hear something that I’ve never told someone? When people would ask me what I wanted to do I told them that I wanted to be a missionary. And the first place I thought of was Syria. I don’t know if you remember in high school, but when we got those refugee students from Syria, you bought us both Syrian-English dictionaries. You talked about how we could go over there and help, we could get our nursing degrees and help them... I never forgot about that. And so when people asked where I wanted to go, I said Syria. Because you were right, they did need desperate help. And at the time I figured if I wasn’t going to be a nurse, then I could go over as a missionary. I even started to learn Arabic for a little bit. You have made such a huge impact on my life, in every aspect. It was like I could not escape you, no matter how hard I tried, though it wasn’t like I wanted to.

I tried to throw myself into religion. I tried to distract myself from losing you. It was probably one of the things that had hurt the most in life. You were my everything. I was going to marry you. We were going to have our farm with our tire swing for the kids. We were going to get you the surgery you needed. We were going to grow old together and be a nuisance in the nursing home together. When I lost that, I felt like I lost a bit of myself. Or rather, every part of myself. So I tried to find something to give me meaning again. That’s why I went so hard into religion. It somehow gave me meaning again when I thought I would never get that again. But, when everything went down with mom, I started questioning that as well. Why did I believe in God? Why did I do what I did? Why was spending so much time and money doing what I was doing? Did I really believe it? Was I just distracting myself? 

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret going to Kentucky. It gave me so many wonderful friends and amazing life experience. I don’t regret it, I think it was right for me at the time, to get away from it all. To find myself and what I believed. But, especially towards the end, I realized that that wasn’t who I was anymore. And I no longer needed to be distracted. Trust me, I still had days when thinking about you and us hurt, but it had gotten easier. I had finally accepted that we were never going to be. I had finally made peace with the fact that I may never find someone and that that was okay. I needed to stop focusing on finding someone else and focus on finding myself, again, and the real me this time. I think I finally found her. She’s a little rough around the edges, and definitely needs some help in some areas. But she’s here. She’s doing the best she can and I’m proud of her. 

When I came back to Maine last May, I knew I wasn’t going back down to Kentucky in the fall. I knew that I was here to stay. And then it was like everything else fell into place. Someone let me rent an apartment from them, my friend came with me to go pick up the rest of my belongings, and I was finally getting better mentally.  My last semester in Kentucky was so depressing and so freaking mentally draining, it’s not even funny. I hated it. With a passion. I was ready to move on. 

I still have a long way to go. I still have bad nights when my emotions are fucked because of my PCOS or just my brain being shitty in general. I still can be a little too selfish at times. Sometimes I’m ruder than I need to be. I need to be cleaner and healthier. I need to be nicer and more patient. But I feel so much more like me and more at peace now than ever before. 

Honestly, I feel like you helped a lot in that. If you wouldn’t have picked Averi, I don’t know where I would be. Where would we be? Would we have finally gotten our farm? Would you have gotten the surgeries you needed? Would we be happy? Would we be together? Would we be thinking about kids? Would we just have all the animals? I have a lot of “what if” questions. I’ve made peace with understanding that I will never know the answers to those. I will never know what would be. I do know what is. I know that I’ve grown as an individual, as have you. I know that I have an incredible friend. I know that I have someone who supports me 100%. I know that I am so thankful for you. I wish in high school you would have picked me. Maybe we would have grown together. Maybe we would be stronger. But even if you didn’t, I know that I have grown and gotten stronger throughout these past years. You picking her helped me find myself. Maybe this divorce is your chance to find you. Who are you without having someone? Who are you when you are all by yourself? What are your dreams and goals? I hope you find yourself, your true self. I hope you find happiness, not in some relationship or in others, but in yourself. I wish you could see how amazing you are. You’re the most thoughtful, kind, compassionate person I have ever met. 

I’m thankful for us. The good and the bad. Because both equally made us into the people we are today. Even with all the regrets and the mistakes, I’m still thankful. I’m a strong believer in that everything happens for a reason. And besides, we’re friends again, right? It’s like you said, you never know what the future holds. No matter what that is, no matter where we go, know that I am behind you 100%. No matter if I’m halfway across the country or just thirty minutes away, I’m always here for you. I love you. Not just romantically, but just as a friend and as family. I don’t care if we never get together again, I’m here, I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re amazing, Row. Please don’t ever lose sight of that. <3 

[drakenology]

the yakuza wife - yakuzaboss!bakugo x housewife reader - inspired by @hanji-is-life ‘s sexy ass. 

yakuza au

tw: violence, sadism, mentions of blood, smut, cum, cussing, daddy/ddlg kinks undertones, mentions of guns, very much harley quinn and joker only joker actually loves harley in this ya know?

“where the fuck is my money?” bakugo asks this bludgeoned man tied up to a metal chair in some god forsaken warehouse god only knows where. 

“please sir, i’ll get it to you as soon as I can! please stop!” the man pleads, flinching when bakugo raises his fist to land a mean left hook into his jaw with a dark chuckle. 

“you know you shouldn’t borrow from people if you have no intentions in payin’ em back. it’s fuckin’..” he pauses before taking a crowbar and bashing the man in both his knees, blood curdling screams filling the empty space. “rude!”

bakugo smirks as the man begs for mercy, pulling a set of pliers of his pocket and holding them up to the man’s face to tease him, grabbing by his neck to make him meet his intimidating gaze. 

“shoulda thought of that before trying to playing me for a fuckin’ fool.. hey, I wonder how many teeth I can pull outta ya before your weak ass passes out.” he grunts, waving the plier in his face until the sound of his phone ringing stops him from doing anything.

“you’re lucky I gotta take this.” he mumbles, taking a piece of dirty cloth and shoving it into his mouth to keep him quiet.

bakugo turns away and rolls up his sleeve, setting up his tools for torture as he answers the phone. 

“hi baby!” you chime, at the mall having the time of your life with his credit card. 

“hey. ‘m workin’ whaddaya want?” he says, holding up his pliers and sitting them down on the table as his hostage screams in the background. 

“just checking on you, dummy! whatcha want for dinner, hm? i know you haven’t eaten yet.” you say, holding up different dresses to your frame to imagine yourself in them. “hey, pink or powder blue?”

“pink. and ‘m not hungry. you’ve got security with you, right baby?” he asks, kicking the man onto the floor with a loud thud. 

“of course. you won’t let me leave the house without them.” you respond, not even paying attention to the muffled screams you hear in the background. you’ve learned not to ask too many questions when it comes to being a yakuza wife. 

“gotta keep my baby safe, right? listen, princess I gotta go. i’ll be home before 9 okay?” 

you suck your teeth and roll your eyes, “fine. be careful okay?”

“always am. love you baby.” as he hangs up and returns to his task. 

the difference between you and katsuki was night and day. everyone knew you to be so sweet and kind; unbeknownst to them all how you ended up with a cretin like Bakugo. even though Katsuki was immoral in many ways, he knew marrying you was the right thing to do. who else would want to dress his wounds and pick out his suits for the day?

katsuki demanded you quit your job. in fact he came with you to put in your two weeks notice, tough scowl staining his features as your boss signed the approval with shaking hands.

from that day on he ensured you were well taken care of and that marrying him and becoming his housewife came with many perks.

for starters, your husband was loaded. all those years of extorting and money laundering paid off every time you come home with a couple shopping bags from the mall.

katsuki loved lavishing you in the finest of everything, adoring how you look in designer. so much so, he fucks you by the bay window of your luxury penthouse, the Chanel dress he just bought you hiked up over your ass as his calloused fingers make way into your mouth. you’re pinned to the glass, bare breasts pressed against the window as he railed you from behind. and he wonders why you turned out to be a spoiled brat.

your gifts always made you stand out above the rest. many men fawn over you and he knows this. just a small price to pay for having a fine ass wife. but if anyone ever forgot their place, if anyone ever got to close. well. that’d be the last time you’d ever see them. course you have no idea why. but even though katsuki loved you with all his heart, you could be a real pain in the ass. you were so bratty, especially when he was busy. 

one day you came trotting into his office in the middle of some business deal. whatever. your jimmy choos popped and you needed a new pair before the yacht party you were attending started. 

“daddy’s taking care of business right now, okay? go wait outside.”

“no! you promised we’d go shopping! I need new shoes what the fuck am I supposed to do with these?” you whine, pouting like usual to get your way. bakugo’s brow raised, walking towards you and gesturing for the meeting to continue without him. his hand rested on your lower back as he escorted you out.  

he fucked your brains in in the next room for disobeying him, panties around your ankles, your charm anklet jingling as he picked up your legs. 

“spoiled fuckin’ brat. told you to wait didn’t I? hm? or did you make a scene ‘cause you wanted my dick?” your head hangs back as your hips are held down by him, thrusts brutal as you cry for him to slow down, face turned away from his. he grabs your chin and turns you around harshly with his scarred and calloused hands, bruised knuckles turning white with a tight grip. 

“look at me when i’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.” 

he came inside you when he was done, pulling your panties up for you as it dripped down your leg. 

“now.. back to what I was doin’. tell the driver to take your ass home.” he huffs with a zip of his pants and a shake in his sleeves to fix them. bakugo leaves you on the desk, leaving the door cracked for you to leave when you got yourself together. and when you did you could hardly hold yourself up, holding your high heels in your hand as you limp to the car waiting outside for you. 

having a yakuza boss as a husband was always exciting. something in you liked the danger; the thrill.

you tell this tale to your other socialite girlfriends and they almost never believe you.

you were out with bakugo on a date when work called. to your dismay, he had to get up and leave. you insisted on being brought along, hating being left alone in that big house that was often empty without him. he agreed but only if you promised to be quiet like a good little girl. 

when you arrive at some warehouse (the same one mentioned earlier), a man was already hog tied on the ground, muffled screams behind a piece of duck tape as bakugo ripped it off. you sat by a table, legs folded in annoyance. this interrupted date night? you scoff and fold your arms. 

“ah. good seeing you old friend. remember me?” he asks, taunting him a little with a gun in his hand pressing it against his jaw as the man let out muffled pleas for him not to shoot. 

“you tried stealing from me. fuckin’ idiot. my boys caught you in some hotel with your little girlfriend. did you think you were gonna have a victory fuck after you made off with my money, hm?” bakugo asks, hitting him upside the head with the butt of his pistol.

you jump at the sound of the blow, a small part of you turned on watching your husband beat the crap out of a complete stranger. your pussy starts to ache when you peer over at bakugo’s strong tattooed arms as he flung his jacket aside, rolling his white sleeves up to ensure his expensive suit doesn’t get soiled. 

“oh fuck, where are my manners? this is my lovely wife, y/n. say hi baby.” he coos at you, a switch from rough to gentle when he spoke to you. you smile and wave, the hostage sobbing out a weak greeting when bakugo demands him to. 

“anyways. what’d you do with the money, asswipe? gonna tell me or are you gonna make me fuck you up in front of my pretty wife. god, look at ‘er, ain’t she gorgeous? you know I was about 30 minutes from railing her before you had to go along and ruin our night. I should kill you right here.” bakugo turns his head towards you with a sick look in his eye. 

“whaddaya think, princess? what should I do to this motherfucker, huh?” he asks. 

“smack him again. he ruined date night.” you grumble, folding your arms. 

“he sure did, baby.” bakugo says, punching the hostage in his jaw. he gestured for his men to crowd around him, all of them taking turns kicking and beating him with metal bars. katsuki walks towards you and pulls you into a passionate kiss, a bit of blood on his knuckles as he pulled your hair. god, this whole situation was sick. but why was it so hot?

bakugo carries you away to the car, tells the driver to fuck off somewhere while he rails you in the back seat, knowing his men will take care of the rest of what he started inside the warehouse. you straddle his lap, bouncing up and down on his stiff cock as the car rocked back and forth. the car windows fog up as your body heat commingled throughout the space, your hands pressing against the glass to gain to balance as you rode his fat cock. 

“fuck, daddy. you’re so hot when you’re handling business. ooh, you’re dick’s so hard.” you purr, bakugo’s hand pinching and playing with your breast as his hips thrust upwards. He smirks at you, almost a bit shocked you got as turned on as he did from the pain he inflicted.

“hmm, I know baby. god, you’re sick. getting this wet from watching me beat up some punk. dirty fuckin’ girl.” he huffed into your hair, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck followed by harsh nibbles.

truth is even though you were so sweet and caring, you had a dark side no one knew about. I mean why else would you marry into the yakuza? 

you were both fucking insane. 

[moonglowmagic]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Watching as he pushed the pancake around with his fork and didn’t eat it cause her to frown. “Do you want something else? We can go somewhere else or we can get you something you’ll actually eat.” She tried to offer in the hopes it wouldn’t just be her eating this morning, that he’d actually eat too. “Was it really? Because the smarter investment would have been to buy us both a seat so we could have got out together. Not just one of us.” She pointed out as she leaned back against the booth seat. “Have you met me?” She asked with a soft laugh. “Property damage is also kinda my MO.” She reminded him, it was clearly easy to forget that she’d almost burnt down the inn on New Years.

At his words she looked down and couldn’t bring herself to say out loud the fact that he wasn’t a resurrected and was whole. While she was now a witch who had to rely on the coven for even her magic. That he was together and calm, everything that she wasn’t and wished she could be. “Royce you’re just the better fit. You’re rational and logical. I’m all emotions and impulsive.” She explained softly as she reached over and took the napkin from the container and started to fuss with it. 

Ripping it into tiny pieces as she made a little mountain at his reaction and she knew that she had fucked up. She didn’t want to repeat herself especially not to him, she was half scared that he would yell at her. Instead she just began to rip apart the paper more quickly, adding to her already growing pile. “I don’t have money like you Royce. I couldn’t just buy my way out of it.” She countered back harshly. “Okay? And I’ll decline her. I mean she didn’t hold up her end of the deal anyways. So what she gives me payback and kills me? I can live with that.” She honestly could. Especially since it would help stop the feeling of pain she was constantly in, reaching up and rubbing her chest where she’d been impaled, but despite everything there wasn’t even a mark to remember it by. Just a phantom scar and phantom ghosts of Kyle and Alyssa hanging around to remind her that she was doing everything wrong. “I wasn’t going to let my brother die. That’s not how I work Royce. It’s all of us or nothing. I’m his literal twin. Can you even imagine the pain I would feel if I lost him?” It would be unimaginable, much like she was sure Linden went through when he lost her. “It was a blanket offer.” Sinking into her seat lower as she finished ripping up the napkin and went to grab another. 

When he asked the million dollar question Poppy stayed silent for a long time. “I use to.” She admitted softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I loved being the supreme and the fact that they chose me. But they have stopped talking to me other than to bitch about how I’m wrong and they made a mistake and I shouldn’t have came back.” She explained, looking down at her hands and she pulled at her rings nervously. She’d been trying to talk about this for months but never knew exactly how to bring it up. “I should have died Royce. I did die.” Figuring the urge to put her hand back to her chest. “I think when I came back that something inside broke.” Continuing on with her voice barely above a whisper, she didn’t want this to be public knowledge that she felt this way. Feeling tears well up in her eyes as she fought them off and she went to climb out of the booth. “I shouldn’t be even discussing this. I’m sorry. I just thought you knew.” She had always just assumed he was tuned into her thoughts like a radio, much like Linden. “I should go. I shouldn’t be burdening you with this. I’m so sorry Royce.” With that she got up and took off out the diner door.

He pressed his fork against the thick pancake, watching with a grimace as the maple syrup oozed out of it. Half fascinated, half grossed out, Royce couldn’t remember a time he had sat in a diner and had pancakes. Sure, he’d sat at a diner for burgers and fries a couple times when he wanted to “seem like one of the people,” but he mostly only ever dined in a place with Michelin stars, or ate the food of the impressive cooks he shelled out hard cash to employ. Had they ever served him a stack of flapjacks drowning in maple syrup? Any deep reflection on American diner breakfast was lost as a voice cut through his thoughts, Royce pausing mid prod of his fork to glance across the table at Poppy Reed with a cocked brow. Carefully sawing out a small piece of pancake with the side of his fork, he speared the piece but made no moves to eat it as he replied rather flippantly. “That’s not having a heart, that’s making a smart investment. If the Catalyst actually played by the rules of her own game, you’d have been set free and likely found a way to get everyone out. One that I hope wouldn’t cause property damage.” Honestly, that hole was ridiculous.

He contemplated the bite of pancake again but lowered his fork as his shoulders slumped. “Why do you think that?” He replied to her question with one of his own. Something seemed a bit off about the Supreme since last summer, but Royce was never one to prod. He didn’t like others meddling in his life, so he tried not to in theirs. Even if he could literally read their minds, he had learned to stay out of where he wasn’t welcome unless he was invited or felt it necessary. He hadn’t been reading Poppy’s mind diligently, he wondered if that should change. She had a tendency to bring this topic up a couple times recently.

He dropped his fork with a clank. “You did what?” He ran his hands through his hair, ruffling it up just a tad before smoothing his dark locks. “Poppy, what could possess you to think offering a favor to the town’s mortal enemy was a bright idea? What if she tries to make you do something really heinous?” Of course, her brother, why were these families so desperate to be martyrs for each other? “If Lindor Truffles didn’t want to save himself, that’s on him, but that offer…” A few dollars meant nothing, not in comparison to owing their biggest threat a favor. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Was there anything specific you offered, or is that entirely at the former sheriff’s whim?” He groaned at her offer, having said enough times he didn’t want to be the Supreme, leaning back into the booth’s chair as his mind swirled with the potentials of what an evil mastermind could request of the leader of the coven instead. If only he could offer himself up instead of Poppy, he was for all intents and purposes the more disposable of the two. Another advisor could easily be acquired, choosing a new Supreme when he would refuse it was another game.

“Do you want the job?” He asked her seriously, picking up the cup of coffee he haphazardly ordered and taking an experimental sip. It was okay, not gutter water like he presumed, but he still set it aside. “The ancestors chose you, Poppy, that’s how this whole bit in the coven works. They chose you, and we are supposed to believe that’s the right choice. I have decided since day one that this is the right choice, but do you think it was? Do you even want to be Supreme? Because that’s twice since sitting down you’ve tried to offer it to me.” He was quiet before softening. “Why do you lack the confidence in yourself, if this is what you were meant to be?”

[astaroth1357]

The MC is Taller than Beel

Lucifer

NO.

No, no, absolutely not! He refuses to be shorter than the human!! The thought of having to physically look up at them is just… just sickening…

He would start wearing inserts or platform shoes to give him a few extra inches. Anything for a small edge.

He'd even magically alter his height if he could but he knows that Barbs and Dia would tease him mercilessly for it…

Any time he and the MC are standing close to each other, everyone can tell that he's straining to stand as straight as possible. Those who value their lives don't mention it.

If the MC is insecure about their height… well they won't get much sympathy from him. He was never insecure about his height until they showed up… so too bad. Suffer.

Mammon

FUCK they're huge! Like. How do humans get so tall??

When they first met it was really, really hard for him to be even slightly intimidating while having to crane his neck up just to look them in the eye… They're even taller than Lucifer, what the hell?!

Over time he kind of got used to it, I mean, their size makes them great to hide behind when a pissed off bookie comes running by! They're like a walking tree!!

He's also jumped into their arms like a frightened cat on numerous occasions… But it's not that embarrassing or nothing! (As long as his brothers don't see…)

If the MC is insecure about their height, he'll tell'em that they're being crazy and being tall is great! Though uh, whether any of his reasons above actually reassure them is pretty much anyone's guess...

Leviathan 

Look. He knows that he has the posture of an arthritic bridge troll but, contrary to first impressions, he's not a short guy. Far from it.

And yet, they still make him feel tiny…

Seriously, who picked out such a tall human?? He's already pretty underwhelming to start with, having to actually look down at him is only going to make it worse….

At least their height isn't all bad. He likes to take them out to crowded conventions or concerts with him because he can hang onto their shirt while they part the crowd! Plus, he never has to worry about losing track of them!

If he takes both Beel and MC somewhere it kind of feels like having bodyguards. He has managed to intimidate himself to the front of a few lines before (though he had to bribe them both each time to do it).

If they're insecure about their height, he'll list off a few of the eight billion or so insecurities that he has to remind them that being tall ain't that bad. Hell, use it right and it's a strength! You got this, MC.

Satan 

He never thought he'd actually see a human actually dwarf Lucifer before… Oh, it's wonderful!

Admittedly, he gets far more enjoyment out of watching his brother nurse his injured pride than the MC's height itself. Though they do come in handy for those particularly high bookshelves...

If anything, he's more concerned about their health and general coordination. Even Beel has to duck through some doorways in the House so he can't imagine getting around has been very good for their back...

He's actually one of the first people to try and get a few accommodations for them and their size. Beel can take a lot since he's built like a truck but a human is just a bag of porcelain in comparison… They need the help.

A bigger bed? Done. Altered uniform? Ordered. A desk they can actually sit in? Shipped and paid for by Student Council funds. For undermining his brother, it's all the least he can do, really.

If they're insecure about their height, he'll remind them that it's just a genetic thing and it doesn't impact who they are. Plus, they're making the demon of Pride himself stew in jealousy so they really ought to be doing something right, no?

Asmodeus 

So you're telling him that the MC is super tall…? Like, really tall? "I-can-dominate-you" kind of tall?? Where can he sign him up?!

Look, Asmo is the shortest of the family so it's not like he's not used to looking up at people. He honestly doesn't even mind his height compared to his brothers, he thinks it makes him look cuter. 🤭

But a tall MC?? That. Sounds. Amazing!! Long legs for days…!!! And just the difference between them being so big while he's so small?? Please, he couldn’t be any more behind this. He is ready!!!

Thankfully, it's not all about how hot he finds them though. Asmo will also take the Satan route of trying to make life a little easier for them when he can, particularly with clothes.

Have no fear, tall MC! Asmo knows all the best shops and tailors to make sure that you'll never have pants or a dress that is too short ever again! Everything you wear is going to fit and it will look marvelous.

If they're insecure about their height, he won't even hear it! They're stunning and he won't let them or anyone else say anything to the contrary! You turn every head in a room, be proud of that, MC!!

Beelzebub 

Oh. Well this is different.

It's not like he's never met someone taller than him before. He knows a couple guys on the fangol team about that tall, it's just that no one really expected out of a human…

Beel being Beel, he's not really insecure about it. If anything, he's kind of grateful that he finally has someone who gets all the "tall person problems." Getting smacked by ceiling fans is the worst...

There's other things he likes too. It feels really nice to go places with them because he doesn't feel so out of place.

It also puts his mind at ease a little. A human is still pretty frail, but the MC's size makes him feel like they're harder to target anyway. Imagining MC decking some poor fool with a knee to the face gives his soul some peace at night...

Best of all, though, are the hugs. Finally, he has someone else he can hug comfortably without having to bend in half! It's so nice. 😊

If they're insecure about their height well... He's also tall so he gets it. He'll try to remind them that it's not all that bad and if nothing else, he's there to help them out if they need it. Can't fit into that car? Don't worry, he's got you - he's ripping out the seat as we speak!

Belphegor 

Honestly? He couldn't be happier.

He'd say one of Beel's best qualities is that there's literally so much of him. He's a big, lovable teddy bear of a demon and he adores him for it. So an equally big MC? Call Belphie a supporter!

Tall MC is going to get no end of attention from Belphie and yes, the cuddling is mandatory. He loves to be small spoon so just deal with it.

He is going to ask for a piggyback ride at least once. Though, is it because he knows they can carry him or because he's a lazy motherfucker...? Your call.

He also enjoys watching Lucifer attempt to cover up his height difference through any petty means possible.

He and Satan snuck platform insoles into the MC's shoes for a few days just to watch their brother lose his mind… The look of despair Lucifer made when he walked into breakfast and thought that the MC had grown yet another inch was priceless.

If they're insecure about their height, he'll tell them big deal because it's not like they can change it... Though he will make a point of how much he likes their height so take what you can get, I guess.

[floralseokjin]

Seokjin is still very much a fool for your butt

⇢ crystallised timeline

[saga index] [drabble index]

kim seokjin x reader // smut // 3,555 words

(!) oc pulls out a ruler to measure her man’s 🍆, teasing, mentions of rimming and anal sex, oral (male & female receiving), lube, doggy style, light spanking, hair pulling, hard/fast paced sex, cum, foot long dick talk… the usual with these two 😅

“Come back here.” 

You ignored Seokjin’s request and continued searching around underneath his bed. He tried again, but with your name this time and you popped your head up, blowing some hair out of your face. You were breaking out into a sweat. “Where did you say it was?” 

Seokjin, lying on his back in nothing but his boxers, sighed a little. “I don’t know, under there somewhere.” 

You disappeared from view again, practically crawling underneath the bed now, on a mission, squinting in the darkness as if that would help you see any better. 

“It might not even be there anymore,” he continued, sounding more impatient by the second. The mattress above your head bounced as his hands slapped down on it. “Come back and put my dick in your mouth!” 

“One minute,” you called back distractedly, sounding muffled. You flipped open a binder in the furthest right corner. “A-ha!”

You shimmied out backwards, bare knees rubbing against the carpet, but you managed to evade whacking your head on the bed frame. 

“Found it!” you cried, kneeling up and proudly holding up the metal ruler. 

Seokjin groaned a little, exasperated, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes widened a little as you got up and straddled his waist. “I swear it’s the same length. You’re imagining things. Now can we please rewind to five minutes ago when you were about to give me head.” 

“I’m not imagining things,” you insisted, growing annoyed. “It’s bigger.” 

You’d spent the past few days getting “reacquainted” with your boyfriend’s dick, which annoyingly wasn’t going as well as you’d imagined. Two days ago Seokjin had to take a trip to the convenience store for some lube. He came back with a bag full of snacks and a bottle of 2 in 1 massage play lube, (“It was all they had.”) flushed red in the face. 

“The kid told me have a great night,” he had pouted. “Probably thought I was eating snacks and watching porn all night.” 

“Well, you’re not,” you’d replied. “You’re fucking actual real-life pussy, which I can guarantee that kid has never done before.” He’d perked up at that, and you’d grabbed for the bag. “Now where is it?” 

Things got better after that, but you were still adamant his dick was bigger than the last time you’d had sex. He was adamant you just weren’t used to it anymore. And on cue – 

“You’re just out of practice,” Seokjin said, so smugly it pissed you off. You hit his shoulder. “Ow!” 

“It’s bigger.” 

Not wanting to waste any more time you dropped the ruler to the side of him and ripped off the t-shirt of his you were wearing, your tits bouncing up and down with the movement. He got up on his elbows instantly, excitement visible on his face, and he watched you move to hover your face over his crotch. “Please,” he muttered, full lips open in a hopeful circle. You liked that. 

His erection wasn’t as hard as it had been, but you didn’t blame him really. You had left him high and dry to go in search of a ruler he hadn’t seen in months. Anyway, that all changed once you got your hands on him, tugging his underwear off and then tugging something else… 

“Oh yeah,” he said under his breath, glued to your face as you lowered, ready to take him into your mouth. He laid his head back once he felt your tongue, groaning softly, happy, until he noticed something was different. He lifted his head, looking down at you with three chins. “Baby, what are you doing?” 

You immediately stopped the slow kitten-licking. “Teasing you. Gotta make it as hard as it can go.” 

“It is as hard as it can go,” he replied, getting up on his elbows again. “It always is because of you.” 

You went back to work, now dragging the point of your tongue up and down the tip. He said your name, shivered a little. “Stop. It tickles.” 

You didn’t listen at first, but then he started nudging his hips, bumping you with the head of his cock, wetting your lips, nose, cheeks. You gave in, taking him halfway into your mouth before bobbing your head. 

“Yes,” he breathed, one hand reaching for your head, following your movements. “Suck it just like that, I’ll get super hard.” 

You pulled off with a disgruntled noise. “I thought you were as hard as you could get.” 

Seokjin stayed silent, unsure what to say to get him out of trouble. Fortunately for him, you were only teasing him. You started softly kissing one thigh, knowing how sensitive they were. Maybe if you riled him up with kisses enough he’d be so hard he might explode. The kind of hard that made him ridgy and purple, the kind of hard that almost seemed painful. That’s what you were after. This measurement needed to be accurate. 

He shifted impatiently under your touch, so you moved to his stomach, peppering the skin with your kisses. The muscles started to flutter. “Come on,” you whispered, looking up at him, “think of all the things you want to do to me.” 

You kissed up to his sternum as he replied: “Mmm. I’d do anything you want me to.” 

You chuckled. “No, what you want to do to me.” You kissed across his chest, then moved to a collarbone. His arms instinctively wrapped around you. “There’s got to be something.”

And then you were kissing his mouth. He was breathing heavy by now, intense as he parted your mouth and traced his tongue against yours. “Imagine it,” you told him. 

“Imagining,” he rushed, moaning slightly when you moved to suck his earlobe. 

“Is it getting you harder?” you whispered seductively. 

He grunted, grabbing one of your hands to move it between your bodies. “Feel.” 

You gripped him, pleased with what you found, and he attempted to push his hips up and down, desperate for some friction. You loved that. 

“What is it?” you asked, lips at his jaw. “What are you imagining?”

Without any warning his hands slapped down on your ass, kissing you once before answering. “Mhmm. Wanna taste it.” To emphasise he gave your cheeks a squeeze. 

“JIN!”

You were absolutely mortified for some reason, his response catching you off guard. “What? You asked,” he replied, unbothered. 

“I thought you’d go for… the other thing…” 

He grinned, lifting his head to kiss you. “Stages, baby.” You burrowed into his chest. “Why are you hiding,” he laughed. “Does rimming make you embarrassed?” 

“Ew. Don’t call it that.” 

“That’s what it’s called! Anilingus,” he added with a giggle. 

“Stop,” you whined, finally lifting your head up. Seeing his grinning face, you couldn’t help but reciprocate. “You do know you have more chance of sticking it up my ass, right?” 

“Now?” he joked. 

You pushed at his shoulder and rolled to his side. “Impressive.” 

He leaned over you slightly, hand on your stomach. “What is?” 

“We’ve been fucking not even a week and you’ve already brought my ass up again.” 

Smirking, his fingers grazed the underside of your boob. “What can I say? Got a one-track mind.” 

You giggled as he lowered his head and kissed each of your nipples, your hands running through his hair. 

“But excuse you,” he said abruptly. “Fucking? It’s called making love now!” You squealed as he pounced on you, muffled by his lips soon after. 

Distracted by the kissing, getting more turned on by the second, you almost forgot about the mission in hand until Seokjin reminded you. “Where’s your ruler?” he asked, panting, lips swollen and wet. 

Dazed for a split second, you managed to come to, sitting up to go search for your very important measuring apparatus. Grabbing it, you were back focused, pleased that Seokjin had taken initiative, on his back, one hand wrapped around the base of his dick, holding it as tall as it could possibly go.

“Quickly!” he urged. “Before I cut off circulation and it drops off!” 

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics but crouched over him, holding the ruler against the flesh. He hissed because it was cold but stayed as still as possible when you leaned in closer and squinted your eyes, desperate to get an accurate measurement. You had no time to think about how hilarious this was. 

You yelled so hard at the result you made your boyfriend practically jump out of his skin. “I was right!!!! 8.3 inches!” 

“That’s hardly anything,” he grumbled, leaning up on his elbows to look down. A few strands of hair had fallen in his eyes, cheeks flushed. “It was probably that all along.” 

“No, it was eight,” you reminded him. You would never forget the time he’d measured his dick using the iPhone app. “Now it’s 8.3.” 

He watched you straddle his thighs, naked and waiting, yet this discussion was more important right now. “So, you’re telling me you can’t take an extra .3 inches?” 

“Obviously!” 

He chuckled fondly, a rare dimple showing. “You’re ridiculous. Just admit you’re out of practice. It’s okay.”

Folding your arms, you stuck your nose in the air. “I won’t admit anything.” 

From the get-go you’d been able to handle his dick. That was your thing, and for some reason the fact you now needed help pissed you off. 

Seokjin sat up and stroked your arm. “Baby, don’t be sad. You’ll get used to it again.” He kissed the pout from your mouth. “I promise. Before long you’ll make this dick your bitch.” 

“It already is my bitch,” you reminded him. “A glance and it gets hard for me.” 

He chuckled again. “You’re not wrong.” Then, hopefully: “Will you give it more than just a glance right now?” He kissed you again and murmured your name. “I want you so bad...” 

“Okay,” you grumbled, but you weren’t really annoyed. 

“Yeah?” You nodded in response, and he took the ruler still in your hand. “Great. Let’s forget about this.” He threw it across the room, grabbed you and flipped you over. Playfully rubbing his face into your neck, growling and tickling you, you squealed and kicked your legs out. Sanduel was thankfully out tonight, so you could be as loud as you liked – within reason. 

“Do you want to go on your knees?” Seokjin asked against your ear. 

Your belly flipped. You hadn’t done it like this yet, which was odd seeing as you’d been fucking making love any chance you’d gotten this week. There had been romantic sex, slow sex, fast sex – very fast sex. Jin had gotten so excited one time in particular it was a three thrusts and done type of thing. You’d both fallen about laughing, unable to stop, which in turn had reminded you both of the time he’d done something very similar last year. 

“It’s because practically every time I had sex I never got to see the girl fully naked. My brain short circuited when you started bouncing up and down on me,” he’d explained. 

“What’s your excuse now?” 

“I missed you,” he’d shrugged, matter-of-fact. 

He still wasn’t done missing you, even now. 

On your hands and knees, your underwear gone, Seokjin was having a meltdown, his palms roaming your ass, grabbing it, just feeling you up like he was about to die. “Oh god, I missed you so much.” 

“Ouch,” you yelped as he practically split your cheeks apart. “Be nice.” 

“Sorry,” he apologised, voice low. The bed creaked as he bent lower, his breath hot. “Can I kiss it better?”

“Just the cheeks,” you warned. 

“I know,” he chuckled, beginning to kiss across your skin. You pushed into him, unable to stop yourself. He moaned throatily in response, a hand moving in front of you to start rubbing your clit. His other hand angled your hip and then pushed down on the small of your back. His lips sounded wet when he pulled back. “Up a bit so I eat you out.” 

You held the position even though your knees started to shake once you felt his tongue. Getting eaten out like this was always such a turn on, something crude about it, which in turn made it very, very hot. Seokjin loved it too, burying his face so hard against you, you worried for a second he could pass out. 

You were just closing your eyes, gearing up for your sure orgasm, when he stopped all together. “What are you doing?” Your voice came out all high pitched and shaky. 

He kneeled higher, hands on your hips. “I want to cum together.” 

You couldn’t complain. “Do you think I’m wet enough?” 

Seokjin moved to crawl up the bed. “Maybe just to be on the safe side…” As he spoke he reached into his bedside drawer, acquiring the nifty bottle of lube. You looked over at him, watching in amusement as he wiped his face slightly with the back of his hand. Somehow your arousal was on his eyelids… 

Kneeling behind you again, he inhaled sharply, kneading your ass with one hand. “Fuck. I can’t get enough. I missed this.” 

You wouldn’t lie, Seokjin’s minute (major) obsession with your ass had always been a turn on. You’d missed it yourself. 

“I missed you so much,” he continued, for a second making you feel very warm in a fuzzy way. Then: “Can I… Can I hit you?”

You snorted. “That sounds sadistic, Seokjin.” 

“You know what I mean. I worded it wrong.” 

You wigged your butt and replied: “Go for it,” squealing when he spanked you immediately. He did it a couple more times, laughing lowly as you continued fooling around. 

“Fuck, we should bring that ruler back,” he said, now pressing himself against you. He was incredibly hard. 

“Feels painful,” you teased. 

“It’s not,” he murmured, leaning over you to kiss up your spine. He readjusted, moving closer so his head was to the side of yours. “Kiss me.” 

He didn’t have to ask, your tongues meeting for a few seconds before he moved away, kissing down your spine this time and then kneeling upright. You heard him pump some lube on his fingers, massaging it onto his dick and then your opening, the cool tingle making you pulse and fidget. Ever so carefully, he slid two fingers inside of your warmth. “Ready?” 

“For all 8.3 inches, yes.” 

He breathed a laugh and pulled out, lining up the head of his cock soon after. “Yeah, you are.” 

He got about halfway inside you before you started tensing up. At this point you were sure it was all in your head. It didn’t feel painful, more so you just felt really full. Holding your hips carefully, Seokjin started to move, making sure to only thrust with as much as you could handle. His breathing got a little heavier, and as you got into it more, you let out little moans, encouraging him further. Stretching you out, and getting you wetter, he was able to inch inside more, bit by bit. After a couple of minutes he was fully inside you. 

“Give me a moment,” you panted out, reaching for one of his forearms. You held it tightly, mostly just wanting something to squeeze. 

“O-okay,” he breathed, trying his best to hold deathly still. A couple of seconds later, he strained out: “You’re squeezing so tight.” 

“Hngh.” His words made you garble out sounds and hearing him so turned on made you start to move involuntarily. Slowly at first, getting a feel of him, still clutching his forearm until he took your hand, holding it tightly and letting you move at your own pace while he waited patiently. 

As you started to speed up, you felt him begin to push back, just ever so slightly, but the added pressure felt better, and before long you both started up a rhythm. You let go of his hand to press into the bed, letting him grip your hip again and continue fucking you. You started moaning then, getting louder as you moved together. It encouraged him to go faster, chasing the feeling, but eventually you both ran out of steam. You slowed, his dick lazily grazing you as he leaned forward, attempting to kiss you. He moaned when he felt your lips, stilling his hips so you could just taste one another for a while. 

When he pulled away, he moved more precisely, watching his cock dipping and sliding into you all the way. It felt really good, and the full feeling was no longer daunting. In fact, you wanted more. Way more. As much as he could give you. 

“Shit,” he was muttering to himself, “was this always so hot? How did I handle it before? I feel lightheaded.” 

But you weren’t really listening. “Fuck me really hard, Jin.” 

He stilled, obviously surprised by your request. “You sure?” 

“I’ll tell you if I want to stop.” 

There was a pause before his fingers gripped the flesh of your hips. He started thrusting again, fast but with not a lot of pressure until he was sure you were okay with it, then he went a little harder. The force of one thrust had you yelping, head jutting forward, and he panicked. “T-too much?”

“No—,” you gasped, pushing your ass into him. He did the same again and you loved it. “Fuck. No, please keep g-going.” 

That got to him, the word please. His pace turned feral, snapping his hips into you over and over again until you were crying out. It had been so long since you’d been fucked like this. Before long your knees gave way, Seokjin now fucking you into the bed, his dick so deep if felt like he was in your stomach. Panting for breath he eased off, still moving, just slower now, making you feel every inch of him. “See, you can still take my dick,” he murmured proudly. 

You moaned in agreement. “I love it.” 

Those three little words seemed to break him. He was gone from inside you almost immediately, chuckling embarrassingly. “I love it too. Too much.” Helping you onto your knees, he kissed across your back, whispering against your shimmering skin. “I love being inside you. So, so much.” 

Then, you were on your front again, Jin’s knees spreading your thighs before he used a hand to push himself inside of you. The fill felt better this time, if that was possible, thrusts powerful and precise. 

“What about this?” he asked, carefully taking your hair in his fist. 

Your belly flipped at the thought. You were about to reply go for it but decided on “please”. He’d like that better. He kept a constant grip on your hair as you continued having sex, the slight pressure making you feel more sensitive somehow, chin against the pillow. That, and every so often your clit would brush against the sheets, adding to your stimulation. Your orgasm was building up, eyes pricking tears. 

“Mhmmm. I’m–I…” 

Seokjin’s grip on your hair tightened, desperate to keep the same rhythm of his hips as he felt your release approaching. He moaned with you, each thrust pinning you to the bed that had started to groan in surrender. 

“Shit, I’m gonna—oh my god. Jin—!” 

You weren’t able to finish your sentence, orgasm practically exploding through your body, but Seokjin kept his movements, even with you squeezing around him like no tomorrow. He was close too, you could sense it. Hear it too as he panted and grunted. 

As soon as he felt your body relax, he spoke all out of breath, letting go of your hair. “C-can I cum outside?” 

“Yeah,” you managed to get out, face feeling boiling hot. No sooner, he was pulling out of you, jerking himself off quickly, before you heard his tell-tale groan. You felt the hot drops of cum land just above your ass. 

“Shit, I missed coming on you,” he said after a long, much needed pause. 

It made you snort-laugh, despite still catching your breath. “And I missed having your cum on me.” 

Laughing too, he flopped down next to you. Grinning your way, your heart did a little jump. “I love you,” you told him. It had by far become your new favourite thing to say. 

He instantly looked put out. “Hey, I was about to say that!”  

*bonus*

“Hmmm…” 

“What?” you asked, moving away from Seokjin’s chest – stopping cuddle time actually – to look at him. 

You were sleepy now, cleaned up, pjs on, and ready to call it a night. In fact, you thought Seokjin had already fallen asleep because it had been a while since he last spoke. Instead it seemed, he’d been deep in thought. 

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “I’m just doing the math.” 

Puzzled, you asked: “What math?” 

Ever so casually, you got your reply. “Well, it’s just, if my dick continues to grow 0.3 inches a year, in just under fifteen, I’ll have an actual footlong.” 

It took a moment for it to process, and then you scoffed. Unbelievable. “Please.” 

“No, but really,” he said so seriously, sitting up a little. “Would you be able to handle that?” 

“Of course I wouldn’t,” you responded, eyes wide. “You’d have a 12-inch dick!” 

Did he think you were magic or something?!

Written 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[ofallthingsnasty]

Idk if you simp for Jasper but going off the one season when she kidnaps Garnet and that one masterful sing is performed, imagine being her little pet, traveling space with her as he pretty little lap dog. She was originally going to take you home for some intergalactic zoo but you're so perfect that she has to keep you, you're her perfect little lap pet, perfect for giving her a little lovin on long travels and if you're obeintent enough, she'll even return the favor.

You definitely start off in one of those caged though, fearing and hating everything she stands for, eventually you realize that she never tried to hurt you when you listen, she's just a little too rough and doesn't understand her strength at times. When you did disobey through, you were knocked on your ass by that fucking electric stick thing, I have no idea what it's called but it's like a taser for gems anyways- it's safe to say you didn't do that again.

Overall, you get to try exciting and exotic food, knowing that you're loved and cared for all the time because you know that Jasper would rearrange any and all planets looking for you if you ever left her side

 Simp for Jasper? Oh my god I love her with all my heart!! 😵💖 The first discord server I joined was a SU self-ship/reader-insert one and I was so disgustingly in love with her my friends sent me trigger warning dms for ‘Fragments’ 😂😭 I ended up announcing I’d watch it iirc- and then went crying in the server 😂💖 I have SO much art from back then and I wrote a lot of unpublished fic too... 😤 Aaah, good old times (2020 lol)

tw.kidnapping, yandere, noncon mention, physical abuse, dehumanization, minors dni

Oooh, that thought is... something else 👀 I wonder what would make her keep a human pet like this - we know she goes against Homeworld’s orders (fusing with Lapis etc) when she thinks it could benefit her and her goals, but to outright forget about her hate for everything organic for one silly little human? That’s a really interesting thought- I love it when Jasper has a ridiculously soft spot for reader, because it’s so damn cute but first season Jasper AND a human?? I’ve never thought about it in that way, usually it’s more of a... noncon situation where she beats the crap out of you first and then sticks her whole hand somewhere unsavory to use your body like a sock puppet 🤷‍♀️ But to be fair I think about that no matter what Jasper we’re talking about 😂 But let’s get back to your really cute thoughts. Maybe she likes the fight you’re putting up or maybe your sniveling in your little (human-proof) cell gets on her nerves so much that she decides to let you out for a bit- after all, what can you do? You’re just a weak little human, no match for her. There is absolutely no need to keep you caged all the time (but you’re definitely going back in if you decide to swat at her, she has no time for your tantrums)- and before she knows it she actually likes your company, the power she has over you... I do think she’d hurt you sometimes- You’re definitely getting a good hard slap for being disobedient and even when you’re good you’ll be manhandled constantly. I can’t help but see her as someone with at least a tiny sadistic streak - we know she’s deeply insecure about being a beta and very prideful. You can’t tell me she wouldn’t torture you a little, from time to time. Just to show you how much stronger she is and because your tears are so, so cute... Oooh and what if we apply this to the show’s timeline, especially after she gets stranded on earth 👀 Uh oh, you’re somewhere in the middle of nowhere, trapped by a giant alien who’s definitely strong enough to rip you in two- and you’re dependent on her for survival. That has slowburn potential haha (Or what about Malachite... you think you’re free from her but the moment Jasper gains control again, she’s hunting you down. Oops.) A little end note: With all the asks I’ve been getting and the art that’s suddenly coming out of me I really need pick up my Bellow/Reader and pwp with Jasper again 😭💖 Summer project maybe?? 😂

[the-fiction-witch]

I Swear p3

Media IRL X high Fantasy

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating smut af

Concept the storytellers curse

Smut non consent/ groping/ spanking/ fondling / masturbation / nipple play / fingering / forced orgasm

It all made me sick to my stomach that he got a sick kick out of this situation, it became a routine of things he would have meetings and conferences with his men about things using me as a little centrepiece, his winks and flirty looks often during the day. And then once night fell he would sneak into the throne room by candlelight sir behind me take grasps of my breasts and ass no matter how much I disagreed, he'd moan and groan behind me as he fondled and groped me very rarely adventuring below my dress and when he did it was mostly for my ass, to slap and spank me leaving my skin bright red and sore and almost always his guards would notice him missing and he'd have to scamper often with a "goodnight my princess, looks like I'll have to finish off in my room alone again. Don't worry we'll continue tomorrow night" 

Tonight was no different, his hands on my breasts groping firmly his crotch against my ass rubbing his hard erection against me moaning in my ear "how about tonight we do something better princess?" He smirked "I can't bare your teasing any longer" he groans and I felt the cold blade of a knife against my skin

"What are you doing!"

"Removing something… that's in my way" he growled as he pushed up my dress to reveal me completely to him and he took a grip of my undergarments running the blade between them and my skin it didn't take much for them to break and he continued doing it until he pulled them off me completely leaving me exposed under my dresses "fuck! Your beautiful" he growled throwing the knife away taking each ass cheek on his hands pulling me apart, squeezing, fondling anything he could do to me he did. Giving my ass a firm spank "hummm maybe I should just rip your dress off and have you naked"

"Don't you dare!"

"I'll make it worth your while princess I swear" he smirked a hand leaving me for a moment I was puzzled why as he hadn't done anything else usually he'd take my breast or something never leaving his hands empty and soon enough I realized why, as he groans and moans intensified still touching me up all the while until he held me tightly against him biting on my neck hard as I felt the warm liquid spatter across my ass and lower back "uuughhhh uuuhhh…." He gasped "fuck. I'm sorry princess. I saw your sexy ass and… I couldn't help myself" he groans "at least I didn't have to finish myself In my room tonight" he smirked 

"Your disgusting!"

"Am I? Well if you're going to be like that we'll finish tonight here. Continue tomorrow night." He smirked moving away

"At Least clean your mess" I told him 

"Hummm maybe I won't" he smirked coming around to see my face as he did his pants up "umm maybe I'll leave that sexy ass exposed for everyone to see tomorrow with my seed all over you so they all knew what a dirty girl you are"

"I didn't do anything your the perverted -"

"Sh" he smirked putting his fingers on my lips "enough. Or tomorrow I'll just give you a spanking all night" he smirked "goodnight y/n. Smutty dreams my princess" he smirked, heading out fixing my dress back down as he went but not cleaning the mess he made.

I sat still trying to think of ways to get out of this stupid curse watching the darkness fall it had been empty in the hall today clearly he was busy somewhere else not that I minded I rather savoured the alone time. But as darkness fell I heard the door.

"Leave me alone Thomas"

"Awww now now. That anyway to greet a king?' he smirked coming to face me

"What do you want?"

"You've been here long enough, I think you know princess" he growled "but no little fondling tonight. I already warmed up in my bath thinking about my little princess" he smirked undoing his pants revealing his rock hard erection to me just as I imagined from all the nights feeling it pressed against me "if your hands weren't trapped I'd get you to touch me. But I think we're a little past that now aren't we" he smirked 

"What are you going to do to me?" I asked my fear slipping thought

"Well… I saw you so, exposed last night. Tonight… I wanna see the rest" he smirked before I could argue he took the top of my dress janking it down revealing my bare breasts I screamed but had no other way to fight it and his smirk grew "fuck. Look at you!" He groans grabbing my breasts in his hands "I don't believe for a second your a flower"

"Why not!"

"No way no man has ever seen these and not felt compelled to have you naked on your back for him" he growled "ummmm fuck" he groans kissing my breasts in his hands and up my neck and jaw "you know now for sure I have no control of your intrapment princess. If I did I would have had you on my bed by now" he growled noticing how hard my nipples had got from his gropes "excited princess?" He smirked starting to twist and play with them

"No! It's just from you messing around with them"

"Is it?" He smirked being a little harder on me before suddenly he moved a hand back and began jerking himself off Infront of me unable to look away from me "uuhh uugghhh! I'm not gonna last long. Fuck why do you have to look so fucking good!" He moaned "uuuhhh! I'll break the floor that holds the Damn pattern to break this dumb curse if I have too! I want you. I want you as my queen. On my bed. Naked. Waiting for me everyday. I'll do whatever you want me too, give up my kingdom of I have to for that sexy fucking body- uuhh- uugghhh! Princess!" He groans as he finished holding his base tightly as he did this time it going across my breasts 

"You mean that?"

"I do. You're so beautiful. Sexy. We both know it would be best for the kingdoms for us to marry." He gasped "I swear I'll be a good husband. So long as my queen lets me… at that body every night"

"No!"

"Why no!"

"You barely know me! You don't love me your just horny!" 

"Who said I loved you? I want you princess. And I always get what I want" he smirked 

"Not this time. I don't deny for the kingdoms it would be good for us to bond but there are ways beyond marriage."

"Perhaps I need to convince you" he smirked "we have extra time tonight, I told my guards I was going to the library"

"I don't care. I don't -'

"Quiet. So knowone here's you princess" he smirked moving to my side tugging up my dress

"What are you doing!"

"Something for you princess" he smirked tugging my dress up until I was exposed to him "fuck. That is a beautiful pussy" he smirked 

"Shut up!"

"No. I won't" he smirked moving his hand up my leg I tried to fight but there was nothing I could do as he began to storke between my legs "ummmm so soft too." He smirked stroking my skin "I can't imagine a more perfect place for my cock" he smirked 

"Don't you dare Thomas!"

"Not tonight" he whispered before he slipped his fingers inside me 

"Ahhh!"

"Shh shh shh it's okay, I'll be gentle" he smirked moving his fingers slowly and softly but intensely for my first time working into my wetness and perfectly finding my clit making me gasp "there we are. Your soaked already for me. So ready for a pretty little flower"

"How do you -"

"Know what I'm doing? Well… a king may too be a flower but I've had some training from some very helpful whores. I never fucked them but they taught me things with my hands and… my mouth to help me please my queen someday" he smirked "and they in turn helped me. with there hands of course. You want more just ask princess"

"I- I've never-"

"Never? Liar" 

"I'm not lieing"

"So I slipped in here without even needing to lick my fingers? Either your a liar. Or… this little innocent no playing act is just that an act and you actually like that you're trapped here with me"

"No!"

"So. Has someone been in this innocent pussy before or does my princess like me?"

I didn't answer trying to squirm from the pleasure he was giving me 

"Ummmm I think I know my answer" he smirked wrapping his arm around me to play with my breast again making sure to twist and rub on my nipple as his hand worked so hard finger fucking me intensely and rubbing on my clit without shred of mercy 

"Thomas please -"

"Kiss me"

"What!"

"Kiss me and I'll make you cum. I swear princess"

I knew I didn't have a choice he wouldn't stop either way so I sighed and kissed his lips which made him moan speeding up his hand which for me to my high making me scream he continued letting me ride it out before he moved his hand and himself away to sit Infront of me again as I regained my breath and my composure 

"Your grace!" Guards began to yell

"Fuck! They worked out I wasn't in the library. Well then" he smirked fixing my dress for me "until tomorrow night princess" he smirked giving me a kiss before he hurried out of the room 

I had to admit it would be logical for us to marry, for the kingdoms sake but even though this ran through my mind I still was unable to move.

[separatist-apologist]

I Can Go Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home

Summary: Elain and Lucien have one conversation. Elain tries to keep a secret from Lucien

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |AO3

Lucien managed a full two days after Elain departed before he broke down. It wasn’t the loud, weeping tears that he could feel building in his chest but breathless gasps. Gone, she was gone— his knees hit the marble roughly, body caving in. He needed to go get her back, to beg her to come home, to come to him. He didn’t know she had become synonymous with home but somewhere in the time between thinking she’d drowned and watching her hug Helion goodbye before winnowing away with Eris, Elain was home. 

Lucien picked himself back up, banishing the pale, exhausted look on her face from when he’d seen her last. He couldn’t make himself beg, wouldn’t allow himself to even ask her to stay. He needed to hear her say it first, needed to know he was more than just her friend. So Lucien ignored those feelings and threw himself into work, just as he always had.

Helion wasn’t having it. “I’m not paying you,” he said, shirtless with a towel draped over his arm. “You’re my heir, not my emissary. Go do something fun.”

“Like what?” Lucien snarled miserably. Not only was Elain gone, but Arina too. Even Eris, who had likely locked his mate in one of the many rooms of the Forest House while he waited for her to break. 

Helion shrugged helplessly. “Make a friend, Lucien.” But Lucien didn’t want a friend. He wanted his mate. He stalked away, pacing the length of the castle over and over, trying to think of any excuse to go see her. He hadn’t said goodbye properly, hadn’t kissed her, at least. He wanted to kiss her, if nothing else. 

He had to wait two miserable months before Helion provided him an excuse. It came at exactly the right time. Lucien had all but concocted his own scheme to just go, hoping Eris wouldn’t see right through him.

Helion caught him the study he’d given Lucien, tossing a heavy envelope on his desk. Lucien recognized Elain’s flowery script and ripped it open, heart in his throat. She’d written him a letter. Why hadn’t he thought of that? 

It wasn’t a letter, but an invitation. “Her birthday?”

“Seems Elain was born between Summer and Autumn. How strange,” Helion added pointedly. “She’s invited us both and you’ll be pleased to know I’ve cleared your schedule so you could leave…now. If you want, of course. You’re welcome to—” Lucien was already on his feet, practically sprinting for the front door. “Do you have a gift?” Helion called after his retreating back. Fuck. Lucien stopped dead in his tracks. A gift. He looked to Helion, who gestured behind him absently.

“Pick through the treasure for all I care.”

A golden necklace was hardly the right gift and Lucien knew it. Instead of racing to the Forest House, he went for a walk through the city, poking through every shop and stall for the right thing, the thing that might entice her to return. Something that would make her realize she belonged with him, that he was right for her. It had been his hope with every gift he’d ever given her but this one was the most important, the one he couldn’t get wrong. Lucien felt defeated with every piece of jewelry or book, every scrap of cloth, every trinket he came across. He couldn’t imagine her loving any of it.

He’d been heading back when a different sort of vendor caught his eye. Lucien walked to the stall, picking up a bright red pepper. “How do you grow these?” he asked curiously. The woman looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowed.

“Trying to put me out of business, prince?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. My mate she…she used to grow things. I want to help.”

Her expression softened. With a wrinkled hand, she reached for the pepper and broke it open, letting him see the little tan seeds spread over her hand.

“The same way you grow anything. A little attention, a little love…and not too much water.”

Lucien chuckled. “And if I wanted to grow flowers?”

She smiled. “Are you planning a whole garden for this mate of yours?”

He hadn’t been. Not at first but in his mind, he thought Elain might appreciate the effort, like feeling as if she were important. It was also, perhaps, just a little manipulative. How did he lure her home otherwise? Throwing his hands in the air hopelessly and saying he was in danger of killing a swath of land might make her curious, at least. Might tempt her to check in, to try and teach him something.

Lucien was determined, if he got her back to Day Court, he wouldn’t let her leave. He shouldn’t have let her go the first time. He’d take a page from Eris’s book and tie her to the bed or lock her away. Helion had a seaside palace he used in the winter. Perhaps Lucien could keep her there, far from prying eyes, and wear her down. 

Lucien returned with a bag filled with seeds and written instructions. He found his mother, sitting along a chaise, looking out an open window towards the sea.

“Just who I wanted to see,” Lucien murmured, kissing her cheek. “I need your help.”

She looked up at him. “You look well today.”

“I am well,” he agreed. He would sleep, at least. That was new. Lucien let his mother peer into his bag.

“For Elain?”

He nodded. “I want her back.”

That made her smile. “How wonderful, Lucien. I don’t know anything about gardening, though.” “Me either,” he admitted. “But surely there is a book we could use? Two hands are always better than one, at any rate.” She smiled. “So they are. Okay, I’ll help.”

What followed was almost comical. His mother, who had spent the vast majority of her life as Lady of a court, rolled up her sleeves and tracked down a stack of books regarding growing. Lucien found tools, dragging them all the side of the palace his bedroom faced. Elain could sit on the balcony and watch the labor of his efforts if she wanted…assuming she wasn’t so exhausted she couldn’t get out of his bed. That was his real hope, one he didn’t dare share with anyone. He could barely think it, afraid if he let himself hope he’d be let down. Again. It was a choice, to sink his immaculate hands into the filthy dirt. Lucien couldn’t have anything but hope that he wasn’t making another too big, grand gesture all for nothing. 

Hope was all he had.

ELAIN:

“Stab, Elain!” Tanwen complained, standing still for far longer than any real attacker would. She hesitated, unwilling to admit his ruby red hair, tied off his face, was too close to Lucien’s for her liking. 

“I love you,” Cadmus grumbled, grabbing her wrist to show her, once again, the slashing motion. “But if you’re ever caught in true danger, you’re going to die.”

“I stabbed the King of Hybern,” she reminded them, not for the first time. Conall, sprawled on the grass just beside the forest, rolled his eyes.

“I’m beginning to think it was mere luck.” She frowned, not willing to admit the truth of his words. 

“Try again,” Tanwen demanded, shaking out his hands and jogging from step to step. She tried, pushing him away and twisting so she had the upper hand. Standing behind him, she noted he, too, had that same scent of sunwashed apples and she was sad all over again. Cadmus snatched the blade from her hand, running a hand through his messy, shortly cropped brown hair. Of all his brothers, he looked the most like his dead father. Maybe it would be easier to practice on him. Cadmus was also much taller than Tanwen and Conall, making it impossible for her to reach his throat without steadying one hand on his shoulder. They’d tried teaching her to kick against the back of the knees but Elain wasn’t a fighter. She didn’t have it in her.

Cadmus pocketed the knife, leaving her standing in the middle of Autumn, far from the Forest House. She liked Autumn well enough—Lucien’s brothers were gruff and strange and clearly interested in her as a potential sister. She imagined Eris had made it clear she was off limits to them though Elain didn’t think that was necessary. None of them had ever looked at her with even passing attraction.

She could understand why. The women in Autumn were just like the men. Lively, fiery and loud, it was easy to get lost here. Parties were raucous, ending in bloodshed just as often as they ended in sex. Bloodshed, especially for the Vanserras, seemed like an act of foreplay. And they were loud. Not a night passed she didn’t hear one of them torturing some poor woman, only to realize the next morning that was just how they engaged in lovemaking.

It made her too curious about Lucien, her mate and friend, who had said nothing since she’d left. Two longs months of hoping and waiting, even for a visit in which she might offer up some flimsy excuse to keep him a day or two. Lucien was apparently content and happy without her and Elain was back to just existing. 

The difference between Autumn and Night was the people within it. While Elain had always felt like a burden to her sisters, the Vanserra’s made it clear they didn’t like it when she vanished. If she spent more than a day hiding in her room, one of them would burst in without knocking and drag her out, occasionally hauling her over their shoulder to do it. There was no end to their amusements and pastimes. Besides their attempts to teach her some basic self-defense, they took her horse back riding and fishing, they took her to the very cold beach at the far end of the territory. There were apple orchards and villages with festivals and big cities filled with people bustling about and selling goods. 

And if they couldn’t find something for her to do, they simply created it on the spot. Elain was never alone in that way, even if she felt lost in the shuffle. She was fond of them, her affection wholly sisterly and strangely human. The rest of Prythian deemed them cruel monsters no better than their father. They didn’t seem to care but Elain did. She felt fiercely protective of them and, perhaps a little selfishly, wanted everyone to know they were wrong.

A birthday party was a way to rectify that…and also lure Lucien back to Autumn, at least for a day. She’d waited breathlessly for his response, coming alongside Helions. She’d invited them both for the week but Helion, who accepted on behalf of them both, agreed only to come the day before. It forced Elain to spend a miserable week listening to her sisters try and cajole her back home.

The only amusement she’d had was watching all four Vanserra’s barr Azriel entrance on pain of death. She hadn’t said a word. Perhaps he deserved a little grief…and besides, it was nice to see someone take a side, if only once. 

Arina emerged from Eris’s bedroom, flushed and sweaty, the day Helion and Lucien were set to arrive. She looked happy, glowing and warm. Eris hovered for a moment, eyes shifting as if some shadowy threat might jump from behind a bush and snatch Arina away. 

“What is it like?” Elain asked almost breathlessly, curious to hear if the frenzy was truth or myth.

“It’s…” Arina’s eyes glazed over. “I don’t know. Overwhelming? I feel as if I don’t have him I’ll die, and I always want him.”

“Is he any good?”

“The best,” Arina said with immense satisfaction. “I thought the bond might make it seem so but…” she trailed off. It was for the best. Elain wasn’t sure she wanted to know whatever Eris got up to when no one else was around. 

“Has Helion arrived?”

“He has,” Helion’s thundering voice made both of them jump. It was just Helion, draped in glowing white and so utterly out of place among the wood of the Forest House. He looked around with obvious interest. “This place is a hole.”

Arina laughed. “I kind of like it. It’s the perfect place to read.”

“You would,” he agreed affectionately, sweeping her into a hug. Elain hung back, aware that Helion, too, had chosen Lucien over her. She didn’t want to make any assumptions or force her company on him. When he released Arina, he glanced towards her, his eyes softening.

“What happened to your tan?” he asked, gesturing for her to come towards him. Elain practically tripped as she went, exhaling the moment her body touched his. She’d considered Helion her friend, perhaps the first real friend she’d had as Fae. He held her for a moment, hand on the back of her head.

“I’ve missed you,” he told her. “No one laughs quite as loudly as you do.”

She wanted to ask why he hadn’t written to her then. Why hadn’t he come to see her? She knew he owed his loyalty to Lucien and Lucien’s mother. It pierced her all the same.

“I have a gift,” Helion added. “I left it with one of the very rude Vanserra’s, along with my wife and son.”

His words were carefully chosen, letting her know Lucien was there. “I heard Feyre Archeron was here. I have a bone to pick with her.”

“I’ll take you,” Arina offered, the soon to be new Lady of Autumn. It was an odd exchange between courts. Helion took the former Lady of Autumn, offering Eris one of his own courtiers in return. Elain meant to trot after them, to listen to their squabbling banter, when awareness pricked at the back of her neck.

She turned to find Lucien leaned against a wood paneled wall, a black box in hand. “Happy birthday,” he said with an easy smile. The angry man she’d seen that last day was gone, replaced with the laid back prince of Day Court. He was back in that long-sleeved, stiff collared white jacket and pants. It was a match for the last night she’d seen him. Elain swallowed, noting the bronze of his skin and the sheen of his hair. Had he always been so good looking? 

“It’s tomorrow,” she reminded him, her voice too soft for her liking. Lucien pushed off the wall, box out stretched. She took it, noting the weight.

“I have two gifts…but this was easier.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured, terrified to unwrap it.

“Of course I did,” he disagreed. Discomfort shifted over his expression. “We’re friends, remember?”

She almost laughed out loud, nodding when she couldn’t trust her voice not to scream in his face. They stood, staring at each other awkwardly, two people who were both intimately aware of the other while someone remaining total strangers. One minute, Lucien was putting his hand in her body and the next he was seeking out other women to slake whatever lust he felt.

“I should go see my brother,” he finally said when it became clear Elain had nothing to say at all. She nodded, unable to say the words that would bring him back to her. And once again, Elain was forced to watch him go.

Wishing he would stay.

LUCIEN:

Elain was stunning in everything but there was something personal about seeing her in Autumn Court styles. Dinner was miserable—Eris had very intentionally put her on his left hand side while Lucien was relegated with the Night Court, forced to make tedious small talk with Cassian. Even his brothers were closer, making bawdy jokes while Elain laughed, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. Everyone else liked her. He felt stupid, sending her here where she might charm another male…or another Vanserra. Cadmus in particular was just a little too close, his arm brushing against her own more often than Lucien would like.

They gave him no opportunity to speak with her alone. Like vultures circling, anytime Lucien got close, one of his brother sidled up, drawing her attention to the lawn or the bonfire or any other number of small amusements they’d put together specifically for her.

He’d have to take matters into his own hands. He cornered Arina, another female being too closely guarded by a Vanserra. Eris, who’d always been the most polished of them, was no better than one of his snarling, snapping dogs. He’d barely said a word all evening, reduced to silent, furious male certain someone was going to try and take his mate. 

Lucien pitied his brother even as he hoped to suffer the same. “Where is Elain sleeping?”

“Why would I tell you that?” she demanded, inching further from Eris. It was clear Arina wanted a little breathing room but she got too close to that forest, Eris was going to think she was trying to run. Lucien knew exactly how that would end. He had no intention of warning Arina of that fact. Let her learn what Autumn Court males were like the hard way. 

“Because I have a gift for her—” “Your dick is not a gift, Lucien,” Arina snapped, glancing towards Eris. “But I’ll tell you if you help me get back to the Forest House without your brother catching us.”

“You know he’ll kill me if he thinks I’m trying to sneak you away, right?” Lucien asked dryly.

“I just need ten minutes alone. I have to go the bathroom so bad. He’s always hovering. I know it’s going to get better once some his sense returns but until then, I have to take the help I can get…even if it means betraying my best friend.”

“If he catches me, you better distract him,” Lucien warned, sweeping his eyes over the lawn of revelers. Elain was talking to Eris and Tanwen, holding his attention just long enough for Lucien to grab Arina and dart entirely through the forest.

“Run,” he whispered, clasping her hand. They were hardly swift or silent—Arina had no practice with it. Lucien did his best though it was hard when the person he was tied to tripped over every small stick and fallen leaf. Still, if Eris realized they were gone, he would have found them by now, which meant Eris was unaware. Lucien merely took Arina the long way around the Forest House, stepping inside closer to the throne room than the party raging outside.

“She’s in your old bedroom,” Arina told Lucien with curling, almost cruel satisfaction. “Eris thought it would be amusing for you to walk in and find her in your bed.”

“Amusing is not the word I’d use,” Lucien replied, his heart racing. She’d been sleeping in his bed? Tangled in his sheets? The revelation practically drove him to his knees.

“If you hurt her again, I’m going to beat the ever loving shit out of you,” Arina warned before stalking off, looking over her shoulder once before sprinting into a run. Lucien only had to wait a mere three minutes for Eris to appear, wild and disheveled.

“Brother,” Lucien said, slamming his hand against his chest. “Let your mate use the bathroom without your presence.”

Eris grimaced. “I can’t help it,” he ground out. “I’m trying to master it…” but instinct was riding him hard. 

“Pace outside the door if it makes you feel better,” Lucien offered sympathetically, ignoring how badly he wanted to trade Eris places. What he wouldn’t give to be half mad and wholly wild. Eris exhaled a breath.

“It’s been a month,” he murmured, more to himself. “I thought…” “It fades,” Lucien assured him, dropping his hand. “Go back outside. No one is going to harm Arina. She’s Lady, after all.”

Eris nodded, looking back the way he came. “Are you planning to join me?”

Lucien kept his expression easy—neutral. “I’m going to head to bed.”

Eris, the bastard, didn’t react either. “Ah. Well, try not to spoil Elain’s birthday. Cadmus might kill you.” “What is going on between them?” Lucien yelled after Eris’s stiff, retreating back.

“Just because you don’t want her doesn’t mean no one does,” Eris retorted, turning around even as he walked. “One of these days you’re going to be gone just a little too long and another male is gonna steal her away somewhere even you can’t find.”

An absurd notion. Lucien was a master tracker. The thought enraged him all the same as he imagined Elain trapped in some little house, subjected to the foul, perverted whims of a stranger. He wanted her subjected to his foul, perverted whims. He strode to his old bedroom, flinging open the door to his own personal hell. His scent was mingled with her own, so powerfully he had to hold the door jamb to keep himself from losing control. Her dresses were neatly draped over a chair he’d spent his whole life sitting in, avoiding the closet where he knew most of his old clothes still hung. She had her little shoes neatly arranged just outside the mirrored door, her jewelry hanging from a mirror on the dresser. She’d draped a white knitted blanket over the window seat, a book sitting against the cushions. Instead of taking over his old life, Elain had merely added herself to it.

He wondered if she knew this bed had once been his. She’d set his gift atop the mattress, the gold ribbon still tied. He wanted her to open it so badly it made his teeth ache. Instead, Lucien went to the window seat, picking up the blanket and inhaling her scent. The timing was terrible—Elain stepped in the moment he buried his face in the blanket.

“What are you doing?” she asked, the door snicking shut behind her. Her eyes were wide with alarm, stark compared to her flushed cheeks. 

“Eris told me I could have my old room while I was here,” he told her, setting the blanket back down.

It took her only a moment to figure out what that meant. “I suppose I should have guessed.”

“It’s the sort of joke he’d enjoy,” Lucien agreed, surprised by the immediate hurt that shone on her face. Elain swallowed it, forcing a smile just as she’d done the day she left.

“Do you want it, then? I can go—” “Stay,” he said before he could stop himself, hating how desperate he sounded. “I’ll…” he’d what? He had no intention of leaving the room, either. She must have realized as much. She held out her hand.

“Give me the blanket.”

“No.” It was easier to slip into this dynamic with her, to push her buttons until she exploded. It would be good for them both, he decided. She was clearly repressing something, something he was certain he needed to hear.

“Give me the blanket, Lucien.”

“No,” he repeated, adopting the most snide expression he could think of. “Why don’t you get in my bed, Elain? Just like you’ve been doing every night for the last two months.” He could see she was moments from boiling over. She swallowed her rage and lunged, trying to yank it from his hands. He tossed it across the room, using his larger body to block her from getting it.

“You can have that blanket over my dead body—” She hit him. Slapped him, harder than any female ever had in his life. She wasn’t the first, certainly, but unliked his past scorned lovers, Elain was fueled by hatred or anger or some other emotion that made her palm meeting his cheek sting. 

“You can’t have everything!” she screamed, turning her back to stalk for the door. Lucien was quicker, blocking her exit.

“Why not? I want everything,” he retorted, chest panting. He was both terrified and excited, his hope blooming. 

“I know you do. Do you intend to punish me until I die? I said I was sorry, Lucien. I tried so hard! And what were you doing? Out…cavorting…sending me away…ignoring me unless it suited you—” “Open my gift,” he interrupted, moment from snapping. Elain looked over her shoulder at the box. With a scream of fury, she reached for it, throwing it roughly against a wall. The lid slid through the ribbon, sending the circlet he’d brought her clattering across the floor. She didn’t look to see, didn’t notice the gold glinting in the faelights or the promise he was offering mere inches from her feet.

“I don’t want anymore gifts,” she all but snarled. “I want you to get out of this room.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he replied, daring to take a step towards her. Elain matched him, the back of her legs hitting the frame of his bed. She looked behind her, eyes wide.

“Why not?” she hissed, meeting his gaze again. “You love leaving me.”

“Only half of that is true,” Lucien bit back, his hand shaking. Elain opened her mouth as she turned her head, clearly unable to look at him. Finally she saw what was laying on the floor as his words registered.

“I love you?” she repeated softly, as if testing the words for herself. Ignoring him, Elain went to it, picking the piece of jewelry up and holding carefully. She looked at him, eyes wide. Lucien could say nothing else, too aware of how she held his dying, aching heart in her hands, too. Elain walked towards him, placing the crown back against his palms.

“Move, Lucien.”

He did, his disappointment overwhelming. Elain went to the door, hesitating on the handle.. He was sure he must have looked pathetic, clutching that gift while she rejected him for the second time.

Elain bit her bottom lip. “I love you. Dont’...don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back.”

And then she was gone, taking every ounce of his will to live with her.

ELAIN:

Elain couldn’t stand the fear radiating from Lucien’s face, but she also knew she could not let him leave her in Autumn again. The golden crown of a Day Court princess solidified something she’d never let herself really think about. He was here, right now, telling her he loved her and Elain meant to do something about it. She ran, flying through the halls of Day Court for the kitchen. She grabbed a giant, metal bowl typically used for mixing, and began dumping everything within reach into the container. She didn’t know what he liked to eat, so just to be safe, she brought a selection of things…and a bottle of wine, just for good measure. 

It took her longer to return, an unfortunate turn of events given Lucien was pacing the floor of his once bedroom, still holding that crown against his chest. He stilled when he saw her, eyes darting to the bowl in her hand. Elain locked the door behind her. 

“Sit down,” she said breathlessly, amazed when Lucien dropped to the floor instantly.

“On the bed, Lucien,” she instructed patiently. He did, scrambling for the mattress, his expression carefully neutral.

“I’m in love with you,” she informed him, watching how he nodded, opening his mouth to agree. She held up a finger, silencing him instantly. “After this moment, I don’t want to be parted ever again.” “Ever again,” he agreed breathlessly.

She shifted, his eyes tracking her. “Am…will you tell me why you were sleeping—” “I wasn’t,” he interrupted quickly, his expression plaintive. “I was trying to distract myself but not like that. I…if I looked at you I…” she’d never seen him so lost for words. She took a step towards him.

“No other women?”

“Females,” he corrected obnoxiously. “And not since I came to Day.”

Relief sloshed through her stomach. She went to him fully, standing between his spread legs, her bowl clutched to her chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t choose you. If I could go back, I’d do it all differently.”

His eyes were huge, his face pale, almost terrified as he listened to her. “You were never second best to me, Lucien. I was scared of you, of this. I didn’t know how it would feel…” she swallowed, forcing herself to press forward. “I didn’t know how it would feel to have you. These last two months have been miserable. I miss you all the time.” “I let you leave to make you happy,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I was so close to snapping, to kidnapping you away to Spring where no one would find you.”

They were so stupid. It would have been funny if they weren’t both so obviously raw. Lucien set the crown on the bedside table. “Let me kiss you,” he murmured. She shook her head, thrusting the bowl between them.

“Tell me what you like. I told you. I’m done being separated. You can kiss me—” “Give me the tart,” he interrupted impatiently. Elain reached for it, getting a smear of sticky jam on her fingers. Lucien went to reach for it but Elain shook her head.

“Open your mouth,” she demanded, ignoring the smirk that graced his handsome features. He did and Elain shoved it all in at once so there could be no accidents. It was feeding him in the most inelegant terms. She watched him chew, eyes never leaving her face. While she waited, she set the rest of the food beside the bed, assuming at some point he might want it, before removing the cork from the bottle of wine.

“Is it my birthday?” he joked, swiping the drink from her grasp and dragging it to his lips. Elain watched how they wrapped over the opening with fascination. His hands, too, suddenly seemed different. Larger, stronger…broader, somehow. He was watching her too, setting the bottle to the same table her crown and the bowl of food lay. Elain stepped closer, her body nearly flush against his, and slid her sticky thumb along the wet underside of his lip. 

His tongue darted forward, licking her skin until she was practically breathless.

“There's no escaping now,” he told her, taking her wrist to press a kiss to her palm. She shuddered.

“As if there is anywhere I could go you wouldn’t eventually find,” she teased. Lucien smiled.

“Exactly.” His fingers traced the line of her jaw, eyes following his hand. “You should know, Elain, that I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you. Not because you were beautiful or my mate but because you radiate like the sun and I can help but be drawn to you. I didn’t understand, I thought it was the bond. It was always just you. It would have been you without the bond. I think I’ve been looking for you my entire life.” “That’s a lot of words to say you love me,” she replied, delighted when he snaked an arm around her waist, drawing her closer.

“I need a lot of words. I’m making up for lost time.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she swore, hands holding his face. 

“I don’t have to do anything at all,” he agreed. “I want to. I don’t want you to ever wake up wondering how I feel about you.”

“I’m feeling unsure right now,” she lied, her mouth inching towards his own.

“Do you need a reminder already?” he asked, his grip tightening on her body. “Allow me to remind you the only way I know how, since my words have failed to convince you.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond, hauling her onto the bed until she was backwards, feet nearly touching the pillows, her back flat against the soft orange blanket. He caressed her face and Elain, wanting him to hurry up, couldn’t help but ask, “I thought you said you weren’t polite.” Lucien’s eyes sparked hotly. “Tell me the truth about one thing,” he demanded, grinding his pelvis against her own.

“Anything.”

“Did you have a crush on one of my brothers?”

She almost laughed. He was clearly struggling with some new, murderous instinct. She’d seen that look on Eris’s face more than once.

“They look like you,” she admitted. His face split into a smile, shaking his magnificent head of hair.

“You’re so lovely,” he murmured. “And I am going to devour you tonight.”

She didn’t get to respond, didn’t get a chance to do anything but reach for him as his mouth covered her own. Heat flooded her veins against the distinct snapping in her chest. That frayed, weakened bond reverberated against her bones, solidifying to hardened, unbreakable gold. She could feel it shining beneath her skin, humming the song of her mate kissing her roughly, his own body pressed against her own. 

Lucien didn’t stop kissing her to marvel at their soul bond—he merely growled with approval against her lips, teeth grazing the tender flesh until he drew a drop of blood he quickly kissed away. His tongue found hers, caressing until she was half dizzy and desperate. She was clawing at his jacket, desperate for the feel of his skin pressed against her own. Autumn was never quite warm, always edged with a streak of cruel, bitter wind. Lucien was the opposite, was pure sunlight, a warm wind over sparkling ocean water. 

He ripped, buttons flying across the room as he shucked off the jacket. Muscled flesh glimmered in the faelight, hers to touch if she wanted. Elain ran her hand down his abdomen, fingers snagging on the clasps. 

“What’s your rush?”

“I want to taste you again,” she told him, shoving him further up the bed and settling between his parted thighs. Lucien groaned at the sound of her words, lifting his hips so she could yank them off him, leaving them tangled around his ankles. He twitched in her hands, head inclined to watch her lick from root to tip. Lucien moaned softly.

“Do you like to watch?” she asked, sliding her tongue over the head where moisture was already starting to bead. 

“Yes,” he admitted, voice strangled.

“Are you going to finish on my chest again?” she continued, letting him push into her mouth.

“In your cunt,” he replied roughly, fisting her hair to push her further down. He remembered her limit, stopping her before she gagged. “Over and over,” he added softly, holding her on him for just a moment. 

“And when you’re exhausted and can’t stand, then I’ll cover your pretty little tits in come, too.” She couldn’t respond to that, could only arch an eyebrow as she pulled him back out of her throat, mouth pooling with saliva. She couldn’t say she loved sucking him. He was unwieldy and large, a little too thick to fit comfortably in her mouth. What Elain liked was the noises he made and the power she felt. Despite penetrating her, despite his hand moving her head, she had the ultimate say on if he finished or not. His pleasure was wholly dependent on her mercy and goodwill. Tonight, Elain only wanted to make him feel good, wanted to wring him out the way she knew he intended to do to her. 

It was a relief when he pulled her off him, yanking at the emerald green of her heavy dress. “Don’t tear it,” she hissed, pulling at the laces in the front quickly. Lucien yanked her hips, settling her against him so she could rub her achingly aroused pussy against the wet, hardened flesh of his cock. Lucien’s head fell back, eyes rolling into his head.

Her breasts spilled from her dress just in time for him to sit halfway and yank the rest over her head. He balled it in his hand, throwing it against a wall. “You are obscenely gorgeous,” he hummed, capturing one of her hardened nipples in his mouth. Elain raked her nails through his hair, head lolling on her shoulder. “I think I might die from wanting you.” “Have me,” she murmured, lifting his face to look at me. “I’m yours.”

He laid back, his arousal warring with his awe. She didn’t think she’d ever felt cherished in her life, not like this. He stared at her as if she were the sun in the sky, his affection so plain she could have cried at the sight. 

Elain lifted her hips, lining him up against the wetness of her body. She wanted to remember this moment, wanted to capture it to memory for the rest of her life. He held her, letting her set the pace as she slid down him. The sensation of him entering her body was incredible, an intensity that immediately made her feel wild—frenzied. Elain suddenly understood why it was called that. Instinct seemed to take over, rolling her hips over him. Claim. She needed to claim and be claimed, to mark him, to make him hers in all the ways that suddenly mattered. 

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of their labored panting and the joining of their flesh. Lucien had his mouth half open, both russet and golden eye heavy lidded. Elain was grinding her clit against him, using him as he’d once told her to find her her own snaking orgasm. She was building hotly, sensed coming wasn’t going to do a damn thing to slake her need.

“Look at what a good girl you are, riding my cock so well,” Lucien crooned, staring at himself sliding in and out of her body. 

Elain didn’t know how to answer him, wasn’t practiced in the art of being sexy in the same way. Instead, she arched her back with a moan, thrusting her breasts forward. “My mate,” he growled, fingers digging her hip to move her faster, to pull her harder against him. “Say it.”

“My mate,” she moaned, tumbling off the edge at his answering snarl of approval. Lucien came too, just as noisy as his brothers did every night. 

Lucien pulled her off him, flipping her to her stomach before she’d even come fully down. Pressed against her back, he slid into her again. He held himself there for a moment, body braced on his muscular arms. Lucien pressed a kiss against the side of her neck. Home, she thought softly, lacing her fingers through his. He sighed and without asking, Elain knew he felt the same. He was her home. 

LUCIEN:

Lucien woke with a start to darkness. For a moment, it was all a horrible nightmare. He was alone, the bond broken. Alone, you’re alone, you’re—

“Lucien?” Elain’s voice whispered, her body shifting in the sheets beside him. She’d merely rolled away, her back facing him. His eyes adjusted to the lack of light, his breathing settling when he realized he was not alone. 

“I have nightmares too,” she murmured, unaware all his nightmares centered on her leaving him. Lucien swallowed hard, sliding back down the pillow with an arm flung out so she could curl beside him. The mere action of her pressing her hand to his chest, her cheek against his skin, made his body flare to life with want. They’d been at it for hours—Lucien hardly remembered falling asleep at all. 

Lucien stroked her hair, his fingers catching in the tangles. “Of the Cauldron?”

She’d mentioned it once and he’d all but forgotten. She nodded, kissing just beneath his nipple softly.

“They’re better than they used to be,” she admitted. “Eris helped.”

“How did he manage that? On accident, I assume.” Lucien was genuinely curious about this creature he called mate. He’d been so excited she wanted to accept the bond, he hadn’t considered all the baggage between them in his urge to cement them together. Now, though, laying the dark, it occurred to him they would need more than their shared attraction if they were going to spend eternity together. 

“He threw me off a cliff,” she replied with a soft laugh. Lucien assumed there was some context he was missing that would make Eris’s unorthodox methods make sense. He decided he’d let that stay between Elain and Eris, so long as Eris didn’t do something so absurd it got her killed. 

“Did it work?”

Elain’s fingers slid down his stomach, following the trail of hair that would take her to his half hard cock. “It did. What are your nightmares about?”

He felt guilty. “A lot of things,” he finally offered, not wanting to admit he was dreaming of her again.

“No lies, remember?” she murmured, too perceptive even with her clever little fingers. “That was your game.”

“I dream you break the bond all the time,” he finally told her, his voice rough and angry. “That you leave me, that I…I can’t measure up, that I’m not good enough—” “I’m sorry, Lucien,” she said, not for the first time. She twisted in his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m so, so sorry. I never wanted you to feel that way.”

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “You loved him but…” But she could have loved him, had she ever tried to get to know him. Elain withdrew her hand, laying on her stomach to look at him. 

“You understand the concept of an arranged marriage, right?”

He nodded. “My parents…ah…my mother had one.” “I wasn’t lying to you when I said I was scared. When I was human, I was the only girl whose father had no interest in arranging her marriage. He left it up to me. I saw my friends, though…saw how those men acted, the ownership that came with that ring. I wasn’t rejecting you…I was trying to choose myself, to prove I was free to do what I liked, to be with who I wanted.” “And now?” He couldn't help but ask. Was this her giving in? Too exhausted to fight fate any longer, settling for what the Cauldron prescribed.

“I think falling in love is a choice,” she finally murmured, sweeping her thumb over his jaw. “I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to realize it.” Lucien swallowed hard, rubbing a hand down her bare back. He felt relief every time she explained what had happened. That it wasn’t him who disgusted her, that he wasn’t her back-up option when Azriel left her. 

“I could have told you, if we’d ever spoken,” he murmured, kissing the top of her forehead.

“I know that now,” she replied, poking him in the ribs. 

“What were you and Azriel talking about on Solstice?” 

Elain jerked back, her fingers scratching against his chest. “He was telling me I should go back to Velaris,” she finally said, her voice edged with irritation. “And voicing his concern about you.”

Anger flared, bright and hot, in Lucien’s chest. “He thinks himself the hero, does he?” “Eris said the same thing,” she murmured. “I think he feels bad about how we left things but we can’t be friends and I don’t care what he thinks about my choices.”

She said it with such finality, each word crisp against her lips. “I don’t think of him at all,” she added after a moment, letting him drag her back against him. He liked the feeling of her breasts brushing his skin. 

“Everyone will have an opinion,” he warned her, taking advantage of the moment to slide his fingers down her stomach. How long had it been since he’d last tasted her? Two hours? Three, if he were being generous. It felt like an eternity. The bond was tugging on him again, growling whispered words of claiming need in his gut. 

“And? Do you think Helion cares? He invited the other six courts to watch him seduce your mother on his throne,” Elain replied fiercely. “What do I care what someone in Winter Court thinks about me?”

He smiled to himself, letting her feel it against her neck. “Is that what you want? To sit in my lap, legs spread, while everyone watches?”

“No…” her voice was a soft, breathy gasp. “I think you’d give too many other women—”

“Females, Elain.”

“–Women ideas they wouldn’t be able to get out of their head,” she finished firmly. He supposed some things would never change. She’d never think of herself in the same animalistic terms the rest of them did. That didn’t mean he couldn’t make her feel it. 

“I’ve been giving females the wrong idea since I became of age,” Lucien told her, far cockier than he’d ever meant to sound. Elain scoffed, letting him part her legs all the same. 

“One day you’re going to be honest and admit you’ve been with less than ten people. Lucien laughed loudly at that. “You’re funny.”

Lucien slid his tongue down her stomach to settle between her legs. She had his scent all over her, draped like a shimmering cloak to morning light. Lucien shuddered with pleasure, his instinct to claim settling a little. No one would dare touch her, not when she was so thoroughly marked. He thought he could get through her birthday so long as his brothers weren’t overly obnoxious without becoming the pacing, snarling beast Eris had been driven to. 

“I have to be up early,” Elain whispered, lifting her hips up towards his mouth all the same. 

“Why go to sleep at all, then?” he replied, reaching for her hand to pull her upwards. Their mouths collided messily, all teeth and tongue. She tasted just as sweet as he remembered, her body melting against his own. All his other thoughts, his insecurities, emptied from his head. She couldn’t fake this, couldn’t pretend he was nothing to her. Elains fingers raked through his hair as if she were trying to draw him closer, to devour him just as surely as he wanted to devour her. 

Lucien settled her in his lap, groaning at the heat radiating between her thighs. How was he supposed to fuck her when such delicious, wet heat was practically begging for his mouth. Lucien laid back and turned her around so her pretty, round ass was right in his face. He smacked the skin softly, enjoying her soft little yelp. He slid until her pussy was just over his face. Elain hovered on her knees.

“I don’t want to crush you,” she finally whispered when he made an impatient noise. Lucien grabbed her hips and forced her roughly to his face until he was practically bathing in her cunt. 

“I’ll decide how I die,” he said roughly, his tongue dipping inside her so he might sample her at the source. “Ride my face.”

She moaned softly, either from his words or his lapping tongue. Lucien didn’t know and hardly cared. He’d always want her just like this, pressed against his face, her hips grinding over his skin so get him to lick exactly where she wanted. Lucien had her figured out, knew Elain preferred a steady, broad tongue that started at her entrance, stroking all the way to her clit before sliding back down again. If he did it enough, she’d match his rhythm and speed until he was all but fucking her with his mouth.

He hadn’t expected her to reach for his cock, squeezing just the way he liked it. He moaned into her, trying to figure out when he’d started liking hand jobs so much. They typically made him impatient for more interesting things but when Elain grasped him, her hand gliding along his aching, burning skin, Lucien wanted nothing more than to come all over her hand. 

He wanted to please his mate and if she wanted to stroke him, he wanted to reward her for it. 

For a moment there was nothing else. They were the only two beings in the universe, shining and golden against the nothingness of the universe. Everything stopped and started where they began. 

Her mouth sucked against the tip of him, letting a mere inch of his cock glide along the smooth surface of her mouth. Lucien’s hips flew off the bed without meaning to, choking her for her efforts. Elain pressed her hands against his bare thighs, pushing him back. He had to stop licking for a moment, lips pressed just beneath the swell of her ass cheek as he caught his breath.

“What are you doing to me?” he asked her desperately. “What kind of magic is this?”

Elain stopped sucking just long enough to say, “It’s love, sweetheart.”

He could have come from her words alone. Love, so potent, so irresistible that Lucien felt as if she had him in her thrall. He would have done anything for her in that moment, would have crawled against broken, burning glass if she asked. Elain only asked him to continue licking her, wiggling her hips with a frustrated whine when he spent too long caught up in his own feelings.

Lucien went back with a vengeance, wilder than he’d been the night he’d had her beneath the hammock. She came mere seconds before he did, lucky considering the ferocity of his orgasm. Wave after wave of come poured into her throat, his cock pushed as far as she could stand. 

Any other time, Lucien would have kept going, would have dragged another from her body before he even dreamt of pulling away.

He needed to touch her in a different way. He pulled her off just long enough to get her in his lap. Elain misunderstood, sliding her cunt over the head of his cock and sliding down before he could say a word otherwise. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, head inclined backwards as he swallowed hard. He clawed at her back, dragging his nails down her skin as she began to move, her dripping wet pussy still convulsing from his mouth. The heat was exquisite, branding him tightly. “You fuck me so well.”

“I always will,” she swore, her kiss hard. He tasted himself mingled against her own and when she bit hard at his lip and blood filled his mouth, he thought nothing had ever been half as erotic to him. He held her tightly, hands on her ass to lift her up before slamming her back down, trying to drive himself deeper, to bury himself so thoroughly he might somehow touch the shimmering soul he could feel commented threaded around his own. 

He came again, just as fierce and hot as before, filling her until he felt himself spilling down his still hard, still interested cock. Elain slowed, her hips still rolling as she gasped for air, teeth sinking into his shoulder roughly. 

“I love you,” he choked into her hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck, peppering his sweaty skin with kisses.

“Being with you like feels like home,” she whispered. Lucien could have wept, had to wipe a quick tear gathering at the corner of his eye. 

“You’re home,” he agreed, holding her close. 

He’d never really had a true home, a place that belonged to him that he could always return to. He knew Helion aimed to make Day Court home, but Lucien knew it would take centuries to truly trust it.

As long as had Elain, though…Lucien would always have someplace safe, something he could trust. A person who loved him despite every ugly, angry part of him.

And for maybe the first time in centuries, Lucien felt peace.

1 year later:

ELAIN:

Solstice was upon them again and this time, things couldn’t have been more different if she’d tried. Lucien had gotten out of bed before her, a good thing given the wave of nausea that rolled over her the second she opened her eyes. Elain sighed, staring up at the ceiling until the feeling passed. She was getting good at keeping the contents of her stomach in her body and keeping this secrets from Lucien. She wanted to surprise him once she was past the first trimester though, if Elain was totally honest, she didn’t want to see him revert to his frenzied-self when he found out she was pregnant. 

She knew he was suspicious something was different. Her scent had changed and people were noticing. It was his mother who had caught it first, eyes wide while Elain put a desperate finger to her lips, eyes begging for silence. Amera was far kinder than perhaps Elain deserved. She’d said nothing at all though every morning she had a peppermint tea sent up that helped soothe Elain’s stomach. 

There was another, far more practical problem at hand. Her clothes were becoming uncomfortably tight already, though when she looked in the mirror, her tiny protruding stomach could have been the result of a rather large meal. Lucien had commented two nights earlier on her breasts, his stare calculating. She knew he was trying to figure out if they’d always been so big and he’d somehow never noticed. 

Elain had pushed him on his back and sucked until he forgot what he’d seen. She chalked up his inability to recognize pregnancy to ignorance. How many women had he encountered in his life that were pregnant? Fae children were rare and supposedly difficult though Elain had no trouble at all. It certainly didn’t hurt that her and Lucien were always having sex. Even with a small window of fertility, she was practically drowning in sperm at any given moment.

Elain slid on the buttery soft pink gown, marveling how it shifted gold whenever the sunlight touched the fabric. It was simple, cinched uncomfortably at her waist before fluttering around her. The sharp cut of the top made her breasts look even larger, pressed tight against her body. 

Already tired, Elain slipped on a pair of heeled shoes before pulling her hair off her face with pearl combs that matched the simple dots Lucien had once given her as a gift. The crown on her head was the last piece besides the pretty sunburst ring she wore everyday despite the fact her and Lucien were not technically married. It seemed strange not to want that when getting married had once been all she wanted. There seemed no need, not with the bond in her chest tying her to him. Marriage felt like a pale imitation of what she already had. 

She found Lucien in the Great Hall in a coat of cream and gold. He couldn’t stand to let the other courts see him in the short toga Helion wore at his side though Elain couldn’t, for the life of her, understand why. Lucien’s thighs were a thing of beauty. His whole body was, if she was honest. His eyes found her the moment she stepped in the room, gaze darkening for one quick second. Beside him, Helion’s eyes cut sharply towards his son, his mouth murmuring a warning Elain was sure neither of them would abide by. She was quite looking forward to stroking him beneath the table at dinner again. She meant to make it a little tradition.

Lucien walked to her, his boots so out of place among the sandaled courtiers of his new home. She smiled when the golden band on his own finger caught in a sunbeam, igniting against his bronzed skin brilliantly. A Lord of Day, the Prince of all light. Lucien was a God among mere mortals, wholly unaware of his brilliance and beauty. 

“I’m surprised you’re not in the garden,” he said with a smile, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Elain sighed with content at the memory of his little patch of dirt. He’d tried so hard though he’d created a mishmash of plants that didn’t belong side by side. It gave her more pleasure than she’d ever admit to dig it all up and rearrange to her liking. Lucien had done more of the labor intensive tasks, laying a path and digging up more grass when she wanted to expand. It would have been a lie to say she didn’t like the sight of him shirtless in the sun, his dark brown skin gleaming with sweat in the hot summer sun. More than once someone had come across them just barely hidden, his hands up her skirt or her mouth wrapped around him.

Elain sometimes thought the frenzy had never truly left them—they’d merely found a way to control the constant, ever present urge.

“I wish I was,” she admitted, looking longingly over his shoulder. “I thought you might like some company.”

“You’re staking a claim,” he teased, not entirely wrong. She shrugged. He liked when she was a little possessive. He slid his arm around her waist, walking her back to Helion. His eyes were still narrowed, amber eyes burning. Elain was well aware Lucien’s mother had spilled the beans to him and Helion, for all his talents and knowledge, was an absolutely shitty secret keeper. Lucien’s continued ignorance was pure luck–he was utterly oblivious as to what Helion was trying to subtly tell him.

“Elain,” Helion purred when he saw her. “You’re practically glowing this morning.”

She would murder him, she decided. She smiled. “It’s the golden dust,” she replied, shoving her bare arm towards him so he could indeed she where she’d sprinkled it over her skin.

“It’s more than that,” Helion, who was clearly choosing violence, shook his head. “An inner glow.” “I suppose it’s how in love I am,” Elain supplied with a serene smile. 

“Mmm,” Helion agreed noncommittally when his wife elbowed him roughly in the side. Lucien was peering down at her curiously, his attention immediately taken by a few Dawn Court royals. Elain wasn’t quite off the hook, though. When Rhysand and Feyre stepped up, the pair’s eyes went wide the moment they were in her vicinity. Elain opened her mind, screaming at the pair SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!

But not before Feyre could say, “Congratulations! How exciting!”

Rhys couldn’t smother his amused smile.

“Congratulations?” Lucien asked, looking from the High Lord and Lady with confusion.

“A full year of mates is always a celebration,” Rhys assured him smoothly.

He’s piecing it together, Rhys’s voice crooned in her head. He knows your scent is off.

Mind your own business, she retorted, shoving him out before slamming that gate shut. Rhys chuckled before sauntering off. Lucien looked at her, eyebrows raised. 

Elain knew she wouldn’t make it through the night, let alone another month. 

Elain would consider it success if she made it through the night. 

LUCIEN:

Lucien was determined to fix his mistakes at the last Solstice, starting with a dance. He’d swept her up in the first one, showing off more than just a little. He was accomplished, he was graceful, and he was absolutely rubbing it in the faces of everyone at Night Court. Azriel was back, watching with his moody expression despite the pretty ginger at his side. Lucien knew it wasn’t that he wanted Elain—he merely didn’t want Lucien to have her. And have her, Lucien did. Elain was flushed, glowing even when the sun set and darkness peeked through the wide open windows. That was unusual for her—Elain’s skin, while utterly incandescent, lacked that Day Court shine the rest of them seemed to have. It wasn’t the only thing that was off. Her scent had shifted strangely, making him react in equally strange ways. He was more possessive than he’d ever been, his teeth practically on edge anytime anyone looked at her. He had the most furious desire to dig a hole in the ground and stash her inside it while he guarded her against any potential predators. 

He wondered if perhaps the frenzy might settle over them again, given how close they were to their anniversary. It was the only thing that made sense to him. At the same time, Lucien had never been more attracted to her. Though his steps were measured and even, his eyes were firmly on her breasts straining against her dress, desperate to escape. It would have taken practically nothing to rip apart that fabric and expose them, damn who watched. 

“I need a break, Lucien,” Elain panted after four continuous dances. She winced as she stepped, pressing a hand against her back. 

“Are you alright?” he demanded roughly, eyes scanning the room once more. People watched them just as often as they didn’t. There was no malice in the crowd. He needed to get himself together.

“Just tired,” she said. She’d been exhausted lately though he’d attributed that to her long days in the garden beneath the too hot sun. “And my feet hurt.” He led her to a chair, practically forcing her to sit before walking off for a drink. Eris was waiting with amused, watchful eyes. “Suffering, are you?” Eris chortled. 

“Hardly,” Lucien replied, already daydreaming of how he’d have her just as soon as he could escape. Eris shrugged. 

“I would be a mad male if it were me.”

“Oh? Mating bond still chafing you?” Lucien taunted. Eris nodded.

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “I dread the day it’s my mate who is pregnant in a room of people. I will bathe the room in blood.”

Realization swept over him. He schooled his face into neutrality, kicking himself for his stupidity. Her breasts, her curvier waist and glowing skin…congratulations…he felt stupid and strangely validated. He wasn’t losing himself to the bond, then. He was merely trying to guard his mate and his young. Lucien dumped the wine from his hand back into the large bowl without a word. He wouldn’t give Eris the satisfaction of knowing it had been him who had spilled the beans. Did Elain even know? He didn’t think she could, though her hand pressed against her stomach as he watched her from across the room. Perhaps she guessed.

“Walk with me,” he offered when he returned, handing her a cool glass of water. Elain nodded, letting him gently pull her from her chair. He led her across the terrace, out into the cool night air. 

“Elain,” he began, unsure how to tell her she was pregnant. That was something he’d always assumed she could tell him. Elain looked up at him owlishly, her eyes so big, so pretty that he almost sank to the ground before her and wept his gratitude. A child. That future had once been lost to him. “Baby.”

“What?” she asked, stopping on the sandstone path he was leading her down.

“You’re—baby. You’re having a baby.”

She threw her hands up in the air with exasperation. “Who told?!”

Struck dumb, Lucien said, “Eris?”

“I’ll kill him,” she muttered. “It was going to be an anniversary surprise.”

Lucien didn’t know what to say to that. “You knew?” “Of course,” she agreed, wincing uncomfortably. “I’ve been wearing overalls all month. You didn’t think that was odd?”

Lucien, who had only noticed the way they hugged her hips and the little white band she wore as a top, shook his head. Elain offered him a smile. “I wanted to tell you when we celebrated but everyone has been figuring it out. I will never get used to the way men can just smell it.” He inhaled, committing her new, softer scent to memory. 

“And you’re happy about this?” 

“Delighted,” Elain agreed, rising up on her tiptoes for a kiss. “Here,” she added, pressing his hand to the flat of her stomach. 

He couldn’t feel anything except her fluttering heart. Still, Lucien was overwhelmed, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. He did fall to his knees then, holding her at the waist, his face buried in the fabric of her skirt. She caressed his face.

“Are you okay?” “I’m just…I’m so happy,” he managed. “Really, really happy.”

“Me too,” she murmured, joining him on the ground so they were eye to eye. She was smiling, her thumbs sweeping over his cheeks. “It’ll be a Spring baby.”

He nodded. “Good. That’s a perfect time for a baby.”

“The first of many,” she promised. Lucien kissed her fiercely, pouring his gratitude into the gesture. He could have bathed in that happiness, still so unaccustomed to the feeling. He would have done anything for her in that moment. 

“I love you,” he swore.

Elain grinned. “I love you, too.”And that, in the end, was all that really mattered.