#dubious description of dancing

[what-yadoking-likes]

Dumb WolfHox AU thing Part 5

[Link to Part 4 here]

It means a lot to Hoxton's parents that they appear as normal as possible; normal for them meant keeping up appearances, being the ideal rich landowners who hold resplendent balls and give generously at their friend's charity functions whilst secretly scorning those who seek such support.

As such, they hate Wolf's outfit just as much as Hoxton loves it. Hoxton watches as his mother's lips purse, squeezing together so tightly it looks as if she just swallowed a lemon whole. His father sneers and tuts, but says nothing.

The obvious display of distaste has him pull Wolf closer, fully into his side.

The time comes for everyone to dance, and the two of them stand and take to the dancefloor. It strikes Hoxton in that moment that of all the things they'd coordinated on, they had failed to discuss the dance or what kind of moves they'd pull.

Fortunately, Wolf had a few ideas of his own.

They danced together - the typical shite Hoxton saw women fawn over on programmes like Strictly Come Dancing and shite of that ilk.

Then the only warning he got was Wolf's hands pressing firmly into his middle as the Swede lifts him up, whirling him off his feet and back onto the floor again after a 180 spin.

Hoxton's surprised squeal ("It was a manly grunt, actually-") made Wolf grin. At every opportunity he span Hoxton again and again, lifting him easily and attracting the attention of the other guests.

"That's Priscilla and Jeremy's eldest - James - look, he's dancing with a man!"

"Good Heavens, what is he wearing?"

"I hear poor Jeremy had to increase his blood pressure medication-"

"Is he wearing glitter?"

"I knew James would turn out wrong, ever since they let him keep his hair all long like that. It's not right. It's girls' hair."

[slimybeth69]

Thirst

Marcus Acacius X lady reader (no descriptions, you're a virgin though)

Summary: Your freedom had a price and Marcus Acacius was willing to pay for it... but you also had to do something for him.

Chapter 1 of 10: Warming Up Next Chapter

Rating: EXPLICIT -- Shameless smut with a little plot

a/n: NO SPOILERS to the new movie. This is cross-posted from my AO3 account

WARNINGS: dubious consent, ownership, loss of virginity, mutual mast., exhibitionism, voyeurism. Mentions of being a whore.

You had lived in a brothel before this. Had to share a bed with a woman you did not like. You didn’t even get to have sex in that brothel because you were a virgin and no one could afford it. Just your hands and mouth. Your company if they couldn’t afford your pleasure. The General could afford you though and the second you told him you were a virgin you left the brothel with him.

General Marcus Acacius still hasn’t had sex with you. He just wants you to look at him. You roll your eyes at the thought. Just watch. He didn’t even let you touch. It had been two long months and you had seen him only a dozen times. More in the beginning and now less and less. Strange. Paid all this money and won't even touch you or let you touch him. 

“Your day?” His voice is deep and smooth and it’s almost like it ruminates in your chest for a moment after he is done speaking. You try to hide your giddy excitement as he comes from the doorway that leads to the balcony you’ve been sitting on.

“Fine.” It’s short and curt and you act like you are tired of being alone with only your handmaids to talk to. He sighs from behind you. This is what happens every time and you’re over it. “Would you like to just get it over with?” You stand from your seat and he’s wearing a white and gold tunic. You’ve never seen him in it before and his bronzed thighs contrast against it so well. You do not let his beautiful skin distract you as you slip past him into the room. You unclasp the shoulder straps of your dress and let it fall to your waist. You buzz with excitement. 

You’re exposed from the waist up when you turn to look back at him. His strong hand is already wrapped around himself underneath the tunic. He walks to you, his fist never leaves or stops stroking himself as he makes his way to his chair. It’s already got the small glass bottle of oil sitting on the table beside it. Waiting. You use it sometimes to rub into his muscular shoulders after he has a long day.

Mostly it’s poured into his palm like he’s doing right now. When he leans back in his chair, his throbbing erection is already pushing the lower half of his tunic up, exposing himself to you. He is thick, already red with excitement and almost intimidatingly big. He could fit both fists on it. You watched him do it once with your bottom lip bitten between your teeth. He coats his cock in the oil, massaging it into his already smooth skin. You know he is smooth. You can see how smooth he is from here. Bronzed and smooth and strong. It’s evident as you watch him spread his legs wider so you can see his balls. One hand cups them gently, massaging them. 

“Shit.” Marcus hisses as he squeezes his cock at the base gently as he starts to stroke. You watch, your gaze dancing between his eyes and mouth, down to his hand thrusting up and down on himself. He twists his hand around the shaft while he does it. It makes somewhere deep inside you ache. You long to go over and climb into his lap. Sink yourself down into his lap until you are flush with him. 

“Does it feel good?” You ask mindlessly, watching as the tip of him begins drooling precum from his seam. You lick your bottom lip because you want to know what he tastes like. You want to show him what you can do. 

“Yes.” He moans softly and when you look back up to his face he’s staring at you. You reach up and pinch one of your nipples between your thumb and forefinger and twist it gently. Then you tug. You let out a breathless moan and he drops his eyes to your hand. He bucks his hips forward and sighs. “Gorgeous.” He breathes it to you as he strokes his cock slowly. You’ve never really spoken to each other during so you keep going, to see what happens. 

“Do you want to see my cunt?” You whisper and bat your eyelashes up in him with false innocence. His breath catches in his throat when you say it. It makes you smirk. He nods silently as his eyes fall to your middle. You pull the lower half of your dress up and pool it at your waist and now you have a bunch of fabric all pulled up around your middle. Marcus’ eyes dart between your pussy and your tits that you're still teasing and pulling at with your fingers. 

His staggered breath is rising and falling in his chest and his fist is moving with more speed. 

“Fuck.” Marcus groans quietly. The head of his cock is almost purple and his precum is now leaking down the tip of him. You lick your lips again because he does look very handsome there, stroking himself. Little beads of sweat forming on his brow as he starts to pant softly.  You run your hand down the length of your body for him, you never do this. Usually you just stand there because the first time you tried to touch him and he said no. Gave you no further instruction so you stood here after that. That white tunic and this soft bronze skin over those thighs… you dunno. Very handsome. It’s making you drenched 

“You could come touch me right here.” You purr to him quietly.

The muscles in his thighs flex when you slip two fingers into your folds. You don’t even rub, you just show him that you can in fact be touched and will not combust into flames. Marcus could do more than just look at you while he touches himself. You do let your mouth part and your jaw drop down slightly in feign pleasure– letting him know what you look like when you feel good. Marcus’ eyes flash between your face and the fingers pushed into your velvet. 

“Gods.” He sighs as his calloused and battle-scarred hand moves up and down on himself quickly. 

“Imagine yourself buried inside me. For the first time.” You coo to him as your fingers start to encircle your bundle of nerves that sit nestled at the top of your slit. “The first man to ever me inside me… the first man to ever fill me with his—”

“Fuuck. My G-Gods.” Marcus moans loudly as he brings himself to climax. He finishes all over the front of his nice, white and gold tunic. Splatters it with white ropes of his sticky seed. Several thick ropes of it. 

Your hand drops from between your legs and you snap your dress back up over your shoulders. You sit back in your chair on the balcony and sip your wine like you are bored. Marcus can leave now. He doesn’t do anything else for you other than this thrilling encounter every couple days. Thrilling while it happens but then he leaves. 

He clears his throat from the doorway. You ignore him. Does he think you are one of his soldiers? No. You are a woman and women deserve more than just being stared at. You should be ravaged and you haven’t been so you’re frustrated. Only able to give yourself pleasure after he leaves. To ease the monotony of it all you’ve started pleasuring yourself out here on the balcony where anyone could see if they just looked up. 

You do not tell him this. 

Marcus clears his throat again.

“What?” You have obvious annoyance in your tone. “If you’d like to speak to me you can come out here. I am done doing things for you today. Including getting off this chair again.” You snap angrily. 

Marcus approaches from behind you and now he’s sitting beside you on a chair that looks exactly the same as the one you are in. He is in a different tunic now. A plain brown one and now he looks terrible and horrible to you again. Barely attractive. Maybe he’s still a little handsome. 

“Did you enjoy yourself this time?” Marcus sounds curious. 

“Sure.” You mutter. You don’t catch his eyes that are obviously staring at you. 

“I thought you were warming up this evening. Then you do this?” He sounds slightly disappointed. You roll your eyes and huff softly. 

“You keep me up here. Only let me go out early in the mornings when not one or very few people are out—” You like this but you won’t let him know that. “You don’t come see me everyday like you said you would. You do not touch me. Just want to watch, which is so weird! I thought you took me from that brothel so that you could deflower me. Do the thing that everyone loves to do so much. No, you just want to tease me with your beautiful cock every four to seven days.” You cross your arms over your chest and huff one more time for good measure. 

Marcus chuckles at you, still staring. You can see him boring holes into the side of your head out of the corner of your eye. He is smiling but still staring. 

“Why is that funny?” You snap, finally turning to look at him now. Marcus Acacius is quite handsome with his messy mop of dark, loose curls. Thick dark eyebrows and facial hair to match. Only on his cheeks is it lighter, graying. Strong features. The weight he held, he carried it nicely. Filled his cheeks out softly and thigh muscles for days. Strong arms and shoulders. 

“I paid because you are beautiful. I’ll deflower you. Soon. When you’re ready.” His voice is quite nice too. He leans forward and presses his lips against yours gently. He’s never kissed you before. It’s so nice and he smells like the scented oil he spread around his cock earlier. Before you can really react to the kiss he pulls away slightly and hovers above you. “I’ll deflower you when you really like me. Not just because I paid.” Then he pecks your lips again. You're in awe! What does that mean!? You stand and try to follow him. He is too fast. He slips out of the door and locks it behind him. 

You hmph and stomp your foot angrily. 

Like him? How could you ever— Oh.  

There is the nicest most beautiful bouquet of flowers on the table that had not been there before you did your little tease for him. They are gorgeous. All different shades of white and pink and reds. It’s the biggest bouquet of flowers you have ever seen. Alongside it– a fresh unopened jug of wine. And a note. 

Save the wine for us.

Us? Does he expect you to leave this jug of delicious wine unopened until you see him again? In four to seven days? You love wine. It’s the only thing that brings you joy. Seeing his cock has been pretty joyful lately. Makes you smile when he comes. You normally hate when men come. 

 Ugh. Doesn’t fuck you. Gives you wine but tells you not to drink it. You drop the note on the table and turn… on the bed is a new dress. A nice one. White and gold like his tunic before he mucked it with his release. You smirk at the memory from less than ten minutes ago. 

What is he up to? He is not an unkind man, very polite and respectful. One of the reasons you haven’t tried to escape. He is very sweet to you. Looking at you very fondly. You’re just a brat because you thought you’d no longer be a virgin at this point. You sigh heavily and sit on the soft bed next to the dress and run your fingers along the gold embellishments. 

You want to get fucked wearing this tunic. 

Hours go by. It is late into the evening. You might be wearing your new dress, sitting on the balcony drinking the jug of wine you already had. Not the new one. You might have tried to open the new one but you could not remove the Gods forsaken cork. Your head is buzzing in the best way. The streets are alive with people and in your slightly intoxicated state you imagine yourself down there with them. You are glad you’re not down there. You grew up in the countryside, the large city of Rome scares you. 

You lie to Marcus Acacius and say you are locked away and would like to go down there. No. You do not wish for that. You feel safe up here on your balcony with your books and wine and food. New dresses now too, apparently. 

“Do you like your gifts?” Marcus’ voice drifts through the air. He sounds happy to be here. Like he might have a smile on his face.

“I did. Thank you.” You are not short or cold. You turn your head and smile at him over your shoulder. He is already smiling softly back at you– his gaze floats down your face and neck and across your new dress. He then leans against the door frame. “Admittedly I wasn’t going to wait for you to drink the wine… I just could not get it open.” You smirk now and look up at him through your lashes. 

“I tightened it.” Marcus smirks back at you. He pushes himself off the door frame, turns and grabs the jug of wine. When he sits down, he slides his chair closer to yours and pops the cork right out of the jug. You tried several times over the hours after he left. You roll your eyes as he pours you a fresh goblet and then he pours one for himself. 

The General never shares wine with you on the balcony. 

“How do you ever expect me to grow to like you when you are never around? You’ve never even done this with me before.” Your eyes scan his handsome face curiously. His tongue flicks out across his bottom lip quickly before he speaks. 

“I wanted someone untouched.” He shrugs. Not an uncommon wish for men. “You seemed eager to want to come with me.” He leans back in his chair and sets his elbows on the armrests. “Then you don’t speak. You do not participate when I want you to watch. Just drop your dress and let me look.” Marcus relaxes, every part of him does and it happens visibly in front of you. 

“You paid. What does that matter?” You squint your eyes at him with suspicion growing heavy in your buzzing brain. Marcus laughs heartily and smiles down at the goblet of wine in his hand. 

“I never wanted to touch you unless you wanted me to. Not just because you were a purchase.” His eyes flick up to yours as he waits for your response.

“Money for sex is so common. There are houses and buildings solely for that purpose! That is where we met!” You are confused, had a little too much wine and are kind of horny. “I came with you willingly.” You're blinking at Marcus. He is smirking at you like you are bringing him some kind of entertainment. “Why are you so hesitant?” 

“Do you not care that it may hurt? Or that is considered special to some?” He sounds curious now as to why you would just give it away so freely. 

“I do not care about pain. I hear that it feels very good after some slight discomfort.” You look at him down your nose and huff. “Treating me like I am fragile and will break.” Another huff and you look away from him. You make Marcus laugh again. 

“So eager to get fucked. You’ve really never been with a man or woman?” Now he sounds like he doesn’t believe you. 

“No. I have not, but that shouldn’t change anything.” You snap at him. General Marcus Acacius smiles at you when you snap at him. 

“Would you bed men and women with me once I deflower you?” He tilts his head to the side. “I like to take multiple people to bed sometimes.” He seems curious to know your answer, he leans forwards in his chair. 

“I have heard of orgies, yes. I don’t see why not—” He cuts you off.

“Not an orgy.” He says it firmly “I’d share you with another man. Watch as he fucks you. Us men, would fuck you together. You’ll watch me fuck him. We could share him. Let him enter you while I enter him. Would you like that? Or do you want to lick cunt while I fuck you?” He speaks so casually. So calmly like you’re not vibrating in your chair. “Watch me fuck her, while she licks your beautiful slit?” He leans back in his chair as if he is going to give you a moment to think about it. What is he asking of you? To be his paid and cared for personal whore? 

“I would.” You lean back in your chair and cross one leg over the other while you look at him. “I’d do more, too.” You don’t even really know what you are talking about. He brings up the most extremes and the most you have done is suck a couple of cocks at the same time. Big deal. 

“Like?” Marcus’ eyebrows dance up once and then fall back down quickly. Okay dammit, you don’t know. 

“You could tie me up.” You mimic his little eyebrow dance he did and shrug one shoulder at him. Like you're so seasoned in that. You just saw it happen to someone else once! The General likes this though.

“I have my own restraints. And a whip if you want to be bad.” He smiles and sips from his wine goblet. You might be a little over your head but you do not care because you want this man to take your stupid flower so bad. Whether he paid for it or not. He can have it. “What?” His eyes are so dark. So intense as he asks you this.

“What?” You snap at him. “What do you mean, what?” You snap again. He snickers under his breath and drops his gaze to his lap. 

“You were staring at me, little Dove.”

Next Chapter

[zieisonline]

Just The Three of Us

Arber Xhekaj x Reader x Juraj Slafkovsky

Description: Your best friend invites you to dinner with her boyfriend and his teammate. What happens when she gets sick and leaves you alone with the two boys?

Aka - Arber and Juraj are obsessed with you and give you a night to remember 💗

This turned out much longer than I anticipated 😅

Warnings: smut (MDNI), threesome (MFM), cheating (Slaf is your best friends bf), both men are dominant, insecure reader, spanking, oral (f and m receiving), exhibitionism, and slightly dubious consent.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

Your best friend received attention wherever she went. From the boys at school, to the waiters at every restaurant you visit, to the men at crowded bars you would frequent on the weekends.

It seemed to come naturally and easily to her. A sweet smile here, a little wave there, and the boys practically fell to her feet.

So it wasn’t a shock when you learned she had landed herself a professional athlete as her new boyfriend.

“His name is Juraj, and he is beyond sexy.” She beams over her coffee at you. Pride and confidence exuding from her. You strain a smile and nod for her to continue.

You shouldn’t be jealous. You don’t even know the guy. And yet, you can feel the emotion forming heavily inside you like a small hard stone resting at the bottom of your stomach.

“He’s tall, handsome, and he has an adorable accent.” She mused, listing off his qualities like she was trying to sell him.

These kinds of coffee dates were a typical fixture of your friendship.

Ever since you met freshman year, the cycle would repeat. First with 3-4 weeks of non stop conversation revolving around her newest suitor, double dates with the guys’ ultimately uninterested or uninteresting friends, and many nights in your apartment alone with yourself while she chased the high of a new relationship.

Then without fail, she would get bored, or more often than not, the boy would end up fucking it all up massively, leaving you alone to pick up the pieces.

Knowing all of this still didn’t make the jealousy go away. It was normal to date around, and you should feel happy for your friend as well as be proud that she had the confidence to go after any guy she wanted. But that stone in your belly grew heavier at the realization you would never be in her position.

Sure, you’d been with a few people, dated a couple of not so great guys. But it was never easy. Never the fun dance of ‘will they or won’t they’ that your friend always boasts about after encountering a new man.

“You’re gonna die when you meet him.” She winks, taking a slow sip of her blueberry flavored coffee.

“Oh boy, can’t wait.” You tease, light enough to cover the ugly emotions swirling within you. Not looking forward to your eventual meeting where you know your best friend won’t be able to stop herself from dangling her new boy toy in front of you.

“Seriously y/n, you won’t believe his jawline.” She continues to push, and you roll up your straw paper, lobbing it at her chest.

“Forget his jawline, does he happen to have any hot friends?” You question, as she picks the straw paper off her shirt, her smile growing exponentially.

“A whole team of them actually.” She grins wickedly over at you and you huff.

“I’m serious y/b/f/n! If I have to third wheel again I’m going to be so miserable it will ruin everyone’s time.” You whine.

She just shakes her head at you sympathetically, reaching across to grasp your hand in hers.

“First off, you would not be the third wheel, we are literally just eating pasta in my apartment with my boyfriend.” You groan in her direction, because that sounds a lot like being the third wheel to you. “And second, if it will make you feel any better, I will ask Juraj to bring a friend.”

“A hot friend.” You punctuate with a quick squeeze to her hand and she giggles in response.

“Deal.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

It wasn’t a far walk to your best friends apartment, and the warm sunny weather had put you in the best mood you had felt in months.

It was rarely a fun time meeting your friend’s new boyfriends, as they were usually too preoccupied with her to even consider making a decent impression with you. But that didn’t stop you from at least trying to be optimistic.

Your friend had texted you yesterday, insisting that her boyfriend was excited to meet you, and that she approved of his choice of a friend to bring to dinner, stating he was a ‘solid guy.’ Which in your opinion could literally mean anything, so you tried to not get your hopes up.

As you made your way up to her door, you could feel the nerves starting to hit you, and you tried to push the feelings down before cautiously hitting the doorbell, rocking on your heels as you wait for an answer.

It doesn’t take long before the door swings open and you are greeted with a completely unfamiliar face.

He’s tall. Intimidatingly so, and the surprise has you taking an unintentional step back away from him.

He’s dressed casually, some basic jeans and a loose fit long sleeve shirt hang off his large frame. You spot a gold chain necklace peaking out from under the collar, and your brain runs blank at the sight of his face.

He is beyond handsome, and you curse yourself for not trying harder on your own outfit and makeup this morning.

His dark facial hair is well manicured, and it suits his face nicely, a stark contrast to his fair skin. His nose is sharp, and you focus a little too long on the freckled moles that line his jaw, before flicking your attention to his dark and mischievous eyes, hidden slightly under a few loose strands of his almost black hair that had fallen out of place.

“Hey, you must be y/n!” He smiles brightly down at you. “I’m Arber! Y/b/f/n is inside with Juraj, come on in.” He welcomes you in to the place you spend the most time outside of your own apartment, yet you falter, and think about bailing. There is no way you are going to last an entire dinner with this gorgeous man at your side without combusting from nerves or saying something so stupid you will think about it for years.

“Y/nnnnnn.” You hear your best friend whine out from inside the apartment, and before you can second guess yourself again, you are pushing past the threshold to find your friend who had just called out like she was in pain.

Your panic accelerates at the sight of her in the living room.

She is lying on the couch, wrapped up in a large fluffy blanket, a box of tissues and a bottle of Gatorade at her side. Her skin is sickly pale, and there is a dry redness spread around her nose. Her eyes look like she is forcing them to stay open, and there is a grimace on her lips as she attempts to smile at you.

“I see you’ve met Arber! This is Juraj.” You cringe at the hoarseness of her voice, taking a quick moment to glance at the man kneeling before her.

He is also large, and even if you hadn’t already known he was an athlete, one look at his physique would give him away.

He had a boyish charm to him, and seemed a little younger than the man who had greeted you at the door.

He was holding a thermometer in one hand, and your friend’s hand in the other. His light brown hair was messy, as though he had been running his fingers through it, and there was a crease in his brow as he tried to read the device in front of him, his tongue peeking out from his lips as he attempted to concentrate on the numbers.

He reminded you of a fairytale prince, and you had to admit to yourself that your best friend had been right, you could have just died at the sight of him.

“What happened?! You were fine two days ago.” You approach the couch and take her in up close, noticing the way she was sniffling now.

“She went out last night and got so drunk she walked barefoot home in the rain.” The man knelt beside you spoke, and it took all of your strength not to melt on the spot at the sound of his voice.

You pointed your expression back at your friend. “Oh my god, you could have pneumonia or something!” You exasperate, flinging your hands in the air.

This is just like her, always living her life without second guessing, and now she had three people to care for her while she recovers from her one night of fun.

Before your friend could speak, you felt a warm hand land softly on your shoulder, so you turn to face the older man.

“She doesn’t have pneumonia, she is breathing fine. It’s probably just a nasty cold. I gave her some cold medicine and a Tylenol for the fever. She will be back to herself in no time.” He was looking at you intently, giving you all of his attention as he tries to reassure you. And you don’t know why, but it works. The tension and anxiety falls from your shoulders. The pressure and warmth from his hand fans over you, comforting you with solid reason.

You step away from his hold, dropping down beside her on the couch. “How are you feeling?” You ask, bringing the back of your hand up to rest on her forehead, which was warm, but not alarmingly so.

“M’sleepy.” She sighs, tucking her head into your side. You move to pet down her hair, humming to yourself.

“That would be the cold medicine kicking in.” Juraj explains, standing up and setting the thermometer aside. “Let’s get you to bed before you pass out on the couch.”

You untangle yourself from your best friend and hand her off to her boyfriend, who lifts her with ease, disappearing down the hallway and to her bedroom.

You sigh loudly, dropping your heavy head into your hands, frustration for the situation you were now in brewing within you.

Do you stay and be her nurse for the night, making sure she got her fluids in and medicine on time? Or would Juraj be offended that he couldn’t just care for his girlfriend in peace? Why didn’t she just text you this morning that she was sick and avoid this whole dilemma altogether? You groan out loud at the thought of making the wrong choice and risking her being upset with you later.

Arber clears his throat, and you startle in your seat, completely forgetting about the other man’s presence in the room.

“She’s a handful.” He remarks, busying himself around the room by collecting the electrolyte bottles and various boxes of tissues.

You snort at his comment, plucking the bottle of Gatorade from beside you.

“You have no idea.” You stand and follow him into the kitchen, chucking the Gatorade in the fridge. You move to wash your hands in the sink, cringing at the thought of all the sickly germs floating around the apartment now.

Arber appears beside you, resting his hip on the counter next to the sink.

“Well before the night is completely ruined, I have to know how I compare.” He teases, poking your arm pointedly. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion at his playful demeanor.

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning off the tap and patting your hands dry with the dish towel.

“Y/b/f/n says you requested for Slav to bring his hottest friend tonight, and I just want to know what you think of his choice.” He explains boldly, the teasing tone still present, but his smile is genuine and the gentle tilt of his head feels flirty in nature.

Your body freezes, a hot red blush creeps up your neck and over your face. You flounder for the right words, your mind filling with nothing but static.

“I- um. She told you that?” You stutter. Eyes transfixed on the floor, feeling like you could die of embarrassment at any second.

“She was adamant.” Your eyes shoot up in surprise at the sound of Juraj’s voice. Who was now leaning lazily against the kitchen doorway, his large arms crossed in front of his chest, a playful smirk on his face as he drags his own eyes down your body, all the way to your toes, and then back up again, connecting with your wide eyes as you swallow thickly.

You were drowning in embarrassment, your body hot and buzzing with nerves at the sudden attention from both men. You silently wished you could disappear, snap your fingers and be halfway across the world with a new name and a different life.

“Oh. Well you know how she can be.” You let out pathetically. Trying to put the blame on your cold-ridden friend who wasn’t even here to defend herself.

“Hmm.” Arber hums beside you, and you could swear he was closer now than he was before, his chest almost brushing against your shoulder, his face just inches away from your own. “Do I not live up to your expectations y/n?” He asks lowly, and your mind short-circuits at his tone.

The air in the kitchen is too thick with something you can’t pinpoint, but it makes it hard to breathe regardless. Your breaths become more shallow as the tension in the air builds. You dare to meet his gaze and gulp audibly as you do. There is something unnamed swimming in his pupils, and you feel your body shudder at the sight.

“I don’t know w-what I was expecting.” You confess truthfully. Whatever you thought would happen tonight, it did not involve being called out in your friend’s kitchen while she was passed out in her bed. Your thoughts were ricocheting around your skull, moving so fast that you were unable to grasp onto one for even a second.

You catch movement out of the corner of your eye, and you rip your eyes away from Arber’s hold so see Juraj has moved away from the door jamb, making his way over to you both, stoping just in front of you.

“It’s a pretty easy question y/n.” Juraj teases, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, you flinch at the directness of his action, and your mind breaks on the spot. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire, and you squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you possibly can, as if you could make the entire situation disappear just by closing your eyes. “Do. You. Think. He’s. Hot?” He accentuates every word by leaning in closer, and you can feel his presence; the warmth of his body and his hand behind your ear overwhelming you, his breath tickling your skin.

You let out a shaky breath. The two men have you cornered in the too small kitchen. You feel trapped like some sort of small animal, caught with no place to go. Despite that, there is another sensation lingering beneath the surface. A raw and animalistic urge to submit. To play along with this game they had started, although the situation was completely foreign to any experiences you had had in the past.

“Yes.” You whisper so low you weren’t sure either of them would hear it.

Juraj’s hand moved to rest fully against your cheek, cradling you gently but with a firmness you appreciated.

“Look at him.” He commands sternly, and before you have even a single moment to consider, to think, your lids move as if on auto pilot. The first thing you see is Arber, already gazing down at you, that flirty smile ever present, his dark eyes drawing you in again. Your breath hitches as you grip onto the kitchen counter for support.

Arber clocks the movement swiftly, bringing his own large hand to cover yours, sending a jolt of energy up your arm.

“I’m glad you like him sweetheart, because we really like you too.” Juraj confesses, using his hand on your cheek to force your attention back on him.

Having both of their hands on your skin was making it hard to focus, your head swimming as none of this was making sense to you in the slightest.

“What do you mean? What about y/b/f/n?” You ask dumbly, scrambling to understand how you got in this situation. Wondering if this was all some mean prank they had cooked up before you got there.

Juraj flashes you a bright smile, pinching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Don’t worry about her, sunshine. She’ll be out for the rest of the night.” He coos, sending you a wink that clashes with the sweet tone he is laying on his voice.

“Y/b/f/n sent me your Instagram profile when she asked me to bring a friend over for dinner.” He finally explains, glancing quickly over to Arber, directing your own head with his grip to follow his gaze. “Guess she wanted to play match-maker.”

“That picture of you in the blue sun dress is my favorite.” Arber admits, moving his hand from on top of yours, trailing higher until he closes in around your bicep, squeezing possessively. “Knew I had to have you.” He exhales, and the words hit you hard, desire heating in your belly, the dampness growing in your underwear at his confession.

“Plus she’s already texting other guys, you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” Juraj pouts, tilting his head down and sending you the cutest pair of puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. You scoff at him, shaking your head aggressively, not sure if you were answering his question, or denying his claim entirely.

That doesn’t sound like your friend. After all these years of knowing her, she had never cheated on any of the guys you had met. Sure she moved on fast and none of her relationships ever lasted long, but for the duration of time she was with a man, she was loyal.

The rational part of your mind was screaming at you to wake up. To take a moment to step away from this onslaught of advancement from the men in front of you and pull yourself together. To go wake up your sick best friend and demand the boys to leave and never look back.

But the other part… the dirty, shameful part of yourself that you kept so well hidden deep inside of you, that part was ripping its way to the surface, encouraged more and more by every seductive look the boys sent your way. Their touch on your skin egging you on until you couldn’t take it anymore. Juraj swipes his thumb across your cheek and you let out a pitiful whine, eyes fluttering closed as you mentally cross that line. You want this, just as much as they do.

“Please.”

And that’s all it takes. One word to snap the tension in two. One simple, boring word, and the dam breaks.

Juraj is the first to move, as he was already leaning into you so close, his grip on your chin tightens as his mouth crashes onto yours.

You let out a small gasp of surprise, your hand shooting up to grab onto the front of his shirt, balling it up tight in your fist. Your eyes stay closed as you taste him on your lips, his hot soft mouth working over yours feverishly.

As he continues his attack on your face, you shiver at the feeling of Arber beside you. He slots himself into your side, rubbing up your arm until he reaches the delicate skin of your neck, tapping two fingers along your pulse point before gently pushing aside your hair. The feeling of his breath on your newly exposed skin was tantalizing. And your lips part in a sigh as he begins his own assault just under your jaw.

With your mouth now open, Juraj takes no time to invade. Probing your tongue with his own strong muscle, his salvia mixing with your own.

The soft scratch of Arber’s facial hair dragging up and down your neck drives you crazy as he continues to kiss and lick the skin there, and you feel your grip on the counter tighten, turning your knuckles white.

Your knees are weak, and you are finding it increasingly harder to stand upright. You buckle under them, and before you could fall, four strong hands shoot out to support you.

“Woah there darling, let us help you.” Arber soothes, and you feel like your bones have liquified, any strength you once carried melted along with them.

The men share a quick glance of silent communication before hoisting you up effortlessly to sit on the counter, your legs dangling thoughtlessly over the edge.

You drop your forehead onto Arber’s shoulder and attempt to catch your breath. You are already spent, and they have only just kissed you.

“It’s too hot in here.” You complain, rambling now without thinking, your brain pure mush.

“I know what will help.” Juraj chides beside you, planting a quick kiss to your shoulder before walking his fingers down your back, pausing at the hemline of your soft well-loved shirt.

“Put your hands up sweetheart.” Arber speaks with a solid command, gently nudging you to pick your head back up off of him.

You obey wordlessly, lifting your arms above your head, eyes unfocused in the space between them.

Juraj works quickly, removing your clothing faster than you had expected, and suddenly your nerves catch the better of you. The feeling of the cool air of the kitchen hitting your flushed skin leaves you feeling much more naked than you really were, goosebumps littering your exposed flesh.

You don’t hesitate to bring your hands down to cover yourself, embarrassment and anxiety flooding your system as you attempt to wrap your arms fully around your torso and chest.

“Don’t get shy on us now.” Juraj tuts, reaching his hands out to touch you.

Arber shoots him a quick glare, catching Juraj’s arm in his grasp.

“Don’t mind him.” He mutters, turning his attention to you fully. Your eyes lock onto his, and the warmth within his pupils comforts you again. “Can I touch you?” He asks patiently, not letting go of his hold on his friend standing beside him, a silent warning.

You don’t know why you trust him, but you do. His voice and overall demeanor making the anxiety inside you subside.

You nod, and it’s enough for him. He lets go of the other man’s arm, and steps within the space between your knees, his chest brushing your crossed arms. He brings his large hands up to your face, cradling you securely in his hold. With his proximity, there is no where else to look beside at him. You squirm on the counter, unable to close your legs as he was now lodged between them.

“You are so beautiful.” He muses, a lazy smile appearing on his lips. Your breath hitches at the compliment, cheeks heating up once again. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, and the motion has you whining for more. “Want to see how beautiful the rest of you is, baby.” He admits, carefully and cautiously moving his fingers along your cheekbones. You let out a soft sigh at the contact, breathing in every word, transfixed on the man in front of you. Your arms grow heavy around your chest, and the feeling of his body pressed up against yours makes your head go fuzzy.

You give in, letting your hands drop into your lap, and his smile grows tenfold.

“There you are.” He praises, letting go of your face to rake his eyes down to your breasts. As your eye contact breaks, you sneak a glance to the other man in the room.

Juraj is standing just behind Arber, a hungry, dangerous look in his eyes. You notice movement, and your gaze drops to see him palming himself over the fabric of his sweats.

The sight is too much to handle, and he smirks at the way you bite your lower lip, feeling yourself grow wetter as you take in the size of his growing bulge.

You continue to watch him touch himself as Arber ducks down in front of you.

Your hands find purchase in his silky hair, holding on as he presses gentle kisses along the tops of your breasts.

Your chest heaves as you continue to struggle to breathe. Arber notices how you are transfixed on watching Juraj behind him. So to beat your nerves, and get to work before your shyness returns, he skillfully reaches around your torso, unclasping your bra in one fluid motion.

You feel the air on your nipples before you can register why or how. And before you can even give it a second thought, a delicious warm and wet sensation surrounds your right bud.

Your body is arching into his mouth, grip in his hair tightening, and he lets out a low growl at the feeling of your nails digging into him. The noise vibrates through you, sending pure pleasure directly to your core.

Juraj takes a step closer, and you can tell he is just itching to touch you, to feel your soft delicate skin under his rough calloused palms.

Arber continues to use his mouth on you. Groping and kneading your breasts with his hands, swirling tight figure eights around your nipples with his tongue.

Your own mouth fills with drool as you focus in on the imprint of what Juraj is fondling in his sweats. Your unoccupied hand pathetically reaches for him, even though he is too far away for you to touch.

He notices however, and takes it as an invitation to join.

Saddling up next to Arber, he takes his hand off of himself, and reaches for yours, unabashedly staring at your breasts in his friend’s hands and mouth.

He lets out a low groan as your fingers find him. He’s solid and warm under your palm, and you can’t help the look of awe on your face at the size of his bulge up close, the way your hand can’t cover it completely over the fabric of his pants.

He presses his larger hand over yours, rubbing your palm up and down his length.

You hiss as Arber’s teeth graze your now puffy nipple, the constant stimulation catching up to them fast.

“Look how fucking perfect her tits are.” Arber pulls his mouth away just enough to mumble against your skin, his eyes flicking up to Juraj’s.

He squeezes you roughly as if to show Juraj how soft you were. You squeak at the action, prickles of dull pain fanning throughout your breast.

Juraj nods, hypnotized at the way your boobs jiggle in the older man’s grip.

Arber straightens, returning to his full height, both of them towering over you once again. Your hand falls from his hair, and your eyes automatically drop to the space between your lap and his.

His jeans make it harder to get a clear picture of what he has going on down there, but the tactful way he has his hips leaned forward, pressed firmly into the counter has you assuming he is just as hard as Juraj is.

You feel a sudden rush of boldness hit you, and before you can doubt yourself, you take the hand that was previously in his hair, and cup him over his jeans.

Juraj stills his movements beside you, and chuckles.

“I think she wants a taste.” He jokes, but Arber doesn’t laugh. You had initiated something by reaching for him, and he wasn’t going to let that drop easily.

He hooks his hands under your thighs, and lifts you easily off the counter, like your weight was nothing to him. You scramble to wrap your arms around his neck, burying your head in his chest as he carries your half naked body out of the kitchen.

He brings you into the living room and gently lays you down on the plush cushion of the couch.

The same couch your friend had been sitting on moments earlier, so sick she could barely keep her eyes open. The realization makes your stomach flip, and you open your mouth to protest, but your pleas are silenced as Arber’s mouth finds yours.

You aren’t strong enough to push him away, the taste of him so tantalizing, drawing you in and breaking you apart at the same time.

It isn’t long before he is pulling away, leaving you lying alone on the couch, staring up through your lashes at them as you wait for their next move.

“Get on your knees.” Arber commands, a stern darkness in his voice that sends your underwear flooding.

Your brain is on autopilot, he could ask you anything right now, and you would do it without questioning it once.

You scramble to your knees in the middle of the couch, facing them both, your ass resting on your heels.

The men turn to face each other, and Juraj nods. This silent communication of theirs would weird you out in any normal situation, but this was far from that, so you waited patiently for your next instruction.

Simultaneously, the boys remove their shirts, and you can’t help the drool that pools in your mouth at the sight of them. Strong thick muscles ripple across their arms and chests. You gulp involuntarily. Wishing you had all the time in the world to worship their torsos, spend days tracing every inch of their skin with your hands and your lips. Your mind continues to wonder as their hands travel downwards. Arber to his belt, and Juraj to his waistband.

You flex your fingers that were resting on the tops of your thighs. Pure excitement surging through you as you consider the logistics of how you were possibly meant to handle the both of them at the same time.

Juraj drags the soft material of his sweatpants down swiftly, his boxers caught up inside the fabric, leaving him completely bare before you. Your lips part subconsciously, and you aren’t surprised at his size as you had gotten a good feel for him in the kitchen, but the way it sits thick and hard against his abdomen in combination with the rest of his body was enough for you to shudder in anticipation. Wanting him inside you now.

Not to mention the fact that there was another, equally as attractive man situated in front of you.

Arber rid himself of his jeans, kicking them away somewhere behind him without a care to where they would land.

His boxers were next, and you felt as though the air was punched out of your chest.

He was big, bigger than you expected. His pubic hair was neatly trimmed, a dark patch you found attractive and incredibly masculine.

Your eyes darted back and forth, hungrily taking them both in, straining to commit the sight of them to memory.

You tap your fingertips to the tops of your thighs, growing impatient.

“Are you going to be good for us?” Arber asks, wrapping his hand around his hard length, pumping slowly and deliberately.

You nod frantically, eager to be touched, kissed, any sort of contact that would help alleviate this burning need coursing through your body.

“We want to hear you say it.” Juraj barks, sending a warning glance your way. You clench your thighs together and take a grounding breath.

“I’m going to be good for you.” You respond, taking a moment to glance deeply into each of their eyes. “For both of you.”

Arber’s eyes are twinkling with pride, and he can’t stay away from you any longer. He advances, and you bring both of your hands up, placing them flatly against his hips. His dick is level with your lips, one hand snug around his base, the other now tangled in your hair.

“Open up sunshine.”

And you do. Your mouth opens wide, hoping you can take at least some of him with ease.

He wastes no time teasing, skillfully invading your mouth with his warm, leaking tip.

You breathe shakily through your nose, and sneak a glance up at him through your lashes. His smile is gone, a look of determination and pleasure there instead as he paces himself, pushing into you inch by inch.

His grip in your hair keeps you grounded as you adjust the tightness of your jaw, loosening yourself up for him.

You gag as his tip bumps the back of your throat, tears beginning to form in the edges of your eyes.

“Shit.” He mutters, trying to compose himself. “She feels so good.” He directs at Slaf who isn’t missing a moment of this, eyes trained on the way your mouth curls around his best friend’s dick.

“Looks so fucking hot.” He comments, picking up the pace with his hand around his own member. You moan around the flesh in your mouth, and Arber takes that as an open invitation to move.

You brace yourself as he slowly pulls himself out of your mouth, hips bucking away from you until only the tip remained, before plunging himself back inside, hitting the back of your throat again, this time more harshly.

You gag around him again, forcing your mouth to stay open, to endure.

He sticks to this slow dragging rhythm, hips jerking his dick in and out of your slack mouth. All you have to do is sit pretty and take it.

Your spit started trickling out of the corners of your mouth, making a filthy mess of both yourself and Arber. The lewd, wet noises fill the room, turning you on even more than you had been before.

A particularly large ribbon of saliva fell from your lips and onto your bare breast.

Before you could register what was happening, Juraj was there, his calloused hands rubbing harshly against the top of your breast, collecting the wetness there. He scooped up the spit that was flowing from your lips, and you were transfixed on him as he brought the liquid to his own length, spreading it from his swollen tip, to the very base, leaving it glistening.

You moan again, sending a ripple of vibration through Arber.

“Fuck.” He hisses, stilling inside you. Taking a moment to collect himself, before vacating your mouth altogether.

You wipe your chin, attempting to clean yourself up, but ultimately just end up spreading the mess around your naked top half.

“Hands on the arm of the couch, knees on the cushions.” Arber commands, pointing at the end of the couch. You move to adjust yourself accordingly, resting your hands and knees on the furniture. The cushions dip behind you and you feel heavy palms rest themselves atop your ass. The thin fabric of your shorts and underwear doing little to obstruct the heat radiating from his grasp.

Juraj appears before you, standing at the edge of the couch. You grin up at him, eager to taste him and feel him fully.

You open your mouth to speak, but before any words can come out, you shout in surprise at the feeling of cool air on your aching cunt. Arber had hooked his fingers under the waistband of your shorts, pulling them and your panties off at the same time in one swift motion.

“Shh shh shh.” Juraj tuts in front of you. “Don’t want to wake y/b/f/n now.” He chides, cocking his head to the side as he looks down at you in fake worry.

Arber chuckles from behind you, helping you lift your knees individually to fully remove the last bit of your clothing from your body.

“Can’t have that now, can we?” He boasts, a thick sarcastic drawl evident in his tone. “Poor sick y/b/f/n. Catching her best friend fucking her boyfriend in her own apartment? With her just in the other room? That would just break her wouldn’t it?” He asks, smoothing his hands up and down the back of your thighs, over the expanse of your ass, and onto your lower back.

You send a glare over your shoulder at him. “I didn’t start this.” You quip, and the second Arber’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, you knew you had fucked up.

“Oh yeah?” He asks. “You’re telling me you don’t want this?” He presses, kneading the flesh of your ass in his hand, waiting for an answer

“Well I-.” You start, attempting to form a coherent and competent thought to explain yourself, before gasping out loud sharply in surprise.

Arber had plunged his fingers inside of your aching heat with no warning, sending a white hot shock of pleasure through your entire body.

“Go on.” Juraj urges, taking your chin in his hand, directing your attention back to him.

“Shit.” You hiss as Arber’s long, thick fingers begin rhythmically moving in and out of your needy hole, working you open. You can hear just how wet are, and you know there is no point in arguing your case, but you’ve started, and you aren’t ready to give up so easily. “I’m j-just saying I didn’t ask for this. I-it’s not my fault you want to cheat on your girlfriend.” You stammer out. Attempting to avoid the gaze of the man in front of you. They both let out sharp laughs, and Arber curls his fingers inside you, eliciting another gasp from your lips.

“You can deny it all you want cupcake, but from where I am sitting, there is no way in hell you weren’t silently begging for us both the moment you walked through that door.” He collects as much of your wetness as he can in his hand, fingers glistening erotically. “Look how fucking wet she is.” He raises his hand up for Juraj to see.

“Jesus. I think that proves it sunshine.” He grins wickedly down at you, pointing his member at your lips. “You want to taste your best friend’s boyfriend’s dick?” He teases, and you reach up to grip him in your own hand.

“So bad.” You hum, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on his tip.

“Fuck.” He curses, gathering your hair in his hands, creating a makeshift ponytail at the back of your head.

You make quick work of him, already warmed up from when Arber had his way with your throat.

You settle into a steady rhythm, bobbing your head and jerking your hand up and down him in tandem.

Juraj is vocal, little moans and sharp breaths leave his lips as you work your lips around him, the noises only motivating you to work harder.

Your head is so clouded with the smell and taste of him, that the feeling of a warm kiss on the back of your thigh distracts you for a moment and you pause.

“Don’t stop.” Juraj pleads, tightening his grip in your hair. You follow his command, increasing the speed in which you moved around him.

The next kiss is closer to your core, and you don’t falter, but instead let out a moan of pleasure at the sensation.

Arber is teasing you, slowly working his mouth to where you need him the most. Trailing hot, open mouth kisses from the back of your thigh to your wet hot heat. The combination of his soft lips and the gentle scratch of his facial hair was driving you crazy.

When he finally reaches your most sensitive spot, you let out a deep moan around Juraj’s dick. Your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

His tongue works you open easily, lapping at your dripping hole, pushing inside to run along your walls.

You whine around Juraj, flicking your glassy eyes up to his, his own face contorted in pleasure at the way you were taking him in your mouth.

Arber sucks harshly on your clit, and you feel that familiar sting creep up your abdomen. You pull away from Juraj and choke out a strangled breath.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.” You warn, glancing over your shoulder. Arber sits up, his chin shining with your wetness.

A lazy, but proud grin spreads across his face. “Can’t have that now can we.” He taunts, rising to his knees behind you. “The only place you’ll be coming is on my dick.” He declares, and you clench around nothing at the sound of the condom wrapper unraveling.

Juraj bucks in your hand, and you turn your attention back to him. Pouting your lips, and attempting to look cute for him.

“Kiss me?” You beg, and he doesn’t need to be asked twice, he leans down, and just as Arber lines himself up with your opening, he kisses you hard. You moan into the kiss as he swipes the head of his member through your slit, and Juraj takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring you once again. You push back, your own tongue fighting against his for dominance, and just when you think you are winning, Arber slams into you.

You are not prepared for the sheer size of him. The stretch nearly splitting you in two. You choke out a moan and Juraj pulls away.

“How does she feel?” He asks, glancing behind you, still panting from your kiss, but needing to know what it was like to penetrate you.

“Her pussy is so fucking tight.” Arber answers, pushing until there was nothing left, bottoming out inside you. You grab onto Juraj’s shoulder, nails digging in deep as you hiss out, attempting to adjust around the too large member inside you.

“Knew you would be.” Juraj taunts. Eyes locked on your own. “When’s the last time a guy fucked you till you came?” He asks, and you huff out in embarrassment.

“A while.” You mutter. Truthfully, you could count on one hand the amount of successful/fulfilling sexual encounters you experienced, and the last one was well over 6 months ago.

“Good thing we’re here.” He boasts, before planting a chaste kiss to your forehead. Resuming his previous position in front of you.

You spit into your hand, and grab ahold of him again, wrapping your fingers around his base. You give him a slow pump of your fist, and before you can bring your lips to him, Arber begins to move.

A strangled moan escapes your lips as he sets his pace, hips snapping to meet yours in an unrelenting rhythm.

The coil inside you winds tight, that familiar tension building inside your lower abdomen, and you know if he continues piling into you this way, you won’t last long.

You attempt to distract yourself from the growing feeling inside of you by directing your attention to the man in front of you.

You once again open your mouth wide for him, and take him fully in one aggressive bob of your head.

You don’t have to worry about pace or rhythm as the way Arber is fucking you has your entire body jostling back and forth. Your mouth moves without you having to think.

You relish in the feeling of having both men inside you. Your mouth and cunt full of flesh, stretching you open wider than you had ever been.

Your eyes fall closed as you savor it, committing the feeling to memory, not wanting to ever forget this level of pleasure.

A loud slap rings out throughout the room, and you feel the stinging pain on your ass cheek immediately as Arber winds up to spank you again. Tears prick your eyes, and you glance back up at the man in front of you.

His chest is heaving and his eyes are hazy with pleasure, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow as his free hand is clenched in a tight fist at his side, and if you had to guess, he wasn’t going to last much longer inside of your mouth.

You can’t deny the burning inside your body. It was building to dangerous levels, white hot pleasure wrecking through you from your head all the way down to your very toes. And you aren’t sure how much longer you can hold yourself up like this with just one hand and your knees.

The back of your throat was becoming numb from the constant stimulation, your jaw screaming at you to close. Your pussy was throbbing painfully, stretched tightly around Arber, snug around him as he drilled relentlessly inside you, hitting your sweet spot easily, the angle just right without you having to give him any direction.

Juraj’s hips buck forward, and you are caught of guard from the sudden movement, choking faintly around him.

“Feels so good.” He expels, hips jittering forward again. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth.” He confesses, eyes locking onto yours once again. You give him a quick squeeze, sticking out your tongue for him, attempting to pump your fist around him with any sort of pleasurable rhythm.

His grip on your hair tightens, and his other hand shoots out to cover your fist. He closes around your hand tightly and pumps himself in quick, sloppy motions.

He lets out a louder moan this time, and you taste his hot release on your tongue instantly. You feel Arber’s pace quicken behind you as your mouth fills with Juraj’s seed.

His fist lazily drags up and down his length until he’s empty, hand dropping heavily away from yours.

Yours eyes are still locked on his as you proudly show him your tongue, now covered in his white sticky release.

His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows thickly, eyes transfixed on you as you present yourself to him.

“Fuck.” He mutters, something akin to pride swelling in his chest. You nod up at him before retracting your wet muscle back inside your mouth, swallowing loudly and dramatically so neither of the men would miss it.

Exhaustion hits you, and your elbow buckles under your weight with the constant jerking motion of your body. You tremble, and it doesn’t go un noticed by Juraj.

Swiftly, he brings his arms out to steady you, grasping onto your shoulders. He maneuvers himself around the couch and Arber stills inside you.

“Sit up on your knees. It will help.” He commands, pushing you off your position resting on the arm of the furniture beneath you.

You nod, rising to your knees until your back is flush with Arber’s chest, the new angle of him inside you twists deliciously. His hands snake up your sides and his grip returns to your breasts.

Juraj slips into the space in front of you, sandwiching you between them both.

“Better?” He asks, and you nod excessively, not trusting yourself to speak.

Your arms shoot out at the feeling of Arber beginning to move again inside you. This new position making each thrust go deeper and harder than before. Your nails dig into the solid muscle of Juraj’s shoulder as you feel the coil inside you tighten once again. The heat is unbearable as absolute pleasure wracks through your body, flooding you in stimulating bliss.

Arber leans down behind you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, planting sloppy wet kisses against your tingling skin. Before you can appreciate the loving gesture, another more aggressively stimulating sensation floods your body.

Juraj’s fingers are on you now, the pads of his digits rub carefully over your clit and you feel as though you are going to explode.

The feeling of their skin on yours sent undeniable fire through you, and you were not sure how much longer you could hold on. The stimulation was becoming too much, and hot fat tears began rolling down your face.

“C-can’t take much more.” You cry, your entire body shaking between them. Juraj grabs a hold of your chin, forcing your glassy, tear ridden eyes to look at him.

“Let go.” Arber whispers in your ear, voice deep and gravelly, as though he is trying to hold on just as hard as you were.

With your eyes locked with Juraj’s, you let out a loud, pained cry mixed with a high pitched moan that was ripped from deep within you.

Your vision went white around the edges, your brain complete and utter mush as your nails threatened to puncture the skin of his shoulders.

Your entire body was vibrating as your orgasm wracked through you, leaving every single one of your cells on fire.

You clenched hard around Arber, eliciting a strangled moan from him as his own hips appeared to stutter.

Juraj’s fingers continued to circle around you, helping you through your high, applying just enough pressure to make you convulse.

You pant hard as you attempt to collect your breath, but with Arber still drilling inside of you, you found it impossible to catch up.

With your high slowly making its way down, you used all the energy you had left to buck yourself against him, arching into his touch, taking one of your hands from Juraj’s shoulder and placing it on top of Arber’s that was gripping onto your breast with a possessive force.

Before long, his thrusts became exceptionally sloppy and rough. His teeth sink into the skin of your neck, and he lets out a deep, primal growl into your flesh.

His hips still behind you, his dick buried so deep inside you, you can feel the twitch of him as his orgasm hits.

His mouth is opening and closing around your neck, strangled breaths hitting your skin as he milks himself inside you, rocking his hips gently against your ass.

Your heart is beating erratically in your chest, and as you attempt to regulate your breathing, you are faced with the reality of what just happened. Guilt and shame fill you like a poison, and you shiver at the thought of what happens next. Who will pull away first, and what does it mean when they do.

“You did so good for us.” Juraj hums, placing his hand softly against the side of your face, gazing happily down at you.

Arber lets out an amused laugh behind you, detaching himself from the crook of your neck, placing a gentle kiss there before pulling away completely, dropping his hands from your breasts, and slowly removing his already softening member from inside you.

You feel empty, the low sinking feeling of regret tugs at your heart as you gaze painfully over to the hallway.

“She doesn’t need to know.” Juraj notices where your mind must be at and he pulls you back in, rubbing soft circles over the apple of your cheek.

You nod pathetically at him, an empty, dark feeling rising in your chest.

He gives you a bright, reassuring smile before standing up to collect his clothes. You slump against the back of the couch and watch silently as the two men work around the room, Arber removes and discards the used condom before they both redress themselves with a nonchalantness that unnerves you.

You continue to stare into space, replaying the events in your head on a loop. Stuck in a cloud of shame and guilt.

Arber disappears for a moment, returning with your bra and shirt. You lift your hands to take them from him, but he just bats you away, taking a seat beside you on the couch.

You cock your head at him in confusion, as Juraj appears at your feet, kneeling with the rest of your clothes in his hands.

Wordlessly they dress you, and the feeling of adoration pulls at the edges of your heart, but it’s not enough to crack the hopeless void growing inside of you.

Once you are dressed, they pull you up off the couch and into their arms, squishing you between their hard bodies.

“Thank you.” Arber murmurs in your ear.

“We should do it again sometime.” Juraj quips, sending you a quick wink before pulling away and making his way to the front door.

Arber lingers, and for a moment you allow yourself to think that he sees the way you are struggling to breathe. That he recognizes the conflict within you, eating you up inside. The shame embarrassment threatening to spill out in a nasty, hurtful way. You consider him staying to help you through it, to talk to you softly and tell you everything is going to be okay.

But those thoughts do not last long, as all he offers you is a shy smile, before turning and following his friend out the door and away from you, finalizing whatever transaction you may have had.

You feel hollow inside, a shell of the person you were before you had stepped foot inside this apartment.

You ghost around the room, feet padding across the carpet. Your hand rises automatically to your neck, and your fingertips dance along the reddening flesh where you had been bitten and kissed.

A wave of pride swirls with the conflicting guilt in your chest. Seeking comfort, and with nowhere else to go, you gravitate down the hallway, and slip yourself into your best friend’s room, settling in beside her in bed. Letting the blankets swaddle you in warmth.

“Y/n?” She stirs beside you. Your breath hitches and your body freezes.

“Yeah?” You ask shakily, wide eyes staring straight up at the ceiling.

“Thanks for staying. You’re the best friend in the whole world.” Her scratchy voice rings through you like a bolt of lightning, and her hand finds yours under the covers, giving you a gentle squeeze before silence covers you once again.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

[zorosdimples]

UNDER HIS THUMB ꒰ uraume x reader x sukuna ꒱

minors and blank/ageless blogs do not interact—i will block you. cw: suggestive content. nonconsensual nudity. dubious touching. brief descriptions of cannibalism and violence. suicide mention. reader is referred to as “bride” and “wife.” reader has breasts. wc: 1053. notes: uraume ily—please ditch shitkuna for me <3 (based on this idea)

A fire blazes in the yawning hearth, bathing your bedchamber in a warm titian. The shadows of flames leap and dance across the cragged stone walls—a solar flare—a cosmic spectacle. Logs and branches resembling human bones sputter and spark, crackling in your ears. You shift in your seat. 

The diaphanous veil remains pinned to your crown as Uraume’s fingers move deftly through your locks, the sweeping gossamer that brushes your ankles now pooling on the floor. They unravel the intricate updo they crafted for the ceremony, your hair a glowing halo in the firelight, head bowed in gentle subservience. The pins that bite at your scalp are crusted in blood; the sharp pain has long-since softened into a dull throb.

“I hate him,” you announce. 

(It’s how you cope with your precarious situation: burying your fears beneath carefully woven layers of disdain.) 

Barren aside from a bed, a wardrobe, and an armchair, your threadbare accommodations are as cozy as a dungeon. No torch, tapestry, or looking glass adorns the walls. Your companion’s expression is hidden as they continue their work atop your head.

Uraume chastises you after a few beats, affectation frigid as ice. “You shouldn’t speak of your husband in such a manner.” 

You snort. This one-sided union will only further scar the ugly face of matrimony; looking upon your captor with respect or affection is as likely as you kissing the cheek of your slain mother a final time. “My ‘husband’ for all of ten minutes.”

“And still your husband, nonetheless.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you snap. 

Uraume pushes you to your feet and fluffs the veil with a hum. They circle you, appraising your body—the flimsy, silken robe that ripples across your curves hides nothing from their piercing stare—then, for what must be the fifth time, they adjust the knot that holds the garment together. When their eyes meet yours, you find yourself falling for the ruse, plucking fresh buds from a field of fuchsia.

How you wish their gaze held more than cool indifference.

Ever perceptive, they reach out to gingerly tuck a wayward strand behind your ear; if you close your eyes and still your heaving chest, you can pretend that it’s an intimate gesture—the touch of a lover. “Rarely do we have a say in our own fates,” Uraume muses. 

Fidgeting with your fingers, you quell the urge to embrace your attendant. (It’s a disgraceful thought for a newlywed. But you can’t spool in the words that unfurl from your lips, the edges raw, frayed with longing.)

“I would have taken my life if it hadn’t been for you, Uraume. I can’t stand him.” 

“Master Sukuna would never allow you to harm yourself.” 

“Tch—that vile brute cares little for my well being.” Hatred flares within your chest, your once-blooming heart now withered with rot. Tears of anguish blur your vision and make each syllable tremble. “If he didn’t want to harm me, he wouldn’t have murdered and feasted on my family.” 

A smile tucks itself in the corners of Uraume’s lips like a secret, though you miss it—misty-eyed and waist-deep in a deluge of painful memories. “You seem to forget that I prepared their flesh at my lord’s behest.” 

“I can’t fault you for being trapped under his thumb; you’re kinder than you give yourself credit for, anyhow.” 

They chuckle darkly. “And what leads you to believe that?” 

It doesn’t occur to you until this moment that you’ve edged closer to Uraume. If you leaned forward, you would smell the frost on their porcelain skin, taste the mint on their breath. Despite yourself, you reach out, cupping their cheek. 

“You’ve been my devoted caretaker since I arrived, patient and helpful at every turn. Your presence is the only constant here—my sole comfort.”

“Oh? Is my blushing bride ready to consummate our unholy union?” A rumbling voice cracks the tense air open like a bone, marrow seeping out, juices staining the tender earth. 

Your neck snaps to the doorway. Your monster of a husband nearly blots out the frame with his inhuman physique, clothed in nothing but a simple pair of black trousers, both sets of arms crossed. Disgust pinches your brow and purses your lips; you sneer. 

“With you? Never.”

Amused by your vehemence, the King of Curses approaches you, both mouths curled into wolfish grins. Uraume bows as Sukuna invades your space, two clawed hands wrapping around your waist, the other two cradling your skull. He demands your attention, irises a wine-dark sea of skeletons and ichor. A cursed siren urges you to plunge into its depths. End your suffering.

“Uraume—has my wife been inappropriate with you in my absence?” 

Without hesitation, they answer: “Yes, my lord.” 

Several sets of eyes—one belonging to Uraume, the others to Sukuna—gorge on your discomfort. You bristle under their scrutiny, and fruitlessly attempt to rip yourself from your husband’s grasp, nails scratching angry lines across his tattooed forearms. 

He clicks his tongue. “My naughty little bride.”  

Bile burns your throat at the mock-endearment, bitterness coating your tongue. For as resolved as you’ve been, you shake with rage, the hulking beast before you stoking the embers of your wrath. He smiles something sharp and wicked before releasing you. You stumble backwards, limp as a ragdoll. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna commands. 

There’s an unspoken agreement between master and servant. When Uraume steps forward and swiftly unties your robes, you shriek, the fabric slipping open to expose your nude form. They proceed to rip the garment from your body; it falls to the floor in wispy shreds. 

Attempting to preserve your dignity, you scramble to wrap an arm around your chest and press a palm between your legs. “This hardly seems proper,” you pant. 

Sukuna snickers as he sits at the foot of your bed, spreading his legs. “How else is a ‘vile brute’ supposed to learn the intricacies of his little wife’s body if not through careful examination?” 

As much as you want to spew poison at him, you gasp when Uraume’s chilly lips graze the arch of your neck, their delicate hands slipping up to caress the swell of your breasts. Unable to stifle the moan that warbles past your lips, you make the sinister decision to revel in this pleasure—no matter how short-lived, underhanded, or wrong it may be.

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Statistics of Apollo's Lovers

I was wondering just how unfortunate of a love-life our boy Apollo had, so - as one does - I did the research, math, and writing of said love-life.

such is the life of an adhd teen :)

In total, there are 63 people on this list. I have them separated into eight groups; Immortal, Immortal & Rejected, Lived, Died, Rejected & Died, Rejected & Cursed, Rejected & Lived, and who were Rejected by Apollo

Disclaimer: I am not a historian nor an expert in Greek Mythology, I am just a very invested nerd in Mythology, and in Apollo's mythology in general, and got curious about what his rap sheet actually looks like.

Sidenote: There will be some "lovers" not on this list. Reasons being;

No actual literary sources behind them

Said literary sources are dubious at best

Not enough information is given about the nature of their relationship to make an accurate take

So if somebody isn't on this list, it's because of one of those three reasons. Although there is still a chance I missed somebody! :)

Also, no RRverse lovers include in this list. Sorry my fellow ToA fans.

(Edited 04/05/25 - ALL SECTIONS SOURCED)

Let's begin! :D

Immortal Lovers

Calliope: muse of epic poetry. Mother of Hymenaios and Ialemus (Pindar's 3rd Threnos) by Apollo.

Clio: muse of history

Erato: muse of love poetry

Euterpe: muse of music

Polyhymnia: muse of hymns/sacred poetry

Melpomene: muse of tragedy

Thalia: muse of comedy. Mother of the Corybantes (The Bibliotheca by Pseudo-Apollodorus) by Apollo.

Terpsichore: muse of dance

Urania: muse of astronomy

Boreas: the North Wind. The Boreads called Apollo "beloved of our sire" in Apollonius of Rhodes's Argonautica.

Rhetia: alternate mother of the Corybantes by Apollo. (Strabo's Geography 10.3.21)

11 lovers total here.

10 Female, 1 Male

Immortal & Rejected

Hestia: goddess of the Hearth (Hymn to Aphrodite)

1 Interest. Female.

Lovers Who Lived:

Branchus: mortal shepherd, gifted prophecy (Conon's Narrations 33 & Callimachus's Iambus)

Rhoeo: mortal princess, eventually married an apprentice of Apollo (Diodorus Siculus's Bibliotheca historica 5.62 and Tzetzes on Lycophron 570)

Ourea: demigod daughter of Poseidon, dated Apollo during his punishment with Laomedon; had a son named Ileus, after the city of Troy (Hesiod's Catalogues of Women Fragment 83)

Evadne: nymph daughter of Poseidon, Apollo sent Eileithyia & (in some texts) the Fates to aid in their son's birth (Pindar's Olympian Ode 6)

Thero: great-granddaughter of Heracles, described as "beautiful as moonbeams" (Pausanias's Description of Greece 9)

Cyrene: mortal princess-turned-nymph queen, kick-ass lion wrangler, and mother of two of Apollo's sons - Aristaeus (a god) and Idmon (powerful seer) (Pindar's Pythian Ode 9.6 ff. and Nonnus's Dionysiaca and Callimachus's Hymn to Apollo 85)

Admetus: mortal king, took great care of Apollo during his second punishment, Apollo wingmanned him for Alcestis's hand - basically Apollo doted on him <3 (Callimachus's Hymn II to Apollo and Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 1.9.15 and Hyginus's Fabulae 50–51, and also written about by Ovid and Servius)

Hecuba: queen of Troy, together they had Troilus.

It was foretold that if Troilus lived to adulthood, Troy wouldn't fall - unfortunately, Achilles murdered Troilus in Apollo's temple. When the Achaeans burned Troy down, Apollo rescued Hecuba and brought her to safety in Lycia. (Stesichorus's Fr.108)

Hyrie/Thyrie: mortal. mothered a son by Apollo. Their son, Cycnus, attempted to kill himself after some shenanigans and his mother attempted the same. Apollo turned them into swans to save their lives. (Antoninus Liberalis's Metamorphoses 12 and Ovid's Metamorphoses 7.350)

Dryope: mortal. had a son named Amphissus with Apollo, who was a snake at the time. Later turned into a lotus flower, but it had nothing to do with Apollo so she's still on this list. (noncon; written by Ovid in Metamorphoses 8 CE/AD and later by Antoninus Liberalis in his own Metamorphoses sometime between 100-300 CE/AD)

Creusa: mortal queen. had a son named Ion with Apollo (Euripides's Ion). Please check out @my-name-is-apollo's post for more details because they make some good points about what's considered "rape" in Ancient Greece. I expand on this further at the end of the post.

Melia: Oceanid nymph. Had a son w/h Apollo named Tenerus. (Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 9.10.5–6)

Melia was said to be kidnapped, and her brother found her with Apollo. He set fire to Apollo's temple in an effort to get her back, but was killed. Melia and Apollo had two kids - but here's the interesting part. Melia was highly worshiped in Thebes, where her brother found her. She was an incredibly important figure in Thebes, especially when connected with Apollo. She and Apollo were essentially the parents of Thebes.

As I read over their story, it sounded like (to me, at least. it's okay if you think otherwise!) that Melia just absconded/eloped with Apollo.

Was kidnapping an equivalent to assault back then? Perhaps. But it's still debated on whenever or not that's true. However, one thing I've noticed reading up on these myths is that when Apollo does do something unsavory, the text says so.

It never says anything about Apollo doing anything to Melia. Her father and brother believe she was kidnapped, but, like mentioned previously, it seems far much more likely that she just ran off with her boyfriend or something.

But that's just my interpretation.

Moving on! :)

Iapis: a favorite lover. Apollo wanted to teach him prophecy, the lyre, ect. but Iapis just wanted to heal :) so Apollo taught him healing :) (Smith 1873, s.v. Iapis)

Aethusa: daughter of Poseidon & the Pleiad Alcyone. Mother of Linus and Eleuther. She is the great-great grandmother of Orpheus. (Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 3.10.1 and Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 9.20.2 and Suida, s.v. Homer's Of the Origin of Homer and Hesiod and their Contest, Fragment 1.314)

Acacallis: daughter of King Minos. there's a lot of variation on whether or not she had kids with Hermes or Apollo. Some say she had a kid with each. (Stephanus of Byzantium, s.v. Kydōnia (Κυδωνία and Scholia on Apollonius Rhodius, 4.1492)

Chrysothemis: nymph queen who won the oldest contest of the Pythian Games - the singing of a hymn to Apollo. She had three daughters, and one of them is said to be Apollo's. (Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 10.7.2 and Hyginus's De Astronomica 2.25)

Corycia: naiad. had a son with Apollo. the Corycian Cave north of Delphi is named after her (Hyginus's Fabulae 161)

Leuconoe (also Choine or Philonis): daughter of Eosphorus, god of the planet Venus, and mother of the bard Philammon. (Hyginus's Fabulae 161) She was killed by Diana for her hubris.

Melaena (also Thyia or Kelaino): mother of Delphos, member of prophetic Thriae of Delphi. Priestess of Dionysus. (Herodotus's Histories 7.178.1)

Othreis: mothered Phager by Apollo, and later Meliteus by Zeus. (Antoninus Liberalis's Metamorphoses 13)

Stilbe: mother of Lapithus and Aineus by Apollo. (Diodorus Siculus's Library of History 4.69.1 and Scholia on Apollonius Rhodius, 1.40 and Scholia on Apollonius Rhodius, 1.948)

Syllis (possible same as Hyllis, granddaughter of Heracles): mothered Zeuxippus by Apollo. (Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 2.6.7)

Amphissa: Apollo seduced her in the form of a shepherd. They had a son named Agreus. (Ovid's Metamorphoses 6.103 and Hyginus's Fabulae 161)

(hey, has anybody else noticed that 'Apollo disguising himself' seems to only be a thing in Roman literature?)

Areia (or Deione): had a son named Miletus. Hid him in some smilax. Her father found him and named him. (Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 3.1.2)

Arsinoe: she and Apollo had a daughter named Eriopis. (Hesiod's Ehoiai 63 and Scholia ad Pindar's Pythian Ode 3.14)

Queen of Orkhomenos (no name is given): Mother of Trophonius (Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 9.37.5)

(my fellow ToA fans will recognize that name haha).

Hypermnestra: Either Apollo or her husband fathered her son Amphiaraus. (Hyginus's Fabulae 70)

(sidenote: @literallyjusttoa suggested that Apollo was dating both Hypermnestra and Oikles, and I, personally, like that headcannon)

Manto: Daughter of Tiresias. Apollo made her a priestess of Delphi. They had a son named Mopsus. When Apollo sent her to found an oracle elsewhere, he told her to marry the first man she saw outside of Delphi. That man turned out to be Rhacius, who brought her to Claros, where she founded the oracle of Apollo Clarios. (Apollodorus's Bibliotheca E6. 3)

Later, another man named Lampus attempted to assault her, but was killed by Apollo. She is also said to be a priestess who warned Niobe not to insult Leto, and to ask for forgiveness. Niobe did not. (Statius's Thebaid 7 and Ovid's Metamorphoses 6)

(Dante's Inferno places her in the eighth circle of hell, and let me just say- what the FUCK Dante! What did Manto ever do to you, huh??!! Don't do my girl dirty!!)

Parthenope: granddaughter of a river god. Mothered Lycomedes by Apollo (Pausanius's Descriptions of Greece 4.1)

Phthia: prophetess. called "beloved of Apollo". Mother three kings by him; Dorus, Laodocus, & Polypoetes (Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 1.7.6)

Procleia: Mother of Tenes, son of Apollo, who was killed by Achilles before the Trojan War. Daughter of King Laomedon, king of Troy. (Apollodorus's Epitome 3. 26)

Helenus: prince of Troy. Received from Apollo an ivory bow which he used to wound Achilles in the hand. (Photius's 'Bibliotheca excerpts')

Hippolytus of Sicyon: called "beloved of Apollo" in Plutarch's Life of Numa. I don't think this guy is the same as Hippolytus, son of Zeuxippus (son of Apollo), king of Sicyon Pausanias talks about in his Description of Greece. That would be a little weird taking the whole family tree into account - though it's never stopped other gods before. *shrug*

Psamathe: nereid, said to be the personification of the sand of the sea-shore. (Conon's Narrationes 19)

She and Apollo were lovers, but never had any kids. When another man assaulted her, she had a son and abandoned him.

(He was found by some shepherds dw - wait, he was then torn apart by dogs. Nevermind.)

Back to her, her father ordered for her to be executed and Apollo avenged her death by sending a plague onto Argos and refused to stop it until Psamathe and Phocus/Linus (her son) were properly given honors.

(I really like how even though Linus isn't Apollo's kid, and that Psamathe wanted nothing to do with the kid, Apollo still considered him worth avenging too <3 )

Okay, in a previous incarnation of this post, I said there was a version where she is raped by Apollo...however, I can't find any sources to back it up😅 Even her wiki page doesn't mention rape, and Theoi's excerpt of Paunasias's Descriptions of Greece about her doesn't either.

So where did I hear about this supposed version? (Don't shoot)

Youtube. A youtube video about Apollo. Yeah...

Lesson, kids! Don't trust youtube videos on mythology! Yes, even if they dedicated lots of time to it! They can still get things wrong! In fact, don't even take my word for it! Do your own research <3

Hymenaeus: No, not his kid. This is a different Hymenaeus haha! This Hymenaeus is the son of Magnes, and comes from Megalai Ehoiai fr. 16, commonly attributed to Hesiod, and Antonius Liberalis's Metamorphosis. Legend states that while Apollo was preoccupied with Hymenaeus, baby Hermes stole his cows ;)

Euboia: Daughter of Macareus. Bore a son named Agreus. (Hyginus's Fabulae 161)

Philodice: Wife of Leukippos, mothered Phoebe and Hilaera by Apollo (Descriptions of Greece 3.16.1, citing the Kypria).

Alright. 37 lovers here.

6 Male. 31 Female.

35 are 100% consensual. Creusa is questionable, depending on who's translating/which tradition you go with. Dryope is noncon.

Lovers Who Died:

Hyacinthus*: mortal prince. we all know this one, right? Right? one and only true love turned into flower (okay that's my bias speaking but AM I WRONG?) (Plutarch's Life of Numa, 4.5; Philostratus the younger's Imagines; Pseudo-Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 1.3.3; Ovid's Metamorphoses 10.162–219; Bion's Poems 11; and various pieces of art)

Cyparissus: mortal. his DEER DIED and he asked Apollo to let him MOURN FOREVER so he was turned into a cypress tree (Ovid's Metamorphoses X 106ff)

Coronis: mortal princess. cheated on Apollo w/h Ischys, who in Fabulae was killed by Zeus. mother of Asclepius. killed by Artemis. (Pindar's Pythian Odes 3.5; Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 2.26.6; Hyginus's Fabulae 202; Ovid's Metamorphoses 2.536 and 2.596; Hyginus's De Astronomica 2.40; Isyllus's Hymn to Asclepius 128.37 ff.)

There is another version of Asclepius's birth given by Pausanias in Descriptions of Greece 2.26.1-7, where Coronis exposes him on a mountain and Apollo takes him in.

Adonis: yes, THAT Adonis. he's in this category because. well. he died. rip (Ptolemy Hephaestion's New History Book 5)

Phorbas: Okay so Apollo's lover Phorbas and another Phorbas sometimes get mashed together so this is what I was able to gather.

Plutarch's Life of Numa 4.5 and Hyginus's De Astronomia 2.14.5 cites Phorbas as Apollo's lover. The other Phorbas is said to be a rival to Apollo in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo. Personally, I separate the two because it makes more sense with Phorbas the lover's overall story.

Here it is: The island of Rhodes fell victim to a plague of dragons or serpents, and the oracle said to summon Phorbas for help. He defeated the infestation, and after he died, Apollo asked Zeus to place him in the stars, and so Phorbas became the constellation Serpentarius, also known more widely as Ophiuchus (a man holding a serpent).

FORGET ORION AND HIS ONE-OFF MENTION OF BEING DIANA'S LOVER HERE IS A CONSTELLATION TRAGIC LOVE STORY!!!!!

(*Hyacinthus was resurrected, as celebrated in the Hyacinthia festival in Sparta. Nonnus's Dionysiaca 19.102 and Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece 3.19.4 supports this belief as well.)

5 lovers.

4 Male. 1 Female. All consensual.

Sidenote: QUIT BURYING THE GAYS GREECE!!!!

Love-Interests Who Rejected & Died:

Daphne: do i nEED to say anything? Nymph. turned into tree to escape.

Daphne and Apollo actually go back a bit. Their story was used to explain why the laurel was so sacred to Apollo. It's in Delphi, Branchus planted laurel trees around the temple he built to Apollo, the laurel was even sacred to Apollo's historical forebearer Apulu, an Etruscan god! (I have sources to back this up :3 along with an Essay.)

Apollo & Daphne first originate from Phylarchus, but we do not have any of his work :( It's been lost to history...a moment of silence RIP. He was a contemporary in the 3rd century BC/BCE (first day of 300 BC/BCE and last day of 201 BC/BCE).

He was, however, cited as a source in Parthenius's Erotica Pathemata, written sometime in the 1 century AD/CE (sometime between 66 BC/BCE and the author's death in 14 AD/CE).

Then they show up again in Pausanias's Descriptions of Greece, written between 150 AD/CE and 170 AD/CE.

Hyginus wrote his Fabulae sometime before Ovid's because it's widely criticized to be his earliest work and Ovid wrote his Metamorphoses in 8 AD/CE.

The first two versions are roughly the same, and Ovid's shares similarities with the first in only the ending. Hyginus is basically like Ovid's but without Eros.

So in publication order, it's; Erotica Pathemata, Fabulae, Metamorphoses, then Descrip. of Greece.

In Erotica Pathemata, Daphne is the daughter of Amyclas and is being courted by Leucippus. She is not interested in any sort of romance. Leucippus disguises himself as a girl to get close to her, but his ruse is revealed when Apollo nudges Daphne and her attendants into taking a bath in the river. Leucippus is consequently killed.

Apollo then becomes interested and Daphne runs away, imploring Zeus that "she might be translated away from mortal sight", and is transformed into the laurel tree.

In Fabulae, Daphne's story is a bit more familiar. She's the daughter of Peneus, the river god, and Gaea is the one who transforms her into a laurel tree.

In Metamorphoses, Eros is added to the story and is the reason why Apollo is so enamored and Daphne is so repulsed.

(I would just like to say that in this version, it was 100% nonconsensual for both of them! And I don't mean with rape- Apollo never touches Daphne in any of these version. What I mean here is that Eros maliciously makes Apollo chase down a woman and makes sure Daphne would be repulsed by him. That is noncon behavior there on both sides.)

In Descriptions of Greece 10.7.8, Daphne is the daughter of Ladon and her and Apollo are only connected by way of why the laurel crown is the victory prize of the Pythian Games. However, in Descriptions of Greece 8.20.2-8.20.4, Daphne and Leucippus make an appearance here too, but Apollo is not the reason why they stop to take a swim and his ruse is revealed, resulting in his death.

Castalia: Nymph. turned into spring to escape.

First things first, Castalia was used to explain the existence of the Castalian Spring in Delphi. However, in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, the spring is already there when Apollo was born. So there's that to consider first.

Anyway, to escape Apollo's advances, Castalia transforms herself into a spring. (Lactantius Placidus's On Statius's Thebaid 1.698. This was written between Lactantius's lifespan of c. 350 – c. 400 AD/CE, placing it firmly in Roman times.)

2 Interests.

2 Female.

Love-Interests Who Rejected & Cursed

Cassandra: mortal princess. Received the gift of prophecy from Apollo. Due to a broken oath, she was then cursed. (Aeschylus's Agamemnon)

It is only in Roman-era tellings where Cassandra is cursed for not sleeping with Apollo, and there was no oath made (Hyginus & Pseudo-Apollodorus). In Agamemnon, it was done so because of the broken oath- not the refusing to sleep with Apollo thing.

The version where she gains prophetic abilities by way of a snake licking her ears is not part of Greco-Roman literature, but rather by an American poet.

Nevertheless, even after the curse Cassandra still loved Apollo, and called him "god most dear to me" in Eurpides's play The Trojan Women.

1 Interests.

1 Female.

Love-Interests Who Rejected & Lived

Sinope: mortal. there are two different version of her myth.

In Diodorus Siculus's Library of History 4.72.2 and Corinna's Frag. 654, Apollo "seizes" her and they have a son named Syrus.

In Apollonius's Argonautica  2.946-951 and Valerius Flaccus's Argonautica 5.109, it is Zeus who abducts her, but she gets him to promise her anything and requests to remain a virgin. He obliges. Later, Apollo and the river Halys both try to charm her, but fall for the same trick.

Library of History was written between 60-30 BC/BCE, Apollonius's Argonautica between 300 BC/BCE and 201 BC/BCE, and Valerius Flaccus's Argonautica between 70-96 AD/CE, making Apollonius's version the oldest and Valerius Flaccus's the youngest.

Marpessa: mortal princess, granddaughter of Ares. Idas, son of Poseidon, kidnapped her and Apollo caught up to them. Zeus had Marpessa chose between them, and she chose Idas, reasoning that she would eventually grow old and Apollo would tire of her. (Homer's The Iliad, 9.557 and Apollodorus's Bibliotheca 1.7.8–9)

Bolina: mortal. Apollo approached her and she flung herself off a cliff. He turned her into a nymph to save her life. (Pausanias's Description of Greece 7.23.4)

Ocroe/Okyrrhoe: nymph and daughter of a river god. asked a boatman to take her home after Apollo approached her. Apollo ended up turning the boat to stone and the seafarer into a fish. (Athenaeus's The Deipnosophists 7.283 E [citing The Founding of Naucratis by Apollonius Rhodius]. The Deipnosophists was written in the early 3rd century AD, between 201 AD and 300 AD)

Sibyl of Cumae: mortal seer. promised to date Apollo if she was given longevity as long as the amount of sand in her hand. he did, but she refused him. (Ovid's Metamorphoses 14)

5 Interests. All female.

Okyrrhoe's story is the only one with any iffy stuff, although, when something iffy does occur, the text usually says so outright.

Rejected by Apollo:

Clytie*: Oceanid nymph. turned into a heliotrope to gaze at the sun forever after the rejection.

1 Advance. Female.

(*Clytie's story was originally about her affection for Helios. [Ovid's Metamorphoses 4.192–270; Ovid used Greek sources about the etymology of the names involved, meaning Clytie and Helios go back to Greek times] As Apollo got superimposed over Helios's myths, people have assumed it is he who is the sun god in her myth and not Helios.)

In Conclusion...

63 people total, and 35 of them have Roman-Era roots with (as far as I know!! Don't take my word as gospel truth!!) no relation to Greece except by way of shared mythology.

Here's the list:

Rhoeo

Thero

Hyrie/Thyrie

Dryope

Melia

Aethusa

Acacallis

Chrysothemis

Corycia

Choine

Thyia

Othreis

Stilbe

Syllis

Amphissa

Areia

Queen of Orkhomenos

Hypermnestra

Manto

Parthenope

Phthia

Procleia

Helenus

Hippolytus of Sicyon

Psamathe

Cyparissus

Adonis

Phorbas

Castalia

Sinope

Bolina

Ocroe/Okyrrhoe

Sibyl of Cumae

Rhetia

Euboia

Meaning, 56% of the lovers listed on this post are not entirely Greek in origin (AS FAR AS I KNOW-)! That does not mean ofc that you have to ignore them. I, for one, really like the story of Rhoeo, and Manto, and Psamethe- I find their myths sweet (Rhoeo & Manto) and bittersweet (Psamethe).

Let's get to the calculations now, yeah?

63 people total (Includes Clytie)

51 Women (81%). 12 Men (19%).

19% were Immortal (Including Lovers & Rejected)

74% Lived (Including Lovers & Cursed & Rejected)

11% Died (Including Lovers & Rejected)

2% were Cursed

2% were Rejected by him

62 people total (Not Including Clytie)

50 Women (81%). 12 Men (19%).

19% were Immortal

69% Lived (Lovers & Cursed & Rejected)

11% Died (Lovers & Rejected)

in that 11%, one was apotheosized - Hyacinthus.

Meaning 9% died permanently, while 2% were resurrected.

2% were Cursed

0% were Rejected by him

Additionally, I left off five male lovers and two female lovers - Atymnius, Leucates, Cinyras, Erginus, Leukippos, Hecate, & Acantha.

Atymnius has no references to being Apollo's lover, only to Zeus's son Sarpedon. (Wikipedia why do you even have him listed? You need sources smh)

Leucates is another male "lover" left off the rack - apparently he jumped off a cliff to avoid Apollo, but I couldn't find any mythological text to account for it- and no, OSP's wiki page is not a reliable source. There is a cliff named similarly to him where Aphrodite went (by Apollo's advice) to rid herself of her longing for Adonis after his death. Also Zeus uses it to rid himself of his love for Hera before he...well, commits adultery again. 🤷

Cinyras was a priest of Aphrodite on the island of Cyprus. He was also the island's king. Pindar calls him "beloved of Apollo" in his Pythian Ode. However, looking further into Cinyras's life throws a bit of a wrench into it. He's also cited to be a challenger to Apollo's skill, and either Apollo or Mars (Ares) kills him for his hubris.

(honestly, I kinda like the idea that Mars went into Big Brother Mode)

I did consider leaving him on the list, since technically you could argue it was a romance-gone-bad, but among every other source Cinyras is mentioned in, Pindar's the only one who puts a romantic label on him and Apollo.

Plus, he’s been described as a son of Apollo too, and I personally like that more lol

Erginus now I only put on here because I saw a tumblr post saying he was a lover of Apollo, but after consulting fellow nerds on the matter we concluded that there is (very likely) no records indicating such. Hence his placement here to curb potential misinformation <3

Leukippos is here for much the same reasons as Erginus. Full disclosure here from fellow nerds but long story short a few of his daughters are said to be Apollo’s by way of his wife, who is on this list (Philodice in the Lived section!)

Hecate, the goddess of magic and crossroads, is said to be the mother of Scylla (like, the sea-monster) by Apollo, but Scylla's parentage is one of those "no specific parents" ones, so I left her off the list.

Acantha has absolutely no classical references. There's a plant like her name, but she's made-up, so she doesn't count. *stink-eyes the guy who invented her and claimed his “sources” were reliable when they really aren’t*

(Of course, I could be wrong about any of these. Again, I'm not an expert.)

With all this in mind, this means Apollo's love life actually isn't as tragic as media portrays it, and he isn't as bad as Zeus or Poseidon in the nonconsensual area.

Does he still have those kinds of myths? Yes, with Dryope and Creusa; though, we can discount Creusa because;

1) Depends on who's translating it; and

2) Ion is given different parentage in the Bibliotheca, which yes, came much after Ion, however Xuthus was traditionally considered to be Ion's father rather than Apollo. This means there was probably a different oral tradition on Ion's parentage that just wasn't written down as early as Euripides's was- in fact, it may even just be an invention of Euripides's.

(and honestly Apollo's characterization in Ion just doesn't quite match up with the rest of his appearances in the wider myths (in my opinion, at least))

So that leaves us with just Dryope, who comes from Ovid, a Roman poet, and Antoninus Liberalis, a late Greek one.

Now I'm not saying we should throw her out because of Ovid's whole "wrote the gods even more terribly to criticize Augustus" thing, but it is something to keep in mind. Political mechanics have been used to change myths before, and this is certainly one example of it.

Additionally, I have seen many people discard Dionysus's rapes in the Dionysiaca because of how late it was written, so this one can be given similar treatment if one choses too because of just how late Ovid and Antoninus Liberalis's work was.

You can, in fact, pick and chose if you wish, especially if it'll increase your enjoyment of literature. That's certainly what I do :)

So overall, I'd say Apollo has a rather clean relationship past. He's doing pretty damn good.

Also, I think we should all take note that even if Apollo had noncon myths, that doesn't reflect on the actual god. The Ancient Greeks did not see the myths as "canon" to their gods- in fact, some were not happy with the myths showing the gods in such a light.

That's something else to keep in mind. The gods of the myths are not the gods of Greece, and are more like parables or fables for the Ancient Greeks I'd say. Lessons on morality and such, and of course, warnings against hubris and the like.

This was quite the journey, and I really hope you all enjoyed reading and learning with me! This really makes me wonder- if Apollo's love life is this good, I wonder how misinformed we are on everyone else's? I have no plans on doing Zeus or Poseidon or anyone else (not for a LONG time lol, this took a lot of effort and research!), but if anyone has any idea, or gets inspired to do something like this for any other god, please tag me!! I'd love to see it! :D

And since this was on a previous reblog, here be a meme from a while ago:

[ID: Me Explaining Me. On the left is a girl with her hands up, fingers pinched together, like she's intensely explaining something. The text over her says "Me giving a detailed diatribe about Apollo's love life and how modern media has done him and his lovers dirty". On the right is the girl's mother, wrapped up to her chin in a blanket, with a look on her face that screams "absolutely done with this shit". The Mother is labeled "My family". /End ID]

suffers in I'm the only mythology nerd in the family

[poorly-written-fiction]

a little bit too much - logan howlett x fem!reader

A/N: i saw @journal3sposts post about logan with his young, tipsy, hypersexual little girlfriend who can't keep her hands to herself in the car. the post spoke to me on a very deep, emotional level. so i threw this fic together. it doesn't actually end in smut, i do have some minor discomfort writing dubious consent content, mostly because i don't want to make anyone else uncomfortable. but if this is received well and i don't get bricks theown at me i will write something properly spicy. this is also the first piece of writing i'm posting publicly in 10 years so please have some patience with me. also despite being 22 years old and being a casual alcohol drinker, i do not drink at bars, so my idea of going to bars is based solely on the experiences of others + what i've seen in movies and tv shows. apologies, i'm sorry i'm lame.

tags: not quite smut, but very suggestive (18+, MDNI), alcohol consumption (reader is 21+), age gap (legal, but let's be honest, every relationship with logan is an age gap relationship) fem!reader (no specific descriptions of appearance), reader is handsy, logan is a little more responsible, some spelling/grammar errors probably i'm too tired to check

Logan loved taking Y/N to bars. She was fun without alcohol, but after a few drinks she was truly a sight. Logan would joke that she kept him young with her shenanigans. She would drink and dance, and flirt - oh good lord, she would flirt. She would run her hands up and down his arms, run her fingers through his hair, any excuse she had to touch Logan, she'd take it. She'd take a shot, then kiss him immediately after - or kiss him right after he took a drink of his own drink. Usually it was beer, but he occasionally got whiskey when he was in the mood for it.

One particular night, Logan and Y/N were at a bar playing a game at one of the billiards tables. It wasn't a grimy place, but definitely not one of the nicest places either of them had gone to. It was comfortable enough - the music didn't play too loud and the drinks were good, and strong. Logan sipped a glass of whiskey, while Y/N tried whatever the bartender had suggested when she asked for a recommendation. That was another thing Logan liked about her, she would try almost anything at least once. After a drink of her own, a celebratory shot for winning the game, and a few sips she had snuck from Logan's glass, she was well on her way to stumbling a little more when she walked. She clung to Logan like a crutch, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close to him so she wouldn't fall or wander too far. Y/N grabbed Logan by the collar of his flannel shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. A long, hard, meaningful kiss. There was never any doubts that they loved each other, but they don't call alcohol "liquid truth" for nothing.

"We better get you home, darlin'." Logan paid the tab and scooped up Y/N, carrying her bridal style to the old truck. "Can you grab the door for me, princess?" Y/N pulled the handle, and Logan got her settled inside, pressing a kiss to her temple when he buckled her seatbelt. When he made sure she was secure, he shut the door and made his way over the driver's side. He hopped in, turned the key, and started back for home.

The ride back was comfortably quiet. Not a lot of conversation, just the sounds of the road and some generic country song played inaudibly on the radio. Logan drove with one of his hands on Y/N's thigh, occasionally rubbing it with his thumb and smiling at her. She'd smile back, her head still feeling fuzzy from the outing, but she was in good hands, and she was happy. It didn't take long before they were stopped at a red light that held for just a little bit longer than some of the others, and Y/N slid one of her hands over Logan's chest.

He smiled, shaking his head, "What are you doing there, baby?"

Y/N just smiled back, mumbling something along the lines of, "I'm just feeling you. You're so handsome."

Logan smiled before leaning over and kissed his lover, her breath still smelling faintly of alcohol. It wasn't off-putting, just a subtle reminder that she wasn't completely sober. Y/N couldn't contain herself, moaning quietly into the kiss and running her hands down to his belt, fumbling with it. Logan put one of his hands over hers, moving them away gently.

"Babygirl, we can't do that right now," Logan pressed his forehead against hers, smiling apologetically. He couldn't deny that he didn't like the contact or the way Y/N would practically throw herself at him. But, he didn't want to take advantage - or feel like he was taking advantage - especially because she was so much younger than he was. Almost everyone Logan knew was younger than him, but Y/N almost made it too obvious that there was a significant age difference between the two. He didn't mind it too much, obviously because they had been dating for a while, but his moral compass still steered him away from fucking her while she was this intoxicated.

Y/N pouted, moving her hands back up to his chest, "What about when we get home? I want you so badly, Lo..."

He kissed her forehead, and rubbed her thigh gently, not with intention of teasing her, but instead as a way to soothe her. "You're not sober enough, darlin'. It wouldn't be right. If you feel up for it in the morning, we can try again."

"But it's okay, I love you, it would be okay." Y/N's head was just spinning with the idea of Logan touching her. He shook his head, gave her soft thigh a light squeeze, and the light turned green. Logan pressed on the gas, and continued his drive home.

"If you feel up for it in the morning, I'd be more than happy to give you what you want. For tonight, we need to get you into bed, doll."

========================================

A/N: thank you for reading, if you did! suggestions, questions, comments and concerns are always appreciated okay bye!

[okiedokrie]

Epiphany // Want Me - Chapter 1

Summary: Jeonghan is more than a little upset at Joshua at the moment. He's getting tired of waiting for him, too impatient and stubborn to realize what he has in front of him. Jeonghan takes his frustrations out by having fun. And maybe, he'll enjoy it with the company of a new friend.

Characters/Pairing(s): Yoon Jeonghan x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Suggestive

AUs/Trope info: Non-Idol!AU, Poly!AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers

Word Count: 2319

Warnings: drinking, cussing, descriptions of non-sexual nudity

Rating: 18+

A/N: banners by @kwanisms

Loud bar music beats in sync with Jeonghan's heart, shockwaves coursing through his body, and the vibrations calm him down. 

It's been exactly 56 hours since that conversation with Joshua by the window, and he's still a little pressed over the fact that Joshua is taking a bit too long to catch up with him. In their 10 years of friendship, many things have changed already. Like the way Joshua dresses, how comfortable they are with controversial jokes, or the way Joshua got beefy over the pandemic for seemingly no reason?

But god, those pecs are immaculate. Jeonghan thought, this wouldn't be the first time he thought of Joshua this way. 

It was a little dubious, wanting someone who's convinced they don't want you in the same way, but ever since that conversation, Joshua has never looked at Jeonghan the same.

It was like an Epiphany smacked him in the face.

Jeonghan isn't complaining though- okay, maybe a little. He's complaining about how long it's taking Joshua to take a hint. Especially when he's trying to set him up with what he believes to be the love of his life.

Apart from Joshua, of course.

A hand wraps around Jeonghan's arm, sliding into the barstool next to him. “Hey Jeonghoney!” She said, placing a kiss on his cheek, a grin spreading across her face in an impish manner.

“Shuji couldn't make it today?” She asked, already having a nickname for a guy she hadn't even met yet, but it was fine, she was always the comfortable type.

“No, doll. He's way too in his head about his feelings and I want him to ride it out on his own, he desperately needs it.” He said, taking another swig of his drink before setting the empty glass down and calling for the bartender. 

Signaling another of his drinks and a new one for his new company, Jeonghan rolled his shoulders in frustration before turning to the woman next to him, her eyes watching his every move attentively, the dim red lights of the bar making her look devilish. 

She is kind of the devil, though, at least to Jeonghan's loins.

“Aw, that's too bad.” She said with a pout, “At least we're here now, let's dance after this drink. What about it, Jeonghoney?” She grinned after.

Jeonghan grinned a boyish grin after this, he always loved that she was always down for whatever, making the most out of any situation. Maybe that's why they clicked during Seungcheol's birthday party.

“Yeah, I'd love that.”

The bar had a more laid-back atmosphere than most nightclubs, which Jeonghan appreciated given that the club crowd was never really his. But still, the dance floor was high on energy and hot. Everything felt too hot and sticky for him to fully get his head into it, especially not with Joshua's existential crisis being in the back of his mind.

He felt her arms wrap around his neck, pulling his body closer to hers as they set a more relaxed pace to the song. She leaned in, kind of shouting over the music to speak to him, “You're in your mind again Jeonghoney, care to share your thoughts?” She said, leading the sway of their bodies to the music.

Jeonghan only shook his head, holding her hips in his palms to swing to the beat more intensely. “Nothing you should worry your pretty little head about, doll. At least, not in the middle of a bar.” He tried to joke, a dry chuckle leaving his throat. 

She huffs, agitation bubbling, “Then why are you thinking about it, hm? In the middle of the bar no less?”

Jeonghan just chortled at this, he kind of played himself there. She may be bubbly and easy-going but that doesn't mean she's anywhere to being stupid. She's a very intelligent woman if she wants to be.

He leans down to kiss the wrinkle on her forehead, effectively smoothing the furrow of her brows, “My bad doll, I'll just focus on you, then.” He said, turning his head to place a kiss on the side of her head, humming at the scent of her perfume. 

She giggled, pulling him close to her as they swayed, the song slowing down. They both turn their heads to rest on each other's foreheads, Jeonghan's hands resting on her hips with no pressure of leading their swaying, only enjoying the warmth of her presence. 

Jeonghan believes this is bliss, to have someone who wants him as much as they want them. It might be wishful thinking on his part, but he hoped that one day Joshua would catch up with him.

It was obvious how Joshua acted around him, but he needed Joshua to tell him explicitly. Joshua needed to come to that realization in his own time.

Jeonghan waited for over a decade now, what's the harm in more waiting?

She leans in, their lips brushing but never kissing,  they haven't kissed, not on the lips yet, but Jeonghan is guilty of wanting to go further with her, carefully considering his options of just asking her directly to let her set the pace.

He decides he's a really patient guy, he's always waiting, isn't he?

Jeonghan came to the realization that he wasn't monogamous a long time ago, he had a lot of time to think about what that meant and to let go of the social stigma that was instilled into him at a young age. He thought he was wrong, for wanting more than one person to love. He thought his integrity and loyalty didn't exist because he couldn't just commit to one person.

But then again, his heart was just too big for one.

Jeonghan pulled away from her face to lean down and press his face into the crook of her neck, opting to press feather-light kisses to the skin, his hair tickling her cheek.

His hands roamed her midriff, still at a respectful pressure and manner. He just wants to feel her close, having no sexual intentions. He hums in contentment, peace in his mind as he shares this intimate moment with her.

Breathing in her scent made calm wash over Jeonghan in gentle waves, almost making him forget the recent turmoils of his and Joshua's relationship. 

The key word is almost.

Much like every day after he met Joshua at 18 years old, he managed to make a place for himself in the back of Jeonghan's mind, never leaving no matter how hard Jeonghan tried to push him further back.

Can you blame Jeonghan though? A beautiful soul like that only comes once in a lifetime, there wasn't a day when Jeonghan could ever think that Joshua could be anything other than beautiful.

Not that he had to try hard, Joshua's merits spoke for themselves. His mindset, devotion, loyalty, and comforting aura. Everything about him. Even everything that he was insecure about, Jeonghan found beautiful. 

Oh, being in love with your best friend hurts.

Maybe one day he’ll get over the monumental obstacle that was his feelings for Joshua. He felt really guilty for them most days, too. He couldn’t fully commit to being Joshua’s friend because of his feelings. He felt bad for essentially lying to him, for over a decade, even. 

Jeonghan doesn’t want to be just his best friend, he never did. And that’s what bothered Jeonghan the most.

She pulls him out of his own thoughts. Running her fingers over his hair to look him in the eyes, still a little unfocused on the current moment. She should be offended, he was the one who invited her out to dance but he couldn’t even be present enough to be here.

But, of course, she isn’t. You see, Jeonghan had a type. The type to forgive over and over again. You and Joshua, basically. 

He's only been in love twice in his lifetime, you and Joshua, basically. 

Jeonghan finally snaps out of his own thoughts just as the song ends, pulling away from her, taking her hands in his to lead her back to the bar. “I really need a drink, sorry for ruining your fun doll.” He said, his voice a little dry.

“It's fine Jeonghoney, you need this more than I do. He'll come around, I'm sure of it.”

Oh, just how sweet can you get? Jeonghan thought, your saccharine smile sticking to his mind like thick honey, golden ambrosia poisoning his mortal consciousness. 

Being in love is addictive, and Jeonghan is only a man. Maybe his pining for his best friend would be the sun he flies too close to, hubris is his greatest sin, after all.

He leans over to press another kiss to her shoulder, “You're too kind to me, doll. It's only been a few days, but would it be too soon to call you a blessing?” He jokes, trying to lighten the situation by buttering her up, like usual.

She giggles, much like at Seungcheol's party, but this time instead of curiosity toward a handsome stranger, it's adorable for a close companion. 

Jeonghan and Y/n haven't known each other for long, but to a romantic, you know your soulmate as soon as you meet them.

It was easy for them, Jeonghan didn't have to skirt around the idea of something more with her. He didn't have to wait for her to get on the same page as him, minds in the same wavelength as soon as they locked eyes. Both Y/n and Jeonghan are romantics, so of course they're in love.

But Jeonghan still yearns for his best friend.

The one who stood by him for over a decade now, the only one who Jeonghan could share all his secrets, the one who knew Jeonghan better than he did, but somehow did not know anything at all.

Jeonghan only wished that in another universe, Joshua was just as much of a romantic as he is, maybe then he'll finally be able to tell him that he loves him in the way that Jeonghan wanted to.

One more drink before they go home. Jeonghan thought.

Taking her home for the first time felt a little intimidating to Jeonghan, especially since the conversation they had before leaving. 

If we're going to take this relationship seriously, you need to trust me Jeonghan, trust us. I love you, truly, I want us.

She's right, of course, one look at the both of them and you'd know just how in love they were.

They make their way through the threshold of Jeonghan and Joshua's shared apartment, carefully entering Jeonghan's room. Joshua hasn't been in their apartment the whole night, choosing to spend his time with high-school friends that took the time to visit him from across the world.

It might be the best for him, a distraction from the difficult situation he found himself in.

Jeonghan helps her with her night routine, his hands are a little clumsy from all the drinking they'd done, yet Jeonghan takes great care in unzipping the back of her dress.

He kisses the new skin exposed to him, her back turned to him as she frees her hair from her up-do and she starts to pick bobby pins out. Jeonghan takes this opportunity to massage her scalp, trying to press out the tension from being up for so long.

After helping her undress, Jeonghan starts to strip lazily too, taking his time to get used to the nip of the cold air nipping at his skin, before joining her in the bathroom, he fishes out some towels as she sets the water to whatever temperature was comfortable for her.

She gets in the shower, letting the water soak into her hair and skin, fogging up the glass of the shower and the mirror. Jeonghan followed after her, hia body also getting soaked by the water as he was reaching for the shampoo and letting it lather on his palms, before gently massaging her scalp again, carefully scratching it to clean.

She sighed, the physical intimacy comforting her, it was odd for most people, to be this comfortable being naked and showering with someone they knew for less than a week. But Jeonghan just felt like someone she'd spend the rest of her life with, it was odd, to fall this quickly, but it was right, this felt right. 

Jeonghan feels the same way too, most men wouldn't know what to do with themselves when in the vicinity of a gorgeous woman, but to Jeonghan,  just her presence was enough. Sure, it'd be nice if there was something more, but just this was enough, love overpowering any carnal desire for her skin.

He just wants her close, so after helping her with shampoo, he hugs her from behind, warm skin pressing against warm skin, pressing small kisses to her wet neck. She giggles, Jeonghan's soft lips tickling her, leaning back against him, she sighs again, she loves this type of intimacy. Both of them were too drunk and tired to do anything over than finish up preparing for bed, so instead they just held each other close, enjoying the moment of silence, only being broken by the steady patter of the shower.

They both finish their shower and skincare before getting dressed, Y/n in one of Jeonghan's shirts and a pair of his boxers, and Jeonghan in much of the same uniform. 

They take turns drying each other's hair, Jeonghan's expensive and fancy blowdryer doing the job perfectly. Now, after a relaxing shower and a few more kisses, they're ready for bed.

Jeonghan shuffles under the covers with her, immediately turning over to pull her close, his heartbeat under her ear as he steadies his breathing again. She looked beautiful, a calm washing over her in the safety of Jeonghan's arms, pressing more kisses into each other's faces as they fell into an easy slumber.

[tinypandacakes]

Trapper, Keeper Ch. 17: Promise

Tags: smut, dubious consent, dark romance, power imbalance, gaslighting, manipulation, yandere, Stockholm syndrome, injury recovery, fluff and smut, slice of life, implied non-consensual drug use, size difference, gratuitous use of pet names, metaphors, and descriptions of König's eyes

WC: 14.3k [total 189.9k]

“Did you see? I finished the puzzle,” you said, a little breathless, as you sat up and tilted your chin toward the coffee table.

“Very good. You finished faster than last time,” he noted, reaching out to stroke your hair behind your ear. “What a clever little rabbit.”

Your cheeks blazed at his words, and you turned away to avoid meeting his gaze. Not too long ago, you would have thought that type of compliment was patronizing. But now, it filled you with effervescent warmth low in your belly. The comment felt genuine, meant as praise and not condescension. You peered up at him for the first time since coming back into the cabin.

Wild firelight danced in König’s eyes, molten amber flickering over blue, warm and inviting. Intense. Doting, like he would reach up and grab the stars if you asked, tug down a handful to light the ceiling of your shared room at night if you said you were afraid of the dark.

It almost hurt to look at him like this. So you sheepishly crawled back into his lap instead, earning yourself another soft rumble of laughter.

“So sweet,” he said.

Sweet.

He kept calling you that, even though you felt anything but most days. You’d been sour to him from the beginning, abrasive as a lemon, sending electric zings down the side of his jaw and neck every time he tried to get a taste. But despite that, he kept coming back bite after bite, chewing through your tough peel only to find your bitter pith caught between his teeth.

König leaned left and right, a subtle, soothing movement that you weren’t sure was more for your benefit or his. But as he rocked you, your acidity mellowed.

He poured affection over you like cream and sugar, tempering your tartness. You softened like stretched taffy as he embraced you, pulled you thinner and thinner as your pliable body warmed against his chest. Soon, you were small enough to cling to his teeth and curl up beside his molars, saccharine enough to melt away the enamel and give him a toothache.

You can read the entire story on AO3 ☺️ please consider leaving a kudos and comment if you enjoyed it. Comments are so encouraging, and I love to hear what you think!

If you’d like to support my writing and fuel my caffeine habit, here’s my kofi >:3 https://ko-fi.com/tinypandacakes

[inthe-dark-tonight]

Falling into My Sins

chapter one: back in the alleyway

dbf!joel x fem!reader series- loosely inspired by the song skin by soccer mommy

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7

summary: it’s your first night out since moving back with your dad after graduating college. while at the bar you meet an attractive mystery man and end up hitting it off. things get heated when you convince him to dance with you.

word count: 2.7k

series rating: E (18+ mdni)

warnings: no outbreak AU, age gap (reader is in their 20s, Joel is in his 40s) alcohol consumption, light swearing, slight dubious consent (things get heated while drunk), pet names (sweetheart, babe, etc.), no use of y/n, no physical description of reader.

notes: this is my first time really writing anything so i’m very nervous to post this , i've also been working on one other fic but i decided to post this first. thank you for taking the time to read and any feed back is welcome & appreciated xo <3

also thank you so much to @shatteredbaby for proof reading ily so much bby, and @pr0ximamidnight for also proof reading, letting me ramble like a maniac and helping me with ideas ilysm. i appreciate you both so so so much <3

It’s your first weekend going out since you’ve moved back home with your dad. You’ve just graduated from the Art institute of Chicago in the spring, but your lease wasn’t up on your apartment until August so you stayed near campus until then. Now that you’re back, some of your old friends from high school offered to take you out as a sort of welcome home. You’re just finishing getting ready when you get a text from your friend Aya.

We’re here!! Hurry up Dee is getting impatient!

You roll your eyes and smile. Typical. You’re a bit nervous since you haven’t seen them in about a year, but you’re sure once you’re out it will feel like you weren’t even gone. You throw on a jacket and run down the stairs, grabbing your keys as you go.

“I’m leaving!” You call out.

“Have fun bud!” Your dad shouts from the other room.

Your parents had recently divorced while you were away, so it’s just you and your dad now. You feel kinda bad leaving him alone when you just got back, but you’ll make up for it.

You close the front door behind you and run down your front porch towards Aya’s car. As you get closer, the passenger window rolls down.

“Ahhhhh you’re back!!!” Your friend, Dee, yells. You laugh at her reaction and open the back door to the car.

“Hey!” You slide in and buckle your seat belt.

Aya turns around with one hand still on the wheel. “Long time no see! Tonight’s gonna be fun,” she says with a smile.

“We’re taking shots as soon as we get there,” Dee says with a sly smile and you laugh, leaning back fully into the seat as Aya drives, heading for downtown.

As soon as the three of you find a bar, Dee keeps her promise and orders you all shots and they send you to find a booth while they wait for the order. There aren’t many people in the bar yet since it’s only nine, but it’s slowly filling up. You look around the place, taking in the large bar that runs across one wall with stools gathered around it and across from it is the booth seating you’ve sat in. There are a few high top tables scattered around the perimeter of the bar, a pool table to the right of the door next to the large dance floor in the center that’s currently empty, and the sounds of eighties and nineties rock hits filling the large room.

As you’re looking around, the door to the bar opens and two men walk in. The first man has long dark curly hair, a patchy beard, and he’s wearing dark jeans paired with a tan jacket and brown boots. The other man has shorter dark hair, a similarly patchy beard streaked with gray, and he’s wearing dark jeans paired with a green flannel and brown boots. He’s quite handsome, you think – broader than the first man, his frame stretching the fabric of the flannel to its limit. Your eyes flick back up to his face, taking in the curve of his nose, the crease between his brows and dark brown eyes. When your eyes meet, he’s looking right at you and you immediately glance away, embarrassed that he caught you checking him out. When you dare to look at him again, his gaze is still locked on you.

“Okay, let’s do this!” Dee says as the girls approach the table with a round of shots and a drink for each of you.

Your eyes snap away from the man’s and you smile at them, grabbing a shot glass.

“To celebrate your return home,” Dee says, raising her glass for you to toast against.

You tilt your head back letting the cold liquid slide down. You close your eyes and wince as the sour flavor with the aftertaste of vodka that burns your throat. When you open your eyes again you’re met with the stranger’s warm brown eyes on you still, a shy smile on his face before he turns towards the bar and leans on the wooden counter. You set the glass down on the table and look back to your friends.

The three of you sip on your drinks for about thirty minutes or so, talking about school and catching up on life. At some point while you were all catching up, the bar switched to playing early 2000s music as more people came in. You find your eyes wandering towards the gorgeous man every few minutes, admiring his side profile, the way his hand is wrapped around his beer bottle and his shirt is rolled up to expose his forearms.

You all finish your drinks and Aya is pulling you and Dee onto the dance floor. “Come on!! I love this song!!!”

You don’t recognize the song, but you follow them onto the floor dancing and smiling as they sing along. You find yourself looking towards the bar again hoping to catch the man’s eye, but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to get another drink.” You say loudly over the music.

The girls just nod and keep singing along. You make your way through the crowd that’s formed in the place and find the bar. Your eyes are still scanning, looking for him, when all of a sudden someone comes up beside you, leaning onto the bar. From the corner of your eye you can tell who it is. You turn your head and it’s the mystery man. He’s even more attractive up close, a dimple on his right cheek as he smiles down at you, slight creases next to his eyes. Your eyes travel down towards his broad shoulders and the skin on his chest that’s showing where his shirt is unbuttoned.

“Hi.” the man says while smiling down at you. His voice is like honey, deep with a southern drawl.

Your lips slightly part as you hesitate for a second “Hi.” you finally say back.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He nods towards the bar.

You shake your head in agreement.

“What are you havin’, sweetheart?” He asks.

You clear your throat. “Whatever you’re having.” You smile.

“Hm.” his lip quirks up as his eyes roam your form. The bartender comes over and he orders two beers, then his eyes are back on you. “You here with friends?”

“Yeah uh, I was out of town, I just got back so we’re celebrating.” You decide to keep it vague.

“Well,” the bartender comes back with your beers and he hands one to you. “Welcome back.” He smirks, then you both take a sip.

You can’t help but watch the way his hand wraps around the bottle as he brings it up to meet his lips. You take a few sips of your beer, eyes still locked on him, then place it back on the counter. You’re feeling a little more confident now.

“What about you,” you place your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your hand, looking up at him. “Who are you here with?”

He looks over his shoulder into the crowd, an amused look on his face. “My brother.” You follow his eyes to see his brother sitting in a booth with a girl, leaning into her as they talk.

You giggle then turn back to the man. You’re noticing some similar features now that you know they’re brothers.

“You two come here every weekend chatting up girls and buying them drinks?” You bite your cheek and give him a teasing look.

He nods his head slowly looking down at the bar where he’s leaning on his forearms and lets out a small laugh. “Every now n’ then.” He looks back at you, a slight flush on his cheeks.

“Mmm bit of a player huh?” You lift your brow, teasing him some more.

He’s laughing again, it’s a deep chested laugh that makes his shoulders slightly bounce. “Wouldn’t say that, haven’t had much luck recently.” He looks from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes.

You nod your head taking another swig of your beer “So, what do you do for a living?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Uh,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m a contractor.” that explains his broad shoulders.

You bite your thumb and lean a little closer to him, arm brushing up against his. The alcohol is definitely taking an effect now. You’re checking him out again, and it’s not subtle. The way his shirt fits snug around his biceps, and his jeans fit his waist just right. He takes another sip of his beer and your eyes lock again.

Then suddenly a song you recognize comes on, Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado. You hear your friends squealing on the dance floor as the song starts, causing you to whip your head towards them then back to the mystery man.

“I’ll be right back.” You smile at him sweetly, finishing off your beer and setting the empty bottle on the table before leaving to join your friends.

You get out to the floor and they hold their hands out towards you, smiling and singing along to the song. You’re swaying your hips to the beat, mouthing the lyrics as you dance. Your hands are moving up and down your body, over the tights you’re wearing and slightly bunching up the short slip dress you have on. You’re lost in the music, then suddenly your eyes lock with the mystery man’s again, darkening as they watch you move. He’s leaning up against the bar, beer in one hand and the other in his front pocket.

‘Promiscuous boy you already know

That I’m all yours, what you waiting for?’

You’re mouthing the words, eyes never leaving his. You tilt your head to the side and give him a cheeky smile before moving your hands over your hips again. He lifts his hand out of his pocket, beckoning you back to him with his pointer finger. You shake your head no, and mimic his motion telling him to come to you. You turn away from him, back towards your friends, then glance at him over your shoulder and mouth, “Dance with me.”

A few moments later you feel a large warm hand run down your arm, and the back of a hand runs over the nape of your neck and down your shoulder before resting on your hips. You turn your head to look and it’s your mystery man, looking down at you with desire in his eyes. You turn around, still in his grasp, and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body flush to his.

You’re swaying with his hands on your hips now, grinding up against him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he leans his forehead against yours, taking in a deep breath. You tilt your head up, heavy lidded eyes scanning his face and your nose bumping his, your parted lips allowing a shared breath in the scant space between your mouths.

Then he’s kissing you, one hand on your hip lightly squeezing, the other resting on your cheek. He lets out a small groan and slips his tongue into your mouth, a mixture of mint and beer fill your senses. You gently pull the hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to let out a sigh.

“Sweetheart.” His voice sounds gravelly and deeper than before. “I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Then don’t,” you say, so low it’s almost a whisper, just between the two of you.

You’re so close to him, you can feel his arousal straining against his pants as you press yourself against him.

“Come with me.” he looks down at you while trying to catch his breath.

He kisses you again, hand resting on your cheek. You nod approvingly as he pulls away. He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you off the dance floor towards the door. You notice his hand is much larger than yours, a little rough and calloused most likely from his job. He looks back at you a few times, and you just stare at his broad frame as you follow him. You look at the way his hair sits so perfectly, eyes wandering to his large forearms as he pulls you along behind him.

Moments later you two are outside and he’s pulling you around the side of the brick building. He backs you up against the wall, lips immediately crashing into yours. His palms rest on either side of your face, thumbs roughly caressing your cheeks like he just can’t get enough.

“You were killing me in there,” He’s towering over you, your hands clinging to his forearms.

“Was I? Couldn’t tell.” you smile slyly.

He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re somethin’ else babe, deadly.” he’s kissing you again, hands moving down your body to your waist.

You grab at the fabric of his shirt near his chest, trying desperately to pull him closer. His large hands find the hem of your dress and move up over your tights clad thighs. You moan into his mouth, heat already starting to build at your core. Moans and heavy breaths filling the air as you claw at his skin. You gently bite at his lower lip then slip your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss. As you lower your hands towards the waist of his jeans, tucking your fingers into the front and pulling his hips flush against yours, you feel him shudder. You let out a whine as you feel the imprint of his straining cock once again.

Then you hear the door to the bar bursting open and two familiar voices talking. “It’s okay, it’s okay, shhhh.”

You freeze as your lips leave Joel’s, wide eyes meeting his before stepping away from him to peer around the corner. He lets out a groan as he adjusts himself, one hand still on your hip trailing behind you as you near the corner of the building. Then you see Aya with her arm around Dee, rubbing her back. You stand up straight, pulling away from Joel.

“Oh my god?! What happened?” You sprint over to them.

“Oh thank god, we were looking everywhere for you.” Aya looks up at you. “Dee had too much to drink, we need to go.” She loops her arm into Dee’s. “I grabbed your things, where were you?”

Then you see her eyes wander to the broad older man shuffling up behind you and her eyes go wide. She leans in close to you and mouths “Oh my god”. You can feel your face heating up as you turn around to face him.

“You ladies need a ride home?” He looks down at you, concerned look on his face.

“Oh uh.” You turn back to Aya.

“No, we've got it covered-” she smiles at him.

“But thank you,” it comes out louder than intended. “I appreciate it,” taking a step closer to him you whisper “And sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, Killer.” He flashes a charming smile at you.

“Killer?” You laugh at the nickname and he nods his head.

“We gotta go!” Aya yells out to you.

You whip your head to look at her, then your eyes meet his again. “Well, it was nice meeting you, mystery man.” You give him one last look and go to turn around towards your friends. He gently grabs your shoulder, surprising you.

“Wait,” it comes out soft as he whips you around to face him again. “Can I at least have your number?”

You hesitate for a moment. “What, so you can add me to your roster?” You try to hold back a smile.

“C’mon.” he looks away shaking his head, a boyish smile plastered on his face.

“Give me your phone.” He looks back at you, relief in his eyes. Then he pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You type in your number and put your contact name as Killer. You hand him back his phone and quickly get on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His eyes go slightly wide, and then you’re turning away, running towards the car before he can say anything. As you grab your jacket and purse from your friend and slip into the car, you smile at him before closing the door.

You watch him through the window standing there with his hands in his pockets as the car pulls away. Your mystery man, you hope to see him again.

ty for reading xo

tagging a few moots but np! anyone who wants to be tagged in the next one let me know :)

@nostalxgic @ilovepedro @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @beskarandblasters @jenispunk @tieronecrush @joelsversion @pedrospartner @canseethebrushstrokes @scrambledslut @isitmeulookin4 @tinygarbage <3

[animereaderinsertwriter]

we give what we can give (and take what little we deserve)

ch 11

pairing: alpha!kakashi x omega!reader

tags: omegaverse, arranged marriage, angst and fluff and smut, plot twist!

description: Kakashi agrees to marry an omega princess-- the adopted daughter of the daimyo. However, what he agrees to and what he gets aren't exactly the same thing...

Excerpt: “You’re hurting me,” she cried, those glistening tears making glittery tracks down her cheeks. Her pain wrenched at his heart even as he held her fast. “Let go, let go!”

“If I let go, are you going to hit me?”

“No,” she sniffled piteously, and like a fool, Kakahshi let her go.

She poked him in the eye and made a break for the door.

masterlist

ao3

Even when all the world was set aflame and nothing remained untouched by change, Kakashi could not escape his mate. He could hear her in the halting, stumbling, but nonetheless clear intonations of Konoha shinobi speaking to foreign shinobi not in the common language, but in their own tongue in the allied shinobi camps. She was there in every brush of silk fabric, more rare now and therefore precious enough to use for trade, and she lingered in the shadows of dancing shinobi and their songs. 

More than that, though, the rumors of a band of civilian militants led by a banished princess evacuating villages and harrying Akatsuki supply lines haunted him, chilled him to his very bones. Not to mention the fact that Tsunade, who had been skeptical from the start about the dubious nature of his wife’s demise, had threatened to court-martial him for deceiving her. Kakashi had suspected that the only reason she had not done so was because, in her own way, she had fallen for his wife’s lies just as easily as he had, and had felt just as keenly the sting of her betrayal.

Oh, how he hated her for haunting him.

And yet, in idle moments like these, staring into the campfire while the world held its breath for the next offensive, he wondered if he had made a mistake in casting (Y/N) off. In a way, she had done more than any of them to prepare young shinobi for this fate. She had taught them languages, dancing, and diplomacy, not to mention correct manners and the niceties of foreign customs— all things which Kakashi had witnessed at work as the Allied Shinobi Forces struggled to bond and ease old tensions. 

Distantly, Kakashi wondered if his wife had always known this war would happen, if she had augured it from the entrails of his heart and prepared her— no, not her village, he reminded himself— the village as best she could out of the goodness of her heart. If indeed she had any goodness there. 

“I love Konoha,” she had told him that night, her eyes full of tears and golden candlelight. “I would give everything, betray anything, before I let harm come to this place or its people.”

Shortly after, she had begged him to kill her rather than make her leave. In that, she had been selfish— truly selfish, to ask such a thing of him— but Kakashi could not deny that anyone who could love Konoha as she had could not be wholly evil. She might be an enemy of the village now, but she had loved Konoha. She had loved him. 

Her notes, he remembered, had been exacting on those points. Remembering them had him hating her all over again. Using her ability to walk through walls, she’d had access to restricted documents, and had recorded hundreds of classified case files. No village secret had been safe from her. She’d been privy to every jutsu, forbidden or not, every classified contingency strategy— all of it. Not to mention the Hatake clan secrets.

But that wasn’t all that was in her notes 

Those notes which were not spy craft were on the subject of Kakashi’s movements; they were not spy-like notes at all, aside from detailing his mission schedule, but rather notes on his personality. Likes, dislikes, colors she thought suited him and those she thought did not, thoughts on pups, thoughts on genetics, and potential plans for renovating parts of the compound— it was all there for him to view. He was startled to find that, after the first few weeks, the notes she had taken read more like a journal than like mission reports. 

Reader, I hate him, she had written on the date that they had fought about the seal on her neck. He is insufferable. Should kill him in the morning, when my strength is back. Might be hard to make it seem accidental. Will report back.

That had hurt to read— but the entry continued into the next day:

Reader, I love him, she had written, and the characters were smudged at the edges. Should kill myself in the morning, when my strength is back— only, I must finish this book with him. Perhaps there is some insight he can provide there. Will report back. 

Kakashi thought of those entries often, especially when the nights were cold and lonely, and the conflicts dragged on and on into terrible oblivion. He would think of those entries and wonder if she still loved him. 

He still loved her. 

He had tried to stop. 

He could not. 

It sickened him how she’d used him. How she’d destroyed his ability to hate her alongside his ability to love her. He was a wreck over it. 

“Sensei,” Sakura spoke to him one night across a shared campfire. “I'm sorry.”

He did not need to ask what for. She had risked everything in a last-minute bid to either win Sasuke back or take him out herself. She was apologizing for everything— for having done it, for not having succeeded, for missing her would-be lover and fated mate and hating him at the same time. Sasuke and Sakura, they were a rare biological match, each as frightfully beautiful as the other, equals and opposites in nearly every way. Sakura was brilliant, Sasuke was talented… but more than that, Sakura was kind where Sasuke was cruel, and Sasuke was sharp with claw and fang where Sakura was soft and vulnerable enough to still be human. An equal match indeed, if they had both consented to it. Balance like that was hard to find. Kakashi had tried as best he could to make that clear in his showdown with Sasuke, but he got the feeling that his point hadn't come across as he'd meant it. 

She loves you, and you love her, he wished he'd said. There is no impediment. All would be forgiven if you'd just come home. 

But maybe that was just projecting. Projecting, and yet not even true. After all, some sins are so great that they cannot be forgiven, nor forgotten.

“Love is a heavy burden.” He told her, poking idly at the fire with a stick. “If you stumble, or even step badly beneath its load, it can be easy to falter. I don't know if you made the right decision or not— but I do know that you're still alive, and Naruto and I are still alive, and no one has really been hurt. On top of that, we now have a hostage. As far as I'm concerned, that's all to the good.”

I'm proud of you, he might have said— but he was never so good with words. 

“I almost wish the princess was here,” Sakura sighed. “She always seemed to be wise in the ways of love.”

The princess— that's all anyone called her these days, at least in his presence. It was as if her name was too painful to speak. 

“She was wise about a lot of things.” He tried not to sound bitter, and utterly failed. 

“Do you ever miss her, sensei?”

Kakashi closed his eyes. As he always did, he saw her lovely, heartbroken face.

“Every day.”

“Do you think… do you think that maybe one day you'll reconcile? That it'll all… I dunno, work itself out?”

“No.” Nothing in his tone or expression betrayed the hateful clenching of his heart— not even when his student looked at him with wide green eyes that still glimmered with hope. 

“But… you're still mates— and she fights on our side of the war, y’know. That's got to count for something.” 

“Yes, well, to not fight for our side would be to welcome total destruction. I don't think that's anything special. And as for mate status… I was just too selfish to free her when she left. That's all.”

It was the truth, as far as he could stomach it. 

“Maybe I'm selfish too, for… for the whole Sasuke thing.”

Kakashi shrugged. 

“Maybe. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. Just a human thing.”

Sakura stood. She was taller than she was as a tiny genin, more womanly. Here and now, lit by firelight and somber with worry, she seemed to have aged decades in mere moments. 

“Don't beat yourself up, Kaka-sensei,” she said, briefly placing one warm hand on his shoulder. “Our selfishness might yet pay off.”

And with those words of wisdom, she left to join another campfire, leaving Kakashi alone with flickering flames and memories of his departed father. 

In the distance, coyotes howled. Or, more likely, Kakashi knew, men and women howled their terrible call to warn nearby enemies to stay back. Recently, there had been an uptick in refugees who had been escorted to safety by his wife’s militia. It was said that the battle cry of that force was like a ferocious beast, a terrible, inhuman howl from a thousand men-at-arms.

It was said that their leader could not be killed with sword, bow, sickle, or ax— that she was terrible and fearless and as cruel to her enemies as she was kind to her friends. Duplicitous, tricky, deadly. His wife, his mate. The same woman she had always been, but sharpened by war.

Kakashi wondered how far she was from him. He wondered if he might wander into the woods and find her there, as beautiful as the day she left him, leading her people and saving as many lives as she could. He wondered if she was with them, howling her fury into the night, beautiful and terrible and mighty.

The thought discomfited him, and he was awake through most of the night, straining to hear a howl on the wind. 

As if by some terrible, malignant miracle, the next time Kakashi saw his mate was in the heat of battle. 

It had not been terribly long since he had spoken to Sakura about her, and since that night, everything that could go wrong was going wrong. That stupid green-and-white Akatsuki asshole just kept on duplicating himself— it was so annoying when anyone besides Naruto used the overwhelm-them-with-numbers tactic— and then as if that wasn't bothersome enough, that ridiculous coyote call sounded and he had just enough time to turn around before he caught sight of her. 

She was riding that stupid, mean horse with a stupid, mean expression on her face, and she cut through the Akatsuki copies like a hot knife through fucking butter. 

Kakashi had way too much on his hands to worry about what was happening behind him— like seriously, way too much— but he heard more than saw her kill, her cries a mix of battle-howl and screams of furious exertion. 

The last glance he caught of her before the chaos of battle separated them was an image that would forever be burned into his mind. A green-and-white copy had launched itself at his back, and before Kakashi could kill it himself, the copy was tackled to the ground by a force almost too fast for him to see. 

His mate, in all her war-like glory, pinned the copy down with two unyielding hands, then used her teeth to rip out its throat. 

It was over in seconds. 

She spat the tendons from her mouth, pushed herself onto her feet, and whistled for her mount. Kakashi stared at her. She stared back. And then she was gone. 

It was only after that it occurred to Kakashi to be terribly jealous. No one should have had the satisfaction of her teeth at their neck but him. 

Obito’s dream was too evil to ever succeed long-term, and too good to ever last. 

Seeing Obito grown, learning of his haunted existence, and crossing blades as bitter enemies seemed unfair beyond belief. Regaining his friendship and losing him all over again was something even beyond unfair. It was unthinkably cruel. Saying goodbye for the final time was harder than it had any right to be, and although watching his students defeat a goddess, united at last, was incredibly fulfilling, coming back to the battlefield left Kakashi feeling torn, bereft.

Now more than ever, he wanted his mate and the comfort she could give him. 

All around him, people were waking. Cocoon-like structures were cracking, the Infinite Tsukuyomi broken, and the bereft cries of the waking dreamers felt like hail on his skin— cold, piercing, and impossible to ignore. The joys of victory, so hard-won, had left him entirely. It was as though he was standing in the middle of a freezing downpour, drowning, unable to breathe for the water in the air. 

He dropped to one knee. He forced himself to count the cracks in the rocks below his feet. Deep inhale, deep exhale. In. And out.

In—

Oh. 

There was a scent in the air. It was a scent he knew well. 

Green tea. Earth. Rain. 

Mate.

Kakashi jerked his head ninety-degrees to the right with enough force to give himself whiplash. In the low light of the new day dawning, his wife knelt, holding herself as terrible, gnawing sobs were wrenched from her chest. It was impossible to tell the sound of her hyperventilating breaths from sounds of agony; she was shaking all over, and her nails were digging into her arms hard enough that blood trails were left in their wake. 

“No,” he murmured, unable to look away. “No, no, no, no, no.”

She was in heat— and he was not the only one who had noticed. 

If Kakashi had any sense of self preservation, he would fuck off to the ends of the earth and leave her there. He would let her kneel there and cry, let her mourn whatever world she had just lost alone. He would let someone else bear the burden of her heat, let her wring some other sonofabitch dry and leave him forever changed by her. 

Kakashi left all of that behind him, though. There was nothing left to him but aching— not even dignity or shame.

So with weak knees and a heavy heart, he forced himself to lift one foot after the other, marching as if to his death towards the woman he had loved. Heads turned as others realized what they were smelling, but he paid them no mind. He exhuded killing intent like a wolf on the hunt, and shinobi of all ranks and all villages gave him a wide berth as he made the terrible trek to his mate. 

Up close, she was even worse off than he'd thought. It was clear that she had not eaten nor slept well; she was lean and gaunt where she had been round and robust. Her clothes— a simple shirt and a pair of men’s breeches— were dirty from weeks of hard travel, and her hair was a terrible tangle. She looked like shit. 

And yet, despite everything, she was still beautiful. 

Kakashi knelt. She looked up at him, startled by his shadow, then looked frantically away.

“I'm sorry,” she said, holding tightly to her own arms as though she were afraid they'd fall off if she didn't. “The dream triggered it. I'm so sorry, Kakashi, I tried—” 

She shuddered. 

“Please.” Tears cut long tracks in the dirt on her cheeks. “Please, leave me. I'm sorry.”

It was clear that she wanted him gone. 

Kakashi wasn't really interested in what she wanted, though. 

“Come away,” he murmured. “Come with me. People are starting to stare.”

That was an understatement. Anyone within smelling distance was watching with a terrible intensity that made Kakashi’s teeth itch. His mate’s pheromones were so powerful that, when combined with his own that warned of back, bite, mate, mine, they were mouth-wateringly tempting. Any alpha— or hell, even beta— would be itching for the chance to challenge him for her. And, unfortunately for them, Kakashi had not had enough of death to be sated if he was pressed at this current moment. It would be his pleasure to rip the throat out of an impertinent alpha punk who decided to test him— a terribly dangerous thing indeed.

“N-No,” she shook her head, trembling like a leaf in the wind. “I don’t— don't want you— don't want them to look at me.”

Her hand reached up to touch her hair, and her face scrunched with tears once more. 

It hit Kakashi that she wasn't worried about her safety. She was worried about being pretty enough to be seen. 

Not for the first time, he considered defecting from Konoha for the express purpose of murdering every last RAAT agent that he could find. 

“Can you stand?”

She nodded. 

“Then get up. I'll get us somewhere safe.”

He stood, then helped her to her feet. Once she was securely in his arms, he flickered a good ways away, to a nearby hilltop that they could hide behind while they caught their breath. When they stopped moving, he still held her, his body reluctant to release the solid warmth of her. 

It was a good thing he did, too, because her knees chose that moment to give out completely.

“Easy. Come on, let's get you on the ground. Slowly, now.”

He lowered both of them down until they were both sitting on the ground with her back to his chest. She was still bleeding from where she had scratched herself. Kakashi could smell it, could feel it hot and wet against the tips of his fingers as he held her steady. He had to temper his desire to lick the wounds clean with his knowledge that, objectively, that was more likely to cause an infection than truly soothe the wound. 

Still… he wanted to taste it, the blood, her blood. He wanted to share, somehow, in her pain, to own it.

To own her. 

“Lilies,” she babbled, her head lolling back against his chest. “You smell like lilies… and stone, and blood. A gravesite. The death of me. You're so angry, Kakashi..”

She shuddered, and Kakashi realized that he'd still been in battle mode, projecting killing intent like a murderous villain.

He willed himself to be calm. Breathing deeply, he touched her neck, brushed his thumb over the Mark that lay there. She gasped, then sobbed— but he was comforted, eased simply by touching her. He should want to kill her. 

“Kakashi.” His name was half-gasp, half-moan in her mouth. “Please…”

He pulled down his mask and pressed his lips to where this thumb had been. He could feel her heart beat fast as he licked and kissed, soothing her, and his hands busied themselves with fumbling in his flack jacket for antiseptic and field dressings. Her skin was hot and his lips were chapped, but judging by the sounds she was making, he must have been doing something right. 

It was a risk, putting off tending to her heat long enough to dress her wounds, but it was one that Kakashi was willing to take. He cleaned the deep scratches carefully, tenderly, and wrapped them as well as he could. His patient was restless, but tried her hardest to be still even when it was clear by her pained breathing that she needed relief. 

Just as Kakashi was trying off the last bandage, her composure broke. She shifted so that her hand slipped beneath the waist and of her breeches, unsubtle; as she did so, a bead of sweat rolled down from her temple to her jaw, to her shoulder. 

Kakashi licked the sweat from her skin, and her hand began to move. 

“I'm sorry,” she said again as he moved her legs. Her back was still to his chest, but he had moved her feet to the outside of his legs so that her thighs were held open by his knees. The shift in position brought their sexes into alignment and allowed him far greater access to the growing wetness between her legs. “So— so sorry…”

“Me too,” he said. “Move your hand.”

She did. He carefully unlaced her breeches, then helped her remove them. His calloused middle finger found her hole. The heel of his palm met her clit and elicited a gasp as he added another finger; his tongue idly traced the Mark on her neck, a reminder of the deep and terrible love that had drawn him into her web. 

It had always been so easy, the attraction between them, Kakashi mused as he curled his fingers into her tight, wet heat. So much had required hard work and dedication to make their love work, but sex? That had always been an area of natural chemistry between them. 

“Knot.” Her voice was high and tremulous with need. “Want your kn-knot…”

“Soon.” He brought a hand up to rest on her belly. “Soon.”

You need to come first, he thought, because I'm not going to last long.

It took more than usual to bring her to climax— Kakashi’s wrist hurt by the time his mate finally stiffened, then collapsed with the fullness of her pleasure. Nevertheless, he took advantage of her disorientation to move her gently until her back was against the soft earth. She had asked for his knot; his knot she was going to get. 

“...’kashi,” she mumbled blearily, sitting up for a moment. “Wait. Your eyes…”

She brought a hand up to his face. Kakashi was at once reminded of what he had lost. 

“I'm alright,” he said, taking that hand and kissing it tenderly. “I made it out alive.”

Her brows scrunched. 

“How?”

He told her a shortened version of the story. Dimension-hopping, god-fighting, Obito’s life— and his death. It took less breath than he thought it would to say it all. Perhaps none of it had ever been so very grand or complex. Perhaps it had always been simple. Power versus power. Good versus evil. Village versus loner. 

“Oh, Kakashi,” she sighed, heavy-hearted. “I'm sorry.”

He shrugged.

“Losing the sharingan isn't the worst that could have happened. I was lucky to leave with my life.”

“No.” Her brow crinkled, and her hand moved to cup his cheek. “I'm sorry your friend is dead.”

Up until that moment, Kakashi had not realized the true weight of that unspoken grief in his shoulders. Now that it was pointed out to him, that grief threatened to swallow him whole. 

“Besides,” she continued, a tinge of reluctant admiration in her voice, “I much prefer your eyes this way. They're so lovely, Kakashi. I have always loved your eyes, but now…” 

Her thumb traced the scar where the sharingan should be. 

“I want a pup with those eyes. They’re so dark that they shine— a paradox, but it's true.”

That frank confession did funny things to Kakashi’s chest. He had never had a heart attack, but he had a strong suspicion that he might now know what one felt like. 

“A pup?”

She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. 

“Yes. I can have pups now.”

Come to think of it… it was a bit strange that there hadn't been any talk of children before now. Despite his (previous?) desire to end the Hatake line himself, he hadn't exactly been careful about sex before. He had always just assumed that his wife would be on some type of birth control or… something. 

Now, though, he knew better than to assume. It couldn't really be an accident that they hadn't conceived yet despite an utter lack of precaution. That she would bring it up now meant that there was probably more to what she was saying than she let on. It must be a very real possibility— one that she wanted him to be aware of before they went any further,or else the thought would have been lost to her desire.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Without the chakra withdrawal…” she licked her lips. “I’m not sure how it all works, but I can feel it. My body is… different. Ready.”

Right. Chakra withdrawal. Because she had been a spy with a seal on the base of her skull.

“Please,” she whined, squirming beneath him. “I need—”

“I know.”

An invisible fist tightened around his heart as her hand moved to touch his Mark. Oh, how sweet that touch, and how cruel— it sent shivers down his spine to match hers. In a moment of terrible fantasy, he pictured a future with her. A future with dark-eyed pups whose smiles rivaled the sun’s. 

Pups with smiles like their mother’s.

With unsteady hands, Kakashi drew out his cock. He stroked it with his rough, gloved hand, watched as he pressed it gently in that sweet, wet place between her thighs. She cried out as he teased, lingered, drawing out the inevitable; she gasped when he finally stopped hesitating and began to move with gentle force again, again, again, again inside of her. He tried to last, he really did— but heat pheromones in concert with the way his body sang after being reunited with his mate were just too much to bear. He knotted with an embarrassing quickness— before she finished— but when he moved his hand to her clit to finish what he started, his wife stopped him. 

“Hold me, Kakashi.” Her voice was weak, watery with the force of unshed tears. “Just… please hold me.”

And so he did. 

They were quiet as they waited for his knot to deflate. Their breathing was the only sound, and even that seemed thunderous. Still, Kakashi felt as if he should say something… but what? What was there to say that he could stomach? 

“I'm going to have to leave soon— as soon as I can,” he told her, stroking her hair. “There are things that need tending to. Will you be alright?”

“Yes. I think—” she shifted, winced. “I think you could probably go now, it would just take some doing.”

“No.” It was far too early for that— she would tear at least a little if he tried to pull out now. “Be patient. I won't hurt you.”

Liar, he thought viciously to himself— leaving her, as he inevitably must, would hurt both of them just as much as any physical pain— then, at the tender smoothing of her hand across his lower back, he forgave himself the lie. It wasn't worth ruining this moment over. For this moment, she was his once more. 

As he held her there, so gently, so tenderly, his mind was racing. There was a burning question that Kakashi wanted to ask… but it would be entirely unfair for him to ask it. He had no right to make demands of her. 

Except…

He had every right. 

Still, he would not. It didn't matter who she planned to spend the rest of this heat with. She was a beautiful omega— she could have her pick of partners, and it was not his place to even so much as ask.

So he didn't.

Pulling out of her there on that battlefield was the hardest thing Kakashi had ever done. His instincts screamed and fought, but there was nothing to be done for it. Piece by piece, he cleaned himself up and put himself back together until he was a man and a shinobi once more, rather than an alpha and a husband. 

“I've got to go,” he said to his wife, tracing a knuckle down the side of her heated cheek. “Will you be okay?” 

She nodded.

“I will.”

Kakashi nodded back, then turned to leave.

“Kakashi?”

He halted, turned. In that moment, watching her look at him with such quiet pain, he knew that if she asked him to stay, he would. If she asked him to defect from Konoha and live with her as an outlaw, he would do it and damn the consequences.

She did not ask any of that, though. She simply said,

“Be careful.”

He nodded once more, then flickered away, afraid of what he might do if he lingered even a second longer. 

[to-thelakes]

hypnotised (lip gallagher x reader)

prompt; day five, 'vampire'

content warning(s); mentions of alcohol, description of blood & feeding, biting kink (but like actually), kind of dubious consent (but also not?)

summary; when you found yourself at one of chicago's more elite clubs, you didn't expect the rumours about their specific clientele to be true.

word count; 1,552

promptober masterlist

vampire!lip is an actual issue for me. the thoughts rot my brain at a near constant, it is painful but it is so so good, i need to make another part to this one-shot, i will eventually because AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH i love him your honour

The club was loud, bass thumping and songs you - thankfully -   knew blasting over the speakers. You had gone out with your friends, your fakes getting you into one of the more exclusive clubs in Chicago. It was said to have a specific kind of clientele, the supernatural kind but neither you or your friends believed in that shit.

Rumours had been flying around for years but you’d never once given much thought to it which is how you found yourself at the club. You and your friend - Angelie - had just pushed yourselves to the front of the bar, ordering two shots each which you proceeded to down after paying.

Then Angelie dragged you back towards the dance floor, one of her favourite songs blasting. The two of you sang to each other, dancing as you moved further and further into the crowd. Angelie kept a tight hold of your hand as you weaved through people, finding the ideal spot right in the center.

Hot bodies pressed against each other as you sang and danced and moved to the beat, your head throwing back. Alcohol made you giggly and confident, all of the anxiety from the day swept away as you danced with Angelie.

But as you were dancing, you spotted him. There was a guy, probably a little shorter than most guys you’d go for but he had the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen. They were a piercing blue and you caught his gaze. A smirk spread across his face and he winked at you. You giggled, face heating up as you looked away to look at Angelie.

Her hands were in her hair, moving along without a care in the world. You grabbed her waist and pulled her towards you so you could shout in her ear.

“Hot guy over there,” You shouted before pointing towards the man you had just spotted. He was talking to someone, a girl and you felt your heart sink. Angelie noticed too and she saw your frown, poking you.

“Get him to come over,” She shouted. You shook your head, glancing over at him. He was still looking, half the time his gaze was on the black-haired woman he was standing beside and the rest it was on you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you and it made you giddy. But the woman had to be his girlfriend, right?

“What if that’s his girlfriend?” You shouted into Angelie’s ear but she pretended that she couldn’t hear. You glared at her and she smirked, shrugging your shoulders. Your gaze moved back to the man and before you could do anything, he was moving towards you. Him and the woman he was with were moving through the crowd, right towards you. Angelie noticed your eyes widening and grinned as they approached. 

Before you could internally freak out and run, the pair had made it to you. He was smirking and the woman was checking out Angelie. You continued to dance along to the music, looking at him with a tentative smile. You didn’t have time to question anything before he had his hand on your waist and he was pulling you in so he could talk into your ear.

“My name’s Lip and she’s not my girlfriend,” He shouted into your ear. The words just about filtering into your brain enough for your eyes to widen and to nod along as he looked into your eyes. The blue was hypnotising, everything about him pulling you in and you could see the sharpness of his canines when he smirked. The brief joke that Angelie had made earlier came to your head, ‘maybe you’ll get lucky, maybe you’ll finally meet a vampire’. It had been said entirely in jest but now you were face-to-face with Lip, you were wondering if the rumours were true about this club.

“Gonna tell me your name or just stare?” He asked, lips next to your ear again. It sent a shiver down your spine, his hand rested against your hip. It wasn’t hard enough to be possessive, giving you some leeway so you could step back if you wanted but you really didn’t want to. You moved forward and pulled him down so your lips were by his ear, you told him your name. He repeated it back, though you couldn’t hear him over the music. He then nodded, “Want to dance?” He requested in your ear. You nodded and you turned around, letting the music take you away.

Lip’s hands didn’t move from your hips as you moved to the music. The shots began to hit you as he ran his fingers over your hips and across the fabric of your outfit. It was driving you insane and the alcohol was making you bold as you pressed back into him. Your hand came up to his hair, tilting your head back to kiss him. 

You usually weren’t one to kiss people in the club but there was something about him that drew you in. And his lips and the way he kissed so harshly and roughly yet sweetly was making you dizzy. Your fingers ran through his hair as you tilted your head, deepening the kiss. The gasp from him nibbling your bottom lip meaning he could slip his tongue into your mouth.

And you feel like you’re losing it, feeling his lips on yours was euphoric. You were so entranced by him that you don’t even notice Angelie and the woman that Lip was with making out next to you. You were so lost in him. You’re whining into his mouth, chest rising and falling heavily as you gripped his hair. 

Both of you are panting for breath when Lip slowly moves his kisses from your lips, down your jaw and across your neck. You tilt your head back into him, exposing your neck for him to kiss.

Your body is completely lost in the music and the pleasure of his lips on you. You can’t even think about this and how unlike you it is because it just felt so good.

His lips found your the sweet spot on your neck and his hand was wrapped around your stomach. He felt the way you arched into him.

He was letting out muffled praises into your ear every couple of moments between his kisses. His lips found the spot behind your ear that made you whimper. So lost in the haze, you don’t notice the way his teeth grazed across your skin and then you felt him bite into you.

Your instinct was to scream, push him away but then the euphoria rushed through your system. It was a feeling you had never experienced but your mind felt numb, thoughts only on Lip behind you and how fucking good it felt to have him feeding off you. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you didn’t believe it but it was making you dizzy.

Your hand in his hair gripped his roots tighter, pushing him into you. You felt him chuckle against his neck, groaning into your skin as you felt the sharp pain of his teeth in your neck retract.

“That feel good?” He asked, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You let out a soft whine, nodding your head. He smirked and then used his tongue to slowly lick up the blood that was dribbling down your neck, “Don’t be scared, just drink,” He said, the boom of the music in the club making you feel fearless. You didn’t care what he did, you were pretty sure you’d do whatever he asked you. His wrist was then in your mouth, a metallic taste of blood exploding on your tongue and invading your tastebuds. You wanted to push him away, choking on the taste but he wasn’t letting you up so you forced yourself to gulp it down.

“Good girl,” He said into your ear before he moved his wrist from your mouth. His blood was smeared over your mouth, your mind dizzy on whatever had just happened and when you looked over to Angelie, she was in the same state. Her eyes glazed over, mouth coated in blood and the woman licking her fingers.

You didn’t know what to think, what to say and when you turned to look up at Lip, his mouth was covered in your blood. It was dripping down his chin and you somehow found yourself wanting to kiss it away, lick up every drip from him.

“Can we get out of here?” You asked, leaning up to shout it in his ear. He smirked, using his hands on your hips to turn you around. You briefly felt dizzy before relaxing and looking up at him through hazy eyes.

“Sure, princess,” He responded, nipping at the shell of your ear before he stepped back. You looked at Angelie who seemed drunk on the woman’s presence and she waved you goodbye, the woman drinking from her neck again. You had no idea what had just happened to the both of you but you weren’t going to let it end now.

This man, Lip, was making you feel things you had never felt and the alcohol was making you bold and desperate.

You needed this.

You needed him.

More than you had ever needed anyone.

[wyngigi]

ꕀ LUST FOR LIFE ꕀ 03

↳ sex money feelings die remastered .ᐟ cross posted on ao3

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“ they say only the good die young, that just ain't right 'cause we're having too much fun, too much fun tonight ”

↳ synopsis: a group of individuals find that their first taste of freedom in the world brings more obstacles than expected. some of them, find solace by drowning in liquor or in the backseat of somebody else’s car. a lot of them have got to get their shit together. a lot of them won't.

mdni » story contains nsfw content intended for 18+ audiences pairings » member specific, not listed for spoiler purposes ↳󠁪󠁪 ateez x female reader, ateez x ateez ↳ genre » coming of age ↳ word count » 3.3k ↳ general warnings » substance abuse & consumption, sexual content, morally grey characters, unreliable narrators, internalised homophobia, angst, basically every struggle young adolescence can go through ↳ chapter warnings » description of sexual activity while under the influence of alcohol and drugs, mention of sexual activity being filmed (with dubious consent due to intoxication) ↳ a/n┆timeline clarification chapter one is the aftermath of the party that mg, wy, ys & san talk about going to in chapter two, and this chapter (three) is the actual party this story will contain many events that are written out of chronological order im sorry its who i am

03⌇the absolute fucking irony

College parties. Young adults burdened by the struggles of growing up with too much access to liquor and a whole lot of free will. Glass bottles litter the kitchen island, empty cans crushing under people’s shoes no matter where they step.

A certain variety of liquids have been splashed and spilt onto the floors, forming several small puddles. Every room is dimly lit, courtesy of the crappy party lights sending rays of colours out, splaying onto the crowds of people below. Columbia parties, where the music never stops blasting and the room can’t stop spinning.

Tonight is no different. You’re somewhere in there, lodged deep in the collection of sweaty intoxicated people just as fucked up with a cup in hand. Everyone rocks back and forth against each other, bass boosted music drowning out any audible voices. Some others are spread out, chatting, screaming, leaning on any available surface with their almost blacked out friends by their side.

Liquor is sloshing around in the guy’s cup in front of you, splashing onto your arm. Rolling your eyes, you turn away from him wiping your arm before downing the rest of your own cup. The songs playing blast into your ears almost deafeningly as you close your eyes, intoxication making your head spin.

You’ve been here for just over an hour, drinking, dancing, drinking some more. You’re five drinks deep now before opening your eyes to spot your friend. She’s tipsy too, talking to an equally wasted new friend of hers. That’s a lie, no talking is happening there. Definitely more than friends too. You call out her name, locking eyes with her through the crowd, shooting her a thumbs up.

Julie grins, playfully waving you off as she snakes her arms around the boy’s neck opposite to her. You can’t see his face, but you do have faith in her, she’s the picky type.

When the music changes to a slow song, you take a chance to get a breather, and a refill. Tumbling as you make your way to the kitchen you spot a familiar head of tousled brown hair. He’s on his phone, typing with one hand as he runs the other through his hair. He hasn’t spotted you yet, so you head over to the opposite side of the island shuffling through the glass bottles, making just enough noise for him to look up.

Like clockwork, he does and ushers you over with a brief tilt of his head. His teeth are on display as a sly grin plays on his lips. You give him one back, picking up an unopened bottle of Pink Whitney before you make your way over to him.

Setting your empty cup and the bottle down, you lean the side of your body into the counter to stabilise yourself. The marble is cold, pressing into your stomach yet you pay no mind to it. “Having fun?” He teases eyeing how you sway slowly, more than a little out of it. Your eyes are glazed over, and he gives you a once over before mirroring you, hip digging into the counter as he crosses his arms.

Kim Hongjoong, former pretentious rich kid turned even more pretentious angsty tortured artist. Most importantly your favorite dealer, and if it matters to anyone, an excellent fuck.

Several piercings decorate both of his ears, and a small but mighty metal ring is lodged in his lip; it shines despite the low lighting. His eyelashes are long, fanning over his bloodshot eyes. His hair is chopped roughly in the front, purposely grown out in the back. It suits him, his whole brand is that type of messy yet put together all the same. The effortless rockstar vibe if you will.

The speakers are still blaring off in the distance, but the kitchen is somewhat far enough that you only have to raise your voice a little to hear each other. “Definitely a whole lot more now,” you chide. He hums in agreement, hand finding its way to your waist as he leans behind you to grab a bottle off the shelf. The metal rings on his fingers are cold, but you lean into his touch regardless.

The proximity between you two closes in, a combination of woody and musky tones hits you, flooding your senses. It’s a mix of marijuana and, his cologne. It’s welcoming, familiar.

“You don’t look drunk enough to be here,” you poke a finger into his chest, leaning up to look at him. He shakes his head, mullet brushing against the collar of his jacket. Hongjoong’s hand leaves your waist as he moves to face the counter, twisting open the bottle as the seal pops quietly. “Night’s young, pretty,” Hongjoong jests, filling up his cup, “Don’t stress, I’ll catch up soon.” You nod, silently agreeing as you move to take his cup from his hands. He allows it, eyes never leaving yours as you take a sip from the drink. It burns a little at the start then it goes down easy. Fitting.

The liquid leaves a shine on your lips that catches the light. Hongjoong’s eyes flicker down, cursing under his breath quietly at the sight as you look up at him. Your lips always looked so enticing to him, and he can’t help but appreciate the view now. It’s also welcoming, and even more familiar.

Hongjoong maintains eye contact with you, holding up the bottle you brought over in his hands between the both of you. It’s a silent question. You scrunch your nose, accepting his offer while nudging your cup towards his direction on the counter.

You step away from each other as he refills your cup, not too far but just enough so you can continue drinking comfortably. The glass bottle clinks against the countertop when he sets it down, pushing it off to the side. You rest your forearm down to cradle your drink, feeling a warm hand creep its way on top of your empty one. His hand isn’t much bigger than yours, and you smile at the chipped polish on his pinkie. Next time the two of you meet, you’ll be sure to give it a fresh coat.

You turn your head to look back at him and find him doing the same. The music seems to fade as the two of you lock eyes before a small grin cracks out on his face, the hues of red and blue lights blend, purple cascading over his features instead. You huff out a small chuckle, breaking away from his gaze. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, eyes searching the crowd for Julie just as a new face approaches Hongjoong.

The boy glances at you momentarily, lifting his drink up to you before greeting the other opposite you. “Yo man, you got a new buyer out front.” Hongjoong nods, lips pressing into a thin line as he leans off the counter. His friend notes the hand that still hasn’t left yours, eyes gesturing between the two of you. Hongjoong winks in confirmation. When he looks back to you, he’s grabbing your wrist to pull you closer to him. Leaning in, he whispers, “Text me, yeah?”

His breath is hot, fanning on your face while his lips just barely drag over your cheek as he pulls back. It heats your whole body up even once he’s already left.

Yeosang escapes quickly from the blonde who had approached him, now entering the backyard of the house. Mingi and his new roommate haven’t arrived yet, and just as anticipated, Wooyoung’s got his tongue shoved down some girl’s throat against a wall already.

He’s nursing a cup of clear liquid that he thinks could be some form of cheap tequila, but he drinks almost anything (unlike Mingi, rich prick) so the thought is pushed aside. Unfortunately, it’s not just the drink leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Something about tonight isn’t clicking for him, the music isn’t quite right, and no one has piqued his interest to look at more than once. This weekend is being spent similar to the many before, and he would usually hope for it to end the same as well. Let Wooyoung loose to drink to his heart’s content, make sure he’s gotten more than comfortable with someone, then find his own someone for the night. Girls and guys alike have shot him subtle smiles and flirty waves, yet none are what he’s after.

By chance, it could have something to do with seeing his roommate with an arm slung around some girl. For the sake of his sanity and to not be a total buzzkill tonight, he’s pretending that’s not the case. Making another thought get pushed to the back of his mind.

Columbia parties also aren’t his usual go-to. The parties are fun don’t get him wrong, but only later in the night. It’s when the crowds really build, and he lets loose till he can’t feel his face. He’s arrived far too early, thanks to a certain someone. He curses Wooyoung for being too eager during their pregames, Yeosang hopes and prays for his friend’s hangover tomorrow to be an absolute bitch.

He spots a group of familiar people playing spin the bottle, but he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough for that yet. Yeosang feels a buzz in his pocket, taking another gulp before reaching for his phone.

mingi: san n i 2 mins away

pls tell me u n wy aren’t wasted already

yeosang: can’t say he isn’t

im ok tho

mingi: knew it , c u soon Yeosang continues scrolling through his notifications before a much taller figure appears next to him.  He knows exactly who it is by height alone. Yeah, one hundred percent not nearly drunk enough to deal with this right now. Being drunk would also not help though. Yeosang wishes the boy was standing a little further away because he looks like a puppy right now. A really cute, really kissable drunk puppy.

His cheeks are tinged red and the tips of his ears match. Yunho grins, leaning close into the other’s face, pupils darting between his. Yeosang’s breath hitches, “Yunho, you good?” he asks, stepping backwards as quick as he can.

He nods slowly, “Mhm, doing great. What’s got you looking so down though?” Yunho singsongs, absentmindedly shuffling from foot to foot. Yeosang hums in response, “Just not feeling too great tonight.” Yunho tips his head back to finish off his drink, Adam’s apple bobbing. Hell, why does this guy have to be straight? Yeosang’s lost in thought before he hears Yunho retort, “Like what, no one to get your dick wet for you arrived yet?”

“Well, in another universe maybe!” Yeosang thinks to himself, instead he replies by shaking his head, hair covering his eyes slightly. This is not the type of conversation he wants to have with his roommate. He turns away from the boy to scan the crowds of people in front him, only to regret it when he spots the girl who was with Yunho earlier continuing to eye fuck him.

Before he has to make more small talk with him, he spots Mingi and who he assumes is San trailing behind him shuffling through the small groups in the backyard. Mingi’s eyes are wandering through the people, filtering for a familiar face.

Yeosang raises his hand up, giving a short whistle as he calls them over. Mingi was right, his new roommate is far from ugly. If his friend didn’t already have an obvious crush on the boy, Yeosang would not have been objected to having a taste of him, mostly to wash out the sour aftertaste someone’s mere presence has somehow brought him tonight.

“Yeo! ‘Sup, Yunho. This is the new roomie here,” Mingi pulls Yeosang into a side hug, patting him on the back. Yeosang raises his brows, shooting the boy a knowing look before whisper-yelling, “He is cute.” Mingi shushes him immediately as Yeosang turns back to the others. San stood further away finally steps forward towards the group. He waves to both of them, “San,” he tells them with a tightly lipped smile before looking around over each shoulder. The shy type, antsy. Cute.

Yeosang speaks up, “Hey San, did you um-” He holds up his own cup, “maybe want a drink or? Mingi’s been here before so he can take you to the kitchen, if you want.” The boy mentioned nods, “Yeah, c’mon,” going to move back towards the kitchen before San interjects, “I’ll uh, grab a drink in a bit. There’s someone I kind of need to look for first.” Mingi blinks slowly, furrowing his brows as he locks eyes with Yeosang.

San looks between the two, licking his lips as he stammers out a cue to leave.

“If you’re thirsty you can go ahead, I’ll catch up soon,” San’s voice trails off as he hurries off in another direction, leaving the three where they are. Yunho pays little mind, still dozed off with too many drinks in his system. Yeosang mouths, “You good?” towards Mingi just as he has to fling his arm out to catch his roommate who's starting to lose the ability to stand straight.

Mingi sighs, biting the inside of his cheek as he looks off into the crowd. He decides there in that moment, yes, he will in fact, be getting a drink. Yeosang catches the look of defeat in the boy’s eyes but before he can silently plead with his eyes for him to stay, Mingi is turned around already.

Yunho slings his arm around the younger’s shoulders, swaying them both to the slow song playing in the distance. He snickers to himself, shaking his head. Yeosang chews his bottom lip, “What’s so funny?” The boy shrugs, looking pointedly at Mingi disappearing into the crowd, head of black hair still peeking out above the others. “Isn’t San kind of oblivious, Mingi clearly wants to rip his clothes off.” Yeosang deadpans for a moment, the absolute fucking irony.

Seonghwa is more than a just little on edge right now. He’s just about to walk into a party that he knows he should not be at, first because he’s rostered for a shift tomorrow at the crack of dawn. Secondly, his friends are excruciatingly good at encouraging him to drink. Something he’d happily entertain even with the promise of a shitty hangover.

That was typically the case, right up until four hours ago when he knocked back the last few pills from his second script of oxy. Without counting how many to actually take.

And finally, he also kind of freaked out after actually seeing the now empty orange bottle, so he had texted his friends that he would be coming tonight after previously opting out. Not that he’s an addict or anything, but withdrawal can be a bitch, or so he’s heard. Anyways, that’s the background for why he’s standing in front of a fraternity house with some artsy alternative looking drug dealer, handing him a wad of cash.

The two of them talk for a bit, letting Seonghwa know he’ll throw in some free ecstasy just for his pretty face. The guy is pretty hot, so Seonghwa thanks him with a flirty smile as he shoves the plastic bags in his pocket.

If you aren’t too familiar with the wonderous world of opioids, specifically oxycodone, here’s the 101. Number one, only take it exactly as prescribed by a healthcare professional. Number two, never mix it with alcohol (or any other depressants for that matter).

His mind is on absolute overdrive right now, studying for exams, picking up extra shifts, he’s there early in the mornings and working closing ones too. The combination of these things are giving him a measly two to three hours of shut eye at most on the daily.

The party lights are beginning to flash in his eyes so much they’re seizure inducing and he’s ready to start drinking so every thought running in his mind just slows down. So he does. He starts slow, letting his friends fill his half empty cup of soda to the brim with vodka.

Eventually it gets to like, three quarters liquor then he decides to take a break. He’s not that irresponsible. Seonghwa knows he has to control himself. He’s also spitting complete bullshit if you couldn’t tell. Seonghwa had gone straight to shots after his solo cup had been emptied the first time. Alcohol doesn’t hit him too bad, but when the oxy does hit instead, it hits hard.

If he wasn’t so out of it, he’d probably be describing some pretty fucked sensory details right now. The party lights becoming brighter, but not hurting him anymore. The walls waving back and forth, starting to swirl. Or melt, the pills definitely kind of mess with some visual receptors if you can’t tell already.

Seonghwa lets out a small laugh as the music’s beat begins pounding in his chest. His breath staggers as the faces of the people surrounding him begin to blur and his arms and legs start to tingle a little. He’s happy, he feels okay now. Actually, wrong. It’s even better. He’s on top of the fucking world.

Whatever happened to Seonghwa from the moment his dopamine surged to the rest of the night can’t be recalled from memory now unfortunately. Fragments of his time at the party (and a personal, very private after party) however could instead be pieced together thanks to all the new photos and videos captured by his phone. It started off pretty tame, him screaming butchered versions of lyrics to songs, dancing and whatnot.

Then there’s a clip of a bathroom stall, white powdery lines on the metal toilet paper dispenser with some guy’s voice in the background. Then there was more dancing, which developed into PG-rated snippets of some form of grinding with a pretty boy who kind of reminds him of a puppy. Then as you continue to scroll you’ll find a video taken from the back camera, albeit a little shakily, of him walking down a faintly lit street hand-in-hand with who he thinks is the boy seen in the earlier videos.

They’re both extremely wasted, their words slurring as they stumble onto a familiar pathway that leads back to his dorm. (He also confirms both guys from the previous memories are the same person from his clothes and voice). It’s cute, in a way. They’re giggling and knocking into each other accidentally. The time stamps between that video, and the next few are just over ten minutes apart. The rest of the clips are short, but they paint the picture of their next encounters pretty effectively.

And that’s putting it lightly, Seonghwa basically made a fucking sex tape.

It’s lewd and provocative in every way, including anything and everything that a person could think of. Kissing, moaning, heavy breathing, broken gasps, his own high-pitched whining. The echoes of skin slapping against skin is apparent in almost all of them. The ones without it are replaced with the guy’s low, throaty groans. They were filmed by him too, pointing the back camera towards Seonghwa, who's looking up at him through a half-lidded gaze, awed expression as the boy swipes his thumb across his raw bitten lips.

The next morning, he wakes up naked to an empty bed. Once he finishes watching over everything captured in his phone, Seonghwa puts them into the hidden album in his gallery. His hangover feels like hell, so he begins scrambling around his room to find his jeans discarded to the floor from last night’s shenanigans. There’s a messy pile of clothes (including what he wore the night before, still turned inside out from what assumes to be impatience) that he has to filter through before he finally does find them.

Digging his hand into every pocket, he manages to first find the fresh bag of oxy and with more searching, the other bag too. As expected from whatever the fuck he did last night, that one is definitely pretty empty.

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[yanderes-galore]

yandere hcs for ennard, more so ennard when they're using Mike's skin and the darling is someone Mike knew? Hopefully that makes sense

Yeah, sure! I'll see what I got :)

Original Ennard HCs I'm using for personality purposes

Yandere! Ennard Pretending To Be Michael

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Graphic descriptions, Manipulation, Multiple personalities (Ennard), Deception, Dubious but implied forced companionship.

I feel this situation would progressively get worse as things progress.

Your connection to Michael doesn't matter too much.

I'd imagine due to the pairing you were friends or something closer.

The biggest issues with Ennard taking over are these;

Ennard has multiple personalities you'll pick up on over time, they struggle with replicating Michael fully.

The eventual smell as their disguise rots.

The odd movement "Michael" begins to display.

The look of your friend gets worse and worse.

Pretending to be Michael is a way for Ennard to be close to you.

At first they'd definitely struggle.

Not only do they have constant personalities buzzing in their mind, but they also don't know you well... if at all.

As a result, when you call Michael's name, you'll notice him twitch a little before trying to respond.

Ennard tries to also learn singular pronouns.

It would give them away if they kept saying "we".

Ennard struggles to learn Michael's behavior, but soon they get the hang of it.

It would help more if Michael had videos of you and him so they can copy it.

When Ennard meets you they can tell you're worried about Michael.

They can't tell if it's nice someone cares about them after being forgotten so long... or if they're envious of the supposedly deceased Michael.

Either way they try to respond in a way similar to Michael.

Honestly, trying to replicate Michael is hard for them.

One moment you find Michael being playful with you, the next he's asking you to dance midway through.

Then there's times he claims he wants to impress you, other times he gets a bit... devious.

You begin to wonder what he's gone through when he was gone?

Michael just seems so erratic with you.

He also appears oddly obsessed with you and things about you.

You even pull him/them aside to try and figure out what's up.

Your friend is acting weird... so you'll keep an eye on him.

There's times when he visits that there's the distinct smell of decay around him.

You jokingly tell him to take a shower one time, to which he (Ennard) gives you a confused look.

You feel even more concern towards your friend when you notice his walk.

He appear limping at times, leading to you holding him up.

An action you notice he shuffles closer to you during.

You offer to call the hospital when you notice Michael's skin turn a bruising purple, one that remind you of flesh lacking blood.

Ennard tells you they don't need it as Michael despite your worry.

Meanwhile as Ennard plays the role of your friend, they pick up items they think remind them of you.

They also often stare in an attempt to memorize what you look like in their mangled databank.

During this time Ennard is working on a time limit.

Michael won't be a suitable disguise soon enough.

Plus... the personalities buzz even more when they discuss you.

Soon you'll notice "Michael" slip away again.

This is Ennard making their escape, fleeing into the sewers.

They really hate the idea of leaving you... they miss the comfort you offer.

However, they promise to see you again.

They may even be in a different form when they meet you again.

Then they can have your comfort in their true form...

They hope you'll be just as welcoming as when they were Michael... won't you?

[thefinaldoctor]

Summary: Alastor is saved by a curious creature while out burying his latest kill. Naturally, he brings it home. AKA The supernatural pet distribution system goes terribly wrong and now he has to deal with feelings.

Relationships: Alastor/Original Female Character

A03: Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4

Tumblr: Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3

Tags: Pet Distribution System Gone Wrong, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Language, Vague Supernatural Knowledge, future smut, OC is a Creature but Yadda Yadda Magical Transormation, no beta we die like sir pentious, If I Changed Tenses Shut Up, Descriptions of murder, descriptions of torture, Masturbation, Skullfucking, but imaginary skullfucking, Alastor goes to Hell for a reason, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Mildly Dubious Consent, Canonical Character Death, Alastor has to go at some time right?

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Chapter 4: To Reminisce

She doesn’t remember being born. There was no mother to care for her or a grizzled old teacher begrudgingly teaching her how to hunt and survive so that she could live on when they inevitably passed. There was only silence. The quiet of the morning mist swirling around her and the soft blood-soaked earth squishing and squelching between her toes as she stumbled uncertainly out of the shadows of long dead women and their children.

She was nothing then. Small and weak and so so fearful of the bright lights of the lanterns as the human males returned to collect their dead. She watched them, hidden in the small hollow of a tree, mouth hung open and drooling as the stench of sorrow filled her little maw and stomach. She would clamber out of that hollow when they left, trailing their misery, licking it up off the ground as she followed them to their settlement. To their burnt and broken homes of mud and straw covered in blood and pain and the echoes of love.

She would slink inside, inside their broken facades of safety and settle into the darkness under their beds. And she would wait. Until the hated light of their fires faded and she could move around without hurting her thin flesh to settle on her chosen human’s chest. She would sink her claws into them, little talons piercing so easily as she forced their fears to the surface, forcing them to experience their pain and fear over and over again until they woke up with a start. She would be thrown to the ground, lost in the shadows as the human would shake their head, mumble something, and go back to sleep.

And she did this for years, until the taste of this village’s fear grew stale and bland along her tongue and absorbing their knowledge until there was nothing left to learn. It was a traveling merchant she haunted next, hiding first under the shadow of its wagon and clambering inside to find a suitable spot to hide until she needed to feed. She would do much the same in the next village. And the next. Hiding and waiting until they grew stale. 

Sometimes she would be discovered. Oh, not in a literal sense but humans always were a suspicious bunch and when the influence of her nightmares would grow too much they would create councils and denounce evils and speak of their gods’ protection and their own wickedness. Then they would hang up the plants, speak their words of light, and burn their bright candles in all their efforts to keep her away. So great was their paranoia and trust in their silly rituals that they could have never even conceive that it was simply the knowledge of her influence that kept her magic at bay.

And she would leave. Again with the next travelling merchant. And oh! How she loved these travels. These people who would ferry her town to town, who spoke so many languages and traded so many things and danced and sang and cried out their lovely voices to the silent sky above. Enamored so was she that she often found herself quite starved on these trips, thin and dull, but still she resigned herself to only siphon their fears. And, if she was feeling quite fanciful, she would imagine showing herself to these people; and instead of fear and disgust, they would greet her with the same cooing and gentle sounds as they did with their prized dogs. Such fine beasts they were that she often wondered if she would ever be like them with their long legs and sharp teeth. 

It was up north, when she was plastered to the inside of a traveler's fur coat as it slept through a blizzard that she first found true form. A beautiful little white fox found its way into the tent, so fearful of the human but so desperate to escape the wind that it did not care. And it was warm . Immediately she wanted to be like this fox and suddenly, she was before it, strangling the soft creature and crawling inside, into each nook and cranny until she could no longer tell what was her and was once the fox.

She left the tent when the storm ended. There was no reason to stay and the human was dead, its deer dead, dead and dead. But she was a lovely little fox, with lovely black fur and the sun reflecting off the snow no longer burnt her skin. She could hunt rodents this way, using her new ears and nose to find the little things under the snow. Their little hearts pounding and pounding away as she stalked them and sent them on their way.

Next was an eagle. The graceful silly thing landed on her, claws piercing her little fox form with great ease and into its heart. It was instinct, to abandon her borrowed form and climb into that bird. And then she was free ! Oh so free to soar above the trees, feeling the rush of it through her feathers as she landed upon prey with precision and such skill that they didn’t even feel a moment of fear before she ended them.

But she could not survive this way. The eagle was fun but soon she grew skinny, keel protruding and the muscles withered away to reveal the bones beneath. Meat did not sustain her, the moments of fear as death approached did not sustain her and maybe, it was the animals themselves that could not sustain her. Not like humans did. So she turned her feathers east, in search of human settlements.

She found her travelers again and shed her form, absorbing the eagle and the fox and becoming the wasted shadow she was. The villages she hunted in grew larger and she became fat once again, being able to stay much longer in each one as the generations of humans lived longer. Often she would watch them, an eagle in the tree watching through the window, a fox trailing along a fence, eyes wide and curious as she continued her voyeuristic wanderings. But humans did not like owls and foxes. One would come across her path and shoo her away. The audacity!

So she took a cat. And what a lithe creature this was! Small talons, soft fur, strong muscles and sensitive whiskers that stopped her from trying to squeeze into small places to hide on habit. She did not like to think of all the times she got careless and  trapped herself in a burrow, unable to leave without shedding it back to shadow. But what she loved most about these tiny little predators were their eyes ! 

So she kept them. And once she had realized that she could keep parts of the animals she claimed…well, she needed to collect more.

And onto the next traveler she went, trailing behind as a sleek black cat with feathered wings. South they went, farther south than she had ever been until the weather grew hot, the humans dark, and the animals strange. She claimed their lions, hyenas, vultures and once even a cheetah but that one moved so fast she could never quite get a hang of its legs. 

She went east again, along what she would learn was a trade route that was filled with human after human and her jackal became quite plump. Bats were a new delight, soft leathery wings that she found she preferred to a bird, especially in these warm climates. She even tried a bear once, one with a slash of white across its chest but the claws were less preferable to the great eagle she had first found but she delighted in making its roar and scaring the hunters she could find.

Horses were another fascinating find. Oh, she knew them well enough, they pulled carts like oxen and reindeer, but never did they look like these ones. Small but strong, they were so mesmerizing to watch as their herds raced across the grasslands. She often joined them, a fleet black shadow along the edge of the herd. Humans would approach her then. Brave things that knew their herds so well that her arrival often left them confused but still they had to try and claim her, to wrap that rope around her neck or corral her into their wooden pens. She liked letting them close and biting at their hands. They learned to fear her sharp hunter’s teeth and the reach of her serpentine neck and let her be, content to make her a patron spirit protector of their herds. And protect she did, for the more horses she kept safe, the more would go to battle and the more fear and anguish she could eat.

She stayed in that land for decades, though she did not know it. She watched as humans grew, changing their travelling ways and settling down. But when their fear grew stale and she began to hunger she eventually wandered west again, trailing refugees and the like. She barely even noticed that the simple wooden homes became stone, that her clawed feet no longer crushed soft earth but tip-tip-tapped along cobblestone roads. They were not new to her as some form of road always existed but whatever land she had found herself in was prolific in their creation. And their stone work! Oh she would often spend hours roaming as a normal cat, into their temples to admire their stone gods, their massive arena to watch humans cheer on frightened warriors, and into their homes to watch her strange humans perform their rituals with oil and plant until she could no longer stand the wretched stench of their smoke.

And then there was war . Oh these humans were masters of war . Entire generations of humans dedicated to a life of war . She would trail them, practically drooling as they brought fear and rage and war to the people they conquered. So fat did she grow on the fear they wrought that she could no longer fly comfortably and had to maintain a form on the ground; wolf or horse it did not matter so long as she could trot behind gleefully.

She was actually sad when her empire collapsed and some form of peace came to the land she was in. The land of her birth was unrecognizable, the long lost battlefield dried up and buried under a city whose name she never did bother to remember. 

She found out quickly that she would have to avoid being a cat in these new towns. Humans had found religion and deemed the sweet creatures ‘demonic’ and hunted them with relish. This was something she did not understand, no matter how many priests and nuns she fed on in a desperate attempt to understand their god. She had been all around this world and never saw any ‘gods’. Other spirits, yes, things like her but never just like her that fed on the fear of humans. Spirits of light and harmony deep in the forests that burned her with their proximity and would chase her out of their hallows, but never anything she could call a god.

She pondered their rituals for years, enjoying the fear their beliefs caused before plague broke out. Another blissful time filled with fear and rot and misery as humans died by the dozens, prone to panic as their god failed them and they contracted rot. She would hide in the corners of their rooms, bringing them dread as they wasted, putting fear into their doctors and priests as they tried and failed to heal the misery their own hubris had brought. Dumb creatures who believed their plague a result of killing the Devil’s cats when she was certain no Devil actually existed. Outside of her. It was not uncommon for her to wonder if she was the devil they so feared.

She must have been for the rituals they started began to affect her. Their symbols of their religion, the bundles of plants outside the door, even the smoke of their incense began to burn her airways no matter what form she took. She was so smart now, after hunting humans and their knowledge for so long, that it did not take long for her to realize that it was her feeding on these humans that made her so susceptible to their customs. It was disappointing that in gaining her now significant strength that she had somehow created her own weakness.

So when she heard whispers of conquering lands across the great ocean, lands untouched by their religion and innovation…she did not hesitate. She boarded a great warship of wood and metal and hid as a great black war-horse. An unsettling thing that the humans avoided looking at and kept quiet to herself in the dark. She had limited food aboard this ship and grew slim again by the time they reached land. 

She fed upon them immediately that night, finally relishing in the fear of never finishing their long journey, fear of their god abandoning them to the cold waters of the ocean, of the fear of the unknown strange lands they would find and the creatures that could dwell within. So lost in their misery was she that it wasn’t until she felt the gush of blood against her throat of a heart’s final beat did she realize she had maimed everything aboard. A shame really, she had meant to harvest them a bit until she found what humans lived across the ocean.

If they lived across the ocean.

That was a worrisome thought. She had been starving and weak many times, dumb with the pain of hunger as she trailed across the ground, moving on instinct until she stumbled across a human and wrung them dry. But what would she do if there were no humans here? Would she finally perish after all her time on Earth? Or would she simply go dormant, asleep and thoughtless until luck shone upon her and delivered her now almost exclusive prey? She shook her head and screeched towards the sky, a shrill awful noise like the sound of hundreds screaming that echoed across the beach as she vented her concern. She finished with a snort and looked back across the ocean. At the very least, if she did not find humans she could come back here. No doubt more would come. She would simply have to last.

Luckily, she did not have to wait long. 

There were actually plenty of humans in this dense forest land with its shadows and deep, deep caverns. She found them around the vast holes in the ground with water at its bottom. She liked to wander their cities at night as a beautiful dark jaguar, exploring their sacred temples and licking at the old blood of their altars. She found that her magic had more influence here, free from the constraints of the gods across the sea. She could wander freely into any home and enjoy the smells of their herbs, their symbols did not make her skin crawl and eyes burn, and their bells did not make her ears ring and disorient her until she had to return to shadow and run away. She was always able to make humans dumb with fear, frozen to the ground as she prowled towards them but now she could entice them to come to her, twitching and shaking and willing to embrace her jaws as she reveled in their final terrified moments.

And she could visit nightmares across an entire city. And these humans…oh simple, beautiful humans, thought these mass nightmares were premonitions from their gods and she would get so fat from feeding this way that she wouldn’t need to hunt for months . And so, with her belly full and confident in her strength, she would continue to wander north.

But this land was strange and the spirits within stranger still. The few she came across filled her with unease and for the first time in her long life, she tried to avoid them. She did not wish to find out what they could do to her. It was when she was up north again, wandering as a proud moose that she had her first true brush with mortality. She had been following a group of human hunters through the snow, feeding into their fear of dying of hypothermia and being hunted by bears as she stalked behind. And then suddenly there was a spike of it, great fear she did not create and suddenly she felt the humans’ lives extinguishing one by one. 

THE AUDACITY!

She shed her moose and flew . Great leathery wings beating the cold winter air as her body morphed into a taloned leopard, teeth exposed in a vicious snarl as she screeched at the creature that stole her prey. She saw it long enough to know she wanted to kill it; elongated limbs, protruding bone and the stench of death. 

She tackled the thing, claws and teeth ripping fetid flesh and gagging on the putrid blood as it filled her maw. She pulled her wings inside, focusing all her might into tearing this bitch apart for daring to interrupt her hunt.

And then she was in the air.

She landed with a muffled thump dozens of feet away and was so shocked at the ease in which she was tossed that she didn’t realize the gaunt creature was upon her until those sharp bloodied teeth were ripping into her side, tearing into the soft flesh of her belly as long sharp claws gripped her, tearing into her hide to hold her down.

And it hurt . Such pain she had never felt as for the first time something ravaged her, tearing not only into the flesh but into her true body, into the spirit itself. She panicked, limbs kicking out wildly as she tried to catch the spindly thing but it simply grabbed her flailing limbs, gathering them in those unnaturally long fingers as it reared its head back, her intestines between its teeth. 

She felt its triumph, its hunger.

And she felt afraid of this thing. Of this thing that she could now see was once human, now twisted by whatever spirit possessed it, the same spirit that she could now see within its glowing eyes as they looked at each other. She wanted to call out to it, call it cousin and plea with it to let her go, let her live so they could hunt together and wreak fear through these cold lands.

But it did not look at her as the few other spirits she met across the sea looked at her. 

To it, she was only prey.

Before it could lunge back down into her bowls she thrust out her power, fear and dread spreading out from within her and the bite of flesh now currently within the beast above her. It paused, mouth and throat open in a permanent death rattle over the wound it had created before it let her go, hands reaching to cradle its head as it screamed in agony, falling backwards and scrambling back on its feet and shoulders to get away from her. It rolled over with a sickening snap of its spine before ribs and pelvis lined back up and ran into the woods, its ear-shattering cry echoing within her skull as she panted heavily.

She did not know if she would live. Being gutted was not necessarily a new experience, it had happened many times when she was a smaller animal, but she was always quick enough to be able to jump into the new beast before she truly experienced the pain. Never had something been faster than her. And never did an animal cut her to the spirit.

She felt cold where the creature had torn into her. A hole in the very fiber of her being that she did not know she would be able to heal on her own. 

She was so very tired.

It was the sound of crying that woke her up. A woman’s wail as she found her partner’s cold corpse. And then came the fear from her dogs as they smelt the creature that killed the hunting party. She called to them, forcing the simple beasts to whimper and cry as she fed on their fear until their hearts burst. The human woman did not run, she accepted her death with grace as the Mare descended upon her. It did not heal her. Not completely. But her belly would hold long enough until she could find the human village.

In the end, it took the entire village to heal that damage done to her. She drug herself into the center, reaching out into their dreams and visiting upon them the same fear she herself had felt out there in the snowfields. The children, elderly, and weak died; their hearts failing from the strain. The adults would wake the next morning, their fear and confusion fueling the last bit of strength she would need to feel whole again.

And then she fled. South and west and away from the cold lands that harbored that awful creature. She came across other spirits as she slowed and explored the vast flat lands she found herself in and did her best to avoid them. Some gave chase, some simply followed her for a while out of curiosity but thankfully, most wanted what she wanted: to be left alone. She wanted to explore this land, experience its people, and maybe go back to haunting the shadowed places and delighting in finding beautiful lakes and streams and finding new animals to take.

She found herself heading east again, trailing the growing smell of fear as a black horse. The people who lived in these lands had at some point acquired the beasts and she was quite fond of them. Taking this form allowed her to wander close, sowing seeds of doubt and minor scares in the young ones who helped mind the herds; especially if she let them see how her four limbs ended in eagles claws. She was idly dozing the day away when she felt a ripple of fear come from the nearby camp, a fear of the unknown sending a shiver down her spine.

Curious, she wandered down, head held high and following the trail until she saw what was distressing her prey. Humans! But these were the pale kind she had not seen since she slaughtered the boat she came across the ocean on. Why, she nearly wanted to whinny at seeing something so familiar, they had finally made it! 

And oh, how they made it. It didn’t take long for their kind to sow fear and destruction upon the peoples she was with. They killed them, chased them, took their women and children, destroyed their carefully cultivated lands and poisoned it just so they could take it for their own and do a bad job of it. She grew fat again as she moved east, fear pervading the land as the pale ones dominated, forcing their wills upon the darker humans and visiting their own awful horrors upon them. 

New spirits rose from the misery of this land and its people, hybrid things born of both spirit and human that made her uncomfortable. And she was beginning to feel the stirrings of the gods across the sea, the familiar symbols on their homes made her turn away, the herbs she was growing fond of now beginning to itch her throat as they were combined with those across the sea. 

She was about to leave, to head out west again where there were fewer humans when a great war broke out. Immediately she changed course, following a dread man who brought misery and fear and death upon the land. He was atrocious but he fed her well and she stopped feeling the affects of their god for many abandoned them when faced with the realities of war. They abandoned their gods and their deaths gave birth to ghouls, corpse lights and quieter violent things that scattered at her approach.

In fact, she was wandering a great and bloody battlefield, soaking up the fear as her fellow spirits preyed on their flesh, paying her no mind as she politely tiptoed around them when she felt something draw her to the tree line. It was a frightful little thing, a blob of shadow with sharp little teeth glinting in the moonlight desperately trying to feed and not be noticed. It reeked of newness and it cowered into its tree hollow at her approach, trying its best to scare her away with a hiss.

She snorted and whinnied at the attempt, causing the new spirit to flare with anger and nearly charge her before she pressed her own fear against it and it squealed in fear and pressed harder into the hollow. It took a lot of nickering to coax the new creature out, prodding the thing that looked so much like she did eons ago to sit between her shoulder blades. She let it feed on the battlefield, too plump herself to do much more than sample as they wandered about until the last human finally died.

They went to sleep in the early morning, the new nightmare curled up under her wings. 

It was a vicious little thing, desperate to prove itself a terrifying creature and often came back scrambling and crying to her with something trailing after it. It reeked of jealousy when she dispatched its foes no matter now many times she tried to tell it that she was old. Very old. That she had seen the rise and fall of many human civilizations and that it was only a little blip of a moment of time to her. It…no, he, for it must be a he for all its recklessness and stupidity, accepted this knowledge begrudgingly. 

But still he stayed and she let him feed on the humans she weakened for him, showed him how to claim animals for his own when he grew strong enough and watched with pride as he finally began to hunt the streets of the human town on his own as a fluffy black tom cat. No longer did he frantically call her to see the spoils of his hunts nor run squealing to hide under her strong shadow, cowering between her wings as she tore into spirit-flesh. He was strong now, so much stronger than she had been at his young age and humans were much more plentiful.

She left him on a full moon, giving him her final advice to avoid the human-spirit hybrids that roamed the dark with them. She told him of how the Cold One (for she would not say its name despite learning of it years ago) overtook her, gutted her, and would have killed her. She told him how it still lived and on those coldest of moonless nights she could still feel the phantom pull of her spirit-flesh inside it and that one day, she feared it would find her.

He laughed as coyotes do and shook his head. They were fear itself, how could she be afraid? She simply bit his hide, into the flesh and taking a part of Him and spitting it out to silence his yapping and left. She hoped he would continue to grow strong and maybe, once he had outgrown his cockiness, she would find him again and take him across the sea.

It wasn’t long until she found herself in the swamps of her current cage. She liked it here, plenty of trees to perch in, lots of alligators to fight and watch with morbid interest as they drowned their prey and spun the flesh from their bones. She had always gotten sick when she tried that move but she kept the way in which they swam.

She liked watching the humans here too; so afraid of the swamp and yet they came here to commune with nature and practice their rituals. Their rituals always set her on edge, they were born of this land and brought forth spirits and magic she did not know and made her feel a stranger. But whatever it was that these humans beseeched was generally content to leave her be with only a passing brush of their presence against her wing.

Those humans who carried this magic she tended to leave alone in response. Those humans were claimed by their gods and if she wanted to maintain her weakening strength in this land, it was safer to avoid them. But hunger tends to erode her usual cautions.

She had been wandering the bayou for months now, enjoying the ebb and flow of the tide through the cypress roots as a slippery otter and flying through the salt-laden wind as a heron. The urge to move on was calling to her and soon she would head south again. This time as far as she could go; away from the phantom call of her missing flesh which had been aching for some time. But she needed strength for that and headed towards a town she had heard the humans calling New Orleans.

She hadn’t been to the city in decades, usually choosing to pick off the silly scared humans who wandered from it into the swamp. There was lots of magic in that city, lots of human-spirits and their gods and their priestesses with their mighty protections. It was an effort to find a human not so protected and much easier to pick them off in the swamp and entice the unsuspecting into her clutches.

She had been following one such human, a small female with shiny pale hair as it stumbled through the swamp despite the full moon light. The fear was enticing and she fueled this human’s desire to run, forcing it deeper into the woods and off the trails into her favorite clearing. It was one of the few clearings wide enough to let her fly low, claws grazing the grass as she would fly in circles before loop-de-looping at the treeline and twirling around to make another circuit. And she loved chasing down humans in it; letting them make it halfway before she would chase them, claws digging into the soft ground to give her speed as she galloped towards them, wings and ears flat against her body as she pushed her muscles to the limit, jaw reaching out to grab them by the neck and tackle them, a ball of rending claws and teeth and emitting her victory screech to the sky. 

Yes, it was great fun. And her chosen human was halfway through the clearing. She launched herself straight up, the tree branch protesting wildly as she pumped her great wings and spread them wide, a fearsome black devil in the sky as she shrieked and plummeted towards the human who in their fear had fallen to all fours and--

Again. Again she was met with teeth and claws with speed that rivaled her own. Again it bit into her flesh and just grazed the spirit within. Again she was thrown, tangled into the tree roots as she struggled to pull her wings and tail from them. She didn’t understand how she had missed the tell-tale signs of the human-spirit, the stench of the rot from its very soul now pervading her nostrils as she finally ripped herself from the tree. It grabbed her, claws digging into her back leg and pulling her close as she whipped around to bite at its arm and it released her with a wolf-like howl of pain.

It was all a blur then. Screeching and howling and pain that pierced her hide but her spirit remained strong. Whatever this was, it was young and she could kill it if only she could get a good hold on it. And then it snapped her fragile wing and the world flared white as she landed with a thud. A loud shot rang out and she roused, shaking her head and slinking down into shadow with the intent to run away when she heard laughter. The laugh of a human in disbelief, of one who was scared so witless that their body and mind could do nothing but freeze and accept the death that was coming to them.

She needed it. If she was going to be able to heal that broken wing she needed a human. It wouldn’t heal it completely but it would at least set it if she could just kill the creature. Kill the creature. Rip out its throat. Chase this human down. Kill the creature. Rip out its throat. Chase this human down. Kill the creature. Rip out its throat. Chase the human down.

Kill the creature.

She moved around the human, using the light as a shield to stay out of the creature’s sight.

Rip out its throat.

She leapt out of the shadow, latching at the creature's throat and digging long talons into its flesh. Refusing to let go and snarling in victory as it ripped out its own throat by throwing her away.

Chase the human down.

She was tired. But the human would lose its adrenaline rush and grow weak as well. She would catch up. She’d find it. She just needed to rest and then she could follow its fear trail. She just needed…

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

The Nightmare startled from her slumber, panic coursing through her for just a moment as she looked for the beast she now knew was a rougarou. She only saw the faint green of her cage and heard the soft low melody of music playing on the gramophone. Alastor must have been in recently and the sun shining through the window told her it was midday.

She snorted. It wasn’t like her to reminisce. At her old age she forgot more than she could remember but when one has nothing to do but sit pretty….well she supposed there was only so many ways she could pass the time as she waited for Alastor. Her skinny little human was late and she was bored. 

Bored enough to try again to call to the spirits that lingered in this room. They clung to the shadows and resolutely denied her call. She laid down low, head on the floor as she called to the bravest, one with no real shape except for the antlers on its head. It skittered around the edge of the circle, teasing her as she playfully snapped at its tendrils. She liked this one the most. It was rash and young and had the same hunger as its master to prove itself stronger than it really was. If she ever got out she would enjoy its--

Her head snapped up, eyes wide as she felt a pulse of magic. The bindings around the house that kept her contained and limited to this one damaged form tightened around her, forcing the air from her lungs and her limbs to her side. She nearly squealed but couldn’t get the air as the bindings grew tighter and tighter and suddenly were gone.

She panted heavily, small noises of distress escaping her with every exhale as the bindings lifted. The antlered shadow chittered around her cage, concern wafting from it as she struggled to gain her bearings. She flexed her claw and watched in fascination as it changed into a singular sharp hoof. 

She didn’t waste a moment. She gathered her legs beneath her, flexing her unbound body and enjoying the feeling of being free as she aimed herself towards the window. She needed to leave. She needed to feed. She needed to figure out what happened to her Alastor that caused his protections to fail.

She launched.

And immediately crashed into the barrier of the circle with a sickening crunch. She wailed as something twinged in her neck and she collapsed onto the broken wing. Behind her the shadow chittered with laughter, popping into her eyesight with a grin that stretched ear to ear, enjoying her misery. She snapped at it and slowly rose to her claws, gingerly checking herself for any new damage. The wing was damaged again, black blood oozing through the gauze. She grimaced and paced the edge of the circle, sniffing at the barrier for any change or sign of weakness.

Beside her the shadow followed her idle pacing, cackling and pointing at the symbols that lined it. She understood. Whatever happened with the house did not matter so long as she was in here. This circle was made with symbols specifically made to bind her and she would find no freedom until they were gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: This was super fun to write! I won't ever settle on an actual birthdate of the Mare but she's been around long enough to see lots of humanities major moments of history. She's been all over Europe, Africa, and northeast Asia before she rounded around to Europe again for the plague, traveled across the sea with some Spaniards and haunted Mesoamerica before she went up north and got wrecked by a W*ndigo, followed the peoples of midwestern America and came back east for the Civil War and the Battle of Gettysburg before getting wrecked again by a baby rougarou. Only to get caught by a skinny middle-aged man with some mildly interesting magic. The shame.

[tightjeansjavi]

party trick

A/N: this silly little fic is directly inspired by this hilarious post by @pedge-page 😝 this fic is meant to be silly, a little unrealistic, and fun! If that ain’t your thing, no worries! Just scroll on by, gem. Also, big thanks to @itsokbbygrl for betaing and @morallyinept for encouraging me with my shenanigans! hehe.

~word count: 1.9k~

Summary: your boyfriend Dieter wants to show you his new party trick that he learned from a pornstar named Ezra

Pairing | Dieter Bravo x pornstar!Ezra x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, smut, established relationship, mentions of drugs and eating, dieter and the reader are openly bi, implied open relationship (not described) Ezra is a bi male pornstar (definition of bi panic) (very light dubious consent as reader and dieter smoke before fucking but it is not described) male masturbation, self sucking??, reader is able bodied with no physical descriptions, readers nickname is gumdrop, no age gap, +18, minors dni!

Your first date with the ever-so eccentric, Dieter Bravo, was a success! Sure, he was a bit clumsy, and maybe even a bit of a blubbering idiot, but you had an incredible time. Did you kiss? Well—maybe! There’s a tell-tale sign when he admires the color of your lipstick against the heart shaped patch in his beard.

After that first date, he washes his face, but is careful to not remove the residue of your lipstick. Not even a week goes by and he’s asking you out on a second date.

Two dates turns to ten and somewhere down the line…you’re Dieter Bravo’s girlfriend, and you couldn’t be happier. (And neither could he)

-

Dieters plan for the evening was to throw a party with some of his friends: not necessarily a rager, per se, just an intimate get-together. Pop a few bottles, skinny dip in his inground pool, and dance under the California night sky.

He canceled his plans last minute because the only person he wanted to spend his evening with was you, his gumdrop.

Hiya, gumdrop baby! 💗

Dee! Hey, baby boy 🥰 having fun at your party?

He cheeses a smile down at his phone, dimples on display, fingers typing fast on the tiny screen, little tap tap taps echoing through the cooling evening air.

Good golly, I’m blushing 🤭 actually…I canceled the party! Just wasn’t feeling the vibes for it! Wanna come over?

Yes! I’d love to! I was just about to order some takeout. Want me to pick something up on the way?

Yes! How about veggie grill? I was just about to smoke, want me to wait up for ya? Oh! Also, I got something I wanna show you later 😉

Being in a relationship with Dieter meant that nothing he could possibly say or do surprised you anymore, but his vibrance, care-free, goofy, eccentric attitude, made him even more attractive to you. That and the fact that he was the literal definition of a trash panda. Your trash panda specifically.

Sounds good to me! 💗 did you want your usual or something different? You don’t have to wait for me, Dee! I’ll have some when I come over. Oh? What is it that you want to show me? 👀

Okie doke! Hey, how about you just order the whole menu? My treat! See ya soon, gumdrop xx. And you’ll see! It’s a surprise. Hehe.

God, Bravo. You sure know how to spoil a gal rotten! Looking forward to the surprise!

He hearted your messages before he reached behind his ear and grabbed his perfectly rolled joint and reached for his lighter that was resting on the table next to the poolside chair he was spread out on.

He couldn’t wait to see you and show you his new party trick.

-

Hours earlier in the day, Dieter found himself in his bed, boxers discarded on the floor and his fist languidly wrapped around his half-hard cock.

His freehand was scrolling through Pornhub, trying to find something to get off to. Usually it didn’t take him very long to settle on a video, but today he was finding it to be a bit of an annoying struggle.

He scrolled and scrolled till he stumbled upon something he had never seen before, self sucking?

He spit into his palm, using his saliva as a natural lubricant because he was too lazy to reach across his nightstand to grab his favorite bottle of lotion (ain’t nobody got time for that!).

Holy shit! He’s sucking himself off??

Christ, his cock is taking up the entire screen!

Dieter's private thoughts ran rabid as he watched the pornstar, Ezra, easily bend over and suck the head of his cock (which was massive, by the way) into his mouth.

“Holy fuck! How is that even possible?!” Dieter announced in disbelief.

He paused the video, and went to Ezra’s page and scrolled till he found the contact button and a direct link to Ezra’s instagram. He sent him a message:

Hey! I hope this doesn’t come off as weird or creepy (feel free to ignore) but I watched one of your videos just now…the self sucking one and DUDE, nice cock! How the hell do I do that? 🫣

Ezra responds seconds later after hearting the message,

HOLY SHIT! THEE DIETER BRAVO GOT OFF TO MY COCK? 🥵 (sorry, huge fan!) anyway, gem, I’d be happy to show you the art of self sucking, and then you too can be a pro like me. xx

Dudeee you’re a fan of me?? I’m blushing! 😉 okay, okay, I have to ask…is it all natural?

I am, indeed! You have quite the eccentric presence, gem. Oh, it’s natural alright. The gods have certainly laid their blessing upon my loins x.

Ohhh, I get it! You’re like Shakespeare? 🤣 damn, you sure know how to swing that thing around! Anyway, I will take you up on that offer! Here’s my number:

Lawl. You’re a funny one huh, gem? I suppose I am a bit like Shakespeare both with my verbiage, and my cock. You free right now?

The funniest guy around! Well, Romeo, got my cock out and everything, let’s boogie?

Boogie we shall.

And so that’s how Dieter ended up FaceTiming with Ezra: who coincidentally, also had his cock out.

“Not to be a total massive fucking flirt, but you’re gorgeous, and my girlfriend would probably eat you right up!” Dieter preened, leaning in close so he could get a better look at Ezra’s third limb, er, cock.

“Oh?” Ezra smirks, “would she now? Well, gem, perhaps the three of us should get together sometime?”

“Yes! You can be like the skunk to my raccoon!” Dieter said with a giggle.

“I beg your finest pardon? Your—what?”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry. Probably should have provided some context, huh?” Dieter blushes.

“Naturally, gem. Go on.” Ezra sits back on his elbows, listening,

“So, my girlfriend calls me a trash panda! It’s endearing, really. And well, you got that blonde streak in your hair…so you can be the skunk?”

Ezra chuckles in pure amusement, eyebrows raising, heavy cock bobbing between his thighs.

“A skunk, huh? You’re lucky I think you’re cute, gem.”

Dieter fanned his face like the little slut that he was, and giggling, “You think I’m cute?”

“Cute as a button, gem. Now, let’s see what we’re working with so that you can show your girlfriend what I taught you.”

“Yes sir.”

Ezra is a wonderful teacher and by the end of it, Dieter is almost able to suck the head of his cock into his mouth. There’s a slight strain in his lower back, but fuck it! You only live once.

“Well, gem, I think you just have to remember to relax your muscles. Pretend you’re floating on a babbling brook, or napping on a fluffy cloud, and then you’ll be sucking yourself off in no time. I gotta run, but let me know how it goes!”

“Ahh! Okay, I think I can manage that! Thanks for all the help, Ezra.”

“Anytime, gem. Anytime.”

-

After passing the joint back and forth together, fucking (a few times) and devouring the veggie grill you brought over, Dieter brings you upstairs to his bedroom, nearly stumbling over his two feet because he’s so excited to show you his new party trick!

“Sit that cute ass on the bed, gumdrop.” He’s not being domineering at all, quite the opposite actually.

You’re both naked, naturally because in Dieter’s home, clothes are always optional!

You wrap your arms around him from behind, kissing his jawline, pecking at the heart patch in his beard. “Are you gonna show me the surprise now, Dieter?”

He leans back into your embrace with a pleasant sigh, “Yes, gumdrop. But c’mon, bed. Now.”

You press one last kiss to his face before detaching yourself from around him, walking over to the bed and plopping down with a soft, oof.

He joins you moments later, laying on his elbow facing you while you reach across and card your fingers through the soft curly hairs on his chest.

“So I was watching this porno earlier, right? I did a deep scroll, and stumbled across this video of this dude…with literally the biggest fucking cock that my two eyes have ever seen!” He speaks animatedly, throwing his hands up as he leans in.

“It literally took up the entire fucking screen, gumdrop! Anyway, that wasn’t the craziest part! His cock was so big, and long, that the motherfucker was able to suck himself off! Dude barely even had to bend over, just popped that sucker right in and got to suckin’!”

You twirl a strand of his chest hair between your fingers, giggling as you listen to his dramatic retelling of the massive cock he saw.

“Shit, it really took up the whole screen? That’s insane, Dee!”

“YEAH! Like…the guy was packing a literal BAZOOKA down there!” He chuckles, leaning in so he can nuzzle his face against yours.

“Anyway, I found the guy's instagram and sent him a message because I thought to myself, ‘Damn! Imagine if I could also suck my own cock?’”

“Let me guess, you asked this pornstar fellow how you can suck your own cock like him?”

“Yes! How did you know?” He chuckled and stole a quick kiss, melting against you like the soft man that he was.

“Lucky guess?” You tease, dragging your finger down lower, skating it across one of his nipples. “So, was it a success? Did he teach you how to properly suck your own cock, Dee?”

“Well, I was actually able to barely get the tip in my mouth! Wanna see, gumdrop? S’gonna be my new party trick!”

“Show me, Dee.” You giggle, encouraging him as he quickly sits up, remembering how Ezra told him the way to curve his spine, and relax his muscles so that he can bend over just enough—

Dieter is hunched over, using one hand to hold the base of his cock, and the other is resting against his lower back for support. He’s so fucking close to wrapping his lips around the head of his cock when–pinch!

He yelps in surprise, immediately rolling over and yowling like a cat.

Ow. Ow. Ow! Fuck! Fuck me! Ow!

You're at his side in an instant, comforting him and reaching for your phone to either call 911, or look up an immediate remedy for his pain.

“Fucking pulled a goddamn muscle!” He whimpers, burying his face into your chest.

“Dee, it’s okay! You’re not dying, baby. Okay? Look! Google says that we have to treat the area with ice and then a heating pad!”

“I’M DYING, GUMDROP! I SEE THE LIGHT!” Your boyfriend dramatically groans, “I'M FADING FAST!”

After icing Dieter’s lower back for a good hour or so, you placed a heating pad against the sore spot while spooning him for extra body heat.

He was typing a message to Ezra, a deep frown set between his eyebrows because he really just wanted to know what it was like to suck himself off! (Who wouldn’t)

Hey, Ez. I pulled a fucking muscle in my back!

☹ gf is spooning me with a heating pad now, but I was really hoping that I would be able to suck myself off!

From Ezra: (Shakespeare-BAZOOKA 🍆)

Aw, I’m terribly broken to hear that, gem. Better luck next time, Birdie!

-

The next time Dieter announced to you that he wanted to try and suck his cock again, you came prepared with two yoga mats and a beginner yoga flow video (thrifted, of course).

He gives you a funny look as you set the yoga mats down in the sunroom.

“What?” You laugh, placing your hands on your hips. “It would be a cool party trick, Dee! Just gotta get you a little more flexible and bendy before we try again.”

Ohhh. He grins, dimples peeking out, “Well, let’s yogi, gumdrop.”

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[graysparrowao3]

WIP Whenever

Thank you @ladyofcrowsandcoffee for the tag! Go check the adorable snippet of Isadora and Clairice, Tavs of @ladyofcrowsandcoffee and @barbwillbrb!

Passing along some no pressure tags @crowwolf @underdark-dreams @threerattsinatrenchcoat @keepyourstyle @redroomroaving

Here's a Rolan snippet and a Rugan/Aradin snippet from their respective next chapters for which ever tickles your fancy.

The Elturian Prodigy WIP snippet:

Leather cuffs hung loose around his forearms, mantle crushing the knots across his shoulders. Robes gathered in the hollow of his gut. The Savior of Elturel, that’s what they’d call him if he could pull this off. Not a wretched and forgotten mage of little note, they’d hear tales of his name in cities across the continent, epic ballads of exaggerated deeds sung and biographies of dubious factual merit written. The wizard that pulled a city out of Hell. A tiefling, no less. All he needed to do was make it to High Hall, scour the records for whatever despicable dealings had occurred between those who sit on thrones and clouds, and find the loophole or footnote that would lead him to the key to undoing it. Compared to fighting to survive across the wasteland of a besieged city a little research should hardly be taxing. Any worthy apprentice of Lorroakan would be able to do it. Rolan’s attention flashed over to a strained grunt. Cal’s eyelids twitched as he slept, a stammering whine leaked trembling from his sleep. Lia laid a hand on his shoulder. With her gentle shake Cal gasped, staring up with eyes like roaring braziers. Lia’s fingers ached for a blanket she could pull up and tuck under his chin. She ran them gently over his hair. “Go back to sleep.” Cal forced acrid air through his coarse throat. He pulled his knees ever tighter to his chest. As his head returned to the floor, Lia’s blazing, sunken eyes met Rolan’s. She leaned forward, corset slung loosely around her waist it dug uncomfortably into her hips, hair matted to her face. “We are getting out of here, Rolan.” The elder tiefling fixed his jaw, the swell of his rage twisting his lip. With nothing but his own wit and skill of thought he had uncovered the secret to their banishment, and his natural talent had fought devils themselves. They needed only to go a little further. He held her gaze, returning a fierceness of conviction. “I’ll make sure of it.”

How to Keep a Man and Lose a Devil WIP snippet from the next chapter, Step 7: Dance. (This is a proper 'WIP' example of what this fic looks like before I start pulling dialogue together with action, description etc.)

“You’re so full of shit, Rugan.” “One minute you want to be swanning across a dancefloor like some twit who knows what a damn pirouette is, the next you’re going off like I’m some poor lad you pity fucked." ... "I didn’t get the devil involved to have you hang about because you feel guilty. If you’re just gonna leave when all this is over, do me a favour and feck off now. I’d rather be on my tod than strung along by false promises. Had enough of those to last me a lifetime.” ... “Dance with me.” “Was being serious mate, don’t know how.” “Make it up.” “Improvise.” ... “Better be careful," Aradin let his head rest back against Rugan's shoulder. "I might get the wrong idea.” The older man's fingers played in the silky lining of the waistcoat. “What idea is that?” “You want this to be a thing.” Shifting their weight from one side to the other, a swaying embrace. “Have me be your man.” “That what I’ll tell people, is it? That fellow over there, one with the curly brown hair, surly look on his face, that’s my man. Do contracts together, we do. Me be the brains and you be brawn? Sorting this city out one measly gold at a time. Give you a big ol’ peck on the cheek when we get home, toast another job well done. Tuck you all snug in at night. After another round of the best sex of your life, of course.” He nestled beside the younger man's cheek. “That sort of thing?” Aradin's eyes were closed. “Mm.”