#still working out some stuff but it should be complete soon :]

[polyamorousmood]

This person came off anon and we talked a bit more. TL;DR: Our friend here briefly thought they had worked out what is essentially a "don't ask, don't tell" policy wherein they could keep seeing L and V and then S would just never hear about anything even tangentially related. It seems that arrangement lasted only a matter of hours before S walked that back.

S did the right thing in making people aware as soon as she realized that wasn't actually an acceptable solution to her. And that's an absolutely crushing position to be in as the asker, L, and V. Life is full of these cute, fucked up, little catch-22s.

The asker said "None of us felt we could continue knowing it was at her expense…" which is to say, the polycule is off. I have a lot of concerns. I don't think its constructive to lay them all out again here, but refer to the list above and you can see a few that are still very relevant.

My sincerest hope is that S can stabilize, and heal. It is truly incredibly distressing to continue to carry so many feelings over something that happened so long ago, and she deserves peace from that. Once she has her feet under her, I hope she can give some thought as to what she truly believes is fair in this situation, and how she can sustainably work towards that. I expect she doesn't feel great about having to limit your joy like this. But I understand how that might not be possible at this exact moment.

As for advice for the asker. I saw a lot of myself in that short discussion. So I will only say what I wish I had known. We should be willing to sacrifice for loved ones. It in fact is part of the definition for me. But no one - platonic, romantic, or familial - is worth everything. Draw a line in the sand. When is any given person not worth it anymore? It can't be a complete list, of course, and it doesn't have to be related to any of this current stuff, but it should be something plausible to come up with that person. Come up with a couple examples. Hopefully, this exercise feels silly. Hopefully the very thought that they would do something so heinous you'd have to draw a line is so far removed it feels like they wouldn't even be the same person anymore if somehow that happened. But say it anyway. And if it doesn't feel preposterous, if it feels scarily close. . . well, its easier to have already made that decision when it happens. Ahem, please don't ask me how I know.

And that may feel like its targeted at S, but that's only because you've already done it for L and V - you've determined they combined still aren't worth your relationship with S. So now its only fair. But if my hunch is right, and we are similar in our ability to forgive and martyr ourselves for loved ones... it would be good practice to do this for any serious relationship.

My only other note would be that love is not a guarantee. Having to walk away from a relationship very rarely a failure of love. For me, it has always been that I felt love for them just as ardently as ever, but the life path I would have to walk to stay by them wasn't sustainable for me. That's all. That doesn't make it easier, really. But it has made my relationships healthier, at least. (That is, by the way, the exact truth S was referencing when saying she couldn't stay friends if the asker maintained anything romantic with V or L)

my heart goes out. Be kind to yourself and your friends right now, since life is not💟

Fuck...

Ok so, I have a heck of a dilemma here, and I apologize if this is the wrong place to vent/seek advice about this, because the only thing specifically poly about this is the fact that there happens to be a polyam relationship involved here.

But anyways, I have these couple I'm friends with who I've recently started dating. Going to call them... L and V. And I have a best friend who I'll call S. Everyone involved I've known for years now.

Niw things have been going absolutely magically with L and V, I have no problems with the relationship. It's something that kinda started out casual, but may actually be headed in a more serious direction bc the longer we date and talk to each other, the more it really seems like we're falling more and more in love with one another. Communication has also been crystal clear and impeccable, probably my only complaint is how far away they live lol.

Now um, the issue however, is my best friend... S.

I went to celebrate the news with her shortly after this all began... and she told me a pretty awful story about some stuff that V did to her. I will spare the details, but essentially this was sexual harassment and bullying, and it had a very profound effect on her...

Now, I would have broken off the relationship then and there... However, the tricky thing about this is it happened when they were like 14. Nearly a decade ago. So long ago that V literally had a different name and pronouns back then.

She is not the same person she was when she did these things, and she hasn't been for years and years.

It seems wildly unfair to her to judge her for this behavior, which is so disconnected from the person I know her as today. Additionally having spoken with L about this, she confirmed that having known about this story, she has kept an eye out through the years the two of them have been dating, and she can corroborate this with her own observations and judgement, which I trust immensely.

Yet at the same time, I can completely understand S's feelings on the matter and why she wouldn't want to forgive her for what happened, it would also be unfair to her to dismiss these feelings when they clearly hold have had such a profound effect on her.

(Like, I was real piece of shit too when I was 14... I would feel so distraught to have that brought back up against me now as a different person, but ar the same time I would understand why someone I hurt back then wouldn't want to speak to me.)

Now, at first it seemed like it may be possible to thread the needle here.

I talked this out with each of them, and I established some formal rules and boundaries to keep V away from S, and make sure my relationship here doesn't bring them into contact with each other. V even quite graciously volunteered unprompted to step away completely from all of our mutual friends.

And for a time S seemed satisfied with this, it seemed like we could move forward.

But now that some more time has passed she's come to me again, and appears to be changing her mind. She seems upset with me for having continued with this relationship, and is now stating that she doesn't think she can continue to be friends with someone in a relationship with L or V.

And, frankly I just feel exhausted about this whole situation at this point.

I've skipped over a good amount here but I've been thinking about and discussing this for weeks now and just, fuck....

I really don't want to have to choose between these relationships...

S and I have been best friends for years now, and my relationship with her is one of the most precious in my life. I love her immensely.

Meanwhile what's been happening with L and V has felt like a dream come true, I've also been friends with them for years, and I feel so happy with them, and I also love them quite dearly. It feels like exactly the sort of thing I've needed in my life for a while now and I just, I feel, almost angry that events have transpired such that this joy is being ripped away from me,,, (even though I that this not the crux of the issue).

I feel like if it really comes down to it, I need to pick S, because then I at least get to keep L and V as friends. But honestly it just feels like such an impossible situation. Even if I did that I don't know how I can just, put away my feelings for them like that all of a sudden...

To complicate matters even further, some additional points I didn't really know how to fit in:

- S has also been experiencing a pretty severe mental health crisis at the moment, unrelated to the present issue. Her emotions and intensity towards these issues seems to vacillate quite dramatically day to day, which makes engaging with this make me feel nervous and unpredictable.

- L and S are also exes, though this relationship was brief and it happened years ago. It ended on terms which I would describe as neither amicable nor acrimonious, with neither party really at fault.

- V does not dispute that this happened, but does have what seem like very plausible objections to some of the details in S's account.

- I have also been in a bit of a bit of a mental health episode with some of my own issues, as I write this I'm going through a couple different med withdrawals because I lost track of my prescriptions, had a bout of substance abuse the other day (which is unusual for me), and generally just kinda feel like shit, I am not just emotionally exhausted because of this, but from my own issues, and actual physical exhaustion. I feel nervous to engage at the present moment, because I'm not in a great headspace but S also clearly seems to want to talk and I've already been deferring that conversation, I don't want her to feel like I'm ignoring her.

I just feel so fucking lost... I don't want to lose anyone... and my plate is already so full with my own neuroses and fuckups, I just feel... Numb.

Yeah, that's A Lot. I'm sorry all this is weighing on you, and being overwhelmed is absolutely the normal response. 🫂

I'm gonna keep it real with you, man, I'm not able to tell you what to do here. What I will do, though, is raise some points I think you should consider moving forward. I hope it helps you sort through everything.

Can you handle this right now? Frankly, it sounds like maybe the answer is "no". If so, are you able to take a step back? Can you go a stretch of time without talking to either "side" while you get your bearings and stabilize yourself? Do you have a therapist or very strong support system outside of S, L, and V? If not, you need to get that set up yesterday

Will whatever you choose be permanent? Since you think S is more sensitive to this than usual, is it possible to step back from one side or the other for a while while S stabilizes? (Also how long will that take and can you handle it?) Then look at reintroducing or ramping back up whichever the other one was when S is better equipped to deal with that?

Can you talk to S openly? Can she help you understand why its so hard on her even with the limits you've already put in place? Have you explained that while you understand S was seriously hurt she has no mandate to get over that, it also feels incredibly unfair for you, a party who was not involved, to hold something a decade old over the head of someone else, and that it feels unfair you're being forced to choose sides in that? If you can't now, will you ever?

Spinning off of that, how will it impact your friendship with S that she put you in this situation? Especially if you're not able to talk it through with her about how shitty if feels for you. As much I consider myself a gracious person, I personally would absolutely hold a grudge against that friend forever despite my best efforts. You said you felt you'd "have" to choose S if it actually came down to it, but would that even save the friendship with S? I'd hate for you to choose that and then have your own resentment spoil the friendship anyway, but maybe you're a much stronger person than I am in that regard.

How you feel about sneaking? Don't get me wrong, this is no one's first choice, and this is not necessarily a recommendation. Could you pull it off to keep L and V your dirty little secret? Do you want to? Would they? Can what S doesn't know hurt her?

What are the odds S is okay (and stays okay) with you staying friends with L and V? Has S said explicitly that was okay, or does she expect you to cut off contact when/if you stop dating them? If she is okay with you staying friends, can she explain what that difference is and why it matters to her? Might her feelings on that change like her feelings on you dating them (or something akin to dating them) did? What do you do then?

How are V and L doing with all this? How understanding will they be to your choices?

Will your choice, whatever that may be, set a precedent? Do you like the precedent it sets? Are you prepared to deal with future issues under the precedent you'd be setting now?

Lastly. There is a lot of potential progress that could be made by S talking directly to V and clearing the air. It sounds like V would be willing to apologize for a lot of stuff, and maybe closure could be had. But it also has the potential to go very bad, and fast. With S being less than stable, it might not even be something you want to float by her. But I have rarely seen things get 100% resolved without that, anecdotally, so if its not an option, be prepared to buckle down for the long haul. If that is an option, consider a moderator, and make sure that moderator is someone other than you or L.

Okay. Breath time. That's a lot, so take a sec here to regroup. Do something to reset. Get a drink 🧃 or wash your face🧑🚿 or image search "hamsters in hats"🐹👒. Like for real. The rest of this answer will still be here when you get back.

Once you're refreshed... I do have a little bit of actual advice. Its not the core problem, but in my experience, these will be integral to preventing additional spiraling. I'm tired of the bullet format, so I'm going to try each point in its own font. If that doesn't work with your eyes, maybe copy/paste into a notepad or notes app and it should make it all the default font.

Do not talk shit on S with V&L and vice versa. Find a neutral third party to vent to. If all your friends are involved, get a new one or a therapist. Do not vent to one about the other. When you have to tell them about something, prep them that you will be doing so, keep your tone neutral, and own your decisions. For example, you will NOT say "S is making me break up with you" to L or V. You MAY say "Its very hard on S for me to be seeing you right now, so I am considering taking a step back from both of you."

Try not to let shit fester. That is very difficult when you've got to balance another's precarious mental health (ask me how I know. Actually, please don't). But if you're fucked up by something, you have a right to respectfully discuss it with the relevant person. If you're going to be mad or hurt, it will make things worse long term if you never say something. That shit earns compound interest (please don't ask me how I know) so you gotta make sure you pay it off quick. If you consider something a sacrifice, the other person should know, and they should show you some amount of gratitude for making that sacrifice. Watch yourself if you're the type to lose your temper that it doesn't slide into berating, guilt-tripping, etc. But you can and should talk about how its affecting you.

Let people know ahead of time, when you can, what things are likely from you in what situations. "I may have a few days of radio silence if I get overwhelmed," for example. This applies not just to L, V, and S, but your other friends as well.

The End

Those are the big points. There are always a lot of things to juggle when its messy like this, so you'll have to forgive me if I overlooked something. You'll also of course have to use your own judgement. In addition to my normal "see your therapist" reminder, I feel the need to add in this case: you don't have to be suicidal to utilize your crisis line of choice📞. You can call just for emotional crisis, or if you're considering using, or if someone ELSE is in an emotional crisis and you don't know how tf to deal with it. I'm not gonna plug any particular hotline here, because its very easily googlable, but I recommend choosing one to have saved in your phone, even if you're sure you'll never use it.

And with that out of the way, let me once again offer you my condolences. Its a shitty place to find yourself, and resolving the situation will also probably be stressful. But that doesn't mean its eternal. It will be over with eventually, one way or another, and you will stand on the other side. So deep breath. Godspeed and Good Luck. 🫂🍀

[exlimix1a]

Another artfight attack! This character is named Miriam Myriade and belongs to Dalblauw!

[cheezpectations]

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th—” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[l1tw1ck]

The Ferret and the Fox

Bottom!FTM!Omega!Ferret Draco x Top!AMAB!Alpha!Fox Reader

🪄 Word Count: 3k 🪄

Draco's suppressants decide to stop working in the middle of a lecture, forcing him to leave and rest in your office. Draco wasn't thinking straight when he willingly entered an alpha's territory and inadvertently tied himself to you permanently

AFAB Language Used | Hogwarts University AU | Event Request

CW: Non-Con, Brief Somnophilia, Teacher/Student (Draco is 20) Heat, Virginity Loss, Victim Blaming, Marking, Creampie, Fingering, Manipulation, Knotting

As you're teaching your class, you and the rest of your students begin to smell someone’s pheromones. Everyone seems to be looking at Draco Malfoy, who's very red. He must be in heat. You walk over to him and lean in close to him. “Malfoy, are you alright?” 

‎ 

He jumps in surprise. He looks up at you with an adorable expression. His tail is curled up on his lap. “It looks like your heat started,” You speak to him softly. “Why don't you go rest in my office until class is over?” You should tell him to see the nurse but she's so far and he’d be safe from all the other alphas. And you might get a chance with him. Draco nods gently. You help him pack up his stuff and walk him to your office, not trusting anyone to let him go by himself.

‎ 

He sits down on the couch and takes off his coat to drape it over himself. You give him the blanket you often use during your free time to nap. “I’ll lock the door so no one can come in. If you get hungry or thirsty, you can use my water bottle and take whatever you like from my mini fridge.”

‎ 

“Okay…” He turns away from you. “Thanks.”  

‎ 

You could barely hear him but you could tell what he said based on how embarrassed he seemed. You smile and leave the room. As soon as you do so, Draco kicks off his shoes and socks before properly laying down. It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep with his and your scent mixed together to comfort him. He won't say it out loud but you're his favorite teacher and the only person in Hogwarts that he truly feels safe around and trusts. While he doesn't have any romantic feelings for you, your scent is still very comforting.

‎ 

‎ 

You walk into your office now that class is over. Since you don't have any more classes to teach today, you plan on taking him home. Most students take suppressants during the school year but when a student isn't able to do so for whatever reason, they take time off to go home since it’d be dangerous to be in their dorms. Draco shouldn't have any problems with taking suppressants but something obviously went wrong. You look at him sleeping on the couch, some of his clothes on the floor. You do a double take when you realize that he's only wearing underwear and his dress shirt. His clothes are conveniently placed in a way that allows you to see his light colored underwear soaked with slick, along with a small pool of it on the couch. You’ll never get over seeing an omega in heat. 

It doesn't help that the room is completely filled with his scent. You should resist and take him home but he looks too tempting. All of the alpha teachers are able to control themselves when met with the strong smell of an omega but there's something different about Draco. Or, really, something different about you.

You're willingly giving in to your instincts this time. You could go and do the right thing but you don't want to and you never really planned to in the first place. You’ve been attracted to Draco since he started your class this year. You never thought you’d have the opportunity to fuck him and now that you do, you're not going to give it up. You unbuckle your belt and free your hard cock, leaving your pants on to make the clean up easier.

You move onto the couch and stare at Draco’s sleeping face with a small smile. You feel sort of bad doing this while he's asleep but it's not like you’ll be taking his virginity. He’s 20, he must've had his first and many others by now. Right? Who wouldn't want him? If you ignore his personality, he's irresistible. You shrug off your uncertainty and take off his underwear. You bring it to your face and smell it, your cock aching for him. You move it away and focus on the real thing.

Draco makes a cute noise in his sleep, his fluffy ears twitching. He's just too adorable. You look at his soaked pussy in awe and run your finger up it, causing him to shiver. You bring your finger to your lips and taste his slick. As you thought, he tastes amazing. His tail curls up in response to your touch. 

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly inch your cock inside him. He’s tight but very slippery, it's not too hard to penetrate him. You moan at the feeling of being inside him. Nothing can compare to his pussy. You grin as an outline of your cock starts to appear on his stomach. You begin to slowly fuck into him. “God, you feel so good, baby.” 

Draco moans. His eyes flutter open. “Huh..?” He blinks a few more times. “Stop! What are you doing?!” He feels like crying. You're so big, it hurts like hell.

“Shh, this is your fault, Malfoy. You shouldn't have let me keep you here. Your pheromones are all over the room, you practically forced me to fuck you.”

“No…I…”

“Isn't this better than having some random person fuck you? Or do you have a boyfriend?”

Draco shakes his head, tears rapidly falling down his cheeks. “This…this is my first time!”

You pause. You’ve never seen him cry before, it's hot. “Really?” You feel your heart pounding. “That's okay, I’ll take care of you from now on.” You resume your gentle thrusts.

Draco sobs. “Why…?”

“If you didn't want this to happen, you shouldn't have let me bring you here. You don't understand how tempting you looked when I saw you sleeping.” You brush his hair out of his face. “You looked so sexy ruining my couch with your slick.”

He looks really embarrassed. Your pheromones seem to be calming him down though. Plus being in heat is really helping to sedate him.

“So just relax, okay? You deserve this.”

Draco nods teary eyed. You hold onto his waist and start to fuck him at a rough pace. He squeals and moans in pleasure, face red from embarrassment. “That’s a good boy, taking me so well.” You purr. You lean into his ear. “Love your pussy so fucking much, sweetheart.” You trail down to his neck and lightly suck on his skin.

He squeaks. “Ah…[Name]~ I’m sorry..”

You pause for a brief moment then slow down. You're shocked that he apologized. Despite the major changes he went through in the past, he's still prideful. He's really different when he's in heat. “If you're sorry then let me mark you. Now that I’ve had a taste of you, it’d be cruel to not let me have you. Besides, I should also take responsibility.”

Draco sniffles. You should feel bad for taking advantage of his current state but you just can't. He's too cute for you to let go. “Okay..” He closes his eyes and moves his head to show you his neck. 

You sink your teeth into his skin, immediately causing him to come. You lick up his blood and thrust harder. “You won't have to worry about anything from now on, sweetheart.” You come inside of him.

────────────────── 

Draco wakes up in an unfamiliar room with aches all over his body. He remembers going into heat during class…then going into your office…

Draco brings his hand to his mouth in shock. Tears run down his cheeks as he slowly begins to remember everything. He was waiting to fall in love and now he's stuck with you.

“You're finally up.” You walk into the room, holding a hot cup of tea. “I made you lemon ginger, it’ll make you feel a bit better. Oh, I also gave you some medicine for your heat. You should be okay now, at least mentally.”

He looks at you scornfully. His eyes are watery and puffy. He doesn't understand how much that's turning you on. He takes the tea despite his anger.

“You’re angry, aren't you?” You ask, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “Why didn't you take your suppressants?”

“I– I did take them!” He shouts. “I don't know what happened!”

“Shh, it's okay, sweetheart.” You rub his thigh. “Sometimes, suppressants stop working. It's rare but you’ll have to change to a different medication.”

“Don't…please don't touch me.” He's shaking very badly.

“We’re bonded now, Draco. You remember, right?”

He sniffles. “Why…”

“You know why. You let that happen to yourself. I’m sure you were conscious enough to know why you shouldn't have done that.”

“I trusted you..”

“That was a mistake. You shouldn't trust an alpha to take care of an omega in heat. In any other circumstance, I wouldn't have done anything to you, but you willingly came into my office and filled it with your scent.” You take the tea from him and place it onto the nightstand, he's shaking so much you're worried he’ll spill it and burn himself. “You know alphas have a hard time resisting.”

Draco begins to cry again. He’s whimpering and trying hard not to choke on his own tears.

“It's okay. I’ll take care of you from now on. Anything you want, I’ll do it.” You caress his cheek, pushing his hair away from his face. He begins to sob vocally, letting out visceral cries of pain. “It’ll be okay, Draco.”

You let him cry for a while and urge him to drink some tea in between. He eventually calms down.

“What will I tell my mother?” He sighs, refusing to look at you.

“Don't worry about her. I’ll make sure she won't say anything, even if you move in.”

“Wh- move in?”

“If you want to. Since you're in the university now, it won't be an issue to move out and commute from here.”

“The school wouldn't allow me to live with you.”

“You're an adult, Draco. As long as we spin the story around a bit, they’ll even insist that we live together.” You smile. “We could say you came onto me and forced me to mark you. It’s not too far from the truth.”

He frowns. He doesn't know how to feel. He finally looks at you. His cheeks redden when he notices your boner. “You- have you been hard this entire time?!”

You chuckle. “Maybe. You're just so cute when you cry.”

He looks down at his hands. “...I don’t remember what it felt like..”

“You don't?”

“It just…I know that it hurt but…”

“Do you want me to show you?”

He nods softly. “I have to be with you from now on…” He's still a little affected by his heat.

“Alright.”

Draco looks up at you timidly, his ears folded down. He’s only wearing boxers now. Your tail is swishing from side to side.

“I’ve always liked you, you know?” You happily run your hands down his body. “You're just so pretty. When I saw you walk into my class…I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

Is that why you were so kind to him?

“You always kept to yourself…it made me want to take care of you. So when I smelled your scent…I was overwhelmed.” You bring one of your hands down to his underwear. “I should've tried harder to resist but you made it so difficult.”

He whimpers at the feeling of your fingers sliding up his clothed cunt. “So….you really…hnh-”

“I love you, Draco.” 

He blushes. Even though he didn't choose you, you're the kind of person he was looking for. Someone who would love and take care of him. You smile as you notice the change in his demeanor. He's opening up to you.

“When you graduate, you won't have to worry about getting a job. You can just stay home and do whatever you like.” You remove his underwear. “You won't have to worry about anything.”

“Do…do I have to graduate?” He asks, looking at you solemnly. He's sick of Hogwarts. Even after everything that's happened, he doesn't have a single friend. Nobody trusts him or even tries to pretend they like him. Not even Harry and his friends really talk to him, they're too busy. If he doesn't have to get a job, why even bother going to that miserable place? Hogwarts used to feel more like home but after losing his friends and becoming isolated, it feels like a prison.

“Well..” You smile. “That’d make things easier.” You remove your shirt.

“I can stay here..” He feels dizzy from your scent. He triggered your alpha instincts and now you can't stop yourself from drowning him in your pheromones. “...Give you an heir..” He says almost mindlessly. You're from a long line of well respected wizards so he figures you’ll want someone to carry on that legacy.

“Draco.” Your cock is straining in your pants. “You can't say things like that to an alpha so casually.”

His tail curls. “‘M sorry..” He looks at you cutely. He's intimidated and turned on at the same time.

“It's okay, sweetheart.” You gently slide two fingers inside him. “You just have to take responsibility.”

Draco gulps, shivering with pleasure thanks to the size and roughness of your fingers. He's never been able to get off just by using his fingers but he probably could with yours.

“You're the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on, Draco.” You look at him lovingly as you skillfully play with his pussy. “I wish our relationship started differently.”

He feels less hesitant hearing you say that. He truly believes it's his fault. “It's…it’s okay.” He looks at you with a slight smile.

“Maybe we could've had a slow burn. Where I’d help you out after class and you’d lean in a little too close…You’d blush and act like nothing happened..”

Draco starts to fantasize along with you.

“Then, some day, we'd finally go for it. My hand on your thigh, your soft lips on mine…I’d take it real slow for you.” You swarm him with loving kisses. “I’d give your pretty little tits lots of love.” You aim your kisses onto his chest. He whimpers. 

“Then I’d finger you, just like this.” You start aiming for his weak points, causing adorable moans and squirms. He shudders with pleasure and grabs your arms for stability. He's gonna come.

Draco calls out your name, toes curling as he squirts. You bring your fingers to your mouth and lick them before moving your head in between his cunt and doing the same thing. He shudders with pleasure.

You pull away. “Are you ready?”

He nods softly. His eyes trail over to your crotch, watching intently as you pull your pants down. Just seeing your hard cock through your underwear is throwing him for a loop. He has to admit, he really likes it. Draco’s mouth hangs open when he finally sees your cock in his more sober state of mind. He knows alpha’s are beyond average but this is…

“I’ll be more gentle this time.” You say, rubbing your dick along his pussy and coating it with his wetness before slowly inching it inside him. It feels agonizingly slow for you but it feels great for Draco, which is all that matters. You interlock your hand with his. His face scrunches up cutely

“Don't– don't stop–” He moans. You're stretching him out well.  

“How do you feel, baby?”

“Good– I feel good, sir~” He throws his head back and instinctively reaches for his t-cock, sliding back the hood and stroking himself gently as a dick shaped bump appears on his stomach. He looks great when he's getting fucked but there's something special about seeing him touch himself. It's hot.

You bottom out and pause. “Keep touching yourself like that for me, okay?” You gently knead his thighs.

Draco lets out a high pitched “Mhm~” as he raises his hips. He didn't think it'd ever feel this good to be so full. His eyelashes flutter beautifully as he comes again.

“Good boy.” You praise him.

He pulls his hand away and lays down, trying to catch his breath. “I…I wanna keep- keep going..”

“Are you sure?”

He nods. He's never been as sure as he is now. He's glad you didn't hold back in your office. If you didn't, he'd have no idea how amazing it feels to have you inside him, stretching him out like a new pair of boots. “I wanna feel it move..” He places his hand on his stomach. He has no clue how seductive he's being right now.

You start making short thrusts, getting him used to the feeling. “Feels okay?”

Draco nods. “‘s good-” He twitches. “You're so…so big…professor…I’m so full…”

“You like being full, baby?”

“Mhm~ I love it~” He bites his lip. There's no better tranquilizer than the combination of an alpha’s cock and pheromones. “Faster…”

You lift his legs up and roughly pound into him. “Like this?”

“Ye- yes–!” Draco moans. It looks like his heat is coming back in full swing. The medicine you gave him was pretty useless. “Ba- baby– I wanna have—” He gasps, having another orgasm.

“Don't worry, I’ll make sure to breed you properly tonight.”

His lips stretch into a wide grin. His moans get louder the longer you fuck him. His hair is a mess and his face is so, so red. You hope he remembers this time, although you're not opposed to showing him again. You cup his cheek and he leans in. His eyelids are just barely open. You’ve never felt so possessive of something or someone in your life. “Mine.” You lean into his neck and suck on the spot where you marked him. 

Draco shivers. He feels hot and dizzy. All he can think is: “knot me” “breed me” “so big” “so good” 

Your movements suddenly stutter as you feel your orgasm drawing closer. You thrust one last time before pumping him full of your seed. Draco comes again. You’re still hard.

You pull away from his neck and move him into a mating press. “One more, then I’ll knot you.” You promise, thrusting more roughly and sloppily than before. Draco wraps his arms around your back as his tail brushes against you. His head is pounding, the words “knot me” are on loop in his mind. He digs his nails into your skin.

“So deep~” He shudders, making his own markings on your back.

You're finally starting to really get affected by his pheromones. It was already pretty bad before but now, you don't feel like you're in control anymore. “‘M gonna knot you, Draco, breed you til you can't walk…fill you up with my seed..” You kiss him roughly, lightly biting on his bottom lip. Usually, it's not hard for you to go multiple rounds but there's something about Draco’s scent that’s making you more sensitive. Maybe it's because you're a pair.

“I’m coming, sweetheart-” You groan as Draco’s warm walls drag another orgasm out of you, a knot forms to keep it all inside. 

Draco smiles drunkenly, grinding his hips. “I love you..”

“I love you too.”

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)

Rule no. 1: Don't show fear

It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner. 

Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception. 

Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself. 

Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.

You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words. 

You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.

Until it wasn’t. 

You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way. 

You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you. 

“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left. 

“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.” 

The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.

“What is that?” 

The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell. 

“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room. 

“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”

The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”

You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?” 

“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes. 

“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.” 

“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers. 

He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you. 

“Rise.” 

You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.

“Why do you weep?”

“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.

“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.” 

He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind. 

“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.

“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head. 

He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker. 

“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.” 

“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”

“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”

This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.

“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”

Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”

“I’m not interested in little girls.”

“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”

“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought. 

Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking. 

You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?” 

“Resting with you.” 

“Get out of my bed!”

“Are you no longer tired?” 

“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest. 

“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”

“Stop acting like you know me!”

Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done. 

“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled. 

His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair. 

Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first. 

“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”

You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Epic Buddie Fic Rec | March 10th-24th 2025

Work has just been.... a lot. Feels like the only thing getting me through the week is 9-1-1 Thursdays. Anyway. It's a long one cause you're getting two weeks. Bon appetit.

Complete

it has no name (no guarantee) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1,1K | General):

"H-hey, E-eddie." Buck isn't sure why he stumbles over Eddie's name. He's had enough practice over the past few days. Said it enough times in his life that it should be able to slip out seamlessly every damn time. "Hey, Buck." And there's Eddie sounding sure and confident and a little tired and warm and soft and so much like his best friend. Buck aches. "Just finished unpacking. Told myself I couldn't call until I was done. Incentive, y'know?" (or: eddie calls, buck blurts some things out, they're totally normal best friends)

all my life, there you go Chapter 29. Sleeping in by trysetmeonfire (Post-S8E9: Sob Stories, Eddie Back From Texas | 1,2K | Mature):

Buck shuffles a little and Eddie thinks for a moment maybe- but he just snorts a little and keeps dreaming. Eddie tries to tamp down on the kind of sleepover giddiness bubbling up in his chest — wake up wake up wake up — and takes the opportunity to watch his best friend. His- whatever. Whatever they are now that Eddie knows what kissing him is like, quickly and quietly in his parent’s backyard, now that Eddie has stumbled his way through a question — “Why are you- why did you- all of this- do you- do you-“ — and Buck had frowned a little, not in an unhappy way but in his serious way, and had heard the real thing Eddie had wanted to know, and said “Eddie- of course I love you.” 

is it enough now by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Pre-Buddie | 1,4K | Teen):

“I’m not in love with you,” Buck blurts out as soon as the ringing stops on the other end of the phone. There’s dead air on the other end of the line, but the kind that’s filled with background noise - a distant hum, some breathing sounds, just enough for Buck to know that Eddie heard him. buck finally calls eddie. he's still working through some stuff. he's kind of a disaster, honestly.

city lights, without you (they don’t even shine like they used to) by farfromthstars/ @doeeyeseddie (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 1,5K | Teen):

“It wouldn’t be so crazy,” Maddie said, and she didn’t even sound surprised. Is this something she’s thought about before? Do his sister and his ex really think he’s secretly in love with Eddie? And if Maddie thinks so, does Chimney do, too? Fuck, does everyone think he’s pining after Eddie? ~ buck is not in love with eddie. definitely not.

I’ve pined for you my whole life (morning, noon, and night) by paleredheadinascifi (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 1,7K | Teen):

“Where did you do it?” Eddie asks in one quick breath. “Hmm?” Buck hums. “Sorry I - - I. Nevermind. Sorry. It’s none of my business,” Eddie croaks, and whatever that is in his voice is what finally clues Buck in. “Oh. Oh,” he gasps. “Where did I - - where did we sleep together?” Or, Buck calls Eddie after 8x11.

sanctioned departures by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (S8E10: Voices Coda | 1,9K | General):

Buck gets his sister back and loses his best friend in the same week.

a fool for you by staticsilencee (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Getting Together | 2K | Mature):

“You did what?” Eddie asked, his voice sounding faint over the phone. Buck groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “I moaned your name! I don’t know why man, I just– Tommy said a bunch of stuff after– after. And I can’t work any of it out, and I know this is probably weird but I really need my best friend right now.” -or- Buck accidentally moans Eddie's name after he bring Tommy back to his place- oops!

keep me by you by euadnes/ @kananjarus (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 2,5K | Teen):

"It's funny you say that," he says. His voice has gone so soft Buck thumbs the volume up, his heart in his throat. "My date tonight ended early because I too would not shut up about the amazing guy I apparently couldn't get over. And he didn't enjoy being used a rebound. Or at least that's how he put it." Buck didn't hear that right, right? He realizes his mouth has fallen open, a few seconds too late. He scarcely dares to breathe. "He -? Wait, you were on a date with a - a guy?" Eddie cocks his head, quirks his mouth. "That's the part of the conversation you're focusing on?"

Buddie Versus The Kiss Cam by explorerofworlds (Basketball Date, S8 | 3K | General):

Buck and Eddie take Tommy’s tickets and go to a basketball game together. While there, they end up on the kiss cam! Or the kiss cam fic.

I just want it to be you by Lihhelsing/ @lihhelsing (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda | 4K | Mature):

Five times someone calls Eddie Diaz to talk about Buck and one time Eddie calls Buck instead.

realizations by staticsilencee (S8E11: Holy Mother of God Coda, Getting Together | 4K | Teen):

“Are you okay?” On the ground, his phone screen was still lit, a call with Eddie displayed on the screen. Through the haze of panic, Buck was at least relieved that he hadn’t managed to start a video call. I think I’m in love with you. Oh God, I think I’m in love with you. “Yeah, I– everything’s good, I think I just– butt dialed you, or something.”

loose-tongued, in love by wenttoafortuneteller (Getting Together | 4K | Teen):

“Get home safe,” Buck says. Then, as always, he thinks: I love you. Eddie goes very, very still. His breathing stutters to a stop. There’s a strange expression on his face, his mouth twisting in that way it does when he doesn’t know what to say. Buck squints blearily at him. “What?” A muscle in his jaw twitches once. Twice. The muted light illuminates the quiet movement of his throat as he swallows. “What’d you just say?” “Get home safe,” Buck repeats, a yawn overtaking the last word. “Why…?” Or: the one where Buck, drowsy and delirious on pain medication, confesses his love to Eddie without realizing it.

24 Hours by xylodemon/ @xylodemon (Post-S8E10: Voices, Getting Together | 4K | Not Rated):

Chimney asks, "Who are you texting?" "Eddie." "Really? He's only been gone… what—? Two hours?" "Two hours and thirty-one minutes." "Not that anyone's counting." (Or, Buck and Eddie in the the first 24 hours after Eddie leaves.)

Coming for you by diazsdimples (Eddie Moves to Texas, PWP, Phone Sex | 4K | Explicit):

The idea of Buck on his bed, in his house, wearing his shirt, while he touches himself really does something for Eddie. It makes the small, possessive beast that’s curled up inside his chest purr with contentment. The beast that shouldn’t really exist, because Buck isn’t really his. His phone pings again with another text from Buck. OR Eddie moves to Texas, Buck moves into his house, and neither of them really know how to handle it. Good thing phone sex solves all problems!

How to supreme an orange by paleredheadinascifi (Post-Chris coming home, Getting together | 5K | Teen):

"I don’t like oranges.” “Since when?” Eddie frowns. “You used to love oranges.” Christopher shrugs. “I don’t like them anymore.” And that’s fine, really. Tastes change. Christopher doesn’t have to like oranges. It’s just that he does. Christopher loves oranges. Christopher has loved oranges since the first time he tasted one, Eddie watching on over a shaky video call from the desert. Or, Eddie knows his kid, and his kid loves oranges. Buck knows both of them better than Eddie realized. He shows it in various citrus-based ways.

stay in the line, stay in the line by Elgney (S4E5: Buck Begins | 5K | General):

"The other firefighters were very kind. We got to hear a lot of stories about you. They seem to like you a great deal." Or: two missing conversations from Buck Begins.

Don’t Think About It Too Much, Too Much, Too Much, Too Much by fruitsdoesnotknow/ @fruitsdontknow (Post-S8E11: Holy Mother of God, Chris Coming Home, Getting Together | 6K | Mature):

“My friend, my…. Eddie’s like that. He’s a single parent, too. Big worrier. He nests. Uh,” Buck dips his head down. “Loves his kid more than anything. That’s where he’s coming from, now. Picking up his son, Christopher.” “Your Diaz boys,” she clarifies, a warm look in her eyes, and Buck feels his cheeks heat up. “Yeah.” *** Eddie and Chris finally come back to Los Angeles. Buck has some realizations, and confessions, to make. Good thing Eddie's got some of his own to share, too.

softer, harder, in-between by mostardent/ @laracrofted (S8E9: Sob Stories, Jealous Eddie, PWP | 6K | Explicit):

“He was hitting on you!” “So? Who cares?” “I care. We’re married!” Buck blinks. And blinks and blinks and blinks. “Okay. Hold on. What?” One of Eddie's potential renters flirts with Buck, and Eddie is super normal about it and doesn't at all lose his mind over the idea of Buck dating the man who moves into his house.

I'll take your chaos and your crooked in a heartbeat by heartbeatdiaz/ @lonelychicago (Post-S8E10: Voices, Eddie Goes to Texas, Getting Together | 6K | Teen):

He shakes his head, trying to clear the thought before it can settle. Eddie isn’t dead. He’s in Texas, doing what’s best for Christopher. And Buck—Buck has to get over whatever this is. Swallowing hard, he moves to grab one of his own boxes, dragging it toward the hallway. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. A single, forgotten cardboard box in the far corner of the living room. In big, black letters, written with marker, it reads: EDDIE — KEEP. It’s not one of his. He is sure of that. or: Eddie leaves a very important box behind and Buck spirals.

the things i wanna hear by stevesconverse (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Chim's Bachelor Party | 6K | Teen):

— or the one where Buck finds a video of him and Eddie making out at Chimney's bachelor party.

we get back to my house (your hands, my mouth) by weewooforever (Post-S8E11: Holy Mother of God, PWP | 7K | Explicit):

Eddie finds out that Buck fucked Tommy in his house. His reaction to finding this out is perfectly normal.

I missed your skin when you were east by Lihhelsing/ @lihhelsing (Post-S8A, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit):

Maybe Buck had gotten used to people leaving. So much so that it didn’t affect him anymore. His life would keep going even if his best friend wasn’t there anymore. Eventually, he accepted that nothing would feel different. He signed the moving truck away and sat on the porch stairs, one almost warm beer in hand as he waited for Eddie to get home. When Eddie did, Buck almost felt like something was different about him, but then figured it was just his imagination. Buck left his half-drank beer on the porch of Eddie’s former house shortly after Eddie had left him the same way. Half-drunk. Unchanged. OR; Eddie leaves, and Buck's life stays the same. It's when he comes back that everything changes.

That’s what you do (when you love somebody) by scarmaddiewrites (Eddie Moves to Texas, Getting Together | 7K | Teen):

Buck can’t go home. He physically can’t, so he avoids it at all costs, until he doesn’t. Or The five times Buck avoids his house and the one time he never wants to leave

can you see what we are? (it’s all there written down) by kabnd/ @polkadotk804 (Canon, S2 onwards | 8K | General):

April 25, 2019 - Buck, genuinely distressed in the middle of the night in the bunkroom, presumably to Eddie (overheard by me, Chim): “Do you think that cat from the ‘hang in there’ poster is dead? Like how long do you think that little dude really hung in there?” Eddie, who I think was still mostly asleep: “At least he left a legacy.” OR: Maddie starts a shared note to document Buck and Eddie-isms…it gets just as unhinged at you’d imagine and tells their story from the perspective of the 118 & Co…and then Chris comes home!

smiling through it all by stevesconverse (Canon Divergent, S2E1: Under Pressure | 8K | Teen):

“So what’s your real name, then?” Eddie asks, sipping on his own drink—a whiskey he’s swirling around in the glass constantly. “Evan,” Buck says coyly, quickly adding, “But nobody really calls me that.” “Evan,” Eddie echoes, the sound dripping off his tongue like thick honey. “I like it.” It almost makes Buck regret to ever abandon it in the first place, driving a shiver down his spine. Almost. “And what’s Eddie short for? Eduardo?” he quickly shifts the conversation, stirring his drink and popping another peanut into his mouth. Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. “Edmundo,” he corrects him, then winks at Buck with a low, “But nobody really calls me that.” or the one where Buck and Eddie have a one-night-stand two days before Eddie starts at the 118.

think i know where you belong by stevesconverse (Eddie&Chris Go Back To LA, Roommates, Accidental Kiss | 8K | Teen):

“Bye,” Eddie mumbles distantly, and when Buck finally manages to open his eyes again, Eddie is halfway out the door already. Puzzled, he just stands there, listens to the slam of the door and the starting of the truck outside, his mind spinning and his lips still tingling. Eddie has just kissed him. Actually kissed him, like it was the most normal, casual thing in the world, like this was what they always do, a routine they follow, a dance they’ve learned. Except it’s none of that. 

meet me in the afterglow by literalmetaphor (Established Buddie, Hurt/Comfort | 9K | Explicit):

“We need a safe word,” Buck says. “You know, to make things as clear as possible.” “I feel like no works just fine,” Eddie says. Buck lets out a breath, because, sure, it probably will, but he needs assurance here. He needs something straightforward, simple, maybe something easier than Eddie telling him no. Maybe something easier than Eddie saying it’s too much. He’s never been great at that. “Just, humor me, okay? Communication is key with stuff like this.” Eddie’s laugh is soft, kind of incredulous, but he meets Buck’s eyes, and there’s a relenting fondness in them. “You think, what, you’re gonna be so good it’s gonna scramble my brain out of knowing how to say no?” An answering laugh tumbles out of Buck, peppered with the exasperation at the back of his throat. “I think this is new for you, and I think you should have options.” OR Eddie has to use the safe word.

love of my life, can't you see? by wenttoafortuneteller (S8E11 Spec, Crack | 10K | Teen):

“I asked Josh out,” Buck admits. It’s cartoonish how quickly Eddie’s jaw drops; how his eyes bulge out of his head. Buck rubs the back of his neck, sheepish, waiting for him to say something. There’s still silence. Buck frowns at his screen. “Eddie? Hello? I think you froze.” “I’m here,” Eddie says slowly, eyes still comically wide. “I just think I might have misheard you.” “Oh,” Buck says, and repeats himself. “I asked Josh out.” “Okay. So I didn’t mishear you.” Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. “Can I ask why?”  Or: Maddie nudges Buck towards Eddie, Buck misunderstands horribly, and Eddie suffers over FaceTime.

I can roll with all the punches (if you hold a couple back) by Elgney (Canon, S1-S2 | 13K | General):

“I need someone like you—someone who can keep up with him, and have his back, and maybe eventually even rein him in, should that be a thing that is humanly possible to do,” said Bobby, smiling warmly over the remaining half of his sandwich. “Oh, I see,” said Eddie. And he did now. That’s what Bobby’s whole hard sell was about—it wasn’t personal, it was about Eddie being the top of this class. “I know the type. You see guys a lot like that in the military.” “Oh, no,” said Bobby, “I didn’t mean to—well, what I mean is, I don’t think you have seen a lot of guys like Buck, to be honest. I don’t think there are a lot of people like him.” ----- Hen & Chim discussing the new probie; Buck's forgotten shield ceremony; Eddie's first shift with the 118. Or: three early impressions of Buck, through the eyes of his future found family.

hopeless, breathless, burning slow by mostardent/ @laracrofted (Post-S6E11: In Another Life | 14K | Mature):

He knows Eddie worries about him. Everyone does, but with Eddie, it’s not the same. He doesn’t look at Buck like he still has one foot in the grave. Eddie looks at him like he prayed for a miracle and God gave him Buck. In the pale blue-green light, Buck lifts his gaze mid-sentence and finds Eddie already looking at him. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders down. He looks at ease, relaxed and peaceful, a fond smile on his face, coaxed from the corner of his mouth. One of his Christopher smiles, except Eddie’s gaze rests steadily on Buck, so maybe it’s a different kind of smile, one just for him. His dark eyes are warm and bright as afternoon sunshine, brimming with happiness, and it’s the most real Buck has felt in weeks. After the coma, Buck struggles to feel real and unofficially moves in with Eddie. (Or, Eddie hovers and Buck burns.)

listen for heaven by marviless/ @marviless (S8, Eddie Moves to Texas | Getting Together | 15K | Teen):

There’s a long pause before Buck answers. “Yeah, I do,” he says. “I felt alone for the first twenty something years of my life.” “What about now?” Eddie asks, and he’s not even quite sure what he means. What about now, right in this moment? or what about now, now that I’m gone? Buck chooses to answer the former. “I’m never lonely when I’m with you,” he says simply, softly. Eddie, Buck, and six phone calls.

Finding You by Sabs/ @memequeme (Soulmates AU, Eddie Goes to Texas, Getting Together | 16K | Teen):

Eddie leaves for Texas on a Tuesday and Buck feels it in his heart before he even exits the airport. He starts to feel it in his body on a Thursday. Or: Soulbonds are rare, spontaneous bonds are practically unheard, but Buck and Eddie have always been anything but conventional.

🔥been lost for a while by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Canon Divergent, Nurse Eddie, S2 | 17K | Mature):

Eddie's wife has been dead for two weeks. There's a firefighter in bed five. These are not necessarily related facts, but Eddie will have a hard time separating them out, later. — A story, in many ways, about holding hands

you're more than a heart can take by Elgney (Eddie Coming Out, First Date | 19K | Mature):

“Come on, you’re telling me you wouldn’t consider sneaking into a storage closet with me?” “Obviously, I would!” Eddie was whisper-yelling now, and Buck wasn’t sure exactly what point he was trying to make, but he was enjoying every second of this. “But one of us is going to have to have restraint and it has to be the—the one with the most experience.” Buck felt his mouth drop open in delight. “Eddie,” he admonished. “Are you calling me a whore?” “No!” said Eddie, looking increasingly flustered. “I just mean—clearly you have the power to do—” he gestured at Buck, “that, so you have the—the responsibility to, like, use it. Responsibly.” “Did you just quote Spiderman?” Eddie propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands, groaning dramatically. “I’m going to die. The first date, and I’m going to die.” “Been there, wouldn’t recommend it.” --- Buck and Eddie and the first date.

under pressure by brewrosemilk/ @gayhoediaz (Established Buddie, First Time, PWP | 22K | Explicit):

“It’s not funny,” Eddie sighs, knocking the back of his head against the kitchen cabinet as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Oh, come on—it’s a—it’s a little funny,” Buck argues, amusement thick in his voice as Eddie feels his hand curl around his own wrist. Eddie takes a breath, and drops his wrist to rest over his own knee as he turns to meet Buck’s eyes, arching his own eyebrow in question. Or: Buck and Eddie have grand plans for their first time, it's just unfortunate that their bodies don't seem to be getting the message.

🔥 boy, we ain't got nothin' to lose by Elgney (Amnesia, Post-S7E5: You Don't Know Me | 26K | Teen):

“They just follow it around, copying it and helping it and bothering it so much that it's like, worn down into loving the duckling back and looking out for it.” “So,” said Eddie, furrowing his brow. “In this scenario, you are—” “A baby duckling, newly hatched into the world with no idea what’s going on.” “And I am—” “The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.” ---- Eddie has no idea how to cope when a temporary case of amnesia causes the return of Buck 1.0. Buck has no clue why his future self hasn't made the moves on his hot best friend. It all goes pretty well, considering.

🔥 Your Fake Name is Good Enough For Me by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Changeling AU, Post-S8A | 37K | Mature):

When a younger man claiming to be Evan Buckley is apprehended by Pennsylvania police, Buck's past and present are thrown into question. Buck must work with Bobby and Athena to discover who he really is, and what that means for his family.

🔥paving hell with energy by Elgney (S8E9 Spec, Kidnapping, Getting Together | 52K | Not Rated):

Oh, fuck him, did he almost sleep with a serial killer? Distantly, he thought, Hen and Chim are never going to let me live this down. And then he thought, I might not live at all. ----- Buck is having a hard time dealing with Eddie's impending move to El Paso and resorts to some Buck 1.0-style coping mechanisms. Unfortunately for everybody, this backfires in spectacular fashion. Especially for Eddie, who waited until now to realize he was in love with his best friend. OR: Buck and Maddie get kidnapped. Eddie spirals.

Part 1 of not how the damage gets done

You tried to run (I tried to tie your shoes) by Elgney (Established Buddie, Fluff | 6K | General):

“Do I want to know what’s going on here?” Bobby asked. “Normal stuff,” Buck shouted from where he was, back on the couch. Eddie snorted down at his form, feeling fond and avoiding eye contact with Bobby, who must have stared down Chimney instead, because a second later he was fessing up. “We’re making them fill out their HR relationship forms separately, and then we’re going to compare them, Newlywed Game-style.” ---- Buck and Eddie fill out the LAFD's Consensual Relationship Agreement paperwork, Chim and Hen are over them already, and Bobby is just trying to make lunch and commit as few HR violations as possible.

Part 2 of not how the damage gets done

WIP

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 14? | 60K | Teen):

Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

🔥 for all the haunts and homes of menby euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 17/18 | 169K | Mature | Warning: Violence):

The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

Podfic

🔥[podfic] a cold world for such a long life by nuuma // fic by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7 | 1-1.5h | Teen):

Eddie befriends Bobby's estranged older brother in a virtual support group for queer adults struggling to come out. The only problem? He has no idea that's who Charlie is.

🔥[Podfic] Even in Winter There is Eranthis by Favourite_alias for letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Hades/Persephone AU | 45K | Explicit):

Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld. Now bound to Eddie, the god of the dead, Buck must spend half the year with him in the Underworld while winter reigns above. But even as something grows between them, there are still trials to endure. Just because the gods are not mortal... does not mean they cannot die.

🔥 [Podfic] Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) by Favourite_alias for letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 5-6h | Explicit):

Once, Eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. Five hundred years ago, Buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. Now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reactions to your "let's break up" text prank

Request: Hello! I've been reading your stuff, and it's so good. I was wondering if I could request something? A while back, there was a prank on TikTok with girlfriends texting their boyfriends asking/telling them they wanted to break up. I was wondering if you could do Seventeen OT13 reactions to the same scenario? Let me know if this is okay! Thank you! :)

A/N: Ah, this took me longer to complete than I expected. Anyway, this is their reaction to the general, "Let's break up," text tiktok trend. I know it's a really common prompt, but I still wanted to try it out. The videos the anon later sent me of the trend for the request (because I hadn’t seen before) actually had a twist, like, "What do we do when we break up," or, "When we break up, ___." These felt a bit different from the straightforward, "Let's break up," so I’ll be writing that version as well. I really want these to meet your expectations, anon, as well as for everyone else reading. So, if this isn’t quite what you were hoping for, please stay tuned for my next reaction post—it’ll be up soon. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one!

For the sake of the reaction, OT13 are not physically with their s/o at the moment.

Content: Suggestive in some members (Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao and Dino) MDNI!, angst if you squint, other than these I think it's cute heheh

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol: At first, he thinks you're joking, but the tone of your message makes him pause. He’s a natural leader who reads between the lines, so your message would raise a red flag. He’d immediately call you instead of texting back.

"What’s going on? Is this a joke, or are you serious?", "If something’s wrong, we need to talk about it, not text about it." If you stay silent to keep the prank going, he’d start to worry. “Listen, if you’re upset or unsure about us, we should talk in person. Breaking up over text isn’t like you.”

When you finally admit it’s a prank, you’d hear a heavy sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “You had me thinking about where I went wrong. Don’t mess with me like that, okay?” He’d pout and demand extra cuddles, peppered with kisses as apology payments, but it’s not long before he uses this prank against you, teasing about how you can’t live without him.

Jeonghan: He sees right through it. Jeonghan is the master of mind games, he knows exactly how to flip the script. When he reads your breakup text, he’d smirk to himself and reply with something like,

"Oh no, how will I ever survive without you? 🙄"

Or,

“Shit, what did I do? Let me grab my tissues and cry in public.”

If you double down, insisting it's serious, he might add a touch of fake sincerity just to keep you on edge,

“Alright, if this is real, I need to hear it from you in person. But if you’re joking, just admit it already so that you don't have to embarrass yourself before I start planning my heartbreak playlist.”

When you finally confess, he’d grin slyly and shake his head.

“You thought you could out-prank me? Cute. Now you owe me a nice date to make up for trying to stress me out.” (but was he even stressed in the first place?)

He wouldn’t even pretend to be mad, but his devilish smirk would remind you just how much you underestimated him. It was a nice try but you need to work harder to fool him.

Joshua: Joshua’s initial response is shock. He would be one of the most heartbroken, mainly because he wouldn’t immediately assume it’s a prank. His first response would be thoughtful and kind, showing how much he values your relationship He types and deletes messages a few times before sending:

“Is this really how you feel? Did I do something to make you feel this way? I’d really like to talk about it instead of texting.”

If you don’t reply quickly, he’d follow up with another message,

“Please don’t make a decision like this without us talking. I want to fix whatever’s wrong.”

When you finally admit it’s a joke, his relief would be palpable, and he’d laugh nervously. “I can’t believe you’d scare me like that!” He really thought he lost you for a second. You’re lucky he can’t stay mad at you. But just like Seungcheol he'll pout and will have to make up with him for some more~ (“You better make this up to me. Tonight.”) I'll keep it open to interpretation.

Jun: Jun would be confused and a bit hurt but wouldn’t jump to conclusions. He’d reread the text multiple times, trying to understand where it was coming from.

"I don't understand...."

"Did I do something wrong? I thought we were happy."

"Can we talk about this in person?"

If you keep the prank going, he’d start to blame himself so,

“I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way. I’m sorry.”

“Can we meet and talk about this?”

He was about to bring over your favorite snacks and talk it out and fix things!Then when you admit it’s a prank, he’d groan and playfully pout. His pout would be so adorable that you’d smother him with kisses in apology, and he’d happily take them all.

Hoshi: Hoshi's immediate reaction would be pure panic. He’d spam you with messages, each one more frantic than the last:

"WHAT?!"

"What do you mean break up?"

"Why??"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"I’ll fix it, I promise!"

"Don’t leave me!!!"

When you don’t reply fast enough, he’d call you, his voice would be shaky, “Please, let’s talk it out! I can’t lose you!” so when you finally tell him it’s a prank, he’d let out the most dramatic sigh of relief and switch to playful scolding in an instant saying things like, “You almost gave me a heart attack!” His whole world actually flashed before his eyes. But he wouldn’t let it slide easily, so you better give him cuddles for a week to make up for this!

Wonwoo: Wonwoo would approach it maturely but with a heavy heart.

"Is this really what you want?"

“If this is what you really want, I won’t stand in your way. But I’d like to know why, so I can understand.”

"I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me."

If you push the prank further, he’d try to give you space while quietly reflecting on what he might have done wrong.

“I hope you’re okay. Just let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

After this text from him, you'll have to immediately stop the prank because he's actually taking this into consideration for your sake. When you confess that it was all a prank, he’d take a moment before chuckling softly and saying, “You really scared me there. I was already preparing to give you the space you needed. Don’t joke about something like this, okay?” You really scared this man.

Woozi: He would be stunned and would stare at the message for a long time, unsure how to react. He finally texts back:

“Is this real? Did something happen?”

If you keep insisting it’s serious, he’d start overthinking.

“I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way. I’m sorry. Let’s meet and talk, please.”

When you reveal it’s a prank, he’d let out a heavy sigh and come all the way home to roll his eyes at you lmao. He can’t believe you just did that. Do you think he's laughing? No, he's not. But he'll forgive you this time. He’d try to act annoyed, but the small smile on his face would give him away.

Dokyeom: This poor man's heart would break immediately, and he’d call you with his voice trembling, his speech coming in quick succession, "What happened? Why do you want to break up? I don’t understand. Whatever it is, I’m sorry! Please!"

When you finally admit it’s a prank, he’d laugh out of sheer relief, but you’d sense his lingering panic. "You’re so mean! My heart is still racing!" (It is). So please do us a favour, don't do this type of prank with our cutie patootie and save him from a potential heartbreak.

Mingyu: Mingyu would be devastated but would try to keep it together.

"What? Why?"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Can we talk about this face-to-face?."

When you finally tell him it’s a prank, he’d groan and collapse onto the couch, his hands covering his face. “You scared me so much! I was about to drop everything and come see you. You’re going to pay for this with a date night—and maybe a private encore performance after.” Again I'll leave this up to your interpretation of what happens after he comes back home.

Minghao: Minghao would handle it coolly but with a hint of worry.

"If that’s what you really want, I won’t stop you."

"But I’d like to know why."

When you admit it’s a prank, he’d shake his head and smirk. "Don’t test me like that again." Again, I'm leaving this up to your interpretation of what happens next when he's back home. (He’d pull you close, his lips ghosting over yours as he adds, "Next time you want my attention, just say so. No need for dramatics." — snippet)

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would immediately start spiraling the moment he reads your text. His fingers would move at lightning speed, sending a flurry of messages that progressively show his panic:

"Why??"

"????"

"What happened?"

"Is it something I did?"

"Please tell me we can fix this."

When you tell him it’s a prank, he’d yell. "YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT TO ME!" He’d immediately start pacing in circles, waving his hands around like he’s rehearsing for a drama, "I was about to cry! How could you do this to me?" while being in call with you. But then he’d laugh, give you a side eye and forgive you.

Vernon: Vernon would be too stunned to react at first. After what feels like an eternity (but is really just two minutes), he’d reply:

"Uh... what? Can we talk about this?"

He's genuinely surprised so when you tell him it’s a joke, he’d sigh and laugh awkwardly cause then it makes sense for you to do a tiktok prank on him. "You’re wild for that. My brain didn’t know how to process it." I mean who can break up with a breathtakingly gorgeous man like him?. Also, you might catch him giving you side glances for the rest of the day, as if he’s still recovering from the fake heartbreak.

Dino: Dino would be heartbroken and immediately reply.

"What? Why?"

"I thought we were happy together."

When you reveal it’s a prank, his gasp would be loud enough to echo. "No way you just did that to me! I was about to cry!" He’d pout and demand endless apologies. His grin would leave no doubt about his plans to make you make up for it. He might be the youngest but again...I'm leaving this up to your interpretation.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Write some baby Reid stuff?!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: college!spencer reid x plus size popular girl!reader

— summary: who knew that seven minutes in heaven could lead to spencer losing his virginity to the girl he thought was completely out of his league?

— warnings: reader teaching spencer how to please her, light breast play, heavy consent reassurance (bc reader wants to make sure his first time is memorable), praise, sub!spencer reid, dom!reader, praise kink, heavy use of nicknames, petting if you squint, stripping, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, lack of foreplay, vaginal sex, teasing, a sprinkle of comedy in there cause i couldn't help myself, loser boyfriend!spencer plain and simple.

— wc: 1472

⋆ a/n: HIYAAAA this is the much demanded part two of my dry humping kinktober fic, but you don't have to read it to understand this one (but it would be preferred!!). i'm also writing this because I have something planned for this year's kinktober and i'm trying to set us up for greatness here sooo!! we'll definitely be seeing this couple again ;]

masterlist || AO3

Oh God, Spencer was shaking. He was about to lose his virginity to the girl of his dreams, and he was fucking shaking.

You had to cut the man some slack, because throughout his college career, all he had been worrying about was working toward his first PHD, and his mother, who he had left back in Las Vegas.

As soon as he had entered your empty dorm room, your hands were on him. You tugged lightly on the roots of his hair, attempting to coax him into doing something, because right now, he was as still as a statue and yet trembling at the same time.

“Spencer…” You separated your lips with his and he immediately frowned. “Yeah - yes, yes? Are you okay?” Oh God, you were going to tell him you didn’t want to have sex with him anymore, that everything leading up until now was a mistake and -

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“What?” He asked nervously with furrowed brows.

“Well to start, you're shaking like you're cold and you aren't kissing me back.” He started to pick at his cuticles again. “I- I-” Stop stuttering, damnit!

“What?” You teased with a small smile, “Can you only get hard in public? Is it a kinky thing?”

“What?! No, no!” Spencer sputtered incredulously. His eyes were wide and frantic to the point where he stopped picking at his nails. That wasn't what this was at all! How could you think - oh. Oh. You were being sarcastic.

“I'm just kidding, Spence.” You took your hands off his body and he almost chased their warmth. “We don't have to do anything you don't want to; we can just watch a movie or something. My roommate isn't going to be back for who knows how long.”

“No - I… I want to. I'm just… nervous. I’m -” He gulped. “I'm a virgin.” His confession was muttered and meek but you heard him. The man looked up at you through his long eyelashes, his brown irises boring into your soul in wait for your reaction.

You bit the inside of your cheek and examined him for a moment. “How about this,” You grab him by his hand. “I’ll show you what to do and we'll rectify that tonight if things go well.”

You took a step toward him and his back but the door with a quiet thud. “And I'm sure you're a quick learner, aren't you Reid?”

“Very! I'm a very quick learner!”

“That's what I like to hear.”

You led him over to your twin sized bed and stood by it. You had no idea how the both of you were going to fit on it, but you were really just flying by the seat of your pants right now.

“Take off my dress.” You command softly. “O- okay.” His quivering hands grab at the hem of your dress and tug it up, all the while he was watching your face.

Spencer sucks in a breath at the sight of your bare chest and panty clad lower half. He was throbbing where he stood, and he almost died of embarrassment.

“Touch me, baby.” You encouraged him lightly by grabbing his lithe and shaky hands and placing them on your heavy breasts. He all but gasped at the feeling, but he quickly covered it up by clearing his throat.

He pinched your nipples gently and it caused you to moan quietly.

“Is this okay?” Spencer asked with a swallow. Your hands left his own and your fingers dug into his biceps, your lips rolled in between your teeth to hold back your sounds. “More than okay.” You breathed.

It goes on like that for a moment and the need that was pooling in your gut was nauseating, and your blood was rushing to every part of your body.

“Spencer…” You sighed. “Take your clothes off.”

His eyes widen in disbelief, his hands all but snatching them off your breasts and to the buckle on his khaki pants. His fingers are uncoordinated and nervous but he manages to get it out the loop while you work on pulling your thong down your legs.

You can tell he’s trying not to stare at your newly nude bottom half, and you approach him and drag your fingertips across the band of his underwear. “Can I take this off, pretty boy?” You ask just in case. He nods dumbly. “Yes, yes please.”

He decides to take off his shirt while you rid him of his boxers. “You’re so pretty, Spencer.” You coo and look up at him through your eyelashes. His cheeks flush a deep red, just like they did in the circle. “T - thank you! You are as well and… and you’re pretty all the time too!” You just chuckle. “Thank you, baby.”

“Get on the bed.” You command, and he scrambles to follow your words. You’d work on teaching him foreplay later, because right now you need him inside you, badly.

“I figured this was better than trying to have both of us laying down on this tiny ass bed.” You joke and straddle him.

Spencer’s hands are raised, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. You take them wordlessly, placing them on your naked flesh. He can’t help but squeeze the meat of your hips, the fat of them spilling out from between his nimble fingers.

“We’re gonna take this slow, okay? Because I don’t want to overwhelm you.” You placed a hand on his cheek and grabbed his cock. He yelped, his hips shooting up at the simulation. “Easy boy, easy.” You coax.

He attempts to steady himself, teeth biting down on his bottom lip in order to try and keep his composure when the tip of his cock brushes against your entrance.

“Ready?” You ask. He nods like a maniac. “Mhm!”

Then you sink down.

Spencer sounds like he’s getting his soul stolen with the way that he moans out loud. It’s a mix between a scream and a whimper really, and his eyes practically roll back into his head. His grip on you tightens, holding onto you like a lifeline, and you honestly think that his fingers are going to bruise, but you don’t tell him.

Your legs are shaking and your stomach is tight and you’re smiling deliriously like a mad woman. He feels so good and he’s filling you up so well. It reminds you of how people say the skinniest guys are always hung.

Spencer’s fully sheathed inside of you and he’s trembling, uncontrollable whimpers and whines spilling from between his lips.

“You’re so warm please…” He begs, his hips jumping up once more. You yourself yelp in surprise and he’s instantly apologizing. “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, I just - just need more, please…”

“I got you sweetheart, just hang on.” You lift up until his tip catches your rim before sinking down again. He chokes on his own spit.

You manage to find a rhythm and Spencer desperately follows you, trying to offer you some pleasure as well. You know he is bye the way he’s constantly searching your face for any kind of disappointment.

“Do you not -” He huffs. “Does it not feel good?” It brings out a sad mewl. “It feels great, baby, I promise; but we can worry about me later. Tonight is about you, okay?” You force him to look at you and accept his words. “Okay.”

Your legs are getting tired but you’re determined to make him cum and by the look on his face and the scrunching of his eyebrows, he’s close.

“You close?” You huff out, sliding up and down at an overwhelming pace, even for you. “I - yes! Where should I…” Cum. Where should he cum is what he wanted to ask but he’s too embarrassed to. “Inside me.” You say with a smirk.

Spencer really wants to question it, but all thought is thrown out the window when he feels his stomach tighten and his legs lock.

“I - I’m -” But it’s too late by the time he tries to tell you, because he lets out a long whorish moan, and his back arches off the wall.

You grin down at him as he paints your inner walls white, your hands that were gripping his shoulders rubbing at the skin of his neck and down his upper arms. A shiver shoots up your spine but you welcome it nonetheless.

You soothe him back down to earth through his aftershocks and tiny whimpers. You feel him go soft inside of you but you don’t try to get off just in case he still needs you there comfort wise.

“Holy shit,” You laugh. “Are you okay?” You ask in disbelief.

“I feel wonderful.” The undertone of his murmur is giggly and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[agi-ppangx]

love song (bang chan x gn!reader)

angst with a fluffy ending, both chan and reader are producers/songwriters, chan is kinda an asshole for a while but he quickly apologises, not proofread; 1,3k words

author's note: a little fic requested by a lovely anon !! i kinda wrote it in one go and didnt have time to properly correct the mistakes so i apologise for typos and any other stuff >< please remember that feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated🫶🏽

“time for a break,” you announced with a smile as you entered your little homemade studio holding two bags. “i got us some food and coffee.”

chan looked up at you from his laptop and mirrored your smile, taking both bags from you with a soft thank you. you sat down on the couch with a loud huff and chan handed you your food. 

“you wanna listen to the song? i made a few touch ups to that part we were struggling with,” he asked, sipping on his americano and you nodded, mouth full of the pasta. 

as soon as chan played the song you closed your eyes, letting yourself be completely engulfed by the music. 

it was a rather upbeat melody, but when you were writing the lyrics a while ago you tried to make it really emotional and, what’s most important, true. some might think it’s cliché to constantly write songs about your lover, but it comes naturally to you. the emotions you pour into the lyrics, the memories and wishes, everything is about you and chan. and even as you sell your songs to various artists, you always know exactly who it’s about when they sing it. 

you snapped your eyes open around the middle of the song as one fragment of a few seconds did not sound as it should. 

“wait, let me listen to it again” you said with a frown and he wordlessly rewinded the song for a few seconds. “why does it sound so weird?” you mumbled to yourself as that one part was just not right. you took a sip of coffee from your cup, trying to understand what changed about the song. you two were talking about that part a few days before and…

“channie, did you change the melody?” you asked in disbelief. he turned around to look at you, but your irritated expression didn’t make any impression on him. 

“yeah, it sounds better now, right?” you huffed loudly, getting up from your place on the couch to walk your anger away. 

“i told you i want this part to sound specifically as it did before! why would you change it? we talked about it,” you let out, your voice getting louder with each word spoken. 

“relax, baby, it’s not a big deal,” he explained calmly, trying to reach for your hand, but you were quicker, taking it away and putting it in the pocket of his hoodie that you were wearing. 

“no, it’s the fact that it’s the first time we finally work together and you already don’t listen to my advice.” 

it was chan’s turn to huff, he was visibly getting annoyed by your words. “this wouldn’t be a problem if you wouldn’t make one of it.” 

“this wouldn’t be a problem if you wouldn’t ignore my opinion.”

“alright, yn, let’s just stop this. i’m getting tired of this conversation,” he said, turning around and putting his headphones on, pretending to work on some other track just so you wouldn’t bother him anymore.

you stood in the room for a while longer, staring at chan in pure shock. he may have pretended to be busy, but as you finally decided to leave the studio he noticed how you wiped your face and he sure heard the loud thud the door made as you slammed them. you went straight to your bedroom, wrapping yourself in the blanket and trying to stifle your sobs. 

hours passed as you finally sat up, grabbing your notebook to write some ideas for new songs. your eyes were still puffy as you scribbled down random words and rhymes, desperately trying to take off your mind from the argument, but no matter how hard you tried the situation came back to you like a boomerang. you weren’t sure if chan did it purposely or if he simply forgot about your conversation - you knew he was busy, so it might’ve slipped out of his mind. but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt you. 

both of you dreamed of working together for a long time - someone might think that you two could easily just write some songs for each other in your home studio. isn’t that enough? people say, but you always say that it’s different to play around on a saturday evening with a glass of wine and to write and produce tracks for other artists. it is a big deal to you - the fact that the song you both worked on will be featured on another artist’s album, heard by thousands, if not millions of people, and they all will hear about your love for chan and only you will know who it’s about.

a soft knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. you put down the notebook, keeping a firm look on chan as he quietly closed the door behind him. he was already in his pyjamas, ready to sleep, and you fought the urge to send him to sleep on the couch.  

“you still mad?” he asked with hesitation dripping down his voice. you didn’t say anything, waiting for him to say something other than the obvious. “listen, i feel really bad.”

“as you should.”

he sighed, scratching the back of his head. “i know. but i don’t wanna go to sleep without talking.” he said desperately, taking a few steps onward and carefully sitting on the other side of the bed. 

you exhaled loudly. you also didn’t want to leave it like this. “it really hurt me, y’know?” you started, feeling as the tears started to well up in your eyes. “we literally talked about the song a few days ago and i told you how i want that particular fragment to sound like and you agreed. then why-” your voice broke a little as a few tears ran down your cheeks. chan was quick to wipe them off and this time you didn’t stray from his touch. “-why would you change it now? i just don’t understand.”

chan took a moment to think before he spoke again. “i have nothing to say in my defence,” he started quietly. “i was just bored yesterday when i couldn’t sleep and decided to change a few things about the song and i just forgot to leave that part be. i’m so sorry, baby, i know i shouldn’t have behaved like that earlier, i don’t know what had gotten into myself,” he confessed, his cheeks now cherry red as shame filled his body. he didn’t look at you, he couldn’t, because he knew he fucked up.

“let that be your first warning,” you said firmly after what felt like eternity to chan. “i’m not that experienced as you when it comes to producing songs, but i would really appreciate you actually listening to my ideas. just talk to me whenever you want to make changes like that, okay?” chan nodded quickly. 

“i will. i’m really sorry, my baby.”

“i know you are.”

“are we okay now?” he asked hesitantly. 

“yeah, we are.” you smiled softly as chan’s body visibly relaxed at your words. “but i’m still hurt though.” 

“will a kiss make it better?” he proposed, a bit bolder now as the atmosphere around you wasn’t so tense anymore. you didn’t respond, leaning over to place a peck on his lips with a smile. 

“maybe a little bit,” you giggled. chan captured your face in his hands, looking you deeply in the eyes. 

“by the way i changed that part,” he confessed. “it sounds exactly how you wanted it to.”

you grinned, whispering a soft thank you, and chan finally kissed you, making the world around you disappear. you didn’t know how long it was before you finally broke the kiss, panting heavily.

that night you held him in your arms, letting him rest his head on your chest so he could hear your heartbeat and to his surprise it was his favourite love song that you ever created.

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[authorhjk1]

https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck9O9OgyB30/?igsh=MTY4dWRjNWpwM2l4dw==

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Some of eunha black dress, feel free to pick any, she looks amazing

Black

(Eunha X Male Reader)

You kiss Eunha's neck, while listening to Umji. The latter is currently working on making dinner, while Eunha is struggling not to whine and complain.

She deserves this punishment. You didn't expect her to be such a naughty girl, but Umji caught her in the act and told you all about it, with a satisfied smirk on her lips.

"Are you already done cutting that?"

You motion towards the vegetables, which Umji put to the side as she is now turning on the stove.

"I am."

Umji turns around, her eyes focused on Eunha's face.

"I like it thick."

Her whispered words make the poor girl let out a small mewl. Your left hand keeps holding onto her chest, giving her tits occasional squeezes through the black fabric. Your right is lying on her center, giving her exposed clit some lazy rubs.

But the most agonizing part for Eunha is your dick. She can feel it between her thighs. Your slow, shallow thrusts have her dripping wet. But you aren't fucking her pussy. No. This is her punishment. And her thighs definitely rival her pussy in tightness and smoothness. Especially when her slick is slightly lubricating her skin.

Another playful bite of yours makes Eunha gasp. Umji chuckles with an evil glint in her eyes. You feel how her full thighs squeeze your cock. Your thrusting makes your own toes curl. But you would never admit to Eunha how great her thighs feel. If you would, she would start wearing skirts and shorts that would expose them completely. Even in public.

For a moment, you like the idea. Always having a full view of her legs would definitely improve your day to day life. But then again, you'd have the urge to squeeze and dig your fingers into them 24/7. Or you would fuck them, whenever you want. Which brings us back to the here and now.

You kiss Eunha's neck, while watching Umji. The latter has just dumped the noodles into the pot with the boiling water in it.

"O-Oppa, please..."

Her desperate whine makes you smile.

"Umji told me how much you love watching us. I can't believe you actually hid a camera in her room, just so you can touch yourself, while I make her my toy."

"Oppa... I-I will be a good toy too. Pretty please?"

Despite Umji's back facing you, you can guess where her free hand has gone, while the other is holding onto the pot. You give one of Eunha's mounds a rougher squeeze, which makes her gasp.

"I still can't believe you spied on us."

You raise your hips a little. Your next thrust penetrates the gap between her thighs dangerously close to her pussy. Her hitched breath shows you that she is very aware of what you just did.

"J-Just because I love you so much, oppa."

"Do you really?"

With her back turned towards you, you can't see her face, but Eunha nods.

"Yes. I just wish you'd use me more."

Her desperate, almost hurt tone, gives you a slight feeling of sympathy. She is right. You've been hanging out with the others quite often recently.

"Alright then. The two of us will spend some alone time after dinner."

A happy squeal makes Umji turn around.

"But oppa! I want you too."

You let out a sigh. Sometimes, this is harder than it looks. So you should focus on the task at hand for now.

"We will arrange something later."

With that, you take a hold of Eunha's waist with both hands. You see her placing her own on the surface of the counter she is staying behind. Your thrusts between her thighs become faster. Harder. You've had enough for now anyway. The slow stuff isn't for you at all.

Soon, you're actually fucking her thighs. You make her body rock back and forth. Her pussy keeps her thighs lubricated, her juices steadily flowing down in small streams. The clapping of your hips against her ass fills the room, drowning out the boiling water.

Umji hass given up on cooking dinner. She is watching you using Eunha's thighs for your own pleasure, while shamelessly playing with herself underneath her skirt.

"Damn, Eunha. I'd love to fuck these all day."

You growl into her ear, your fingers now digging into them at the front. Eunha whines. This is way too much torture for her. How could she take this? Your cock almost grazing her lips, but not plunging into her needy cunt?

"C-Can you....just the tip?"

Her desperate tone and that pathetic question makes you laugh at her. You give her cheek a kiss.

"Later. This is still punishment."

But you know that this punishment won't be going on for much longer. Eunha's thighs are just in a league of their own.

"I'm gonna cum, Eunha."

You whisper into her ear, making her shudder.

"Yes please, oppa. Use me as a canvas. Please. My thighs..."

Her eyes are closing as Eunha feels your thrusts becoming harsher and faster. She feels your cock throbbing between her legs.

And then, you stop right between them. Right underneath her center.

"Fuck."

Another growl into her ear makes her gasp as your cum paints her thighs. Her smooth skin is now all sticky as you keep thrusting between the gap of her thighs. You go slow again, riding out your orgasm. Your bodyweight presses her small body against the counter.

"Thank you for punishing me, oppa."

[maskedcrawford]

Sick Day

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: Jiyong takes care of you when you feel ill.

Warnings: None, just all the fluff.

A/N: I hope you feel better soon, nonnie. I hope this can help bring some temporary relief or even just a little comfort with all the crud you have going on. <3

Requests are OPEN

You called out of work yesterday, completely forgetting you and your boyfriend were supposed to go to dinner, so when Jiyong showed up, you mentally slapped yourself. You answered the door, blanket wrapped around you, messy hair and an exhausted, and slightly sweaty, look on your face. His smile dropped the minute he saw you and he swore he’d take care of you.

He ordered dinner last night, since you hadn’t had the energy to go grocery shopping, and decided he was going to stay the night to take care of you. He held you when you wanted it, and didn’t when you didn’t. He rubbed on our stomach when it became painful and helped keep track of the fever you had. He was at your every beck and call.

That’s how he wound up getting up early the next morning and grabbing some groceries for homemade comfort meals. He got things for soup, some things for your absolute favorite meal, and he also got you the medications to help your fever and throat, including a humidifier, and something to help you sleep.

“Here, jagi, take this.” Jiyong hands the fever reducer and you take it from him without hesitation. He sets up the humidifier in your room for you and turns it on.

“I don’t want you to catch,” you think for a moment, “Whatever this is. You should go home,” you try to reason with him but he won’t have it.

“Absolutely not, I’m staying right here to take care of my girl,” he smiles and kisses your forehead.

“After dinner you can sleep some more,” he says as he walks out of your room to work on the homemade soup. After a while of laying in bed you start to miss his presence so you get up and walk into the kitchen, your blanket still wrapped around you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he abandons the pot on the stove and walks over to you, you lay your head on his shoulder, feeling pitiful.

“I missed you,” you mumble as you relax against him. He smiles to himself.

“It’ll be done soon, ok? Go lay back down or get comfortable on the couch. I’ll bring it to you.” He hugs you close and you reluctantly pull your head off his shoulder. Walking over to the couch you sit there and wait for dinner.

Jiyong grabs two bowls and portions out two servings of the delicious meal. The food is great but your energy is depleted. You put the spoon down after only a few bites and he arches his brow as you set the bowl down.

“I can make you something else, or order something if it’s not good,” he says and you shake your head.

“I’m just tired,” you yawn.

“Well, you need to eat, so,” he trails off as he picks up the bowl and gets some of the soup on the spoon. He holds it up to your mouth for you and you give him a second glance before allowing him to feed you.

“This is so stupid,” you mumble feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Why?”

“I’m not a baby,” you whine as you take the soup from him.

“You’re my baby,” he says to give you a different perspective.

“Would you not do the same for me if I needed it,” he asks genuinely.

“Without a second thought.”

“Then stop complaining and let me help you,” he feeds you another bite and you huff. After dinner you get back into bed and Jiyong’s not far behind you with your sleep aid. You lay down and get comfortable and once you do, he’s right next to you pulling you into his side.

“This should help,” he says as he hands you the stuff. You grin in response and before you know it you’re out like a light, he rubs up and down your arm gently, helping lull you to sleep. He closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep next to you.

A couple hours later you stir awake due to the pain in your stomach and you groan, hiding your face in his neck. Jiyong slowly opens his eyes, forgetting for just a moment where he was, until he realizes its you laying next to him.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He grabs you some Ibuprofen for the pain and you take it.

“My throat is killing me,” you rasp out.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back.” He kisses your forehead before grabbing his keys. About ten minutes later he comes back in with two servings of ice cream.

“This might help,” he says as he hands you your desert.

“You know me so well,” you grin as you take a bite of the delectable dessert. He turns on your favorite movie as you both get comfortable again, and eat your midnight snacks. Once your done, cuddling resumes and you kiss his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly in his ear.

“For what?” he peeks down at you.

“For taking care of me, I don’t mean to be a burden,” you look away from his eyes.

“You are never a burden. I like taking care of you,” he reassures you. You smile to yourself and lay your head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. As you watch the movie, your eyes slowly start to close and before you know it, you’re out like a light with Jiyong not far behind you.

✨️Comment to be on the taglist✨️

[sourbinnie]

☆ hit me where it hurts.mp3 ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst ¡! ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> sometimes things shouldn't be said (or thought) but the words slip right out of his mouth at the worst time. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> arguments ; the boys being a little mean but instantly regretting it ; cursing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

maknae line

a/n: first reaction ¡! i decided i would go with the "compares you" part. hope i did it well for yall and to the person who requested it, thank u!!! i'll publish maknae line whenever i'm free:]

chan ✉

arguments could get pretty heated with chan sometimes (he's a libra at the end of the day). it could get stressful since you've been going back & forth for so long now, as you tried to make him understand that he wasn't taking care of himself but it only brought back hurtful words that you were letting it pass under the excuse that he was "too tired". maybe you were too naive at that moment thinking that he would calm down and you guys would solve it like you always do.

then you heard it, he didn't say their name but you could only imagine who he was talking about at that point and time. 

"they would just leave me alone and let me be, why can't you do the same? ah right you're not them and you will never be." he said and horror washed him instantly as they realized what they did. fights were inevitable but you can always keep comments to yourself right? it was just the heat of the moment that made him slip out such cruel words. as soon as you were turning away to leave, he was trying to find his way to you but it was too late anyways. "baby nono, don't leave not right now, it's late and i was fucking stupid. i'm so fucking sorry-."

"i just need some space right now, yeah? i need to be away from you." you said and that only made him worry even more as that's the last thing he wanted right now. "just let me christopher, we'll talk when i get back." 

"don't call me that, i'm still your channie, your boyfriend and i still fucking love you. listen i'm sorry but please don't go." he said close to the tears falling from his eyes and you just shook your head as you grabbed your things and he followed you around the house like a lost puppy. "(y/n) let's work this out yeah? i'll go to the dorms tonight and you'll stay here."

eventually knowing he wouldn't give up, you just nodded as you went to your shared bedroom and sighed. letting the tears finally from your eyes and hearing the door close was enough to let your sobs out from how much those words stung in your heart.

minho ✉ 

fighting with minho wasn't easy. his witty responses and his hurtful comments always stood out like daggers in your heart. he usually didn't fight at all but when he did, most of the time he took it too far and it wasn't easy to forget what he said. as the new comeback approached, you tried your best to be supportive but when you couldn't see them on their first win, it hurt minho. he wanted you to be there, backstage or in the crowd cheering for them but he did not see you anywhere. turns out you were too late, had a "work" emergency, he called bullshit on that.

"i'm sorry min, i'll promise i'll be on the next one. my boss really needed me and-." he cut you off immediately, not wanting to hear it.

"it's fine. it's not like they would miss out on this like you did. maybe i should just get back with them." he muttered and it was enough for you to walk away from him. all the boys were there to talk to him about what just happened and why were you crying but he was completely petrified from your reaction and how you just went away without a word. "god i'm such a fucking idiot." he said as he chased after you through the hallways.

"don't even try talking to me. i get that you're fucking mad but that doesn't give you an excuse to say stuff like that." you said as you still walked away and didn't even look in his direction. minho tried to process what was happening all at once but couldn't bare to see the look in your eyes as the tears were still going down your face.

"please listen to me for a second. it was stupid that i got mad, i should've understood you from the beginning but please stay and i'll make it up to you. i promise." he said and even if it did sound sincere, you just couldn't do it.

"i'm sorry, i think i wanna be alone tonight." you said as you looked at him one last time and kissed his cheek before muttering "goodbye minho" and walking through the door. leaving a distraught and regretful minho behind.

changbin ✉ 

it wasn't rare for you to fight with changbin, what was rare was when he got mad. this time when you were at the studio, making sure 3racha were feeling well and not overworking themselves, you were met with a furious bin. it surprised you, you've never seen him mad and maybe something else was happening that you didn't know or you chose the worst time to visit the studio. whatever it was, it made you feel so small and like you were in a place you did not belong. jisung and chan weren't even there to witness it but you guessed that as soon as they heard, they left you guys alone.

"look i'm sorry. i don't know what i did wrong but that doesn't excuse your attitude and how you're treating me right now!" you said but it wasn't enough to his ears as he gave you the next words.

"god i can never say anything, at least with them they would let me express myself. i should've never broken up with them if i knew i was gonna end up with you." ouch was all that could be said about that as you nodded and felt the water in your eyes grow slowly. "shit- i'm so fucking sorry, i don't know what came over me baby."

he tried to get close to you but you just took a step back and that broke changbin's heart completely. it made him feel like a monster in front of you but he couldn't blame you for that, it was all his fault in the end. when he saw you walk away, as much as he wanted to, he decided not to follow you and let you go. he couldn't describe what he was feeling when he saw you practically run away from the building and not answer for jisung's calls since he was just walking in with chan. 

"what the fuck happened hyung?" jisung asked as he crossed his arms and that's when changbin lost the control of his tears. he wasn't one to usually cry but he was now gonna be haunted with muttering those words to you and what he made you feel in that moment.

"i fucked it up like i always do." he said brokenly.

hyunjin ✉

as much as you loved hyunjin, he got so petty in fights it was irritating. he was the definition of drama queen and he could fight on & on about the tiniest of details. like right now when you just got home and you forgot to do some things in your shared apartment. tiny things like the dishes or the laundry usually didn't piss him off but today when he got home practice and saw, in his words, that the whole house was upside down, he got stressed. 

"look i'm sorry, i forgot to do it and i know you've been busy with practice. i'll do it tomorrow since i get to go home earlier." you tried to explain but he just shook his head and crossed his arms.

"tomorrow? are you serious? they would've done it right here and now and wouldn't be putting up excuses like you're doing." he didn't even have to mention them for you to know who he was talking about. it felt like twisting the knife on the wound as you just looked at him with the most hurtful stare.

"of course they would. they didn't have a job in the first place and relied on you for everything!" you said and laughed bitterly but in a sad way. "if it's my job then it's a problem but with your job there's literally no excuse right? 'cause it's more important. grow up hyunjin." 

"look babe i'm sorry. i don't know what the fuck i was thinking when i said that." he tried to make up an excuse at the moment but he knew nothing would justify what he said and implied with his words. it was met with a sigh from you and it was your turn to shake your head. "i don't think your job is less important and i shouldn't have said what i said-."

"but you said it." you whispered and decided to head to your shared bedroom to lock the door. you needed some time alone not only because of the harsh words but because it made you process your whole relationship in a flashback. 

[ihavethedreamiesx]

Ride a Tiger | San [NSFW]

Choi San - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~6.2k

Pairing: Tiger-Hybrid!San x Deer-Hybrid!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU!, Historical/Joseon Era, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Married

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Biting/Marking, Bonding/Mating, Heat/Rut, Pheromones, Breeding Kink, Bath/Water Sex, Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…), Monster(?)!San (not really, he's a tiger hybrid)

Author's Note: Just so you know, this is NOT Omegaverse, but they do both go into rut/heat. They have animals ears and tails and he's got a spiny tiger cock. This is vaguely set in the Joseon Era of Korea, which is a pretty long time range. It is after the creation of hangul, so its post 1600s about. I only know a lot of this stuff from, and am copying from, historical/period dramas. I know in a lot of ways they aren't completely accurate, especially with women going around and not covering their heads/faces. This is not supposed to be accurate, by any means. Let me know if something is horribly wrong.

At the bottom I will have a guide for all the untranslated words I use, or this post.

"He who rides a tiger is afraid to dismount." ~Chinese Proverb

🦁 Hongjoong's 🦁

🐕 Yeosang's 🐕

🐻 Jongho's 🐻

Revised (1/31/25)

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

When you heard thunder rumbling in the distance earlier, you didn’t think anything of it. You’d be done before the rain comes! Nope. You scramble to gather all of the books you laid out at your stand, getting them under the surface so they won’t get damaged. A giant flash of light followed closely by clap of thunder startles you, and you bleat, your long furry ears pressing back against your hair. Your short tail under your hanbok twitches, slightly rustling the fabric it lays under. Once all of the books you’re selling are safe, you grab the sseugaechima you have and sling it over your head, stepping back toward the building you’re in front of. It’s some kind of accessories shop, but the roof awning is quite short and so you’re barely able to hide from the downfall underneath it. People scramble on the street to flee to rain, and the few of them that have coverings continue on their way normally. You peek out from under your own covering, observing the sky best you can. It’s clearly not going to end anytime soon; it’s just that time of the year. You have no idea how you’re going to get all the books back to your house. Your father doesn’t mind you working to copy and sell books for the local seller, but he won’t let you establish your own business. The seller you work for also doesn’t have a store front himself and so the two of you sell at stalls in the market.

You decide to wait just a bit longer, wondering if the shop owner of the building behind you will let you store the books for a bit. The street has more or less cleared out, but you watch a nobleman come closer. His clothes are nice, even nicer than yours, so his status is probably much higher. The gat he wears is adorned with a silk strap and the beading is clearly finely made as well. As you look over him, the belt tying his hanbok accentuates his narrow waist and wide shoulders. Your eyes travel up to his face and he’s stunning. But also…he has tiger ears. As he gets closer, you catch a glimpse of his long tail. Definitely a tiger. It’s incredibly likely that the guy is not just nobility, he’s possibly one of the princes. There are like eight of them so that isn’t too unlikely. Despite the downfall, he’s simply strolling down the street, almost likes there isn’t any rain. Since you’re one of the few people still outside, he stops in front of your seemingly empty stall. He lifts his head, and his eyes meet yours and you feel them widen. Instinct flares to life, your deer-like genes screaming at the sight of the predatory gaze. It isn’t that he’s trying to scare or threaten you, he just simply is a predator hybrid, and you a prey.

"Have you nowhere to go to escape the rain?" He’s definitely of high status, with not just tone but the exact words he uses. You nod dumbly, back pressing to the stone foundation of the building behind you. The sseugaechima over your head covers your deer-like ears and your tail is completely hidden by your hanbok.

"I-I have books to sell, and I don’t want them to get wet." You point under the stall, and at the crate that holds your wares. He makes an 'ah' of acknowledgement. You wonder why he feels the need to stop at an empty stall.

"You might have to wait a while for the rain to stop." He looks up at the sky. You sigh, knowing he’s right.

"Do you want me to help?" He offers and you flinch. Really?

"If you wish, my lord." You bow a bit, and he huffs.

"Shh. Pretend I'm not that important." His smile is much softer than you expected from a tiger. You nod, not able to speak and he comes around and you drag the crate out, ready to use the sseugaechima to cover it.

"Use this." He corrects, taking the cloth that you’d laid out on the wooden stall, and you wonder how frazzled you are that you forgot about it. He tucks the edges of the fabric over the books and easily lifts the crate. You move around him so you can start to lead him home and you feel tense the whole time. Negating that he’s a tiger and you a deer, he’s clearly a nobleman, and he’s doing physical work…Then again, you’re technically a noble yourself, and a female at that. Finally getting to the entrance for your family's estate, the gate is open already and you wave for one of your father's guards to come and help. The guard takes the crate from the tiger, bowing deep in respect and then dashes off to put your wares in your quarters.

"Thank you, my lord." You bow again, sseugaechima still covering your head.

"San." he adds, and your brow furrows trying to wonder why he’s talking about a mountain. Then it hits you, it’s his name, he is one of the princes!

"Oh, yes, your highness. (Y/N)." You introduce yourself as well, staying bowed and making sure not to look at his face.

"Get inside and out of the rain Lady (Y/N)." He smiles and your eyes flit to his gorgeous face. You bow deeper then dash further into the courtyard and book it to your quarters.

 ~θωθ~

Looking up at the clear blue sky, you squint at the tiny white cloud you can see. It had rained for nearly four days straight and therefore you couldn’t set up your stall for that long. You don’t really have need for money since your father is…well, rich, but he doesn’t just give you pocket money to buy stuff for yourself. It’s because you want books that aren’t normally what noble women would read, you know, like things you can actually learn from. You’ve read more than your fair share of romances and adventures from copying them. After you’ve set out the final pile of books, you look at your hand and rub your finger over the callus you got from holding the brush. Yes, it’s painstaking, but you’re extremely glad that you can use hangul, it would take ten times longer if you had to use hanja. Right as you get done setting up, two women stroll up and you continue your day.

~

About an hour before you’d get ready to go home, you note that you’ve done well for the day and have only about six books left, each a different one. Since it had slowed, you’re sitting on a stool, people watching the few that are wandering around. It’s nearing the evening mealtime, and you can smell the food from the restaurant down the road on the corner. Your stomach rumbles and you sigh deeply, ears drooping. You start to zone out a bit, watching some birds on the ground, not looking up when someone stops.

"What is this one like?" the man asks, and you finally look up so you can see which book he’s pointing to.

"Hm, something about a servant seducing a nobleman's son…" You sniff and look up at the guy and startle. It’s that prince from before! Even if you hadn't carved his face into your memory, it’s a bit obvious from his tiger ears right under the brim of his gat. You immediately stand and bow, and he looks around quickly.

"It's fine, I'm trying to lay low." He waves you off and your eyes catch sight of the black claw-like nails on the end of each finger. You risk glancing up at his face and he’s smiling, dimples indenting his cheeks, your eyes focus on his large canine teeth. You feel your tail flick a few times, your skirt ruffling a bit. You feel his eyes moving over your face and your ear flicks at well, nervous under the gaze of his golden colored eyes. You freeze when his arm moves, hand coming up and your eyes follow the movement till you can’t see, and you feel a little tug on your earring.

"These aren't real." He makes note of it, and you cringe. You had wanted real jade earrings, but you didn’t have enough money, and so you had to settle with those instead. Your father might have bought those for you, but you really wanted them right then and there. You aren’t even sure what they’re actually made of.

"N-no." You bow your head, and he lets them go.

"When do you leave?" His question startle you and your ear flicks again.

"In about an hour."

"Don't leave till I get back." He tells you and he heads off further down the market road, back the way he came. You blink after him, eyes wide, wondering what the heck that was all about.

~

You do as he asked though and wait for him to return. Glancing up at the sky, you have another ten minutes or so and he still isn’t back. If you didn’t know he was one of the princes, you’d have left, but he told you to stay. You still hadn't sold the rest of your books despite a few people stopping by, and so you start to put them in the crate. Looking down into the mostly empty container, you look to the side and see him coming. Even at a distance you can see his smile when he notices you’re still there, and he jogs to meets you sooner.

"You stayed."

"Well, you said to." You shrug, not looking at his face. Part of it’s because of his status, but it’s also because he’s so handsome. Too handsome, actually. You wonder if all the princes are so. You watch as he pulls something out from the interior pocket of his jeogori, a small but detailed wooden box coming out. He holds it out to you, and you hesitated to grab it.

"Go ahead." He waves his arm a bit and you gently take it with both hands, lifting the hinged lid. You gasp, looking at the earrings inside. They look nearly identical to yours, but they’re obviously real jade.

"W-what?" You have to look at his face then, see what his expression is for some sort of explanation. His cheeks are a tiny bit red, and his own ear flicks some and you can see his long striped-tail swaying behind him.

"Your Lord Bak's daughter, from the Saseum Clan?"

"Y-yes?" He smiles a bit bashfully, looking down as he swings his leg around, drawing a circle with his foot.

"Can you take me to talk to him?" You nod jerkily, a little shocked at the request. Before you can grab the crate, he takes it, and you ball up the cloth from the stall and shove it on top of the books. You walk next to him as you head toward your home, feeling a bit weird, like you should be following him. You’ve never directly interacted with a prince before him, but you still know the basic rules. Don't look at his face, walk behind him, don't be physically higher than him, speak formally… Yes, he’s trying to lay low, but that doesn’t change who he is. You wonder who is genuinely ignorant enough to not know who he is though since he’s so obviously a tiger hybrid. When you show up to the house with the same man carrying your book crate as the time before, your father's guard is a little skeptical. He still takes the crate from the prince- San, his name is San, you remember.

"Can you please get Lord Bak?" He asks and the guard's gaze flicks to you, and you give a short nod. As he goes to do so, you stand with the prince awkwardly, swaying just a bit so your skirt twirls a bit around you. Your ears are twitching so much that your old, fake earring jingles. Your arm twist around your back so your hand can tug on the end of your braid, a nervous habit.

"(Y/N)? Who is this?" Your father comes around the corner, strolling down the stone-paved path toward both of you. He glances at San, and you cringe slightly at how much smaller your father is than him. His jeongjagwan is modified to fit around his antlers, only that puts him at the same height as the prince.

"I am Prince San, Lord Bak. I have come to ask permission to court your daughter for marriage." You balk at this, turning to gape at him directly. Your head turns back to your father whose gaze has sharpened. You know that there’s a lot of noblemen that have brought their sons as potential suitors, and your parents have turned down every single one. Will San be different? You’re lucky that your parents do takes into consideration your opinion on most things.

"You are the fifth eldest, no?"

"Yes."

"Are your parents aware of your request?"

"Not yet, though I have been given more freedom since I am far down in the line of succession." It seems the men are having another conversation through their eyes.

"Is that why you’d be allowed to marry a prey hybrid?" The prince falters for a reply, it seems he hadn’t even taken that part into consideration.

"I will need to request an audience with his highness." Your father answers and San seems to deflate.

"What do you think of this?" Your father turns to look at you and you cast a nervous glance at the tiger next to you. You know that you’ll have very little say in reality, and you wish you lived about a thousand years earlier. You know, before Confucianism ruined feminism. Though, the prince seems to be very sweet, and he’s extremely attractive. It could be way worse.

"If my lord finds it auspicious." You bow your head a bit and your father hums.

"Why don't you go back inside, (Y/N)?" The request is more of a command than a suggestion and you scurry off to do so. As you enter, your mother comes down the hall and you meet her.

"Geez, mother…" You lead her to spin around, and she does, though with a confused look. Adjusting her binyeo so it’s setting in her bun evenly, she then turns back to face you.

"Were you speaking with someone?" She peeks around you so she can look out the window, but she can’t see.

"A suitor…" You tell her and her long, furry ears perk up.

"I shall see then," she nudges past you and goes to go out and you huff a sigh, heading back to your room.

~

"(Y/N), your father requests your presence in the courtyard." A handmaiden comes to summon you, and you get up from your floor desk to follow her out. Your father is not alone, Prince San standing with him. It was only three days prior that your father had an audience with the king, and since the prince is there…

"Yes, father?" You come out and stop before them, bowing at the waist some.

"It seems that it is auspicious…" Your father tosses a glance at the prince, and you look up at both of them. Your gaze going to the tiger's handsome face, and he’s beaming.

~^ω^~

The next few weeks are a blur and before you know it you’ve gone through the marriage ceremony, and you’re moved into his own little palace that belongs to the greater palace grounds. Since he’s one of the younger princes you share a palace, whereas the queen and the crown princess have their own places. There’s a place as well for any consorts that the royals might have as well, but it seems San requested you to live with him. Honestly, you think it quite impersonal for a husband and wife not to share a room and bed each night, but that seems to be the norm for royalty. When you learn that even princes sometimes have consorts, you got a little insecure. What if you alone aren’t enough?

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" San's voice catches your attention, and you turn to him as he enters. You’ve been standing in the middle of the room, just looking over everything, the room fairly barren compared to the overall size.

“I was just…” You stop, trying to think of how to word it. He hums for you to continues.

“I was just trying to soak in everything I’ve been told to learn.” You lie, not ready to bring the subject up quite yet. Your head is pounding from all the new information you’ve been pumped full with and you’re nervous about messing up. Luckily since you were a noble already, you knew most of the rules and practices, but you’re going to be under a bit harsher scrutiny. Not a bit, a lot. Your head feels strange, having your long braid looped up into a chignon braid, the jade binyeo holding it up making it feel heavier. The cheopji sitting on the middle of the top of your head is heavy as well, since it’s gold. Your hanbok is of much higher quality and you feel nervous about getting it messy or torn somehow.

"(Y/N)?" He calls your name again and you snap out of your tumbling thoughts.

"Why did your eldest brother step down as heir?" You finally remember the question you’ve been wanting to ask him, before your insecurities start to spiral. You’d heard some of the other women talking about it but don’t want to rely on gossip.

"Hm. The woman he fell in love with was too low in status. He abdicated so he could marry her. That's why Hongjoong is the crown prince."

"I see. The eldest is Seonghwa, yes?" San hums and you sigh, racking your brain for all the names you’ve learned. There are too many. Finally, you look over San…your husband. Just the thought makes you a bit giddy. Even though it hasn't been very long since you two met, maybe about two months, you have endeared to each other. He’s so sweet, contrasted greatly with the normal thoughts of how tigers are. Then again, he’s a hybrid, not a full tiger. He’s in a much different ensemble than what you met him in, more princely clothes. He doesn’t have any kind of headwear on then, just his manggeon and you can see the streak of orange and white in his hair to the right of the center of his head.

"Are you nervous?" he asks and your ears flick. Not really sure what he’s talking about, you just nod. You are, but you aren’t for sure in what way he means. He steps forward and his hands find your waist, your own landing on his chest. San pulls you closer and your ears press back against your head. Your nervous habit of tugging on your braid is going to have to be replaced since it’s no longer hanging down your back. You let out a noise similar to a bleat when he hauls you even closer, his nose nuzzling against your ear.

"We get to make it official." he whispers and what he’s getting at finally hits you. The consummation of the marriage. You’re nervous, and a bit worried as well. You were told that predators have a much more aggressive…mating process. Plus, apparently, tiger hybrids are much likes real tigers, and have 'barbs' on their… You’re in your own thoughts; you can say whatever; they have barbs on their cocks. Plus, you’re a good 30 centimeters shorter than your husband and he’s just big overall. Your hands on his chest fist, digging your fingers into the fabric and you squeak when the claws on his hands dig into your own clothes enough you feel them against your hips. You shudder as his slightly rough tongue runs up the side of your throat. Your heart rate spikes, nearly taking your breath away, some primal part inside of you freaking out.

"Your high-"

"It's just us, call me San."

"San, I-"

"Your highness!" A eunuch calls from the other side of the door, and you pull back. He reluctantly lets you remove yourself from him and you turn away from the door as he turns toward it. He allows the servant in, and you’re informed that the bathing chambers are ready. After the eunuch steps out and the handmaidens are waiting outside patiently, San goes back to you.

"Why don't we be efficient and take a bath together?" He wraps his arms around you from behind and you’re sure he feels your tail wag nervously even through the layers of fabric you both have on.

"C-can we?"

"Hm. I don't see why not. Not exactly traditional, but…I can get away with a lot." He chuckles and you feel it rumble through his chest pressed to your back. When he finally pulls back, you turn to him, face warm and he grins.

"So cute." He nuzzles your ear again and then comes back, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. It’s your first kiss as a married couple, not that you haven't stolen a few leading up to that point. This one is different though and he nearly growls as he deepens the kiss. You squeak, it’s like he’s trying to eat you, and the obvious comparison is not lost on you. His tongue is rough against yours when it wiggles into your mouth and your head swims when his large canines clacked against your much smaller ones. When his lips let yours go, a trail of saliva connects your mouths, and you let out a shaky breath.

"Go with the handmaidens and get ready, I'll join after." San presses another kiss to your cheek and allows you to leave his embrace. You stop in front of the door, looking back at him again as the servant on the other side opens the door. He smiles warmly and you bite your lip giddily and then follow the maids to the bathing chamber. They carefully remove your garments and take your hair down, so it’s still just in a braid, you don’t need to wash it yet. You’re left in a simple white sokchima, not ready to be fully disrobed since San is still to come in. You hear his own servants getting him ready in the adjoining room and as soon as your maids leave, the side door opens. He steps in, closing it behind him and you gasp, eyes widening. Speaking of wide…his shoulders are so broad, especially compared to his waist. It’s fairly obvious even when he’s clothed, but right then he only has a pair of white sokbaji. His torso is toned as well and your mouth, still hanging open, starts to water. Well, not really, but you’re close. Feeling very small and delicate under his intense gaze, it softens when he notices your shoulders are tense.

"Come here." San coos, coming to meet you halfway and you let him hug you again, not able to help yourself placing your hands on his bare chest. His skin is smooth, and his muscles are hard and your thighs clench as you practically stroke him. He chuckles and your eyes flit up to his, ears flopping they’re twitching so hard. His tail is sticking out the back of his pants, swaying slightly, his ears drooping just a bit.

"Can I take this off, (Y/N)?" The prince's voice is quiet but deep in your ear and his hands grip the back of your sokchima.

"Y-yes." You do feel the amount of clothes is fairly unequal, but your final garment being removed will leave you completely bare. Shivering a tad as he pulls the tie open, the straps of the undergarment fall from your shoulders, then the rest of the fabric onto the floor. Your arms go to cover yourself, but his hands stop you. Your face is hot, almost on fire and you can’t meet his gaze, ears no longer twitching but pressed back hard against your head. Your short tail is waving back and forth quickly, no longer impeded by any fabric over it.

"You're beautiful." San tells you as he makes sure you won’t cover yourself and he steps back a tad, fingers going to the tie of his sokbaji. Your tongue runs nervously over your bottom lip, eyes immediately zooming in on his hands. He notices your gaze's direction and he huffs a laugh but continues with his task. Your arm wraps around your back, tugging on the end of your braid, now free of the pin holding it up that shows your wedded status. It’s like time slows down as he lifts the waistband up and over his half-hard cock and the fabric pools on the floor as well and your eyes widen almost comically. You’ve never seem a man naked in person, only having seen what are basically medical diagrams in books. All you know is that they probably aren’t all that big, and he isn’t even fully hard. The little spines at the base and head of his cock aren’t quite like you’d imagined; unlike the barbed end of a fishhook you thought. Your cunt clenches hard, and you swallow hard as he steps closer.

"Here." He grabs your hand with his and brings it toward him. You both gasp when your small, warm hand wraps around his cock, and you bite your lip as you pump up with your fingers wrapped around him. You wonder if it’ll hurt with how thick he is, your fingers not even meeting, and you ponder what the flesh would feel like on your tongue.

"(Y/N)?" His amused voice pulls you from your thoughts and your head has to tip back to look him in the eye with how close you are. A drop splats onto the floor, and you realize what it is when your slick thighs rub against each other. A rumble rises in San's chest and his nose nuzzles over your ear again, then down your throat and he inhales deeply. The rumble pick up and his warm spiced scent grows stronger, and you feel his cock harden fully in your grip.

"Let's get in." You whine a bit in disappointment when he pulls back, but he takes your hand and leads you down the little steps into the water. It’s nice and hot, but not too much so, flower petals floating in the water and carrying with them their sweet aroma. He sits on the bench that sits inside the large wooden tub, and he hauls you into his lap, legs straddling him. You watch the wavy image of his tail through the water, your tail not able to wag as hard with the water resistance. As you rest on his lap, his hard cock presses to your tummy and you press into it more, making him groan.

"You need to stop doing that if we're going to wait." His tone is a bit harder, his brow furrowing after your next press closer to him.

"Wait for what?" You give him a coy look. You know it would be "proper" to wait till you’re actually in a bed to…bed each other, but…

"(Y/N), love, don't you want your first time to be-" He grunts when you lean in, your breasts pressing into his chest, and he has to close his eyes to think.

"San, I don't care if you take me here, now, or in that bed. What matters is it's you." You rest your head on his shoulder, nose nuzzling his neck, your head feeling foggy as you breathe in his scent. You hear the water sloshing before you feel anything, but his strong arms wrap around you, lifting you up a bit. His lips crash to yours as he maneuvers you, only pulling away so he can flip you around. Your back pressed to his chest and he has you rest your knees over his so he can hold your legs open. Even with the water of the bath, your slick is still stuck to your folds, and he groans as he runs two fingers over you. Your entire body jerks, thighs twitching at the little bit of friction, already sensitive. San's arm holds you to him as his index finger breaches your entrance, your slick easily letting him in. You had noticed earlier that he filed his claw-like nails down to blunt them, and now you know why. You had expected a bit of a sting at his finger's entrance, but you only feel pleasure. You have…tested on yourself before, but his fingers are longer and thicker, and your head falls back over his shoulder as a second joins the first. He grins, watching your cunt swallow his fingers, his tail sliding through the water to wrap over your thigh, holding it to his. San grinds the palm of his hand against your clit and your gummy walls clench around the digits inside and he hears you whine right into his ear. Under normal circumstances, your flitting ears and tail would tickle, but he can use them to tell just how you’re reacting.

"S-San!" You gasp, the pleasure he’s bringing over you rising fast and your blunt nails dig lightly into his arm where you grip it.

"Good girl, (Y/N). Fall apart for me." His prompting words leads you to your climax and he rumbles as your cunt clenches and pulses as your orgasm hits. When the little twitches finally die, your body slumps into his, he removes his fingers and helps move you once more. You face him again and your nails dig harder into his shoulders as he holds you over him, the head of his cock rubbing through your folds.

"Ready, princess?" He smirks a bit at the pet-name, though it’s completely and officially accurate now.

"Please." You lean down and kisses the corner of his mouth and down his neck. San grunts and your grip on him tightens as he presses you down, fat cock finally breaching your entrance. It stings, burning in the best way though, the rubbery spines of his cock flicking against your clit as he finally gets the head all the way in. The rest of his dick follows a bit easier, but each little increment deeper, the spines rub against the ridges of your cunt. He’s only halfway in when you throw your head back, breath harsh, chest heaving at the sensation of him splitting you open. Your cunt spasms and pulses, you’re already close, heat pooling and growing in your groin and lower stomach. Your flowery scent fills the air even more than the petals in the water, the pleasure and pheromones your husband are letting off spurring you into a semi-heat. Immediately, your cunt slicks even further, the thick wet not able to be washed away by the water. As he starts to bottom out, the spines at the base of his cock flicks over your clit and against the folds of your pussy and you shudder hard as your groin meets his. San barely shifts and that’s all it takes, your second orgasm hitting quicker and harder than the first. His growl rumbles through his chest, you and the room as your cunt clenches hard around him.

"Fuck-" You swear softly and hearing the vulgar word leave your soft, sweet lips makes him groan.

"Are you okay, love?"

"J-just give me a second." You’re still shuddering in his arms, tiny waves still pulsing through your cunt.

"I can't last much longer." He warns and you shift once yourself, pressing your knees harder into the bench of the bath and you nod jerkily. You’re prepared…well, you think you are. San's arms around you tighten, almost to hold you in place, and he lifts you off his cock some, then pumps up his hips, fucking back into you deep. Your head flies back so hard he’s a bit concerned, but he continues his thrusts, not even pulling out halfway before filling you once more. The water sloshes around you, your tail wagging hard through the water, his own wrapped around your right thigh.

"Shit-" He grunts, pressing you to him and standing. You yelp at his movement but then he lightly rests you against the rounded edge of the wooden tub. He reaches past your head for a towel and bunches it under your head.

"San?" You don’t get an answer to your prompting tone, and your breath hitches as he hauls your legs up to wrap around his narrow waist. One hand rests against your thigh to hold your leg up, the other taking your hand from his shoulder and lifting it up above your head. His fingers linking with yours, holding your hand tightly as his lips hover over yours.

"Hold on, princess." He more or less warns, and your other hand flies to the narrow wooden column near you, barely getting a hold on it before he snaps his hips, relentlessly barreling his cock into you, head battering your back walls. You let out a choking sound, followed by unintelligible whimpers and babbles, your next orgasm rising already. With each thrust, he grinds his hips down, the spines at the base of his cock teasing your clit and he doesn’t even slow down as your third orgasm crashes over you. If anything, it makes him go harder, the water around his legs sloshing hard. He’s full-on growling at this point, tongue running over his long canines, a drop of saliva falling past his lips and into your mouth, gaping open, drool dripping from the side. Your eyes roll back as his pace seems to pick up, the thrusts somewhat shallower but even harder.

"Fucking hell, love, you're taking me so well." San rumbles, watching his fat cock split you open, the shine of your slick and cum on his cock makes his head swim.

"Want me to cum inside? Fuck my cub into you?" He laughs cockily; eyes fixed on the joining of your bodies. You both aren’t even sure how easy it’ll be for you to conceive, and he honestly doesn’t care if you can’t. He’s so far down the line of succession himself, let alone his kids. Though, if it is harder, that just means he can try all the harder.

"Please! San, want your cum!" You whimper, neither of you caring anymore if the servants hear the filth spilling from your mouths.

"Gonna make you my mate too, my wife…" He growls and his thrusts grow unsteady, his nose nuzzles your neck again and your breath hitches as the sharp ends of his canines meet your skin. Your blunt nails dig into the wood of the column, hand gripping his hard as he finally falls over the edge himself. His teeth sink in as he cums, white, hot spurts of cum coating your walls and filling your womb. Your orgasm helps him ride out his, core gripping him hard, eagerly drinking in his seed. You almost feel like you’re going to pass out, brain clearing some as he stops, licking over the bite wound in your shoulder. He pulls back enough to look down at your worn-out body, face red and splotchy but still so cute, so pretty. And you’re all his.

The next few minutes pass with a blur; all of the servants are called to leave the hallway leading from the bath to your bedchambers. You only realize you have changed location when the still-wet skin of your back hits the silk sheets, and San is filling you back up. You have nothing to hold onto, so you white knuckle the sheet of the futon under you. Your legs are thrown over San’s wide shoulders, ankles by his ears, and animalistic noises are leaving him. He’s salivating like a hungry…well, tiger, growls turning into near roars. You aren’t sure how many more orgasms he fucked out of you before he fills your womb with even more of his seed. Your mind is nearly gone, only little squeaks leaving you as he flips you over, hips raised in the air, chest pressing to the bed below. His giant cock, with all those blasted spines, carves into you, and your cunt clenches hard, molding to him. You’re both a mess already, the bath having been nearly negated. Sweat drips from his brow onto your bare back, a thick mix of your releases coating both your thighs and forming a puddle below. A dark stain from the tears caused by the overwhelming sensations and drool forms below your cheek. Even with his claws blunted, they tear into the bedding some as he leans over you, hips pumping hard, the slap of skin muffled by his grunts.

“One more for me, princess. Gonna get you pregnant, keep you stuffed full till you do.” He chuckles, pace stuttering, and your vision spots as he cums once more, squirts and sprays of your own release soaking his groin further. Soon, all that can be heard is both of your panting breaths and you’re having trouble staying awake, all strength leaving your body. That’s when something terrifying hits you…he’s still hard.

hanbok - traditional/historical clothing, most people think of women's dresses, but men's clothes were called this as well. sseugaechima - this is the extra-skirt looking garment women would wear over the heads. gat - this is the hat that noblemen would wear, more specifically the ones that were black and made of mesh. jeogori - the top/shirt part of a hanbok. hangul - the Korean alphabet we use today. hanja - the old Korean characters derived from Chinese used prior to Hangul's creation. jeongjagwan - a type of gat that noblemen would wear, it looks much like a pagoda. binyeo - the long pin that would hold a woman's bun up, mostly used for married women. cheopji - a hair accessory worn by women, looks similar to a headband with a clip or pin in the middle. manggeon - the mesh-like headband men wore to hold their hair in place sokchima - basically a dress/skirt like under-garment. sokbaji - pants-like undergarment, mostly worn by women under their chima

Master-List

[konjiang]

Cumplane AU slightly nsfw? Finger kink?

SQH crashed at SY place because his internet went out.

SY watched as SQH rapidly typed while munching on some seeds. No matter how many times he saw it, he will always be shocked at the sheer speed SQH completes writing assignments. He watched as those fingers curled and stretched across the keyboard while pressing all the right letters.

'What else can those fingers do...' SY snapped his eyes back to his own laptop, trying to forget whatever dumbass thoughts he got when he was around SQH.

SY couldn't focus on any of the words on his screen. He had to reread the page over again when he saw the way SQH sat up and stretched.

"Cucumber-Bro," SQH said as he smiled at SY, "I'm done. Do you want to do anything?" SQH started moving and rolling his hand and wrist.

'Do anything...what about me-' SY mind was wandering again, and he needed to focus before he let's SQH control his mind again. They are just two bro sitting 5 ft apart because he's not gay!

"You think everyone can type like that? Stop bothering me and go do something else." SY needed SQH to be away from him before he says or does anything weird.

"Alright, alright, you are such an asshole sometimes." SQH pouted as he grabbed a couple dessert from the pantry.

"Hey! Why are you eating my food?" SY watched as SQH opened a bag of veggie straws.

"Bro, I'm hungry, and you're rich. Here, I'll feed you." SQH declared as he shoved a veggie straw in SY face, giving SY direct access to those fingers. He carefully bit the straw and avoided SQH's hand. Soon, they got into a rhythm, where SY would open his mouth, and SQH would feed him. It was still hard to focus, but SY was proud of himself for getting some work done. He opened his mouth and closed it when he felt something else in his mouth. This time, when he bit down, his lips surrounded half of SQH's index finger.

SY was panicking, 'WTF WTF WTF', but he didn't release SQH's finger.

"Uhmm, bro? Can I have my finger back? Should I be scared that you acquired a taste for human flesh?" SQH teased and wiggled his finger a little, causing SY's face to burn up. He couldn't let SQH have the last word in any conversation.

"No." SY said as he grabbed SQH's wrist and doubled down, biting and sucking SQH's finger. He had expected a shriek or noises of disgust, but instead, SQH sticked another finger in SY's mouth.

This was going somewhere, and SY had no idea how to steer it back to normal. How could he when SQH's finger touches and pulls at his tongue. SQH leaned in closer, and SY could see that his face was also turning red.

"Shen Yuan..." SQH whispered as he gently placed his other hand on SY's face. He removed his fingers from SY's mouth. SY couldn't stop himself before he whined at the loss. However, his mind was now occupied by how close SQH face was. If he leaned a little more, their lips would be touching.

SY tilted his face into SQH's palm, and in turn, SQH caressed SY's face with his thumb. SY watched as SQH moved closer but made no moves to stop him. Their nose touch against each other, and SY could feel SQH's breath on his lips. SQH tilted his head and-- do nothing because SQH's phone rang, pulling them out of this weird tension.

'What were we about to do!' SY mind replayed every moment of their interaction and tried to come up with a logic conclusion. He can vaguely hear SQH talking in the background.

"Okay, okay, thank you. Bye. " SQH hung up, and they just both awkwardly stared at each other.

"Uhm, my internet got fixed."

"Oh," Shen Yuan said mindlessly.

"I should go..." SQH stood up, intending to gather his stuff, but he was stopped by SY grabbing his wrist and yanking him back down. SY could not leave this unresolved, or else SQH would get the wrong idea. He opened his mouth, wanting to spit out some excuses, but instead...

"Where do you think you're going? I haven't had a chance to taste human flesh yet."

[roguerambles]

A Moment of Respite

Blood of Zeus - Heron x Hera's!Daughter Reader

Warnings - 18+Only.

I've had this sitting in my drafts for ages and I want to get it out before I try any Season 2 stuff. Plus I just like the idea of these two, okay--

Kind of a Part 4 to Trouble.

Enjoy the Rambles!

-

Training was not going well.

You cringed as Heron flew across the arena, crashing into the sands with a pained groan. The automaton returned to its standing position dispassionately, and beside you Zeus sighed heavily.

It had been days since Mother had left Olympus, taking some of the other Gods of Olympus with her to the Underworld. Hades had apparently allowed them sanctuary, although he declared he would be taking no further involvement than that.

...your wrist ached as the memory of Mother’s hand grasping you, Hera and Zeus’s raised voices, Mother’s betrayed expression melting into a fury you had never had directed at you before flashed across your mind.

You had chosen to stay on Olympus, and Mother and Ares had left, others at their heels.

“Zeus.” Hephaestus spoke from behind you, his voice low and gruff. “This isn’t working.”

Zeus’s jaw clenched as Heron went hurtling across the arena once more, kicking up a dust cloud of sand as he crashed into the ground with a loud, painful sounding thump. “He needs to unlock his potential.” His large hands gripped the stonework of the balcony in front of him. “Soon.”

You were not much of a warrior, but you were fairly certain that if Hephaestus’s contraptions broke every bone in Heron’s body, that would be rather counterproductive to improving Heron’s combat efficiency.

As Zeus and Hephaestus continued to bicker in hushed voices, you felt a warm presence appear at your side. Apollo sighed as he leaned against the balcony, peering down into the training ground where Heron stumbled to his feet once more.

“He doesn’t give up, at least.”

“Is this really the best approach?” You nervously played with your hands as you watched Heron get up and be knocked down, over and over.

Apollo shrugged. “Athena is too busy preparing the defences, and Ares is with Hera. We don’t have a lot of options, training wise.”

You both continued to watch for a while, and you could feel your stomach sinking the longer it went on. Heron barely glanced your way.

You had not spoken since the night Mother had left, but the memory of Heron shocked expression as he looked at you – really looked at you – and the blind panic it had created in you made your stomach churn. You had fled to your room and would probably still be there if Hermes hadn’t forced you out.

“You should say hello.”

Your head snapped around to stare at Apollo, you was still looking out over the balcony. “I should what?”

“You should go over and talk to him.” Apollo replied casually, as though he were suggesting something completely normal. “The staring is getting a little old.”

“I am not—I am not staring.”

“Heron!” Apollo called out abruptly, loudly, and to your horror Heron actually looked up towards you. “Would you like some water? We have plenty over here—”

You turned to flee somewhere far, far away, only for Hermes – where in Tartarus did he come from – to appear, blocking your way with a small, but noticeable smile.

Traitor!

Zeus sounded displeased. “Interruptions are not—”

Apollo grabbed his father’s arm and began tugging him towards the stairs, so suddenly Zeus stumbled. “You are correct, Father, we should check the equipment on the other side of the arena—”

Zeus looked confused as Hermes joined Apollo in practically dragging the King down the stairs. Hephaestus rolled his eyes and stalked towards the automaton, muttering something about “those bloody sons of Zeus”. You were rooted to the stop as Heron slowly approached, his head low, as though he were struggling to meet your eye.

Your heart clenched as Heron busied himself gathering water, taking somewhat longer than was required for the task. The silence was so dense you felt it were almost choking you. You scrambled for something, anything, to say, but your mind was a void of disjointed words. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. I couldn’t tell you. Please don’t be angry. I’m sorry for Electra, I’m so—

“…you’re short.”

You were yanked from your frazzled thoughts when Heron finally said something. You looked at him in confusion, while Heron cringed, looking frustrated with himself. “I…pardon?”

“I just mean….” Heron rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but directly at you. “You…the others are….you look different. Not bad, you’re beautiful, I just mean—”

“Oh. Oh! Right, yes, well, I wasn’t born like the rest of them. Mother—she made me out of clay.” Heron lifted his head to stare at you blankly. You felt your cheeks burn. “It is…unusual, I know.”

“…I’m sorry, was that rude—”

“No, no, not at all, you should hear how Apollo and Artemis were born—”

Silence fell over you again as you both fumbled over your words. You were torn between fleeing the arena altogether and staying exactly where you were because awkward or not you and Heron were talking. Over his shoulder you could see Zeus and Hephaestus by the automaton, and knew Heron would be pulled away soon. You inhaled deeply, steeling your nerves. I am the Queen of the Heavens daughter, by the Fates, act like it. “Heron….I am so sorry. About…about your mother.”

Heron looked pained, his fingers clenching around the waterskin in his hand. “…it was Hera, wasn’t it?”

It wasn’t a question, and you both knew it. You bowed your head, yours eyes beginning to sting. Do not cry. This isn’t about you.

“…yes.” You forced out, your throat feeling thick. “Heron…Heron, I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry—”

“Why?” Heron cleared his throat, tossing the waterskin down. “It’s not your fault. You weren’t even there.”

“But….” You bit your lip. “Mother…I mean… Hera is—”

“Your mother, I know.” Heron wasn’t quite looking at you again, but he didn’t sound angry. Grief clung to his voice, and you fought the impulse to reach for his hand. “And Zeus is my…father. That alone made mother and I targets for Hera’s wrath. You had nothing to do with it.”

“Heron—”

Heron started to laugh.

You faltered, and watched as Heron hurriedly clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide as though startled by his own reaction. “I…I am sorry.” He choked out, eyes wide even as you caught glimpse of a mirthful smile behind his fingers. “Please…please continue…”

Your anxiety was briefly overpowered by confusion. “What…what is so amusing…?”

Heron’s shoulders began to shake. “I…I assumed your parents would disapprove of me.” He said, and the words seemed to break something in him. He doubled over, grasping his knees, eyes squeezing shut as he began to laugh even harder. “Now…now it turns out your mother is Hera. And…and I am the bastard son of her philandering husband….!”

You stared owlishly at him as his laugh grew louder – you could see Zeus and Hephaestus watching from the side-lines, their expressions suggesting concern that the automaton had hit Heron harder than they had feared.

“That’s…well yes, that is….Heron….Heron, it’s not funny!”

Heron tried to reply, but it came out as a wheeze. “I…gods…I had no idea…!”

You could feel a smile beginning to creep onto your face and tried to squash it, but Heron’s laughter was infectious, and was the most happy you’d seen him in…well, a while. “Well…no, I suppose…I suppose you are not what my mother would consider an ideal suitor…”

That brought on another wave of near hysterical laughter, and you found yourself giggling along with Heron, until you were both cackling like lunatics in the middle of the arena. You slumped against Heron’s shoulder, clamping a hand over your mouth as you saw Zeus heading towards you both.

“…if you are both finished?” He asked dryly, his eyebrows raised. Heron’s laughter stuttered to a stop, but he didn’t move away from you, the feeling of his body against yours leaving warmth against your skin.

You reluctantly straightened up, brushing away non-existent creases in your dress. “I suppose….” You gestured wordless at the arena. Zeus eyed you cautiously, before clearing his throat and turning back towards the automaton, as though he were examining it. Heron rolled his eyes slightly as you bit down a chuckle – you supposed he was trying to give you both a moment.

“Wish me luck.” Heron gripped his sword, his free hand rising to sheepishly rub his neck. “I think I’ll need a fair share of it…”

You laughed slightly, reaching out to gently pat his arm. He smiled in response, before sighing and trudging after Zeus.

“I think that went well.” Hermes said cheerfully from behind you. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “Don’t you think that went well, Apollo?”

“Indeed!” The Sun God chirped, appearing at your side. “See? All is well that ends well.”

“You two do remember…” Artemis sighed from somewhere behind you – when did she get here? – “…the approaching civil war, yes?”

“Small victories, dearest sister.”

You flushed and turned to stride back towards the stands, while Hermes and Apollo snickered to themselves. Artemis rolled her eyes as you sat beside her, although a small, teasing smile began to tug at her mouth. “Although….I did notice he didn’t deny it when you described him as a suitor.”

“Artemis!”

You blushed furiously as the Goddess of the Hunt laughed, and your stubbornly kept your gaze ahead, focusing on Heron on the sands below, feeling just a little bit lighter than before.