#can't wait to see which of these get me cancelled

[probablybadrpgideas]

THINGS I AM UNREASONABLY ANNOYED ABOUT BY GAME SYSTEM

D&D: Please put a disclaimer that you are not a universal system. Every time I see someone try to do a political mystery game in D&D, I take 3d10 psychic damage and have to make a death saving throw.

Pathfinder: Look. If i wanted to play a game about fighting Cthulhu there is an extremely famous game specifically designed around doing that. Literally no-one is ever going to say "Wow, I want to play a Cthulhu themed game! Time to stat up a musical halfling from a magical fantasy land!".

Chronicles Of Darkness: Just admit no-one uses any of your rules. You have Social Door Rules and Integrity Conditions and Corruption Levels and I bet at most 50% of COD players could tell me which of those I made up. Just admit people aren't dressing up as Alucard The Bringer Of Shadows because they want to sit down and do calculus.

World Of Darkness: You know that old guy who's still doing his job even though he is way too old to do it any more, but he's now an institution so you can't get rid of him? Like that. The 90s called and they want literally everything about this back.

Call Of Cthulhu: I appreciate the commitment to authenticity, but maybe stop hiring actual disgraced mental asylum directors from the 1920s to design your sanity system?

GURPS: Look. Look. Listen. We both know that you just want to write history textbooks. These are history textbooks with a few stat blocks begrudgingly put in. If you just give me a book on early Chinese history I will read it and go "ah, very interesting!". You don't need to put in a list of character choices. We're all nerds. We'll read them. Live your best life.

Powered By The Apocalypse: I actually can't think of anything wrong with PBTA. That's not a bit, this is literally the perfect system. Take notes everyone else.

Mutants and Masterminds/Heroes System: Your systems have probably the most customizable character creation in the world and you both just make reskins of the Justice League over and over again. Maybe we only need one "thinly veiled copyrighted characters" setting? You can fight over it once you decipher your combat mechanics.

FATE: Ok I won't lie, I have no idea how the fuck FATE works. I have read the rules repeatedly and played three games and I still have no idea what invoking an aspect means. I don't know why. I grasped the rules of fucking Nobilis but this one just psychologically eludes me. This is more a problem with me I guess, but I'm still annoyed.

Warhammer 40k: Have you considered spending less on avocado toast? Then you might be able to afford to charge less for things?

Exalted: Apart from the lore, the setting, the mechanics, the metaplot, the character creation and the dodgy narrative implications, I can't think of anything to improve here.

[anaalnathrakhs]

it's cool it's cool i'm just wondering if life could be good if i got like, help sometimes. if i didn't have to live with a painfully incompatible family. if there were enough ressources for everybody's mental health struggles. if i didn't live in a system that's supposed to crush anyone who doesn't work. if i could have time and freedom to figure out what to do with my life. if i didn't start having problems really early that influenced the very way i AM at my core for probably a very very long time.

[tonycries]

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) - G.S.

Synopsis. In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, FWḂ! Gojo, slight Sukuna x reader, rough VERY jealous séx, Satoru goes feraI omg, unprotected, FWḂ-to-lovers, thígh riding, fíngering, creampíe, overstím, spítting, implied thréesome, he’s a bit mean and possessive, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. Heheh, hoping y’all have a lovely week coming up <3

“-n’ there’s this really great café downtown with those cupcakes you like-”

“Toru.”

“-I’ll get ya some for that kick you need after a lecture with Yaga. Speaking of Yaga-”

“Toru-”

“-he’s the one in need of a kick. I swear, that man gave me a B on my presentation just because I caught him in the middle of his interpretive dance routine-”

“Satoru!”

At this, Satoru pauses in the middle of buckling up his jeans to throw a grave nod your way. “I know, right?” Promptly sauntering over to pick up his t-shirt from where it had been thrown onto your bedroom floor, “It gave me nightmares for a few days, too. Which is why we should go to that café tomorrow and then…”

You roll your eyes - partially out of frustration, partially out of necessity to rip your stare away from those sculpted shoulders on display. Decorated in angry, red scratches running down, down, down. Somehow, you manage to grit out, “Satoru I have a uh- date.”

And ah, was it a sight to behold - because, perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc on this planet, he’s stunned into silence. 

Still very groggy from sleep, still very sinfully shirtless standing at the foot of your bed. His kiss-bitten lips fall slack as you plow on, “And it’s just- I can’t make it tomorrow night because he invited me to his party.” 

Party? This was the first time you canceled one of your…appointments with your friend-with-benefits - and it was for some party? Satoru could do parties, too - much better ones than this loser, he’s sure. Ones that would actually warrant you bailing on him.

Shaking away the strange thoughts ringing in his mind, he spits, “Who?” Just about all he could get out now. 

Whoever he was - it was true about the parties. Why would you want to waste any time going to something like that when Satoru was the one known for them on campus. Him and Suku-

“It’s Sukuna.”

“Oh.”

---

It was stupid - it was ridiculous. And you don’t know why Sukuna ever agreed to this scheme, but here you were, glued to his side like his favorite lil’ plaything for the night. 

“What?” you shout for the nth time tonight, scooting closer on the couch. And you see his lips move, yet, to your frustration - despite being seated so flush against you - no sound comes out of them. 

Whatever they say about Sukuna and Satoru’s parties were true - and then some. Because right now, it was so loud you could barely hear yourself think, let alone whatever Sukuna was talking about. Heaving out a sigh, you get ready to give up and suggest joining the thrumming dance floor - before, a large, soft hand glides down to your waist. 

Fingers digging into the plush of your hips as Sukuna yanks you easily to plop down onto his waiting lap. Thighs strong and steady underneath yours, meeting your surprised gaze with his smug one, “This better?”

His hot breath fans the shell of your ear, sending traitorous shivers running along your spine - all the way down to where Sukuna was resting hand right above where your tight dress was hiking up. 

Involuntarily, you find yourself nodding along, “Y-yeah. Much better.”

“Good.”

Fuck, you could feel each and every rumble of his broad chest against yours as he continues the conversation like nothing happened. The faint tap! tap! tap! of Sukuna’s fingers drumming on your squirming hips to the beat of the pounding music. 

And it’s really hard to forget where you are, yet it hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact - when his dark eyes widen at something over your shoulders. The steady beat of his fingers halting abruptly, “Oh?”

You knew what that look meant - knew who it meant. Because, really, there was only ever one person that could command as much attention in such a hazy, packed campus party.

Dipping your head, you hastily ask, “Is he looking over at us?”

To which Sukuna finally tears his gaze away, amusement and something else so dark swirling behind his gaze when he grabs the back of your throat. Whispering against the skin, “More than looking, pretty. Satoru’s planning my funeral and dancing on my grave already.” Moving up, voice dropping to a low, low whisper, “All according to plan, of course. N’ I think…” You jolt as he bites down on your earlobe, hard. “-that we should give him a lil’ show, hm?”

You bite back a soft moan, palms smoothing over Sukuna’s pecs to steady yourself. “And just what did you have in mind?”

“A little bit of this.” he grins, eyes flickering over behind you. “A little bit of that. And some of-” Sukuna chuckles at the way you’re so responsive underneath his touch, bucking when he gives your ass a tight squeeze. Tracing right up, up, up the middle of your spine, “-this.” Lips just inches away from yours now, close. “And you get him as a new boyfriend, and I get killed for taking what I can’t have.”

You feel something soft - fleeting. 

And then immediately Sukuna’s pulling away, those lips that were just barely one yours curling up into such a sly smirk, “Yo, Satoru.”

You stiffen at the name - and the burning hole being stared into your back right now - whipping your head around to be met face-to-face with a towering Satoru. Brows furrowed, biceps rippling when he crosses his arms, lips drawn tight as he hisses through his teeth, “Seems the two of you are having a lot of fun.”

Oh, were you thankful for Sukuna’s sharp mouth right about now. Because while you’re still sitting there with your mouth stupidly agape, he muses, “Mhm, a lot of fun.” Thumbing your face back towards him, “Isn’t that right, pretty?”

Fuck, those were fighting words, ones that had Satoru looming closer - practically sandwiching you between the two men.

“I’m sure she can speak for herself.” he snaps back, slender fingers circling your wrist. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“I dunno, Toru.” And, well, maybe you were an idiot. Maybe you were a mastermind, because you only bat your lashes up at Satoru so deceivingly innocently. “Kuna here-” relishing in the way he flinches at the nickname, “-was jus’ telling me how great of a boyfriend he’d be. Right?”

The other man nods, “Since this pretty lil’ thing is single, thought I might as well take a shot.”

“Please.” Satoru was pulling you closer against him now, irritated huffs prickling waves of goosebumps across your skin. Words venomous, “Some boyfriend he’d be. I’m sure he’d do nothing other than give you weak dick and bore you to death.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Right, because yours is so much better?”

“You really think you have what it takes to satisfy this lil’ minx?”

Both men were gritting their teeth, trapping you between them. People were starting to stare now - some even pulling their phones out to start recording in case of a fight. And before the argument could escalate until that point, you catch Sukuna’s eye. Cutting off whatever next retort was on the tip of his tongue with a short, subtle shake of your head. 

“Well then…” he instead purrs, grinning as if he was in on some inside joke between the two of you - on purpose, of course, just to watch Satoru’s eyes grow harder. “Guess if I’m ‘boring her to death’ then you-” Sukuna gives you a little push, nudging you towards Satoru’s chest. “-can teach her all about fun.”

Before you can react, two strong arms are looping your waist, helping you stand up - and pulling you clean off of Sukuna’s lap. 

You’re hit with Satoru’s expensive, heady cologne - and his chest against your back, rock-hard, chest thumping wildly. You blink up at that uncharacteristically clenched jaw, “Toru?”

Now, you’ve seen him moody, you’ve seen him irritated - but never to this extent. Positively fuming, teeth grit, jolting at the mere sound of your voice as if his whole body was hit with a wave of electricity. Like some hidden, primal part of himself was being poked so dangerously awake when you softly intertwine your fingers with his. All gentle against his almost bruising hold, you question, “Are you alri-”

You don’t get to finish the question, because all it takes is another slow, leering grin flashed at you from Sukuna before Satoru mutters, gravelly. “Excuse us, then. I must have a talk with my woman.”

Starting to walk in long, fast strides upstairs - with you all stumbling and trying to keep up behind him. 

Urgent. Dangerous.

“Extra room’s unlocked, you two!” you hear Sukuna call out after the both of you. And the last sight you see of him is when he mouths a silent “You’re welcome.”. One hand flashing you a thumbs up, the other adjusting the crotch of his pants. “Have fun.”

Satoru only clicks his tongue, moving very purposefully towards where Sukuna’s bedroom was instead.

“Woah- Toru, slow down.” you yelp, out of breath at his ruthless pace. But of course, since this is Satoru, he won’t have it any way other than stopping immediately in his tracks. Turning briefly around to you - only to wrap two arms around your waist, throwing you so easily over his shoulder like some ragdoll. Large palms tugging down the hem of your ass as he continues walking. “Y-you’re so-”

So what? Mean? Jealous? Playing right into your hands?

You don’t even know - nor do you really care, because Satoru finally reaches his destination.

“Fuck- here.” he spits.

Slam!

The door is flung open so hard it almost rattles off its hinges - and you aren’t faring any better. Because no sooner has Satoru stepped inside, he’s throwing you onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

The mattress dips as he slowly makes his way up to you, your legs quiver at how much he just looked like a man starved - eyes half-lidded and crazed, hair ruffled. Having finally found a full meal in years. Darkly eyeing down the way you’re splayed out like such a slut on the mattress, dress hiking up with each bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“So-” Satoru’s fingers reach out to lazily unbuckle the straps of your heels. Lingering much more than necessary. “-got anything to say?”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a delighted grin while his hands dance up your thigh to fiddle with that garter you knew he’d love. Slow. Agonizingly slow. Cocking your head in faux-confusion, “Hmm, like what?”

“Oh I dunno.” Satoru muses, saccharine sweet. And oh you could tell by his tone that he didn’t like that - didn’t want to like it. Running his fingers feather-light all the way down your legs to fling that useless garter onto the floor. “How about a ‘oh I’m so sorry, Toru, for bailing on you and acting like such a slut with the biggest asshole on campus jus’ to rile you up.’” 

You bristle at his mockingly high tone, oh yeah, your plan worked - hell, maybe too well. 

Teeth clenched, you hiss, “Well what are you gonna do about it, Toru?” Jutting your chin in defiance, “You’re not even my boyfriend. Maybe he jus’ fucks me better than you.”

“Say that again.”

Fuck, it takes you a second to even recognise his voice as your familiar friend-with-benefits. So jagged and raw. 

And yet, you’re still running your mouth - so close to his. Too close. “Maybe he jus’ fucks me be-”

Now, usually you were the one that’d shut up Satoru mid-sentence - this time, however, he’s the one crashing his lips against yours. Swallowing the rest of that sentence in such a messy clash of teeth, and spit, and desperation. 

Pulling ever-so-slightly on your glossy lower lip with his teeth, “Say it again, sweetheart.”

Oh, you knew you shouldn’t. Not one bit. But you do it anyway, letting out a muffled, “He f-”

And again. And again and again and-

Each and every time Satoru’s kissing away your mean little words, a large hang coming up around your throat to thumb apart your lips further. “Open.” he hisses against your mouth, so angry. 

It’s as if on autopilot when you do, bruised lips sagging open. Leaving the perfect lil’ opening for Satoru to spit onto your lolling tongue, once. Twice. Thrice. Until your bleary eyes are snapping open, whining against Satoru’s iron-hold fist when you pathetically try to pull away in embarrassment.

Because shit, let it be known that Gojo Satoru has perfect aim - except for when it comes to you. Letting the steady strip of spit splatter against the side of your mouth, gliding his thumb to smear it all over your lips.

“How cute.” Satoru coos, eyes hooded. He gives your pouty mouth a final, chaste peck, sucking softly on your bottom lip. Chuckling, “Makin’ me almost forget you were locking lips with some other bitch earlier.”

And Satoru has the audacity to laugh - laugh - hoarse, and humorless at the way your jaw drops open in disbelief. Humming into your throat, “Yer right, though, m’not your boyfriend.” He leaves little bite marks down your racing pulse, your collarbone, your tits spilling out of your sinful dress. Eyes just devouring you through his long lashes, “But that doesn’t make you any less mine.”

Sitting back on the mattress, all it takes him is a simple tug on your hips to seat you so prettily on his lap. Your legs trembling around his thick thighs, gasping at the feeling of something so rock-hard right under your clothed pussy. 

“Since ya like riding thighs so much, sweetheart-” Bunching your dress up at your hips, gripping your waist - tight. “-let’s see how you like mine.”

“What- oh ngh- fuck-” you’re gasping when he just starts dragging your sloppy hips down his thigh. Long, harsh movements that don’t even ease you into it. 

“Shit.” Satoru groans at the feeling of your cunt drooling, seeping into his skin already. He’s angling his head to spy on the heavenly view - hooking a finger around your drenched panties. “This damn thing is-” Pulling - tearing. “-in the way.”

You’re gasping when Satoru pulls back to look at you with a content grin, dangling the flimsy fabric around his finger like a badge of honor. “You’re- ngh- buying me a new one.”

“Oh, anything for you.” he’s grazing his teeth along your earlobe, fingers finding their way back on your hips to grind them on his thigh, back and forth. Up and down up and down up and- “Or is that what you wanted me to say?”

And shit Satoru is so mean with the way he gives your ass a sharp smack! Pulling your whiny face closer, grinning sternly against your lips. “Why don’t you ask that new boytoy of yours to buy you some, huh?” 

“B-but-”

“B-b-but-” he mocks, bouncing his knees up and down to get you to slide your cunt down his long thighs faster. Puffy folds spreading so shamefully open - so shamefully good. “You were so happy being such a slut for him before, right?” Just goading on your poor self to huff and puff in a way that made his cock twitch wildly. “So why are you here? With me?”

You’re stubbornly keeping your lips sealed shut to keep yourself from crying out - and oh, Satoru didn’t like that. Almost as much as he didn’t like seeing you giving those beautiful heart-eyes at some other bastard.

“Oh? Playing shy now?” Smack! “What happened to the slut from earlier, huh?” Bouncing his knee faster. The pads of his long fingers sting into your skin, sure to leave bruises for him to admire later - and for some people to take note of. Pulling - drawing your cunt to hump him like a bitch in heat. “Tha’s alright, pretty. I get it.” 

And Satoru - mean, mean Satoru - waits until your features soften in relief, almost letting out a sigh - before dipping a hand down to brush a thumb at your pretty clit. Hard. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to bring her out.”

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, nails digging into Satoru’s shoulders when he starts to draw frenzied, methodical little circles on your throbbing clit. “S’too- good- oh my god-”

“‘Toru’ works jus’ fine, sweetheart.” 

But oh for how confident Satoru was talking you into insanity, he can’t help but gape in wonder down below him, awe-struck with how sloppy you were. He could see you sweet sweet juices trailing down his palm, that glossy sheen on his thigh. “You’re so dripping wet, pretty. Who’re you this wet for? Me or-” Satoru’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, turning your head to the adjacent wall, where Sukuna had a framed photograph of himself - because of course he did. “-him?”

Fuck, Satoru can’t even be mad at the way he feels your cunt clench in surprise - because the feeling is so heavenly. His pretty girl, getting off on just his thigh.

Hips stuttering as you move faster - sloppier. So, so filthily all the way from around his knee just till where you could feel the curve of his massive erection. 

He doesn’t even have to move your hips for you anymore - you’re moving as if on instinct at this point. And it makes him smirk, “Heh, such a slutty lil’ thing aren’t ya? Gettin’ off on my thigh?” Feeling you push your hips down hard - so hard. Pelvis desperately trying to hit all your sweet spots, “N’ who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a whimpering “Y-you.”

But, of course, that wasn’t enough. And Satoru’s only quirking his fingers just enough on your clit to make you cry out loud. “Yeah tha’s more like it. Louder now - who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

“You-”

“N’ who got you this fucking wet?”

You cry out when Satoru angles his leg up ever-so-slightly to watch gravity slide you faster down his thigh. Clit catching so fucking obscenely along the fabric of his pants. Ruthless.

“F-fuck you, Toru!”

“Mhmmm, thought so.” His hot tongue darts out to catch those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the unforgiving stimulation. Muscled thighs burning lightly now - faster -  fingers so erratic. Only getting even more so. “Cuz you’re mine aren’t ya?”

You cum so hard - violent, even - that you don’t realize when you are. Just that you’re letting out a broken sob of Satoru’s name while he toys so relentlessly with your clit through your high.

Flashes of white in your vision, your heartbeat in your ears. So good that you’re almost tearing apart his button-up to shreds, hips jerky and sensitive as you your sloppy cunt gushes all over Satoru’s thigh. And, fuck, you’ve never felt so much like such a slut than when you look down to catch the glossy coating all over it. 

One that Satoru swipes thumb at - pooling the syrupy slick on his fingerpad before bringing up to his pretty pink lips and-

Pop! 

“Mmm.” He groans, muffled. “Fuck, you’re so sweet - could taste you forever.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste, “Almost makes me forget that you didn’t answer my last question.”

And you don’t know what you’re reeling more from - the way that Satoru throws you around so easily, pushing you back until you’re splayed out against the plush mattress, shaky legs on his shoulders, arms around his neck. Or from the realization that shit, you’d been too busy losing your absolute sanity to answer his question. 

“I- I didn’t hear.” you make up an excuse, heels digging into the muscles of Satoru’s shoulders now. “I’m yours, Tor-”

“Now now, don’t try that with me, sweetheart.” Satoru cuts off your flurry of apologies, kissing softly at the ankle beside his neck while he pulls off your dress and bra. You didn’t need those, anyway. “Guess I just hafta prove it to ya, right?”

And fuck was he well and fully intent on proving it to you. Because the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s peeling down his drenched pants - and those unnecessary boxers right along with it, too. 

Satoru hisses when his painfully hard erection smacks against those toned abs, smearing precum in a small, filthy little pool. So so angry with the need to be inside your tight pussy - to prove to you from the inside out that you were his. 

“Ya like what you see?” he notices your fixed stare at his cock. Greedily following the precum beading at his fat, red head, making its way between Satoru’s prominent veins. To those tufts of white way down, down, down- “Hey there.” You’re startled out of your little reverie by two wet fingers being snapped in your face, “As flattered as I am, this is actually my favorite part.”

And fuck you could see why it was.

Because it felt so sinful to watch with bated breath at the way Satoru fists his swollen cock, gliding his weeping tip between your swollen folds. Letting your pretty pussy slobber all over him. Up and down. Again. And again. Teasing. 

“P-please, Toru-” you whine around the fifth time he’s “accidentally” nudging at your poor clit. Hips bucking up in need for more more more- “Enough teasing, jus’ wan’ you ngh- inside me.”

To Satoru, no sweeter words have been spoken. But he still manages to curl his lips into a leering smirk at your fucked-out, needy self. “Funny. Coming from someone who shit- pretty, you’re pussy’s trynna suck me up - who couldn’t wait to bail on me tonight for some other hah- jerk.” He presses his thick tip down on your clit, on purpose. “Would’ve fucked you ngh- real nicely, tonight, y’know? What a shame.” 

You can only watch when he draws his hips back, lining up right with your sloppy hole. “What a shame m’gonna ah- fuck you like the slut you are right now.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - to your snug cunt, to your fucking lungs it felt like. 

“Oh- oh fuck, Toru-” you keen, back arching off the bed at the stretch. Satoru’s girth was rubbing up against your gummy walls and stretching them out so good. All the way until all you could feel was the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing cock pushing between your legs. “God, s’too big-”

“No no no, you don’t get to say that.” Satoru spits into your open mouth, hips jutting forward like some animal in short, shallow grinds to bully himself deeper. “You don’t get to fuck- ngh- act all coy when you brought this upon yourself.” His words come out faster - more slurred. Falling out faster and faster as his hips do, “Not when you decided t-to act like a lil’ slut hah- n’ guess what?”

Whether it was a rhetorical question or not - you weren’t sure. All you know is that you’re mewling up tearily at such a feral Satoru, “W-what?”

To which he only smiles against your lips, hips suddenly going still. Dangerously still. “N’ that means m’gonna fuck you like one.”

Before you can even react, he’s pushing in all in one go. Fuck, it never got easier even after so long. 

“Oh- fuck I can’t take it- all-” you cry helplessly as he keeps pushing past that first ring of resistance. The curve of his cock massaging all those hidden sweet spots inside while he keeps splitting you apart deeper and deeper - not daring to even slow down. Not until Satoru’s well satisfied with the kiss of your bruised cervix against his thick head ,heavy balls smacking against your marked-up ass. 

“See? Knew you could take it, you always do.”

And then he’s moving - not with the slow, persistent determination from before, no. Satoru was so animalistic, bouncing you unapologetically on the mattress. 

Hands keeping your hips still to let him ram his entire cock inside your tight pussy. Over and over and-

“Still don’t think you’re not- fuck- mine, sweetheart?” Satoru runs a hand through his hair to see you better, to drink in the sight of your puffy folds bulging around his cock. Struggling to take in each mean thrust, “Because this seems ngh- reeeeal convincing that you are.”

You scrunch your brows in a pathetic plea, “I-I am yours, Toru- ngh-”

But he only brings his ear closer, “What was th-that? Didn’t hah- hear you-” Hands pushing apart your legs until they burned at the stretch. Until you were so shamefully on display for him, “You hah- need more convincing? Oh, I see.”

“I don’t! Oh- T-ngh”

It’s all you can do to let out teary, broken moans when Satoru rolls his hips harder. So carefully practiced with the way he locates your sweet spot easily. 

“Yeah? You hah- like that?” he groans, words punctuated by a deep, harsh thrust. All hitting the bulls-eye each and every time. “Like me f-fuckin’ you like you’re mine?”

At this point, you’re scrambling at the damp sheets, the headrest, Satoru’s shoulders - just anything and everything to hold onto whatever’s left of your sanity - which seemed to be slipping away with each press of Satoru’s head against your g-spot. 

But it still wasn’t enough.

Languidly, he brings a hand over to pinch your ravaged clit between two fingers. Having you whine so prettily with each roll of his fingertips. “Answer the question, pretty.”

“Yes!” you gasp, feet kicking at the sheer overstimulation. “I love it- ngh shit shit shit- I love it, Toru- love it so much.”

Shit, you might’ve just broken him.

Because while you may have thought that this answer would calm your Satoru down a bit - it only made him snap. Eyes widening, hips stuttering, swollen lips falling into such a fucked-out oh! - he looked like an absolute wreck.

Letting out a low, throaty groan of, “Oh fuck, you’re gonna be the ngh- death of me.” With this, he’s pressing his sweaty forehead onto yours, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs that match his merciless cadence. “Wish they could fuck- see you like this.” Ramming inside you harder - meaner. Giving your clit a light smack! before he starts playing with it once more. “I’d ah- fuck you in front of all those losers that think they have a chance just to show off how good you are f’me. Because you’re fuck fuck fuck- my good girl, right?”

You nod as much as you can, head just spinning with each brush of Satoru’s dick against your sensitive spots. Fingers twirling at your clit just as dizzyingly. Letting your slick glisten all over his wrist - his painfully squeezing balls - all the way up to his abs with how hard he was fucking into your tight pussy.

The both of you were getting so sloppy now. No care or concern for the party still raging on outside, not when your gummy walls were sucking up Satoru’s aching cock like that. 

“No one ngh- can fuck you like this.” Satoru sucks on your lower lip. Ragged, like it pained him to keep talking, but he couldn’t stop anyway. “No one.” Milking you harder and harder like he was high off your sweet moans. More desperate - depraved. “Cuz m’yours.”

And he repeats that - into your lips, into your forehead, down your neck - over and over while you cum so fucking hard all on his swollen cock. Plushy walls squeezing so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your high.

Ripping out strangled, raspy groans with each clench of your slutty cunt, “N’ you’re mine.” You think your vision gets hazy through your climax, and the only thing you can hear are those obscene squelches and Satoru’s voice. Like a mantra, “You’re mine- you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine- fuck you’re mine.”

Not straying too far behind, Satoru cums and he thinks he sees the pearly gates of heaven - with you, such an angel. 

So sweetly whining into his ear when he’s painting your walls white, pumping rope after rope of thick, hot cum into your awaiting pussy.

Blinking back his vision only to eye the way it overspills, dribbling down your slit with each harsh ram of his hips. 

“Wan’ go again-” Satoru groans. Only fucking his seed deeper and deeper and oh- he didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think he could stop with the way you were bringing out each and every single last drop like it was delicious. “F-fuck I needa go again. Swee-”

SLAM!

“Woah, seems the two of you are having a looota fun.”

Still not pulling out, both you and Satoru scramble to cover yourselves up with Sukuna’s now-soaked sheets. Well, mainly cover you up, for Satoru had no shame in staring the other man down. Scoffing out, “The fuck are you fuck- don’ squeeze me so hard, pretty- the fuck are you here for?”

“It’s my room, n’ I had a feeling you’d be here.” Sukuna lets the door shut so agonizingly slow, flashing the two of you a lazy, devilish grin. “Besides - this is my date, after all.”

A/N. Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[hyprfixate]

a genetic disposition (to loving you) :: [BC x Reader]

read on AO3

summary: seeing chan at the genetic clinic when he told you he was too busy to hang out was one thing. noticing he was now significantly taller than he was a couple weeks ago was another.

learning he's been diagnosed with the werewolf disorder is something different entirely.

pairing: bang chan x reader

tropes: childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, modern werewolf au, no transformations tho, chronically ill reader, reader has EDS (ehlers danlos syndrome), some angst, slight miscommunication trope

smut warning: masturbation (m), handjobs, blink-and-you-miss-it subby chan, voyeurism, pussy eating (x2), no actual ABO dynamics but that's not stopping Chan from calling himself Alpha, dirty talk, lots of begging, standing/wall sex, cumming inside AND cumming outside.

content warning: talks about being in pain, self deprecating talk, anxiety spirals, very brief internalized ableism, panic attack

word count: 21.6k

author's note: if you saw the three different attempts to post this, no you didn't. enjoy! <3

Chan was acting weird.

To be fair, he always acts weird. Weird might actually be his default. But this was a different type of weird– a weird that involved canceling plans last minute and making up flimsy excuses about why. 

Today, he was supposed to accompany you to your doctor's appointment. A simple, low stakes kind of hangout. You looked at your phone with a sigh.

Channie: sorry, can we do a raincheck for our hangout? not to sound like a fuckboy but something came up

Channie: i really am sorry babygirl. i'll make it up to you i promise. please tell me how it goes okay?

You let out a small huff of air. You would love to be annoyed, mad even, but at the end of the day, this is Chan, your best friend since elementary school. The guy who held you through heartbreaks and stressful semesters. The guy who memorized your ridiculously complicated Dunkin order. The guy who dropped everything to stay with you at the hospital a few months ago when things got really bad.

The guy you're secretly in love with.

Okay, maybe that was a minor and insignificant detail in the grand scheme of things. Either way, you can't be mad at Chan. 

You: don't worry channie. i'll be okay. I hope your stuff goes well ok? 

Channie: love u, good luck with your appointment, it's gonna be ok

Right. Your appointment.

You'd been having some increasingly bothersome and worrying symptoms for the better part of 2 years now. It started with a noticeable dull ache in your knees that wouldn't go away, reaching a peak now where there's not a single day you wake up pain free. The doctors were just as stumped as you were, and as sort of a last ditch effort, they sent you to a geneticist in the expensive part of the city. Thank goodness for adequate health insurance.

You were a bit nervous, which is why you asked Chan to come with you, but it wasn't that big of a deal. You've been to specialists before. 

Still, disappointment rises in your chest as you finish pulling your hair away from your face and securing it with a scrunchie before grabbing your essentials and heading out the door. You're more disappointed about the fact that he's not coming instead of what he's not coming to. You're getting a little weary and tired of the excuses and him bailing on plans. 

But then you think about the way his voice sounds when he calls you babygirl, and everything seems right again.

The trip to the geneticist office is long, and by the time you arrive, you feel the exhaustion in every joint. For such a high caliber place, it's decorated just as sterile and modern as you were expecting, with white walls and white furniture. When you go to check in, the receptionist hands you a tablet with various forms pulled up and points you to the waiting room.

You settle into one of the white waiting room chairs, balancing the iPad on your lap as you begin working through the forms. The questions start simple enough - name, date of birth, insurance information. Then they get more involved, diving into your medical history.

Have you experienced any of the following symptoms in the last six months?

The list that follows is daunting - joint pain (obviously), muscle weakness (sometimes), unexplained fatigue (who doesn't have that?), difficulty concentrating (depends on the day). You find yourself checking more boxes than you'd like.

Your mind drifts to Chan again. You wonder what was so important that he had to cancel. Usually, he at least gives you a concrete excuse, even if it's something silly like having to wash his hair or visit his parents. Today's vague "something came up" feels different. Worrying.

Before you can stop yourself, you pull out your phone.

You: this intake paperwork feels like the ending of a medication commercial

You: i’m surprised they haven't asked me if i or a loved one has been diagnosed with mesothelioma

The message stays on delivered for a while, longer than you expect. You give up on staring at your phone and turn your attention back to the paperwork.

After a ridiculous amount of questions and an even more ridiculous amount of signatures, you finish the preliminary stuff, heading back to the receptionist desk to hand her the iPad. She gives you a polite nod and smile and lets you know the nurse will be out in a second, so you can wait in the small chair by the double doors.

You're lost in thought, mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you hear the gentle sound of your name called. The sound makes you look up, tucking your phone away and grabbing your bag. A nurse stands by the double doors, clipboard in hand, wearing deep purple scrubs and a smile that somehow makes the sterile environment feel a little more human.

You push yourself up from the chair, joints starting their songs of protest after sitting still for so long. The nurse offers pleasantries that you respond to with your usual politeness. As you're walking towards the open door, you hear a beep and the whirr of an electronic lock unlocking. The closed side of the door swings open and–

There's Chan.

You both freeze mid-step, eyes wide and locked on each other like this is the first time you're seeing each other in years. It feels like it, but you did just see him last weekend at a mutual friend's birthday party. It was a fun night, but he was acting strange and dodgy then, too.

something came up.

You squint at him, not sure whether confusion or anger is winning the war in you right now. He opens his mouth once, twice– words are failing. The most he can do is let out a shaky, “Babygirl…”

You take that moment to really look at him. His hair is in its natural curly state, but significantly more messy than usual, wisps falling over and around themselves. His eyes are red and bagged heavily, and his shoulders seem like they're scrunching in on themselves. He hasn't looked like this since that night in the hospital with you.

Something is definitely wrong. 

The nurse clears her throat, and you remember you're being waited on. You motion wordlessly towards the nurse and he gives you a shaky nod.  

“I'll, um. I'll text you,” he mumbles weakly, holding the door open for you as you walk past. When you do, you can't help but look up at him, like way, way up. More than you usually do. You almost pause again– are your bone problems making you shrink, or is he somehow taller? Why does he look like that?

It's you who nods shakily this time, forcing yourself to tear your eyes away so you don't bump into a wall. It takes concentrated effort not to look back at him while you walk down the hallway, but somehow you manage.

The nurse brings you to an exam room and tells you to sit tight while she gets the vitals cart. You obey, still dazed and confused and maybe even a little hurt if you allow yourself to really feel it. Your phone buzzes less than a minute later, and you don't even have to guess who it is.

Channie: i'm so sorry.

Channie: i can explain. i promise.

Channie: i just.. i need some time before i can

Channie: im such a fucking idiot. i'm so sorry babygirl. please. 

There are a million and one responses in your head, each with varying levels of confusion or annoyance. But, among the haze, the image of his exhaustion floats back to you, and you find yourself folding.

As usual.

You: breathe, Chan. it's ok. 

You: whatever it is, we'll figure it out, yeah?

You: i do wish you told me but. it's okay. I can wait for an explanation.

Channie: you're so amazing. i don't deserve you. 

Channie: i'll call you when you get out ok? i love u

The nurse comes back with the vitals cart and begins prepping materials before you can respond properly, so you send back a heart and slip your phone into your pocket. When the blood pressure cuff tightens around your arm, you wonder if the nurse will notice how fast your heart is beating – though you're not sure if it's from anxiety or the way Chan's voice cracked when he called you babygirl.

Maybe both.

To his credit, Chan truly does make it up to you, in the form of an extended weekend away at his parents’ cabin upstate. The invitation, or request rather, comes a couple days after the geneticist incident while you're in bed feeling anxious over your test results.

Channie: picking u up thursday night, we're going to my parents’ cabin till monday

Channie: had plans?

If anyone else were to text you like that, you'd balk at their audacity. But because it's Chan, there's a growing heat in your face when you simply reply:

You: no plans. promise you won't bail?

He sends you a picture of his already packed duffel bag and backpack sitting by his door, then another picture of him and his laptop that's clearly pulled up to Google Maps. His eyebrow is raised, sinfully plump lips pulled into a smirk as he points at the screen.

Channie: give me some creditt

Channie: im already packed and the route is already planned

You giggle, feeling the perpetual knot of nerves in your chest loosen. A weekend away with Chan sounds like the perfect thing. It'll be a way to get your mind off the maybes and anxieties from your appointment, and a way to spend time with your best friend. 

A win-win.

You spend the next few days packing and gathering supplies for a weekend at the cabin, which isn't as simple a task as it sounds. Chan is adamant that you worry about nothing except getting your stuff together, so he won't tell you what he has planned or what to pack. After losing many back and forth arguments, you toss a little bit of everything in your small suitcase, leaving your backpack for entertainment and snack purposes.

Thursday creeps up slowly, then all at once. Unfortunately, you wake up to deep pain in almost all of your joints– even your fingers seem to be screaming with every movement. Getting ready takes longer than you want, but you push through, and it isn't long before you're sitting on your living room couch, waiting for Chan to let you know to come out. It was a wonder what large amounts of Ibuprofen could do.

You hear the familiar puttering of his engine before his text even comes through, the soft ding of your phone cutting through your apartment.

Channie: i'm here babygirl

Channie: coming up to help w ur bags 

A warm flutter runs through your chest at his thoughtfulness. You're not sure you'll ever really get used to it. 

You push yourself up from the couch, breath hitching when the movement causes a dull ache to radiate down the length of your legs. You pause, gripping the arm of the couch and squeezing your eyes shut for a moment.

It's fine, you reason with yourself. It's not that bad. You're fine.

You're thankful that you had the foresight to pack a suitcase instead of a duffle, at least this way you'll have something to bear your weight on while you walk.

Your jacket is slipped over one shoulder when you hear the buzz from your doorbell. Chan's smiling face greets you when you open the door, looking both insanely handsome and–

“Am I shrinking, or are you growing?”

He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his massive chest, which is somewhat concealed by the oversized sweater he's wearing. You want to scold him for such a light outer layer in the bitter late autumn, but your words get stuck in your throat as you find yourself tilting your head up further than usual to look at him.

And then you give yourself the pleasure of really looking at him.

His hair is its usual wispy, beautiful mess. He cards his fingers through it as he looks at you, smiling as though about to say something, when suddenly his smile drops, his eyebrows furrowed as he stands up straight.

“You're in pain.”

It’s not a question.  He's providing the information to you as fact. You blink in surprise.

“Yes, I am, but how did you–”

"I can–” He cuts himself off, looking uncertain for a moment before shaking his head. "I just know you, babygirl. You're not putting much weight on your left leg, anyway."

Hm. He caught you there.

“How bad is it?”

You finish shrugging on your jacket. “Um, maybe six out of ten. But I took medicine, I should be– Are you sweating?”

It's a stupid question, because he is, and you don't need a verbal response to confirm it. Sweat is beating at his temples and dampening his hair. Something flickers across his face, but then his expression is back to normal again. 

You watch him flip through a million different responses in his mind, but before he settles on one, he spots your bags next to the door and goes to grab them, slinging your backpack over his shoulder with profound ease. He's moving so fast and he's so jittery that you barely get a second to process everything.

“Chan,” you finally say when he whizzes past you again to put your remote back in the organizer. He pauses, back stiffening like he's a little kid again about to be scolded. He turns to you slowly. “Are you okay?”

You watch him take a deep, shuddering breath, his entire body seeming to expand and contract. The unnatural stiffness in his body seems like he's forcing himself to stay still, and you see his finger drumming patterns on his thigh.

You repeat his name, softer this time. “What's wrong?”

He shakes his head a bit too fast. “No, nothing, I–” He runs his fingers through his hair, pausing to grip the roots to ground himself to this moment. It works for a second. “I'm… okay. I can explain everything later babygirl, I just… I really just want to focus on spending time with you.”

There's a raw edge to his voice that makes your chest tighten. You study his face, taking in the exhaustion, the sheen from sweat, the way his eyes won't meet yours. Every instinct screams that something is wrong, but…

“Okay,” you relent with a sigh. It should be embarrassing how easily you fold for him. It should maybe even be studied. “But you promise that you'll explain?”

He deflates, eyes brightening with relief. “I promise. Chris-Cross my heart.” He punctuates his sentence by putting his hand over his chest.

You can't help the smile that takes over your face at that– the reference to the silly rhyme you'd made up when you were kids based on his English name. A bit of the anxiety in your chest loosens. “Now let's go before the traffic gets unbearable.”

You grab your keys and headphones, giving your apartment one last glance over before following Chan out of the door. By the time you finish locking up, he's already halfway to the elevator, his abnormally long legs quickening his pace. As you try to catch up with him, you can't help but notice his stature– how his shoulders seem broad under his sweater, how he just seems… more.

The elevator ride to the parking garage under your apartment building is quiet, but not uncomfortably. Chan is humming something under his breath, his increasingly restless fingers tapping out the rhythm on his leg. Despite all of it, you feel relaxed. No matter what's going on, this is still your Chan, your person. 

He tosses your bags into his trunk with an ease that perks your entire body to attention. When you go to pull open the passenger door, he beats you to it, adding a dramatic flourish as he holds it open for you.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest.

In the passenger's seat is a small pink box with a label from your favorite bakery, alongside a nice variety of drinks in the cupholder. He's got a pair of fluffy slippers on the mat by your feet, too, and you can see on the dashboard he's turned the seat warmers on.

“Chan,” you breathe. Your heart is doing strange things in your chest, and you're either feeling extremely touched or about to pass out. “You didn't have to–”

“I wanted to.” You turn to look at him, and he's looking away, scratching the hair at the base of his neck. “Felt like an ass, you know, being so distant and weird. Needed to make it up to you.”

It's entirely unfair that he can just… say those things to you. He's your best friend, so of course he's affectionate– that's just how he's been since you met in third grade. What started with bringing extra GoGurts and tying your shoes when you broke your wrist has just now turned into spoiling you with cabin vacations and things you mention offhandedly that you like. 

No biggie.

He nudges you in the car playfully, making some lighthearted joke about him getting too soft on you. You can barely hear him over the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears, choosing instead to follow his movements in the rear view mirror. You watch as he pauses by the trunk, carding a hand through his hair and taking a big breath, before eventually making his way over to the driver's seat. He tosses his phone to you, effectively putting you on music duty, and then you're on the road in a matter of minutes.

Time with Chan is always easy. You talk about any and everything for the first hour of the drive, including his job, your lack thereof, and your appointment, and he listens to every detail carefully. 

“So, they think it's a collagen issue?”

You nod, wiggling your feet in your new slippers as you shift your position. “They aren't entirely sure, but they're looking at collagen based connective tissue disorders, like Ehlers Danlos and Lupus. They think that could explain the other issues too.”

He looks contemplative as he peers around you to the mirror by your door, trying to merge into the next lane. “Are you scared?”

You shrug, body moving with the car. “Its.. complicated. On the one hand, it would be scary to receive a life changing diagnosis. On the other hand–”

“You're just happy to have answers.”

You nod again, taking a sip of the caramel latte he bought for you and wincing as you shift again. Long drives are always hard, but paired with the changes in the pressure as the two of you drive further into the mountains, your joints feel like they might disintegrate.

“Scale of one to ten?”

You blink. Chan hadn't taken his eyes off the road, so how could he have seen you shifting? You open your mouth, prepared to lie, but he glances at you with a single eyebrow raised. You sigh.

“Maybe a six,” you breathe.

“So the Ibuprofen didn't help?”

“It did, it's just wearing off.”

You put the latte back in the cup holder, using your hands to bear your weight as you try to find a comfy position to sit in. 

“What do you need, babygirl?”

You fight the shiver his voice sends down your spine. “Nothing. Well– I don't know. Maybe a nap? Is that okay?”

“��Course it is. Here.”

With sinfully dexterous fingers, he reaches across your lap to recline your seat for you. You let him, body going still as his strong forearm helps ease you back with the chair. When you're comfortable, he reaches behind him to the floor of the backseat, fishing around until he produces–

“Is that your couch blanket?”

His answering grin is soft. “The one you've been threatening to steal? Yeah. Maybe.”

He drapes it over you skillfully, with you having to do very minimal adjusting. The familiar, homey smell of his apartment– warmth and something else very distinctly Chan – floods your senses and wraps you in the warmest hug. It feels like coming home.

You adjust yourself again, sleep wanting to come now that you're cozy, but the dull ache in your legs doesn't want to let go. Without warning, Chan's free hand slips under the blanket and finds the knee of the leg that hurts with amazing accuracy. His hand feels blazing hot through the fabric of your sweats as he rubs his thumb in soothing circles. 

“This okay, yeah?” he asks, his low voice a soothing sound to your ears. Words are caught in your throat, so you can only nod, but you don't miss how the pain starts to dissolve by his touch. You also try very hard not to think about how big his hand is on your knee.

“Get some rest, babygirl. I got you.”

The combination of his gentle touch, the music, and the smell of his blanket is making your eyelids heavy. As you finally drift off, a contented smile pulls at your mouth because no matter what, this is where you're meant to be. 

This is home.

Chan wakes you up about half an hour before you're expected to arrive. However, paired with delays, the pitch blackness of the mountains, and the general unrestrainedness of Murphy's Law, you were only now getting to the cabin at just past 1am. 

The cabin is beautiful, as always. It's nestled amidst a thick grove of evergreen trees, and its tall, warm wood exterior seems inviting even at the ungodly hour you two arrive. As he swings the car onto the gravel driveway, the headlights illuminate it, like it’s a secret just for the two of you.

“Cabin sweet cabin,” he murmurs as he kills the engine. He picks his phone up from the cup holder and gives it a few flicks, then suddenly the porch lights come on. You give a little stretch in your seat, your joints feeling pleasantly loose and mostly pain free– the nap worked wonders. 

The two of you pile out of the car, the fresh mountain air filling your nostrils. It smells like pine needles and freshwater, with an undercurrent of something wild and electric, like the air before a storm.

“Is it supposed to rain?”

Chan barely hears you, his antsyness now back full force. He's got both of your backpacks and his duffle bag slung over his shoulders, and he goes to grab your suitcase, but you appear by his side and pull it away from him. He blinks down at you, seeming surprised to see you there.

You tilt your head to the side. He still looks sweaty, and from where you're standing, it still seems like he's radiating an insane amount of heat. His breaths are labored, and you find yourself reaching over to rub your thumb over his hand. However, once your hands connect, he jumps and pulls away like you've shocked him.

At your hurt face, he tries to backtrack. “Static,” he supplies weakly. You say nothing, and the tips of his ears turn bright red. “Come on, let's get you out of the cold.”

You try not to jump to conclusions. At the end of the day, if something is really bothering him, if something is really wrong, Chan will tell you. He has always been the brooding type, but there is but so long he can keep things from you.

Still, no matter how much you try to take things at his pace, you keep seeing his face at the clinic: the deep bags under his eyes, the messy hair. The last time you looked into those eyes and saw that same pain, you were in a hospital bed hooked up to more monitors than you could count.

Chan had been brooding then too, refusing to leave your side, asking the doctors all the right questions, keeping your parents up to date when they had to go back home. You remember one night in particular, when you were chalk full of pain meds and falling asleep under the whirr of an oxygen mask, he'd stood at your bedside and rubbed his thumb over your forehead to soothe you. You couldn't speak, too exhausted and in pain to move in any capacity, but you didn't need to. He spoke to you the entire time about everything and nothing, switching his  murmuring to quiet comforts when you started to cry. Just before sleep took you under, you met his eyes– his exhausted, red rimmed eyes– and he gave you the softest, most tender look.

“We'll get through it, babygirl,” he had murmured. “You're gonna be okay. You'll come home.”

You did come home, of course, but that's when things became different. Chan was distant, constantly canceling plans, avoiding you.

You shake the memory from your head as you watch him fiddle with his keys in the lock. This weekend was meant to be about the two of you having fun. You could worry about everything else later.

Chan flicks on the overhead light in the living room area and the room floods with warmth. Everything looks just as familiar and homey as you recall.

Before you can take a good breath, he's got your bags and suitcase and is bounding up the stairs with them like they weigh nothing. You choose to busy yourself with getting comfortable, peeling off your coat and hanging it on the nearby hook.

You're tugging your hair back into a ponytail when he comes back down, and when you look up and spot him the scrunchie flies across the room.

He's taken off his hoodie, leaving him in a fitted white tee that does nothing to hide just how different his body looks. It's no secret that Chan works out, but he fills out this shirt like it was painted on him. You quickly pull your spare scrunchie from the other wrist to tie up your hair, trying not to dwell.

"Do you want me to put these in the kitchen?" you call out, holding up the bag of road trip leftovers.

"Yeah, just–" his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. "Just throw them on the counter. I'll organize everything later."

You pad into the kitchen, bare feet silent on the wooden floors. Everything is exactly as you remember it – the mismatched mugs in the cabinet, the worn wooden spoons in the ceramic holder, the string lights Chan installed last summer that give everything a soft glow. If you close your eyes, you could almost pretend nothing has changed.

Almost.

You find, unsurprisingly, that the cabinets and fridge are stocked full. Chan's parents likely came out to pack up some groceries when he told them you'd be coming. You find yourself leaning against an open cabinet, staring into space, your mind a million miles away.

"You okay, babygirl?”

You jump slightly – you hadn't heard him come up behind you. He's standing in the doorway of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair again, that restless energy still evident in every movement.

"Yeah, just..." you gesture vaguely around you. "Memories, you know?"

His expression softens, and for a moment he looks exactly like your Chan again. "Yeah, I know."

The moment stretches between you, comfortable and familiar, until your stomach decides to break it with an embarrassingly loud growl. Chan's laugh is startled but genuine.

"I don't remember that.” He jokes. “Hungry?"

You feel your cheeks heat. "Yeah, I think so.”

He starts rolling his sleeves up. “I could probably make some eggs and toast, if–.”

“It's one in the morning,” you scold him gently. “Nobody is cooking.”

He gives you a pout, which is comical considering his current stature, but you still feel a tug in your chest. “But–”

You shake your head, turning away from him so you don't relent. “No buts. We have tons of snacks. Help me find something.”

At your request, the two of you rummage through the drawers and cupboards. Everything either requires too much effort or won't agree with your stomach at this ridiculous hour. You're ready to call it quits and sleep for dinner when a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Oh, can I have one of your protein bars? You always buy the good kind.”

His smile is soft, dimples catching the light in a way that makes his entire face seem like a dream. “Of course. They're in my backpack, next to the couch.”

You slide your way to his bag with an excited pep in your step. Chan, being who he is, always buys the amazingly expensive protein bars that manage not to taste like chalky disappointment. They're surprisingly filling, and you know they'll settle your stomach without causing a stomach ache.

You find his bag quickly in the low light of the room, squatting down to rifle through it. With your hand in the front pocket, you dig around until your fingers find something that feels like the protein bar box. In your hungry haze, you yank it out without thinking.

It is not the protein bar box.

Instead, it's a thick packet of paper. You go to put it back when the letter head of the genetic clinic you visited catches your eye, along with the words “After-Visit Summary”.

Maybe if your heart wasn't thrumming in your ears, you would've heard his panicked footsteps coming after you. But the only thing in your ears is the erratic beating of your heart, one that only gets worse when you turn the packet over and read the small words on the margin:

You were seen today for: Hormonal Changes. The following issues were addressed: Genetic Lycanthrope Syndrome (Werewolf Gene).

You hear your name through the roaring in your ears. It's a soft, tentative sound that cracks around the edges. You turn, slowly, to see Chan almost right behind you, his face drained of all color and his eyes blown wide.

“Chan,” you breathe. You turn a bit more towards him, the packet still gripped in your hand. “What–”

"I can explain," he says quickly, desperately. His hands are shaking. "I was going to tell you, I swear, I just– I needed time to–”

He trails off, looking around the room as though looking for someone to help him.

Genetic Lycanthrope Syndrome.

You came across this condition when you were researching the clinic, as they mentioned that they were the only place in the area that had the facilities to test for it. It was, as the paper put it, the werewolf gene. People with the condition experienced heightened senses of smell, increased strength, sensory sensitivities– they were werewolves, just without the whole full moon transformation thing.

To say the condition was rare was an understatement. Both parents had to be carriers for the trait, and even then it only occurred in 25% of those births.

And Chan happened to be one of them.

Everything clicks into place now. The sudden growth spurt, the feverishly hot skin, how he knows when you're in pain without you saying a word.

“This is why you were at the clinic,” you say softly. It's not a question.

He nods jerkily, still looking like he might bolt at any second. You stand up to take a step toward him and he actually backs away.

“Don't,” he breathes. “I'm… I don't want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” You almost laugh. “Chan, you're not going to hurt me. How could you think that?”

“No, you don't understand,” he cards his hands through his hair, pausing to tug on the roots. “I can't… I don't know how to control myself yet. I'm different now, I'm–”

“Still Chan.”

The sound he makes is painful. “You can't say that,” he breathes. His hands drop to his sides again. “You don't know what it's like.”

“So tell me," you urge. You move as though you're about to take another step towards him, and your heart drops at how his entire body flinches. “Chan. Chris. Christopher. Look at me please.”

The use of his full name does something to him, and you watch as he settles, eyes drifting over to you slowly. His gaze is intense, and in the dim light of the living room, you feel akin to a deer staring down a wolf, no pun intended. 

It does not frighten you the way it should.

“Talk to me, please,” you beg. “You're my best friend. I'm here for you, always.”

“I can smell when you're in pain,” he grits out. It's not what you're expecting to hear. He clenches a hand into a fist, then lets it go. “You usually smell sweet, like caramel and linen. But then your scent gets an undercurrent of something harsh, like burnt sugar and metal, and I… I feel like–”

He lets out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes as he cuts himself off. “I can't control my strength. I've broken so much shit around the apartment. Don't wanna touch you. Don't wanna break you.”

“You won't hurt me.” You take the opportunity to get closer, but he must smell the closing distance because his eyes fly open. You're in front of him before he can move. “Do you know why?”

Chan's breaths are ragged and labored. “Why?”

“Because you're still my Chan. Still the guy who's been taking care of me since elementary school. Still the person I trust most in the world."

His breath hitches. "How can you say that? How can you just... accept this?"

You can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Chan, I'm literally at the same genetic clinic getting tested for a collagen disorder. Did you think I wouldn't understand what it's like to have your body change in ways you can't control?"

That seems to catch him off guard. He turns away, a frown tugging at his lips. "That's... that's different.”

“Is it though?” You pretend to be thoughtful. “Last I checked, it's like both of our bodies are changing in ways we don't understand. Like we both have to navigate a new normal.”

"That's exactly why I–" he cuts himself off, running both hands through his hair. "I can't risk hurting you. Not when you're already..."

"Already what?" You challenge, taking one final step. You're close enough now that you have to tilt your head back to look at him properly. "Already broken?”

His face twists up like you've punched him in the stomach. “No! God, no. When you're already going through so much.”

“A lot of what I'm going through is a waiting game, Chan– waiting for test results, waiting for appointments at specialists. You don't have to keep things from me because of that.”

You poke him in his side, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, this? Finding out you're a werewolf–”

“The correct term is Lycanthropy Syndrome–”

“-- This is the kind of stuff that keeps me grounded. Having other things to think about. Having you around.”

You watch the tension slowly bleed from his shoulders, almost as though he's deflating. There's obviously more he isn't telling you– you can see it in the way his eyes still can't seem to meet yours– but you don't push it. He's already said so much.

“So,” you start. You rock back and forth on your feet. “Can I make werewolf puns now?”

He rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you pawsitive?”

He groans at that, a smile pulling at his lips despite himself. “You're the worst. I'm gonna leave you here and go home.”

But he's laughing anyway, his usual giggle that makes everything seem like it'll be alright. You beam at him. and your body lights aflame when he smiles back down at you softly. The two of you hold eye contact for a second, and you watch something untraceable flash in his eyes. Before you can even process it, he's looking away again and clearing his throat.

Another silence falls between you, but this one is different. Chan is fidgeting again, his fingers drumming against his thigh in that restless way you've noticed all evening. He's looking everywhere but at you, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"What is it?" you ask softly.

He opens his mouth once. Twice. Three times– words seem to be failing him again. You raise an eyebrow and he sighs, a sheepish smile on his big stupidly handsome face.

"Can we..." he starts, then stops. Starts again. "Would it be okay if we... like we used to..."

You wait patiently as he struggles with the words. His ears are turning red again.

"Can we share my bed?" he finally gets out in a rush. "Like– like when we were kids? Just for tonight. I just... I haven't been sleeping well since everything started and I… um…”

Your brain short circuits as the request processes.

Share… a bed. With Chan. Taller, wider, more muscular Chan. Chan whose body heat seeps through every layer of clothing. Chan whose one hand can cover your knee easily. 

From the way your body reacts, your knee jerk reaction is to say no. He's already going through enough, and Lord knows what types of degenerate scent you'd be giving off if you spent an entire night with him.

But when you open your mouth to decline, you notice how he's standing, with his shoulders curved inward, trying to make himself smaller. His big brown eyes are pleading, almost desperate, and you think about how scared he was earlier, how convinced he was that you'd reject him once you knew the truth.

Fuck it.

“Of course, Channie.”

The smile on his face is nervous, like he expects you to change your mind any second. “Yeah?”

You nod, ignoring the way your brain tries to supply you with images of everything you want to have happen. "Yeah. Just... let me get changed first?"

He nods quickly, that restless energy back but different now – excited rather than anxious. "Yeah! Yes. Your stuff is in your room, yeah? I'll be in mine when you're ready."

He's bounding up the stairs before you can say anything. You take the moment alone to take a deep breath. You can do this. It's just Chan. Just your best friend.

When you reach your room, you duck into the attached bathroom to change quickly, opting for the full top and bottom PJ set rather than the oversized hoodie you were originally going to wear. You stare at your reflection, willing yourself to calm down and look normal.

Sharing a bed with Chan is not a new concept. When you'd first gotten close in grade school, the two of you tended to hop from house to house, sleeping wherever without a care in the world. The habit continued as you grew up– in college during study sessions, during movie marathons on school breaks, that one time a few months ago when you'd gotten terribly drunk at your friend Jeongin's birthday party. It had never been anything more than two friends seeking each other's comfort.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again, face flushed and breathing ragged. You force yourself to calm down– if Chan could smell when you were in pain, he could probably smell the indecency coming off of you in waves. 

Everything is fine.

When you reach the doorway of the master bedroom, Chan is already in bed scrolling on his phone. You watch his nostrils flare for a second, eyes fluttering shut as he puts his phone on the night stand.

The king sized bed looks both too big and too small.

When he opens his eyes, he looks surprised to see you. and you watch red start to tint his neck. “Um. Hey,” he breathes.

You hover in the doorway, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of space between you. "Hey."

Chan shifts, pulling back the covers on what has always been 'your' side of the bed “Um. Do you want... I mean, we usually..." He trails off, looking everywhere but directly at you.

You take the initiative and move towards the bed, sliding down under the covers until they reach just under your chin. Chan shuffles next to you, scooting this way and that, flipping like a hot dog on a stick. You both settle on your back eventually, staring up at the ceiling.

“This is weird,” he says after a few minutes of strained silence.

“Not weird,” you supply. “Just… different.”

“Different…,” he murmurs. “Different because I'm different?”

You almost laugh. “Chan, what? No–”

He's sliding out from under the covers before you can finish. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have– this was dumb to ask.” You ignore the way your heart drops. “I'll go sleep in the other room. Or on the couch. Or–”

You grab at his wrist before he can go anywhere. He doesn't jerk away this time, but his entire body goes rigid. You rub your thumb along the pulse point on his wrist.

“You don't have to leave,” you say slowly. “It’s not weird because you're different. It's weird because we're both over thinking it.”

He lets out a little breath. “We are, aren't we?”

"Yeah." You squeeze his wrist once before letting go. He settles back down into the bed, still looking a bit uncomfortable, but not ready to run anymore. 

You smile at him before holding open the cocoon you made in the blanket. "Come here, you big baby."

"I resent that," he grumbles, but there's a smile tugging at his lips.

It takes some maneuvering to find a comfortable position. Chan is hesitant at first, careful not to crowd you, but eventually you manage to guide him until his head is tucked under your chin, his arm draped carefully over your middle. His body curls around yours despite the size difference, like he's trying to make himself smaller again. When he finally settles, it feels like every part of him is contoured to fit you perfectly.

You ignore the heat in your stomach.

The silence that settles around you is comfortable now, broken only by your breathing beginning to sync up. His body weight is grounding, and the heat he's radiating feels like the world's best heating pad. 

You're just beginning to doze off when Chan makes a low, displeased grunt in the back of his throat. You can feel his eyebrows scrunch together where he's pressed against your collarbone.

“Your hip,” he murmurs.

“Hm?”

He shifts in your hold, maneuvering you until his other hand can slide under your body to wrap around you. “Your hip hurts. Or it's about to start.”

Sleepiness has made you a pliant, barely conscious little thing. You're about to ask how he can tell when his big, warm hand presses against your hip, heat radiating through the fabric until it settles deep into your bones. You can't help but let out a little whimper from the immediate relief it gives you.

Chan makes another sound in his throat, grip increasing on you almost infinitesimally. 

“This good, babygirl?”

“Mmf.”

The warmth and relaxation is muddling your brain. “S'good, Channie.”

He makes a more pleased sound and nuzzles closer. Sleep takes you quickly after that, and all you can think about as you finally succumb is how lucky you are to have him here with you. You'd love to say as much, but you're too tired to open your mouth, so you give him the tiniest of squeezes, hoping he understands.

From the way his arm tightens around you, you think he does.

Things seem less charged in the morning.

You wake up to sunlight glittering through the curtains and the other side of the bed empty. The sheets are still warm, but given what you've come to learn about Chan and his temperature, he could've left the bed anywhere from three seconds to four hours ago.

You stretch a little bit as you try to wake up fully, heading to the other bedroom to freshen up for the day. It seems like an okay day pain-wise. You're at a steady three out of ten everywhere except your hands, but you brush it off. With the way you sleep, your hands take longer to catch up to the lower pain levels in the rest of your body. It's just a matter of time. 

Still, you run them under warm water in the bathroom, hoping to loosen them up.

When you finally emerge, you follow the mouthwatering scent of cooking down the stairs and into the kitchen. After a nonexistent dinner, you're starved, and you could really go for some food right now.

You pause in the archway of the kitchen.

Food is… an understatement.

Chan stands at the stove, spatula in hand and preparing to flip what looks like an omelette. All around him on the counters are various other breakfast foods: scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, hashbrowns, fruit–

“When did you have time to make a sourdough starter?”

He startles slightly, turning to face you with a sheepish smile. “Ah… good morning, babygirl. I may have.. gone a bit overboard.”

“A bit?” You slide into a seat at the edge of the kitchen island in the one spot where there's no food. “If you were planning to invite the woodland creatures you could've given me a heads up, I'd be decent.”

The responding huff makes you smile. “I cannot communicate with animals. Weirdo.” Chan grins. He folds the omelette in half and flips it over. “I just… I got hungry.”

You sneak a piece of bacon off of a nearby plate and snort. “‘Hungry’ seems like a gross understatement. Is this a side effect?”

Chan's ears turn pink as he plates the omelette. "Yeah, actually. My metabolism is... different now. Food tastes different too– more intense." He starts moving dishes to the kitchen island, careful not to overcrowd your space. "Everything is more intense, really."

"Like what?"

He hums thoughtfully as he settles into the chair next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him. "Smells are the biggest thing. Like, I can smell everything. The coffee brewing, the bacon grease in the air, the rain that's coming later–"

"It's going to rain?"

"Yeah, probably this afternoon." He passes you a fork and a plate you never noticed him constructing. "I can smell it in the air. What’s the word? Petrichor, but... before the rain actually falls? If that makes sense.”

You hum around a fork full of eggs, cracking the fingers on your free hand. “That sounds like it can get miserable. Is everything just… enhanced all the time?”

He takes a bite out of a chunk of toast, making a so-so motion with his hand. “It's enhanced all the time, but the way it is right now, the intensity, that’s only sometimes. Only during–”

He cuts himself off, swallowing his bite of toast with more power than necessary. 

“During the full moon?” You supply.

He nods quickly. “Yeah.”

There's a lull in the conversation that you try not to read into. It doesn't take much effort anyway, because you notice that eating is taking more effort than it was a few minutes ago. Your grip on the fork is weird, and you can't seem to close your fingers all the way around it.

That's fine, you think to yourself. You switch hands. Everything is fine.

You try not to let the revelation sour your mood. Chan mentioned it was going to rain, and while your doctors didn't know why you were in pain, they knew what kinds of things made it worse, and the air pressure changes from rain was one of them. This was just something you had to learn to deal with now.

Resentment for your condition rises in your chest with the little bit you've eaten, and you take a sip of apple juice to swallow it down. It's not fair. People your age were doing things like mountain climbing, running marathons, just living. And here you were, struggling to feed yourself and hold a fork.

It's fine.

A hand on your shoulder pierces through the dense clouds shrouding your mind, and you feel yourself startle a little. Chan is facing you, leaning his impossibly tall torso down to look you right in your eyes. His gaze is intense, gold flecks in his eyes swimming around as he stares.

“What hurts,” he breathes. The sound of his voice is light as a feather, floating through the air before coming to rest gently on your lips. 

“My hands.”

“Scale of one to ten?”

You think about saying your number, but upon remembering how nice and easy conversation was this morning, you decide to lie. “Four.”

The look in Chan’s eyes grows more intense, and you swallow around nothing. He levels you with a very unimpressed look, eyebrows creasing and his plushy, pink lips frowning. He only says two words, but they send a ripple through your body anyway:

“Try again.”

Fuck. You're giving yourself whiplash. Jumping from frustration to stark arousal was an Olympics level move your brain wasn't prepared for. There's a different kind of haze clouding your mind now.

“It's a seven,” you breathe. 

He's up on his feet before you can fully compose yourself, long legs taking him up the stairs and bringing him back down in a matter of seconds. When he sits down again, he's holding your decorative medication pouch and a mini water bottle from your backpack.

You gulp at the way the veins in his arm bulge.

“Which bottle is it?”

You come back to yourself, licking your incredibly dry lips before you respond. It takes a blink or two before you can orient yourself in the present. “Um, red bottle. The tall one.”

He places the bottle and water in front of you in a gentle way that contrasts the energy in the room. You fumble with the child proofing for a second before he plucks the bottle from you, undoing the lid with one hand.

Wow. Fuck.

"Thanks," you mumble, accepting the pills he tips into your palm. His hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck as you swallow them, and you try not to shiver at the contact.

“Do you need a nap while the pills work?”

You pout, finally coming back to your good senses. “We're supposed to have a movie marathon today.”

“I didn't realize the TV had a flight to catch?”

You glare at him, albeit thankful for the teasing sarcasm to loosen the tension. “You're not funny.”

Chan's lips pull into a smirk and he gives a little shrug. “I think I am.”

You roll your eyes at him as he stands, coming over to you and easing you out of your seat. He gives a little ‘tsk’ at your faux attitude, but his hands are back on your shoulders, guiding you towards the couch. When you finally do lay down, he's already throwing his signature couch blanket over you, tucking it around you securely.

“Comfy?”

You are, but you've also realized he's tricked you into a nap, so you do the adult thing and mock him before sticking your tongue out at him.

“Wow,” he murmurs. He slides down the couch and onto the floor. “I haven't seen that routine since 4th grade.”

You watch as he adjusts his legs a few times, his head resting against the armrest right by your fingers. It’s unspoken, but you know that he'll stay until he's sure you're asleep. 

"You don't have to sit on the floor," you murmur. "There's plenty of room up here."

He shakes his head. "Nah. I'm good here.”

You watch his side profile for a minute, basking in all of his Chan-ness. He settles in a bit more and lets his eyes flutter closed. When he does, he leans his head back a little more, and you watch the delicate bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows. 

“Chan?” Your mouth is moving before you know it. 

“Hm?”

“Were you scared? When you… got the diagnosis?”

His eyes open at that, and he turns his head so he can look at you. The intensity from earlier is gone, replaced by that familiar warmth that only he has.

There's a beat of silence where all Chan does is stare, almost as if seeing you for the first time. It passes, though, and then he goes back to his previous position, eyes closed again as he speaks. “No,” he says finally. “I wasn't scared. The only thing I thought about was you.”

“Me?”

He nods against the couch. “They kept talking about what it meant and all of that, and all I could think about was how on earth I was going to tell you.”

You reach a hand over and start rubbing at his scalp in the familiar way you've always done. “And yet,” you tease gently. “I had to accidentally find the papers.”

He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, leaning into your hand. “That wasn't the plan,” he murmurs. “Was supposed to tell you properly.”

You stay quiet, continuing to play with his hair. The quiet domesticity is comforting, and you find your eyes fluttering closed too. 

You move your fingers through his hair in nonsensical patterns and shapes, occasionally letting your nails graze his scalp. His breathing evens out eventually--he's not sleeping, no, just content and peaceful. You're a different story, though, and medication induced drowsiness starts flowing its way through your body.

Your movements grow slower and uncoordinated, hand drifting lower, and lower, until eventually your fingers trail to the nape of his neck. When you drag your nails across the sensitive skin there, Chan makes a sound that shoots straight through you and straight to your core– something between a pleased hum and a growl that vibrates through his entire body.

Both of you freeze. Your heart starts doing gymnastics in your chest while the sound echoes in your ears, making your body grow hot. Beneath you, Chan is rigid, like every muscle has been pulled taut.

The room is entirely still for a second. Then, he clears his throat a little, shifting himself so you have better access. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Keep going. Feels nice.”

You force your fingers to move again, continuing their exploration and tracing the curls on Chan's head. 

You repeat your mantra in your mind:

Everything is fine.

The moment passes like a summer storm– intense and fleeting– and soon Chan is relaxed again, practically melting under your touch. You're actively fighting sleep now but you're realizing it's a losing battle. Your movements become slower, less deliberate, until your hand is simply resting in his hair.

"Sleep, babygirl," he murmurs, voice thick and honeyed. "I got you.”

So you do.

When you wake up a bit later, you find yourself, sadly, alone.

In place of Chan's thick curls is the cold rectangular slab that is your cell phone. You squint at it sleepily, not remembering bringing it down with you for breakfast or having it on the couch. You flick through the unlock process, and when your phone opens, it's on the notes app.

Hi babygirl. If you're reading this, I went to the store. We don't have any vegetables. I'll try to be quick. - Channie

You wipe sleep from your eyes as you sit up, trying to orient yourself in your surroundings. You hear the steady whooshing of the rain outside and carefully flex all of your joints. You're content to find that you're at a steady three out of ten everywhere.

You settle back into the couch cushions, pulling the blanket around you tighter. It's not scary to be by yourself, especially not in the cabin,  but Chan's presence is definitely missed. You decide to fill the silence with television, something low stakes and stupid that you can listen to while you scroll on your phone.

However, the microscopic roku remote has decided to go missing, and after digging through the couch cushions twice, you sit back with a huff. You suppose your phone will do for now.

You open YouTube with the intent to watch one of your favorite Let's Play videos, but as you scroll through your homepage, something catches your eye. The title makes you pause:

Q&A: Genetic Lycanthropy Syndrome (aka The Werewolf Gene)

The algorithm strikes again, you suppose.

The video was posted a little over a month ago and has a substantial amount of views and comments. The creator themselves has well over 100k subscribers. It looks perfectly legit. Before you can overcomplicate it and talk yourself out of it, you press play.

“Hi everyone!” The guy on the video has a soft, smiling face, accented by round, thin-rimmed glasses. “Welcome or welcome back to my channel. If you're new here, I'm Seungmin, and I have GLS, which stands for Genetic Lycanthropy Syndrome. Or, to put it simply, I have the werewolf gene.”

You are immediately invested.

“I set up a question box on Instagram a couple days ago, and you guys really went to town.” Seungmin chuckles. “So I'll answer a few of those in this video.”

The first few questions are simple enough– what made him suspect he had it, the diagnostic process, how his family reacted. He answers every question thoughtfully and thoroughly in a way that makes you learn more than you thought you needed to.

You're writing down the fact that people with GLS tend to need more red meat than dark meat in their diet when he starts reading out the next question. 

“@jutdae asks, ‘how does the enhanced sense thing not drive you crazy?’” Seungmin lets out a little laugh. “So, the sense thing is kind of tricky for non-GLS people to understand. On a regular day, it might be enhanced, but maybe only 50% better than most people. The real issue is when rut or heat cycles start.”

You drop your phone, cursing when it slips right into the couch cushions.

“During a rut–” Seungmin's muffled voice continues as you fish around for your phone. “-- it's probably around 150% better. And our body temperature will skyrocket, like a constant fever type. The extra sensory input can cause a lot of restless energy too, so we're always feeling like we want to crawl out of our skin. Thankfully ruts, or heats for AFAB people, only happen once every three months, for about a week.”

You finally find your phone, heart pounding as you fumble to hold it still. The boy on your screen adjusts his glasses before continuing, entirely unaware how he's just flipped your life on its head.

“Well, that's for people who've presented for a while. When you first present with symptoms, you can get your rut every month. And that's… an entirely different type of intense. I surely don't miss that.”

Your brain might be oozing out of your ears.

You don't need to Google what a rut cycle is. You already know. It's the one aspect of GLS everyone is familiar with.

You scan through the events of the last 36 hours with unfathomable speed. It's all there. Every single symptom mentioned in this video. 

Extremely heightened senses. Restless energy. Fever-hot skin. 

Chan.

Chan hasn't been able to sit still. Chan's skin is hot to the touch. Chan keeps telling you when your pain is about to start because he can smell it. Chan brought you to an isolated cabin in the mountains.

Chan is in rut. Chan's diagnosis was only finalized less than a week ago. Ergo, this is his first rut.

The sound of a car door slamming makes you jump so hard that your phone flies away from the couch and skitters onto the floor.

Shit.

You scramble to grab it, swiping out of the video before Seungmin finishes answering what you're certain are other life changing questions. You can't hear anything he's saying, laser focused on the sound of Chan's impending footsteps and the sound of rustling grocery bags.

“Babygirl,” Chan's voice vibrates from the entryway. “I'm back. You awake?”

“Yeah,” you call, forcing yourself to sound steady. You clear your throat. “Yes, I'm up.”

You hear him put the bags down and toe off his sneakers, socked feet padding into the room where you are, undoubtedly, staring like a ghost came through the door and robbed you of your possessions. You fight to fix your expression into something normal, but all of that goes out the window when he steps into the threshold.

He's soaked. The rain has soaked through his shirt, making it cling to his chest and highlight every cut of his muscle. His curls are wild, some of them plastered to his forehead while others seem to be competing for the best pose. There's water dripping down his neck an–

You find a spot on the wall to look at instead. 

“Sorry I took so long.” He brushes his hair off of his face. “The store closest was closed, had to run way into town.”

“It's fine,” you squeak. He looks at you, eyebrows furred. “I was fine, just watched some YouTube. I wasn't up for long.”

He tilts his head, studying you with his nearly impossibly dark eyes. His lips push up, almost like he's pouting, but you watch as confusion takes over his gaze. He squints, and you burrow yourself further into the couch. If his smell is heightened, then he probably–

“You okay?”

You nod too enthusiastically. “Yes, of course. Why?”

He opens his mouth to say something, moves his body as though he'll take a step towards you, but he stops. You hold eye contact for a second, feeling small and exposed among his gaze. But then he nods almost imperceptibly, turning to grab his wet sweater from the entrance. 

“I'm gonna get changed and make us some lunch. Sandwiches?”

You nod.

“Good. Find us something to watch, yeah?”

As soon as he's gone up the stairs, you collapse back onto the couch, pressing your hands against your burning cheeks.

Okay. Okay.

You're probably– definitely – making this weird. Maybe you've read too many werewolf romance novels. Chan is going through something a lot more tangible than turning into a wolf and scampering off into the moonlight, and here you are, being a degenerate as usual. He brought you here because you're his best friend. Because he needs support.

The rut thing… is just a coincidence. Or maybe not even a big deal, or something he wants you to worry about. Yes. That's it. 

Distantly, you hear the shower turn on, and everything from your neck to the crown of your head lights aflame.

The remote chooses that moment to reappear, launching itself from the couch blanket and onto the floor. You snatch it up quickly, flicking on the TV and navigating to Netflix. You need something light. Something stupid. Something to fizzle out the charged energy in the atmosphere.

He'll handle himself… however that may be. You repeat this to yourself as you scroll through the comedy section, eyes blurring at the words in front of you. It's none of your business, anyway. You have one job right now, and that's finding something to watch.

You settle on a cooking show when you hear him coming down the stairs again. You focus on the TV, your mantra echoing around your skull as though you have no brain.

Everything is fine. You're fine. He's fine. 

“Worst Cooks in America?”

You nearly jump out of your skin. He's standing behind the couch, now wearing dry clothes– a zip up sweatshirt and loose sweats. You notice, entirely by accident, that there's no shirt under the sweater. Just plain, exposed skin.

Great. 

You hum out a noncommittal answer, just as he turns and heads to the kitchen, mentioning as he goes that he's using roast beef.  You listen to the sound of the fridge opening and the hum of the toaster as he plugs it in, no doubt solely to put your bread to toast, the same way you've eaten a sandwich since you were eight years old.

You can do this. You can act normal. You're an adult, and you have been for a few years. Things don’t have to be weird just because you now know that your best friend is a delicate, walking bundle of hormones. Chan clearly trusts you enough to have you here, and you're not going to mess that up by being a disaster about it.

You hear him humming in the kitchen, puttering about through the cabinets, the clink of plates on the counter. It's so normal, so Chan, that it almost makes you forget about everything else.

You shake your head, hoping to physically dislodge the memories of the noise he made when you were scratching his neck– the deep, rumbling groan that ran through your sleep-riddled body until stopping to wake you up where you're most sensitive. It was just a noise, you make noises all the time.

When he appears in the doorway with the two plates, all smiles and soft around the edges, you take a deep breath before returning the smile. 

You can do this. You can sit down next to Chan and watch the show and be normal. Everything is fine.

Probably.

… Maybe.

Everything is not fine.

The realization comes later in the night when the darkness from the storm bleeds into the darkness of late evening. It's nearing 10pm, and you and Chan are still seated on the couch together, now on opposing sides, still watching the same cooking show.

Or pretending to.

Chan seemed to be getting worse as the evening progressed. When he first came in from outside, he seemed calmer, less tense, but now he was sitting rigid, wound up like a toy no one would release. He was sweating an almost ridiculous amount, and the zip from his hoodie was pulled down to the middle of his stomach, exposing all the skin underneath.

His breaths were coming in short pants now. He had a steady grip on the fabric of his sweats, and you were almost certain that he'd tear a hole in them with the way he was grabbing them.

You weren't sure what to do.

You had tried nudging him with your foot gently a while ago, but when your skin made contact, he made another low sound in his throat that shot right up your leg and into your core. You pulled your foot away quickly, apologizing, making sure to press your knees together so the scent of arousal wouldn't reach him. 

And that was before he had started panting like… well, a dog. Now you weren't sure you'd be able to reach him through the fog of his own mind even if you screamed right in his face.

You're about to try saying something, anything as the episode that was playing ends, but he shoots up off the couch before you can think of words to say. He's pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes, visibly shaking with the effort of breathing normally.

“Chan,” you start.

He holds up a hand. “I'm– I'm okay,” he breathes. 

He's not. 

“The rain, I think,” he grits out. “Too loud. Too much. You're okay, though?”

Of course Chan would find the time to check on you while going through his own crisis. You sit up a little on the couch, staring at him even though he has his eyes covered. The words are coming out of your mouth before you can even think about what you're saying: “Do I smell okay?”

He grunts. You suddenly understand why cavepeople had so many kids. 

“Smell fine,” he breathes. He slides his hands down his face, fixing his gaze away from you. “You do, I mean. You smell good.”

It dawns on you then that maybe the newly awakened wolf-like part of his consciousness is reacting to your smell because you're a girl, and he's in a rut. Maybe you should leave the room, give him some space?

You're trying to find a way to ask if that's what he needs without giving away what you know, but he fiddles with the zipper of his hoodie again, wanting to tug it down some more. He stops, takes a deep breath, and then drops his hand.

“I think I need a second,” he says. His hands are twitching at his side. “Need my room. Need the quiet, yeah?”

You nod. That's fine. It's for the best anyway, right?  “That's okay. You can come back when you're ready.”

He nods, still not looking at you. There's a moment where he seems to hesitate, but whatever internal war he's having ends quickly, and he basically runs up the stairs. Just before you hear his door close, you hear the sound of his hoodie zipping down all the way.

Heat floods your face as you turn back to the show.

After a while of still failing to really pay attention, you pull your phone out from under the blanket. Despite the pure, unfiltered desire thrumming through your veins, you still want to help Chan. It's bothering you how bothered he is, how helpless he seems. There has to be something you can do for him.

You type, How to help a werewolf in a rut into your search bar, and after realizing very quickly that that's actually the title of an erotica series, you change your search to something more medical sounding.

It takes trial and error, but GLS and Rut Cycles Help seems to give you the best results.

You find a forum on a website dedicated to rare genetic disorders. It’s the one link that seems to have real information, ironically nestled between a fanfiction website and Twitter. 

You stop on a thread that catches your attention:

Non-GLS Roommate Here: Any way I can help with heats?

Not in that way, they write. But my roommate just presented with this disorder and she's absolutely miserable, and I feel so bad. I'm not trying to fuck her, but is there anything I can do to help?? Meds? Chocolate?? Leaving her alone??

There are only a handful of responses, mostly people lol-ing about how non-lycanthropes always think a heat cycle is like a period. One answer sticks out to you:

if it's her first heat, she's probably running a pretty high temp. make her some cold drinks to bring the temperature down and the hormones may follow. that used to work for me. ideally, try to convince her to take a cold shower, but her instincts might be telling her not to. it's a delicate game lol. don't press the shower thing if you don't want her to bite. like, literally. AFAB lycanthropes have a thing for biting idk

It makes sense now why Chan looked better when he came in from the rain. It was, essentially, the cold shower that he needed. You wonder briefly if you could convince him to go back out, but you decide against it. It's dark now, and you don't need him getting hurt.

So, instead, you peel yourself away from the couch and head into the kitchen. There's tons of juice cartons already in the fridge, but you bypass them, instead grabbing the bag of lemons and the carton of blueberries. 

The first time you made lemonade for Chan, the two of you were in fifth grade. You wanted to save money for the new and extremely expensive ride-on jeep that you saw in the store, and the only thing you could think to do was sell lemonade. You forced Chan (who had no interest in the car but wanted to help anyway) to sit down and taste batch after batch of your lemonade.

After he threatened to tell your parents you were trying to poison him, you made one last batch of the lemonade, and on a whim, dumped some blueberry syrup into it. He grumbled as he took the cup, but he couldn't hide his satisfied smile.

“That's the one,” he grinned. 

You never did save the money for the car, but you kept the lemonade recipe anyway. There was nothing your blueberry lemonade couldn't fix.

And you were prepared to add rut fevers to that list.

You dump a ton of ice in Chan's reusable water bottle before pouring the lemonade over it, putting the top on and swirling it around. You take a sip first, nodding in contentment when it nearly freezes the back of your throat.

With your phone in your back pocket and the lemonade in hand, you make your way up the stairs, pausing in front of Chan's bedroom door. A feeling of nervousness washes over you, but you beat it down with a stick. You're just delivering some lemonade. You'll be fine.

“Channie,” your voice is tentative as you knock. “You okay? I brought you a surprise.”

You listen carefully. You can't hear anything on the other side of the door. You don't wanna bang or yell, knowing his ears are probably sensitive already. You knock gently again, really straining your ears to hear.

He must be asleep, you think. You'll just leave the cup on the nightstand for him to find when he wakes up. You turn the doorknob and push open the door and–

Subsequently drop the cup on the floor.

Chan is not asleep.

Chan is very much awake.

He can't see you, no, because his eyes are closed and his head is tipped back against the headboard of his bed. His face and ears are red, and his lips are extra plump. You wonder why until he bites down on his bottom lip, hard.

You let your eyes trail down. He's touching himself.

Oh.

One of his hands is wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously like it's just not enough. The other hand is white knuckling the pillow you slept on last night, bringing it up to his face so he can no doubt inhale whatever leftover scent is on it. 

He has no idea that you're in the room. The pillow is already carrying your scent, so there's no intrusion to his senses. You should look away. You should go, you should…

You can't look away.

His hips are thrusting upwards to meet his hand now, his entire body writhing on the bed like he's trying to find the perfect spot. With his sweater open, you can see the contraction of his ab muscles as he moves, all the hard contours of his body chasing his pleasure. You watch as he twists his wrist, thumb sliding across the slit of his cock and smearing precum down the shaft. 

You hear him make a sound, almost like he's grunting, and then he's mumbling something under his breath. It's low, too low for you to really hear it, but when he speaks again, you definitely understand.

"Babygirl," he groans. He squeezes his cock at the base before stroking it again. "F-fuck, babygirl."

It's then that you squeak, slamming a hand over your mouth almost immediately. His eyes fly open and he shoots up, face panicked, but he doesn't stop moving his hand.

"I'm-- I'm sorry," you manage. "I came to-- I just-- Oh my God."

Chan's eyes are wild as he looks at you. His chest is heaving and his curls are sticking up all over the place. He looks pained and conflicted, likely warring within himself about whether he should stop or not. From the way his ears turn a deep shade of red, you can tell he thinks that he should.

He doesn't, though. He's still jacking himself off, faster and faster, even as he gives you a devastatingly desperate look.

"Fuck," he grunts. "I'm sorry. I can't-- you just smell so fucking good and I–” He pants, looking at you with eyes that can barely stay open. “I can't stop. Babygirl, make me stop."

Your brain is malfunctioning, but the part of it that can still process information has taken notice of what he's saying. You were right earlier. It's your smell. Your smell is driving him crazy because you're a fertile, childbearing aged female. It's not poorly contained last or a bad decision on his part.

It's biology. It's what that primal part of his brain needs.

Your body goes hot as you think of your next words.

"You..." you swallow around nothing. You're wearing socks, but the cold from the floor seems to seep into your feet. "You don't– um. Do you… need help?”

His pupils blow.

"I don't… I don't want to hurt you," he whines, chest heaving as his fist pumps faster. "You shouldn't."

"But I want to help," you breathe. You take a step closer to the bed, legs shaking from the sheer intensity of how fast your arousal hits. "What if I want to help?"

He stops then, staring at you with the same intensity he had last night. You feel stripped, exposed, but you don't feel unsafe.

You take another step closer.

"Chan," you whisper. You're at the foot of the bed now. "What if I want to?"

He makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat.

"I won't… touch you if you don't want me to." You take another step to the side of the bed, feeling somewhat bold under his gaze. "But I'll... I'll let you touch me, if you need. Whatever you want. Just... just tell me what to do."

You're only a couple steps away now. Chan is practically shaking with the effort it takes not to move, to wait for your permission. It's then that you realize he's waiting for you to make the first move, and all of the power shifts to you.

You're standing right next to him now, the two of you locked in an intensely heated gaze. He reaches for you silently with the hand not fisted around his cock, moving slowly like you'll dissolve if he's too eager. When you nod, his hand slides down the length of your arm, fingers interlacing.

Then–

"Please," he whispers. His voice cracks on the lone syllable. "Please, babygirl. I need you.”

He brings the hand he's holding over to his already throbbing cock, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive skin on his tip. His head rolls back again and his hips buck up. You try not to shiver.

"I just... I just need this," he breathes. "Please. I won't touch you, I'll be good."

Maybe it's the desperation in his voice. Maybe it's the way his eyes look so innocent, absolutely contrasting what he's begging you to do. Whatever it is, you let your tongue dart out to wet your lips, throat feeling incredibly dry as you stare down at him.

You wrap your fingers around his cock tentatively, not missing the way his body seems to come alive at your touch, and start moving up and down. He's already so hard, his entire shaft coated in his precum so you can slide up and down with ease. The sounds he's making are going straight to your core, and you can feel the way your underwear is sticking to you.

"Tight," he grunts. "Tighter, please."

You tighten your grip, speeding up a little bit. You feel him thrusting upwards to meet your hand, his hand squeezing yours like he needs the support to ground himself. You let your thumb brush over his tip, using his precum as lube to give him even more friction.

He cries out, back arching. "Yes," he chokes out. "Fuck, babygirl, do that again.”

You do, swiping your thumb across the slit and spreading more precum over him. It makes everything slicker and wetter, and the way you're able to move faster now has him moaning nonsensical little things.

His hips are bucking up harder now, and you watch as his abs tense and release, the hand not holding yours going up to tug on his hair. Your body feels like a loaded stick of dynamite, and you're so careful to keep your hips still, knowing how badly you want friction.

"M’close," he breathes. "Fuck, babygirl. You feel so good."

You pump faster, giving him the extra tightness and friction that he needs. You watch as the hand in his hair drops to his stomach, nails digging into his abs.

You wonder how long he was in here like this, pained and desperate. You try not to think about him moaning your name in the empty room, fucking up into his fist as he thinks about you, chasing your scent on his pillow.

Just because of the rut, your brain supplies. Because it would be absurd to think otherwise.

You glance up at his face. His eyes are screwed shut, lips parted as he pants and grunts and makes other sounds in the air. The look on his face is enough to make you clench around nothing. You've only been hot and bothered for the last 5 minutes and you already feel desperate to cum, so you can't imagine what he's going through.

You let your other hand reach up to cup his face.

"Chan," you murmur. "Look at me.”

He opens his eyes slowly, pupils completely blown as he meets your gaze. You see sweat sliding down the side of his face, and you wonder if it's from his fever or his pleasure.

"You're okay, babyboy," you whisper. His cock jumps in your hand at that. "You can cum, you know. You don't have to hold back."

"Wanna--wanna be good," he grunts. You feel him start to thrust faster. "Don't wanna hurt you."

"You're doing so good, Channie. You're not hurting me."

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you drop your hand from his cheek and slide it down the column of his throat, letting your nails scratch across his skin. His reaction is immediate, body spasming as he groans.

"Shit," he cries. "Yes, right– right there, Oh my God."

"Yeah?" You scrape your nails across the base of his throat again, making sure to be a bit rougher this time.

He nods quickly, the grip on your hand tightening. You take your other hand off of him, drinking up the sound of his whine before you slide it underneath his hoodie, feeling his chest up. You scrape your nails over his pecs, making him jolt a little.

"C'mon, Channie," you coo. "You're okay. I want you to cum for me."

He lets out a strangled sound, hips bucking up into your fist even faster now. His head falls back again and you see the muscles in his neck strain.

"Please," he chokes out. "I need-- I need--"

You slide your hand from his chest back up to his neck, finding the spot from earlier that made him make that deliciously memorable noise. When you drag your nails across it, his hips stutter in their rhythm, and that's the only warning you have before his entire body is convulsing with pleasure.

"Oh, fuck," he grunts. "Babygirl, fuck–”

His cock pulses in your hand as he cums, releasing all over himself and your fingers. You stroke him through it, gently moving your hand up and down until he's spent.

Then, there's silence.

You're not sure what you expect. Maybe for him to turn over and go to sleep, or for him to act bashful and apologetic, letting you know it won't happen again.

You certainly aren't expecting for him to grip your hips and lift you up onto the bed. Or for him to gently push you down on your back. Or for the desperation in his face to be replaced with something harder, something more in control and dominating as he says, “Please let me eat your pussy, babygirl.”

You almost choke.

You feel like you should protest. Tell him he doesn't have to, that this is already more than you thought you would ever get. But then he's sliding his hands up under your shirt, and the only thing your mouth can form is a moan.

He's never seen you naked, always a respectable gentleman, but there's no hesitation or uncertainty in the way his hands move around your body. He's not tentative and gentle like you expected; he's touching and pinching and running his nails along your skin like he's done this before, like he knows all your spots. He reaches your chest, where you have no bra, and rubs his thumb across your already hardened nipple. Your back arches and your legs fall open for him with a groan, letting him slot himself in the now empty spot.

He pulls his hand away, moving up to your face and cupping your jaw so you can look at him. He's looking down at you with dark eyes.

"Please?”

He's asking, you know, but there's nothing gentle in the way he's looking at you. You nod as best as you can, and he brings his hand down from your jaw to your chin, fingers sliding over your lips. You feel him nudge his thumb against your bottom lip, and you take the hint.

You open your mouth for him, letting him slide his thumb inside and rub it across your tongue. He's looking down at you intensely as you swirl your tongue around his finger, and when you suck on it a little, he lets out a grunt.

"Fuck," he breathes. He pulls his thumb away, watching as a string of saliva connects it to your lips. "You're gonna let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You nod again, but he gives a little humorless chuckle, head tilting at you.

"Use your words babygirl."

"Yes." Your voice is quiet. "Yes, I want you to.”

He stares at you for another moment. You watch his eyes dart across your face, your body, before settling on your lips again. He leans down then, hovering just above you as he licks his own lips.

"Gonna kiss you now," he murmurs. "That okay?"

You fear you look stupid, the way you're just staring up at him, jaw slacked and eyes going in and out of focus. You nod anyway, trying to act normal.

Or as normal as you can, under the circumstances.

He doesn't waste any more time after that. He leans down the rest of the way, pressing his lips against yours. It's slow at first, a sweet little thing that makes you feel warm and safe. You sigh into it, eyes fluttering closed.

But then he licks a stripe across your bottom lip, and you let out a pathetic little whimper, lips falling open just enough for him to slot his tongue in your mouth. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe. It's desperate, burning, hot and filthy. He's licking into your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lips. You try to press your thighs together again, but his strong, muscular slab of body is between them, forcing them open.

His hands slide down your sides and settle on your hips. Your shorts do nothing as a barrier, and you feel every modicum of heat in his hands. He slips those warm hands into the waistband of both your shorts and panties, sliding them down your body antagonizingly slowly.

He sits back on his knees then, pulling them both all the way off before tossing them to the side. Then he leans forward again, pressing wet kisses to the skin right below your belly button.

"Chan," you breathe.

"S'okay baby," he mumbles against your skin. You feel a new wave of wetness flow through you. How could your usual nickname be even hotter with half of it missing?

Then he's moving his mouth down, down, down, and you feel him pressing his nose to your slit.

"Oh god," you whine.

"I know," he murmurs. You feel his tongue press against your clit, and your entire body spasms. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your legs and squeezing your thighs to hold them open. "I know babygirl.”

He licks you again, making you groan out loud. You can't help but bring one hand up to his curls, weaving your fingers through them and tugging on them like you've always wanted to. He responds by moaning, the vibrations shooting straight to your core.

You feel his tongue dip lower, spreading your wetness around. He dips it into your entrance, tongue fucking you at such a languid pace you feel like you'll fall apart. You hear him groan against your cunt again, and his hands tighten on your thighs.

"So wet, baby," he murmurs. "Taste so good.”

He presses his tongue to your clit again, and you pull on his hair harder. He grunts, and you feel him rutting up against the bed, his cock hard again, chasing some form of relief. 

"Please baby," he mumbles against you. "Want you to cum for me. Please."

You know yourself, know what gets you going and what really makes you cum, so you want to tell him that it's going to take more than this, that you're not there yet, but you don't get a chance to before he's sliding a finger inside of you, curling it up and finding your spot with such accuracy your vision goes white.

You feel him suck on your clit then, swirling his tongue around it as he slides another finger inside of you. You tug on his hair again, not even realizing that you're grinding up against his face.

You feel yourself getting closer, chasing the release you've been desperate for since he pulled you onto the bed. His fingers curl inside of you again, pressing that spot and making you scream out his name.

"Yeah?" Chan groans against you, voice hoarse and desperate. "Like that? S'okay baby, let go."

"Chan," you choke. You're so, so close. "Chris. Chris.”

He moans at that, speeding up his fingers and moving his tongue even faster.  He's rocking himself up against the mattress with more urgency now, panting and moaning with his mouth pressed to your cunt.

"C'mon babygirl," he mumbles. "Need you to cum. C'mon, please. Need it."

He presses his fingers into that spot again, and you're gone. You arch up off of the bed as you cum, his name ripping itself from your throat as he fucks you through it. You feel your cunt pulsing around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. He keeps licking, his moans sending vibrations straight up your spine until you're over sensitive, tugging on his hair for him to back away. He does, but not before pressing wet kisses to the inside of your thigh.

He sits up then, his hair sticking up all over the place from where you've been pulling on it. He's sweaty and breathing hard, his lips swollen and red from where you were kissing him. You feel his eyes roam over your body, and you know that if you look down, you'll see how your skin is flushed from your ears down to your chest.

He's still sporting a semi, but his focus isn't on that anymore. He gathers you up in his hands, pulling you with him to the top of the bed and settling you with him on the pillows. He presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you to rest your head on his chest.

"Sleep," he says into your hair. You notice how his body temperature has dropped-- he doesn't feel like an inferno anymore.

You're too tired to do anything but whine gently at the way he's holding you, too relaxed and spent to say anything. You feel sleep pulling at your eyes as he fixes your shirt over you carefully.

"Ah, shit," he murmurs. "Gotta clean you up. Then I'll come right back, yeah?”

You nod, trying to fight off sleep just a little longer. He presses a kiss to your hair before sliding out of the bed, going to the bathroom and coming back with a warm washcloth. You feel him wipe you down gently, and you mumble out something that might've been a thank you.

He takes the washcloth back to the bathroom, coming back to join you in bed. He pulls you back on top of him, settling the blankets over the two of you.

You're asleep before he can even kiss your forehead again.

When you wake up in the morning, you do your usual pause to see what does and doesn't hurt. You're mostly pain free, you realize sleepily, except for a dull ache in your hips and knees and a pleasant soreness in your–

Oh shit.

Everything slams back into you at once. The lemonade, Chan, him begging for you in more ways than one. It feels like you've been doused in cold water and tossed off of a bridge.

You go to sit up, but when you make an attempt to move, you feel an impossibly heavy weight around your midsection. Said weight snores a bit, and you realize that it's Chan's arm draped across you.

He's sleeping soundly next to you, hair still ruffled and unruly from where you were pulling it, lips still slightly swollen and red. The blankets are pulled up to his chin, hiding his body from view.

Your face burns as you try to really remember everything that happened last night, either to orient yourself through the brain fog or torture yourself. You're not entirely sure. Chan was... he was in rut, you knew that much. And you offered to help. Then he ate you out and gave you what was probably the most intense orgasm of your life, and then you fell asleep.

Typical stuff. Of course.

The memories are still there, but the reality of the situation has you panicking. His eyes are still closed, so you don't have to deal with the embarrassment of him catching you staring, but you're frozen anyway.

You're immediately hit with the overwhelming realization that you just made a mistake. There's no way you can possibly continue to keep your feelings for Chan a secret after this, no way that you can pretend you don't know what his amazingly deft fingers feel like inside of you. How would you ever be able to look him in the face again?

A vibrating sound pulls you from your spiral. For a second, you wonder if it's coming from Chan, but you recognize that, no matter what genetic issue he has, a person cannot vibrate. 

The sound is actually coming from just off the side of the bed, where your shorts and panties lay discarded. You reach over and pluck your phone from the back pocket, turning it over to see an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen.

You're about to send it to voicemail when your heart sinks like lead along with recognition in your chest. It's the genetic clinic.

You're untangling yourself from Chan's arms in record speed, shirking your shorts on and stepping into the hallway. He doesn't stir, thankfully, but you still close the door gently behind you anyway.

"Hello?" You breathe.

The nurse on the other side of the line greets you enthusiastically, and after confirming you are the intended recipient of the phone call, she asks you to hold while she transfers you to the doctor. You wait anxiously for a minute or two, pacing your way to the kitchen island and picking at the skin around your fingers while you listen to the generic hold music.

"Good morning," the doctor says as she comes on the line. She, too, sounds far too chipper. "I apologize for the wait, I was in the middle of rounds when your nurse flagged me down."

"That's okay," you say. Pleasantries feel superficial right now.

"Right, so. We did get some of your preliminary genetic results back," she says. You can hear pages being turned on the other side of the line. "I wanted to let you know that, unfortunately--"

The floor falls from under your feet.

"-- You did test positive for Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Classical type."

You can't really hear anything else she's saying. Something about coming back in, maybe. About starting physical therapy. Taking care of yourself. You feel sick, like you might pass out. Or throw up. 

You manage to push through the rest of the conversation, your voice sounding far away even to your own ears. She lets you know that she's sending follow-up information to your email, says that it's important to have support at such a time like this, and you make a very non committal grunt of acknowledgement before ending the phone call. Your phone chatters on the island, the sound echoing in the empty space.

You can't even form a concept of a thought before your chest feels tight, like there's a rubber band stretching across your ribs and pulling taut. You skin suddenly feels like there are a million and one tiny sets of feet thrumming underneath it. It's too hot. Your shirt is choking you. It's all suddenly too much at once: last night with Chan, the diagnosis, the way you're feeling an ache building in your back.

You need to move. You need to get out.

You're up the stairs before you can really process it, standing in front of your suitcase and rifling through it with speed. You find a pair of sweats and what you’re almost certain is Chan's old hoodie, but you toss them on quickly anyway.

The air is crisp when it hits your face a few moments later. It's exactly what you need. The path around the cabin is familiar– you've walked it countless times during family trips and weekend getaways. You know exactly where to step to avoid the mud, which trees mark the loop back to the house.

You walk until your legs burn, until the tears on your face dry in the cold air. Your mind races with everything and nothing at once.

Classical EDS. Your PCP was right about it being a connective tissue disorder. EDS explains the tummy aches, the racing heart, the migraines, and most obviously, the joint pain. There's no cure. Just management. Just a lifetime of being careful, of physical therapy, of putting in insane amounts of effort to make sure your joints don't fucking disintegrate.

You find this to be the most manageable of all the issues at the moment. 

But Chan…

God, Chan. What were you thinking? He was in rut, vulnerable and needing comfort, and you just... what? Offered yourself up like some kind of heathen? Let him touch you in ways you've only dreamed about, knowing full well it would change everything?

This feels like the biggest issue to you, you realize when you pause on a tree stump. Because if you lose Chan, from something you initiated, you will lose everything else. He is the center of your universe, and everything revolves around him. You can't lose him, especially not over your own stupidity.

You think about going back. Talking to him. Maybe trying to convince him that you're fine, that he doesn't have to worry about you. That you don't like him like that, and you were just being a good friend and helping.

But then you remember his face when he came, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he moaned out your name. The way his fingers felt inside of you. How good he smelled.

You'll never be able to forget any of it now, you realize. And it will tear you apart if you lose him because of it.

You realize you've been walking much longer than intended when you catch a glimpse of the position of the sun. The morning chill has given way to a warmer temperature, though your face still feels numb from the wind. Your joints are definitely making themselves known now.

You suppose you may as well head back, even if you don't have any idea what you’re going to do when you have to face Chan. You can't stay out and freeze.

As you round the final bend that leads back to the cabin, you see him.

Chan is standing on the front porch, shirtless despite the cold, his hands visibly shaking at his sides. He's looking in the opposite direction, but you see when your scent hits him, because he whips around and his eyes lock onto you immediately. There's a look on his face that makes your chest ache– he looks terrified, like he's been coming apart at the seams.

You both freeze in your spots, an echo of that moment at the clinic. The silence stretches between you, heavy with everything unsaid. You notice then that his eyes are red, not the same red tint you now recognize from his rut, no. This is the red tint from that day he had to drive you to the hospital.

He's been crying.

“Where–” his voice is labored. “Babygirl. Where have you been?”

"I just..." you gesture vaguely at the path behind you. "I needed some air."

He takes a step forward, then seems to think better of it, stopping himself in his tracks. "You weren't... you were gone when I woke up. Your phone was on the counter, I couldn't... I didn't know where…”

He makes a pained noise in his chest, and then you see his entire face crumble. He pulls one of his arms up to his face, covering his eyes as you hear him start to cry.

Your heart breaks in two.

You rush to him as quickly as your protesting legs will allow, taking the stairs two at a time until you're in front of him. You reach up to gently pull his arm down, but he jerks away, a wounded noise escaping from his mouth.

"No," he cries. "You shouldn't–  don't touch me. I'm sorry.”

“Chris,” you breathe, hoping to cut through his emotional fog. “Chris, please, look at me.”

“Tell me what I did.”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion. “What?”

“What did I do wrong?” His voice cracks around the words. “Last night, I couldn't… control myself. And you were so good to me and then– you were gone.”

"Chan, no." You reach for him again, and this time he lets you pull his arm down. His face is streaked with tears, those big brown eyes red and swollen. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He shakes his head violently, words tumbling out around hiccups. "Then why did you leave? Why didn't you wake me up? I woke up and you were gone and I couldn't– your scent was gone and I couldn't–"

A sob cuts him off. You grab his hand and tug him towards the door. "Let's go inside. Please? It's freezing out here.”

He lets you tug him inside, at least just until you can close the door. You try to bring him over to the couch, but he's stubborn, keeping his feet planted where they are. He won't look at you, keeping his gaze downcast no matter how much you tug on his arm. You let go after a tense moment, sighing and wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Chan. The clinic called,” you say softly. “Thats why I left. My results came back.”

His head snaps up at that, understanding settling over his face. “You… did you test positive for–”

“Classical Ehlers Danlos,” you supply.

He looks like he'll cry all over again, reaching his hand out to you before pulling it back to his side. He squeezes his hands in and out of fists a few times before he shakes his head, tilting his head back until he's staring up at the ceiling.

“I'm so sorry,” he breathes. “Last night… I shouldn't have–”

“Stop, please,” you cut him off, voice hoarse in the quiet. You've run out of energy. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

“No, I did everything wrong. I thought I could handle it, thought it wouldn't be too much. Everyone told me it was a bad idea but I didn't want to listen, thought I could control myself.”

You feel bile rising in your throat. “What?”

He shakes his head again. “I shouldn't have said yes.”

He murmurs it, but the cabin is dead silent, so there's no way you don't hear it. There's no way you can misinterpret what he means either. Last night. He shouldn't have said yes when you asked if he needed help.

You take a step back, and you watch his face crumble a bit more. “Right.” Your voice sounds hollow. “It's fine. It was a mistake anyway."

"A mistake?" Now he looks confused through his tears. "No, that's not–"

"It's okay, Chan." You force a smile that feels like it might crack your face in half. You need to end this conversation now so you can go cry in your bed. "We can just forget it happened. You were in rut, I was... available. It's fine."

"Available." He deadpans. His gaze loses some of the previous softness. "Is that what you think? That I just... used you because you were there?”

You find yourself backing away towards the stairs, already mentally checked out. “Isn't it? You said it yourself last night, it was just my scent.”

His face flashes through so many emotions, you're not sure how you would begin parsing through them. He settles on something that looks like a mix of thinly veiled disgust and anger. He fixes his posture until he's back up to his full height now, brown eyes ablaze.

You decide to turn away from him fully at that moment. Whatever this is, this half argument you're having, it can wait until you've taken a good nap. You prepare to climb the stairs, keeping one hand on the railing and one foot on a stair.

That's about as far as you make it before you feel the unmistakable heat of Chan behind you. You stifle back the gasp that threatens to spill when he presses himself right up against your back, head dipped down so he's right by your ear.

“Ask me why,” he breathes. 

You shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear, and your entire body lights up in record time. You've forgotten how to speak, maybe.

So, you eloquently stutter out a simple, "What?"

He slides a hand around you, reaching from the base of your back all the way to your stomach, pulling you closer to him. “Babygirl. I said, ask me why.”

You swallow thickly. His voice is still hoarse and low from the crying, and it sends a shiver up your spine that rocks your body so hard, you think you would fall if not for the strong arm around you.

"Why," you breathe. The word has no conviction in it. You're getting dizzy.

He leans even closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your outer ear. "Because," he murmurs. "Yes, your scent smells so fucking good. So sweet and warm. But I don't want you because you smell good, baby. I want you because you smell like you're mine.”

You whimper involuntarily at that, and you feel him inhale sharply. His other hand reaches up to hold your chin, tilting your head up towards him. You're looking at each other now, his eyes blown wide and his pupils blown so black, there's barely any brown left.

"Do you understand me, babygirl?" He's breathing hard against you. "Even under the harsh scent of your pain, or the saccharine scent of when you're happy, something in you always smells like you belong to me. Do you know why?"

Your knees feel weak. Not from pain, but because of whatever is happening right now. You let out a pathetic mewl in Chan's hold and watch his nostrils flare. 

"Because you are mine. My mate. You hear me, baby? Mine.”

Then he's tilting your head to the side and kissing down the column of your throat, nipping just hard enough to send electricity through your body. You whine, unable to stop the way your body arches into his touch. 

He makes a low, rumbling sound in his chest, pulling away just long enough to look you in your eyes again. "Wasn't using you," he huffs, saying the word use like it leaves a nasty flavor in his mouth. "I needed you, needed your scent around me to make it better. I couldn't control myself, baby."

He spins you around so that you're facing him now, hands still wrapped around your waist. You think he's about to kiss you, but you see a wave of clarity and seriousness push everything else to the side.

“They asked me at the clinic,” he starts, shuffling with you in his arms until you're back in the living room with him. “If something happened to a family member, or if I had a girlfriend who was hurt.”

You're hanging on to every word, unable to look away from his eyes.

“I told them no to both, but I told them about the hospital, about how you called me crying cause you were in so much pain, and you just kept passing out on me. I told them about how scared I was that if I left the hospital, I would come back and you wouldn't be there. You'd be gone. It was ripping me apart.”

You reach up to touch his face without thinking, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He leans into the touch like he can't help himself.

“I presented because I wanted to protect you down to my very DNA. I was going so crazy about you that my body needed a way to protect me– protect you.”

“Chan,” you breathe.

“They said my inner wolf, that primal part of me, recognized it as my mate being in pain, and I was powerless to stop it. It's you, babygirl. It's always been you.”

The hopeless romantic in your heart is giddy. 

You think about how you'd tried to touch him during the drive up, how he'd pulled his hands away like he was in pain. You supposed maybe he was. Going through his first rut, stuck in an enclosed space with his mate, unable to do anything about it.

You can't imagine the amount of restraint it probably took him to remain normal. The sheer thought of it alone has you blinking back up at him, looking right in his eyes.

With the eye contact, you feel his body swell microscopically, like he's flaxing every muscle so he can look bigger, more threatening, but he is neither of those things to you.

To you he is just Chan.

You're rising up on your toes before you even know what's happening, hand sliding up Chan's neck to pull him down towards you and catching his lips in a hot, burning kiss. 

The hand around your waist tighten's its grip, slotting you even further against his body.

It feels like home. It feels like safety.

You feel his growing bulge press against you, and you hum into the kiss. 

It feels like perfection.

"M'Sorry," he slurs against your mouth. He makes no effort to pull away. "Still in rut. Sensitive."

You say nothing, sliding your free hand down his chest, over his stomach until you reach what you're looking for. You rest your hand over it softly, not grabbing or pressing, but he responds like you do, grunting and rutting up against your hand as he starts panting.

"Babygirl," he groans. "Baby, please."

You start moving your hand in earnest now, cupping his bulge through his sweats as he grinds up against you. His eyes flutter closed and he pulls away from the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.

"God, I wanna fuck you so bad," he grunts. "Wanna be inside. Wanna cum inside you so deep you'll never forget who you belong to. Make myself your alpha."

It's insane how your body reacts to that. You feel your clit jump in your underwear. The Alpha/Omega thing wasn't real-- or at least wasn't based on any science with the condition, but the way Chan speaks, the way his grunts sound so close to your ear, you believe it could be.

"You're gonna let me, right?" He whines. "Please? I'll make you feel so good. Been so good for me already baby. Just wanna make you cum on my cock."

Your moan gets caught in your throat when he slides a hand down your body to grip the swell of your ass. Between that and feeling him, rock solid against you, your entire body comes back to life with desperate, almost delirious need.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, Channie, please. Want you. Please."

His chest vibrates with a growl and he wastes no time pushing you back until you're laying against the couch. He kneels over you, large hand reaching down and palming himself through his sweats.

He notices what you're wearing at that moment. He reaches his free hand down, gripping the material of your– his – hoodie. It's entirely too big for you, even when you're standing, but laying back like this, the material absolutely dwarfs you. 

He must like the sight of it, because you watch him grip himself tight.

"Fuck, babygirl. You don't know what you do to me. Wearing my clothes? Are you even wearing anything under that?"

Feeling bold, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater up, just enough so that he can see the expanse of skin right under it. When he looks back at your face, you give him an innocent expression, eyes wide and blinking.

He doesn't even bother taking anything off, just pulls his cock out of his sweats and starts stroking himself again. You feel your mouth go dry just from the sight of it– hard and flushed red, precum dripping from the tip. You grip the material of his sweater tighter.

“Gonna be good, baby?" he breathes. "Wanna get off like this."

You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. He looks fucking delicious above you, cock in hand as he strokes himself faster now, moaning at the way you look underneath him.

"Gonna make myself cum on your stomach," he grunts. "Mark you. Then I'll fuck you until you're screaming, so everyone knows who you belong to.”

You feel your cunt throbbing in your underwear. You cant help the way you whine out his name, the way you squeeze your thighs together to try to get some relief. He looks like he's going to explode just from hearing you say his name like that.

He leans over you, bracing one hand on the back of the couch by your head, effectively caging you in. You can feel how his muscles flex under your hands as you touch him, sliding your palms up and down his chest. You find your eyes locked onto his hand, watching the way he moves up and down.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you," he breathes. "Fucked my fist so many times wishing it was you.”

You wrap your arms around him, one hand going up to that special spot at the base of his neck. As you graze your nails against it, he turns his face, pressing his nose into the pulse point on your wrist, inhaling you and your smell.

He starts moaning louder, breath fanning across your arm as he gets closer and closer to the edge. You're so turned on from it, you feel like you might actually cum without a hand to your body.

"Babygirl," he grunts. "Baby, fuck. I'm close."

You pull him down to you, pressing his face right into your neck. You can feel how his eyelids flutter as his eyes roll back, the arm by your head straining with how tightly he's gripping the couch.

"Gonna let your alpha cum on your stomach, baby? Mark you?”

You nod quickly. You feel him lean in even more, brushing his lips against the soft part of your throat where he no doubt can feel your erratic pulse. You right into his ear, and then he's groaning out your name and nipping at your throat hard, all teeth and tongue and need as he spills all over you.

He makes sure to press his body flush against you while he rides out his orgasm, so that his cum splatters all over your stomach. He grinds up against you with his hips, making sure his cock slides along the fabric of his sweater. You watch him get lost in it, eyes screwed shut as he mouths at your throat, panting and moaning through his high.

Then he stills, just a bit. He pulls away from your neck, his pupils still completely blown as he looks down at you.

You're not sure what he sees when he does. You know sweat is starting to stick to your skin, plastering little bits of your hair to your face. Despite not being touched yet, you feel absolutely cock drunk if only on the sight of Chan alone.

You can't tell if that's what he sees, but whatever it is, it makes his still-hard cock jump against where it rests on your stomach. He's pushing himself up to sit on his knees before you even remember your own name.

He slides down the couch until his face is level with your hips. He pulls the waistband of your sweats down just enough for your cunt to be exposed, and then he's leaning forward, dragging his tongue along your slit.

"Fuck," you cry, body jolting. "Chan."

He doesn't respond verbally, just hums and pulls back enough to stare at your dripping cunt. You find your hips bucking up when he lets his mouth water just enough to drool right on you.

He dives back down to your cunt and pushes his tongue inside of you. You feel him moan against you as he licks you, slow and deliberate. You can hear how wet you are, and you feel yourself throb around his tongue when you hear it.

"I kept noticing your scent change," he says against your clit. He gives it a few kitten licks before diving down and flattening his tongue on you, licking and slurping you from end to end. "Sometimes, I would look at you, or touch you, and you smelled like citrus. Couldn't figure out why."

He takes those absurdly plump lips and suctions them around your clit, one strong arm coming to hold you down when you arch up off the bed.  "Thats just your scent when you're aroused," he continues, nudging his nose against your clit. "Smells so fucking good."

You're certain you might be delirious at this point. The way Chan eats you out feels so much better than anything else you've ever felt, and his tongue has you hurdling to the crest of your orgasm faster than you can believe.

"Oh. Ohh," you whimper. "Channie, m'so close."

"That's my good girl," he murmurs. His lips are still right against your clit. "You're so perfect baby. Let me make you feel good. Want you to cum for me."

He slides his tongue back inside of you, and you feel a hand come up to play with your clit. You're so dangling off the edge, so ready to jump with the right push. You just need a little more, but then you feel a finger slide inside of you and crook up.

You're gone. You cum with a shout of Chan's name, arching up off of the couch as your body shakes from the intensity of it all. He licks you through it, pulling away only when you start to whine and wiggle around from the sensitivity.

He sits back on his knees again, watching you pant on the couch as you try to collect yourself. You look over at him when you catch your breath, and you see him licking his fingers clean.

He leans over you again, and you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down. You don't bother asking first, just slot his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. It's absolutely wet and filthy, the flavor of yourself bursting over your tongue when he swipes into your mouth. You suck on his tongue, hard, and he groans into your mouth, hands sliding up under the sweater to touch your bare skin.

"Gonna fuck you good now," he grunts against your lips. You whine and press your body into his. "Okay, baby? Do you think you're ready for me?"

"Yes, Chris," you sigh. He pulls away from the kiss gently to stare at you. Despite the haze of his rut, you can see a hesitancy in his eyes, like there's something he wants but he's not saying. It takes all of two seconds for you to connect the dots.

"Please, Alpha?" you whine.

That seems to be the magic word, because he's lifting you up into his arms and standing up from the couch immediately. In a split second, you're pressed up against the wall next to the TV. You're very thankful for the layer between your bare skin and the freezing cold wall.

He wraps your legs around his waist, and suddenly you can feel the heat of his erection right on you. He presses his cock between your folds, holding you tight while he ruts up into you. 

You're so wet that the head catches against your entrance every so often, making both of you moan into each others mouths.

"Thank you, baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically soft at a moment like this. "'m so grateful. So--" He lets out a pant, eyes rolling back as he lets his head drop back too. "Fuck."

You know Chan well enough to know what he's trying to say. He's thanking you for accepting him, for coming back to him, for letting him be vulnerable.

How could you not? He was so distressed by your wellbeing that a distant part of his DNA woke up to protect you. He ignored his doctor's orders to take you on this trip because he knew you needed it. He was content to suffer through his first rut in silence if it meant just taking care of you.

How could you not love all that he is?

You learn forward and nip him right as his pulse point, and his whole body jerks. You know werewolf lore, know that a bite there means a forever. You don't have the same genetic syndrome, but God do you want to be in his arms forever. You don't even feel like you need to question it.

His eyes, heavily lidded, find their way to your face. "You know what that bite means, right baby?" His voice is hoarse, and even when he clears his throat at your responding nod, it doesn't get better. "You wanna mark me there, babygirl? Make me yours?”

You nod, sliding your mouth up his throat until your lips are pressed right against his ear. You slide your tongue over his lobe and tug on it. "Please alpha. Wanna show everyone who you belong to."

He snakes a hand up your back until he finds your hair, fingers tangling in the roots as he grips, pulling your head back. "I mark you first," he grits out. "Let alpha take care of you."

You can't help the way you go pliant, letting your head fall to one side just enough to expose your neck to him. You watch his eyes and make your expression as wanting as possible.

He groans at that, finally pulling you away from the wall just enough so that he can line himself up. He pushes his tip right into you, and you press your forehead against his, the mixed sounds of your breathing being the only thing filling the atmosphere.

"I love you," he sighs. Your heart squeezes in your chest. "Gonna take such good care of you always, yeah?"

"I love you more, Chan," is your breathy reply.

"I'll give you everything," he sighs. "Everything you want. I just need you to come on my cock first, yeah? The alpha's got you. I got you."

Then he's pushing in slowly, and you both sigh as he bottoms out. You cling to him, pressing your face into his neck as he fucks you slowly into the wall.

He keeps it slow, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your forehead and hair, telling you how good you feel, how perfect you are for him, how you were made just for him. You're already feeling the pressure building up in your stomach again, barely paying attention to what he's saying. 

"Gonna breed this tight little pussy," he murmurs at some point. You do hear that, and you clench hard around him, making him groan.

"Oh fuck," he gasps. "You want my seed, huh? Want me to fuck my seed in you, angel?"

Your walls around him again, swallowing him up. You know you can't get pregnant-- birth control and all of that-- but the idea of him filling you up has your body begging for more. You dig your nails into the skin of his back and you feel him throb inside of you. He makes a sound between a grunt and a moan, slamming his hips into yours, cock sliding into you deeper than before.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Fuck, m'so close already. Think you can you cum with me angel? Hm?"

You nod, clinging to his shoulders as you bounce up and down on his cock. It feels so good, too good, and you're already so close yourself.

"Chris," you whine. "I'm– fuck, I'm close."

"I know, babygirl," He sounds so wrecked. "I'm right behind you. You can cum for me baby. Cum for your alpha. Want you to cum on me, please."

He presses a kiss to your neck, right over your pulse point, and that's all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge. You cry out his name, letting him fuck you through it while your cunt pulsates around him. You feel him twitch in you, a deep guttural moan leaving his lips as he slams into you one last time, spilling all his cum inside of you.

He bites you then.

Its not painful, not really, because he doesn't break skin. His teeth aren't sharp enough for that. The bite is more performative than anything, but it sends a shockwave through your body.

 It's a strange feeling, almost like your blood is simmering under your skin, but you're so lost in the bliss of your orgasm that you don't even care. It feels right, anyhow. Like the final missing piece to a puzzle you've been spending a lifetime constructing.

He stays there for a second, sucking a bruise into your neck. His hands are shaking, but he's holding you tight enough that you don't even worry about falling.

Then, he licks the spot on your neck where he bit, soothing whatever pain he might've caused. He pulls away from you just enough to press a kiss to your lips, still holding you up with his cock in you.

"I love you," he whispers. "My mate. Mine."

You reach a hand up to touch his neck, and he tilts his head to the side, giving away to the instincts thrumming under his skin. You take your fingers and trace them along the column of his throat, stopping just under his Adam's apple. 

You don't say anything at first, just lean forward and press your lips against the same spot. Your bite is more restrained, more gentle. He hisses out a strangled sound, and you would assume it was pain if you didn't feel his cock pulse in you.

When you pull away, you look at him, a small smile on both of your incredibly fucked out faces. You lean forward and press a little kiss to his lips.

"I love you too," is your quiet reply. "My mate."

As promised, he's so gentle with you afterwards, cleaning you up and giving you your medication when he scents your hips are about to ache. The entire ordeal is so familiar, so cozy, you wonder how you could've ever let yourself believe that Chan didn't love you too.

Hours later, when you're cuddled together on the couch, dozing off in his lap, you hear him whispering something against your hair. Your mind is so muddled with sleep you can barely make out the words he's saying.

You string together something about mates, something about how he'll protect you, how you're his everything, how he loves you so much.

It doesn't really matter though. You know already, because he's yours, and you're his.

His everything.

[copperbadge]

This is my saga. (Transcript below images, behind the cut)

Transcript of a text message exchange between me and a few friends.

Me: My local Domino's sucked so bad last time they delivered to me that I stopped ordering from them like a year ago. Decided to get a pizza tonight and give them another chance…they no longer exist.

I then share a screengrab which states that my order was placed at 4:13pm today, but that Google's little preview window lists it as "Expected by January 9, 2024". This will be humorous later.

Me: Ordered from Little Caesars instead. They say my pizza will arrive sometime in the next four months. Also my delivery driver has been waiting to pick up my food for over 30 minutes. So they might not be wrong.

Friend K: Are you…cursed, Sam?

Me: Delivery driver bailed and was replaced with a new driver but when that happens the tracker doesn't understand what's going on, so now I'm watching my old delivery driver just drive off towards wrigleyville.

Friend K: NOOOOOO MY PIZZA

Me: As far as I know they still haven't made it. Nobody's picking up at the restaurant.

Friend C: You're gonna get a random pizza in four months.

Friend K: You'll be on your 734,845th driver by then.

Me: So the first driver was there for 30 minutes, got fed up, told the app the store was CLOSED, and left. Second driver heard the store was closed and didn't check, just left himself as the driver because he couldn't cancel an order at a closed restaurant. THIRD DRIVER has just arrived and confirmed the store is open but in the weeds. The pizza I ordered at 4:15 is arriving at 6pm, but I did get a refund because of the late delivery.

I then share a screengrab which shows the Doordash "tracker" map with a bold text header reading Your Order Was Cancelled. There is a large "top hat" emoji covering downtown Chicago so you all can't see my address in the app.

Me: …or this could happen.

Friend C: No pizza for u.

Me: I literally haven't ordered any food delivery in months because it just wasn't worth the hassle every time. This time I was like "maybe if I just chill it'll be fine." This is like the time I ordered Papa John's and they called me to break the tragic news that they were out of pepperoni.

[luvyeni]

( reaction ) yandere enha when they find you ! ୨୧ 一 엔하이픈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ enhypen finding you after you run away ヾ

yandere!엔하이픈 hyungline・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ horror ‎, angst ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎stalking , kidnapping , threats wc ・ ‎n/a ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. another request my dumb ass deleted ◉⁠‿⁠◉ ...

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it <3

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

he knew were you were the entire time; i've said this many of times , heeseung is crazy and he loves to play crazy mind games — games such as making a fake a dating account just to find you and match with you. he will literally wait it out , swipe through as many girls as he had to until he found you. you were excited to get back into dating , the guy you were talking to was completely different to heeseung , getting ready for your first date with him , everything felt like a breath of fresh air. at the restaurant you were looking down at your phone , not noticing the familiar sitting down with that crazy smile. “is that anyway to greet your date?” your eyes shot up. “hee-heeseung?” your voice shaking as you see him holding his phone — with the account of the guy on the screen. “did you really think you could run away from me?” he laughed , your eyes began to tear up.

“no don't cry baby, we'll still have a good night before i take you home and give you your welcome home gift.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jay﹚ .ᐟ

a serious inconvenience for him , he gives you everything and you dare leave him? okay that's fine , he'll let you have your fun , he won't even cancel the credit card he gave you , because that's exactly how he was gonna catch you. he waited until you order a purchase offline , and he was able to get the details to your new apartment a month later — normally he'd just send his guys to come get you ,but this time he wanted to be the one to drag you back home. “j-jay.” you saw the man in the suit standing in your door. “you try and run away from me , but you use the card i pay for to make your stupid little purchases. “jay please.” he doesn't want to hear it. “you've cause so much trouble already, people are already talking about how I can't control you.”

“now let's go, I'll have someone come and pack your shit.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

it was basically a miracle that jake was still alive , he barely did anything since you left , he only ate to stay alive , he only showered just in case you walked through the door. it had been two months since you left him , yelling how much you hated him before running out the door , leaving the sobbing boy on the floor. he was fully ready to take his life — but almost as if god was on his side , you come walking out of your favorite store. you had finally felt safe enough to go out and shop , jake hadn't tried to call you , of course you tried not to worry if he actually did end it all but you never got a call. you walk right past jake , you didn't even notice him that's how different he looked. jake followed you home , all the way up to your door , where he finally runs up to you. “yn!” he shouted. “yn why'd you leave me?” you try to open the door, but the look in his eyes. “j-jake.”

“please come home , i don't know how much longer i can do it without you.”

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon﹚ .ᐟ

sunghoon was too impulsive to let you go on for more than a month , so you quite literally have to go into hiding , never leaving your apartment; even moving from the apartment he knew about to another one , one you thought he'd never find — boy how wrong you were. still held up in your apartment , constantly looking at the door. one day you finally feel a little a peace , not enough to leave, but enough to order your favorite food. you heard a knock , which makes you get up and go towards it. you still check the camera you installed and what you see outside makes your blood run cold. “hi baby.” the boy bangs on the door. “i found you.” he said. “sung-sunghoon.” you stuttered out. “don't dare pick up that phone and call anyone.” he said , leaning closer to the camera. “you moved but your parents haven't.”

“now open the door if you love them.”

©LUVYENI

[futurewdclandonorris]

Dinner Reservation | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader

Summary: you had plans to go out, Lando had other. Watch what happens when you tell him no

Warnings: barely any plot just smut, light dom Lando, kinda bratty both Lando and the reader, and assholes too (idk what came over me, I thought I was being funny) some cringe bits for the sake of the 'plot' but we move, kinda long that's why I included word count, hint of exhibitionism, unprotected sex

Word count: 5389

A/N: Okay, I really need to learn how to write summaries, if anyone wants to be my editor you can hit me up. Perks are you get to see the original copy before I rewrite it for tumblr

Credits to @twinkodium for prompting this idea and brainstorming it with me ♥

You stepped out of the shower with nothing, but a towel wrapped around your body. Not bringing any clothes with you, you proceeded out of the bathroom to the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend. He was sprawled out on the bed, obviously dissatisfied about something–still in his hoodie and black sweats–but the moment you opened the door, his whole demeanor changed, his hungry eyes following you as you strolled across the room to your still unpacked suitcase. Bending down to get your underwear, you felt two arms wrap around your waist, stopping you mid motion.

You smirked, popping your behind and pressing it harder against his pelvis as you fished a pair of panties from the case. He lowly grunted, removing your hair from one shoulder to another, which gave him a clean access for planting a kiss on your neck.

"Plans canceled, why don't you get on the bed for me, gorgeous?" he murmured against your skin.

You tried to sustain your smile, finding the whole situation amusing. Getting a hold of yourself, you turned around to face him.

"We can't cancel plans just because you suddenly got horny." you playfully rolled your eyes. "They're waiting for us."

The plan was to go out and grab dinner with Oscar and Lily. Something like a double date and get together outside business hours.

"They can wait." he still had that stupid grin on his face, brushing his fingertips over the side of yours, his eyes roaming all over your features.

"No, they can't. You're acting like a spoiled child, you know that?" you teased, giving him a playful shove. "Now go get ready, we're already late as it is. They're probably wondering where we are." you urged and knowing there was no point further arguing with you, he scoffed and walked over to the dresser.

"You're acting like we don't spend three weekends a month with them," he protested, buttoning his shirt only a halfway up. "But fine. If you won't listen to me now, I'll bend you over that goddamn dinner table and fuck you in front of everyone. Maybe that will be more appealing to you-"

"Don't be ridiculous." you snorted a laugh.

"Say I won't do it." he stood tall and incredibly close in front of you, his eyes boring into yours making you feel smaller than you were. And you could swear, you didn't know if your wetness was from the shower or somethin else entirely different.

"Please, dress up, sweetheart." he finished, his voice somewhat mocking, leaving you to clutch your panties to your chest standing in the middle of the room.

This whole ordeal may or may have not resulted in you changing the outfit you had in mind from the top. Instead of an orange sundress, you slipped into a white linen bodycon dress that perfectly hugged your curves, cut out sides exposing your toned waist and highlighting your hip bones. Deep v neck brought exposure to your cleavage as well.

Studying yourself in the mirror, the material was so thin it was almost see through. Lando absolutely hated loved this dress. You completed the look with some white sandals. You were in the process of putting on your gold earrings when Lando walked in.

"Are you anywhere near do-" he choked out, eyes turning a darker shade of green as they scanned you from head to toe. He cleared his throat before speaking "You look amazing, darling." he complimented, with a little bitter taste to the pet name he just called you, obviously not approving of the attire. Jackpot.

"Thank you, darling." you grinned as you walked up to him and pecked his cheek, completely ignoring the fact he was fuming.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Lead the way." you responded, your lips still curved into a smile, and laced your hands together.

On the drive to the restaurant, his knuckles turned completely white from how strong his grip on the steering wheel was. His eyes never darted from the road, not even once. No hand holding nor even one kiss at the red light. But instead, you drove in silence, only soft music playing from the radio making any noise as you tried to hide your satisfaction, which you will probably come to regret later, looking out the window.

As expected, Oscar and Lily arrived before you. You apologized for keeping them waiting, but they said they only just got there a few minutes ago due to traffic. A waiter immediately approached you and had your orders right under way in a few moments.

During dinner, Lando wasn't completely ignoring you, but he wasn't really paying attention or engaging with you either. Which didn't come off as strange or like something was wrong between you. You girls had your girl talk and boys had their boy talk. Lily couldn't always attend a race weekend and it's been a while since you last saw her. But there was a mischievous spark in his eyes, only someone who had known him for years could notice, telling you he was planning something.

First, he'd casually drop his hand on your thigh under the table and just rest it there, and then remove it without a second thought, continuing his conversation with Oscar like nothing happened. After a while, he'd put it back on, only higher this time and gently grasp the skin, his thumb drawing circles. Your muscles tensed and made you jump in your seat. He noticed, of course, without sparing you a second glance and dragged his palm up and down your inner thigh like that was going to soothe you. He stopped and left you alone once more when your main course arrived.

While waiting for dessert, his fingers brushed the fabric of your panties without previous warning that made you gasp audibly and place your elbows on the table to support your forehead with your hands, making all cutlery clank. That finally drove some confused looks from Oscar and Lily.

"Are you alright?" Lily asked, curiosity getting the best of her cause this wasn't the first time you jumped in your seat during the conversation.

"I'm fine." you breathed, faking a smile. You turned towards Lando and hissed, covering your mouth "What are you doing?"

He leaned closer into your side, his lips brushing your earlobe as he whispered "I'm thinking about having my dessert now." his fingers still feathered over you. You gave him a wide eyed look. "Say I won't do it." he repeated his words from earlier that instantly made you blush.

"You... you're crazy." you whispered back, glancing sideways at the confused faces around you, most likely thinking you were talking about the weather. God, you hoped they were thinking you were talking about the weather.

"Say it." he insisted, his palm coming to a stop on your pussy.

You bit your lip, getting a clear image of him bending you over the table while Lily, Oscar and the waiter looked on as Lando fucked you right in front of them. It made you wet and you hated yourself for it.

"I... I'm saying it." you mumbled.

"What?" he took a sip of his drink.

"I'm saying it." you leaned closer as the people around you were now completely involved in their own conversations, acting like they didn't hear you the first time. "I'm saying you won't do it." maybe one thing Lando often forgets is how stubbornly bratty you can get.

Lando started, but was interrupted by the waiter coming to pick up your dessert orders. He only quickly added that you will settle this later. The Great Dessert Debate concluded after you were done with your meals. Lily was lobbying for ice cream, Oscar insisting on sorbet, Lando not really giving a damn as long as he wasn't going to have cake and you, of course, wanted something naughty. Oscar finally convinced Lily that sorbet would taste better than ice cream and they decided to get it to-go to bring home. You sighed and ordered cheesecake eventually.

"I changed my mind." Lando started. "I won't be having any dessert here." he smirked and glanced at you.

Idle as he was, he didn't waste an opportunity to dip his hand between your thighs once more and stroke you up and down as soon as you dipped your spoon in your cheesecake. You could've made a scene, but how you were practically purring in your seat, you decided not to.

"Don't move and finish your little treat," he murmured and brought his lips to your cheek and kissed it. "I'm sure sugar will give you enough energy for what's about to come later." you could almost choke as you swallowed.

He squeezed your thigh again under the table, giving you a once over and letting his eyes settle on your mouth. You knew what he was trying to do. He was attempting to turn you on in public while everyone else was almost done with their desserts and it worked, damn it. He didn't stop touching you until dessert was over and the bill was paid, but this time he slid his palm all the way up to your slit and stroked you through the fabric while you were busy–struggling–saying goodbye to Lily and Oscar.

You almost didn't want to get in the car with him, but to drag him to the nearest restroom and have him there. You were just on the verge of exploding, burning and dying a death of a thousand orgasms that needed to be let out, and let out now.

He put the car in drive, with you sitting right next to him, still wet and hard and throbbing. You didn't bother to keep your voice low this time. You huffed and fumed, wanting nothing more than to choke his pretty little neck.

"What is wrong with you?" you hissed.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, looking at you out of the corner of his eye to avoid a car accident with a grin on his face. He really is fucking crazy, you thought.

"You're so damn frustrating. Why haven't you touched me yet?"

"I'm touching you now." he smirked.

"You asshole! You're not touching me-Ah!" you yelped as he dug his thumb into your wetness and began rubbing you, his left hand steadily steering. You spread your legs as far as the car allowed and pulled your knee up, giving him as much access as you could.

"Oh god..." you relaxed and succumbed to your pleasure, making his thumb work at its full potential.

His other fingers were busy playing with your pussy, tracing the fabric to your entrance, but never actually going inside. You were breathing heavily as his fingers grazed closer to your clit each time he would repeat his movements. His thumb found your clit and started massaging it while his pointer and middle finger pulled your panties to the side and slipped in, parting your walls. You shuddered and moaned, but kept your eyes on the road ahead of you.

The way he was touching you was incredible, you were so wet that you could already feel the heat radiating from your skin. And he was doing all that while driving. One hand on the steering wheel, the other one down your panties.

He looked really hot, you had to admit to yourself, as you bit your lip glancing over at him. His eyes fixed on the road, concentration evident on his face as he drilled into you with his right hand. You wanted to lean over and kiss him.

His fingers curled inside of you, hitting that spot. Pumping in and out, you were getting more and more jerky in the passenger seat, only the seat belt restraining you from bucking your hips forward. It was getting so good, so painfully good when he pulled his fingers out of you.

"Don't do that." you whined, as he noticed your hips jerking and tried to move his hand to make you come.

"What?"

"That," you breathed, "Pull your fingers out of me."

He chuckled and put his palm over your pussy again, stroking you from the top. You started getting wetter and your breaths got faster and louder.

"Lando... Please! Don't." you muttered, knowing that in a matter of minutes you'd achieve sweet release.

He continued nonetheless, his nails scratching your skin every time the pad of his thumb would meet with your clitoris. You groaned and spread your legs wider, moaning Lando's name as you came.

"Seriously?" he chuckled again, stopping at the red light.

"Shut up." you glared at him and puffed your disheveled hair out of your face. He was still smiling. "That was not funny." you hissed, removing his hand from you.

"I agree." he said, undeterred by your actions. He brought the hand that was on your pussy up to his mouth and licked his fingers clean. "Mm, now this is what I call dessert." he moaned, licking his lips and savoring the taste. "And that was your first orgasm of the night, babe."

"You're an asshole." you pouted.

"So you've told me." he drove off, his hand coming back to rub your thigh.

"Lando, I'm serious," you grabbed his fingers and pushed them away. "Stop."

"Babe, you should really learn to finish what you start." he said, his cottage cheese fingers now replaced by the dripping wetness of his mouth. "Did you forget?"

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"I'm marrying you for your money."

"And your body." he added, letting his fingers lick your inner thigh.

"You bastard."

"We still have business to run when we get home." he announced, glancing quickly over at you. But your eyes were already half-lidded and there was a pleasant ache between your legs.

"Just drive." you muttered.

"I'm serious." he lightly chuckled, putting his right hand on your leg and rubbing you solidly through your skirt.

"We'll see." you adjusted yourself in the seat. You closed your eyes as you made yourself comfortable, enjoying the rest of the ride home.

Like he knew you needed a bit more rest, he took a longer route home. Pulling into your driveway, you smirked as the lights illuminated your face. You cleared your throat and fixed your skirt before exiting the car and sauntering over to the front of the house without giving a second glance to Lando. You made sure to sway your hips a little extra to grab his attention which worked, considering you were already unlocking the front door when you heard a soft click of his car door, meaning he stayed behind. Your feet were killing you and you only got to kick off one shoe when a pair of strong arms wrapped around you.

"Back where we started," he whispered.

"Something like that." you smiled, your hand grabbing the nape of his neck as you kicked the other shoe off. You stood flat on your bare feet, significantly shorter than him now.

He traced your shoulder with kisses up to your neck, his palms riding up your waist to cup your breasts. A low moan escaped you as he thumbed your nipple. You let your head fall back on his shoulder as your hips began to grind against him.

"I want you." you breathed into his ear.

He was hard against you and you could already feel yourself dripping wet for him. He turned you around, smashing your lips together as he picked you up and carried you to the living room couch. He sat down with you straddling him, your kissing already turned into a heavy make out session, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth and vice versa.

One hand on your hip helping you rock back and forth, the other one on your jaw and throat, choking lightly and keeping your head in place. His hips buckled up as you sped your movements, making him hiss into your mouth and bite harder on your lower lip. You let out a soft cry, but didn't let that stop you.

Now both of his hands roamed the open back of your dress, his face pressed flat in your cleavage until he brought one of his hands and tugged harshly down at the top of your dress, afraid you heard something snap.

"Oh, did I rip it? Did I rip it for good this time?" he got a bit too overly excited for your liking.

"Yeah, I think one of my straps snapped." you breathed, flustered.

"Thank god!" he exclaimed, rubbing his nose in your cleavage. "I've been waiting for this day."

"I didn't realize you were such a fan of this dress." you sarcastically remarked, rolling your eyes, knowing damn well how he felt about it. You glanced down and saw he had torn the top of the dress almost to your belly button.

"Sorry." he grinned.

"No, you're not." you couldn't help but laugh. "You're going to make me buy a new one." you said, trying to push his face back into your cleavage.

"I'll pay for it." he nodded. You shook your head dismissively, deciding to let the subject go.

Coming up to your breasts, he pressed his palms over them before rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You moaned as he did, his breath hot on your skin. He moved his mouth to suck on your left breast, closing his eyes and taking in your scent. You let your hand fall to his waist, pulling at his belt. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, but only for a moment, before his tongue swirled around your right nipple. Your breath hitched when he grazed you with his teeth, your right hand tugging on his curls. He let your nipple pop out of his mouth before dragging his teeth over your skin, the sensation sending electric currents through you.

"I have an idea-"

"Oh no-"

"Can you stand up for me, please, love?" he innocently grinned up at you.

Just out of pure curiosity you listened to him. He turned you around so that your back was facing him.

"You're going to rip the rest off me, aren't you?"

"Guilty." he pulled the remaining strap down. Your hands were on the couch now, bracing yourself and waiting for his next move.

"You're so dirty." you said, unable to resist sounding disappointed.

"And you're so wet." he said, his fingers pressed up against your drenched panties.

"Shut up." you shuddered, his breath warming the back of your neck.

The fire in you was burning now. You felt his hands snake around your neck and his hot breath on your ear.

"Just because I don't like this dress doesn't mean I don't love you. I love you so much." he whispered.

"I love you more." you replied, relaxed.

He leaned in and kissed your back, all the way down your spine, making you shudder at the feeling of his soft lips against your skin. His hands gently grabbed the remaining fabric of the dress on your hips and in one swift motion, tore it off your body.

"Whoops," he said, dropping the shreds that once made up a dress on the floor.

"You tease." you smirked over your shoulder.

"You love it."

You nodded. You felt his hands gently grab your hips as he pushed you forward a bit and stood up behind you. One of his hands spread across your lower back and the other reached down to grasp on your thigh. He pulled you back against him and you could feel his hardness in between your ass cheeks as he kissed your shoulder. You felt his hand wander up your inner thigh and lightly graze your clit. You moaned in approval and he took that as a cue to keep going. He slipped a finger or two inside you and it was almost instant that he was tapping your g-spot.

"Lando." you breathed, fully leaning on him for support.

"Yes, love?" his voice was deep and low.

"I want you." you whined for the second time that evening.

"And you'll have me." he said, without providing much information on when that will be.

He laid you back on the couch, opening your legs to slide his arms in between your thighs. He lifted your butt off the couch and you wrapped your arms tight around his neck, anticipating the moment where he'd have his face between your legs.

He descended on top of you, his lips kissing your neck before moving over to your ear. His teeth grazed your earlobe and you shuddered as he sucked.

"More." you panted, your fingers clawing at his shirt.

He smirked, giving your ear one last lick before moving his attention to your lips. His rough hands maneuvered over your skin, finally gripping your breasts and pinching your nipples. Your hands cupped his face as he roughly bit down on your lower lip, then moving to your jaw and then your neck.

You pulled off his dress shirt as he attacked your neck with his mouth and his teeth. Your eyes fluttered close as his teeth sank into your shoulder. He pulled away, leaving a series of hickeys on your skin. He climbed back on top of you, his hands snaking down to grab your ass. He looked into your eyes, biting down on his lip as he pushed his hardness into your thigh. You wiggled your hips, getting impatient for him to be inside of you.

"So impatient," he remarked. "Can't you see I'm trying to take my time with you?"

"This is torture." you said instead.

"Now, baby," he said, kissing his way down from in between your chest to your stomach. "No need for dramatics."

Positioning his face just above your pussy, he gently removed your panties as he pushed your legs a bit more forward, angling you just the way he wanted you. Without previous warning, he ran his hot tongue all over you. Oh, god, real torture begins now, you thought.

A moan chocked in your throat as your mouth hung agape. It didn't take long for him to start lapping around your folds, suck on your clit and fuck into your entrance with his pointy tongue. You were a squirmy and moany mess, one hand pulling on his hair, the othe one gripping the couch, but he didn't cease. In fact, it only encouraged him to flick his tongue over your sensitivity and keep tasting you up.

Thighs shaking and repeatedly panting his name, your climax arrived sooner that you anticipated. He licked you clean one last time before getting on top of you once more and kissing you, making you taste yourself on his lips. You sank your teeth into his bottom lip as you sucked on it, receiving a moan into your mouth from him. He gave you a few more pecks before pulling you up by your arms into his embrace.

"What do you say we take this to the bedroom?" he questioned.

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder as he carried you like a child in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist.

He dropped you on the bed and fumbled with his pants. That gave you an opportunity to quickly get on your knees and take his belt off and unbutton his pants. He got the hint, taking them down. You rested your head on his thigh, looking up at him–pouting–as you stroked the bulge in his boxers. You probably couldn't count how many times he actually got a boner this evening and had to fight it. His lips parted, shaky breaths escaping him.

"Please..." he begged, fingers raking through your hair.

He didn't have to tell you twice to take his boxers off. After all, you could no longer deny him his pleasure after everything you've put him through this evening. He deserved his little treat. His length sprung forward and you rested it on your tongue. He shuddered, holding your head as you bobbed on him. You started going faster and it wasn't long before you could feel him twitching in your mouth.

You usually didn't do this, but you wanted to tease him as much as you could. When you felt him starting to lose his grip, you stopped and smiled as you looked up at him. Strands of saliva connected your mouth to his cock. He looked at you with a desperate look, his hands holding your head still.

"Why did you stop?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Because you wanted to," you said, beaming.

He shook his head dismissively, returning a smile. You wrapped your lips around his tip again, sucking on him as hard as you could. His head fell back onto his shoulder, his eyes closed in ecstasy. You gripped him in your hands, stroking him as you bobbed your head up and down.

You stopped when it felt like his cock was about to burst. You let go and looked up at him and he caught you before you could say anything. He pulled you up and his lips crashed onto yours. The taste of him was still on your tongue, but you didn't mind. He kissed you tighter, his hands wrapped around your body, his fingers clawing at your lower back.

"Please, stop fucking teasing me." he groaned.

"I'm sorry." I pouted. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Want to show me just how sorry you are? Huh?" he grabbed your jaw, fixing your eyes on him. You nodded in response, this play only turning you on. "I'm going to fuck you right here." he muttered, his voice husky with lust. "Right on this bed, where I have fucked you numerous times before." he took your arms and pinned them to your sides. "Don't. Fight. Me." he warned, making sure not to repeat previous mistakes.

You shook your head and let out a nervous giggle.

"That's my girl." he leaned forward to kiss you again.

You moaned into it, pressing your body against him. His palm rubbed up your leg, parting it wider as he went to your thigh. He held your leg as he slipped it over his shoulder, his fingers brushing faintly over you, your hips bucking against him, urging him to go. He obliged by slipping two fingers. Your back arched up, your head falling back as you groaned.

"So wet for me." he grinned.

"You just don't know what you do to me." you explained, rocking your hips, enjoying the feeling of his fingers filling you up.

"I'll show you what I'm going to do to you." he claimed, gripping your hand and intertwining your fingers. His other hand was working its way further up your thigh and stopping above your knee.

"Do it, Lando." you pleaded.

He hoisted your other leg over his shoulder as well, changing the angle of your body and pushed himself into you. You twisted your head to look at him, your mouth hanging open as you let out a loud cry.

"Oh, fuck me, Lando..." you said breathily.

"Say my name." he rocked his hips faster.

"Lando," you gasped, your thighs beginning to shake.

"Louder." he commanded, squeezing your ass in his hands. "You're louder when you come."

"Lan... Lando!" you moaned, throwing your head back again.

The feeling was so overwhelming that you could feel yourself on the brink of climax. Your thighs started to shake violently and your stomach felt like it was being tickled on the inside. You moaned his name, trying to stifle a scream as you felt the most intense orgasm wash over you. You felt like you were going to pass out. It really had to be the most incredible feeling you ever experienced. You could feel him still hunched over you, filling you up.

"Lay down," he ordered.

"I can't even move," you gasped. "I'm numb."

"Good." he chuckled. "It means you enjoyed yourself."

"What about you?" you asked him.

"I'm covered in you." he kissed you. "That's more than enough."

"I want to make you feel good." you said, trying to catch your breath.

"That's something I'll have to work for." he smirked at you, rolling his cock inside you.

You bit your lip to keep you from moaning as you twisted your hips and dug your nails into his skin. He started kissing and sucking on your neck and your hands fell to his shoulders.

"I think you've had enough fun." he said, nibbling on your ear.

"Too much is never enough." you giggled. "Just stay inside me." you whispered as you put your arms back around his neck.

"I can do that." he smiled before kissing you.

He started thrusting in and out of you slowly, changing the angle again. You moaned into the kiss, your arms tightening around him. You started rocking your hips in sync with his thrusts, filling you up even more. He let go of your arms and cupped your face, still kissing you. You moved your hands to his neck and tangled your fingers into his hair.

"Oh, my god," you moaned into his mouth. "This feels so good."

"Tell me what you feel," he said between kisses.

"I feel full." you said breathily. "Like your cock is stretching me out." this dirty talk made you giggle.

"Tell me how it feels filling you up." he encouraged.

"I feel like I'm ready to burst," you said, shuddering. "I love it."

He pushed into you deeper and his lips found your collar bone.

"Good," he groaned. "I want you to feel good."

"I do." you breathed. "Oh, my god, I do." your eyes rolled back.

"Are you going to come again?" he asked, changing the speed of his thrusts.

"I don't know." you said. "Don't stop." you hugged him closer.

You felt the muscles in your body tightening and you knew you were about to climax again. He pulled back and looked down at you.

"Stay with me." he said, thrusting harder.

"I can't." you moaned.

He lifted you up, changing the position again. He slid out of you slightly then pushed in hard, hitting you in the right spot.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, arms falling back to your side. "Fuck!" you screamed.

"Good girl," he pulled your face up and kissed you.

You came so hard that your vision went blurry and you felt like passing out again. You could feel him still thrusting into you, trying to keep pace. You bucked against him, your hips constricting as he came inside of you, groaning your name. He put you back down on the bed, his hands still on your body, gently rubbing your skin. You felt like you were on top of the world.

"I love you." you said, turning your head to face him. "So much."

"I love you." he replied, kissing your forehead.

"I'm sorry if I was a bit bratty today." you snuggled closer to him.

"Nah, I deserved it." he played with your fingers on his stomach. "And if I didn't, I know why you do it anyway." he shot you a quick glance.

"Oh, really?" you challenged.

"Uh huh. Don't get me wrong, it's hot and all, but babe, if you want me to fuck you hard all you have to do is ask."

"You're unbelievable." you shoved his shoulder and turned around, getting further away from him as possible. "Let's see the next time I behave like that and you don't get anything." you tucked yourself in with a duvet.

"Babe," he called and rolled his body closer to yours, hugging you from behind. "It was a joke. With some truth in it, but you know-"

You turned around just to hit his chest."

"Asshole."

"Princess."

You snuggled into the crook of his neck as he rested his chin on top of your head, your limbs tangled together.

"Prick."

"Babygirl."

"Wanker."

"If you want round three just say that." even though you both laughed, you still hit him with your fist.

"Fucking idiot."

"Love of my life."

You're not sure when exactly did he stop whispering names of endearment in your ear for you fell asleep in his arms to the sound of his voice with a hint of a smile plastered on your face.

[yasmindifference]

Cheer up prompt #27

An anon and @this-was-a-terrible-idea also requested #27! A popular number apparently lol. I hope you all enjoy! ♡

"--and then Mr. Browsten said that with all the, um, the hullabaloo that it wasn't fair to make us take a test, so he cancelled it."

Tim pauses for breath and Mom hums an encouraging noise. When Dad makes that sound, it means he's not really listening, but he knows Mom's paying attention, even though she hasn't stopped curling her hair. From where he's lying on her bed, he can see her reflection in the vanity mirror, and she's frowning just like he knew she would.

Mom doesn't approve of canceling tests, which means she doesn't approve of Mr. Browsten, because he cancels them all the time.

(Mom says tests are important to know where improvement is necessary. Mr. Browsten doesn't seem to agree.)

"So we watched a documentary instead and it was pretty interesting, it was about puffer fish! Sarah asked what puffer fish have to do with grammar and Mr. Browsten said that learning is its own reward, but I think he just didn't have anything else ready so he took something from Ms. Cappola instead. She's the fifth grade science teacher and I heard her classes watch movies at least twice a week."

Mom tuts, which Tim was expecting, and sets down her curling iron.

"Ridiculous," she mutters. "I don't know why we're paying that school so much in tuition when they can't be bothered to teach you anything. It's a miracle you ever learned to read."

"It's because I'm smart," Tim informs her helpfully, and Mom smiles her special just-for-Tim smile.

"You are," she agrees. "And thank goodness for that. Now, would my smart boy do me a favor?"

Because Tim's smart, he already knows what she's going to ask. He rolls off the bed to his feet. "Curling iron?"

"Yes, please." Mom rolls her chair away from the vanity so he can crawl under it to unplug the curling iron. She plugged it in herself, but that was before she was all dressed up in her expensive dress. "Thank you, Timmy."

"You're welcome," he chirps, crawling back out.

Mom rolls back in front of the vanity, but Tim stays where he is, kneeling next to it so he can watch her put her makeup on. There are a lot of different bottles and brushes and powders involved, but Mom never hesitates. Tim doesn't know how she keeps it all straight.

He likes watching Mom get ready to go out. Sometimes--like tonight--she lets him pick out the jewelry she's gonna wear, and then she chooses her dress and hair and makeup all based on what he picked. Even when the colors don't match, it all fits together like a puzzle...a puzzle she pieces together in seconds after Tim's impulsive choice.

It's really cool.

Tonight, Tim picked pretty, dangly earrings with some kind of red stone (ruby, Mom said when he asked), so Mom picked a black dress. She said it would make the earrings pop, which he didn't get until he saw her wearing it.

Now, he watches her choose lipstick as red as the earrings and asks, "Does the lipstick make the earrings pop, too?"

Mom finishes smoothing it on before she smiles at him. "You tell me."

Tim studies her. The lipstick matches the earrings, but it doesn't draw attention to them the way the plain dress does. He already watched her do her eye stuff, and her eyes look bigger somehow, but they're not colorful like they were when they all went to the opera last week.

"No," he decides. "You went new...neutral?" He waits for her slight nod of confirmation, then continues, encouraged, "You went neutral with your eye stuff and red with your lipstick to make your lips pop."

"Very good," Mom says, smiling. She cups his cheek briefly before turning back to the vanity. "Clever boy."

Tim beams and watches in fascinated silence as she uses some kind of powder. Even though he's staring right at her, he can't tell what the powder actually does. All he knows is that when she's done, her face looks...different. Still pretty, but kinda sharper somehow.

Makeup is like magic, he decides. No matter how many times he watches her get ready, he can never figure it out.

"Can I try?" he asks impulsively.

"Try what?" Mom asks, a little distracted. The cap on one of her bottles is stuck and she's struggling to open it.

"Your makeup!" Tim takes the bottle from her and opens it by using the hem of his shirt to grip it better. Mom can't do that, her dress is all shiny and slippery. "You look pretty, I wanna try."

Mom pauses and then smiles.

"I don't have long before I have to leave," she warns him, "but I don't see why not. Do you want to pick out some lipstick?"

Tim absolutely does. He levers to his feet as, across the room, Dad finally stirs. He's been reading some stuff his assistant from Drake Industries brought by earlier, ignoring them both, but now he says, "Janet" in a weird tone.

"Jack?" Mom asks, even as she directs Tim's attention to the little circles on the bottom of her lipstick tubes that show what color they are. She has a lot of options.

"Janie, really," Dad says. He sounds unhappy, and Tim looks up from comparing two different shades of pink to find him frowning. "You can't mean to let our son--"

He stops mid-sentence and Tim bites back a wince. Dad's in trouble; Tim hasn't seen that look on Mom's face since he told her about his last nanny giving him whiskey to help him sleep when he woke up from bad dreams.

"My son," Mom says very deliberately, "is welcome to express himself however he likes."

Is trying makeup expressing himself? Tim just wants to see if it makes him as pretty as it does Mom.

Either way, that's not a good tone. Tim looks down and concentrates really hard on picking out a lipstick.

"Janet," Dad tries again, weakly. He obviously knows he's in Big Trouble, but for some reason he hasn't apologized yet. Tim tries to psychically tell him to cut his losses and back down, but his telepathy apparently still hasn't kicked in, because Dad says, "It's just that--"

"Do you know what you want to try, sweetheart?" Mom asks, completely ignoring Dad.

Tim looks between his parents, decides to let Dad dig his own grave, and hands Mom the red he settled on.

(If it's the red that most closely resembles the red in Robin's uniform...well, it's not like Mom has any way of knowing that.)

"Excellent choice!" Mom says. She stands up from the vanity and pats her chair. "Take a seat."

Tim does, excited. He's not usually allowed to sit at Mom's vanity.

Lipstick, he learns quickly, feels really weird. He has to sit super still while Mom puts it on him, and it makes his lips feel weirdly heavy, like there's something on them.

Which there is, actually, so...he doesn't know what he was expecting.

Mom hands him a tissue so he can "blot" his lips, just like he's seen her do a million times, and then steps aside so he can see his reflection in the mirror.

"Whoa," Tim says, leaning closer. He makes a few faces, pushing his lips together and out, transfixed by how bright and noticeable they are. It doesn't make him pretty like Mom, but he likes how it looks anyway. "Cool."

Behind him, Dad throws up his hands and leaves the room. He's angry, Tim can tell, but Mom is smiling down at him, so Tim's not worried.

"Do you want to pick eyeshadow next?" she asks.

"Yes, please!"

Prompt #27 was experimentation! Well selected! ♡♡

[scented-morker]

NCT Dream under the mistletoe

In which you end up under the mistletoe… 1.6k, fluff fluff fluff, I think gn reader, not proofread

Mark

After so long of dating, you'd think Mark would be fine with kissing you in front of his members

You'd be wrong

Whether it's because he's their hyung or just because they don't let him live— Marks lips are OFF LIMITS when with the boys

(Yes that's exactly how he phrased it)

But it's Christmas, and it's tradition!! And the boys need something new to bully Mark about!!!

So they hang it on the threshold of the dorm and wait in suspense until you knock on the door

"Mark why don't you go get that?"

"Why? I'm kinda busy rn, besides it's yn, don't you guys usually fight over who gets to open the door for them?" Exposed 🫣

"Just Open the door Mark!"

"Fine!"

So he opens the door in a little apron bc he was cooking (scary ik)  and the boys start screaming

"MISTLETOE YOURE UNDER THE MISTLETOE YOU HAVE TO KISS!!"

He glares so hard, but you just shrug.

"You look like a cute little housewife rn, I already wanted to kiss you."

He laughs at the comparison before giving you a peck, the boys going wild in the background

"I'll be the housewife if you take care of the kids," he grins, motioning to the crowd behind him

"Deal," you place another peck on him as you walk by and into the crowd of boys. "I have gifts for you gremlins!!"

They were too distracted to tease mark much (until after you left)

Renjun

We all know the boys take every chance to kiss him as they can

Which— understandable but like that’s YOUR boyfriend???

He thinks it’s the funniest thing ever when you complain to him about it one day

“STOP LAUGHING, THIS IS SERIOUS!”

He’s kinda flattered that you’re so protective but still thinks it’s hilarious

“They don’t actually kiss me that much”

LIES

Imagine your terror when you walk into the dreamies Christmas party and see mistletoe EVERYWHERE

“What is this?”

“Idk, Hyuck decorated”

Cue the boy in question calling your boyfriend from across the room

You see he’s standing under one of the plants and refuse to let Renjun go over without you

You follow him around all night, kissing him under every single mistletoe while the boys make faces at you

(Hyuck actually did not decorate, renjun did, and he was having the best night of his life getting your kisses every five minutes) 🤫

Never tell him a secret ever again

Jeno

You weren't even dating 🤭

It was that weird stage of knowing you're more than friends but not saying anything bc WHAT IF YOURE CRAZY

And the boys are TIRED of hearing Jeno nonstop talk about you

"So I think she might feel the same way, but then yesterday when she texted me she ended it with a period, AND she said ly to sign off instead of ily so what if-"

"Jeno literally shut up."

So they do the thing where they ask both of you to hang out and then cancel so it's just the two of you

"Wow I can't believe Chenle and Jisung both just got the flu, that sucks."

Jeno knew exactly what they were doing, and was very suspicious

"Yeah wild, do you wanna grab coffee since we're already here?"

So you decide to go into the cafe you were supposed to meet at, ignoring the sign at the front (lovers cafe <3)

The bell sings as you walk in, and the woman at the counter turns at the sound.

You walk up to order and she shakes her head

"You can't order until you complete the tradition," she says, gesturing to the door and a mistletoe hanging over it

Jeno now realizes what his stupid friends have done, but he smiles at you sheepishly

"What do you say?"

To which you immediately lean in and give him a kiss

Haechan

Honestly he probably hung it himself 😭

Like the two of you had recently gotten together and he just always wanted to be kissing you

The boys had invited you over to the dorm for a Christmas movie marathon, and Hyuck decided to take the decorations into his own hands

(Yes it got a little awkward when Jungwoo came to borrow one of their plates and there was mistletoe everywhere, and yes the boys groaned about it but gave him kisses on the cheek under every plant)

"Welcome yn, to our holiday wonderland," he says dramatically

"It's literally a stinky apartment with lights hung everywhere."

"Shut up Chenle, oh would you look at that, we're under mistletoe!"

So obviously you oblige the tradition, giving him a sweet peck before continuing your walk to the couch

"Oh look another one!"

You check the ceiling to make sure he isn't lying, but lean in to give him a kiss anyway

"Woah looks like another kiss for me!"

By the third time you know he's doing it on purpose, and you look forward to see at least five more plants hung between your current spot and the living room

"We tried to stop him."

You laugh, but give him a kiss under each one because he worked so hard for it <3

Jaemin

He gives zero ducks, he'll take any opportunity to kiss you

Even when you wish he wouldn't

Why, you may ask, would you ever not want to get Jaemin's kisses?

The answer: because you're in front of his entire family 😃

Why they hung mistletoe at the Na family Christmas, you may never know

Possibly because everyone else in his family was just as lovey-dovey as he was

But it was fine for everyone else THEY WERE MARRIED AND HAD KIDS

This was your first time ever meeting his whole family, and Jaemin's extra ass was apparently trying to make it as mortifying as possible

"Babyyy," he calls out as you stand talking to his mom

You smile apologetically at his mother before turning as he approaches

"What?"

"You're under the mistletoe!"

You look up to see the cursed plant before turning back to your boyfriend with pleading eyes

"Not in front of your mom, please."

He just smiles that sweet smile before DIPPING YOU LIKE A TANGO DANCER and planting a long kiss on your lips

Your face is on fire when he stands you back up

"I can't even look at your mother right now. I hate you."

So he kisses you again

Chenle

Listen he has the softest spot for you 🥹

Home alone? Never ending kisses, he's telling you how happy you make him, playing with your hair, everything

But not in front of his members 🫡 (which they know)

They were messing with him, but you were in on it 🤭

"Lele, look!"

He looks up where you're pointing, seeing the mistletoe before immediately glaring at the other boys who have gathered around

They all have the biggest grins in their faces as if this was the best thing they'd ever experienced..

But he notices the too-innocent smile on your face telling him you are in on it, which in his book is a worse offense than the boys planning it

"Is Lele shy?" Jaemin coos, which only makes the younger boy more flustered

He decides it's only fair that you feel just as embarrassed

So before the boys can tease him anymore he straight up just grabs the back of your neck and basically slams his lips into yours

Whew he's so hot... uh anyways

As soon as he releases you you're letting out nervous giggles and hiding your face in his neck because HOW DID THIS BACKFIRE ON YOU SO HARD

The guys can't even make fun of him anymore so they just groan and disperse into their own rooms

To which Chenle then teases you (and gives you many more kisses)

Jisung

Poor guy 😭

He just wanted to take you to the Christmas party so he could share hot chocolate and maybe hold your hand underneath the table

BUT SOMEONE THOUGHT ITD BE FUNNY TO HANG MISTLETOE AS DECORATION

The two of you are sitting at your table, watching Hyuck and Jeno dance unnecessarily aggressively to Jingle Bells when he asks if you want a snack

So you get up and make your way over to the cookie table bc yum Christmas cookies

But when you get there jaemin lets out a dramatic gasp

"JISUNG YOU BROUGHT THEM UNDER THE MISTLETOE YOU LITTLE RASCAL"

He immediately looks up, staring at the offending plant

"I didn't- I didn't do it on purpose yn! I promise!"

You just laugh, "I know you didn't, it's okay."

So you grab your cookies and head back to the table, kiss-less

"Dang you're really not going to kiss them?" Jaemin asks, looking over where you're staring at the cookies on your plate

"Well not in front of you!"

With that Jisung walks away, forgetting to grab cookies for himself

"Yn," he whisper calls, and you look up to see him gesturing you to the hallway

You follow him, stepping out into the brighter lit and much quieter hall.

"Did you need a break?" You're used to him sneaking off from crowded places to recenter

"No."

"Oh, then what's—"

He cuts you off by pressing his lips into yours, hand on the back of your head

He has a pink hue on his cheeks when he pulls away, and he refuses to look you in the eyes

"I wanted to kiss you, just not in front of him."

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Can I get a Record of Ragnarok x Odins Youngest Daughter! Reader? Who is Norse Child Goddess of the Stars, the Night, the Moon, and Wishes. And she likes the humans and likes to talk to the Ragnarok human fighters. She's gotta a bubbly shy personality. Even Odin can't help but Crack a smile.

-Odin and Loki were walking down a large hallway together, heading towards a meeting room where several other gods and humans were waiting, to discuss some infrastructure in Valhalla.

-Loki had his hands behind his head as he floated alongside Odin, “Why do we have to attend this meeting? It doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

-Odin rolled his eye softly at Loki’s whining, and he went to speak with footsteps filled their air around them, little ones that didn’t belong to either of them.

-When Odin stopped, so did the footsteps, and when he started again, so did the mystery footsteps and he couldn’t help the smile that wormed its way to his lips.

-Loki couldn’t help but pout, seeing the smile, “Why do you smile when Y/N does it, but get mad when I do it?”

-Without hesitation, Odin answered, “Because you’re annoying and Y/N isn’t.” Loki held his chest like he had been insulted before he quickly turned and rushed to you, scooping you up into his arms, making you squeal as he spun around, whining to you, “Y/N~~ Odin’s being mean to me again~~”

-Odin turned as Loki floated over and Odin held out his hands to you, taking you in his arms, holding you up, “And what are you doing here, little one?”

-You beamed brightly up at him, blinding Odin, Muginn, Huginn, and Loki with your adorableness, “I saw you going on an adventure, papa, so I wanted to come too!”

-That’s how you saw all things that took you or anyone else away from your home in the Norse Pantheon, an adventure.

-Loki cooed, holding his cheeks on how cute you were while Odin couldn’t help but smile, as he decided to bring you along to the meeting as well, with hopes that nobody would say anything, he didn’t want to get violent with you around.

-You were his adorable little princess after all.

-When you entered the meeting hall, you saw a bunch of other people, humans and gods, there, waiting for everyone to arrive.

-Your eyes instantly lit up as Odin sat you down and you ran over to Hercules and Leonidas, both who greeted you warmly as Hercules swept you up, grinning brightly.

-Odin thought it was a little odd, seeing you being so social with others, especially humans, but then again, you were a sweet child, one that loved humanity. He still felt guilty for making you cry when you found out about Ragnarok before it had been cancelled, as you didn’t want humanity to be destroyed. You had so many friends in the humans, you didn’t want to lose them!

-Hercules sat you down and you went around to greet the other people that you knew, being an adorable ray of sunshine, which was funny because you were a nighttime goddess, being the Goddess of stars, night, moon, and wishes.

-A new face popped up, greeting you brightly, “Hello there little one, who are you?” You knew that this was Anubis, but he was someone you didn’t personally know.

-Despite being so bubbly and open with others, when faced with this new person, you surprised Anubis by stepping behind Lu Bu, peeking out from behind him, holding onto the leg of his pants.

-Anubis clutched his chest, quickly falling to his knees, overwhelmed by your cuteness, “So cute!!” Odin rolled his eye lightly, as you were still holding onto Lu Bu, but out a bit as Anubis offered you his hand, and soon you were smiling, being so warm and bubbly with him.

-Odin couldn’t help but smile, seeing you looking so happy, as the meeting was late to get started, as everyone wanted to greet you, wanting to experience your adorable cuteness for themselves.

-By the time the meeting started, you were sitting in Odin’s lap, fast asleep, a small smile on your face, content with seeing all your friends, both new and old.

-Odin glared at those getting loud, silently threatening them with harm if they woke you up. He was such a good papa to you.

[artdcnaldson]

PATRICK buying ART TOYS!!!! buying him a VIBRATING COCK RING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAKES him let him WATCH!!!!!!!! HE BOUGHT IT AFTER ALL……. ITS ONLY POLITE………….. sigh

-🩰

ok... yeah... sorry for the delay pookie wookie i hope you forgive me <3

But yeah <3 Patrick loves buying Art toys after he buys him the fleshlight <3 Loves thinking about how he contributes to Art's corruption with each little black bag he drops onto his bed.

But it's a joke! Of course it's a joke. It's a joke to watch Art splutter nervously and whine and beg Patrick to quit messing around when he pulls out whatever it is this week. It doesn't feel like a joke when Art pulls out a stroker toy or a bullet vibe and holds it in his big, lithe hands and Patrick feels his cock twitch just at the sight. Sometimes it really is a joke. A blow up doll, a ball gag (okay, that one was half a joke).

He gets back to their dorm first, almost twitching with anticipation as he waits for Art to get back and open up the bag Patrick left on his bed. It's after a late night at the gym (in which Patrick did not partake), so when Art gets back he's a little damp from his shower, flushed with exhaustion. And that blush only deepens when he sees the bag.

"How do you have the money to buy all this shit?" Art grumbles as he approaches the bed. "I could call your mom and get your card cancelled if she even knew the half of w—"

He goes quiet when he pulls out the package— thick plastic encasing a device he doesn't even know where to start with. He swallows, squints at it, tries to ignore the way his cock kicks with interest. "What is it?"

Patrick's mouth feels dry. "It's a, uh, it's a cock ring," he stammers, uncharacteristically affected by Art's obvious innocence.

"I thought they'd be different," Art says. But he's still holding it, Patrick notes. He hasn't dropped it and tried to pretend he wasn't interested. That was Art's way of doing things— pretend he wasn't into it until he was alone and could be a little degenerate in private. "Looks confusing."

"It's not," Patrick says. "I could show you."

He expects Art to scoff, to call him some name, to flip him off and change the subject. But he watches the bob of Art's adam's apple, meets his gaze. "Only if it isn't weird."

It's weird. They both know it's weird. Art's cock is nearly at half-mast, but Patrick still manages to fit the silicon ring around him, all the way down to his base.

Art whines, chest heaving, eyes lust-blown. "That's— ngh— tight. It's tight."

"It's s'posed to be," Patrick says, peering up at him from between his thighs. He adjusts it, so the attached vibrator rests at his perinium, a place Art hardly even thinks about, and now there's a firm pressure that makes heat build in his tummy, and Patrick presses a button and--

"Agh!—" He nearly doubles over when it starts vibrating, the muscles in his thighs trembling as the sensations overwhelm him. "Oh, oh fuck, Pat— ngh— Oh my god, that's— fuckfuckfuck— I can't— can't—"

Any other time, he would've blown his load early— cum buckets all over his lap and tummy. Instead, the snug ring at his base keeps him hard, and aching, and wanting. Right on the edge of release. His hips buck and his cock bobs, flushed an angry, needy red.

Patrick grins as Art clumsily pumps lotion into his hand and begins stroking his cock with fast, desperate movements. He's never seen Art this turned on... for this long. He's so used to seeing Art needy and cumming hard and fast.

This is new, it's delicious. "You're lasting pretty long, Art," Patrick teases, like he isn't rock hard in his sweats. "You should wear this more often."

"Shut— ngh— up—" Art whines, bucking into his fist. "Feels so— god— so good, it's— god, you've gotta try it—"

And Patrick will. God, he will. But he wants to watch Art use it a dozen more times before that happens.

It isn't long before Art can't hold back anymore. When he cries out with the most guttural, desperate moan Patrick's ever heard from him as he shoots ropes onto his shirt. He squirms and nearly cries with overstimulation until Patrick turns off the vibrator.

He's panting, breathing hard like he's just run a marathon. Red faced and laughing wryly. "You're evil. Stop buying me shit."

Patrick just grins back. He's not going to stop. He's going to ruin Art Donaldson for everyone else.

[sturnsmadl]

chris c.ai bot masterlist!

divider made by the talented @issysh3ll :)

if any links do not work or are wrong please pm or inbox me :)

♡-fluff ☆-angst ✉-dealer!chris

u spin me all around.☆

in which you and chris have a toxic relationship and you're trying everything you can to make him like you again but its no use.

clingy.♡

in which your enemy since childhood suddenly becomes very clingy towards you and turns up at your window after no contact from you.

captain.☆

in which your at a new school and you want to try out for the ice hockey team you being a girl makes chris assume differently.

grow up.☆♡

in which you and chris are teen parents and with chris' cheating past its hard to trust him but you make it work for your daughter.

you up?✉☆

in which chris is your friend with benefits currently in his phase of being obssessed with you so hes begging you to 'just come over' late at night.

you up? v2.✉☆

in which you and chris have been friends with benefits for a while but you're getting sick of his phases of hate towards you so you finally confront him.

hey...♡✰

in which chris is the grumpy guy who everyone seems to love and you've moved classes to his english class and you're stood at the front waiting to be seated.

mute.♡✰

in which you became mute after a traumatic event and everyone hates you for it, but the grumy new guy decides you're just misunderstood.

on and off.✰

in which you and chris are toxic friends with benefits but you can't seem to let him go even though you argue daily about him using you for sex.

are just friends? ♡

in which you and chris are 'best friends' but you're like a couple and chris was tired of pretending theres nothing between you so he decides to finally ask the big question.

seriously?✉♡✰

in which you and chris are a polar opposite couple, hes a drug dealer who keeps you secret for 'safety' but now you finally have time together and he's still working.

spoil.♡

in which chris is your rich, business owner husband, he had to cancel a date due to working late so he gives you his card, expecting you to spend thousands.

they'll stop.♡✰

in which chris was kicked out of his old school for fighting and was planning on doing the same here until he see's a girl he decides worth defending and staying for.

cut the camera.♡

in which chris is your boyfriend and today you're a guest on his and his brothers podcast for youtube and they're asking you questions.

im yours.♡✰

in which you and chris recently broke up and he has a new girl but you know you will always be his. he knew everything about you and recently he's been staring a lot.

just for tonight.✰

in which chris is the schools player and you're the only person he hasn't been with but he needs your help with his parents comments at dinner by bringing you as a date.

tour.✰

in which your the new, rich girl and the schools biggest player, who you've been warned about is your tour guide to show you around.

different.♡✰

in which you and chris are 2 different people but suddenly he see's you after so long and wants to get to know you, despite everyone calling you 'weird'.

liar.✰

in which chris is accusing you of cheating, even with his multiple cheats on you. you see the 'evidence' and you realise its believable enough, but its definitely not you.

your drug dealer.✉♡

in which chris is your drug dealer and he's been acting a lot like a boyfriend recently, he finishes some deals and messages you.

distracted.♡✰

in which chris is your boyfriend and he's been bad in hockey recently, all his team mates blame you, including the one who constantly hits on you and chris loses it.

morning.♡

in which chris is your childhood bestfriend who moved due to blowing up online and he still texts you good morning when he knows its morning time for you.

sticky fingers.♡✰✉

in which you and chris are very young parents but chris has a habit of stealing stuff for you, you decide to trust him today while doing errands.

nail tech.♡✰

in which chris is your ex but you're still his and his brothers nail tech. today its just chris getting his nails done.

dumbass.♡

in which you are the smart girl and chris is your slightly slower boyfriend who you've been with since freshman year.

hate game?✰

in which you and chris are dating but recently he's been toxic and secretive, aswell as the hate you both receive its hard but you feel like you're the only one trying.

hooters.♡

in which you're a hooters worker and chris has been coming in a lot more recently with his brothers.

food tech.♡✰

in which you're a uk food tech student and you've been paired with the fuckboy, chris to do your 'experiment'

glass child.♡✰

in which chris is your brothers best friend and he's the only one whos noticed how alone and shut off you've become recently.

speak up.♡✰

in which chris is a frat boy who's had most girls in his bed but when he finally sees you, the quiet girl he makes it his lifes mission to get you too.

gentle.♡✰

in which chris is your foster dad who realised the best way to stay close to you is to take the gentle parenting approach.

it's fine.✰

in which you and chris got forced into a arranged marriage at a young age and now your arguing everyday since you moved in together.

you're here?♡✰

in which you're a popstar and you're nervous to perfrom for the first time, your ex chris turns up trying to get you back after cheating, increasing your nerves.

neighbour.✰

in which chris the cocky, hockey captain is your neighbour who you absolutely hate because of how loud his parties are.

perfect.♡✰

in which chris is the captain of the hockey team and for the end of year game his team has to learn to be bases for the cheerleaders and you get paired with him.

nightmare.♡

in which chris has came home from a business trip and you forgot to tell him about your recent nightmares.

mad hatter.✰✉

in which you and chris are friends with benefits but you're staring to realise he only wants you when you're high, making you a whole lot more toxic.

late.♡✰

in which you're the new girl and you're basically mute from how quiet you are, you're late already and you get sat next to chris.

why'd you lie.✰

in which you and chris broke up and chris decided to lie to everyone, of course everyone believed him but you still have no clue what he said exactly.

you're always there.♡✰

in which you're chris' ex and his mum loves you so much so when you take his stuff back she invites you in.

she's mine.♡✰

in which chris is your protective boyfriend and today hes late to school, you being alone gives chris' enemy other ideas.

what?♡✰

in which chris is secretly dealing and you think he's cheating so you wait to find out whats really going on.

young and dumb.♡✰

in which you're about to give birth very young and you want to see how chris is handling himself.

she'll be back.♡✰

in which you are chris' main hookup and you cut him off because you feel used but he's positive that you'll return.

her?♡✰

in which chris is the popular player and you're the quiet girl, chris never knew you even existed but what happens when he finally sees you?

messed up.♡✰✉

in which your dealer roomate chris comes back late at night and you can tell he is in pain, not that he'll ever admit it.

dinner.♡✰

in which yours and chris' parents are big business owners and they are determined to get you two together.

its done.✰

in which you and chris are the popular couple who recently broke up due to being toxic and you need to speak to him but he's with his friends.

roomate.✰

in which you find out you have to share a college dorm with your highschool enemy for the rest of college.

reunion♡✰

in which you're chris' ex but his family still means a lot to you, you and your mum came to their bbq where you'll have to face chris after the breakup.

singer.♡

in which chris is your boyfriend who loves that you do music and loves watching you sing your new songs.

mean.♡✰

in which you and chris are in the same friend group but chris makes it his lifes mission to make you feel miserable to hide his true feelings.

the baby project.♡✰

in which chris is your biggest enemy and you get paired together to be parents to a doll for your class.

stepbrother.♡✰

in which chris is your stepbrother who you live with but you rarely talk any of them since you're not very well liked.

he's a sweetheart.♡✰✉

in which chris is your dealer who is very blunt but also tries to hide his huge soft spot for you even with no label.

hey ma.♡✰✉

in which chris is your dealer whos been dropping your rpices like crazy and you need some weed late at night.

hey ma v2.♡✰✉

in which chris is your dealer whos been dropping your prices lately, u havent heard from him in a while until he gets off a big deal.

therapist.♡✰

in which chris is your therapist and he started the job thinking it would be just about drama and gossip at school but your sessions make him realise otherwise.

collab.♡

in which you, chris and his brothers are filming a collab video for youtube and chris realises he the only one who hasn't got your number

roll it.♡✰✉

in which chris is your roomate and also a dealer who you can only just tolerate and you shock him by asking him to roll one even when you're so against smoking.

enemies to lovers.✰

in which chris is your enemy but you have to go to his house because of your families friendship.

holiday crush.♡

in which you're on a trip to see your best friend and a boy called chris catches your eye while you're on the beach.

did u?♡✰✉

in which chris is your legal gaurdian and you're suddenly interrupted while having dinner by the police.

prom?♡✰

in which chris your best friend and everyone says he like you but you just brush it off, you both have very different opinions about the upcoming prom.

how do you feel?♡✰

in which chris is your boyfriend who has made it clear he is not quite ready for kids but you just found out you were pregnant and you have to tell him.

bfb.♡✰✉

in which chris is your best friends brother and also a dealer, you've stayed over due to some home issues and you try to find your friend in the morning.

child.✰

in which you and chris have a kid together but you broke up so you rarely see him until you both get called into the school office because of a fight.

bsf's gf.♡✰

in which chris is your boyfriends best friend who's always there and you dont know he's secretly liked you for ages and he hates the way his best friend is treating you.

i hate it here.♡✰

in which chris has been your boyfriend for a while but you have only just let him come over which means your controlling mum will meet him.

smartass.♡✰

in which chris your boyfriend and you're super smart but hes on the slower side and you're finally back in school after having a while off.

debate.✰

in which your in debate class which happens to be full of boys and today were having the discussion of the 'man or bear?' debate.

not a big drinker.♡✰✉

in which you moved in with chris and he's obviously not your biggest fan because he loves being drunk but hes not allowed since you arrived.

separated.✰✉

in which chris is a mean player and you have to live with his family so you attempt to be friends with them.

stress.♡✰

in which chris is your calm boyfriend but you stress about everything but hes determined to help you be calmer.

am i even there?♡✰

in which chris is popular for being a huge player and you're the quiet girl, everyone loves chris and for some reason nobody likes you so you keep getting shipped.

he's so nice.♡

in which chris is the player who isn't cruel and stays friends with all the girls he lets down slowly and seems to be the only one raised half right in his friend group.

can we just talk?♡✰✉

in which chris isn't bothered to help you when you've begged him for help for a long time and its becoming draining.

back up.♡✰

in which you recently became a popular influencer and your boyfriend chris has become clingy even at the mall.

different.♡✰

in which chris is your boyfriend but you're polar opposites since he's more on the wealthy side but you're definitely not.

support.♡✰

in which chris is a behavior teacher and since your old one left on maternity leave he's replaced her and you're now meeting him.

what are you doing?!✰

in which you live with chris' family and he hates it because he thinks you're so innocent but you prove him wrong by accident.

i hope this is easier to choose bots. theres also a lot more since its updated, my break is kinda still on but i really wanna post this :) i hope ur all happy and healthy, take care of yourself <3

taglist! @bellaonthelow @hrtsdollie @moonk1ss3d @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @fratbrochrisgf @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chrisss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii @stvrlighht @asherrisrandom @amelia-sturniolo3 @pvssychicken @owensbabygirl @ncm9696 @sturniolo-fann @watchu-mean-baby-keem @babyalliah-777 @imtheprett @coochiedestroyer1 @scarlettbitches @slutniolo @idkwhatthisis2009 @anabanabanana @chriscorqutte @slvttie-zx

[h0neysp1ce]

Hii

Sorry if this is weird but please can I request some headcanons with Kaveh, Alhaitham and Diluc (Also if you don't write Diluc, Tighnari is good instead) where the Reader has extremely painful period cramps, like to the point where they need to vomit and can't move 🙏

Not at all! here you go 💚🫶

˚୨୧⋆｡˚  Summary: ↑ How does he take care of his s/o when they have very bad cramps?

Characters: Kaveh, Alhaitham, Diluc, Tighnari Tags: Established Relationship (all Separate) Fluff?? Constellation: Head canons Warning(s): Mentions of Period symptoms, nothing graphic reader can be read as gender neutral or Female (Had no clue which one to put so I put both) ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ 

A/N: I tried my best, apologies if Diluc's and Tighnari's Parts are shorter, and hopefully I went into enough detail as you asked , also I hope I titled it in the most un akward way possible, This was my first time writing something like this so I hope its not to bad ^^"

sorta Proof read (will edit later)

Word Count: 1243

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Kαʋҽԋ 🎨

This man is worried about you the moment you start not feeling great.

There's no need to feel embarrassed or ashamed; he understands that this is something you go through.

It’s nothing new, really. You've been open with him about your cramps being bad, and he understands that.

The first time this happened, it freaked him out because he thought something was wrong with you until you told him what it was, and he calmed down.

Kaveh: "Alright, I'm back with the heating pad and snacks."

You: "Kaveh, aren’t you supposed to be out working with a client today?"

Kaveh: "Oh no, I canceled all my work for today. I’m not leaving you alone and unattended."

You: "KAVEH!!? No, don’t worry about me. You should worry about your work. I know it's stressful and—"

Kaveh: "No, you're more important right now. Please, let me take care of you."

If you end up getting sick, like feeling like you’re about to vomit at any moment, he’ll be there with you, holding your hair back if you're actively getting sick, rubbing circles into your back, and staying with you in the bathroom until you feel better and can get back to bed.

Knowing that you can’t move much in this state, he'll take it upon himself to get you things. Want food? He’ll make you some. Want cuddles? He’ll gladly cuddle you.

He’ll have medicine ready for you along with a glass of water and a heating pad.

This man pampers you 100%.

It pains him to see you hurting and not feeling your best. You won’t see it, but he tends to have a frown on his face when you're hurting. He’s doing everything he can, but he can’t take your pain away completely, and it makes him sad.

He’d take away the pain and discomfort from you if he could.

Most of the time is spent cuddling. It doesn’t matter to him; whatever makes you most comfortable and relieves at least some of your pain is what matters to him.

He’ll kiss your face all over, along with some hand kisses, giving positive affirmations that you’re going to get through it, that it’s going to be okay, that you’re very strong, and that it’s only temporary.

His voice goes soft when talking to you, running a hand gently through your hair. He’ll be looking at you often, always asking if you're alright or if you need anything.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Aʅԋαιƚԋαɱ 📚

He’s read plenty of books to know what you’re going through and the best treatments for it.

He knows what it is without even having to ask you, as you’re wrapped around the toilet suffering.

He’ll sit with you and wait until you feel slightly well enough to get back to resting.

He will be honest with you and say that he doesn’t mind or care; there’s no shame or embarrassment. It’s a normal thing you go through.

If you let him, he’ll use his hands to place them on your abdomen. He has warm hands, and he’ll keep them there if it helps relieve the pain and discomfort, even just a little bit.

He’ll pull off his cape and put it on you if that helps comfort you in some way.

If you’re lying down, he’ll make sure to pull you closer. Usually, he doesn’t like being so close, but he’s doing this for you because he cares.

You: "Alhaitham, am I burdening you?"

Alhaitham: "I've told you multiple times already that you’re not a burden. You just need help and assistance right now, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Now go back to sleep." (says this while reading a book)

He’ll carry you or pick you up and take you places since moving by yourself is a no-go.

He’ll be reading a book while you lay with him. In reality, he’s keeping an eye on you, not reading a page of that book, just pretending.

This man would take the pain away from you in a heartbeat if he could.

He’ll be with you the entire time through this tough period.

He’ll make sure you take your medicine every few hours as directed.

In a modern AU, he’d likely turn on a movie or something for you, and you two would stay in bed mostly. He’ll also get you anything you need, don’t worry.

He’s still able to do his job remotely from home as the Akademiya's Grand Scribe. What, did you think this man was going to work while you weren’t feeling your best? Nope! He’s going to take care of you because that’s what partners do.

Even if he shows little affection normally, he’ll make sure to give you some during this time.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Dιʅυƈ 🍷

He’s more than aware when he wakes up and finds you not up, as you’re usually up before him.

He’ll ask you, and when you confirm his suspicions, he’ll grab some things (food, whatever you want if you just ask him).

He’ll also make a quick trip to the Tavern and have someone take over for him for a couple of days since he’s going to focus on you right now.

If you allow him, he’ll heat up his hands with his Pryo Vision and place them on your abdomen to ease your cramps slightly. If you’re feeling sick at any point, just tap on him or signal him, and he’ll make sure you get to the bathroom.

He’ll always take one of your hands, pepper kisses all over, and look at you while the two of you are in bed as you relax.

This man is a gentleman (all the men are gentlemen).

Your well-being is a main priority for him.

He’ll shower you with affection and pamper you lots.

He’ll always talk with you and explain that if you need anything at all, just tell him. It’s no bother nor burden. He’ll always assure you that you’re his partner and that he cares about you, giving plenty of reassurance if you need it.

All his duties will be resumed once you’re feeling better completely, so don’t worry about him being behind or anything. He still manages things remotely from Dawn Winery.

Diluc: "Please do tell me if you need anything, anything at all."

You: "Of course I will, Diluc. I love you."

Diluc: "Love you too."

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

Tιɠԋɳαɾι 🌻

He’ll brew up some tea or have you drink a glass of water first when you confirm with him that it’s that time.

He has plenty of medicine and herbs on hand to ease your cramps and maybe the nausea caused by them.

He’ll let you have snacks but will also make sure you have balanced meals, going for the healthy approach.

Don’t be afraid of your mood changes or swings; he understands. He’s not going to be mad if you end up snapping at him.

He’ll try to limit his job as a Forest Ranger so he can keep an eye on you and take care of you.

The first time it happened, he thought you’d come down with some sort of sickness until you told him what was happening. He understood and went out of his way to help you (though he did end up going on a ten-minute ramble about what you already knew and didn’t need to hear).

If you have back pain, he’ll rub your back for you. If you’re feeling any other discomfort, he’ll do whatever he can to help.

He also tends to give you face kisses and affection. He’s a cuddle person and doesn’t mind you being clingy (none of the men mind you being clingy).

Tighnari: "Now remember what I told you, [Name]?"

You: "Tighnari, we’ve been over this five times already." sigh

Tighnari: "I just need to make sure you’re retaining the information."

You: "This is going to take a while."

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ﾟ ｡ﾟ•┈｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა

[ericshoney]

Fight ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: You get into a fight at school, your brothers find out and aren't happy, until you tell them the reason.

Warnings: Fighting, violence, drama, bullying, name calling, shouting, sorry to all the Jenna's, angst with a happy ending.

~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't mind school that much. Sometimes it was hard, especially with your brothers' fans. You had a few friends who were real with you and didn't care who your brothers were, however, many tried to be your friends due to you having famous brothers.

However, today was a rough day. Your maths teacher was being a right bitch, your best friend was off sick so you couldn't talk to them and your hockey practise had been cancelled, which was one of your favourite things about school. You were planning on just going home at this point, already about to cry. That was until you saw Jenna at your locker, her little posse laughing as they crowd around her.

Jenna was your worst enemy. She wasn't a fan of your brothers, which you were quite grateful for, but she took that as an invite to hate you, which you gladly returned.

"What the fuck are you doing around my locker." You called, walking over.

"Oh, just a bit of, redecorating." Jenna said with a smirk.

She moved out of the way and you saw writing all over your locker. Lots of hateful words and names. Slut. Clout chaser. Dumbass. Many more. Which made your blood boil.

"What you gonna do, go cry to your brothers. They don't give a fuck about you, that's why they left when they could." She said laughing.

"Fuck you." You spat.

"Aww is the little baby gonna cry~" She teased.

"I've had enough with your shit, Jenna! Don't have to like my brothers I don't like you! But you don't have to a fucking asshole!" You shouted.

"Your just an attention seeking whore." She called. Which was the last straw.

You threw your bag down and shoved Jenna into the lockers. She screamed as you punched her in the face and then pushed her to the ground. She tried to defend herself, getting a few punches and scratches here, but you were stronger, you grew up with four older brothers after all. You didn't stop, seeing the blood pour from her nose and lips, until you were pulled off by a teacher.

"Principles office now!" They shouted.

You sighed and grabbed your bag, ignoring the blood on your face from Jenna's nails scratching you.

"Your being suspended for two weeks. You can't go around causing fights. This is your third one." The principle said.

"She fucked up my locker and said shit to me and about my brothers!" You screamed.

"You threw the first punch." He responded.

"Take the two weeks, we'll have you back and you'll still be on the hockey team." He added.

You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off.

"Argue with me and you'll be benched for the season." He said.

You sighed and slumped down in your chair, watching as he rang home. Nick, Matt and Chris were home in Boston for a while, but you thought they might be hanging out with Nate. So you expected your mum or dad to answer the call. You listened to your principle explain that you needed picking up about a fight. You looked at your shoes until he hung up the phone.

"Your brothers are coming, I will have a talk with Nick." He told you.

Shit you thought. You knew they would probably be mad, but you knew your mum would be upset as it was your third one.

"When you come back after your two weeks, your on thin ice. One more fight will lead to being expelled and off the team." He said.

You sighed again and sat quietly. About twenty minutes later, Nick walked in. You saw he wasn't happy. The principle explained the fight and your punishment before you were allowed to leave. Nick placed a hand on your shoulder as he led you to the car, where Chris and Matt were waiting.

"We'll talk once we get home." He said, his voice scarily calm.

You got in the car, both Chris and Matt gave you a look of disappointment before Matt drove home. It was a quiet ride home.

When you parked up and headed inside, Matt made you sit at the kitchen island as Chris grabbed a first aid kit, ready to clean up your scratches.

"It might hurt." Chris mumbled as he cleaned up the open wounds.

You stayed still, not wanting to make them more angry as he cleaned them up, the blood now removed from your face.

"What the fuck happened?" Matt asked, running a hand through his hair.

You started to explain what happened, from your bad day, to Jenna pissing you off. You were about to explain how she said shit about you and about them, but Nick cut you off.

"You can't go around starting fights just because someone doesn't like us!" He shouted.

"She said shit about me! Wrote stuff on my locker! Said shit about you! I wasn't going to let that slide, Nick!" You shouted back.

"You were defending us." Chris replied.

"Yeah, so what she doesn't like you. But it doesn't give her the right to say shit about you." You responded.

Your brothers fell quiet as you held your head in your hands. A few tears slipping down your cheeks.

"Mum and dad are gonna be so mad." You mumbled.

"I mean....we're not happy, but we get it." Matt said gently.

"It's my third fight." You admitted.

"What?" Nick called.

"Principle said if it happens again I'll be off the hockey team. Mum said if I had another fight I'd not go with you to LA this summer." You answered.

"We'll talk to mum and dad, okay. But what you need to do is find a way to release this anger in a different way. People don't like us, that's fine, we don't care. We have real fans and one is right in front of us. That's all that matters to us and your safety. You can't lose hockey, that's your safe place. But if this Jenna is a real problem, then we need to have a meeting with her parents too." Matt said.

"I'm sorry." You apologised.

"We understand why you did it. It's not the right thing, but we get it. So we can't be fully mad. Plus your not that injured so we taught you well." Chris said with a cheeky grin.

You smiled a bit as you looked at them, the three of them hugging you tightly.

"Well....I now have two weeks off school, so what should we do?" You asked with a small laugh.

"Your most probably grounded, kid. Don't push your luck." Nick answered.

You sighed as they laughed, but you knew they were right. You were just happy they didn't get really mad.

[procyonloser]

Adam was waiting for Lucifer to show up to their meeting, which was always an exercise in frustration. Lucifer always fucking cancelled, with some bullshit made up reason, and he'd send someone else in his stead. Lilith, one of the sins, he once had Charlie do it when she was like 4, which Adam wagered she didn't remember.

He spun his pen around between his fingers, then tried balancing it on his nose, before it fell and rolled under the table. Adam huffed and leaned down, realizing how far the fucker had actually gone. He grumbled, getting on his hands and knees to reach out and grab the pen, but when he tried to get back up, the horns of his mask caught on the curved gold supports under the table. Adam cursed, trying to wiggle free, but it just wouldn't go. Why the fuck was Lute on leave today, her ass should have been the one getting his pen-

"........Adam? I uh can't tell if that's you from...behind."

Motherfucker! Of all times Lucifer actually decides to show up, after ten thousand fucking years out trying to get him in a meeting, this was the only time he actually turned up?!

"I actually fucking hate you! Go die!" Adam yelled, trying to push against the table, but his head was good and stuck. He tried taking off his mask, but it was such an enclosed space he couldn't get it off. He struggled and struggled, but nothing was happening.

"Fucking help me or I'll burn down your awful fuckin' theme park!" Adam barked out, using anger to hide the fact this was actually the most embarrassing thing to have happened to him, and he was including eating the apple and realizing he was fully wang out his entire life.

"Okay, okay, goodness you really need to work on that temper..." Lucifer said, before hands landed on Adam's hips. He pulled, and Adam only went back a bit, but it didn't free him. He tried again, and again, until he was just rocking them back and forth. Lucifer's grip dug into his flesh as they rocked, but it didn't seem to be doing much.

"Fuck, Lucifer." Adam whined, starting to feel claustrophobic. "It's too much! You've got to do it harder!"

"I...um," Lucifer started, sounding a bit off. "I need to... go. Right now, right away. Good luck, Adam! I'll see you next time! Maybe!"

"Wait- what?! Don't leave me here, asshole!" Adam panicked, but suddenly the room was quiet. Then it went dark as the lights went out.

"... Fuck."

[terrifictomholland]

my art, my muse

So, quite some time ago I said on here I'd write for Tom and well - here it is! It's been a fun ride! As always I can't help but to thank @worldoftom for being the very best beta a girl could ask for! So thank you very very much darling!

word count: 6.9K

warnings: look this is nothing but absolute filth! its got a whole bunch of stuff lmao - but oral (female and male) dirty talk, spitting (ooops) slight dom-Tom, please please please, if you are under 18, don't read this I don't want to corrupt youngsters!

Without further ado, enjoy!

The doorbell rang when you opened the door, entering the tattoo shop that you spotted on a whim. The idea had been brewing in your head for some time now to get a piece done, but you hadn’t been quite sure as to what to get done. The smell of leather and disinfectant burrowing into your nostrils, somewhat of a comforting smell and the sound of a tattoo-gun in use. 

“Yo! Welco- holy shit!” a curly red-haired guy cut himself off seeing you from a seat behind a counter. Your head swiveled around looking behind you as to why this guy cursed the way he did. 

“Y’alright?” you mused seeing the slight red tint on his cheeks. “I’ll willingly put money in the shit-I–say jar in a second, but I just know you’re my brothers’ walking sex-on-legs dream come true right now.” He explained and a raucous laugh exploded out of you, your head thrown back from the unexpected comment. 

“Oh? Who’s this brother of yours then?” you asked cheekily and the red-haired guy grinned. “He’s gonna be doing your tattoo seeing as how his client just cancelled on him, so you’re in luck to torture him,” he schemed and you grinned even more. 

“How interesting, thank you for the information,” to which he bowed his head. “Always happy to put Tom in a hard position,” that innuendo didn’t go unnoticed by you as you laughed once again. 

“Anyway, what’s your name? and more importantly what are you getting done and where?” He asked wiggling his eyebrows. “Aren’t you a cheeky bugger? M’names Y/N. As for the tattoo, only for me and well, Tom to know and you too maybe, find out if you’re lucky,” you winked and his eyes glittered.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Harry and I must say, Tom might just have met his match,” he held out his hand to which you took and shook. 

It was very fun and lighthearted talking to Harry while this infamous brother of his, Tom, finished doing some work on another client. While you waited, you and Harry made some idle chit-chat and you looked around in the shop.

It was surprisingly airy and neat, a light green with dark wood finishes. Tiny knick-knacks of things that seemed like they were personal to the brothers. Such as different but very cool mulled wine bottles, an array of different Marvel figurine bobble-heads - actually, a bunch of different Spider-Man bobble-heads for some reason. 

“Hazza? Why are there so many bobble-heads of Spider-man?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Hmm, Tom’s obsession since he was little,” he shrugged and you nodded continuing on to look at some very professional looking photos of a guy tattooing a client. You presumed the artist was Tom, but you couldn’t see his face. Only his gloved hand holding a tattoo gun working on a very detailed rose piece. It was stunning, both the photograph and the design of the piece. 

“Who took this photo?” You couldn’t look away from the various photos that hung on the walls, all in the same kind of style, showcasing the talent of both the photographer and the tattoo artist. They worked brilliantly together and it really showed.

“Oh! I did, I’ve shot all of these photos in here actually,” you could hear the pride in his voice and you turned to him, giving him a wide smile, “these are incredible,” to which his cheeks turned an adorable red hue. 

“Thank you,” he said modestly, “but in all fairness, Tom’s a really good sport in letting me hover over him when he’s working, he makes my job fairly easy,” he told you earnestly and so far, from all that Harry had said about this Tom, he seemed to be a really good and stand-up guy. “That’s a really nice thing to say about your sibling. But, may I ask where this brother of yours is? Not that you’re not impeccable company,” you winked.

“This brother of his is right here,” a raspy voice said from behind and you saw Harry grin and throw you a wink as you turned around. 

Oh boy.

What Harry had seemed to forgot to mention was that Tom was sex-on-legs for you, because damn oh damn. 

Standing against the door-frame to a room in the back, was easily the hottest guy you’d ever laid eyes on. You felt him give you a once-over as you did the same. Time suspended for a moment as you drank all of his features in. 

Black fitted jeans, showing off what looked to be very strong and muscled thighs which you wouldn’t mind climbing all over. Your eyes wandered further up over to his chest and arms, he was wearing a white simple t-shirt that he made look a million bucks. A broad chest and neck which you wouldn’t be opposed as to sink your teeth in and really mark him up. 

An air of confidence about the way he held and carried himself, something slightly dangerous, but in the best and more enthralling way. He wasn’t afraid to show you who was boss, and for him? You’d abso-fucking-lutely let him. 

But the killer? For sure his arms, splattered with tattoos, at first seemingly random ones but the closer you looked, they weren’t random at all. They all told a story - the story of Tom. 

You couldn’t really take your eyes off of his arms. So defined and fucking hot, his biceps were stuff you wrote poems about. So well-sculpted, as though he was made of marble. Veins running all over his forearms that just pulled you in. 

Veiny arms and hands were your ultimate weakness and something told you that he knew he was hot-shit, by the way his eyes raked all over you. 

“You’re Tom?” you cleared your throat once and a smirk formed at the corner of his lips. “The one and only,” his voice was ever so slightly husky and raspy when he spoke to you and you shuddered in delight. 

All of a sudden, getting a tattoo today was the best goddamn decision you’d made in ages if it meant getting to spend the rest of your day in the company of Tom.

He had the perfect face, a jaw sharp enough to cut glass, dark brown eyes that could read you like a book and the most perfectly kissable lips. Which you wanted to do, very badly. 

“and you are?” he prodded and you snapped out of your own little world which was full of Tom, all over you and very sweaty. “Hmm? Oh! I’m Y/N,” you recovered giving him a slight smile. 

“Nice t’meet ya,” he pushed off the door frame to come closer to you, giving you his outstretched hand. 

Fuck, he smelled intoxicatingly good as well. As if he didn’t already have everything going for him. 

“You too,” you said taking his hand and shaking it confidently and he licked his lips when your hands met, briefly looking down on them. “Wanna head back?” You swore his voice deepened ever so slightly when he said that, or it was merely your imagination. He smirked once again and you knew he knew the effects he had on you. “Lead the way,” you said and you could hear Harry snickering behind you, having watched your exchange.

“Don’t forget to wrap it before you tap it!” He shouted and you couldn’t help but the mortified laugh as Tom flipped him off. 

“Well that’s professional,” you smirked taking a seat in the chair. “What can I say, if he can dish it out he can damn well take it too,” he shrugged nonchalantly taking a seat on his chair, facing to look at you. 

“So, what are you wanting done?” all of a sudden his voice changed and he was back to professional Tom which made you smile to yourself, “I’d like a mandala,” you said after a beat seeing him pull out an iPad, pulling up a programme in where he started to draw on it. 

“Yeah? That’s cool, anything specific you want in the mandala? A specific pattern or so?” he prodded having already started to work on a design for you. 

“Nah I’m good, putting my faith in you not to fuck me up,” you grinned cheekily and he snorted, “Thanks for the vote of confidence,”.

“Anytime,” you winked and he let out a small laugh. “What about this?” he turned the iPad after a moment and you were rendered speechless, he’d drawn up the most gorgeous mandala design you’d ever laid eyes on. “Yeah, yep it’s perfect,” you hummed not being able to take your eyes off it. He smiled proudly seeing the way you looked at it, feeling a burst of warmth inside of him. 

“Where do you want it?” 

“My thigh, please,” he nodded, eyes landing on your thigh, ever so slightly moving upwards which made your insides clench. “How big?” he asked, his eyes landing on yours and you flushed imagining something else entirely. “The piece?” he added when you were still far too in your own head and your cheeks heated even more now and he smirked - a devious look in his eyes. “Oh, um, I was thinking maybe half of my upper thigh? Would it be a good size?” watching the way he fiddled on the iPad for a moment before a stencil came from the machine by all of his equipment and he smiled at you, “I think it’ll be good, I’m just gonna place it on you and if you’re not happy with it we’ll change it because I won’t let you leave here unhappy okay?” his eyes shone with earnest and it made butterflies erupt inside of you. 

“Thank you,” you gave him a warm smile and he returned it before gloving up in a black latex glove and he put some lotion on the tip of his finger, rubbing it on your skin and placing the stencil there. 

You couldn’t help but to stare at him as he worked, eyebrows pinched together in concentration, lips pursed as he moved quickly and swiftly with precision, you felt utterly at ease in his more than capable hands. 

And oh, those hands. 

Albeit gloved up, those hands were something else entirely. From the glance you got before he put those gloves on, they were slender, long and veiny in all the right places. Not to mention how skillful they were, oozed a certain kind of confidence that could completely unravel you. 

“Have a look and say what you think of the placement, if anything feels wrong we’ll fix it,” he urged, and you stood up and walked over to the full-length mirror he had and you looked at it, both in the mirror and down on your thigh. 

“It’s so good, it’s the perfect place,” he grinned feeling happy with himself you could tell. “Thank you, that makes me happy to hear,” he grinned right back and you went back to his chair that he had wrapped in cling-film while you admired your soon-to-be tattoo. 

“I’m taking it you’ve done this before, but even if it’s been a while, just a quick reminder,” he started and to be frank, you didn’t hear much of what he said except all of the innuendos he’d managed to capture in that one single sentence. “If at any point, you start feeling woozy, or just really fatigued, tell me or tap my shoulder and I’ll stop okay? I’ve got juice and snacks so just tell me yeah? I really don’t fancy you fainting in my chair,” the seriousness in his eyes made you melt inside. 

“I promise I’ll let you know if anything is bothering me,” you reassured and he gave you a quick but warm smile, a small nod before he turned to filling up his little ink caps with black ink.

“Is it just gonna be black or do you want some colour?” he asked, taping up his tattoo gun.

“Nah black will be fine,” you got yourself comfortable as the buzz of the tattoo gun came alive. Soon enough you felt the familiar sting of the tiny needles against your skin and you shut your eyes at first. No matter how many tattoos you had, the first few strokes were always the roughest. 

“You okay?” he asked as if he could read your mind. “Yeah, yeah, just getting used to the pain again,” you told him honestly and he gave you a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to say it’s too late to change your mind now, if I stop now you’ll just end up with a dickish looking line,” he smirked to distract you from the pain and it worked, it made you laugh. 

“I’ll be fine, i’m a big girl,” you braved and his eyebrows raised slightly, “Oh yeah?” his voice laced with something more, something darker. 

“Intrigued now are we?” you teased and he gave you a cheeky grin as he kept working on your piece. The pain lessening with each stroke he did. 

“Maybe,” 

“Your brother said a curious thing when I first came in here today,” you started and he momentarily stopped and looked at you very cautiously. 

“What’d he say?” 

You smirked, “Oh just something that piqued my interest is all, how I’m apparently your sex-on-legs dream come true,” and he let out a husky laugh. In that moment you felt a rush of confidence go through you knowing that Harry was right. 

“Well, he can sleep with one eye open tonight then,” he muttered and you shook your head amused, “I’m not hearing a denial,” 

“Watch it, I’m the one with a gun,” he warned going back to your thigh starting it back up. “Yeah, apparently two,” you smirked smugly. He met your gaze for the briefest of seconds and that glance alone told you everything he didn’t say out loud. 

“The mouth on you,” he muttered as he kept going on the tattoo. You felt absolutely victorious. “What’re you gonna do about it?” 

“Have half a mind to just put you over my goddamn lap,” those words went straight to your core and you sucked in a breath and by the smirk on his face, he’d heard it. Your heart thudded in your ears at the thought of his strong hands coming down on your ass, your cunt leaking all over this thigh - right here in the tattoo chair. 

Oh god damn. 

“Oh? Did I press a button there?” now it was his turn to sound all smug and mighty when you tried to ever-so-slightly shift positions. He knew he did and you really fucking liked it, you pondered how far you could let it go. 

“So what if you did?” you played nonchalantly as though this didn’t effect you in the slightest when you both knew it very much did. 

A smirk widened on his face, “well then, we’re gonna have fun in this chair aren’t we?” and that sent heat pool in your core at the words and your previous thought that flooded your mind. 

“I guess we are,” you fired back with equal amount of heat. You didn’t think you’d ever wanted someone as badly as you did in that moment, in all of your life. The time left in the chair would be unbearable with him touching you and the ache you felt between your legs. 

That’s how it went for another hour and a half while he filled in the lines and started on doing the shading, the two of you walking along a precarious line of chatting and getting to know one another and coming up with the craziest foreplay you’d ever been apart of. 

All the while you felt a consistent heat in your core that simply never faded but you tried to move past. 

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” you hummed and he glanced at you while he filled up with some more ink. “Yeah?” 

“Do you like watching tv-series?” you began and a confused look crossed his face, “sure, who doesn’t?” 

“So here’s the real question, from all the shows you’ve watched - which show has the best first kiss?” he let out a small laugh.

“Sorry babe, but that’s not really what I focus on when I watch shows,” you pouted, “c’mon! Ask me the same question then!” you tutted to which he rolled his eyes, going back to the tattoo. You winced and he noticed and stopped immediately, “You okay?” 

“Yeah yeah, just quite sore from earlier when you went over that,” you told him honestly and he gave you a sympathetic smile, “Sorry babe, I’ll be more gentle,”. That however made you perk up, “who said I want gentle?” 

“You’re fucking incorrigible,” he groaned and you giggled, “ooh look at you and those big words,” you taunted and he just sighed, “anyway, who’s the best first kiss in a show?” 

“Nick and Jess from New Girl, don’t you fucking dare tell me otherwise - that’s right! I said what I said,” you stuck your chin out daring him to say anything else. He pondered your answer for a moment before nodding, “yeah okay, fair enough, can’t argue with that kiss - it’s a really epic first kiss,” and you smiled satisfied with his answer. 

“Good answer, I approve,” 

“What do you do for a living anyway?” he changed the subject and you smiled knowing he was doing his best to distract you from a very dull pain and you were eternally grateful for it. 

“Oh you know, I’m a pornstar,” you said off-handedly and the tattoo gun went quiet and he just stared at you, “Yo-what?” 

You smirked smugly at him, “nah I’m fucking with you, I’m a florist,” you said with a whole lot of enthusiasm in your eye and he let out a laugh, “Ah damn, what a shame I thought I’d seen you somewhere on Pornhub,” he winked and you let out a loud cackle. 

“That’s meee!” you followed along and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the banter. 

“How do you like it?” he asked after a while, “I love it, it’s all I’ve ever known - my grandmother started the business when she was a young girl and it was passed down to my mum and now I’m running the show,” you smiled proudly and he smiled in turn hearing you speak so passionately about your family business. 

“That makes a whole lot of sense that’s your job, you were made for making others happy,” 

“That’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me,” you said shyly and he gave you a tender smile. “Well you deserve to hear it,” 

                              ****

“How many do you have?” you motioned towards his tattoo on his arm, a few of them splattered here and there. “Around twelve or fifteen I think, I’ve lost count,” he sheepishly admitted. “How do you lose count?” you asked with genuine curiosity. 

“Well, it’s quite easy to forget when you get them done absolutely sloshed,” he winced and you let out a laugh.

“Which one matters the most to you?”

“Oh, easily this one, my most recent one. My dog recently died so I’ve got her little paws with me forever,” he gave you the gentlest smile and showed you the paws he had on the inside of his left arm. “I’m sorry for your loss, but it’s a beautiful way to honour her,” you gave a gentle smile in return. 

                               *****

You let out a small gasp seeing the tattoo all done in the mirror, “Oh Tom, it’s absolutely gorgeous,” you whispered in awe, unable to take your eye off of the beautiful piece, moving closer to really take in all of the tiny and beautiful details in the tattoo in all of it’s glory. 

“Thank you,” he gave you a warm smile and you knew that he took pride in your reaction and was full of pride knowing that he had made you happy with the results. 

“You’ve been the most outstanding client,” his words were genuine but ever so slightly laced with something more sinister and it made your gut clench. His eyes wandering from your thigh, moving slightly higher and you swallowed thickly. Without word you moved back to the tattoo chair, perching yourself up on it. “Have I?” he followed suit, sitting on his chair in front of you. You looked down seeing his glove-free hands and you licked your lips having fantasized about them for all this time now that you’d been there. “Mostly,” he smirked and you swung out with your leg to playfully kick him. He snorted and took your leg with ease putting it over his thigh and all of a sudden your throat went dry. 

Your eyes following his every move as he poured some lotion on his hands and rubbed it onto your new tattoo. You exhaled shakily feeling his hands on your skin. Your skin tingling from where he touched you. 

“Are we alone?” you referred to Harry as Tom inched closer to you, his hands gliding further up your thigh and you couldn’t look away from his gaze. He had you completely locked in your place as his hands barely touched your inner thigh, your heart racing in anticipation.

“Yeah, Hazza left some time ago now, it’s just us.” That’s all that was needed for the sheer unadulterated lust to take over and take charge. 

Before you knew it, your eyes met in a wild and heated kiss. The hours you’d spent riling each other up were surely paying off now as his hand wound his way to your hair, pulling on it making you whimper into his mouth. 

He bit down on your lip making you part them and he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth with ease - you fully surrendered yourself to him as you climbed over into his lap, straddling his hips. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked inside these walls,” he pulled away briefly letting those words wash over you. His voice full of lust and want and it drove you crazy. 

“So why don’t you fucking take me?”  his eyes were burning with barely contained fire and you sucked in a breath knowing you were in for quite the ride. 

“Shut up,” he growled, making the tiniest smirk form on your face. “Make me,” his eyebrow raised in challenge but you knew he wasn’t one to back down - neither were you. 

“Maybe I should just have your mouth stuffed if all I’m gonna get is back-talk,” that no doubt, had the desired effect on you. Your mouth salivated at the thought of Tom using you for his pleasure any way he wanted. “Fucking please,” your voice coming out far breathier than you intended. 

His whole demeanour changed and a down-right filthy smirk spread across his face as he took your desperate state in. Your erratic breathing, your whole body feeling like it was on fire from sheer lust and want. 

“Get on your damn knees then, princess,” you bit your lip nodding as you dropped to your knees, coming face to face with his bulge and all you wanted to do was devour him. 

“Do you need an invitation?” he hummed watching you with interest as to see what you’d do next. Your hands making quick work on getting him out of his jeans. His cock was straining through his boxers and you licked your lips, it was all you could think about. But for a brief moment all you wanted to do was savour this moment, before you took off the last piece of clothing, leaving him completely naked. It was something so thrilling this part, you’d always felt that way. You glanced up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as you removed his boxers, his breathing laboured, flushed cheeks and his eyes never leaving you, keeping you locked in place and it was unbearable in the best way possible.

His fingers wrapping in your hair, nudging you forward towards his cock, all angry and red, tip covered in pre-cum that you used as glide to work your hand up and down his length. His cock hot and pulsating in your hand as you gave him a few tugs. A low moan falling from his lips, “fuck,” he breathed, urging your mouth towards him. 

“What should I do, sir?” you taunted, your hot breath falling on his cock, so close yet so far away. “Fucking suck,” he ordered giving no room to argue and you let out a moan when you engulfed his cock, feeling the weight of it on your tongue. 

You were giving Tom the performance of your life, but oh my, it was the most rewarding blowjob you’d ever given. He was so responsive to every little thing you did. “Fuck, oh,” he moaned running a hand through his own hair - you could tell a small part of him was holding back and you didn’t want that. 

“Stop holding back,” 

“Sure?” his voice was wrecked and you looked up at him, mouth full of his cock giving him a nod. 

 “God the sight of you, such a pretty cock-slut for me aren’t you?” He pushed your head further onto his cock and you whimpered, feeling your panties getting absolutely soaked by the second. He must’ve had an innate ability to sense all of your kinks, such as dirty talk was the way straight to your cunt. “You gonna take all of me? Be a gagging mess for me?” he kept going and you whined against him. 

“Please, fucking please,” was all you managed to say before Tom took over, fucking your mouth making the most obscene noises you’d ever heard. All of them going straight to your throbbing cunt. You closed your eyes, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged quite a few times which only spurred him on. “Oh yes, the best fucking cockslut,” he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening. You preened at the praise feeling like the best girl for him.

Just when you thought he’d cum, he pulled you off of him and you looked at him confused with mascara running down your face, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. “oh babe, what a sight you are,” he grunted running a finger over your swollen lips. You grabbed his hand, pushing his finger in your mouth and his eyes darkened shoving another one in and your eyes fluttered shut. 

“You’re just begging to have your holes filled aren’t you?” he tsk-ed and you whined, nodding your head, feeling drunk on lust. He removed his fingers and you opened your eyes, watching him for what was next. Instead of answering you he slated his lips over you and it went straight to your head, letting yourself get lost in the kiss and you let him guide you. 

“I just bet that cunt of yours is drenched now huh?” he hummed against your lips, the air of confidence returning to him. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” 

His large, warm hands pushed your skirt way up, letting it bunch by your waist and his fingers danced across your inner thighs making you squirm trying to get his fingers where you needed them most. 

“Don’t be impatient,” he tutted and you stilled at once, your breathing coming out laboured. “Sorry, so sorry sir,” you breathed letting out a moan feeling his lips on your neck, nibbling and biting on the sensitive skin there, causing tiny goosebumps all along your arms. 

“My oh my, what a filthy slut you are, I just bet you love letting me use you however I want huh? All this from sucking my cock?” he drawled and you shut your eyes in embarrassment when he felt your drenched panties. Hell, your juices ran down your legs - you were that turned on. “Yes sir, I’m such a slut,” your hips moving forward desperately needing his fingers inside of you. 

“You really are,” you bit your lip, batting your eyelashes at him, “what’re you gonna do about it?” 

His hands moved to your hips, gripping them tightly, “do I strike you as a person who will just..give you the answer to that?” he searched your eyes and you gulped. Your faces so close together you could practically touch his lips with yours, your breath falling onto each others. “Yes?” he tilted his head sideways and your stomach flipped. 

“No then?” he smirked, trapping you with his arms on each side of you. “No babe, we’re gonna have some fun now - so,” he hummed running his finger tips along your collar bone leaving you a shivering mess. “Why don’t you show me just how desperate you can get you filthy slut hmm? Beg for it,” he nearly growled and it had you in a puddle, your cunt clenching around nothing. 

“Please, please sir, please touch me,” the words just fell out of you, a desperate and almost incoherent mess by now. “Touch you where?” his fingers working on removing your top, and he drew in a breath seeing your tits, both of them pierced and hard as rocks.

“Say it,” he growled, flicking your nipple making you gasp. “My cunt sir, please touch my slutty cunt,” 

“Good girl,” he lowered his head, lips finding your neck and moving lower down to your tits taking one of the swollen buds in his mouth and you moaned, arching your back and pushing your tits in his face feeling him pull and tug on them with his teeth. His large hands cupping your free one, playing with it whilst the other continued to tug quite roughly with his teeth causing your body to jolt forward and goosebumps to run over your entire body. “Oh god,” but he was generous and switched, giving the other tit the same lavicious treatment and you were in heaven. 

Your head falling back and your legs spreading automatically and you felt him rip your panties from your body. “Fuck that’s hot,” you moaned running your fingers in his hair.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he murmured, moving to your other nipple, lavishing it with the same amount of attention. You bucked your hips trying to get him to touch you, but he wasn’t biting. 

“Fucking please! Sir!” you begged almost to the point of tears, you’d never been this sexually frustrated and it drove you mad with Tom’s teasing and torture which was so delicious. “Don’t you get fucking bratty with me or I’ll shove these in your mouth,” he warned holding up your panties and your jaw went slack. “That’s what you want isn’t it you filthy whore? You want your own cunt juice all over yourself while I fuck you senseless,” your cheeks burned in embarrassment once again. His eyes were dancing with raw desire for you now, his eyes never leaving yours as he bunched your soaked panties into a ball, shoving it in your mouth and you moaned, nodding your head that this was okay. 

“I haven’t even touched you yet and look at you,” he hummed, his finger ghosting over your folds and you nearly collapsed, you were so ready for him, for whatever he would give. 

“Fuck,” he cursed at how easily his finger slid past your folds due to your slick and you swallowed letting the pleasure roll through you, against your panties feeling his thick and long finger disappear with little resistance, exploring your walls and your eyes rolled back, letting his finger expertly move in and out of you. 

“More,” you muffled out as tears formed in your eyes, needing so much more. “What a greedy little whore you are,” he smirked adding a second finger, finding a rhythm with ease and you cried out. He was building up his pace, paying close attention to every little reaction you made. He angled his fingers up and further in and your vision turned hazy when he found the spot. The one where your toes curled and you screamed out against your panties, your orgasm rocking into you from nowhere and he fucked you through it and then some, letting you ride your high for as long as possible. 

He carefully removed your panties from your mouth once you calmed down and collected yourself ever so slightly. He licked his fingers clean and you let out a weak moan at the sight, “That’s hot,” you hummed licking your own lip and he smirked. “You good?” he pressed a kiss to your temple and you nodded. 

“Best fucking orgasm of my life,” you concluded and he laughed. 

“You think we’re done so soon?” you lifted your head glancing at him, “We’re not?” 

“Fuck no princess, we’re barely getting started. I’m gonna fuck you into oblivion and then I’m gonna have a real good taste of that cunt of yours before I’m letting you leave here,” and that was a promise.��

It made your stomach drop and fill with anticipation, “So what’s next?” you were game for anything and everything. “Get in front of the mirror and spread your legs,” 

Well, fuck. 

You did as told, walking over to the mirror on shaky legs, your heart racing in anticipation for what was in store. 

Your skin prickled, feeling Tom come up behind you, his cologne mixed with sweat surrounding your senses in the best way. His solid chest pushsing against your back, his fingers gliding along your waist and hips up and down causing goosebumps all over. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” his voice low and husky and you closed your eyes at the sensation of having Tom’s lips over your neck, sucking rough marks on the delicate skin there.

“Feels so good,” you twisted your fingers in his hair and you let out a breathy moan when his hands snaked up to your tits and he cupped them. Rolling the hardened buds between his fingers causing your back to arch and you tried to rub your legs together to ease the ache between them ever so slightly to no avail. “Is this all it takes? Pathetic, is that why you had them pierced? To be used and tugged til’ you’re a crying mess?” his eyes were sparkling with mischief. 

“Please,” you whined craning your neck to look at him, only to see his burning eyes watching you. He was just as affected as you, you could feel it now too, his cock pressing into your lower back and you moaned softly. 

“Look at me,” he ordered and you obliged, he gave you a hard kiss and you eagerly kissed back as his hand snaked to your front, toying with your cunt, running his finger along your sopping wet folds and your knees buckled. 

He pulled away from the kiss, holding your chin with his free hand and you hissed when he circled your clit, your slick making the glide of his fingers so easy. You were just about to look away when he motioned for you to open your mouth to which you did and he did the hottest fucking thing you’d ever seen. 

He spat right into your mouth and you nearly came right then and there. He must’ve sensed it too because a wicked smirk formed. “Oh you like that huh, you filthy little thing?” just to prove his point, he did it again and you swallowed thickly, your vision hazy from lust. 

He pulled away for a moment and he rummaged through his clothes, returning with a hand on his cock, stroking it and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of his condom-clad cock, wathcing the way his wrist flicked at the tip.

“Such a pretty cock,” you bit your lip, watching as he walked up to you, his hand finding your front once more, easily slipping a finger inside and fucking you open simultaneously as he pushed you against the mirror, making sure that the two of you had the perfect view to watch what was going to happen next.

“Best put on the show of a life time huh slut?” he growled in your ear, slapping your clit and you cried out. The pain hurting so good and Tom lifted your leg up, making the slide into you easier and you both let out a ragged breath at the sensation of your walls clamping down around him. “Fuck, fuck oh Tom,” you gasped as he bottomed out and you had to take a few breaths to steady yourself. 

“The tightest cunt I’ve ever felt,” he grunted, nails digging into your hips that you were sure was going to leave a mark. You couldn’t form words any longer once Tom started fucking into you, his hips doing the lord’s work and all you could do was hang on and enjoy the ride. Which you very much did. 

You loved the way his cock felt inside of you, the way he was rolling his hips finding new bursts of pleasure inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. You screamed out when he angled his hips up, finding your g-spot and he started rutting into it over and over until you were a quivering mess, barely able to stand up. 

“Fuck that feels so good, sir,” Your breath coming out in short pants, tiny fireworks going off behind your eyelids as Tom figured out your body and what made you tick. 

He tsk-ed you, a free hand finding your clit, rubbing it in circles. “Come on, cum for me, let me feel you cum all over my cock. Show me what a good little whore you can be,” he growled and with those words, something inside of you snapped like a coil. 

A dam coming undone as your orgasm wrecked throughout you, screaming his name over and over as he fucked into you giving you what you so desperately wanted. 

“Such a fucking sight you are,” he moaned, his hips jerking as he came into the condom, his hips working their way inside of you. You watched in the mirror his facial expression as he came, eyes glassed over, cheeks flushed and jaw slacked. “Nothing like you,” you hummed, clenching your muscles and he groaned loudly putting his sweaty forehead against your neck. “Fucking shit,” he cursed finally calming down and you whimpered when you felt him slip out of you, already missing the feeling of him inside of you. 

“Wow,” he panted, slipping away from you, removing the condom and tossing it in the bin. You smiled lazily, sliding down against the mirror sitting on the floor completely spent, drinking in the sight of him. 

He really was the sexiest guy you’d ever laid eyes on. Muscles in all the right places and the juiciest ass that you simply wanted to sink your teeth into, if given the opportunity - god did you hope you’d get the opportunity to do this again. 

“Wow indeed,” he looked over at you, giving you a small chuckle when he saw you on the floor. “Y’alright?” he came over with some paper towels, giving you a bashful smile as though to say ‘sorry it’s the best i’ve got’. You took it nonetheless, carefully wiping yourself clean the best you could. “That was ..absolutely mindblowing,” you confessed honestly,  and his eyes lit up, a wide smile taking shape across his pretty face that left you molten at the sight. “It was pretty fucking sensational,” he agreed easily.

A moment passed between the two of you, your head resting on his shoulder as a comfortable silence washed over you, “so, what now?” you hummed feeling how your body finally relaxed after all it had been through, both the tattooing and getting the railing of a lifetime all in the same afternoon. He chuckled softly, “I don’t know about you but this has made me famished, so, wanna grab some dinner?” his voice turned surprisingly soft and unsure which made you grin, “aren’t you a smooth one then? All shy and bashful,” you teased and he let out a laugh, rolling his eyes, “well?”

“Yeah, let’s go for some dinner,” you agreed and he got up a hell of a lot more smoothly than you, Tom having to help you up and your legs were so shaky still. “Fuck,” you cursed walking on wobbly legs - of course Tom noticed it and he smirked proudly. 

“Shut up,” you muttered and he let out a laugh, “You can’t honestly think that this won’t give me such an ego boost, you can hardly walk and that’s all me,” he wiggled his eyebrows which infuriated you, “and here I was going to say we should definitely do this again sometime, buuuut,” you trailed off and he scoffed, pulling his shirt over his head. “Oh princess, you know we’re ending up in bed together again, no doubt,” he radiated confidence as he was checked you, not so subtly, out and it made your cheeks burn as you got dressed. 

“First, you buy me beer and dinner,” he let out a groan, walking behind you and you felt his eyes on your ass, “god, marry me already,” he begged and you couldn’t help but to be helplessly enamoured by him. 

“If that’s your way of proposing, you suck,” you shrugged and he clutched at his heart, “come on now, Romeo,” with that, you waited outside for Tom to close up the parlour.

“Thanks for waiting around,” he smiled, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together and you felt the same jolt of electricity as before when he touched you. 

“Anytime, something tells me you’re worth waiting around for,” you laced your fingers together as the two of you walked down the street and into a pub. 

if there's people still around to read ill tag a few of you

@duskholland @tetralea @thirsttrapholland @thefallenbibliophilequote @xoluvx @greenorangevioletgrass