#and thank god for the second hand market existing

[revynation]

I like Juste Belmont a lot

[hachiane]

things that are not talked about enough in Love and Deepspace pt. 2

thanks to comments on part one and perusing LADS Reddit and Youtube, here are more ttantaeilads part 2 Wanderer Bugaloo: a reminder that these are canon in the LADS universe:

Despite being big eaters, Sylus and Xavier don’t like wasabi

Zayne is a kaomoji enjoyer

According to Sylus, Mephisto is not 100% waterproof

Sea God Rafayel kicks MC off a cliff

Glowing singing toy handcuffs exist in Linkon

Xavier once waited for rice to grow

In addition to sleeping sitting up, Sylus is also a stomach sleeper, or he became one after meeting MC

MC has also said she sleeps on her stomach when she's tired after missions

Rafayel stepped out of the bathtub, slipped on a paintbrush, sprained his ankle and checked himself into the highest ward in the hospital

According to Zayne, if you wear a black tie and white shirt, you will resemble 85% of him

Sylus got a money tree stolen from him

Zayne accidentally buys a water tank instead of a cup

Sylus, the type of person to hold anything you give him while he’s on a call

Hotpot flavoured desserts exist in Linkon

Xavier owns a star-shaped wand seasoning shaker

Rabbits were once set loose in a hospital

MC gets stalked on two occasions

"okay but like we can just stand there and look smoking hot" is a line Rafayel commented once

MC turns a warped vinyl record into a fruit plate

Xavier will fight your boss

Zayne is good at snowboarding

MC once caught a lobster while surfing

Sylus almost dies in the desert

Xavier leaves a plant unattended that it grew roots to cover his floor

MC is good at origami and sometimes teaches it to the kids at Akso Hospital

Artsy Birb is a second grader

Zayne's nickname at a restaurant "Two Seasonal Specials Dine-in"

A version of Monopoly exists in Linkon

Xavier’s status “After slaying the Wanderers, the bread in the microwave is straight fire”

Rafayel and the way he names his fish friends: 001, 002 and 886

Lil S Pet Store almost came to be

A steakhouse in Linkon serves steak that has one-third of it cooked and calls it medium-rare

Sylus uses an ammo box as a grill – it failed

The two squirrels that frequently visit Akso Hospital are named after medication

Sylus prefers sour salad dressings

Or he likes sour things in general; he made a salad with green apples

Xavier accidentally gets hired for handing out flyers and selling flowers on the street

MC cannot handle horror movies or horror-themed escape rooms

Immersive experiences as part of marketing efforts are so immersive that it puts users into day-long walking expeditions, causes breathing problems and real body injuries, but are okayed in Linkon

Xavier and MC snoop on people near their apartment block and text each other about it

Despite being a doctor, Zayne will dodge medicine for hot cocoa when he has a flu

Rafayel replying to MC's comment: "okie dokie artichokie"

Dragon Sylus's torn pants stay up despite not having a waistband or belt

Bunbun has legs

Xavier and his too many diplomas

Sylus uses the word "fugly"

Zayne uses the word "angsty"

Rafayel has a bathtub next to a couch in his living room

Zayne is some level of bilingual

Sylus recommends a series of hard spirits as a dinner option

Despite being a doctor, Zayne (attempts to) dodge a dentist's medical advice

Wasabi Octopus's legs smell like mustard

edited on 25.12.24 for accuracy

[hannieehaee]

Hehe hi luna! 🥺🫶 may i request birthday sex w chan except its his fake childrens day birthday and he finds it hilarious that you're taking it so seriously when actually you just want an excuse to spoil him for (another) day? 💕💕

18+ / mdi

content: birthday!chan, established relationship implied, lots of banter, (it's not actually his birthday!!) afab reader, smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, etc.

wc: 1538

a/n: im convinced this would actually happen in real life lol

masterlist

"god, you too?", chan laughed incredulously as soon as he stepped foot into your shared apartment, surprised at the sight but not really.

he should've known that the joke would make its way to you eventually.

"what? can't celebrate my boyfriend's birthday?", you pouted mockingly as you held out the small birthday cake out to him.

behind you stood a few birthday decorations you'd bought behind chan's back a few days back – dinosaur themed, of course.

looking at all the decorations clearly marketed towards children, chan chuckled again, walking up to you and staring you down as he attempted not to smile. unfortunately, the situation was too ridiculous for him to put his acting skills to use.

"you're the bane of my existence," he said once he was in front of you as you lifted up the cake in a silent gesture for him to blow out the singular candle.

"make a wish?", you ignored him.

sighing, he leaned down to follow your instruction, closing his eyes and taking a second to hum as he thought of a wish. blowing out the candle, he then straightened his back and gave you a forced smile (which barely hid the very real smile on his lips).

"happy?"

"very," you grinned, "what was your wish?", you asked as you put the cake down on the table nearby, now heading to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

instinctively, his hands glued themselves around your waist, pulling you in close, "for my girlfriend to stop bullying me."

"dude, that was a trick question! you're not supposed to tell me. everyone knows that. now your wish won't come true!", you gaped at him, mocking him with every word.

groaning, he buried his face in your neck, defiantly giving the empty skin of your shoulder a tiny bite.

you yelped, complaining at the sudden attack, "ah! i prepare you a birthday party and this is how you repay me?"

"what good do i get out of your mockery, baby?"

nudging him away from your shoulder, you gave him a suggestive look, "well, you know what comes with every birthday, right?"

"hmm", he pondered, "what might that be?"

you leaned up close, lips by his ear, "birthday sex?"

"oh ...", he breathed out, hands tightening on your waist, "is that so?"

with a bite to your lip, you nodded, separating yourself from him and walking yourself back to your bedroom, eyes glued to his own, "wanna come unwrap your present?", you asked before turning around and charging into the room.

nodding, he followed after you, catching up to you as he held you in his arms, practically tackling you. the act was followed by a heavy kiss as his hands wrapped around you once more, feeling you up through your clothes. your hands were equally needy as they ran through his hair, softly pulling in the way you knew he liked.

"you bully me a lot for someone who wants me this badly," he bantered into your lips.

"'bully'? is that how you thank your girlfriend for caring about your birthday?", you just were not letting go of the joke.

despite how silly the whole situation was, chan couldn't find it in himself to feel any type of real frustration. your dedication made him too fond (and surprisingly, a little horny), causing him to simply chuckle against your lips while his hands attempted to rid you of your clothes.

your newfound almost-nudity proved to be a bigger challenge than dealing with your teasing, as you now stood in front of chan with one of the prettiest sets of lingerie he'd ever seen.

"like your gift, baby?" you grinned at him, disconnecting from him and walking yourself back to the bed, sitting down as you presented your body to him.

any thoughts of a stupid birthday joke left his mind as he zeroed in on your body, breath now heavy at the sight.

"yeah," he went along with it, "best birthday gift ever," his words did not meet his eyes, as they showed lust that could not be portrayed through speech.

he threw off his clothing as he made his way to you, stumbling as he removed his shoes but determined nonetheless. finally reaching you, he pushed you back on the bed, crawling over you as his hands got their fill of your body.

"do i get to fuck you, baby? or are you gonna do it since it's my day?", he murmured into your neck, drinking in any pretty sigh you let out at his kisses.

"the birthday boy gets to decide," you breathed when his lips made their way to your tits, suckling at your nipples through the thin bralette you were wearing.

"mind if i rip my present, pretty?" his hands were itching to get you as naked as he was.

"you didn't like it?", you pouted mockingly, knowing that was absolutely not the case.

"i'll fuck you with it on, i don't care," he was serious too.

opting to hastily remove it instead, he went to reach for a condom from the bedside table, only to be halted by you.

"doesn't the birthday boy want to fuck me raw?", you looked up at him expectantly.

huh?

"baby?", he gulped.

"happy birthday?", you smiled at him, pulling him down for another kiss.

he practically growled against your lips, "happy birthday to me," he sighed before beginning to sloppily align himself to your cunt, refusing to disconnect your lips.

a groan vibrated into your open mouth when he finally entered you, breathing out praise as you sucked at his tongue.

he grew desperate quite quickly, falling in love with the feeling of your bare cunt within seconds. chan was sure this was the most unfiltered pleasure he had ever felt. your walls were too warm for him to process, making him entirely too lightheaded to even comprehend how good he was feeling.

the thought of your first time giving it to him raw being part of a lamely orchestrated joke crossed his mind for a mere second, but it didnt distract him from pounding into you with every ounce of desire imbedded in his body. he couldnt comprehend how good you were to him – how pretty and funny and perfect and just tailored to him you were.

making up an entire ruse of his fake birthday just to mess with him, luring him back into your room and then presenting your bare cunt to him ... yeah, he needed to marry you asap.

rocking his hips into your own, his hands held onto the back of your thighs for dear life, holding them up to get the optimal angle that allowed him to hit that spongy spot inside of you that he knew drove you crazy. the pretty whines of his name were just another reason as to why chan felt the sudden need to head to the nearest jewelry store and ransack them of the largest ring they had to offer.

"feel so fucking good ... fuck, i- pretty cunt keeps sucking me in," he moaned out into your lips.

the kiss wasn't even a kiss anymore. it was a disgusting mess of tongues sucking at each other while teeth clanked every once in a while. but it was a nastiness that chan lived for.

"channie ... fuck, need you to cum. need my pretty birthday boy to cum," you murmured as he sucked at your tongue, making it all the harder for you to let out a single sentence.

you knew his body too well. it was far too easy for you to spot his orgasm coming. luckily for him, he knew you even better, aware that yours was likely around the corner.

not wanting to risk cumming before you (which was very likely considering the gorgeous cunt warming up his cock at the moment), his hand slipped between you to flick at your clit, swallowing every pretty moan breathed out against his lips.

"where? where can i cum, pretty? hmm? need- need you to tell me where," he knew he was being obvious about his unspoken desire to cum in you, but he wanted a full-pledged confirmation that you wanted him to finish inside you – that and also a depraved need to hear you beg to be filled up.

"inside, channie ... you know- you know i want it inside. need you to fill me up," you whined, nails scratching at his back.

"gonna film you up ..." he promised, "gonna have you dripping for me, okay?"

only moments later and he found himself emptying all of him inside you as he gasped into your mouth, only to begin crying out against you when your cunt suddenly tightened with your own orgasm.

humping against you, he lost himself in the pleasure while his orgasm subsided along with yours. pretty sighs of his name filled his ears, making him murmur praise against your own.

finally falling limp against you, he lazily flipped you over so half your body would lay atop his own whilst he ran his hands softly up and down your back.

"did you like your birthday present?" you asked. he could feel your dumb smile against his chest.

chuckling, he gave up, "fucking love my birthday."

[heavenbarnes]

okay hear me out— softness and gentle topics aside, how would older bf!simon go about discussing his mom & Tommy? would it ever occur? Would it be a vulnerable and gentle discussion with sins laid on the table or would it be like pulling teeth— panic attack arises and the words are spewing.

at first I’d have headcanoned it that maybe we innocently question the clinginess but I’m not so sure anymore; feels like that would just be second nature for the two.

i’ve never ventured into this topic because it’s literally so devastating that i almost considered writing it out of canon for him- but it’s time 🫶🏼 (massive tw for family loss)

the day older bf!simon tells you about his family, it’s at breakfast.

he’d made the food and you’d made the coffee, both expertly passing each other in your kitchen until you’d settled at the table.

when he told you, you had toast hanging out your mouth.

“pardon?”

“i had a family”

you weren’t really talking about anything in particular, so you made quick mental work of skimming over your conversation until you found where this was coming from.

sunny outside, nice day, should go to the farmers market, get groceries, it’ll be crowded, family day-

i had a family

had.

oh.

your heart had start to speed up in your chest and part of you was scared simon’s military precision hearing would be able to tell.

judging by the look on his face, distant, quiet- he couldn’t hear the thrumming against your sternum.

you were thankful, it meant he kept speaking.

“my mum and my brother, tommy- he had a missus too and a kid”

had.

oh god.

he wouldn’t look at you, his gaze drifted out the window and onto the birds that were floating over the fruit tree in the backyard.

you couldn’t say there was much of you to look at, a hardline of your mouth and eyes that were willing themselves not to water.

“they weren’t in a good way- but i helped them get better”

the corners of your lips quirked reflexively but it fell away just as quickly, unable to escape the voice in the back of your head that kept saying the same thing.

had.

why is every thing in the past tense?

probably for the same reason this is the first time you’re hearing this story. when is the right time to get to this part?

the moment he cuts the rope, lets you down from where he’s had you hanging- you wish you could react in any other way.

instead, your mouth hangs open while your hand does its best to cover it.

the toast goes cold, so does the coffee.

the tears break through of their own accord.

and he still won’t look at you.

“oh, simon”

your mind races in a way you’ve never felt before, thoughts you’d never had before rising to the surface.

first, you want to hurt someone, anyone- whoever you can blame for doing this to simon.

(you quickly realise he’s probably already done that)

second, you want to take him by the shoulders and tell him that this was never his fault.

that there was nothing he did or could’ve done to deserve this.

and you’re sure that there’s layers to his job and things he’s done and seen that’d make him think that cannot be true.

but you don’t care- there is no human alive that could ever deserve what you’ve just been told.

you don’t care.

you love him.

third, you start to make sense of some of simon’s behaviours.

the way he calls your name when you’re at the other end of the house, just to know where you are.

the way you can turn around at any given moment and find him closer than your shadow.

the way he calls you on deployment only to hear you tell him you love him and you’re still home waiting.

the way he cannot exist without a hand on you, without knowing where you are, without knowing you’re still his.

and there you go again, wanting to hurt whoever put him in this position.

grateful to be able to love him how he needs but angry- blind rage in knowing what he went through to get to this point.

it’s why you’re out of your seat and wrapping your arms around his shoulders the minute you hear even a sniff.

you let him ruin your shirt with tears as strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you so close into him you wouldn’t be at all surprised if the particles shifted just enough for you to become one.

as if you weren’t already.

you’d never, never ever, questioned simon’s ever present need to be close. you’d come to accept it, enjoy it, miss it when he was gone.

it was never overbearing, never out of line, always right when you needed it.

reminding you that he was there.

that he loved you.

that he needed you.

just as much as you needed him.

and god, did he need to be needed.

did he need you to pass him the pickle jar (even when you could open it just fine)

did he need you to make him take the rubbish out (when you could do it yourself)

did he need you to call him when the car was making a funny sound (when you knew it was the fan belt)

did you need him to pull you into his lap at the end of a long day and rest his lips against the crown of your head as he rubbed slow circles into your back.

like you were doing for him now.

“simon, i just need you to know- i’m not going anywhere”

you made it to the farmer’s market, eventually. it was crowded, meaning simon’s arm never let your waist.

not that you mind.

not that you ever mind.

[makethatelevenrings]

O Me! O Life! // J.Todd x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: scars, non-sexual nudity, mention of what the Joker did to Jason

Summary: He hates the scars on his back and avoids seeing them any chance he gets. He slips up one day, but you’re there to assure him.

* - denotes lines from O Me! O Life! by Walt Whitman (my fave poem thank u for asking)

The thing about scars is that it’s easy to forget that they’re there sometimes. The raised white pucker along his jaw from a knife disappeared under his five o’clock shadow. The pinched circles of healed bullet holes changed shape when he flexed. But these scars…there was no mistaking it.

Ugly gouges only healed by the Lazarus pit marred his back. He hated looking at them the few times he turned his head when his back was to the mirror. It was as if he was back in that fucking werehouse with the fucking clown and that fucking crowbar.

Today was one of those days where the Gotham humidity felt like a fucking wet blanket smacking you in the face the second you stepped out the door. Sweat practically draped his shirt along his skin as he went for a morning run and by god, the only thing he wanted to do when he got home was take a shower.

You were still spread out under the thin cotton top sheet and even that was almost unbearable in the summer heat. You offered him a smile lined with the lingering sleep that clung to your mind. Jason made sure to swing by and press a kiss to your temple as your hand loosely curled at the collar of his shirt but he pulled away before you could convince him back into bed.

“Gotta shower, sweets,” he murmured as he extracted himself from your grip and made his way into the bathroom.

“Wow, without even giving me a show?” you called behind him. He snorted in response and his shirt landed on the growing pile of laundry on the floor across from the bathroom door. You booed and he sighed but stepped out from behind the door frame. His shorts hung low on his hips, revealing the cut of his abs as they descended behind the band of rayon. You waved your hand to tell him to continue and he rolled his eyes, but a smile grew on his lips as he pushed his shorts down.

“Once more, pretty boy,” you cooed. He tugged off his boxers and raised his arms to the side and spun in a circle like he was giving you a fashion show. You burst into laughter but your laughter faded when you saw his face fall.

His eyes were locked on his reflection in the full length mirror propped up against the wall. He trailed his gaze along the harsh stripes of mottled flesh that stood out against his tan skin. You slipped out from under the sheet and made your way across the room to press up against his chest. One of your hands came up to rest on his bicep and the other wound its way behind his back to start to trace along the lines and scars.

“Lover,” you whispered. “These are signs that you survived.”

A shuddering breath escaped him and you turned to look into the mirror, your motions following you in the silvery reflection. Your finger drew hearts, circles, and words along his skin. Praises, promises, sweet nothings created an invisible diary of your devotion to him and you pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse*,” you whispered. “You are here. Life exists. You may contribute a verse. You are here. Say it.”

“I am here,” he croaked out. “I exist. Life exists.”

“You are here. With me. In our home.”

The home with plants and cats and Wonder Woman curtains. The home with mismatched plates found at thrift shops and dollar stores. The home with his gun safe next to the stack of unread books that the two of you have been pointedly ignoring. The home with the walk to the bodega for breakfast sandwiches and the farmer’s market tucked away at a local park.

He was here. With you. Life exists.

He curled his arms around your waist, delicate and tentative as though he would destroy you with a simple touch, and you leaned into it. You welcomed him with soft caresses and careful kisses and he melted into the arms of the person he loved. He was here. Life exists.

Tag List: @mcrmarvelloki​ @gone-batty-fics​ @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @kat-nee​ @khaylin27​

[contents404]

First of all, to my knowledge representations and cross/in-game continuity can co-exist. Especially when we get the codex of sexuality in Thedas since DAO. Representation and good writing can definitely co-exist. There are a handful well writing queer content out there to prove that. If anyone tell you those can’t co-exist they are lying, also skill issues. If I see anyone blame queer want representations ruined the game, or game bros are angry because of so many representations I might just blow myself up.

Second, if representation does make Bioware sacrifice storytelling and atmosphere building in any way means they failed as game developers. Cause like I said these are not two parts that can’t co-exist. If they implied these can’t co-exist in anyways they’re lying. And that means they fail to do their job.

Last but not least they didn't even do a good job on the representation part okay? If Rook doesn't romance anyone you get 2.5 couples in your team, sapphic, gay, and hetero. Seems balanced well enough, no? Until you hear all the banters full of chemistry. There should be more. Obviously, they chickened last minute. I remember they mentioned Neve and Harding one time. I remembered looking for these two while nothing happened. They might surprise themselves by finding out they might forget to put a hetero relationship in your team. Also, fire that many writers before the game have gone gold can not help anyone out of this situation. No one can make the last-minute writing change to align with their plan changes since the layoff.

Stop shitting on each other and turn your anger to the real target, not the decoy thanks. They want you to fight each other so it would all end up as angry fans never getting satisfied. But the truth is they failed to tell a good story with all the things they want to put in the game.

They failed. And they refuse to blame themselves.

Like they try to tell you with the whole game they think no regret is a good thing you can’t blame on yourself. That's how you defeat the gods. The gods are hold on to their regrets too much. They do as they say. It's all fans’ fault, not theirs since the game marketing starts.

[lgcjino]

↪︎  G'DAY, JINO! _ 8  ▸  DECORATING FOR THE HOLIDAYS! DURATION : 21 minutes, 33 seconds

NOW PLAYING  ▸   CHRISTMAS STARTS TONIGHT _ GRENT PEREZ

the scenes opens to jino wiping away the fog from his mirror in nothing but a shaving cream beard, a santa hat and flannel bottoms.

caption: it’s the beginning of december! you know what that means ~

he does a small dance — it’s not great given the small space of his bathroom — but he does what he can as shown from the snipped angle of his camera aimed at his reflection in the mirror; he’s miming the words of the current song that’s playing. jino finishes off shaving before splashing his face with water, finishing it off with a dab of his towel at the cut of his jaw. 

NOW PLAYING  ▸   HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS _ MATTHEW IFIELD

getting ready to leave, he helps leash up meong-meong. taking her along with him for today’s adventure, he makes sure to don her sweater to beat the seoul cold. and once she’s all fixed up, he slips on his converse and leaves — allowing the door to close to the camera’s view. 

caption: today’s agenda is to find a pine tree for our apartment!

jino was used to having real trees for christmas and while not as common in korea, after having searched naver for hours the few nights before, he found a place that seemed promising. taking his grandpa’s truck, he hoped being this prepared would give him a bit of luck for today’s hunt for a real tree (fingers crossed that he wasn’t doing this for nothing!).

caption: 📍 yangjae flower market, seocho district, seoul

walking up and down the aisles, to his disappointment, jino realizes he didn’t see any trees lined up. instead, what he left with was a miniature norfolk island pine that had been dressed up with christmas decorations such as a red garland and gold baubles. 

despite his disappointment, meong-meong marched alongside him with a treat one of the florists had handed her while jino had been looking around. 

NOW PLAYING  ▸   SANTA BABY _ LAUFEY

thank god jino had made a list for what to buy — after finding himself in chirstmas shopping heaven, he had finally understood what most people meant by wanting to buy it all. 

the camera pans onto his list that he has opened up on his notes app: christmas tree!!!; stockings for moo, me, and meong-meong + glitter pen for our names; decorations for moo’s fish tank; ornaments; star for tree; tree lights; (1) santa and (1) snowman. 

he felt quite proud of himself, narrowing down what he needed — it was simple but he knew if he let his impulsive tendencies run away with him, he would find himself in trouble when the holiday season ended and he had no space to store everything. 

NOW PLAYING  ▸   SANTA DOESN’T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO _ SABRINA CARPENTER

success!

the camera shows the elevator dinging open to show jino’s feet as he pushes the trolley carrying the christmas tree box towards his apartment door. unlocking it shows meong-meong waiting for him at the entrance area, circling around his feet as he first goes to greet her and then wheels the tree into the apartment. 

after placating meong-meong by throwing her favorite ball around, he’s able to carefully place the pine tree down beside the bags of decor they had bought.

caption: that’s it for today! we’ll start decorating tomorrow ◡̈

NOW PLAYING  ▸   LAST CHRISTMAS _ ASTN

when jino had first decided to decorate for christmas, he had promised himself to keep it simple. it would be his first time doing it, as last year he had spent it at his relatives’ home and his grandmother wasn’t too well-versed with their new zealand christmas traditions as they all had been growing up. 

but this year, jino had wanted to make his own traditions regarding the holiday. 

that included stockings for him, moo and meong-meong; decorating the tree; and best of all, milk and cookies for santa (even if jino knew santa didn’t exist). 

the clip cuts to jino finishing up his decorations with the final touch of the star on top of the tree — a plausible feat considering jino had gotten a tree that was barely an inch or two from the crown of his head; with just a tippy toe and a strained arm, the star was lit and gleaming prettily from above the tree.

pulling the side table from one of the arm chairs, he angles it closer to the tree, showing the camera what he had placed a figurine with a chocolate labrador resembling meong-meong wearing a santa hat seated next to a tree. beside the figurine was a plate of cookies (pet-friendly aka all-natural dog cookies that he had picked up from the local pet shop) and a note for santa reading:

milk and cookies for santa (and meong-meong), merry xmas!

NOW PLAYING  ▸   SNOW FLOWER _ V

small clip of jino wrapping presents and placing them underneath his tree. it’s from the coffee table: from there it shows the tree lit up in all its decorated splendor as jino fixes up the presents in front of it, all the gifts already hidden in their boxes, all they needed was to be wrapped, labeled and placed under the tree for him to deliver to their respective recipients. 

from the side, the camera can spy meong-meong on the couch gnawing at a yak chew. 

AFTER CREDIT CLIP  ▸

a clip of meong-meong falling asleep underneath the christmas tree as the sound of matthew ifield’s ‘have yourself a merry little christmas’ plays in the background. 

[theangelwithawand]

Princess and the Scoundrel Thoughts

Spoilers ahead:

First of all, the title and cover of this book are ridiculous. The art is pretty, but the pose looks like a cheesy romance. I think they’re paying homage to Courtship of Princess Leia, which while that story is hilarious, is one of the worst Star Wars books ever. But we get the Dathomir witches so it’s fine I guess.

On the other hand, Princess and the Scoundrel, is one of the best Star Wars books. Despite everything, despite all of the obstacles this book had from the beginning, it succeeds as having some of the best and most subtle character work in the entire franchise. Which is hilarious, because this book literally only exists to market a hotel. But Beth Revis said, “yeah, but what if it was good and I actually tried?”

Now, Beth Revis has clearly read COPL. You can tell and it’s kind of hilarious. For example, in COPL, there is a really long scene where Han plays sabacc (space poker) during a bout of insecurity and wins a planet to give to Leia and he uses THE MILLENNIUM FALCON for collateral. Han Solo would never do this. Now in PatS, Han plays sabacc while Leia is working to help her out by gathering intelligence. One of the players mentions that he wants to kidnap Leia (not knowing who Han is), and Han almost murders the guy. It’s awesome.

Here’s the thing, you can tell when Leia is being written by a woman instead of a man. In COPL, there is one moment where it’s brought up that if Leia marries Isolder there will be a planet for the survivors of the Alderaani genocide, but it’s only mentioned a few times and not by Leia. So any opportunity for a duty vs love internal conflict is not used. Her conflict is “Han and I are distant and space Fabio is hot so…”. Then HAN KIDNAPS LEIA USING A MIND CONTROL GUN. And she doesn’t murder him. So…I don’t care about this relationship anymore because both of them suck and it isn’t even clear why Leia falls in love with Han all over again.

Beth Revis gives Leia a very multi faceted internal conflict. Part of it is her dealing with her feelings about Vader, about being part of a team, and her guilt over Alderaan. It doesn’t take up too much time, but they inform a lot of her character.

Now, in a different canon book, that came out previously, it was mentioned in passing that Han and Leia got married on Endor. Now, at that point in both the EU and Canon, Han and Leia have been forcibly separated for a year and only actually got together a little bit before that. So, that’s really weird. But Revis is stuck with this. So she says to herself, “Why would they do this? Why would they move this quickly?”

And she remembers that this is Star Wars. They are living through war, they all almost died, and just spent a year forcibly separated. And they’ve decided that they’re done wasting time. Han just kind of…proposes and Leia (in typical fashion) debates for a second before deciding to take a leap of faith for love. It’s genuinely very, very sweet. Despite the title and cover this is not a romance book. There is no “will they won’t they” bullshit. Thank. God. They just get married and it’s really happy and Lando pranks Han into dressing nice, and it’s great. Then it’s a Star Wars adventure featuring Han and Leia.

That’s not to say Han and Leia don’t have any tension between them. The difference is it’s interesting. Han and Leia, especially her, do not know how to fully let each other into their lives. It isn’t that Han forgets for a bit that he married a very driven woman. He absolutely knows. His frustration stems from the fact that they are literally on their honeymoon, and Leia keeps leaving to work, because that is all she knows how to do. It is how she has coped with her trauma for three years. On the other hand, Leia feels like she is solely responsible for saving the galaxy, and that Han doesn’t understand that. Both sides of this argument are understandable. The book switches between Han and Leia’s perspectives. There are no stupid cutaways to Luke or space Fabio, there are no space witches. It is a focused relationship/ character study of Han and Leia while they’re on a decently interesting mission.

And the build up to the fight they end up having, is great. It’s a slow build up, you can feel their mutual frustration, and once they have the fight it is very cathartic. They don’t fight for the entire book either. They flirt and tease and have real conversations too.

So, after this huge fight, Leia is trying to divert the cruiser they’re on to this other planet, and Han finds out and helps her. Together, they succeed, but Leia is confused. They haven’t made up from their fight yet, and she asks why he helped her fight to go on a mission that’s going to take up more of their time. And Han says, “You’re my wife. If you’re running a con, I’m going to help you.”

Now, this might just be one of my favorite lines. Beth Revis understands that Han Solo is very loyal to the few people he cares about. He loves Leia, it’s why he goes back for her on Hoth at his own risk, why he saves Luke at Yavin and on Hoth. (She also understands the little bit of dorkiness Han Solo has beneath the posturing, up to the point that she gives him a sweet tooth.) Neither of them are overly mushy, they just love and respect each other.

There’s this great symbolism with their wedding rings. They’re made of hardened amber by the ewoks, and their fragility is a constant reminder of Han and Leia’s issues. They crack under pressure, and have to be maintained carefully. They eventually end up breaking under immense water pressure, but Han gives Leia a new ring (the one she wears in the sequels) reminiscent of the amber ones, symbolizing that they’re coming out stronger. It’s so sweet, and while it’s a little bit on the nose, it’s a great literary technique.

He’s acknowledging that he recognizes this part of Leia’s character, Leia realizes she needs to also put him first. In the aftermath, they both feel bad, apologize, and resolve to work on their issues together. And when they make-up, it feels real. This runs through the entire book, and the way it ends is really satisfying. Now, we know what happens to them in the sequels, so we can see how this conflict may come back into play later and lead to their eventual separation in canon. But, it’s also easy to see a different path where they work through these issues and live happily ever after. It’s just ambiguous enough to be read as either a prelude to eventual tragedy or the beginning of a long, happy life between two complex people. (I prefer the first one, but whatever).

Other things I liked:

- Han proposing. It’s literally that “I want you” “For what?” “A really long time.” quote on the internet.

Han: I want you.

Leia: Me? For what?

Han: Forever. Marry me.

- Leia tells Han about her true parentage and he just does not care. Like, he’s sympathetic towards her feelings, but is like, “why would this impact my love for you?”

- Leia finally lets herself do something spontaneous.

- Luke and Mon Mothma ship it.

- This quote:

Leia: About time.

Han: For what?

Leia: You once promised me a good kiss. I’ve been waiting.

- The conflict on Madurs is also pretty interesting. Leia is unwilling to let another planet die, giving an insight into Leia’s feelings about Alderaan, especially since Madurs values art like Alderaan.

Honestly, I want Beth Revis to write the canon “trip to Bespin” book.

Also…

This book kind of implies that Leia is bi? There’s a scene where Leia is remembering a conversation with her mother. So, when Alderaanian royals get married, their parent straps the ceremonial Rhindon sword (also used during their coronation) around their waist before the wedding.

In the flashback, Breha specifically says “whoever you marry” and “your husband or wife”…

Some people may say that it’s just ‘forced inclusion’ but that’s boring. Now, in the EU, fanon, and canon, Leia always puts emphasis on how close she and her parents were. This is something that I don’t think is ever particularly well illustrated, especially in canon. In parts the Kenobi series (she gets better later) and Leia, Princess of Alderaan, Breha in particular comes off as really unlikable.

But, if Leia isn’t over romanticizing (and there’s no indication that she is), she was really close to her parents. So, it stands to reason that her mother would know her sexuality. They at least seem really accepting in this passage, so it doesn’t seem like something Leia would keep from them.

I have no other evidence, and as far as I know, Leia is always seen in romances with men in both canon and legends, but in this context, it is a very interesting hint of something new about her character.

[margridarnauds]

distraction: tell me about your ideal CMMT adaptation. tv show? musical? play? film? film series? graphic novel?

Oh GOD. THANK YOU.

Something I've been tossing around my head is that...it's something we all know, working with medieval material -- the stuff we're working on is TOO BROAD to really do it justice in a 100% faithful way. Because in order to be satisfying for a modern audience, you have to fill in the gaps. (That isn't something I've alone noticed -- a certain author who I had the chance to have in the hotseat recently noted it, as have my undergrads when it comes to their assessments of CMT -- it's incredibly laconic, because it has to be in order to cover over 20 years and a massive cast of characters.)

So I have two options, if I had Elon Musk levels of wealth to do whatever I wanted:

Full television show, ideally one that covers the entire book of invasions, so we get to meet the Fir Bolg BEFORE the Tuatha Dé's invasion. Even if we are just covering the two battles, I want "classic BBC historical miniseries" length -- I, Claudius; the War and Peace with Anthony Hopkins as Pierre, 1995 Pride and Prejudice (okay, ONE of these things is not like the others...or is it...but you see my Vision.) I don't necessarily want 7+ years out of it, but I do want it to be able to cover 12+ episodes of about 45-50 minutes, so you can really capture everything in a way that fleshes out the characters and gets into their heads while also leaving the actual battle as the climax everything's been building up to. Show off how fucked up both the Tuatha Dé AND the Fomoire are, show off Eochaid mac Eirc's reign + Sreng's fucked up place in it, show Bres' fall from grace and Lugh's rise (and foreshadow his fall), show the Dagda's family off, Indech's family dramas, give Balor a full arc where we see that he ISN'T just a monster, so it's more tragic to see where he eventually lands up.

(Alternatively for TV shows, in keeping with my "Tochmarc Étaíne as a Xianxia fantasy show....look...all I'm saying is that CMT would do ROUNDS in the Chinese fantasy market and it kills me that thus far they've been deprived. I also trust the Chinese fandoms to toss in even more subtext.)

My ultimate dream adaptation...probably a Takarazuka musical. Since you only have two hours to get the nuances across, I'd elect to follow a single character. And I *should* say that it should follow Lugh, but this is my *dream CMT adaptation that I would be pouring millions of dollars into bribing Zuka for*, so no. We're covering Bres' life, starting with him as an idealistic young man who believes he can make something for himself despite not knowing who his father is, ending with either his defeat during the battle or his death at the hands of Lugh, who is the Token Homoerotic Zuka Rival. (And might have black hair to highlight this, which...ngl, I've seen enough black haired Breis that turnabout's fairplay there.) My ideal vibes would be something between "A Passage Through the Light" (which covered Robespierre's life), Don Juan, XCalibur, and the Kunze/Levay Mozart! (which I'm not really fond of but does have some bangers.) (It's like the idealized version of Kunze and Levay's work that exists in my head.) Still with the glamor you'd expect from Zuka, which is, imo, the only way to really highlight Bres' looks and the way he's described, as well as the beauty of the Tuatha Dé as a whole, but with this dark edge that gets darker as we approach the battle and the final face off between Lugh and Bres, as both sides come together at the end to mourn the lost potential. (And because it's my self-indulgent version of things...he and Sreng wouldn't be explicitly a couple on stage, but it would still be very clear, after the second act which starts with Bres in exile as his young rival, Lugh, comes into the picture, that he and Bres got together, with Sreng acting in some ways as both Bres' own personal morality chain and his own personal Calpurnia, watching Bres' decay and not being able to do anything.)

*And Frank Wildhorn would do the music for it*

[freedformwriter]

English quartet

Wrote this last weekend but was then too non-covid but basically covid to post. It's supposed to be a return to daily micro-blogs but, meh, long format seems to be my energy at the moment.

4th July, 2024

There are things you notice for the first time when you don’t know how to vote: the suppressed hopefulness of the red-rosette pollster, the beatific care with which the volunteers scan down the registry, but mostly it’s the special pencils. I’ve got a lovely hexagonal half stub in my hand. It’s fatter than the average pencil and in a tasteful monochrome. Most alluringly, it’s labelled the property of the UK Government. The urge to untie it from the rickety booth and slide it into my pocket is almost overwhelming. I wonder if there is a black market for these things. I was entirely prepared to vote Green when I sauntered into the Mormon church that doubles as a local polling station. Now I’ve been staring at the same three names for five minutes. And they all belong to one man. Can I really vote for a man with three Christian names? Who keeps such a surplus? It’s suspect. And I’ve absolutely nothing else to base my impression of the candidate upon because I haven’t looked up a single person running in this election beside the incumbent. We were so excited when she won a historic race here in 2017. Now her name is branded with bitter X-fuelled feuds between Terfs and anti-Terfs and she can’t show up for Hustings because of security concerns. Why did I not look up a single freaking other candidate? My government-issued pencil drifts that towards the Labour box. Stop. I close my eyes and do some of those grounding exercises. What truly matters to me in this moment? My friends. My friends’ kids. This second thought sets me off. The sheer helpless terror of being the parent of a trans kid right now is something I cannot even encompass. It’s possible I’m going to cry in the government-approved booth. Fuck this. Mr Three-Christian-Names it is. I’m back out the door, shades on to hide my expression. Thank god it’s a sunny day.

I later learn the Green candidate is a jolly sort who runs the local bike repair charity. And wouldn’t, my friend reasons, the world be a better place if it was made up of people like that?

5th July 

The world has changed and the weather drips from the brim of my walking hat. In my all-black rain ensemble, I feel like a modern-day mourner. I just don’t know whose funeral I’m attending, or even if one is scheduled. The social rupture of the General Election has reopened old fissures. The grief leaked into my friends’ last-night communications, the ones who poured themselves into the Labour movement in the Corbyn years. Their momentum is now officially a stumble, in the same way we minimise the significance an old relationship once we find The One. Crossing the Stour where the picturesque plankton-filled river takes on punts, I hear a man singing. High above the water, a scaffolder in a harness and bright blue quick dry t-shirt belts out a sentimental ballad about finding love at last. Come on! he calls to an unseen man below. It’s unclear whether it’s a call to join in or to hurry up. My mood lifts. Not everyone is miserable today.

When I arrive at my appointment, the craniosacral therapist opens the door looking like the embodiment of fresh English summer: a floral sundress, pink cheeks, and flowing waves of loosely bound hair. You’re dressed for the weather, she declared. I want to be dressed for her weather. I lie on the table in the beautiful old treatment room in the heart of Canterbury, trying to tune out the fluctuating high-pitched hum of the air purified as she moves her hands around the energy centres of my body. How are her hands so warm? She truly exists in another climate. I try not to think of anything negative, or wildly inappropriate, under her touch in case it filters through. It’s time for her assessment. When you first came in and we were talking, you didn’t seem tired at all but – here she tilts her head to a sympathetic angle – but your body is really tired.

Tonight, the football is back. I’m really delighted at how willing my hosting friend is to join me. I’m backing Portugal despite the nausea-inducing presence of Ronaldo at the helm. She is supporting France because she enjoys going on holiday there. I’ve previously signed off on similar claims about the superior charms of Spain and Turkey – better food and more attractive men – but I draw the line at France. Why? They’re the villain, I say. What, as in some kind of ancestral enemy of England? Yes..maybe… I don’t know. My relationship with the technical country of my birth is complicated. The England-France rivalry is not. France plays their role so well: producing grand triumphs followed by epic collapses. They are an incredibly satisfying antagonist and for that reason alone, yes, I will always root against them. Mbappé even obligingly wears a black mask. Whether they are a mustachio-twirling villain, a protesting troubadour, or a stranger in this town, we always need the man in black.

6th July

No problem, I will just read some Cervantes. This is not the response I am looking for when I announce the England game is about to start. Especially as the man speaking is sitting in the very middle of my friend’s sofa. Technically, I am just as much of a visitor as he is, but this is the television facing sofa and why can’t he read classic literature on the other one with the non-optimal angle? But I can already tell tonight’s entertainment will be a hybrid experience. He and my friend are prepping for the open mic she hosts tonight. She has tap shoes and a slide whistle out for a Klaxons style mating dance. He’s got the book open to the passage in which Don Quixote attacks some marionettes. The night’s theme is puppets. Pick a side, I tell him, and slot in prepared to do battle.

Men, particularly older men, always find something comical in my watching football. Tonight is no exception. Oh listen to you, you could be the next Gary Lineker, he says after twenty minutes. I’m not sure if it’s the Americanness or femaleness – probably both – but I get these comments lot. Where is my can of lager? Can they hear my football bellow? I infinitely prefer watching with women who discuss the match, rather than my watching of it. But as the minutes tick on, and England isn’t playing absolutely shit, something a bit special happens. This man has always struck me as an art and music lover for whom London is the centre of the world. Now, through the medium of share viewership, we’re transported back to his boyhood in Middlesbrough. He’s not nostalgic for it – horrible place, god the accents – but is channelling the energy of the rough, mid-century stadium he attended every weekend all the same. I remember a chant we did for the opposing fans, he announces, then changes his voice: you’re going home in a Teesside ambulance – oi!

I traipse into the open mic event late – worth it for that penalty shootout – and watch the mating dance. Then a woman in Birkenstocks works a skeleton puppet through a synth performance (absolute fucking genius). During the inevitable ambient musical interlude, I make the Franz Kafka marionette journey through his own dreams. At the end, we are all instructed how to make a swizzle, the technical term for the bit of card and spit that transforms your voice into Punch. Terrifyingly loud, it would attract attention in even the most raucous stadium.

Do you want to go to a mummers’ play? My friend issues this invitation while I’m still groggily stretching myself out on a Sunday morning. It’s this kind of impromptu invitation that more than makes up for the mental overwhelm I often experience staying here. Camped in her overfilled central living space, my control-obsessed brain has to ignore the old rescue furniture, the new music equipment, and theatrical props accumulating by the door. But the Jack-of-the-Green costume – a sort of burlap cage denuded of its festive vines – is not just an unwieldy obstacle, but a connection to a whole performance community. The sort who revel in arcane folk traditions. I take my porridge with berry compote in the car and we’re off to Sandwich. I forgot what an absurdly charming town it is. We used to ride our bikes here on long summer weekends, stopping at, yes, a sandwich shop attached to a posh deli.

The pageantry is in full force when we arrive at St Peter’s Church. A blonde woman about my age in a white rugby shirt emblazoned with ‘George’ is going several rounds with a fire-breathing dragon. Parking ourselves on the curb, we cheer as George dispatches the dragon with the aid of protective potholders. Next, we have the French knight. Sir Fleur de Lis, with his waxy moustache, withdraws a white handkerchief. George counters. The fight very much resembles the troops of Morris dancers taking over the town for this folk and ale festival. This, I say to my friend, is why we root against France in the football. It’s just another form of pantomime.

The dispatched French knight now lies on the ground, a lance projecting from his body at a 45° angle. An incredibly tall man in a long white doctor’s coat, a top hat, and myopic spectacles seeks help from the audience to remove the weapon. Is there no one in the audience who can help remove the lance? He approaches a little boy who stares up with wide terrified eyes, then a little girl who ducks into her father’s side. Sensing that there are no sufficiently patriotic children to take up England’s Excalibur, the doctor approaches my friend, child height from her position on the pavement. Do you think you can pull it out? She hops up and runs to the fallen French knight with what I can only describe as a scamper.

After she hoists the lance – huzzah! – and the knight is at last resuscitated – ‘When all else fails, drink some Kentish ale’ – we move about taking in the food stalls and more flag-waiving dancers in tabards. Do you remember we saw that one old man perform the ‘The Ladies’ Fancy?’ my friend asks me. It was in Cambridgeshire; and I do. Ribbons were involved. English villages are so weird. Am I really thinking of moving back here?

[melibemusca]

The Department of Holy Fucks

“The thing is, he’s not wrong.”

“But, God. At what cost?”

The Archangel Michael silenced her footsteps. Sometimes it was advantageous for the lesser angels to hear her approach, so they could work up a sweat over any recent transgressions, but this did not appear to be one of those times.

“He gave me the best orgasms of my existence, bar none. The sex absolutely lives up to the hype.”

“The ‘hype’ is him talking about himself. Did you hear him in the last all-hands? ‘Update from the department of holy fucks: last quarter Gabriel Jr. brought indescribable pleasure to thirty-four angels, seventy-two humans, and . . . we’re working on penetration to the market down under, if you know what I mean.”

Only a superhuman sense of propriety kept Michael from making a noise at this surprisingly spot-on imitation of her colleague. The other angel had no such restraint, and laughed so hard his wings popped out half a dozen eyes between the feathers.

“Hello,” said Michael, when one of these eyes met hers and widened in fear. Both angels made an adorable and pathetic attempt to stand at attention.

“We didn’t mean--”

“We didn’t know--”

“At ease.” Michael gave them a measured look, then sighed and shook her head. “It’s not as if I enjoy Gabriel’s pillow talk, either.”

*

“Sorry, sorry I’m late! Is this the support group for, uh, for the, um--”

The newcomer’s red face and fumbling words made it clear she’d come to the right place. Jill smiled at her kindly and waved to an empty chair. “The support group for sexual partners of the Archangel Gabriel, yes. Please take a seat. We’re just going around the circle now. Esteban, would you like to continue?”

“Yeah, thanks. So the first time I had no idea what I was getting into, right? Mind blown that I’d even gotten a prayer answered, let alone a prayer like that, you know?”

Heads nodded around the circle, including Jill’s, and, she noticed, the new person’s.

“The second time, well, it wasn’t just my mind he blew.” More nods and knowing grins. “And at least he didn’t talk with his mouth full, but I’d barely even stopped coming before he put that smarmy smile in my face and said, ‘You deserve the best, champ, and that’s me!’”

A chorus of groans.

“Insufferable!”

“He’s the actual worst.”

“A giant prick in every sense.”

“Well, he kept it small, for me.”

“He didn’t even have one, for me.”

“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” said Jill. “We all hate him, and, at the same time, we admit that he’s the most considerate partner we’ve ever had. He accommodates our desires in ways that are quite literally miraculous. So, Esteban, what do you need from us tonight?” Jill saw a confused expression on the new woman, so she explained. “We’re here to help each other. Sometimes that means talking a person out of praying for a booty call, and sometimes it means talking them into it.”

“I can’t stand him,” said Esteban slowly. “But I’ve been so pent up. I think right now I need what he’s got.”

*

“Sex is overrated.”

“Yes.”

“Boring, awkward, unpleazzant and uncomfortable.”

“Exactly.”

Beelzebub glared at Dagon. “Stop agreeing with me.”

The Lord of the Files looked back innocently. “But you’re right.”

“I was right. I was always right, every single Satan-blessed time I tried it.” Beelzebub had only recently begun to entertain the notion that their own bleak expectations had something to do with this. “And then he comes along, with his unshakable fucking conviction that he’s God’s gift to sexual beings.”

“Just like an archangel. Inconsiderately showing everyone a good time, whether they want it or not.”

“Yes.”

“Inflicting orgasmic bliss left and right.”

“Exactly.”

“I can see why you’d want to visit him again.”

Beelzebub held out a hand. Dagon slapped a roll of duct tape into it.

“The least he can do, if he’s going to make me enjoy sex,” grumbled Beelzebub, as they straightened their coat and arranged their flies for a trip, “iz keep hizz angelic piehole shut.”

***

This ficlet was spawned by a discord server brainstorm with brilliant contributions from @ack-emma @charlottemadison42 @cassieoh @zehwulf @liquidlyrium @mirjam-writes @moondawntreader who are all extremely clever.

[huenjin]

the devil’s tango.

summary — and when your demon boyfriend's best friends ruin your valentine's day plans with said demon boyfriend by lighting up a restaurant in flames, they make sure to apologise well. or, in which jisung, changbin and chan show you all the ways a devil can fuck a woman.

pairing — 3racha x reader

genre — smut | demons!au

ratings — 18+

word count — 14.4k words

warnings — mentions of flame, indications of objectification, mentions of themes of afterlife, heaven and hell | smut specifications under the cut

note — the way this was written only thanks to @chaangbin​ and her sprinto discord thing pwp and is totally inspired from this one nsfw asmr i chanced upon on reddit. happy reading and sinning, babes.

smut warnings —

i. groping, dirty talk, objectification, car sex, marking, slight temperature play, thigh riding, dirty talk, slight blood play (jisung gets a slight rush !!), grinding, fingering, sir kink, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, vaginal stimulation, ruined orgasm;

ii. changbin calls you baby girl (!!), choking, cunnilingus, dirty talk, dumbification (changbin talks a loooot dirty, heads up !!) nipple play, breast play, pain kink, spitting, marking, so so so much marking omfg, intercrural sex, clitoral stimulation, unprotected sex (better safe than anything else irl okay?), squirting, overstimulation, reader slips into subspace, changbin's kinda hard on the reader; chan bring you back from subspace because he's protective like that !!!

iii. tattooed!chan — chan has this huge dark feathered wing tattoo in his back omf and the reader has a tattoo kink, of sorts— dick piercing!chan, tongue piercing!chan, so !! much !! making !! out !!, calls you princess throughout the story because you are one, nipple play, breast play, daddy kink, grinding, spanking, pain kink, degradation (but chan like gives reader heads up in such a nice way because chan best boy !!), teasing cause chan won't give it to you just like that !!!, so much begging, pussy slapping, clitoral stimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it!), bulge kink, creampie, slight after care.

Chan thinks Valentine's Day is a marketing scheme by the very commercial, capitalistic world. 

Not that his devilish self cared when he could have all the luxuries in the world in his hand by the very thought of it. Chan doesn't care even more because you, his girlfriend, loved Valentine's Day more than anything in this world, second only to your love for him. If anything, you loved Valentine's Day this much because of him.

And that is exactly why he is driving down the neat lane to this newly opened restaurant, right across the town, that you have been hyping up for months now. His fingers wrap around the steering wheel, shoes pressed flat against the gas as his other hand lies gently on your exposed thigh, thanks to your little black skirt riding up to his delight.

"Thank you for doing this," you mumble, your right hand shifting to place itself on top of his hand and grip at it softly. "You know, even after you hate all the couples out there, ever to exist."

Chan laughs, a hearty one in fact. His thumb rubs against the palmar side of your hand — one of the many affectionate things your devil does for you, albeit all the times he reminds you he is second to Lucifer himself.

"I don't hate them all." Lie. Chan knows that's an obvious lie and so do you. You click your tongue and your boyfriend bites his lower lip in a sheepish action, momentarily glancing at you before bringing his attention back on the road. "I like us. We make such a power couple. If anything, we should be the only couple to exist. Valentine's Day should exist for only one couple and that should be us."

Raising your eyebrows before letting it fall, face softening up instantly as you gaze at your boyfriend's side profile, you coo, "Aw. I see finally that there are things the devil too doesn't get at his will."

"You were one amongst them," Chan sniggers, his hand slowly trailing upwards as they shift from underneath your hand's grip. "But look where we are now."

Your breath hitches as his fingers slightly trace parallel lines as they move upwards and your eyelids flutter a bit. The pads of his fingers are hot against the coldness of your skin and the temperature difference is great enough to raise goosebumps on them.

"Chan." It's a whisper. Almost as if a great amount of determination is required for you to make this decision to turn him down. "You are driving. Plus, let's not ruin the night already. You've booked us a nice table in this amazing restaurant on this beautiful night."

"But I could make it even better." Chan licks his lower lip as he presses on the brakes, the heavy traffic stopping him from proceeding further. His hand is now completely underneath your skirt, short enough to his pleasure, fingers edging so close to your panties that your head involuntarily shifts back and your lips part.

You have been dating him for months now and every single time he touches you, you feel like a starved woman craving for every drop of his affection, desiring every part of him. Chan has been more than willing to comply, however. Your body reacts to his touches and his kisses like you are on heat and every time your boyfriend points it out, you blame it on his extraterrestrial, hellish skills; that he had you in his control.

Little do you know that it is the other way round. That Chan chooses to stay in the mortal world for you, to be with you. That he knows he will have to part with you one day when you shift over to the other side and maybe you could have sinned enough to be with him in the other world too. However, Chan knows how much God loves playing his cards and for that, he'll seize every single moment he gets with you.

All because he loves you. He is in love with you. 

Chan realises this a few weeks back. Of course, he feels the weird thing humans call butterflies when you are so understanding of him being hell's very spawn. However, it is when you cook dinner for him as you wait for him to come, or how you ask him about his day and listen ardently that he realises: hell could never be worthy enough to have someone as beautiful as you. He shouldn't deserve you — fuck, the very act of him laying his filthy eyes on you should have sent your guardian angel into a frenzy but you chose him. You chose to be with him and for that, he'd mayhaps, thank that lousy old God up in the heavens. 

"Dinner first," you strictly say. You remove his hand from underneath your skirt, wrapping your hand around his as you hold it up to kiss his knuckles. "When we get back home, I promise. In fact, I'll be the one to jump at you as soon as we reach the doorsteps." Chan laughs, mumbling, "Ah, my baby girl, my princess," under his breath and turns to look at the signal that has changed to green. He presses on the gas, speeding to reach the place on time as per reservations. 

Having Chan's hand in yours roots you in confidence from your biggest fear deep down — that he would fade away from your life one day and worse, he'd take away the memories with him to rid you of the pain from his absence. His calloused hand grips onto yours and you hold it close to your chest, shutting your eyes for a minute because this is what Valentine's Day is all about for you. Bang Chan and everything your devil of a boyfriend is. He has shown you both heaven and hell and even though you did not believe in the afterlife, you do not mind going to hell, especially not if he is there with you. 

"Why is there smoke up in the air?" Chan asks himself in absolute confusion as he takes the right on the road to the restaurant. Upon finding a neat parking spot about a hundred meters away from the restaurant, he gets out of the car, rushing to your side to open the door for you like a true gentleman. 

"Why, thank you!" You giggle, hand slapping right across your lips at the unpleasant sound that leaves your mouth and Chan smiles so widely at you, almost as if he is looking at his whole world right before him. You get out of the car and Chan closes the door right behind you.

"You look so damn pretty today, baby," Chan hugs you by the waist temporarily and snuggles into your neck, only to leave a quick kiss against it. You push him slightly and Chan chuckles, raising his right hand, that is not held by you, to protest. "I'm not making a move. We did get dressed well so let's have a nice romantic dinner first and when we get back home—" His voice drops a note lower. "We'll have a hot night and let this Valentine's Day wrap up rightfully as it should."

"And what's the right way, Mr. Hotshot Devil?"

"With my dick wrapped around your sweet little pussy," he smiles, lips extending so wide across his face that your cheeks heat up. He leans closer, pressing his lips against the pinna of your ears as he whispers, "You'll be begging me over and over and I'll treat you like the good little girl you are for me."

Your breath hitches and a flustered broken gasp leaves your lips as your fingers dig into his forearm. Chan's harmonious laughter over having made you a flustered mess rings in your ear till it is cut off by loud screams and foggy vision thanks to dark grey smoke. 

"That's a lot of smoke," you comment worried as your boyfriend takes you by his hand and walks you down the road to the restaurant. He takes small strides to let you walk at ease. "I wonder if something is on— Fuck. The restaurant is in flames. It's on fire. Fuck."

Chan's eyes widen and he stares at the fire long enough to see two figures making their way towards you. Two very familiar faces too hard for him to ever forget, especially because Chan has spent more than a millennium with them. 

"Jisung? Changbin?"

"Do you know them, baby?" You whisper into his ears, hiding slightly behind him as you cower at the magnanimous presence of the two individuals before you. 

"Sometimes I wish I didn't," he rolls his eyes and folds his arms as he looks at the two younger demons in a gaze filled with doubt and suspicion. 

"You lie!" The taller of the two says. "We had ramen together and you know ramen is exactly the way for people to bond."

"That's Jisung," Chan introduces as he slightly brings you forward. Your fingers play with the end of your short skirt, trying to bring it further down as the two men — demons, you presumed — looked at you and almost seemed to be studying you. "And the one by his side is Changbin."

"We've been friends for a while," Jisung informs and judges at Changbin who still continues to stare at you in displeasure. Did one of Chan's friends already not like you? You guess it is normal but deep down you know it hurts. You have always had the innate tendency to make sure that everyone liked you and the very thought of Chan's friends disliking you puts you to this sorrow as much as you hate to agree to it. 

"Stop scaring my girlfriend, Bin," Chan glares back at the shorter of the two before drifting his attention to Jisung and enquiring, "How did this even happen?"

"That's on me. I crashed my car into the restaurant," Jisung rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Your eyes widen and you look further beyond the two men to see a beautiful red Maserati driven into the restaurant, caught in flames just as the whole building is. 

"The people!" You scream, rushing forward. Chan holds your wrist in worry, holding you back, and you look at your boyfriend with eyebrows furrowed in concern. "They are my people."

Changbin scoffs, mumbling under his breath, "Stupid humans and their weird sense of morality at all the wrong times." Your heart drops at his words and Chan lets go of your hand, only to take a step forward in Changbin's direction, eyes narrowing at the demon. 

Jisung laughs hesitantly, slipping right between the two males and pushing them away. He looks at you and rushes forward to lean close to you. You are taken aback by the sudden invasion of your personal space but something in his eyes holds you fixed, enamored by his whole being. 

"There are no casualties, sweetheart. Don't worry!" 

Jisung leans back soon after, standing firm on his toes, and turns to look at your boyfriend. Smiling as wide as you've seen any devil smile, he prompts, "Since all our Valentine's Day plans got ruined, what if we spent it together?" He glances at you and you look away, eyes catching Changbin's who still looks at you in suspicion. 

"I—" 

"Jisung," Chan warns.

Jisung rushes to Changbin's side. Directing his attention towards you all while nudging the hell out of Changbin's side, he wiggles his eyebrows, "He may seem rude like this but trust me, he's the tsundere kind of lover."

"What the fuck," Changbin mumbles and turns his head away. "I'm not saying anything."

Your boyfriend is very flustered at the very happenings around him. Jisung suggesting a possibility of a wild night, the restaurant going into flames, and his girlfriend, albeit looking scared, positively looking at this whole proposal — maybe it has been too long since he has been away from hell for the mere chaos to fluster him.

Without a word said further to his friends, he pulls you away. You bite your lower lip, nibbling and pulling at the dead skin. Chan quickly takes your hand in his, eyes fixing on yours and staying in silence for a short while till he finally asks, "Are you okay?"

"Can I be honest?"

"Yes, please."

"Are all your friends this hot and a solid mess?"

"Should I be offended?" A soft chuckle leaves his lips when he sees you joke nervously. 

"No, no." You hit his arms, jokingly. You draw circles onto his arm and bring the topic forward finally. "I know I might have looked like I was taken aback — I was — but remember how we had this talk once about bringing people into our sex lives," you gulp, "I think this is a great moment to see if we'd like it in our relationship."

"Are you sure?" Chan's hand frames your face and you lean into it. 

"One hundred percent."

"These are demons, baby," he hesitates. 

"And you're a demon too. Stop stating the obvious, Chan. Plus, I have you."

"Are the two of you done?" Jisung asks loudly. You hold Chan's wrist and drag him towards his friends. Changbin raises an eyebrow at the sudden beam of confidence that radiates from you. 

"We are. I'm Y/N," you finally introduce yourself. "Sorry for being awkward in the beginning—"

"Oh, don't be," Changbin mumbles, gaze still wary of you. "Jisung tends to have that effect on people."

"Hey!"

"Anyhow," Changbin finally smiles tonight. "Thanks to someone," He glares at Jisung, "We lost both our dinner and our car. So do you mind if we travel with you?"

"Oh, no," you clasp your hands together. "We'll give you a ride back to our place. Chan could cook us something," you smile at your boyfriend and he merely shrugs.

"And we can let the night roll into whatever it is, right?" Jisung's gaze is different, almost like he's insinuating a thousand different sex positions in one look. 

"Yes," you say after a long pause and an audible gulp. "We can let the night roll into whatever setting it turns to."

"Lead the way, princess," Jisung's arms move in abduction and you smile, skin wrinkling by your eyes at his chirpy self. You walk forward to the car and Chan slows down his strides to walk with the boys. 

His arms wrap around the shoulders of both the demons and he pulls them closer to sharply whisper. "You fucking hurt her and I'll have both your arses burning in the hottest flames in hell. I swear to Lucifer."

"What if she likes it?" Changbin raises an eyebrow, almost provoking Chan and your boyfriend glares back at him equally, gritting his teeth and almost growling. 

With clenched teeth, he restates, "Keep it tame," and lets go of them.

Chan should know better. Nothing is tame for the men in hell.

Changbin calls shotgun, putting you next to Jisung in the back seat while Chan drives the car.

"This is consensual, right?" Jisung asks again. There is concern lacing his face and Changbin sighs, mumbling, "She has said she wants us more than ten times, Sungie."

"Chan, you're alright with me fucking your girlfriend in the back while you drive?"

Chan's breath hitches, coughs entailing and you smile at how lost he looks for a minute as he turns back in worry, slowing the car down. "In the back or in the back of the car?"

"You never know. Maybe she might like it."

"Don't you dare!"

"Fine," he begrudgingly agrees. 

"As long as she's okay with it. Do not make her uncomfortable at all, guys," Chan sighs and turns back, pressing on the gas and almost taking all his thoughts out on it. You blush, cheeks staining a shade lighter and heat rising up as soon as you feel Jisung edge closer to you. In the front seats, Changbin talks to Chan, catching up on every single thing they have missed out in these years.

In the back seat, however, Jisung has different plans. A whole different plan to break you down into putty in his hands. 

"So, it seems like you are the girl that Chan wouldn't stop talking about and fawning over," Jisung's voice is huskier in the low tone he chooses to speak in to keep the conversation just between the two of you. "Nice to meet you, lovely. I'm Jisung. Now that I see you, I realise what all the fuss is about. You really are breathtaking."

You giggle, "You flatter me. Do all demons sweet talk this well?"

"Only the finest," Jisung winks. His hand wraps around your forearm and he slowly asks again, "It is alright for me to fuck you, right?"

The crudeness of the word in front of not just you but also two other demons leaves you flustered. Jisung pushes your hair strands that have gotten loose and fall to cover your eyes, behind your ears. 

"Yes, it is," you repeat for what you have counted in your head as the eleventh time. "It's totally alright, Jisung."

"Then, can I come closer?" You nod and Jisung edges forward, closer than he already is. "You know how us demons work, right?"

"Uh," you look down at your hands on your skirt. "You get wild every now and then." Jisung hums in approval, cupping your face with his left hand.

"Bingo, you're right!" Jisung grips your face a little stronger than a second before. "We, demons, love to go wild." He scoffs and continues, "Your boyfriend loves to play nice and pretend like he doesn't lose control and has only virtuous thoughts. All a big fucking facade to hide the fact that he just wants to bend you over and fuck you—" Jisung kisses your neck right underneath your face. "—Again and," he kisses your jugular. "Again and again." 

"I however am not. I like to do a lot of things to you."

Jisung bites sharply into your neck, sucking at the skin. The lewd noises resonate in the locked car and you know your boyfriend can hear each moan and each sound that comes from the back seat. The car moves only faster and Jisung's action matches the pace. He lets go of your neck only to crash his lips against yours, sucking in your lower lip as he kisses your hard. His arms snake around your frame and push you against him. 

You moan against his lips. It's volatile, you realise. Jisung's kisses are volatile. One minute they are harsh against your lips, strong enough to bruise them with cuts, and the very next minute, there is nothing softer than his lips or the goosebumps that trail your skin that he touched after untucking your shirt.

His skin is hot against yours, hot enough to raise goosebumps again on your skin. His lips are warmth personified and his grip makes you want to go unhinged 

He pulls back, lips parting and looking sinfully delectable. "It's in moments like these, princess, I realise how different our body temperatures are. How much warmer demons always are compared to humans. It must feel nice to have warm hands over you, doesn't it?" Jisung removes his hand from your bare skin and from underneath your white shirt. You gasp at the lack of contact, your skin feeling irritably cold all over again, and move closer into him.

"What a needy human," Jisung chuckles, and in the very blink of your eyes, he unbuttons your first two ones, exposing your black bra, laced to perfection, to him. "That's a pretty one. You really did go all out for Chan, did you not, princess?"

"I did. I wanted him to fuck me stupid and make me his tonight," you agree boldly and the car jolts to a stop suddenly. You are pushed forward into Jisung's warmth, your half-naked self pressed against Jisung's nice shirt. Changbin chuckles, looking at Chan and you turn to the side to see the traffic. You whisper again, "I still want him to fuck me stupid tonight."

"Oh, you are going to be all of ours tonight. We are going to make you such a slut for demon cock, princess. Make you greedy and desperate for it."

You are in the public. You are on the road, visible for any child or adult to look into your car only to see all the lustful deeds out in the open. You should have felt embarrassed, quivering in nothing but shame. However, all these triggers are for you to get wetter, panties sticking to your core and your grip to tighten on Jisung's arms. 

Jisung's hand moves back to unhook your bra. He lets it fall off your shoulders slightly before taking your left breast in his arms and bringing his face closer to it. He sucks on your left nipple, nipping on the areola around. His hand massages the right breast over the black lace bra and your head lolls forward. Your hand tightens around his shoulder and you desperately crave some friction in your nether regions. 

"Can I sit on your thigh, please?" You beg and Jisung's mouth leaves your nipple only to look up at you. 

"Only if you call me sir."

Jisung has an immaculate grip on your waist as he lifts you slightly, holding you mid-air and not letting you settle down on his thigh until you call him by what he desires to be called.

"Please let me sit on your thigh, sir."

"You're a good girl," and Jisung drops you down on his thigh. You blush at how Jisung calls you a good girl. You like being called names. Be it a good girl or a slut, the words coming out from them right during sex made you feel unique and special. Your skirt rides up and your wet panties are pressed flat against his nice formal pants. He kisses your lips again, this time biting into your lower lip and drawing a bit of the blood. The copper taste does nothing for the demon exactly, besides indulging him in a slight high he could almost get off on. You seethe against him and your hips grind down on his thigh almost unknowingly. Your lips part behind your panties, the two materials underneath and his flexed thigh providing you enough to ease the lust and thirst of wanting to feel more. 

"Does this feel good?" You moan in response and Jisung's eyes sparkle. "Ah, look at the expressions you are making." His hands grip tightly on your hips as he resolves to go back to your breasts and suck on them till the nipples harden for him and the areola swells up. His hands help your hips to move against his thigh quickly, soaking his navy blue pants darker. Your covered clit rubs over and over against his flexed thighs and the moans that leave your lips are loud and unhinged.

"Sir, ah, ah—" Your hands drop to hover your palm over his covered cock that rubs against your outer thigh. "I want more, sir. Fuck, fuck, I want more. Please, sir." And just as you begged, Jisung bites slightly into your breast just when he lets go of your hips and plunges two fingers into your wet lips, pushing the panties and skirt aside slightly. With your pussy filled with his fingers, Jisung continues to suck on your breasts and little kisses and hickeys all over them. 

Your moan is the loudest so far this night in that minute. His fingers are long and bony and they hit your walls and push against them exactly the way you like. Your pain and pleasure senses, both activated, seemed to be mixing signals leaving you with a slow, slow path to euphoria. "You like that, princess? Tell me."

"Your fingers feel so good, sir." You move against his thighs quickly, grinding on it rough as your pussy is stuffed with his fingers. "Sir, sir— Fuck, sir. There." Jisung curves his fingers, the joints by his finger rubbing against your spot, deep inside that has your thighs shivering and your whole body aching for more. He rubs against the spot till you gasp over and over again and he's laughing like the very devil he is.

"Oh my god, you're so wet for me, princess. You are dripping." Jisung quickly stills you on his thighs, his other hand digging into your hips. "I'm going to go a little—" He pulls out slightly before thrusting his fingers back in. 

"Sir, oh my god," your voice pitches higher and Jisung takes the positive signs well. He pushes his fingers back in after pulling them out. His forefinger moves away from the middle all while they are deep inside of you, stretching your walls apart and the sensation rules you up further as you move down, pulling him deeper and making you feel fuller than a second before. His fingers scissors inside of you, enhancing the sensations against your soft wet walls 

"You're so needy, princess. You like that, huh? Does it feel nice to have my fingers wide apart inside of you? Do you like it when I curl them up?" And Jisung curls them, eliciting a loud groan from you and your head dropping into his shoulder as you can feel yourself edge closer. 

He thrusts them faster. The lewd noises from your arousal gushing out and being pushed back in thanks to his fingers is intensified in the small space and your moans are like spice. Jisung sucks on your neck as his fingers hit your spot over and over again till the knot tightens so much that tears well up in your eyes and you pray he pushes you over the boundary. 

"You like my fingers thrusting fast, princess?" You nod and Jisung orders, "Words, princess."

"Yes, sir. I love it. I love it. I love— Ah! Ungh—" 

His thumb brushes finally against your clit and you bite into his shoulder. "Such a good princess. You deserve to cum, don't you? You were such a good girl." Jisung's thumb presses into your clit. His thrusts stills for a short second and your impatient self slides yourself up to fuck his fingers. The obscene sounds get louder with every second as you move closer to your orgasm. 

"I think I should introduce another finger. Princess got my two fingers sopping wet." Jisung's third finger now plunges into you, pushing you apart even further and your breath hitches. He thrusts at a great speed, "We'll be faster, a little bit faster. That will be alright, right?" You know you are close, just a little bit of clitoral stimulation and Jisung's three bony fingers thrusting up into you, hitting the spots—

The electric motor revs and the garage door opens. Chan slowly moves the car into the garage, darkness seeping into the car. Jisung thrusts sloppily, once and then twice before pulling them away from your core, leaving your walls to clench on nothing desperately. You cry, "No, no, no, no—" 

His voice is husky as he says, "Looks like we are here, princess. We are home." Slowly, without breaking contact with your eyes, Jisung sucks on his forefinger and then the middle finger and then the third slowly, tongue wrapping across it, dancing almost like a whole orchestra was playing in the background. 

Chan rushes to open your door. He sees your haphazard hair, unbuttoned shirt and exposed breasts and he groans. You are insatiable just as he has always known. Your eyes are lost and mind far away at dreams of achieving orgasm. Chan buttons up your shirt and helps you get out of the car. His hold on your frame is tight and he kisses the side of  your forehead.

"Chan's making pasta," Changbin announces and walls towards you, raising an eyebrow at your sight. 

"We already have a whole meal here." Jisung licks your arousal from his lower lips. Chan rolls his eyes, before calling out loudly, "Jisung!"

"Yes?"

"You're helping me with dinner."

"But why me? I want to fuck Y/N," he whines. "All I did was tease her in the back of the car." 

Chan leans into you and whispers, "Feel free to hit him when you want to. You'll have me to reason out and save you from anything." You laugh lightly, head slowly focusing on your boyfriend. He shifts his attention back to Jisung, "Because I said so and it's the least of hospitality you must show."

Jisung groans, before reluctantly agreeing, "I have a huge appetite, so heads up." You stare at Jisung, head with thoughts far in the past than in the present. 

Fuck appetite. Fuck Han Jisung. Figuratively, and if fortunate, quite literally. You have a ruined orgasm for the first time that night and all you have an appetite for is one — to be humble — mind-blowing orgasm to take you to the end of the world and back.

Your boyfriend is a gentleman.

In the years you have known Chan, you know for sure that heaven and hell is nothing but a lie. Ironically. The stigmatization of having to be only bad or only good is so skin deep in humans that the very thought of a devil being nice seems like an illusion. That is, if the whole concept of heaven and hell is not an illusion already.

Chan is nice. He is nice to you and that is all that matters to you. He treats you like a princess because you are his princess — the only person worth staying on earth for. 

So when he lets the guys go ahead and pulls you behind a wall right before the huge living room of his apartment is in view, you know he has something to say. That, or he has a kiss to steal.

"Are you okay?" 

Chan's eyebrows are furrowed, eyes softening in worry as his hands lift up to cup your face, thumb rubbing circles into your cheek. You break a smile, leaning forward to brush the tip of your nose against his and you place a delicate peck on the same spot. 

"More than ever. I told you, baby, right? That I'll tap out the minute this gets too much for me."

"I'm just so worried. You've never—"

"Are you guys making out?" You hear Jisung's voice resonate against the walls and you turn your head, stifling the laughter that bubbles inside of you. Jisung yells again, "Chan, pasta!"

"I'm coming," he yells back, dropping his hand from your face. "I'm coming. Oh, if only Lucifer burnt you alive!" 

"I'd have to be alive for that, ha!"

"Go," you chuckle, kissing his lips only to pull back in a short second. "I'll hang out with Changbin."

"He's. . ." Chan sighs. "Just remember to be comfortable, baby, okay?"

"I know. I trust them. Beyond everything, I trust you."

You hold Chan's hand in yours and pull him away from the shadows of the wall, bring him before his friends. Changbin raises an eyebrow at the two of you, before taking a step forward as Chan follows Jisung to the kitchen.

"That leaves us together alone for a while," Changbin suggests, arms folded over each other as he takes quicker steps towards you. He doesn't tower over you much but his entire persona that he broods is enough to make you whimper, lips to part unknowingly and eyes to widen in want. "I should probably introduce myself properly. I'm Changbin. I've known your boyfriend since forever. We became demons around the same time."

"Oh," you respond, mouth patching up with the excessive want.

"I'd like to get to know you, sweetheart?" Changbin is close enough for you to feel the warmth that exudes from his body. His arms drop for a small second before his right one lifts up. His thumb and forefinger grips on your chin to angle it up slightly for you to look at him properly. The name he calls you by makes you gasp under your breath, loving the endearment and he notices. Changbin notices how much the term has its effect on you in this minute.

"Do you like being called a sweetheart, princess? An angel, maybe? Do you like dressing up in pretty pink lingerie for Chan? Maybe you want to be a baby doll on top of me for the night?" Changbin lets go of your chin before taking a step back and walking towards Chan's sofa. He sits down on it, thighs spread apart as his arm rests on the side. His attention drifts back to you, lips quirking up in brief excitement. "Or despite dating one of the most sinful creatures ever to exist, you like being called a good girl?"

Your thighs clench together and you grip at the end of your skirt. Changbin laughs at the reaction he draws out from you. He taps on his thighs and beckons for you, "Why don't you come be a good girl on my lap, hm?"

You take shy steps towards him, before sitting on his thighs that he now has pressed together. Either of your legs dangle on the sides of his body and Changbin holds your hips as he pulls you closer. Your skirt crumpled up, exposing so much more to him and Changbin is in delight at how pretty you look on top of him.

"May I?" And you nod, mumbling a soft yes. His hand slowly trails above, starting from the point right above your knee joint. It's slow and sensuous for a soft second as his fingers slowly climb up your thigh before the tables turn over and Changbin's hand rips the panties from underneath your skirt and throws it to the side. Your eyes widen, cheeks heating up as you hold onto his shoulder at the sudden force. 

"We won't be needing that for the night now, do we?"

You bite your lip and Changbin's hand hovers over your sodden lips from the previous encounter with Jisung. He rubs his palm over it as he locks his gaze with yours and asks, "Respond, princess. I need to hear you respond."

"No, we won't need that."

"That's my good girl," Changbin praises you and presses the heel of his palm into your clitoral region and you moan explicitly and unhinged. He rubs it slightly and your burning core oozes more of your arousal out into his hand, burning for that long forgotten orgasm you had hoped for. Using his other hand, he rips open your blouse, the top button letting free from the dress at all the harsh happenings it has been through for the night. 

"Oh dear, look at that," Changbin clicks his tongue repeatedly before plunging his fingers into your core and pulling your bra down with his teeth at the same time, grazing slightly at your breast that it leaves you thrusting yourself on his fingers that drive hard into you. 

You whimper, "Changbin, fuck," and he lets out an amused sound. He thrusts his two fingers in and out of you as he lips wrap around your nipple, lapping at it. He lets go momentarily, hot breath fanning all over your mound and he asks,

"Do you like this or maybe is it some pain that you like?" 

And within a second, Changbin's teeth bite into the flesh by your mound. His unoccupied hand cups your mound, massaging it before flicking your nipple. Harshly. You gasp, head dropping forward as you lean into Changbin's chest, whimpering repeatedly.

"Baby girl likes that, doesn't she?" He flicks it again, pain shooting up your nerves and you slightly bite into his neck. He speaks into your skin. "She likes it a lot."

Changbin says he likes art. He talks about how he loves the purple colours that blend into the pink and then, the colours of your skin. He sucks on your bosom, littering the area around your areola with pretty, pretty marks all while his fingers are plunged deep inside of you, pads of the same rubbing your walls while his palm rubs the collected arousal into your core, pressing into your clit and stimulating it 

Your senses are alert and every breath, every moan that is present in the air is hyperbolised in your ears. You can feel Changbin's rough fingers slowly pull out while his mouth trails down to wrap his lips around your areola, tongue wrapping around your nipple and he laps at it like a starved animal.

"Chan's too nice to you, too gentle, too kind to you. Treats you like some porcelain doll. I don't blame him for that," Changbin taunts you. He pulls his fingers out from your dripping core and his mouth leaves your breasts. Your walls contract at the sudden absence of his fingers and you grind down onto his thighs, expecting — begging more.

Changbin flicks at your stimulated clitoris. It sends a rush of both pain and pleasure intermingled up your spine, hitting your brain cells, leaving you lost and in a trance. He continues the mockery, "I usually don't fuck with humans. In fact, I even condoned Chan for doing that. No offense to you, baby girl, but humans are delicate, too fragile, for my taste. No matter how sex crazed or ravenous you are, you are still no match for a demon by comparison."

Changbin kisses up your neck, marking you up as he draws out his mockery. You think it is weird that this time round Changbin doesn't intimidate or anger you. Rather every word he says sends a trail of arousal shooting downwards, making you wetter with every passing second — making you anticipate for so much more. It is embarrassing at how wet you are from every single teasing you have been put throygh for the night. 

"You may think Chan is different but he isn't, baby girl. He's just as demonic as we are, just as fucked up as every creature from hell is. He might hold back for you, but when you push his buttons well enough, you know he'll unleash it all. Even Jisung. The only difference between them and yours truly is that—" Changbin pauses. His lips quirk up and his hand unbuckles his belt, metal clinging as it comes undone. He unzips the pant and shoves it down as he lifts himself up with you with such ease that your fragile, weak and overstimulated self is in surprise. He pulls his dick out from his formal pants and it is hot, hard and everything you crave at this point. 

You think it's unfair for a man with this big an ego to have this thick a cock and you were this close to blaming God for being unfair when you realise this isn't his territory. And history has proven that Lucifer has always been kind to his followers. 

Changbin strokes his cock, thumb rubbing at the slit at the hot head. You salivate, almost ready to drip from the corner of your mouth when Changbin cuts your thoughts — filthy thoughts, too dirty to be spoken of; filthy, filthy thoughts on how heavy his cock would be on your mouth, on how wide his cock would stretch your mouth and how deep he'd go, perhaps all the way to your throat — and holds your thighs, pulling you closer into him to position you in such a way that his cock is straddled right between the flesh of both your thighs.

"The only difference between me and the other two, baby girl, is that," Changbin's voice drops an octave lower as he almost growls, "I don't make a habit of suppressing it at all. I can grab you by the throat just like this—"  The demon holds you by your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck hovering right across your jugular and carotid, pressing them slightly. It is scary how you are here trusting a demon fully aware that an inch deeper and you would be accompanying him in your journey to the other world. Or mayhaps it's your trust in your boyfriend. Changbin's fingers are wrapped deliciously around your neck and your pussy leaks juices, coating his dick that is pressed against it. "—and thrust my dick so deep into you and fuck you so hard that your body, mind and soul is broken beyond repair."

Your mouth opens wide, tongue resting against your lower lip and Changbin spits into your mouth, ordering you instantly, "Swallow," and when you do, he lets go of your neck for a second, caressing the roughened area and mumbling, "You're a good, good girl for me, aren't you, baby girl?"

You nod, voice hoarse as you beg like a kitten in her worst heat, "Please, please, please—"

"Please what, baby girl? Use your words like the good girl you are."

"Fuck me, Binnie. Fuck me, fuck me. Need your dick in me. I'll be a good girl." 

Changbin laughs loudly, almost as if he is mocking you. He is, because his fingers wrap around your neck once again as he thrusts his cock upwards. It slides against your wet lips, striking against your clit. "How could I fuck you when your thighs are this inviting? Look at how wet they are because of your arousal. You are leaking, baby. What a good whore."

"Binnie," you gasp, barely phrasing with his hold on your neck as he thrusts back upward. He holds your close as you equally grind on him. "Binnie, I want more. I want more."

"Be a good girl and I'll reward you, baby girl. Be a good girl and let me fuck your thighs." You nod and grind down. "How does it feel like, baby girl, to have my hard cock rubbing against you? Squeeze your legs tightly around me—" You wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his back. "Fuck, just like that." 

The squelching sounds are loud and prominent. The friction of his cock rubbing against your wet skin is amplified in the silence. Your hips move slightly trying to get as much as contact possible on your clit. Your head is empty, voices hindered and you can only think of how badly you want to get fucked, how badly you want Changbin to treat you more roughly. 

Changbin is vocal. Very, very vocal. He whimpers at every rub, moans loudly and grunts as you grind down on him. The filthy words that leave his mouth does not stop — "Your skin feels so warm and cool against my cock. Oh fuck, can you feel your clit throbbing against my dick, baby girl? You naughty little fucking thing."

His pace quickens as he thrusts further, grunting, "You are fucking delicious, baby girl. Chan's been keeping a whole asset away from us."

"Binnie, Binnie—" you moan, breasts rising and falling with every occasional jumping you do on his thighs to match the pace of his thrusts. "Choke me harder, please."

"What?"

"I want you to choke me harder."

"Fuck," and Changbin listens clearly. His fingers dig a little deeper and you are gasping, arousal dripping even more and staining his navy blue formal pants after coating his cock further. "Fucking grind on my cock. Baby girl, you are making me rethink my policy on humans."

"Ungh," you whimper when his cock stills and grinds onto your clit, focusing only on that. Changbin chuckles. His voice is laced with tease, "Easy there, baby girl. If my cock were to accidentally slip into your pussy, who knows what I might do." 

"Please, please—" You barely speak out when Changbin's grip on your neck loosens for a bit.

"Did I fuck the words out of you, baby? Did I fuck you stupid? I haven't even fucked you with my dick yet and look at you already. You would want that right, baby girl? For me to fuck you dumb, fuck you stupid. I'll have you ride my cock till all you know is how to be a good girl for me and how to take my big fat cock."

"Yes, yes, yes—" 

Changbin stops right when your whimpering increases, pitch shooting up higher and your chest rises and falls as he halts. However, in one swift motion, he pins you on the sofa, him on top of you and he stares at you. You are a disoriented mess, hair spilling onto your face and everywhere, clothes open partially but enough to spill everything and your legs — thighs specifically — are glistening in the lights.

"It sucks that you are Chan's girl, sweetheart? Do you think he'd mind sharing more than once?"

Changbin does not wait for your response. With the support of his hands, he brings his body down, head in direct contact with your skirt stained with your arousal and the precum that oozed out from his cock. He sucks deep purple marks into your thighs, trailing them all the way to your glistening core. And then, his mouth is on your sodden lips.

It's a miracle at how you are able to keep your eyes open. All the teasing this night has made your body heavy and yet, like some starving woman on sex steroid, your pussy aches for more. His lips are on your wet ones as he licks at the lips, pushing it apart as he takes in your arousal, lapping in to take it all. It is merciless. The demon he is, is marvellous, hot and a sex god at that. His tongue licks your lips, tip teasing your entrance as he rubs your clit, slowly. he draws small circles over it, tapping at the engorged button till your toes curl in, knees lift up to bend for your feet to press down. Your eyes are squeezed shut and your fingers pull at his hair every time you feel the knot tightening. 

The room is filled with lewd noises and your moans are loud enough for everyone in the house to hear. Changbin licks stripes after stripes on your lips, lapping up your arousal as he hums in delight. Another stripe up your wet lips and he soon wraps his plump pair around your clit and sucks on it, loud noise of suckle resonating and causing you to move your hips slightly. 

Changbin's sharp teeth graze over your clit, nibbling slightly till you feel the knot clench in your stomach. The vortex forms deep within you again, the sign of an impending orgasm and you can only pray that he doesn't leave you begging like Jisung did. It's coming. You are so close, again, for the second time this night and you needed it. You are sure that you would go crazy if you did not receive the release you had so prayed for. Changbin rubs your clit furiously, lips moving back to your cunt as he eats you out. Changbin's tongue flicks to perfection, hitting your sensitised bud over and over again till you snap and come undone all over his face, arousal squirting out and over his entire face.

Your legs quiver as Changbin laps it all up, tongue swiping across your lips till he has drunk every single drop of your arousal. Your eyes that were squeezed shut opens and you see the mess you have made on his face. 

"Fuck, I'm sor—" You try to lift yourself up to help him when Changbin pulls you by your legs closer to him and wraps his lips on your clit, sucking on the bud till it borders overstimulation and you are screaming out in both pain and pleasure, your abdomen pitting at the sight of another orgasm with his actions.

"Binnie, fuck, oh fuck," Tears well up at the corner of your eyes on being overstimulated. You can feel your brain getting fuzzier, sense hyperbolic at everything around you. You are falling into something you are unfamiliar with. "I'm sensitive, fuck. I'm so sensitive."

He moves forward, overstimulating you and your eyes roll up at all your nerves being triggered to send the excess messages of stimulation to your brain, knots tightening and you are ready to combust once again until Jisung walks out of the kitchen, announcing, "Dinner's ready."

"Too bad I had my fill," Changbin sniggers, tongue extending out of his mouth to lick your arousal off the corners of his mouth. Your chest rises and falls and you try to focus in on something on the ceilings — ah, the spokes of the fan, yes. Three. Three. Three. Three. Changbin quickly notices the change in your demeanor, "Baby girl? You alright?"

"Princess?" Chan's rushing to your side as soon as he hears something is up with you. You giggle, laughing soon enough as you look up. Changbin stands up from your side, concern filling him when you start laughing. Jisung, on the other hand, walks to keep the pasta on the table behind the sofa. "Princess, are you there with me?"

It is the rush of endorphins that cloud your brain. Your heart beats fast, breathing rapid and it's a different kind of high you are in. You hold onto Chan's sleeve, giggles nonstop as you mumble in between, "Chan, uh, Chan! Chan!"

"I've got you, princess," he says softly, before wrapping his arm around your thighs and the other over your torso before lifting you up. "I've got you. I'm right here." You cling onto his shirt, snuggling into him as he verbally assures you. 

He stops midway in his path, turns to look at two of his friends, especially glaring at Changbin, before firmly saying, "Eat and leave. I'll talk to you later. I have to take care of her."

"We could hel—"

"Not today. Not now. I'll—" Chan sighs, holding you closer to him as you mumble words incoherently, smiling to yourself. His face softens, as if he's trying to comfort Changbin who looks guilty for the first time before Chan in eons of years together. "We'll talk to you later."

"Okay."

"And guys?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for tonight. I know she liked it. A bit too much, if anything."

Chan holds you close.

So close to him that even the rush of endorphins in your brain isn't loud enough to hear how loud your own heart beats next to his faint beating one. 

His arms wrap around your frame, hand holding your head close into his chest as he soothingly rubs the back of it and at every short interval, he coos into your head, "I'm right here, baby." Your body shifts to a relaxed position from the very tensile state it was in that second thanks to his voice, at his words and at his very being.

"Relax, baby. This is going to pass. You did so well, so, so well."

And you giggle into his chest, eyes closing warmly for a fraction there before looking up at him. Chan believes if synesthesia was a thing for demons, he would see the colours behind your eyes. How the crimson red slowly — so, so slowly — turned to darkest shades of pink and then the softest ones and Chan knows. He knows for sure that this is it. This is his whole world.

Chan feels jealous of humankind for the first time.

He is envious about how it would not be him that grows old with you, has kids with you and gets to be physical with you at every point. He knows he can't do that with you forever. He cannot do this with you forever. And even if he did decide to fuck it and do it anyway, you'd leave him one day. 

Chan knows he could never do much. He cannot change fate or turn himself into human for you. That is impossible. And yet he hopes — ah, a dangerous thing for a demon to have, something they mustn't possess — that every moment he spends with you is infinite and never dies. 

Your body tightens up again, goes rigid in his hold and he worries for you. That is Chan's first mistake, or so he believed years back. He cares for you. He cares for you in ways a demon shouldn't. He cares for you enough to know that demons have feelings or at the very least, he does. He cares enough to call it love. 

"It's alright," he mumbles and you mumble back, "We couldn't spend time together tonight."

"It's still eight. We have time," Chan smiles and rubs the hair off your face, only to press a soft chaste kiss on your forehead. "We have a lot of time. You should rest. You were such a good girl tonight."

"I was," you hold onto his shirt before letting your hands trail underneath and Chan realises the endorphins are slowly calming down, keeping you in a safer position than you were minutes back. "Wasn't I, daddy?"

"Princess, you really had a lot today, do you—"

"I want to. I—" You kiss Chan, hands cupping his face and lips pulling at his before letting your tongue twine with his. You moan unknowingly as your body rises to lean further into him. Your fingers graze the small stubble by the side of his jaws as you find yourself getting lost in him, in the feeling of his hot tongue lapping around yours.

"Mmh," Chan moans before holding your jaw tighter, leg wrapping around your frame. In a swift motion, he pins you down underneath him as he still kisses you. His lips are beyond tempting as you draw every kiss out, draw every moan out from him. He pulls back the minute you lift your hips to grind onto his crotch, feeling himself against your bare core. "We should stop—"

"No. You're my Valentine. Not Changbin or Jisung. You'll always be my Valentine," you respond, tugging him down into you by his shirt. Chan's eyes widen before softening as he looks at you — looks at you like you are everything better than him, hell and afterlife. 

"But you really had it rough today and—"

"I want more. I want so much more rough and I want them from my boyfriend. No one else." Your hand grades the stubble again and Chan leans into your hold. "The fact that you've never been rough with me and that I had to hear about it from Changbin and Jisung did no good to my ego, baby."

"They were—" Chan pauses on his own this time. You don't interrupt or cut him. He knows he can't lie to you. He knows how much he holds back but Chan knows that he has no issue with that. It's a safer option for you and yet here you are tonight asking him to be himself, be everything he is and show you how far he can go — he was going to fucking lose it at that alone. 

"You know they were not lying," your voice lower. "They are demons, you had said, and that I should be careful. But Chan, baby, you are a demon too. So why do you hold back? Is it because I'm a human?"

"Yes," Chan reluctantly agrees and you sigh. You drop your hand from his face and Chan's lips pucker in response. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You know you won't," you reassure him. "You could never hurt me unknowingly and even if you did, you know you'd take care of me till I'm back to the same."

"There shouldn't be a situation that leads to the worst case scenario, Y/N."

"But I want that. I want you to show me everything and I want to know if I'd like that. Give me a choice. I—" You gulp, scared of telling it out loud finally now that you have come to a partial conclusion to it yourself. "I liked Changbin being rough on me. I liked it a lot. I liked Jisung edging me. I liked it so much that all I could think about till Changbin touched me was of Jisung giving me an orgasm."

Chan's hand presses down by the sheets adjacent to your face and he holds it tightly. If care was an emotion he shouldn't have felt, jealousy is another that should never have a place in a demon's mind. Especially not when they were all brought up with the thought of sharing. 

He hates how Changbin got to be rough with you before him. Something so petty and so, so territorial arises in him that he wasn't even aware for him to feel this. He knows he gave consent. He knows he was there to hear it all and yet hearing you say you liked it brought in exactly two emotions in him that conflicted each other so much that he knew he was going feral — a) delight, over you being so content and over you being so understanding of demonic natures and b) jealousy, over another demon having had you in ways only he had before. 

"Chan?"

"Yes?"

"You were lost there for a minute."

"You promise me you'll tell me to stop if it gets too much, right?"

"Always," you peck at his lips. "I'll always do that. I just want everything you are and you have to offer. I don't want to know stuff from others. I want to feel them through you."

And Chan kisses you again. This time however, it is a lot different from the previous kiss you drew out from him. His lips find home in yours as they come upon you, imperatively. The kiss gets deeper each time, tongues chasing and lapping each other, earning continuous whines and whimpers coming out from both of you. Your arms wrap themselves around his neck, your fingers trailing up his nape to his hair, gripping the small hair at his back and Chan kisses you passionately, his hands cupping and tilting your face, angling it so that he could intensify the kiss as he desired.

He's desperate to show you everything he is.

The very second your mouth had brushed his, Chan knows that you are the one for him. It had always been you. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could feel the tingle over his lips and your warm breath wafting over his chin. It is exactly as he had carved in his mind, etched so deep that it could never fade away.

His hand is prominent on its grip on your neck, as you lift your chin higher — so you can press your lips harder into his —  while your hands fist into his shirt — white, clean and perfect all for the night only for it to be discarded to the very corner of the bedroom the two of you share. His free hand drops to wind around your waist, arm pressed between the bed and you and in one swift movement, he pulls your body flush against his.

Gasping at the motion, Chan seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue between your teeth, your lips parting further in response. His tongue swipes across yours, curling around your tongue and gently massaging it. The metal ball at the tip of his tongue provides a sharp coldness and you hiss into his mouth, only for him to provide more contact with the metal that it leaves you emitting moans into him. 

It is electrifying. Every single thing with Chan has been exciting, unpredictable and leaves you begging for more. It is perhaps mankind's adhesive nature towards sin itself that made you like this — that made you into such a moldable clay in his hands and you don't mind going to hell for this. Because every single moment you lived on earth, if it were with him, would be relentlessly passionate. You would never want to swap with anything, even if someone handed heaven to you on a platter.

Because Chan is your heaven. 

When you feel his tongue flick against yours, slightly, grazing it, your hands uncurl from his shirt - only to wind up his chest, along his throat, towards the nape of his neck. You find yourself lapping around the metal ball on his tongue, rolling your eyes shut. 

With every passing second, you find yourself drowning into Chan. His body is pressed flat against yours, chest against yours, his saccharine taste coating your senses till that is all you can think about, and his warm breath all over your face. You find yourself drowning into him — you always have — his entire presence encasing your senses as you lose yourself deep into his entire being.

Is this how people were dragged into hell? Tempting. 

Chan pulls back and you smile at your boyfriend, like a little girl happy to have received her candy. You glance down at your shirt that is half open as a result of everything that happened tonight and proceed to unbutton the rest and remove it off your body. Chan's eyes linger more than ever on the marks that Changbin has left all over your body — marks that have turned dark purplish red and he seethes at the very sight of it in anger. 

"If we do this again, on your request, of course," Chan kisses over all the marks slowly, taking his own time to lick it over with his tongue before pressing his lips against it. "I'm going to be physically present. Not going to let anyone mark my baby up like this. That's for me."

And Chan sucks over it. His hand goes behind your back to unhook your bra and toss it aside. His hand lands firm on your breast, fingers playing with your nipple as his mouth slowly moves down to kiss your other nipple before sucking on it, lewd sounds emitting from his mouth.

"Daddy, fuck—" Your back arches, hips jutting upwards into his pelvis only to feel his covered growing length rough against your sticky skin. Chan uses his free hand to hold onto your waist and lift you slightly, allowing you to hook your leg over his waist, tight enough to tease you.

Chan hums in approval as you grind up, exposed core moving and staining your favorite formal pants of his, all while his tongue laps at your areola. The metal ball right at the centre of the tip of his tongue is pressed to your nipple and the difference in temperature has your mind spiralling. 

His palm squeezes your breast, thumb running over your nipple before he purposefully leans down and gives you a taste of his warm mouth. You gape open at the contact of his mouth on your nipple, teeth purposely grazing against the skin only for the metal ball to soothe over the burn.

Puckering his lips, he presses them to the sensitive spot by your jugular before sucking harshly. Responsively, a low mew resounds from your lips, leaving them in the open for just you and him to hear to.

"Do you remember the safe word?"

You nod, "Red for you to stop, yellow for you to give me time and green for you to proceed."

"Perfect," and Chan moves so quickly to remove your skirt off your body as he hovers over your completely naked self, fully clothed. You have always wondered if Chan would ever be into power play, especially with how he could project himself sometimes. Like in moments like these. You make a note in your head to ask him about the very thing. 

Chan kisses your lips, tugging at your lip before dipping himself further, getting lost in you. He rubs his tongue across your lower lip, metal ball harsh against your coral lips. He kisses your cheek and then, your pinna.

You feel his warm breath against your ear, shuddering in impact. You are about to ask him to stop teasing you — that you've had enough foreplay the whole night. However, in the next second, his hand lowers and lands on your inner thighs in a loud spank and you gasp, not expecting it. He hits the same skin almost a second after before the pain recedes and you are moaning out loud, brain wiring differently as heat pools between your legs.

“Fuck," he swears under his breath. His hand edges closer to you, dangling so close to your core that he can feel your arousal by your thighs, all over again and over the dried ones by your thighs. "You’re so dripping wet,” Chan mutters, only to laugh and comment, "At least I can credit this to myself."

Chan leans forward, next to your ear again and mumbles, "Baby, I'll be using words that would come off as very demeaning but I need you to know that I would never use them unless we are in the mood. You are and will be my baby girl, my princess forever. Is that alright?"

"It is," you blush, heat shooting straight to the core and you can feel yourself leak further, embarrassingly, right when Chan's hand is so close to your lips.

"Fuck, you are dripping. Such a filthy whore," Chan taunts and you feel it, deep in your gut. You've never seen this side to Chan but fuck, you love it. You love it more than Changbin having called you a good girl. You want to be called a whore, a slut — as long as you were his whore, his slut. 

Chan collects the arousal that you drip out, coating his fingers and palm. Moving his fingers, he collects your arousal that leaks from your gaping hole and watches the transparent stick to his fingers. The bulge in his pants is hard and seems too painful to be confined. You gulp evidently, throat parched. Chan's hand edges closer towards your lips and languidly strokes your slit with his fingers coating in your arousal. The pads of his finger circles your hole and you mewl, clutching slightly onto his shoulder. 

"Daddy, please, need your fingers in me."

"You've been fucked by two demons already and you are still so horny," he scoffs. "Impressive." He raises an eyebrow. Almost like he is teasing you further, he continues to play with your cunt. You whimper, gasping and hoping to feel the burn of the stretch that would come with him thrusting his fingers up.

Each small action Chan does has you moving forward in pleasure, hoping for the same as you try to move with his hand, all in an attempt to drive his digit deeper into you. Nonetheless, Chan controls the pressure and the pace and no matter how hard you try to move, he never lets you have his way, clearly showing that it was him in power here, not you. Growing tired of his teasing, anticipation filling you to insanity, tears brimming your eyes, you whine, “Fucking hell, Ch— Daddy, come on."

Chan chuckles, kissing your clavicle, biting into the skin above and sucking furiously enough to mark you. You sigh, breath exhaled out desperately. "Please, please, pl— Ah!"

Chan hits your core with the pads of his finger, labia silently flapping in impact and you moan at the pain that shoots up from your sensitive core. This causes you to moan, body moving forwards in a surprised reaction. The palm hitting the clit sends electric sparks throughout your body, your brain almost fusing. The sound is sharp as it rings through the air before you feel pain along the vulva. Crying in pain, you mumble softly out before holding to him softly, “Please,” you implore. "I need you, daddy." 

The sensation of the pad of his thumb swiping against your swollen, needy bud causes you to buck into him, your cunt soon contracting around nothing. Chan mumbles as he lowers his body silently, kissing your skin on his way. He kisses the skin right above your acetabulum, tracing his lips down till he kisses your core, a soft peck over it. 

It is a stark difference in your clothing that takes you aback; of how you were completely naked while Chan was completely clothed and yet that excited you. The power he has is enough to have you ooze out more arousal that would prompt the sheets to stain further. 

Chan licks at your core, once, twice and then he is sucking at your clit, like a man walking days in a desert with no water source. His mouth is against your core, licking on it, the cold wet metal ball pressing against it, before he sucks on your engorged button. The lewd noises that leave your mouth are pornographic and your legs have lost their strength.

You are about to say a word before Chan curls his fingers up into you and your back arches slightly at the feeling of his fingers in you. "D-Daddy!" 

You feel Chan searching your walls for the spot he has felt enough that he finds it in a few minutes. He rubs against the same spot that brings the loudest reaction from you before dragging his fingers back slowly only to slip his fingers easily into you again, the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs. The sheets are stained. His pants are stained and so is his white shirt. 

"No demon I've fucked before would have sex this close to being out of the world. Fuck, princess. Your slutty pussy is clutching onto my fingers." He rubs your walls and your enlarged button. Your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately as you press into him. 

Chan's fingers are fast as they thrust in and out of your core. You could find yourself getting wetter and wetter with the lewd sounds that resonate the walls. The demon presses his metal piercing flat against your clit and you gasp. "F-Fuck, Daddy!"

And as Chan sucks on your button of nerves, his fingers thrusts into you at a relentless pace, pushing right at the spot that has you feeling the endorphins spilling into your bloodstream. You feel the knot that tightens in your stomach, ready to fall over the cliff till Chan's teeth graze your clit and you lose it.

“Come for me, my princess,” Chan urges. His command, paired with the way his tongue dances across your clit and how his rough thick fingers drags against your sweet spot, has you careening off of the brink of pleasure and into an oblivion. You can feel your bloodstream soaking slowly with the rush of endorphins. You need a moment to calm down from how good that orgasm is, as Chan slowly rubs you through your high. 

You think Chan is about to drag his fingers out of you and away when he picks up the speed of his fingers. He toys with your sensitive clit. 

"Daddy, ah—" You feel the pain slightly of being overstimulated, slowly getting intense and intense. You are crying and he slows down, looking into your eyes, expecting a colour to be screamed and when you don't, smiling softly, he continues, kissing you and swallowing every cry you have. 

You feel your skin standing at the very precipice of being sensitive to anything. In a split second without any warning, his mouth still on you, Chan holds your clit between his forefinger and thumb before twisting it and instantly, you feel something deep within you tighten up.

That was it. Your breath is disoriented. Your jaw falls loose and you let out a loud cry as a powerful orgasm cuts right through you. Chan drops his hand on to the bed as you squirt on being overstimulated. Your arousal soaks his shirt, fabric sticking to his body and he is amused. Your thighs shake, quivering uncontrollably as your back curves, body lifting up. Chan's other arm wraps around you as he kisses you through this. Your muscles tremble, ache and are sour. Eventually, you find your hips stopping gradually as you fall victim to the pleasure, squirting slowly receding. His hand is covered in your juices and he chuckles against your lips after pulling back, placing you lightly on your back.

"That was so fucking hot," he looks at you proudly, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes are closed, post that powerful orgasm, tears staining your cheeks. He moves only after your eyes open, making sure you are alright and are able to breath right.

"Daddy," you smile and Chan smiles brighter. That's his girl. That's his girl, alright.

"You've got my shirt messy, princess." He chuckles and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as your head drops to the side to look away. Chan holds your face with his messy hands and kisses you, drawing out another long kiss to rid you away from any other thoughts besides ones of fucking him tonight. 

You pull away and mumble, "It's not fair that you were dressed completely in the first place."

"Is that so now?"

"Yes," you huff and your hand trails up Chan's arm, fingers digging into his arm. "It's a damn bother." 

Chan unbuttons his shirt, taking his own time with it as his fingers roll against them before popping the material out of hold from the button. Your hand lies in wait by his waist, fingers rubbing against the curve of his ass and you stare up at him. With every button that he maneuvers his shirt out of, you can see his tattoos more and more clearly.

The feathers that poke out through the corner of his shoulder, flat on the coracoid process, more present superficially right above his clavicle, are detailed. You can see the feathers variant in their styles as they fall from a greater source that lies behind him.

Chan's tattoo had always been magnificent, as if they were rebuking the almighty as he acknowledged his very being. The ends of the black feathers also tease into the head of his biceps. Two beautiful wings, bold and powerful, arise from his spine and exhibit loudly on his back.

Your mouth gapes open at the sight of it as Chan bends forward to unbutton his pants, the wings clearly visible to you and your heart leaps at the sight of it. Chan raises an eyebrow at you, staring down at his tattoo, as soon as he pulls down his pants. 

"Ah, the tattoo kink," he chuckles. "How could I forget."

"It's not a thing," you blush.

"Please," he laughs, eyes wrinkling soon. "There's no way you could lie to me, princess." 

You blush. Crunching forward, you stretch your arms, fingers pointing to draw against the outline of the wings. "It's beautiful," you whisper. "It's so fucking beautiful, Chan." He chooses to ignore the call of his name because nothing else would sound sweeter in this moment than his name itself. What you would do to give everything in wrapping your lips around his flesh by the corners of the wings and to ruin it with your own marks.

He unsheathes himself off the confines of his undergarment. Chan has always been bigger in comparison to every single one you had seen, girth firmer than you had envisioned and the frenum piercing has you salivating. It shines under the dim lighting of your room, your eyes unable to drift away from it, lips parted slightly.

You let out a small mewl — the walls of your core throbs against his member at the sensations of the piercings rubbing against the same — enhancing both your senses. Chan notices how your thighs quiver and he raises his eyebrows in sheer amusement.

"You really don't fail to surprise me, princess," Chan sniggers. "Look at you eye fucking me all while I just unstrip."

"Please," your eyes glisten and Chan coos. "Please. Need your cock in me, daddy. Need your big fat cock to fill me up and stuff me stupid." Your hands move down to hold his engorged length in your hand, rubbing the metal balls on the head with your fingers and feeling the coldness in a sharp contrast to his hot girth.

"You've been such a good, good whore tonight. Daddy's going to reward you well. So well." His hand trails down your frame and you shudder as they move down your sides.

Chan moves slightly, his hands bracing on either side of yours. The strong muscles of his arms twitch as he bears the entirety of his body weight on them. You push your body upwards and you stretch your arms up. You run your hands over his naked shoulders and his back, grazing his tattoo a little more before tangling your fingers into his hair as you tug him further over you. 

A soft gasp slips from your mouth when his weight presses over you: his defined chest over yours and his hips pressing into yours in the most enticing way. His cock brushes against your thighs slicken in your arousal and you moan. The metal ladder framing underneath his shaft is cold against your skin and you can feel the goosebumps that arise atop your skin all the way to spread the heat to your core.

Chan's arms wrap around your body, holding you so close to him that your chests brush against each other. You feel his hardened erection sharp against your thighs, brushing against your core and you whimper in his hold. "Please."

"Please what, princess?"

"Fuck me, daddy."

Chan's lips crash onto your swollen ones with a force that has to be reckoned. He grinds his heavy cock into your core, rubbing over your clit. It leaves you moaning, holding onto his deltoids with a ferocious grip, fingers digging into the muscle.

Holding onto the opportunity that presents itself to him, Chan seizes and dives his tongue right into your mouth. They glide across your tongue, your body arching in pleasure. You feel the metallic ball of his piercing run over your tongue in a wistful want, you wrap your own around it before kissing him at the same intensity. Chan's groan hits back through the air in barely a whisper as you swallow most of the sound. Immediately, you let go of his lips and your hand reaches out for his cock slowly coated in precum, you squeeze it softly.

Before you can think straight, you can sense Chan holding his cock in his hand to position himself and with a mere grunt, he enters through your twitching core. His thick girth pushes your walls apart as they move further down into you. Your grip on his deltoid slips to his biceps, desperate to catch hold of something. All that leaves your mouth are parched breaths and desperate moans. 

The lewd noises from his dick seeping through your wetness to enter you and stretch you out resonates through the wall only to hit back to both of your ears. Chan's gaze shifts downwards to watch his cock spread open your lips and disappear into your being — all it does to the demon is excite him more. 

You feel the piercings against your wall, dragging across your softness. The slight dentations cause you to moan as Chan moves it against it over and over again, ensuring to hit your spot as much as possible with every thrust. 

"You're dripping all over my cock, fuck," he grunts as he slips out only to thrust back in carefully. You grind back this time round, trying to match his pace with your fragile body. It takes you aback when you feel Chan grow into his complete girth inside you, stretching you out with an intense burn.

"Daddy," you choke out, words caught in the back of your throat. "Too big, ah."

“No, it’s not, princess," he bites his lip. "We both know you can take it. You're doing so well,” Chan coos. You find him slowing down with every thrust, making sure you are alright. His fingers ghosts right adjacent to your side, caressing your breasts with affectionate touches. 

Slowly, the pain fades away, only to be replaced by a rush of pleasure with every thrust. The hard metal of his piercings drag against the sensitive nerves of your wet core, enough to stimulate every other nerve in your body, rubbing it over and over again. 

Chan notices your face calming and how you were truly living in the moment. He takes this as a sign enough to thrust quicker, metal piercings striking the spot furiously. The sudden intrusion has your lips parting, eyes rolling back and tongue falling out in ecstasy. Your thighs, that quake, spread apart to take more of him, to let him have more control over you. Your walls clamp down on him, holding his cock tightly and magnifying the thick length of his. The moment his length pokes at the end of your cervix, you jerk, throat drying up instantly as a reaction. He was so thick and so full that he reached all the way to your cervix, ready to show you what it truly is like being fucked by a demon.

Chan grunts as he presses his hand down on your belly after pressing a short kiss. There is a slight bulge and Chan loves how you are, almost as if you are made for him. This leads your wall to press around him. His length pulses against your walls and you feel him completely, in his length and girth. Your walls ripple around his length accepting him completely — in his large, engorged, thick length.

"Fuck, I love this. Hell, I love how your juices coat my length and your lips kiss around my cock. Perfectly fitting my cock as if you were made for me,” he mutters. "Aren't you? You're mine. All mine." 

“So pretty, princess,” he coos. With every thrust of his length into you, your body is jolted back and forth, rocking the bed loudly, at an impeccable strength along with your boyfriend's.

In between all the thrusts of his cock, the way his piercings mercilessly drags inside you, triggering every single nerve bundle ever to exist in your body, you feel the clouds of euphoria come at your being. You slowly find yourself losing your being into the sheer bliss of Chan's actions.

With one more rough thrust, you are unable to hold back and with a loud cry, you come undone around Chan's cock. Feeling your walls clamp vigorously around his length, he lets out a deep growl and continues to thrust his hips into you. It is these thrusts that draw out your orgasm, bringing forth waves of bliss and euphoria, slowly seeming to shut down all your senses. The results of your intense orgasm still fluctuate through you. Your thighs tremble and toes curl. Your walls wrap so tightly around his cock that it drives him close.

His cock pulsates in your warmth and you know it too. "Oh fuck! That’s it, princess,” Chan groans out. He thrusts back into you messily, trying to keep up with the same initial pace. However, he falls out of the same relentless thrusting in the pursuit of his own orgasm. Burying his cock as deep into you, he erupts inside of you. He plays with your clit and comes undone in your core as he swears under breath, unfiltered compliments showered upon you. 

His thick cum fills you up. Buried deep, he empties everything of his load, coating your walls with thick stripes of his residue. Slowly, you find yourself back to your senses, body more alive, having ridden yourself of the giddiness of your orgasm. Your body shudders under him in your haze of orgasm.

Chan pulls out his softened cock out from you, glistening under the coated mixture of yours and his orgasm. He holds you close and rubs the side of your face gently as he compliments you, "You did so well, princess. I'm proud of you."

You kiss his lips in response, a soft, chaste one. Chan continues showering you with compliments as he falls by your side, holding you close into his sweaty naked being. He lifts himself soon enough to attend to you when you pull him down, locking him with your grip on his wrist.

"Let me take care of you, baby."

"Five minutes more, please." You look at him with a puppy like expression and Chan sighs, knowing fully well that there would be no way that he could deny your request. 

"Fine, princess," he rubs your hair away from your forehead and pulls you impossibly closer into his chest. 

"Chan?"

"Hm?"

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby."

Chan chuckles, kissing the top of your head and then your forehead as he teases, "You worked too much for a Valentine's Day, baby."

"Please," you stretch the syllable and speak into Chan's chest. "If anything, it is the wildest one I've ever lived to attend."

And as Chan holds you through the night, attending and taking care of you, his phone beeps soon enough,

[1] Voicemail from Changbin Happy Valentine's Day, beautiful and to you too, Chan. Call me back when you hear this. Bye.

[1] Message from Jisung This is how technology works??!!!! Oh my God. Fancy. Anyhow, Happy Valentine's Day. This goes down in my history as best Valentine's Day ever, bitches. P.S. Best sex ever too. Let's have a foursome sometime soon.

[kuroopaisen]

takes one to know one || fushiguro megumi

➵ megumi just wants to buy some flowers from the nice stall attendant he definitely doesn’t have a crush on in peace. gojou has other plans.  

wc: 2.4k

warnings: gn!reader, incoherent chaos

a/n: gracie dearest this one’s for you :( you are so sweet and so lovely to me and i’m so, so glad we met in this hellscape (i would personally like to thank psycho-pass for existing) i hope i did your boy well! 

By the time he arrives at Jujutsu Tech, Megumi knows the flowers are a mistake.

“For me?” Gojou gasps, hands clasped and mouth agape in perhaps his most punchable smile. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

Megumi’s fist tightens around the handle of his bouquet. Today, it’s lilacs, irises and white lilies. It’s also much bigger than usual – too big to inconspicuously leave on someone’s fence or place in the school gardens.

“You can have them if you want,” he murmurs. What else is he supposed to do with them?

The delight on Gojou’s face collapses into a precarious mix of genuine confusion and insatiable curiosity. “Hah? They’re not for anyone?”

“No,” Megumi says. And if they were, I wouldn’t tell you. Although he doesn’t say that last part. Gojou would perceive it as a challenge, and the less he knew about Megumi’s private life, the better.

“So…” A grin splits Gojou’s face. “The person you bought them from must be special, then.” 

Megumi freezes for just a second. But he knows a second is enough for Gojou to glean all the information he needs.  

“Ah,” Gojou hums. “I see.”

“No, you don’t,” Megumi mumbles, well-aware of the heat rising in his cheeks.

“But why would you go out of your way to buy a bouquet of flowers, hm?” Gojou grins, shit-eating grin back on his face. “They don’t hand these out for free, you know.”

Megumi’s grip is so firm he’s scared he’ll crush the stems.

Although, he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do with them. It doesn’t feel right to throw them out – not when you’d spent time putting it together – but he wasn’t about to revamp his room with a distinctly floral accent.

Is it against social protocol to give the flowers back to you? Not now, of course, but maybe on his evening walk… or tomorrow morning…

He still doesn’t know why he didn’t just walk past you that first day.

But something about the way you were gazing out into the street, eyes wide and hopeful as you watched people ignore you on their daily commute… something about that drew him in.

And once he’d bought something from you once – just a small flower, one he didn’t know the name of, but seemed appropriate behind a cute girl’s ear – he couldn’t very well start ignoring you.

Not when your smile is so bright, your eyes sparkling with gratitude whenever he takes whatever floral arrangement you’ve lovingly bundled together out of your hands.

But now he’s paying the price – in more ways than one.

✧ ✧ ✧

Your flower stall is just a few feet away from one of the trendiest cafes in this area of Tokyo, and whoever oversees your little operation is obviously trying to capitalise on that. Setting up so early must be an attempt to catch the rush of bleary-eyed corporate workers craving their necessary morning coffee.

What use an office worker has for flowers, Megumi doesn’t know. But he has a feeling that you’d probably say something along the lines of “it’ll help brighten the place up.”

As usual, you’re waiting there patiently, eyes hopefully scanning the streets for any potential customers. Your face positively lights up when you finally catch sight of him – something that still makes Megumi nearly trip over his own feet.

“Good morning!” You call out, waving to him.

Megumi raises a hand in response, shuffling towards you with all the embarrassment of a high schooler on their way to their first date.

“Can I interest you in a floral arrangement on this fine Saturday morning?” You grin, eyes twinkling as you make your marketing pitch.

“Sure,” Megumi sighs, scanning the vast array of flowers currently on display. He’s getting better at picking them out, but he still can’t name any of them on sight.

You wait patiently, hands folded on the counter. If you think he’s an idiot, you keep it to yourself.

“Those ones,” he says, pointing at a group of blue heart-shaped flowers.

“The morning glories?” You ask reflexively, reaching over to pluck a bunch out of their display.

“Yeah,” Megumi shrugs. He has no idea what a morning glory is. The term sounds like something Gojou and Yuji would snicker at.

“They’re gorgeous,” you smile, taking a moment to admire them.

“Yeah,” Megumi says again.

Flowers aren’t really his thing; God help him if he was ever asked what his favourite kind was. But there’s no point in saying any of that – not when he’s already spent an embarrassing amount of money at this one stall.

“You’re keeping the business afloat, you know,” you giggle, as if reading his mind.

Megumi blinks at you. “Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “It wouldn’t be amiss to say you’re our most important patron.” You beam at him, same sparkle in your eyes as always.

He’d be furious, if you weren’t so nice.

How is he supposed to focus when you’re looking at him like that? How’s he supposed to ask who ‘we’ is? A business partner? A partner partner?

But you look so young. You can’t possibly be running a business. But you might have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Or both. Or a partner of an otherwise non-binary gender.

Too many questions, no social capacity to ask them.

“So,” Megumi begins, his voice calm and composed as ever. His mind, however, is scrambling around like a fast-food joint at rush hour, trying to string together a sentence that’s not only coherent but also fascinating.

“How old are you?”

Whoops.

It’s the forbidden question. Or, at least, that’s what people always say. People, in this case, is Gojou. It usually is.

You seem unbothered. “I turn seventeen this year.”

Was it only a forbidden question for people who’re older? But in that case, surely knowing someone’s age was pertinent for the whole ‘respect’ thing. Maybe Gojou just didn’t think he should ever ask anyone’s age because then he’s not beholden to honorifics.

But Megumi can’t imagine him using them properly anyway.

That’s not the point. The point is that you’re the same age as him. You weren’t somehow twenty-seven with a baby face.

“Oh,” Megumi nods. “Me too.”

The smile you give him is almost unbearable. How is it even more of a smile than your usual smile? That doesn’t make any sense.

There’s a certain excitement bubbling in his gut that he doesn’t recognise or like.

Wait, if you’re his age, then…

“Do you not go to school on Saturdays?” He asks.

Is this conversation too dry? He’s not sure. He doesn’t usually make an effort at this sort of thing.

“My school doesn’t have classes on Saturday mornings,” you smile, meticulously wrapping brown paper around the stems of a set of particularly bright morning glories. You always do it so delicately; where on earth do you find the patience?

There’s something… graceful, about how you go about it. Sure, it’s your job, but Megumi still enjoys watching you work because—

“Hello there!”

Megumi knows that voice.

Oh no.

“Hello!” You fold your hands in front of you and give your new customer a bow. But your usual smile has been replaced with an expression of middling confusion as you look him up and down.

Megumi doesn’t need to turn around to know who’s standing behind him.

“Who’d’ve thought there’d be so many kinds of flowers in bloom, huh?” Gojou grins, slinging a lanky arm around Megumi’s shoulders.

Megumi glances to the side.

A pair of startingly blue eyes peek at him from behind black shades.

“What are you doing here?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I thought I’d just come out for a morning stroll,” Gojou sighs, gesturing to the sky. “Don’t you think it’s gorgeous?”

Megumi’s ready to commit a murder.

“And look at all these flowers!” Gojou exclaims, bending down to peer at some asters closely. “Did you grow them all yourself?”

“Of course not,” you laugh. “I just sell them.”

Jealous maybe isn’t the right word. But there is a twisting in Megumi’s gut upon the realisation that within minutes of meeting you, Gojou had made you laugh. Megumi, on the other hand, was yet to do that.

“Well, either way, my student is a big fan,” Gojou smirks, shaking Megumi’s shoulder. Megumi’s soul is currently leaving his body.

“I was just telling him that he’s our most valued customer,” you smile, tilting your head at the pair of them.

“Ah, is that so?” Gojou grins. It’s amazing, really, how he manages to capture all the terror of the apocalypse in one smile. “I never really took him as a flower guy.”

“Everyone’s a flower guy, sir,” you tsk, shaking your head. “Even you.”

Gojou places an affronted hand on his chest. “So quick to make assumptions!”

“Not at all,” you smile. “You’d be surprised by what our customer base looks like.”

“You don’t say,” Gojou grins, turning to Megumi.

Megumi considers the consequences of punching Gojou right in the nether regions. He doubts he’d be punished for it by the higher ups; if anything, he’ll probably be rewarded. Maybe even pushed up a grade for his invaluable service.

“Fushiguro!”

Oh no.

Megumi’s eyes widen ever so slightly. His head whips round to Gojou. His teacher is already looking straight at him.

“Ah,” Gojou grins. “I told Yuji to meet me here this morning.” The glint in his eyes strikes terror right through Megumi’s departing soul.

Sure enough, Itadori barrels his way towards them, damn near colliding against Megumi with a ‘thump’.

Megumi can do something but stare into the abyss, hoping, wishing, praying this is just a nightmare.

Unfortunately, it’s not.

You give the newest addition to this strange little posse a customary bow. “Good morning!”

Itadori beams at you, his entire face lighting up. “Good morning!”

A strange panic starts to rise from Megumi’s gut. If he thought about it, you and Itadori would get along well. Too well.

Thoughts of you and Itadori walking hand in hand down the street as you laugh, Itadori offering you his coat on a clod morning as you blush, Itadori walking you home, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully as you lean towards him and –

Megumi blinks the thoughts away. What is wrong with him today?

You and Itadori have just met. And what was it to Megumi anyway? It’s not like he—

“Megumi?” Itadori tilts his head at him.

Megumi stares back blankly. “Hm?”

“I wanted to know how you found this place,” Itadori asks, voice bright but with the uncertain quality inherent to repeating oneself.

“Oh,” Megumi murmurs. “Well, I…”

In truth, he doesn’t remember. He just saw you one morning and decided to approach. He still doesn’t know why. But he doesn’t regret it.

“I roped him in with my charm,” you piqued up, picking up the lull in conversation.

Try as he might, Megumi just can’t concentrate. Itadori’s pressed against him, Gojou’s still got his arm slung around his shoulder, and—

“Ah, Nobara’s here!” Gojou beams, waving a hand over his head.

“What are you doing here of all places?” Nobara frowns, raising an eyebrow at Megumi. “I wouldn’t have taken this as your sort of scene.”

If there’s a hell, Megumi’s sure it’s this.

Conversation is bubbling around him but none of it is registering in his mind, he can see Nobara’s dissatisfied look as she takes in the situation at hand but he doesn’t have the energy to retort, Gojou is playing with the petals of one of the display flowers but Megumi knows he’s not going to buy it and—

“Hey, Megumi?”

He snaps back to reality at the sound of your voice, gentle and concerned.

“Are you alright?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. It’s as if you’re completely ignoring the rabble, as if you see him and only him.

Next to him Gojou, Yuji and Nobara watch with rapt attention.

“Yeah,” he lies. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

You frown at you look at him. Something flashes in your eyes and you suddenly duck beneath your countertop.

Megumi and his gaggle of fools blink in surprise.

In a moment you hop back up, something purple bundled up in your hands. “Here,” you smile, handing it out to him, “this is supposed to help you sleep.”

One whiff and he knows it’s lavender.

“How much?” Megumi asks.

You shake your head. “Oh, no. It’s on me.”

Megumi’s heart flutters as you smile. Despite the chaos going on around him, despite the fact that he knows he’s going to be mocked for this for weeks to come, he’s grateful.

Somehow.

“Sorry about this…” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s fine,” you giggle, shaking your head.

Megumi feels Gojou chuckle quietly, his chest rattling. Itadori is unusually quiet and Nobara seems moments away from a laughing fit.

“I should go,” Megumi says quickly and suddenly. He doesn’t give you time to respond, zipping down the street as fast as his feet can carry him. He needs a shower and then a run and then he needs to beat a training dummy up and then—

“Wait, Megumi!”

He freezes in his tracks. That’s… your voice.

And around his wrist is… is…

He turns to look at you over his shoulder, eyes darting for where you hand wraps around his wrist. Why is his heart racing so absurdly fast? Why does it feel like his head’s about to explode? You’re just holding his wrist. You’re not even touching his skin. Not that it matters—

“Will I see you tomorrow?” You ask, not quite able to meet his gaze.

It brings him back to the moment.

“Of course,” Megumi answers reflexively.

You finally lift your eyes up. They seem to be sparkling. “I look forward to it.”

Before he even has time to process it you’ve let him go and trotted back to your stall, tending to your flowers as if nothing’d happened.

This has been too much embarrassment for one day. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on and he’s not sure he wants to know. But man, he needs at least several hours alone to process everything.

As Megumi shuffles away, Gojou bounds after him, still grinning like a fool.

“So, Megumi’s got himself a—”

Megumi elbows him in the stomach before Gojou even has a chance to finish his sentence.

[flameleadsarc]

He wanted to fight those words, to set fire to the thought that three people saw him as something other than useless. Three people against the thousands he killed—that wasn’t even a fair game of numbers. Those were innocent people who could no longer tell bedtime stories to their children, buy food at the market for their families, work their day jobs, or pray to Ishvala. Thousands. Their bodies didn’t even exist anymore. No, he was a thorough killer, and he left no traces behind. Survivors couldn’t track down their family to bury. 

Why did three people matter against those thousands? They couldn’t. 

Except they did. 

Kain sat right next to him, breathing, and he, unlike the ghosts of Ishval, spoke. Someone lived because of him. Someone had hope, a dangerous weapon in the right hands, because of him, and how dare he discount something so substantial as someone being alive. Had his sons taught him nothing when it came to the value of a human soul? They could not be measured. The world without one Kain Fuery and his infectious smile, his kindness, his compassion, his ability to put things together instead of destroy them… that was merely unthinkable.

The same could easily be said for a world without Edward and Alphonse. He almost knew a world without one of them, and the grief he felt then couldn’t be weighed nor contained. It leaked out of his fingertips and into the nearest soul’s lungs. Edward’s death deserved equivalent exchange when, in reality, nothing could come close to balancing such a grievous act out. Oh, but he tried. He didn’t play God when he tried to balance out the universe, though, but the devil’s hellhound. So close to success, he stopped himself short because he knew—he knew—another death wouldn’t bring his son back. 

These three people mattered to him. He loved them. It was important that they were alive. The fact that he was not useless for them… he wiped his face with his sleeve as he sniffled. Kain believed in him, and he knew both of his sons would back that man up. Loudly. Emphatically. Once he pulled his sleeve away from his face, he smiled at Kain. 

“I… I needed to hear that. Thank you, Kain—if it’s all right that I call you that. If not, you can tell me.” He took another couple of seconds to breathe. “I need the reminder every now and then. I hold myself to stupidly high standards. But… you said it’s okay to be a person, so I’m going to try and be that. To be Roy for once if I remember how so you can get to know him. I’ll give you a heads up that he’s a mess. He worries and thinks too much. He has nightmares and insomnia and panic attacks. But… I’m willing to be him. I… I don’t want to be Colonel Mustang here.”

It was the first time he said such a thing aloud. To admit that he didn’t want to assume his military duties or persona. The uniform was far heavier than it looked, and he wanted to shed it for a while—just to see if he could. To see if he could exist without it. The Amestrian military didn’t exist here anyhow. In Wonderland, he did not need to be the Flame Alchemist or Colonel Mustang. He could simply be Roy. 

Maybe?

“You don’t have to have yourself figured out for us to be friends. I’m content knowing who you are at the moment and being along for the ride. Whoever you end up being—I’d like him in my life. Both you and Chicken.” He glanced down at the bird in question, who seemed rather content in his current position. “… By the way, is he always going to be that small, or is he going to grow bigger?”

He looks up in an instant when Roy says he won't yell.

He won't walk away. Neither will Kain.

Now it's a matter of finding the right words, if they even exist somewhere. Surely they do. Maybe starting with the common ground he's discovered will be best.

"... If you were useless, there'd be a guy out there with no hope, probably dead by age twenty without ever knowing what that word even means and ever knowing that there's plenty of reasons to get up and fight. But... he's not. He's twenty four now and maybe a little aimless, but he knows hope and he would like to give it back to you," he begins, joining Roy in sitting on the bed. His bad leg thanks him for relieving it of the weight, but he cares not about that.

"And if you were useless, there would be two kids out there with no home and no father who don't know what those things are like. They wouldn't know hope either. They'd only know darkness, all three of those people I mentioned. But... they know light. They know hope. And I think maybe that's the most powerful thing that you can do for somebody. Give them hope. Give them a reason to get up and live, to make things around them better in turn. You're so much more than useless."

He isn't looking at Roy, instead at Chicken, who peers up at both of them. The bird never fails to bring a soft smile to Kain's face, and now is not an exception. Kain leans down to pick him up, stroking his fingers across Chicken's back for a moment before he continues to speak. Ed and Al will surely love the little guy someday.

Now, he's crossing into what he knows is dangerous territory. He needs to tread carefully, but it's land that needs to be covered regardless no matter how high the mud is.

"... If... If I'm as affected by Fotset as I am, it wouldn't be very fair to expect you to be fine after Ishval. And I don't expect it at all. You're just a person, too. It's okay to be a person, at least in this room. I've known the Colonel you give us all isn't real since... probably day two of being sent down there. And I like him, but I'd like to know you- you, Roy- better than that. I'll try and give you myself too if I can figure out who he is... so, yes. Friends is alright to me."

[witch-hazels-musings]

🌸 Ask box open WOOOOO, could I ask for Beidou, Diluc and others of your choice, with someone who is exceptionally gifted with animals, and loves nerding out about them🌸

zoology 

Warning -> SFW (Beidou - long hair mentioned) 

Character X GN Reader | anthology 

Includes: Beidou, Diluc, Ganyu

Beidou

She’s already so impressed with you - how could she not be considering how the two of you met

When she saw you fighting a group of smugglers on the docks of Liyue, your hands gripping onto the cages of the animals they were trying to take with them - not caring for your safety in the slightest and taking hit after hit in a desperate attempt to shield the animals inside 

At that moment, she became your shield - your barrier between the harsh reality of the world and promised to keep you safe 

That bright smile behind bruises and cuts as you watched the small creatures find their freedom once again was enough information for her to know what kind of person you were 

Now, every time she returned to Liyue, she was excited to see your face or the sanctuary you had built from the ground up -- you were a human she wished to see more of 

“Y/N? You in here?” She called out to you, her hand pushing past the beads which separated the outside from the in. Animals ran around her feet and, as carefully as she could, she stepped through them. 

“A!H! Beidou??” Your voice called out to her, a crash sounding somewhere in the distance and a small curse following right after. When she found you, the state of your hair - frazzled and half-hazardly placed on top of your head - the long coat you liked to wear pooling beneath your feet as you worked to pick up the items that had fallen, and the reassuring expression you gave to the startled animals around you made her head swim and mouth stretch. 

“Little friends, hold on. That was rather frightful, wasn’t it?” The tone you used was sweet and kind and she watched as a small fox stepped toward you before pressing its nose carefully against yours. “That’s right, see nothing to be worried about.” 

When you caught sight of her, the grin that plastered across your face reached all the way into your eyes. “Need some assistance?” Beidou asked, extending her hand out toward you. 

“I’ll always take some help from my favorite captain.” 

Beidou would often bring you lost or injured animals - it was like you had a knack for helping them recuperate and on the days when she was around to see you release them back into the wild, well the energy that radiated off of you was stronger than a swing of her claymore 

The knowledge that you had about them shocked her, enlightened her, and made her understood why they were so calm when near you -- to have that level of love and compassion for the creatures of the world meant your heart must be as pure as gold 

Ganyu 

Just like you, Ganyu has a high affinity to care for the creatures of this world. She has vowed to protect them just as much as you have, and her spirit feels kindred to your own -- like two wandering souls who found each other in a chaotic world 

It was after a ‘not so eventful’ sparring match with the adeptis Xiao that she found you - quickly, she made her way to offer you assistance and when she found you holding onto an injured animal with tears in your eyes … she wanted to know more, so much more about you 

The two of you raced off to get some aid, the small creatures shook the whole time in your arms, it scratched and bit at you - she could easily see the marks on your skin - but you continued to reassure it of its safety, never once did you react violently or alarmed at its behavior, and after some time it calmed down … it found a home with you and from that point on never left your side 

The apartment which you decorated in the themes of the animals which you took in, or who visited you on a regular day, felt more like home than anything she’d ever seen -- the open windows, the coming and going of beings whose freedom was all their own, and the space you created for them was everything to her kind heart

The items in her hands were getting heavy, but she continued her way over the bridge knowing that the strain would soon be alleviated. The walk to your home was long, but not challenging and soon she found herself strutting down the path only to find you standing outside in the sunlight. 

You were sitting on a small bench, one that you’d find tossed out by some store owner and had worked hard to bring home. Birds flocked to you, some resting on your head, others bouncing around your feet or over your thighs. They were eagerly eating up the crumbs of food that fell to the ground in even intervals. 

“You must have flown so far to reach me.” The way your voice sounded brought comfort to all who heard it. A kind finger brushed against the chest of a bird who had settled onto your shoulder and when you pulled away it preened its feathers and made a soft chirping sound. 

The birds took flight as Ganyu approached, their upset screams sounding as they settled onto the roof of your home. “Pleasant greetings.” Ganyu bowed, her head dipping slightly before returning to its normal place. 

“Hiya!” You leaped from your spot and made your way toward her with unbound energy. “I didn’t expect you.” 

“I uh - I brought you some things from the market.” 

“Oh wow! How generous, thank you.” You reached for the extended back and let the straps rest over your arm. “Are you busy?” 

“N-no, I have the day ---!” With gusto, you grabbed her hand and lead her toward the house. When you looked back at her it was like looking into the brightest star and Ganyu wondered how she got so lucky to have met you on that fateful day. 

She learned much from you - like an endless wealth of knowledge you shared with her fact after fact and no matter how unique the animal, you still knew so much about it 

There were many days where the two of you would just sit out on your porch and chat about the world outside 

Nature and all its creations were so fascinating to you that it seemed you had lived much longer than one lifetime 

Diluc 

It's not that he … hated animals it was more that they never seemed to get along well with him. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so well-liked by the creatures that seemed to despise his very existence 

“Just … If you’d only just leave, then we both wouldn’t be in this situation.” He called to the stray cat that had lodged itself in the corner of his bar. How it managed to get onto the upper shelves he would never understand, all that he knew was it wasn’t proper to have a cat as a patron. 

He reached up to grab it but pulled his hands away when it hissed violently at him. “I can handle abyss mages, drunkards, and all manner of situations … yet it seems I am bested by a simple cat.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he contemplated his next steps. 

There was a ringing at the front entrance and he turned toward the sound only to catch sight of you illuminated by the sunlight. “Hey there.” You smiled at him but he was much too irritated to return the gesture. “Your face is .. worse than normal.” 

“I have a problem I cannot solve.” 

“What is it?” You settled into the barstool, your arms crossing about your chest as you eyed him curiously. 

“There is an unwanted guest here today, I and cannot get them to leave.” Your expression turned to confusion until you tracked the pointed finger to the corner of the bar. 

“OH! A kitty!” Exclaiming, you immediately ran around to his side, not caring in the slightest of the sign that said ‘employee’s only.’ Grabbing the stool under the counter, you carefully stepped your way onto it and extended your hand to the trembling little one. 

“Be careful, it’s quite viole --” In a matter of seconds, the cat had leaped into your arms and was softly purring away. Its face was in utter bliss as you gave it scratches under its chin. Diluc was stunned, nearly gobsmacked at the quickness of its trust toward you. 

“Animals just like me.” 

“So it would seem …” 

There are people in this world that have an unnatural ability to create trust in seconds and you were one of them -- something about the aura you gave off, the energy that spilled from every fiber of your being told those around you there was no need to be distrustful of you -- and Diluc learned that early on 

Not only were you able to tame the animals around you, but you tamed his unsteady heart --- he felt … comfortable, more like himself when you were around and was often drawn to your side when he didn’t expect it 

The only problem was that you also drew animals to you - and most of them were quite protective of the space at your side, if he wanted to stay there, he was going to have to learn to relax a bit 

Though it’s quite fun so see how tense he gets when they land on him … at least he always had you and his trust hawk to keep him company (if he could manage those relationships, he could manage a few more) 

--

tag list: 

@star-gods @mercurysmaiden @dourpeep @clemmywrites @pepperoncinipizza @handswritteeen @lucifucker @beelsdessert @odafashioned @coolcats09 @ninqat @musekala @sufzku @mooshymello  @heavenlyang @plenilunegazes @glazelilyy @justyoureverydayqueer @idunkar @solowmomo @twokissesforamelia @the-mermaid-of-mondstadt @fuwon @goat-mama-breezie @angelmelt @lucacandy @shesleire @mariana @zentoruu @smol-knife @nightlywallows @aoirohi @nitorious-ghost @mguerra11 @maiiikoo @actstfbla @youaskedfurret @nonniechan @evolcahra @tempehlust @zenith-impact @plumpkie @jaggedsi @salty-salty @onlyhereforinteractivestories @gultonluvv @shy-specter @liebestraumss @jaemjenjam @softlybeloved @anatthesavage

[etherealperrie]

Arsonist's Lullaby (Loki x Reader AU)

Loki Laufeyson x Reader: in which Loki and Reader find themselves under the covers, sharing in the comfortable silence of the home they've created with one another.

Self-Insert // Alternate Universe // Imagine // Fluff

Word Count: 1k

The bed greets his weary body. He winces as he slides beneath the sheets and pulls them up around his neck, breathing in the soft scent of pine and bergamot. His eyes falter shut and for a moment the world goes black, the day melting away. He wanted nothing more than to forget the fight lost to his brother earlier in the day: a civil disagreement that ended with Loki on the wrong side of Thor’s hammer. He’d get back at his brother another time, once his bruised rib had time to heal. The gentle chirping of crickets outside the window paired with the soft humming of his lover in the bathroom keeps him tethered to reality, though.

Loki opens his eyes to the dimly lit room and shimmies out of his clothes, knowing they’d only inhibit his sleep later. Not just that, though, the cotton material of his robe might dull the feeling of his lover's hands as they dance across his back and stomach in an embrace. To dull that moment would be sinful, for it is one of life’s greatest pleasures.

Shuffling footsteps grow louder and he rolls over expectantly, glancing up at you as you round the corner into the bedroom. Loki’s eyes connect with yours, sending your heart into a flurry of anticipation to just hold him. He looks exhausted, ready for sleep, but your selfishness begs him to stay awake for just a few more minutes. It’s no more than a few seconds before the lights are off and your body is finally beside his. A comfortable silence falls over the room, mimicking the blanket of fog settling over the small Irish town you two decided to call home. Much like the fog is to the earth and its creatures, the silence is a welcome and necessary routine that nourishes and replenishes the soul.

The moment his bare skin comes into contact with yours as he pulls you closer into him, his cold fingers skimming the length of your torso, up your neck, and across your lips, god, you are reborn.

“How was your day, my love?” He asks, placing a kiss on your forehead. His voice, deep and rich, breaks the silence of the room -- not that you were complaining.

“Hopelessly human,” you sigh.

Loki lets out a soft chuckle. You crane your neck to look up at him, your cheek pressed against his chest. He’s smiling, a dimple forming just under his right cheek.

“What?”

“You make being a god seem so glamorous.”

“Is it not?”

You were right, Loki couldn’t deny that. Being the son of Odin did have its perks, but it was far from perfect. Whether that was a consequence of his status as a god or his own life choices, though, was another question entirely.

“Think of it this way, love, I’m living in an Irish cottage with you instead of on Asgard.”

You laugh this time, squeezing his sides a bit tighter. “Huh, I didn’t know I held such power over you.” Your tone drips with sarcasm, taunting him. “I mean, to give up a night on Asgard for me?”

Loki shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you. He breathes in the scent of your floral shampoo and pulls you on top of his chest, turning his torso so that he’s spooning you, his nose pressed to the nape of your neck.

You quite enjoy watching his cheeks turn a soft shade of pink, it wasn’t often that the God of Mischief was at a loss for words.

“If I could give back the nights I spent there before now, I would.” In the short time he’d been with you, he’d essentially forgotten what it’s like to lay alone and if it were up to him, he'd never remember those cold, restless nights. Perhaps that’s why he loves Earth so much, it’s quiet and simple — at least when he’s with you.

You hum in agreement, relishing in the feeling of his lips as they kiss down your spine. Chills spread across your back and up your neck and you shiver, pulling his arm around your torso.

“So, are you going to tell me about your day then?”

“Mmmm,” you mumble, yawning. “I went to the, uh, the — uhm — market and I found…”

Loki smiles in the darkness, attuned to the sleep in your voice, your thoughts trailing off as your eyelids droop.

“It’s alright love, you can tell me in the morning.”

You nod, snuggling closer to him, slipping your fingers between his. He smiles to himself. God, he was so lucky; you were his and his alone. Loki never expected anyone and he could never have predicted you, of all people. You, so soft and kind, so unlike his hard exterior, so undeserving of his love. But he’s so happy it’s you -- he’d never once thought kindly of Earth and its inhabitants before you.

Before you, Loki hated rest. He loathed the nights when he wasn’t out in the galaxy plotting his next moves and planning his detailed vengeance strategies. His home on Asgard was exquisite, the bed comfortable, anything he wanted at his fingertips. Yet, he could never sleep, his mind restless, his body cold, his soul aching for something he didn’t believe existed.

Now he knows.

The night feels longer when it belongs to only you and Loki, but he no longer minds the time spent lounging beneath the sheets. When he’s holding you, your light snores filling the room, he feels at home. It was with you when he realized home wasn’t a place, but a person. Here, at home, there’s no mention of anyone else, no interruptions from the outside world, just two souls communicating every need and every desire through touch.

Soon, the darkness of the room submits to the blackness behind your eyes as you drift deeper and deeper into sleep. You keep hold of your love, too, hoping he can join you in the dreamland.

---

A/N: hello, if you've gotten this far, thank you! I hope you enjoyed my very small contribution to the Loki fanfiction universe. This is the first time I've written for Loki or the Marvel universe in any way. I have a pretty limited understanding of the whole thing, but what I lack in marvel plot, I make up for in indulgent fluff and imagines with the characters that I enjoy. Feel free to leave feedback, reblogs, or likes, whatever you'd like! 💜