#Staying positive though. I'll enjoy

[zappedbyzabka]

*Takes CK characters away from Jon Josh and Hayden* You don't deserve them rn

[suave-hogan]

First drawing of the New Year is always the first Havve of the New Year

[misc-obeyme]

Demon Brothers as Doms Headcanons

Here it is, as requested by anon! I don't know if these are better or worse than the demon bros as subs version... I honestly can't tell lol. But hopefully you guys enjoy them. I will be doing the side characters, too, so stay tuned for that.

GN!MC x the demon brothers

Side Characters as Doms Bros as Subs

NSFW MDNI

Note: We got another paragraph of warnings. Some of them are a little more detailed, but most of them are just mentioned.

Warnings: Sub!MC, bondage, blindfolds, gags, multiple orgasms, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, manhandling, begging, praise, degradation, dirty talk, spanking, collars, dacryphilia, tailfucking (and related tail stuff), drooling, jealousy, cockwarming, mirror sex, exhibitionism, toys, aphrodisiacs, magic stuff, blood kink, biting, size kink, food play, somnophilia, wet dreams, semi-public sex, after care, cuddling, and kissing. HOO BOY. I hope that's all of it, if not lemme know and I'll add stuff.

Lucifer

He has intense dom vibes and he knows it. He will be strict and harsh with you if that’s what you want, but if left to his own choices, Lucifer becomes a pleasure dom. All he really wants is to make you come over and over and over again. He doesn’t care what it takes, he’ll use his cock, his fingers, his tongue, anything and everything as long as it makes you cry out his name in ecstasy. He likes the way it makes his pride swell.

He’s a strong and powerful demon. If he wants you in a certain position, he will put you there himself. He has no problem manhandling you a little, but he’ll be careful about it. He very much enjoys tying you up and he’s a master at shibari. His other favorite thing is blindfolding you. He likes when you aren’t aware of when he’s going to touch you.

Lucifer is absolutely the type of demon that will do subtle things outside of the bedroom to make you crazy. A hand on the back of your neck, a brief squeezing of your arm, a whispered “behave” or even just a look that says everything. They’re all warnings - be careful, MC, or he’ll be dealing with you later in private.

He likes to be called sir, but he’s willing to discuss other options. He’s very bossy, though, and will give you orders constantly. If you’re good and compliant, he’ll reward you to the point where you’ll probably forget your own name. But if you’re a brat, he won’t hesitate to punish you. He likes to make you wait, so he might tie you up in his office and then not touch you while he works on his stacks of paperwork. He wants to see how long it takes you to start begging.

And begging does him in every time. Because the minute you break down and beg for him, his pride takes over. He’ll smirk and likely tease you and say something about how he’s not surprised that it didn’t take long.

But in the end, Lucifer likes to make you moan and cry and come, which means he’ll do whatever it takes to get you to do that. Do you have a praise kink? He will shower you with it while he’s deep inside you. Do you have a degradation kink? He will make a point of finding the words that make you clench around him in pleasure.

Mammon

Surprisingly good at being a dom, but far less restrained than Lucifer is. He’s going to do all kinds of things to get a reaction out of you, but the second you moan his name, he’s moaning right along with you. But not before he takes the time to get your full consent and makes sure you know all your safe words. He wants to go all out, but he wants you to feel safe with him.

Mammon is a bit too impatient to do things like tying you up intricately. He’s going to go for things like handcuffs or gags. He finds he likes the way you moan low in your throat when your mouth is otherwise occupied. Similarly, he loves when you suck on his fingers. He’ll remove them sooner than he expected, though, because he wants to listen to you beg.

He’s cautious at first, giving you easy orders to test the waters. If you’re generally obedient, he’ll push a little harder, go a little further, see just how much you can take. He will absolutely become a brat tamer, though, so if you’re more inclined to mouth off, you can expect swift punishment. He can’t take too much disobedience and he’ll get impatient with you quickly. Punishments can range from spankings to orgasm denial depending on how irritated he is. But they don’t last long because he just really wants to fuck you silly.

He’s constantly buying you things to wear. He obviously has a preference for gold, but whatever he just likes to see you on display in something nice. If you’ll wear a collar, he will absolutely be thrilled to buy you the nicest one he can find. It makes him a little crazy any time he catches a glimpse of it outside the bedroom.

The King of After Care. When things are calm again, he gets very clingy. He’s going to want to cuddle you all night, whispering in your ear about how good you were for him, asking you if you’re doing all right. If you endured punishment or any kind of pain, he’ll make sure you’re recovering from it. He just loves you so much, MC.

Leviathan

Surprises both you and himself by being a really good dom. It’s like he flips a switch and suddenly he’s all confidence, but it’s only possible with you. However, it can also get really intense really fast and he might not realize how far he’s going. Communication is key with Levi. You need it to even get him to start being more dominant to begin with, but then you also need it when he’s a little lost in the sauce.

Because he finds that dominating you makes him lose his whole mind. When you’re whimpering or begging, he just wants more and more. He loves to hear you whine his name. He likes it when you cry, so he will try to make it happen. He’ll use pain or insults or anything else he can find that will work. But if it does happen, he’ll get soft when he sees the tears on your cheeks. Then he’ll start praising you and telling you how perfect you are and how much he loves you.

He likes to use his tail for all kinds of things. He’ll wrap it around your body, pinning your arms to your sides, and put the tip of it in your mouth until you’re drooling around it. He’ll use it to spank you if he thinks you’re in need of punishment. But his favorite thing is just to fuck you with it.

To nobody’s surprise at all, Levi is a jealous dom. If you so much as look at someone else, he will notice and make you pay for it later. His favorite punishment method is orgasm denial. He’s trying to make you forget about anyone but him and he’ll ask you while he’s edging you who you’re thinking of. He wants to hear you cry and tell him that he’s the only one you ever think about.

Levi will definitely start out with degradation and some dirty talk - he’s likely going to tell you how much of a whore you are for him - but by the end of things, he’ll switch to praise. He starts to come out of dom mode and then he actually feels bad. Depending on how you react, he will likely apologize before pampering you to make up for all the nasty things he said. If you laugh at him about it, he’ll just blush. He gets embarrassed about how much he can lose himself. Don’t hold it against him, MC! He’s just obsessed with you.

Satan

By far the most balanced dom of all the brothers. He’s always so careful about keeping his wrath under control, the very last thing he would ever want to do is give in to it during a scene with you. It’s a tricky balance, but he manages to find a good middle ground. He focuses on you the most, but don’t think that means he’ll be lenient with you.

Satan is really good at interpreting how you’re feeling in the moment based on how you react to him. He’s able to tell when he should get more intense and when he should back off. As for himself, he prefers to control you with words. He’ll tie you up if you want him to, but he’s more interested in simply telling you what to do. And he’s clear about what will happen if you disobey.

Although he’s careful about keeping himself level headed when he’s punishing you, just know that he won’t hold back. There really isn’t any kind of punishment he isn’t willing to employ and he’ll find the one that has the most impact on you while still getting his message across.

Definitely prefers praise over degradation. He will be rambling the whole time he’s doing anything with you and it’s all romantic poetry. It starts out really flowery, but eventually kind of devolves into how perfect you are, how good you feel, etc. This is the guy who will spank you and recite sonnets to you at the same time, probably timing his swats with the iambic pentameter.

Satan also really enjoys cockwarming. He’ll have you sit in his lap while he reads, just to see how much you can take. Scolds you gently any time you move too much. Be good and hold still for him, MC. In the end, he’s the one who can’t take it, but he frames it as taking pity on you. You’re both probably aware of the truth, but neither of you will say anything. And anyway, you’re content to let him bend you over and pound into you if it means finally feeling that sweet relief.

Asmodeus

The most versatile of doms, he can be anything you want. You want him strict? Done. You prefer a soft dom? Easy. You just want him to make you come as many times as possible? It would be his pleasure.

If you’re too shy to tell him what you want, that’s okay, too. He’s able to feel out what will make you react the most. And that’s what he goes for. He just wants to experience you losing your mind over him.

He really can do it all, but he’s also going to bring his own flare to the situation. You have sooo much mirror sex. If you’re willing to try exhibitionism, he will really push the limits of that, too.

Asmo will also have a lot of toys, accessories, and clothing items. He’s always suggesting something new and interesting. You just won't believe what he found, MC! He likes to explore with you, to see what you’ll tolerate. This also includes things like aphrodisiacs or magic related things. He’ll always take care of you after you use something like that, but he’s often finding new things to try.

If you don’t really give him any guidelines and let him run the show entirely, he will step up to the challenge. It turns out he really enjoys making you submit to him. He finds he has a fascination with your blood. He loves the way it looks against your skin. He also loves to see it on his own lips, so you can be sure he’ll be drawing it by biting you.

Asmo really loves to tie you up and have his way with you. He enjoys sensory deprivation - blindfold, gag, etc. - he likes to keep you guessing. He wants you to react to his touch the most, loves the way you shiver in anticipation of what he’ll do next.

Mixes pleasure and pain so effectively, you almost can’t tell which one you’re experiencing. He’ll be using his fingers masterfully on your sensitive spots at the same time that he’ll be digging his nails into your back.

This is his area of expertise, so there’s no way he’s going to let you go with only one orgasm. He’s going to make sure you have multiple before he's done with you. He loves overstimulation. If you start crying, he’ll coo at you and wipe your tears, but he won’t stop.

Always doms in demon form. He can’t help it, he’s fully embodying his sin. No matter what he’s doing with you, he wants you to remember that you’re being dominated by the Avatar of Lust.

Beelzebub

The softest of soft doms. He’s not really into degradation, so he’s going to shower you with praise instead. He’s just going to mumble into your skin about how amazing you are and how lucky he is and so on and so forth. But don’t think that makes him a pushover.

Beel is a big strong demon and he will manhandle you. Probably his favorite thing is to just sit you in his lap and move you himself. You’re riding him, but he’s doing all the work.

He’ll tie you up if you want him to, but he’s more likely to use things like blindfolds or gags. Only one at a time, he doesn’t want you completely helpless. He secretly likes it when you struggle against him, so he likes to keep your hands free.

Beel has a bit of a size kink where he likes his partners smaller than him, which works out because he’s just generally much larger than most people. Even if you’re larger for a human, that’s still just a lil cutie to him. This kinda ties into the manhandling thing - he likes to pick you up and move you around himself. And he can do it, too, because of his size and strength. You might as well get used to it at this point.

He doesn't really enjoy inflicting pain. He's far more likely to use positive reinforcement than punishments. But if he has to get serious with you, it's going to be stuff like edging, orgasm denial, or overstimulation. If you're crying it's because of how he's making you feel, not because he's hurting you or insulting you. He finds it's just as effective, too.

If you ask, Beel will do pretty much anything you want. He'll work through the discomfort of hurting you if you enjoy it.

As always, Beel loves food. He'll involve any kind of food play he possibly can because he really can't help himself. It's like the ultimate expression of his sin - to involve food in these intimate moments with you.

Another one who will be incredibly attentive during after care. He wants to make sure you're okay. He will stay beside you as long as you need him. Probably brings you drinks and snacks, too. He's already been praising you all night, but prepare yourself for even more. You are everything to him, MC.

Belphegor

Kinda lazy for a dom, to nobody’s great surprise. He enjoys being one, but he tires out quickly. If he can make you do all the work, he will. Expect him to give you a lot of orders.

He really loves when you beg. He wants to see you on your knees and if you beg enough, he’ll fill your mouth with his cock. You look so good, MC.

He’ll leave you tied up and unattended, too. He’ll just sit there and watch you, see how much you can handle before he does anything.

Belphie is, of course, into somnophilia. If you give him the go ahead, it’s going to be any time he wakes up with you in his arms. If you’re still sleeping soundly, he wants you to stay asleep, he’ll just take care of things himself. But if you do wake up, he'll probably whisper quietly in your ear about how he's just making all your wet dreams come true. In fact, we also know Belphie can go into dreams, so… you can expect your normal dreams to become wet dreams if he shows up.

He likes exhibitionism and semi-public sex. He likes fucking you in places where you’re right next to other people, but you’re still trying to stay hidden. So he’ll use his hand to cover your mouth, trying to muffle your noises. But it’s only because he likes the way it feels to gag you that way. He doesn’t actually mind if you’re discovered.

He likes dirty talk and degradation. He will absolutely call you all kinds of filthy names. It’s not all like that, though, he’ll also throw in some praise. Especially when you’re whimpering beneath him and he's losing control because he feels so good. That's when he starts telling you how good you are.

Belphie is kind of an after care guy by default. After he's had his way with you, even if he was really rough (which he probably was), he just wants to snuggle and cuddle and sleep. He'll also kiss you slowly and softly and lazily because he likes the way your lips feel.

side characters as doms | bros as subs | side characters as subs masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[wildflowerhuggy]

Swerved // OP81

| pairing: oscar piastri x reader

| summary: reader decides to prank her boyfriend by swerving all of his kisses throughout the day, curious as to how long it'll take until he has enough

| warnings: should be none

| authors note: hope you enjoy :))

The day started innocently enough, Oscar doing his usual of leaning over to kiss you good morning as his arm snakes around your waist to pull you closer. But instead of feeling his lips meet yours as they usually do, he was met with your cheek.

"Morning breath," you mumbled, removing his arm and slipping out of bed to head to the bathroom before he could give any protest.

He gave you an odd look, not used to you rejecting his morning kisses but let it slide anyways.

Later on, while you were in the kitchen preparing lunch, he began feeling particularly touch-starved, so he made his way over to you to try again. Slipping his arms around you from behind, he tries leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, only to be met with you turning your body at the last second so he only got your cheek.

"Just put on some lipgloss," you shrugged, pointing at the shiny pink tube sitting near the edge of the counter.

Oscar squinted at you in confusion, but didn't bother pressing the issue.

By evening though, you could tell your boyfriend's patience was wearing thin. Every time he leaned in for a kiss—whether it was a playful peck or searching for something more—you would straight up dodge him, give him an excuse or strategically time a movement to get out of the way. You bit your tongue to stop your laughs every time you saw the furrow in his brow or his cute little bunny teeth worry his lip in confusion.

Now, you found yourselves cuddled on the couch, your legs draped over his lap and your head leaning on his shoulder as some action movie played in the background. You were scrolling aimlessly on your phone, not bothering to pay attention to the tv, while his fingers lazily traced patterns along the side of your thigh.

It was the perfect moment for him to finally get what he had been searching for the whole day. Oscar tilted his head towards you, hand moving from your thigh to gently cup your cheek as he leaned in for a kiss. Deciding to mess with him a little more, you waited until your lips were just about to graze each other before turning your head, letting his lips brush against your ear.

That was his final straw...

Oscar abruptly pulled back, his expression a mix of disbelief, hurt and irritation. "Right then," he said, tone laced with mock seriousness, "Guess this is it then, eh? Guess I'll just go pack my stuff up and stay with Lando."

He shifted under you, as if to stand up and head to your room, moving to lift you off of his lap.

Giggling uncontrollably at this, you clung to him, wrapping your arms firmly around his neck and refusing to be moved. "No, no, no, don't go! It was just a prank, honey!"

"A prank?" he repeated slowly, as if he had never heard that word before, narrowing his eyes at you.

You nodded frantically, still laughing nervously as you kept your tight hold on him, "I just wanted to see how long it would take you to snap."

Oscar let out a pained groan, though you could see the smile tugging at his lips, "You're so cruel, you know that?"

Before you could even think about giving a cheeky response his hands shot to your sides, fingers digging into your ribs as he began his merciless attack of tickling you.

"No! Osc! Stop, please!" you let out a squeal, wiggling around in his lap unable to control your laughter.

"Never! This is revenge for messing with me all day long!" he responds, his own peals of laughter breaking through his voice as he continued his assault.

You gasped for air, tears of laughter streaming down your cheeks as you gave in, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I'll never refuse your kisses again!"

At this Oscar finally relented, pulling you back into your previous position against his chest as you both tried to catch your breath. He leaned down to press a kiss on your head.

"You're lucky I love you so much," he muttered into your hair.

"And you're lucky you're so cute when you're frustrated, honey." you teased, earning a playful glare before he leaned in for a long-awaited and long-deserved kiss—a proper one this time.

[syluslnd]

hi hi! i really like your works! 💓💓 hehe can i request fluff (not smut) sylus who love to... lean into mc's breast? like, using her breast as a pillow! fluff yes! thank you 💓

sylus who loves to use your breasts as a pillow

You're focused on cooking, minding your own business when suddenly, two familiar arms wrap around you from behind. You barely have a second to react before you feel yourself being effortlessly lifted off your feet.

"Sylus!" you yelp, laughing in surprise as he scoops you up like you weigh nothing. His strong grip is unyielding as he pulls you close to his chest, that familiar smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Sorry sweetie but l've decided you're done for the day”he says casually, as if this whole thing was part of the plan.

You squirm a bit, though you know full well you won't be escaping. "I was cooking! You can't just-"

"I can and I did." His voice is smooth, teasing, with that unmistakable edge of dominance as he strides toward his bed.

"Besides, you're far more important than whatever you were making."

Before you can protest further, he lays you down on the bed with a gentle but purposeful motion, immediately following you down so that his weight pins you beneath him. You feel the warmth of him pressing into you, his chest flush against yours as he props himself up just enough to look into your eyes, that mischievous glint dancing there.

"Mmm, this is much better” he drawls, leaning down to nuzzle your neck, his lips grazing your skin. "I think you make a perfect pillow, kitten."

You can't help but giggle at his words, though you shoot him a mock glare. "I was in the middle of something important."

His grin widens as he shifts his position slightly, laying more of his weight on you until you feel completely enveloped by him.

"Not anymore, you're not. Now, you're all mine." He leans in closer, whispering in a low, teasing tone, "You're not leaving this bed anytime soon."

Your heart skips at the playful threat but there's no denying the comfort in how he's settled against you, his body warm and heavy, keeping you right where he wants you and then, without warning, his hand slides to your chest, fingers tracing along the curve of your breasts, his touch light but undeniably intentional.

"Perfect" he murmurs, his voice teasing but his gaze intense as he gives you a playful squeeze. "I could stay like this forever."

You squirm under his touch, your cheeks heating up. "Sylus, seriously..."

But he's not having it. "Nope. You're my pillow now, sweetie." He punctuates his words with another squeeze, clearly enjoying the way your breath catches. "Can't have my pillow running off, can I?"

You huff, knowing full well you're not going anywhere. His weight keeps you pinned and the way he's playing with you-both physically and with his words-has you feeling light-headed. "You're impossible” you murmur, though you can't hide the smile tugging at your lips.

His grin turns wicked as he brushes his lips against your ear. "You love it." His fingers lazily tease along your sides before returning to your chest, cupping you with a mix of possessiveness and playfulness. "These are perfect. I think I'll keep you right here for a while, kitten."

You try to shift beneath him but he just presses down a little harder, effectively trapping you. "Where do you think you're going? I told you, you're not leaving." His tone is sweet but firm, a soft command wrapped in teasing.

You sigh, half-annoyed but mostly amused because, really, there's no escaping Sylus once he's got you like this. He leans in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, his weight still fully resting on you as he lets out a satisfied hum.

"Get comfortable” he whispers, his voice low and playful. "You're mine for the rest of the night."

[tired-teacher-blog]

This was a request. And yes I know, my requests are currently closed, but when I received this one a few days ago, I had the urge to work on it, so here we are.

• When cuddling with your boyfriend Iida turns a bit steamy.

_ "Honey, are you asleep already?" a familiar and soothing voice sounded from behind you to tickle your ear, as two strong arms pulled you flush against a hard surface.

_ "No, not yet." you responded through an uncontrollabe yawn and wiggled yourself deeper in the man's embrace.

You were lying though, and were on the verge of slumber had he not spoken, the movie you two had settled on earlier was over just moments ago, and the end credits rolled up announcing it was time to vacate the comfy sofa and go to bed instead, but it felt too cozy to move, wrapped in your boyfriend's arms this way was what you needed.

Sleep be damned.

_ "Tenya, don't you wanna watch something else?" you craned your neck wishing to catch a glimpse of the man holding you close, and you did, a cute grin adorning his lips as he gazed back at you.

_ "Do you have any idea what time it is right now? We both have work in the morning so we can't afford to stay up late." he nuzzled your cheek while whispering the words, kissing your warm skin again and again until you started giggling.

_ "Alright I know, then just a few more minutes?" you shifted in his hold until facing him.

Finally, a clear view of the dazzling man lying by your side.. soft dark blue hair falling around his face, a gentle gaze that was -for once- not hidden behind his thick glasses, a relaxed smile on those lips you craved to kiss, and most importantly, no sign of that stress he usually carries throughout the day due to the dangers of work, he was obviously enjoying the closeness you shared in this moment of peace.

_ "How can I say no to you?" he breathed out while swiftly moving to lay on top of you, "but if we're doing that, then I actually prefer this position."

You couldn't help the chuckle escaping your throat as you accepted him in your arms, he's heavy, almost knocking the air out of your lungs, but you didn't want him to move even an inch away.

He sighed contentedly while settling between your legs and nuzzling your neck like a kitten, his lips ghosting over your pulse and luring a tingle to run under your skin.

Your fingers played with his silky hair and scratched at the undercut as he slipped his warm hands under your shirt, caressing your sides and skimming across your belly while he playfully nibbled on your neck.

_ "What are you doing? Stop it tickles!" you thrashed and laughed uncontrollably but to no avail, he had you pinned underneath his massive weight and no way to flee.

He glanced up through his lashes with a smirk that you could sense ghosting over your skin, before kissing his way to your face.

_ "I'm simply showcasing my love for you, and kissing is a prime way of doing so." a response that only he could ever provide, one that you found exceptionally cute.

You cradled his face with a little squeeze on his cheeks, bringing his mouth to you for a deep kiss.

His lips moved slowly against yours, molding together perfectly in a rhythmic dance.. sweet, delicate and addictive, that's how it felt, and you soon found yourself needing more.

Your fingers traveled up to thread through his hair, pulling faintly when he playfully nibbled on your lip. The air was getting steamier each moment that passed, and a pleasant heat surged from your face to your neck and then your chest, until it settled in the pit of your tummy.

His hips moved shallowly and obviously absent-mindedly against you to relieve the growing bulge nudging your groin. You still wanted more though, just a little bit more of that delicious friction as you cursed the barrier of clothing between you and him, but this was fine too, if only he would thrust a little harder, a little faster, just a little..

_ "Oh no! I'm.. I'm so sorry! I'll be right back!" his sudden outburst startled you as he promptly broke the kiss to cry out the words, proceeding to untangle himself from you and run off God-knows-where-to.

_ "Tenya, what's happening? Why would you want to leave?" you were quick to wrap your legs around his waist and press him further against you, a move that coaxed a whimper to leave you both.

_ "I need to go to the bathroom, just give me a minute." his clenched jaw, flushed face and dark look in his eyes spoke differently though, and you knew that only a bit of persuasion would keep him in your presence.

_ "You don't need to go sweetie, just let me take care of this for you." and your hand was already sliding down his chest before slipping past the waistband of his sweatpants to palm his erection through the thin fabric of his boxers.

He couldn't utter another word after that, but the aroused groans leaving his throat announced your victory, as his restless hips chased after the warmth of your palm.

The plan was to go to bed early as he had suggested, but that was no longer an option, and you both knew it.

So what if you end up arriving a bit late to work? This is worth it.

Divider by : @/cafekitsune

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Azriel's POV (it's a warning here), angst

a/n: I am blown away by all of you and your support!! I really love writing for this fandom omg. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ♡ Let me know what you think!! I'll get the next update up soon!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

~~

Azriel was losing his ever-loving mind. 

A few weeks ago, everything was fine. Not optimal, but fine. 

He knew his mate, and that was more than could be said for most of Prythian. But even more than that, he could love her from afar. He could make small remarks and catch the smiles they would elicit. He could send his shadows after her on her walks home, protecting her even though she had the entire Inner Circle looking out for her wellbeing. He could buy the ridiculously expensive pastries she loved and stock the kitchens with them, listening for the small gasps she let out each time she found them.

He could talk to you, listen to you, love you in his small ways, even if it wasn’t the ways in which he longed for. 

Because it wasn’t the right time yet. You hadn’t felt the bond for yourself. 

So, yes—admittedly, Azriel had not been in the most optimal position with you. But it was leaps and bounds better than the purgatory you were subjecting him to now. 

He mulled over his current reality as he sat opposite to you at the dining table. He had had to snag the seat from Mor, ripping the chair from her hand in an uncharacteristic show of aggression, and you hadn’t so much as looked up from your plate. He would’ve rather fought for the seats beside you, but Rhys and Cassian had been sitting before he even entered the room. So now he fought for your eyes and was too far away to offer any lingering, accidental touches. 

Not that you would reciprocate either. 

You were avoiding him, and Azriel was at his wit's end trying to decipher why. 

His shadows had relayed dismal reports, only whispering the words sad and alone and contemplative into his ears each morning. He could have guessed as much, if the display of emotions he had tried to comfort you through all those days ago told him anything. 

But Gods, did they really tell him nothing, because you hadn’t spoken to him since. 

“—that is certainly something to consider. Y/n, would you be open to the job?” 

“Hm?” you hummed, and Azriel watched as your eyes flickered over to Rhys in one abrupt movement. “Sorry, what?” 

Rhys raised a brow lined with humor, and Azriel realized he hadn’t been listening to the conversation either. “Helion has extended an invitation to the Night Court—for diplomatic relations and all. It’s mostly a weekend stay for show, but he has quite an extensive library. Feyre and I went last time so it would only be fair if—” 

“Yes,” you nodded, the most emotion Azriel had seen on your face in days blooming into a joyous array. “Of course, I would love to go. Are you kidding?” 

Rhys chuckled. “I figured. Helion has been quite eager to get you to come as well. Seemed like the perfect time.” 

Azriel didn’t miss the way the High Lord’s eyes shone with something other than mirth as he looked closer at the scholar… as he inspected your facade the same way Azriel had been for the past week. 

“When can I leave?” 

Something in Azriel scratched to a halt. “She’s to go alone?” 

Feyre offered the spymaster a soft smile from the other side of the table. “If she wishes. Helion’s invitation was open-ended.” 

“Take the vacation, I say,” Mor piped in, wine glass raised in a solitary toast. 

“Or… you could take me,” Cassian grinned beside you, jostling you in a playful grip. 

You sent a scoff his way. “Aren’t you banned?” 

“No, actually. I’m banned from Summer Court, which is completely unrelated.” 

A short laugh trickled from your lips. It wasn’t a full one, not like the ones Azriel was so used to—the ones he basked in—but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

He felt the way his eyes seemed to follow the crescendo of it, his blinks in time with the sweet sound. 

He committed it to memory. 

“Right, well let’s keep you away from neighboring courts as much as possible so we can avoid a repeat of that, okay?” 

Something like a grin fought at the side of Azriel’s mouth at your quip. 

Cassian prattled on. Something about unjust rules or ridiculous high lords—Azriel wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in you and the way you were so close to meeting his gaze. 

“Perhaps she shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel spoke up, interrupting his brother’s spiel. You still didn’t look at him, instead turning to catch Rhys’s response. 

“Azriel, I can assure you this is a safe visit,” Rhys offered. He knew. Everyone seemed to know but you. “It’s hardly even business. It’s more of a vacation. I’ve been shoving century-old relics in her face for the past few months. She deserves time to herself, don’t you think?” 

His High Lord was speaking in code. A terrible, frustrating code that really meant, “give her some distance.” 

Azriel had had enough of distance. 

He nodded his head all the same. 

And then, despite all odds, you looked at him. 

You looked at him and it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. As if he had been wrung out and stretched thin and every bone in his body forced him to sit up straighter. You were looking at him and Azriel couldn’t conceptualize the way the spectrum in his chest moved so quickly from utter relief to the brink of desolation. 

Because you looked at him as if you were broken. A sad—such a sad—smile graced your face, one he had never had the displeasure of seeing before, and he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to kiss it from your face with soft touches and reassuring whispers and that was startling for Azriel because he usually kept his overwhelming urge to kiss you at bay. 

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” is all you said. Such simple words to accompany an expression that sent him reeling. 

“Thank you,” he replied, with the most sincerity he could muster. 

And then he held your gaze as it became downcast. He craned his neck to catch every last second of your eyes as they turned back down to the table.

It was hours later that Azriel found himself in the townhouse, boots creating an indent in the office carpet. Rhys sat just feet away from him, leaning back against the desk, waiting for the Shadowsinger to erupt. 

“I would like for you to position your spies further into Autumn. I know you have a few that have integrated into the court, but I need more intel on Eris and his plans.” 

“Of course.” 

“You can take out any currently residing in Day. Just for the next week or so. With y/n going, she can report any happenings.” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped. “Would that be wise?” 

Rhys stared back at his brother, expression giving nothing away. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you not trust y/n’s word?” 

Azriel’s wings were taut against his back. In truth, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days. With you leaving, that tension would surely pull him into thin compliance. 

“Obviously I trust her word, Rhysand.” 

“Rhysand? What have I done to earn your grievance?” the High Lord asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still the perfect picture of calm. 

Azriel was a juxtaposition before him as he clenched his hands and replied, “You already know.” 

“Do I know? I’m not sure you’ve been clear or honest with anyone. Y/n especially.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Rhys bent at the elbow and rubbed a restless hand across his jaw. Azriel ignored the movement in favor of holding eye contact with the High Lord. Azriel was being stubborn, he knew that, but there was no other way to be. 

He needed to be consistent and reliable. He needed to be a pillar for his family to lean on, and you were part of that. He wasn’t going to take that away from you—to be selfish and call upon a mating bond you hadn't even been made aware of yet. 

He wasn’t going to squander your friendship in the hopes of something more. 

There was a chance, no matter how much the prospect pained him to consider, that you wouldn’t want the bond. You had never hinted at wanting more with the spymaster, so there was no telling how you might react to the cauldron blessing you with a union. You could reject it, and with it would go your friendship. 

Just the thought sent ice through Azriel’s veins. 

Truth be told, he had never shown you many signs either. When the bond snapped months ago, it had taken time for Azriel to come to terms with the truth. He had ruminated on it amidst many sleepless nights, watched you from a new perspective over many dinners, and contemplated the path that had led him to you. 

And then he had regretted. Cauldron had he regretted. 

The feeling still lingered, a reminder of each woman he had taken to his bed before you. All of the fae that had meant nothing, and even the ones that had boarded on something, he wished he could do away with.

Because you had been privy to them all. He knew you had witnessed a few late-night trysts, and even worse, that you had watched him pine after Mor for a century. It all seemed so frivolous now; it all paled in comparison to you. 

And the absolute worst part of it all is that he knew. 

He knew how easy it would be to fall in love with you from the start, so he pretended not to notice. 

He threw himself into impractical longing and meaningless lovers and he pretended that it didn’t hurt to look at you. 

The bond had only cemented his foolishness. 

He hardly had a chance with you by the time it snapped. 

“Late night then, Az?” 

You had teased him over breakfast just days before the bond had snapped for him, a small smile on your face as you lounged at the table early in the morning. At the time, Azriel had bit the inside of his cheek and reeled in his snarkiness. He had avoided your gaze, avoided the robe that barely covered your nightgown, and made himself toast in silence. He had already coaxed the blonde fae out of his bed, and he hadn’t needed a reminder of the woman he had been imagining all throughout the night. 

Because that had been something else he opted to ignore—that he pictured you, imagined you, at all times. 

It snapped three days later. He had been accompanying you through Velaris. “Shopping for fun,” you had said, “and I hate to go alone.”

The only thing Azriel had taken home that day was a gaping hole in his chest and the knowledge that lying to himself had brought him nothing but pain. 

The months following were different. 

Everything was different. 

But for you, he had come to the grim realization, nothing was different at all. He was still Azriel, your friend Azriel, who was secretive and private and cared from afar. You still pictured him as a man who chose his lovers based on convenience and quick practicality even though he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since your emotions began flowing through his chest. 

Gods, your emotions. They were so positive, so addicting, he could sit back and live his days through you until the end of time. You had so much unrestricted joy coursing through you—so much curiosity and delight. Part of Azriel dreaded the day you did recognize the bond; it would dim the connection to you.

That day in the library had been the first time the bond had chafed against his lungs. He had felt the earthquake beneath his feet and thought nothing of it, but then your fear punctured his being and he had run so fast his wings ached. 

And then you started having nightmares, ones he couldn’t fix, and Azriel began to feel like he was losing you. Like the bond was withering and eroding within him and you along with it. 

“How long, Azriel?” Rhys’s voice cut through the air with a harshness. 

The shadowsinger breathed through his nose, jaw tight. 

“Tell me. Tell me how long you’re going to keep this up for.” 

“You don’t understand, Rhys,” came Azriel’s low reply. “None of you do.” 

The High Lord scoffed. “Right, because I had it so easy with Feyre. Az, mates are complicated—” 

“Don’t,” Azriel breathed. A dangerous shakiness accompanied the word.

“Explain it to me. Help me to understand how—” 

“There was nothing for you to lose!” The rise of the shadowsinger’s voice sent Rhys into silence. “There was nothing! You hadn’t known Feyre for three centuries—hadn’t known what it was like to see her cry over worthless males or laugh until she was doubled over. You didn’t have time to memorize the sound of her voice or understand how it felt to lose that small piece of her. Because she won’t even talk to me anymore and—” 

Azriel cut himself off, moving for the first time since he entered office. He paced, the motion of his feet doing little to dispel the tension from the air or from his body. Azriel tugged a hand through his hair, his shadows following the aggressive pull and weaving through the strands. 

“How long?” Rhys asked again, but this time, Azriel knew that he was asking a different question. One that even he himself had avoided answering. 

The shadowsinger paused. His next words were tainted and his voice cracked. 

“I think forever.”

Part 4

[thirteenheavens]

“just the tip” with soft dom san pretty please?🥺

Notes: I’ve missed writing for San my lord my love

San was lying in bed next to you, his eyes still closed as he slowly woke up. He stretched out, feeling the familiar tightness in his pants as his morning wood pressed against the sheets. He rolled over to face you, a pout forming on his lips as he saw that you were still asleep. He nuzzled against your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

"Baby," he whined softly, his voice still thick with sleep. "I'm so horny." He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him as he began to kiss your neck. "Please wake up," he pleaded, his hands roaming over your body.

You stirred awake, groaning as you felt San's persistent touch. "Sannie, I'm tired," you mumbled, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. San continued to kiss and nibble on your neck, his hips grinding against you. "I know, but I need you," he whined, his voice taking on a needy tone. "Please, just the tip?"

You sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to let this go until he got what he wanted. "Fine," you relented, rolling onto your back. "Just be gentle." San's face lit up with excitement as you agreed, and he quickly positioned himself between your legs. He pulled your panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your core.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, running a finger along your slit. "I love waking up to this every morning." He slowly pushed the tip of his cock into you, groaning at the feeling of your tightness around him. "Ah, fuck," he moaned, his hips bucking slightly. "You feel so good." San noticed the way your body responded to him, even though you were still half-asleep. He smirked, enjoying the effect he was having on you.

"You're so wet for me," he whispered, slowly thrusting in and out of you with just the tip. "Even when you're tired, your body knows who it belongs to." He reached up to play with your nipples, knowing that it would make you even more sensitive. "I could do this all day," he teased, his voice low and seductive. "But I know you're still sleepy, so I'll try to be quick." San's whines grew louder as he continued to tease you with just the tip, his hips moving faster now. He was so close to losing control, but he was determined to make you feel good too.

"Baby, I can't hold back much longer," he panted, his eyes dark with desire. "I need to be inside you." He looked at you, silently pleading for permission. "Please, can I put it in all the way?"

You nodded, your own desire starting to build despite your tiredness. "Go ahead, baby," you said, reaching up to stroke his hair. "But take it slow." San didn't need to be told twice. He pushed his cock deeper into you, letting out a guttural moan as he finally felt the tightness of your walls around him.

"Oh god, yes," he gasped, burying his face in your neck as he began to thrust slowly. "You feel so amazing." You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he moved inside you. The feeling of his body pressed against yours was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but arch your back in pleasure. San's pace was slow and deliberate, his hips rolling against yours with each thrust. He was savoring the feeling, knowing that he had to make this last as long as possible.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "I could stay like this forever." You whine sleepy at him. San chuckled at the sound of your sleepy whine, finding it adorable. "Are you still sleepy, baby?" he teased, nipping at your earlobe.

He continued to thrust slowly, enjoying the way you were slowly waking up. "You're so cute when you're half asleep," he whispered, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. "All pliant and needy for me." You moaned softly, your body responding to his words and touch despite your exhaustion. "Sannie, I'm so close," you mumbled, your hands clutching at his back.

San smiled, picking up the pace just a little bit. "I know, baby," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Cum for me. I want to feel you come apart around my cock." San's lips moved from your shoulder to your neck, sucking and biting gently as he continued to thrust into you. He could feel you getting closer and closer to the edge, your walls fluttering around him.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice a low growl. "Let go for me. Let me feel you." He reached down to rub your clit, knowing that it would push you over the edge. "Cum for me, princess. Cum all over my cock."

Your body trembled as you finally reached your peak, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You cried out San's name, your nails digging into his back as you rode out the intense pleasure. San groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, his own release not far behind. He buried himself deep inside you, his hips stuttering as he came hard.

"Fuck," he gasped, collapsing on top of you as he tried to catch his breath. San looked up at you, a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry for waking you up like that," he said, nuzzling his face into your neck. "I couldn't help myself." You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair. "It's okay, Sannie," you replied, feeling a warmth in your chest at how adorable he was being. "I can't say I minded it that much."

San grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Really? You liked it?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. You nodded, blushing slightly. "Yeah, I did," you admitted, biting your lip. "You were so needy and whiny, but it was hot."

San climbed on top of you, straddling your hips with a playful grin. "You think I'm hot when I'm needy and whiny, huh?" he teased, leaning down to nibble on your earlobe again. You laughed and nodded, enjoying the feeling of his weight on you. "Yes, I do," you replied, running your hands up and down his back. "Especially when you ask to just use the tip."

San wiggled his eyebrows at you, a sly smile on his face as he pulled the blanket over the two of you. "What's that look for?" he asked, pretending to be innocent. You couldn't help but laugh at his antics, feeling more awake and alert now that you had a chance to recover from your earlier activities. "You're such a dork," you teased, pinching his cheek.

[lolitalovess]

Behind closed doors.

sum: arranged marriage caitlyn kiramman x reader

warnings: this is short but i put my whole pussy into it, reader lowkey has issues, my girl cait does aswell, hardly proofread, INSANE lesbian yearning

you've always appreciated the way the kiramman manor looks at night, after the sun has lulled itself to sleep in orange hues and the moon is reborn - surrounded by black inc and a thousand stars visible through the large windows of you and your shared wife's room, the night-life of piltover with tall buildings and bright lights shown to your tired eyes from linen curtains pulled back.

it distracted you from how your back grew sore from your position of sitting against the headboard, and why you were here in the first place. you gazed down at your resting wife - she's gorgeous, with prussian blue hair fanning over her pillow and framing her face. you're jealous of her peace in her deep state of unconscious sleep the way her comforter is tucked to her chest and the way it rises and falls with every passing breath.

you had been sitting with your busy thoughts for far too long, you could hardly handle yourself anymore. you've never understood the purpose of getting married ever since you first learnt the term as a young girl. to know someone for a few years and finally like them enough to buy expensive rings and voice vowels to one another, which, most of the time, are bullshit.

but caitlyn kiramman, a woman full of so much dark blue woe and sorrow had just taken your heart, and it felt like a sin. was it? to find your arranged wife attractive, to yearn for her love, despite never showing affection or doing anything remotely intimate. it felt like it was.

the area surrounding you consisted of deafening silence like before, though you could swear that the dark shadows of the manor could morth into tall figurines watching you, especially the one heading toward you. you feel a wave of hotness manufactured out of pure anxiety travel through your body until you see azure blue eyes looking into yours with confusion and longing for your warmth next to hers in bed.

"i couldn't sleep." you speak quickly, voice soft in attempt to not ruin her peace. "go back to bed. it's too cold out here for you to just be wearing that robe."

she leaned her hip against the counter next to you, reaching her arms out for you as quickly as you started talking. it was almost like a hug, with her hands interlocking with eachother around your torso from the side, a small frown playing her lips while she studied the side of your face.

“can’t sleep or won’t sleep?” she asked softly, her accent slipping. she knew what it was like being up all night, in her own terms, alone with her thoughts in the empty felt rooms of the precinct. "go back to bed." you repeated, tilting your head to the side to rest it against her chest, which had her instinctively squeezing around her hands around your waist tighter to support you, enjoying the sight and feel of your body against hers. her hands on you would have you feeling like you were on fire if you weren't so tired. "i'll sleep in one of the guests."

it was a rare thing for the two of you to be physical, as much as it always bothered caitlyn how you would never stay close to her unless you needed something, felt unsafe, or was cold. otherwise, they would never touch, as much as your souls yearned for it. "nonsense," she spoke, her hands rubbing gentle circles against your side before speaking again, her deep voice soft and tender, not wanting to wake anyone up, or disturb her wife.

"sleep in the bed with me tonight. it'll be warmer." she added, taking a small step back as if it the action alone would convince you. the weight of your body being tugged along with her ever so slightly and gently had you focused on following her warmth and familiar smell of vanilla and lavender rather than pulling away.

the two of you stood in silence for a few minutes that felt like hours, the quiet beat of her heartbeat present in your ears whilst you felt sleep threatening to take over your conciousness. you knew you could fall asleep like this if you let yourself. "okay."

she was gently tugging you along with her out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom the moment you agreed, where the moonlight filtered through the slightly parted curtains that exposed the view from outside of the city, it was beautiful, even at night. the door was pushed open slowly and closed behind the two of you just as quickly, her feet taking herself to sit down on the edge of her familiar bed, swinging her long legs up and over to get completely on the bed once more. “come here,” she softly spoke as she patted the space next to her.

you complied at the soft demand from your wife, beginning to walk over to the bed opposite side of the bed, the silk covers pulled over your legs and to your waist after you settled. you felt the comforting action of sleep clouding your mind like every other night, the familiar feel of your jade wedding ring cold around your finger.

maybe caitlyn wasn't so bad.

the lesbian yearning goes crazyy... not gonna lie this concept has been in my drafts for AWHILE and i really enjoyed writing something that wasn't vi and smut for once 😭 might do another part to this, lmk what you think and want ♡

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone

I was feeling inspired and wrote the first little bit of this Yoga Steve Steddie and Buckingham au I was playing with yesterday. Not sure if I'll continue with it, but I had some dialogue floating around in my head and wanted to let it out.

I'm not really experienced in writing dialogue so my apologies if it came out weird.

Part Two

------

Steve thinks Robin is being ridiculous, but at the same time, he knows firsthand how far someone will go for a crush. Robin calls him a “loverboy” which, is not completely off the mark but feels unnecessary to point out right after Steve gets ghosted…again.

But that’s beside the point. The point being that Robin has been going off about how she cornered herself into going to an intermediate yoga class to try and woo the cute girl who sits in front of her in her mandatory Writing 212 class. Apparently, Robin got a full two minutes of conversation in with said girl, a real feat since Robin usually spends the whole class psyching herself up to talk to her and then chickens out and dashes out the door as soon as class lets out. During said conversation, Robin found out Chrissy is a yoga instructor at the rec off campus, which resulted in Robin blurting out that she’s been meaning to take up yoga again (she’s never been) and that she’ll stop by a class sometime.

Which leads to now.

“-and I’ve never done yoga! I’ve never even thought about yoga except for that one time my hippie aunt Jen came to stay with us for a week and took up the entire living room every morning to do her weird stretches-” breath “and you know how clumsy I am! I’m going completely fall on my face and the angel that is Chrissy Cunningham is going to know that I’m a failed jock with no coordination and she’ll never fall in love with me!” she finally stops, taking a big heaving breath.

Steve, used to these occasional Robin Buckley rants had been leaning against the breakfast bar letting her go on for the last three and a half minutes. Sometimes it’s just better to let her get it out first.

“You done?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m done,” she replies, flopping on the sofa behind her like all the wind has gone out of her sails. Steve hates to see her upset, but at the end of the day, it’s an easy fix.

“Sweet. So I’ll just go with you alright? And when you completely biff it and fall on your face I’ll just,” he steps away from the bar and mimes falling onto the couch next to her, ignoring her over-exaggerated oof, “fall even harder, or whatever. Make a whole scene of it.” Robin glares a little at the when, but ultimately can’t be upset when they both know it’s inevitable.

“Seriously?” she asks, eyes big and blue in a way that always makes Steve want to punch a wall. He doesn’t. Only did it once when they were both supremely drunk and feeling emotional, but he does wrap his arms around her narrow shoulders.

“Eh, why not? Maybe I’ll even find a cool yoga babe of my own to woo,” he says waggling his brows in a way that makes her scrunch up her nose.

“As if Harrington. I bet you’ll fall even more than me. You’re big jock muscles aren’t designed for flexibility,” she says with a faux pretentious accent.

“We’ll see about that, Buckley.”

------

Steve, much to Robin’s chagrin, does not fall on his face. Well, he does once, but it’s only because he’s following through on his promise to crash out for her when she falls on her face. Which she does almost as soon as Chrissy gives the instruction to lift their left leg while in downward dog. Unfortunately, it only worked the first time. The second time Robin crashed down, Steve wasn’t in a safe position to fall with her. By the time he was, the moment had passed. Luckily it’s nearing the end of the class when it happens and Chrissy mercifully releases them to relax into a corpse pose which, if you asked Robin, was perfectly fitting given the situation.

Steve though.

Steve really enjoyed the class.

Robin was right when he said his usual exercise regime wasn’t necessarily focused on flexibility and balance, but he finds yoga challenging in a gentler way than basketball or swimming. By the end of the day, he’s signing up for the full 12-week course and talking to Chrissy about what kind of equipment he should invest in.

“The most important thing is the grip. Mine was really expensive but I use it for work so I wouldn’t get the same one unless you’re planning to use it every day. If you’re comfortable giving me your number, I can send you some links to more reasonably priced ones.” Wow, Steve gets why Robin likes her so much. She’s like a walking ray of sunshine. Part of him wonders if she’s hitting on him, but she seems like she genuinely wants to help, not take him on a date.

“Sure, yeah, that would be great. Let me just…” he pulls out his phone and unlocks it, handing it over to the girl in front of him. She puts in her name and number, which, is always good. Steve is so bad with names he wouldn’t want to spell it wrong and give Robin another reason to make fun of him. She hands it back and Steve is getting ready to say his goodbyes and go hunt down Robin, who fled as soon as the class went out, but Chrissy starts talking before he can.

“You came with Robin, right? Robin Buckley?” She blurts out, clearly nervous. “We’re in class together but I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you!” It’s not that Steve thinks she’s lying, but there’s an undercut of something that makes him think Robin might not be alone in her pining.

“Yeah, we came in together.” He lets it hang, watching as her shoulders slump a little. “But we’re not dating or anything. I’m, uh, not really her type.” Her eyes go a little wide at his emphasis on type, perking up at the knowledge that Robin isn’t dating.

Oh yeah, he thinks, she’s got it just as bad.

[rotagnus]

what does this person think of you? --<3

this is an intuitive reading, if it does not speak to you do not take it to heart. i will be blunt so don't expect butterflies and unicorns. this is asking about someone who at least knows about your existence...so no f/s, no celebrity. can be romantic or platonic. blurbs because i made six piles...maybe i'll add on later or do a pt. 2. feedback is appreciated but not required. enjoy, babies 💋

i've been a bit busy with personal life and senior year, but when spring break rolls around i'll make more pacs and in between then as well. <3

this person thinks that you're very fawn-like. you're bubbly and you know how to be the center of attention, which can bug you sometimes--this person thinks you revel in it, though. compared to you, they may be less popular--nerdier, unseen, and they admire the way you can command people at your will. they may be meek and have had some issues in their life that have caused them to be on the more quiet side. they're a very calm person though, and they appreciate that you're more different than them. they think you're warm, and although you're a bit too bright at times, they love your spark. i think you're asking about someone on your level, around your age. if this is a romantic connection, i think there's some potential, although this person may not be ready for this. you are much more spiritually advanced than them. song: easy lovers by piero piccioni. animal: mourning dove. place: coastlines.

this person can probably be seen as a bit rude/cold at first. i'm thinking of sea storms, brick walls incase that may be significant. you're probably out of high school, in the real world. this may be a coworker or college friend you're asking about. anyways, i think they think that you're pretty neat. you probably have similar interests--if you haven't spoken to them, you really should. this can be a very good friendship. they may like sports or have varying hobbies than you (not interests necessarily). you're more on the artistic, musical side. they think that you're very talented, but that you show this side to other people rarely. you have this summery aura around you. you feel like home. but they, also, have a very widespread social circle and they think very positively about other people. they're probably more talkative than you are. song: champagne coast by blood orange. animal: tiger. place: islands.

this person may resent you a little bit for some reason. i'm thinking of birds. i think you embody some quality that they wish to have, and the fact that it seems like you exhibit this so easily makes them upset. you're a very lucky person and life gives you whatever you want on a silver platter--they do not know that you've worked for everything that you currently have. you may be flighty, which can be both positive or negative, and it pisses them off because they stay in one spot all of the time. you're not attached to things as much as they are, and it makes them furious at how fast you can move on from things. you probably smile a lot and they get upset with that--this can be an ex, someone who didn't make the first move, even a parent with whom your relationship has grown sour. i think that this connection is probably better off not existing. song: angel by massive attack. animal: snake. place: inland.

they think a lot of you contrasts other parts of you. you may be a feminine man or a masculine woman, or exhibit qualities that aren't expected of you, like being a girl and having short hair or having a job in a more male-dominated field, f.e. you're a fiery person--i wouldn't say outright bubbly like pile 1, because you do have your silent moments, but when you do speak you fill your words with passion. you're a very powerful person and they don't know what to make of you. you're a bit intimidating so if you're hoping they'll approach you, you may have to make the first move 😂. but if you've spoken with them already, this person likes you and adores you. you're their little punk and they think that you're pretty darn cool. they're probably alternative, or they also defy norms. that's why they think you're pretty nice. they're a genuine person, although they may be a bit blunt sometimes. song: elskling by elusin. animal: dolphin. place: cities.

i think this person thinks you're very beautiful. note that this doesn't mean they are necessarily attracted to you, but for a lot of you, they are. you have very well-defined features, and you don't try to cover them up, even though some of you do struggle with self image. they think you're not only absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, but you're wise. you're soft but you know how to punch too, but you choose to be at peace. i don't really think this person is in a position to know a lot about you, as of now...i would be 50/50 about talking to them seriously if you haven't already. this person does have the ability to form meaningful connections with people, but for some of you they're lustful and very material-based. song: agora hills. animal: cat. place: luxurious/well cared for.

ahhh my final pile! hi darling. this seems like someone you've fell out with, or you have had a rocky relationship. i think you're tired, or sad now--maybe you have seasonal depression. i feel like you're carrying a big weight on your shoulders, and this person has noticed that too. they think of you as very honorable. you have a strong-set of morals that they admire, and they like how you're loyal to things despite sometimes it being to a fault. they think that you're a very honest person--unrelated but some of you may have an accent or an interesting way of speaking. you have a good heart, and because of this you have an amalgamation of many different people in your social circle, since you're non-judgmental. the person thinks that this is bad, because they're really judgy themselves. they're also probably insecure. i think you need to stop caring about what this person thinks and instead go treat yourself. after you've helped yourself out of this sludge, you'll learn that you don't really care for what they think--this doesn't mean that they don't matter, no, but it means that they're not the focal point of your life and that the beautiful energy surrounding you should be devoted to other things, not just them. song: total eclipse of the heart by bonnie tyler. animal: dog. place: southern.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Waking up from a wet dream while sharing bed

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

Characters: Satan, Astaroth, Glasyalabolas, Beelzebub, Ronové, Belphegor, Gusion

Warnings/Notes: Beelzebub's part contains Somnophilia, Ronové's part was inspired by scenes from this official music video to a song Mein Teil by Rammstein

‎‧₊˚✧ 18+ Minors Do Not Interact‎ ✧˚₊

    ༺☆༻

“Oh~!” a breathy moan turns into a gasp as the deliciously erotic scene in front of your eyes turns into a darkness with a faint light coming in through the window. 'So it was all a dream, huh? Well that's annoying. And just as I was about to finish.'

The irritation at your denied release seems to physically manifest itself as a faint red glow right next to you. Looking in its direction you realise that it's Satan's eyes glowing from your annoyance. A slight move of your legs to get a better look at his sleeping form reminds you of your very real need, which only seems to have become more intense from looking at the mostly naked demon next to you. Sleeping on his stomach,only in his underwear, the blanket covering his bottom half, exposing his toned back, and his head turned to your side.

Images from your dream resurface in your mind. The positions and the things he told you and had you in your dream. If only you could go back to sleep and continue from where it left of, or maybe replay it and this time without missing out on the ending.

“Do you have to stare at me like that? You know I'm awake, right... Fuck, you look like Beelzebub when he's about to devour the whole meal with the table and the waiter.” a voice, even deeper due to his sleepiness, grumbles at you while the glowing red eyes slowly blink.

“And how am I supposed to tell? Sleep like a normal person and I'll stare at you only when you sleep.” letting your frustration cloud your voice you lay back down and turn to your side, away from him. You don't stay in that position for long though, as a strong, muscular arm pulls you back into position on your back. With a grunt, Satan moves himself to lay on top of you with his hips between your legs.

“M'kay... Explain yourself. Why the hell are you awake at this fucking hour?” he mumbles and nuzzles his head between your tits. As simple and innocent as that action was, it made your ache for him even worse. A soft moan comes out of your neck and you try to use it as a subtle hint by following it by a long sigh.

“Oh?” a single-worded question turns into a chuckle as Satan's tired mind catches up. Even while barely awake, the demon can't help but tease you with few slow drags of his awakening dick against your thigh.

With a few grunts he pulls himself up to face you and align his now hard cock with your needy, but still clothed pussy. As sleepy as he still is, his hands are quick to move the fabric of your underwear away and plunge himself into you. Satan can't help but chuckle at how little resistance your walls give. So needy, huh?

Picking up a rather fast pace quickly catches you up with the bliss from your dream. Trying to anchor yourself you reach out for Satan's horns. His thrusts are forceful enough to make you move up the bed, making your hands glide on his horns. The stimulation from both ends makes the angry demon roll his eyes back and loll his tongue out.

God, he looks even better than in your dream. No, you don't wanna finish yet. You wanna enjoy this view for as long as possible. This time he's real and there's nothing that will take your release away.

Satan's strong arms travel down to your hips to slam you back onto his cock. His nails dig into the flesh, adding pain to the intoxicating mixture of pleasure and weariness. To return his actions, you trail your hands down his hair, by pulling on it, to end up scratching at his back. Your actions make Satan growl and increase his pace.

The demon's red eyes start to roll back again, but this time he decides to ground himself by biting down on your neck. All of this stimulation and pain together trigger your earth-shattering orgasm and as an attempt to not lose your sanity, your hand flies back to Satan's horn and squeezes really hard, in turn triggering his own orgasm.

While still inside you, Satan lies back on top of you and curls up to have his head back on your chest. ”That'll teach you to stare at me while I'm awake.” he murmurs at last and softly bites one of your tits before falling asleep again, you soon following after.

    ༺☆༻

“Y/N.” a deep voice calls out to you, shattering your very vivid dream about having your cunt stuffed full with just two fingers of a certain depraved demon. Your eyes open even slower than you'd like to. Why did he have to wake you up?

“My, my... How clouded your gaze is. Was the dream so salacious, you'd nearly forgotten that it's merely a dream?” a low chuckle comes from Astaroth.

“Yeah, I just wish someone didn't wake me up!” you're mad. You barely have dreams, and erotic dreams at that. And now that you finally experience one, it has to be rudely ripped away from you?

“I do apologise, but you were calling my name oh, so sweetly, doll. I'd hoped that perhaps it would be rather kind of me to allow you to experience such scenario in your waking life, rather than merely as an, albeit vivid, but still nonetheless a dream.” for someone, who seemed to have gotten woken up by your gasps and moans, Astaroth was still very articulate. It takes you a while to process what all those words meant. Well, at least he wants to make up for the scenario he'd robbed you of.

“Oh.. Um...” you try to form a response, but the demon doesn't really wait for it. You find yourself being positioned between his spread legs, your back against his chest. “Now, tell me. What wicked things did I do in your dream?” he murmurs into your ear.

“B-but you already know anyway...” despite being made to voice your needs every time, that one part of your brain made you feel embarrassed each of those times. A veiny hand travels up your inner thigh only to ghost over your clothed pussy. “I believe we've been over this many times, darling. I cannot give you what you crave if you don't tell me.”

“Uhm... Well... In my dream, y-your fingers were inside me and you were whispering to me the nice things you always do.” you close your eyes and rest your head on Astaroth's shoulder.

A small gasp comes out of you as the ghosting fingertips start to make a contact with the fabric of your underwear. The tickling sensation immediately sparks your arousal back to life. Letting out a shaky breath your hands move to Astaroth's thighs and squeeze them in anticipation.

“Now, that's a good girl. I do wonder, what exactly have I been saying to you to earn such lovely reaction. Seemingly, in your dream you've lost all shame, dirty girl. I've never heard you say my name so unashamedly before.” the long, slender fingers start to push onto your nub with slow, small circles.

“F-fuck...” you let out a breathy moan as your body quickly starts catching up to the point where it's been interrupted. And all of that before Astaroth even barely started doing anything.

“Mhm... Such a good pet. Just look at the way your legs are trembling already. My fingers are going to ruin you.” a low chuckle vibrates from the demon's chest as the slow circles start to pick up speed.

The delicious friction is interrupted when the pale fingers move your underwear aside, exposing your heated core to the cold air of the room. Running his fingers through your folds to collect your leaking wetness, the demon uses it to make a few more quick circles on your clit and then finally plunges them deep inside you. You're so aroused at this point, that if it weren't for Astaroth's amused hum, you wouldn't notice their entrance. Just the feeling of having them filling you would be enough for you to finish.

“How wet you already are for me, my dear. If this is how wet you get dreaming about my fingers, I wonder how ruined you'd be after merely dreaming of my cock.” he taunts as his fingers start to move. Your grip on his thick thighs strenghtens to the point where your nails are surely drawing some blood.

“Nnghh...” the knot in your lower belly is tightening at a dangerous rate and you know that once you finish, Leraye and Paimon in the rooms sharing a wall with Astaroth's room will know.

As the pace of the digits inside you picks up, so do your moans. Every so often they curl upwards and make you make you bite your lip harder. Your legs are ready to give up any second, until finally, you can feel yourself getting close.

“My, how wonderfully you sing, dove. I can feel you're ready to come for me. Come now, wake His Majesty Satan himself with your sweet voice.” the notion of having Satan break the doors down to the very same room where Astaroth's fingers are exploring your insides, makes you shiver. You don't know yourself weather from embarrassment or excitement. Either way, the added sensation helps you push over the edge.

With toes curling and your thighs snapping shut, a whine leaves your chest as the blissful feeling takes over your mind. The lips, previously talking to you in such an obscene way start to kiss down your neck to taste the sweat which had formed there.

With your eyes now closed, the world starts to slip from you again without a care for the position, you're falling asleep in. The last thing you somewhat remember is Astaroth pulling the cover back over you and laying down with you still between his legs.

    ༺☆༻

“My queen... What a way to wake me up, but we should rather sleep. His Majesty has asked us to do a lot of things tomorrow.” as your consciousness slowly returns to your body, you become aware of your hips slowly dragging themselves against Glasyalabolas' thigh on their own.

“Oh... I- I'm sorry... I think I just had an exciting dream...” you blush as you bury your head in the brutal demon's chest even more than it already was in your shared embrace.

“Ah, but I'm afraid your 'sorry' won't do much in this situation, pet.” Glasya responds and only now your core becomes aware of the situation it's caused. It just so happened that the thigh you were humping from your sleep also had now rock hard and already leaking dick in the same pant leg.

“I suppose the only way to make such thing up to me is by offering yourself to me.” a slight thrust against your heated core fully indicates to you exactly what the tall demon plans to do.

To your surprise, you're not rolled back onto your back and your clothes torn off. Quite the opposite, actually. Glasyalabolas merely pulls his length out and slides it between your thighs, which are resting on top of each other due to your sleeping position.

“You might as well finish what you've started. Well go on, get yourself off on my cock like you intended to.” he slowly starts to drag his shaft along your pussy. The tip teasing your clothed entrance and never entering. Your clit experiencing a delicious friction both from the movement as well as the fabric barrier between your heated flesh.

“M-my king, I need your cock inside me, please.” you grip onto his broad back and dig your nails in ecstasy. Sadly he seems to do the exact opposite as his hips are slowly coming to a stop.

“No. Think about this as your punishment. Now get to work or I shall punish you much worse tomorrow.” the thought of being spanked and whipped with a crop until you're sobbing sends a thrill down your spine. It almost makes you want to misbehave, but your body really seems to need this release, so you start slowly dragging your hips. The deep groans coming from the brutal demon are like music to your ears.

The closer you're getting the harder it is to keep your hips moving at a steady pace. A strong arm comes down to move your underwear to the side, unlocking a whole new intensity to your mutual stimulation. Glasya seems to also have picked up on your struggle and decided to help you out by grabbing your ass and moving your himself.

“My God, My king, this feels so good!” you sob into his chest as your walls clench around nothing.

“Hah, flattery won't make me go easy on you, dove.” a breathy chuckle leaves Glasyalabolas at your blissful babbling.

A large hand lands a few spanks to your ass, making you jump in surprise and fist the demon's sleeping shirt. You can tell he's getting impatient with the way he's moving you back and forth on his dick. His hips also seem to start thrusting again. All of this bliss makes you feel like screaming, but you bite your lip as hard as you can. If you woke someone up or even worse, made someone investigate, you'd surely be punished extra painfully.

The temperature seems to be only rising under the covers and you're starting to feel the familiar tingling, meaning you're starting to get close. The same hand from before now squeezes one of your ass cheeks, bringing you dangerously close, only for a low moan coming from Glasya to push you over the edge. As you cum, your thighs clench together stronger than before, pushing the tall demon to completion too.

“Good girl. Too bad it had to be me who finished us both off. I expect you waiting for me on the bed on all fours when I come back from my last errand tomorrow.” with his eyes already closed again, he grumbles. His softening dick is still between your thighs, but you don't really care. Now you have more fun to look forward to tomorrow.

    ༺☆༻

As your dream slowly slips away, the feeling of something wet against of your pussy and wet sounds mixed with moans takes over your senses. At first you think it's your, oddly, very early period, but then the wet thing starts moving. A sudden, brief wave of movement sickness takes over you as it seems that the bed is slightly moving back and forth.

A loud moan forces you to finally look between your legs and see Beelzebub having the time of his life there. His horn is fully drenched, making a mess of your oversized sleep t-shirt that bunched up above your abdomen. His green eyes are fully focused on the sight of your cunt, as if carefully deciding on which part of his meal he'll devour next. His hips are moving in a thrusting motion, rubbing his dick on the mattress, causing the bed to move like that.

A blissful whimper leaves your lips at the realisation of what's happening, when Beelzebub, who started to suck on your clit, slowly looks up at you, making an eye-contact. His eyes are clouded over with lust and his cheeks are red with blush. The sight alone is so euphoric, you close your eyes and allow your head to fall back onto the pillow.

Beelzebub licks a stripe from your hole to your clit and bites right next to it. “Wakey, wakey... Finally joining the party?” he chuckles and makes a trail of kisses down your inner thigh, starting at your knee.

“Mhm.. With a pretty invitation like this, one can't refuse.” your hand finds his golden hair and start playing with it. His hair is sticky with his horn cum, but you don't care.

“Exactly! You called my name so hungrily, smelling so divine, it led me right between your legs and you weren't even awake! Those are some bad manners, Y/N.” Beel playfully scolds you and pulls himself up so your faces are the same level.

You can feel his pierced cock throb against your thigh as he pulls you in for a heated kiss. The pierced tongue explores your mouth and makes you taste yourself. You hands travel from the demon's back to his ass to squeeze it, making him buck his length against your soaked core.

Beelzebub moves slightly down your body, to start playing with your nipples. He pulls one into his mouth, biting and sucking on it, occasionally running his cold piercing over it, making you whine underneath him. To tease him back, you start to run your tongue around the tip of his horn. His deep moans vibrate your nub back in return.

Lining up his manhood with your entrance, the king of flies only pushes in the tip, waiting for you to beg for him to push in even deeper. Instead of that, however you start stroking his horn slowly, to drive him insane.

Having provoked a reaction out of him, he starts slamming into your without a mercy. Stars start floating in the corners of your vision and you're pretty sure your neighbors are going to complain tomorrow, but who cares? It's not like you'll be able to go open the door to them, or go anywhere else for that matter.

The headboard of your bed is loudly banging against the wall and if you weren't having your insides rearranged by the strongest demon in Hell, you'd be worried about denting it or the bed falling apart.

You're both starting to reach your peaks. It seems like barely anything even happened, but who even knows how long he was between your legs, rutting against the mattress before you woke up. Deep growls leave the demon above you, indicating that he's holding back to allow you to finish first.

Your hand moves to rub fast circles into your clit. Finally arriving, you bite into Beelzebub's shoulder so your neighbors don't call the police on you. Letting loose, the demon stuffs his dick as deep as he can and fills you up with his cum with a loud moan.

“Wow... Stay the night?” you pull Beel into an embrace once he slips out with a few whines.

“Can't. Wouldn't be surprised if Bael or someone else was monitoring your place to send for me when I'm here. Besides, I don't want you to be in danger if angels decided to attack me.” he lights up a cigarette and offers it to you after blowing a cloud of smoke, ”I'll stay until you fall asleep, though, if it'll make you feel better.”

“Good enough for me.” you accept your small win with a smile and accept Beel's cigarette.

“Just make sure you don't have any of those dirty dreams of yours. If I have to come back here, I'll have you screaming the whole night without mercy.” he jokes, but you know his threat is real.

The two of you manage to once more sloppily make out, before you rest your head on his chest and fall back asleep.

    ༺☆༻

A thud startles you awake. Your eyes snap awake to see Ronove standing in front of the door to your shared bedroom. Even without being able to fully see his eyes, you can tell they're mischievously scanning your form as his leatherbound arms are crossed over his chest.

Why? You wanted to surprise your beloved demon by waiting for him, dressed up in a white lingerie complete with angel wings. Sadly, the lunatic infector took his sweet time and before you had the chance to present yourself, you apparently fell asleep. And only now, noticing the position of your hand, in your underwear, the realisation of having a wet dream completes the puzzle.

“Having fun without me, angel?” he enunciates clearly around the red ballgag in his mouth, his head cocking more downwards as if to meet your gaze more intensely.

“Well, what was I supposed to do when you were who-knows-where for so long?” the sleepiness fully leaves your body the moment he starts to slowly walk towards the edge of the bed. Ronove's strong hand yanks you towards him by your leg, making you squeak out. Your legs are forcefully spread out to expose the wet crotch of your lace bodysuit to the cold air of the room.

“So sassy, for a poor soul who's trying to clearly get ravaged by me. You must be really brave to dress as something I'm known to enjoy breaking apart. Or perhaps, you'd wish to experience the same, hm?” he kneels between your parted legs, leaning over your body, which is now completely at his mercy. Maybe you've actually made a mistake.

In mere seconds the large demon manhandles you into a kneeling position right in front of him with your upper body held against the front of his chest. A hand with black-painted nails comes from behind you to fondle your tits as the other one stays firmly around your waist.

“Ah, exquisite choice of lace, little one~” Ronove muses as the active hand moves down your body over the material, tracing the stitching only to arrive to your heated core. Instead of continuing his fondling there, however, he tears the fabric with one firm tug, eliciting a yelp from you at the sting of the action.

A slight chuckle leaves the lunatic demon and your upper body is roughly pushed forward, to leave you ass up, pushed against his growing hard on. The sound of a small clasp being undone is followed by his saliva-drenched gag landing next to your head resting on the bed.

“Now, when it comes to dismantling angels, I personally enjoy doing such while they're still alive. For me, the best part is, you see, the way they scream. So please, don't hold back.” his voice is now more clear as he purrs. The words he says make you even more nervous. What is he intending to do?

The sound of Ronove undoing his pants interrupt you from your slightly panicked thinking. His two large hands come down to spank both of your cheeks to rip the first scream of the night out of you. He's barely touched you and you can already feel tears well up in your eyes.

Another scream is pushed from your lungs when the strong demon's rather large cock gets slammed into you without mercy. You barely have the time to regain some air in your lungs when he starts punishingly pounding away. Your hands start fisting the sheets below you as each thrust pulls another small scream or cry out of you.

You can't see it from your position, but Ronove is very intrigued by the wings you'd chosen to wear. He reaches out to stroke them. The feathers feel nice against his hands. He really wants some of them in his collection despite not actually being from an angel. You're his angel and that's good enough for him. Still, the need to destroy is still present and so he can't stop himself from grabbing a fistful of the white, iridescent feathers and tear them off of the cardboard base and throw them into the air above you.

As the small fluffy things descent around and on top of you, you're shocked to realise, that Ronove's rough approach to you is already managing to start drawing out your first orgasm of the night. One of many. You cry out and writhe underneath the mountain of a demon, but there's not escaping.

“How deliciously you sing, my angel. If you keep this up, I won't be able to stop myself until the sun's come up.” he laughs hoarsely, almost like the brutal pace is not taking a toll on his stamina at all...

Sometime around your fifth orgasm you'd started hoping he'd finally be satisfied and allow the two of you to rest, but you did keep screaming and he did, indeed, keep his promise. By the end of the night you'd completely lost track of how many time's you'd called out his name on the verge of consciousness, barely holding onto your last threads of sanity.

As you passed out, completely exhausted, Ronove admired his work. Your bite and scratch covered form laying lifelessly, surrounded and covered by the feathers, which your wings few hours ago consisted of. He was starting to feel slightly tired too, but he had to yet add new feathers to his collection. And so he picked out few, which seemed practically unharmed and silently left the room to go update his collection room.

    ༺☆༻

Your blissful sleep gets interrupted by your body's involuntary twitch. If only there was a clock in the bedroom so you could tell how late at night it is.

“Oh, you're awake.” a simple statement forces your eyes wide open.

Rolling over to your other side, you're able to take in Belphegor, awake and watching some anime on his tablet. The light from his device gently illuminates his features from a low angle and interestingly highlights his peculiarly placed piercings.

“Some kind of dream you've had. Been tossin' and turnin' most of the time.” his eyes don't leave the screen for a second. With his head bent down, some stay strands of hair are loosely hanging in front of his face, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Images from of your dream suddenly start flashing in front of your eyes, reminding you of why your body kept thrashing around. You had a really hot dream. A vivid picture of the dream's Belphie's double-irised eye rolling back makes your thighs clench together. With that action more pictures arise.

Even dream you should've realised that it's a dream since the sleepy demon was uncharacteristically energetic. Tossing you around and bending you over various furniture that seemed sturdy enough at that moment before breaking it and moving on to another available surface.

“Must you glare at me, woman?” Belphegor interrupts your recalling. The vision of being pounded into while most of your body is in mid-air dissipates and you come too see him giving you a tired side-eye.

“Oh! Uhm... Sorry, just wondering how come you're awake.” you try to hide your embarrassment at being caught by squashing your face more into the pillow, still intently watching the demon's actions.

“Sure ya are,-” he pauses the anime, which only now you realise in actuality is a Hentai,”Y'know I gotta be awake sometime too, right?” a grumble comes out of Belphegor as he runs a hand through his hair to fix the stray hair back into place. With a slow blink his focus is fully turned towards you, expecting an answer.

“I mean, yeah, but why in the middle of the night? Why not during the day so we can do something together?” the three irises are staring at you intently, almost boring holes through you. Both of you know the answer why, but it's worth to try asking every now and then, right?

“'n why are ya awake then?” completely disregarding your questions, Belphegor sets the tablet on the nightstand next to him. His attention is fully on you and you know he knows. He has to. There were times he smelt your arousal before it even hit you.

You pull yourself up to sit and proceed to crawl on all fours towards him. Bringing your face extremely closely to his, you whisper: “I need your dick inside me.”

The demon's eyes slightly widen and he smirks. His hands find your hips and pull them into his lap, “Well you're lucky I'm in a good mood.” He's already hard, as if he'd expected your request. So he did know. “But ya still gotta do all the work.”

“Yeah, I don't think you need to tell me each time at this point.” you say with bitterness lacing your words. Was there even a time you haven't done all the work? Your hips at this point as if know from memory all the right movements to make you both feel good. Still, you want some variation, dammit!

“Hey, ya better be grateful that I'm letting ya have any. If ya don't like it, ya can use your fingers.” he grunts, his threat of leaving you needy only half empty. As you try to answer, he takes his length out and slams you on it, making you whine out instead. To his credit, his hands are guiding your hips this time, which already is more participation than usually.

“I-it's just that I'd like to change things up sometimes. Doing the same thing over and over again can get boring.” you try to answer him again, this time successfully. Belphegor doesn't answer anymore. From his movements, you can tell he's over this conversation. His head is tilted back as his half-lidded eyes watch you as you fuck yourself on his cock.

All of a sudden darkness starts creeping up into your vision, but it's not one of passing out or falling asleep. It's Belphie's power engulfing you. Your heart starts to race to the point where you're afraid it'll give out any minute. The building pressure of the void that's fully surrounded you and the king of sloth somehow makes the knot in your lower belly tighten with much greater intensity.

The very tips of your whole body tingle and are numb at the same time. The only thing that feels right is the movement of the pierced length that's dragging in and out of you. Your body seems to be moving on its own, as if he's the one moving you up and down despite not being able to feel his hands, or see them for that matter.

It's not long until you feel like you're either gonna die or have the most intense orgasm in your life. The sight of you must be one to remember. Your brain is so clouded over with pleasure and the sheer intensity of your surrounding nothingness, that the only thought you're able to muster up is 'This is it. I'm dying.'

The knot in your stomach coming undone hits you like a gunshot. Your eyes fly open as if there was something to look at in the void. The void doesn't last for long, though. The more you start feeling yourself move on Belphegor's still hard cock again, the more you're coming down and the room starts appearing once more, the emptiness dispersing until it's gone.

“How's that for changin' things up?” an exhausted question brings you back to earth and only now you realise, how much your thighs burn from the workout. Yep, you're definitely gonna have to be carried around for the next week.

Your body fully gives out and you slump right next to the demon. Only now you notice that he didn't finish alongside with you. You'd feel bad and offer to despite all your soreness help him get off, but looking up from his chest, you realise that he's soundly snoring away.

Oh well, maybe you can still put your fingers to a good use, just like he wanted you to. Unless you yourself don't fall asleep during it, that is.

    ༺☆༻

“Gusion?” your bare feet make their way through the hallway of your house. You're looking for your beloved demon, who you've failed to find sleeping next to you. Normally, you'd feel guilty asking for help with your problems, but you have the feeling he'll be glad to help out with this one.

A soft light coming from your office slash library reveals the location of the smart demon. Pushing the door open, it takes you a second to find him. The desk is covered in many scattered papers and some opened books, but the from of a tall demon is missing. Only after fully entering the room you spot him crouched down like a goblin, his back to you, intensely muttering to himself above a paper filled with numbers and symbols.

“Gus?” you call out to him. At first you're not sure if he's even heard you, but then his head slowly rises and even slower turns in your direction. His demeanor makes you slightly nervous. It's almost like you're his prey.

“I-I might have something I need your help with.” you squeak out but Gusion knew that already. When you interrupted him from his thoughts, the scent of your arousal hit him like a truck.

The demon's body triples in size as he rises from his crouching position. His sharp eyes are scanning your half-naked body, still clutching a corner of a blanket in your hands that's dragging between your legs on the ground. It almost makes you look like a toddler who had a bad dream and searches for its parents.

Each step he takes towards you helps him regain his composure despite wanting to do the exact opposite, but he can't, not yet. Once he's standing in front of you, his slender fingers lift your chin up to meet his gaze, ”Hm, and what can I help you with, love?”

He's teasing and you both know it. You drop the blanket and reach out to pull Gusion down to your level so you can look him deeply into his eyes. “You're smart. Figure it out.”

An amused laugh leaves the smart demon and his hands are quick to pick you up to lay you down on the paper-covered desk. A hopeful thought about all the ink writing being dry flies through your mind.

“Now, judging from how sweet you smell, I gotta deduce that you've had an interesting dream.” Gusion thinks out loud as he's undoing his tie. His hips slot themselves between you legs which have fallen open on their own. “Mmh... you're so soaked. Did you already try to handle your problem on your own?”

“Not quite!” you giggle on your little victory while you can, knowing that you probably won't be able to laugh once he's inside you. The smart demon hums contemplatively as he's pulling your underwear down, possibly coming up with the best punishment for your little taunt. Still, you decide to push your luck even further, ”Actually, I woke up with my fingers already inside me.”

“Semantics.” Gusion's head rises with a toothy smirk. Oh, you're in for a ride for sure. His hands spread your legs more than necessary until your thighs start to strain. As he's pulling his uncomfortable boner out, he contemplates: “Now, what am I working with here?”

You're about to respond with another witty remark, but all that comes out is a gasp from having the long, slightly girthier dick plunged inside. Just having it inside you is enough to reignite the fire inside your womb. The situation you're is just as hot as the dream you've had.

Gusion's thrusts are slow, teasing even. You could sound off and ask him to go faster, but you're smart enough to know it's just a ploy so that he can start pounding into you to the point the desk's legs will surely break.

“This what you needed?” the demon taunts you when he doesn't get the reaction he expected.

“Hm.. Not really. Guess you gotta come up with something else.” you mock pout in fake sadness. There's no way you'll let him win that easily. Your response lands perfectly as intended and only seems to rile Gusion more up.

“Well... Then you better hold on tight, because I'm not responsible if something happens to you.” a growl leaves his lips as he swiftly flips you over like you weigh nothing to him.

Your hands grip onto the edge of the desk just in time for Gusion to start pounding into you, making the desk slowly move on the wooden floor. Thankfully the desk's got those floor protectors or your floors would get ruined. Not that either of you care at the moment. Funnily enough, it was Gusion, who suggested them.

You can feel the papers underneath you get crumpled and wrinkled. Some of the book stacks start to topple from the surface on which you're on. The sound of the books hitting the floor interrupting the sound of your moans and Gusion's grunts.

A tattooed hand sneaks its way from your hips to your hair, tangling itself into it. It's not pulling, but it is firmly holding your head in one place as his hips force your body to move back and forth on the wooden surface.

The pain on you scalp, as good as it feels, gradually makes you wish you already finished. It's late in the night and you've got things to do tomorrow. Gusion can sense your frustration and his other hand moves between your legs to trace random equations on your clit.

Before he even manages to finish tracing the first one, you can already sense the cusp of your climax. To push you over the edge, Gusion leans down to your ear to deliver one more teasing line, “You've been quiet for a while now. Did I also manage to find a way to shut that smart mouth of your up?”

You finally come with a whine, making the demon above you laugh and with few more trusts he finishes as well. As the serotonin floods your brain, you're trying to catch your breath. A strong, inked arm hooks under your waist and helps you get up. Not for long though. The moment you're upright, your knees buckle as a warning that they're about to give out.

Sitting down on the chair in a short distance from the desk, Gusion sits you in his lap as well. His hand comes to your face to brush away any hair that stuck there due to the sweat. The demon gently pulls your face towards him so he can plant a soft kiss on your lips and mutters: “I just want you to know that this is my favorite problem to solve for you.”

[sanguineterrain]

gag gift | jason todd

Summary: A gift from a friend results in quite the evening for you and Jason.

Pairing: Jason Todd x AFAB!reader 

Word count: 1.5k

Kinktober fill: Day 2 - Pegging

Warnings/tags: pegging, strap-ons, anal sex, vaginal penetration, coming untouched, sub!Jason, bottom!Jason, reader refers to the strap as their dick, humiliation, size difference, pet names.

A/N: me every time I see Jason: he needs to be knocked up. anyways. enjoy :)

divider

Well. It started as a gag gift.

A kinky Halloween joke from a close friend. A big, black, double-sided strap-on.

So you'd showed it to Jason last night. His reaction had been surprising, to say the least.

...Now it's out of the box. On you.

"Look at how hard I am for you," you say, wiggling your hips. The strap stays put under your pajama shorts, though they do absolutely nothing to hide it.

It's meant to be a tease, your words, but then you look up at Jason and he's got a stunned expression on his face. His eyes can't stop flicking down.

"It's so big," he says, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He's right.

You grin. "Think I'll fit?"

And judging from the way Jason shifts, he wants you to try.

So here you are.

You slide off your shorts and the strap juts free. You leave your shirt on, liking how the hem sticks out over your strap.

"So?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Am I fucking you or what, baby?"

Jason nods and removes his pants and underwear in one go. His cheeks are slightly flushed.

He's already hard.

You join him on the bed, pushing your way between his legs. Jason lies down at your beckoning. You look down, positioning your hips against his. Jason follows your gaze.

"Look at that," you say, your strap against Jason's cock. "My dick is bigger than yours, honey."

Your pussy throbs at the sight. Jason whimpers as you slide your strap against his cock. He's usually huge, but next to your strap, he's kind of... small. Is that all it takes?

You imagine him shrinking as you grow impossibly bigger inside of his hole. You imagine a knot at your base, swelling as you mount and breed him like a dog. Looks like you'll have to do some research on toys later.

"All those muscles and height, and I've still got a bigger cock than you," you say, tone gentle even though your words are not. "Your cock is so cute, sweetheart."

Jason's chest is red with a humiliated blush. You're sure your pupils dilate at the sight.

"And I can stay hard forever. You blow your load after a couple of strokes."

You brush your fingers through his curls and get a good grip. You tilt Jason's head back, mouth slotting against yours. He makes a soft noise as you kiss him, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. You pull away slightly.

"Seems like I should be fucking you, huh?" you ask. "I don't get dumb and leaky when I fuck a hole like you do, sweetie."

Your strap pushes against his stomach. Jason whines when you tug his hair harder. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"My big guy. Big, pretty guy. All you have to do is squirt on your tits."

"They're not—"

"Well, of course they are, honey bunches," you say, groping his pecs under his shirt. Jason hisses. "It's obscene, the way you go out in your tight little white shirts, nipples hard. Maybe I'll fuck your tits after."

You gesture for him to take off his shirt and he does. It lands somewhere behind you. You flick and pinch his nipples. Jason lets out a shuddering breath.

"Yeah? You like that?" you ask, pushing your hips against him.

"Uh-huh," Jason says, sensitive all over with how close you are, how every bit of his skin touches yours.

"Pretty boy," you say, hands going to his face. Jason dwarfs you like this, but you love how docile he is, how reactive to your touch.

"Did you do what I asked?" you say, gripping the back of his neck, lips on his cheek.

"Y-yeah, opened myself up," Jason says.

"Oh, yeah? So I can just push right in? Fuck you loose?"

You feel around Jason's hole, and it's indeed wet with lube. You grin.

"Such a good boy. You wanted to get fucked fast, didn't you?"

You grab the undersides of Jason's huge thighs and force him to bend at the knees so he's spread open for you. You pat him when you're satisfied with how wide he's spread.

"Hold your legs open," you say, and Jason does, grabbing his thighs and keeping them parted.

You cup his balls. Jason chokes and nearly releases his thighs. You tilt your head.

"You feel heavy," you say. "You need to come, don't you?"

You play with his balls, watching Jason's stomach twitch in response. His knuckles are white from how tightly he's holding his thighs. Your strap nudges Jason's hole and more precum beads on the tip of his cock.

"Please," he says. Your gaze sharpens at the first hint of begging.

"Please, what?" you ask. More pre gurgles out of Jason's leaky cock head.

"Want you inside, please."

"Sure?" you ask.

Jason nods frantically. "Yeah, yeah, please, c'mon, plea—hnngh."

"It's only the tip, sweetheart," you say, gleeful at the way Jason's eyelids flutter.

You rub his legs, then move to grab his waist instead. Your hands aren't even close to touching. Jason's stomach bunches in rolls, simultaneously strong and soft.

"'S big," Jason says, stomach tensed as you keep pushing in.

"I know," you say, ego tripping at the fact that you've only pushed in a little and Jason's already tightening around you. "Gotta relax for me, honey pie. Know my cock is big in your little hole."

You hear him force out deep breaths through his nose. Slowly, inch by inch, you bully your way inside. The strap presses back inside of you and rubs your clit, but not so much that it's a full distraction. You're still able to focus on the fact that you're stuffing Jason.

"Good?" you ask, a little strained from the pressure. The strap sinks further into you.

Jason nods, mouth parted in a tight moan. "Good, oh m'God. Y'dick feels so good."

You bite your lip and resist the urge to hammer away at him. You have to take it slow.

"If I had my way, you'd never get to fuck me," you say. "I'd be inside of you all day, baby. Every time I got hard, I'd fill you up."

Jason moans, lifting his hips so you can fuck him deeper. You hover over him, hands on either side of his head. You dip your mouth to his neck.

"Is that what you want?" you ask, breath hot on his ear. "Wanna get fucked everyday? Wake up with my dick in you?"

You look down and watch your strap slide in and out. The sight makes your brain buzz. All it took was a little petting and Jason's wet and easy for you.

"I... I can fuck ya too," he squeezes out. "Do it a lot."

You coo. "But I'm bigger than you, sweetie. And I last longer. Maybe I should tie up your stupid dick so you won't cream your pants every time I pet you a little. You need to be trained before you can fuck me again."

You bottom out before Jason can reply, his words melting into a high moan.

"How do I feel?" you ask, wrapping an arm around Jason's leg. He lets you push it back further, not even hesitating at the stretch.

"Feel s'good inside a'me," he says, blinking to focus. "Ah, p-please move, please, baby, gonna be so good, be so good for you—"

So you move. Now, the stimulation on your clit and inside of you is at its height. You chase the pleasure, the build of your orgasm.

Jason's being good, holding his legs open, even though his arms are shaking.

"I fuck you on my cock and you're already shaking?" you ask, diving down to bite the junction of his neck and shoulder. You busy yourself with marking him up, sucking his skin, until—

"Uh, uh, mmgh!"

Unintelligible sounds make you lift your head. Jason's eyes are wet in the corners.

"Th-there, right there—"

You thrust again and Jason's entire body tightens. Precum dribbles steadily from his cock.

Jason's not the only one who learns fast.

"Don't touch yourself," you say. "Hands off. Got it?"

He nods. "Got it. Please, please can ya—"

Again and again, you hit that magical spot, perfecting your angle in the process. Jason's moans become high, aching whimpers. His entire face and chest are red. Sweat beads on his forehead. His cock is steadily leaking onto his stomach.

Meanwhile, your own orgasm builds, the strap thrusting into you with every move. You feel that familiar curl of lightning low in your belly.

Jason's eyes are squeezed tight now and he sounds like he's crying a little bit. You don't stop your brutal pace.

"Gonna!" he cries, and it's the only warning you get before Jason comes all over his stomach and chest.

"Almost there," you pant, focusing on your release. Jason whines with each additional thrust, and you ease off, trying to keep them shallow for his sake.

It isn't long before you come too, pussy clenching around the strap while it's still inside of Jason. He moans when you come, bonelessly reaching for your body.

"T-too much," he says, voice wrecked, and you pull out, taking pity.

You roll over onto the bed, taking Jason's hand.

"Best gag gift ever," he says, after some time, and you giggle into his shoulder.

[clarkeybabey]

❝ everybody wants a taste ❞

# summary; sharing is not always caring

# playlist; jealous, nick jonas, gold rush, taylor swift, the boy is mine - remix, ariana grande, brandy, & monica!

# word count; 1.2k

# note; I did not intend for this to be so long originally, whoops. kinda hate this

"And you're positive you don't wanna come along, darlin'," George asks for what seems to be the hundredth time this evening as he pulls his coat on, he's been begging for you to rethink your decision for the last twenty-five minutes, and you aren't budging this time.

Shaking your head, "I can't leave my baby two nights in a row, honey, that's outrageous," you frown, gesturing down to your dog who has cuddled herself up against the blanket that's still warm from the dryer. He groans, tossing his head back in an attempt to gain extra sympathy points, "Plus, all this laundry and love island to catch up on."

He comes trudging back towards you, flopping down on the bed dramatically, "Don't wanna go without you," he pouts and you kiss his jutted-out lower lip, when you pull back he's fighting a smile and losing miserably, "I'll be right here waiting for you to get back, I'll even try an' stay up for you, okay?"

Defeated he sighs, ""Kay, I love you," he kisses you this time, a real one, long and slow. His hand comes up to find the pulse point on your neck as his tongue slides against yours.

You catch on quickly, grabbing his shoulders and giving a light shove, "I love you and you know how much I enjoy your kisses, but go have fun with your friends, my lips'll be here when you get back home."

Standing up from where he had thrown himself just moments ago, mumbling, "Fine, fine, I'll fuck off," he throws a wink and a kiss at you as he walks from your shared room, you hear his keys jangle as he grabs them from the hook, followed by a third goodbye, and the door being pulled shut behind him.

You stay exactly how he left you for a while longer, at least until the washer beeps when you get up to swap the laundry around, you find Poppy sat by the door staring at you with her tail wagging a hundred miles per hour.

The idea of a walk this late without George has you wishing you had let him stay, "Sad world we live in, Pop, wishing I had a man to keep me safe from the bloody dark," you let out a breathy giggle to yourself at your words as you shove one of his hoodies over your head and slide your slippers on.

The door slams heavily behind you as you trudge down the stairs, the cool air nipping at your once-warm cheeks wind rash was the least of your worries as you make your way down the street lamp-lit sidewalk, every sense heightening. When Poppy stops to sniff one you fish your phone out of your pocket, tapping through your friend's Instagram stories.

When you get to Chris' you notice George in the background of a video of him and Arthur. Not just George though, him and a girl, he's leaned against the bar on his elbow, smiling at something shes said. It's friendly, and probably a fan, but why has she been touching his arm for what feels like ages? The video felt like it was nearly three hours long.

Screenshotting, you zoom in on the two, not even noticing the scowl that's situated on your face. You feel a pit in your stomach and it burns a hole straight through you, you're not usually the jealous type, but you're never left home either. Fans know you exist and they've slowed down the whole throwing themselves at him thing quite a bit, George never establishes boundaries, assuming they know where the line is.

Deciding you've seen enough of that, you tap through to the next slide, this time it's the four of them standing together, arms over each other's shoulders: Arthur, Chris, George, then the girl you swear you've never seen in your life. Both posts have been up for just under ten minutes.

That was enough social media for the evening, you internally establish on your walk home, turning your phone off just in time for it to buzz from what you assume is a text that you don't even bother glancing at.

Once you've made it back inside, you no longer feel like doing any more laundry, instead you kick off your shoes, hang your jacket up by the door, snuggle up in the warm duvet, and press play on your show. Before you know it you have watched two hours' worth of Love Island and fallen asleep, you don't even notice when the boys come fumbling back into the flat.

That is until George's cold hands meet your cheek, you push him away mumbling about him fucking off, and turn away from him. He snorts and apologizes with his hands up in surrender he knows you can't see, "Better change your clothes and brush your teeth, no outside clothes on my clean sheets," and he does just that before returning from the ensuite, scooting into bed behind you, pulling you into him.

You do your best not to let him cuddle up to you, letting your jealousy overpower how much you'd missed his presence alone, "Missed you lots, sweetheart, Chippo was asking 'bout you." You hum, not bothering with a verbal reply and he quickly picks up on how abnormally stiff you are against him.

"Something wrong," ignorance is bliss and sometimes your boyfriend is exactly that, but you can't blame him for being so confused this time. In his mind, he wasn't even home to piss you off so he's stuck raking through his mind in search of one thing, anything relatively bad he's done through your whole relationship

You shrug, finally speaking up, "No, jus' saw Chris' story, jealousy's a disease and mine chronic," he can hear the pout in your voice, doing his best to stifle a giggle, and failing as your feel rattle through his chest, "Nothing to be jealous of, darlin', she only knew me from your tiktok," he snorts as his fingers draw shapes on your back beneath your shirt.

And now you feel silly for ever thinking something strange was happening, this was exactly why you hardly ever got jealous, it was always something like that or "She just wanted me to get a picture of her with Arthur."

There was never a time where he made you feel as if you shouldn't be secure in your relationship, but when you're left alone your mind does such stupid things, "Dont feel silly, any time anyone comes up to you, I feel the same way, just bite my tongue, 'cause I don't want you to think I don't trust you."

"And before you say it, I know you trust me, if you didn't we wouldn't have me it this far," he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, your nose, and finally your lips. He smiles against your mouth, and when he speaks again his toothpaste-y breath fans over your face, "Now g'night, beautiful, I love you more than you know."

All of a sudden you're a puddle in his arms, "Goodnight, I love you... so much," this time he can hear the smile in your voice at the sound of it he can't fight one of his own.

[stylesparker]

closer than friends

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: season 1/2 era, friends to lovers, sweet love confession, Dean being Sam’s wingman

A/N: my first supernatural fic is finally here!!! It’s been a long while since I’ve had the motivation to write, and I’m so glad I was able to get this out and share it. Please reblog if you enjoy!! <33

"How many times are you gonna shift in your goddamn seat, woman, jesus christ." Dean glances over at you from the wheel for the fourth time, watching you rub your eyes and knock your shoulder into the side of the Impala's door again.

"It's not my fault the passenger seat isn't made for comfortable napping, Dean."

You hear Sam chuckle from over your shoulder; this makes you look back to find him comfortably nestled into the corner of the backseat with his sweatshirt tucked in the crook of his neck so he can lean against his door without discomfort.

You huff, "I don't want a word from you."

"Says the girl who called shotgun and fought for the front seat all morning."

"What did I just say?"

Dean rolls his eyes, "Okay, knock it off. We're finding a place to sleep tonight."

While Dean focuses back onto driving, you try your hardest to find a suitable position that would allow you to sleep for awhile up until you guys made it to whatever hotel you were staying in for the night. You'd like to blame the Impala for your sleep deprivation, but you've slept in it before just fine, so you know the car isn't the problem. Even though you're going on just over 36 hours of no sleep, your mind won't shut off. The events of the case you were working on for the past couple of days play like a movie in your head, reminding you of how it ended over and over again.

You swallow quite harshly, and shift in your seat again. Something soft smacks the back of your head and you whip around to see what Sam's hit you with, but it's just his sweatshirt, and he's already leaning against the side of the car like he was before, almost as if he hadn't moved at all.

You mumble out a quiet "thank you," and you don't bother to even listen for any sort of reply before you're stuffing his sweatshirt underneath your head and forcing yourself to go to sleep. It's not long before you hear Sam's soft breathing from the backseat signifying that the boy has finally fallen asleep himself. You almost gave up until you saw Dean turn down his music just a little, side-eyeing you as he looked between you and the road.

"Is that better?" He asks.

"It was fine before."

"I'll keep it like this anyway."

You hum in response, and he goes back to humming his own tune to follow along with the music. With Sam's soft breathing in the back and Dean's low humming, you finally find something else other than your mind to focus on, which ultimately leads to your eyes lulling shut and you drifting off to sleep.

When your eyes start to peel back open again, the car is stopped and there's light rain patter on the wind shield. You lift your head causing Sam's sweatshirt to lightly fall into your lap, and at the same time the door opens revealing a slightly wet Sam waiting for you.

"C'mon, we're here."

"Slow your roll, Sammy, I just woke up." Your head lolls back onto the seat, and you let your eyes close once again, forgetting about Sam who's standing in the rain waiting for you to get out.

"Alright, let's go."

You shiver and grumble a slight protest as you feel his cold hands slip underneath your body to grab you and pick you out of the Impala. He knocks the door shut as he cradles you close to his chest as to not drop you, and as he locks the car. Your ear stays smushed against his front as he carries you, allowing you to feel the soft pitter patter of his heart beating in his chest.

"What time is it?" You mumble sleepily.

"Close to ten."

"That's it?"

"Yeah." You nod, not replying this time so you can nod back off in his arms. You're back to being fast asleep once again by the time Sam reaches the room Dean picked out for you, and he tries tucking you into your bed as gently as possible so he doesn't accidentally wake you up. In the short process you only mutter something unintelligible to Sam's ears as he finishes pulling the blankets up, so he ignores it and kisses you on the forehead, bidding you a good night before he retreats back to the room he's sharing with Dean for the night.

It's much later when you're rudely roused from sleep by a nightmare; you sit up straight in the bed with your hands by your sides clawing at the sheets, your eyes wide and unfocused, much too scared to figure out where you are or how you've gotten there. It takes a second to realize you're in a motel room, and now, the sheets that were once neatly laid over your body are haphazardly thrown towards the end of the bed, practically hanging off and hitting the floor. You take a shaky deep breath in and out, taking your trembling hand and placing it over your heart in an attempt to regulate it.

After a couple minutes your breathing is sort of back to normal, but your shakiness hasn't stopped. At that point, you're aware you won't be falling asleep again anytime soon, so you sit up further and throw your legs off the bed to go and find something to busy yourself with. In the corner there's a chair that you notice has your bag on top of it, and there's a small table next to it with a notepad. Your curiosity pulls you towards it, and when your feet reach the table, you're able to make out Sam's sloppy handwriting.

If you need us. - S

Next to the writing is a key card, which you can obviously assume is the one to their room. You pick it up and turn it over a few times, debating on whether this dream was something worth needing them for. In your head, needing was the same thing as bothering and it was never used as a positive term. But you know that if you spend another minute in that bed you might actually start crying and drive yourself crazy over the dream, so you take your chances and hope one of the boys will let you sleep in their bed or at least talk to you for awhile and get your mind off of it.

When you open the door and step outside, you become acutely aware of the cold air on your arms and legs rather quickly, and you begin to wish you were wearing a sweatshirt instead of one of Sam's shirts and a pair of shorts. The chill encapsulates you, making you hasten your step towards the room down the hall with the number specified on the key card. Once you make it to the room, you're pushing yourself up on your tip toes because, despite your sock covered feet, the ground is still horridly cold and you're hoping to get off it as soon as possible. Although, you find yourself unable to let yourself in once you find yourself standing in front of the door. You give it a good five minutes before you work up the nerve to finally pat the key card on the handle to allow yourself in the room. Once you've pushed open the door a crack, you're able to perceive a bed-side lamp turned on, and Sam leaning against his headboard next to it.

His head snaps up from his book at the sound of the door being pushed open, but he relaxes when he realizes it's you.

"Hey," he says softly. He's in the brown sweatshirt you were passing back and forth earlier, and he's weirdly still in a pair of jeans, but at this point you're used to seeing Sam and Dean wearing their jeans to bed.

"Hi," you respond back, even softer.

Sam likes to think he's pretty good at perceiving your body language, especially after knowing you for so long; so when he notices your trembling hands, your flushed cheeks, and your frantic eyes, he knows that you've had a nightmare.

He's not gonna ask why you're there since he knows why, so he only pats the side of the bed next to him and asks, "You wanna' join me?"

You're quick to nod your head and cross the room to join him, and it's only then when you're on the bed that you notice Dean isn't in the other one.

"Where's Dean?"

"Oh, he left to drive around. He's probably at a bar, or sleeping in the car somewhere." He says casually.

You hum, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Neither of us really could. He asked if I wanted to come with, but I didn't really feel like leavin'." Sam left out the fact he didn't want to leave you here alone, since he doesn't like leaving you anywhere by yourself. Dean doesn't either, but he doesn't get fussy over it like Sam sometimes does when you fight them on it.

"I can't either," you say quietly.

With some of your hair dangling in your face and your flushed cheeks, you look sort of delicate in Sam's eyes. You look sad, but when you look at him you have a gentle smile covering your lips, and when you look away your mouth curves downward again, only slightly, to where you might think he won't notice, but he does.

Sam's always stayed observant of you, even when you think you're the one who takes all the mental notes of him.

He reaches out, lifting the hand closest to you and letting his palm rest gently on top of your shoulder.

"You okay?" He almost looks like a puppy when he asks, and it's pitiful. For you mostly because he's cute, but why should he look like that when you feel like you're gonna start crying any minute.

You don't even want to answer because if your mouth opens you're either gonna say you're fine, or words describing the terrors you experienced in your sleep are going to come pouring out of your mouth and you won't be able to stop until you're a sobbing, pitiful mess and you could not handle being that way in front of Sam.

You couldn't.

But looking at him looking at you so fondly, it's like he's trying to tell you he'll comfort you the only way he knows how and he's gonna fix all your problems with a touch or two alone. Like the way he wants to hold you will melt all your fears into nothing and the way he wants to kiss you will make you forget any of it even happened. His eyes speak more than words could express in this moment and you don't even care if you seem desperate, or needy, or anything really. You allow yourself to fall forward into his awaiting arms, and when your head meets his chest, you can't help the first sob that escapes your lips.

You sound so tired, and the way that you're crying so harshly makes him feel like you're tearing yourself apart inside, like each breath is ripping off another piece of your heart.

"Honey..." he breathes out gently, wrapping his one arm around your neck and his other only comes up about half way so he can hold your head close to him under his chin. You've fallen completely into his side, your head against his chest and one leg practically in his lap, but he doesn't seem mind. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

You consider it for a moment; you probably would feel better opening up to him about the case you just worked, considering he was also there and knows how hard it was, but you also know opening up to Sam makes you feel close to him. Intimate almost. You’ve never been one to share your thoughts or feelings generously, and you think that must have just came with the messed up childhood, since Sam and Dean are pretty much the same way. But as the years went on, the boys got much better at opening up to you than you did them. Although, if there was anyone that could get you to talk, it was Sam.

Today, you decided, would not be one of those days.

You shake your head, "I'm okay, I'm okay. I'll be fine." You know by his soft sigh that he doesn't believe you, but luckily he doesn't push it. "Can we just stay like this for a little while?" You whisper shyly, despite knowing he wouldn't say no to you.

"Yeah," he strokes your hair softly, "Yeah, of course."

You lay comfortably against him as he slowly but surely calms you down, holding your head and rubbing your arm gently as you let out sad little sniffles. Once you've relaxed, you murmur something into his chest that he thinks might have been a thank you, but before he can ask you've already fallen asleep.

About an hour later after the two of you have fallen asleep, Dean unlocks the door and enters the room slightly shitfaced but more so tired. He freshens up in the bathroom so he doesn't wake up feeling even worse in a couple of hours, and he doesn't even notice you're there until he's trudging out of it, eyes wide and feet frozen to the floor as he takes in the image of you and Sam cuddled up to each other in Sam's bed. He manages to put his fist against his mouth just in time to cover up a surprised laugh, taking in the sight of his little brother in the same bed as their best friend.

"This is gold." Dean smiles mischievously, pulling his phone out of his pocket to capture the moment. "Just friends my ass." He mutters.

...

"Dean, if I have to hear you say that girl's name again one more time, I'm going to chop your head off. I don't care how good she was at su-"

"Alright, alright, let's quiet down shall' we?" Sam pats your shoulder and looks around the cafe to see if anyone heard you bickering with Dean about last night's one night stand. Dean laughs loudly as he lets himself into the corner booth that the three of you chose while you were walking in.

"What, you nervous someone's gonna hear us, Sammy?"

"It's 8 in the morning, Dean. Let's be a little respectful."

You hide your giggle, "Yeah, Dean."

Dean rolls his eyes, glancing at Sam as he ever so casually throws his arm over the back of the seat behind you, looking at the side of your face to see if you've taken notice. You're picking your nail, completely oblivious. He almost rolls his eyes again.

"Well," Dean straightens up, "Let's see what we have on the menu today."

"Don't act like you're not going to get the same exact thing you get every day," you comment, not even looking up from your nail.

"What's with the attitude, sweetheart? Didn't sleep well?" Sam's smile quickly turns to an annoyed frown as he makes eye contact with Dean, silently sending him daggers to keep his mouth shut.

You squint your eyes at him and open your mouth to come back with a retort, but the waitress walks up before you get the chance to say anything.

"Are y'all ready yet, or would you like a few minutes?" She asks kindly.

"Can we have a couple more minutes?" You say, since the three of you haven't even taken a look at the menu yet. She nods and retreats, leaving you alone with the boys once again. Sam and Dean grab their menus and you quickly realize there isn't a third, so you go to call the waitress back, but Sam nudges you just before you do.

"It's fine, just share mine." You huddle close next to him, resting your chin on your hand as you survey the food options as Sam does the same. He's so close his hair just so slightly grazes the skin of your cheek. Dean raises his eyebrows when he notices Sam's leg has started bouncing and he covers up his laugh with a cough just as he did last night, busying himself and acting clueless as the two of you look up at him.

"You alright?" You ask jokingly.

"Yup, totally fine. You guys ready yet?"

"Yep. How about you, Sammy?" He clears his throat and doesn't say anything, but he nods his head in response, which has you eyeing him weirdly. You choose to ignore it and let Sam order for you while you kick Dean under the table to stop being flirty with the nice waitress, and he only winks at you before he gives his order too.

When the waitress departs from your table, Dean lets his eyes follow her just for a second before he's turning back to the two of you, and he gets this questioning look on his face when he realizes the two of you are blankly glaring at him with the same narrowed eyes.

"What," he throws his hands up in defense, "I can't admire a good-looking woman?"

You and Sam glance at each other with a knowing glance right before you look back at Dean and say, "What's with you today? Why are you acting so..."

"Strange." Sam says. He leans forward on the table, "Why do you look like you're up to something?"

"Huh? Me?" Dean points to himself, "I'm not up to anything. I'm just being plain old me."

"Yeah, sure." You laugh him off and start a side conversation with Sam that has the two of you forgetting about Dean for the moment. Dean always knew Sam liked you; it's so obvious, at least to him. But he wishes he'd realized before how clearly obvious you are too. He doesn't know if he wants to throw up or throw a party.

...

A couple weeks later

"One or two rooms?" The lady asks.

"One please." Dean replies, handing the lady one of his debit cards that probably had some weird made up name on it. When Dean turns around with his debit card and the key in hand, you and Sam are looking at him weird like a couple of toddlers.

"Really? One room? Since when have we done that?" You questioned.

"Since you and Sammy boy over here started sharing a bed every night. I'm not gonna pay for two rooms when you don't use yours." Dean quickly catches on to how he's embarrassed the two of you so he adds, "and besides, I'd rather you stick with us anyway. Keep the team together." He pats your shoulder with a smirk and leaves the two of you behind. Sam spares a glance at your face and he's a bit surprised to find that you're just as taken aback as he is, but you don't say anything and you follow Dean rather quickly.

The three of you head back to the Impala to grab your bags before heading to the room, and when you go to take out yours, Sam slides in front of you and grabs his in one hand, and yours in the other.

"Sam." You say impassively.

"Yeah?"

"I am fully capable of grabbing my own bag."

"Oh I know. I'm just getting a quick work-out, since you know, your bag is like 50 pounds from all the clothes you carry.

"It is not, I barely bring anything with me!"

"You might be right, but if I may ask, how many of the shirts in here are actually mine?"

You pretend to think, "Um, probably like two. Maybe three."

A wide grin spreads across his face as he laughs at you, "Now you're lying! Half my wardrobe is in here!" Sam pushes the cracked door open with his behind and holds it open for you, standing to the side with his foot on the door. Dean's bag is at the end of his bed and he's already crashed on the bed nearest to the door.

"Hey, it's not my fault your clothes are more comfortable than mine! I don't know who decided that men deserve softer clothes."

"Well, in that case," he dropped the bags, "be my guest."

"Oh, how sweet. I like how you think you had any choice in the matter."

"Haha, very funny. Do you want the first shower?"

"You can take it, I had it the other night. Besides, I need to figure out which shirt I'm stealing tonight. I was thinking of the blue one, or actually, maybe the green-"

"Oh my god, I'm leaving." He rolls his eyes, but you can see the amused smirk on his face as he heads to the bathroom, and gently closes the door behind him. You giggle to yourself as you pull out his blue shirt from your bag and a pair of pants since it's a bit chillier tonight.

He's out of the shower pretty quick, and when he emerges from the steamy bathroom, you're next to Dean's bed whacking him repeatedly with a pillow.

"I told you to stop snoring!" You yell at him.

"Hmph, stop hitting me, crazy woman!" He mumbles sleepily at you. You stop hitting him when you notice Sam watching you, and he wants to laugh at how cute you look, like some kid who's got caught doing something they're not supposed to.

"What, he was bothering me."

He smiles, "I don't doubt it."

He doesn't realize that you froze mainly because he came out in a pair of sweats and no shirt, with his hair dripping wet and a towel around his shoulders. Dean peaks his eyes open and grumbles when he notices the way you're looking at him. You hear Dean, which breaks you out of your temporary trance.

You drop the pillow and give him a sheepish look, "I'm gonna- I'll take my shower now." You nod, promptly leaving the room after you grab the clothes you had set out on your bed. Sam watches you leave, more than a bit confused might he add, suspicious of the way your mood had suddenly changed. Once he hears the water running and the curtain pull back signifying you're in the shower, and can no longer hear him, he settles on the bed and asks Dean a question.

"What happened?"

"You happened, you idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. I'm sick and tired of watching you two pine after the other when you clearly love each other, so for gods sake- no, my sake, tell the girl you love her and get on with it!"

Sam's face is hysterical, and if Dean weren't so tired right now he'd be laughing, but he's exhausted in more ways than one, so all he can do is shut is eyes and hope his little brother makes a move on the girl who's been his practically since the day they met her.

"D-Dean... I can't just-"

"Yes you can, and you will." Dean finalizes. "At this point I'll just do it for you. It's unbearable." Sam huffs loudly, flopping back onto the bed.

He lays there and stares at the ceiling for awhile until he hears his brother's soft snores coming from the other side of the room; when he sits up and runs a hand through his hair, he hears the shower turn off and your light humming become more audible.

He takes a final deep breath just as you walk out of the bathroom with your hair combed nicely and your warm pajamas, perfectly ready for bed. Not exactly ready for your best friend to confess his undying love for you. He wants to crumble at the sight of your smile.

"You okay?" You ask gently. "You look a little pale."

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he waves you off, "When am I not fine?"

You laugh softly, "Do you want me to answer that?"

"Actually no." He gives a soft laugh of his own before his eyes land on his brother again, thinking over the words that were spoken to him just minutes prior to you walking out of that door. You were so near, so close to their conversation, and you have no idea. He can't help but think that maybe you'll be taken aback, shocked beyond belief, or traumatized enough to the point you yell at him and leave him for good. Or, maybe... possibly... there's a small chance you do feel the way that Dean says you feel, and in just a few moments the entirety of your relationship will change. Well, no matter what it'll change.

He just hopes it's what he feels it might be.

Sam's face snaps up to you quickly, like he's just had a sudden thought, and his eyes hold yours for a beat too long before he asks, "Can we go outside for a second?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." He gets up and takes long strides towards the door, you just a foot behind. He opens it and leaves it open for you to slide through, and he's standing there with his hands in his pockets facing away from you. You give him a questioning glance, but he doesn't see it.

"You have the key?" You query.

"Um..." he pulls out the card in his hand to make sure and you giggle at him, but he just nods, putting it back in his pocket, gulping strangely, "Yeah, I got it."

"Okay." You whisper softly, closing the door quietly behind you. You're silent for a moment, giving him a second to see if he'd speak first, but he doesn't. "You okay, Sammy?"

"I'm in love with you."

Not even a beat later, those words exit his mouth, and everything changes. The atmosphere that was once light, comfortable, and knowing, has shifted to one of fearful eyes, harsh breaths and unspeakable tension. His hands, once unafraid to grab hold of you, now remain glued to his side, flexing and itching to reach forward and touch your skin. His heart is beating so fast he feels like it's getting torn out; each individual piece of it being sliced and picked carefully from his chest as if he were on an operating table.

He can't tell if the look on your face is fear or shock. Probably both. But he doesn't know if it's good or bad and it's scaring him.

"Say something." He breathes out, with a drop of desperation.

Your mouth, hung open for a brief amount of time, now closes, and you gulp just like he did before he uttered those five little words.

"What did you say?" you murmur, looking like you just got pulled from space.

He repeats himself. "I'm in love with you."

You don't say anything again, but he continues.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to say that." He interrupts himself with a laugh, a scared, almost detached sounding laugh, but one nonetheless. You stare at him as he goes on. "For weeks I've had these moments where I look at you and all I can think about is telling you how I feel, but then some part of me ruins it and then I forget about it until you do something again that makes me want to say it again."

"Which, I swear is every two seconds because all you have to do is look at me with those eyes and all I want to do is grab your face and tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me and how I can't stand sleeping next to you one more night without you knowing that I can't sleep without you anymore. I need you by my side, tucking your head under mine. It's not that I can't because I could, but I don't ever want to again. I could live a hundred lifetimes, all of them with you in them, but if you weren't mine, if you were someone else's, I wouldn't dare live another."

When he notices the tear streaking down your face, he finally reaches forward to hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your own comes up from your side to grip tight onto the wrist that's holding your face, and he can tell that you've noticed he's shaking.

"Sam..." Your voice comes out unsure, "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure?" He questions you, giving you an incredulous look. "Sweetheart, I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

You're holding onto him so tight, he just knows what you're going to say next.

"I love you." You thought it would come out a whisper, but it sounds stronger than you expected. You close your eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Sam, I love you so much."

His smile is brighter than a thousand suns, and his forehead drops against yours, staying there as you breath the other in; this new confession bringing in a wind of fresh air that has you feeling like you've both earned a pair of new lungs.

"I thought you might say that." He utters quietly, making you laugh and hit his chest lightly.

"Oh, shut up. Then why were you so scared, dumbass."

"I was confessing my love for you, either way I'm gonna be nervous!"

You smile cheekily, "Your love for me..."

"Don't act like you didn't know." His other hand comes up to hold the other side of your face, tilting your head up more to see you clearly.

"Maybe. But I had my doubts too." You confess.

Sam shrugs, "Well, without Dean I probably wouldn't have said anything for another decade, so-"

Your mouth drops open, "You finally gained the courage because Dean forced you to?" Sam stays still as you gape at him, and he smiles nervously.

"Does it help if I was thinking about it first?"

"Oh my god." You groan dejectedly and drop your head forward onto his chest. He holds the back of your head as he shakes with laughter.

"Okay, okay, be mad at me, whatever. Am I getting my kiss now?"

"Who said you were gonna get one at all?"

"Don't mess with me."

"I wouldn't dare."

...

The next morning, Dean groggily peels his eyes open to the morning sunlight peeking out of the curtains, and grumbles, questioning the time. It's around 8 am, which surprises him because he would have expected you or Sam to have woken him by now. At the thought of you guys, he turns over and manages to find himself alone in the dingy motel room. The bed covers are torn from the top of the bed, more settled towards the end of it, showing that you guys obviously slept in it, but there's no sign you or Sam are even still here.

Suddenly, he hears the low growl of his Baby pulling up outside, making him swing his legs out of bed and trudge over to the door. He swings it open, getting ready to yell at the both of you for going anywhere without him, even if it was breakfast, but his eyes widen and his jaw drops at the sight he's seeing.

You and Sam are standing close together near the trunk, leaning against the side, but mostly the other. Sam's hand, that isn't holding the grocery bags, is holding your hip, and you're looking up at him with a mischievous look in your eye. Sam says something which conjures up a giggle out of you, which then has Sam smiling brightly at the sight of you. He leans down and kisses you straight on the lips, holding you there for a moment before he pulls away to catch his breath. Both of you stand there, unaware of Dean's eyes on you, but neither of you would even really care if you did.

Dean's shocked expression turns to one of accomplishment. He nods, satisfied, and smiles like his brother just did. He sighs.

"Kids."

[chlix]

baby, it's cold outside (no seriously it's crazy out there)

bf! chan x gn! reader: your car breaks down in a snowstorm and you have to walk home. chan is there to comfort you and warm you back up

pairing: chan x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 4.1k

warnings/tags: snowstorms, car trouble, sickness, a long series of unfortunate events that leave the reader miserable for most of the fic

a/n: this is a request from @caticorn61 who wanted chan being apologetic for not answering his phone after reader's car broke down. this is perhaps more than what u asked for 😅 but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

You are on a historic run of bad days.

You've never considered yourself to be particularly unlucky, but this past week has had you rethinking that orientation. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. On Monday your alarm didn't go off, making you late for work. Even worse, there was a meeting you'd forgotten about, so you had to slide awkwardly into the back of the room and pretend you didn't feel everyone's annoyed gazes. Tuesday was grocery shopping day, but you found out they discontinued your favorite brand of chips, and raised the price of an alternative, so you were forced to go home chip-less. Then, when you tried to take the groceries out of the car, one of the bags split open and sent your eggs, cheese, and blueberries crashing to the ground, buried in slush and snow. A total waste. Wednesday you woke up to find your heating had shut off in the night, and you were now shaking fit to break apart. Although maintenance promptly fixed your radiator, you developed an itch in your throat that only grew throughout the day and had developed into a full-blown cough by the next morning.

Which is where you are now on a subzero Thursday morning, ill and irritated and crawling your way towards the end of the week.

Your boyfriend, Chan, talks to you on the phone in soothing tones.

"I'm sorry your week has been so rough, baby," he says, and you can hear the dripping sympathy through the phone. "I know how it feels when little things pile up like that."

"I just don't know if I can take it anymore," you tell him. "It's like I've been cursed. I'm afraid if I walk outside a piano will fall on me and crush me."

You're half-joking when you say that, but Chan can hear that the other half is vaguely on hysterical.

"I don't think anyone is moving pianos in this weather," he says very reasonably. "Just stay away from luxury apartments if you're worried."

You set your bag down and put your face in your hands, taking slow, deep breaths. Your phone is on speaker, and you can hear Chan hum, trying to comfort you even though he's in his own dorm across the city.

"It'll all be okay, Y/n. And I'll see you this weekend, yeah? I'll come over Friday night and you'll have me all to yourself. Just stay strong."

You exhale, long and loud. "You promise?"

"I promise. Be strong for me, babygirl."

You blink the dampness out of your eyes and straighten up. "Okay. I can do that."

"And drink some tea. Your voice sounds kind of rough."

"Don't get me started again, please."

By the time you hang up, you don't feel understood, but you do feel seen. You fill up a thermos with tea, put on your coat, and mentally prepare yourself to leave the apartment.

It's only two more days, you remind yourself. The weekend will fix me. It'll break this curse that's been placed upon me. You force yourself to have a positive outlook. You will not have another bad day. You will be strong.

All day, you force yourself to react to every potentially meltdown-inducing incident with grace and poise. You realize you forgot your lunch and have to eat cheap candy from the vending machine for lunch? That's totally fine. Your boss adds another item to your to list, forcing you to stay later to finish everything and close up? You really don't mind. Your best friend texts you that she's been stalking her ex on Instagram again and you won't believe it but he already has a new girlfriend, y/n, can you fucking believe it, we've only been broken up for like two weeks and he's buying her fucking jewelry, and you respond what an asshole. he has a new gf and he didn't block his ex? while your eye twitches.

By the time you finish all your tasks and close up, your face hurts from holding a smile you don't feel. You're the last one out, so you make sure the building is locked and make your way across the empty parking lot to your car. The forecast predicted snow tonight, and already the ground is littered with white. The flakes are fat and sticky- they're already building up on the undisturbed portions of pavement. You have to quickly brush off your windows and mirrors before you can get into your car, slamming the door behind you.

You made it. You survived. It was a godawful Thursday but you conquered it.

"One more day," you whisper to yourself. "Just one more day."

You lock the door and put the key in the ignition. The dashboard lights up and the engine turns.....and turns....and turns.....

A rock forms in your stomach.

"No," you say. "No no no no no." You twist the key again, but the engine whirs and whirs and whirs...and does not turn over. Your car does not start.

It's not news to you that your car is a piece of shit. You and Chan discuss this almost every night- what to do about this fuckass car. You've been resistant to letting him help you pay for a new one, partially because that's a lot of money and partly because you're sentimentally attached to the old rustbucket. You inherited it from a family member as a birthday gift, and so despite it being less than reliable you're hesitant to seek solutions. It's your first car, after all. It's a part of you now.

In this moment, however, you want to throw all that sentimentally down the drain along with the keys to this absolutely useless fucking rustbucket of a vehicle.

Not to worry, you tell yourself. I'll just call Chan to come get me. We can deal with my car in the morning.

You take out your phone and call him. The call rings out.

You stare at your phone, confused. It's not like him to ignore your calls, especially not at this hour. It's pitch black with winter but it's still arguably early in the night. Chan is likely to still be awake, but it's unlikely he's doing any kind of official task. And it's so late that he would know to answer; you would never call him for something frivolous at this time of night. You call again.

No answer.

Your patience is running thin now. You consider calling your best friend, but she's out of town visiting family. Your other friend, Seohyeon, doesn't have a car, and her boyfriend's car is currently being repaired. The bus you sometimes take is about a fifteen minute walk down the street, but it'll have stopped running this far out by now, so you'd have to walk to a further bus stop and then go to the transportation terminal and connect, which would take over an hour. You could walk to the subway, you think, but you lost your subway card weeks ago and never got around to replacing it, and honestly it just seems like a whole ordeal you can't bring yourself to stomach right now. Chills go down your spine, and you can't tell if it's from the cold or from the increasing precarity of your situation.

You try the engine again. No dice.

You call Chan again. Voicemail again.

You lean your head on the steering wheel and take long, deep breaths. Outside your window, the wind is picking up, making the snow fall at a diagonal instead of straight down. It would be terrible to walk in, especially because the direction you need to go to get home would cause the snow to blow right in your face. Your throat is killing you, but your thermos of tea is long since empty. Maybe you should just go back into the work building and hunker down for the night. Maybe you should sit in the car and turn into an icicle. Your head is a foggy mess, thoughts twisting all around. You're getting hysterical again. You can feel yourself cracking to pieces.

Think, y/n. Who else can you call?

You're all out of people you know personally, but you could call an Uber. It's pricey and arguably unsafe, and you normally wouldn't, but these are extenuating circumstances. It solves the problem of being stranded, and again, you can deal with your car at a later point. And at least when Chan finally calls you back, you'll be safe at home, so he won't have to feel guilty about missing your calls three times.

You lean back in your seat and open the Uber app. Thankfully you still have it installed, and it still has all your info in it from the last time you called someone to take you home. Just as you're about to finish the transaction, your phone freezes. The screen flashes, then goes dark. You press the power button once, then again, frantically.

Your phone is dead.

Immediately, you scramble for your console, searching for a power cable to connect the phone to the car battery. Your cable is gone. You remember, horrified, that you took the cable out of your car because the one in your living room at home had started fraying. You meant to replace it but you never did. You're normally pretty good at leaving the house in the morning with it mostly charged.

But it's nighttime now, and your battery is dead. You have no charging cables, which means you can't call an Uber. You can't call anybody. And you can't even go to the subway now because your debit card is on your phone, so you can't refill your subway card.

A terrible despair fills you.

You have to walk home in a snowstorm.

As soon as the thought materializes, tears start to well in your eyes. This is too much for you to take, would be too much for you even if you'd had a perfectly good day today. This isn't fait. How can this be happening to you? Why is the universe punishing you like this? And when is it going to stop? Again you wish you could just sit in your car and turn into an icicle, let someone else defrost you in the morning. You think having a piano fall on your head would be better than this.

Eventually you manage to get yourself to calm down. Sitting in this car freezing isn't gonna do you any good. It'll only get colder by the hour. You need to walk to the far bus stop and catch another bus before they actually stop running, and you really are stranded instead of just doomed to walk forty minutes in a blizzard.

As if there's a difference, you think bitterly as you put your useless phone into your bag and bundle everything up. You put your gloves back on, and your hat. You step out of your car, slamming the door behind you, and zip up your jacket. Of course, you hadn't thought to wear a scarf today, so your face will just have to freeze. After only 30 seconds you feel your lips cracking.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay okay okay okay."

You set off in the direction of the bus.

-/-

The journey is long and cold. It's not so much the temperature as the fact that you never have the chance to get used to it because it just keeps getting holder as the night wears on. It takes a ridiculously long time to walk to the bus stop, because you're fighting headwind every step of the way. You want to close your eyes against the snow, but if you do that you'll veer off course or fall into the road or trip on an ice slick and die, so you brave the stinging and push forward. Then you wait at the bus stop so long that your already sore feet start to scream with pain. Your phone is dead, so there's no way for you to track the bus, but you conclude you must have just missed the previous one as it takes a full thirty minutes for it to come again. By the time the bus pulls up in front of you, your feet are almost buried, and when you take your seat, every part of you squelches and slides as the snow melts, drenching your clothes.

The bus is at least warm, and so is the transport center, but the second bus drops you off another twenty-five minute walk from your apartment and you're forced to walk- you guessed it!- uphill. Your calves are screaming from the exertion, and from cold, and from keeping your balance as you trudge through the piling snow. You have a death grip on your keys- if they were to fall out somewhere between work and home you would simply lie down on the ground and let the snow bury you. It would be more than you could take. But your keys stay in your tightly clenched fists, and soon your apartment building becomes visible through the dark and haze. You want to cry tears of relief but your tear ducts are frozen shut.

By the time you traipse up the steps of your apartment, you feel more popsicle than person. You are so cold. Your hands shake so much it takes you a few tries to get the keys from your pocket and stick them in the lock. You step inside, sagging as the heat blasts you in the face. All you want to do is collapse into bed and curl under your blankets where the world can't see you, to get a little bit of sleep before your torture begins anew tomorrow. The thought of going to work on Friday strikes a physical pain in you. You've barely survived today, and yet tomorrow looms terrible just out of reach.

You go to turn on the lights only to realize that the lights are already on. Your heart skips a beat. Did someone break into your apartment? Should you turn around and flee? But you don't have a car, and you certainly aren't walking back to the bus stop. You have nowhere to go.

A figure turns the corner and you flinch back, hands half-raised in some pathetic attempt to defend yourself-

It's Chan. He turns the corner and it's your boyfriend, standing on your tile floor in sweats and a big sweater, eyes bright and twinkling with how excited he is to see you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Chan says. "You're finally back. I saw you called earlier and got worried something was wrong."

You burst into tears. You're crying before you even know it, violent sobs that shake you and make water droplets roll off your soaked hair. Salt burns your frozen tear ducts, and snow is slipping down your collar, but all these small discomforts are overshadowed by the pure and all-consuming relief that your boyfriend is here in the flesh, asking after you and taking care of you, and you can finally stop fighting to keep it together. You can rest.

Chan makes a sound of alarm and rushes forward to grab you as you start to list.

"Baby? Hey, hey, what's wrong? Christ, you look terrible. Are you sick?" He tries to put his hand against your forehead but pulls it away just as fast. "You're cold as ice, y/n."

"I w-walked home," you try to explain. Your tongue is thick in your mouth, and it's hard to get enough air to speak through your sobs. "Car broke down, phone died, b-bus was late."

"Fuck, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry. That sounds terrible."

His validation of your misery just makes you cry harder. Chan pulls you into a fierce hug and you bury your face in his shoulder and absolutely lose it. All the stress of the last week crashes down on you at once, your misery overwhelming you. You grab at his clothes with gloved hands, and there's about four layers of clothes between you, and it's not enough, you want to be closer. But at the same time you can't make yourself pull away from Chan's embrace. He whispers soothing words in your ear, rocks you back and forth, presses closed mouth kisses to any part of you he can reach. He doesn't shush you, or try to calm you down. He just lets you have the emotional release he knows you sorely need.

When your cries start to slow, he gives you one final squeeze to catch your attention, and whispers, "We need to get you out of these clothes, hmm? Does that sound okay?"

You swallow the last of your sobs and nod morosely.

"Okay then. Let's take your jacket off. It's soaking wet by now."

You step back from Chan, still holding on to his arm as you stumble and sway. You're so tired. Standing up for even a second longer is too big of an ask.

"Just lean on me. It's okay, I won't let you fall."

Together, you unfasten and take off your heavy winter coat, letting it fall to the floor with the slush you dragged in. Chan is the one who crouches down to untie your shoes, and you lean on him for support as you remove one foot, then the other.

"Good job," he praises, pressing a kiss to your snow-soaked hair. "Let's get you warmed up now."

He leads you to the bathroom and starts the water running in the tub. You listlessly undress, leaning on the counter for support when you need it. While the tub is filling, Chan tries to leave, but you catch him by the shoulder on his way past you, stopping him in his tracks.

"Stay?"

"Of course I'll stay," he says. "I just want to get you a change of clothes."

You hesitantly let go of him, and he flashes you a reassuring smile before he slips out. You sit down on the toilet and wait patiently for his return, watching the water fill the tub slowly and feeling your thoughts move sluggishly in your brain.

The sound of the water stopping jolts you back to the present. Chan is back, in a regular t-shirt this time, leaning over the bathtub to make sure the water is the right temperature. Deeming it good enough, he turns back to you and stretches out a hand to you.

As soon as you sit down in the warm water, you feel about ten times better. The warmth unties some of the tension that coils your muscles, and it quells the shivering that had started up as you were sitting on the toilet waiting to be told what to do. Chan urges you to slide down so you're almost submerged, making sure almost all your body is enveloped in warmth, and starts dumping warm water over your head, soaking your hair and washing out the remnants of grime and slush. He's quiet as he does it, humming a low tune, and you close your eyes and let him do as he wants. When he's done, he taps your shoulder, and you sit up, mourning the loss of warmth as your back and chest are exposed to the bathroom air.

"Do you mind?" he asks. You shake his head, uncaring of what he's referring to. You'd let him do anything to you in this state. It turns out "anything" means washing your back, so you again sit still and let him do as he pleases. The pressure of his hands and the sound of his voice, still humming, gradually soothe your mind and body. You stop shivering and tune back into your surroundings.

He's subtly watching your face, so he sees when you come back to yourself and drops his neutral expression. "Back with me?"

You nod. The floaty feelings from being cold and hysterical are gone, but that just means the exhaustion of your day is hitting you full force. You hold out your hand for the washcloth so you can clean the rest of yourself, and he hands it over, but doesn't move to leave, which you appreciate. Now that you're calmer, you think you might be a little more embarrassed asking him to stay.

"I know you said this morning you were cursed, but I didn't think you meant literally," he tries to joke.

You let out a long breath. "I didn't think I meant literally either."

"Wanna talk about it?"

You shrug as you rub the washcloth along your legs, wincing when you remove your still-freezing toes from the water. "What can I say? It was a shit day at work with a shit ending."

"You said your car broke down."

You squeeze your eyes shut. You are not in the mood for this argument. "It just wouldn't start. I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Y/n..." He doesn't say anything more. He knows as well as you do that you'll get nowhere. It's enough to set you off though, now that your exhaustion is making you irritatble.

"It wouldn't have mattered either way if you'd picked up the phone when I called you," you snap. It's unfair and you know it, but before you can begin to feel remorse, Chan's face turns to one of guilt.

"I know, I'm sorry. I still had it silenced from work and didn't realize. When I saw that you called me I tried to call back but the calls didn't go through."

"My phone died. That's why I didn't call an Uber."

Chan shakes his head. "I would call this comical if it wasn't so clearly stressing you out."

"You can still call it comical. Just not within earshot."

"Surely you think better of me than that."

"I do," you say, completely serious. "Sorry. I'm not mad you didn't answer. It's just been a shitty day."

Chan squeezes your shoulder in understanding. "It's alright. I get it."

"I'm really grateful you're here," you say, and you're getting choked up again, emotions all out of whack. "I've never been so happy to see anyone."

"You called three times. Since I couldn't get a hold of you, I hoped you'd still come home and we could talk here."

"You're too good to me."

"I'm exactly as good as you deserve." He leans down to kiss you, long and loving and warm, and the last of the chill in your bones slides away.

-/-

The next morning, Chan calls you in sick before you even wake up. He has to leave for the morning, but comes back around noon with ingredients to make you soup and tea, and rouses you for lunch with all the care and gentleness in the world.  He curls next to you in bed despite your protests that you'll get him sick, but then, it's not like you protest that hard. You're still feverish and needy, and maybe it's not the most ridiculous thing in the world to want to lie in your boyfriend's arms as you recover from what you're pretty sure is mild hypothermia mixed with the flu.

"We were gonna hang out this weekend," you say morosely. "Now I'm trapped in this bed and you're stuck taking care of me."

"Taking care of you is my favorite form of hanging out," he informs you, cleaning away the mug and bowl to bring back to the kitchen. "And hanging up the phone on your boss is my favorite passtime."

"You did not hang up on them," you gasp, hand over your mouth.

Chan shrugs, unbothered. "They seemed a little too annoyed about my request to not tow your car out of the parking lot. I made it very clear that it better be there when you get back on Monday or else."

"So selfless. You could've let them tow it and finally been victorious."

He turns from the kitchen and sits back down on the bed. "You like that car. I'm not going to keep insisting you get rid of it when it means so much to you. Even if I do blame it for the events of yesterday." You glare and he puts his hands up defensively. "If it's not my fault or your fault then I have to blame the car. Sorry not sorry."

"Blame the cursed spirit following me around," you say, sinking miserably into the blankets. "It possessed the engine of my car just to torment me."

"Even more reason to get rid of it."

You're feverish and tired, but the conversation makes you smile nonetheless. "Ask me again when my fever breaks if you still think I should keep it. Maybe it'll burn away the sentimental attachment."

"Don't get my hopes up."

You close your eyes as Chan kisses your forehead, and you slide easily into pleasant dreams.