#going to be riding this high all day perhaps

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

𝔎𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔐𝔢 𝔄𝔴𝔞𝔨𝔢

Summary: Exhausted by the wild antics of the boys, you decide to have a night inside. You weren't really expecting for Paul and Marko insisting to join you, but perhaps, you should have expected what happens next.

Warnings: 18+ content MDI, fem reader, oral sex (f!receiving), threesome. Paul calls reader "mama" once, but it's in a casual way not the kinky kind. Paul has a praise kink. A dash of dom Marko. They're three all dating, so naturally a little m/m.

Notes: 7.9k words. Paul and Marko eat you out at the same time - that's really the plot. Divider by @sisterlucifergraphics. Not proofread.

For the first time in days, it's finally peaceful. Usually there's a constant barrage of noise echoing off of the walls of the cave: the chaotic hollers and yelps from the boys, the laughter and raised voices bouncing back and forth in a near constant stream of conversation, a pour of music rising from the boombox - and there is music playing right now, but fortunately, you had managed to convince Paul to play it at a more respectable level. 

He had initially pouted, groaning and grumbling under his breath as though you were torturing him. But he had relented anyway, tuning the vocals of Vince Neil down in a level that doesn't bounce from the stone in an ear-splitting current. You didn't miss the way he had glared at you from over his shoulder as he did it though, staring at you like you'd committed an unforgivable offence. Always such a drama queen. 

You would feel a little bad if he wasn't always charged at Mach speed anyway. It could do him some good to calm down and take things slow every once in a while, and honestly, you're exhausted. The boys are always set at a breakneck pace, regularly tearing they're way up the boardwalk or prowling over the beaches to race their bikes or to snatch up night surfers for a quick meal. There's always something with them. Parties out by the ocean or band performances by the boardwalk. 

You haven't had a peaceful night inside in forever. Even more, you haven't had any time with just the three of you in even longer. The group is constantly joined at the hip, as loyal and feral as pack of strays. Permanently banded together as though they're a single soul split into separate bodies. You admire the tenacity of their bond, how close they are, how they've remained together throughout all of the years they've been alive. But you also can't deny that you often wish that you could get Marko and Paul alone every once in a while. That it could just be the three of you instead of you having to share them with David and Dwayne, and even Santa Carla itself. 

As dramatic as it sounds, there are times where it seems as though the town is a mistress in its own right, constantly pulling your two boys from you with the temptation of excitement and blood. Luring them with the thrill of flashing lights and violence, and like sailors to a siren song they'd always obey the call. 

That's why it had shocked you a bit when they both had elected to join you in returning home after you were all done feeding. The buzz and exhilaration of the hunt had settled. The screams of the tourists having died out, the pitiful wet gurgles of their choking having faded once their hearts had finally stalled, rendered useless without the blood in their veins. Usually the boys are all hopped up after a successful feeding, determined to go out on the town and cause some kind of trouble on the energy induced by the highs they're all riding. 

But when you had announced that you were going to settle in for the night, it had completely surprised you when both Marko and Paul had stepped around the corpses littering the ground to join your side, Paul already reaching for your arm to tug you towards his bike. 

David and Dwayne had taken it in stride, relenting without any complaints or efforts to persuade them, wolf whistling and clapping with salacious smirks on their faces while Marko and Paul lead you back to the motorcycles that had all been parked behind the cover of a sand dune. The two of them of course responded in kind, returning the dirty grins with juvenile laughter. Paul couldn't have helped not to make some kind of obscene gesture, circling his pointer and thumb together to thrust a finger through it. That had earned him a slap to the chest but the demented cackle he had let out as he pulled you over to his bike let you know that he hadn't minded in the slightest. 

Despite all of the initial dirty jokes, the three of you had settled into a relaxed silence, simply basking in each other's company. Marko had occupied himself on the old, tattered couch tucked against the far wall of the cave. His coat is off, draped over his lap as he threads a new patch onto one of its sleeves. A badge depicting a demonic skull resembling the style of a traditional tattoo. He had torn it off of the jacket of his victim's body after he'd drained the man of his blood, smiling down at him while his chest had shaken in a death rattle, waving the patch in the air as though he was gloating over winning a trophy. 

He's always trying to add new pieces to his coat. It's become a wearable collage at this point, different materials and patches sewn onto it almost religiously. But as chaotic as it looks, there's a method to his madness and he's extremely picky with what actually makes it onto the jacket. He has an entire stack of them stored in a milk crate, the ones that weren't approved, collected over time. There's probably sixty years' worth of patches and scraps of fabric saved away in there. 

You've asked him to make additions to your jacket and that's almost turned out to be a mistake because somehow, he's even more of a perfectionist with yours, scouring over materials with a dedication that's a little concerning. You're pretty sure that he's started targeting people just based on the clothes and accessories they're wearing, all so that he can steal them from their corpses like some kind of demented racoon. 

You love watching him work. He always gets that concentrated furrow between his eyebrows, a studious crease pressing them close as he focuses on whatever has caught his attention with an iron focus. It doesn't matter what it is. If he's tuning up his bike or working on another painting, he tackles it with devoted levels of detail and attention that leaves you in awe. Even now, you can't help but to peer at him from over the edge of the book in your hands, staring past the yellowed, dog-eared pages to admire the way he scrutinizes the coat in his lap, threading another loop through the fabric with practiced fingers. 

He's always so pretty. So much so, that just the sight of him all the across the other side of the dilapidated space is enough to be a distraction. And it doesn't help that Paul has situated himself so close to you either. It didn't take him long to climb himself onto your bed, almost forcefully making room for himself on the old mattress so that he could flop his body beside you in an ungraceful heap. 

The unimpressed look you had given him was scathing, but he hadn't noticed it with the way that his focus had zeroed in on the random assortment of books scattered out across the bed. Paul isn't much of a reader at the best of times. The only thing that he's probably ever cracked open is a porn magazine - maybe a Rolling Stone issue if you're being generous. Getting him to stay still for more than fifteen minutes at a time is a feat all in itself, so it's more than a little surprising that he hasn't so much as twitched in the stretch of minutes that's passed by. 

Now that you think of it, he's been suspiciously quiet so far. It's a little disturbing. 

You pause in your reading again, losing your place for the second time tonight, but you can't help but to be a little curious. And just when you're about to glance over at him, you hear it. A light, almost deranged sounding giggle that pitches into the air before skipping into an unattractive snort. And then a voice is pitching up high, garish and mockingly feminine: "His manhood pulsed hotly in my hand, engorged and raging in his arousal and I couldn't help but to respond in kind, my breasts heaving as I drew in a shaking mewl. I've never done anything like this before, a sensible lady like me, but God, did I want him!" 

The expression that crosses your face is probably one of confusion, if not outright disgust, and your bewilderment has you all but dropping your book onto your lap as you pin him down with a stare. He doesn't spare you so much as a glance, too engrossed in whatever he's holding in his hands. It's then that you notice just what has caught his attention, and of course that's what he had gone for out of the entire pile spread out on the bed. 

Based on the art of the paperback cover displaying some windswept, longhaired heroine in a big, vintage dress and the shirtless, muscled up rogue who has her drawn into his arms, it's safe to say that it's some trashy bodice ripper. "Forbidden Destiny" the title declares in an elegant golden font.  

You completely forgot that you even grabbed it honestly. In the past month you've taken advantage of the little exchange box posted outside of the public library, showing up every few nights or so to see if anyone might have left something interesting. You don't have much luck most of the time. It's usually cookbooks and DIY guides that get left behind, but every once in a while, you strike gold and get a good horror novel. Maybe a fantasy story if you're fortunate enough. But this week - no such luck. 

It was desperation or maybe indifference when you had grabbed that bodice ripper. You didn't think much of it at all. To the point that you had forgotten it existed in the first place, but now you're actually regretting having brought it home. There's almost a twisted kind of glee on his face as he eagerly flips to the next page, eyes glittering in the amber glow of the candlelight, and it almost makes him look like some perverted creature. 

"I didn't know our girl was such a degenerate," he remarks, and the delight in his voice is more than apparent. Marko doesn't respond outright, but you hear him snicker quietly from his place on the couch, and it has Paul's smile growing even more. His eyebrows perk up like he's impressed. "Some of this shit is actually pretty graphic. 'His fingers traced my glistening petals, nudging like he might finally penetrate me, and I could not contain my moans any longer. i just wanted him to finally give me what I wanted - what we both wanted.' "

He finally takes his attention off of the pages, and now that it's on you, you can't help but to feel a little embarrassed. Heat flushes through you at the weight of his stare, self-consciousness prickling at your cheeks even though you know there really isn't reason to feel any shame at all. It's just some dumb book - one that you haven't even read. Not that it would really matter if you had. 

The lopsided grin that pulls at his lips is salacious. "You know, if you're trying to get off babe, all you have to do is ask." 

That has you rolling your eyes, something like a scoff huffing from your throat as you grip the now forgotten mystery novel in your hands a little tighter. "Yeah, cause if I need to get off that's definitely what I'd use." 

"There's no reason to lie," he teases, shuffling forward to sit up. "There ain't any shame in it. I am a little surprised about the pirate thing though, I didn't know Black Beard got you hot." 

You can't help but nudge yourself from where you've been reclined against the assortment of pillows, using the short burst of momentum to shove at him. It doesn't do anything other than make him laugh and raise an arm up in a weak defense against the persistent bat of your hand. He holds up the paperback up to his face, threading his thumb through the pages to mark his spot so that he can freely admire the cover. He tilts it to you then like he wants you to look, but the mischief in his expression lets you know that it's going to be nothing but more mockery before he can even speak. 

"Now that I'm looking, me and him kinda look alike." He waves the book a little like he's trying to bait a cat with a toy. You want to snatch it out of his hands, but you can tell that he's still too on guard, watching you out of his peripheral vision. 

You try to act nonchalant, relaxing your shoulders and feigning interest as you dare to creep closer, leaning in under the guise of scrutinizing the front of the novel. Even as you coast your vision over the book you can't deny that there is actually somewhat of a resemblance between him and the blonde love interest on the cover. It would be uncanny if the man depicted by saturated paint strokes looked just a few years younger and his hair was more stylized and less wavy. 

"Wow, you're right," you agree. You loll your head on your shoulder, gazing up at him from the corner of your eyes with an indifferent shrug. "His abs are better though." 

You wish you could have taken a picture of the expression on his face. His head jerks around in your direction so sharply that it's a wonder he doesn't sprain something; eyes wide as though you've slapped him. That's all the surprise you need to be able to snatch the book from his hands, tugging it out from his grip with a pleased smile despite the betrayal burning in his gaze. You don't hesitate when you hurtle the novel across the length of your bed, sending it clearing past the gauzy curtains enclosing the mattress to land somewhere on the other side of the cave with an echoing clatter. 

There's no time to gloat though because he's on you in a blur. Barreling you over with his weight to pin you down amongst the cushions and blankets. You can't help the squeal that escapes you, puffs of laughter bubbling from your lungs as he shoves his face into your neck like he might maul you. 

"Marko!" you call, nudging helplessly at Paul's chest while you try to peek past his shoulder, searching desperately for the other man across the room. "Help, he's gonna crush me." 

He hardly spares you more than a glance when he looks up from the coat he's still meticulously working on, completely unbothered by your current predicament, but the fires flickering around the dim of the cave seem to highlight the mirth reflecting in his eyes. They're both sadists. 

"You look like you have it handled," he answers. 

"Are you kidding me?" You snap, trying your best to contort your body out from beneath Paul, but his grip is like metal. Unwavering and heavy, shoving you down in place. "You're both assholes." 

"Hey, there's no reason to get mean," Paul chides. But there isn't any hurt in his voice, only that cocky edge that never fails to drive you up a wall whenever he's in the mood to taunt you. He nips at your neck like he's reprimanding you, but the dull sting only makes you squirm, hips twitching for an entirely different reason now. He pulls back from the junction of your shoulder. The grin that perks at his lips becomes just a little salacious, a familiar hunger flickering to life in the glint of his eyes.

"You're the one being mean, actually," you counter. "I was enjoying myself in peace and you had to go and ruin it." 

His face shifts into a pout. A display of false sympathy and guilt, but the smoky edge that his tone takes burns something hot along your spine. "My poor baby, how can I make it up to you?" 

It's embarrassing how easily he can flip a switch inside of you with nothing more than a simple look. It's even worse that you know he can tell; he can feel it in the way that your hips squirm a little, how your lungs inhale sharply to gulp down air that you don't need anymore - a useless reflex that only gives you away now. A slip in your poker face that you've been trying to train yourself out of but have been failing terrible at. Dwayne's told you that it's a good thing. It keeps the appearance of still being alive, of being human. A good camouflage while hunting or associating among people, but he doesn't have to two perverts trying to exploit his every movement. 

It's no secret that Marko's and Paul's appetites are a little robust. It's like they're constantly starved - for each other. For you. You don't think you've ever felt so wanted before. So loved and cherished. They treat you like you're vital, as necessary as the blood in their veins, like they could die if they go without your touch for too long. It always has fireworks sparking under your skin, affection and devotion blossoming in the center of your chest like the warmth of a summer sun. 

You crave them too, just as desperately. Sometimes it feels as though the strength of it could tear you apart. Heat coils inside of you, aching dully between your thighs. And he's determined to make it worse, leaning down to nip softly at your lips, drawing you into a slow, teasing kiss. It's easy to fall into it. You can keep your hands from reaching up to cradle to sides of his face, curling your fingers to scratch you nails through his hair in the way that he likes. 

He pulls away just enough to speak against your lips, pecking softly between his words as though he can't resist. "Let me kiss it better?" 

He watches you with so much intensity that it makes you feel entirely possessed. Tucked away and consumed by the weight of his stare. It's enough to have your body coming alive beneath him, nerves simmering and muscles pulling taut with anticipation. But just under all of it is some stubborn, invading layer of exhaustion, creeping in like a cold draft. You want him so badly that it's like you're choked by it, but it's unignorable that you're also just tired. 

You keep up with all of the boys and their whirlwind lifestyle fairly well. You can manage the insane pace they're always set at with just as much passion, but almost like clockwork, it does catch up to you. And you're long overdue for an uneventful night in. Just a moment to relax and exist without anything wild to fill the silence, like shrieks of terror or the metallic growl of motorcycle engines tearing up the beach. And sex with Paul is rarely ever soft or gentle. It's tongue and teeth, desperate hands, and scratches left behind on flesh from greedy claws. 

You love his passion. You adore how starved he is for you, and you know you'll never grow bored of it, but unfortunately your body likes to turn against you. Demanding peace over the raw desire aching in the base of your stomach. 

The smile you give him is mournful. You're a little disappointed with yourself, frustration prickling over your skin. There's a sigh in your voice when you speak, and you smooth your fingers along his nape in some kind of apology. "I'm sorry Paul, I'm just really tired tonight. I don't think I have it in me for anything crazy." 

A part of you inwardly cringes, half anticipating the sight of visible disappointment to cross his face. But you forget that this is Paul - your Paul, and his expression softens a little. Admiring you openly with the devotion of an acolyte appreciating their god. And yet something almost smug makes its way into his eyes, glinting and cocky while he smiles as though you've stroked his ego somehow. "Have we been wearing you out, mama?" 

Of course that's where his mind goes. But it doesn't annoy you at all. It only has a small laugh leaving you, your chest puffing with an amused breath while you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him again. 

"Need to relax a little, hmn?" He hums quietly, nudging his nose on yours to draw your attention fully back onto him. He smooths a hand over your hip, sweeping his fingers down to toy with the edge of your sleep shorts, stroking in gentle caresses that leave warmth behind in their wake. "Let me help you out then -" he places another kiss to your lips - "you just gotta lay here and look pretty. Let me do all the work." 

He's already scooting down, almost absentmindedly shoving some of books over the side of the bed as he makes his descent. Slipping slow over your body to trail the shape of his mouth over you. Skimming them over the material of your old T shirt to brush them over the swell of your breasts. He nuzzles at your chest, peeking up at you just as he sticks his tongue out at one of your nipples through the barrier of your top, tracing it in a tight circle before taking it fully into his mouth.  It has your back arching, body contorting to press yourself deeper into the press of his tongue. You can feel the edge of his teeth close over your nipple, dulled only a little by the thin fabric of your shirt, but it hardly does anything to lessen the sting. You can't find any desire to complain or object. The weariness that's haunted you all day is still there, but it's muted, watered down by the heat flowing through your limbs. 

That silent question is still there in his eyes, hanging over the both of you while he removes himself from your breast to trail down to your sternum. The old you would feel a little guilty, letting him take over without really getting anything in return, but you know Paul well enough to know that he'll always jump at the opportunity to eat you out. You don't think you've ever met a guy as eager as him to go down on someone. When you'd first met him, you had imagined that he would be the exact opposite. The kind of guy to drag someone into a dirty bathroom for some quick head only to leave after he's gotten off, but you couldn't have been further from the truth. 

It's like he's always anxious to have either you or Marko in his mouth. He would spend hours down between your thighs if you let him. And sometimes you have, the minutes blurring into hours until you're sure that the sun is bleeding over the ocean outside in gold and blush, until your body has gone pliant and useless. The promise of that has you nodding, reaching down to your hips to try and tug down your shorts, but his hands stop you, slipping over yours to pry the waistband from your fingers to take them into his own. 

His tongue lashes over your lower stomach, just above your shorts as he shifts them down over the shape of your hips. You lift your waist as best as you can, helping him in moving the clothing down over your thighs and past the length of your legs. He throws them to the side carelessly, the billowing curtains blocking off your bed are the only thing that keeps them from flying past the edge and onto the dusty stone floor below. 

"No panties?" he teases, looking up at you from his place between your thighs, settling himself until his stomach is flat against your mattress. 

"Shut up," you snap without any real bite. 

In your defense, you're running a little low on clean clothes. You're definitely due for a trip down to the twenty-four-hour laundromat, but you honestly don't have it in you right now to spend the next three and a half hours sitting in some uncomfortable plastic chair, under too bright fluorescents while you wait for the cycles to finish. It has to be your least favorite part of your week and you've been holding it off with a sense of dread. 

He chuckles against the plush of your inner thigh, tracing over the sensitive skin with the plush of his mouth and wet drag of his tongue. He looks stunning like this, wild hair brushing over your body, sketched in shades of gold, his skin casted in a heated amber from the burn barrels blazing around the worn corners of the room. The light somehow makes his eyes equally as dark, blending the soft blue into a shade that almost seems black. It makes his stare heavy, gliding you over like a physical weight that seems to press you deeper into the plush support of the mattress. 

His hands are gentle, smoothing over your waist and down to your knees in caresses that has your muscles going lax. He takes advantage of it, using your pliability to spread your legs wide, keeping them splayed open by the width of his shoulders. You can feel his impatience in the firm press of his fingers, gripping at your flesh with a barely restrained greed. You fully expect for him to smother his face between your legs like he usually does, but he remains where he is, trailing kisses and teasing bites behind with his mouth, leaving stars burning across your skin. 

His nose glides down close to where you need him most, pooling fire in your stomach when he sucks the tender skin between the junction of your hips between his teeth. You can't stop your hips from twitching, rolling up to chase after the feeling. Trying to entice him into giving you what you want, but he doesn't take the hint - ignores it, more like - and licks a path across the plush of your inner thigh. 

A whine pitches from your throat, a pathetic imitation of his name that only makes him laugh lowly. He grins up at you, an almost cruel looking smirk. There's something calculating in his eyes, sharp and glittering. It has a thrill skipping up your spine, shuddering lightly up your ribcage, working out a silent gasp. 

"Need something?" he asks, all condescending and cheeky. 

"Paul," you groan. You can't keep the frustration out of your voice, and of course, his smile only seems to grow at the sound of it. 

He hums questioningly under his breath, too caught up in sweeping his mouth over you now that he's started again, nuzzling close to your cunt like he might actually give you the relief you want. His tongue darts out, tracing close to your lips, scraping his teeth over the tender skin with the promise of finally dipping his tongue into you, but it doesn't happen. "C'mon baby, you know what I need to hear." 

And you do know what he wants, but for some reason you voice remains stubbornly trapped inside of your throat. Lodged there by his teasing. You know he wants this just as much as you do despite his stalling, drawing this out for his own pleasure. It's always a little entertaining getting back at him in small ways like this, even if it tortures you too. 

You can practically see the moment that the realization of your game registers in his head, reflecting in his eyes in a kind of clarity that's both frustrated and excited. 

"Make her ask for it." 

Both you and Paul turn your attention over to the other side of the room, looking past a gap in the veil cloaking your bed to see Marko. He's still sitting in his spot on the ragged couch, perched casually on the tattered cushions while he finishes tying off the thread in his hands. He isn't even looking at the two of you, fully concentrated on his task, but the tone that he had used was firm, leaving no room for argument or refusal. 

Something about it makes your body thrum. You clench around nothing, hips twitching just the slightest and it forces you to be aware of how wet you've become, smearing a little across your inner thighs. It's like he can tell; he probably can smell it in the air, heady and honeyed, and it's only then that he bothers giving you an almost bored glance. But despite his nonchalance, you can see the intensity showing through it. A heavy kind of hunger piercing through his gaze that locks you in place. 

His stare shifts to Paul then, something unspoken passing between the two of them. "She knows how to ask for what she wants." 

When Paul turns his attention back onto you there's a wild grin on his face, as though Marko's order has given him the permission that he needs. He loves to tease and toy with the both of you, but ultimately, it's Marko who really truly calls the shots. It's almost shocking how he manages to coax obedience out of the both of you, but especially Paul, being the erratic adrenaline junkie that he is; a slave to impulse and the most hedonistic parts of himself.  

It had surprised you the first time when Marko had easily wielded control over him, taking him over with a collected effortlessness that left you a little breathless. He's quiet and unassuming in his authority. Though maybe you should have guessed by the fiendish look in his eyes that he would be the one calling the shots. But now you all work like a group of muscles in a body coming together to create a singular organism; Marko often using Paul like a vessel to give everyone what they need. 

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," Paul says sweetly. Almost mumbling it against your skin as he breathes the scent of you in, smothering his face just above your cunt. "Let me take care of you." 

Any other time you would have put up more of a fight. Would have resisted and taunted to light a fire in the both of them, but regardless of all of the excitement, you can't ignore that distant fatigue that still weighs in your bones. You're still exhausted, that hasn't changed, and maybe this once you can finally swallow down your pride just long enough to get what you want. 

"Please, Paul." Your back arches a little off of the bed, your fingers curl into the covers, gripping onto the soft linen. "I'll be good for you, I promise." 

"There you go. Wasn't so hard, was it?" 

You don't have any time to be annoyed because he's spreading you open with his thumbs and leaning forward to lick a long stripe up the length of your cunt, briefly dipping his tongue inside of you to brush it up and circle the point of it around your clit. You would have bowed off of the bed if not for the hands that he moves to secure around your hips in an iron clad grip, fingers threatening to bruise flesh. He chases after the suppressed rock of your waist, moving himself to follow the sway of your body, determined to gulp you down. 

Your head lolls back into the support of your pillows, falling back against the plush and silk. The support of them keeps your head propped up, so even with it rolled you can still see him from the bottom of your vision as you stare unseeingly at the shadowed ceiling. You can vaguely see the shape of your hands reaching down to thread through his hair, combing inside of the strands that are somehow both soft and textured from the products worked into it. 

A pleased noise rumbles from his chest when your nails scratch over his scalp. A dull wave of pleasure ebbs over you but you still notice how his own hips grind into the mattress, dragging over the blankets to try and chase after his own high. He's always like this, getting off on other people's bliss, feeling it as though it's his own. It always turns you on, how desperate he is to please you and Marko, seeking out your pleasure as though he can't live without it. As though he feeds off of it. 

You know that he's craving the sound of your voice, sucking on your clit and tracing you with his tongue to work breathless moans out of you and you find it hard to deny him. "So good, Paul. Just like that - don't stop." You massage your fingertips across his head, and you aren't disappointed when he practically turns into mush under your palms, all pliant and needy. Practically dropping his face into your cunt, grinding his nose over your clit. If he still needed to breathe, you're positive that he would have suffocated by now, but he keeps his face buried in you. 

It's blurring over you already. Draping over your body with the warmth of a heated blanket. But the breeze brought into the cave is cool with the ocean, tinged with salt and chilled like satin. All of it fogs your brain over, slipping between your ears like a perfumed smoke. It's dizzying, languid. You barely notice when both of his hand's slink underneath the arms that you still have stretched to claw at his hair, working under the hem of your shirt, traveling up until he's able to cup both of your breasts. 

The temperature of the ring on his right hand is shocking, forcing your body to writhe into his touch. His fingers stretch, kneading the shape of chest, plucking at your nipples in a way that has a dull sting sparking over your nerves. It's so gluttonous, how he has your entire body splayed out beneath him. Taken over by his mouth, his hands. It makes you feel trapped in the best way possible. Caught and admired, pinned beneath him as though he's trying to show you worship. 

But you're the one speaking his name as though it's a prayer, muttering it brokenly in quiet breaths. You're so caught up in it that the weight of the bed shifting is a surprise. The press of a mouth closing over yours swallows the ragged gasp that leaves your lungs, tasting the sound of Paul's name on your tongue and taking it for themselves. 

You didn't realize you had closed your eyes at all, but you don't have to open them to know that it's Marko who's kissing you. You can smell it in the subtle spice of his cologne, feel the leather of the glove that cradles the side of your face as he draws you into a starved kiss. There's something lazy about it despite the passion in it; his tongue tracing along your bottom lip before he dips it into your mouth. 

You can't do much to reciprocate. Not with how Paul is still eating you out, nuzzling himself into you and groaning into your cunt almost raggedly. It makes you a little clumsy, even as you try hard to concentrate on the pace Marko's set with his mouth. But he doesn't seem to be bothered by your sudden lack of skill in the slightest. 

He pulls back only after a long moment, biting softly at the plush of your mouth, still holding the edge of your jaw in his hand to make you look at him. His eyes rove over your face, taking in your kiss swollen lips, the glossed over sheen in your eyes, the rise and fall of your chest as it heaves in wild pants. He glides the point of his nose over your cheek like he might just kiss you there, leaning his body close over yours while he caresses your chin with his thumb. 

"Is he making you feel good?" But it probably isn't really a question. Not with the taunting edge seeping through his voice, but you're already too far gone to care. You find yourself nodding as best as you can, a strangled cry leaving you when Paul sucks hard. Groaning into your cunt, shaking his face a little to smear you over the skin around his mouth. 

It's filthy. You can hear the wet smacks from Paul's tongue, the sound of your moans and gasps resonating from the walls of the sunken hotel and back into your ears, pitching over the new track that blares out from the boom box in steady melody. It's vulgar but somehow entirely intimate to be caught up here in the mouths and hands of both of your lovers. Hidden away in some private place that's been carved out for you, a womb in the earth that was violently created to shield you all from the dangers and prying eyes of the outside world. A home made in a telluric tomb.

You wouldn't trade this for anything. Not for mortality, not to feel the soothing warmth of the sunlight on your skin again. With the promise of eternity stretching out in front of you, it's in moments like these that you could stay within forever. Private little moments shared just between the three of you; it's some of the times that you keep close and hold dear. 

"It feels so good, Marko." Your hips thrust upward, chest rising harshly as Paul rolls his fingers over both of your nipples. It has heat pooling in your gut like someone's continuously dropping hot wax there. "He's so good, I don't want it to stop. Please don't make him stop." 

 The smile on his face is both patient and satisfied, and you can clearly read the temptation to refuse you glimmering in his eyes. It has you removing one of your hands from Paul's hair, and you don't miss the almost distressed noise he lets out at the loss. But you're desperate to sway Marko, clutching at his shoulder like the touch might properly convince him. 

The mirth on his face is a little mean. Impish in a way. He removes his attention from you to turn it to the man between your legs. "What do you think, Paul?" he asks, still stroking his thumb over your jaw. "Think we should let her cum?" 

A small thrum of worry trickles through you but when you glance down it's immediately snuffed out. Paul looks like a mess. Probably more wrecked than you are somehow. It's like he's drunk, eyes a little glazed over and there's a damp sheen smearing over his mouth and the point of his nose. It almost glitters in the faint traces of light flickering around the room, making him messy and vulgar; his hair more unkempt than usual from the hold that you have on it. Most of his face is obscured, hidden as he drags his tongue over your cunt, but the expression that he wears is clear. It's content - peaceful, almost as though he can't imagine being anywhere else. 

He doesn't even bother pulling back to answer, nodding while his face is still smothered against you, and when he speaks it comes out all slurred and lazy. "Yeah, think she deserves it." He comes up just enough to be heard a little clearer, placing a soft kiss to your clit. "She's been so sweet dealin' with us for the past few days. Let's take the edge off a bit for her." 

They share another one of those looks again. Completely silent and yet somehow entirely understanding. You wonder if they're communicating to each other in their heads, blocking you off from a conversation that they don't want you to hear. The smiles they share seems like an answer all on its own. 

Marko is shifting away from you then, sitting himself up to move down beside Paul who he reaches for. Sinking his hand in beside yours, threading his fingers through his wild hair to force his head off of your cunt. You can't help but to admire the shades of gold and the shadows that ripple across Marko's stomach, the stretch of skin peeking out between the short cut of his shirt and the hang of jeans around his waist. 

They're both gorgeous and when they both lean in towards each other, meeting over your body to catch each other in a bruising kiss it makes you feel as though you've been lit on fire. The way they go at it is sloppy. Almost animalistic. They groan into each other's mouths, Marko's tongue slipping out to lick up the taste of you just as Paul removes one of his hands from your breast, reaching it up to take Marko by the throat. 

Just the sight of it has you moaning, impatiently grinding your hips up to try and draw their attention. Thankfully it works and their lips break apart with a wet smack as they turn their heads to look at you. 

"Don't worry, we didn't forget about you," Paul promises. He leans forward to take you back into his mouth, but Marko stops him by the grip he has on his hair, making both of your groan out in frustration. 

"She knows what to do." 

You could roll your eyes honestly, but somehow you manage to restrain yourself. He'd drag this out for hours if you show any signs of defiance. On any other night you would have liked the challenge, but right now you just want to enjoy it. To bask in the sensation of both of them on your skin. It has whatever fight you might have still had lurking around inside of you dying out. 

"Need you both. Want you both to eat me out." You catch something like a warning burn through Marko's stare and it has you spitting out a string of pleases under your breath.  

That seems to be enough for them - most notably Paul, who manages to wrangle himself free from the grip on his hair and latches his mouth onto you like he's starved for it. It has you squirming, body twisting from the abruptness of it, but it doesn't take long for you to go lax again, becoming pliant under the strokes of his tongue. 

Marko's palm flattens over your abdomen, shoving your back down flat across the mattress to keep you from possibly squirming. Trapping you beneath the both of them. He settles down beside you, curling himself over your lower stomach and hip to settle himself between your thighs. Your vision is mostly blocked by his body, but you can feel him nudging Paul out of the way so that he can close his mouth over your clit. 

It's a good thing that he has you pinned because the sensation of two tongues sweeping over your cunt has you jolting. The sound that leaves you is gutted, a ragged sob that trembles its way out of your ribcage. 

"Oh, fuck," you moan. When your spine bends it's almost painful, pulling into a mean arch despite the weight of Marko forcing you down and the hold that Paul has on your hips. Your fingers lash out across the bed, clawing through the sheets as though it might save you. 

This isn't the first time that they've had you like this, but you're never fully prepared for it. Somehow it always feels more intense than the last. As though you've been submerged in coils of heat and thrashing water; left to sink in the depths of it and drown. Not even the pressure of them on you is enough to keep you present. The pleasure ripping through your veins is almost vicious, coiling and molten in the pit of your stomach.

Their tongues glide over you, messy and wet, sounding sloppy when they occasionally meet in a crude imitation of a kiss. The oxygen pulled into your lungs skips in a strangled gasp. Their hands are all over you. Paul is still toying with one of your nipples, his arm crushed between both you and Marko's bodies, but he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. 

It's pure hedonism. It's like they're everywhere. Sweeping over your body, over your legs, your chest, inside of your mind, they're scent pooling in your lungs. It has pleasure boiling in between your hips. Your orgasm already building up to be something devastating.  

It's like they're trying to make out on your cunt, lips occasionally meeting in between licks and sucks. Paul's tongue trails down to your entrance, dipping inside to fuck itself inside of you just as Marko's mouth closes around your clit. It has you shouting out again. A sharp whine piercing out through the balmy atmosphere of the cave as a brutal wave of ecstasy crests over you, warm and deep with the promise of something that's going to leave you shambles. 

You're almost greedy for that destruction, grinding yourself into their mouths as best as you can. Chasing after the bliss that threatens to eat you up in a fiery rapture. You didn't even realize that you've been begging the entire time. Squeezing out pitiful pleads as they continue to strip you apart with the drag of their tongues. It's building up at a pace that you can hardly track. Simmering and smoldering like something boiling, flooding your limbs with white-hot heat that has your toes curling. 

You know they can feel all of your tells, how your body is drawing up tight, the change in your breathing, the small shift in your tone. They're relentless is tipping you over that edge, groaning into your cunt as they drag their tongues over it, nipping softly with their teeth. All it takes is for the stroke of Paul's tongue again, the combined suction Marko's lips sealing around your clit and then you're gone. 

The world seems to lose tangibility when you cum. The bed under you vanished and the weight of their bodies disappears. It's only pleasure. Tearing its way through your body, coasting along your nerves, making your muscles seize like you're being electrocuted. 

And they make sure to pull you through all of it. Working their mouths over you until the bliss bleeds into something almost painful. It's only then they pull away, letting you catch your breath and reorient yourself through the high clouding your skull. When you hear the sound of light groaning and the wet sound of lips meeting it's easy to tell what they're doing. 

You manage to crack your eyes open, staring down at the both of them as they make out. Hunger and their shared lust suspended over them like the fumes of a drug. You remain like that for what might be a few minutes. Content to watch as they kiss, their hands sweeping off of your body to reach for each other, desperate and starved. 

You feel satiated. Floating and fuzzy. Finally relaxed after days of living on the edge. It would be so easy to pass out and let sleep take you under, but then you feel a palm smoothing up the length of your leg, drawing your attention back down between your legs. They're both looking at you as they kiss, nipping at each other with their teeth as though they're tempted to draw blood. There's a fervor in their eyes that you know well, ravenous and burning. Waiting for something to be consumed. 

"What do you think?" Paul hardly breaks the kiss to speak, his words almost blurring on Marko's mouth. "Think we can get one more out of her?" 

Marko doesn't have to reply at all. You can already see the answer clearly in his eyes. 

"I think we can get more than just one." 

[marigoldbaker]

there is legitimately no joy more profound than figuring out how to work THREE objects in your closet into an incredibly cute outfit when ALL of them haven’t been working for you for MONTHS

[monstersholygrail]

Drove up today and having a total beach day which has been amazing despite the heat. But it’s also giving me soooo many monster thoughts

Imagine you go up to one those boardwalk fortune teller machines and you think, ‘eh, why not. It could be fun.’ And it seems like the machine agrees with you as your jaw drops when you read the fortune. This tiny paper of fate claims that today you will get your world rocked by a creature out of this world.

First of all, how is a fortune like that even in there? Secondly, what the hell kind of fortune is this?! You look into the plastic eyes of the mystic woman and something within you says to believe her. To take this fortune seriously.

Turning to the beach just down the steps your eyes immediately fall onto the Tentacle Monster lifeguard, wondering if he’ll be the one to fulfill your fortune. His long tentacles curled around the high chair and you imagine what it would be like to ride him on top of it. To see the length of the beach while his tentacles reach deep inside you to places you’ve never been able to go.

Or maybe the pack of Wolf Hybrids down the way. Half of them playing volleyball on the beach and the other throwing around a frisbee. You imagine them passing you around, each of them having their turn with you as they fuck into your weeping holes, never letting you rest for even a moment as they cant get enough of feeling your wet heat suffocate their cocks.

A shiver passes through you and you quickly look away before you get ahead of yourself. And when you do your eyes can’t help but be drawn to the ocean.

Mermen popping their head up above the water. Hungrily watching the humans from afar. Your thoughts drift to swimming your way into the ocean and getting sucked under the waves. Before you know it a whole pod of them are swarming you, desperately stuffing their mouths, fingers, and cocks inside of you. Eager for your warmth to surround them and wanting to drown you in pleasure.

Perhaps other merfolk will join them. Shark Hybrids smelling your arousal from afar and using it to hunt you down so that they may feast on your flesh in the most toe curling way. Wanting nothing more than to devour you and make you cum harder than you could ever dream.

As you find yourself stepping toward the ocean, drawn to the temptation of what could be, your foot knocks into a cooler. An apology falls from your lips as you step back, only to see a suspiciously pale man hidden completely under an umbrella. And suddenly you know you won’t find your average drink in that cooler.

Your mind spins up the image of the Vampire man snatching you under his umbrella with inhumane speed. Dragging your body beneath him and ravaging you mercilessly. Preferring to get his blood from the source instead of his cooler. And as his fangs sink deep inside you, so does his cock. Both working to bring you to new heights of ecstasy, your mind growing foggy as he draws blood from you in time with the furious pumps of his hips until you can’t help but cum. Your release making your blood taste that much sweeter.

You quickly snap out of your thoughts, your chest quickly rising and falling with your panting breaths. Arousal gushes out of you, soaking your panties and bringing a wave of heat throughout your body.

You shift uneasily, hoping it isn’t too noticeable. Hoping they can’t smell it. But as each of them slowly turn to look at you, your hope fades away into nothing but more arousal. Not slowing yourself to second guess this, you walk closer to the ocean.

Ready to have the time of your life.

Thoughts anyone??

[bahablastplz]

Love me like this (OT8 x reader)

pairing: OT8 x reader omegaverse AU

summary: when you get your first ever heat well into your adulthood, the only thing you want to do is shut everyone else out. fortunately for you, your boyfriends have another idea.

warnings: omegaverse, virgin f! reader, uses she/her, oral f! receiving, oral m! receiving, face fucking, heat cycles, thigh riding, penetrative/unprotected sex, knotting, slight degradation, some mxm, spitting, bulge kink, some size kink, talk of safe words, mean dom! Chan, breeding kink, talk of mating bites, basically a huge orgy

wc: 10500 (jesus christ) notes: this is straight up filth (sorry) but also my first omegaverse fic!! here are there scents: Chan: petrichor/mint; Minho: vanilla/black tea; Changbin: jasmine/patchouli; Hyunjin: rose/vanilla; Jisung: bergamot/pink pepper; Felix: sea salt/sandalwood; Seungmin: lavender/fresh laundry; Jeongin: lime/grass; Y/N: caramel/brown sugar

You hadn’t seen the boys all day. Maybe that’s why they were so concerned when their first impression of you was the door slamming behind you on your way into the house. You didn’t mean to cause such a scene, but you did run here. You keep your head down and the anxious spike in their smells overwhelms you. You know you should explain to them what’s going on but you can’t find it in you, instead running toward your room as you ignore their calls after you. When a sharp pain hits your abdomen you trip a little bit, clutching your stomach. But with your instincts on high alert, you make it to your room before anyone can catch up to you, locking it behind you for safe measure. 

“I’m fine,” you call out a bit harshly behind you. “I’m fine. I just want to be left alone.”

You’re more than glad that you decided to put on the strongest scent blockers you own today or they would have immediately known what was going on. Your heart beats out of your chest and you know all you want to do is bundle up and seek safety and comfort, so that is exactly what you do. Once the bottom of your closet is cleared out, you drag your comforter off of your bed and spread it on the floor. You find every blanket and pillow in your room and add it to the pile. When you spot Chan’s hoodie, the one that you begged him for just the other day because it was drenched in his smell, you know you need it the closest to you. You throw it over your body despite how warm you are, grabbing your noise canceling headphones for good measure, and shut your closet door behind you. It would be just a matter of time before they come banging on the door asking what was wrong but you just can’t tell them. 

Your heat has started. 

And though this relationship with your boyfriends is new, you hadn’t quite crossed the physical barrier with any of them yet. You also haven’t told them yet… that this is your first heat. That’s why it came on so unexpectedly and why, perhaps, you’re so ashamed. Trying hard to ignore the pain shooting through your body and centralizing in your stomach, you shut your eyes tight and focus on your breathing. You just need to sleep. For now, that’s all you need. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You smell petrichor and mint before you see him. You’re encompassed by the familiar smell of rain that immediately soothes you and you know when you open your eyes that Chan will be there. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and your eyes finally flutter open. You take out your headphones and look at him, not saying anything. 

“Hey,” he says softly. 

“How’d you get in my room,” you mumble. You know you locked the door behind you so when you see Chan look at you sheepishly, rubbing his neck, you sit up to look at your door. Completely off of its hinges. “Chan,” you groan. 

“I know, I know,” he tells you. “I wasn’t trying to go all ‘controlling pack alpha’ on you, but I was really starting to get nervous, you know? You ran in here lookin like you were in pain, you didn’t answer anybody and you closed yourself in your room… I know you wanted to be left alone but it’s been about two hours and you haven’t answered anybody. I was really worried, okay? I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” you answer. You understand. You really do. 

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he asks. His hand strokes your arm and it comforts you. The alpha notices your hesitation and sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Can I… can I scent you? I think it would calm both my alpha and your omega down a little… and you are wearing my hoodie. Do you want that?” You nod and crawl into his open arms, burying your face into his neck. You inhale deeply to get his scent and you notice his fingers lightly brushing over your scent patches. 

“Don’t,” you say into his neck. He retracts his hands instantly and you sit in comfortable silence, him rocking your bodies back and forth peacefully in an attempt to soothe you. 

“I started my heat,” you tell him finally. You feel him tense a little bit before he gains his composure. 

“We thought maybe that’s what happened…” he replied truthfully. You shoot him a suspicious look and you notice his face start to turn red. “We noticed… uh… we could sort of smell your slick.” 

“Oh my god that’s so embarrassing,” you groan. 

“It’s okay, love, it’s natural,” he answers softly. “Everybody has heats and ruts… you’ve seen your fair share of alphas in pre-rut in this house to know that.” 

“Not me,” you admit. “Everybody gets them… except for me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve never… gotten my heat before, Chan.” You can tell by his expression that he’s shocked and a little confused. 

“But you’re presented…? You’re an omega,” he points out. That much is obvious, you want to tell him. 

“I presented without going through a heat. I had… a pseudo-heat, basically. That first time my body produced just enough hormones that I presented but not enough to sustain a heat… and I’ve never had one since. They said my omegan hormones were too low.” 

“But you started it today?” he questions. You nod. “It’s understandable… I mean, you live with eight overly-hormonal alphas that are now courting you. It’s probably your body's natural reaction. Is that what’s got you so worked up?” You nodded again. “Why didn’t you tell us, baby?” 

“I was embarrassed,” you admit shyly. He grabs your cheeks so that you’re looking right into his eyes. 

“What is the worst that could have happened, hmm? Did you think we would tease you? Shame you?” You reluctantly nod your head from where it rests between his hands. “That would never, ever happen.” 

“I know,” you tell him. Logically you knew that but you couldn’t help the burning feeling of shame and embarrassment that flooded through your body. “I was… at the store… and some asshole alpha noticed that I started my heat… I didn’t know how he knew. I didn’t even know! But he made some uncomfortable comments and I got so scared… I ran all the way home.”

“You poor thing,” he coos. “Next time if you ever need us or you feel unsafe, you can call me right away. You can call any of us. We’ll always come to you, no questions asked, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Can I scent you now?” he asks. You think about it for a second before nodding. Your body now feels like any threat is gone, maybe from Chan’s alpha pheromones that he’s been pumping out or maybe due to his reassuring words. You let him peel your scent patches off and your scent of caramel and brown sugar floods the room. With the undertones of Chan’s mint smell, the room almost smells overwhelmingly of a bakery. You know your smell is overpowering, sickly sweet and probably too strong but Chan inhales it straight from its source, burying your head in your neck. “Do you want me… or maybe another alpha… to take care of you for your heat?” he asks carefully. 

“I was going… I just… I can do it myself,” you tell him. His eyes widen. 

“For your first heat? Are you sure? It’s probably going to be a lot.” 

“It’s just… I’ve never…” 

“You’ve never had sex?” he asks. Your lack of an answer tells him everything that you need to know. “I didn’t know that, but thank you for sharing that, baby. If you want, whoever you might choose would be very careful and go nice and slow. They’d make you comfortable, love. Are you sure you don’t want to try? It’s up to you.” 

His words have you already starting to heat up more than before. You attempt to squeeze your thighs together but Chan’s thick legs are in your way. You’d forgotten that you were practically sitting in his lap. 

“Do you want that, baby?” he questions, noticing the arousal painted on your face and how your scent starts to sweeten the more you think about it. You nod eagerly. “Who do you want to pick for your first time?” 

You think and you think but you just can’t seem to pick one of your alphas over the other. The more you think about it, you’re not sure you can leave any one of them out of the situation… you’ve come to love each and every one of your boyfriends, you were sexually attracted to all of them, and they all make you feel comforted and feel like you’re at home. Your wolf cannot stand to have one and not the others, practically howling in protest. Your stomach twists when you think about how to express this to Chan. 

“Need… you all. I want everyone to be there.” His eyes widen slightly. You can tell he’s more than aroused by the thought of it. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, scanning your expression one final time. 

“Can’t choose. I want all my boyfriends.” 

There’s no judgment in his face whatsoever. You know your boyfriends have all had multiple partners for their ruts before so this wouldn’t be anything new… You were the last to be courted, the last to join the relationship, and so you were the only one who hadn’t crossed that barrier with anyone yet. You’re a little nervous but more than excited for the prospect of what’s to come, to finally cross the line with all eight of them. And you can't wait to tell them. 

When Chan asks if you want to move your nest into the den you agree. The makeshift nest in your closet just isn't going to cut it anymore. You need something suitable for all eight of your alphas. Chan clears the den before you enter and takes the time to explain to all of the boys what is going on while you work on building your communal nest. 

Spreading out your comforter widely across the floor, you start rummaging around the house to find items from everyone. You want the blanket on the couch, the one that smells a little bit like everyone… Chan’s hoodie, of course. Seungmin’s stuffed animals and Felix’s pillow get thrown into the mix. Changbin’s gym clothes, Jisung’s squishmallow, Minho’s dirty sheets… it’s almost perfect, though you almost cry when you find out that Jeongin just recently washed his favorite shirt. You knew it was the one thing that was missing from your nest, and maybe it was the hormones or the pain but that almost seemed like the last straw for you. Jeongin soothes you with his alpha pheromones and promises to heavily re-scent the shirt for you, which will have to do. Once the nest is an amalgamation of every smell swirling together you can’t help but roll around in it. You even find yourself starting to purr. 

When Chan opens the door to the den, you find yourself wanting to show your pack alpha the nest that you’re so proud of. 

“My nest. My nest, alpha, see?” you ask, grabbing his hand and inviting him into your nest. 

“Beautiful nest,” he tells you. You squirm in excitement and smile wide at him. “Did such a good job, omega. Are you ready to invite the other alphas in too?” You nod at him excitedly, your scent sweetening as your alphas enter one by one. With you at the middle of your nest and an alpha on either side of you, two strong pairs of arms engulfing you and three more alphas on each side, you fall asleep with your omega purring in excitement. 

“She fell asleep,” you barely hear Felix point out.  

“She must be emotionally exhausted. Building her nest probably took a lot out of her. She needs us now.” You smile contentedly, happy to be surrounded by the people you love before the throes of your heat take over. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You wake up to a delicious feeling between your legs. You let out a whine as you grind against whatever you feel behind you and it’s only the muffled groan you hear that truly stirs you from your sleep-filled haze. 

“Minho?” you squeak. Sitting up and looking around you, you realize everybody else is still asleep. 

“Mm,” he replies. You feel your face flush in embarrassment and you quickly go to hide your face behind your hands once you realize what you had been doing. He’s quick to grab your hands and put them at your sides, his cat-like eyes boring into your own. “Your heat’s really started, yeah?” You nod pathetically at him, clenching your thighs together to get a little bit of relief. “You can keep riding my thigh if you want to,” he suggests. You squeak when his hands take purchase on your hips, pulling you on top of him. Any protest gets stuck in your throat when his thigh slots in between your legs, placing pressure where you desperately need him most.  

You rock your hips back and forth slightly, scanning Minho’s face for any judgment. Instead, you catch a whiff of his scent spiking in arousal, his black tea and vanilla smelling remnant of a coffee shop. You can’t help but bury your face in his neck, inhaling deeply to better consume his smell. Tiny moans are punched out of you as he guides your hips into him, grinding you back and forth on his thigh. You know you have slick pouring out of you but you can’t seem to care when he feels this good. 

You can tell he’s restraining himself–he must know this is your first time doing anything, really. You've been fighting the urge to kiss him for too long but the sight of his lips caught between his bunny teeth is too hard to resist. You lurch forward, connecting your lips together despite the way your heart beats erratically. The way you squirm against him and the friction of his muscled thigh against your leg, it just isn’t enough. You need more. 

You smell a familiar wave of stormy petrichor and Chan is pulling you off of Minho’s leg before you can protest. He maneuvers your body effortlessly, getting you in the exact position he wants you–lying on your back, knees propped up. His lips trail down your body for a moment, meeting your neck to breathe in your caramel scent. He licks over your scent glands for just a moment as if he were actually ready to devour you, but Minho thankfully quiets your moan with a quick peck to your lips. 

Chan trails lower and lower still until he reaches your shorts, pressing long, open-mouthed kisses to your thighs that has your head spinning. 

His hand reaches between your shorts, fingering your clothed core. “Can I touch you here?” he asks, examining your expression. You nod apprehensively. “I want to use my mouth on you, pretty girl. If you feel uncomfortable at any time or want me to stop, just let me know, okay?” 

“Okay,” you whisper. That’s enough for Chan to slip your shorts and panties down your legs in one fell swoop, his fingertips hot against your skin. You immediately feel the urge to close your legs, especially since you know you’re dripping an obscene amount of slick, but Chan’s strong hands keep them open. The alpha shoots you a gaze that spreads hot throughout your whole body, stern in letting you know not to hide from him. Minho’s hand strokes your face, bringing you back to earth while you relax into his touch. 

When Chan’s tongue licks up your slit and attaches itself to your clit, it’s like electricity spreads through your whole body. You moan into Minho’s hand which has quickly attached itself to your mouth, muffling your noises. 

“Shhh,” he reminds you. You seem to have forgotten that there are six other alphas sleeping in the den at the moment and you’re grateful for his save. “If you want us to stop, blink your eyes three times,” he murmurs. You nod your head, eyes wide. Chan continues to lap and suck at the bundle of nerves between your legs, his fingers coming to grab the slick that spills out of you. Rather than pushing his fingers into you like you expected him to do he softly circles your entrance, getting you used to the feeling. Between Minho working you up on his thigh earlier and the liquid hot desire that you had been fighting off all day, it doesn’t take much to bring you to the edge. 

You can’t help but rock your hips into his face, seeking out more pleasure until his hands hold your hips down effortlessly. “Stay still,” he murmurs. “Take what I give you.” And you do—you take and you take and you take, relishing in every swipe of his tongue and calculated touch. When Minho reaches down to grab your breast over your shirt, thumbing at your nipple, you finally come apart. The two alphas help you through your orgasm, Chan watching you intently from his spot between your legs. He only parts from you with a soft pop once you’re done squirming and your ragged breathing has slowed. 

Finally you notice the smell in the room. It would have been easy to miss over your sweetened caramel and brown sugar, but sure enough— jasmine, lavender, rose, bergamot, sea salt, lime. It must be your heightened sense of smell that causes you to easily pick up the scent of the other six alphas, all in various states of rousing from their sleep. As if on instinct, your scent spiking during your release must have awakened them. 

When Felix opens his arms you gratefully accept his embrace. He has always smelled like the ocean, comforting and refreshing, but the scent comes out much saltier now. You can tell he’s trying to hide just how affected he is. 

“Hi Lix,” you mumble into his chest. He rubs soothing circles on your back. Your emotional connection has always run deep with Felix, even before he asked to court you. His touch and scent has never failed to comfort you, not even now. If he notices your lack of clothes he certainly doesn't comment on them, though you’re not sure if it’s for your sake or his own. 

“Was that okay?” Chan, ever the attentive and protective leader feels the need to ask. His alpha is running wild with the need to check in on you, pleasure you, dote on you… “How do you feel?” 

“Good,” you answer with a small smile. “Felt good.” 

You squirm in Felix’s lap a little. “Then why do you look so embarrassed, baby?” Whelp. You weren’t expecting for him to read you like an open book. 

“S not enough,” you mutter. Chan blinks at you for a moment, prompting you to go on. “I feel like I need something more…” 

“Awww,” Changbin coos. “Baby, do you need an alpha to pop a knot in you?” You find yourself letting out a small gasp at his words, red hot desire burning through your system. That’s exactly what you need. 

You lean towards Changbin and slot your lips together. He certainly wasn’t expecting it but eagerly accepts it and you moan into his mouth, not caring about the seven other alphas in the room currently watching. 

“Do you want a knot?” You’re not even sure who asked the question but you nod so enthusiastically that someone behind you snickers. 

“Who do you want, baby?” Chan asks you. You only have to ponder for a second before the answer is clear. 

“Changbin,” you confess. Maybe it was because he was the first one who suggested it or perhaps his tone, the slight condescending lilt in his voice driving you wild with desire. 

Chan hesitates for a moment and you freeze. Did you say something wrong? 

“I wouldn’t recommend that for your first time, love,” Hyunjin recommends gently. You furrow your brow and your scent must sour at his words—your omega already set her sights on him and you didn’t want anything to interfere. You whine in response. 

“Why?” you pout. 

“Changbin is, uh, the thickest one here? Um, it’ll be hard to take him for your first time.” Hyunjin flushes while you process his words. Oh. Oh. 

You know that the eight of them have been involved, some moreso than others who had previously established relationships in the group, but such an intimate response from Hyunjin surprises you for some reason. Unfortunately, his words don't quite sway you the way that he had hoped. If anything it makes you squirm even more thinking about the way he would fill you up deliciously. 

“Please,” you beg, though you don’t even know what you’re begging for. 

“Why don’t you start with Lixie?” Chan suggests. His words hit you hard when you realize you’re still in the alpha’s lap. Felix, your Lixie and his sea salt and sandalwood and gentle touches… 

“Felix,” you whisper into his ear. “Can I have you?” His eyes are blown wide due to lust and his scent spikes, telling you all you need to know but you wait for him to answer anyway. 

“Of course,” he drawls. His voice has always sent sparks right down to your core but even more so now, you can’t help but instinctively grind into him, causing both of you to let out a low moan at the sensation. Felix pulls down his sweats, the only layer of clothing separating you two, and gently lowers you down to the floor of your nest. You spread your legs open for him and watch as he stares at your glistening core; you have no time to be shy though, not when you’re so desperate that you start to whine. Felix lets out a low laugh before guiding his length between your legs, teasing your entrance with his tip. He pushes into you slowly and waits for you to adjust, your heat fluttering around him and your eyes rolling into the back of your head in bliss.

“Move,” you tell the alpha, and he’s gentle in the way he rocks his hips into yours, slow but deep. Both of your scents swirl around the room overtaken by your arousals and you can’t help but think it smells like salted caramel, and the thought of how perfect your scents compliment one another has you going crazy. “More,” you tell Felix as you wrap your legs around his waist. Your eyes flit to the other alphas in the room who all watch you intently, causing your body to flush more than it already was. Chan’s eyes bore into you and cause you to shudder, but when Felix presses his thumb to your clit and starts to go faster you lose your focus on the other alphas. 

He works you up surprisingly fast and he presses his body closer to yours when you start to writhe underneath him. “So good, omega,” he grunts. “Perfect, sweet omega doing so good for their alpha.” You don’t warn him before you cum because you yourself are not expecting it. Felix looks like he’s trying so hard to hold back and work you through your orgasm but there’s only one thing on your mind. 

“Knot, alpha,” you beg him. “Knot me, please.” Two more harsh thrusts and Felix spills into you, locking his knot into place as you continue to come undone around him with a loud cry. He brushes your hair out of your face and lowers his body onto yours, rearranging your figures into something more comfortable while you wait for his knot to go down. You sigh content in his arms, already feeling more satisfied than just moments ago. 

“You okay?” Felix asks and you hum in approval. You felt more than okay but you didn’t know how to express that. 

“Thank you, Lixie,” is what you say. You lay in his arms, trying not to squirm or think about his thick knot buried in your cunt lest you start to get yourself worked up again. 

“Jesus,” Jeongin finally says, breaking the silence. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Everyone snickers at the youngest, eager alpha and you can tell he’s not lying, a sizeable bulge in his joggers to prove his point. You try not to salivate. 

“C’mere,” you tell the youngest alpha. He looks at you with wide eyes and practically crawls to you, bringing your face into an unexpected, messy kiss. Jeongin has always smelled very citrusy, like lime and grass. His scent reminds you of summer and you fail to restrain from sticking your face right into his neck, licking at his sensitive scent glands. 

“Hi, baby,” he coos. He tries to act nonchalant and unaffected by your actions but his breathing tells another story. You palm at the bulge in his pants and he lets out a small gasp, not expecting it. He watches as you desperately try to get his pants down and reveal him. “Whatcha doing?” he asks finally. “Lixie’s cock isn’t enough? It’s still buried inside you, baby.” 

You flush at his words, feeling hot all over. As if to punctuate his point, Felix pulses from where he is inside you, causing you to let out a low groan. “Wanna touch you,” you pout. 

“Yeah?” he smirks. He wastes no time now in pulling down his joggers, watching as your gaze is transfixed on his cock. It’s endearing, he thinks, that you’re suddenly so obsessed with him and making him feel good. Once revealed your jaw drops at his length; long and skinny but pretty, just like him. You reach your hand up to touch him, to wrap your hand around his girth but he slaps your hand away lightly. He tsks at you, instead pushing his hips forward to rest his cock on your lips, tapping it against them for good measure. “Come on, baby, you can take it,” he urges. With the innate urge to please your alpha you open your mouth and suckle on the tip, tasting his pre-cum coating your mouth. He’s delicious, just as you would have assumed, and you moan around him as he pushes forward slightly. 

Felix curses behind you; you suppose that in your quest to help out the alpha in front of you, you’ve been slowly grinding your hips into the alpha still locked into you with his knot. You couldn’t help it, really, the sight in front of you is just too arousing to be helped. But Felix’s hands grab a hold of your hips, stilling you. 

“Just one more minute,” Felix groans. “My knot… it’s starting to go down.” His voice is pained from overstimulation and so you do the best you can to not move a muscle despite the way the heat between your legs pulsates with need. You focus on Jeongin instead, bobbing your head forward and backward in an attempt to get all of him in your mouth. One of his large hands takes place in your hair, grabbing it but not harsh enough to hurt. It’s just enough for him to be able to take control of your head, using you to take over his own desires. Even still the alpha restrains, not pushing far enough into your mouth for you to choke. When you open your eyes to stare at Jeongin above you he is the epitome of beauty, his toned abs and v-line prominent from where his shirt is now lifted with the corner placed into his mouth. He looks downright sinful with the way he stares down at you with dark eyes. 

You’re manhandled the second that Felix finally pulls out of you. A pair of hands are on your hips and you’re being pulled off of Jeongin and onto all fours, another alpha pushing into you before you have time to truly comprehend what is going on. The smell of roses and vanilla floods your senses and you know that it’s Hyunjin’s doing, eager to please you and fill you up before you have to beg someone else to do so. You’re thankful you can reach Jeongin even better in this position with no need to crane your neck. Jeongin pushes in once again, using your mouth as Hyunjin rocks his hips into you from behind. 

You feel so full like this, your head starting to feel cloudy when the only thing you can see, smell, or feel are your two alphas. They set up a brutal yet sturdy rhythm between them, Hyunjin in your guts at the same time Jeongin hits the back of your throat. You feel something wet run down your face and Jeongin coos when he sees the tears from your lower lashes start to spill, quick to run his thumbs on your cheeks to wipe them away. He grabs your hair and pulls out, holding you up as he asks if you’re alright. You nod and shut your eyes again, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. The only thing you crave at this moment is your alpha and his cock, the need to be thoroughly used for his pleasure while Hyunjin gives you pleasure of your own overwhelming. 

Jeongin chokes out a breathy moan when he’s close, spewing praises in your ear that are downright filthy. His grip on your head gets a little more harsh and your face is straight against his pubic bone as he rocks his face into yours two, three more times until he’s spilling his warmth down your throat. 

“Fuckk,” Hyunjin groans from behind you. “She’s so tight, she’s clenching around me.” Before you even have time to recuperate, Jeongin is pressing his mouth into yours in a searing, messy kiss. You moan straight into his mouth, unexpecting of the sudden affection. 

 “You gonna cum baby?” he whispers, a sly grin on his face. “Gonna cum on alpha’s knot?” Your eyes roll back in your head, focusing on the pleasure building up. You rock yourself back onto Hyunjin’s cock, feeling the precipice of your orgasm. 

“Close,” you warn. “Hyunjin, please…” Jeongin grabs your chin and makes you look up at him and the sight of the alpha above you… 

You and Hyunjin come apart at the same time, your powerful orgasm shaking through your body and causing his knot to slot in place as he releases inside of you with a groan. 

Your ears start to ring with the power of your orgasm and you vaguely recognize Hyunjin lay you down on your stomach, his body slumping on top of yours as gently as he can muster. Someone strokes your hair and you lean into their touch, sighing contentedly. When Hyunjin finally pulls out you let out a whine of protest but somebody pulls you into their arms, holding you close. You’re rocked back and forth as someone whispers into your ear and it’s soothing. You’re surprised when the smell of lavender and laundry hits your nose because Seungmin has never been this gentle or doting on you before. 

You blink your eyes open to see him staring softly down at you. It makes warmth flood your heart because you and Seungmin… have always had a playful, teasing relationship full of banter. He wasn’t one to coddle you or necessarily go out of his way to say kind things to you. He was more the type to show his love through actions than through physical affection or words of affirmation. Like memorizing your coffee order, giving you his hoodies to wear, folding your laundry for you when you’ve had a bad day, or taking you out to the arcade or to watch baseball games with him. His love was often unspoken and so the way he holds you so close to his chest, it makes light tears flood down your face with adoration. 

“Seung,” you whisper. His hand strokes through your hair. He must be feeling a certain type of way, or rather, knows this is exactly what you need right now. Especially as a sharp pain shoots through your abdomen and he cradles you even closer. 

“You feelin okay?” he asks, voice laced with concern. “You can take a break if you need to.” You shake your head, the proposition of not having every one of your alphas distressing enough for a whine to leave your lips. “Hey, we’re not going anywhere, pup,” he tells you. “If you need an alpha cock that bad, there are eight of them to choose from.” 

There’s the Seungmin you know. You hate to admit how his words are sent straight to your core. You’ve always loved your banter and teasing nature, and right now it has you red hot to your bones. You feel the slick pour from your legs and you whine again, shoving your head straight into his neck. 

“You’re gonna act all shy now?” he scoffs. “Gonna act like you didn’t just choke on Jeonginnie’s cock ten minutes ago?” Your body burns at his words and you squirm in his lap, causing him to chuckle. “I can give you what you need if you ask nicely, pup,” he tells you, laying you flat on your back. You cover your face with your hands and he growls, pinning your arms at your sides. 

“Please,” you whimper. 

“That was pathetic,” he laughs. “You can do better than that.” 

“Seung, please,” you babble, squirming desperately beneath his gaze. “Want you… need you please alpha, it hurts, want your knot, please take care of me…” Well, that seems to be exactly what he was looking for as he lets out a pleased shudder at your words. You watch, licking your lips as he unbuttons his pants and pulls them down just enough to let his cock out. He teases it against your folds but doesn’t make you wait long before he pushes in, gentle but deliberate in his need to satiate your desires. 

You let out a content moan at being filled by him. His arms on either side of your head, he starts rocking his hips into yours. You lift your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he softly grinds into you. 

When you hear a wet sound behind you, you immediately turn your head. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Jisung on his knees with Minho’s cock shoved down his throat, one hand gripped harshly in his hair as he maneuvers him the way he wants. The sight is sinful, pornographic, nauseatingly attractive as your boyfriend looks so pliant and submissive for the other. 

A light smack to your face draws your attention back to Seungmin. “Dumb omega,” he says in a teasing lilt. “Pay attention to the alpha that’s fucking you, yeah?” You nod pathetically at him, trying hard to concentrate despite the lewd sounds that come from behind you. He makes it so easy to pay attention though, his cock bullying in and out of you in a way that has you seeing stars. You’ve always wanted to see him like this, for him to lose his composure because of you. And he’s still holding together so well, barely audible panting and low groans escaping his throat when his hips slam against yours just right…  You want more, though. You want his smug grin to be wiped off of his face, want to see him lose himself to the pleasure in the same way you are. Right now, ‘this is for you,’ is what he’s telling you, and though he’s feeling good he’s only focused on you, his omega, and fucking her dumb through her heat because that’s what you need. You’re leaning up on your elbows before you can process it and pulling him into a messy, wet kiss–one that distracts him long enough for his pace to falter and for you to push him onto his back. 

“What–” Seungmin starts, taken aback. His eyes widen slightly and his brow furrows in confusion but you’re taking charge of your pleasure now, using him while showing him you’re not all dumb omega, that you can take care of him just as well. You grab his hands and place them onto your breasts, squeezing around his hands so he gets the point to hold them the way you want. And he immediately responds, kneading the flesh and thumbing around your sensitive nipples. 

You start rocking your hips and the satisfaction you get when he lets out a groan and throws his head back is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You want him to make that sound again and again, want to ride him until you make him pop his knot inside you. And when your hips slam up and down into his, completely setting the pace and feeling his big cock hitting all the right places inside you, you feel smug. Smug because Seungmin has his eyes closed in pleasure, his mouth open and panting, unable to control where he puts his hands. The stoic, smarmy alpha act is gone and now all he can focus on is your tight pussy and the pleasure you give right back to your alpha. And you’ve always loved his voice, his singing beautiful and melodic in all the right ways, but now… Now? You would hear those pitchy whines every day for the rest of your life if you could. 

The best part about this new position is that it gives you a perfect view of the show you were missing. As you bounce rhythmically on Seungmin’s cock you eagerly watch your Sungie get his throat fucked relentlessly. His big round eyes are scrunched shut, face dripping saliva and tears as he moans around Minho’s cock, pistoning into him at a brutal pace. The hand is still tight in Jisung’s hair, effectively holding him in place for him to just use… And Minho’s face is cat-like, predatory with narrowed eyes and a sly grin. You clench around Seungmin, losing your pace as you turn your focus to the show in front of you, your heart beating rapidly when Minho turns to look you in the eye and watch the way you chase your own pleasure. A thin glean of sweat coats his features and when Jisung gurgles around him, making a lewd pathetic sound, Minho throws his head back with an open mouth. You think it might be the most beautiful scene you’ve ever witnessed in your life. Then Minho pulls his cock out of Jisung’s mouth with a wet pop, and Jisung sticks his tongue out as if expecting what comes next. When Minho finishes all over Jisung’s face and eagerly laps up what he can, you cum too, the sight too irresistible to ignore the way your body wants to respond to it. And so you grind yourself against Seungmin again and your pussy squeezes him so deliciously, as if trying to milk out every last drop. It’s no surprise he follows suit, pumping you full of his release as his knot settles comfortably at your entrance. 

You let out a loud, dramatic sigh as you collapse into Seungmin’s arms, relishing in the way he strokes your hair and draws little symbols on your back. There he is–the soft Seungmin that's comforting and caring, and not the Seungmin you usually see on a daily basis. You’ll take it, never one to complain about cuddles or a little gentle caress from your alpha. You nuzzle into his neck, letting that fresh lavender smell overwhelm your senses as you relax. You even start to doze off a little bit, your muscles tired from overexertion and your head nestled comfortably in the crook of Seungmin’s neck. Even though you’re both a little sticky from sweat, your bodies feel like they were meant to be pressed together like this. 

It doesn’t take long for Seungmin’s knot to deflate but you find yourself letting out a whine in its absence. “Shhh, pup,” you hear him coo. You vaguely find yourself thinking you want more, need more but you’re flooded with the potent scent of petrichor that makes you feel so pliant and sleepy you can’t help but succumb to sleep. You want to whine, curse Chan for using his pheromones on you but you can’t bring yourself to when you feel a wave of security and comfort engulf your senses. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You’re in an in-between state where you can hear what’s going on around you but you can’t move, limbs and eyelids too heavy and protesting the signals your brain is sending. 

“That was so hot,” someone says, barely audible. That at least floods you with warmth and satisfaction–your pack thinks you’re hot. 

“I feel bad for making her fall asleep but she needed it, she was starting to push herself,” someone says, changing the subject. You can at least put two and two together and figure that it’s Chan expressing his regret. “Even if she sleeps for a few minutes, her body needs it.” Someone else hums in agreement. 

“Was mean,” you slur. You slowly regain use of your extremities, fingers twitching then your whole hand. It takes some effort but you’re able to rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Sorry baby,” Chan sighs. He strokes your hair with deft fingers and you think you can forgive him, just this once. It is your first ever heat, after all, and who would you trust but your one and only pack alpha?

“You owe me one,” you say with a pout, and you open one eye to shoot him a playful glare. 

“Anything,” he concedes. “But I think you have other company.” As you sit up and wiggle away from a sleeping Seungmin’s grasp, you notice the subject in question. A whiny, squirmy Jisung, eyes flickering between you and Minho at rapid speed. 

“Please, hyung,” he squeaks. “She’s awake now, please? I’ll be good. I’ll be so good,” he babbles. Minho just watches with his arms crossed and squints at you, the hint of a grin splaying on his face. When he waves his wrist dismissively at the younger alpha he all but leaps into your arms. He kisses your face wet and erratic and you realize he smells more like Minho’s vanilla than his own bergamot. That thought alone, that Minho has already laid his claim on him is enough to have you squeezing your legs together, remembering the scene from not long ago. 

His arms grope every part of your naked flesh within reach and you feel thoroughly felt, thoroughly wanted. You moan his name and babble and grab him back, arching your back in an attempt to press your core against his. He doesn’t protest–you’re so wet that his length accidentally slides into you and makes a loud squelching sound that causes you both to squeak. When Jisung ruts into you it’s desperate, messy and all-consuming. He barely pulls out before pushing back in, trying to savor the feeling of being inside you without having to fully leave. 

A hand on his shoulder causes him to jump and it’s Minho with his devious smile. He still wants to have control over the situation, over Jisung, and his presence serves as that reminder. “Don’t you dare think about cumming before your omega,” he orders. “Only pathetic alphas can’t please their omegas, right Sungie?” Jisung nods frantically, his grip on your hips both bruising and grounding. 

You’re not expecting Minho to bend down and start lapping at your clit so it takes you by surprise, your legs thrashing out only to be held in place by the two alphas. His precision counteracts Jisung’s reckless abandon, his eyes narrowing and darting between watching you and Jisung. As if to add fuel to the fire, he occasionally tongues at your entrance making sure to pay attention to Jisung’s length pistoning in and out of you. 

“Good job,” Minho purrs condescendingly. You’re rocking your hips up in a desperate attempt to get Jisung deeper, to feel Minho’s tongue right where you want it. “Look at how you’re making our baby omega feel.” Jisung’s eyes are half-lidded at the alpha’s statement, his tongue sticking out as he pants and whines. 

“M close,” you warn Jisung. You watch him closely, no longer paying attention to Minho or his actions. 

“Oh god,” he whimpers. “Please, please cum. I’m gonna–gonna fill you up so good. Gonna cum so deep, can’t hold it anymore, y/nnie, please–” 

Your orgasm crashes over you and Jisung explodes the second he feels you clench around him. He cums and cums and you feel his warmth so deep inside you, his cock pulsing as his release hits him just as hard as yours. His knot locks in place and you both let out a sigh of relief. He collapses onto you and you hold him tight, watching Minho rub circles into his back and your face alternatively. At one point Minho reaches in between yours and Jisung’s bodies just to thumb at your clit which makes both you and Jisung whine at the oversensitivity and for Minho to smile devilishly. 

You think Jisung might have fallen asleep by the way his breaths even out, not even budging when his knot finally deflates. When you shoot Minho a frantic glance he is already moving, taking Jisung in his arms and prying him off of you. Though he whines at the separation he immediately curls up into Minho’s arms so he can’t be terribly distressed. 

You throw an arm over your eyes and smile. You even let out a light laugh because how can this feel this good? How can your alphas take such good care of you, be with you during your first ever heat (which is supposed to be stressful), and make it so comforting and pleasant? 

You smell jasmine and patchouli before you even see Changbin and you already want to press your legs together. Changbin is the thickest one here, Hyunjin had said. It’ll be hard to take him. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge but you’re already second guessing yourself when Changbin fills you up with his thick fingers. Just two of them and you feel so full, but then he pulls his fingers out and sucks Jisung’s release from his fingers. The sight is almost obscene but your heart rate picks up, clearly intrigued by his actions. 

“Want a taste?” he asks with one eyebrow quirked. You open your mouth and then shut it again before nodding at him shyly. You’re expecting for him to reach down in between you again, to find more of that white substance to scoop up and feed you but instead he leans forward, grabbing your jaw by the hinges and forcing your mouth open. 

“Tongue out,” he demands. You do as you're told, sticking your tongue out as wide as it will go. Changbin leans even closer and spits directly onto your eagerly waiting tongue before lightly slapping your face, signifying for you to close your jaw and swallow. You do taste Jisung a little bit, a bitter mix of salt and his signature bergamot smell. For good measure, you stick your tongue out again to show Changbin that you swallowed every last drop. He smiles at you and you return it happily until he pulls down his pants. 

Fuck. 

They weren’t kidding–he was thick and long, his girth almost resembling a can of soda. You crawl backwards instinctively, wanting to say something intelligent like ‘there’s no way that’s going to fit inside of me.’ Of course, no words form and Changbin responds to your hesitation by grabbing an ankle, pulling you towards him alarmingly fast. 

“It’s okay,” he coos. “Alpha will take good care of you, alright?” You whimper but nod your head, watching as he drags his length up and down your center. He positions his tip at your entrance and you can already feel the stretch. You’re well-lubricated with enough slick and cum now to at least make it a little easier–you’re not sure how you would manage without–but you still feel inch by inch stretch you out. 

“Big,” you complain, squirming under his intense gaze. You can tell he wants to make some snide remark in return but instead he just blushes, his ears turning red to indicate your words have some sort of effect on him. 

Finally he’s seated all the way inside of you and if you look down you can even see the slightest bulge in your tummy. He must see it too because he groans and flings his head back. 

“Woah,” Hyunjin comments from somewhere behind you. “That’s so hot. He’s in her guts.” You laugh as Changbin says something filthy to him in return. 

He hasn’t even started moving yet, staring at the bump in your stomach. When he presses down on it you both moan, the pleasure heightened. 

“Look at that, babe,” he instructs. “While I fuck you full watch the way my cock hits your little tummy.” He starts in earnest then, the way he thrusts into you at full force enough to knock the air out of your lungs. He punches little noises out of you every time your hips connect though he’s not exactly quiet himself. 

“That’s gonna be me next,” someone whispers in your ear. You look up to find an intimidating Chan lingering over you and he grabs you, positioning himself right behind you so he can hold you still while whispering improper words in your ear. “Gonna fuck my omega so good, hmm? Gonna stuff you full of my cock over and over again.” You squirm but he has a vice grip on you, leaning forward to nibble on your ear. His hot breath against your skin has your body running hot but you feel him everywhere, smell him and his petrichor with every breath you take. Even while Changbin is fucking the living daylights out of you Chan is there, distracting you from every other sensation. “Take what we give you,” he snaps when you move again. “Are you so cock-drunk and greedy that you won’t listen to your alphas?” 

You shake your head, tears pricking at your lash line. “No, Channie, alpha, I’ll be good, gonna be good,” you promise. Changbin grabs your legs and hoists them over his shoulders, effectively bending you in half while he bullies his cock in and out of you. 

“Too much,” you wail at a particularly deep thrust and you hear Changbin scoff. 

“Too much?” he mocks. “You don’t think your alphas know what’s too much for you? Silly omega.” 

His words cause your toes to curl and your body to tense and before you can even warn him you cum around him so tightly you swear you black out for a second. 

“So tight,” he comments and you let out a high-pitch sound and close your eyes tight while your orgasm continues to pulse. He fucks you so hard and fast through it that your body is overwhelmed and fuck, you’re cumming again. 

Chan and Changbin both watch as your release squirts out of you, covering his lower abdomen and causing him to glisten in a way that’s obscene. But boy did that do something to Changbin, the scene so hot that he pushes his hips into you one final time and stills as he finishes. You cry out when his knot locks into place, not used to an intrusion that large and you think there’s no way you could move, you’re just too full. 

When you lean your head back you see Chan smiling at you with a glint in his eyes you’d never seen before. 

“What?” you ask him as he leaves small touches along your body, paying close attention to your collarbone and shoulder. 

“Nothin,” he responds quickly. He waits a beat and then… “You need to take a break before we start? Need to take a nap?” It’s sweet that he’s checking in on you when you know he’s been dying for a chance to ravage you, his scent giving him away. 

“Not a chance in Hell,” you laugh. “Alpha, you better fuck my brains out or I’ll find someone else to do it.” You’re bluffing and you both know it, his eyes darkening at your attempt to rile him up. You’ve heard about Chan and his tendency to get in these moods, his need to put people in their places and essentially… tame them. You knew you could push his buttons and he would show you a side of him you’ve never seen before while simultaneously trusting him to reduce you to a whiney, submissive omega for him. It’s what you wanted. He knew it too. You can tell when he tongues at the inside of his cheek and smiles, looking up at the ceiling as if to calm himself down. 

“Cute,” he comments as if he’s talking about you and not to you. “Very cute. But when I have you crying because you can’t cum again and alpha’s cock is too much for you, remember that it was you who tried to be cute, and it was you who riled me up, yeah?” You gulp nervously. Chan looks… predatory, observing you as if determining when the right time is to strike. 

“I could’ve been so sweet to you,” he continues on. Your breath catches in your throat. “You could’ve gotten sweet, loving Chan to help you through your heat, to fuck you slow and gentle. But that’s not what you want, right? You want the big mean alpha to ‘fuck your brains out?’ 

Changbin’s knot deflates and you wrap your legs around him in a last-ditch effort to get him to stay, to maybe fool Chan into believing that his knot is still locked deep inside you. But you’re not that lucky because Chan is quick to laugh and grab your legs, prying you off of Changbin as if you weigh nothing. 

“Don’t be smart now,” he warns. “Finish what you started.” He pulls you close to him, sitting you down in his lap on his prominent bulge. He kisses you once harshly before trailing down, sucking a large mark onto your neck right below your scent gland. His teeth nip right where your mating bite would be, teasing you. 

Your eyes flicker to everyone else who seems to be watching in awe. Hyunjin has crawled into Changbin’s arms now that he’s available but both of their eyes are glued to you as if watching a cinematic masterpiece. 

“He’s so hot when he gets into his ‘alpha’ mode,” Felix whispers to Seungmin. You wanted to agree with him but your senses are so overwhelmed with petrichor and mint. Chan’s scenting you, claiming you as his as thoroughly as he can for the other alphas to see. 

“They can’t help you,” Chan comments when he sees you shoot Minho a desperate look. He gives you a fake pout in return. “It’s me and you, omega. Your safe word is pineapple, okay? I will only stop when you say that word, otherwise it’s game on.” You nod at him and he grips your chin harshly, making you look straight into his eyes. 

“Words.” 

“Yes, alpha.” 

Someone lets out a shaky breath. 

He’s quick to maneuver you the way he wants, positioning you on your knees with your back facing him. You turn behind you to look at him but he grabs the back of your neck and pushes you face first into your nest. You hear him unbuckling his belt and you want to look so bad, to touch but he positioned you a certain way and you don’t want to disobey already. 

Chan says nothing as he pushes his length into you, grabbing your hips and letting out a groan as he bottoms out. He pulls out and slams back in, causing you to lurch forward. Your hands grab at anything, a pillow or t-shirt in order to ground yourself as he sets a brutal pace. 

At some point you hear him scoff and he reaches forward and grabs your arms, holding them behind your back. This lifts your face and chest off of the ground and he uses this new leverage to pound into you.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Perfect little cunt. Gonna… fill you up. Gonna make you round with my pups.” You gasp. You would have never thought he had such a filthy mouth and here you are, looking at the unfiltered version of him. 

“Chan,” you moan, clenching around him. His thighs slap against the back of yours and you can feel him so deep inside of you that you let out sounds that can only be described as animalistic. Your orgasm builds up so fast that you barely have time to warn him, letting out a loud cry instead. He fucks you through it until the afterwaves have worn off and your head slumps forward. He lets go of your hands and gives you a second to recuperate and then he’s lifting you up again, cradling you in his arms. 

You’re about to question what he’s doing before he slides into again and you squeak. He shushes you and grabs your thighs, lifting you up and down on his cock. 

“You’ll let me use you, omega, right?” he grunts. “Let me use you like a little toy until I cum?” You nod and blink tears away at the overstimulation–you want to do this, want to be good for him. His grip will likely leave Chan-shaped fingerprints in your hips and that thought alone makes you feel warm, your wolf liking the thought of your pack alpha claiming you for everyone else to see. You throw your head back and Chan lets out a groan as if he’s in pain. “Don’t do that,” he whines. “Don’t show me your pretty neck like that. You’ll make me want to bite you.” 

You gasp, your heart beating twice as fast in excitement. You’ve talked about mating bites before, but since the relationship was still so new you had assumed everyone would wait until the courting phase was over. But that thought of being his, belonging to him and the pack? 

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he grins. He bounces you up even higher just to slam you back down onto his cock, relishing in the way your face scrunches in pleasure. 

“Her scent spiked,” Seungmin comments intelligently. “She really wants you to bite her.” You want to make a snide remark, to tell him to shut up but nothing comes out besides a broken sound. 

“Yeah?” Chan teases. “Would omega like it if I put a bite right… here?” He leans forward and places his teeth right on your scent gland, right where a large hickey was already forming from his previous actions. He bites you, lightly, not enough to mark or seal the bond, but it’s enough to make you cum again. 

You’re surprised, he’s surprised, and you practically convulse from the intensity of it. His hips stutter and he falters, clearly taken aback. 

“Gonna… gonna, fuck,” he gets out. You can tell he was going to say something that probably would have made you squirm from the lewdness of it but he can’t get it out because he thrusts once and then twice before he releases inside of you. He throws his head back and opens his mouth to let out a loud cry and he looks angelic in a sense, a thin sheen of sweat covering his features and thick muscles that makes him look like he’s glowing. You help the best you can, weakly lifting your hips to help him ride through his orgasm but his knot locks into place and he holds you so tight in his arms you think you might suffocate. He cradles you towards his neck and places you right into his scent gland and a sense of serenity washes over you. 

You’re thoroughly spent. You feel satiated, no longer thinking about your pleasure or the desire that had overcome you. You can rest and you very well could fall asleep in Chan’s arms right now, with his cock still seated inside you but you know his protective inner alpha would never let him. Jeongin brings you water to drink out of a straw and you oblige, drinking every last drop in record speed. Minho is close behind with a sandwich–when did he even leave the nest? But he hand-feeds you every bite as you breathe in the scent of your eight boyfriends. Your nest smells like love. It smells like home, like the eight people who have vowed to take care of you.

Chan hears you sniffle and immediately tenses. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Are you hurt? Was I too rough?” 

You laugh as you pry yourself away from his neck to look at him, grabbing his face with two hands as you plant a kiss to his lips. When you pull away he gives you a confused look, brows furrowed with pursed lips. 

“I just love you,” you confess. “I love you all.” He lets out a sigh of relief when he realizes the tears were happy in nature. 

“We love you too,” he replies with a kiss. “We’ll have to talk about this mating thing, you know.” A blush creeps up your face when you remember how eagerly your body reacted to the prospect of getting bit. 

“I know,” you answer. “Just… want to be yours.” 

“Babygirl you already are.” 

When his knot finally deflates a pair of strong arms lifts you off of him. Changbin helps you lay down and Seungmin is waiting with a wet cloth to wipe you clean. You don’t even have to lift a muscle but you do, leaping into the arms of a sleepy but sated Felix. You nuzzle close to him and Jisung clings to your back immediately. You register a flurry of hands and legs all moving together to join the cuddle pile taking place in your nest but your eyes flutter closed and you let out a content sigh. 

You knew that one day you would have to get your heat and though you were apprehensive about it, you should’ve known you’d have your pack to help you get through it. You should’ve known it was okay to open up to them about in the first place and you should’ve known they would take care of you without blinking an eye. Now you know and it has only reinforced your love and trust of them. 

You fall asleep in seconds surrounded by the warmth of your alphas, your boyfriends, your pack. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @lostgirlinthewoodss masterlist thanks for reading <3

[phantomsies]

die for me • a. artlert - kinktober part one

“..once I get inside, you’ll wanna die for me..”

kink: drug play

📝 other themes and things: producer/artist!armin, fem!black reader, drug use (coke use, percs in nether regions, you get my drift), fingering him for .2 seconds, mirror play, choking, oral sex (m. receiving), backshots, heavy kissing, squirting, spit play, pet names, prone bone

wc: 2.2K

📃 foreword: hi lovelies! just wanted to say thank you for allowing me to start fresh and supporting my work/transition throughout all of this. Also, being patient with me bc I’ve been slow as hell about posting again!

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

euphoria. It’s a feeling of excitement that manifests in different forms..a sensation achieved by the best experiences. Some get there by taking substances, others through thrill seeking. And for Armin Artlert?

“Oh God…yeah, that’s it, beautiful. All the way down…”

it was the fulfillment of his carnal desires…a constant high he’d chase with liquor or whatever narcotic he was choosing to divulge in for the evening. Just one of his many, less than savory vices. He knew it wasn’t a lifestyle he could maintain forever..and hell, it may even catch up to him sooner rather than when he’d like. But for now, he was enjoying the chaotic ride and every bump it had to offer along the way.

“Ahh!—fuck…good girl. Now hold it..I know you can do it, baby. Just take that dick to the back of your throat f’r me..all the way.”

it was an evening like the many others (y/n) (l/n) spent in the company of the famed producer and notorious bachelor. You’d spent the entirety of your day seated in a high chair as makeup brushes patted your gorgeous face. That delicate crown filled with luscious, kinky curls sat atop your head and was styled for a photoshoot. It was in the midst of a break that you’d return to your dressing room, greeted by a dozen roses..along with the charming smile of your beau. He was adamant on the fact that he despised interrupting your work but he truly couldn’t help but to sneak in some quality time with you. It was widely out of character for him and quite frankly, hell had a better chance of freezing twice over than Armin being monotonous! However, you’d invoked quite the change in him and it was so obvious, it was almost laughable. He’d inform you that he wanted you to finish up your job without pause but tonight, he’d be coming to scoop you up and he wanted you all to his lonesome.

fast forward, and that plan became reality. Now here you were..being all but defiled on his bedroom floor as you sat with your thighs slightly spread and upright on your knees. Saliva had pooled and trickled down from your mouth to those plump breasts he adored. Your pretty face practically smeared with spit and his precum. A beautiful, delicious mess, all of his creation and he loved it.

“Here, open your mouth, beautiful.” “Mmmm..thank you...”

With that, he greeted you with another lob of spit whilst gently tugging your head back. That’s when you’d begin to devour that thick cock whole..from the base to the tip with little resistance. Swallowing every inch and allowing him to hollow out your throat as if it were nothing. It was no unbeknownst secret to him that you were pretty damn freaky of your own volition. Hell, there were instances that you’d made him tap out but you were on an entirely different wavelength at the moment. You were practically insatiable and Armin was enjoying every waking second of it! A grin would stretch from ear to ear on the producer’s face when you’d take his shaft into your palm and stroke it. Meanwhile, your lips suctioned around those swollen balls, alternating between them to place gentle kisses and licks along the veined perimeter.

“You’re such a good slut for me, baby. Oh my gosh, I love you..you’re going to make me come so hard, I swear..” his tone was almost desperate and whiny as you continued on. But perhaps, the best was yet to happen when he felt a foreign sensation emit throughout his body. Those gorgeous brown eyes had become dilated and you were practically unstoppable.

“Am I making you feel good, daddy? Like when I spit on this fucking dick for you?”

“Yes, sweetheart. You’re doing fucking amazing. Make sure you get all that precum too..”

So much so, that your head would completely lower onto his shaft, taking the entire thing down your throat and holding it in place with minimal gagging. You’d stay there for a few seconds longer before coming up and emitting heavy strings of saliva with you. Once you did so, strings of your bodily fluids would seep down his pelvis and once it did, you’d use that makeshift lubricant to tease his other entrance.

“Fuuuck! Baby… ‘S so good..swear I should marry you right now.”

Nearly reducing him to a babbling mess. Constantly doting on you as you awoke all of his carnal desires. Exploring and opening his eyes to things he’d never experienced. He’d had his fair share of sexual encounters but there wasn’t one girl who’d ever pushed the boundaries the way you had. He had fallen in love all over again at that moment. One could even chock it up the heightened sensitivity you gained when taking drugs. It were almost as if both of you were in another reality and completely out of your heads. He’d even sniffle a few times, wiping his nose from the powdery substance he’d consumed earlier. You on the other hand, had been given a pink tablet that had melted on your tongue and since, (y/n) had lost all sense of morality and self control. The only thing on your mind was fucking him until he passed out and vice versa.

What was even more attractive was that you hadn't stopped moaning around his shaft and stroking your clit since you’d been down there. Becoming increasingly more aroused and soon, you’d need something to fill that ache in your womb. Fingering yourself hadn’t been quite sufficient, despite your orgasm already. With a deviant grin on your face, you’d begin to giggle and lob more saliva around the entire area; even making slurping motions on his that sensitive sack.

“Yeah? I’ll really let you do whatever you want to me then.” Ironic considering that you had already surpassed limits that other girls wouldn’t dare. That’s when he’d lean forward and place a deep kiss onto your lips, shoving his tongue into your mouth and clutched your throat in the process.

“That’s very..very good to know. Here, do me a favor and crawl over to the mirror, sweetheart. I’ve gotten something for you.”

suddenly, you were on all fours..swaying your hips as you followed his instructions. Like a lynx in the wild who couldn’t be tamed. His view was consumed with that round, plump ass and those fat pussy lips in the back and it was enough to make his cock twitch once more. Coated in precum and spit, Armin stroked himself, bucking his hips up into his palm before joining you on the floor. His knees were grazed by the furry carpet whilst he mounted behind you. The giant reflective glass perfectly captured both of your expressions in that moment. Grinning from ear to ear, completely dazed but certainly not confused. You both knew exactly what you wanted. Those pupils had become dilated and the surrounding areas bloodshot…

“Look at you..so perfect. You have no idea how beautiful you are, baby…” it was whilst he was talking, the desperate blonde reached over and retrieved another small baggy from the bed. It was just one of many substances he’d procured for the evening. Affectionately dubbing them his ‘party favors’. He’d usher you to back up against him as he maneuvered so that he was somewhat positioned underneath you. With your thighs spread to the opposite side of his own and that ass placed atop his crotch, Armin would place a hand into the center of your back to ensure that it was slightly arched.

“There we go, sweetheart…keep it just like that.”

Meanwhile, he’d run a singular thumb between your wet folds and that puckering asshole. All of it was so perfectly on display for him. Sucking his teeth, the famed producer would go on to extract the pill from the baggy before teasing it against that other entrance. It took a moment for you to get acclimated but it didn’t take long for the sensation to kick in. That puckering hole accepted it with ease and immediately began to take effect. Strings of your arousal were already leaking but once he inserted that tiny tablet, you were practically insatiable. That dazed expression on your pretty face became all but a permanent fixture…drool seeped from the corner of your mouth and your pupils remained glossed over.

“G-aghhh…I love it..makes me so fucking wet..”

Armin, becoming ecstatic at the sheer sight alone uttered a laugh as he navigated your hips until that dripping cunt was positioned right above the aching tip of his cock. “Yeah, you always did like these…I swear you’re the only person who would let me do some shit like this.” “Well you’re the only man I’ve met, willing to do it..so I guess it works out.” The two of you exchanged another set of laughs before the real action began.

“Can I put it in now, angel?..”

“I’d be pissed if you made me wait any longer..”

“Somebody’s eager..that’s my girl. Now stay still.”

foaming both at the mouth and entrance to be stuffed full of him, (y/n) would take a glance back and await his next move. Suddenly, you’d find yourself releasing a loud moan and arching your back even further as that swollen tip penetrated your hole. The initial feeling was like none you had ever experienced..it always was as if it were the first time with Armin. Hell, that’s just how amazing the sex was. But it was something about those substances coursing your veins and adding fuel to the fire that hit differently. In a matter of seconds, you were both trembling but could not stop. Slowly but surely, he’d feed you deep yet rhythmic strokes, trying to maintain his composure.

“Oh my gosh…look at how wet you are already, sweetheart. This pussy’s so creamy.”

Just as you were beginning to become acclimated with those strokes, Armin would increase his speed and begin to feed you more rhythmic thrusts. His hips snapping against your backside as he dug his nails into your flesh. The collision of that thick ass made it all but impossible for him to maintain his composure.

“Mmmmph..that dick feels so good..so deep in me..”

“Yeah? I’m not even in your spot yet and you’re already dripping. Might have to feed you some of this shit more often, baby.”

the soft whine escaping your lips as your head tilted back and it allowed him the opportunity to coil his hands around your throat. It was then that you were met with a slight hinge of aggression. Not in a violent or mean way but it was stemming from the fact that he was overstimulated. Those drugs were coursing through your systems at rapid speed so any sensation you felt was increased tenfold. Every thrust, every thrash, every touch and every glide in and out of those wet folds were driving him crazy! The same applies to you..every stroke became far more intense than the last and that ball of climatic energy began to swell in the pit of your stomach, ready to burst at any second. Strings of dripping warmth began to stain his exposed thigh and the carpet underneath your clashing bodies. Before long, those minimal droplets would expand to a large puddle as he caught a glimpse of your face in that mirror…you’d watch your own reflection as your body jolted around and suddenly your eyes were at the back of your head.

“Shit! I’m fucking coming!..”

“Theeeere we go, sweetheart. Squirt on that fucking dick..good girl.”

Whilst you released a heavy stream of warm juices, Armin would keep a light grasp on your hips as he allowed you to ride out your orgasm. Those sweet moans and shrill cries pooled out along with those divine droplets of your bodily nectar. It wasn’t long before you’d find yourself writhing around underneath his entire body weight though…as he had maneuvered you into a prone bone position shortly after. Pinning those wrists behind your back, Armin would then plank himself atop of your trembling frame; bucking those hips against the rippling flesh of your ass. The sight of that recoil alone was enough to make him reach his own peak. But alas, he’d maintain his stride a little bit longer. After all, neither of you had any plans of quitting any time soon…the adrenaline of the moment and the influence of those substances were keeping you both amplified beyond what should have been normal human capacity. But perhaps, the strongest one of all flowing throughout your veins was pure, unadulterated lust!..an insatiable desire for one another that couldn’t be kicked with the strongest of rehabilitation. It was a night that had only reached its beginning stages and who knew what lay in wait next…

“I’m gonna play in all these pretty holes, baby…I don’t give a fuck how long it takes. Not gonna stop until we pass out..you know how I like it.”

and it was a venture that you were looking more than forward to!

[cherie-doll]

someone on ao3 requested a while back i do a hc for that boxing machine game, so uh, here:

𓏴𓏴 Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Ghost would raise his eyebrows, being quite surprised at the numbers flashing on the screen. He did not expect for the score to be so high. Perhaps he shouldn't have provoked you earlier.

The crowd that had gathered around gasped at the shocking number your fist had scored. Soap stood there, mouth agape, he had always joked that your strength couldn't compare to his. Needless to say, he would think twice before doing something that would make you mad.

Gaz had always knew you were independent and strong, how strong you were mentally but never giving much thought how far your physical strength could go. Why he was the one with the military training.

Roach was so flabbergasted he couldn't even speak. (Not like he ever does.) Did not speak to you the entire car ride home, like a kid too afraid to be scolded. Put on an apron and washed the dishes he had procrastinated on all day.

Alejandro had witnessed the wrath of women like his mother, who may be small but dominant the moment their rage flared up. Seeing that side of you come out though was something else. It honestly made him feel some type of way.

Phillip couldn't have been more astounded. He felt proud but deep down his ego was a bit hurt as he was the one who prided himself for protecting you.

"Well, damn." Keegan kept saying over and over again, muttering under his breath. Why did he ever start training you? Cleared his throat a few times as you smiled proudly looking at the score. He didn't like how intimidated he suddenly felt.

All König could think of were all those times he had opened a jar for you. Did this mean you could do it yourself? Maybe you've been feigning being the weaker person and he should watch his back.

Horangi was no less surprised, he always had you ready to deliver a punch when you two would play fight. Seeing how strong you delivered that punch, however, did make him chuckle.

Nikto continued staring at your arms, specifically the arm and hand you had punched with. When did you get so strong? And did this mean you were able to help with the yardwork now?

[moonbaby26]

Their Favorite Parts

*crossposted to AO3 here*

Prompt: One Piece men and the parts of your body that they fixate on most. 

Reader Type: GN!Reader

Characters: Doflamingo, Kuzan/Aokiji, Crocodile, Smoker, Buggy, Mihawk, Shanks, Law

Warnings: language, references to sex, penetration, oral, and foreplay

Fic Masterlist

———————————

Doflamingo/Holes

He actually can be gentle with you. But you’ve found that level of care is always only a precursor to something else that he wants. And in the end, he can’t ever let you back to sleep until he’s been inside at least one of your holes and fully spent himself within it. 

Whether this wretched man is pounding between your thighs, or probing you with those long fingers, or dampening you with that equally obscene tongue…he wants to be as deep inside of you as he can possibly be. 

He loves you most when you’re trembling, thighs spread beneath him. Or on your knees looking up as your eyes water with your mouth full of his length. He’ll tell you what a good pet you are even as you plead or choke. 

But it’s as if you were made perfectly for him. He’ll never feel this with another lover. You’re his favorite until he destroys it all. And even then, he may just pull you from the ash to start with you again. Because he would sincerely miss you in his next empire.

Kuzan/Aokiji/Chest

He loves to sleep with his head on your chest. He can hear your heartbeat then and know that you’re still really there. That this isn’t all some terrible illusion, as much as he still feels he doesn’t deserve you and can’t keep you. 

His life has been too complicated. All the way from a respected, yet conflicted marine to whatever the hell people are calling him these days. But you never seem to judge him. You still believe in him, even now. He doesn’t understand your loyalty, but he loves you for it. 

And when the two of you are awake and intimate, he’ll be behind you, hands holding your warm chest as his fingers massage it. The way you lean back into him as your chill bumps form is so trusting. You know that he could freeze your heart in an instant if he chose to. But of course he never would. He wants this to last forever. He needs you at his side.

Sir Crocodile/Hips

He is certain you do it on purpose by now. The way your ever tight clothing forms around your body. It feels like a specific challenge you’ve made against him. As if you are daring his eyes not to follow you across the room as your hips sway while you walk. 

You’re his favorite assassin already. Though perhaps he can take some blame for letting this favoritism start to go to your head. And yet, even when he plans to punish you, he finds himself enjoying it too much. It’s hard to keep you humble when he’s still moaning your name as he fucks you over the top of his desk. 

With his one hand he grabs into that fleshy hip, riding you to his release as his hook stays warningly against the side of your face. But while you smirk against that curved metal as he finally cums, he knows you haven’t learned your lesson at all. Yet he also realizes that there are still years of this game to come. You’re too efficient to get rid of you anytime soon.

Smoker/Lips

It was the first thing he ever noticed about you. Just how pouty your lips could look, even as you argued and bitched at him on the battlefield. You cursed him through those lips, always lamenting that he made your shared marine ship smell like an ashtray. 

And by the time he’d found his way into your bunk one night, those same lips were about the only thing he would put his cigars down for. He’d wanted to kiss you for so long. By the time you finally let him, he never wanted to lose that high again. 

It could be soft, it could be rough. Just like you and your ever changing moods. You acted like you hated him until your mouth was over his. Then you were thrusting against him soon enough and whimpering even as you both knew you couldn’t wake the rest of the ship. 

He always started and ended sex with you with those damned lips. And every time he knew curses would be flying from them again tomorrow, even if his name would also be moaning out through them just as passionately each night.

Buggy/Butt

His life was a circus. And not just in the literal way he would have preferred. Somehow every move he made garnered new success, but equal terror. He never knew what tomorrow would bring. As Cross Guild’s infamy grew, so did his reputation along with it. 

But his nerves were shot, and you could tell. When the others bullied him, you never added to it. He hadn’t a clue why you’d chosen him. But he wouldn’t take it for granted either as you’d come to sit in his lap, late at night in his room. You’d call him your captain, your emperor even, grinding that perfect ass into him as you tried to cheer him up. 

And it always worked. As he’d a bit too desperately slide your pants from you, you always humored him. Letting his hands massage and hold that enticing rear. If he wanted to spank you, you let him do that too. It was just so soft and…comforting? He might not admit it, but you were his only remaining stability in this place. If he lost you, that would have been his breaking point. But he trusted you too when you promised that you were in it for the long haul. He was already your pirate king.

Mihawk/Eyes

It was the way you’d looked at him that first time the two of you had ever crossed paths. You weren’t afraid of his history, even as you’d seen him kill a lesser swordsman right in front of you. 

By the time he got to know you better, he’d realized just how much he liked to gaze into those eyes. It was as if he could feel what you were thinking. And as your confidence grew, that ‘come hither’ look of yours became far more prominent as well. 

Just with a glance, he knew exactly when you were craving to have those physical needs sated. And he certainly respected that need, finding it rather quickly a mutual one as he’d often carry you to his bed. 

And even then as his hips would be pumping skillfully against your own, you’d be looking up at him in a haze of pleasure with those same beautiful eyes. A view for him alone, one he would cherish and protect forever more.

Shanks/Legs

It might have been a bit too crass on his part, that afternoon in the bar when he’d first noticed you from across the room. But his ship wouldn’t be in port for long. There wasn’t time to play this subtle. No, not at all as he’d whistled loudly, catcalling you while his crew had laughed. 

He’d gotten the full view as well when those same lovely legs had carried you right back up to the bar to tell him to go fuck himself. And the way he’d smiled at you just pissed you off even further of course. 

Your anger made you stay. And it was definitely a talent of his to inspire that, but he was persistent too. Soon enough you’d let him buy you a drink, and then a few more. By the time the two of you had been stumbling out of the bar, you were letting him know your room number at the nearby inn. You wanted to know if he was just all talk. He assured you that he was not.

And that night as he did get the privilege of those legs being wrapped around him as your bed creaked and shook in a marathon of lovemaking, he realized his crew probably could find more room on the ship. You had no ties to this town either. 

By morning he was more than pleased when you agreed to board. Beck had protested a little, just at the sudden impracticality of yet another mouth to feed. But Shanks knew you would fit in fine, all of you and those legs laying in his bunk warm beside him for years to come on your way through the New World.

Law/Hands

With an epithet like the Surgeon of Death, he of course knew better than most on the importance of dexterity and skill with the hands. Without his own, he felt that he would have been useless. 

But this appreciation for such talent had quickly extended to you once he’d finally given in. He’d ignored you for as long as he could, too logical in his understanding of how reckless it’d be to pursue a member of his own crew. But so many days and nights alone under the ocean’s surface had finally worn him down. 

The night on the Polar Tang when those skillful fingers of yours had finally been in his hair, and finally unbuttoning his pants soon after was one that had been so long coming. You’d gotten to see that other side of him then as he unraveled almost shamefully beneath your stroking and assurances. 

He’d taken care of everyone else for so long you told him, playing the part of their stoic leader. But you knew he was far from only that as your hands drew out all his pent up need. 

You promised him that he was safe with you. That you were with him until the end. And it was all true. The captain of the Heart Pirates would remain within your capable hands for as long as he desired to. And that desire would prove to be unbreakable.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑨 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 5.5k

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up. Panic attacks. I think that’s it.

Summary: Your time at Barça comes to an end.

Notes: I tried to add a little more detail to my writing, so I hope it turned out somewhat decent <3

[prompt list]

A lot of people have told her what it was like to truly be in love. To feel that spark, that infatuation and instant connection that has you feeling weak at the knees. But Alexia hadn't truly known what love was until she'd met you. Like, true, fulfilling, genuine love that was both so exciting and terrifying it felt like falling off a cliff with no idea how high it is or what was at the bottom.

You came into her life unexpectedly, a ray of sunshine; always shining bright and radiating both warmth and happiness wherever you went. You make everyone around you feel good without even trying, a trait most people in this world lacked due to no fault of their own. Wherever she turned, you were there, the smile on your face so genuine it was hard not to smile back.

She doesn’t quite know how to put into words just how much she loves you, but if she has to try, it was like being on the brink of something extraordinary every single waking moment. You make her feel adored and valued on the days where she can't even stand herself. You make her feel cherished, important, like the ground beneath her wouldn't cave in at any second.

It was like a rollercoaster ride all of the time. Some days were both thrilling and exciting, and some days it was both dizzying and terrifying. Sometimes it was so overwhelming she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. What was was sure of though is she wouldn't want to do any of it by herself. You were her everything, and she was yours, and she wasn't going to let anyone or anything get in the way of that. Including the fact you were moving half way across the country to join Arsenal.

It had been on the first of the month that you'd told her. You had been quiet and withdrawn for the entirety of the day, only responding to her futile attempts at conversation with quiet hums and one word answers.

Alexia hadn't quite known what to do when you'd exited the car with a quiet request for some space. You barely even give her a chance to respond, grabbing your things from the trunk before disappearing into the apartment building. Alexia had waited what she'd thought was a good amount of time before making her way inside too, footsteps hesitant and a deep sense of unease filling her stomach. The apartment door was closed, just as she'd thought it would be, and she does everything possible to swallow back the inevitable tightness in her throat as she unlocks the door and makes her way inside.

As she sets down her things, she realises everything was so unnervingly quiet she could hear the sound of her own breath. It was loud, quick, so clearly full of anticipation she pauses for a second to get herself together. It wasn't like her to be so unsure of herself, not when she was around you. Not in the comfort of her own home where it had taken months for her to fully accept the fact that no matter what mood she was in or how bad her day had gone you'd always welcome her inside with open arms.

Even when you'd had a bad day you were always willing to be around her. Your smile, whilst a little sad, still so genuine it made her thank whoever was above for bringing you into her life. Not only were you always willing to put everybody above yourself, you did so without consideration of your own feelings.

Perhaps that was why the sense of impending dread was unlike nothing she'd ever felt before, because not once in this relationship had you ever pushed her away. Been so quiet and so unwilling to talk.

Accepting your need for space, she walks past the closed bedroom door and makes her way through to the kitchen. She stands in the middle of the room for a few unsure seconds before deciding to make a start on dinner. If you won’t talk to her, the least she could do was feed you. You always love her cooking no matter what she makes, and she hopes the comfort of a home cooked meal would help ease whatever upset you were feeling.

In the bedroom, you were laid on Alexia's side of the bed, your body curled up small and your head buried into her pillow. It was soaked with tears, the material uncomfortably sticking to the skin of your cheek.

You didn’t think the word pain quite gives the way you were feeling justice. Oh no. It quite literally felt like someone had ripped your heart out of your chest before trampling all over it and shoving it back in. You were leaving Barcelona. Leaving Alexia. The word pain couldn't even begin to describe just how absolutely devastated you felt.

The second you had found out they weren't signing you for another season, it was as though everything around you had turned fuzzy, almost like the feeling you get when your leg falls asleep. An emptiness had suddenly filled you and it was so profound it made your chest physically ache. You hadn't heard a single world Jona after the fact. It was as though your world had stopped and in a way, it had. Your life in Barca, with Alexia, was no longer, and you only had your self to blame.

You should have been better. Scored more. Not gotten so many yellow cards. Done something, anything, so they would like you better and want you to stay. And maybe had they told you before the transfer window had closed, you could have at least tried to change their minds. But they hadn't. They'd kept it to themselves until the last possible second and because of that, there was now absolutely nothing you could do to change it.

You were leaving, and you had no idea just how you were going to tell Alexia without tearing your heart completely in two. You could hear her, if you really focused. The sound of ceramic dishes hitting the table and the soft thuds of her feet as she walks. She was cooking dinner, just as she does most nights after you get home from training if you don't opt to order in.

Most nights, you'd been in the kitchen with her. Sometimes sat on the counter and sometimes stood behind her holding her body to your own. You'd steal small morsels of food of whatever she'd decided to make that day and you'd pout playfully when she'd scold you for doing so. You could only imagine just how clueless she feels in there by herself, not knowing what was wrong or how to help. It makes a part of you want to go sit with her, just for the company, but the thought of seeing that beautiful, oblivious face, so unaware of the news you held simply made you want to crawl into a hole and die.

You can’t face her. Not yet. Not ever if given the choice but that simply wasn't an option. Telling her was inevitable, and you just had to accept the fact she might hate you for it despite it being completely out of your control.

You have no idea just how long you end up laying here for before you hear the sound of two gentle knocks against your bedroom door. They were barely audible, and you take that as an almost cruel opportunity to pretend you hadn't heard them. The door opens anyway, the sound of it creaking a deathly loud noise in comparison to the quietness of the room.

"Amor?" Her voice was a quiet, tentative whisper sounding so unsure it has you screwing your eyes so tightly shut in a futile effort to prevent anymore tears from falling. "Amor," the same soft footsteps you'd heard earlier make their way closer to the bed. "I made you dinner."

Silence.

Alexia softly clears her throat. "It is Pasta. Your favourite." She trails off hopefully, and it takes everything in you to remain still. You can’t face her. Not yet. You weren't ready.

Alexia wrings her hands nervously as she takes another small step closer to the bed. "I..." she hesitates, scratching the inside of her wrist. "I do not know what happened. Will you please talk to me?"

More silence, and you'd never hated yourself more.

"I do not know what to do" Her voice audibly trembles making the tightness in your throat physically impossible to swallow back. You could feel your resolve wavering. Just because you couldn't tell her what was wrong right this second didn't mean you can't let her sooth you, right?

"Bebé?"

With a deep, shuddering breath, you use every ounce of strength within you to sit yourself up and face her. She was standing just a few feet away from the bed, toes scrunching and un-scrunching anxiously against the carpet. Her hands were clasped tightly around her shirt, wrinkling the material as she squeezes and twists.

But what breaks your heart the most was the wetness staining her cheeks. She was crying. Crying because of you. Because you were too much of a wimp to simply tell her what was wrong. The guilt you were already feeling amplifies by a thousand, and you were forced look away from her before you well and truly broke.

"Amor?" She whispers unsurely, and you sniffle softly as you wipe your sweaty hands on your pants before taking a deep breath. It was a futile effort at composing yourself, but you simply had nothing else left in you.

"Will you-"

"I don't want to talk about it. Not yet. I can't." you cut her off, and Alexia swallows heavily before nodding her head. The overwhelming sense of dread that had once faded makes an abrupt reappearance at your words, but she tries desperately not to let it show. If she pushed, you'd push back harder, and she'd never figure out what was going on.

"Okay." She accepts in a quiet whisper, unwilling to do anything that might upset you further.

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. "Okay?"

She nods.

"Okay." You whisper with a quiet breath of relief.

"Will you come eat?" She asks hopefully after a few seconds of silence. "I made your favourite."

The thought of food alone made you feel so incredibly nauseous you were forced to swallow back a different kind of tightness in the back of your throat. It pains you to reject her again, but you just couldn't do it. Not without ending this already horrible day with your head stuck in the toilet.

You shake your head. "Ale, I'm not-”

"Just a few bites?" She pleads quietly, hesitantly. "For me?" She holds out her hand.

You look up at her. You take in her wet cheeks, the unsure body language and the trembling fingers. You'd put her through the wringer tonight without even trying, and it was clear to see she was desperate for some sort of normality. Despite everything in you screaming to say no, you find yourself standing up and taking her hand. You were barely on your feet for two seconds before she envelopes you completely in her arms, her chest flush against your own as your feet hang from the floor.

Your bottom lip wobbles as she buries her head against your neck, your head dropping to rest heavily against her shoulder. It takes you a few moments, but your arms do eventually find themselves wrapping securely around her shoulders. At the feeling of you returning the embrace, she drops an arm from around your waist and hooks it beneath your behind, bouncing you up slightly so your legs cold wrap around her waist.

"I am sorry." She whispers, the words taking a few moments to fully register in your grief ridden mind. The second they do, you lift your head off of her shoulder and reach your trembling hands up to coax her face away from your neck. You were glad to see she wasn't crying again, but you could tell by the shininess in her eyes that it was taking everything in her to hold the tears back.

"No," you shake your head, cupping her cheeks and wiping the pads of your thumbs to rid them of their wetness. Alexia blinks, and you catch the first tear that escapes before it could fall. "No," you repeat. "You don't have to be sorry. You've done absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing at all."

Alexia swallows.

"It's..." the tears you'd been trying to desperately to hold back break free, and you make no effort to wipe them away. "I'm not ready to talk yet, and I'm so, so sorry that means you're being kept in the dark. I just need...a few hours. Just a few hours to process and then we'll talk, okay? I promise."

Alexia looks even more terrified as her grip loosens just slightly. "Are you...are you bre-"

"No." You're aware of how panicked you sound, but you needed the message to get through to her before she could fully mistake her assumptions for the truth. "No. I'm not. Not now. Not ever. I could never...no."

Her grip tightens around you again, and you let out a relieved sounding sob as you fall limp against her. You feel one of her hands lift to rest against the back of your head, and for a second, you allow to yourself to break; for her to comfort you, because after hearing what you had to say, it could be the last time she ever does so.

Alexia doesn't think she's ever felt more useless in her entire life as she holds you close, her throat burning, threatening the onslaught of tears. Something serious was going on. There has to be. She's never seen you this upset before, not even when you'd done your acl just a few months after she'd done hers. You'd been upset then sure, but you'd never shed more than a single tear in the year it had taken to get back on the pitch, and that year had been hell for both of you.

Tightening her grip around you, she turns in place and makes her way through to the kitchen. The two plates of pasta were just as she'd left them, though she suspected they'd long gone cold now. Knowing you wouldn't be able to eat despite saying that you would try and not particularly caring about her own meal, she passes the kitchen table and makes her way over to one of the free spaces left on the countertop.

She purposely ignores the burning in her arms as she eases you down and settles herself between your legs, feeling the way your crossed feet settle against her backside as her arms secure themselves tightly around your back. You were still in her arms, thankfully no longer crying if the lack of tears against her neck was anything to go by. It allows Alexia to relax momentarily for she knows things would sure turn south once you reveal what was making you so upset.

You pull away a few moments later, sniffling softly as Alexia tenderly cups your cheeks to wipe away the wetness staining them. You lean into her touch, eyes fluttering shut when she leans in and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"I love you." She murmurs against the warm skin, and you're forced to once again swallow back your emotions as you take her wrists and press a soft kiss to the inside of them both.

"I love you." The unsteadiness of your voice was obvious, and you're grateful when Alexia makes no attempt at pointing it out. She leans in and kisses you, tasting the saltiness of your tears, and your hands desperately cup her face, not allowing her to pull away. Alexia's hands grasp your sides as she deepens the kiss just slightly, feeling the soft exhale you breath out through your nose against her skin. When you pull away, your eyes were closed, and Alexia takes this as her chance to really take you in.

Your expression gives absolutely nothing away. Nothing at all. Her gaze was still on you when your eyes finally open, brown irises full of an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. You tilt your head to the side, a silent question to which she nods in response to. Seconds later, the look in her eyes changes. Now, they were light, hopeful, willing for you to open up and trust her and god did you so badly want to.

"I am going to make you a smoothie." She breaks the silence, her hands giving your thighs a soothing squeeze as she steps out of your hold and makes her way over to your refrigerator. You watch her retreating figure as you let out a soft sigh. You still didn’t think you could stomach anything, but the thought of a smoothie was admittedly more appetising than cold pasta. You felt a little bad that the meal she’d cooked you had gone to waste, but seeing as though Alexia doesn't mind, you try not to either.

Alexia's eyes skim the contents for a few moments before she pulls out a few different fruits she knew were your favourite. She sets them down onto the counter next to you before heading to the sink and thoroughly washing her hands, allowing the water to run a little hotter than appropriate in a futile effort at feeling something other than complete and utter dread.

It doesn't work, and as she dries her hands, she wonders just how much longer she would be able to last before she inevitably breaks and begs for you to tell her what was going on. When she'd torn her acl, the fear she'd felt about not being able to play the sport she loved more than anything else in this world pained her more than she could even begin to explain. But the fear of losing you was a tenfold to that. Because yes, football was her world, but you were her entire universe so feeling this dread, this uncertainty and uneasiness was so, so much worse.

Softly clearing her throat, she forces a smile into her face and makes her way back over to you. You were in the exact same position, though now you were staring at her with pity. It makes her bristle just slightly, but she forces herself not to react as she grabs the blender out of the cupboard and plugs it into the wall.

The process of making both smoothies was done in silence. Alexia doesn't say a word, and neither do you. Soon, Alexia was back between your legs, a small glass in her hand that held the contents of your smoothie. You don't let yourself hesitate as you gently take it from her, bringing it to your lips for cautious sip. When it doesn't seem as though your stomach would reject it, you allow yourself a proper mouthful, a hum of content falling from your lips as you swallow.

"Good?" Alexia murmurs as her hands retake their place on each of your thighs, squeezing the flesh softly before her palms begin tracing gentle circles against the soft skin. You nod your head, holding the glass up to her lips despite the fact she had her own smoothie just next to you. The blonde smiles as she allows you to feed her, swallowing with a hum of content similar to your own.

You take turns in sipping both the smoothies until they were gone, Alexia setting the glasses into the sink to be washed later before scooping you back up into her arms. You welcome the closeness by allowing her to carry you through to the living room without complaint, her larger frame beneath your own as she settles comfortably on the couch. She says nothing as she slips her hands beneath your shirt to rest on the small of your back, the tips of her pinkies tracing over the dimples at the bottom of your spine, but you can tell by the look in her eyes alone that there was so much she wants to say.

It had barely even been an hour since she'd brought you out of your room, and whilst you still weren't ready to talk, you knew leaving her in the dark for any longer would be unnecessarily cruel. Unsure on whether or not she'd even want you near her when you found the courage to reveal the news, you slip off of her lap and perch on the edge of the coffee table instead, making a futile effort at avoiding eye contact as you wipe your suddenly sweaty hands off on your shorts.

You hear Alexia shift forward slightly until her knees brush against your own, her hands reaching forward to rest on either of your thighs. Your own hands circle her wrists, feeling the steady, consistent pounding of her pulse beneath the tips of your fingers. She doesn't force you to talk. She simply sits and waits, her presence alone a major comfort in a moment so anxiety inducing you felt as though you were only seconds away from throwing up.

A single drop of grief wells up in the corner of your eye as you swallow heavily, the small droplet of salty water streaming down your cheek leaving a tickling sensation in its wake. The blonde opposite you remains silent, but her hands slip down to the skin behind your knees, tugging them a little firmer against her own. Knowing it was now or never, you force yourself to make eye contact.

"I'm leaving Barça." Your voice was emotionless.

Alexia blinks as her hands freeze mid stroke against your thighs. "Qué?”

You swallow. "They didn't resign me for another season. I'm moving to Arsenal." The words felt like vomit on your tongue.

Alexia could do no more than stare as she feels the room begin to tilt around her, every sound becoming no more than a muffled echo. Her heart feels as though it had gotten stuck, each beat a sharp jab against her chest. Her mouth parts, but no words seem to be able to escape. She simply sits. Frozen. Like her entire body had forgotten how to move.

Your hands tighten around her wrists as the world around you blurs with the onslaught of tears. "I'm sorry," you choke out. "They only told me today and I...I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you." Panic gnaws at the edges of your mind when Alexia remains silent. "Say something. Please." The desperation in your voice was evident.

Alexia shakes her head as if trying to shake off the reality that was suddenly crashing down around her, her hands lifting off of your thighs and visibly trembling. She clenches them into tight fists, a futile effort for control as her gaze darts unsteadily around the room.

"I..." she has no idea what to say.

“Alexia?” You plead.

Nothing.

You feel an overwhelming urge to flee beginning to fester in the back of your mind as your hands tightly clutch the material of your sweater. Alexia's knees were still pinned on either side of your own, halting your inevitable escape. You were trapped by her, both physically and emotionally, and the longer she remains silent, the more your panic begins to build.

Your leg begins to bounce on its own accord; your heart races and it feels as though you weren't getting enough air into your lungs. A spiral of panicked thoughts keep repeating themselves, becoming more and more insistent as the minutes pass. Alexia hates you. Alexia was going to leave you. Oh god. Nausea swirls in your gut. You can't breath. Are you dying? You're dying. You have to be dying. Why can't you breath? Panicked eyes search the room for an exit. The front door. The back door. Which was closer? You didn't know. But you had to get out. You had to go.

A gentle, unsteady hand cupping your cheek startles you, and your head whips round so quickly you almost give yourself whiplash. Alexia was staring at you, eyes wide in alarm. Her lips were moving. But you couldn't hear her voice. Couldn't make out what she was saying. Why couldn't you hear what she was saying?

You feel your body move, steady hands beneath your armpits. They support the entirety of your weight as you were lifted slightly into the air. Strong, familiar thighs were soon beneath your own, your heaving chest pressed flush against Alexia's. She wraps her arms so tightly around your midsection you have no choice but to mimic her breaths. They were steady, consistent. You choke out a pathetic sounding sob as your heart continues to pound, your body unintentionally fighting her own.

But her grasp was tight. So tight you could feel nothing but her. She begins to rock. Back and forth. Back and forth. The motion was steady. Repetitive. You feel your chest loosen. Just slightly. Enough for you to breath. To get some much needed air into your lungs. The white noise in your ears begins to fade. You could hear again. Alexia was talking. In Spanish. You couldn't really understand what she was saying. But her tone was soft. Soothing. Warm. The pounding in your heart slows, and you can breath again.

You no longer felt like you were dying. Everything was quiet. Calm.

Alexia's body stills as your desperate grasp around her shirt loosens, your head falling heavily against her shoulder. Her lips press against your neck, dotting gentle kisses over the soft expanse of warm skin. You shudder a little at the sensation as you hunch your shoulders up to your ears, hearing Alexia huff out a quiet sound of amusement as she halts her affectionate attack. You feel her hands rest on each of your hips, squeezing softly before easing you away from her. When your eyes meet her own, you could clearly tell she'd been crying.

And Alexia had been.

It had taken a little while to gather her thoughts -and to get over the curveball that had been thrown her way- but eventually, Alexia had come to the quite obvious realisation that just because you wouldn’t be in the same country anymore didn’t mean your relationship was over. Long distance sucks, but it was possible, and there were many cases where it had been quite successful. Take Ona’s girlfriend, Lucy, for example. Lucy had left Barça nearly four months ago, and both she and Ona were closer than ever. Yes, being apart would be difficult. She was fully aware of that fact. But doesn’t the saying go, distance makes the heart grow fonder?

"That was a bad one, huh?" She murmurs as she presses her forehead against her own, and you could do no more than nod. Panic attacks weren't uncommon for you, but rarely does it get to the point where Alexia has to intervene anymore thanks to years of therapy. You'd learnt to anticipate the usual warning signs allowing you to talk yourself out of one before it could even begin, but that evidently hadn't been the case today for obvious reasons.

"Was it because of me?" Her hands cup your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the wetness beneath your eyes. Her touch was so gentle you could barely feel it.

You shrug noncommittally as you harshly wipe off your cheeks. "Not really."

"Not really?" She raises an eyebrow, and you sigh lightly as you tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

"I just..." you trail off. "I guess I just panicked. You wouldn't answer me and my mind just jumped to the worst case scenario." You admit, hating the fact you were once again so close to tears.

Alexia's eyebrows furrow in confusion as she loops her arms around your waist. "What do you mean?"

"I told you...I told you I was leaving, and you didn't say anything. My mind jumped to the conclusion that that was because you hated me and never wanted to see me again." Voicing your thoughts out loud made them sound stupid, and you worry now that maybe you'd majorly overreacted.

Alexia doesn't seem to have the same concern.

"Amor, you really think that little of me?" She sounds more hurt than she does mad, and the guilt hits you like a punch in the stomach. You immediately shake your head as you attempt to amend the situation.

"Of course not," you insist. "But I panicked. As I said, worst case scenario.”

Alexia releases her hold on you for a short second as she rubs her hands over her face.

You can't help but frown. "Ale, I'm so-"

Alexia cuts you off cupping your cheeks and kissing you fiercely. It quite literally takes your breath away, and you have absolutely no time to reciprocate before she was pulling away.

"I love you," your mouth parts to say it back, but Alexia shakes her head, resting her pointer finger against your lips. You gently kiss the digit, lips quirking up into a small smile when Alexia plainly pokes your nose.  "I love you, and whilst I am so incredibly sad you are going to be leaving, it is not forever. I will visit you, you will visit me.”

"But it won't be the same." Your voice was a broken whisper.

Alexia clears her throat softly as her eyes grow shiny with tears. "I know," she murmurs, taking both your hands in her own and squeezing softly. "But we will get through this, sí? You are strong, and I am strong. We will be strong together until we are no longer apart."

"Strong together." you mimic, and Alexia nods with a sad smile on her face. You attempt to mimic that too, but you find it difficult to do thanks to the way your bottom lip was trembling. The first tear falls before you could stop it, and Alexia blows out a shaky breath as she pulls you back into her arms.

Yeah, this was going to suck.

*

So yeah. Alexia loves you so terrifyingly much that she was willing to risk your relationship by being approximately nine hundred and twenty nine miles apart. You had faith you would be just fine, but a small part of you, way way deep down was sure it would end up crashing and burning right in front of your eyes. Long distance relationships were hard, and yes, you loved each other, but would that really be enough in the long run? Would love really be enough to survive who knows how many years apart with only the occasional visit until your contract at Arsenal ended?

You'd voiced your worries to Alexia who had been quick to assure you that whilst your fears were valid, they were wrong. That it was just your brain, again, jumping to the worst case scenario because you were anxious about leaving. She'd assured you that love was most definitely enough, so long as you communicated with one another which was something you were both thankfully pretty damned good at.

From that moment forward, you make the most of what time you have left together. You go on dates that last all day, visiting all the places in Barcelona you’d fallen in love with. You spend hours in bed, skin against skin as your favourite movie plays in the background. You even make the drive over to Alexia’s childhood home and spend the day with her family as one final farewell.

Your team was told about your transfer just two weeks before you leave, tearful hugs being shared with the ones you were most close to. Mapi had all but clung to you throughout the entirety of your last training session, Ingrid having to coax her into letting go when it was time to head back home.

You play your last game a few days later, playing the entire ninety minutes and scoring three goals with the assistance of Aitana. When the whistle had blown, your entire team had surrounded you, murmuring their praises and pulling you into hugs so tight you struggled to catch your breath. You tightly clutch the crest on your chest as your eyes skim around the arena, meeting the tearful yet smiling faces of the fans who were cheering so loudly for you it was the only sound you could hear.

This was it. Your time at Barça was over, and what a ride it had been.

**

Tags:

@codiemarin @goldenempyrean @girlgenius1111 @ceesimz @liloandstitchstan @xxnaiaxx @marysfics @alexias-putellas

[esouliie]

DONT POKE THE BEAR.

– pairing | wanda maximoff x fem! reader

– synopsis | you’re known to be quite a tease, especially for your girlfriend, but what happens when you push her too far? will she be able to control herself or will you force her hand?

– warnings | smut, thigh riding, wanda wants to be your mommy hehe, strap on (r!receiving), orgasm denial duh, she eats it from the back :33, face slapping, crybaby reader again, wanda is kinda mean and punishes you ig but she’s so cute with it idc. (18+)

As you entered the room, you couldn’t help but freeze at the sight before you. There she was, the tall and intimidating woman you had grown so fond of, tucked snugly in bed with a book in hand. But what caught you off guard were the glasses perched on her nose – the nerdiest looking frames you had ever seen.

You felt a bubbling laughter rise within you, threatening to burst out uncontrollably. It wasn't just the glasses themselves, but the stark contrast they created against her usual, intense demeanor. You had never seen her in glasses before, and the image was both endearing and hilarious.

Struggling to contain your amusement, you approached your side of the bed cautiously, trying not to let on that you were on the verge of laughter. But a few giggles slipped and she looked up from her book, a hint of curiosity in her eyes, and you quickly composed yourself, managing to offer a sheepish smile instead.

“What's so funny?" She asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

Unwilling to lie, you admitted, “you look like a nerd,” and unable to hide your amusement now, you laughed freely.

She was used to your teasing, your playful jabs that never fail to stir her up. In another universe, perhaps, she'd have you over her lap, your apologies tumbling out as you, painfully, realise the extent of your teasing and how mean it was to tease your mommy…

But in this universe, she couldn’t. Not until you were ready.

So she simply chuckled, “and you look like a goof,” eyes trailing down to between your legs, paying close attention to your underwear…

Your bow print underwear.

“Hey! I’ll have you know you loved this goofy apparel the other day.” You cocked your head to the side, stretching up on your knees so your vest rides higher, revealing the top of your underwear where a little pink flower resides, “You loved it so much, I believe you were unable to keep your hands off of me.”

You were obviously right.

Wanda had a thing for you in cute panties instead of sexy lingerie, seeing as stocking and garter belts were more her speed.

Ever the tease, you pulled the duvet off the woman, sending the book flying - as if you even cared - before straddling her warm thighs.

“Oh yeah?” She retorted unemotionally. She wasn’t going to give into your bratty behaviour, no matter how cute you looked on top of her.

“Oh yeah.” You replied mischievously, with a few rolls of your hips. But her hands had latched on before you could continue, halting all your attempts to turn her on.

“Not tonight.”

“Come on, nerd.” You whined, hands attempt to pry hers of your hips. “It’s not even late yet.”

Unmoving, she replied, “don’t call me that.”

“What? You are though.” You ran over her appearance once again, her red curls held high in a loose ponytail as her baby hairs flew abashedly in each direction.

So fucking cute and yet so sexy.

You leaned forward, chest brushing hers. “I mean, who would’ve thought the big, bad Scarlet Witch would need nerdy glasses.”

“What did I say, moya lyubov?” She warned but your fingers only toyed with the arms of her frames, forcing the lenses up and down with each push.

Your incessant need to push buttons drew you closer to a point of no return. Your girlfriend could only take so much more before she snapped.

“Aw is the little witch crying?” You fake cooed, hands playing with the ends of her hair, ready to pull as you deliver the final blow.

“Only a true nerd would get so upset about being called one.”

Pain heated her scalp as her neck was yanked back, but only for a second as you let go of the pressure. Her eyes flashed with a mixture of frustration and anger as she grabbed under your armpits, hauling your off her lap like a ragdoll before pinning your wrists above your head.

You felt a surge of fear mixed with a strange excitement as she held you in place, having pushed Wanda so much she’s actually snapped. No longer the collective, push-over girlfriend she had portrayed herself as.

“Are you stupid?” She spat, her entire weight resting upon your stomach. “You don’t listen, do you?”

Clearly unfazed by her words, you smile up at the woman, bucking your hips into her. “Well I guess not, Einstein.”

Even without much strength to it, the sound of the slap is loud. Your head ripped to the side as you gasped for air. Soon enough, you found yourself facing the woman above you. The offending hand now cupping your chin, as light fingers danced over your cheek, already turning red.

You went to speak but she shushed you, soft lips pressed over yours. “No more.” Is all she said but you understood what she meant, as you nod slowly.

No more lip tonight.

“I didn’t want to have to do that.” She brushed a few stray tears away, unbeknownst that you had even been crying. “But you were being bad, baby. Not my usual good girl.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, voice unsure of the situation you’re in. Wanda looked mad still, really mad, even though you were only joking around.

“I know, baby, but it’s not nice to be mean to me like that.”

“I was only joking…” You looked away, unable to stand her cold gaze any longer.

Her grip on your chin returned to bring your eyes back to hers. “And I told you to stop, didn’t I?”

You nodded weakly, feeling a knot forming in your stomach. You knew she was right, but you didn’t think you hurt Wanda that much. Not enough for her to slap you anyways.

She released her hold on you, moving back against the headboard before pulling you back onto her lap.

She watched you for a second, nothing your refusal to meet her eyes. You looked ashamed, but not too phased of the situation.

“You okay?” She asked, palms resting soothingly on your bottom.

“I’m okay.” You replied as you twirled her nightgown in your fist. “My cheek hurts though.”

“Good.” With that, she pulls you forward, starting a slow steady pace against her stomach, fingers groping, as you take the pleasure with gratitude.

You gasped at the friction, and Wanda chuckled when she felt the damp patch across your panties. “Oh. You liked that, didn’t you? Like when I hurt you, baby?”

Not knowing if she really wanted an answer, you nodded quickly. Hands holding tighter onto her shoulders as you try to speed up, but she moved you off her.

She stood up, leaving her glasses on her bedside table, working her way over towards the wardrobe. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Now let’s see how you like to be teased.”

…

You’re sat on the edge of the bed, and Wanda stepped between your legs, the red dildo pressing against your chest as she strokes it like it was actually her own.

“Do you like it?”

“You know I was the one that bought it for you.” You couldn’t help but say with a playful eye roll, but she wasn’t having it. Her hand snaked around your neck, applying immediate pressure before you could even realise.

“Do you want another?” She asked coldly, referring to the red mark now prominent on your cheek.

Fearfully, you shake your head as much as she allows you. “Then stop with the attitude.”

Ignoring your mumbled apologies, she leaned down to kiss you wetly, forcing your mouth open as she shoves her tongue inside.

“Move up.” She pushed you back up the bed, crawling atop you. You sighed, raising your hands to cup Wanda’s breasts spilling from her night slip.

“You want this?” She asked, rocking her hips so the silicone rubbed against your sodden panties.

You licked your lips before circling her hardened nipple. with your thumb. “Yes. Please.”

“Good girl.” She rolled over, moving up to the head of the bed. She sat back, against her pillows and patted her thighs. “Come here.”

You followed her, hands grabbing onto her shoulders. “Like this?” You lifted a leg, straddling across her hips.

“No. Up here.” She removed your hands putting them up on the headboard. “Don’t touch me until I say so.”

Wanda noticed your hesitancy, your eyes solely focused on what’s between her legs. It was bigger than what you usually took.

She guided you to sit slowly, fingers pulling your underwear to the side, feeling yourself stretch around her as you gasped at the intrusion.

“Feels good, baby?” She asked and once again you’re left speechless, only capable of nodding your head stupidly. “Yeah? Your face says it all.”

You rocked your hips slightly, the pleasure all too consuming to stay still much longer.

Wanda chuckled at the state of you, fighting the urge to slap your bottom just to see your timid self jump.

“Come on. Just ride me baby.”

And you did. Your initial shyness long forgotten as you gripped the headboard tighter, and lifted yourself almost all the way off her cock, before bringing yourself back down. You quickly worked yourself up to a steady pace, head dropping low to kiss Wanda hard on the mouth.

She enjoyed the view, tits bouncing within the confinement of your vest, as her dick disappeared inside your swollen pussy. She pushed her thumb against your covered clit, your movement faltering for a moment at the added pressure, before feeling your orgasm start to take over.

“Don’t.”

You heard her say and your eyes snapped open.“What?”

“Don’t come. Stop.” She grabbed your hips, stopping you from moving.

“What? Why?” You asked breathless. You could feel yourself pulse around her, your orgasm fading from view as your body willed you to move, to chase it.

“I told you.” She pressed a kiss to your lips. “I’m going to tease you. Now, start again. Go slow.”

You whimpered softly and began riding her again, trying not to go too fast. You managed a good pace, each thrust at the same speed as you rocked against her.

“Ah. Slower.”

You huffed, halting all together, before thrusting into what felt like too slow of a motion to make you come. Besides, your thighs had started to burn as you kept moving at this pace for what felt like hours.

“Wanda.” You mumbled, unable to hold onto the headboard any longer, your arms wrap tight around her shoulders, wanting to feel the woman pressed close against you.

She didn’t give you permission to touch but couldn’t find it within herself to reprimand you when you’ve been listening to her so well.

She stroked your curls from your face. “That’s a good girl.” She cooed soothingly, “Such a good girl. Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come.” You said, voice akin to a whine.

She pressed a few kisses across your face, “You’re going to have to ask nicer than that.”

You made a sound, something between a laugh and a sob, as tears fell down your cheeks. “Please, Wanda.” You paused, sinking further down until she was all the way inside you.

“Keep moving, baby.” She pulled your hips forwards and backwards. “Like this. Nice and slow.”

“So beautiful.” She whispered into your hair, trailing more kisses across your face until she reached your lips.

Your pleas fell on silent ears for a while longer as Wanda worked you up to your limit. Not wanting to overstimulate you but just pushing enough to see how far she can go. How far she can push you into that little headspace she wants to keep you in. “Okay, baby. You need to do exactly what I tell you, okay?”

You hummed and she continued. “You need to get off me and go lay down on your stomach.”

It took a second for your brain to compute what she said, but you did so willingly, and your cunt ached at the feeling of being so empty.

“Good girl. Now, on your knees, I need to put a pillow under your hips.” To which you did, as Wanda positioned her pillow under you. You went to lay down, all too familiar with this position, but hands on your waist stopped you.

A warmth spread across you as Wanda licked up your ruined underwear. The white cotton stuck to you she could see the outline of your pussy so vividly. She moaned at the taste, and you whined embarrassingly loud, pushing your hips back into her face, hoping she’d let you come this time. But she pulled always, as the telltale signs of your orgasm come forth, and knocked you off balance, falling into the soft duvet under you.

“I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t help myself.” She ran soothing hands up and down your back, before pulling your underwear off of you.

She didn’t want to keep you waiting much longer, deciding two denials was enough for your first time.

“You taste so good, but I want you to come on my cock, okay? I promise Im going to let you come this time.”

You mumbled an okay and she took that as the initiative to slide into you. She slowly pulled out and drove back in, in a swift, hard motion, eliciting a loud, surprised moan from you. She repeated this for a little while, watching her dick disappear inside you, only pulling out to thrust back in with vigour, each time causing a moan to escape your lips.

“Please. Faster.” You managed to say and she took pity.

“Okay, baby. No more teasing.” She began thrusting vehemently into you, her own groans mixing with yours as the toy applied pressure to her nerves. Noticing how your body trembled, she leaned forward, the position allowing her to move deep inside your walls, as she boldly swiped her tongue over the shell of your ear, lightly biting the lobe.

One hand moved from beside your head, distributing some of her weight to your lower back as she sat up, the shift causing her to fuck up into the front of your walls.

“Come for me.”

To her surprise, you didn’t come right away. Your body too concerned with what felt like electric shocks as you thrashed under Wanda’s body.

Words melted into nothing as they were cut off by a strangled cry, tears streaming down your face onto the bed.

She turned you over, careful not to pull out as you’d clamped down on her, as she descended upon your lips. “Oh, my good girl.” Her lips moved up over your eyes, “You did so good for me.”

You chose to use what little energy left to wrap your arms around Wanda, pulling her flush to your body as you shook through the after waves.

She whispered sweet nothings as her fingers run upon and down your side until you calmed down.

“You okay, baby? You need anything?”

You hummed, exhaustion evident in your voice. “No, that was fun.” You kissed her lips, playfully poking your tongue at her.

“But you’re still a nerd.”

She scoffed but rolled over, not missing the way your grimace as she pulled out.

“I should’ve slapped you harder.” She mumbled, as she quickly discarded the toy, pulling the duvet over you both, fearing sleep would come quick with how long you guys had been at it.

Oh well, she’d just have to teach you a lesson some other day.

[cthulhus-curse]

Her Majesty

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 7,030

Warnings: Princess Wanda Maximoff, Curses, First Times, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Smut | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: When the princess gets cursed it causes a rift between your friendship which soon blossoms into something you’ve longed for since first seeing her.

Sunrises were ones you typically ignored unless the day ahead was one to remember. You’d sleep through them, huffing while going back to sleep for a few hours before your presence was required. No matter your occupation, you were high enough in the ranks that your superiors wouldn’t mind. Especially if one of said people had a knack of similarly remaining asleep.

Being friends with the princess wasn’t something you’d sought out for. If anything it was destiny that brought you together. Your father had been a knight as had his own father. He wasn’t too keen on having his only daughter join the king’s forces, but given how stubborn you were to follow his path, it was impossible to talk you down. It was then that as a young girl you got to feast your eyes upon not just the king and queen, but his son and a daughter you couldn’t easily ignore. Since that first day when you faithfully introduced yourself to Wanda, you were inseparable. So much so that at times you helped her sneak away from the tedious royal life to live normally by your side.

Each week you had a standing scheduled time together. Wanda usually left the castle early in the morning before the rest of her family awoke. Pietro knew of course, but when she promised to put in a good word for him with princesses of neighboring kingdoms, he remained quiet.

Fields of ever growing green surrounded the princess as she galloped on her horse, a hood covering her face so as to not be recognized. The blooming Spring trees brought up fresh air that she breathed in happily, exhaling with giddiness at the idea of seeing you again. Leaving the kingdom and entering the forest, she knew it would only be a matter of minutes before she saw you.

If only you had awoken earlier that day instead of ignoring the sunlight then perhaps she would’ve been safe.

More than an hour passed and Wanda remained sitting in the middle of the forest, patting Sparky’s head who snorted as he grew tired of standing around the woods. She never failed to bring fresh breakfast from the kitchen – bread for her, carrots for Sparky, and warm pancakes for you which most definitely were cold by now.

“She’ll be here soon,” she told her loyal horse. “I know it.”

And when you didn’t appear in the following five minutes, she grew bored. Wanda wasn’t known for her patience. As a princess she was used to getting whatever she wished, whenever she wished. Surely she was much kinder than any of the other royals you had the displeasure of meeting, but her spoiled nature wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Wanda guided Sparky as she walked around the forest. Soothing chirping sounds amazed her alongside the light gust from the early morning. Branches crackled beneath her feet – she thankfully remembered her riding outfit that day, opting to wear it along with boots, tie her hair in a loose braid, all so she wouldn’t have even a strand of hair covering her sight as she stared at you.

A frown overcame her when seeing a small hut standing between a family of trees. She tilted her head, humming with confusion at the small building. Although you two met there each week away from the kingdom, she had yet to venture forth enough to find such a peculiar place.

Shrugging with deep innocence, she tied Sparky against the trunk of a tree and went off to explore.

When first knocking on the door, Wanda wasn’t given a response. She sighed, attempting once again only to receive a chilling silence in return. Her curiosity got the best of her as she turned the knob only to find it open, instantly stepping into the small house.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” Wanda called out.

She was greeted by darkness, only a shining light laying on the deep end of the room. It was a beautiful bright red that caught her attention, eyes widening as she followed it. When reading the table, she found a book laying beside a small vial containing the scarlet liquid.

“Oooh shiny!” Wanda giggled as her fingers turned red to mirror the drink. Just like her mother, she had powers which went beyond that of normal humans. “I hope no one minds…”

Wanda flipped open the book with a smile on her face. She was far too hypnotized by the small vial that after opening it, she urged herself to drink it. On second thought it was far from the brightest choice she had made. Not only was it a mysterious liquid, but it also burned its way down her throat leaving her coughing as she read the book.

“Draco,” was all she could muster out while her eyes flickered over the page. “Incantamentum? I-”

“What the hell are you doing!”

Before Wanda could so much as turn around, she felt her entire body beginning to boil, her insides growing warm as she fell on her knees hissing with pain. The last thing she saw before all went dark was a brunette standing over her, fingers dark as they glowed purple with fear.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

When Wanda finally awoke, she fell off the bed she resided on. Her breathing was ragged while her face, her body at that, burned brightly. Her first thought was that she became delirious and never made it out of her room that morning, but as she took in her surroundings, she gasped.

“Good, you’re awake. I got scared I’d accidentally killed you,” a voice said from the other side of the room. “I don’t think the king would take it lightly if I took his only daughter’s life, but to be fair, you were asking for it.”

“What? Who are you? Where am I?” Wanda rose to her feet, her back aching as her green eyes met ocean blue ones that towered above her.

“You broke into my home and you don’t know where you are? I never thought the princess would be this much of an idiot,” she grumbled under her breath. “I’m Agatha, dear, the witch who you stole from. Now I need you to tell me what exactly you did to make you look like,” she paused while pointing at you, not finding the right words, “this.”

“Are you calling me ugly? Well, hag, I’ll let you know that I-”

“I liked you better when you were asleep.” Agatha shook her head, flicked her wrist, and forced a full-body mirror to appear beside the bed. “Before you accuse me of anything and worsen my headache, take a look in the mirror.”

Wanda glared at her. Her hands were supposed to turn bright red as a means to protect herself, but she simply couldn’t find the power to muster her magic. “What did you do to me?”

“Runes, they- oh fuck this just look at yourself. I have an appointment with this man who turned himself into a big green beast and my job is to turn him back. Now let’s get this over with.”

Agatha guided Wanda to the mirror who was hesitant to move, but still strode forward. She couldn’t shake the feeling of dread deep in her chest, confused that it wasn’t towards the mysterious woman but rather an unknown situation. When she ignored her mind and faced the glass, she immediately screamed.

“That’s about the reaction I expected,” Agatha flatly said as she held the screeching princess whose eyes welled up with tears while her face grew hot red. “Listen, you turned yourself into a dragon, no big deal. It was supposed to be a spell for this idiotic wizard who won’t stop harassing me about being better, some strange doctor or something, but thanks to you I’ll have to turn him into a rock instead. I suppose it’s better as I won’t have to hear his stupid voice again.” When she made eye contact with the redhead, she rolled her eyes. “Tough luck, it happens to the best of us. Now I know you’re a magical gal too, so I’d be careful simply existing. I’ll send you to another kingdom so that you don’t accidentally murder anyone and don’t rat me out to your parents.”

“Can’t you fix it?!” Wanda’s breathing was inconsistent as she looked at herself in the mirror. She had small fangs popping from her mouth as tiny horns lay on her head. A tail was wrapped around her leg, scarlet scales glowing underneath the faux light of a nearby candle. And yet nothing compared to the two large wings that fluttered shyly. “Oh my god you have to change me back now.”

“Sorry, buttercup. That’s way beyond my paygrade.”

“Are you deaf? Change me back!” Wanda growled, her eyes turning red with anger.

“Well excuse me if I typically don’t tend to revert the spells I cast. I’m a witch, not a circus magician,” Agatha retaliated. “You were the one that turned yourself into this.”

“And I’m your princess!“

“More like a pain in my ass. And I live beyond your kingdom so you’re not really my princess.” Arguing with the younger woman made Agatha feel as though she was challenging a wall to a duel. She could see the pain that lay beneath her face, Wanda’s shoulder falling as she let her tears run down her face. Regardless of whose fault it was, it was enough to tug at her heartstrings. “But fine, I’ll see what I can do. Just stop crying. I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to make the princess cry.”

Wanda nodded as she let out a strangled sob. She quickly brushed off her tears, her face burning as her wings involuntarily wrapped themselves around her body for support. Rather than think of how her family would react, her thoughts were on you. After having been crushing on her knight in shining armor for years, she had lost her chance all because of her stupidity.

“So, where can I stay? Do you have another room hidden here somewhere?” She asked after sniffling.

“Oh you’re not staying here. You got yourself into this mess, not me. If you weren’t the princess, I would’ve already turned you into a bug before stepping on you for this creative home invasion you just pulled.” Her headache only grew worse by the second – relaxation was not something that came easy to Agatha. “You got balls for breaking into a witch’s home, I tell you that.”

“Ha-ha. Joke’s on you. I don’t have balls.”

“It’s a…figure of…” she sighed. If the king didn’t kill her first, then perhaps the idiocy she was exposed to would do the job. “Never mind. Just go back to whatever hole you crawled out of. You’ll know when I have something ready.”

“But-“

“I wasn’t asking.”

With a flick of her wrist and muttered words beneath her breath, a swirl of purple smoke surrounded Wanda. Next thing she knew, she was stuck back in her room once again.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

A knock on the wooden door of her quarters made the princess jump. She had spent a few hours napping with the hopes of finding it was all a nightmare once she awoke. When that didn’t help, she studied her new body in the mirror. She’d have to get new clothes, she mused while eyeing the tears in her torn garments. When shedding off the rest of the fabric small scales were seen laying faintly along her thighs, back, and the swell of her perky breasts.

“Wanda, are you there?” Your voice boomed through the room.

Poor thing had to stop groping herself imagining they were your hands as she quickly threw herself over the bed. Wanda had no time to find a proper outfit. Instead, she settled for rolling herself above the bed sheets, her body being covered along with part of her head, before walking towards the door.

When opening it, she tried her best to sound relaxed. “Oh hey, Y/N! How are you?”

“Worried. I know I woke up late, but what happened to you? I found Sparky stranded in the woods and waited for hours. You didn’t show up and I…” you stopped as you found yourself unable to finish such thought. “Are you alright?”

“Oh yes I’m okay. I, uh, had some bad bread on the way to the forest and my stomach started hurting a lot when I got there. I portaled myself here to throw up. Guess I forgot Sparky,” she shrugged with the hope it would be enough. “You look good today.”

“Thanks, you…” your words were lost as you took in her appearance, most of her body completely covered in the linen sheets. Squinting, you made out a hint of redness on her head that poked through the fabric. When realizing what it was, you gasped. “You have horns?”

Wanda didn’t say a word as she used her newly found strength to grab you and throw you into her room, luckily fast enough so that the maids walking down the hallway didn’t see anything. She began pacing, breathing becoming difficult again as she attempted to hold onto the bed sheets. To her dismay, the mix of her new powers and old magic during such an overwhelming moment made it so that the covering over her body was burned to ashes.

You were left sitting on the floor with your mouth agape. You knew it was only wrong to keep staring, but you simply were unable to tear your eyes away from the princess. Even in the dimly lit room you could make out her hourglass figure, breast standing proudly, her stomach with adorable rolls, and…wings?

“Wanda you-”

“I know I have horns. I’m horny now!” She cried, far too overwhelmed to understand her own words. “Mama is going to kill me and Pietro won’t let me hear the end of it.”

“No Wanda you-” Once again she interrupted you with her insistent sobs and pacing, but you wouldn’t let it slide. “Wanda you’re naked!”

“Oh,” she looked down at her nude skin. “Oh!”

Her cuteness was something you always appreciated. Sheltered from a young age, Wanda had yet to fully grasp the maturity that was to come with adulthood. Her innocence was something you loved along with her tenderness when it came to other creatures. At times you’d be sitting in the forest casually having your weekly picnic when she slid her hand against your arms, asking you all about the rigorous training that came with being a knight – even teaching her to swordfight led her to merely swing the weapon around and hit any tree in her vicinity.

You waited for Wanda to throw an oversized robe on her body, her wings and tail hiding beneath. She sat by the edge of the bed before patting the empty place by her side. Nodding, you instantly took it.

Silence had befallen over the two of you until she found enough courage to speak. Each little detail of the story was explained. She felt guilty and dumb about having entered the hut, much more for drinking something and reading from a book which appeared to be of the damned. You couldn’t blame her though. Unless Oleg or Iryna gave her permission, she wasn’t allowed to leave the castle, let alone the kingdom citing that she was simply too inexperienced with her magic, scared that she’d hurt others or be hurt for being a witch.

“…and now I’m part dragon I think.” Wanda finished off with a saddened look on her features.

“Now that’s a story,” you chuckled, but stopped as soon as you noticed her face. “Hey, cheer up, princess. You got magic, wings, an awesome tail, and even horns. You’re even more powerful now, right?”

“I guess.” Wanda sighed. Never would you see her the way she wanted you to. “I’m not pretty anymore. Not that I was before, but look at me. I’m a freak, a monster. I look hideous and so gross I…I hate it so much.”

“Honey, you have never stopped looking beautiful. Cursing yourself doesn’t change that,” you began. “I know it’s new and scary, but you said it yourself: the witch will find a cure. We just have to wait and see what happens.”

“We?”

You grabbed her hand and brought it close, keeping yourself from kissing the back of it or her for that matter given your close proximity. “Yes, Wanda. We will get through this together. I’m not leaving your side for a second. It’s you and me against the world, princess. Isn’t that what we used to say as kids?”

Smirking fondly, Wanda quickly remembered why she had fallen so hard for you.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Somehow hiding herself from her family wasn’t the hardest part. Wanda would wear hats and crowns over her head that covered her horns. She’d taught herself how to comfortably wear tight dresses while hiding her wings and tail. You were there to help make the entire process smoother, your hand always clasped with her own as a means of protection.

Being a princess, Wanda had various suitors her parents wished for her to meet. They knew of the way she fancied women, making sure to get in contact with kingdoms who sought off for a princess to be wed off to their own royalty-stricken daughter, one of them being one Kate Bishop.

Kate was nice enough. She reminded you of Wanda a lot, her dashing smile being hard to easily get off anyone’s minds. Iryna wished for the two women to get to know one another better by sending her daughter off to the neighboring kingdom being promised by Eleanor, their queen, that all would go well.

Throughout that week you didn’t hide your disapproval. You were distracted during training, the Romanoff sisters, Natasha answering to the king and Yelena tasked with protecting the prince, had gotten the upper hand during training and you couldn’t care less of it. They stared at one another dumbfoundedly as you finished off by kicking the dirt, the image of Kate and Wanda prancing off in another castle fresh in your mind.

“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Natasha commented as she followed you, putting her sword away when Yelena joined you two by your other side. “Shouldn’t you be happy you got less work this week, Y/N? No princess to watch, meaning you can go off into town and find yourself a bedmate for once.”

“I don’t know, Nat. I think Y/N might already have someone in mind,” Yelena teased.

“Maybe some princess?” Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“I’m never telling either of you shit again,” you muttered, the women merely laughing as you made a beeline for the barracks. “I just miss her. What do you think she’s doing over there? I don’t know why the queen didn’t just let me accompany Wanda. I’m her knight for fuck’s sake.”

“I heard they got Maria to watch her instead,” Yelena said as she spared her sister a look. “But don’t worry she’s taken already.”

Natasha giggled before playfully hitting the blonde’s arm. “Well, the girl has been acting weird as of late. I think her mom’s just catching on and she wants to see if a change of guard will fix it. Oh maybe you’ll get fired and banished to the Enchanted Forest. Legend says there’s a witch that lives there. Not Wanda, but an even more powerful witch.”

“I know,” you whispered, not allowing the other women to hear. “Thanks for the happy thoughts though. Can’t wait for the royal family to kick me to the streets.”

Sighing, you hoped that Wanda would get back home soon – back to you once and for all.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Upon her arrival Wanda spent her first few hours at the castle with her family. She didn’t reveal much information, well, at least nothing truthful. All her parents had to know was that it went well, but she refused to tell them about the long nights she spent with Kate discussing her growing feelings for a certain knight.

You tried to keep your distance from the princess. With love for her growing, you would rather she was happy than to potentially step in between whatever she had with Kate. No matter what she chose, you’d forever be there to support Wanda – your love, your best friend.

As you lay in your bed flipping through the pages of a book not truly registering the words given how preoccupied your mind was, you heard a knock on the door. At first you ignored it. Pietro was one who, even as an adult, ran through the castle and played pranks on everyone, even certain royal guards who lived on the grounds. When the sound didn’t stop, you huffed, threw your book to the side, and went to the door.

“I know it’s late, but I wanted to see you,” was the first thing Wanda said as she saw you. The previously-grown jealousy in you dissipated as you stared into those striking viridescent eyes. “Hi, Y/N. Would you let me in?”

“Of course, princess.”

You moved away to allow her enough space to enter. Wanda giddily ran to your bed, throwing the hat she wore on the floor and kicking it away. She felt comfortable enough to let her wings be free as well as her tails in your presence, stretching them out after they had hid away from long hours before.

“I missed you so much,” Wanda squealed as you laid back on the bed. She didn’t care to ask as she threw herself on your body, but then again, neither did you. “Tell me everything about your week. I want to know every last detail, please.”

Wanda lay on your chest happily listening to your voice. You could tell she was exhausted from the way she rubbed her eyes and stifled her yawns, but she refused to leave. Instead she pouted when you mentioned how much you missed her, especially your little getaways each Sunday morning – she too longed to have them back.

Something she’d loved since you were children was to have her hair played with. With fingers running through red strands, you explained the boredom you endured without your princess by her side, getting Wanda to nuzzle her face against you as she giggled. Such an enchantingly beautiful sight she was, so perfect and tender to the touch.

You allowed your fingers to ghost over her small horns. Ever since you saw them you were curious about their texture, but never wished to make her uncomfortable by asking. That was until Wanda’s breath hitched as it grew more shallow by the second, your words dying out while exploring the woman.

“Can I touch them?”

Wanda only nodded silently.

When you allowed your fingertips to touch her horns, the poor thing melted. She wasn’t aware of how sensitive her wings, horns, and tails were until she brushed against them in the shower one day. Just like before, a wetness began forming between her legs. There was not much she could do about it, especially not slip a hand between her legs to relieve the stickiness she had previously.

“They’re beautiful, Wanda. So pretty,” you couldn’t help but point out. You always found her magic to be majestic. Ever since you were a kid you were unable to tear your eyes away from what you deemed as her ‘wiggly woos’, the red glow that came out of thin air. “You’re perfect the way you are. I never want you to forget that, alright?”

“Okay,” she smirked, her eyes glistening with tears of happiness underneath the moonlight. Her tail wrapped around one of your forearms, the shining red scales upon it warm with adoration. Such tender moments weren’t alien to either of you. You’d been together since children, sharing everything regardless of differing societal statues. “You’re breathtaking too. Always so irresistible. It’s all the maids talk about, you know? They think I’m not listening but they can’t stop gushing about the princess’s loyal guard. I just…don’t like it?”

“How come?” You frowned with confusion.

Wanda didn’t dare let out those words into the world. In the world only Pietro and Kate knew of her love towards you. No one else had the pleasure of realizing how the princess was enthralled by her friend since childhood. So loyal towards you, always. No matter how much time passed, Wanda would forever wait for you.

She sat up slightly. A shot of surprising confidence she always lacked consumed her body as the redhead was mere centimeters away from your face, her lips ghosting over your own. Your free hand had long stopped petting her horns, and yet the discomfort between her legs didn’t easily go away.

“Can I kiss you?”

You couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t, but after long years of hoping to either ask or hear that question you were ecstatic. “Yes, please.”

Tenderness was present when Wanda first slid her lips against your own. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, at best she’d heard hushed whispers through the castle about it. It was difficult to tell how to act, but as soon as you kissed back, she practically melted and allowed you to dominate her entirely – to set the pace while you danced to the same tempo.

Small mewls left her mouth as the sloppy, wet make out session didn’t easily end. Such tension had erupted through your friendship for over a decade. Your hands clung to her body as Wanda grabbed your face, both moving sensually as you moaned against one another’s lips. With each second that passed, her body grew warmer as did her desperation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that,” you said breathlessly when she pulled back for air. Her pink lips were plump and wet, shining with shared saliva. Red hair was messy atop her head. So imperfect to some and yet a truly magnificent mirage to you. You couldn’t help but touch, brushing a thumb against her cheek with delight. “You mean the world to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to protect you from this,” your eyes flickered towards her tail, “but we’ll get through it together, you know that. Oh Wanda, I’m right here for you.”

Wanda’s hand was planted atop her own as she kissed you once again. So slow, so sweet, so perfect. Her shyness went through her lips, the princess attempting to hide her face afterwards but being stopped as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Forever?” She asked with exhaustion dripping from her tongue – after such a long week all she wanted to do was lay on your chest until the sunrise overcame the world.

Kissing the tip of her nose, you smiled. “Forever, princess. I’m your knight in shining armor.”

That night Wanda remained in your room, changing into your most comfortable clothes after a shower and flopping herself down on top of you. She was warm to the touch. Who needs blankets when there’s a dragon at your disposal? Even her light snores were adorable. From then on, kissing the top of her head, you knew she’d never leave your side.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Living with your relationship in secrecy wasn’t so different after all. The one thing that changed was the fact you could now kiss one another without batting an eye, that you got to call Wanda your girlfriend and make her beam every single time she heard it. She’d even strategically step under you after hearing it so you could kiss her forehead.

You’d gone weeks having little moments to yourself. Slow and heavy make out sessions occurred in your designated rooms, the gardens at night, the forest you shared, or even the empty halls of the castle. After so long of simply dancing around one another, you had more than enough time to make up for.

Wanda was particularly excited when she received a letter from Agatha with an update on her monstrous situation. She’d grown tired of needing help when bathing as she was unable to reach her back with the wings that stood in the way. You’d grown quite used to her nude body, sometimes simply bathing together, watching as Wanda played around splashing the watery bubbles while you washed her hair. She had to learn new ways to style her hair with horns in the middle for her head, all while also hiding them. All in all, she was ready to go back to being a simple human, let alone her witch status.

Dragging you along with her, Wanda went off on an adventure to the Enchanted Forest as a means to find Agatha again. She asked you if it was normal to send letters via bunny and you frowned, but all she had in mind was the small white creature who had given her the letter, his collar reading “Senor Scratchy – if lost please visit the witch’s hut in the forest and you’ll be rewarded with the ability to curse any one person of your choice.” The thing that made less sense to her was how it all fit in the tag and the legality of Agatha offering to curse random civilians if they found her bunny, but she shrugged it off while wrapping her arms around your body, head resting on your shoulder while you guided the horse into the woods.

“You know, the whole point of telling you to hide yourself was for you to actually do it,” was the first thing Agatha grumbled out as she opened the door after several insistently loud knocks from Wanda’s giddy hand. She eyed you harshly, but as her sight flickered across your face down to your exposed neck, muscular arms and body, she licked her lips. “Not bad. I have a warm bed if you’re looking for some company tonight, dear.”

“I’m spoken for,” you mustered out with wide eyes, your cheeks tinting with pink that wasn’t missed by a huffing Wanda. You grabbed her hand, tilting your head to quietly prove your point. “Sorry?”

“I’m not sure if I should be disgusted or surprised. Good for you, princess. I have to say I am very impressed at least,” Agatha hummed before stepping back. “Come on in.”

During the entire meeting with Agatha all you could do was falter your eyes from her as a means to keep off any possibility of meeting her own. Not once did she look at Wanda for longer than three seconds. The poor princess kept her cool most of the time, let alone for the moments in which she puffed smoke from her nostrils, her eyes turning red along with her fingers as she took in the way the other witch looked at you.

In a matter of days, Wanda would go back to normal. Thanks to the help of a wizard, Agatha had managed to garner a spell to turn the princess back. It would take a few tries before she was able to perfect it. Rather than putting Wanda at risk, she preferred to wait.

“Couldn’t you have just put this on the letter? Did we really need to come?” Wanda suddenly questioned with apparent annoyance. She didn’t not stop holding your hand tightly, her own being scalding hot.

“And, pray tell, what would you have done if someone intercepted the letter? Say it was that brother of yours who is somehow more of an idiot than you?” Agatha said.

“How do you know Pietro?”

“I wish I didn’t, but it’s too long of a story to tell now.” She turned to you, features softening then replaced with lust. “Take care of her, darling. Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Wanda didn’t really care to hear more than that as she tugged at your hand and dragged you away. She made a show to flutter her wings fast enough to knock down a few trinkets Agatha had lying around, her tail smashing the door closed as soon as you stepped back out into the forest. As content as she was to have found another witch like her, your partner wasn’t too keen on sharing.

When you mounted the horse together, helping Wanda up by grabbing her waist from behind, she pressed her front against your back. Grinding sensually slow, she let out a rather exaggerated moan. Even in the depths of her innocence, she desperately needed to be claimed.

“Take me home,” Wanda pleaded as you hugged her tight, mind still wrapping itself around such a blissfully delicious moment. “Please, Y/N. I’m ready.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Never did you expect yourself to be rushing up the halls of the castle giggling like children as you hid from the others. Wanda raced you at first, but nearly fell on her face with the heeled boots she wore. Her wings allowed her to cheat for a few seconds as she flew past you — the two of you had gone by the riverside to practice her flying; it was fascinating how she could, at the very least, float a couple of feet above the air.

Wanda shyness came back as soon as she stood behind the door of her room, cheeks blushing madly as you pushed her up against the nearest surface. She could barely breathe as the last bit of air she held was stuck beneath her mix of excitement and fear for what would come next.

You held her tight, lips harshly taking her own for a kiss. It was different from the others. No longer did you playfully embrace each other behind the shadows, but instead hid in the home you built for yourselves. Taking the reins, you guided your beloved into the light.

Neither truly knew what to do given your shared inexperience, but you’d heard enough from the other guards to have a general idea. At first you helped Wanda relax by sensually kissing her. Your hands merely hovered over her sides before she nodded at you, giving in silent permission for you to carry on the ministrations. The cloak was pulled off before you shed her dress, being careful enough so that her wings or tail didn’t get in the way.

Surely you’d seen her body naked, but never within the lustful context. While Wanda helped you off your own outfit you stared down in awe. She placed butterfly kisses all over your neck before admiring your nude skin. Fingers found old, healed scars from battles along with bruises received in training. Wanda wanted nothing more than to kiss them all, to protect you from harm, and she did.

You two stumbled over the bed together, Wanda falling first as you caught her from above. Your breasts slid together, nipples accenting the arousal which settled between your legs. Such a perfect fit , you thought as your bodies were molded into one.

“Please I need you inside,” Wanda breathed out. You nuzzled your faces together, sharing a groan when one of your hands squeezed a supple breast gently. “Go slow, baby. We can do it at the same time.”

And that you did. After exploring each other’s bodies for long enough, kissing every bit of skin until you knew it like the back of your hands, you cupped Wanda’s sex. The wetness that met you was delightful. You wondered for a moment how it would taste, how her cunt would react to your tongue flattening against it before taking her clit hostage. You knew from that moment on neither of you would be shy to become adventurous.

“I’ll give you whatever you may want, my princess. I am forever your loyal servant,” you whispered when kissing your way down her face, to her neck, and ended with a craned neck swirling your tongue around a taut nipple. “I’m never leaving your side. I’ll be yours to the end of time. You’re the queen of my heart – it’s always been you.”

“I love you,” was her only response as she mirrored your moves and slid her fingers against the drenched area between your legs. The two of you moved languidly, spreading the other’s folds and tenderly massaging sensitive clits. “I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too.”

After carefully teasing her for long enough, Wanda doing the same to you, you slipped a single digit inside. She followed along with your guidance, moaning at how awfully tight you were, your velvety walls clamping down around her finger, hugging it tightly as though you never wished to let go. Only had she done it to herself, never truly going past half of her finger given how difficult it was to arouse herself without your presence.

The two of you moved as one. You led the way pumping yourself in and out of your lover, your thumb stimulating her bundle of nerves that practically begged for attention. Small mewls and erotic sounds filled the room. While yours were subdued with the way your mouth teased Wanda’s nipples, hers were loud to cross the whole nation.

Warm wings wrapped themselves around your body to hug you closer as a tail lay snaked on your free hand that held you up. The tips of both her tail and horns glowed a beautiful shade or bright red that accented the flames from the candles she lit with the snap of her fingers.

“You were crafted by the gods themselves. Everything about you, every inch, every imperfection, is something so fucking beautiful,” you breathed out before placing kisses between the valley of her breasts. You grinded against her hand, silently pleading for more while pressing a second finger against her entrance. “I’ve wanted to have you like this for so long, to hold you tight and show you how deep my love is for you. Everything I do, every breath I take, it’s all for you. One day I will get down on one knee for you and nothing will be able to keep us apart.”

You made Wanda scream loud enough that your words were not registered by her. She arched her back, wings fluttering as the grip her tail had on you strengthened. “Y/N!”

That night you didn’t dare stop until you drove Wanda to the brink of pleasure several times. You weren’t sure how to go about it, but she was rather fond of being filled with two fingers that you thrust carefully so as to not hurt her. The princess couldn’t muster the energy to get you through a second orgasm as her finger was nestled knuckle-deep inside you. All you did was kiss her juice-coated hand, suck her finger clean, and that was enough to give her the confidence to stop hiding her blushing face to allow you to kiss her.

After having cleaned up, Wanda watching on as you changed the sheets of her bed, you lay snuggled up in bed together. She refused to leave your side for even a second. Surely the two of you had been physically affectionate during your friendship, but it was nothing compared to the love you felt when she playfully nommed on your bicep, giggling as her fangs barely touched her skin before pulling back.

“Do you promise you’ll stay? I don’t like waking up alone.” Her voice was small, frail even as it boomed through the room previously cowering with silence. Even with the darkness that settled in the atmosphere you could make out her glinting green eyes, pointy horns, and a tail that simply wouldn’t stop ghosting over your feet. “You don’t have to, but I-”

“I’ll stay. It’s okay, I like it anyway,�� you shrugged with a flashed smile even if you knew she couldn’t see after having put out the candles.

“Really?”

“Yes, baby. Really.”

You didn’t prepare yourself enough for when a little ball of happiness pounced on top of you. Wanda nuzzled her face against your chest, her horns brushing against your cheek while her wings hugged you lovingly. For a moment you enjoyed the simplicity of it all. No longer was she a cursed princess or you her knight. It was just you and Wanda alone beneath the starry night — stars which resembled her strikingly alluring eyes.

The thought was enough to get you to slowly give into exhaustion.

“Y/N?” By then you had closed your eyes with the hope that if you remained silent for long enough, perhaps you could succumb to your sleep. That didn’t matter to Wanda who was driven to awaken you by shaking you around. “Y/N?”

“Yes, Wanda?”

“Are you awake?” She couldn’t get more adorable than that, you realized.

“Yes, Wanda.” You paused, sighing as your heart filled with love for your future queen. “What’s wrong?“

“I’m scared of the dark.” It was silly, she knew, and yet she was comfortable enough snuggling tight against you under the bed sheets. “And I love you, but I’m mostly scared of the dark.”

You pulled her closer than humanly possible, your chin resting atop her head comfortably. Wanda let out a tiny mewl, laughing as you were warmed up beneath her scalding hot wings. She was the woman you’d marry someday and you didn’t second-guess for a moment.

“It’s okay, princess. I’m right here.” You allowed your lips to linger on her forehead when kissing her. “I love you very much, Wanda – my little witchy. I’m here forever.”

Regardless of whether or not you admitted it, you had her curse to thank for having brought you together. Perhaps you’d send Agatha a bouquet of flowers or pay her a visit. Poor woman didn’t seem to interact with anything other than bumbling idiots or those who she cursed for fun; her words, not yours. Surely it was a horrid mistake that brought Wanda’s stress through the roof, but she was cured in a few weeks once her fellow witch got a hang of the spell.

She was your little dragon for weeks, but Wanda would forever be your princess; too bad she was the same person who accidentally got you cursed into a werewolf days later when practicing spells Agatha taught her.

[sh1-n0bu]

what punishment do you think suits for blade bcus he won't come home to me?

♡︎ 𝙥𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 ♡︎

characters: sub!blade x gn!dom!reader

warnings: slapping, edging, squirting, mentions of handjob, bondage, degrading, dacryphilia, begging, mentions of cock slapping, masochist bladie, forced self praise and praise, slight fluff and angst if you squint, reader’s a bit mean but it’s deserved😤 also ig this is a bit of a self aware AU as well???? yeah, ig u guys could read it as a self aware AU if ur into it

notes: sorry for replying too fast anon. my period is making me horknee😔 this is more like a headcannon of what i think would be a perfect punishment for blade

DEGRADING

listen listen listen, i know this may sound a bit weird but blade hates being degraded when with you. there’s a reason why he gives off wet, pathetic, soggy cat that’s abandoned at the side of the street vibes and because of that, blade loves to be praised instead. especially since you're his lover, his darling, his sweetheart, his one and only and the only one he would do absolutely anything and everything for without even thinking. because of that, blade wants to be praised. he wants to be a good boy for you, he wants to be your sweet baby, not your dirty slut. he thinks you’re being so mean to him :((

SLAPPING

now this can be taken in many concepts. he could be begging on his knees in front of you, hands clinging to the fabrics of your clothes as hazy, teary red eyes stare at you. chewed on lips spurring out apologies after apologies like a broken record. you could slap him across the face to make him shut up, its fine since blade can handle it. besides he’s a bit of a masochist as well so he would definitely let out a whimper and rub his thighs together to get some relief on his poor hardened cock

but if it's in other places such as slapping his ass as a form of punishment, slapping his thighs until the skin is all red and sensitive or even his hard cock leaking pre all over his stomach — either way, blade would be turned into a brainless sweetheart in no time. tears falling from his eyes as he begs for you to just touch him!! touch him properly please? he’s a good boy. he’ll be a good boy, he even promises!

EDGING

blade loves being overstimulated. its one of his favorite kinks. whether it be cumming over and over and over by your hand stroking his angry cock, fingering his ass and creating filthy squelching sounds or into your mouth or hell, even riding your thighs! he loves to be close to you, after years of loneliness and isolation, blade craves intimacy. he craves that close contact, to feel the warmth of your bare skin touching his own. even better when he’s crying and sobbing from cumming into your hand for the nth time that night, blabbering drunken shit as he squirts again. but when its taken away???? when he’s so close to reaching his high and stumbling over the edge, when his hard cock is ready to paint your hands with his sticky liquid and you take it away from him????? getting your hand off of his cock and leaving him aching and whining, desperately chasing after your hand with sobbing pleas? blade thinks you’re being real mean to him :((( please just let him cum, let him cum even on the sheets if you want! he won’t soil your hand, he just wants to cum so bad and his poor cock hurts so much :((

BONDAGE

this one is almost all of the time paired with the edging one. as i've said before, blade craves intimacy, he loves being close to you physically. he loves you so fucking much, way too much to the point it hurts to even be away from you even for a little bit. there's a reason why blade chose to be close to you, a reason why he decided to open up his heart to someone else again to give another shot at life and because of that he loves you and trust you so much. you're literally the reason he realized perhaps living wouldn't be so bad after all because he has you by his side, he can go another day, another month, another year, another life-time if it means he would get to spend every waking and even sleeping moment beside you. blade loves to be physically close to you so when you take it away from him, when you tie his hands behind his back or even tie his wrists up to the bedframe, he's doing everything to break those stupid cuffs or ropes. he wants to feel you!! it doesn't even have to be in the sexual way, it can just be in a literal way. holding hands, his palm flat against your back, feeling your skin, being reminded of your warmth. but if you take it away, he's a mess. but don't worry everything is consensual of courses, and you always make sure to take care of him and the bruises afterwards. one of the most effective ways to punish him, me thinks

honorary mention: FORCED SELF PRAISE

it might come of as a bit off or out of place since i did mention that one of the suited punishments for blade would be degrading and praise is the absolute opposite for that but hEAR ME OUT!!!! blade is self conscious of his body. and i meant his scars specifically. he finds them hideous, like how can someone like you could ever find him pretty or gorgeous or all those words you praise him with? he finds it ridiculous. his body is nothing but just a meaningless weapon by now, covered with scars and phantom pains that don't go away and yet you find it so beautiful. you even make sure to make him understand that he is indeed beautiful as you place kisses on each and every last one of the scars that he bears

now this!!!! is where the forced self praise comes in. it doesn't even have to be sexual or as a form of punishment. you could just be doing your everyday ritual of praising the ever loving shit out of him with blade sitting all pretty with a cute red dusting his cheeks. he would always weakly try to refuse your praises, saying that he wasn't the most handsome man in the galaxy and that was why he was wanted and instead always offering logical answers. just accept the damn praise blade >:(((( this is where it comes in. you can softly coax him to say self assuring things. it can start out small like "i did a good job on the mission the other day", "i make a delicious pancake this morning", "i always how to make hot chocolate to cheer up my beloved" and it can range to the things that he insistently denies. make him say that he's pretty, that he's gorgeous, that his hair is long and elegant, that he's an amazing lover, how he was wanted across all galaxies because he was just so charming and dashing and amazi - okay, now his brain is way too fried with the compliments and in his desperation, he's shutting you up with a kiss. he's so adorable :333

[surielstea]

“Forgive me, Darling.”

Based on this request.

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Rhys undermines Reader in front of the Hewn City, Reader makes him grovel before she accepts his apologies.

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | 18+ | p in v | apology sex | dom sub dynamics | riding | oral (f receiving) | Reader making Rhys grovel | multi-orgasm | cream-pie | mating press

A. Note: This was really an excuse for me to write some Rhys smut… RhysandWeek got to me I fear, half of it is smut so enjoy 😼🙏

4.7k words

It was an effort to sit next to the High Lord tonight. Even with Winter Solstice so steadily approaching we couldn't stop being at each other's throats for the past week. The others in the Inner Circle were sick of our tedious bickering by now, and the rest of the Court might as well be too.

It was clear to the citizens of the Hewn City that we weren't getting along the best when we sat in our own separate thrones, while I typically opted to sit in Rhys' lap or he on the armrest while I took the main throne.

But it was the citizens of the Hewn City themselves that had cleaved our relationship right in two. While I was a natural sympathizer for these people, Rhys seemed to have half a thought about their well-being.

It drove me mad how easily he could cherish and love something, then turn around and loathe something else with the same fierceness. It was manipulative and vexing.

"Your grace," Keir drawled with a low bow and Rhys lifted a brow at Morrigan's poor excuse of a father.

"What is it?" The High Lord mused, the perfect mask of bored coldness in his violet eyes.

"The court was wondering if you'd be donating to the gift drive this season, all funds would go directly to the orphaned children of course," Keir said with a tone that sent shivers down my spine.

Rhys opened his mouth to say no, but I spoke first. "Of course Keir. We're not monsters," I say, tossing my mate a lethal glare.

"Are you mad? No," He looked to Keir. "I will not be donating, but you can tell them their queen will have a heavy chunk coming from her paycheck," Rhys bit back and the verbal assault immediately bruised her, tearing her down for speaking over him in a place like this was one thing but, in front of Keir? Using him as a device to get under my skin? It was a new level of low.

I bit back a snarl. "You're both insufferable," I stand. "And you bore me," I step down the dais with a careful queenlike elegance that came with only decades of practice. "I'm going home, perhaps finish some last-minute gift shopping," I shrug, my black gown shimmering like the stars in the sky with each move I made.

"I'll join you momentarily," Rhys said with a hand up as if to pause me. I didn't wait for him to finish before I winnowed back to Velaris, alone.

I was born in the Hewn City, and though I knew it was best if Rhys put on a mask in front of that court, it was hard to watch my mate who had one of the biggest hearts I'd ever seen be so cruel, be exactly what those citizens had expected him to be. A monster. A shiver went down my spine at the thought. It was a part of my role as High Lady to back whatever Rhys decided, but it was a part of his role to do the same with me. And when it came to the children of the Hewn City I drew the line, they had done no wrong, and half of them were too young to even realize that their king was a halfbreed, much less why that meant he was seen as lesser. They were innocent, doomed for failure since the beginning because of who their parents were. I sympathized with the orphans and knew exactly how much a donation would've mean to me because I used to be one of them.

Rhys winnowed into the sitting room, writhing shadows feathering off of his dark tunic as he whirled towards me, brows drawn.

"What'd you do that for?" He frowns at me and I mirror it.

"Children Rhys? Should I even dare ask when it might end?" I prop my hands up on his hips and he sighs, rubbing at his eyes.

"You know how I handle those things, I tell Keir no and then donate anonymously," He explained, annunciating every word like I was hard of hearing. The tone set me off. He was right, that's how we did it every year for solstice since Rhys became High Lord.

But tonight was my breaking point after weeks of needless arguments. "Yes, Rhysand. I know." I grit my teeth and his frown deepens as he hears me use his full name, something I always did unconsciously when I wanted him out of my face.

"Then why did you say we'd donate?" He lifts a brow and my shoulders are practically up to my ears with the tension building.

"Because, Rhysand, I'm so sick of you pretending to be someone that you're not," Again, the name makes him flinch. "I know how much you're capable of loving, and I understand you trying to protect us but I can't bear seeing you so ruthless to those people," I explain and he lets out a long sigh.

"You don't seem to understand the impossible situation I'm in." He closes his eyes, needing to rest them if only for a moment.

"What don't I understand?" I grab his jacket, gently gripping it as I stare up at him. "I've been beside you every step of the way, talk to me Rhysand. Or this isn't going to work," I gesture between us and his back shoots ramrod straight, at the underlying threat of taking a break from each other. He loathed the idea, and would rather argue for the rest of his life with me than not have me in his life at all.

"Don't say stuff like that," He murmured, his voice clipped like he couldn't quite breathe right.

"Then think twice before undermining me in front of a male like Keir," I scowl. "Hewn City or not, you're not allowed to silence me." I brush past him, my shoulder ramming into his bicep as I stalk down the hall to our bedroom, shutting the door with a resounding thud, but Rhys remains pinned in the same spot, cursing himself over and over again for his foolish behavior.

Over the next few days, Rhys had done everything in his power to apologize. Giving me countless gifts, and heartfelt monologues about how sorry he was, he even donated a good portion of his gold to the Hewn City orphanage. But I didn't forgive him, because I was certain he had yet to understand how much this truly meant to me. Besides, a small part of me liked watching him grovel.

At dinner with the rest of the inner circle later that evening, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Rhys had reached for my hand beneath my table twice now and I shook him off both times. We had both silently agreed on pretending everything was normal between us in front of the others, not wanting to worry them about the health of their high lady and lord relationship. So I put on a mask, as he often did, and pretended everything was fine.

"I'll see you in a few days for solstice eve," I hum as Morrigan gives me a hug while standing halfway out the door in the cold.

"I got you an amazing gift!" She beamed while backing away and I gave her an incredulous look. There was no arguing that Morrigans gifts weren't unique and personalized, but they were far from amazing.

"I'm sure you did," I hum. "Goodnight, Mor," I lean against the archway of the foyer and she gives me a wave before slipping out the door. Once everyone was officially gone I turned back to the sitting room where Rhys was sitting, staring at me curiously like I was a thing to be analyzed. "What?" I bark, my smile dropping.

"You keep calling me Rhysand," He stands from his seat, looking at me with furrowed brows, his wings drooping slightly, nearly dragging on the floor as he strides towards me but stops an arm's length away.

"That's your name, is it not? Or would you like to argue about that as well?" I arch a brow and his frown deepens.

"No, I just— It's Rhys. It's always been Rhys between us, in fact, you're the reason everyone calls me Rhys." He claims and I cross my arms over my chest, narrowing my gaze on him.

"This is what has been bothering you? This? Out of everything that has been going on, me saying your full name has gotten under your skin the most?" I scowl, unbelieving of his childish behavior.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, defeated.

"I know," I state.

"Then why?" His voice wavers. "Why can't I be forgiven?" He takes another step forward, nearly closing the distance between us if it weren't for his height.

"Because I don't think you've learned your lesson yet." I snarl and his brows crease, his familiar violet eyes glazing over.

"No please, I have darling," He cups my cheeks in his hands. "I have. I'm sorry." His hands were so gentle when holding my face as if I might break if he was any rougher.

I debated giving in for a moment, if only because my desire to feel his lips on mine again would be comparable to heaven— but I stayed strong, my own pride willing me to break away from his touch. "I know," I repeat, before walking down the hall and into our bedroom, closing the door behind me loud enough for him to get the hint that I didn't want to see him again that night.

A few days had passed and it was solstice eve, I was in the midst of getting ready for bed when there was a soft knock on my door. I didn't turn when the door opened, I knew who it was before he was even down the hall.

Rhys doesn't say anything, just stares as I take out my earrings and unlace my dress. I didn't mind him looking as I stripped down and changed into a soft, midnight blue nightgown, perhaps I was rubbing in the fact that he couldn't have me. Once I was finished I walked over to my vanity and began to comb through my hair.

"I can feel you staring, Rhysand." I finally spoke and I swore he growled at the name. I ignore it. He pushes off the doorframe and enters the room.

"What can I do it make it better?" I turn towards him to find him directly behind me, looking down at me with beseeching eyes. "I'm begging you," He whispers, our proximity so close that his nose was brushing against mine.

"You're begging me?" I raise a brow.

"Gods, yes darling. Do you want me to get on my knees and plead?" He suggests and I just stare at him as a reply, waiting.

His brows raise a fraction when he realizes I'm serious, and I cross my arms impatiently. It takes him a moment, but eventually, he drops down onto his knees.

His hands come to my hips and he looks up at me, his chin propped up on my stomach as he lets out a soft, "Please."

"Please what?" I place my hands on his shoulders, one of them finding its way into his dark, midnight-black hair.

"Please, forgive me." He murmurs. "Please, don't make us take a break." He continues, his hands on my hips tightening slightly. "And please, let me love you the way you deserve."

He had once told me he'd only ever fall to his knees for his crown, yet here he was, bending for me with only sincere affection in his eyes and regret forever making me feel like he deserved this.

I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up, crashing his lips onto mine. I kiss him, deeply, with the passion and desire that had been building up for the past week. I had forgotten how addictive he was and didn't realize how badly I needed him until he leaned into the kiss and filled the gaping void inside of me with warmth.

"I missed you so damned much, darling," He sighs and I smirk against his lips.

"Yeah?" I slip from his grasp and take a seat on the bed. "Why don't you come over here and show me?" I purr, letting my legs fall open as he prowls towards me and again, gets down onto his knees.

I smile devilishly at him as he begins kissing and nipping at my thighs, beginning to make amends with his mouth rather than words.

His covetous hands slip beneath my short nightgown, gripping my hips and pulling me to the edge of the bed. I lay back onto my elbows, propped up enough to watch him as he made his way up my thighs.

Ever so gently, he pulls at my undergarments and I lift my hips for access so he can further slip the panties down my legs. With reverence his eyes flick down to my glistening core, then back up to my eyes, his gaze holding a certain emotion I don't think I've ever seen the High Lord hone before.

I nod my head and he wastes no time before placing an open mouth kiss to my folds, then dragging it through my slit in a slow, savoring lap. I let out a soft moan at the feeling of his warm tongue finding my clit with a languid stroke. My fingers weave into his hair as he begins to suck on the bundle of nerves, sending me into a spiral.

I looked down at him but he was already staring up at me. But once he sees my lustful expression he can't seem to control himself before he dips down and spears his tongue into me. I release a breathy moan at the intense feeling. How could I have ever robbed myself of this for so long? Gods it was evil the things he could do with that mouth.

His fingers dug into the flesh of my hips as he devoured me like a man starved, his tongue-twisting and curling against a sensitive spot that sent me closer to the edge. I was unable to stop myself from grinding up onto his face, and he let out a guttural groan as I did so, because he knew then that I wanted him, that he was making me feel this good.

I maintained eye contact with him as he continued to drive me wild, violet irises filled with both apologies as well as desire. He draws one of my legs over his shoulder to deepen his access and I pull at his hair.

"That's it, gods yes," I gripe as his tongue toys with the sensitive area nestled deep inside of me.

My head falls back to look up at the ceiling as he brings one of his hands down and his thumb begins to roll over my clit. I whimper at the stimulation, my toes curling as he begins rubbing tight circles. I buck my hips at the intense feeling and he groans against the feeling of me tugging on his hair, the sound reverberating up my spine. "That's my girl," He purrs as my release steadily approaches. "Come on my face, fall apart for me my darling," He says, his voice tender as he coaxes your climax to draw closer.

I couldn't deny his demand, my pleasure too high to even debate it. My peak reaches and with a cry, my body convulses and an intense wave of pleasure crashes through me. He supports me, his arms around my thighs grounding me, his eyes never leaving mine as he removes his tongue from my entrance and softly laps up my dripping folds, his mouth shimmering in my essence. But it was only pride in his eyes as I came down from my high that I recognized, pride and, something far more primal than human.

"I forgot how good you taste," He whispers against my core, cleaning every lost drop from me with his mouth.

Slowly, he backed away, licking his lips that were glistening in my arousal.

"I want to ride you," I confess and his brows shoot up with carnal desire. Yes, that was exactly what I wanted.

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down onto the bed, his head falling into the pillows as I flipped over him and began working at the buttons of his shirt.

His hands joined mine, helping me by thrashing it off. I smile and attach my lips to his tanned skin, my tongue running over the lines of his tattoo while he frees himself from the confines of his pants. My mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock already leaking with need. I bite at my lower lip as I grip his length, spreading his pre and using it as a natural lubricant. I pumped him once, then twice. My grip was rough and tight, his head fell back into the pillows as he groaned in pleasure.

"Oh, my darling," He sighs out as I press my thumb to his sensitive tip.

His hands come to my thighs as I lift onto my knees and begin dragging his cock through my folds, prepping him for an easy entrance. I swore he got harder the moment my arousal met his.

He looked back at me, his eyes low-lidded. "You look like a goddess," He breathes, his voice husky with restraint. I knew he wanted to push me down onto him, to take dominance and flip me onto my back. But he reigned in his control and kept himself at bay for now.

I smile devilishly at him as I aligned his throbbing cock with my entrance. His eyes flicked down to the view and I froze. "Look at me," I direct and his violet eyes flick back up to my gaze, and I watch his expression as I sink myself down to him so very slowly, inch by inch.

His face contorts into a mix of pleasure and agony. "This is torture," He hisses, his fingers digging into my thighs in an effort to keep restraint. "Please, darling," He whispered the plea and I couldn't help but fold under his yearning gaze.

"Please what?" I say through a soft moan, the stretch of him painful at first yet turned into pure pleasure moments later.

"Please, take all of me and move, now baby," He pants out and I smirk.

"I'm barely halfway down and I've got you this worked up?" I tilt my head demeaningly and he lets out a low, guttural growl.

"You know exactly what you're doing to me, so please, you can take it," He begs and I smile.

"I know I can, but can you?" I murmur, tracing lines along his torso, following his dark tattoo.

"Oh I can," He sighs, his eyes glinting with amusement and I realize he wasn't strained from needing more, he was in agony because his control was thinning. "But if you don't take all of me right now, I'm going to flip us over and fuck you until we both forget our own names." He warns and I smirk, leaning forward— in doing so making him slip deeper inside of me, the new angle eliciting a soft moan from me.

"Is that right?" I purr, my nails trailing down the side of his neck.

"Last chance, baby." His jaw feathers. "Sit down or I'm taking over," He snarls, gripping my hips tighter, prepared to make true of his threat. I smile, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

I do as he says anyway, not wanting to take any chances. I let gravity make my last movement and allow myself to take all of his length, every last inch until he was fully sheathed inside of me and I was seated on him fully.

He lets out a long, deep moan, his head falling back into the pillows. "Gods, such a good girl," He praises, taking a few deep breaths and regaining his control.

Slowly I begin to rock my hips back and forth over him and he jerks at the movement, his hands tightening on my thighs as he begins to guide me over him, showing me exactly how fast he wanted me to go.

He lets out a string of curses as I set a pace, rolling and grinding over him, my thighs already burning with the movements. "Keep your eyes on me, yeah?" he says and I nod, as he slowly lifts me up on him, then pushes me back down, sending me into a rhythm. I began to bounce up and down on him, his thick length burrowing deep inside of me with each descent.

I keep eye contact with him, tears welling in mine as he lifts me faster, my breasts bouncing with the movement, and his captivating eyes don't miss it. "So beautiful," He whispers softly, his voice hoarse and strained as a string of moans escapes me.

"You like that baby?" He purrs, his gaze only sultry. I reply with a moan and a wicked smile forms over his lips as he pushes me to go faster, slamming me down into his hips, his tip brushing over my cervix.

He was enjoying this far too much, he was savoring the way I sounded, the way my body reacted. So desperate for a second release. I lean down, changing the angle and allowing him to hit my most sensitive point with the thick head of his cock.

"Gods, you feel so good wrapped around me like this," He purrs, his breath hot against my neck as his canines scrape against it.

I continue to fuck myself on him, my vision blurring as he abuses that sacred spot inside of me. "I'm close," I grunt, clenching my hands into fists as he spears into me, lifting his hips to help me reach that high.

"Yeah? Going to come, love?" He purrs into the shell of my ear and I nod, tears now slipping down my cheeks despite all my efforts to be in control.

"Yes, I can't control it much longer," I mewl, burying my nose into the crook of his neck.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around me. "That's okay, come for me darling," He allows and I find release, I finally meet my second orgasm.

"Rhys," I moan loud enough for the next room over to hear. Not Rhysand, but Rhys. The male's length twitches at the sound he so desperately had been needing to hear for the past week.

He didn't let me come down from my high for even a moment as he flipped me over onto my back, taking full control as he guided my legs up to my sides, folding me into a mating press.

"I'm not done with you yet, darling," He drawls huskily and my heart pounds against my ribs hard.

He pulls out to his tip and for a moment I'm gifted a kernel of relief, but it quickly ended when he pushed into me, spearing hilt deep as his heavy balls slapped into my ass. Arousal dripped down my thighs as he continued the movement and I turned into a moaning mess.

"You're so tight," He grunted out between thrusts. "Say my name again," He orders and I open my teary eyes to see him above me, his dark wings spread over us. Gods, he looked like a fucking devil like this. "Rhys," I plea and he smiles wolfishly.

"That's my girl, taking me so well," He praises, continuing to piston inside my puffy, overstimulated cunt.

He reaches down and I swear my heart stops as he makes contact with my pink clit. I whimper, my bottom lip wobbling as he pushes me towards yet another orgasm. "Come on baby, squeeze my cock," He demands and I writhe beneath him, clenching every inch of his length as he brushes my cervix repeatedly. His words and groans are a constant stream of encouragement as I hurtle toward my third orgasm.

I let out a loud, broken cry as my climax rips through me, each one more intense than the last. "Please, please tell me you're close," I beg as he lets out a choked groan, his movements becoming more and more erratic as control slips from his grasp. "Fuck, I am baby, I'm close," He pants out and I mewl his name desperately.

"Rhys, Rhys," I murmur like a chant, my mind too fucked out to think of anything else, just him.

"Look at me, I want you to watch while I come inside of you." He purred and my stomach twisted at his filthy words. My hands come around to his shoulders and I dig my nails into the muscle, clawing them down his back at the intense, unrelenting thrusting.

With a feral, desperate groan he buries his nose into my neck and finds his release, his warm seed spilling inside of me.  He shakes and trembles at the weight of his climax, he collapses down onto me, his body heavy and spent. His face was still buried in my neck as he regained his breath. "Fuck, I love you so much," He confesses as the sounds of our breathing fill the room.

"I love you, too," I whisper hoarsely, my voice shot from screaming his name. He nuzzles into my neck, placing gentle kisses along my collarbone slowly guiding my legs down and pulling from my entrance. "I'm sorry baby, I know you wanted to be in control but I— I can't help myself around you," He murmurs and I smile, pulling him into me for a loving kiss.

"Don't apologize, felt so good," I murmur tiredly. "Maybe we should argue more often," I add and he frowns at the idea and I giggle. "I missed you."

His eyes light up with pure adoration. "I missed you too," He hums, easing into the bed beside me and gathering me into his arms. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

The rush of solstice has passed and everything has returned to normal— well, almost everything.

The Court of Nightmares was teeming with its usual negative energy, the air thick with it. I had been seated in my own throne again, not quite ready to take up Rhysand’s lap in front of all the subjects again.

“My Lord,” Keir bowed low before the dais, then turned to me and gave me a simple bow of his head. Rhys gripped the arms of his throne at the action but remained calm all the same.

“What?” The high lord snarled.

“The price of the renovations of the homes in the slums are steadily increasing, to something far greater than what we can afford with the money you’ve so graciously given.” He hums and I sit up. I grew up in the slums, I would’ve taken a man’s life for the opportunity to proceed with the renovation plans I had given Rhys a few days ago, would’ve taken a lot more than a life to give to that community, actually.

“Then we’ll triple the funds,” I state and Keir casts me a glance, then looks back to Rhys. I wanted to rip his face off. I was seated on a throne before his people, I had the power to tear this entire court down and yet he treats me with such disrespect and contempt.

“Why are you still here?” Rhys asked the steward. “My High Lady has just answered your issue, did she not?” Rhys tilts his head with creased brows.

“Of course, my lord,” Keir bows to the male, and something in his spine locks and I know, know that Rhys’s talons had captured Keirs mind and was prepared to shatter it, until Keir turned to me and bowed at the waist, then lower, nearly falling to his knees.

“Dismissed.” Rhys hummed, waving his hand and releasing the males mind.

I smile as I watch him leave, and settled a little deeper into my throne. Oh, I liked this a little too much.

A flicker of Rhysand’s darkness curled caressed up my neck, to trace the contours of my jaw. I turn to look at him and give him a wicked smile, he mirrors it and we turn back to the Nightmare of a court we ruled over, together.

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[troublesomesnitch]

The Novice

Aemond x Septa!Reader

The one-eyed prince makes a late night confession.

Contents: Book!Aemond. Pure filth, extremely dubious consent/non-con. Confessional dirty talk, coercion, power imbalance.

Words: 4200

Mostly book!Aemond, but with some show elements added to make him a real piece of shit.

CW: sexual assault!

Proof read, but I am not good at proof reading.

-

Twice a week, the grand sept receives fine visitors.

It is always something you look forward to, something special and exciting; hearing guards in the streets outside, and the swift feet of errand boys running to inform your superiors.

The queen will be arriving shortly. 

There is not much preparation that needs to be done, because you never tarry in your duties - there are always fresh matches laid out, candles ready to be lit, not a spec of dust on the altars. But for the queen, you go above and beyond. You fetch cushions for her dainty knees, you light incense in every corner, and you usher out any crowds that are not worthy of her presence. 

You greatly admire the queen. She is all that a lady should be, the very image of womanhood. Gracious, pious, beautifully but modestly dressed, and always kind and courteous to you. She says thank you, and blessed day, sweet Sister, and she asks about your training, your health and wellbeing, what charitable causes you wish to devote yourself to. 

The older septas say that the queen seems to have taken a liking to you, and that perhaps if you are lucky, she will request for you to join her household once you have taken your vows. To be a helper and companion to her daughter, and to teach the little prince and princess - her grandchildren, which is a strange thought, because the queen is so young and so beautiful to already be a grandmother. 

She is certainly much younger than her husband. The king is old and frail and rarely leaves his castle now, but even in his youth, he never came to the sept. At least that is what you are told. Septon Alester says he is an unworthy husband, and an unworthy ruler, too. A heretic, like all the rest of his Valyrian kin, who flout divine law and believe themselves above the gods. 

You would never dare to utter such a thing, but it seems at least partially true - in all the time you have served the sept, the king has never accompanied his queen to prayer. Not even once. She always comes alone, escorted by her guard and her maid. And sometimes by her son. 

The one-eyed prince. The one who rides the largest beast in the world. 

There are many rumours swirling about noble lords and ladies, but especially about him. In the taverns and winesinks people say he is of a sullen disposition, and that the loss of his eye at such a young age has left his face hideous and deformed - clearly they have never seen him, but you have, and you know it is nothing more than malicious slander. 

The prince is as beautiful as his mother. 

They look lovely when they kneel together by the altar, with their hands delicately folded and their heads respectfully bowed. Regal, godly. Like the Mother and the Warrior, you think. You often wonder about the contents of his prayers - what could a royal prince possibly wish for? Not as many things as a queen, it would seem, because he never kneels for as long, retreating after a minute or two to stand and wait for his mother. Watch over her; look at her with devotion and reverence. You cannot help but steal quick glances at him; at his graceful posture and his strong face, and you are always too slow to look away, so sometimes he catches you in it. Even when you stand on his blind side, he somehow knows to turn his head and meet your gaze. The little bow he gives you is courteous, but the taunting smile that follows is not, and you must always remind yourself that you have done nothing wrong. 

It is not a sin to be curious. 

—

When the evening bell tolls, and the city gates close, the High Septon calls to prayer. But one person must always stay behind to keep vigil until the morning, and the duty is shared between all servants of the Faith. Septons and septas, novices, even holy brothers and sisters, sometimes. Only the Most Devout are exempt from it, as well as those who are weakened by illness or old age.

You are neither, but you do not mind taking your turn. It is an easy task, as all of the city is asleep, and those who are not would much rather drink and carouse than come to a place of worship. Here, the night is quiet and calm, and you quite like these hours of solitude. Alone in the sept with only the statues, and maybe the gods, for company. 

On this day though, you are startled from your thoughts when the heavy doors are swung open. 

You have never before encountered guests at this hour, so your fearful imagination is quick to jump to conclusions - the man could be a thief, a common brute, a scoundrel hiding from a brawl, or - gods forbid - from the City Watch.

But when you peek out from your little corner, you are surprised to see that it is the prince. And that he is alone. 

He is dressed differently tonight, in dull colours and coarser fabrics, far simpler than what he usually wears. Perhaps in an attempt to go unnoticed among the common people - but if that was indeed his intention, he has very much failed. Everything about him is unusual, from his hair to his eye to the shining silver clasp at his neck; the immaculate tailoring of each of his garments. Even the way he carries himself makes it abundantly clear that this is no grocer or stonemason. 

You cast your eyes down as his steps echo through the sept, purposeful and determined.  Clearly heading towards you, but you would hate to be presumptuous, so it is only when he is right in front of you that you rise from your seat to curtsy. Reverently, so deep that your knee almost touches the floor. 

“Sister,” he nods. “I have sins I wish to confess - a troubled mind I wish to unburden.” 

You curtsy once more, though not as low this time.

“I am not ordained to hear confessions, but I should be happy to fetch a septon - “

“No,” the prince says. “I will speak to no one but you.” 

What he demands is a breach of the rules, and a cruel thing to ask of you, but there is not much to be done about it. You can hardly refuse a prince of the realm, and what if he tells his mother that you were unhelpful? After all, it is your sacred duty to comfort and guide the faithful. To lead them on the path to righteousness. 

So you nod, draping your veil over your head as you both sit down on your little bench. Right beside one another, so close that your legs almost touch. A proper septa would say confess, and may the Father judge you justly, but that is not appropriate for you, so you merely look down at your folded hands and wait for the prince to speak. 

“I am plagued by impure thoughts,” he begins. 

The colour drains from your face in an instant. Oh, not this. 

Anything else, you do believe you could handle. Envy, drunkenness, greed, gambling, even violent offences, perhaps. Anything but this. But you remain calm; force yourself to keep your composure as you speak. 

“All young men have impure thoughts. It is perfectly natural.”

From the corner of your eye, it looks as though the prince smiles ever so slightly. 

“Of course,” he nods. “But mine are by nature nefarious, because the lady I desire is a chaste and pious woman… a maiden, and justly proud of her innocence. She would be distraught if she knew the wickedness she inspires.”

You feel yourself blushing. Although you are sufficiently educated on the matter, speaking of such things makes you feel ashamed and uncomfortable. As it would most young women. Confession or not, nothing about this conversation is appropriate, and you want nothing more than to be done with it and return to quiet contemplation. You keep your eyes cast down, and you are as curt as you dare when you answer. 

“Then you should not sully her, My Prince, even in your thoughts. You should pray to the Smith for strength, or to the Warrior if you prefer, and occupy yourself with noble pursuits. Prayer, studies, and so forth.”

“Oh, but I do,” the prince says gravely. “I devote my every hour to noble pursuits. And yet time and time again I sully her, and my own hand too in the process -  yes, I must confess that I have sinned exceedingly, in both thought and deed. These urges of mine are so unbearable, I simply must relieve myself…” He pauses to look at you coolly, his brows drawn together in a disapproving frown. “You look quite pale, Septa, is my confession too scandalous for you? I should hope the Faith would not admit a novice so unfit for her position…”

“Of course not,” you quickly mutter, though in truth, you are mortified. This is far beyond your station and skill. Not only is the matter highly delicate, but you must also carefully choose your words so as to not offend a member of the royal family. And one with a - supposedly - unfortunate temper at that. 

“It is not for me to command a prince,” you begin, “but it is my duty to remind you that the Faith condemns such practices - surely you know that by indulging your urges, you will only make them stronger.”

“I have tried to refrain from it,” the prince laments. “But even then, she haunts me…  at night, I dream that I lie on top of her - that I spread her thighs and press her body to my own. And these dreams are so vivid, so terribly arousing, they often cause me to - forgive me, Sister - emit my seed.” He sighs deeply, and turns his face away, his shoulders tense; his handsome features full of torment. “A rather shameful predicament, for a grown man - is it not?” 

Perhaps, you think, but a common one nonetheless, and not something he should be chastised for. You know perfectly well that there are some functions of a man’s body that are beyond his control, as do the gods who made it so. It is best not to dwell on it. 

“My Prince,” you say instead, with what little confidence you can muster, “ - with your permission, I would offer you this advice: if you cannot restrain yourself, and if you care for this lady, then you should court and wed her.” You fiddle nervously with your dress, lowering your voice to barely more than a whisper. “It is a wholesome thing, for spouses to give their bodies to each other - for a man to make love to his wife…”  

The prince hums, either in agreement or contemplation, you can’t tell. But you hope he will take your words to heart, and make this irresistible woman his wife. If the mere sight of her can stir such passion, then he would surely grow to love her deeply, and their union would be happy and prosperous. Blessed by the gods.

- Or maybe not.

“I am afraid that is not possible,” the prince says. Slowly, thoughtfully. “Because you see, my lady is a septa - a novice, as it were…” 

His words trail off, and his hand reaches to caress your face, right by the edge of your veil, where a strand of hair has loosened from its pin. 

You recoil at once, springing from your seat to look at him with shock and horror. 

“This is highly improper - “

“I have thought of nothing but you,” he exclaims, impassioned, rising quickly to reach for you once more, “ - since the day I saw you, I have wanted no one else - ”

Again you manage to evade his embrace, but the prince is tall, and his legs are long and agile. Each one of his strides is worth two of yours, and when you back away he follows, stepping ever closer until you are backed up against a pillar.

Oh how you wish that it had only been a thief come to rob the sept. You could have easily escaped out the little hidden door by the dias; let them take whatever riches they could carry.  There is only silver here, and the Faith has no shortage of that.

The prince is after something far more precious. 

“Don’t touch me - ” you plead, feeling your pulse quicken, the hair rise on the back of your neck. He is too near, moving to loom over you, intimidating and imposing, and so tall that he must bend to brush his nose against your hair. 

“It is a waste,” he murmurs. “That such beauty should only belong to the gods.”

You should flee. You should defend your virtue. Maids and ladies, harlots and tavern girls, all women know to protect themselves, to kick where a man is the weakest, to scratch, bite, shout, make a racket. There are guards patrolling the square outside, and septons sleeping nearby in their cells - if you were loud enough, someone would hear you and come to your aid. 

But at what cost, when your assailant is a prince? 

You dare not risk it, so you stand frozen in place, too frightened to push him away, too frightened to even look at him as he gropes your body, touching it in ways that it has never been, and should never be touched. One of his arms wraps around your waist, the other trails over your dress, feeling your shape underneath the fabric. Your stomach, your hips, your bottom, and especially your breasts. 

He cups them with both hands, kneading and massaging them hard, pressing his fingers into your flesh.

“I would take you right here,” he breathes. “Against this very pillar, for all your gods to see - ” 

The blasphemy, the shameless vulgarity - you gasp, and at the sound, the prince chuckles faintly. 

“You said yourself it is a wholesome thing…”

“For husbands and wives -” you squeak, “please, you mustn’t hurt me!“

“Never,” he says, bringing your hand to rest on his chest, over his heart, as if to reassure you. “If you would only oblige me, I swear I will be gentle…”

You shake your head, but it does not dissuade him. He kisses your hair, your cheeks, the shell of your ear, touching his lips to every little sliver of exposed skin. Not just your face and neck, but your forearms too, your wrists, the insides of your elbows. Anywhere that lets him truly feel you. Feel the rapid beat of your pulse; the warmth and softness of a woman’s body.

And as he touches you, you feel him. His manhood, stiff against your hip when he presses himself against you, moaning softly at the feeling. It is a most intimate sound, and you are ashamed to realise that your body instinctively responds to it; to the closeness, the touch of a man. You feel warm in your chest, and wet between your legs - unnerving, and so at odds with the panic that still grips you, with the tears that prickle in your eyes. 

“Please don’t - ” you whimper, just as his teeth graze your jaw, drawing a single, involuntary sigh from your lips. One that spurs him on to swiftly yank the veil off your head and discard it, fully exposing your hair and neck. 

He pulls back to look at you, your neatly pinned tresses, your smooth throat and collarbones. Your beauty that he has long wished to admire. 

“Like an angel,” he says softly, longingly, taking your face in his hands and stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “A little angel - the Maiden in the flesh - “

“That is a blasphemous thing to say,” you sniffle. 

It only makes him laugh, and before you can say anything else, he tilts your face up so he can press his mouth to yours. 

No one has ever kissed you before. Many boys have wanted to, but none were ever allowed the privilege. You always knew you did not want to be a wife. That you had a different calling. 

It is a very strange sensation, this kiss. Hot, wet, and sticky. You do not return it, and yet the prince is undeterred, parting your lips softly but insistently, just enough to slip his tongue inside. It gives him pleasure, even when your mouth is slack and unresponsive - you can tell from his blissful sighs, and from the indecent way he moves his hips, rubbing the prominent bulge in his trousers against you. He is so entranced by your mouth and your body that you feel a treacherous sense of relief, thinking to yourself that if this is how he wants to gratify himself - by licking your tongue and humping against your hip - you will let him. No real harm has been done to your virtue, and the gods will understand you had no choice. Already you are silently saying your prayers, to the Warrior for courage, the Mother for compassion, the Father for leniency  -

But you are cruelly interrupted when the prince draws back and begins to loosen the closure of his breeches. 

“No - oh no, no - ,” you shriek, but as you try to wriggle from his grasp, his face hardens and his gentle touch becomes like a vice. Rough and unyielding, holding you in place. 

“You must forgive me,” he rasps, his gaze dark with lust, his nostrils flaring, “ - for I can no longer deprive myself of what I so desire...”

He is so much stronger than you. With an impeccably polished boot he shoves your feet apart, his one hand pinning your arms behind your back, the other hiking up your skirts, determined, deaf to your frantic pleas. 

“You don’t understand, I must remain chaste!”

“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses, “I know the workings of the Faith, you’ve taken no solemn vows yet - “

“No, I have, I have!” you cry. “I pledged myself to the Maiden when I was a girl!”

It is the truth, but the prince does not care. He silences you with another desperate kiss, crushing his face to yours, reaching to hook his hand under your knee and lift your leg. He has you trapped, pinned between his body and the stone column, and you can claw at him until your hands bleed, it makes no difference. Your dress is bunched up, your legs forcibly parted, your most intimate secrets laid bare to be violated. A great sin, made even greater by the circumstances, and yet the gods have abandoned you, left you here to suffer. 

They must be occupied elsewhere, and the statues too stand motionless on their plinths, with their tranquil faces, staring blankly into the distance as though deliberately blind to your tragedy. 

To the hand that worms its way underneath your smallclothes. The nails that dig into the back of your neck, holding your head in place. The mouth that swallows up your sobs until he is forced to break the kiss so he can reach between your bodies and finish unlacing his breeches. 

You gasp for breath, looking up and straight at him, your eyes wet and pleading, your lip trembling. 

“Don’t ruin me, please - I beg you, don’t take from me what can never be replaced - “

The prince’s hand hesitates on your thigh. His one eye flickers between your two, between the tears that flow uncontrollably down your cheeks; your little hands clenched into fists against his chest.

For a split second there’s a shadow of something softer on his face, a strange draw around his mouth, and then he curses and releases your leg. And you bolt, without thinking, ducking under his arm to sprint towards the door and safety. 

You manage all of two steps before the prince catches you and pins you to the pillar once more. 

“Not yet - ” he orders, slipping a hand down the front of his trousers to finally free his member from its confines. He cradles it at the base to proudly show it off before he begins to stroke himself, shamelessly and urgently, while you look on. At once frightened and sinfully curious. 

You have never seen it before. The masculine organ. Only in drawings, of which some were intended to educate young women, and others were of a much lewder nature. The prince’s manhood does look much like those anatomical illustrations, only it is bigger in person than you had imagined. Hard and swollen with need. It fits perfectly in his fist, and the skin glides back to reveal the head, which is thick and meaty, and a dark purple red. It almost looks as though it should be painful for him, having it filled and engorged in such a way. Having it stretched to be so big. But of course you know that is not the case. And even if you didn’t, his gasp of pleasure would have made it very clear. 

He reaches for your wrist, tugging it down between his legs, and you are quick to look away when he closes your fingers around it, with his own hand on top. Somehow, you reason that if you keep your eyes averted, it is not as sinful. Not as deserving of punishment. 

But you can still feel it. In your palm, against your clammy skin. Warm, and pulsing as he squeezes your fingers tight around the shaft, moving them from the base to the tip and back down again, using your hand to pleasure himself. Slowly at first, but as his arousal grows he quickens the pace, moving your hand only over the tip of his member, massaging the bulbous head with quick movements. All the while groping at your chest.

And you let him do it. All of it, resigning yourself to be used at his will and pleasure. It is the best and safest course of action now, and all you can do is bear it. You keep your sobs inside, and your eyes cast down, staring mindlessly at the patterns in the stone floor until the prince’s hand seizes your jaw. 

“Look at me,” he commands through gritted teeth, running his thumb over your mouth, pressing against your lips. “Open - suck, use your tongue - “

You do as he says, wanting so desperately to just be done with it - once he has finished he will surely let you go. The thought prompts you to suck on his fingers with increasing fervour, taking them deep into your mouth, running your tongue along the length of them, along his knuckles; making him gasp at the feeling.  

“Fuck, like that - gods yes,” he moans, letting go of your hand to lean against the pillar for support, his eye falling closed, his hips making shallow, instinctive thrusts.

You continue with the same movements, up and down over his manhood, trying to mimic exactly what he did before, whilst still sucking on his fingers, too. Letting him feel your soft mouth and your warm lips; your little wet tongue caressing his skin. You haven’t a clue as to what you are supposed to be doing, and there is no grace or skill to your licks, but each swirl of your tongue makes the prince moan regardless. He would probably much rather feel this attention somewhere else, but clearly he has the wits to know that shoving his member into an unwilling mouth is not a wise idea. So he contents himself with this. 

And thankfully, it does not take long before your efforts are rewarded.

When you choke back a mewl his hips jerk forward, and his hand flies down to close around yours again, guiding you to squeeze him harder and faster. His jaw goes slack, and his manhood stiffens even more, and even though you are inexperienced, you know what it means. You can feel it, feel his sac tighten, feel him twitch in your hand as semen travels up his shaft. He bends to lean his forehead against yours, and finally, finally, he spurts, moaning with pleasure as he empties himself onto your hand, his seed pulsing out in hot, wet squirts. Soiling not only your skin and your dress, but your conscience too; your virtue, honour and dignity.

And at last it is over. 

The prince slumps forwards against you, hiding his face in your neck. His body trembles with the final waves of his rapture, and he brushes his fingers over your hair in a strangely intimate way, a tender way. As though you were lovers. 

In a sense, now, you suppose you are. 

Before he leaves you he quickly tidies his clothes, throwing his cloak around his shoulders and tucking his shirt into his trousers. And once he has made himself presentable, he retrieves your veil too. Brushing it off with a gloved hand and draping it over your head once more. 

“Thank you, Sister,” he says sweetly, cradling your face to kiss your lips and then your forehead. “I feel much more at ease now.” 

No sooner have the doors closed behind him before you fall to your knees by the Maiden’s altar to beg for her forgiveness. 

Part 2: The Devil You Know

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @arcielee, @helaelaemond, @targaryen-madness, @qyburnsghost.

[puck-luck]

explodin' (like a golf ball) | quinn hughes

warnings: fem!masturbation, fem!receiving oral, a sliver of dom!quinn pairing: fem!reader x quinn hughes request: @captainlexaproluvr "quinn catching his gf getting off while watching one of his interviews (then perhaps him going down on her but forcing her to keep watching the video).... yeah" wc: 1470

It’s the black button-up, black dress pants, and pristine white sneakers that do it for you, really. Or maybe it’s Quinn’s perfect new haircut and his big, genuine smile, which he so rarely shows in interviews, that are the minor catalysts in your current predicament. It could be his focus, how quiet he is as he lines up his shot and prepares to swing, to bury that ball as far down the range as he can. 

You realize suddenly that you’re biting your lip hard enough to leave a mark.

You’ve got the video memorized at this point, the way he murmurs out an “Alright” before he swings at the ball, how he freezes in his stance and does a double take when the ball explodes, how he looks around to make sure everyone just saw what he did. 

You find yourself particularly endeared by how excited your sweet boyfriend is, excited to the point that he can barely string together a sentence before starting a new one. He calms down after a moment, his voice returning to its normal, controlled tone as he marvels over the moment to the main interviewer. 

Still, you watch over and over again to see your boyfriend light up like a Christmas display. It’s so rare that you see him act that way in front of the cameras, still a little shy despite his star-status. He should be used to the media by now, years into his career, but he still struggles with coming out of his shell. He overthinks it. But, sometimes, he gets caught off guard and the world gets to see the real him.

It is one of the most attractive interviews you’ve ever seen of Quinn. 

You remember him coming home the day of this shoot, beaming and bragging about how strong he was. You remember him picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder and taking you to the bedroom, so giddy and on a high from his great feat that he needed to get his cock in you and make you feel good. 

And the memories of that make you slip your hand into your shorts, into your panties, and pet over your folds. You’re wet already, just from the thought of Quinn pushing his thick cock into you, hovering over you and watching your face as he causes you to contort and moan recklessly from the pleasure. You jolt as your finger comes in contact with your clit, the bundle of nerves receptive and aching for a repeat. 

The video is still playing, on a low volume but next to your ear regardless, and you can hear Quinn speaking over and over. It’s a recording, but it’s like he’s there, breathing meaningless words into your ear and praising you. 

On a loop, your heart jumps with his repeated “I have… like, come on” because he’s just so precious and such a sweet boy and you want him to be that happy all the time. You want him to be so elated that he’s speechless, that he’s smiling wider than he ever has in front of a camera.

“What’s this?”

Your eyes flash open, finding Quinn in the doorway. His eyes are scanning your body, devoid of emotion and dark. Your fingers still over your clit at the look, then you draw your hand out of your shorts. You rest your hand on your stomach, your shirt riding up so that Quinn can see the soft skin of your belly and love handles. 

“Touching what’s mine?” Quinn asks, his voice low and scratchy. “I was just down the hall, baby, you could’ve called for me.”

He approaches the bed, and suddenly, you remember that his voice is ringing out of your phone speakers on a loop. You go to grab your phone and silence it before he reaches the device first, but you’re too late. He scoops up your phone, planning to just turn it over and place it on the bedside table, but he’s stopped in his tracks when he comes face to face with himself on your screen. 

He watches the video twice, only looking up at you briefly between plays, a smile growing on his face.

“But you already had me here, I see,” Quinn teases. “Have I spoiled you that much, pretty girl? You can’t get yourself off without me talking in your ear?”

“Don’t be mean,” you plead, reaching for him.

Quinn shies away from your touch, opting instead to turn up the volume on your phone and place it, face down, across the room. He returns to your side, chuckling as you stare up at him from your position, then Quinn kneels at the edge of the bed. Your eyes follow him, taking in each of his movements.

Quinn reaches up and dips his fingers into your waistband, gently pulling your shorts and panties down. He reveals your wet pussy, humming in approval as he spreads your legs to get a good look. He pulls you closer, strong hands dragging you by your ankles until your fluttering entrance is a mere breath from Quinn’s mouth. 

“Now you get the best of both worlds,” Quinn mumbles, interrupting himself to plant a kiss on your clit. “I get to take care of you down here, and I can still talk to you from all the way over there.” He nods back at the phone, still repeating the same audio. “I’ve legit never seen anyone break a golf ball before.”

He dives in, tongue first like he’s trying to catch a melted drop from a popsicle before it drips and stains his pants. His hands hold your hips down, keep you from moving underneath him, squirming away from the contact. He groans into your slick, like he’s never tasted anything so lovely before. 

Your hands find his hair, neck craning to catch a glimpse of his focused glare through his eyelashes. He’s staring at you, watching you fall apart under his tongue, and he’s barely done anything at all. 

Quinn eats you out like he always does, like a loyal follower getting a chance to worship his goddess. He stares at you like you’re a masterpiece, painted by the greatest artist in the entire universe, their fame and talent surpassing the boundaries of space and time. You are their creation and Quinn is beyond blessed to have you, to own you.

Because you are his, after all. You’re scrambling beneath him, breathing heavily and whining and cussing and sweating, arching your back and sticking your fingers in his hair, pulling for some reprieve. Quinn will not let up. He cannot bear to part with your pussy, he needs it like air. 

And it needs him– clenching down on his tongue and bumping against his appealing nose with each repeated “Come on” and “That’s a win.”

You’re moaning, helpless to the noises that are falling from your lips. 

Quinn’s eyes are dry, almost looking like he couldn’t care less about the noises he’s pulling from you, the shaking in your legs that he causes with each swipe of his tongue. He looks disinterested, like this is just another thing on his agenda. You’d believe that he considers this a chore just by the looks of his eyes, if not for the fervor with which he licks you out.

It’s the perfect mixture– the plain and confident and quiet Quinn Hughes shown in his eyes, and the brazen, goofy, loving Quinn Hughes in his actions.

You tip over the edge as if leaping from an airplane, falling freely to the ground. The sensations overtake you like wind whipping at your hair throughout the fall. You sigh, grinding against Quinn’s face slowly, just riding out the waves. You drag your lips over the expanse of his lower face, his mouth and nose nudging you softly, reminding you that they’re there. Quinn presses a few kisses to your entrance, clit, and inner thighs before crawling up your body and hovering over your face. He smiles, leaning down to pepper kisses all along your features, making you giggle and squirm away.

“I didn’t know you liked me so much,” Quinn teases, nibbling your lips. “We’ll have to look into cloning. Then you’ll really have two of me.”

“Such a dork,” you reply, caressing his cheek and capturing his lips. He’s strong and solid above you.

“Let's just drill that thing down at like 320?”

You pull away. “Can you go turn that off?” You whisper. “It’s starting to annoy me now.”

Quinn chuckles. He presses his forehead to yours for a brief moment, just long enough for you two to take a breath together. He shifts to the side and leaves you on the bed, tired of his own voice as well. They’ll have to find a new video for next time.

note: i thought the title was funny! but it's probably just lame boooooooooo

ok loving you guys, make sure you sent me more requests for NOT jack or trevor. i'm bored of those requests. i've got plenty. and trevor is like constantly on my mind. so shush. i will get to him.

[seungkw1]

car ride (again) — bsk

♡ pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni]♡ wc: 0.8k ♡ warnings: car sex, unprotected piv sex (do not do this), dry humping, fingering (f. receiving), creampie, fingers in mouth, holding cum in pussy (is there a word for this?? idk), pet names (baby, pretty girl) ♡ a/n: if i had a nickel for every time boo seungkwan posted an insane ass photo of him in a car and i lost my mind and had to write a fic about it, i would have two nickels. which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. {part two to car ride}

Ever since you sucked your boyfriend’s cock in the backseat of the car while in the middle of a ride for the first time, you've wanted to do it again. One day, you finally have a long enough ride to do some fooling around - but perhaps you both take it a bit too far.

As soon as the car took off, Seungkwan was all over you. 

He had just returned from almost a week-long business trip. He got in very late last night, when you were already asleep - and you both had a commitment together the next morning. So, you hadn't had a chance for any quality time yet. 

“Come here, baby,” he speaks softly as he pulls you from your side of the backseat to his. He grabs your thigh, pulling you over onto his lap, facing him. He grabs your sides, caressing your ass as he draws you into an impassioned kiss. 

“I missed you,” you breathe into his mouth between kisses. 

“I missed you too, darling.”

His low, grumbly voice makes your stomach do a flip. He is incredibly turned on right now. 

“Let me make you feel good baby,” you whisper into his ear, grabbing his bulge through his trousers. You go to slide onto your knees, but he grips onto your hips, holding you in place. 

“Not today baby,” he tells you. “I’m gonna make my pretty girl feel good first.”

He reaches one hand around to your front, sliding his fingers beneath your skirt, finding your clit through your panties. You whimper at the light stimulation, immediately craving more - you begin to rock your hips back and forth upon his fingertips. You go slow, dragging out each motion with desperate moaning. He slips his fingers into your panties and into your wet cunt. You begin to ride his fingers - you feel your pussy instantly start to drip, coating his hand with your slick. He pulls them out of you far too soon - you whine, but he inserts his fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, lapping up your own juices. You feel his cock beneath your clothed core, grown quite hard already. You start to grind against him, your clit pulsating at the sensation, feeling like you want to cum already. He retrieves his fingers from your mouth, sliding his palm around to clasp onto the back of your neck, pulling you into another deep kiss. Within mere minutes, the overwhelming stimulation overtakes your body - your orgasm pulses through you, causing you to let out a shamelessly loud series of moans. 

“S-Seungkwan,” you cry out, clinging to him tight as you ride out your high. He wriggles in the seat beneath you, clearly also very close to cumming. You breathe heavily, heart racing as you recover, your body slumped into his. 

“Baby,” he mumbles. “Wanna cum in your pretty little pussy.”

You shift back, sitting upon his quads as he hastily unbuckles his pants. His cock is straining, leaking with precum as he pulls it out of his underwear. Quickly he slides your panties over and pulls you forward, sitting your entrance upon his tip. You try to lower yourself slowly, but he slips right inside your soaking hole.

“Oh fuckkkkkk,” Seungkwan growls. You begin to ride him, slowly, causing his head to flop back against the headrest. 

“God, your pussy feels incredible,” he moans into your ear as he holds you tight against him. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby. Gonna fill you up.”

As soon as the words depart his lips, you feel his cock pulsate as hot bursts of cum paint your insides. He groans, letting out a pathetic string of noises. After several more rough thrusts he grabs you by the waist, holding you down on his cock, finishing his last few spurts. The warm cum drips down his cock, making a sticky mess on the fabric of his underwear. 

He slowly lifts you off his length - you cry out at the sudden lack of fullness. He lays you down on the seat, your legs spread open showing off your cum-filled pussy. 

“So pretty,” he says, dragging his nails up your inner thigh, causing you to squirm. Suddenly, you feel the car decelerate, then come to a full stop. 

“Shit, we’re here already?” he grumbles, carefully tucking his cock back into his pants, making sure to avoid getting cum on on the crisp black outer fabric. 

“I have some tissues in my purse,” you inform him, starting to reach for the bag. He grabs your wrist, stopping you. He then reaches for your panties, pulling them back over your drenched cunt. 

“Actually, love,” he tells you, patting your throbbing clit, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. “I need you to hold that in there for me. Don’t let a single drop out until we get home.” 

[lanitalay]

When a High Lord is powerless.

summary: Eris x human reader, reader is sick, Eris is freaking out.

a/n: since i'm just getting over a sickness I wrote this to feel better about myself. enjoy

Warnings: none

wordcount: 1.1k

Eris pulled at his hair, helpless at the scene before him.

You were sick. The night before you told him it was a “common cold.” 

“It’s a human thing I guess, since you ethereal fae don’t ever get the sniffles.” 

He had never been around anyone ill. Fae got injured. Accelerated healing made it so only deadly blows would do any real harm. But it was never anything invisible that would wound, it was magic, blades, fire. Yesterday you had been perfect. Eris listed the things he saw you do in his mind: breakfast, ride through the groves, read, play a game of chess… all the usual things that kept you busy. 

“High Lord, I beg, don’t touch the High Lady. She has a very high fever and we must lower her temperature.” The words were a blow to his gut. A contradiction to the very instincts that urged him forward, closer to you. 

“High Lord, please.” The healer looked at him with wide eyes. He could not find malice in them, only worry to match his own. “What can I do?” 

The healer sighed and wiped her brow. “If you could find ice, it would help the fever.” 

He nodded, exiting the room at once. In all his years his magic, his fire had never been the cause of his self loathing. It was the fire that kept him going in the dark days when Beron was alive. The same fire that kept you warm in the cold Autumn nights when you first arrived was now aggravating the monster that ravaged your body. 

He winnowed to the border with Winter as soon as he stepped out of your chambers. Scooping chunks of ice and snow and praying to whatever gods might hear him that it would be enough. That they might spare you. 

Would a god implore him in a bargain? Your health for his magic. If it would bring you harm when you needed help he would be rid of it entirely. Or perhaps his immortality. There’s no him without you, not anymore. He might trade his lifespan for a human one. You’ve said that you have sixty years if you’re lucky. That would be enough… what god might- “Oh thank the Cauldron you found some! The ice in the kitchens ran out.” The healer yanks the bag from him and begins to coat your body in the frigid substance. You moan, discomfort rousing you from sleep. 

“Eris… where is he-”

“I’m right here, love.” Your hand reaches for his, but the healers instructions were clear. Heat would worsen your condition and he was a walking furnace. “I’m right here, the healers say the cold will help with the fever.”

“I don’t- I don’t like this Eris, I’m cold. Hold me, please…” He can’t stand it. The paleness of your skin, the heaviness in your eyes and the dark circles beneath. Your teeth are chattering. He steps closer. “High Lord! She is merely uncomfortable, the ice is helping. Please try to remain calm.”

He fumes. “Then make her comfortable! She’s your High Lady! If harm comes her way I will not hesitate-”

“Don’t yell, my darling. I’m alright… just a bit cold is all.” Your voice is barely a whisper as it slaps him across the face.

“I apologize, I’m worried about my mate.”

The healer huffs in acknowledgement and returns to her ministrations. “It’s just a cold Eris, I’ll be fine by tomorrow. Back in the Human Lands my mother would make me broth and I’d be back to normal.” 

“What kind of broth?” 

Then he was in the kitchen. No cooks were on duty in the middle of the night so he followed a recipe from a book, which he ignored a soon as he foud a medicinal journal. He boiled anything he could find with healing properties to make an unappetizing broth but at the very least it would help your body fight. 

“This smells terrible.”

“Humor me.” You gag as you get another whiff but manage to down a few sips. The lukewarm liquid soothes your throat so, against your tastebuds screaming otherwise, you sigh in relief. “Is that better?” 

You nod and give him a quarter of a smile. 

“Is there nothing else I can do?” 

“You can brush my hair.” Eris looks towards the healer for her approval. “So long as you only touch her with a brush, it should be fine, High Lord.”

He  massages your scalp with the soft bristles of the brush andthen proceeds to rid your hair of the tangles being in bed had caused. If he was being honest, it looked like a bird’s nest. He’s as gentle as he can, and a loud snore makes his heart jump to his throat. You’d fallen asleep again. 

“Her fever is better, I will return by sunrise to check again. If anything happens please do not hesitate to call, High Lord.” 

“Thank you, Willa.” She nods and pats him on the shoulder. “She’ll be fine, my Lord.”

It’s morning when Eris wakes up in the chair beside your bed. A sneeze that startled both of you was his good morning. “I need a handkerchief.” You request while covering your nose and mouth with your hands. Eris digs into his pocket and gives you his. “Don’t look at me while do this, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” 

You roll your eyes and just urge him to “look away!” He does and what follows in a wet, squelching sound he cannot imagine is coming from the beautiful creature on the bed. “All done,” you say in a defeated tone. The energy you had gathered from sleep had been wiped out by a sneeze and a blow of the nose. 

“How are you feeling?” It takes you a while to reply as you cuddle up closer to the pillows substituting Eris’ body. “A bit better, I suppose.” 

“You said you’d be back to normal today.” What if you had taken a turn for the worse? Had the fever been too much?

“It’s not an exact science, my love. But my throat doesn’t hurt anymore, so I am better.” 

  “You’ll be the death of me I swear.” You reach your hand out to his. He hesitates. 

“I don’t have a fever anymore, hold my hand.” He has no power agaisnt his mate and has been craving your touch for hours. Your hand is icy in his, but its just as soft as he remembers it. “See, I’m right here, not going anywhere yet.” 

Yet. Because you had your days numbered, illness or not. He would never be ready to part. Never wants to face eternity with out you. So he reaches out to the gods again, hoping at least one would take up his bargain.