#maybe it's time to step away from the freaky things

[dontcallpanic]

I think my storytelling powers are improving. Today I was telling my friend another (true) ghost story and just as I was finishing up the punchline honest to god lightning flashed outside lighting up the whole room.

Would have been a really dramatic moment full of gothic potential if I hadn't jumped out of my fricken skin and screamed.

[kurokawaia]

❛ His Girl ❜

Shippuden! Uchiha Sasuke X Fem!Reader

WC; 1.7k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; Not nsfw but suggestive!, slightly angtsy (unintentionally), talk of kids, slightly goofy, lowkey kinda cringe warning??, making out, sasuke being sasuke and leaving, mf is possessive -> saying youll always be his, domestic talking

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) About Sasuke's request (I am the one who asked) can you write about him and his girlfriend in their teenage years ? Like he is still trying to get his revenge but he visits her in secret ( she is from Konoha too , and they were together before he left and she doesn't agree with him about leaving the village but she loves him so much to let him be ) if you are okay with that can it be fluff with suggestiveness or smut , maybe they are talking about their future together and he brings up having kids together or how many kids he wants with her and the topic gets freaky 🤭- ANON

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

It's late, far too late, for him to be here, but then when has that ever stopped him?

You lay in bed awake, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the quiet knock on the window. Your mind always had a place for Sasuke, was always so intent on the question of if he'd ever come back to you. But you could always feel it when he'd come to secretly see you, always when the night had grown quiet and you'd always look out that window hoping he saw you again.

Then, with the now-familiar taps of light against your glass windows, with your heart pounding, a bright smile lights up your face. You're already off from bed, crossing over the room. Sliding the window open, you see him leaning against your window frame; his eyes-you loved his eyes.

"Sasuke," you breathe, relief bubbling in your chest.

He doesn't say anything, his body steps inside. Sasuke's action causes a small pout to outline your lips. Sasuke's presence was the same as it always was when he wasn't with you, cold. But, when he is with you, his posture changes, to one in which he would never hurt you.

"You're back," you whisper quietly, your voice still managing to echo through the room.

He nods and his eyes flicker to yours before he turns away, automatically scanning the room as if seeing what's changed since he was here last. He's here a few hours at most, but you'll take what you can get.

"How long?" you ask.

You really don't want to know since it breaks your heart bit by bit.

"A few hours," he replies in a low tone. "Needed to see you."

Your heart clenches at that because he still needs you even if he won't admit it. He always comes back. You reach for him, your fingers brushing against his hand, and for a moment, he doesn't move. Then he took your hand, his skin so so so cold compared to your own you almost shivered, but you were so used to the sensation.

You walk him to the bed, sit down beside him, your head leans against his shoulder like it once did, when things weren't so complicated. His hand clamps over yours, a fraction tighter.

"I still don't agree with this, you know," you murmur, breaking the silence. "I hate that you left."

Sasuke tenses up, but you push, because if not now, then when?

"I don't understand why you would feel this is the only path. There are other ways, Sasuke."

He turns back to you, his face is as unreadable as ever, but you catch frustration bubbling behind his eyes. "It's the only way for me. You know that."

You sigh, tugging your hand from his and wrapping your arms around yourself. "We had a future planned, Sasuke. Remember? We talked about it all of the time. When we were kids." you trailed off softly.

He is silent, and for a moment, you wonder if you have pushed too far. But then he speaks, softer than before. "It's not the time for that."

"When is it going to be enough?" you press on, turning around to face him. "When you're done with this all? What will be left when you get your revenge?" He does not answer. His eyes drop onto the floor.

You bite your lip, and in an instant, you're thinking of the talks you used to have, the dreams shared before it all spiralled down, before sasuke. "We could still have that future, you know," you continue softly, your heart drumming in your chest. "We could still…

Words catch in the throat, and you feel the flush rise to your face as you try to voice the thought that had been circling in your head for so long. "We could still have a family. Kids, Sasuke."

His eyes widen a little, and surprise flickers across his face, normally so composed. He says nothing, only stares at you as if he tries to process what you have just said.

You look away, suddenly nervous. "I know it's probably not something you've thought about, but… we used to talk about it. I haven't stopped wanting it."

Sasuke shifts, his hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger on your skin, his touch soft but firm. "You really still want that?" he asks, his voice low. "With me?"

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Of course, I do. I love you, Sasuke. I still want that life with you, even if it's not the same as it used to be."

His gaze softens, and for a moment, you could see the love he held for you in his eyes. "How many?" he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper. "How many kids?"

Your heart skips a beat as heat flushes up to your face when you realize the conversation is taking on a course you hadn't quite imagined. "I… I don't know," you stammer, trying to sound casual. "Maybe two… or one.?"

"Two, huh?" His lips curve slightly up in an almost teasing smirk. "Think you can handle that?

You double over, laughing breathlessly, and swat him lightly on the arm. "I could handle it just fine. The real question is whether you could."

There's no more time for words, though, because the instant Sasuke springs onto you, the motion so quick, you feel yourself lying beneath him, his body over yours, his eyes dark with intent, heat radiating from him as he leans in close to you.

"I could handle it," he mutters, his voice falling even lower and sending a shiver down into your spine. "I'd take care of you… of them. You know I would."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you're unable to tear your gaze from his face as his words reverberate deep in your chest. His hand skates down the side, his fingers tracing the outline of your skin through the thin material of your shirt, the tips leaving a trail of sparks in their wake.

"Sasuke," you whisper, voice shattering as his lips barely brush against the shell of your ear, the breathing hot.

"You want that?" he repeats, voice low, full with something darker, something more possessive. "Tell me."

"I-I do," you stammer out, hands instinctively clawing into his kimono shirt. "I want that with you."

His lips no more than a whisper from yours, eyes locked with yours, the temperature rising between them. He tightens his hand on your waist, drawing forward until you are against him, pressed up against him, there is nothing in between.

"Good," he whispers, his lips brushing against yours. "Because when all this is finally done, I'm going to make sure you're mine. Completely."

The words course through your veins like an electric jolt. Then he kisses you deeply, his hands wandering over your body possessively, making you out of breath.

You melt into him, your fingers threading through his hair as the kiss deepens, grows more urgent, more heated. There is desperation in the way he holds you, like he is scared to let go, like this moment could be all you ever get.

"Sasuke," you breathe as the kiss finally breaks, your voice shaking. "Don't leave me again."

He leans his forehead against yours, breathing rough, and can say nothing more than the low, hoarse words, "I have to. But I'll come back. I always come back."

You close your eyes and try to hold his words with you, though you know it will never be enough. It's his revenge, his mission-it's just there, tugging at him again and again, ever further into the darkness. You're so scared he'll become lost and never find his way. In these stolen moments, though, with the way his hands cling to you as if you were the only thing holding him anchored, you make yourself believe it.

Your fingers rake through his hair, pulling him back down to you, needing him close, making the most of the moments left. He kisses you again, deeper this time. Sasuke's hands are on your waist, your back, pulling you closer and you feel like you're both standing at the lip of something.

You wriggle beneath him, breath catching in your throat as he leans down, moving his lips along your neck to trail small kisses down over the rise of your collarbone. His name is lodged in your throat on a quaking whisper as his body, really, reacts to every touch and every kiss.

"How many kids did you say?" His voice rumbles against your neck, soft and low, as he trailed wet kisses down the column of your neck, leaving crimson splotches in its wake, in slow motion.

"Two," you whisper back, breathlessly, the moan slipping past your mouth, your fingers digging deep into his shoulders as he continues his deliberately slow motions. "Maybe more."

"More?" He draws back far enough to catch your eyes, a rare smile tugging his lips upwards. "You think you can handle more?"

Your face flushes down to your neck, but you refuse to back down. "I can take whatever you dish out, love." Sasuke's eyes darken even further and he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "I know you can," he mutters low, "That's why you're the only one I want. You know that right?

You nod, the lump in your throat forming. So much more needed to be said between you both than words let on. You pull him back down, capturing his lips once more in a kiss, hands sliding up his back, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

Sasuke's hand drifts lower, the touch sending an electric current through your body as his lips move into your ear. "When this is all over," he whispers low, the breath hot upon your skin, "we'll have that life. You, me, and our kids."

His words cause your heart to flutter with all that hope inside you.

But for now, you cling to the moment.

Because, for as long as he keeps coming back to you, keeps holding you like this, you'll wait for him-whatever it takes.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list | uchiha m.list

taglist :: @enouche @lovelyandproblematic

@sugu-love @why-are-you-still-awake

[3d-wifey]

PLEASE PLEASE I NEED A READER WHO'S JUST AS MUCH OF A FERAL FREAK AS LOGAN JUST IDC WHAT HER MUTATION IS, JUST MAKE IT ANIMALISTIC SO THEY CAN HAVE FREAK NASTY SMUT

Back to the Kitty (Cus She's Kinda Pretty)

Pairing: Logan James "The Wolverine" Howlett x Lynx!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smut heehee, uh munch logan supremacy, hybrid au (?), NSFW, NSFT

A/N: This has been my man since 2000 and I was only born in 2004, I'm so happy he's fucking FINALLY GETTING LOVE GOD DAMN. Reader is implied to be black but you can still read it if you aren't, as always. Also, it's been shown in canon again and again that Logan is weak to the whims of a pretty woman, especially early Logan, so dont give me no goddamn lip about this being unrealistic.

Tags: @yvy1s @innercreationflower

Logan stares at the wooden door long after Summers leaves. He scoffs, irritated. Something about the Boy Scout rubs him the wrong way. He rolls his eyes. "Prick."

"I see you've met Scott." Logan spins around, and sees… No one. There couldn't be another telepath rummaging around in his head. Between one blink and the next, a woman appears on what's supposed to be his bed. "He's not so bad once you get to know him. Then again, he's not so good either. He's a real mixed bag."

Logan gapes at the relaxed figure lounging on his bed. His senses snap to attention—your scent is all over his room as if it's always been there.

Your heartbeat is fast but steady. He sniffs. Your scent, cool like snow, makes him nostalgic for the Canadian wilderness. It’s tinged with something familiar—an intrinsic note of his own scent. Something he caught on that Sabertooth freak earlier. Animalistic. 

Feral.

As he takes in your appearance, memories of the wilderness flash through his mind. He'd heard stories about people, people like them living off the grid, protecting wildlife and using their powers to evade detection. Maybe you were one of them. A guardian of the wild, hidden from civilization up till now. Maybe he was too.

"What the hell is going on here?" Logan grits his teeth, sick and tired of surprises. You tilt your head, pointed ears twitching, the black tufts catching his attention.

You're lying on your stomach, facing him. Your knees are bent, ankles crossed and swinging.

"You teleport in here or something?" He takes cautious steps towards you, spotting the sharply curved claws in place of toenails—easy weapons. One good kick could slit his throat.

A mix of gray and beige fur trails up from the front of your feet, all the way up your thighs to disappear past the leg of your shorts. It's the same shade as the hair on your head.

"Nope." You barely acknowledge him, grooming the fur along your forearm like one of those big cats. He lingers on the movement, intrigued. The slight tilt of your head, long pink tongue peaking out as it travels the length of your forearm to your knuckles and then back again, holds his attention. "I've been here the whole time.”

“I would’ve smelled you." 

“But ‘ya didn’t,” you chuckle and it feels like you’re rubbing it in his face.

“That's impossible.” He scoffs, shaking his head. 

Sharp, amber eyes lock onto him, reflective and cat-like. He freezes, instincts on edge, the hair on his nape standing as vertical pupils assess him coolly. 

Logan’s eyes flicker away to the exit—only for a split second. But when he looks back, the bed is empty. He whips around to the door, heart pounding in confusion because it's…it's still closed.

Where—? 

“How the hell—”

His jaw doesn't drop but it's a near damn thing. This is freaky, freakier than the regular freakiness he's come to expect after walking into this school.

"Still here." You purr from behind him, the sound of your voice sending a shiver down his spine. He turns back, and there you are again, lounging like you never moved. He takes a deep breath, trying, and failing, to steady himself. 

"You mind explaining how you're doing that?" He asks, hoping he sounds more annoyed than unsettled. He can tell by the playful glint in your eye that he doesn't. 

“And if I do mind?” You say, but he doesn’t rise to the bait, which is what this all is, he realizes. You smirk. "I told you, boy. I've been here the whole time. Long enough to see you strike out with Jeanie."

Logan scowls more at the mention of Jean than being called ‘boy’. Just what he needs—another reminder of the happy couple. 

But how had he missed you? Jean wasn't that distracting. It gnaws at him. He doesn’t like it, the idea of his senses betraying him.

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly easy getting a read on you when you’re playing hide and seek."

You tilt your head, studying him. "Maybe you’re just not looking hard enough."

"Or maybe…” He steps closer, his instincts screaming at him to stay on guard despite your eyes compelling him to do otherwise. “You're just really good at hiding."

Your eyes meet his, a challenge in your gaze that he's not sure he's the right guy to take on. "Then I guess you'll have to get better at seeking.”

Logan's mind races as he processes the confrontation. He isn't used to feeling off balance, the one on the back foot. Usually, he's the one doing the intimidating, the one making others question their next move. 

But with you, it's different. There's a raw, untamed energy about you that draws him in and sets him on edge at the same time. You're not just another mutant, he knows that much. Like none he's ever met before; you're something more, something savage that mirrors the part of himself he tries to keep under control. The part that craves the hunt, the chase.

He comes to stand near the bed, slowly reaching out to check if you're real or just some kind of projection. You stare up at him, amused, and allow his calloused hand to meet the warm skin of your shoulder.

"I don't understand," Logan mutters and it feels like admitting defeat.

"I didn't want you to see me. So you didn't." You shrug, and even that looks graceful. It takes him a second to get there, but it dawns on him in much the same way your sudden appearance did. Some kind of mental camouflage. Not like prey blending in to hide, but a predator lying in wait before striking.

"But I couldn't even smell you anymore." It's one thing to trick his mind, but it should be impossible to trick his nose. He bares his teeth. "I've had enough of people messing with my head."

You say nothing. Instead, you grin, baring your own teeth right back and revealing elongated canines that glint under the low light. His eyes are drawn to their sharp edges. They're sharper than his own. How easily could you sink them into something? He wagers it wouldn't take much effort at all.

"Down, boy." You cackle, not even doing his ego the service of pretending to be threatened. "Unless you wanna see whose bite is really worse than their bark." You raise a brow at him expectantly.

He scowls, crossing his arms. He's not backing down, but something about this whole encounter is throwing him off. Your self-assuredness is doing something to him, and he's not sure what to make of it.

He regards you warily, taking slow measured steps around the bed. "So… What’s your deal? You’re not a teleporter or a telepath? Great. Then what the hell are you?"

"Hm," You hum deep in your chest, resting your chin on your palm as you track his movements. He figures you aren't gonna maul him in his own room. "Don't worry, your nose isn't failing you," you snort, and his confidence in you not being a telepath drops significantly. "I cloaked myself. Completely. Not even the professor can find me if I don't want him to. I can even trick all that fancy tracking technology. So don't feel too bad."

It's a bunch of smoke and mirrors. Well, it's better than you messing with his head. Impressive too.

"Huh. How 'bout that." He licks his lips and holds out a hand. "Name's Logan."

"I heard." You take his hand in your surprisingly strong grip, turning it palm down instead of shaking it. "I was curious about the new guy. Wanted to see if you'd be worth holding my attention." You drag a feather-light finger along his knuckles, circling them, then rubbing the almost perpetually red divots where his claws are hidden. For whatever reason, he lets you. The barely there touch makes the hair on his arm stand up, fingers twitching in your hold. He only just fights back the desire to lean into it.

"S’that so?" He smirks. "And what do you think now that you've seen me?"

"Well, first impressions, I'm not disappointed." Those stunning eyes rove over him, lingering on the sweatpants he borrowed. He preens under your gaze, understanding Scott even less now. Don't get him wrong, Jean seems like a great girl. But how could he possibly see a woman like you and leave you to your lonesome? Hell, his loss is Logan's gain. Slim couldn't handle you anyway. "But the rest depends."

"On?"

"You. I've been so bored here. Keeping clean, prowling the straight and narrow. What do you say, Logan?" You purr, bringing your free hand up to ghost over his leg, and the muscles in his thigh flex under your touch. "You think you can keep me entertained?"

He arches a brow. "You got a name?" He husks, at some point coming close enough to stand over you.

"No," you reply, his brows furrowing in response. Though he guesses he's got no room to judge. He only knows his name because of his dog tags. "The kids just call me Lynx, for whatever that's worth. Guess it stuck.”

"I can see why." He looks you over, taking you and all your curves in as you rise up to your knees to sit on your haunches. You're wearing a tank. A very thin tank. He can see the shape and heft of your tits, and even though you feel far from cold, he can see the white fabric rubbing against your hard nipples. The name fits you, but Minx would've been his suggestion. "And... What exactly do you do around here? Other than skulking in other people's rooms." He asks, not masking his curiosity.

You pull him onto the bed beside you. He doesn't bounce but the springs squeak under his weight.

He can’t picture you teaching those little brats anything. Maybe you could teach them how to gut a man like a pig, but something tells Logan that might just offend the professor’s sensibilities.

Your top lip pulls up into a snarl, a predator's smile, it draws him in instead of warning him away.

"I'm not too good at the whole guiding the minds of our future thing. For now, I have to hone my powers and learn how to integrate back into proper society." If the wording wasn't enough to tell Logan you're copying Chuck word for word, then the accent you put on does the trick.

Your grip on his hand tightens, pressing a hidden pressure point. Logan’s breath catches as his claws unsheathe, the metallic sound slicing through the air. His eyes lock onto yours, trying to read the intention behind this sudden, intimate maneuver. He smells it instead—musky, semi-sweet—and heat pools low in his stomach, hardening him against his thigh.

You shift, straddling him with feline grace, knees on either side of his hips. His free hand instinctively grips your waist to steady you, though it's clear you don't need his help.

Your long tongue runs along his knuckles—warm, wet, and a little rough. He exhales heavily at the sensation.

His mouth drops open with a pant, watching closely. You trail the muscle up the blades—he shouldn't feel it so viscerally, but he does. He can practically feel the flicks of your tongue in his damn spine—and he smells the rich iron in the air before he sees crimson bleed along his claws.

He can smell you getting wetter too. Whether it's from the blood or the sharpness of his claws is anyone's guess. Logan's hold on you tightens, his hand sliding to your lower back as he pulls you closer, a low growl rumbling in his chest

He watches, fascinated, as your split tongue knits itself back together. It's bizarre, witnessing such rapid healing on someone else. The sight stirs something primal within him.

Blood drips down your chin, a stark contrast against your skin. 

He wants to follow it. So he does, pushing into your space to chase it up your chin and into your mouth.

You gasp, soft and sweet, at the contact, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. Running, thankfully, dull nails along his scalp. The metallic taste mingles with the warmth of your mouth as he kisses you deeply, a groan sitting low in his throat.

The kiss, meanwhile, isn't soft or sweet. It's biting and bitter with the taste of your blood, mixing with his own when you bite his bottom lip, fangs piercing the meat as easily as he predicted they would. It makes his head hazy with some kind of bloodlust. Or maybe just regular lust. The two are more intertwined now than ever before. At least as far as Logan can remember, which admittedly isn't saying much. He's got no idea how to begin separating them and he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t remember the last time he's tasted blood other than his own. It makes him groan as he squeezes the fat around your hips in a bruising grip—hard enough to make you moan. He knows you can handle it, handle him.

You pull away, a string of pink saliva connecting your lips to his.

Something kicks Logan into gear, and, without really thinking about the movement, he leans back down, his lips brushing against your chin to lap up the rest of the blood.

"You showed me yours; only fair I show you mine." You unsheathe your own claws, as pretty and deadly as you are. They're about two inches long and even sharper than those teeth.

"Now, how the hell did they manage to domesticate a wild thing like you?" In this pristine and civilized place, you stand out even more than he does. For a creature like you, it must be akin to captivity.

You laugh, though it sounds closer to a chuff. "I was out in the wilderness, hiding the lynxes from poachers and loggers." You say, hooking a claw in the zipper of his hoodie and tugging it down, exposing his bare chest and stomach to your exploring hands. "Saved as many as I could. Spent years out there like that."

“And the professor found you?" Logan asks, intrigued despite himself and despite all the blood in his head rushing to his dick.

"Eventually," you nod, a hint of a smirk playing on your lips, what he's beginning to think is their natural state. "But not before a lot of poachers ended up dead, wondering why they couldn't find a single lynx."

"You hid them," Logan says, tilting his head back. You don't hesitate to take the bait, swooping down to stitch your lips to his neck. You bite more than you suck, breaking skin as you go and not letting how fast the wounds disappear deter you from making more. He grunts, bucking hips coaxed by your own.

"You're not the only one hiding out from the metal man." Your lips drag against his skin as you speak. Lips and teeth and tongue and—

"Fuck." He hisses. His hips buck again and you meet the movement head-on, swiveling your hips like you're riding a bull.

Magneto wants you too then, Logan thinks, dazed.

"So what?" He breathes, dragging the both of you further up the bed, "Now you're fighting the good fight for animals and mutants?"

"Something like that. Don't tell Xavier, but it really just came down to Jean and Oruro being more persuasive than that big brute Magneto sent for me."

He laughs. "I can believe it."

"Now," you grind your hips down, hitting the perfect angle, "do you wanna hear my life story, or do you wanna fuck me?" You say with a grunt. And when you put it like that, the choice is pretty fucking clear.

He twists around, switching your position with you on your back and him hovering over you.

You've got a mischievous look in your lidded eyes as you hump each other through your clothes, sinking your nails into his ass. He flinches, thrusting against you hard enough to push you up the bed, and snarls in your face.

You laugh as he flips you onto your stomach and yanks your hips up. Moans sprinkle through when he presses up against your ass, dick grinding into you. He can feel how hot you are through your thin shorts. You're soaked, enough to turn the fabric of his sweats a darker gray.

Just the smell of you is straining the cotton around his dick, he wants—no needs more. So he leans down, gripping your shorts and ripping a hole down the middle, finding you wetter than he imagined.

You gasp, peeking over your shoulder at him, but he's already on the move. 

He mumbles a gruff fuck as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. He goes to pull himself out but thinks of a better idea.

He wants your cunt in his mouth and he tells you as much. You smirk, more fang than gum, and sway your hips side to side, like you're daring him to take what he wants. He does.

He buries his nose in your snatch and takes a whiff, you moan, grinding back against his face, leaving slick on his nose and cheeks. He lets you, encourages it, even, by gripping your hips and growling deep in his chest. Fur soft where his facial hair is rough, sticking in wet peaks from how much your cunt is drooling.

He sticks his tongue out, not as long as yours, but long enough to get the job done as he buries it into you. Coaxing out more slick and cum as your fluttering warmth squeezes him. 

“Logan,” You moan into his pillow, likely leaving it wet with licking and biting, the same way he's planning on leaving the blanket under you wet with your cum. He grinds against the bed, letting his own need build steadily in his gut and up his spine, the animalistic urge to devour you stronger than anything else.

The taste of you, as heady as you smell, settles heavily on his tongue and down his throat as you rock back and forth, twisting and whining like the wild thing you are.

He leans back just enough to take one of your pussy lips into his mouth, sucking as you take in hitching breaths above him, moving to the other side to give it the same treatment, before circling back to your clit.

He spits on your fluttering hole, licking it back up, and spitting again and he almost thinks you came then and there from how loud you get.

Your thighs are shaking and you're wet enough for him to skip to two fingers right away. He pushes his spit, and his scent, deep into you, stretching you around his thick fingers as he bites at the back of your thighs. You arch your back like a, well, like a cat in heat.

He fucks you on his fingers hard enough that your body shakes with each thrust. He feels the rapid build-up inside of you, shaking and fluttering as he mumbles against your clit about how good you taste and smell, how wet you are for him. 

He feels you come as much as he sees it, your body locking up before abruptly loosening. He pets your flank, “Atta girl.” His voice is rougher than before as you twitch. Soaking his fingers as you lazily hump his hand, making little gasps and whines that he would have thought of as wounded if he didn’t feel how tightly your walls are gripping him.

You lift your head, something satisfied yet still challenging in your amber eyes that makes his hands go to pull his pants down, using your slick to stroke himself, and he knows his pillow will be littered with puncture marks from your teeth and claws, the thought is enough to make him twitch in his hand, a bead of pre that he swipes with his thumb.

He pauses before offering his finger to you, knowing he made the right choice of staying here when you wrap plump lips around his thumb, hollowing your cheeks and sucking like it's his dick.

You pull back, just enough to lick the mixture of the both of you off of his palm, mumbling a demand. “Fuck me, Logan.”

And who is he to deny you when you’re looking at him like that? Wet and wild, curves and claws wrapped up in golden fur like a gift, just for him.

He smirks, “Yes, ma’am.”

[sykoangels]

Taste

Pairing: fem!reader x spencer reid

warning: petty banter and toxic angry sex

author note: Hey everyone! I wanted to share that I'm starting a new fanfiction series inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's "Short N Sweet." This series will feature different fandoms, so there's something for everyone to enjoy! I got the idea from @thinkinonsense , so be sure to show her some love too! If you're not into Sabrina Carpenter, @thinkinonsense also created a fanfic based on Ariana Grande's "Positions" album, so feel free to check that out as well!

Next part: Please Please Please

Working at the FBI can be quite challenging, especially when you have a history with one of the top profilers in the field. Dr. Spencer Reid is like a walking supercomputer, brilliant yet endearingly dorky, which happens to be your type. There's something undeniably attractive about Spencer – perhaps it's his unassuming appearance as if he's never been in the presence of a woman, or maybe it's his intellect, which could put a dictionary to shame.

Either way, that’s what attracted you to him at first, and over time you guys developed more of a romantic relationship. But through this romantic relationship came problems and slight differences. Spencer always pushed you away no matter what it was so confusing every time something was going well. You guys would go three steps back. Unfortunately, you guys weren’t deemed to be together so breaking up an inevitable. What surprised you was that Spencer moved on fairly quickly with someone who is a carbon copy of you or at least tries to be. His new girlfriend Maxine was you in a different font. Your mannerisms were the same. The way she walked was the same compared to you the way she laughed. It was freaky. It was almost like she wanted to live in your skin like she was some creepy stalker living your life like somebody's body double.

As you started to pay closer attention, you couldn't help but notice certain things. For instance, when Maxine started accompanying Spencer to FBI events as his plus one, you began to feel uneasy. At a recent retirement party for a coworker, You spotted Maxine wearing a red mini dress with her hair slicked back, and she was even wearing a pair of heels that you had left at Spencer's house and never got back. The heels were scuffed at the bottom, indicating that they weren't new. What's more, You noticed that Spencer started repeating jokes and phrases that you had previously shared with him. These incidents made you increasingly aware of what was happening.

Anytime you mentioned this to anybody else they just called you crazy especially your coworkers like Garcia and JJ. They didn’t realize it until today since we solve the case in California Rossi was taking everybody out for drinks at the local bar down the street from the office. It was a casual thing he always did, but spencer decided to invite his girlfriend as a plus one . Nobody really cared and happily let him bring his girlfriend. It wasn’t a big deal. But you knew this was the perfect opportunity to prove a point.

The dim, flickering light of the bar's coatroom cast long, dancing shadows on the walls, creating an ambiance that was equal parts intoxicating and intense. The air was thick with the rich scent of aged whiskey and supple leather, mingling with the faint aroma of stale cigarettes. You were seated at the table next to JJ, delicately sipping on your perfectly crafted peach mojito, while discreetly observing the movements of Maxine and Spencer throughout the room. Your keen eyes didn't miss a single detail, and your focus was unwavering, like a detective on a critical case. JJ, sensing your intense scrutiny, playfully rolled her eyes before speaking. "You know, taking a picture would last longer, Y/N," she admitted while sipping her own drink. "Knowing Maxine, she would probably try to extract my DNA from the photo, clone me, and create a skin suit out of it."

"I can see where you're coming from," JJ said, her touch gentle as she gripped your shoulder. "He did move on pretty quickly, but you have to let it go. I doubt that she's trying to be you." As JJ's words sank in, a heavy sigh escaped from the depths of your mind. Perhaps JJ was right. Maybe you had been letting your imagination run wild. But as the night wore on, the unsettling feeling of Maxine trying to imitate you resurfaced. You could sense her eyes fixed on you, and every time you glanced in her direction, she would meet your gaze with either a forced smile or a look filled with spite. Finally, the team gathered for a toast after a challenging case. Rossi expressed his love for the team, emphasizing that each member was a valuable part of the cohesive unit. As Rossi finished up the toast, Maxine stood up and proposed her toast, looking directly at you as she spoke. "I just want to thank you guys for letting me join you today. I can see why every one of you is a valuable part of the team. Well, at least some of you. I also want to thank my fabulous boyfriend Spencer for being my rock, especially when things are hard, and for loving me unconditionally even though there are a lot of bitter people in this world. Spencer will always love me unconditionally no matter what comes his way."

Maxine's words cut like a knife, a calculated and direct attack that made you glance over at JJ to see if she had also caught it. The look on JJ's face confirmed that she had. It was clear that Maxine's barb was aimed at you. JJ's expression silently pleaded with you not to react, but you couldn't help it. There was no way you were going to let someone who bore a resemblance to you but was less attractive talk about you like that, especially to your face. "Yeah, and knowing Reid and his eidetic memory, I know exactly who you're thinking about when he's with you, and it's definitely not you, Maxine. No matter how hard you try to wrap your head around it, you will never be the girl he thinks about. There will always be one degree of separation between all three of us, and you know why," you said bitterly before taking the last sip of your drink and getting up to retrieve your coat from the coat room.

Spencer sat there fuming but trying his hardest not to show it because he you were right unfortunately. The rest of the team awkwardly looked at each other then back at Maxine as she walked off to the bathroom to collect herself. Meanwhile, spencer was going to go look for you. He was annoyed with your behavior tonight and he needed to set some things straight with you well at least for right now.. You leaned against the cold metal of a locker ordering a uber when you heard footsteps coming from a converse sneaker scraping against the floor, making that weird squeak sound.

"Why do you keep doing this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from the bar area. "Why do you keep pushing Maxine? What do you want from me?" You met his gaze head-on, your lips curling into a bitter smile. "What do I want? I want you to admit that she's just a poor imitation of what we had, Spencer. I want you to stop pretending that you're happy with her." Spencer let out an exasperated grunt you could see the vein in his forehead pulse he was fuming. "Stop playing games, Y/N. You left me. You walked away, and now you can't stand the thought of someone else being with me?"

You scoff in disbelief at his claims, feeling like he's trying to manipulate you. "I didn't walk away, Spencer. You pushed me out. You couldn't handle what we had, so you replaced it with a cheap knockoff." Spencer's eyes flashed with something dangerous. Before you could react, he locked the door to the storage room and placed a large step stool against it. Then, he turned back to you, staring into your eyes with a mix of yearning and regret. "Is that what you think? That I replaced you?" He said looking at you with that puppy-like gaze he always had.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Isn't it obvious? She's everything I was to you—everything we were together. But it's not real, Spencer. It'll never be real." For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you almost palpable. Then, without warning, Spencer's lips crashed down onto yours, rough and desperate. The kiss was a mixture of heat and fury, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. You responded instinctively, your hands gripping his shoulders as you kissed him back with equal intensity.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to steady his breathing. "Is this what you wanted?" he gasped, his voice raw and slightly whiny. "To see if I still want you?" You pressed yourself closer, feeling the hardness of his arousal pressing against your thigh. "No," you murmured, your voice trembling. "I wanted you to show me." Spencer a breathy groan slipped out his throat, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, lifting you effortlessly until your legs wrapped around his waist. The cold metal of the coat rack bit into your back as he pinned you against it, the sensation both startling and exhilarating

"God, you drive me insane," he muttered, his lips grazing your neck as he peppered kisses along your skin. "I can't think when you're around." You laughed softly, the sound shaky and breathless. "Good. Maybe then you'll finally understand how it felt when you shut me out." He paused, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath the anger. "I'm sorry baby I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice reeked of forgiveness and arousal. "I never meant to hurt you."

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. All you could focus on was the way his lips felt against your skin, the way his hands roamed over your body with a familiarity that made your heartache. Spencer's hand slid under your skirt, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. You gasped, arching your hips into his touch, craving more. He groaned, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he slipped a finger inside you, coaxing you open with practiced ease. "Fuck," you moaned, your head falling back against the locker as he began to move his finger in slow, deliberate strokes. "Spencer..."

"Tell me what you want, I will do it I want to make you feel good,” he demanded, his voice soft and whiny but commanding. "Tell me how much you need this." You bit your lip, resisting the urge to melt into his hands when he whines like that. "I want you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you, Spencer. Please”

He obeyed getting on his knees and slowly gliding your panties off slipping them off in one swift motion. He looked up at you with his big brown chocolate puppy dog eyes with that submissive twitch in his eyes before circling your clit and kissing it. It was so obvious he missed you, especially by the way he was eating you out. “Fuck~ you missed me badly huh?” You say gripping his greasy brown hair and pushing his face deeper into your pussy.

You can feel Spencer nodding agreeing to what you were saying he started sucking on your clit before placing two fingers inside of you stretching a lot slowly something he used to do quite often when you guys had a hard day at work to at least help put a smile on your face. Your eyes roll back as his slender fingers stretch you out. You felt yourself get close to an orgasm until Spencer stopped and looked up at you his face all wet with a pleading look on his face. He motioned you to face the wall so you obeyed his request. Spencer's hands skimmed over your thighs as he positioned himself behind you. You braced yourself against the cool metal, your breath hitching as you felt the head of his cock press against your entrance. "Ready?" he asked, his voice desperate and hoarse.

You nodded, biting your lip as you prepared for the inevitable intrusion. Spencer gripped your hips tightly, aligning himself perfectly before thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You cried out, the sensation both painful and exquisite as he filled you completely. "Fuck, you feel so good," he muttered, his voice laced with desperation. "Just how I remembered." He began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one hitting your spot with perfect precision. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed in the small space, adding to the intensity of the moment.

"Harder," you begged, your voice breaking. "Please, Spencer, harder." He obliged, picking up the pace as he slammed into you with renewed vigor. The friction between your bodies grew more intense, the heat pooling in your core as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax.

"Look at me baby," Spencer commanded, his voice whiny and desperate but with a hint of urgency. "Watch me fuck your brains out, baby” You turned your head, meeting his gaze over your shoulder. The sight of his face, twisted with exertion and desire, sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you. He reached around to pinch your nipple, twisting it between his fingers as he continued to pound into you.

"That's it, baby" he whimpers. "Take it. Take every fucking inch. You can do it” You screamed, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your muscles clenched around him, driving him over the edge as well. Spencer shouted your name, his release flooding you as he buried himself deep inside. Panting, he pulled out slowly, leaving you trembling against the coat rack. He leaned against you, his forehead resting on the back of your neck as he caught his breath.

"This changes nothing," he whispered, his voice raw and unsure. "We still have to deal with Maxine."

You turned to face him, your heart aching at the conflicted look in his eyes. “I don’t have to deal with anything you have to come to terms that you will never find a girl like me again Boy genius. You need figure out who you wanna be with. A botched copy or the real deal. I will see you at work tomorrow spencer and I will be expecting an answer. Just remember I leave quite the impression on men like you.

You quickly find your panties slipping them back on grabbing your coat and plants a kiss on spencer’s lips leaving a red kiss stain on his lips before walking out to catch your Uber

[jwanniie]

G!p stepmom Yujin x fem!reader

Part one , part two

Request!

Warnings: cheating (ughhhh), slight baby trapping, wlw marriage, almost got caught, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), age gap, backshots, rough penetration, not proofread, p in v, slight manipulation, basically porn with plot, make out session, nasty sex and just filthy smut!!😮‍💨

Word count: 1,4k

After the previous event that happened between you and Yujin, You both started fucking like rabbits. She taught you new things, how to suck her the way she likes it, doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, cockwarming, basically a whole 101.

It was crazy how fast you learned how to please her and even crazier how your cunt was as tight as before at the way she fucked you, maybe even tighter.

There was few times where she used a condom, and there was also few times where she was raw hammering her tip against your cervix, but then she would deprive you from her creamy essence. Cumming on your back and chest. The only time she filled you up was on the first fuck-session with her, and you felt like on cloud 9.

You wished she would just toss away that rubber material, and just abuse your pussy with her big cock and fill you up. But she seemed so enthusiastic to use that useless roll up thing.

You knew that she is your stepmom and that she literally is married to your mother so she obviously just wants a fast fuck session till her wife comes back and then she would forget about you. What you didn’t know however was that she was as desperate as you, to throw that rubber material away.

She just thought that you are still young and that you probably don’t want to start overthinking about the risk of you getting pregnant with her child. So it was just something she had to accept, even tho feeling your spongy walls squeeze around her raw cock would drive her insane and make her cum three times faster, but she had to accept your wish that you didn’t even verbalize.

You had to take matters into your own hand, you went to her bedside table and opened the drawer. You took the two packs of condoms and went out to throw them in the street trash so she definitely won’t find them anywhere. You already stopped taking your birth control so that’s done and now you got rid of the condom packs so everything is under your control.

It wasn’t long till Yujin came back from work. She stepped inside the apartment and saw you on the couch laying comfortably. Your eyes traveled to her form, she looked breathtaking, a layer of sweat on her forehead, her other hand holding her black leather bag, the first two buttons unbuttoned while her was hanging loose.

You just wanted to suck the life out of her, take her balls into your mouth while the head of her cock was shoved down your throat, making her beg for more and gasp for air, but that was other days plan. Now you just wanted her buried deep inside you, spilling her cum inside your womb.

She walked towards the couch, sinking down on the space left, before searching for your face to pepper you with kisses. Her lips danced against yours, she pulled you onto her lap, you now straddling her. Your one hand was wrapped around her throat while the other cupping her face. Her hands were on the lower of your back. Massaging the area slowly.

It didn’t take long till the kiss got sloppy and messy, her saliva and your saliva drooling down your chin. To some people this was nasty and disgusting, but the both of you loved every second of it.

Yujin couldn’t say that she was dissatisfied with her bed life with your mother, but she definitely wasn’t satisfied either. Your mom hitting her way too often with ‘we are too old for this!’ And sticking with the boring same routine. She lost her mind over you, you were something so pure, ready to get ruined by her, all of your firsts with her,youthful, ready to experience new things, be freaky and wild. She hated the sentence we are too old, because she wasn’t old, and besides your mom was about 11 years older than her. She was about ten years older than you,not the craziest age gap but not the most common either.

Yujin wrapped her arms around your inner thighs before lifting you up and standing to walk towards the bedroom. She laid you down on the bed before opening the drawer, her expression turned from lust to annoyance pretty fast. She let out a loud growl, looking down at her hard on then back at you.

The condoms were not there so she had to go and buy them, and what shop is open at this time? Your eyes met hers, and you slid the already lose tie off her neck and started unbuttoning her blouse. She stopped your hands from continuing “We ran out of condoms and no shop is open now.” She felt bad for denying you but she wasn’t risking it. Her dick could wait till tomorrow.

“We don’t need one!” You smiled seductively before spitting out in a sultry tone. You yanked her hand away before continuing to unbutton her blouse. She looked back at you like you grew two heads.

“Are you sure? We can wait till tomorrow.” She reassured you, hoping that you are not feeling pressured to do anything. All of these thoughts were wiped once you lightly squeezed her hard on. A husky groan fell from her lips, her head thrown back. She tossed the last piece of clothing before ripping off the black silky night gown off you. The violated material now on the floor.

She took a grasp of your hips and flipped you over, face down ass up. Her bare cock having contact with your slick panties, she rubbed her angry red tip on the fabric, resulting more precum to spill out and more of your wetness to gush out.

With one motion your panties were next to the ripped night gown. She smeared her precum all over your slit, before pushing inside your velvety walls. A loud moan escaped your vocal cords. Your hands were gripping the sheets for dear life.

She started thrusting herself inside you roughly, hitting the sweet spongy spot inside you over and over. A ring of your wetness increasing with every thrust on her base.

She gripped your hip bone harshly, her nails piercing through your skin. While the bed rocked with every thrust of her hip.

Your ass jiggled with every movement, skin slapping sounds were echoing through the walls. While you fucked yourself back on her.

Your hips meeting each other and a loud stinging slap was landed on your ass cheek. You let out a whimper. Her hips actions were stopped at the ringing sound of her phone, and tears formed in your eyes while she let out another annoyed groan the same she let out earlier.

She picked her phone only to see that it was your mom, a rush of excitement flood through her before whispering next to your ear.

“It’s your mom, be quiet for me princess, yeah?”

You nodded hastily, putting a hand over your mouth to make sure you won’t let out a sound.

“Hi baby, everything good over there?” Yujin said in the most sickely sweet way ever, acting like she isn’t fucking her wifes daughter.

“Yeah, love. Just wanted to ask how you and y/n are doing, is everything ok?”

“Me and y/n are doing amazing, miss you so much!!” Yujin started rubbing her tip on your cervix. Why are you this quiet?? Isn’t she fucking you good enough?? She yanked your hair, a gasp came out from you. She wrapped a hand around your throat, forcing you to lay your head on her shoulder. Moans were threatening to come out from you at the way she was so soundlessly pounding your aching pussy. You weren’t paying attention to the conversation, the only thing on your mind was her hips thrusting in you.

She spit on your neck before licking a stripe up, you let out a whine. She bid her last goodbyes to your mother before hanging up. Her relentless pace was back on, her mouth was nibbling on the sensitive skin of your neck.

The pleasure was unbearable and overwhelming and with that your watery substance tried push her cock out. The clench of your pussy sent her over the edge and she spilled her seed deep inside your womb. A satisfied moan came out from your lips. Deep slumber took over the both of you.

[nadvs]

keep thinking about having a sneaky link and or fwb situation with rafe and one night he calls you and hes like ‘can i come over i need you’ and youre like dude im asleep but hes already standing at your place and when you open the door hes all dishevelled and bloody and beat up and drunk or high or whatever and close to passing out so you patch him up and eventually get into some freaky stuff and maybe he even ends up confessing hes falling for you……. is that anything

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

content warning blood/injury

You’re used to Rafe’s name flashing on your phone late at night. He’s usually drunk or high after a party, desperate to fuck and knowing you’re almost always up for it.

You know he’s not interested in nor capable of having sex with any strings attached. It’s just a friends with benefits situation, and you’ll take what you can get, loving how perfectly his body fits into yours.

But it hasn’t stopped you from developing feelings for the complex, hardened man who’s seen you naked dozens of times.

Tonight, you’re already dozing off when your phone starts buzzing. You tiredly pick it up to see he’s calling. He never calls. Only texts.

You figure it’s another booty call and let it go to voicemail.

But he calls again. And again.

“What?” you say groggily.

“Can I come over?” he rasps.

“I’m sleeping,” you say. “Another night, ‘kay?”

“Please. I need you.”

“What?” you ask. You’ve never heard his voice like this. Sad. Empty.

“I’m outside your building. I… I need you,” he repeats.

You agree even though you’re exhausted, hearing desperation in his voice. When you open your door, Rafe’s head is hanging, his messy hair falling over his forehead, his lips parted.

When he finally looks up, you notice blood spattered over his nose.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Can you help me?” he says. Rafe doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He realizes how pathetic it is that a girl he fucks casually is the closest person he has to him. And how pathetic is that you don’t even know it.

He’s leaning against your bathroom sink as you dab a wet tissue over the dried blood, his lids heavy. He feels like he’s about to pass out, but he wants to keep looking at you.

Even through the fog, gazing at you and feeling the way you take care of him gets him hard. As you clean him up, you notice the bulge in his jeans.

“Really?” you say with a breathy laugh.

“You’re hot,” he drawls, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

After tossing out the bloodied tissue, you brush Rafe’s bangs out of his face and study his tired features. He doesn’t get many moments like this with you. These soft, quiet moments of concern and care.

It makes him wonder, like always, if you feel the way he does.

“What happened?” you ask.

“Fight,” he says with a shrug.

“Ever considered just walking away?”

“That’s stupid.”

You chuckle and step back, but he pulls you in by your wrist and kisses you, fighting through the pain radiating on his face. You purposely kiss gently so not to hurt him, arousal twisting inside of you. You don’t care about how tired you are anymore.

He stands, pushing you back, following your footsteps into your room. He grinds into you once you’re on your bed, feeling himself throbbing already.

“I thought you were hurt,” you tease.

“I am,” Rafe whispers. “Make me feel better.”

He knows your body by now, knows where to touch to get you wet. He kisses down your neck as he pulls your pajamas off, rubbing you over your panties.

You strip him down to his boxers, dipping your hand into them and stroking his hard, smooth cock. He lets out a groan, loving the feeling of your fingers wrapped around him.

Once you’re naked, you sit on him, slowly sinking onto him, letting him bury into you. Rafe throws his head back in pleasure. He never gets used to how nicely you squeeze around him.

As you start to rock, your hands on his firm chest, he watches you on top of him in awe. He grips your hips, letting you take full control, loving how you writhe and move and breathe.

“You take it so fucking good,” he praises, revelling in how hot and wet you are.

You lean down so your clit rubs against his base, whimpering at the sensation, arching your back. Rafe’s hands rest on your ass as you move on top of him, reaching your peak with shallow breaths.

He cums quickly after you, emptying himself inside you in hard and fast spurts, groaning through his climax.

You clean up and settle beside him, sure he’ll head out soon. He never stays the night. But he’s not getting up.

He turns to kiss you again, cradling your face. You figure he wants to go for a second round. He continues to run his tongue over yours, languidly and without the speed and urgency you’re used to.

Rafe isn’t touching you anywhere else. His palms are on your cheeks, his lips gently sucking yours. He eventually pulls back, forehead against yours.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he mutters.

“Doing what?”

“Pretending.” He swallows hard. “Pretending like this is just fucking.”

“What?” Your heart is racing. Your stomach is numb. You look at him in the dimness of your room.

“This no strings attached thing is bullshit,” he says. “You’re all I fucking think about.”

He kisses you again, soft and shy for the first time.

“Is it just me?” he asks. He’s hurting all over, in pain from simply imagining you rejecting him.

You’re worried he’s just fucked up from whatever he was drinking or inhaling earlier tonight, but you take the opportunity to get your feelings off your chest, no matter the risk.

“It’s not just you,” you finally say.

He breaths a short sigh of relief, kissing you again, thumb stroking your temple.

Rafe isn’t sure when you went from an amazing hook-up to a girl who’s slowly taking his heart piece by piece, but it’s been agony keeping it from you.

He’s glad that he doesn’t have to pretend anymore, but mostly, he’s elated that you feel the same.

[battymommastuff]

A Night with the Knight

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

Wherever you were, it was warm. Warm, but cold at the same time. You felt safe, but you were also in danger. Maybe the danger was the freaky cult that tried recruiting you. The warmth, you came to realize was a blanket draped across your body. You'd woken up in a dark, unfamiliar place for the second time tonight. The sound of rushing water filled your ears along with the faint buzzing of the dim lights, and sounds of machines in every direction. 

This place was far too dark to be a hospital, and you were glad for that. Any public setting was the last place you wanted to be right now. The last thing you remembered was Batman hovering over you after saving you from your kidnappers. After that were faint memories from you going in and out of consciousness. The city flying by faster than it ever did, the masked face of the man who saved you, and brief images of a black tailcoat with white gloves. All of these images were taking their sweet time processing in your mind. Your entire body felt like it was hit by a train despite you having the body of an acrobat. 

Slowly, you got out of the hospital bed you were in. You wanted to find somebody. It was too quiet, and it felt like you had eyes on you at all times...which you did. Walking out of the little room you were in, you saw a massive screen that lit up the area around it. Pictures of your captors, the leader of the Court...and several members of the circus were all over the screen. You looked down to see the back of Batman's head as he typed away on the keyboard, "How are you feeling?" He asked, suddenly. You jumped then looked around. No one else was around, but how did he know you were there? You didn't make any noise. 

"A-A little sore..." You answered while closing your robe around your body more. The warmth you felt was definitely from the blanket you had when you woke. It was freezing in here, "Where am I? I figured you would drop me off at the nearest hospital and leave me there." You asked, with a small laugh at the end. Batman stopped typing on the computer and turned his chair to face you. He stood up, and you were in awe at his size. Not only was he tall, he was very well built. No wonder it was so easy for him to take down all those Court members. You felt very intimidated by his presence, but oddly attracted to it. 

"You're in the Batcave. It's too dangerous to take you into any public setting. You have knowledge of the most dangerous group in the city, the entire Court is no doubt hunting for you." Batman explained, in the most monotone voice. You already knew this, but hearing it just made it worse. Where would you go? All of your possessions, money, your life was still at the Circus. You didn't have any family that cared for you anymore, and you had nowhere safe to go. The more you thought about your life being over, the more emotional you got. It made the man in front of you highly uncomfortable to watch you break down. 

"You could have broken the bad news to her in a more gentle way. Maybe start with offering her warm clothes, Sir?" A British voice asked, followed by the sounds of footsteps coming down metal steps. You wiped your eyes quickly then looked over to see the man in the tailcoat that you saw briefly. His face was very familiar, but where? As he stepped closer, your eyes widened. This man was the butler of billionaire Bruce Wayne. You've seen him in pictures as well as on the news when Bruce Wayne made an appearance at events for the city. You looked from him to Batman, and you could tell from the uncovered parts of his face who was under the mask. It seemed that Batman also knew what you were thinking, so he lowered his mask.

"Would you like some warm clothes?" 

"Ugh...excuse him, his bedside manner is in need of work." 

You looked between the two men who just told you the one thing that the entire world wanted to know, and acted as if it wasn't a big deal. Did they trust you to keep the secret? Of course you would keep it, but how did they know they could trust you? Did they have some memory wiping device that would erase your memory after they got what they needed out of you? Judging from the tech that covered the place, it didn't seem that far fetched, "W-Why are you telling me your identity?" You finally ask after several seconds of awkward silence. 

"I'm going to move you into my manor, that I way I can monitor you as well as get information about the circus." Batman answered while turning back towards the computer. Your jaw dropped a bit. He didn't even consider if you wanted to live with him or not. Not that you were going to turn it down. The chance to live in a mansion? You'd be stupid to refuse, "I will retrieve your things later, but I will take you to buy a new wardrobe in the morning." You're going to be spoiled too? Maybe you should be thanking the Court for kidnapping you. 

"I suppose I should thank you then, Mr. Wayne." You said with a small smile. He turned towards you and gave you a small smirk. 

"Call me Bruce."

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TAGLIST

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[bruhnze]

Yo solo digo que deberías hacer una historia basada en esta canción.

Or what we know in the world of fanfiction as a song-fic. Sorry, I have intrusive thoughts sometimes

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

To the anons who sended requests like this one, I hope this made you happy aswell :)

Summary: Lucy Bronze gets an invitation to a special speakeasy. Should she go? It is her last chance to use the invitation because she is leaving Barcelona in a couple days…

Warnings: sub!Lucy, smut, smut, smut, dom!Ona, I feel like I should say a BDSM warning.. things get…freaky. use of words like slut/toy/etc.. 50% AU (only bcs Ona is no footballer). Also, there is some Spanish in this, for continuity purposes it is not translated but I have made sure everything can be understood from context (i think).

Vino tinto y una súper Nova

Wordcount: 13k, i really cant keep it short damn, this was supposed to be 5k max.

Lucy stared at the little black card in her hand for what felt like the thousandth time since she had received it three months ago, her mind racing. She would never, right? The thought echoed in her head as she traced the dark red letters on the card with her finger. Elixír Oculto.

The name alone had an intoxicating allure, a whisper of something forbidden. A speakeasy in the heart of Barcelona... how could she resist? The idea was undeniably cool, almost too tempting to let the opportunity go to waste.

When she had done some digging online, the secrecy surrounding the place had only heightened her curiosity. There wasn't much information, but the description she'd found told her everything she needed to know and more.

"Indulge in an intimate atmosphere where connections flourish, and desires are whispered between sips of the finest vintage. At Elixír Oculto, we offer an exclusive, invite-only experience where boundaries blur, and the night unfolds in ways only your imagination can envision. Here, every encounter is as unforgettable as the last, curated for those who seek more than just the ordinary. Discretion is our promise, and a magical experience is our guarantee."

Lucy frowned, her heart beating a little faster. She wasn't really considering this... was she? A sex club? But then again... these were her last days in Barcelona. Maybe this could be her little farewell gift to herself, a night of adventure. It had been too long since she'd done anything like that. But could she really go through with it? Was she truly going to sleep with someone who might be paid for it? Shouldn't she just pick up someone at a bar instead? But then again, who knew if the people there were paid or not?

Maybe, just maybe, everyone with an invite was just like her - someone just looking for a bit of fun, a brief escape. She could meet someone on the same wavelength, someone who wanted what she wanted: a night of no-strings-attached pleasure.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. She had played all her games, packed all her bags... didn't she deserve a little adventure? Five more days in Barcelona, one more night to herself. What was the harm in just taking a peek inside this speakeasy? If it turned out to be nothing, she could simply turn around and leave, laughing about it later.

But what if it wasn't? What if it was everything the card hinted at and more? Lucy glanced at the card again, feeling the pull of the unknown. Maybe... just maybe... this was exactly what she needed.

Lucy stepped into the shower, letting the hot water trail over her, washing away the tension of the day.

She took her time, scrubbing herself thoroughly, feeling grateful once again for the laser hair removal she’d undergone. Smooth skin was a necessity in her line of work for her, where shared dressing rooms were the norm. But it also came in handy for those unexpected moments of.. fun, the ones she hadn't had in far too long.

By the time she finished, it was around 7:00 PM. She sat naked on her bed, her damp hair wrapped in a towel, scrolling through her phone absently. Cooking? Or ordering in and going out? The question lingered as her eyes drifted back to the little black card lying on the nightstand. Ordering in and going out to where, exactly? Was she really going to that club? She asked herself.

She shook her head, making a quick decision. Sushi. Might as well savor some of Spain’s delicious fish before she left. After placing the order, Lucy stood in front of her nearly empty closet, groaning in frustration. Everything's packed... Was she really about to dig into her suitcase for something to wear? All this for a night at a sex club? Pathetic, she thought, but with a sigh, she unzipped the suitcase dedicated to her formal wear anyways.

She went through the neatly folded clothes, searching for the least wrinkled option. Finally, she settled on a brown suit. Not her first choice, but it would do.

At least she hadn't packed her jewelry and didn’t have to dig for that. Small victories.

Glasses or lenses? She hesitated, then opted for glasses. If there was ever a time to pull a "Clark Kent," this was it. With any luck, no one would recognize her there.

Loose hair, she decided. It was different from her usual look, but she slipped two hair ties onto her wrist just in case - always good to be prepared.

Back in the bathroom, she leaned into the mirror, the only one left in her apartment. She couldn’t check her entire outfit, but at least she could perfect her makeup. A touch of light foundation, a sweep of mascara, a hint of blush, she kept it simple.

She smiled at her reflection, feeling a flicker of confidence. You’re Lucy Bronze. She reminded herself, taking a deep breath. You can do whatever you want. You’re going to this club because you deserve it, and because you want it.

She practiced a wink, her attempt at charm feeling a bit rusty. Why was this so hard? she groaned, shaking her head with a small, self-deprecating laugh. She really needed to do things like this more often.

With a splash of her favorite perfume, she sealed the deal. The scent was subtle but intoxicating, just enough to boost her confidence.

She walked into the kitchen, turning on some music to give herself a little pep talk in the form of a dance, well, something resembling a dance at least, but no one could see her here anyways. She needed to get in the mood, shake off some nerves.

No alcohol, she reminded herself. She was still a professional athlete, after all. Even though a drink might ease her anxiety, she wasn’t about to compromise her principles just because she was nervous. She was still in season, and there was no room for slacking off.

Lucy exhaled slowly, pulling herself together. No liquid courage needed. She could do this on her own. She wasn’t going to waste this invitation - she was going to embrace it. And if she was honest with herself, she knew she wanted this.

Lucy took a deep breath, standing inside of what looked like just another ordinary bar. This should be it, right? she thought, glancing around. It didn't look like anything special, but then again, that was the point of a speakeasy.

Her fingers brushed over the little black card in her pocket, the red letters Elixír Oculto barely visible in the dim light. Oh, right... the 'vino tinto' thing, she remembered. The guy inviting her had mentioned something about asking for the red wine specialties. Maybe that was the theme of the club?

Lost in thought, she nearly jumped when a voice interrupted her. "Señorita?"

She looked up quickly, a friendly smile on her face. "Oh, sorry, I was just... uhm..."

The bartender chuckled, recognizing the uncertainty in her expression. "Ah, inglés," he said with a warm smile. "Welcome to our bar. What can I get you tonight, beautiful?"

Lucy felt a light blush creep up her cheeks. Damn, why am I so easy? she thought, flustered. "Uhm..." She hesitated, then held up the card. "Red wine?"

The bartender's smile widened as if he had been expecting this. "I thought so," he said with a knowing nod. He gestured for her to follow him. "Come, I'll show you the wines we have in stock."

They walked through a door behind the bar, descending into a dimly lit wine cellar. The air was cool, the scent of aged wood and fermented grapes heavy around them. The bartender reached for the only bottle on the shelf that wasn’t covered in dust, pulling it gently. The sound of a mechanism clicked, and a hidden doorway swung open. He stepped aside with a polite bow. "I wish you a very good evening, ma’am."

Before Lucy could respond, he was gone, leaving her standing at the threshold of the hidden hallway. This is so freaking cool, she thought, her excitement growing. It was just like in a movie. She walked down the narrow corridor, the exposed brick walls adding to the clandestine vibe, until she emerged into a lavish, red-lit space.

The atmosphere was intoxicating. To her left, a sleek bar was manned by two bartenders who moved skillfully, mixing and pouring drinks with effortless grace. Directly in front of her was a stage where men and women danced sensually, their movements captivating.

Plush chairs were arranged around the stage, some already occupied by persons who watched the performance with rapt attention.

"Puedo ayudarla, señora?" A mans voice spoke softly next to her.

Lucy jumped, startled out of her thoughts. "Uh, I was invited," she said with a nervous chuckle, turning to face the man who had approached her. "First time." She offered.

"Ah, inglés," the man said, echoing the bartender from earlier with a friendly smile. Lucy couldn’t help but laugh at the coincidence of them reacting exactly the same.

"I asked if I could help you," he clarified. "But I see, you’re new here, so of course, I’ll assist you."

Lucy nodded, feeling a bit more at ease.

"First, we need to stop by the hall over here," he said, gesturing to the right as he began walking. Lucy followed closely. "You don't have a coat, but if you'd like, you can leave your jacket here. If not, that's fine too." He pointed to a row of small black lockers built into the wall. "Devices go in here."

Wow, this is serious, Lucy thought, realizing just how secretive the place was. "Okay," she agreed, slipping off her small bag. She started to take out her phone but was gently interrupted.

"No bags allowed either," the man said kindly. "You can place it in the locker and take the key with you."

"Alright," she replied, securing her belongings. The man shut the locker for her and handed her the key.

"Perfect. Now, you’re free to enjoy a drink at the bar. Did you see where it was, or would you like me to show you?"

"I’ll go by myself, thank you," Lucy smiled, feeling a bit more confident as she took the key.

"If you need anything, just ask someone with this," he said, pointing to a wine-red handkerchief peeking out from his breast pocket. "Enjoy your time at Elixír Oculto, beautiful." With a final smile, he walked away.

Lucy blinked, a bit taken aback. Did they call everyone beautiful here, is that just part of the charm? she wondered as she made her way to the bar.

"Uh, could I get a whiskey glass with ice... but with iced tea instead?" she asked awkwardly, feeling a little out of place. "No alcohol," she added quickly, clarifying her request.

The bartender raised an eyebrow but complied without question. Lucy felt a bit of regret - she should’ve grabbed some cash from her bag. How was she going to pay for this? They’d probably let her settle the bill with card when she left.

She thanked the bartender with a smile and took a sip. Yep, iced tea.

"Hello," a soft voice said from behind her, accompanied by a gentle touch on the small of her back.

Lucy stiffened, her heart racing. Is it starting already? She carefully lowered the glass from her lips, afraid of choking, and turned to look.

The woman beside her wore a sharp suit, a wine-red handkerchief in her pocket just like the man from earlier. Ah, she worked here.

"Hi," Lucy replied, realizing she’d been silent for too long. Wait, did she just speak English?

The woman smiled warmly. "The gentleman from earlier mentioned you were English," she explained.

Wait, had she said that out loud? Lucy wondered. Or was her face really that readable?

"It’s normal to feel a bit nervous your first time here," the woman continued, her tone reassuring. "But I want to make sure you’re comfortable."

Lucy nodded, trying to steady her breathing. "T-thanks."

"We’re all about creating magical evenings here," the woman said, her voice soothing. "If I may take the liberty to make an assumption, I’d like to suggest our other room."

Lucy tilted her head, not quite understanding. Another room? Sure, why not? But what was this other room?

"This room is for women who like men," the woman explained, gesturing toward the stage, "and men who like women." She looked at Lucy with kind eyes, no judgment in her gaze. "But we also have a room where women dance for women only."

Lucy swallowed hard, her breath hitching slightly.

"If my assumption is -"

"No, no," Lucy cut in, offering a reassuring smile. "You’re correct. That would be more up my street."

"Perfect." The woman smiled, her eyes twinkling. "You can follow me."

Lucy quickly got on her feet, leaving the red bar chair behind.

The woman led her through another corridor, these walls were also lined with exposed brick. As they reached a pair of dark red curtains, the woman held them open and Lucy was greeted with an even more enchanting room than before.

Or maybe it was just the fact that this room was for women only that made it feel so captivating. The space exuded a warm, inviting glow, with plush furnishings and soft, ambient lighting that made everything look almost dreamlike.

Lucy took in the scene with wide eyes, her earlier nerves beginning to ease as curiosity and excitement took over.

The room was mesmerizing, with a stage prominently set in the middle. As she looked around, she noticed four women on the stage. They weren’t exactly dancing like what was happening in the other room; two were just sitting and drinking something, but the two that caught Lucy’s eye were engaged in a more intimate display. Lucy felt a flush rise to her cheeks. She absently fidgeted with her collar, loosening it to help her breathe a bit easier.

“Señora?” The woman who had guided her in gently touched her arm.

Lucy turned back, her face warm. “Oh, sorry. I’m just feeling a bit hot,” she said, demonstratively removing her jacket.

The woman smiled understandingly. “I was just saying, if anything here makes you uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let them know.”

Lucy blinked, a little taken aback. She couldn’t imagine those beautiful women being a bother at all. “Oh, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied awkwardly.

“Choose a seat,” the woman continued with a friendly smile. “And if you finish that iced tea, just let me know, and I’ll get you something - anything you like.”

Lucy felt a flush of embarrassment. Did she know it was iced tea? She chuckled nervously. “O-okay, thanks.”

The woman laughed softly. “We rarely serve alcohol here. We do have it for those who want it, but we often welcome athletes or models who don’t drink, but even otherwise, we don’t judge.” She reassured Lucy with a warm smile.

“Oh, great, I’m an athlete. Thanks,” Lucy said, her cheeks still tinged with color, assuring the woman she wasn’t just someone with an alcohol problem or something.

The woman’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. “I’d love to know more, but I’m not allowed to ask,” she said, holding up her hands playfully. “Have a great evening, beautiful.” She gave Lucy a wink before walking away.

Lucy watched her go, a hint of self-consciousness creeping in. Damn, I should’ve just owned the iced tea. I’m a professional athlete, damn it, why did I let myself feel so awkward? She sighed, feeling a bit unsettled.

The girls had now spotted her, all four pairs of eyes were trained on her. Lucy made her way to one of the chairs, forcing a smile as she went to take a seat, deliberately choosing a spot not too close to the platform. She draped her jacket over the backrest and surveyed the room.

The platform was only slightly raised, just below knee height, with a lower step running around its edge. In the center stood a plush red sofa and four poles were evenly spaced around it.

The room had a inviting, but over all very red, ambiance. Around the platform were chairs similar to the one Lucy was sitting in. Behind her was a wall lined with booths - small tables surrounded by benches. The lighting was soft and atmospheric, with a brighter spotlight focused on the center of the room, were the platform was.

As she glanced back at the platform, she noticed two of the women had begun dancing on the poles, those who had been touching each other earlier. Lucy’s attention was drawn to another set of curtains behind the platform. That was not the hallway she had came from right? She shifted her gaze, only to cringe slightly when she met the eyes of the woman who had guided her in. Damn, why is this so awkward? she thought.

The woman gave a reassuring nod, and Lucy forced a smile in return before turning her attention back to the platform.

A moment later, a woman approached her. “Eres tan hermosa, primera vez aquí, no te reconozco,” she said, her voice soft and inviting.

“Uh, l-lo siento, soy i-inglés,” Lucy replied, feeling flustered. “I mean, I can understand, pero no hablar muy bien. But yes, first time.”

The woman smiled warmly. “You’re pretty,” she said as she moved behind Lucy, her fingers lightly tracing along Lucy’s arm before resting gently on her shoulders. She leaned in, whispering against Lucy’s ear, which made her shiver. “Would you like a little show?”

Lucy nodded, her eyes drawn to the girl still lounging on the red sofa. She found her to be the most captivating of the four, though all were undeniably beautiful.

“Yeah, that would be -”

“Perfect,” the woman interrupted with a mischievous smile. “We’ve been dying for some audience.”

Lucy’s attention was drawn to the girl lounging on the red sofa. As if she sensed Lucy's gaze, the girl stretched languidly, her movements effortlessly graceful. The dim lighting bathed her figure in a soft glow, accentuating her features and adding a sensual allure to the scene. She was really pretty.

Meanwhile, the girl who had approached Lucy earlier had selected a new track - something with a more seductive rhythm than the background music that had been playing before. Lucy’s eyes darted between this change in atmosphere and the girl now rising from the sofa with a confident, almost mischievous smile.

The dancer approached the pole closest to Lucy with deliberate, measured steps. While the other three women continued their synchronized dance around their poles, Lucy found herself completely captivated by the girl who had drawn her in from the start.

With an almost hypnotic grace, the girl returned to the sofa, her body swaying to the rhythm in a way that was captivating, truly. She traced her fingers along the plush red fabric, creating a tantalizing scene. The background music seemed to fade away for Lucy, leaving her entire focus fixed on the dark blond-haired dancer.

The girl’s performance was a seamless blend of elegance and sensuality. Her movements were fluid and confident, a blend of seductive dance and playful tease.

Occasionally, her gaze met Lucy’s, each glance filled with a promise that was both alluring and mysterious.

The dancer’s use of the poles were masterful, their bodies contorting in ways that was mesmerizing and purely art, if Lucy could give her opinion about it.

All four of them could dance, but as Lucy tried to focus on it all she couldn’t help herself staring at the brown eyed girl.

The performance was captivating, drawing Lucy deeper into the fantasy of the evening.

As the show progressed, the girl’s movements grew more passionate and intense. Lucy watched, entranced, as the boundaries between reality and fantasy seemed to dissolve, the room around her fading into insignificance. It felt like she had walked right in to a Hollywood filmset.

When the performance reached its climax, the girl struck a final pose. Instinctively, Lucy placed her glass on the table beside her and clapped, genuinely impressed.

Wow, she thought. Just for this private show, it was worth it. Damn, these girls are fucking amazing. She found herself wondering if it was okay to think of them in an objectifying way. Regardless, she couldn’t deny the sheer amazement of the experience.

The girls gathered together, their giggles filling the room. “Thank you, thank you,” they chimed with an adorable accent, clearly pleased with her applause. They made a playful bow.

Lucy’s gaze fell on the shorter girl again, who was now smiling directly at her. As the four of them stood together, it was evident that she was the shortest. She smiled at Lucy, then turned to her companions, and they began to speak rapidly in Spanish. Lucy tried to follow their conversation.

“Está claro que le gusta Ona,” one of them said.

“No podemos ir todos juntos?” another replied.

“María!”

“Bueno, pfft, Ona te la llevas.”

Lucy caught a few words and felt a thrill of excitement. Were they discussing her? Did she understand correctly - they were deciding who would be with her? The thought made her feel giddy. She really hoped the shorter girl was called Ona.

Jeez, she thought. Was she really thinking about this like that?

To her surprise, it was indeed the shorter girl who approached her. Lucy straightened in her chair, her curiosity piqued.

"Hola, hermosa," the girl said confidently, her voice carrying a hint of playful seduction. "Can I take a seat?"

Lucy glanced around, momentarily flustered. Her heart raced as she processed the unexpected request. Her initial thought was, In my lap? Really? It felt like something out of a fantasy or a cliché.

Unsure of how to accept with words, she simply nodded, her cheeks warming slightly.

With elegant movement, Ona settled into Lucy's lap. As she adjusted Lucy's collar, straightening it, she said, "The other girls think you’re interested in me."

Lucy’s heart raced. So, this was Ona.

"Is that true?" Ona whispered, her breath warm against Lucy's ear. "Would you like to come with me?"

Lucy glanced back at the platform. The other dancers had returned to the sofa, lost in their own interactions. "Mhm, I think you’re a very good dancer," Lucy said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Ona’s eyes sparkled with satisfaction. "Follow me, preciosa." With a charming smile, she stood up and beckoned Lucy to follow her. Her tight braid swinging back and forth as she turned.

Lucy quickly grabbed her jacket and hurried after Ona, her excitement growing as she moved toward the curtain. Only at the curtain she realized she had left her glass behind.

Ah, fuck that iced tea, Lucy thought, amused with herself, as her gaze lingered on the woman’s miniskirt, which left little to the imagination. She couldn’t help but wonder what was hidden underneath. Bronze! she scolded herself internally. Get a grip - don’t be a creep.

“This is -” the woman began, but then paused, turning around.

Lucy quickly snapped her gaze back up to meet the woman’s eyes. Shit, caught.

The woman chuckled mischievously. “Like what you see?”

Lucy nodded, feeling like a teenager caught doing something naughty. God, why is everything going so terribly rough?

“This is my room,” the woman continued, starting over with a smile. “After you.”

Lucy stepped through the door as Ona held it open. “Thank you, Ona,” she said, taking in the spacious room. A bed with red sheets dominated the space, and a large, perfectly fitted closet lined one wall.

As she looked around, she realized Ona hadn’t followed her in. The woman was still standing in the doorway, her expression suddenly serious.

“How do you know my name?” Ona asked, her tone stern.

Lucy looked at her, confused. “Oh ehrm, the girls- they were-” she stammered, pointing back towards the main room.

“You heard?” Ona’s expression shifted to something more mischievous. “How much did you hear?”

Lucy’s eyes widened. “I don’t know, not much. They said Ona was going with me?” she offered hesitantly.

Ona smiled and finally stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “Okay then, Ona it is. But I’d like to know your name too then.”

“Of course,” Lucy said, draping her jacket over her left arm. “Lucy.” She extended her hand.

Ona chuckled, taking Lucy’s hand and bringing it to her lips to place a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Very formal, huh? Nice to meet you, Miss Lucy.”

Lucy nodded, feeling a bit flustered. “Y-yeah, nice to meet you too.”

The room here had the same kind of music playing as the other room, only quieter.

“So… do you work here?” Lucy asked, breaking the silence, as Ona moved further into the room, which felt like a luxurious hotel suite. Probably not the best conversation starter, Lucy thought, biting her lip.

Ona’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Work?” She laughed softly. “No, baby, I do this because I love it.”

Lucy frowned. “So you don’t get paid?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

“This is a private club for attractive people, by attractive people,” Ona explained matter-of-factly. “I understand you are someone who likes to know the details.” She chuckled. “When you get invited here, it’s by someone who’s been a member for a while and earned the privilege of handing out a card. It’s a pretty big deal to receive one,” she smiled. “Being a member is free; we call it ‘pretty privilege.’ But most members make donations. I also get a cut from those donations, and sometimes people make a specific donation just for me. When that happens, I get it all.” She sat down on a leather couch and leaned back, eyes locked on Lucy’s. “I’m under contract with this place,” she continued with a smile, “so what you said is probably true. But I prefer to see it as an arrangement that lets me live out my life’s passion.”

Lucy nodded, captivated by Ona’s every word. “What is it?” she asked, genuinely intrigued.

Ona grinned, a flicker of mischief in her eyes. "Well, it goes hand in hand with Elixír Oculto’s motto - helping people experience a magical evening. But my personal passion is making dreams come true, even the ones you never knew you had."

"Wow," Lucy murmured, letting the words sink in. Achieving every dream you have, even the ones you’ve never thought of before. It was poetic, inspirational.

“Don’t be afraid to take a seat, cariño,” Ona’s voice was soft but commanding, her smile so hypnotic that it made Lucy’s heart skip a beat. Those dimples, perfect teeth and scattered freckles. They could tell her this woman was send right from heaven and Lucy would believe them.

Lucy nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and settled into the leather chair half-facing Ona. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her. God, this girl was stunning.

Ona’s grin widened, her amusement clear. “Afraid I bite? I mean, I won’t… not just yet.” Her chuckle was warm as she patted the spot beside her on the couch. “Come closer, hermosa.”

Swallowing, Lucy stood up, leaving her jacket draped over the chair. She moved to sit beside the Catalan, nerves dancing along her skin. She fidgeted, scratching at her wrist in an attempt to calm herself.

Ona noticed and gently took Lucy’s hand, her touch soft and reassuring. “Don’t be so nerviosa, beautiful,” she whispered, tracing the inked skin on Lucy’s wrist. “You’ll hurt your pretty tattoo.”

Lucy glanced down at their intertwined hands, then back up at Ona.

“Show it to me,” Ona said, nodding toward the tattoo.

Without hesitation, Lucy unbuttoned her sleeve and rolled it up, revealing the intricate design she was so proud of.

Ona’s fingers lightly traced the ink, her touch sending a shiver down Lucy’s spine. “English, with a tattoo that says família?” she teased, a playful lilt in her voice. “Estás segura de que no hablas español? Did you just say it so you could eavesdrop?” She chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “Or did you just have a bad tattoo artist?”

Lucy laughed softly, shaking her head. “No, I’m half Portuguese… but I don’t speak it that well either, to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Ona mused, her fingers still lingering on the tattoo. “Okay then, what brought you to Spain?”

Lucy smiled, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. “I worked here, but now I’m heading back to England. It’s been amazing working in Barça, and I wanted to end my time here with something special. I was invited here by a photographer from work. He thought I’d enjoy this place. Guess I owe him a thank you.”

“Hmm, okay,” Ona said, catching the subtle compliment with a knowing smile. “So, you’re a model?”

Lucy chuckled, shaking her head. “Not really. I guess I am sometimes, but it comes with my real job - I’m an athlete.”

Ona’s interest piqued as she shifted, settling onto Lucy’s right thigh, her legs resting between Lucy’s. “Really, what sport?”

"Guess," Lucy replied with a playful smirk, finally enjoying a moment of being the one in control.

Ona’s finger traced lines on Lucy’s muscular upper chest, down to her shoulder and bicep. “Hmm, the muscles make me think something like.. rugby,” she contemplated. “But I’m not sure.”

Lucy chuckled. “It can feel like that sometimes, but no - it’s football. I played for Barça.”

Ona’s eyes widened slightly, a glimmer of amazement slipping through her composed exterior.

“And what was the shoot for? The one where you got the invitation?” Ona asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Underwear,” Lucy admitted, feeling a bit awkward as she wasn’t supposed to reveal it yet.

“Hmm,” Ona grinned, her finger now tracing the buttons on Lucy’s blouse. “Now I’m curious what the photographer saw when he gave you that card.”

Lucy’s breath hitched as Ona began undoing the buttons. “Is this okay, bonita? Can I?”

Lucy nodded eagerly, her thoughts screaming for Ona to take it all off, right then and there.

Ona smirked as she revealed Lucy’s rock-solid abs. “Was it a Calvin Klein shoot?” she asked, eyeing the matching bra and the sliver of fabric peeking out from above Lucy’s pants.

“Uhm,” Lucy grimaced. “I signed a confidentiality agreement… I’m not supposed to -”

“My lips are sealed,” Ona assured, miming locking her mouth and tossing away the key. “But I will enjoy the photos if I ever come across them.” She winked cheekily and continued tracing her fingers over Lucy’s exposed skin, the touch light and teasing.

Lucy’s breath hitched again as Ona’s hands slipped beneath her blouse, sliding it off her shoulders with that same practiced ease. Quickly, Lucy undid the last button on her sleeve, leaning forward to help Ona remove the blouse completely.

Ona chuckled softly at Lucy’s eagerness, enjoying the way Lucy seemed to hang on every moment. As their faces drew closer, Lucy’s gaze locked onto Ona’s lips, her desire surging as she leaned in for a kiss. But just as their lips brushed, Ona pulled back with a playful chuckle.

"I can tell you’re used to being the one in control," Ona teased, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Lucy blushed, the rejection making her feel suddenly shy again.

"But it doesn’t work like that here," Ona continued with a grin. "Well, it can, but that privilege has to be earned."

Lucy nodded, feeling a bit uncertain.

Ona smiled warmly, placing Lucy’s hand on her knee. "Oh, come on baby, don’t worry. You didn’t do anything wrong - it’s just one of the rules," she explained, her thumb brushing across Lucy’s bottom lip. "You can kiss me anywhere except on my mouth," she added, cupping Lucy’s cheek. "I’ll teach you all the rules along the way, hm?"

Swallowing, Lucy nodded again, her nerves settling slightly.

Ona chuckled softly. "You haven’t bitten your tongue, have you?"

Lucy shook her head. "No, I understand."

A knowing smile curved Ona’s lips. "You’re so eager to please, aren’t you?"

Lucy’s cheeks flushed.

“Kiss my neck querida.”

Lucy hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ona, who was comfortably seated on her lap, her neck now tilted to one side, invitingly exposed.

Leaning in, Lucy let her lips brush softly against the warm skin, savoring its softness and the intoxicating scent. God, her skin was so soft, and damn, did she smell good.

Encouraged by Ona’s subtle cues, Lucy began to place delicate kisses along her neck, listening intently for any sign of pleasure she was bringing. When Ona tilted her head back, giving her more space, Lucy grew bolder. She added a teasing flick of her tongue, a gentle scrape of her teeth, her breath warm against the damp trail she left behind.

Ona chuckled as she felt Lucy getting lost in the moment.

Lucy pulled back slightly, curious about the reason of Ona’s amusement.

"I can already tell this will be a great night," Ona murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You’re doing very well so far."

A wave of confidence washed over Lucy at the compliment, and she smiled, feeling more at ease. Ona stood up, and Lucy’s eyes trailed her every move, captivated by her grace. God, she was stunning. Clad in leather boots with a heel, a miniskirt, and a little top. Ona didn’t wear much already, but Lucy couldn’t help but imagine her wearing even less.

Ona moved to one of the closet doors, her back to Lucy as she opened it. Lucy couldn’t see what was inside, but her heart raced when Ona returned holding a leather rod with a small feather at the end, bundled with little strings of leather. Was she going to get hit?

But instead of using the rod, Ona casually walked to the kitchenette and opened the mini-fridge. She retrieved a bottle of water and poured two glasses, adding a few ice cubes to each. Returning to Lucy, she placed the rod on the coffee table and handed her one of the glasses.

“Water,” she said simply, taking a sip from her own glass.

Lucy awkwardly accepted the glass and took a sip, trying to calm her nerves.

“How can we get you relaxed, amor?” Ona asked, settling herself onto one of Lucy’s legs again. “You’re so tense.” Her fingers traced lazy patterns on Lucy’s skin. “What’s making you so nervous?” She leaned in, her lips brushing softly against Lucy’s jaw. “Is it because you’re letting go of control for once?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “It can be amazing, hermosa,” she assured, placing another kiss just below Lucy’s ear. “I know you can be so good for me, hm? Just let me take control.”

Lucy swallowed hard and nodded, “Y-yeah,  i-it's just... new.”

Ona pulled back slightly, studying Lucy’s face. “New? Completely new? You’ve never…?”

Lucy chuckled, her nerves easing just a bit. “Oh no, I don’t mean that… I mean having sex with someone in a setting like this.”

“Sex?” Ona’s voice was serious, her tone unreadable.

Lucy’s heart plummeted. Had she completely misread the situation? But just as panic set in, Ona’s lips curved into a mischievous grin.

“I’m jokingggg,” she giggled, leaning against Lucy. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She cupped Lucy’s face gently. “You should’ve seen your face.”

Lucy exhaled shakily, trying to regain her composure.

Ona took the glass from her and set it beside her own on the coffee table. Then, she shifted her position, straddling both of Lucy’s legs, her knees planted firmly on either side. She pushed Lucy’s hair behind her ears “Sorry I teased you, sometimes I can’t control myself.”

She smiled as Lucy stayed silent, “You’re okay, Lucy. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s good that you said this is your first time. We can talk everything through as we go.”

Lucy hesitated, then lifted her hands, which had been resting awkwardly at her sides. She was eager to touch Ona, but unsure of the boundaries. “Can I…?” she asked, her voice trailing off as she tried to figure out how to navigate this.

Ona’s eyes sparkled with amusement at Lucy’s sudden eagerness. “Yes, you can put your hands on me if you like,” she said, smiling. “Good job for asking first.”

Lucy’s smile widened, relieved that she’d finally done something right. No, she reminded herself, she’d done well with the kisses too - she shouldn’t be so insecure. Her heart pounded as she gently placed her hands on the warm, bare skin of Ona’s thighs, feeling the smoothness beneath her fingertips.

Ona subtly grinded on Lucy’s lap, tracing a finger from her chest to the tip of her chin, ‘’are you going to let me have some fun with you, let me play with you?’’.

Lucy hung on every word, every movement the beautiful woman made. There was no question in her mind - she would do anything Ona asked. She nodded eagerly, her wide eyes full of obedient anticipation as they locked onto Ona’s.

Ona’s thumb once again grazed Lucy’s bottom lip, letting it pop gently a couple of times. She smiled, her mind already dancing with thoughts of the fun to come. “Soy la maestra tonight, sí?”

Lucy nodded again, her thoughts a swirl of sí, por favor, and gracias, already unable to think straight.

“Claro?” Ona repeated, her voice firm yet playful. “Because if you understand, I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-yes, claramente,” Lucy stammered, throwing in a bit of Spanish out of sheer confusion.

Ona’s grin widened. “Ah, perfecto. But next time, I want to hear, ‘Sí, maestra,’ okay?”

“Sí, maestra,” Lucy echoed, her voice certain this time.

"Good girl," Ona purred, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Let’s see if you can keep that up." and stood up, taking the rod with her ‘’follow me’’.

Lucy followed her closely, Ona took place on the bed.

‘’On you knees hermosa’’. She ordered, leaving space between her legs.

Lucy swallowed, her heart racing, so this was it, it was happening. She knelt down, her hair falling infront of her face like a curtain, quickly she put her hair up.

She looked up, meeting Ona’s smile, ‘’well prepared’’ she said pleased.

Ona put her foot up and pushed Lucy’s shoulder with it, ‘’take these off’’.

“Sí, maestra,” Lucy said, her gaze already have drifted off to Ona’s legs, with her leg up like this a glimpse of dark red, laced underwear was revealed.

‘’Querida’’ Ona said sternly, ‘’you are not getting distracted, are you?’’.

“N-no,” Lucy licked her lips unconsciously, but pulled herself together, biting her lip ‘’uhm, no, maestra,”.

Ona pushed the sole of her leather boot a little deeper into the skin of Lucy’s shoulder.

Lucy got the hint and pulled the zipper down to take her left boot off, then she reached for the other.

After that she eagerly waited on the next command.

 Ona spread her legs further.

Lucy didn't have a second thought about the fact that she was staring now, she was just admiring the view provided.

Ona noticed her looking, her smile turned into a grin, ‘’you are looking at me with hungry eyes’’ she chuckled.

Lucy briefly looked up, wondering whether that was something positive in Ona’s opinion.

‘’Well’’ Ona said, standing up ‘’do you want a taste?’’.

Lucy scooted back slightly, giving herself some space as her face was almost pressed against Ona, who had just stood up. “Sí, maestra,” she nodded eagerly, “please.”

“So well behaved,” Ona said, tipping Lucy’s chin up with her finger. “It’s almost boring. Are you a little boring, Lucia?” she teased, “But I don’t believe you’re all that innocent. Are you?”

“No, maestra.”

“Tell me what you want.”

Lucy blushed, she could think of a lot of things. ‘’u-uhm.. a.. taste then?’’.

Ona chuckled, ‘’oh my sweet puppet’’ she brushed her fingers through Lucy’s hair, ‘’how could I deny when you are being such a pretty obedient toy for me’’.

She swallowed, ‘’can I?’’ Lucy asked as she reached up to hook her fingers in the band of Ona’s skirt.

‘’Sí.’’

Lucy took the skirt and thongs off all at once, maybe by accident, maybe not. But she was just going to rock with it.

Now she was face-to-face, no scratch that, face-to-lips, with Ona’s heath. She looked up, ‘’can I maestra?’’.

Ona melted, she hadn’t expected the woman who carried herself so.. confident.. to be such an easy submissive.. but if she was honest she missed a bit of resist. ‘’No.’’

Lucy backed up, confused. No? Why not. ‘’w-why.. maestra?’’.

A soft chuckle escaped Ona’s lips. “Because, preciosa, I want to be in my comfortable chair.” She reached for the leather rod again, her tone playful but commanding. “And you will follow me like the good pet you are.”

Lucy instinctively moved to stand, but the gentle press of the leather rod against her shoulder stopped her.

“Hands and knees, hermosa. Come.”

There was a brief hesitation - was she really going to do this? But the light, insistent tap of the rod on her skin urged her forward. Lucy met Ona’s gaze, then slowly bent down, beginning to crawl toward the couch.

A light thump landed on her still-covered ass, prompting her to glance back at Ona.

“Too slow,” Ona teased. “I thought you were an athlete.”

Lucy gave a slight nod, quickening her pace as she continued to crawl.

Ona easily overtook her, settling into the leather chair with a languid grace, her legs spread invitingly. “Come, cariño. Your reward is waiting.”

Finally, Lucy reached Ona, her heart pounding with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment ever since she decided to step into the speakeasy. Now, seeing Ona up close, a girl even more captivating than she had imagined, the desire was almost too much to handle.

It felt strange to be in this position - usually, she was the one in control. But giving up control felt natural with the way Ona guided her. From the moment she had entered the room, she knew this was what she wanted, she’d do whatever the Catalan would ask.

‘’You see what mess you created?’’ Ona asked rhetorical, ‘’clean it up’’. She said pointing at Lucy with the whip she was still holding.

Lucy nodded and wanted to lean forward but was restricted by the rod poking against her collarbone.

‘’Manners hermosa’’. Ona said looking at Lucy with a grin, the girl was locked-in on her center like it was going to walk away if she blinked.

 Without looking up Lucy answered, ‘’sí, sorry maestra… please let me clean you up maestra’’.

‘’mhm, go on’’.

She leaned in, her focus on Ona’s thighs. Lucy knew she had talent and wanted to show Ona she wasn’t just another amateur, she wanted to be the best.

As she placed her hands on Ona’s inner thighs and moved closer to her wet core, she was met with a corrective tap, prompting her to pull her hands back.

On her hands and knees, Lucy lapped at Ona’s wetness, she groaned of pleasure as she tasted the girl. Damn, Ona didn’t just look incredible, she tasted amazing too - subtly sweet with a hint of something more. God, had she missed tasting a woman. But Lucy tried not to lose herself and alternated between kisses and teasing licks, deliberately avoiding Ona’s clit, waiting for her to guide her next move.

Ona considered her options. She wanted to savor the moment with this stunning woman but she also wanted to climax. She could come multiple times.. so.. she could play with the woman some more later right? After all, Lucy was an athlete - she likely had stamina for days.

Ona buried her hand in the brown hair of the kneeling woman, guiding her. "Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do, belleza." Her voice remained steady and composed.

It didn’t take long for Ona’s resolve to waver. She couldn’t stifle her moan as Lucy’s skillful tongue worked its magic. Ona’s fingers dug deeper into the roots of Lucy’s hair, pulling just enough to keep her in place while still allowing some movement. Ona’s smile widened smugly as she felt Lucy’s moans vibrating against her core. Oh! this girl liked it a little rough.

Ona couldn’t deny it, this woman knew exactly how to use her mouth. She was enjoying this a lot, and if Lucy kept it up, she might even crack the top ten of women Ona had been with. The soft, eager whimpers coming from between her legs only fueled Ona’s arousal. The idea of a woman not just enjoying, but worshipping her body always got to her. God, Ona realized, she wouldn’t last much longer.

Lucy was lost in her own world between the strong thighs of the Catalan woman, oblivious to the moans she was drawing out as she brought Ona closer and closer to the edge. She only heard her own soft moans, and felt them echoing against the warm, wet skin. And fuck was she drunk on the taste of Ona’s arousal.

Lucy didn’t even notice the trembling legs squeezing her head until she was yanked back, forcing her to look up.

Ona grinned down at her, meeting the two dazed eyes staring back, looking at her with the most adoring eyes, like she was an actual goddess. It would’ve been almost adorable if not for the setting.

"That’s enough for now, my pretty mascota," Ona said, her voice playful but firm. "Come, help me up." She extended her hand.

Lucy rose to her feet and pulled Ona up with her.

The rod that had fallen beside the chair was forgotten for now - they were going to search out some new things anyways.

"Get undressed, my little muñeca follable," Ona whispered as she passed the slightly taller woman.

She made her way to the closet, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. This was one of her most prized possessions. Behind the doors, red velvet panels framed an array of black hooks and pins, displaying her collection of toys like weapons in a high-end gun shop.

As she opened the lengthy wooden doors, the little spotlights shot on and highlighted her collection of tools.

She turned around to the awkward but endearing sight of Lucy struggling to step out of her pants. Sensing Ona’s gaze, Lucy blushed, quickly discarding them and standing there in just her white boxers.

Mhmm, Ona's mouth watered at the sight. Lucy’s muscular, athletic build was a masterpiece, her tanned skin in contrast against the white fabric. The only thing she wore on her torso now was a simple gold chain, gleaming against her skin. In a different setting, Ona would have gladly let this piece of eye candy ruin her completely, or maybe, she'd allow that later.

Ona grinned as her eyes lingered on Lucy’s tight ass, the white briefs stretching across it as she bent briefly to place her glasses and rings on the coffee table. Hmm, that toned ass could only belong to someone well-familiar with working a strap. She blinked and chuckled, snapping herself out of her daydream. She couldn’t let herself get too distracted.

Lucy looked at the laughing woman and walked back toward her, eyes innocent and questioning.

Ona grinned. "You look so good-

Oh. Lucy blushed, caught off guard by the compliment, though pleased that Ona thought so. She knew her abs got plenty of attention from women, but it still felt good to hear it.

-I can’t wait to ruin you."

Lucy blinked, her steps faltering just before she reached Ona. The soft, promising tone in her voice sent a wave of heat through her body. Would she let her ruin her? No doubt about it. She’d let Ona ruin her and say thank you afterwards.

Ona chuckled. "Come on, don’t get shy again. You can choose a few things you'd like."

It was only then that Lucy’s gaze shifted to the two open doors or rather what had been hidden behind them. Her eyes widened at the sight of the array of sex toys on display. She’d never seen so many gathered in one place before, well, except for the couple of times she had visited an adult store.

Ona stepped back slightly, inviting Lucy to take a closer look.

Mesmerized, Lucy moved closer but hesitated as her hand reached out. She realized she probably shouldn’t touch everything.

Ona opened another door to reveal a selection of harnesses in various colors and materials: brown, black. Her gaze fell on a dark red one, her favorite. She took it and slipped it on, savoring the familiar feeling against her skin.

Turning back to Lucy, who stood there in awe, Ona couldn’t help but grin.

She positioned herself behind Lucy, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her harness-clad hips against the woman’s ass. She reached around and pointed at several straps, displayed from small to large. “Which one will I be wearing?” she whispered, brushing her lips against Lucy’s neck.

“Uhm…”

Ona gently bit down, a teasing nip. If she was right, this woman wasn’t shy about a bit of pleasurable pain. Her suspicions were confirmed when a soft, whiny gasp escaped Lucy’s throat. Mhm, this was going to be so much fun.

Ona reached around Lucy, cupping her perky breasts and teasing her already hardened nipples between her fingers.

Lucy’s vision blurred from the overwhelming sensations of Ona’s presence. Her hips pressed against her back, her teeth sinking into her neck and the way her nipples were being twisted. A moan escaped Lucy as electric shocks shot straight to her core. She tried to bring her hands up to cover Ona’s, keeping her close, but suddenly, everything was gone.

Blinking, Lucy saw Ona now standing beside her, gazing at the array of toys. “Choose, mi juguete. What will you let me play with?”

Lucy wanted to shout, Me! With me! but held her silence. Instead, she focused on the toys, deliberately considering her options. She wasn’t shy about receiving a strap, it was something she had enjoyed in relationships, though less so with casual encounters. But she certainly had nothing against it, especially this beauty, she could do what ever she wanted.

She reached out for a strap of a manageable size, glancing at Ona before touching it. Ona gave a smug smile, raising her eyebrows. “I’m guessing you have some experience?”

Lucy nodded, blushing as she recalled not only her experiences with other women but also her solo adventures. She handed the strap to Ona while keeping her gaze fixed on the endless lines of toys.

Her attention then shifted to a collection of butt plugs. Only recently had she started exploring these, and although she had never used them in front of someone else, the orgasms they provided were incredible.

"Ahh," Ona cheered, surprised by Lucy’s interest. "I wouldn’t have picked you as someone gustan las cosas por el culo." She let her hand brush over Lucy’s muscular ass before giving it a playful squeeze. "Well, choose one, hermosa."

Stepping closer, Ona reached for a decently sized plug with a bit of texture. "I recommend this one," she whispered.

Lucy shivered as goosebumps trailed down her spine. She took the plug silently, rolling it between her fingers, her body already reacting. God, she was so worked up. She was aching with desire, feeling a firm pulsation between her legs.

Ona surveyed the array of equipment for restraining and gagging, including her favorite, the gag ball. However, she had a feeling she’d enjoy the sounds Lucy would make even more. She put the strap on and took one of the whips from a pin, the whip was red with black. Matching perfectly with her. She was wearing a red harness with a black strap and she was still wearing her red top. Then she look a black vibrator, or her magic wand, how she liked to call it.

‘’satisfied?’’. Ona asked, she thought they could start easy as this was their first encounter after all, even though she found Lucy and her working together pretty good.

Lucy looked up, turning to Ona in surprise. Wtf? Satisfied, no she was not satisfied at all, she was dyeing-

‘’chose the toys you like?’’. Ona added, clarifying herself.

Ohhh. Lucy nodded, ‘’yes’’.

Ona chuckled mischievously, almost sadistic. ‘’Manners cariño, manners.’’ She shook her head sarcastically, ‘’oh oh,’’ she stepped closer, driving Lucy against the wooden door, ‘’it’s a shame I have to punish you now’’ she grinned as she saw Lucy swallow hard, but her eyes told Ona she didn’t mind this at all, ‘’you want to be punished?’’ she grinned.

Lucy blushed, remembering what she had to call Ona and anticipating on something that was definitely far from a punishment for her, ‘’S-Sí, maestra,’’

Ona chuckled, seeing the woman squirm against the wood, ‘’Beg me’’ she said, bringing her hand up to the woman’s neck, ‘’how bad do you want it?’’.

Lucy’s face flushed, her mouth suddenly dry, her lips still sticky from earlier. ‘’please maestra, p-punish me’’.

‘’Have you been bad?’’. Ona said, closing her hand around the thick neck.

‘’mhm’’ Lucy nodded, almost not being able to focus as Ona put a little pressure on her throat ‘’uh- yes.. maestra’’.

Ona grinned, ‘’desperate puta’’. She guided Lucy by her neck towards the bed, ‘’bend over, bend down on the bed like the puta sucia you are’’.

She released her grip.

Ona chuckled silently as Lucy almost face planted on the bed as she eagerly crawled on it.

She hovered behind her, letting her fingers graze over the ass that was sticking up in front of her. Sliding a finger under the elastic band of Lucy's boxers, she pulled it up before snapping it back against her skin. "And why is this still on?" she asked.

"You're not listening very well, are you? I told you to take it off," Ona said.

"Sí," Lucy mumbled as she got back up on her knees. "Sí, maestra, I-" She fumbled with the fabric, trying to shuffle it down her legs but struggling in the awkward position.

Ona pressed the whip against her shoulders. "Down. Leave it like that, if you're so desperate."

Her eyes were fixed on the impossibly slick lips of the woman bent down in front of her. She was a mess, the briefs she'd been wearing completely ruined.

Ona reached over Lucy, not bothering to keep the strap from pressing into her as she took the toy from her hands. Leaning over Lucy's back, Ona couldn’t help but admire the sculpted physique beneath her. This woman was clearly an athlete, but even among them, she was on the upper end of the scale. Broad, muscular shoulders and a body that was nothing short of stunning, it made perfect sense why the photographer had given her a card. She was captivating.

Letting her nails lightly graze down Lucy’s bare back, Ona whispered, “I think you deserve a little correction, don’t you?”

Lucy arched into the touch, her heated skin prickling in the cool air. “Mhm,” she murmured, biting down as Ona's hands kneaded her flesh. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, craving more of the touch she desperately needed.

Ona chuckled and leaned back, ‘’what was that hermosa?’’. She teasingly asked, letting the strands of leather travel along her back.

Lucy whimpered, ‘’si, maestra, I need-

Crack.

She arched as the whip landed firmly on her ass, she moaned into the bedsheets. Fuck.

Ona leaned down and kissed the spot that was now turning red, ‘’and what do you say now my toy? I gave you what you asked for’’. She said, amusement clear in her voice. She loved the way the woman seemed to enjoy this.

She bit down in the flesh of Lucy ass, as an answer stayed off, or maybe just because the skin looked so perfectly bitable, so tight, so round.

Lucy’s brain short-circuited. Was it.. thank you? Did Ona expect her to say thanks? ‘’Uh, t-thank you?’’ she said, a little unsure.

Crack.

‘’Thank you who, pretty?’’. Ona said, letting the leather strings of the whip tease over the sensitive prickling skin of Lucy’s ass after she landed another strike.

Lucy arched as she grabbed the sheet between her fists, whimpering from the impact. ‘’Thank you maestra!’’ she cried out.

‘’Very good beautiful.’’. She caressed Lucy’s ass, ‘’but you’re a bit of a messy girl, aren’t you?’’. Ona said as she changed the whip in her hand for the plug and swiped it along Lucy’s core. ‘’You are-’’ she chuckled as she saw Lucy’s body reacting to what she did, ‘’-a little wet muñeca, how come?’’.

Lucy breath shuttered as she felt the toy dipping between her lips, it was frustrating the way Ona teased her. ‘’You’’ Lucy groaned, ‘’Because of you maestra’’.

‘’Hmm.’’ Ona smirked, ‘’beautiful zorra, so eager, so wanting’’.

Lucy pussy tried to clutch on nothing but thin air at the dirty words Ona spoke. She stiffened as her cheeks were held and she felt Ona spit down on her asshole. God she felt dirty, but she enjoyed every bit of it.

A flat hand soothed her lower back, ‘’relax for me baby.’’ Ona cooed as she reached down to place soft kisses on Lucy’s cheeks. Lucy whimpered as Ona got lower and lower with her mouth, she wished the girl would eat her out, but Ona stayed away from her heath. Instead the plug was now circling her ring of muscle, teasingly waiting to enter.

With ease, Ona slid the toy inside, her smile widening as she watched a shiver run up Lucy’s spine. The girl let out a soft, almost grateful moan.

Stepping closer to the bed, Ona guided her strap through Lucy's wetness, teasing her mercilessly.

Lucy leaned back, desperate, aching for more, but Ona chuckled and stepped away. “Up. Come here,” she ordered, her voice firm.

It took Lucy a moment to process, her mind clouded with need, but she finally turned to look at Ona.

“Kneel for me, mi juguete,” Ona commanded, grinning as she watched Lucy’s dazed expression, her pupils blown wide. “You’ve made quite a mess.”

Lucy dropped to her knees in front of the Catalan without hesitation.

“Show me, princecita,” Ona murmured, cupping Lucy’s jaw. “Show me how pretty you look with your mouth full.”

Lucy swallowed hard - this was something new for her. She’d been on the other side plenty of times, the one wearing the strap, in control. But as Ona tapped the damp tip against her lips, she opened her mouth without hesitation.

Like a shameless slut, Lucy wrapped her lips around the plastic shaft, locking eyes with Ona as she did.

Ona could barely keep her composure. There was nothing quite like watching a strong, confident woman drop to her knees for her. She pulled back slightly, gripping the base of the strap as a string of saliva clung to it, then playfully tapped it against Lucy's cheek. Smiling wickedly, she murmured, "Imagine if people saw you like this, hm, the Lucy Bronze on her knees."

Lucy whimpered, all traces of shame long gone. She craved this, she needed it desperately. Her tongue flicked out, and she eagerly took it back into her mouth, determined to please Ona.

Lucy locked eyes with Ona as she took in as much of the length as she could.

Ona gently wiped away a tear that slipped down Lucy’s cheek. "Hmm, you've been so good," she murmured, stroking her jaw tenderly. "Now, stand up for me."

‘’Si maestra’’. Lucy stood up, watching intensively waiting for any other instructions. Hm, she wish she could take that top off of Ona.

She didn’t realize she was staring until Ona’s soft chuckle broke the silence. “You’re actually adorable,” Ona said with a smile, momentarily unable to hide her amusement. “What’s on your mind? Do you want to take my top off?”

Lucy blushed and looked up shyly. “Mhm, yes, you’re so pretty,” she replied softly.

Ona chuckled and drew Lucy closer by her hand. “Then take it off, bebé.”

With a smile and a racing heart, Lucy lifted her hands to remove Ona’s top. Ona raised her arms, and within moments, she was standing naked before Lucy, who also took the opportunity to finally kick off the briefs that had been dangling around her knees.

In awe, Lucy let her hands explore Ona’s bare torso, beginning at her sides and gradually moving up to her chest. She gazed at Ona with a mixture of anticipation and admiration.

Ona, rolling her eyes with a playful smile, asked, “What is it you want to say?”

Lucy hesitated, her eyes drifting to her hands. “U-uhm, can I?” she stammered.

“What is it, baby?” Ona tilted her chin up, encouraging her. “Tell me what you want.”

“Kiss them,” Lucy replied, her voice almost dreamy.

“Of course, pequeña,” Ona replied with a chuckle, charmed by Lucy’s timidity. Most athletes were quite full of themselves and self-absorbed, but this girl only seemed to have eyes for her. From the moment their gazes had locked at the beginning of this evening, she had been the sole focus of Lucy’s attention. It was cute.

Lucy surprised her by leaning down, starting with soft kisses at her belly button, and slowly working her way up. Between each kiss, their eyes met, intensifying the moment.

Ona’s chest rose and fell as Lucy moved closer to her nipples. Damn, this woman knew exactly how to affect her. A groan escaped as Ona’s head fell back, surrendering to Lucy’s touch.

Ona snapped back to reality as Lucy guided her toward the bed, trailing kisses along her neck until the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Ona slid her hand into Lucy’s hair, gently pulling her away as she tutted softly and talked in a stern voice. "Not good, hermosa, not good." Stepping to the side, she added, "You’re too distracting. Get on the bed, bend over."

Ona chuckled, her voice teasing. "Trying to take the lead, hm?" she asked, reaching for the whip. "Oh, so you wanted more punishment?" she added sarcastically, as Lucy whimpered when the leather met her skin again.

"That's fine," Ona murmured, her breath warm as she grazed her teeth along Lucy’s neck. "Next time, just ask, mi juguete. I love playing with you." She let her lips trail down Lucy’s spine before standing up straight again.

Crack.

Lucy moaned into the mattress, her ass more sensitive than before after each hit. She braced herself for more, but the expected impact didn’t come. Instead, she felt Ona press up against her.

Ona reached for the vibrator and, with her arm around Lucy, gently slid it across her wetness until she felt Lucy start to buck her hips. She grinned as she turned on the device, keeping it at its lowest setting.

At the same time, she aligned herself with Lucy’s entrance, having slid the strap through her slick a few times to ensure it was well-lubricated. It was definitely wet enough, she had to make an effort to maintain control and prevent slipping inside just yet.

If the wetness pooling between Lucy’s legs didn’t make her arousal clear enough, her soft, breathy groans into the bedsheet left no doubt that she was ready.

Lucy moaned as Ona entered her in one fluent thrust, completely bottoming out, pressing against the plug that was still inside of her.

Ona started thrusting as she felt Lucy had gotten used to the way she filled her up, starting with slow languid thrusts as she held the vibrator in place.

Lucy struggled to focus on all the sensations overwhelming her. She felt euphoric yet whiny, caught in a paradox of feeling both overwhelmed and unsatisfied. She craved more.

She cried out as Ona thrust harder and more deliberately. Fuck she was incredible, Lucy thought as every movement hit just the right spot. But she quickly realized that this wasn’t entirely focused on her. As her own orgasm built, the swears and murmurs behind her revealed that Ona was also nearing her climax.

“I-” She moaned, cutting herself off as waves of pleasure surged through her. She collapsed onto her forearms, her face pressing into the bed as her thighs quivered. The intensity of her orgasm hitting her sooner than she had anticipated.

Ona bit her lip as she watched the wetness gushing down between their bodies. She let the vibrator fall onto the bed, leaving it running as she gripped Lucy's hips, desperately chasing her own release. She was so close. She shut her eyes tight, concentrating on her peak, thrusting just right so the base of the strap pressed firmly against her clit.

Lucy’s walls convulsed around the strap, having moved past the initial waves of overstimulation, and another orgasm was already building up.

At the same time they cried out, waves of pleasure rippling through their bodies at the same time, jerkily Ona rode out her orgasm until she pulled out and collapsed next to Lucy.

Lucy was in a complete daze, her vision blurred, heart pounding so loudly she could hear it echoing in her ears. A wave of pure bliss washed over her, and time felt meaningless.

She couldn’t tell if it had been seconds, minutes, or longer. Time seemed to blur in her hazy state. Slowly, Lucy became aware of the gentle buzzing against her belly. With fumbling hands, she reached down, trying to turn it off. Ona chuckled softly and took it from her, switching it off with ease.

Lucy let out a deep sigh. "That was… fucking amazing."

Ona turned to face her fully, a satisfied smile on her lips. "Glad you liked it."

"And you?" Lucy asked, her voice a bit breathless.

"Mhm." Ona leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Lucy’s cheek. "Very good."

Lucy smiled, rolling onto her back, stretching out as contentment washed over her. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this satisfied before. As she sensed Ona moving beside her, she cracked one eye open and was met with a playful smile.

Ona reached out, lazily tracing patterns on Lucy’s chest. "You tired already?" she teased, though there was a faint note of disappointment in her voice.

Lucy hummed, savoring a few more moments of bliss before sitting up slightly. "Why?"

Ona chuckled, that familiar mischievous glint returning to her eyes. The athleticism was always a plus, models tended to tire too quickly for her liking. "Want to wear a strap? I think you’ve earned it." She smirked, already imagining how Lucy would womanhandle her, or perhaps she could ride her, propped up against those irresistible abs.

A slow smile spread across Lucy’s face. Oh, she definitely wanted to wear a strap. "Yeah," she replied, "I’d like that."

"Perfect," Ona said with a grin, standing up with the kind of ease that made it seem like she was just starting her day, full of fresh energy.

Lucy could feel her own energy gradually returning. As Ona removed her harness, letting it fall to the floor with the strap still attached. Lucy stepped towards her, removing the plug and laying it beside the discarded strap.

Ona didn’t seem to notice, already preoccupied with scanning her closet. Without looking up, she handed Lucy a harness, her mind focused on choosing the right strap.

With practiced ease, Lucy slipped into the harness, already feeling the familiar stir of excitement building again.

Ona turned to her with a grin, handing over the strap and a small bottle of lube.

Lucy raised an eyebrow as she took it. This girl was definitely experienced, but the size of the strap was... pretty big. She couldn’t help but smirk, though she kept any comment to herself.

It was a shame Lucy wasn’t allowed to kiss her, especially now. Ona looked so damn cute biting her bottom lip, intently watching her secure the strap. Truly a shame.

Unable to resist, Lucy leaned in, kissing the soft skin of her neck with eager lips. They stumbled into the wooden door, and Lucy caught Ona just before she could crash into it too hard, pausing her movements.

Their eyes met, Ona’s filled with undeniable lust. Lucy smirked. This girl truly had a passion, no doubt about that.

Lucy lifted Ona, carrying her toward the nearest wall, to not to let Ona’s back press against the rough wood.

Ona chuckled at how effortlessly the girl carried her. Cupping Lucy's face she pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before trailing her lips down to her neck, playfully returning the favor with a few teasing bites mixed in.

She paused, however, when Lucy pressed the lubed strap against her, a low groan escaping her lips as Lucy began to grind her hips. Held securely against the wall, Ona could feel the firm grip of Lucy's big hands on her ass, grounding her.

Her jaw went slack as Lucy slowly entered her, guiding her down onto the rubber strap. God, she loved the feeling of being filled like this.

Ona reached for Lucy’s hair, fingers tangling just above the nape of her neck, giving it a firm tug. Lucy groaned in response, but it didn’t slow her rhythm. Instead, she leaned in closer, her lips finding Ona’s neck once more, resuming her trail of eager kisses.

Lucy felt the urge to give Ona more, to feel even closer, the desire to kiss more of her skin was overwhelming. With that thought, she shifted, holding up Ona easily as she walked them towards the bed. Her movements slowed but remained deliberate, their connection never breaking even as she shuffled on to the bed.

Lucy eagerly latched onto Ona’s chest, her tongue tracing circles and lips sucking gently, every movement fueled by the soft sounds escaping the woman below her. Each moan spurred her on, her own thrusts becoming more insistent, matching the rhythm of Ona’s pleasure. Lucy’s focus was completely on her, reading every breath, every gasp, and responding with more intensity.

Ona groaned, a sudden idea flashing through her mind. She tugged Lucy up by the roots of her hair and, with a swift motion, rolled them both over. Lucy, caught off guard but intrigued, let it happen, eyes widening as she watched Ona straddle her waist. Instinctively, she tried to sit up, eager to continue her trail of kisses, but Ona gently pushed her back down, pinning her to the bed.

Without a word, Ona reached for the vibrator they'd used earlier, switching it on and positioning it against herself. As she began to ride Lucy, her left hand pressed firmly against Lucy’s toned stomach, steadying herself while she controlled the pace, her movements deliberate and intoxicating.

Ona's eyes squeezed shut, her breath hitching as she focused on the growing tension coiling in her core. The heat in her stomach tightened with every thrust, every brush of Lucy’s touch, pulling her closer and closer to the edge of release.

As Ona’s body faltered, Lucy’s hands tightened around her hips, steadying her movements. She continued to lift her up and down, her own hips rolling rhythmically beneath her, guiding Ona through every wave of pleasure.

With a satisfied hum, Ona eventually eased herself off Lucy and collapsed beside her, turning off the toy with a soft click. She exhaled deeply, sinking into the bed in contentment, her breathing gradually slowing.

Lucy rolled on her side to watch Ona, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

Ona sighed and rolled her eyes, before turning to face her. "Lucy"

Lucy, still captivated by Ona’s beauty, smiled warmly. "Yes?"

Ona leaned closer, gently cupping Lucy’s face in her hands and squeezing her cheeks. "Hello."

Lucy chuckled, feeling a flutter in her chest. "Yes, hello. I already -"

"No," Ona interrupted, squeezing a bit harder. "I know that look. Put your brain back in gear for a moment."

Lucy blinked, momentarily confused. Her mind was engaged, or so she thought. Oh shit. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized she might have been caught up in the moment more than she intended.

Ona's grip tightened slightly. "You’re not falling in love with me," she said firmly. "This was fun, but it's just an act. We're not running away together, we’re not getting married on an island, and you’re not buying me presents." She released Lucy’s face and gave a reassuring smile.

Lucy’s frown deepened as she processed Ona’s words. Wait, was I really - she thought shocked, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment washing over her.

"But this was great," Ona continued, her smile softening. "If you ever find yourself back in Barcelona and have time for a night of fun, just ask for Nova."

"Nova?" Lucy asked, still a bit flustered. "Oh, is that your stage name?"

Ona nodded, a playful glint in her eye. "Sí."

----the end-----

I hope you liked it, I have never written a song-fic and i went a little of track (litteraly lol).

sorry, this was... a lot 🙈

[skzdarlings]

the same but different | the threesome series ; skz ; han/reader/felix

masterlist.

threesome series part 3/4.

You grew up with Felix and Jisung.  Your definition of normal has always been unique, considering Felix is a faerie and magically connected to Jisung.  So even though you are dating Jisung, when Felix tells you he needs to marry to keep up appearences in the faerie court, you see no reason to say no…

pairing: han jisung/reader/lee felix content info: sexual content. threesome. faerie au. this is an almost 16k word read. one day i will meet my maker and have to atone for that. warning for some ambiguous motivations plus general freaky faerie and supernatural stuff. felix and jisung have a magical connection, reader does not know the details but it seems they can physically feel each other's reactions and urges and they do a lot of the same things in an uncanny way. there is a 'consummation ritual' that involves being watched but reader is clever about it.

:)

-

Autumnal flurries follow Han Jisung everywhere, little tornadoes of red-and-gold kicking up an elemental fuss wherever he steps. It might be a remnant of his time with the faerie folk, or maybe a coincidence, or maybe he is such a blustery font of chaos that he is simply kicking up wind storms on his own. 

He totters into the café with his usual trail of leaves, much to the displeasure of the bus boy who follows with a broom.  The wind gets restless at the window.  It throws itself against the pane with a heavy, reverberating thunder as if nature is knocking in pursuit of Jisung’s attention.  You watch a few pine cones hurl themselves at the glass before everything settles down on its own. 

Jisung pays it no mind.  He slides into the booth across from you, heaving a big dramatic breath. 

“Good afternoon,” you say, amused with your boyfriend’s theatrics.  They are as constant as his flurries.   

“Yo, is it, ‘cause ah, HAHA—I’ve been having a day.”  He thunks his head on the back of the booth and pretends to fall asleep.  His round glasses skew with the loll of his head.

Jisung dressed up for today’s date.  He is wearing a beige coat that flatters his warm complexion plus that cute checkered scarf you gave him last winter.   You don’t mind his usual hoodies and caps as it always puts a swagger in his step, but you appreciate his effort even if it is a little random. 

He lifts his head with another musical sigh, golden blonde hair fluttering from his breath.  His big glasses make his dark eyes even bigger and you smile again.

“Hi,” you say sweetly.

He whimpers with more theatrical misery. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says like it is the most painful fact in the world.  “Why are you so beautiful?  And funny, and smart, and mine.  If you weren’t gonna be ugly and horrible, the least you could have done is reject me.  It wouldn’t have been so bad.  I could have been a lonely suffering artist, hidden away in a basement, composing symphonies for the beautiful woman out of my league.”

“I think you just described the Phantom of the Opera,” you say.

“Even better.”  Jisung sighs wistfully.  “He lived in an underground sex dungeon, right?  I don’t think he even paid rent.”   

You laugh into your hot chocolate. 

“What’s gotten into you?” you say.  It’s a rhetorical question.  Jisung is always a little silly. 

Your playful boyfriend thumps his hands on the table and glares past you, out the window. 

“Faeries,” he says brusquely.  “And their stupid faerie bullshit. My life is a nightmare and an arthouse horror movie and no one has ever suffered more than me—oooh, is that a chocolate croissant?”

You slap his hand when he reaches for your pastry.   He yelps like you chopped it off. 

“Jisungie,” you say, lifting an eyebrow, “what do you mean faerie bullshit?” 

He pouts spectacularly while unknotting his scarf.  He speaks in a watery, despondent voice, very contrary to his usual goofiness, “What do you think I mean?”

This, it seems, is also rhetorical as you have no opportunity to answer.  The bell jingles above the door and a little shiver moves down your spine. 

Unlike Jisung, you have never been to the faerie realm, but you have a gift for recognizing a supernatural presence.  Everything catches your eye as if they are sparkling fireflies, no matter their efforts to hide. 

The courtly fae, the ones that look human, have a tendency to cast enchantments both literal and metaphorical, their impossible beauty captivating to any human eye.  You are not immune to their gravitas, the way space seems to warp around them like earth is little more than gelatinous mire, but you can sense their other-worldliness before seeing them.   This is most likely due to exposure.  You did, after all, grow up with a faerie. 

You look to the doorway.  

Ah.  Speaking of. 

“Oh my god,” Jisung whines.  “He said he’d give me time to tell you.” He steals your hot chocolate and takes a swig like it’s hard vodka. 

“Tell me,” you repeat.  “Tell me what?” 

Though you are talking to Jisung, you cannot help but look over at his… his…

His Felix. 

Felix smiles when he sees you.  He scrunches his nose cutely and it makes his constellation of dark freckles dance on his sunny face. 

The freckles have always been an intriguing part of his glamour – for his human-like appearance is a mask shrouding his true faerie form – because faeries typically regard such things as imperfections.   Perhaps the freckles are residual from his time in the human realm, as Jisung’s flurries are the opposite. 

Felix is unbelievably beautiful.  He is wearing mortal clothes but he does not look truly human.  There’s something in his movements, fluid and dance-like, sometimes too swift to perceive.  His blonde hair catches the light with a perfect glow at every angle, his slender frame flawlessly draped in a black long-coat and a flattering black sweater.  His lovely ringed fingers part the air with his little wave and his perfectly pink mouth curls up in a sweet smile.  His dark eyes seem to sparkle.  

He crosses the restaurant in a few strides, quicker than a human would.  He smiles the whole time. 

“Hello,” he says, his deep voice smooth as butter.  Or maybe you’re the butter, his voice the knife, gliding right down the centre of you and settling low in your belly.  It has always had that effect. 

“Felix, hello,” you say in that quivery way you always greet him.   You grew up with both Jisung and Felix but Felix flits off to the faerie world when it suits him, and every time he returns you find yourself awestruck by him, as if you had never truly seen him before. 

Jisung smacks his head down on the surface of the table.  You and Felix look at him, you with considerable more concern.  Felix just draws his mouth into a flat line, neither smiling nor frowning, more like he anticipated his… his… his Jisung would behave this way. 

“Is it okay if I sit?”  Felix asks, pointing to the spot beside Jisung.  Jisung is somewhat sprawled in the booth but this doesn’t seem to concern Felix.  When you nod, he smiles, smooths out his coat, and simply bumps Jisung with his hip to squish himself into the booth. 

Jisung whimpers again, resting his head on the wall and pouting at it. 

“So,” Felix says.  He folds his hands on the table and tips his head, looking at you.  “How are you doing these days, hmm?” 

Faeries are known for their decorum.  It can turn sour very quickly, but it is imperative to adhere to rules of hospitality and general politeness.  

It is still strange and unnerving to have a faerie prince plunk himself into your booth and smile at you so politely.  Especially when you haven’t seen Felix in more than a year.   A year and fifteen days, to be specific, because Jisung has counted them all.  Jisung complains endlessly when Felix visits but he complains even more when he’s gone for too long. 

You think Felix must have returned to the human realm a while ago.  Jisung is usually friendly when he firsts sees him, but right now he is glaring. 

“What?”  Felix looks at Jisung.  They cock their heads at each other, the same angle, same time. 

It is always funny seeing them side-by-side.  Singularly, they look nothing alike, perhaps because Felix has intentionally deviated his glamour from being identical.  Jisung has a round face, cartoonishly cute at times, his build bulkier from his somewhat erratic workout schedule.   Felix is all sharp lines with a pointed elegance to his features, though his presence fills what space his slender body does not.  Their only similarity is their hair, similarly bouncy, alike in length, and identically shaded.  Right now it is a matching blonde. 

Despite their ample differences, there is an uncanny sameness to them.  They move the same way, tip their heads at the same time, roll their eyes in tandem.  They even take a breath at the same time.  You are certain if you pressed a hand to each of their chests, you would find their hearts beating to the same steady cadence.   

Felix was once a changeling.  Faeries sometimes swap their infants for human ones, occasionally for fun, oftentimes when their offspring is sickly or malformed.  Once a changeling swap has occurred, the faerie and human are inexorably linked to one another.  If the human parents try to kill the faerie or let it die, it will also kill their child, so it is in their best interest to nurse the sickly baby and hope the faeries swap them back. 

Felix was born too soon, a shrivelled little creature, third son of the autumn high prince’s third wife.  His mother swapped him for Jisung, stealing the little mortal away in his infancy.  Jisung’s mother was not a bewildered, simpering mortal, however.  Her resilience and intelligence was part of the family’s initial allure, but it was also the downfall of the changeling operation.  She ventured into the faerie realm and won back her son, plus the right to see the lonely faerie prince that had been so unceremoniously abandoned by his unloving family. 

She returned to the mortal world with Jisung and Felix.  The changeling prince spent his childhood bouncing between the human realm and the world of faerie.   You grew up next door to Jisung and the three of you have been a tight-knit trio since before you can remember. 

You love Felix just as much as you love Jisung, it’s just that… the faerie-ness complicates things.  You aren’t sure Felix really loves you or Jisung in a way you understand.  Even now, his enquiry after your well-being seems more like a necessary script than genuine question.  He will be uneasy until you complete your side of the exchange. 

“I’m good, Felix,” you say.  “How are you?”

He smiles, freckles dancing.  “Good,” he says.  “Thank you.”  

Felix cracks his neck and Jisung is compelled to do the same, though he looks irritated about it.  The depth of their connection has always been ambiguous to you, but sometimes Jisung feels phantom aches and pains, urges that come out of nowhere and pester him like an itch until he satisfies them.  

He seems impatient today, his glare not subsiding for a second.  

“You said I could have time to tell her,” Jisung says. 

“I gave you time,” Felix replies calmly. 

“You gave me like five minutes, man!”

“It doesn’t take more than five minutes,” Felix  says.  He seems genuinely perplexed that Jisung would believe otherwise.  He looks at Jisung with a head tilt that Jisung mirrors, then they both look at you.  “Hi,” Felix says.  “Will you marry me?  See.  That was less than five minutes.  It was five syllables, actually.  Well, I guess if you had asked it, you would have said, ‘Will you marry Felix,’ so it would have been six syllables, but that’s still less than five minutes, even if you streeeeetch it ouuuut—”

“I’m gonna stretch you out,” Jisung says, then plants his forehead in his palm.  “That came out wrong.” 

Felix does not plant his forehead in his palm but he does rest his chin in his hand. 

“So,” he says to you, smiling. “Will you?  Two syllables, by the way.”

“Shut up about the syllables, dude.” 

“Wait,” you say, interrupting their inane blabber.  If you leave them to it, Jisung and Felix will dance in verbal circles for hours and still not clarify anything.  “Marry you?  Why would I— Felix, you know Jisung and I— I don’t understand what’s—”

You love Jisung and Felix.  You find them equally attractive, in their own way and as a complimentary pair.  As much as you adore Jisung, you feel bereft when Felix is gone for a long time.  Your crush on Felix was as inevitable as your romance with Jisung.  Only where that relationship has long since solidified into a stable love, you and Felix have never done much more than hug. 

Jisung and Felix, on the other hand, have shared their own intimacies.  You caught them kissing back when you were teenagers.  You got pouty rather than angry, viciously jealous of both of them at once.  Jisung was too flustered to speak, mostly chirping like a frightened bird, while Felix just smiled and cheerily said, “Jisungie says we’re practicing.”

“Practicing?” you asked, hands on hips.  “Practicing for what exactly?”

Felix frowned, looking confused, like it had never occurred to him to follow that line of questioning. 

“For girls!”  Jisung exclaimed. 

Felix snapped his fingers and nodded.  “Right,” he said.  “Girls. That was it.  Wait.”  He looked confused again and pointed to you. “Isn’t she a girl?” 

“She doesn’t count,” Jisung said, getting redder by the second.  You threw a shoe at him and stormed out of the house. 

That was a long time ago.  That momentary flicker of suggestion was the only time Felix brought up potentially kissing you.  Even then, it seemed less desirous than pragmatic.  

And now, for some reason, he is asking you to marry him. 

“Oh my god, man, maybe if you used more than five syllables, she would get what’s going on,” Jisung says.  His gaze softens when he looks at you.  He reaches across the table to take your hand, though it takes you a second to respond.  Your fingers are frozen stiff around your mug.  “Baby,” he says in a soft, apologetic voice, “I know it sounds a bit strange, but I promise I can explain.” 

“I have to get married,” Felix interrupts, ignoring when Jisung scowls at him.  “I think it��s just for, uhhh, appearances, basically.  My brother Chan just became high prince and I’m the only one of my mum’s kids who isn’t married and she thinks it makes her look bad because all my dad’s other kids have their lives together… anyway, she said either I find a bride for myself or she was going to give me one.  And, uh, she’s not very, hmm, generous, is she?”

Definitely a rhetorical question.  You do not need to have met the faerie princess to know of her predilection for malice.  Felix would most likely be saddled with some Shakespearean donkey-headed monstrosity for all his days.  Felix, being Felix, would smile blithely and accept his awful fate, saying little on the matter when prompted. 

Felix is like that.  He shows neither amity nor animosity to much.  His emotions, whatever they are, manifest unpredictably.  He smiles a lot of blank smiles.  Occasionally he bursts into random tears that flood out of him with terrifying distress.  It comes upon him unexpectedly, so big that it is almost theatrical.  You think he might be mimicking expressions of human pain to convey whatever interior hurt he is feeling, however severe or benign, then it just stops until next time.  

He is not the sort to wail and harass you.  Even if he was desperate, he would not force you to marry him.  Looking into his dark eyes, you know that much.  There are plenty of stories the world over where supernatural princes steal mortal girls from their beds, where they compel them to dance until their feet bleed, where they fill their heads with songs that play until the human goes mad and dies in some anguished pit in their own mind. 

There are not many stories where they propose in a café.

“Felix, you idiot!”  Jisung smacks Felix on the arm.  “You didn’t even tell her the important part.” 

“Oh yeaaah,” Felix says. 

Jisung scoffs and looks at you, his expression soft again.  He squeezes your hand.

“Baby,” he says, “you know how Felix and I have a special, um, connection?” 

You know he means the changeling magic but you think about them kissing.  You push the image aside, as well as the lingering jealously, and nod. 

“Right,” Jisung says.  “We’re like… tied together and shit, right?  Like if I got hit by a bus, Felix would also go splat.”

“Faeries don’t splat,” Felix says, bristled. 

“Splat,” Jisung says sweetly, “like a big stupid faerie pancake.” 

“Jisung,” you say, “are you going to make a point?” 

“The point,” Jisung says, “is Felix is gonna live a long time, if he doesn’t go splat.  So that means… I’m gonna live a long time too.”

“If,” Felix interrupts, “he comes with me to live among the folk.” 

The fair folk.  Another name for the courtly fae.  Divided into seasonal realms, the four courts host a variety of faerie life.  Felix is from the autumn court and Jisung was spirited to it as baby.  You have never crossed from this world into the faerie world.  You know the stories better than anyone, almost more familiar with the foreign realm than the world around you, but its reality has only ever been a distant dream. 

This seems like the world’s strangest break-up: your boyfriend leaving you for his changeling faerie to live an immortal life in the faerie realm.

Except it’s not a break-up.  It’s a proposal. 

“I have no idea what’s happening right now,” you say, juggling feelings of confusion and jealousy and desire.  “What does that have to me with me?  And getting married?” 

“It will bond us together too,” Felix says, smiling again.  “Do you understand?  Isn’t that wonderful?  The three of us can be together for always.  I think you’ll really like it.”  He looks sideways at Jisung and adds, “And you’re smarter than him when it comes to the fair folk.  I would feel better if Jisung had your company.”

“What?” Jisung slaps the table.  “What are you talking about?  I’m the one who’s been there!  I am so totally super smart about faeries all the time!” 

“You once ate a magic apple and grew a tail,” Felix says.   

“You know I get snacky after my naps.  Besides, I got better.  Suck on some salty iron and boom, no tail.” 

Felix sighs, exasperated, and Jisung sighs, even more exasperated. 

“Please marry me,” Felix says imploringly.  “For all of us.” 

Felix cannot lie.  Faerie magic ranges from miniscule to immense, but lying is an impossibility regardless of rank. 

An inability to lie does not guarantee honesty. The truth can be obfuscated.  Faeries are clever with words, cleverer still what they reveal at all.  

Felix has not lied.  He needs to marry.  It would bond you.  You are smarter than Jisung when it comes to the fair folk.

Felix has not told the whole truth.  He does not need to marry you specifically.  He would be happy with just Jisung, you think.  They have something special, something you have always watched from the outside.  You know a lot about faeries but you do not belong to their world.  Felix could keep Jisung safe.  You are a spare. 

Despite the loving stare of your two oldest friends, you feel woefully insecure.  You take your hands back and rest them in your lap, staring morosely into your cooling hot chocolate. 

“Baby?” Jisung says gently.

You look up.  They look equally concerned.  They reach for you at the same time then look at each other.  They mutely come to an accord and Felix takes your hand.  You shiver immediately. 

“Sweetheart,” Felix says.  “It’s just me.  I won’t… I won’t make you do something you don’t want to do, but I… I want to know… I mean, do you not…”

“You don’t want to come with us?”  Jisung asks, his bottom lip wobbling.  Tears spill over his cheeks seconds later.  “I-I-I know it’s a bit weird.  But you’ve always talked about wanting to see it anyway.   And you don’t have any family here anymore.  Are you worried about the royal court thing?  Because I’m gonna be there and Felix says we’ll spend most of our time at his bower anyway and okay I don’t even know what that means and I didn’t wanna seem stupid so I didn’t ask—”

“It’s just my tree-house, Jisung,” Felix says.

“It’s just his tree-house,” Jisung sobs. 

“It isn’t that,” you say.  You reach for Jisung so you are holding both their hands.  You give them a squeeze.  “I love you both.  So much.  It hurts a little sometimes because of how much.  And I’m scared… I’m scared of being left behind.” 

They both pause.  Felix looks more bewildered than any supernatural creature in history, you are sure.  They are inviting you to come along and you express fear of the opposite.  It must be incomprehensible to his mind. 

Apparently it also confuses Jisung because he softly whispers, “What the fuck.”

You bring their hands together and withdraw your own touch. 

“I just mean…”  You are too embarrassed to vocalize it. 

Recognition lights their eyes at the same time.  Jisung rips his hand away. 

“I can’t be alone with Felix forever!”  Jisung cries.  “Are you crazy?  We need you!  Without you it’s just… just… just us.  It’s nothing, it’s empty.  You… you’re our person.  If you’re not there too… then… then… then I’m not going either.  I’d rather get old and die with you than live forever without you.” 

Felix’s mouth opens and closes with a storm of unspoken thoughts.  He has sobbed spectacularly at birthday cards and scraped knees, but he doesn’t cry now. 

Jisung’s exclamation rattles you.  It was such a genuine burst of emotion, so rich with devotion that you feel silly for ever doubting either of them.  Empty, he said.  You never considered what kind of echo might exist between them, how your presence filled it and made it better, not worse. 

You intend to remedy your blunder, an apology on your lips, but then Felix finds his words.

“I’ll tell you my name,” he says.  “My true name.  Will that be enough to convince you?”

Enough?

Enough?

You and Jisung stare at Felix with your jaws dropped.  Felix clenches his jaw, staring back at you. 

Faeries go by many names in their long lifetimes.  Felix was the name Jisung’s mother gave him, but it is not his true faerie name.  Names are powerful things.  If a mortal has a faerie’s true name, they can ensorcell and compel that faerie to do their bidding.  It essentially enslaves them. 

Faeries do not freely reveal their true names, not to other faeries and certainly not to mortals.  Tricky mortals have uncovered faerie names, stories of humans triumphing over wicked creatures, but you cannot think of a single story where the faerie got down on one knee and willingly offered it.

Because that’s what Felix does.  He gets out of the booth and gets down on one knee in front of you, then looks up at you with dark, desperate eyes. 

“I’ll tell you right now if that’s what it takes,” he says.  His hands are shaking.  The wind starts knocking at the window again, harder than before.  Leaves form columns of colour, shooting up to the sky, scattering in every direction. 

“Don’t,” you say.  “Don’t.”  The trust this requires is extraordinarily substantial.  It means more than any simple I love you.  Maybe Felix feels human love or maybe he feels something different.  Maybe losing you is not like losing a person, but like losing a limb or something equally vital.  It must be, for him to offer up his entire being in a word. 

The gesture means more than you can say.  The best way to reciprocate it is by refusing it. 

“It’s enough,” you say, choked up.  “It’s enough that you would offer.” 

“I’ll tell you,” he says, like he thinks you don’t believe him.  But of course you believe him.  He can’t lie. 

“I know,” you say.  “I’m sorry I doubted you.  Come here please.” 

Felix sits beside you and lets you wrap your arms around his neck.  He is tentative at first but then he looks at Jisung and holds you tighter.   The world outside settles once more. 

“Wow, that was intense,” Jisung says.  He grabs a napkin and blows his nose.  “Wheeew.  Wednesdays, am I right?”  

Felix pulls back, just enough so he can see your face.  You feel shy under his rapt attention, flush with warmth when his fingertips sweep from your temple to your jaw.  He holds your chin and tilts your face up.  He seems to be studying you.  This close, you can see all the shades of brown in his eyes, even flecks of dark, dark green and threads of gold.  There is a shimmer to the black of his iris.  If he turned a certain way, you think his glamour would disappear.  You think he would be beautiful anyway. 

He exhales.  His breath flutters over your lips. 

“Will you come with us?” he asks, his deep voice rumbling so soft and low.  “Will you marry me?”

You look at Jisung.  You cannot imagine any circumstance in which a man would look so eager for his girlfriend to accept another man’s proposal, yet this feels completely normal. 

Normal.  The three of you have always had your own definition of that word, haven’t you? 

You look at Felix, at the shimmer of his bold gaze.  

“Yes,” you say.  “Yes, I will.” 

Felix smiles and Jisung lets out a whoop!  You laugh, turning aside to wipe an unbidden tear from your eye.  Felix touches your cheek.  He looks more entranced than anything, blinking long and slow like a content cat. 

Jisung is still celebrating.  He shoves half your croissant in his mouth while you are distracted.  Then, with his cheeks stuffed full of pastry, his eyes get wide. 

“Ohyeah, weforgotsumffing!” he says around a mouthful of food.  He coughs, swallowing too quickly.  Felix clears his throat and passes Jisung your mug.  Jisung gulps it down while you and Felix exchange an affectionate glance.  

Then Jisung clinks the cup on the table and looks at you, sheepish. 

“Haha,” he says.  “By the way, you have to fuck Felix.” 

-

There are entrances to faerie in the deepest part of the woods.  Doorways are found in unlikely patterns that most humans will declare peculiar but innocuous: rings of spotted mushrooms, circular patches of darkening grass, shadows that arch with a perfect curve beneath a canopy of leaves.   

You have known this all your life, but you also knew to never go looking.  Not on your own.  A mortal wandering into faerie is not so different from a lamb wandering into a wolf den.  

Even with a wolf escort, you feel like that vulnerable lamb.  You hold hands with Jisung the entire trek, trailing behind Felix who hums as he lightly dances his way through even the harshest terrain.  Finally you come across two branches, twining up and up until they tangle like two hands clasping across a chasm.  

Winded from the exertion of the hike, you and Jisung come to a slow stop to catch your breaths.  Felix hurries ahead, his face brightening as he approaches the archway. 

“You ready?”  Jisung asks, squeezing your hand.

“Yeah,” you say.  “You?”

“Oh, hell yeah, baby,” he says with a laugh.  You look at him only to find his gaze turned on the archway, faraway with reminiscence.  “I remember it, you know,” he says.

“What?” you ask.  Jisung has never mentioned this before. “But you were just a baby.”

He looks at you with surprise, like he didn’t expect an answer.  Maybe he didn’t mean to say it out loud.  He laughs, deflecting the tension, and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says.  “Magic I guess, or something.  I dunno.  I just know I remember it.  There’s stuff that happened last week I can’t remember.  In a year, or fifty, or a hundred, I don’t know what I’ll remember from here.  But I remember this place like I never left.” 

You squeeze his hand again.  He looks at you and smiles, squeezing back. 

“Come on!”  Felix calls.  He is standing at the archway, waving to you.  He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a leather satchel slung across his chest.  The mundanity of his clothing looks unnatural.  If he looked inhuman in that café, he looks even less human now.  His glamour is in tact, his freckles pronounced, but there is a quality to him that defies logic.  He looks like he could take off flying and it would not be unusual. 

You and Jisung exchange a final glance then approach.  Felix smiles and walks backwards through the archway.  You can see him clearly as if he merely took another step in the woods.  He holds out his hands, you and Jisung taking one each, then you step through as well. 

Oh.

October orange sunlight pours through the trees, the early sunset colour of a clear autumn day at its close.  The woods are a mosaic of colour: green, orange, yellow, red, brown, little swirls of leaves flying from branch to branch, gathering in piles and scattering again.  You watch leaves settle over a pile of bones only for the whole apparatus to knit itself together.  You stumble to a surprised stop as a cat made of bones and leaves unfurls before your eyes.  It scampers up to Felix, rattling like an ivory windchime and somehow still purring.  Felix scratches behind its leafy ears, smiling and greeting the kitty affectionately. 

“Come on,” Felix says, not noticing the way you and Jisung are completely arrested by the sight of the cat.  “It’s not far from here.” 

It is the domicile of the autumn court.   It is built into the woods, or swallowed by it, grand structures built within and around trees, some abodes very high in the sunlit branches, some disappearing into the ground.  They are decorated with garlands of dried flowers, gardens of gourds and harvest fruit weaving around the lower rooms.  You jump, startled, when a pile of nearby leaves rises up, revealing itself to be a deer, presumably also made of bones beneath its leafy surface. 

“Whoa,” Jisung says, an apt summary.   The leaf animals have no eyes, the faces uncanny.  The deer turns its neck with a click of bone, dipping its head in a respectful bow to Felix as he passes. 

Felix doesn’t notice.  He is watching you and Jisung now, smiling with so much mirth you think he might start glowing. 

“Do you like it?” he asks, looking directly at you.  Maybe he knows what Jisung is feeling without asking.  You try to school your expression to show more than just awe. 

“It’s beautiful,” you say.  You can see how a mortal could be a swept away by the beauty of the faerie court.  Between the glitter of crunchy leaves and the wafts of cinnamon and spice, it fantastically overwhelms the senses.  You can also see how quickly this dream could turn into a nightmare, if the sun was eclipsed and the undead creatures of the earth turned their vacant eyes on you.

You do not convey the complexity of your thoughts.  Felix takes for granted that you always tell the truth, even though he knows you can lie.  You think he sometimes forgets.   His whole face crinkles up with a smile now, maybe too severely, but you appreciate his attempt to render delight for you. 

“A little further to the palace,” Felix says. 

“Palaaace,” Jisung says in a sing-song, squeezing your hand.  He almost knocks you over when a bird swoops by his head.  This raven is real, not made of leaves, and it perches on Felix’s shoulder.  “Birds,” Jisung says woefully.  “There’s always a freaky-ass bird.” 

“This is one of mine,” Felix says, scratching its head.  “I think my brother sent it.”

You watch as the bird leans in, eerily person-like in how it seems to whisper in his ear before fluttering off.   Felix neither smiles nor frowns, his mouth drawing into a thin line as he comes to a halt.

“What is it?”  Jisung asks.  His startled tone reveals that Felix might be perturbed. 

“They’re expecting us,” Felix says, gazing ahead as if he can see your destination through all the foliage.  “They’re already preparing our wedding.”

“What?” you and Jisung say at the same time.  You look at each other then you ask, “Did you tell them already?”  Felix only proposed yesterday and he has not returned to the faerie realm, unless he snuck away overnight, but you don’t think so.  He spent the night with you and Jisung, Jisung insisting on being the little spoon between two big spoons.  Felix had his arm around Jisung and his hand in yours all night. 

“No,” Felix answers.  “I didn’t say anything yet.”

“This feels spoooooky,” Jisung sings, then laughs nervously. 

“Maybe,” Felix says with a casual shrug of his shoulders.  “Maybe not.  Let’s go.” 

You and Jisung exchange another look, but you have gone too far to turn around, so you follow Felix.  He leads you to a red-bricked path that thickens with moss the further you walk.    When you reach the base of a hill, Felix stops to hold your hand. 

“Don’t look back until I say,” he says.  “You could fall.  Keep your eyes on me or the cat.  She knows the way too.” 

The cat is running around your feet, mewling, though the clack of its jaws is louder than its airy voice.  You decide to look at Felix instead.  Apparently Jisung picks the cat because he coos, “Aww, she’s kinda cute in a freaky way.  What’s her name?” 

“Babyeater,” Felix says. 

“Oh nooo,” Jisung replies.

You follow Felix and the cat up an incline that grows so steep that at one point you are walking perpendicular to the forest below.   You look at Felix the whole time, squeezing his hand tightly.   His returned squeeze is reassuring.  You remind yourself this is Felix, the same boy who kissed your scraped knees better, who sat through all your childhood tea parties even though he never really understood the concept of playing pretend, the same boy who has dutifully and lovingly obliged your every whim, however much he failed to understand its human purpose.  For Felix, it was always enough if it made you happy. 

He leads you safely over the crest of the hill, then it’s just a few more steps through a darker patch of woods before you are stepping into a huge clearing, bright and orange and gold.   Three massive, broad trees stand in the distance, an elaborate stone citadel built around the trunks.   There are faeries and other supernatural entities wandering around an autumnal garden, some scurrying with bundles of lights and candles and drapery.   The clearing and castle have been beautifully and frightfully decorated with pumpkins and dried flowers and bones. 

“Is this for us?”  Jisung asks.  “Uh, I mean, for you?”

“It looks like it,” Felix says uncertainly.  “I don’t know how they—”

Jisung screams, a proper shrill yell right in your ear, when something bursts out of some shrubbery and blocks his path.  You stumble back with wide-eyed surprise and Jisung instinctively shields you even in his terror.  Felix is not scared, his face neutral as ever, but his connection to Jisung has him reacting similarly, guarding you with his body. 

An eyeless husk straightens itself, bony limbs stretching for the sky.  You hear the crack of a neck-bone and the flutter of leaves, then all at a once a glamour settles over the faerie, revealing a handsome young man with short brown hair and dark eyes. 

“He’s still loud,” the faerie says.  “You were loud as a baby too.  Wahhh-wahhhh-wahhhhhh—” 

“Seungmin,” Felix says, nonplussed.  “Thank you for the raven.” 

Felix bows and the faerie, Seungmin, who must be the aforementioned brother, bows back as per the dictation of decorum. 

“Chan is mad he had to find out the news from Hyunjin,” Seungmin says, his mouth quirked in a smirky little half-smile.  “You better to be ready to grovel.”   

“Ah,” Felix says.   He looks over at you and Jisung who are clinging to each other, still wide-eyed with surprise.  “Hyunjin is a prince from the spring court,” Felix says.  “He can see the future.”

“Oh,” Jisung says.  “Yeah, sure, makes sense.”  He looks at you with a face that says, it definitely does not make sense. 

“Spring court,” Seungmin says with a little eye-roll.  “They burst in here with a dramatic fuss like always.  It’s embarrassing that the high prince of autumn learned about his favourite little brother’s engagement from a different court...”

“I can’t help that Hyunjin sees the future,” Felix says, more disgruntled than you have ever heard him.  It occurs to you, as you look between him and Seungmin, that Felix stands out here just as much as he did in the human world.  It is different, as here it is the little cracks of humanity that fracture his faerie face.  Not just the glamour, the freckles or his clothes, but some intrinsic bearing.   Maybe it is the sameness to Jisung, the way they block you with the same stance, the way they shuffle on the same foot.  Maybe it’s something else, but it is suddenly pronounced. 

Seungmin does not appear to notice Felix’s tone.  He just gives another bow which Felix is forced to return.  You see Jisung twitching and you squeeze his hand. 

“You don’t have to bow,” you whisper.    

“I know,” he says, then bobs twice in an aborted half-bow. 

You sigh.  You jump when Jisung shrieks again, startled by a little leaf-dog that comes running out of the shrubbery.  It is being pursued by some frantic sprites.  They yammer at the puppy in a faerie tongue as it starts to chase the cat.  All their bones are clattering as they run around, cat then dog then sprites.  Seungmin blinks at the fiasco then looks at Felix. 

“Let’s go,” Seungmin says.  He turns and gives you a bow, as is polite, then looks at Jisung and says, “Boo!” 

Jisung jumps and Seungmin cackles, bowing. 

Felix gives Seungmin a little shove, his mouth a grim line again. 

You follow Seungmin further into the garden, coming upon a feast that seems to be currently underway even while servants continue to set the party around the guests.   Food appears and disappears off the table, some faeries eating and some of them throwing food at the servants.   You have heard stories of ensorcelled human servants being trapped in places like this, but you only see faeries so far.  It doesn’t put you at ease exactly, but you don’t feel quite as frightened. 

Then all the faerie guests at the grand table stop and look at you.   Then you are frightened. 

“Hi,” Jisung squeaks. 

It is nervously and thoughtlessly blurted, but it would be impolite to ignore it, so a chorus of “hi” and “hello” circles the table in return. 

Most of them have a glamour of some kind.  A stockier, handsome faerie with bright orange hair stands.   He is on the other side of the long banquet table but manifests in front of you in mere seconds.  You are very alarmed to find him wearing bandages under a black army coat, the white wraps stained with blood.  It is very at odds with his deeply dimpled smile. 

“Hi there,” he says, looking past Jisung and straight at you.  “Wow, Felix really did it.  Welcome.  Call me Chan.  Sorry for the, ah, blood, I think it upsets humans?”  This apology seems sincere enough, accompanied with a tilt of the head, but he offers no further explanation.  He pulls you into an embrace, tucking you into the fold of one muscular arm, and laughing with an unexpectedly adorable giggliness.  “We have a human little sister.  That’s fun, yeah?”  He looks at the table and everyone nods and claps, only a few characters mutely unresponsive. 

You smile, maybe.  It feels a bit boxy.  Your brain is fitting all the pieces together, recalling that Seungmin referred to Chan as the high prince of autumn.   Chan is thus the highest font of power in this faerie court and he is hugging you. 

The hug pulls you away from Jisung who moves closer to Felix.  You look at them, watching as they hold hands, trying to convey with your eyes that you would rather be with them.

There is no time for any extraction attempt because a fuss stirs at one end of the table.  A pink-haired faerie bursts out of his seat.  He is long-limbed, tall and spindly, and he runs around the huge table at a fairly human speed.  He is wearing a billowy green jacket and a long string of pearls, his pastel appearance at some odds to the deepness of the autumn court. 

“Hey Fee-lix! Heeey!” he says, very literally bouncing when he reaches Felix.   

“Aha, hi, Hyunjin,” Felix says.   

“You brought humans!”  Hyunjin says, sweeping down to look at Jisung, then turning his dark-eyed stare to you.  His glamour is astonishingly beautiful, as bright as his pearls, a face like a handsome marble statue and a supermodel’s stature.  But he slinks like a ferret, as smirky as a fox.   “The bride,” he says with something of a wistful sigh.  His dark eyes are sparkling.  “A faerie and a human.  How romantic.  I love romance.” 

Then you are freed from hugging Chan, but only because Hyunjin cups your face in both hands and kisses you.  Not a greeting kiss either, but a deep kiss.  You sputter when he licks you. 

“Um,” Jisung squeaks. 

“This is High Prince Hyunjin.  Of the spring court, of course,” Chan says amiably, not doing anything to stop the high prince of the spring court from sucking face with his brother’s bride. 

Hyunjin stops on his own, smiling at you fondly.  “Pretty girl,” he says, stroking his whole hand over your face.  “I wish I could marry you.”  This is spoken without much longing, but it must be true or he couldn’t say it.   

He turns his sights on Jisung next.  Jisung straightens, eyes darting around for an escape. 

“The changeling baby,” Hyunjin says.  “He’s so cute now.  Can I marry this one, Felix?” 

Jisung’s eyes widen, looking at Felix, then at you. 

Felix looks unamused.  “No,” he says simply. 

Hyunjin pouts, slinking up to Jisung.  He grabs his face, long fingers grasping him tight.  Jisung’s lips part with surprise, his cheeks puffing when Hyunjin shakes his head around. 

“That’s not fair,” Hyunjin says.  “You already have one.” 

“I said no,” Felix repeats. 

Hyunjin just sighs.  “I knew you’d say that,” he says.  “Oh well.”  Then he kisses Jisung full on the mouth too, Jisung squeaking through the very wet onslaught.  Hyunjin just smiles and strokes his face, then goes back to the table. 

Hyunjin’s self-introduction triggers a similar desire in the remaining guests.  Soon they are swarming you, forced into the vaguest semblance of a queue when Chan waves a demanding hand.  You meet Felix’s mother, who smiles and coos at you like she didn’t mandate a wife in the first place.  You meet Changbin, another half-brother of Felix, who thankfully follows the example set by Chan and not Hyunjin and simply hugs you.  He is so burly and strong that it lifts you off your feet, but he has enough restraint not to crush you, so that’s something.  

There are clusters of other faeries, all noisy, all dipping in bows or trying to kiss you, and all of them from the spring or autumn court.   A hush falls over the garden when the remaining guests approach for an introduction.  Felix finally appears at your side, Jisung too, standing on either side of you and holding your hands. 

“Winter and Summer,” Felix whispers as two courtly fae and their retinues step forward. 

You know very well why Felix deigns to warn you.  The autumn court and spring court, as per their seasonal equivalents, are shifting and transitory in many ways; they grow and they learn, and they often host humans, be it in a generous or malicious capacity.  The winter and summer courts are hostile to change, and both have little to do with humans at all.  Whatever human encounters have transpired in those courts have left few survivors to speak of it. 

Their glamours fit them strangely, like new clothes not yet broken in.   The first prince wears his glamour like a boy forced into dress clothes by a parent, walking with a stiff sort of discomfort.  His robes are coloured blue and yellow, long and loose, his blonde hair turning dark blue at the root.  His dimples are deep and cheekbones very sharp, and when he smiles he reveals a whole row of long, piercing teeth that he forgot to glamour altogether. 

You jump, staring aghast as the otherwise too-pretty prince sweeps into a bow.  He looks at Chan, sees him smiling, and copies the expression with a frightful brightness. 

“Prince Jeongin,” Felix says.  He squeezes your hand, reminding you to bow back. You do so swiftly.  “Summer.” 

“High Prince,” Jeongin says, laughing for some reason, a wheezing sound. 

“You have fourteen older brothers,” Felix says. 

“Had.”  Jeongin smiles again, his dimples deepening, his teeth glittering.  “I ate them.” 

“Oh,” Felix says. There is a pause as he looks at you then looks at Jeongin.  Your face reveals terror, you are certain, but Jeongin is waiting expectantly.  Felix weighs his words and says, “Uh.  You must be happy to be congratulated.” 

You wonder how you ever thought Felix was strange.  He seems so normal suddenly, the only one who finds something wrong with a person eating fourteen brothers.  If he did approve, he would not have to word his congratulations so strangely to avoid a lie. 

Unless he just did that to appease you, a small voice says in the back of your head. A different truth is not a lie.

You wish you were not such an overthinker.  This is Felix.   Your Felix.  Yours, yours.   As much yours as Jisung, who is breathing a little heavier, so it makes Felix breathe heavier, and their combined strain has you close to panting as well. 

You are thus all breathless when you meet the final prince, introduced as High Prince Minho of the winter court.  He is wearing dark clothes, apparently sans his usual furry winter accoutrements, and his glamour is a barely-there mask that vanishes when the light hits him at certain angles.  He wears it like a loosely tied scarf, grudgingly donned.  He has not glamoured his eyes, mismatched and vibrant and vacant of all human emotion.  He does not smile when he bows.   Like Jeongin, he does not hug or kiss you. 

He looks you over, his stare raking, then he does the same to Jisung.  Whatever he sees makes him laugh, though it is a derisive sound.   Then he looks at Felix and says, “They’re fragile.  Be careful, changeling.” 

When he leaves, Jisung whispers, “Honestly, that last one got me kinda hard.”

“Yeah,” Felix says, unhappily, “I know.”   

And just like that, you are trying very hard not to laugh. 

You look at Felix and find his returned gaze to be very affectionate.  You always thought his regards looked a little too precise, like he was concentrating on forming the appropriate expression, but compared to certain toothy grins and cold laughs, Felix looks positively alight with sentiment.   He still looks strange in his t-shirt and jeans, but you think he might look strange anyway. 

It never occurred to you before that Felix’s changeling life might have made him an oddity on both sides of the veil. 

You feel a pang of sympathy, suddenly. 

Felix looks down at where you are holding his hand.  You see his gaze flit across to where you hold Jisung’s hand as well.  It exacerbates that pang in your chest, recalling your own jealousy when you found them kissing, plus all the years spent wishing you shared their magical connection.  It never occurred to you that Felix might feel some type of way about you dating Jisung, about you and Jisung both being human.  Maybe it reminded he was an outcast wherever he went.  Always very close to being part of something, never quite belonging. 

Funny enough, Jisung has always been significantly more blasé.   He sets his sights on what he wants and it never occurs to him that he will not have it.  He has Felix, he dates you, you marry Felix, he lives forever.  You look at your human boyfriend, at the way his dark eyes seem to sparkle as he looks around the garden.  You think somehow, despite his occasional shrieks and frights, he looks more home here than Felix. 

“Right then!”  Chan suddenly claps in your face, startling you.  “It’s wedding time, yeah?  We’ve never had a human wedding here before but Hyunjin is an expert so he helped us out…” 

Two faerie servants rip you away from Felix and Jisung.  Hyunjin follows you, looking very keen, his hands clasped behind his back but his whole face lit up brightly.  His eagerness does not put you at ease, nor are you reassured by his seemingly “expert” advice.  Seeing as he thought it was appropriate to introduce himself by making out with you, you sincerely doubt he is the human expert he has proclaimed himself to be.  

Sure enough, the slapdash preparations are very random.  You are shoved into a very pretty dress, but then Hyunjin attempts to adorn you with both a veil and a headpiece, and you can see an array of other accessories from international wedding regalia.  Being as polite as possible, you decline the offer to any headpiece at all.   

“Wow,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face.  “You are so humble.  Humans are so amazing, the way they just let themselves be ugly.  Wow.  Wow.  I won’t interfere with your hideous but humble head.  Should we kiss again?”        

“I think it’s better we don’t,” you say.  “It might wrinkle the dress?”

He nods sagely.  “That would be bad,” he agrees.  “Especially because your head is so bare and horrible.  The dress is doing all the work.  Can I put flowers in your hair or do you really prefer to be ugly?” 

“Uh, flowers, yeah, sure,” you say.  He says everything so frankly that you somehow can’t feel offended.  A compliment would feel just as meaningless. 

“I’ve always wanted to attend a human wedding,” Hyunjin says.  “You know, spring is a very popular time for human weddings.  But humans are always dying so fast after, so it makes me sad to watch them properly.” 

“You feel sadness?” you ask.  Though Hyunjin and Felix seem quite different, perhaps you can glean an answer to the depth of faerie emotions.  Especially considering this marriage business feels like an entirely different beast now that you are in a wedding dress with an entire congregation of faeries sitting in a garden waiting for you.  It seemed like a simpler affair when it was just Felix and Jisung in a café booth.     

“Oh, of course,” Hyunjin says.  “I feel sad all the time.  I feel sad right now because you aren’t marrying me.”  He says this with a great deal of joviality, smiling at you like he’s proud of his supposed sadness.  

You decide not to ask more questions on that front, because you doubt his answers will be very helpful.  You do enquire after the wedding festivities.  You try not to frown at the very random assemblage of traditions he has baked into a single ceremony.  It sounds like a tedious affair but you decide to brace it, supposing it could be worse. 

“Then we all watch the royal consummation,” Hyunjin says casually, adding another flower to your hair. 

You grab his wrist without thinking, stopping him.

“Did I stab you?” he asks, blowing on your head to check for blood.  “Sorry.  I keep forgetting pins in heads kill humans.”  He says this with a lot of exasperation, like it’s a personal inconvenience to him that humans die so easily. 

“No, it’s not that,” you say.  He pops another peony on your head, manifesting the little buds out of thin air.  “What do you mean ‘we all watch the royal consummation?’  Who is ‘we’?”  

“The high princes, obviously,” he says, tucking a rose behind your ear. 

You stare ahead, mouth hanging open. 

Yesterday seems so long ago now, but Jisung and Felix did explain to you that the autumn court required an act of consummation to legitimize the marriage.  Apparently it has nothing to do with virginity or rearing heirs, mostly functioning as a ritual for the sake of itself.  Once faeries decide something is a rule they must follow it. 

You were very hot in the face the entire conversation.  Jisung seemed content to describe the way you need would have sex with his changeling faerie, but you were too embarrassed to meet either gaze. 

Maybe it would have been easier if you did not want to sleep with Felix. If it was just a necessity, it would be meaningless.

But you very much do desire Felix, even if he only smiled blithely during the discussion.  He seemed unaffected while you were very flustered. 

This is a very different type of flustered. 

“I was not told there would be an audience,” you finally say.

“There isn’t usually,” Hyunjin says.  “But that’s how human princes do it, if I remember.  A whole council watches.  Felix doesn’t have a council, though, so we’ll have to do it.  It would be very rude not to indulge your human traditions.  There!  All done.”

He steps back to admire your appearance.  You are still frazzled from the conversation, from the strong floral scent that is now wrapped around you, from everything. 

“You look—”  Hyunjin pauses, then, “—not horrible at all!  I did a very good job.  Now the wedding can start.  I’ll tell Chan to start killing the sacrificial wedding goats.   We only have one and it’s made of leaves and bones but I assumed that would be okay with you.  This way we can just keep killing the same one over and over again.  I’ll be right back.” 

“Can I—”  You feel panicked.  You need to see Jisung.  Hyunjin has you sequestered in some little golden alcove.  You do not want to be hunted down if you just flee, so you ask, “Can I go look at myself in a mirror?” 

“You’re testing me,” Hyunjin says, his long fingers covering his mouth with a surprised gasp.  Then he giggles.  “I passed!  I know you can’t look at the bride before the wedding.  Wait here!”  Then he disappears out the gate and around the corner. 

You sit down in a huff and close your eyes.  You try counting backwards from one hundred to calm yourself, but you reach the low twenties and still feel tense.   

Then you hear the patter of human footsteps.  You know it is a human because faeries scarcely disturb the ground where they walk.  You hear the crunch of leaves and lift your head, feeling a rush of relief with Jisung pokes his head into the alcove. 

“There you are,” he says.  “Felix is – uh – they’re getting him – dressed – and I wanted –  wanted you—” 

You stand as he talks, as his voice drifts, as his breath catches.  He looks down the length of your dress then back up, his dark eyes watery as he exhales with a gut-punching whoosh. 

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he says.  “This – this feels weird.  I know it’s – weird.  But it’s not – it’s not wrong, right?  It’s just weird.  But weird isn’t bad.   It’s just—”

“Weird,” you say, with a little laugh.  “Yeah.  I know.” 

He smiles softly.  He wore his glasses here but he has since put in contacts.  His hair is neatly styled and he changed into slightly nicer clothes, still human world, but very handsome in his black pants and black shirt.  He is so handsome that for a moment you forget about all your worries, taking a step towards him with your hand extended.  He catches that hand, bringing it to his shoulder.  He sweeps you into a kiss that banishes all your bad thoughts, the familiar taste and feel of him engulfing you.   You sink your fingers in his hair, parting your lips under the press of his mouth. 

It's him who ends the kiss, breathlessly, stuttering, “S-sorry, wait.  I came here to tell – to tell you – the consummation – that pink guy—”

“I know,” you say with a cringe.  You bury your face in his neck.  “Ugh, a bunch of faeries are gonna watch me have sex.” 

“Faeries and me!” he says with a nervous laugh. 

“Huh!”

“I tried to stop it, but no one would really listen to me,” he says.  “Someone only listened when I said it was weird for a guy to watch his little brother have sex, and some people agreed, so Prince Chan said I should take his place, since there were no faeries of equal rank to him and at least I was human.”  He slaps a hand to his forehead.  “Sorry.  I tried.” 

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, giggling a little helplessly at your morose boyfriend.  “How do you get yourself into these situations?” 

“You’re wearing a wedding dress!” he replies. 

“That’s only because I know you!” 

“Your life would have been very boring without me,” Jisung says, smiling. 

“I know,” you say.  “It would have been awful.” 

Because for as strange as all this faerie nonsense is, you cannot imagine a world where you never knew Jisung, where you never knew Felix, where you never had this love in your life, as messy and jealous and complicated as it has been at times. 

You tip your head, gazing into Jisung’s eyes.  He shivers when you twirl a bit of his hair around your finger. 

“Jisungie,” you say, thinking of your own jealousy, of Felix’s confounding glances.  “Do you ever feel jealous at all?”

“Of what?” he asks, totally innocent.

“I don’t know,” you say.  You are not sure how to explain it without seeming ridiculous, which puts it into some perspective.  “I mean, me and Felix are about to… you know.”

“Uh, yeah.  That’s okay.  I don’t want to have sex in front of the cannibal faerie,” Jisung says, making you laugh.  “Not a joke!” 

“I know, I know.”  You kiss his cheek. 

“I couldn’t be jealous of you two,” he says, looking contemplative, as if this has never really occurred to him before.  Then he looks at you a bit sheepishly, his gaze skittish in how it darts around. 

“What?” you ask, recognizing his shy mischief. 

“I think it’s… uh… kinda hot?”  He rubs the back of his neck.  “I love you and I guess I also love that stupid faerie boy.  And… maybe… I kinda wanna see…”

You feel very hot again. 

“You, um, want to watch Felix fuck me?” you ask, frankly as you can. 

“Yes.”  He stares straight up, his ears gone completely red and his cheeks turning pink.  “I think you’ll look hot together.  I was kinda hoping we’d do something like this one day.  I mean, the cannibal faerie is a surprise, but other than that…”

You kiss him.  His arms circle your waist and he tugs you close, the kiss deepening naturally.  You let all your flustered embarrassment fizzle away, thinking about Felix, thinking about Jisung.  You get a bit handsy, squeezing Jisung’s biceps then resting your hands on his chest.  He makes a little sound into the kiss, one of his needy whimpers.  It never fails to light you up. 

“I’m nervous,” you say, speaking low, against his lips.  “Thinking about so many of them watching me and Felix…”

It is clear by his gulp and frantic nod that Jisung finds the scenario sexier than he should.   “Yeah, baby,” he says.  “What can I do?” 

You know the faeries will be occupied with Hyunjin’s myriad of rituals for a while, so you peck his lips and ask, “Get me ready?”

“Ready,” he repeats.  His gaze jumps up to the flowers in your hair.  “You are ready.” 

“Not like that,” you say.  

Jisung really does his best to be appropriate, but he gets pussy-drunk faster than any man you have ever known.  A suggestion is all it takes.  You tap his shoulder and he obediently drops to his knees. 

“Baby,” he says in a reverent whisper, sighing, eyes closing when you run your fingers through his hair. 

Heavy-lidded and so seemingly submissive to your desire, Jisung looks up at you.  Then he reaches past you, grabs the chair by the leg, and yanks.  He is not too gentle, spilling you onto it with a forceful nudge. 

You know Jisung does nothing by halves.  He is singular in his passions.   You ask him to kneel, so he kneels, so he closes his eyes, so he opens his mouth.  He pushes your dress out of his way and licks through your panties until the fabric is sticky and you are so so wet that it clings to you.  Your thighs tremble and he whimpers softly, high and light in the back of his throat. 

“Jisungie…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he says in a raspy voice, drawing the fabric aside.  “It’s okay.  Don’t cry.  I’ve got you, baby.” 

He speaks so sweetly, like he is incapable of being mean, even while he torments you with long, twisting strokes of his tongue, never committing to a single pattern.  It is a storm of sensation, rolling through you over and over again.  You are so sensitive that slightest nudge feels like a miniature orgasm all on its own.  You gasp and whine, trying and failing to close your legs around his head. 

“Jisuuung,” you say, your voice rough. “We don’t have much time, I need to come…”

He moans when he buries his tongue in you, when he licks messily up past your clit and back down again.  You grab his hair and tug, though it does nothing to deter him. 

“Your husband can make you come later,” he says, giggling an inch from your pussy.  “I’m just warming you up…”  

“Please,” you say, “please, please, please.”

“Hmm?” is his reply, then he sighs and dives back. 

Your eyes close, brow furrowing in concentration.  You rock your hips against his mouth as he finally starts circling your clit with a single-minded resolve.  You feel flushed and shaky, pleasure and heat coursing through you, and you know you must look as ravaged as you feel.   

You open your eyes and see Felix standing in the entryway.  He looks astonishingly beautiful, his long blonde hair neatly styled back, his freckles pronounced and eyes so dark.  Long earrings made of sparkling orange gems dangle from his ears, looking at once like rippling flames and water running over bronze.  He is dressed in an approximation of a tuxedo, except the pants are leather and the shirt and blazer are cropped too short. 

He tips his head, his eyes on Jisung for a moment.  Then he holds your gaze unflinchingly, maybe daringly.  His smile appears slowly.  It is too gentle to be lecherous, tender despite the fact his gloved hand runs over his belt and tugs.  His tongue touches his bottom lip and he tips his head the other way. 

His presence startles you for a moment.  You should feel caught, or embarrassed, or something.  But the initial surprise fades and you just stare back at him.  You dig your fingers into Jisung’s hair and breathe harder as he strokes and strokes and strokes you with his tongue. 

Felix exhales.  His smile is still soft.  He lifts a darkly gloved hand and gestures to you, curling two fingers, a suggestive come here. 

Then Jisung’s hand goes from your thigh to your pussy, two fingers curling inside you without any resistance.  Felix’s smile curves into a pleased, satisfied smirk.  He nods. 

You come, holding Jisung’s face against your pussy, letting him moan and whimper with his own pleasure as you roughly fuck his mouth.  When he lifts his head, his mouth is so obscenely wet that you throb with a renewed ache of desire. 

“I think you’re ready now,” Jisung says.  He lowers your legs and slowly slides his fingers out of you.  Your breath catches, swallowing up a sound of a surprise when he uses both thumbs to spread your pussy open to his gaze – his and Felix.  Your head feels fuzzy and not with faerie magic. 

“I think so,” Felix says. 

Jisung does not seem surprised by his voice. He lets you go, your dress falling back over your lap.  He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and looks over his shoulder at Felix.  Felix approaches, his steps silent despite his big black boots.

You watch.  Jisung’s bottom lip twitches.  He looks up at Felix with the same hazy intoxication he looked at you.  Felix bites the tip of a glove, pulling the fabric off with his teeth, then he swipes his thumb across Jisung’s glistening mouth.  Felix brings that thumb to his own bottom lip, his tongue only just swiping the tip of it. 

Then Hyunjin struts into the alcove and slaps a shocked hand over his mouth. 

“What are you doing?” he demands.  You think he is going to remark on the man kneeling at your feet, not to mention your sexually dishevelled appearance, but then he says, “Felix.  You’re supposed to have a hat.” 

“I don’t need a hat, Hyunjin,” Felix says with a sigh.  “I would like to talk to my bride for a minute.” 

“That is impossible,” Hyunjin says.  “You need a hat.  Come with me.”

It occurs to you that you are watching the two most emotional faeries in their courts, even if those emotions are aimed in strange directions, like hats.  Because Hyunjin is very adamant and Felix is very annoyed.  You are more than a little concerned that if things come to a head, it will turn horrifying without much effort.

Then Jisung leaps to his feet and puts himself between the two faerie princes.  It surprises everyone to silence.  Even Hyunjin stumbles to a stop.  He cocks his head like a predator regards a measly scrap of prey, eyes flashing as he takes a menacing step forward.  

Felix has no time to react.  You have no chance to scream. 

Jisung is a step ahead of everyone.

He bows.  Hyunjin stumbles to a stop for a second time.  It takes him a second to realize what has happened but when he does his eye twitches.  He bows back, then straightens with a huff.

Jisung bows again.  You slap a hand over your mouth to hide your surprised laugh.  Hyunjin looks far less amused.  Glaring, he bows too, as per the rules of politeness. 

Jisung leaps to the side and bows again, forcing Hyunjin to follow him.  He does this twice more, leading Hyunjin to the exit, bowing back and forth the whole time. 

“Make him stop!”  Hyunjin shrieks.

“Okay, okay!” Jisung says, hands raised in surrender.   He bows one more time, swooping low, then he turns and runs as fast as he can.

Hyunjin, obliged to return the bow, goes chasing after him with a frantic yelp. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” you ask, springing to your feet.  You dress falls neatly down. 

“Yes,” Felix says.  “Hyunjin won’t hurt humans.  He likes them too much.”  He turns to you then, his expression returned to a more passive neutrality, though you do not miss the way he looks you over.  “Will you be okay?” he asks.  “I’m sorry.  I thought we would have more time when we got here.  I didn’t know they would do this.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, too shy for a conversation after he very much watched you orgasm.  “Um.  Might as well, I guess… get it out of the way.” 

“Yes.”  He frowns at this, turning aside.  “You want to… get it out of the way.  I understand.  I’m sorry it had to be this way.  You don’t want to marry me.” 

He says it so plainly and without any hesitation.  He must believe it is the absolute truth.  For a moment, you can only stare at him, his handsome profile, the tendrils of sadness that tug at his features.  How did you never see it before?

“Felix,” you say gently.  He does not look at you.  You touch his arm and he looks at your hand.  “Felix, I am happy to marry you.  I love you.”  He looks up at that, his brow furrowed.  “And Jisung,” you add.  “I’m… I’m glad it happened this way.  So that you and I—”   He turns to you and your heart skips a few beats, affected by the warmth of his steady gaze.  “So that you and I could come together as well.  And now the three of us—” 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, then looks aside.  “I’m sorry.  That was forward, yeah?  I just… don’t want the first time to be out there.  Is that strange?  To be honest, sometimes I don’t know what’s strange or what isn’t.  The rules are different everywhere, you know?  I don’t think I’m doing a good job of this.  I’m sorry.  We don’t have to—”

You cup his face and kiss him.  It is very stiff for a moment, because you are both surprised by your brazen action.  He somehow grounds himself first, a careful hand curling around your hip to guide you a little closer.  A breath passes between you then he kisses you back. 

You touch his chest, making a sweet small sound into the kiss when his lips slide so softly against yours.  You are about to deepen it when Jisung interrupts with, “Aww, you’re kissing!  So cute!” 

You and Felix look over at him.  His hands are clasped and he is gushing as only Jisung can. 

“I thought you were running,” Felix says, with a hint of amusement. 

“Stupid labyrinth led me back here,” Jisung says.  He mimes zipping his lips shut and gestures to you.  “Keep kissing.  Pretend I’m not here.” 

“I wouldn’t want to pretend that,” Felix says, so sincerely that Jisung’s eyes widen.  They look at each other for a long moment, then Felix looks at you.  He cups your face. 

Then Hyunjin comes running in.  He swings his arms in a dramatic flail and flower petals fly everywhere.  The leaf dog comes running in and starts nipping at the air, trying to catch the petals.  In the midst of this chaos, Hyunjin storms up to Jisung and promptly bows.  Then he shoves him to the side and grabs Felix by the arm.

“Hat!” he shouts.  “Now!” 

-

It is a twenty-six hour wedding ceremony.  You and Jisung fall asleep halfway through festivity number twelve, curled up under a furry blanket near a fire pit.  You wake when Felix lifts your head into his lap.  Jisung is already curled up with his head on your belly, so you smile and snuggle into Felix.  He cups your face and strokes your cheek, the flickering firelight casting shadows on his face, making his smile seem bigger than usual. 

The consummation ritual is last.  It takes place inside the castle, in a beautiful room that appears to have been designed for this express purpose.  The mossy stone walls are decorated with dried flowers, the plush bed laden with thick red throws and burgundy cushions.   Despite the tall open windows, there is no autumn chill, a lit fireplace cozying the room with its warmth.

It would be a lovely chamber if not for the translucent curtain with a literal audience behind it.  The winter and summer princes sit ramrod straight, so uninterested in their surroundings that it actually puts you at ease.  Hyunjin looks… a little too eager to be honest, but you aren’t convinced he understands this ritual anymore than anything else today. 

Jisung is side-eying Jeongin, who is sitting beside him because Hyunjin refused to sit by ‘the annoying changeling brat’.  Minho is sitting between Jeongin and Hyunjin, casting the occasional side-eye to the spring prince.  Despite his stoic countenance, his displeasure with the company is clear. 

Honestly, the whole tableau is quite comedic.  You find yourself trying to stifle laughter when Felix finally arrives.  You were sent to separate rooms to undress and change into robes, but you arrived here first.   Felix looks at you curiously, clearly perplexed by your laughter. 

“You’re not nervous anymore,” he observes. 

“No,” you say.  “I’ve just been thinking like a faerie.” 

He tilts his head at that.  You smile and kiss him, a chaste kiss that makes his lashes flutter.  The little reaction tickles a flurry of butterflies in your belly.  You hold his hand and lead him to the bed where you sit down.  His eyes shift with a nervous scuttle, but he follows the direction of your hand when you gesture to him. 

You keep your eyes on his, intensely locked as you lift his hand and take two fingers in your mouth.  When you close your lips around his fingers and gently suck, his breath catches.  It echoes in Jisung. 

Then Jeongin whispers loudly, “Is she going to eat him?”  He sounds moderately intrigued. 

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin replies. 

“I think it’s over,” Minho says, catching onto your ruse before anyone else.  

You smile and open your eyes.  You separate from Felix and turn your head to the silhouettes beyond the curtain. 

“A penetrative performance,” you state.   “I believe that was the requirement.  And I believe that should qualify.” 

You are stretching the meaning of those words and you know it, but that’s what faeries do.  His fingers ‘penetrated’ the breach of your mouth, so it should count on the most technical level. 

“All done,” you say with a smile and wave. 

“So you’re not eating him?”  Jeongin says, frowning. 

Minho is the first one to stand.  He flicks Jeongin’s forehead as he passes, but otherwise says nothing before fleeing the room.  Jeongin follows with a slightly disgruntled shuffle, then Hyunjin stomps his foot. 

“Humans,” he says, marching past Jisung. 

The door closes behind Hyunjin.  Jisung claps a hand over his mouth and laughs into it, so hard he has to put a hand over his stomach as he doubles over.   Felix laughs too, a pleasantly low rumble that he tries to stifle with a cough.  You smile up at him, leaning back on your palms and admiring him in the warm orange light.  He tucks some hair behind his ear, regarding you with a very tender gaze when he nods his head in a curt little bow. 

“All done,” he says.  It makes your brow furrow: the little shift in tone, the tension that still draws his shoulders back.  You realize that even after everything, he is still uncertain about his place.  Even Jisung knows where he belongs, not for a moment thinking he should leave the room, but Felix takes a step away from the bed like he intends to do just that.

You grab his hand, drawing his attention back to you.  Blonde hair falls around his face, shadowing it.  He doesn’t quite meet your eyes, gaze somewhere on your chin. 

“Felix,” you say.  His fingers tighten around yours and it feels like a question.  You answer by tugging that hand, drawing him closer.  His eyes flash gold when you drop his hand to open your robe.  This time you can hear Jisung’s sharp breath too, all laughter subsiding as you let the robe fall off your shoulders, laying yourself bare before Felix. 

He looks awed but stricken.  You can see when he swallows.  He looks at Jisung then back at you, his brow furrowing.  His lips twitch in a bid to speak but no words come.   

It would be funny, this supernatural being somehow struck dumb by you in your most vulnerable state, but your smile is more affectionate than amused.

“Felix,” you say again.  “Have you ever done something like this before?” 

He shakes his head frantically, his eyes still running up and down your body. 

“No,” he says.  “Uh, no.  No.  I can – feel something when Jisung – when you – I mean—”  He chokes on an awkward laugh, turning away for a second. 

“I fucking knew it!”  Jisung says, poking his head between the folds of the curtain.  “Bro, you’re such a liar.  I asked if you could feel when we fuck and you said no!”

“I can’t lie,” Felix replies, turning to Jisung.  He forgets to be embarrassed while arguing, very plainly and patiently stating his case.  “I told you most faeries don’t think about sex like humans and that I couldn’t be certain what you were doing, yeah?  And I can’t.  And I would have told you more but you only asked the first time and I didn’t know you were going to keep… being with her.  And I – I didn’t want to make things awkward… for you… okay?  By thinking of me every time… so I just… What are you smiling at?”  His deep voice breaks, pitching comically higher for a second. 

Jisung is smirking and nodding, just a floating head with a vague silhouetted body behind the curtain. 

“Man,” Jisung says, “you’ve been acting like a monk but secretly jacking it while we get freaky in the other room… That’s naughty.”

Felix draws his mouth into a flat line then looks at you for help.  You are trying to hold in your giggles, lips pressed tight together.  When he looks at you, you exhale, waving at Jisung to back down for a second.  He ducks behind the curtain again, giggling to himself like the menace he is. 

Fortunately, Felix is easy to distract.  All it takes is opening your legs for his all his attention to zero in there.  He swallows again. 

“Sounds like we’ve been teasing you too long,” you say, your voice drawing his eyes back up to your face.  You smile and beckon him forward.  “Come on.  Let me make it up to you.” 

He looks like he is going to deflect politely, either because he is a faerie or because he is Felix, but then you grab his robe and yank him closer.  He stumbles up to you, his fingers fluttering at his sides and his shoulders still tense.  You take one of his hands and place it on the side of your face, soothing him with another gentle smile as you unknot his robe.

He is already very hard and this seems to fluster him, but he points to the curtain and sputters, “He’s – touching—“ 

“Fuck yeah I am,” Jisung says. 

“Jisung, shh,” you say, trying not to giggle again.  “And slow down.  You’re always so impatient.” 

“Am not,” Jisung says, but you can see him lean back, folding his hands behind his head. 

You look up at Felix, holding his gaze the way you did when you sucked his fingers.  You like the way he twitches and breathes harder, the way his eyes flash, the way his jaw clenches.  His thumb curls under your jaw when your mouth slides over him.  You can’t help but moan when his whole face contorts with more natural emotion than you have ever seen from him.  His breath stutters and stops and starts, his sounds so low and guttural that you feel them inside you. 

“Oh, fuck, dude,” Jisung says, rasping.  You pull back just a little, drooling and stroking with your hand, and glancing at Jisung out of the corner of your eye.  He lifts his hips and squeezes himself over his pants.  “We were fucking torturing you, holy fuck.”   

“Mmmmrrgh,” is the approximate sound Felix makes.  His eyes are partially-lidded, his expression one of immense concentration.  He pulls your face back to him with a flick of his wrist.  Appetent and quite demanding, he leads your mouth back onto him and holds you in place to shallowly and gently fuck your mouth.  He makes a pleased sound, one of deep relief, his head lolling back and the tension leaving his shoulders.   

You let him set the pace, matching the animal instinct that overcomes him.  He stops himself when he’s close, breathing hard and stepping back.  You want to ask if he is okay, but you have to flex your jaw and your voice is momentarily shot.  Before you can find that voice, he turns to the curtain and says, “Show me what you did earlier.  I want – I want to do that too.” 

There is a quiet moment, Jisung maybe surprised at the sudden attention, but then the curtain parts and Jisung steps all the way through.  He has unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, his partially unzipped pants doing nothing to hide the bulge behind his fly.  The sight of him sets off more sparks, especially when he winks at you with all his cheeky wantonness.

Felix gives Jisung a once-over too, pushing a hand through his hair and steadying his breathing.  His features look sharper than ever, darkened with a determined resolve.  He says nothing when Jisung sweeps behind him.  Jisung wiggles his eyebrows at you while he gathers Felix’s robe and slides it off his shoulders. 

“She likes your freckles,” Jisung offers by way of explanation, smooching Felix’s freckled shoulder with a playful little mwah. 

Felix tilts his head and looks at you.  “Really?” he asks.  “I can’t fully scrub them off the glamour. I think it’s somehow your fault.”  This is aimed at Jisung.

“Everything’s my fault!” Jisung says with a great deal of pride. 

“Why would you want to get rid of them?” you blurt, showing just as much as horror as you did when meeting the cannibal faerie.   Felix without his freckles is equally abhorrent.

Felix looks at you, thoughtfully.  Firelight is flickering over the room but you do not think it is a trick of shadow when his freckles seem to darken everywhere. 

“Aw,” Jisung says.  “He’s flirting.” 

Felix looks at him with a certain degree of exasperation.  “Show me what I asked,” he says. 

“Oh, wow, okay, geez, pushy,” Jisung says, circling so he standing beside Felix.  Felix drops the rest of the robe, evidently not the slightest bit shy to be standing there naked.  Now your gaze is the roving one, jumping between them, darting upward when Jisung cups Felix’s face and turns it to him. 

“You need to turn her on first, man,” Jisung says, swaying to the playful rhythm of his own voice.  Felix follows, but his eyes narrow into judgemental slits.  Jisung seems unbothered by this, standing still, tucking some hair behind Felix’s ear.  “C’mooon,” he says, with an impatient little shoulder wiggle and a laugh.  “She likes you… she likes me… as they say… badda bing badda boom…”

“I don’t think they say that during sex,” Felix says, frowning. 

“He’s right,” you say, giggling. 

Jisung sighs and looks at you.  “No audience participation,” he says, miming a zip across his lips.  “Just sit there and look pretty, baby.  We’ll get to you.” 

Felix looks at you.  Jisung leans close to whisper in his ear.  You try to decipher what he is saying based on Felix, but all Felix does is furrow his eyebrows then look sideways at Jisung.  There is a moment of quiet, then they smile at the same time.

Felix delicately cups Jisung’s chin.

The last time you caught them kissing, it spurred only jealousy.  But that was different.  That was your childish reaction to exclusion, your own anxieties speaking over everything else.  This time, you are not outside of their connection.  You even swear you can feel the faintest tingling on your own lips when they gently come together in a feather-light kiss.   

Their hands trace similar paths, Felix’s slipping into Jisung’s pants and Jisung touching him back.  The kiss deepens until their tongues touch, then Jisung giggles while Felix grins.  They look at you at the same time.

“Go,” Jisung says, nudging Felix forward. 

They let go of each other and Felix climbs up on the bed, guiding you backwards until your head is on a pillow.  Long tendrils of blonde hair brush your cheeks. He lays over you and kisses you, pressing your head into the cushion.  Even lost in his kiss, you can sense Jisung with a fuzzy awareness.  You recognize the familiar touch of his palm, his hand gliding up your inner thigh.  Felix makes room, joining Jisung at your thighs.  You twitch with an instinctive little jerk, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look at them.  Jisung puts a finger over his lips and shushes you, smiling. 

“We got it, we got it…” he says.  He cups the back of Felix’s head and pushes his head down to your pussy. 

Felix glances up at you, then him, then down.  His eyes close and he sticks out his tongue, his expression one of the sweetest pleasure when he puts his mouth on you.   What he lacks in skill, he compensates with eagerness, messily diving in with an open mouth, licking and kissing and making a mess of himself.  Jisung threads his fingers into his hair and tugs, laughing a little. 

“Easy, easy,” he says.  He and Felix look at each other as Jisung lowers his own face.  When he puts his expert mouth on you, your head falls back, thighs parting further.  You throw your arms over your head and dig your fingers into the cushions.  You chase the rhythm of his tongue, looking down when it stops, when Felix replaces him. 

“See, look at her,” Jisung says.  Felix looks up at you.  “Just like that.” 

Then Jisung joins him.  They torturously alternate whose mouth is on you.  Jisung dives at Felix, licking across his wet lips and kissing him before returning to you.  You can hardly tell one mouth from the next, gasping under two tongues as they stroke you and each other, matching blonde heads bobbing in perfect coordination between your thighs.  It is inhumanly perfect, so harmonious that it almost agonizing.  This is how mortals lose their minds here, you think.

Eventually you are so wound up that you can’t help but cry out. 

“Oh noo,” Jisung says, very unrepentant as lays beside you.  “I think we were teasing her… That’s so mean of us, isn’t it, baby?  Huh?”  He pinches your face in his hand, cooing at you while you playfully glare.  He giggles and kisses you, your own wet desire smeared across his lips.  “You’re so wet, baby,” he says, sliding his hand down your body and over your pussy, easing his fingers through the wetness there.  When you whimper, he whimpers back in faux sympathy, pouting and nodding.  “I know, poor baby,” he says, curling his fingers inside you.

Felix’s eyes light up, watching.  He props himself up on one hand and touches you with the other.  You make a sound against Jisung’s mouth, a breathy moan as Felix slides his fingers in too.  It’s thick, that many fingers at once and so suddenly.  Your thighs jerk and you whine into Jisung’s mouth.  You see stars when you close your eyes, their fingers moving at the same time inside you.  They share a heartbeat, a rhythm, not faulting in the slightest.

For a moment, you just lay there and dizzily take it, stretched around their fingers, wet and silky hot and so turned on that you feel like you’re floating. 

“Jisung,” Felix says in his rough, deep voice.

“I know,” Jisung replies, just as hoarse.    

Their fingers leave you and Jisung grabs your throat with that same hand, slick fingers nudging your chin to look at him.  Your breath catches and you think Felix’s breath catches too. 

“That’s my girl,” Jisung says, reaching down at the same Felix reaches up, a hand on each breast, teasing the pebbled peaks.  You squirm and Jisung returns his hand to your throat, smiling at you so innocently, scrunching up his eyes with delight.  “Good girl,” he says, squeezing.  Felix gasps then moans, sucking kisses wherever his mouth lazily roams.  Jisung places those same hot kisses on your neck, each kiss landing one after the other, lighting every nerve.  Teeth and tongue lave at your skin, no doubt bruising it with each little love bite. 

“That’s it,” Jisung says, and you really start to think your human boyfriend is made of more magic than autumnal flurries.  His dark eyes sparkle in the light, his mischievous smirk lighting up his handsome face.  He is so giggly and sweet despite the dastardly torture of his hands and mouth. 

You find yourself sinking into the sensations, eyes closed, body running on instinct. 

“Felix,” Jisung says.  His hand leaves your throat, sliding down your body.  You realize he is spreading your pussy lips again, teasing as Felix pushes inside you.  It is easy now that you have taken so many fingers, but the knowledge of what is happening, of who is fucking you, makes your breath stutter and eyes open. 

“Ohh,” is the only sound you can make, watery eyes on where Felix is moving slowly in and out of you.  His brow is furrowed again, that look of concentration, then he groans and all but sprawls on top of you, fucking you with messy abandon.   Jisung thumps his head heavily onto the cushion, panting heavily, as if he was fucking you. 

“Felix, you gotta—”  Jisung says, his own face twisted up with a tortured sort of pleasure.   Felix does not listen to him, still rocking his hips with a frantic unevenness.  It feels good and crazy and wild, your head lolling to the side, a hum in your throat. 

Jisung finds the resolve to push himself up, groaning with the effort.  You watch him roughly manhandle Felix, yanking his head up to get him to concentrate.  Felix’s eyes flash gold then go dark.  His mouth is hanging open and his cheeks are flushed.  He never stops moving. 

“And you said I was impatient,” Jisung murmurs, grabbing Felix’s hips and evening out his rhythm.  You suppose it stands to reason that if Jisung is the most pussy-drunk man you have ever known, than Felix would be too.  Except Felix actually is magic, and everything about Jisung seems to multiply in Felix.  He looks completely overcome.  Then Jisung suddenly asks, “Good tears or bad?”

“Good,” Felix rasps. 

“So you wanna keep going?”

“Ye-es,” Felix hiccups, then suddenly starts crying, all the messy human-ness mixing with his confusing faerie-ness, coming together in an explosive physical and emotional mania that has him burying his face in your neck and fucking you so deep and hard that your own sniffles start. 

“Yes,” you say at the same time as him, wrapping your arms around his neck.  Jisung touches your hand, his other still guiding Felix’s hips.  Felix moans in your throat then marginally turns his head. 

“Jisung,” he says.  “I can’t—unless you—”      

Jisung very unceremoniously shoves a hand down his pants, then looks up at you and smiles. 

“Okay,” Jisung says.  He moves and Felix sinks back inside you, moaning deeply, clutching you possessively.  You hold him back as fiercely, blinking up at Jisung when kneels near your face.  “Come on, baby,” Jisung says, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip. 

“Yes,” Felix says, nodding at him and at you. 

You open your mouth, nodding at Jisung.  His pants get tossed somewhere and he removes his shirt at the same time his dick pushes past your lips.  They really do fuck with an extraordinary identicalness, perfectly matched without a word.  It is easy to fall into their rhythm, not even straining.  You feel like you were born to be here, between them, sharing them, sharing yourself with them. 

They come at the same time, Felix with his cheek pressed to yours, Jisung with his head thrown back.  They lay down on either side of you, flopping back at the same time. Felix has a completely dazed look on his face, his breath stuttering when you tuck some of his sweaty hair back.  He looks at you like he is seeing you for the first time all over again. 

All three of you exhale at once.  The resulting giggle comes in three-way unison too. 

“Wow,” Felix finally says.  “It’s much more fun like this.”

“Hell yeah,” Jisung says, holding out his fist for a bump.  You swat it down before Felix can return it.  Jisung just laughs, snuggling up to you. 

Felix also rolls onto his side. He tucks one hand under his head and touches your face with the other.  You and Jisung both look at him, his faraway stare, the way a small smile unfurls on his face.

“You’re mine now,” he says.  “Forever.  Yeah?”  It’s posed like a question but evidently it is already fact to him, or he could not say it. 

“Forever and ever,” Jisung says easily, stretching out on the royal bedsheets like he has always belonged there. 

Felix looks at you for an answer too, still smiling.  You are not as easy as Jisung, but you try hard not to overthink. 

But you remember so many stories of humans wandering in the faerie world, never seen or heard from again, the tales of their disappearances ranging from beautiful to horrifying.  You think it would be impudent to think yourself different or better than them.  They thought they were safe too. 

The question tumbles past your lips before you can think twice: 

“Your true name,” you say.  “Would you still give it to me if I asked?” 

He clearly does not expect the question.  He blinks quickly, then his gaze darts to the side.  You look there to see Jisung nodding off, already half-asleep on your shoulder.  Felix is not sleeping.  You look at him, wondering still about the sometimes contradictory depth of their connection. 

“Aren’t you tired too?” you ask. 

“A little,” he says. 

You realize he didn’t answer your other question and you open your mouth to ask again.  He kisses you, cupping your face, making a happy sound when you kiss him back.  Jisung makes his own little happy sound, sighing on your shoulder. 

“I love you,” Felix says, speaking soft and low against your lips.  He strokes the side of your face.  “I want you to stay with me forever.” 

“You’d really tell me your true name?” you ask. 

“I’d do anything for you,” he says.  “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Felix,” you say, about to say more when he kisses you again.  He smiles so big and bright, it crinkles the corner of his eyes.  

“You do,” he says.  “That’s the truth.  You love me like you love him.” 

“It’s the same but different,” you say.   “Like how you love both me and Jisung.”

He is still smiling.  He kisses the corner of your mouth sweetly.  “The same but different,” he says.  “Yes.  I understand.” 

He draws you into his arms and kisses the crown of your head, sighing a happy sigh.  Jisung curls up behind you, already fast asleep while Felix murmurs sweet love confessions at you until you fall asleep too, nestled tightly and safely in his arms.

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

what do you think about perv!eddie wanting to ‘corrupt’ shy reader who always comes across as a good girl but is actually a little freak (in the sheets). maybe they’re in the same friend group but both of them preferred to admire each other from afar until eddie finally makes a move and finds out that she isn’t as shy and ‘good’ as he thought she was 👀

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH THOUGH

imagine she puts up this shy, good girl facade when she’s with him. maybe it’s to protect herself because she knows his reputation, or maybe she just has fun with it. imagine he, while believing her act, gets off on corrupting her and thinks it’ll be a fun challenge to get her to break. little does he know, though, that she’s far from a virginal, quiet, bashful girl. in fact, she’s been sleeping around with anyone who’s willing, and she’s definitely freaky in bed. nothing is off limits for her; she’ll try anything once and most of what she tries, she ends up loving.

but what she really wants is to have a crack at eddie. it’s something she’s always fantasized about, but was too shy to actually say. he was so hot, and she didn’t think a man like him would want a woman like her. he could have his pick; why would he waste time on some girl who just admired him like a lovesick puppy? why would he entertain her, when he had groupies throwing themselves at him at every turn at the hideout?

and that would be the irony on her end. while he thinks she’s a shy virgin, she thinks he would never be interested in her. the truth is, he’s borderline in love with her. he may be a disgusting perv when it comes to her, but he would do anything for that girl. he would give up his whole life for her, his job, his everything. he fell in love the moment he met her, a year before when she first moved to hawkins and attended a corroded coffin show. it took him time to realize it was love at first sight, but he wasn’t scared. even if she never loved him back, he would always love her. it’s why he was so insanely attracted to her, more than he had ever been attracted to anyone. truth be told, he was a little bit obsessed with her.

of course, he wanted to get her in bed. it was a fantasy that came true one cold november night, after corroded coffin played a full crowd at the hideout. both of them were high on adrenaline, chasing that rush that eddie always got after a vigorous concert. they went back to his trailer, where they were alone, and were laughing & falling all over each other as soon as they stepped into the front door. they collapsed on the couch, still giggling, and eddie held her in his arms as their laughter died down.

“you’re really fucking pretty, did you know that?” he asked, brushing his finger down her cheek. “like, the most beautiful woman in the whole world.”

“you’re just saying that,” she said with an eye roll.

“no,” he insisted, caressing her lower lip. “i mean it. you are the most beautiful thing Ive ever seen.”

she chuckled, her eyes meeting his as she sat up in his grip. “i think you’re really pretty, too.”

“no,” he said with a laugh. “i’m not—“

“you are,” she said, her finger trailing down his chest.

eddie swallowed, and looked down at her. he didn’t know what came over him; maybe it was the adrenaline of the moment, or the high, or just his own tiredness of waiting so long. he cupped her face in his hands, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste, soft kiss. he wanted more, wanted nothing more than to kiss her as hard as he could, but he honestly expected her to push him away. she didn’t; instead, SHE deepened the kiss, nearly in his lap as she kissed him harder. he moaned, squeezing her ass in both hands as she began to grind against his thigh. she moaned now, her hands tangling in his long hair as she sucked on his lower lip.

“god, you’re an amazing kisser,” he said, mewling as she began to trail kisses down his neck.

“thanks,” she said. “you wanna know something that could ruin our friendship?”

“like this could have?” he teased, watching her hand moving down, down, down… “what is it?”

“ive always wondered how pretty that face would look between my legs,” she whispered, her hand stopping right at his belt. “I’ve always thought about how it would look covered in my cum, or how it would look with you looking up at me, or how good your mouth would feel.”

he could feel his pants tightening already, and he swallowed shakily. “really? what, you touch yourself?”

“of course i do,” she said, giggling as she began to palm him. “and when I fuck other men.”

“you fuck other men?!” he asked in surprise. “but you’re so quiet, and so shy—“

“maybe that was an act,” she said, smirking as her mouth found his ear. “ever think of that?”

“jesus fuck,” he said, moaning as she palmed him a little harder.

“don’t think I don’t know all about you,” she said, kissing down his neck and over his exposed collarbone. “Ive heard you’re the town perv.”

“I—“ he began, cut off with a moan as she started unbuckling his belt. “shit…”

“I think it’s hot,” she said, reaching inside his pants to rub his hard dick over his boxers. “you’re so needy and desperate for pussy that you peep on me. you do, don’t you?”

“yes,” he admitted, his lashes fluttering as she moved her hand. “oh god…”

“bet you jerked off a lot thinking about me,” she said, sliding to her knees and pulling his pants down. “bet you dreamed of this moment for a long time, huh?”

“god, yes,” he breathed. “i thought about you all the time, baby. always stole your panties and bras out of your room when i came over to visit. always thought about eating you out, being inside of you, corrupting you…”

she laughed, biting her lip as she admired the outline in his boxers. “you’re a little too late for that, eddie.”

“i know that now,” he said. “I didn’t know it then.”

“i’m gonna show you just how good I can be,” she said, pulling his cock out. “you’ve got a nice dick.”

“thanks,” he said, hissing as she jerked him off. “I’ll bet your pussy and your tits are so much nicer in person.”

“I’ll let you find out,” she said. “but first, I wanna make you feel good.”

he couldn’t argue with her, as his cock slid down her throat. he moaned, bucking up and pausing only when she gagged. she took him completely, moving her head skillfully as he moaned above her. he sucked in a breath when she squeezed his balls, massaging them in her hand as her free one wrapped around his base. his eyes nearly rolled back as she jerked him off in time with her movements, his lashes fluttering as she worked his cock.

“christ, you’re amazing,” he said, his hand on the back of her head as she kept going.

she popped off, jerking him in her fist as she looked up at him. “i’m so wet for you right now, eddie. wish you could see.”

“fuck, please let me right now,” he begged.

“you don’t want your dick sucked?” she asked with a raised brow. “most men want that first.”

“i’m not most men,” he said, reaching for her. “come here. i’m so fucking ready to get my face wet, baby. you have no idea.”

she stood up, but not before she stripped out of all of her clothes. eddie sat there, beating himself off as he admired her fully naked body. he was fixated on her breasts, moaning as he admired them. she giggled, sitting next to him and taking his hand off his cock. she placed it between her legs, moaning loudly as he immediately started fingering her. he jerked off with his free hand, leaning over to take her nipple between his lips and sucking generously.

“mmm, what are you waiting for?” she asked. “eat my pussy, eddie.”

he didn’t have to be told twice.

——-

taglist: @littledemondani @andvys @wroteclassicaly @succubusmunson @eddieschains @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @trashmouth-richie @eiightysixbaby @sunkillerdreamer @reidsbtch @taintedcigs @happylilthought

[rockyteriyaki]

okay SO my beloved ezra @hellohallowedhalo inquired after my tags on this post, which made me realize that my FIRST EVER F1 FIC is almost an entire year old (??????) and THEN i read THIS MASTERPIECE by @fast-burn and it set off a nuclear bomb inside my head...so i wrote a free-use-ish factory followup to RSWT. thank you all for one year of freaky derangement <3333 ily

Daniel leaves Red Bull as a driver and becomes—he doesn’t even know what to call it. In his contract, it says ambassador. On suspended Twitter accounts, they call him a blood bank.

Max doesn’t know about that part, because Max doesn’t have Twitter, and even if he did he wouldn’t be term-searching his own name with asterisks in the vowel places like a nutter. Daniel’s people tell him soothingly to block and report, if he insists on being on social media in the first place, and Daniel does–he reports. He doesn’t block. Sometimes, he screenshots.

It had been a leap, obviously, to go from–from a driver, incidentally bound to the whole blood thing, to then this: a full-time gig. A singular purpose. They’d gone over the language of the contract in more detail than Daniel thought was possible, rewording and reworking every point until it maybe resembled something that seemed less obviously like exploitation, but even after it was all printed out with the little RBR letterhead, it felt swampy in ways nobody could explain or do away with.

Still, when Daniel put pen to paper, it was with life-ruining clarity. I want this, I want this, I want this.

“Ah, here you are,” Max says, knocking on the glass wall of one of the conference rooms in the factory. He cups his hands against the pane, like a kid against a department store display. “Are you hiding, Daniel?”

“Nah,” Daniel says. He hasn’t been, actually; he just wanted someone to find him. He puts his phone down as Max pulls the door open. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Max says, and it’s so uncomplicated Daniel doesn’t feel the need to even ask a followup, which is what he likes–loves, even–about Max. Daniel crowds him in the doorway, leans on him.

“You need it?” Daniel whispers.

“Yes,” Max says. “Please. I have, already–they have everything they need, so. We can go now, if we are back before the hour.”

Daniel reaches behind Max, pulls the door closed. It pushes Max into him a little, feet falling forward. Max blinks.

“Why not here?” Daniel says. He stretches his neck out, which he knows is a dirty move, but it works; Max’s nostrils flare. His eyes dart to the glass wall, the big transparent window that looks out onto the floor where dozens of people in navy polos are working to make sure Max can deliver them to glory next year.

Well, Daniel is one of those people, technically, now. Working.

He steps back towards the conference table, a dark fake-oak thing that’s big enough to fit the shareholders and their massive egos all side-by-side. Max follows. The number of times they’ve done this and it hasn’t ended in one or both of them coming can be counted on one hand. Max knows this, and Max is following, with a blinding willingness reminiscent only of Daniel’s own desire to get Max’s fangs on him, in him, since the first time he saw that glossy pink shine over them.

“I was just thinking about my contract,” Daniel says, as casually as he can manage, which is probably not at all. He scoots onto the table, kicks the rolling office chairs out to carve a gap. “You can, y’know.” Max nods fervently, even though Daniel isn’t making any sense. “Like, anywhere? If you wanted.”

He can pinpoint the exact moment the images parade into Max’s mind. Daniel in meeting rooms, instead of bathrooms and backseats. Daniel on his lap. Daniel over dinner, only one plate between the two of them because–because he’s Max’s—

Max sinks down to his knees, cradles his head in Daniel’s thighs. It takes Daniel a moment to pinpoint the feeling through the denim of his jeans, but the saliva gives it away–Max is rubbing his gums over the seams. The hooked points of his fangs snag and retreat on the fabric.

“Hey,” Daniel says, on a shaky exhale. “Is that good teeth? Or, like, bad-idea-Daniel teeth?”

“If I don’t, I will bite you here.” Max gestures miserably to the glass wall. “And then, probably against the window too.”

There are people walking past now, and Daniel can see them look inside only long enough to register who’s who, and then avert their eyes. Daniel’s laughs turn into moans. He can’t help it. Max laughs too.

“Go on then,” he tells Max. “They don’t pay me enough to keep secrets.”

[meli-writes]

Long Time, No Shear - Ch. 01

A sheepish Fae-girl is desperate for someone to shear her for the summer, and to not be weird about it.

There’s a human on Dolly’s doorstep — and she’s naked.

Okay. No, not literally. Per human customs this is all completely appropriate, if a little avant-butch, for the current weather. Black boots and denim short-shorts; enough chains to lose count; loose, side-slit tank that makes her toned, tanned arms part of the outfit; no attempt to hide the lace bra underneath — citrine yellow, to match the sun beating down on her.

And Dolly, snout pressed on the window, feels like she can see all of her.

But— she’s here because Dolly invited her and Dolly can sympathise, because it has been three weeks since she was supposed to have been sheared and she is melting.

(It is though 100% the humans’ fault this is the 8th ‘hottest summer’ — on record, in a row.)

And so there she is, pressing forward through the curtains, trying not to be noticed while she works up the courage, when all of a sudden the human looks at her.

And waves.

---

sheep-goat Fae needs EMERGENCY help w/ summer shear. Can be reg if not weird

Last posted 18 hours ago on Fluffr, the dating-slash-bulletin app for Fae and panel-vetted humans. Yes, humans named it.

It still takes a weird person to apply to the panel, unless they got Fae-referred but that’s got pitfalls too; it also went public after the grants dried up, and has gotten worse because of that particular human-neoliberal urge to overdevelop everything into ruins; and it’s where she met her Wolf-Fae ex — the one who dumped her four weeks ago. But:

It’s still better than the human apps.

Because Dolly doesn’t need this to become a weird sex thing because it’s already super intimate and freaky — and it’s what every human she meets on their apps tries anyway.

Y’know, before she shuts them down and they false-report her till she’s banned.

None of this is the Dolly-in-distress’ preference. Not by the length of a thousand leylines.

---

“Hey. Sorry about that,” Dolly says, sheepishly.

“You’re all good,” the human replies, a smile perched beneath her silver-rimmed aviators. “I’m looking for someone in need of a bit of help, roommate maybe?”

“Dolly! Yeah. That’s me,” Dolly cuts in.

She points to the thin, white line traced on the interior doorframe, “You see the chalk? It’s a shadowskin enchantment, here and on the windows. Makes me look human from the outside, your side, so no one stares.”

“Ace! Makes total sense. Fiona, by the way,” Fiona says, as she steps past the threshold.

Behind the aviators her eyes glimmer, and Dolly has to remind herself it’s just the dispelled illusion and not— “You are a beaut, but I see yer problem.”

She’s glad Fiona can see the smooth, mottled-white velvet on her face now, because even from across the street anyone looking in would be seeing her cheeks swell up with a redcap-crimson blush.

“Girlfriend broke up on ya, didn’t she?” Fiona asks, a little idly.

“Mutual! It… was… mutual,” Dolly bleats, biting down on a full-blown shriek. “Okay. No. But she did it at the worst time and—” She breathes in the infodump, stops herself, curls in an outstretched finger and restarts, “Remember what I said on Fluffr about privacy?”

Fiona winces, hard, and Dolly has to smother her mirror of it, cursing at herself in her own head for not sucking it up. It’s nothing I didn’t tell her, justifying the post and shit. She was just—

“Yeah nah, totally,” Fiona says to her relief. “Just out to help a fellow gal in need.”

(Fellow. Yeah. Dolly also had to tell her in those DMs that Dolly was trans — up the freak-show sentiment even further — because there was no way around Fiona seeing it.

Humans could never tell otherwise, even though her horns were still buck-sized.

She was half-goat anyway, which explains away most irritating questions she gets from them — even if they still didn’t stop staring at the black thigh-high wool pattern on her legs.)

Dolly tries to move on, before Fiona stepping back over boundaries also means out the door, “Thanks. You’ve got uhh— experience. Right?”

Fiona’s nerves are swallowed in a moment. “Reckon!” she says, bouncing on her feet. “I was a kid when there was still livestock on the big, industrial farms. Went to the sheep-stations each year to help out; docking lambs in the spring and the like.”

(When Fiona had mentioned her ‘experience’ in DMs Dolly convinced herself it was practical. Human ethics have been catching up since Fae unveiled themselves a few decades back, after the Vampires, but it was still… weird.)

Did she have to specify docking? Dolly thinks as her tail twitches, and thinks Fiona can see her trying to hide it, and that Dolly can see that Fiona can see that, and that—

“That’s… okay? You’re okay?”

“Ahh! Yep. It’s helpful, not weird,” Dolly answers desperately. “Well, it’s a little weird, but it always is. Just remember that I’m very much sapient and talkative.”

She steps into the next room without looking, hoping Fiona is still with her.

---

“Alright girl, are ya ready?” Fiona asks, observing Dolly scurrying over the plastic mat that covers the floor, making sure it’s tightly held at each corner by a chair or spare textbooks.

“Uhh, one minute. Could you— look away?” asks Dolly, bringing a long-clawed paw to the neck of her shirt. “I know you’re gonna look back but—”

Fiona turns. She’s not giving you a striptease, she thinks to herself, pottering over to the sideboard to distract herself, “This is the stuff here?”

Dolly watches as Fiona inspects her life-long assembled kit — explains, “Yeah. I had to figure out what was best for me. Was not cheap.” Fiona whistles in agreement, as she slides a slim pair of double-bow metal shears out of the sunlight.

“I know this girl who can roo, so lucky,” Dolly adds, jerking about as her pencil-skirt stretches over her fluff-plumpened ass and— “Okay, ready.”

She sees Fiona tee-up herself, nabbing the electric handpiece. “No wide combs, I like it. Grandpa used to say we lost the union to those things,” she says, before turning back around and instinctively sizing Dolly up.

“Huh… like a whether,” she mutters under her breath.

Dolly has tried desperately to never learn the terminology; doesn’t think when she idly asks Fiona, “Excuse me?”

“Comb on the handpiece: anything bigger than 2.5 inches is a ‘wide’ comb,” Fiona answers obliviously. “So you can go faster, and get paid less. I suppose it makes sense to go smaller, and you’re not looking to sell the fleece are ya?”

(She had — once. When she still had rent to pay, and was needily short, so went and sold it on a Fae-fetish site for a shameful and incredible amount. And still thinks about it sometimes.)

Right now, her hooves grind anxiously into the floor. “No, Fiona. The other thing?”

The human’s round eyes tumble back into the abyss of their sockets, as Fiona’s brow rises in concert with realising what she’s said; something Dolly hasn’t the expertise to know, only the foolishness to ask. She doesn’t answer. Dolly feels the plastic fibres beginning to snag under her circling hoof.

“Say it, or go and don’t help me,” she demands at last.

“It’s a… castrated male,” Fiona says, biting her cheeks. “Sorry. Maybe I should go anyway? It was a bit of a heinous thing to say—”

“Nope. No, you’re doing it now,” Dolly tells her, making it obvious she’s guilting her. “Or, maybe I pull out Fluffr and report you?”

Tormenting her too — all while utterly in the fluff, Fae-adapted phone stylus in hand.

Fiona twists at her shirt, briefly exposing a rippling mid-riff, “You wouldn’t… really?”

Dolly makes a show of walking up, tucking the stylus into a stationary-drowned mug, and looks at her. “Fiona, I’m fucking with you. You apologised, and I’m desperate here.”

“It really is that bad?” Fiona mutters, as much about the overcoat as realising her pitiful remorse is far better than Dolly must usually get.

“You know what crutching is?” Dolly asks.

Fiona nods.

“Eugh. And, it’s a fifth of my body weight. Roughly. And fuck it’s so hot these days.”

“Yeah nah, lost my hometown to a wildfire,” Fiona says, a little dissonantly chipper about it. “Why I moved here to be honest with ya.”

“Shit. Sorry I’m—”

“Our fault,” Fiona reassures. Meaning humans. “Not yours. Just tryna help.”

“You really are, y’know.”

She sinks to her knees, leaning forward and pressing her thighs together to hide herself a little, and coaxes Fiona to join her. “My girlfriend— my ex— she promised to help me after the breakup ‘cos I was due but well… ghosted me, then blocked me after I called.”

(Six voicemails. The first few reminders; the last few begging.)

“The other options are like pay three hundred pounds to get nude at a hairdressers, and/or livestream the thing on a fetish site to break-even,” Dolly continues, knowing exactly what that site is called. “Yeah… nah.”

Fiona listens, but doesn’t look, focused on setting a few implements down before taking an offered arm to follow her down. “Wow, you’re soft.”

“Uhh, yeah? Unlike the sheep you’re used to, I don’t like live in a field,” Dolly says sardonically. “I get a bath in this place.”

“Sweetheart, you’ve got an entrance hall, lounge, staircase. It’s heaps better than ninety-percent of the places in this city. Certainly better than the box I’m allowed to rent,” Fiona retorts, flipping the handpiece on.

Dolly lets out a small, nervous titter. The way humans tangled up their housing with markets seemed remarkably silly. “Adjustment funds, the Greater London—”

Fiona swipes, a whole ream of Dolly-fluff falling off of her.

“Hey-hey-hey! Wait!” Dolly squeals, Fiona blinking as she rushes to pause and Dolly collects herself. “You uh— need to go slower than that.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Was just thinking you’d want me to be… efficient.”

She smiles plaintively, “I mean, I do. It’s just I wanna make sure it’s not scruffy, or messy, or obvious. ‘Cos that would take weeks to grow out. It’s best to sort of—” She holds her breath, and looks at Fiona who’ll never be more ready for this.

“Go slow and hold me down.”

Fiona swallows, wishing it was light beer and not the sheep-girl’s dignity going down.

“And that’s… where people get really weird, right?” she asks.

“Yep.”

If they somehow got this far.

“Like, seriously — how do I explain on an ad: hiya, I need a girl to pin my nude body down and spend four-to-five hours groping me and not somehow make it a weird sex thing.

And, y’know, not make it too much of a regular weird thing either.”

She sighs; rearranges herself to lean back into Fiona, bumping horn into chest.

“Throat’s best to start,” she says, after a moment.

Fiona’s hand reaches slowly, constantly darting her eyes back-and-forth for consent and, not seeing any complaint, takes Dolly at the horn and pulls her low till she’s able to line the handpiece up against the notch at the base of her neck. She closes her eyes, a little unemboldened. The lambs never talked back to her or looked this cute.

“Come on,” Dolly interrupts. “I’d like to wear clothes again today.”

Fiona fumbles, and blinks open, and the lamb in her arms just laughs. It’s difficult not to, there isn’t a way this isn’t absurd and Fiona thinks she gets that now.

Her gaze focuses, a little less nervous this time. A smile creeps to the corner of her mouth, “No worries. I’ll get ‘er right, sweetheart.”

---

Three hours in, and Fiona’s just now reached Dolly’s hips. The arms were simple, if a bit too close to being nipped once or twice; the back came off clean, and Dolly doesn’t admit she thinks about that site again; the tits weren’t bad — mostly covered in the same velvet that’s on her face, all the way down to her— y’know.

(Dolly also absolutely does not mention the three times she came this morning. Not for any sort of pleasure, spirits no. But to make sure there’s as little chance as possible that she gets hard from the super-hot, basically-nude butch handling her like— well, like a sheep.)

The ass was mild torture; Fiona tearing her facial muscles to shreds in the sternest wince of her life, as she held up Dolly’s fat, soft cheeks to clean up the folds where her ass met her thighs. Dolly, at least, holding herself in a grim but merciful silence of solidarity, till at last both rushed to kick back into listing off more of their shared, fascinating, and agonising spars with each of the respective departments of the Home Office that exists to make their lives a bureaucratic nightmare.

It made it all too easy for Fiona to forget Dolly was even supposed to wear clothes, until she was looking at her bend down to a cupboard to fetch mugs for a strongly needed tea-break, even in the present heat.

But, it’s smooth now, and so she runs a hand serenely down the small of Dolly’s back, not thinking of anything more than just making sure the girl’s cut is clean and consistent — till her hand reaches that newly-shorn ass and—

Bleat!

It’s the tiniest sound Fiona has ever heard, and it sounds hot.

What comes after is worse than the ass-silence. Fiona tries not to panic, hopes that Dolly didn’t feel the still in Fiona’s slide, but before she can click on the handpiece to continue—

“Oh— God. I am so sorry,” Dolly squeals.

“No, no. It’s okay,” Fiona protests but Dolly is wrestling out of her lap and she doesn’t dare stop her, as the self-excoriated sheep covers her mouth in shock. 

Fiona tries to raise her hands in surrender, “I-I wasn’t thinking. Or rather thinking of you like a— I just wanted to check it was all the right length.”

“Fiona, you heard that right. I sounded like I was—” Dolly buries her face into the unshaven fluff of her thighs, butting the tip of her snout through to sniffle at the air. “You know what I said earlier…. weird sex thing. Like I’d never mean to, it’s just you’re hot and I can feel all of you. And I know how dumb that sounds coming out of me and with what the weather’s like but I’m used to people wearing like— more than that when they’re shearing me.”

She parts herself like Moses, and looks at Fiona clenching herself in awkward horror.

It really doesn’t help how it makes all her muscles flex.

“I-I’ve made it weird, not you,” Dolly whines; crucifies herself on the plastic sheet, “You can stop there, and I can wear shorts or a skirt so you don’t need to shave my legs.”

No one’ll notice the bulge. Shadowskin can take care of it. Right?

“Are you sure?” Fiona asks, tentatively placing her on Dolly’s knee and sinking it down a bit into her coat. Forcefully enough to both reach her wayward lamb, and to demonstrate the problem still there. “It’s really okay, that was totally me. I just sort of—

forgot the artwork for the canvas it was on.”

Dolly looks up, jerks a horrifically undecided croak out of her throat, and asks, “Did you prepare that one? You don’t… you don’t think this is a date, do you?”

There’s no velvet to hide the crimson shame that courses across Fiona’s cheeks, nor the same cushioned thighs to tuck them behind. “No, no, definitely not. Sorry,” she cries. “I know what you said too, and I don’t wanna be another weird human that you’re suffering for… basic care! It was just that you seemed… cute? And I don’t know, it feels nice to rescue a gal in need. I-I didn’t expect anything, I just… didn’t want to say no if you liked me too.”

The sheep stares at her, tilted head and pursed lips. Dolly can’t tell what reaction she’s having, which bloody well means Fiona won’t be able to.

Instead she slides back across the plastic and lies on her back, pulling her legs up till each forms a triangle. It does the trick.

“Should do the legs, shouldn’t I,” Fiona says — and Dolly is glad she didn’t have to ask.

---

The door is open, and Fiona hovers at not-quite the threshold unsure if she should be on the inside or the outside of it. Of the chalk line, Dolly’s rather literal boundary.

Dolly at least is— Fiona can’t admit it, not now, but she’s beautiful. To see the whole of her not in shittily-taken photo-form — her stylus is there for a reason it seems — but all in motion, as she stretched and shook and wiggled her tail and shorn-at-last self.

It’s hard not to feel proud too, of a job done well, of a girl saved.

The magic — the metaphorical, right now — worn off though leaves Dolly hovering too. She looks about as stressed as when Fiona showed up, but she hopes it’s only in a way that’s her fault — and that it’ll be quickly settled when she’s been booted out the door never to see her again.

“Uhh. Hey,” Dolly says, sheepishly, like Fiona was just coming in again. “You really helped me out a lot today.”

“No drama, sweetheart,” Fiona replies, the points of boots tip-tapping as she looks down at herself. “But, I should’ve dressed up better, didn’t think at all it’d be such a bother for you. Or— not a bother but— not your fault.” 

“No I— It’s cool. You look good.”

“Oh… Thanks.”

She takes a step back, pulls out her aviators and tries to flip them on but Dolly just reaches out and takes her at the wrist. They stare at each other for a moment, but Dolly doesn’t let go, and Fiona doesn’t shake her off.

“Would you wanna help me next time?” Dolly asks, in more of a squeak than a sensible, unheated whisper. “It’s in a few months time… a lighter cut, for autumn.”

She drops Fiona, watches nervously as Fiona’s own nerves creep across her face, “Oh, I mean, sure! Would you wanna meet up before then, maybe? I don’t know, just to help things be more… normal.”

Dolly laughs, sweet on the afternoon breeze that’s sweeping in. “Now it’s a date?”

Fiona’s tongue wants instinctively to slither down her throat, but she thinks she can spot one of the girl’s teases by now — and she probably does have all the right to be a little mean.

“If you’d like it to be,” Fiona teases back. “But — for real — I’m still happy to help.”

Dolly huffs, and smiles in eminent satisfaction, “Then yeah, we can call it a date.”

It’s when Dolly’s peering through the curtains a few minutes later that she sees Fiona, thinking she can’t be seen, stop at short distance down the street and dance with glee for just a precious, delightful moment, before she looks back with a dumb, fond smile on her face and it just cracks when she realises Dolly can still see her.

And Dolly waves.

And Fiona can see her blush.

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

[admirationandromantics]

Rivalry part 2

Maybe putting ideas in your heads? Anyways, this is part two of the rivalry thingy with Josh Washington. Too many people wanted this, and it was like half of the requests I had in my inbox, so please, enjoy. Btw! This is 18+ (as is my blog).

You can find part one here: Part 1 I Part 2

Word count: 4,2 k (Unedited)

He walks down to the others, and I smirk at the thought of his sisters berating him for yelling at me. Karma Josh… it’s sweet isn’t it? I walk over to the bathroom, cleaning myself up and splashing cold water in my face. I hate that he gets me all worked up. Even after we’re done, I still feel him on my skin. Scratching, ripping, stroking. Who knew anger and passion were such similar feelings. 

A loud bang on the door wakes me up from my thoughts. I am quick to put on my shirt again and dry my face. 

“Give me a minute!” I yell through the door, trying to be fast while not messing up my makeup. Though it might already be a bit smudged, I can blame it on other things. 

“No, you let me in right now!” Emily shouts through the door. She sounds mad. That’s never good. I have to let her in. Worst case scenario, she throws me out a window and leaves me in the snow to die. The thought sends shivers down my spine, and I have to comply with her request. 

I unlock it, but before I can twist the knob, the door flies open and she runs inside, slamming the door behind her. She doesn’t waste time, locking it and turning to me, holding her finger up to my face. I must’ve done something horrible for her to act like this. She slowly walks over to me and I carefully step back, awaiting the bomb to fall. 

“You have something you need to tell me” she hisses, her finger only centimetres from my nose. 

“I’m sorry Em, have I done something?” I whisper, fear coating my vocals. This cannot be good. I’m gonna die in this ridiculously expensive bathroom. 

“Hell yeah you have done something, something extreme!” she shouts and I look around confused. What the hell did I do? 

“Oh don’t give me that look” she sighs, a slight playfulness to it. It sounds scary. I open my mouth to say something but my words fail me. I don’t know what she’s talking about. 

“Don’t you think I know that you’re fucking Josh” she states, and I can feel the blood leave my face. How? How did she know? We’ve been careful, going away and staying quiet (for the most part). And we hate each other, no less. There’s no point denying it. When Em knows something, you never try to gaslight her. It won’t work. 

“How did you know?” I ask, actually curious. And a little embarrassed. 

“Well it’s obvious” she starts, lowering her finger and sitting down on the chair beside the sink. 

“What? So everybody knows?”

She laughs, shaking her head and leaning back. 

“Everybody know there’s something, but they don’t know you’re fucking. Calm down girlie”

I exhale, feeling some of the tension in the room lift. At least not everybody knows, and that’s good. 

“So how did you find out?”

“How do you think?” 

I try to imagine a scenario that would make her, alone, find out, but I can’t. Luckily, she breaks the silence, tired of waiting on me to figure it out. 

“Let’s just say… 4.0 Honour roll, I’m smart. You already know all this” she says, waving her hand dismissively. 

“And don’t worry. I don’t plan on breaking the little freak show you two got going on. Might even be too freaky for me” 

“Fine Em, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I mean, why would I want to, it’s Josh for goodness sake” I smile, thinking about the whole ordeal. If it weren’t for our differences… 

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you what to do” she starts, and I sit down, listening to her. “But you guys got something going. If you can get each other riled up only through anger, that’s one thing”

I wait for her to continue, wondering if this has some other plot she’s hesitating to bring up. 

“How about you two tried being nice to each other?”

I snort, laughing my ass off at the idea. 

“Josh being nice? That’s not gonna happen”

“It might”

“And how am I going to do that? He nitpicks on everything I do, whether it’s cooking, gaming, drinking, breathing or whatever!”

Emily smiles at me, waiting for me to stop rambling. Her idea is not bad, and it would be great to hang with the group without being caught up in a fight or argument all the time. 

“I’m just saying, you should try. Kill him with kindness” she whispers again, and I sigh loudly. He’s gonna taunt me, make a fool out of me. 

“And that’s coming from you?”

“Need to see someone else do it before I consider it. And, it’s not the worst thing you’ve done”

“That’s right… I did Josh”

“And that’s an example of what you shouldn’t say” 

“Fine, sorry” I hold my hands up in defeat, standing up and unlocking the door. She stands up as well, giving me a knowing look before walking out. I follow, getting down to the living room. 

Everyone is still there, and the mood has lightened since last time, and I take a seat beside Jessica. They’re still playing with cards, drinking and talking. Sam, Ashley and Hannah are off in the corner, giggling about something, and Chris is shuffling cards for everyone at the table. 

“Care to join?” he asks me, looking up expectantly. 

“I’m in” 

We play for a while, before Josh walks in with Beth. I don’t know what they’ve talked about. Maybe he’s gotten berated again. The thought makes me smile, but Emily nudges me, knowing what I’m thinking about. I look back down at my cards. This is a bad hand. 

“I fold” I state, putting them down. There was no way I would win this round, so might as well not bet. Beth walks over to Sam and the others, while Josh moves over to us. He looks over the table, taking in everyone’s position in the game. 

“No way you’ve won twice. Got more than two brain cells?” he taunts, and I have to fight myself from rolling my eyes. Jess sighs, knowing the storm that’s about to come, but I don’t let it. Instead, I put on a smile and glance up at him. 

“I’ve actually won three rounds, Washington. You’re welcome to join us if you want”

The room suddenly falls silent, everyone looking in our direction. Ashley whispers something to Hannah, and both Mike and Matt are furrowing their brows in confusion. Emily is holding her hand over her mouth to stop her from laughing, but the most surreal reaction is from Josh himself. He can’t take his eyes off me, eyes narrowed and mind twisted in confusion. He’s probably wondering where my spirit went, where all the anger had gone. 

To fuel the situation even more, I pat on the seat next to me, signalling for him to sit down. 

“In or out?” I ask, giving him some doe eyes for extra effect. He still glares at me, not necessarily in a bad way, but definitely in a confused one. People return to their conversations, probably talking about what just happened. Our usual banter, all out of balance. He keeps looking at me, mouth slightly open. I give him a sugar-sweet forced smile before turning back to the cards, waiting for the next round. 

The rest of the night goes as planned. Josh makes small comments here and there, but I skillfully avoid getting angry. It actually feels great being the bigger person, especially when his reactions are more visible than any other feelings he’s ever shown. I know he gets more and more aggravated, and I fuel it by just being nice. Maybe I should consider becoming a kind person? 

At this point, half of the group have gone to bed, and I sit on the sofa, opposite of Josh, talking to Chris and Sam. I feel the exhaustion of the night come over me, but still feel restless and anxious. I need a cup of tea or something before going to bed. Or maybe a bath?

“Hey Sam?” I start, grabbing her attention. 

“Hm?”

“You took a bath earlier today, right?”

“Yeah, it’s drained and cleaned now, don’t worry” she shrugs, waving her hand like it was obvious that she cleaned after herself. That’s not what I wanted an answer for though. 

“So there’s hot water?” She laughs at my question, and only then do I realise how dumb it is. 

“Yeah, yeah, loads” 

“Then I’ll be on my way. Enjoy your night!” I walk up the stairs, lifting my hand in a backwards wave. The bathroom is dark, and just for comfort, I light a couple of candles while the water’s going. I washed my hair this morning, and would prefer it not to get wet again. I take a hair clip and fasten it. I don’t bother taking off my makeup yet. I’ll do it when I brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Right now, I’m gonna soak for at least an hour. I undress quickly, shivering from the cold air of the lodge. Luckily for me, the bath is warm and smells great. I get in, slowly getting used to the warmth. It’s almost burning my skin, perfect temperature. 

As I lean back and breathe, my muscles finally relax. They’ve been tense all day, especially after my last intimate encounter with Josh. I look over my body in the see-through water. I haven’t noticed just how many marks he’s left. All over my legs, thighs, stomach, chest, arms… It’s unbelievable that no one noticed. Well, everyone except Emily. A couple of loud knocks interrupts my thoughts. 

“It’s open, but I’m in the bath!” I yell. Everyone must’ve gone to bed by now, so it’s probably someone who wants to use the toilet. 

“There’s another bathroom on the other opposite side of the hall!” I add, turning back to the water and closing my eyes. Please just go, I’m having the time of my life. The door opens, and I shift my head, glancing over at a certain brunette walking in and closing the door. My hands immediately move to my body, covering myself as best as I can. Right now I wish I had some bubbles and foam in here to help me. 

“Relax, nothing I haven’t seen before” he smiles, locking the door behind him. 

“This is different” I start, turning back around and sighing. I feel his body come up behind me, head resting on my shoulder and breath against my ear. 

“Tell me that you want me to go, and I’ll go” he whispers. His voice sends shivers down my spine, my heat warming up as I think about his kisses. As a reply to my silence, he starts kissing my neck, leaving small bites everywhere, though not as hard and rough as usual. 

“This is just…” I sigh and give small moans from his caresses, unable to control myself. “This is too intimate for us Washington” 

“And what if I say that there’s much more intimate things we can do?” he teases, lips featherlike up to my earlobe, nibbling. I hear his belt fall to the ground, before he stands up and walks to the side of the bathtub. 

The air is filled with something different. Maybe it’s the scented candles, fire, hot water, dim yellow lights… Something is not like usual. This is romantic, this feels more real. We haven’t built up the usual tension like we’ve done before. This encounter is purely because of lust and want, not a convenience or deal. He didn’t have to come here tonight, but he did, confident that I would let him. 

He stands before me, naked and vulnerable. His tan skin and toned body are intensified by the candlelight, which highlights every curve of him. I take him in, feeling like I’m seeing him for the first time. Finally seeing him. 

My breath quickens as he gets in the bath, leaning over and meeting my lips. It’s not hatred, it’s not a tension-reliever, but rather soft and caring. I lean into him, slowly making my way over, and sitting on his lap. The kiss deepens, tongues dancing in a waltz. His hands travel down from my waist to my high, slightly grabbing. He rubs soft circles, nothing like what he’s done before. 

“Still hate me?” he asks, breathy and tired. He looks up at me, a pinch of hurt in his eyes. I don’t know what to say. Of course I do, but not right now. My arms are twisted around him, fingers gracing the curve of every muscle on his shoulders and back. 

“I-I never hated you” I manage to whisper back. “Like you said, it’s all part of that horrid game” 

“Is this part of it?” he asks, more determination in his voice. I wish I had an answer for this, I truly do, but what is it? Yes, this only happened because I conducted an experiment, and my hypothesis was wrong? Turns out you want to fuck me either way, though more in a gentle manner? 

“Josh, listen. I got it in my head that we would stop fighting if I just took the high road. It would be more comfortable for everyone. But you’re still here. You came here tonight and I don’t know why”

He doesn’t answer, only looking at me in shock. Did I say something wrong again? His mouth is slightly ajar, lips parted and red from our previous session. God how I want to kiss him. 

“Did I say something wrong?” 

“You said my name”

My chest tightens in realisation. I did. I did say his name. But he acts like the world has ended because of it. I need some kind of answer, some acknowledgement that he got everything I said after it too. 

“Say it again” he pleads, pulling me closer and leaving small kisses all over my collar. 

“Josh, we need to talk about this…” I sigh out, feeling his dick grow in response. 

“Please” he begs, and I let out a small moan as he nibbles at the skin of my chest. “Say my name and I’ll do anything for you, tell you everything you wish for” 

“Fuck, I-” I begin, feeling myself heat up from his words. 

His hand moves to my folds, sliding over them up to my clit. I give a small moan in response, grabbing his shoulder harder for support. 

“Please” he pleads again, pathetic and breathless. As his fingers start rubbing, I moan out his name, and his breathing suddenly quickens. His other hand moves up my body, past its usual place on my throat and to the back of my head, tangling in my hair. He pulls my face back on him, capturing my lips in a needy and lustful grace. 

I break away from him, still waiting for his response to my previous comment. He gives a small whine at the sudden emptiness. 

“Why did you come here tonight?”

His brows furrow a little, but only for a moment. Then, he starts laughing. A genuine one which leaves me in confusion. Why is this funny? Unless… 

If Emily knew, some others might too. Jess is definitely good at picking up these sorts of clues. Did they talk to him, getting me in this position just to humiliate me? Was this all a prank? I ask him a genuine question, and he breaks out, unable to answer. 

I stand up, getting out of the tub. I was not gonna be the sore loser of another prank. A wave of realisation goes through Josh as he understands what I’m doing. He stops laughing, immediately shifting to face me. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Out” I state, irritated and vulnerable. This was not okay, playing with my feelings. 

“What happened, why are you being like this?” he asks, confused. His tone hurts me a little, though not as much as the thought of being part of this little scheme. 

“I’m not gonna be the laughing stock of this little thing. I don’t know if you’ve talked with Emily or Jess or someone else, but this…” I point to and fro the both of us. “This is over, whatever it was. No sex, no feeling, no nothing. I’m done” 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Fuck this and fuck you Washington!” I yell at him, as I grab my clothes and walk out. I feel tears at the corners of my eyes, begging to be released to my cheeks, free to roam my face. I did the right thing. We can’t keep going like this forever. It’s a hassle for us, and it’s a bother to others. The relationship had gotten too intimate for me, for our situation. I felt a certain way, and not getting a response from him deeply hurt me. 

“Wait!” I hear from the bathroom, and I walk over to my room, locking the door and laying down in my bed. A knock is heard on my door, but I don’t answer. 

“Please, sorry about the reaction, I’ll tell you everything, just open”

I give in, pulling the towel closer to my body and unlocking it. I open it slightly, not too wide. He doesn’t force himself in, just stands there waiting. I’m the first to talk. 

“You know, Washington, it’s late, we’ve both got caught up in the moment and we said some things and stuff. We’re both tired, a little tipsy, probably dehydrated…”

“I love you” he interrupts. I roll my eyes, done with his bullshit. 

“No you don’t, you can drop the act. I just can’t take all this back and forth anymore, it’s too much, please understand” 

“You’re such an idiot”

I look at him dumbfounded. What the fuck? 

“Excuse m-” before I can finish, he pulls the door open, walking inside and closing it behind him. His arms wrap around me, pulling me into his embrace. The sudden action leaves me breathless and wondrous. He’s half naked, wearing only a towel as well. 

“You are the one who wanted all that, and now you don’t” he starts explaining, and I keep quiet. “I know you adore me, from what I understood in there, you feel the same way”

“Washi-”

“Stop, don’t finish that word. I would never pull a stunt like this for a prank, especially considering how hurt Hannah got last year because of it” 

I look down his back, hands urging to touch him, to feel him on me. 

“Then what was so funny?” 

He takes a deep breath, pulling away, smiling. 

“The fact that you can’t solve a simple equation” 

“Which is?”

“That I love you, and I know you do too. That’s why I came tonight” 

I’m stunned, mesmerized by his words, enchanted with his presence. His lips meet mine once again, and I let him devour me. I melt into his touch, sparks igniting on our skin. The cold air hits our warm bodies, shivers bolting throughout. He deepens the kiss, inviting his tongue and moving us to the bed.  

Instead of shoving me down alone, his body follows, laying on top of me and pressing me into the soft sheets. One of my hands tangles in his hair, grabbing it roughly to get him closer. The other goes to undo his towel, letting it fall and throwing it on the ground. He does the same, unwrapping me in a painfully slow manner. He takes in the view, me laid underneath him, completely at his mercy without disobeying or complaining. 

“You’re beautiful” he whispers, head moving to my neck, leaving kisses and vibrations against my skin. I give a moan in response as his hands find their way to my breasts, grabbing harshly. He’s never complimented me like this before. It’s real, genuine. 

His dick slides up and down my folds, coating itself in my wetness. I want him, the whole of him. I start trying to grind closer to him, but he gets further and further away instead. He kisses down my stomach, head making its way down to my heat. He pulls my thighs over his shoulders before taking one of my hands in his. I can only see the top of his head as he leans down, followed by a long lick over my folds. I moan, legs shaking as he finds my clit, sucking and licking small circles. Uncontrollable sounds leave my mouth as he keeps going, his other hand taking advantage of my dripping heat, inserting two fingers. 

“Fuck, Josh!” I whine, feeling the edge come closer. The knot in my stomach tightens, tension building up as I try to get over it. 

“Yes, please, keep saying my name like that” he whispers against my pussy, voice making vibrations against my clit. His encouraging words get me over, and I cry out as I finish all over his lips and fingers. I squeeze his hand as my legs keep shaking around his head. He doesn’t stop though, letting me ride out my orgasm on his fingers, eyes completely mesmerized by the vision in front of him. He continues his attack, tongue finding its way back to my spot and leaving small movement. I cry out in pleasure as I come again, embarrassingly fast. I look down at him. And he’s shocked by his own skills of effectiveness. 

“Well, I did know you were into me. Surprised by how much” he purrs, leaning back up to my face, capturing my lips. I taste myself on his mouth, lips drenched in my juices. 

His dick keeps running up and down my folds, and I shiver from stimulation. 

“I need you” I whisper to him, and he obliges. He’s harder than he’s ever been before, being teased and excited for way too long. He slowly lets himself into me, pushing carefully till he’s all the way in. I whine, killing a moan that almost escaped my lips. He looks down, facing me with concerned eyes. 

“Are you good?” I nod in reply, smiling at him and pulling him in for another kiss as he starts moving. He fills me up perfectly, reaching all the sides and spots, rubbing my walls with a passion unlike ever before. He grunts and moans, whines leaving his mouth as he moves. He’s been holding out since the card game, no wonder he’s desperate. 

I swallow his moans with my mouth, and he returns my favour. His hand grabs my thigh, lifting it higher to grant him better access. The action makes him go deeper, making me gasp in surprise at his length. My core builds up, and I clench around him as I come all over his dick. He keeps pumping, sloppy sounds and moans erupting throughout the room. He’s close, I can feel it. The overstimulation is overwhelming, and I plead with him. 

“Josh, please”

The mention of his name from my moaning mouth sends him over the edge, and he pulls out, coating me in the white liquid. It spills all over my throbbing and stingy heat, hurt from the overstimulation, and all over my stomach. Instead of leaving, like he always does, he leans down beside me, kissing my cheek. 

“I love you all covered up in me” 

“So much for a bath” I smile, turning my head and kissing his lips. “I’ll take endless baths with you” he smiles back, getting up and leaving the room. 

I’m hit with a sudden wave of sadness. I know he’s coming back, but the idea that he might not weighs down on me. My chest is still heaving, pulse slowly regulating itself. Just now, I realise how exhausted I am. Drinking since early hours, multiple sexual encounters, a bath, and now being the middle of the night. I try to get up, but my body won’t listen, simply too tired to move. 

The door opening again wakes me from my sleepy trance, and Josh walks in, cloth in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He sets it down on the nightstand before laying down beside me and cleaning me up. He’s never shown this much care before, and his sweet actions make my cheeks flush. He finishes quickly, taking hold of my body and dragging me up to the right side of the bed. After that, he holds the glass of water out to me, and I take it, drinking every last drop before placing it on the table again. 

He creeps under the blankets, throwing them over me as well and pulling my body into his. His head rests in the crook of my neck, and I cuddle into him in response. What are we gonna do tomorrow? How will this end? 

“Guess we’re not having hate-sex anymore” he says, kissing my neck. 

“As long as you don’t say anything stupid” I answer, voice barely over a whisper. I’m on the brink of passing out, but before I can, I feel his stupid, perfect smirk against my jaw.

[thechekhov]

Chekhov Reads Dungeon Meshi: CH50

This has huge 'rocks fall, everyone dies' from the DM energy.

Or maybe you stepped through the mushroom DNA-shuffler circle last chapter and now your stomach is trying to digest you from the inside out.

Oh gods. He's a dwarf. They got freaky Friday'd.

............I have no comments for this. I don't know what to say.

You know. I've seen this panel many times. But for some reason I thought this was like, an omake or a side chapter.

Unless this IS a side chapter? Is it all a dream??? This IS chapter 50, right?

....yeah, Chil? You don't seem thrilled.

LMAO. The cover redraw!

And apparently Izutsumi kept her long tail.

Elf!Senshi just having magical wind in his hair the whole time is high key hilarious. Where is the breeze coming from? Maybe he's born with it.

Also, are those giant spools...?

Ahhh, right, Halflings are known for being more sensitive than the other humans.

I'm just happy he finally got his, and got to pet Marcille and Laios on the head. :)

"The ground is so far away! It's scary!" LMAO. That's real.

Laios as a Kobold. Finally, he could achieve maximum fursona.

.....ah, well--..... yeah.

Hey, it's the door!

Arriving to really important places under really silly circumstances - that's two for two. (I'm specifically talking about the frog costumes but there may be others)

...isn't this door like. Super rare? Very difficult to find?

And you're telling me some other randos have already been here and didn't even clean up?

Laios, I love you, but Chillchuck JUST told you there was no remedy that he was aware of aside from just like, forms of torture.

You're not thinking this one through, buddy.

He was hibernating.....

But actually - they DID call for the winged lion's aid, right?

GASP

What if.... Kensuke.... IS the lion!

AH SHIT. If she's a halfling, then that means she's bad with magic, right? They have low tolerance to the feedback magic gives or something? I don't remember the details now but...

Wuh-oh. (I don't think that's how agitation works in any species, but sure. For the drama.)

Why is he the only one who suffered a severe personality change...?

Apex predators need their naps.......

Sacrifices have to be made, Toshiro.

Izutsumi Got. That. Ball. Bell.

......Mechanus?

Where DID you get that from? You had one food poisoning scare, that doesn't mean it's not real!

I wish I could feel this level of peace while cooking.

Ah so.... this is not a place of honor?

It sounds like there's two cultures that got REALLY into the space race, turned a cold war into a hot one, and are now going "well, we can't have nice things because of.... us. because of us. but you all still can't have nice things!"

That might be.... a terrible idea.

[moonlight-prose]

Maybe I need Gabriel to chase me thru the woods as a wolf only to find and tackle me in his human form 🤭

note: i love that you sent me three delicious fucking asks. these have been living in my head rent free for days and i need to basically live in all of them. this one especially. fuck if it isn't just the scenario with him.

warnings: 18+ ONLY!! stalking, chasing, he's a werewolf it's freaky deal with it, dry humping, biting, marking/bruising.

He's faster than you anticipated. A predator who became consumed with the thought of hunting down someone innocent. A helpless prey that didn't know they were about to become his meal. His sacrifice for the devout God above that damned him to live this way.

Moving with a swiftness that is relentless enough to thread terror through your veins, crawling its way up your throat, he plays a game. Cat and mouse. Wolf and gazelle. The pretty little thing running past trees and ripping the skirts of their dress on fallen branches - their feet cracking the dead leaves with each step.

He can smell your fear like a deep saturated wine that fills his senses. The adrenaline that sweetly courses up and down your body, pushing you further than you needed to go. There was no use in fleeing from the big bad wolf. Not when he had you in his sights - ready to pounce when you made the next move.

Danger was an easy thing to come by in a forest this haunted.

The screams of the innocent punctured the air like a knife, carving free the stench of death that seeped up from the damp ground. You began to wonder how many bones were lost to the soil beneath you. Only to realize that's what he wanted. He yearned for you to fall into his wayward trap - his clever fucking ruse.

"Not this time," you muttered, gasping for air as you took off to the right.

His clawed feet pounded against the floor, the sharp growl of irritation at your change in course rumbling loudly. He made his presence known. Perhaps that's what sent a thrill of fear down your spine, curling right at the base and trickling into your bloodstream. You understood the feeling well - cherished it like a companion that would remain with you. Till death did you part with the timeless horror that trekked beside you in this dense forest.

A sharp piercing snarl cracked like a whip along your skin, prickling at your heart and nearly forcing it to stop. You pushed your legs faster, hands gripping the heavy weight of your dress as you sprinted for your life.

The edge of the treeline was within reach. Only a bit further to go. But one simple mistake hung over your head like the strands of a puppet, pulling you to and fro in this deranged frantic escape he liked to call fun.

You turned right. Not left.

You ran right towards a path he knew well, the shortcut too now facing directly beside your right shoulder. And in a quick attempt to rectify your error, you slipped and nearly fell to the ground. Sharply crying out in pain, you gave away the spot where you started to run towards - dooming you to the only consequence that remained.

A mass of black fur barreled in your direction, leaping through the air with a harsh bitten out growl that vibrated the very breath in your lungs. Shouting in fear, you felt him knock you the ground - a searing pain shooting up your thigh - before clambering atop your writhing body.

"I almost won you fur faced bastard!" you hissed, clawing your way to freedom.

Only for a very warm and very human hand to wrap around your ankle, dragging you back. He straddled your thighs, pressed his face into the back of your neck, and moaned like a pitiful animal who finally got to claim his prize. You lay on the ground in silence, hoping the heat between your legs went unnoticed by him.

It didn't.

"You never win love," he chuckled, turning you onto your back - face pressed gently into the side of your neck. "I could have let you."

"Cheating," you retorted, fingers carding through his hair in an attempt to drag him closer.

Though the forest was thick with humidity, the air still held a chill. One that would bring death to your doorstep if you stayed out in it for longer than necessary. He shuffled down your body, hooking your knees over his bare hips to encase you in the heat that poured off his skin. Later by a fire he'd strip you of the layers that kept you from him, but right now he only sought to keep you safe.

"I could smell you," he muttered, nose nudging along the curve of your jaw. "Sweet like the flowers in your garden."

"That's an unfair advantage Gabriel."

"Mm." Lips trailed down to your throat, his hips nudging up to where your skirts gaped across your waist - the dripping heat of your cunt close off for what he wanted most.

"You said you wanted to-"

"Fuck what I said," he gasped, rutting his cock into your thigh, teeth scraping against the jugular that pulsed sporadically beneath his tongue. "I wanted to catch you. To own you."

"Oh." Feeling him unravel above you - his hands grasping for any part of you he could reach - caused a wash of dizziness to settle in your head. "You already do."

A whine broke past his parted mouth and before you could drag his lips to yours, his teeth latched onto the juncture of your shoulder. Clamping down hard enough to shove pain along your chest. Gripping his hair, you canted your hips up to meet his desperate thrusts - a cry breaking free to echo in the empty forest.

He was feral as he humped you. Borderline obscene in how he bit down hard enough to leave an indent of his teeth - a mark of the animal who you belonged to. A glob of drool leaked down into your hair, spilling across the dirt beneath you, and if you were to catch a glimpse of his face you'd see the glazed expressed. The eyes that flashed gold as he leaked over your skirts in an attempt to stain you with his scent.

One final harsh yank of his hair dragged him over the edge with a pitiful muffled cry. He spurted onto your skirts, hips rolling with a speed that you could practically feel inside of you. You knew a second bite mark would be set beside the first once he got you inside.

Another claim in the confines of your shared home, where he could take you properly.

The string of mumbled Latin words were too soft for you to hear, but their sentiment remained the same.

I love you. I belong to you. I'll die for you.

"Take me home Gabriel," you whispered, catching his spit covered lips in a soft kiss.

He rumbled an agreement with his tongue halfway down your throat, his hands shifting to lift you as he stood. The daunting beast in the forest now placated with his prize - his prey to be devoured.

[living-dead-author]

Kinktober day 11: Threesome with Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter

I was initially going to write a long one shot for this idea, but I lost track of time and I don't have the time to finish it at the moment, I also don't know where I'd exactly go with it, so I'm doing the next best thing and making something shorter, but still freaky. This work is 18+ minors and ageless accounts dni

Content includes: Bondage, blindfolds, gagging, sub reader, Dom Hannibal and Will, reader referred to as 'rabbit', GN reader with no explicit assigned sex at birth, mentions of collars and reader being put in a cage, maybe ooc for them

"Your hands are very careful with those ropes Dr. Lecter." Will comments, standing a small distance away from where Hannibal is with you. He's in the middle of tying a kind of shibari style of arm bondage on you while you stand.

"It's important to be careful with things like this. You remember last time. Our pet is a bit of a sensitive one, like a rabbit listening, waiting for the sign it should run. And we don't want them to run before the fun has began." Hannibal says, securing the ropes around your arms. "Does that feel alright?" He asks, taking his hands off you.

You nod your head, unable to speak because of the gag currently in your mouth. Hannibal adjusts the blindfold over your eyes before stepping in front of you, joining Will and admiring the view in front of them.

"It seems this rabbit has been caught." Will comments, crossing his arms over his chest as he takes in your naked form, the only think covering your body being the rope tied intricately around your arms and torso.

"What shall we do with this rabbit now?" Hannibal asks, looking over at Will with a small smile on his face. Will keeps his gaze on you, studying you, not that you can tell anyway. He slowly walks forward, reaching out his hands and running them over your skin, making you shiver.

"Maybe we should let them go, just to capture them again." Will suggests, slowly moving behind you, running his hands across your shoulders in a teasing manner, making you squirm slightly.

"We could collar them. Make them a domesticated pet of our own, keeping them safe in a cage from predators." Hannibal says, watching as Will runs his hands over your naked body. "Tell me Will, what do you enjoy more? The chase? Or the capture?"

Will hums behind you, slowly starting to circle you again, still teasing your senses with his fingers, making you whimper against the gag in your mouth.

"I think that both have their rewards. The rush of the chase." Will begins, his hands starting to go lower on your body. "And the satisfaction of getting your trophy." He says, his hand going between your legs, making you whine again. You try to talk against your gag, but all the words come out muffled and pulled together.

"I think our rabbit wants to speak to us." Hannibal says, a small smile on his face.

"Too bad we can't understand them." Will comments, tugging on the ropes around your body, earning another soft sound from you. "The poor prey animal caught by the hunter. The rabbit is at his mercy now." Will says, putting his hand on your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your skin. His hand starts to move against your arousal, making you moan against the gag again.

"No need to rush things. They aren't leaving anytime soon." Hannibal says, stepping closer as he watches Will give you the stimulation your body is crying for. You know this is going to be a long, pleasurable night.