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dreaming-medium · 5 months

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Stray Kids Kinktober Day 9

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

A/B/O - Lee Know

Word Count: 11.1 K

Summary: It’s not your fault the Orange Needle Lily only grows in a protected part of the forest. While trying to gather ingredients, you’re confronted by a pack desperate for a healer to aid their injured pack member.

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Running, you were running. Sweat is pouring down your back and the sides of your face. But, there’s no time to stop and wipe it off.

Trees whipped past you with every step, branches caught on your clothes and tore small rips in the fabric, some leaving small slices in your skin.

But that was the least of your worries right now.

You knew you shouldn’t have been here. You knew.

How else were you going to get the ingredients you need? The Orange Needle Lily only grew in a remote area of the Enchanted Forest.

A very well protected area of the Enchanted Forest.

Normally, when you made these trips, you were able to sneak in, pick a large bundle of lilies and then slip out unnoticed.

But from the rain yesterday, the ground was still damp, so you slipped and fell and made one of the loudest noises of your life.

Every single nerve in your body lit up with fear the second it happened. Growls and howls sounded in the distance.

So, you took off.

The snarls have only gotten louder the farther you run from the original area.

Everyone in the Kingdom knew to stay away from that area of the Enchanted Forest. The wolf pack that lives there has made their mark very clearly. Do not enter their land.

And you fucked up.

Loud, heavy, galloping thuds gain on you.

Your eyes scan the woods wildly to search for any sign of familiarity. Are you even running the right way back to your village?

A log is in your way so you hurdle over the top of it.

You need to keep going.

Run, run, run. Keep running. Don’t look back. If you look back for even a second you’re dead meat.

A bone chilling bark comes from right behind you, two over snarls respond to it.

Your village is so close, you can smell the fresh bread being baked.

A dark figure jumps out in front of you and cuts off your path.

You scream and backpedal to get away from its gleaming yellow eyes.

When you turn around you see another dark figure already behind you.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, pleas for your life are stuck in your mouth.

When the dark figures get closer, you realize they’re two enormous wolves. Of course the pack was chasing you. Of fucking course.

Faster and faster your heart begins to beat. You gulp, hands clutching at your skirts to keep them hiked up.

There’s two wolves encroaching closer and closer. Didn’t you hear three seats of snarls?

“Please,” you beg, your throat getting tighter and tighter with unshed tears of fear. “I was only trying to collect Orange Needle Lilies, look.”

To prove your point, you turn to reach into the pouch that’s hanging around your body.

The wolf in front of you lets out a bone chilling bark. You yelp in response, hands flying up away from your body to show you mean no harm.

“I am so sorry,” you plead, closing your eyes in fear and shrinking in on yourself. “I am a healer!”

With shaky knees, you take a step backwards and the wolf behind you growls.

There’s a long series of snaps and a whoosh to your left. Your head snaps over to look but the wolves keep their eyes on you like prey.

“You are a healer?” A male voice asks from behind a tree.

“Yes! I am from Beckinsale. Please, I mean you no harm.” Tears form in the corners of your eyes. “Orange Needle Lilies only grow within your lands. Please, I mean you no harm. I need them for a tonic.”

From behind a tree, a man with jet black hair and fair skin steps out. He’s only wearing tattered shorts on his muscular body. Dark brown eyes study you carefully.

“How high is your skill?” He asks with a raised brow.

“Very,” you answer quickly. “I am the village healer. All ailments are brought to me.”

He thinks for a moment, keeping his eyes trained on you. “Can you cure infections?”

“Yes, if I have the proper ingredients.”

Why is he asking?

Suddenly, the larger of the two wolves barks at the man and growls after.

“Easy, Changbin,” the man says. “She can heal Minho.”

The other wolf huffs, rolling its amber eyes.

“You have an injury among you?” Your hands grab at the strap of your pouch nervously.

“Aye, we believe it to be an infection.” He shuffles a bit. “Do you think you could take a look?”

A loud huff comes from behind you.

“What other option do we have?” The man grits out between his teeth to the wolf.

The wolf snorts once more.

The man stares directly into your eyes, “You are coming with us. And you’re going to heal our packmate.”

Chills rip down your body, danger is licking at the back of your neck. Your eyebrows pinch together and you swallow nervously.

“Are you going to kill me?” you whisper meagerly.

The man laughs, “We will see once our friend is healed, won’t we, Omega?”

Your jaw clenches with fear at the mention of your secondary gender.

Orange Needle Lilies were used for a specific purpose: scent blockers. Just this morning you had run out of your tonic without realizing your supply of the flower had run out.

The trip was necessary if you had hoped to block your scent at all.

But with the small amount of the blocker tonic and the sheer volume of sweat dripping down your body, there was no way you were going to be able to block your scent. Especially not from a wolf pack.

Lycans’ sense of smell were more powerful than humans. It’s most likely that even if you had put on the full amount of blocker, they would still be able to pick up on your scent.

“Come on, then,” the man says to you and there’s a sharp nudge at your back. One of the wolves was pushing you forward with his snout.

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The man, who you now know is named Seungmin, walks on your left. The wolf known as Changbin is on your right, and Seungmin told you that the other wolf’s name is Hyunjin.

Neither of you have said a word since then, he just continues to lead you through the Enchanted Forest away from your village.

“You must have a death wish. An omega prancing into a pack’s known territory all by herself.” Seungmin breaks the silence.

“I told you it is the only place the Orange Needle Lily grows,” you murmur, clutching your satchel closer to your body.

“And it is worth your life?”

You answer without hesitating. “Aye.” The next sentence comes out quieter. “A scent blocking tonic saves the life of an unmarked omega.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the three sets of eyes shift to side-eye you. You keep your eyes forward and keep walking.

Eventually, you make it to a small clearing in the woods. Four different hut-like houses sat in a semi-circle. There was a garden off to the side with fresh fruits and vegetables, tables and a spit for cooking over.

“Seungmin!” A voice called over. It sent chills down your spine. Nervously, you look over to see a larger man stalking towards you.

Golden eyes trained on you with an overprotective glint to them. The wind carries past him and his scent wraps around your mind.

Pine and bergamot floods your system. Alpha . He is a pure-blood alpha.

You can’t hold his eye contact, you immediately look down at your shoes in the dirt. Instincts take over and you curl in on yourself in his overbearing presence.

“Who is this?” He growls when he gets closer to you.

“A healer.”

“You brought a stranger into our den?”

“I brought a healer to heal Minho.”

So many scents of different wolves wrap around your brain and overwhelm your senses. Alphas and betas, all of them, but no omegas. At least, none that you’re able to smell.

“She is not getting near Minho.”

“Chan, he is going to die if we do not have him healed!” Seungmin barks back at his alpha.

The pheromones that pour out of them make your skin crawl. Seungmin is only a beta, and yet he is standing up to his alpha so confidently.

He stands nose to nose with Chan, keeping his eye contact. Chan bares his teeth.

The same crackling and whooshing noise comes from behind you.

“Chan, someone needs to heal him. Our remedies are not working.” Changbin says to him.

Chan doesn’t break eye contact with Seungmin, but Seungmin doesn’t back down either.

“He will pull through, we do not need a healer.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and keep your eyes on the dirt. Your voice comes out weak. “What are you using on his wound?”

Chan’s head snaps over to you. “It does not matter to you.”

“Your protective nature will be the death of him!” Seungmin hisses. “Let her heal him before we all lose him.”

Chan bristles and snarls at Seungmin, but he doesn’t flinch away, he stands firm in his stance.

“We are crushing up Snow Weed and laying the paste on the wound.” Hyunjin answers you finally.

You look up at the beta with alarmed eyes. “That will only create a cover over the wound, you are trapping the infection inside his system with no exit!”

Alarmed, you look over at Chan, who is eyeing you closely. “If there truly is an infection, your packmate is in dire need of care. Please, let me heal him. I mean you all no harm.”

The alpha stares at you. Ignoring your instincts, you hold his searing eye contact.

“Chan,” Seungmin draws his attention. Chan doesn’t look away from you but turns his chin slightly towards Seungmin to show he’s listening. “It is our only option.”

The alpha thinks for a long moment before he speaks. “You will heal him, then you will leave.”

“Aye, as you wish.”

“If you harm a hair on my packmate’s head, we will kill you, understood?”

You gulp. “Aye, understood.”

He eyes you closely for four more heartbeats. “Come then, omega.”

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You could smell the infection before you saw it; you were also able to hear the sound of shallow, wheeze-like breathing the moment you stepped foot inside the hut.

A man lay on a bed in the back of the hut, a blanket covering him. A damp towel sat on his forehead to try and keep him cool. His eyes were squinted shut in pain, mouth open to intake each pathetic pant and gasp for air.

A thick layer of sweat covered his flushed face.

When you rounded the corner and took another step towards him, another person stepped in front of you with bared teeth. A beta– and a protective one at that.

“She is here to heal Minho, Jisung. Back off.” Seungmin called out quickly.

Jisung’s jaw clenches and he hesitates for a moment before taking a step away from you.

Quickly, you walk over to the edge of the bed. You go to reach for the blankets, but you stop your hands over the top.

You turn around and look at Chan, at the Alpha of the pack. “May I?”

His gaze softens for a moment at your sign of respect. Chan nods and you turn back, slowly peeling back the covers.

Minho’s eyes squint tighter and he winces in pain.

The gauze wrapped around his stomach is already soaked through with pus and blood.

Your heart drops to your gut and you place your satchel of healing ingredients on the bed next to him.

“I’m going to cut the gauze off,” you say out loud to the room before picking up a small dagger.

The air thickens in the room as your fingers curl around the weapon. Gingerly, you reach forward and slice through the soaked bandages.

Minho groans in pain and squirms a bit, he’s awake, but obviously feverish. Placing your hand on his cheek, it’s like you put your hands over a fire, he’s burning up.

Once the gauze is off a gasp catches in your throat. Yes, the wound is covered in crushed Snow Weed, but the infection is leaking out all around it.

The skin surrounding the wound is purple and angry. How has he survived this long?

“What happened to make him this way?” You asked, inspecting the wound.

“Arrow wound,” Jisung answers quickly. “He told no one about it until he suddenly collapsed in pain days later. The infection had already taken root by that time.”

You look up at his face, twisted in pain. So, he’s a stubborn bastard.

“I am going to need a fresh pale of water and a clean rag. Do any of you know of the Dusk Tulip?”

When you receive no response, you turn around and look over your shoulder. Five lycans stare back at you blankly.

“Do any of you know what a Tulip looks like?”

Hyunjin nods. You zero in on him. “It is a Tulip that grows at the base of Maple trees. Dark purple in color. I need as many as you can get me.”

Hyunjin nods and immediately turns around to sprint out of the shack.

Jisung moves quickly as well, gathering fresh water and a rag for you.

You move briskly, dipping the rag in the cold water and ringing out the excess.

“Hail, Minho,” you say to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know he can hear you. “My name is Y/N, I am the village healer for Beckinsale. And I apologize, this is not going to feel pleasant at all.”

Taking a deep breath, you bring the cloth down to wipe away the Snow Weed coating and the infection that’s seeping out.

Minho grunts and tenses up.

With great care, you clean his wound. The coolness of the water brings a slight bit of relief to his feverish skin.

“Jisung,” you say without looking over at him. “Can you fetch a second pail of water, please?”

Wordlessly, he walks away to grab it.

Chan has not left the corner of the room, he watches you work on Minho wordlessly. His amber gaze scrutinizes every single move you make.

With the wound cleaned off, you watch as the outside edges go from purple to a deep red. You’re giving the wound a few moments to breathe before taking the next step.

The pail of fresh water is placed next to you. You thank Jisung and dip the new, clean rag into it.

You take the sweat covered rag off Minho’s forehead and begin to dab away at his flushed skin. His breathing is extremely labored and hot against your bare arm.

You let your eyes roam over his face. Even pulled in pain, he’s absolutely gorgeous.

The rag with cold water runs all over his face. He keens and leans into it, eyes still closed. Your fingers push his hair off his forehead.

“Chan,” you address the alpha. “You may need to hold him down as I draw the infection out.”

“It will hurt?”

You bite your lip and look down at Minho’s pained face. “Aye, very much so.”

Chan’s boots thud against the wooden floor as he approaches the bed.

“Apologies, Minho. Please know my intentions are not ill.”

Reluctantly, you move away from Minho’s side after placing the fresh, water soaked rag on his forehead.

Chan stands over Minho, hands hovering over his shoulders, ready to grab him.

You move your palms to slightly waver over the wound. Slowly, your eyes shut and you concentrate on the energy within you.

Your hands begin to heat up and emanate a soft, yellow glow.

Within a few seconds, Minho begins to groan in pain. Since your eyes are shut, you’re not able to look at his face and see the way he writhes in anguish.

Chan grabs his shoulders tightly and keeps him down on the bed.

The heat from your palm draws out the infection slowly. With each passing second, Minho’s grunts and growls grow louder and deeper.

“How long will this take?” Chan asks through gritted teeth.

“Only a few more moments, apologies. The infection was in his system for days.”

Since Minho is so lost in the throes of his mind, he doesn’t fight back nearly as much as you thought he would. Either that, or his pain tolerance is something out of this world.

Sweat drips down your face from concentration.

Once you’re sure the entire infection is clear from his system, you drop the spell and take a deep breath. Your eyes open and you look down at the wound.

It looks entirely clean.

Hyunjin comes barreling through the door before you can say anything.

Both you and Chan’s heads whip around.

“Are these correct?” He holds out a bushel full of Dusk Tulips.

“Aye,” you say, relieved, and take them from him. “Perfect. I just need to stitch the wound closed first before I can use these. Thank you.”

Pulling out a needle and thread, you get everything ready to suture the wound shut.

“We did not shut the wound previously because we thought the Snow Weed took away infection,” Seungmin says from behind you.

“Snow Weed creates an impenetrable covering for wounds. You should use it for when large chunks of skin are missing and cannot be sewn shut.” The thread goes through the eye of the needle. “It is still a smart move to put Snow Weed over a wound, do not misinterpret my words.

“In the case of infection, you need to let it come out of the wound, you were mistakenly keeping it in.”

Chan huffs and takes a few steps away from the bed now that he doesn’t need to hold Minho down.

Minho’s face seems to have relaxed considerably. His eyebrows are no longer pinched together, lips parted in a sleeping manner.

“Just a few more moments, Minho. This will not hurt.” You whisper down to him before making the first stitch.

He doesn’t even flinch. But you were also known for being extremely gentle when it came to sutures.

You stick a hand full of Dusk Tulip petals in your mouth and start grinding them between your teeth. Spitting the mass in your hand, you start to press the paste down on the now-closed wound.

“Do you have any fresh bandages?” You turn to Jisung to ask. He nods and rummages through a drawer and gives you the roll.

“I can assist and sit him up.” Seungmin comes closer to the bed. He gently sits Minho up whose muscles are so limp he may as well be a ragdoll.

With the bandage secure around his stomach, Minho is laid back down on the bed.

You grab the rag and dip it in water once more, dabbing any excess sweat from his beautiful skin. You run the rag over his cheeks, down his neck and around the top of his chest.

After swiping over his scent gland, the smell hits you like a ton of bricks.

A fresh citrus and woodsy aroma wraps around you like a python. All of your senses light up like a flame.

Every muscle in your body seizes.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

No way. He’s your…

Quickly, you place the wet rag on his forehead once more and start gathering up your equipment.

“He should wake up in a few hours. Allow him to get plenty of rest. You can change his gauze twice a day. Apply more crushed Dusk Tulips to the wound if the infection persists, but it should be completely gone from his system.”

Your voice wavers and everything falls out quickly. Clearing your throat, you throw everything back into your satchel.

Minho shifts around on the bed, his nose twitching.

“ M…Mate… ”

You cough loudly and turn around to face the other lycans.

“May I please return to my village now?”

Chan eyes you closely, then Minho, then back to you. With each moment, you can feel your heart rate increasing. He’s deadpan for a second and then nods.

“Aye, we will have someone accompany you back to Beckinsale.”

“No need,” you blurt out quickly and walk briskly towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you all.”

Before they can respond, you’re out the door, and back into the Enchanted Forest.

Back in the hut, Jisung walks back to Minho’s side and sits on the stool next to the bed.

“Thank the Gods we crossed paths with her,” he says, adjusting the blanket around Minho.

“I have a feeling it will not be the last time we see her,” Hyunjin says cockily, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What do you mean?” Jisung turns to him.

“You will find out soon enough.”

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Minho was floating in a pool of pain for so long. His mind kept coming in and out to the sound of his pack member’s voices.

They were talking to him, trying to get him to open his eyes. He just couldn’t. No matter how hard he tried.

The infection took him by the heart and had him in its evil grip.

For days he went in and out, he had no idea how much time had passed since he was shot with that arrow.

All Minho knew was that he was going to be dead soon. That much was certain.

Until the door to the hut opened and it was like he walked into a Holiday Bakery; cinnamon, apples, and vanilla twisted around his soul and sped up his slowing heart rate.

What was that beautiful smell?

“She is here to heal Minho, Jisung. Back off.”

Who? Who was here to heal him? They brought a healer in? Chan allowed them to bring a healer to their den?

The scent gets stronger and stronger. It’s almost enough motivation for Minho to pry his eyes open.

“May I?”

Oh, that sweet, melodic voice. Angels are jealous of that sound, Minho is certain of that.

Your touch is so ginger, he could cry. Minho’s almost forgotten all about the wound drawing his very soul down to the Underworld.

“Hail, Minho.”

Every nerve in his body sings at the sound of his name tumbling from your mouth. He’s not even sure what you look like, but he knows you’re gorgeous. An angel, you have to look like an angel. If he was able to open his eyes, you would have a halo above your head.

“My name is Y/N, I am the village healer for Beckinsale. And I apologize, this is not going to feel pleasant at all.”

Beckinsale? Are you sure you’re not a being of the afterlife here to hold him and keep him safe?

Y/N from Beckinsale who smells like the sweetest pastry he could ever hope to sink his sharp teeth into.

A rag is dipped into water and the cool bite brings relief over his feverish skin. A sigh of relief comes from his nose.

He falls into the feeling of you surrounding him. The way your scent wafts through his body and soothes his very soul.

The pain of his wound is long forgotten about.

“Apologies, Minho. Please know my intentions are not ill.”

Whatever you say, Angel.

Minho is vaguely aware of the pain that grips his stomach, it’s searing, like it’s being cauterized.

But your scent, your beautiful, angelic scent keeps his mind distracted and in the clouds.

Second by second, the pain gets less and less. The weight that’s been sitting in his chest begins to lift. Heat still hovers over his body, but it only feels like he sat a bit too close to a campfire.

Then, for the first time since his injury, Minho begins to drift off to a peaceful sleep. Not one where he’s riddled with fever dreams and infection induced nightmares. No, a dreamless sleep surrounded by cinnamon, apples, and vanilla.

Will you still be here when he wakes up?

He needs you there.

He hasn’t even seen your face! You’re his fated other half!

Minho tries with all his might to wake up, but the comfort of sleep finally wins when you run your beautifully soft fingers through his sweaty hair.

There’s a slight spike in your scent.

You pull away from him quickly.

No, no, no.

Come back. No, please.

“M… Mate.”

You don’t hear him, you mustn’t have. You’re still leaving, please don’t go. No, please.

Your scent gets weaker and weaker. It no longer sits in the room with you.

Minho gives up and falls asleep on the sweat covered bed.

Y/N from Beckinsale.

It definitely won’t be the last time he’s in a room with you.

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“Now,” you put your hands on your hips after tying the tiniest bandage around a little boy’s knee. “What did we learn about running in the alley?”

“Not to…” he sniffles and wipes the snot leaking from his nose.

You laugh and reach forward, wiping the tears from his eyes gently.

“Exactly, now go on back home for dinner.” You laugh and ruffle his hair. “There’s a basket full of sweets by the door, make sure you grab one. I read in a book somewhere that they make wounds heal faster.”

His eyes light up and he hops off the table, running towards the door and grabbing an entire handful of sweets.

“Thank you, Y/N!” he yells as he runs outside.

Another laugh falls from your lips and you clean up the patient table he was sitting on.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see an almost empty tonic bottle sitting on your workbench.

It’s been three weeks since you healed Minho in the middle of the Enchanted Forest. It’s been three weeks since you had access to Orange Needle Lilies

And it’s been three weeks since you’ve found your mate.

You need more flowers for your own safety. But if you venture back into their land, would they let you leave this time?

Biting your lip nervously, you pace around the floor.

You should’ve asked. You should’ve said that was your one condition for healing him. But were you really in the position to be making demands?

“Shit,” you mutter, still staring at the bottle.

Not having the scent blocker is not a chance you’re willing to take. Especially since there’s an alpha in your village that has been eyeing you up like fresh meat for months now.

You need those flowers.

If you run into the pack, maybe they’ll spare you. You did save Minho’s life after all.

Within a few moments, you have your travel boots laced up and your satchel across your body. A dagger sits comfortably in your pocket.

You’re out the door and walking into the enchanted forest before you can think twice about it.

The air gets thicker the deeper you get into the woods, that’s something you always noticed. It gets heavier and inflates your lungs differently.

A hum rings low through the trees.

Get in, pick the flowers, get out. Get in, pick the flowers, get out.

Your usual area is a clearing in the trees by a babbling brook. The sound of the water flowing over the rocks is usually enough to help conceal your presence to the wolf pack.

You will not slip and fall again.

With a racing heart, you lean down and start clipping the Lilies out of the ground. All of your senses on high alert to your surroundings.

After only about 4 flowers, a twig snaps behind you.

All of your muscles freeze, your blood runs cold.

Slowly, you stand up and look around. Maybe it was just an animal that ran by. Could’ve been a rabbit, or a squirrel.

“You have a lot of nerve coming back here, I will give you that.”

Or a wolf.

“Seungmin,” you gulp and look at the ground nervously. “I apologize, I truly mean no disrespect, I just need these-“

“Flowers, yes, I understand.”

He walks closer to you, face completely unreadable. You look up from the ground at the beta.

Tattered shorts and a mostly ripped shirt adorn his body.

“You cannot keep coming here, Y/N.”

“Please, you do not understand I-“

“Y/N.”

His tone is somewhat begging.

“Seungmin, they do not grow anywhere else.”

“You will have to find an alternative.”

Your jaw clenches and your heart squeezes. An alternative to a scent blocker?

“I do not see the harm in my being here. I only require flowers.”

Your own bravery surprises you.

“If we let you galavant all over our land, we would have to let everyone do so.”

“Galavant? I am picking flowers!” You sputter and frown, an angry look begins pulling at your face. You take a few steps closer to Seungmin.

The beta bristles outwardly at your confrontation but holds his ground.

“Do you forget that I saved your packmate’s life? I am only asking to come pick flowers. Flowers that will save my life.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Your life?”

“I am unmarked, Seungmin. If he catches a whiff I-“

You cut yourself off. Looking down at the ground, you sigh, throat constricting with frustrated tears.

“Just forget it. I will not bother your pack anymore.”

Both of you stand in silence for a long moment before you gather yourself and brush past Seungmin.

You bump your shoulder into his.

It’s petty, but you do it.

“By the way,” you start without looking back. “I can tell by the redness of your eyes you are beginning to fall ill with a seasonal sickness. Chew on onion stems to help keep the symptoms at bay.”

And with that, you walk away from the clearing. Only four Lilies in your satchel.

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“I am fully healed and you know it, you should have let me go with Seungmin.” Minho’s voice has a sharp bite to it.

Chan continues walking away, not giving Minho the time of day. But the younger wolf walks after him.

“Seungmin can handle one person by himself,” Chan responds, picking up the ax to cut firewood.

“I am aware of that, but you will not let me leave the den. Why am I some sort of prisoner now?”

“Drop it, Minho.”

He splits a log in half with a mighty swing.

“One measly little injury and suddenly you imprison me!”

“Minho.”

Another swing.

“It has been weeks and every time I try to go anywhere you look down upon me.”

“You almost died!” Chan whips around at him, fire in his eyes. “And if it were not for that human you would be dead.” He spits at him.

The way he sneers when he mentions you has Minho’s blood boiling. Anger creeps up under his collar and into his mind.

“Do not speak of her as if she is scum,” Minho growls.

Chan’s eyebrows furrow further in anger. “I never said she was scum, you made that jump yourself.”

Both lycans stare each other in the eye, neither wanting to be the one that breaks the intense eye contact.

“You do not even know her, Minho.”

“I do not need to!”

A whoosh followed by snapping comes from the edge of the woods.

“Another pissing contest?” Seungmin sighs as he walks closer to the two brooding Alphas.

Chan glares at Minho for a moment longer before looking at Seungmin, who was chewing on an onion stem.

“Did you take care of the problem?”

“Aye, it was only-“

“Good.” Chan interrupts him and turns to walk away. He only just started chopping wood; why was he leaving already? And why did he cut Seungmin off?

“Who was it?” Minho presses, lips pursing in confusion.

Seungmin’s eyes flicker from Minho, to Chan, then back to Minho before shaking his head.

“A stray beggar. I took care of the problem.”

He shifts from foot to foot and then walks past Minho. The wind kicks up at that moment.

That’s when Minho smells it.

Cinnamon, apples, and vanilla.

Acting on instinct, Minho’s hand flies out and grabs Seungmin’s tattered shirt in a death-like grip.

He yanks him to be nose to nose.

“It was her,” he grits out between his teeth. “Y/N was there.”

Surprise flickers through Seungmin’s eyes. His hand comes up and grabs Minho’s to try and get him to release his collar.

Chan stops mid step and turns to look at them.

“My mate was here. That’s why you would not allow me to go with Seungmin. Not because you were concerned about my health.”

Minho grips Seungmin even tighter.

“What did you do to her?” He barks. “Did you hurt her? If you even laid a hand on her, I swear to the Gods, I will-“

Seungmin shoves his shoulder roughly. “You will do what? Nothing, now back off. I did not even touch her, she pushed into me as she was leaving.”

“Why was she here?” Minho presses.

“Drop it, Minho.” Chan growls.

He ignores him, “Why does she keep coming here?”

“Flowers.” Seungmin snaps at him, walking away from the two bristling lycans. “She comes here for Orange Needle Lilies, she uses them as a scent blocker.”

“A scent blocker?” Minho asks. Chan doesn’t respond. He stares him down, his alpha gaze does nothing to unnerve his packmate.

A feeling of dread begins to crawl up his spine and settles at the back of his neck.

Minho turns on his heel, his mind made up.

There’s a rough yank on the back of his collar. Involuntarily, Minho growls and turns, teeth bared at whoever grabbed him.

Chan looks down at him with an equally challenging look.

“Where do you think you are going?” Chan barks.

“To Beckinsale,” Minho answers dangerously.

“No, you are not.’

“You are not my father. I am going to see my mate.” Minho shoves away from him.

“I am your pack leader and I am saying no , Minho.”

“To Hell with you, Chan.”

With one last push against his shoulders, Minho frees himself from Chan. They both stare at each other for a long moment, neither wolf saying anything, and neither want to give up.

Eventually, Minho bares his teeth and rolls his eyes before walking away back into the hut.

That nagging, anxious feeling continuously pricks at the back of his neck, making all of his hair stand up on the end.

Something is happening, something is wrong, he just knows it.

------------------------------------------

The last of your scent blocking salve was used three days ago.

Since then you’ve rarely left your home and if you did, you wore a high necked blouse or scarf. You made yourself scarce around the village.

You’re going to have to return to normal life soon, and you will. But not now.

Not when your heat is only a day or so away. It could hit any second now, you can feel the beginning stages thrumming within you. Your skin crawls with tiny pin pricks.

This will be your first heat without scent blockers. And the thought of it is making you a humming ball of anxiety.

There was only one problem– you needed food to make it through the next few days, and that meant leaving your home. Any other alpha or beta will be able to smell you from miles away. As soon as you step outside your door, you’re surely done for.

You bite your thumbnail and pace right by your front door. A tight, high-collared sweater adorned with a thick knit scarf on top rests on your body.

Why didn’t you go out earlier?

Staring down out the window, you find your courage– you need food to get through this, there’s no way you’ll make it through without proper nutrition.

Without another moment to hesitate, you open the door and make your way down to the local market. You wrap the scarf even tighter around your neck and keep your head down.

The sun set about twenty minutes ago, darkness creeping through the sky.

You decide to take back alleys and less populated streets to the market– at the time, it seemed like the best idea.

It wasn’t until you passed by someone and a low growl came from their throat that you realized that it was, in fact, the worst decision you could’ve ever made.

The growl was followed by a deep inhale.

Gulping, you try to walk faster to the market, the end of the alleyway was only about fifteen meters away.

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ You think to yourself.

“Mmm,” the male hums from the back of his throat. “If it isn’t the village healer.”

Your blood runs cold. Out of all the people in Beckinsale, it had to be him. The Blacksmith’s son who had been eyeing you for months, maybe even years– preaching around the village about he was going to lay claim to you one day.

Deciding to ignore him and keep walking, you pick up the pace, your legs carrying you faster down the alleyway.

“Do not be daft, girl, I know you heard me.”

Fear creeps up the back of your neck and into your hair. Just keep walking, Y/N. Get into a more populated area.

A strong, vice grip snatches your wrist and yanks you backwards.

Before you could scream, a hand clamps over your mouth and your body is slammed backwards into the alleyway wall. The stone connects with the back of your skull with a crack.

Rotten, nasty smells surround your nose and your body physically recoils away from it. The Blacksmith’s son was a huge, stocky man whose outward appearance accurately reflected his strength. The hand over your mouth was about as big as your face.

“Is that a heat I smell, little omega?” He leans down further, crowding your space. His greasy hair hangs in front of his eyes.

Alpha eyes getting darker and darker as the smell of your heat seeps through the collar of your shirt and scarf.

His other hand comes up and rips the scarf away from your neck.

You squeal behind his hand and reach up, trying your hardest to pry it off your mouth to scream for help. Your nails scratch at his leathery skin, your entire body writhes around against the stone.

Please, anybody come into the alley, please.

His head ducks down and goes right into the crook of your neck and takes a deep inhale. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you hear the dark growl rumble in his chest.

You shove as hard as you can against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. All those years working as a blacksmith has left him built like a brick wall.

“Holy fuck you smell so good,” he moans into your ear taking in your scent. You’re sure you couldn’t smell that good, not with the fear you’re feeling coursing through your veins and souring the scent.

He leans back, eyes completely black. The tears in your eyes spill down your cheeks.

“Cannot wait to claim you as my omega.”

Thick fingers reach up to the top of your shirt and in one sharp movement, he tears open the front, all of the buttons pop open and fly out onto the stone.

Another cry is muffled by his hand.

Your scent seeps through the alley, filling the cracks in the pavement.

Sobs wrack your chest.

“Good little omega…” His disgusting fingers trail down your neck.

Right as they’re about to touch your scent gland, one of the deepest, darkest, strongest growls shoots down the alley.

Both of you jolt.

Your eyes frantically look over at the source; scream after scream being muffled by the Blacksmith’s hand.

Bright, amber eyes glare down the alleyway with murderous intent.

The very sight of them fills you with an unreal level of relief.

“Get your vile hands off my mate .”

His voice is like a balm over your fear. You’ve never felt such instant relief to your emotions in your life. It’s like putting a safety blanket over your shoulders. A haze falls over your mind at the melody.

Mate, alpha, mate, safe, mate.

“Get the fuck outta here, she is unclaimed,” your captor snarls back.

Another snarl comes from the other man.

He begins to take step after step towards the two of you, each one faster than the other.

Once his face is visible, your heart leaps in your chest.

Minho.

Your mate came to save you.

His eyes lock with yours, they soften considerably as they gaze upon your fear twisted face, the tears still stream down your cheeks.

It’s the first time he’s seeing your face. His entire world seems to stop.

You try to whimper his name but it’s still muffled.

Minho’s eyes flicker back to your captor, darkening once more.

“I am giving you one last opportunity to let her go before I tear your throat out.” Minho snarls, still striding towards you. His boots click on the stone.

“I would love to see you try–” The Blacksmith is cut off when Minho punches a sharp right hook into his nose. He stumbles and falls to the ground, clutching at his face. Blood oozes through his fingers.

You’re able to breathe through your mouth finally.

“Alpha.” Is the only word you’re able to utter at Minho, chest rising and falling with heavy pants. Your mate’s eyes snap to yours.

He takes in your form carefully, sweeping over each of your features lovingly. Your eyebrows pull together, your skin begins burning with a need to be touching him. You need him to hold you, touch you, kiss you– anything.

“Alpha, please,” you hiss.

He steps closer to you, taking his cloak off from around his shoulders. He wraps it around you carefully, closing the front.

Fresh citrus and woods envelopes you and you could cry even more from the relief his scent brings you. A gentle kiss is pressed to your forehead.

“Just one moment, dear.”

Minho steps away from you, face immediately morphing into one of murderous intent as he looks at the Blacksmith.

The pathetic man looks up at him with a frightened yelp. “Get away from me!” He cries out.

Minho’s scent invades your senses, wrapping around you and putting you in a protective bubble. You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of Minho beating the living daylights out of the Blacksmith but you couldn’t care less.

Your heat decided to hit you like a brick wall the moment Minho stepped into your senses. Suddenly, he’s the only thing your brain knows.

You sink down onto the ground, shrinking in on yourself inside Minho’s warm cloak.

Muffled screams and muted punches ring out in the background. But you can only mewl softly, curling further and further into the fabric.

You don’t even register when the fighting stops. Two warm hands are grabbing you gently, bringing your chin up to meet dazzling brown eyes.

Minho looks over every inch of your face, his thumbs come up and wipe the tear streaks off your cheeks.

“Did he hurt you?” Everything about his voice is so tender; its a complete one-eighty from the way he was speaking to the Blacksmith.

You shake your head, unable to tear your eyes away from his. Your lids droop, chest still heaving with pants.

It’s like an unscratchable itch settles in your smalls.

The longer you surround yourself in Minho’s scent, the wetter and wetter your slick gets the fabric.

“Alpha,” you murmur again, leaning into his touch.

His jaw clenches and he cups you closely, his thumb swipes back and forth over the soft skin of your cheek. Every ounce of his self restraint is being tested.

Minho’s cock jumps in his pants at the sight of you desperate before him.

His resolve on following Chan’s wishes broke about two hours ago when his wolf kept screaming at him to find you, that something was wrong.

Chan be damned, his instincts kept you safe.

“Let’s get you home, Y/N.” He reaches forward and scoops you up into his arms.

As the fabric of his cloak shifts around, your scent mixed with his puffs out and into his nose. An audible moan pulls from his throat and he has to shut his eyes and focus on staying calm lest he wanted to take you against the alleyway wall.

The way your warm, homey smells blends together seamlessly with this outdoorsy ones sends Minho’s brain into a frenzy.

Mate, claim, mate, mark, mate. HIs wolf howls at him.

He takes a deep, shaky breath and stands up with you in his arms. You whimper and curl into him further.

Your head falls into the crook of his neck, your nose nudging at his scent gland.

It’s driving him insane.

“Y/N,” he strains out. “Where– Which way?” He asks.

You moan into his neck, rubbing your head all over him, further blending your scents. His knees almost give out right then and there.

“Need you, Alpha.” Your hand comes out of the cloak and grabs at his shirt.

“I am right here, my little omega.” Minho presses his lips to your forehead. “Please,” he whispers into your skin. “Let me get you home and I will do whatever you need, Y/N. Your alpha will take good care of you.”

Releasing his shirt, you point in one direction down the alley.

Minho doesn’t hesitate, he briskly walks in that direction, keeping you close to his chest. Throughout the entire walk, you motion in vague directions while nosing at his neck, leaving small pecks that make his legs turn to jelly.

You coo softly against him, squirming around every few seconds as your heat takes a hold of your body.

The timer on his self control is ticking down by the second.

He’s been dreaming about you ever since you took care of him like some angel from the afterlife, and now that he finally has you in his arms, he never wants to let go.

Finally, you point to a small cottage tucked away in the corner of the village.

Minho heaves a sigh of relief and almost sprints up to the door, opening it and stepping inside so fast you would think someone was chasing him.

The entire cottage smells like you in the best way.

After spending night after night trying to recall just how sweet you smell, being inside your cottage feels like a dip in a hot bath.

He makes his way through the house and into a room that holds a large bed in the middle.

How can a cottage he’s never set foot in feel so familiar ?

With great care, he lays you down on your bed. When he goes to stand up, your arms lock around his neck.

“No, Alpha, please,” you whine into his neck. “Need you so bad. I need my alpha.”

Minho audibly groans, he has to place a hand on the bed to stop his body from crumpling.

“I will be right back, my dove. I only need to check the locks on the door.”

He buried his own face in your neck, inhaling your gorgeous scent. You keen and coo at his attention.

“You will come right back?” You ask.

“Aye, I will. You will not even know I left the room.”

You press one long, last kiss to the crook of his neck before slowly unwinding your arms from around his neck.

Minho peels himself away from you and goes back to the front door, checking each and every lock on the door and windows.

He should take more time to really inspect each one, but his inner wolf is absolutely clawing at his self control.

Mate. Mark. Claim. Mate. Mine.

Sweat drips down the back of his neck, his hands shaking.

But as much as his wolf wanted to claim you, he also wanted to protect you and never let a single thing ever happen to you again. He would make sure that you were never put into harm's way.

The last lock is inspected and secure.

Minho turns on his heel and practically runs back to your room.

The smell of your arousal permeates the air thicker and thicker the closer he gets to your room. You smell so sickeningly sweet, he can’t wait to sink his teeth into you.

Tiny whimpers invade his ears and each one sends a shot of arousal to his cock.

He knocks on your door before entering.

His mouth goes dry, his inner wolf howls.

In the time that it took for him to check the locks, you pushed pillows and blankets into a nest, his cloak right under your head.

You also stripped yourself of all your clothes. Your beautiful nude form right in the middle of the bed.

Fingers buried deep into your cunt.

Slick drips down your folds and onto the sheets.

Your fingers seem to be doing nothing to help your hazy state. There was only one thing that could help.

“Minho,” you moan out, turning your head to look at him. A thin sheen of sweat covers your body. “ Please. ”

His instincts decide to push him into the passenger’s seat.

He’s striding to you as fast as his legs would take him, his hands already working on ripping his own shirt off.

A growl tears from his throat as he climbs on the bed, stalking up your body with predator-like eyes.

“Did you make a pretty nest for us, little one?”

You nod with a scarlet haze over the bridge of your nose and up your cheeks to your ears.

Minho wastes no time smashing your lips together. He licks and sucks your mouth like it’s candy.

He cages you down on the mattress with his strong arms. Your free hand threads into his hair and keeps him as close as possible.

It’s sloppy and disgusting, spit leaks out down your chin. Your tongues dance with one another, he licks around your mouth while you whimper and suck on his tongue.

Neither of you can control the noises you’re making.

Your walls clench down on your own fingers.

“Been dreaming of you every single night, omega.” He growls against your lips before capturing them again. “Your scent has been driving me wild.”

Mewing, you bite his lower lip and pull back for it to snap back against his teeth.

Slowly, Minho can feel the itch of his own rut beginning to tickle at the base of his spine. Your heat must be triggering it.

“I have never smelled anything as good as you do.” Minho trails his wet kisses down your neck to lick all over your skin. He stops at your scent gland, his tongue raking over it in slow, long, wet, strokes.

He’s taking his time like he would with a dessert.

Every single lick makes you moan and keen into his touch. Your fingers start thrusting in and out of yourself faster and faster. But it doesn’t help, it only makes you burn even more.

“Minho,” you pant, pulling on his hair. He fights against your pull, not wanting to be parted from your scent gland. “Minho!” You try again, whining.

He growls low in his throat, one of his hands coming down to glide down the side of your body to your hip. His large palm rests against your red hot skin.

The licks and sucks are sending you wild.

“Alpha!” You cry out, his body jolts a bit and he finally lifts his head. Blacked out, hazy eyes watch you closely. “Need you to touch me please. ”

Minho smirks and keeps eye contact with you while kissing down your body. He bites your collarbones, kisses the skin between them, then underneath them.

When he gets down to your breast, he envelopes an entire nipple in his mouth and sucks hard .

You cry out, your head tilting back to arch off the bed.

Minho has none of that, this alpha wants eye contact, he wants submission to him. He fists a hand in your hair and yanks your head so that you look at him.

“Eyes on me, Omega.” He licks around your pebbled bud again, sucking harshly. “Perfect,” he says around your nipple. “Perfect for our pups to suckle on.”

Pride rips through you at your alpha’s words. Your heat has you in its clutches, the only thing your body wants is to make pups, breed, fuck, get pregnant.

Minho switches to the other nipple, keeping his eyes on you. Your hand still in his hair cards through gently, pushing the strands off his forehead.

After a harsh bite, you grab a fistful with a moan.

Meanwhile, your slick is dripping down your fingers and staining the sheets underneath you. Every flick of his tongue makes you clench around your fingers.

You start to thrust in and out in time with his licks.

It’s still not enough.

Your eyebrows knit together and you whine, trying to curl your own fingers to make you feel good.

Minho notices your struggle and smirks. “Do you need your alpha to touch you?”

“Yes!” you cry out, frustration creeping down your collar. “I need my alpha so bad!”

Minho hums and runs his hand down your body to grab your wrist. He sits up after leaving one more mark on your chest.

Carefully, he pulls your fingers out of your cunt with a wet squelch.

“Fuck,” he groans under his breath as he watches your slick drip down your folds. The smell is absolutely intoxicating.

Minho brings your hand up to his mouth, he licks all the way up your forearm, up your hand, to take your fingers into his mouth.

His hips jolt forward at your taste.

If he thought your scent was amazing, then your taste was otherworldly.

His eyes close and he loses himself in your taste, suckling on your lithe fingers, tongue swirling around the digits.

You’re panting while watching him. Wherever he touches you is the only place that stops burning with need and desire.

“Minho…” you coo and your hips wiggle around impatiently.

Bringing your hand out of his mouth, he stares directly at your glistening folds.

“Need to taste you more.”

He practically dives in, tongue licking a long strip from bottom to the top, circling your clit to lap back down at your hole.

Your entire body arcs and you scream out in pleasure. One hand flies down to pull at his hair again, your hips grind into his face.

It feels so good .

Minho grabs your hips, thumbs pressing down on the bone to keep you still.

He’s losing himself second by second in your juices. It’s like he’s drinking a honeyed ale, he’s getting absolutely drunk on you.

The entire world could collapse around the two of you right now and he wouldn’t stop.

His rut seems to have taken full control of his body.

Mate, mark, claim, taste, fuck, breed.

His cock is so fucking hard in his trousers but he doesn’t want to take his mouth away from you, not for a second.

Over and over again he laps at your clit, each time you moan and pull his hair.

Incoherent babbles fall from your lips telling him how good he’s making you feel, how much you need him.

“Close, close, close,” you repeat like a prayer, a rubber band pulling tighter and tighter inside you.

One of his hands moves from your hip to thrust two fingers into your pulsing hole. Minho’s eyes roll back in his head at how soft and velvety you feel around his fingers.

His wolf howls at him to fuck you already, to sink his cock inside you and cum over and over again until it takes hold.

But the man wants— no, needs— you to cum in his mouth.

His tongue flicks over your clit at the same time he curls his fingers up to hit a spot within you and your body tenses.

Instead of crying out, your mouth stretches open and no sound comes out.

Your walls clamp down on his fingers and pulse as your orgasm rips through you. The grip on his hair tightens so much.

As your juices leak out around his fingers, he laps it up greedily.

Once the main waves of your orgasm pass, you finally let out a strained grunt, chest heaving with pants and moans.

His name falls from you like a mantra.

The itch within you was scratched, but just for a split second. The moment you come down from your orgasm, that burning begins once more.

He knows it. He knows the only thing that’ll make it go away is his knot.

His fingers slide out of you and he crawls over you to hover over your panting form.

Your hair is frizzy and messy, eyes hazy and fucked out, swollen lips parted. Minho desperately wants this image of you to stay burned into his memory.

“Minho,” you moan to him.

“Taste how delicious you are.” Gently, he pushes his fingers past your lips.

Immediately, your tongue licks around his digits. The feeling causes him to buck his hips forward into yours. His clothed cock ruts into your soaking cunt.

Both of you moan together.

You suck on his fingers and taste whatever you can.

He can only take it for a few seconds before he pulls them away and replaces them with his tongue.

The taste of your juices is swapped between your tongues.

“Need you,” you moan between kisses. “Need my alpha.” Kiss. “Need your knot.”

Once more he bucks into you involuntarily. He needs you just as bad as you need him.

“I will give you what you want.” He bites your lip. “My little omega.”

He pulls away from you. “Flip over for me, little one.”

Immediately, you do what he says.

Minho stands up from the bed to shuck off his trousers and heavy boots. His cock springs free and he strokes himself a few times, eyes following how you arch your back on your hands and knees, presenting yourself for him.

His tongue licks his lips and then it pulls between his teeth.

You’re so fucking gorgeous.

“Alpha, please ,” you whine and look back over your shoulders.

He crawls back onto the mattress and gives your ass cheek a sharp slap.

“Be patient.”

Minho lines up behind you, fisting the base of his cock. He rubs it up and down your slick.

The two of you moan out in unison.

Mewling, you push your hips backwards to try and spear yourself on him. Minho is quick to slap your asscheek again.

“Omegas who do not behave do not get their alpha’s knots.” His hand rubs over where he slapped.

You whine and bury your face into his cloak still bunched underneath you. Your back arches more and you can’t keep still.

Your hips twitch, hole clenching around nothing the more he rubs his cock head in your slick.

“Minho!” You whine, the frustration is killing you.

He clicks his tongue at your impatience. “Fine, then. I will give you what you want.”

His tone is dark and he shoves into you without further notice.

Your walls stretch around him deliciously. He’s so big you think you can feel him in your throat. The pleasure shoots right into your thighs.

Minho’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling of your wetness surrounding him.

He doesn’t even try to take it slow. His wolf holds the reins tightly and begins slamming into you over and over again.

He’s thrusting so hard, his hips slap into your ass with each stroke.

More babbling comes from your mouth.

Minho reaches forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, lifting your head up from the cloak.

Your tongue lulls out of your mouth.

“Fucking look at that,” he moans in awe. “Only inside you for a minute and you are already cock drunk.”

Your eyes glaze over and you lose yourself in the feeling of him abusing your little hole.

“Feel so fucking good wrapped around me. You were made for me, little omega.”

The only sound you are able to muster is a tiny ‘ mhmm! ’

“So fucking good for me, good for your alpha.”

“Only for you, Alpha!”

A sharp smack lands on your ass again, you cry out.

“That’s right. Just for me. Just for your alpha. No one else. This cunt right here is all mine. ”

He looks down at where he can see his cock disappearing inside you to come back out coated in your delicious slick. It makes him feel insane.

Minho can’t control himself anymore, not that he would want to.

It’s animalistic, the way he wants to devour you.

He tugs on your hair and brings you up so your back is flush with his chest. The hand in your hair moves around to grab your throat. His other hand splays out on your lower stomach.

“Can fucking feel my cock fucking you right here.” He presses down on your stomach and your head falls back against his shoulder.

The moans you’re making are so involuntary.

“Going to stuff you so full of pups. You’ll look so fucking good pregnant, carrying our children. So swollen and full.”

At the base of his cock, Minho can feel his knot begin to form, it prods and catches on your entrance more every stroke.

“Please, please, please,” you cry like a mantra.

“You want that, little girl? You want to carry my pups? You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes! Please! Please, Minho! It feels so good!”

His inner wolf howls at your pleasure. It’s all he wants.

“Close, Alpha. Please, mark me, please, please.”

Minho’s hips stutter at your words, but when his tempo comes back, it’s rough . Every stroke is unforgiving, he’s racing towards the finish line as fast and hard as he can.

Fuck, he wants to claim you so bad. It’s all he’s wanted for weeks since you first set foot in the hut.

“My omega wants my mark? She wants me to claim her as mine?”

You nod in his grasp, he feels you gulp. “Yes! I need it. Need everyone to know I’m yours.”

Minho growls, his nose buries into the crook of your neck right at your scent gland.

The idea of you wearing his mark proudly makes him feral: you in low collared shirts to purposefully parade your mating mark, you nursing your pups with that bite inches away.

He needs it like he needs air to breathe. How can one person make him feel this way?

His hand squeezes a bit on your throat.

“I’ll give you my mark, Omega. I’ll claim you. You’ll be mine forever.”

He feels you clench down more. The knot at the base of his cock inflates more and more.

His orgasm is dangling in front of him teasingly. But he needs you to cum again, he needs to feel you clench down around him.

The muscles in his abdomen are painfully tight.

The hand on your hip moves to rub circles on your clit in time with his thrusts.

“‘M close, Minho, please. Bite me, please. My mate, please. ”

His mind whites out.

Sharp canines sink into your flesh around your scent gland.

One of the loudest cries of pleasure ever comes from deep within your chest. Your eyes squeeze shut and your walls clench around him as your second orgasm tears through you like a train.

Minho’s knot shoves inside you as his own pleasure peaks and hits him like a ton of bricks. The sweet metallic taste of your blood flooding his mouth, your scent keeping his brain on Earth.

Cum shoots from his cock and floods your walls for what feels like forever.

Neither of you have ever felt something so heavenly before. Two souls merge into one.

Slowly, you both start coming down to earth. Minho’s hand around your neck starts massaging at the sensitive skin.

You whine when he removes his teeth from your skin.

He coos and laps up at the blood streaming down your body. Small kisses pepper the outside of the mark.

Sweet nothings tumble from his lips. “Beautiful, beautiful mate. All mine. So sweet, so beautiful.”

Carefully, he maneuvers the two of you to lay down on your sides, his knot still buried within you. He has a feeling it will be there for a while.

He brings the blankets up over your exhausted bodies.

Your skin is no longer burning with need, instead you’re in a content, happy bubble, your mate’s arms wrapped around you safely.

Never in your life have you felt such comfort. You’re floating on a cloud.

His woodsy smell acts like a second blanket.

Small hums leave you as you snuggle back into his chest more.

Minho chuckles and kisses your bare shoulder.

Your brain comes out of your heat-induced fog. But, instead of panicking, you find yourself happier than ever.

One of your hands comes up to play with the fingers of the hand that’s by your head. His arm acting like a pillow.

“I would have gotten shot with an arrow sooner if it meant I would find you.” He jokes, breaking the silence.

You giggle. It’s music to his ears.

He continues. “Your voice broke through the delirium of the infection.” Another kiss to your shoulder. “I remember thinking you were an Angel here to bring me into the afterlife.”

You flush, embarrassed at his sweet words.

“And I remember thinking you were the most handsome man I have ever seen, even laying on your deathbed.”

He hums happily and leans up on his elbow. You turn around as much as you can to look up at him with a happy smile.

“It is nice to officially meet you, Minho.”

Your fingers come up to brush over his cheek gently.

His heart swells, eyes shine in the candlelight of your room.

“My beautiful mate.” He leans down and kisses you softly. “Thank you for saving my life.”

You’re hardly able to continue the kiss, you’re smiling too much. “And thank you for saving mine.”

His nose rubs against your cheek in a display of affection.

“No one will ever harm you again, my dove.”

You laugh and brush your fingers through his hair. Kiss after kiss lands on your bare skin. He focuses more on your mating mark.

It makes you feel giddy.

“Well,” you giggle. “I think you may need to protect me from your pack leader.”

Minho chuckles. “He will get over it. I would like to see him try and keep us apart now.”

He leans down and presses your lips together. “My beautiful omega.”

“My handsome alpha.”

#lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know smut #lee know x y/n #lee minho smut #skz x reader #skz kinktober #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut

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privitivium · 2 months

Note

delinquent bully yan hate-fuck... he keeps on trying to pretend that he hates it and degrade you but he's the one crying and begging in the end

yandere delinquent hate-fuck. dom male reader

both amab, cw;; degredation from both of you, anal fingering, dumbification - fucking his "womb", mild dacryphilia, uhgh,,, bulge from tummy. mild? feminization

it was him who came to you. not the other way around!

y-you really thought you were going to fistfight with the way you were handling each other so roughly - jerking him around and snarling like a rabid animal as he insults you for the last fucking time you tell himㅡyou don't remember what started it... it was just joking banter; ripping on each otherㅡmaking fun of one another before you decide that he was going a little too far and he says that no, he wasn't going to stop just because you were a sensitive little baby who couldn't take a joke. obviously - this makes you more upset... and it only proves his point. FUCK HIS POINT!

"sensitive? little?" you echo - unbelieving that he got under your skin so quickly, grumbling nonsense as you push him back by his shoulders to try and initiate something with fists - "look at me. there's nothing little about me, you little prick." and glancing downward - briefly. meaning your own dick... that tells him everything he needs to know!! and i mean, he already knew about that anyway... stalkerㅡ"y'sure?" he laughs, nearly haughtily - "still so sensitive... all because of a little banter, bro? how much of a little girl are you?" - was he seriously trying to goad you? talking down to you...

"damn, look at that." you scoffed, smug as you glanced downward to catch a glimpse at his dick bulging through his skinny jeans. "you gonna let that thing breathe?" you drag out - hand gripping his wrist so hard you think it would snap - but you knew you weren't exactly that strong... pushing against you, he scoffs. squirming in place as he crosses his meaty arms over his prominent chest... "ㅡyeah, you fucking gave it to me so it's only fair you do something about it, right?" he snarks, visibly flustered yet upholding his cruel, "bad boy" demeanor...

ㅡ"yeah, i'll show you what i can do about that..."

having him bent over the desk so quickly he thought he was daydreaming again. he barely fucking fought you on it - yet he's still the one grumbling. breathless on howㅡ"you feel so fucking gross... y-you..." it was a true wonder how he was still going! such a damn whiner!!! "ㅡdon't fucking touch me there, you idiot." snapping so cruelly at you as you had gently rested your hand on his hip as you aimed... cmon, you deserve a little credit... bullying the bulbous tip of your thick cock past his unused hole you made sure to finger and prod around beforehand - trying to feel for his prostate. he was fluttering around your fingers... and you were imagining what it would feel on your cock, aching and leaking as you imagine before-

you couldn't hold back. you fucking wouldn't-! he deserved a little pain, no? treating you so cruelly, bullying you with those nasty insults about you and your friends... and now look at him. "fucking disgusting... cock... have you any experience? fucking amateur- ah, mmh.." ㅡ hah.. still insulting you, yes - but after a few quick tugs of his own weeping cock in-between his thick, muscular thighs by your nimble hand - he was broken rather quickly. pushing back... burying his ass into your groin and whining breathlessly... a complete contrast. now, this is what you like to see. gently, methodically humping into him, burying your face into his neck - as your hand worms underneath his shirt to grope his titㅡhe gasps so daintily... let's see if he makes any other girly noises that you can then exploit...

"gosh, look at you... fucking eager like a prostitue hungry for money." you grumble nastily into the shell of his ear - gripping his hips that he once smacked your hands away. "is that what you are? do you whore yourself out for damn near anyone?" you were having so much fun... making him a stupid crying mess on your fat cock, taking such pleasure in seeing him shake his head and whine that no, no he wasn't... he just wants you... youyouyouyou- "sure seems like it... seems like you're a goddamn whore you opens her hole to anyone, huh?"

ㅡ"nn-nuh,,, no..!" he looked so good like this... eyes blurry with tears ... clenching on your fat prick stuffed inside him... to think that this was the little freak chewing you out just before-! "m' n-not a p-prostitute... n-not a wh-nh-wh-hore..."

ㅡ"sure seems like it." you tease. pinching his hardened puffy nipple and rubbing it betwixt the pads of your fingers - ugh, the soft slap of your sack against his as you quicken pace of his spit lathered hole making your own hole clench - the feeling of his gummy walls clamping onto your cock trying to keep you inㅡ"sure seems like you're pretty eager for me to fill this womb of yours, huh?" grumbling to yourself, mindlessly - just to fuck with his already fucked out mind. thoughtfully caressing over his abdomen as you fill him up for a moment completely - just to feel a little bulge... the tip of your cock... you experimentally pull back and sure enough... disappearing. reappearing when you fuck into himㅡ

"a-augh, pl-please - ye-es yes, fuckㅡ" babbling straight nonsense... his gummy walls fluttering so deliciously around your prick as tears slip fluidly down his darkened cheeks. something about seeing him sobbing on your cock just made you feel so... alive. after acting so damn bratty and like you're the most vile fucking thing on earth that's ever been in his taut little hole - here he is, acting like a stupid fucking whore begging for you to fill up his nonexistent womb. fucking idiot.

#delinquent yan !!#x male reader #male reader #x top male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #x dom male reader #sub male yandere #bottom male yandere

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cursedhaglette · 3 months

Text

Thrice Before Dawn

She thought he was having a nightmare, so naturally, she thought she was helping. Opening the tent flap, she's surprised to find something entirely unexpected.

Rating: E Word Count: 2,900 Content: 18+, oral sex, PIV sex, male masturbation, squirting

[ao3 link]

Halia takes last watch, preparing to guard over the camp until dawn breaks over the horizon, sketchbook in hand. It’s been ages since she’d been able to take the time to draw or journal, either tied up in other things that needed doing while she kept watch or simply too exhausted to do anything but stare off into the darkness.

She opens the book to where she’d left off, finding the page she’d marked to be the one she’d filled with sketches of Astarion. She can’t help her cringe as she looks over her work. It’s not bad by any means, as far as her ruined mind can tell, but since they’d spent the night together out in the forest a tenday ago, things between them had grown strange and tense.

Gone was the playful flirtation, the long, charged stares, and the touches that lingered just a bit longer than could be called casual. She kept telling herself it was fine, he wasn’t obligated to want her just because they’d slept together. Though, truth be told, she very much wanted to repeat the experience - she wanted him to like her, to want her, more than she felt she should.

Blasted, handsome vampire.

Sighing to herself, she turns the page, trying to think if anything notable had occurred in the last couple days that might be worth jotting down. The same thing day after day, fights and hiking and threats of death or the end of the world. At least they were almost to the creche, which might prove interesting or different.

Across camp, she hears a muffled groan and she snaps up at the sound. Scanning the tents surrounding the dying embers of the campfire, she tries to make out if anything is out there - hunting them in the darkness..

There is…nothing to be seen though. Only darkness and then - a grunt followed by something almost like a muffled whimper.

Halia stands, tip-toeing across camp and approaching each tent, praying that without her usual armor and robes she can stay quiet enough to catch whatever had snuck up on them before it caught onto her. At least everyone was nearby to aid her, should it be something truly deadly.

She doesn’t hear anything again until she finds herself before the last tent - Astarion’s. Then there’s rustling sounds, and another groan almost like he might be…dreaming? Or rather, having a nightmare, she guessed. It wouldn’t be the first time hearing him toss and turn, tortured by the memories of his awful past even while trancing.

Is it appropriate to check on him? They’ve gotten to know each other well enough and she hardly wants him to suffer through whatever was going on in his trance, but she knows he can sensitive to such vulnerabilities.

Biting her lip and bouncing on her heels, she tries to decide what she ought to do, and then there’s another muffled groan and acts.

The tent flap swings wide, held open by her hand, and time seems to slow. It wasn’t what she’d expected to find - Astarion tortured by a nightmare, curled on his side and whimpering for her to wake him from the horrors.

He lays flat on his back, one hand pressing into his forehead and something in his mouth, an attempt to muffle the noise he was making, if Halia had to guess. His shirt was pulled up enough to reveal part of his chiseled torso, but her eyes didn’t linger there.

He was fucking up into his hand, his hips thrusting eagerly and cock weeping pre-cum that glistened in the low light creeping in through the open tent flap. She’s seen it before but like this, Gods, it was like a work of art.

He’s suckling on a rag, which Halia realizes quickly was bloody and - Gods, was that what she’d used to clean up her bloody wound from the fight earlier in the day? How had he…?

She can't move - entirely transfixed as she watches his muscles flexing into another hip thrust, the curve of his glutes visibly working even in the low light. Her breath catches in her throat and she’s trying to process the immediate want that heats her blood at the sight before her, catches his attention and finally, Astarion turns to look.

His ruby eyes widen as he looks over his favorite warlock, and then he smirks, studying how she blushes while he lazily strokes his cock once more - holding her gaze as he works his precum around his shaft.

“Fuck, oh Gods, I’m so sorry,” Halia mumbles, finally turning away before she can stare any longer, and manages to shut the tent flap with all the urgency she could muster before hurrying away. She wants to stay, of course she does. She wants to watch and taste and touch and moan with him. But if he wants that, she knows she would have been invited.

“Leaving so soon?”

Halia half turns at the question, already several paces from his tent and thinking of a million ways to apologize for her intrusion but coming up short. He catches her quickly and holds his loose trousers up in one hand, the other snaking around her middle and holding her fast against him. His cold hand sends a chill through her skin, still warm from the fire and encouraging that blazing want that’s settled in her core at the sight of him so unguarded - alone, whimpering, eager.

“Didn’t enjoy the show, darling?” The question is pressed into her neck, and she knows he delights in the goosebumps that immediately appear under his cool breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers without turning to face him. “I thought you might be having a nightmare or…I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“And you didn’t think to wait and make sure I was alright?” He tuts in her ear, his mouth so close she can feel the way it curls into a smile. “So cruel.”

She took in a deep inhale of breath, unsure of what to do with herself as his hand tightened around her waist, tugging her closer to him. He’s still hard, despite his cock being stowed in his trousers, and Halia has to resist the wanton urge to grind against him in the middle of the still sleeping camp.

“Perhaps you’d like to come help me…get back to sleep,” he murmurs before taking one earlobe between his teeth and nipping gently. His hand crests lower, teasing the waistline of her loose camp pants and moving so slowly towards where he knows she wants him.

“Only -” she pauses as he kisses her neck, humming in approval as his hand dips lower, finally touching at her core. She knows she’s already soaked, the sight of him fucking into his own hand, cock glistening with precum, had immediately drenched her. Now Astarion knows it too.

“Only if you want me,” Halia stammers, biting her lip as a single, cold finger dances across her clit.

“Oh my dear, I believe you’ve already seen how badly I want you tonight,” a second finger joins the first, rubbing agonizingly slow circles against her. Astarion huffs a smug laugh as she bites her lip, holding back a whimper of desperation and pleasure. “Come with me.”

And then, Astarion’s hands are gone - a hollow ache left where he’d been. She can’t help but follow him back to his tent, called by the pleasure she knows can be found within. The mess of blankets and open books welcome her, as does the smell of him - earth and spice and whatever perfumed oil he uses to make his skin smell like heaven made flesh.

The flap drops behind Astarion as he moves and kneels before her, and the space goes dark, but she doesn't need any light as his hands move to the laces of her pants. He makes quick work of them and then her legs are bare and he’s teasing, and Halia knows it - knows he wants her to beg for more, for his touch or his tongue.

“My golden, little bird,” he purrs as he nears her center, finally calling out how soaked she’s been for him since the first touch. “Look at you, such a mess. Is this all for me? All from your spying?”

Halia has to force herself not to give in to her nerves, not to wrap her arms around her waist or cover her face to hide her slowly growing blush - knowing it will only make him more smug. He likes her shameless, knowing he can pull that side of her out with each touch as she grows more desperate.

“I wasn’t -” he presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh, humming in approval when she gasps in response, her argument lost at the feeling of his lips drifting higher and higher.

He pulls her panties down finally, one swift movement freeing her pussy for him, but he continues teasing along the edge of where real pleasure would be found and Gods if he doesn’t touch her again soon, she’s going to be reduced to begging.

And she really doesn’t want to have to beg, it will only mean far too much smugness to deal with tomorrow if she does.

“Lay down,” he commands. When Halia does, he finally descends upon her, ready to feast.

Astarion draws the flat his tongue up her core slowly at first, and once he reaches her clit, he pauses to softly suck and kiss at the swollen bud before licking up her again. It’s simultaneously everything and not enough, her hips rolling up as she seeks more from his practiced, wicked mouth. Each soft kiss has her whimpering, and finally he indulges her fully, sucking herr pulsing, ready clit into his mouth and plunging two fingers inside, spreading and filling her.

She desperately wants to fuck herself on his fingers, but his other hand holds fast to her hips to keep her in place while his hand continues slowly, testing how she stretches around him while his tongue dances up and down along her folds.

“If I’d known how greedy you’d be for me, I’d have you like this every night,” Halia hears in her mind, his voice echoing through the tadpole so he can taunt and tease without removing his mouth from her cunt. “I’m going to have you begging for more before I finally take you.”

“Oh Gods,” she moans, his words adding to the intensity building in her core. She can feel it building, his tongue the spark to the kindling of her want.

Astarion huffs a laugh against her soaked cunt as he curls his fingers inside her, finding a spot she’s never had stroked before and immediately makes her squirm. Halia’s legs twitch, wanting to close at the intensity of the sensation, but Astarion’s broad shoulders keep her from moving too far.

“Keep these spread,” he chides, picking up speed. And then she’s lost in her release, covering her mouth with one hand to stifle the primal, desperate moan that tears through her chest as her body clenches around his hand. A gush comes as she rides out her climax, soaking his wicked mouth and the blankets below her.

She’s never experienced such intense pleasure, never been so wet, but cumming so hard for him only leaves her mindless and unable to be bashful about what’s just happened. Her body just wants more, aching for the stretch of his cock and to feel the heat of his pleasure inside her.

“Good girl,” he tells her, pulling his mouth away. He wipes away the shine of her squirting release with one hand, the other firmly in place as his thumb circles her sensitive clit and fingers continue to work inside. “Can you give me a little more? Can you soak my hand again before I fuck you?”

“I want you to fuck me now,” Halia pleads, her voice thick with want and almost whining for him, every trace of resolve not to act desperate for him gone in the wake of her climax.

“Then cum for me again, sweet thing, and you can have your fill of me.”

His thumb presses into her harder and she sees stars, the intensity of the feeling earning him a deep, guttural moan that he chuckles at. His fingers keep working inside her, and Halia can only watch as he reaches for the rag he’d used to muffle his moans and presses it into her mouth.

“Bite down on this, love, we don’t want you waking up the whole camp, do we? I don’t intend to share your pleasure with anyone else.”

Before Halia can protest, his fingers find the rhythm she needs and her body crashes again, soaking him just as he’d asked while he continues to finger her through the peak of her pleasure. He only pulls his hand away once she’s finished clenching around him, trying to catch her breath and watching as he lifts his soaked fingers to his mouth.

He sucks her cum off himself as he undoes his pants with his other hand, groaning around the taste of her while his cock springs free. It’s still desperately hard, soaked in precum and actively leaking more. Any other night, she might have asked to taste it - to lick every drop of his precum clean and have him fuck into her mouth with abandon.She wants his hips rolling into her throat just like she’d seen him fucking into his hand.

“Now, what was it you wanted?” he asks smugly, nudging her legs apart further and smiling at the mess he’s made. He rolls the sheath of his cock, smearing the precum as he prepared himself to fuck her.

“I warn you, darling, I was close before you showed up the first time so I don’t know how long I’ll -” his words are quickly cut off by his own groan as the head of his heavy cock finally begins to stretch her, and Halia’s warmth welcomes him wholly.

They whimper together as he finally pushes inside, and she watches as his eyes close in pleasure, her body working to take him while he slowly presses into her. He pulls away once, twice, and then slides home, burying himself to the hilt - both of them gasping in unison at the feeling.

Lewd, soaked sounds filled the tent with each thrust of his cock within her warm walls, hands roughly guiding her hips and core along his cock. He rips the rag from between her teeth, replacing it with a deep, bruising kiss before taking her tongue in his mouth and sucking on it.

“Fuck, Halia, it’s like you were made to take me,” Astarion says, pulling away from her lips but reaching forward to take one nipple between his fingers and twisting enough to make her clench around him, earning her a satisfied huff.

“Please,” she whines, closer to oblivion with every passing moment that he spends inside her, “please, more, more -”

His hips roll harder, each slam driving deeper into her and she sees stars, unsure if she’ll be able to walk again after he’s done with her. She knows she isn’t technically his, but if he asked her in that moment, she’d give him everything - entirely undone by the pleasure he’s offered her.

“So greedy for me,” he repeats with a moan, still trying to play the rake though so close to the edge himself. “My good girl, my sweet Halia, my -”

He spills inside her with a grunt before he can finish his last thought, and the abrupt warmth of him filling her is enough to send her shuddering into one final, blissful climax - milking the last few seconds of his spend deeper within her.

She pants for a moment and he nearly collapses on her, shifting to one side before reaching for the rag. He doesn’t look as he wipes at what remains of their joining on his skin, and ruby eyes meet hers in a contended gaze she’s only seen a handful of times. If her heart weren’t already racing, it would be the moment he looked at her that way.

Dawn is on the horizon by the time Halia makes her way from the soaked bedroll and the perfect lover within, and she desperately works to calm her still thundering heart. Her knees wobble and she’s going to be sore all day, but by the Gods does she feel alive.

She’s going to fall for him if she’s not careful - throw herself headlong into something she knows he won’t want. Even still, she can’t bring herself to regret what they’d done. She’s going to fall into the trap that is Astarion and it’s going to tear her apart and then he’s going to have her begging for more, just because he can.

And then footsteps sound behind her and he’s there, kissing her cheek softly.

“Come on, we should clean up before anyone wakes up,” Astarion says quietly, and she spots his blanket under his arm.

“That was…nice,” Halia says simply, smiling at him. “Fun.”

“It’s hard not to have fun with you,” he says in return, and there’s no performance in his words. Just honesty.

It’s the first time Halia ends her watch feeling so content.

In fact, it might be one of the best mornings she can remember.

#astarion fic #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfic #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x dark urge #astarion smut #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #hagfics

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bellaxgiornata · 4 months

Text

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Seven]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: I have finally gotten this update up for y'all! It's been written and sitting waiting for over a month, but now that I'm not trying to write holiday fics (though I might still write that Owen Sleater one), it's back to business as usual! Feedback is always appreciated!

Fidgeting with the beer bottle between his fingers, Matt wasn't paying much attention to the room around him. Which said a lot about his current focus considering how loud Josie’s bar was this evening with the crowd that had filled the space tonight. He also wasn't paying any attention to the conversation Foggy and Karen had struck up a while ago at their table about a client they'd met with earlier today. Because despite the fact that Matt was currently sitting with the pair of them drinking back his beer, his attention was entirely elsewhere this evening. On you a couple of blocks away in your apartment.

Admittedly there wasn’t very much that he could pick up on at this distance where he sat at Josie’s, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from trying to hear what he could–even if he knew he shouldn't be invading your privacy like this. It was already bad enough he always stopped by at the beginning and end of his patrols, always wanting to make sure things were alright. Though deep down he knew he kept doing it because he was desperate to feel connected to the pair of you somehow. He just couldn't seem to stay away despite that being what you seemed to want him to do.

His eyes narrowed in concentration behind the lenses of his glasses. It sounded like you were cleaning up whatever dinner you'd made in your kitchen, which made sense considering the hour. You usually ate around this time after work. As he listened to the faint sounds of dishes clinking together, he wondered what you’d made to eat tonight. You'd been craving pesto pasta like crazy but constantly kept forgetting to add the items to your grocery list. Something Matt only knew because of his new habit of lingering on your rooftop as Daredevil, not because you'd actually spoken to him recently and told him yourself. For which he kept chastising himself about doing, except he couldn't seem to stop eavesdropping.

Like right now.

Despite you making it clear you wanted nothing to do with him for the time being, he had tried calling you repeatedly in the hopes of finding a vastly healthier and less invasive way to stay connected with you, but you'd only answered once and it was to ask him to stop calling. You told him when you were ready to talk that you'd reach out to him. Which meant he hadn't tried to show up at your apartment as Matt Murdock, trying to respect your wishes. But that ultimately put him in a difficult position, because not communicating with you meant he couldn't prove himself to you–couldn’t prove how sorry he was for what he’d done. He'd been back and forth on that for the past two days, constantly feeling like the clock was ticking on him finding some way back into your life to show you that you and that baby were what he wanted.

An abrupt, loud snapping noise sounded directly in front of Matt’s face and he jumped in his chair, blinking rapidly a few times behind his glasses. The noise instantly had broken his concentration from his thoughts and your apartment, something that had taken him quite a few minutes to lock in on in the first place considering the distance.

“Matt, buddy, you in there?” Foggy asked.

Matt cleared his throat, forcing a smile onto his face at the sound of his friend's voice. Gradually and begrudgingly his attention and senses returned to the bar around himself.

“Yeah, sorry,” he replied. “Was just zoning out, I guess.”

“Thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Foggy solemnly asked.

“Kind of hard not to,” he muttered.

He felt Karen’s hand land gently on his shoulder before giving it a comforting squeeze. He glanced in her direction, sending the tense smile her way. Despite how much he'd screwed things up with you, and how much Foggy and Karen cared about you, they'd still been incredibly supportive of him. They'd even been understanding of his initial angry outburst at the office for which Matt had guiltily apologized for numerous times by now.

"She's doing alright," Karen assured him. "Though I'm guessing you already know that."

Matt ducked his head, awkwardly running a hand across his mouth as he felt the guilt burn within him. There was no point in denying it. You had to have already figured it out yourself when he'd left that stuffed narwhal at your apartment after you'd gone back to sleep the other night. It wasn't as if he'd expected that to make you feel any differently about him, but he hoped you knew that he was still here. Still around. Still thinking about the both of you. Still wanting the both of you.

"Yeah, I stop there at night," Matt admitted awkwardly. "Not for long," he lied, "just enough to know things are alright. That she doesn't need anything. And to uh…hear the heartbeat."

Truthfully it had become his new favorite sound, even more than the beat of your own familiar heart. It was muffled but strong, faster than the usual heartbeats he heard all day long.

"Have you tried just showing up?" Foggy asked curiously. "You know, the way people usually do, not the way you usually do? Just to see what would happen?"

Matt shrugged, shifting in his chair. "I've thought about it," he answered. "I'm just always torn between respecting her boundaries and wanting to show her that I'm still here for her. That I want to be. But I'm always afraid if–” he paused, wincing as the thought crossed his mind. “I'm afraid if I do, it'll only upset her more. Push her away from me even further.”

Karen hummed in thought beside Matt. The sound caught his attention, his head tilting a bit to the side towards her. The noise almost sounded like one of disagreement.

“What?” Matt asked.

“I think,” Karen began carefully, “that she's actually a bit conflicted.”

Matt's attention focused entirely on Karen now as he straightened in his chair. His brows rose up curiously onto his forehead, eager for her to elaborate.

“Conflicted?” he asked curiously. “Conflicted how? About what? Me?”

“Yes,” Karen answered with a faint nod. “I mean she obviously still loves you, Matt. That doesn't just disappear overnight. Ideally I think she'd want you to be raising the baby with her from the way she talks. Going through all of this with her. But she's still hurt. And she's scared. And she, well, obviously still doesn't believe her and the baby would be a priority to you.”

Matt twisted in his seat, fully facing Karen. “So what're you saying?” he pressed.

He heard the way the air shifted as Karen shrugged beside him. Her lip suddenly caught between her teeth where she lightly chewed it for a moment. The pause was killing Matt, his hand tightening around the neck of his beer bottle.

“I'm saying I think you should find an excuse and show up at her place,” Karen eventually replied. She held up a finger as she quickly amended, “As Matt, not you-know-who. Don't push her boundaries, just show up long enough to show her you're still here, like you’ve been wanting to do. That you're not giving up. I think she needs that more than she's letting on to you. Maybe…find some sort of way to show her you're trying to be a supportive future father and partner.”

“Okay,” Matt mused, running a frustrated hand through his hair and mussing it as his thoughts began to race. “Okay,” he repeated. “So don't show up with apology flowers. Noted.”

“No, but maybe bring her something else that might help her,” Karen suggested lightly. “Something that might be useful during her pregnancy. To show her you're serious about things with her and the baby.”

“Oh!” Foggy exclaimed, excitedly slapping a hand to the table. “Like an excuse to just show up and see her because you're dropping something off!”

Matt sighed deeply, swiveling back around in his seat. He leant his elbows onto the uneven wooden table as he began to rub his palms together in thought. What could he possibly bring you that might be useful for your pregnancy? Something you might actually be grateful for and need? That wouldn't make you curse him from daring to darken your apartment door?

This was something he'd have to give some thought to tonight.

Willing your mind to quiet, you lay on your side beneath the sheets of your bed which you'd tugged up to your chin. It was a little after one in the afternoon and you'd been hoping to take a brief nap after lunch, something you couldn't do during the weekdays because of work. Your body usually wanted to give up once this time of day hit, probably partly because of pregnancy fatigue but also because you hadn't been sleeping well lately.

It was damn near impossible to get comfortable when you laid down even though your stomach wasn't quite that large yet. But the hormones in your body responsible for relaxing your muscles and ligaments during pregnancy were also responsible for the fact that sleeping on your side killed your hips and knees far more than side sleeping ever had in the past. You didn't just wake up to pee or possibly vomit now, sometimes you just ached horribly and couldn't find a comfortable position to sleep in. Which often led to your mind racing and keeping you awake for part of the night.

Truth be told though, everything on your body hurt lately. You often had headaches–another perk of early pregnancy–along with constant back and hip pain. Your breasts were still quite sensitive and tender, too. The one bright spot through it all this week had been an appointment you had coming up with your obstetrician. The one where you could get your blood drawn and in another week or so, you'd know whether your little devil would be a boy or a girl. It had been on your mind all week, your excitement barely contained and adding to your inability to sleep.

Trying to push the thought of the baby's sex from your mind, you squeezed your eyes a bit tighter shut. The light from the sunny afternoon was still slipping in past your blinds, making your room almost too bright. The sounds of the city traffic bustling below your apartment weren't helping right now, either.

But it was an unexpected knock at your apartment door that had your eyes inevitably flying back open.

Raising your head from the pillow hesitantly, you blinked hard a few times. You hadn't been expecting anyone to stop by today. Brows knitted together, you pushed the sheets off of yourself and ran a hand over your eyes. Moving slowly along the bed, you gradually pushed yourself upright and set your feet on the floor, noticeably moving slower than if you hadn't been almost eleven weeks pregnant.

Rising to your feet, you sluggishly made your way out of your bedroom and down the hall. Stopping in front of your door, you undid the locks before turning the handle and pulling it open. The sight of Matt standing before you in one of his fitted tee-shirts with an awkward smile on his face took you by surprise. Your eyes widened as you felt your own pulse increase at the unexpected appearance of him. Gaze dropping down, you saw he was carrying an almost comically large shopping bag in his left hand.

“Matt, what are you doing here?” you asked, one hand gripping the door tighter. “I thought I–I asked you to give me space for now?”

“Yes, you did,” he replied awkwardly, that smile on his face growing more nervous. “But I…I really don't want to stay away because I was still hoping you could give me a chance. To prove how sorry I am.”

Shoulders dropping at his words, you lightly blew out a breath. “Matt–”

“Hear me out, please,” he begged, cutting you off.

An earnest look crossed his face as his dark brows drew together above his glasses. Lips pressing together, you released the door from your grip and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Fine, talk,” you demanded.

“Look, I–I know you want me to stay away,” he began in a rush, as if he was afraid that you wouldn't give him enough time to explain himself before you slammed the door in his face. “And I want to respect that, I do. But I can't walk away from the both of you. I can't . I won't abandon my child and I won't abandon you. I want to prove how sorry I am to you, sweetheart. I want to prove that you can depend on me, that I want this. Because I do.”

“Matt, I already told you that I'd let you have a relationship with your child,” you reminded him. “I'm not telling you to abandon them.”

He shook his head quickly, his hand readjusting on the plastic bag he was holding. It crinkled loudly in his grip and briefly caught your eye again, making you wonder what the hell was in the bag. But when he spoke again, your attention returned to his face.

“You might not see it that way,” Matt countered, still shaking his head, “but to me it's no different. And I won't walk away from you or my own child.” His face grew more solemn as he added softly, “You know me, sweetheart. You know how I grew up, how it affected me. All I'm asking is that you just…just give me a chance to make amends. I made a massive mistake and I hurt you. I was an asshole and I want to fix things. So just…can you at least consider giving me that chance? Please?”

Inhaling a deep breath, your eyes scanned over his anxious, pleading face. Your heart had dropped in your chest the second he'd mentioned his past. Because of course you knew how Matt had felt abandoned by what his father had done, willingly going and getting himself killed when he won that fight instead of losing it which ultimately left Matt alone in the world. You also knew how he'd formed a bond with Stick, his mentor who'd abandoned him the moment Matt displayed his care for the man. You also knew about his toxic relationship–the only other he'd ever had–where his ex had abandoned him because he wouldn't kill his father's murderer. And then of course, you knew how much pain he'd felt when he learned that his mother had been a nun at the orphanage he grew up in, making him feel unwanted because he'd only accidentally overheard the truth as a grown man years later.

Matt Murdock struggled with feeling unloved and unwanted because of his abandonment issues from almost every important figure in his life. And now he was afraid he'd be condemning this child to a similar trauma. The thought of that caused your heart to twist tight in your chest.

“I'll think about it,” you answered quietly.

“Thank you,” Matt replied in relief, his expression visibly relaxing.

Your eyes dropped back down to the large bag in his hand, your head tilting to the side as you curiously studied it. Matt let out a nervous huff of a laugh as he shifted on his feet. He extended the bag out towards you and your brows jumped up onto your forehead.

“I uh, I brought you something,” Matt said, his tone returning awkward.

For a moment you just stared at the bag in his outstretched hand, unsure what to make of him bringing you anything right now. Slowly and hesitantly you reached out, grasping onto the handles of the bag. Though you let out a surprised gasp when Matt let go and the weight of its contents startled you, almost causing you to drop it entirely. Your other hand darted out, grabbing onto the bag and catching it before it could slip from your grasp. Drawing it towards yourself, you peered inside.

“It's a pregnancy pillow and a weighted blanket,” Matt explained, running his now free hand across the back of his neck. “I know you have had trouble sleeping lately and I thought they'd help. The weighted blanket should help relax you and the–the pregnancy pillow should help with body pain and the weight of your belly when you're farther along. I actually spent a while researching them. Who knew there were so many shapes?” He chuckled nervously, his hand still rubbing the back of his neck. “Figured this one would work the best for how you sleep–or, how I remember you always sleeping, at least.”

Your jaw dropped as you stared back at Matt, the heavy bag still held in your hands. While the gift was thoughtful and sweet, there was only one explanation as to why he'd brought these particular items which were meant to help you sleep, especially when you'd had a hard time doing exactly that lately.

“Have you been spying on me again, Matt?” you questioned in disbelief.

He hung his head immediately, his shoulders dropping at the accusation. You already knew the answer before he even said a word and your mouth fell open wider.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't,” he apologized shamefully. “I know I shouldn't. But I mainly just check in first thing when I go out at night and–and then once more before I go home. To make sure you're safe and alright because I worry. And I–” he broke off, nervously chewing his bottom lip. “I like to listen to the baby's heartbeat,” he confessed quietly.

Something about the way he'd admitted that last bit had disarmed you. That wasn't what you expected him to say and you momentarily felt your heart soften to him. But your upset about him eavesdropping on you soon washed back over you again, your hands curling tight around the bag.

“I don't like that, Matt,” you warned him. “That makes me uncomfortable knowing my ex is listening in to whatever I'm doing in here and I don't know about it.”

Matt nodded solemnly in response. “I understand, I do. I'll try my best to refrain, but if something brings me nearby at night I…admittedly have a hard time not picking up on things.” He shrugged faintly, his covered gaze still downcast. “I'm just tuned into you and it's sort of a habit by now after how much time we've spent together.”

An awkward silence settled over the both of you at his explanation, the pair of you standing there wordlessly. You weren't about to invite Matt inside–especially not after just learning that –but you could also tell he clearly didn't want to go, either. Though after a moment he shifted his weight between his feet before he glanced up in your direction once again. His lips were twisted downwards at the corners, guilt and sadness barely hidden on his face. You fought to ignore the urge to draw him into a hug at the sight.

“I'll let you go, I can tell my visit isn't exactly what you want, but can you think about what I asked?” he questioned. “About giving me a chance to prove myself?”

Blowing out a breath, you slowly nodded. “I'll think about it,” you told him softly, “but I'm not making any promises, Matt.”

He shot you a tense smile, nodding his head once as he took a step back into the apartment building hallway. Something tugged at your heart knowing he was leaving, but you quickly tried to ignore that feeling, too.

“Hope those help,” he murmured, briefly gesturing to the bag.

Without another word, Matt turned and made his way down the hallway and back towards the elevator at the far end, his cane tapping lightly along the floor. You watched his retreating form for a moment before you forced your eyes away. You didn't know quite what to make of his surprise visit.

Closing the door of your apartment, you locked it again before dragging the heavy bag back to your bedroom. You were still tired and had every intention of attempting that nap despite the unexpected interruption, and admittedly you were curious about the items Matt had brought you. Would they actually help you fall asleep?

It was a few minutes before you'd managed to unpackage the incredibly soft, gray weighted blanket and spread it over your bed. You'd put the pregnancy pillow up on the bed underneath the blanket afterwards before you'd climbed up onto the mattress and slipped beneath the blanket. Immediately you wrapped your legs around the pillow and snuggled up to it, feeling the pain in your hips instantly lessen in this position. You sighed in relief, letting your eyelids gently drop as you felt the weight of the blanket relaxing you, just as Matt had claimed it would.

With a soft, contented hum, you nuzzled into your pillow and felt that wave of exhaustion begin to overtake you. But as you lay there waiting for sleep, you couldn't help but imagine it was the weight of Matt's arms wrapped around you, comfortably sinking you further into the mattress. And if you kept your eyes closed and tried hard enough, you could imagine it was Matt's thick thigh that your legs were wrapped around, wedged between yours just like you'd slept many nights in the past with him.

Which was how you finally found yourself drifting comfortably to sleep–imagining you were safe in Matt’s arms, the place you so desperately missed being.

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this-is-music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @babygorewhore @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71 @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon @karolamurdock @theoraekenslover @mr-underhills-things

[Some tags aren't working, I never fully know why. If I've misspelled yours, please feel free to let me know! Otherwise it's just tumblr being a pain and not tagging for unknown reasons because this always happens. I'm sorry!]

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #daredevil

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ginis-wonderland · 3 months

Text

pairing: simon riley x reader

genre: smut, breeding in the end, spitting, crying, just rough

your eyes were filled with tears and if he focused hard enough, he could see them contort into hearts. the noises coming from your pretty, pink lips kept him plenty distracted but the gripping sensation around his cock made him grunt and blush furiously.

"si!" you hiccuped and he pressed his hands at the back of your thighs to keep them close to your chest before leaning his weight on them.

"what is it, lovie?" he gasps in-between thrusts and you squeal when one of his hands moves down to rub fast circles around your hardened clit.

"si! not there!" you whined without a care of how loud it was.

he has been fucking you for hours now since he woke you up with his thick cock buried deep into your cunt.

"'ts mine," he growls. "i can do whatever i want to it."

tears start to stream down your reddened cheeks and you clench tightly around him once you feel him nudging that one spot that made you see stars.

"god!" you shriek as simon begins to thrust even faster and begins to abuse your cervix. "not there! si-!"

your gasps and protests fell deaf to his ears but simon riley wants to make you fall apart. he wants to feel the sense of satisfaction to know that it's because of him that you're cumming and it's because of him you're splayed out on the bed with your pretty pussy out in display for him.

"this cunny is mine, innit, lovie? perfectly tight and warm and so wet all because of me?" his brows were scrunched and sweat dripped down his muscular chest then he bent over to get close to your face, nose brushing against his.

"answer me, dolly," he urges and snaps his hips harshly making you cry out. "this" thrust. "pussy" thrust. "is" thrust. "mine" thrust. "right?" thrust.

"yes, simon!" you shrill out because that last thrust reached so deep you didn't know you could ever feel this full.

satisfied, he leans back but only slightly as his dog tags are swinging above your face and your eyes follow the movements. somehow, the harsh swinging of the metal heightened the pleasure his cock was giving you since it went along with his movements.

"open your mouth," he rasps and you quickly obey.

simon's lips quirked up to a smirk before he spat onto that pretty tongue.

"don't swallow," he rushes. "not until i tell you."

you nod fast and your eyes close, almost rolling back, at his fast pace. simon has made you cum so many times already yet not once has he finished. he liked to edge himself because it made cumming feel even better. knowing he was close made the feeling of an orgasm rush up your body and into the depths of your belly. you weren't allowed to swallow his spit so you kept your mouth closed but simon could see the way your eyes flew open and the panicked look you gave him indicated how close you were.

"wanna cum together, pretty?" he offers and god, it made you nearly finish then and there. finishing together was so rare that when it happens, it was best to be savored in moderation.

"swallow," he utters and you hurry to swallow his saliva before opening your mouth to prove it. simon always loved it when you did that and he chuckled. "oh, yes, my darling. where would you like me to cum, hm?"

"i-inside," you gasp. "do it inside."

what little self-restraint simon riley possessed flew out the window and he leaned back on his feet, grabbing your thighs to hike you up on them to have you closer to his cock. it pushed him in deeper.

"si!" you plead. "si! wanna cum! please, lemme cum!" your words slurred on your tongue before you sobbed and then he knew, he broke you.

"gonna cum 'round this cock, pretty? wanna cum while i fill you up and make you full of me and our babies? would you like me to breed you like my little cumslut?"

your jaw dropped and the loudest and most pornographic moan escaped your lips from his filthy words. simon knew that you liked it when he mentioned breeding you full and my gods, did he feel it with the way you gripped him.

"i'm gonna cum," he says and grabs your chin to turn you up to him. "look at me."

your eyes struggled to open and see through the tears but you focus on his face. simon riley's face contorting into pleasure is something you're honored to witness and he finally cums, brows scrunching and head leaning back at the intensity of it.

"fucking hell, lovely. keep it in. yes, shh, 'm not letting a drop waste."

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #dad!simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost cod #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut

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lxnarphase · 3 months

Note

Hii :3 How are u?

Could we have a Hakari x black!bimbo!fem!reader ? I have such a soft spot for bimbos istg 💞💞

so pink, so cutie ๋࣭ ⭑

☾₊‧⁺...cw : hakari kinji x blk!bimbo!fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, dirty talk, rough sex, wet and messy, riding, cowgirl position, squirting, a single spank (I think), praise kink, kinji loves playing with your hair, kinji being a bully

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : mm i am not very sure yet how to write bimbo reader so I did my best, but more practice will probably help me get it right ❤︎

��₊‧⁺...synopsis : you want to prove to hakari you can ride him without help, and he can't help but appreciate how cute you look doing it

hakari couldn't help himself, his hands were always in your hair, playing with your soft curls. he wondered the next time you get braids or faux locs in, hoping you'd get them in another cute color.

feeling you dig your nails into his shoulders makes him think. maybe you'd get them to match your pretty nails with his initial on your ring finger's nail. yeah, thinking of you with purple to match his hair with gold accessories would look perfect on you.

"k-kinjiiiii, stop daydreaming when i'm fucking you, dummy!"

magenta eyes snap back to you, his hand giving a little tug to your hair. "don't be a brat, cupcake, my girl just looks so incredible t'day," he fake pouts, his free hand caressing your hip as his fingers brush against the bunched-up fabric of your negligee.

you really do look so stunning on top of him like this, a little shy smile on those glossy lips as you bounce in his lap, sweet moans falling from your lips. the noises you're making are too quiet for his liking, though. he wants to flip you over so bad and fuck into your soaked hole and make you scream his name.

but hakari couldn't.

wouldn't.

not when just a little bit ago you were pleading with him to let you take control and ride him, giving him those 'innocent' doe eyes and that cute little pout on that mouth that was practically begging for him to push his cock into.

so here he is, letting his princess of a girlfriend use him for her pleasure...even though he could see you struggling each time you slid down to the base, a pitiful moan leaving you each time.

it was so cute how you were trying so hard, not wanting to give in and ask him for help, knowing you were so close to cumming, slow movements shifting to desperate grinding and bouncing on his cock.

the sight of you desperately fucking yourself on him has hakari groaning, hips unconsciously bucking up into you. "god, baby, look at you...fuck, you're taking me so well, you can do it," he coos in a low voice, savoring this new side of you.

the slick feeling of your gummy walls massaging him, practically strangling his cock was making him light-headed.

"such a pretty thing, my good girl, keep takin' that dick, baby, making your kinji so fuckin' proud."

your legs are shaking as you continue to ride him, hands resting on his chest as your eyes flutter shut, sweet whimpers as messy, wet noises start to fill the room.

his praise, it was always his praise that got you. it made you nearly go dumb on his dick, wanting him to keep saying how good you were doing, how pretty you looked, how good it felt for you to ride him.

getting lost in your head, you miss the way hakari let out a deep groan, eyes focusing on where you both were connected. you always were such a mess, but seeing how fucking wet you’re getting him right now...

each time you lift yourself up, sticky, wet strands of your slick connect to hakari's lap from your inner thighs and the sight is sinful, making his head fall back from the pang of need that shot down his spine, cock twitching in your warm cunt.

you had no idea what you did to him, did you?

those familiar little tears start to stream down your face as you grow closer and closer to your peak, cunt trying to milk him as you triy so hard to fuck yourself to orgasm...but you just couldn't, you couldn't get the angle right, couldn't grind the way kinji did.

and he can tell what you need, seeing you struggle to figure it out as you had this almost dumb look of confusion on your face as your moans turn to frustrated huffs, your bouncing turning to desperate humping.

as cute as it is to see you like this, he's had enough and knows he needs to take control. your inexperience with riding is edging you and him.

and hakari kinji does not get edged.

"aww, are y'crying? cupcake, you're so fucking spoiled, you know that, right?" he teases, a grin on his face when he sees the way you try to not giggle from his words, eyes immediately rolling back when he plants his feet onto the mattress and starts fucking up into you, that smug grin still on his face.

"k-kinjiiiii!" you practically squeal, falling forward onto his chest as he ruined your insides. "k-kin, kin, no fair, wanted-oh-w-wanted to do it," you whined, barely able to formulate a sentence with how he pounded up into you.

the bratty little words that left you send a surge of desire through hakari, and he can't help but laugh.

he was fucking you good, your gummy walls stretching to take each one of his thrusts as your pussy coats him in a constant stream of wetness, and you had the nerve to whine right now?

god, he's spoiled you rotten, hasn't he?

"mmh, but babyyyyy, you just needed your man to fuck you, right? you did so goddamn good, dolly, rode me 'til you made a lil' mess of me," he hisses, taking his bottom lip between his teeth when he feels how you clench on him so perfectly. "s'okay, I saw you struggling a bit, let me take care of you, lemme fuck this tight cunt, pretty girl."

you're so needy for hakari. it's almost cruel how the tip of his cock rams up against that spongy spot inside you that makes you cry his name, feeling his fingers dig into the fat of your ass as he keeps you from moving away from the sensitivity too much.

your eyes roll back into your head, drool dripping down your bottom lip and chin as hakari's hips slam up into yours, a dark chuckle leaving him between groans at your disheveled state. he loved that he could get his pretty baby stupid on his cock like this. it was so cute.

"you're takin' it soooo good, cupcake, you've learned to take my dick like, shit, like this, y'know that? fuck, so perfect, my perfect girl." hakari savors each and every sob you gave him, eyes never leaving your fucked out state.

your eyes drip with tears as you couldn't do anything but take it, body in heaven as you lost the will to be bratty with him. after all, you loved when hakari would take control and make you feel good when he saw you struggle.

he was a fucking sucker for making his pretty girl feel good.

"kinji, 'm gonna cum," you softly moan, so soft and quiet that told him this was going to break you. god, you were so fucking cute/ he could feel your pretty cunt squeezing him so tightly, each slide of his cock causing obscene squelching to fill the room.

hearing you say you were close, hakari quickerns his pace, his breathing heavy as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass, helping you meet his pace.

"s'okay," he panted, urging you as his magenta eyes locked to yours. you could see that he wanted you, and the pure, desperate need in his eyes made you moan his name.

he loved you so much, it was obvious, but every time you looked into his eyes when he buried his cock into you like this, each time that sweet drag of his cock made your cunt get wetter, you could tell one thing.

hakari was doing this for your pleasure and his top priority was making you feel good.

"you're so close, i can feel it, I can fucking feel it, baby. let go for me, lemme feel that pussy cum for me," he rasped, eyes fluttering shut as he cursed under his breath.

"k-kinji, kin, kinjiii, i'm cumming!"

"good fucking girl, fuckin' give it to me, doll, don't stop cumming, keep going."

it's so pretty to hear it come from your lips, but so much better when he feels it. your twitching and shivering, pussy fluttering around his fat cock that just keeps fucking thrusting into you, and you can't help but burst.

hakari's eyes darkened with possessive lust when he felt the start of it, his lower half suddenly wetter than before. you just squirted. hell, you still fucking are as he keeps moving, and suddenly hakari doesn't think this'll be the last round of tonight.

his pretty little angel just unlocked something inside of him that he knows he's never gonna get enough of, groaning at the sensation of you stretching his chest once the stimulation gets too much, his hips slowing down to give you a little break.

sweet little babbles of his name and incomplete sentences light you as you rested your head on his chest, pussy giving little squeezes as you tried to get your thoughts back.

"poor thing, i made you squirt? aww, c'mere babyyy, it's okay, it's hot as fuck, I promise. mm...can i cum, princess? you gonna let me cum?" he softly asks you, looking into your eyes as one of his hands comes up from your hip to your curls again, playing with it to get you to come back to him.

"oh, baby, i really fucked you stupid, didn't i..." hakari shifts, as if he's about to pull out of you, but he's stopped when you grind back down onto him, a choked moan escaping him.

"noooo, don't pull out, kin, you can't," you whine, finally able to lift yourself off his chest a little. you look a mess. mascara is running down your cheeks, your eyeliner is smudged a little, and it looks like all of your lip gloss came off...too bad, he loved how it made your plump lips look so kissable.

when you look like this, he has to fuck you again...yeah, he's gonna do his job right and stuff that pretty pussy with his cum, make sure his princess is nice and full.

"shit...get on your back, cupcake, you look so pretty. I'm gonna fuck you just a lil' more, okay? i wanna fill you up, dolly...let's see if we can make you squirt again too, hm?"

#hakari kinji x reader #hakari kinji smut #hakari x you #hakari kinji x you #hakari x reader #hakari smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #🥃 ── kinji.#𖤐 ── lxnarworks.

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

Note

WOW I can't believe you opened them! I adore you! Please Tumblr lacks Krueger fanfic, can you write something NSFW enemies to lovers, where he and the reader joined Chimera at the same time and are at "war" with each other mainly because reader is an ass, she likes to annoys Krueger by constantly reminds him that she is younger (like four/five years, no more) than him and more skilled as a soldier and sniper making Krueger get on his nerves? Sorry for my wtriting, english is not my language and i'm not good at it, i hope i was clear enough and i also hope i formulated the right question without violating your requests. Thank you and good job at the flower shop!

—Ain't Giving Up My Pride

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

You have to wonder if you expected to be ass-up and face-down getting fucked in the back of a storage room today, and you have to admit, the answer is most likely a resounding negative.

But war is always interesting.

Krueger and yourself had a little…thing…going on. Call it what you will—a rivalry, a large annoyance, whichever word better fits the state of twin crashing atoms constantly waiting to prove something to the other. To you, any real satisfaction can only be drawn by the way his shrouded head would look your way with obvious scorn—imagining a sneer to his lips as you walked past and smirked, loudly talking about your success at the firing range.

About beating the top mark yet again. Krueger.

“Interesting, hm?” He grunts to you now, belt jingling as you hide your burning face into your arm; pelvic bones getting repeatedly pushed into the crate. “Little winner, yes? Willing to bet she only feels good when she gets filled up by my cock.”

You open your mouth to speak, but his hands on your hips drive them backward and forward, skin smacking rapidly as your speech is reduced to garbled whines and loud moans. It was pathetic how fast he was already working you to that point—pussy spasming and legs kept open by Krueger’s hands.

“Hm?” The man leans in close, his fully-geared chest stapling itself to your spine. “What was that?”

“F-fuck,” you blink quickly.

He chuckles, covered face hidden from you. “That is what I—”

“Fuck better than you shoot,” you gasp, hips instinctually meeting his thrusts as your toes curl, pants at your feet, and a stain of fluids dripping down to them. The man falters, pace stuttering as you shove yourself back into him with a shiver down your vertebrae.

His throat releases a low growl moments later, hand going to the back of your neck as you smirk. But any chuckle is lost as you’re pulled by the collar of your shirt backward, getting kept to Krueger’s front as the prodding ruthlessness of his member drives itself home again and again.

You gasp loudly, eyes snapping back and mouth releasing tight moans before a hand covers your lips, a low snarl in your scalp.

“You always have such a mouth, Vögelchen,” he grunts, feeling the effect of your tight cunt himself as he draws closer to his finish—what you did to him was criminal; no one should make him act like this, like a heathen in the back rooms seeking a carnal release into your womb. “How do I fix this, then?”

You pant from behind his hand, letting him play with you like a doll because, damn if this wasn’t the best sex you’d ever had.

“Ah,” he replies to himself, that smooth voice right in your ear as he moves a hand down to play with your clit. You tense up, noises of pleasure heard from behind the tight press of his grip. “Yes, that’s it.” Your release snaps through you like a storm—not even a proper build-up before it shatters what little of your mind is left at this point. Not once did Krueger’s hips slow or stop, pushing you through it until you were whining like a dog, another round started just like that even as the man rides his own high, spilling into you.

The wet splatter of cum leaks to the floor as you’re back facing the crate, eyes rolling back into your head and body shaking with unchecked pleasure. A shuddering growl is right in your ear, a heavy body rocking against your spine.

“I have to fuck it out of you.”

#rough smut #cod krueger #sebastian krueger #krueger x reader #krueger x you #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #cod mw22 #mw2 #mw2 2022 #cod smut #call of duty smut #x reader smut #smut

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paegei · 5 months

Text

RISKY

pairing - hoshi x afab!reader

summary - being vernon's hairstylist has its few obstacles... like your boyfriends sex drive.

a/n - lord... second attempt at writing smut ＞︿＜ also a v short fic...

NSFW CONTENT ! MDNI !

SMUT warnings under the cut !

SMUT warnings: semi-public sex (dressing room...), attempted quiet sex, unprotected sex (guys pls be safe), breeding kink, creampie, marking, pet names (babe, soonie, pretty thing, baby, love), soonyoung calls you a slut and whore ╯︿╰, getting caught having sex...

today had been… hectic to say the least.

jun and vernon had ended up arriving late due to traffic, dokyeom, being dokyeom, ripped his pants directly at his ass, due to being unable to sit still. and the biggest problem in your eyes, a horny hoshi.

soonyoung and you had been sneaking around behind the company’s back for the better half of a year now. despite his inability to keep his mouth closed, your relationship had yet to be exposed, even to the other members.

during late night pillow talk, soonyoung would complain about the members asking him to ask you out, ironic considering your already laying in his bed, his cum leaking out of you. all this says to you is that you need to make your obvious attraction, less obvious. that, however, is proving to be very difficult with the situation you’re in.

seventeen's waiting room had been reduced to chaos. stylists running around, desperately trying to find dk another outfit, jun and vernon only having just arrived, their makeup artists rushing through their regular procedure. and now, vernon’s hair stylist & hoshi were nowhere to be found.

soonyoung’s hand was covering your mouth, a, fairly lame, attempt to quiet down the noises that were escaping your kiss swollen lips. it’s not your fault you can’t shut up, not when soonyoung is fucking into you like it’s the last time he’ll ever have you cunt wrapped around him.

you're not sure how long he's been plunging into your heat, obviously long enough to have your mind slipping from between your fingers, but with his dancer hips and stamina ? he can do that within seconds.

“f-fuck babe. so fucking tight. just for me yeah ?” his words were punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust, a puff of air following each syllable he said. his pace was animalistic at best, torturous at worst.

“yes fuck ! just for you ! only for you soonie ! fuck please !” your voice was muffled by his hand, damp with the drool escaping your mouth. your pleas were met with a rumbling growl, his hips snapping somehow harder. his hand was a futile attempt to keep your location unknown, as the slapping of skin on skin in the dressing room was deafening, as well as the wet squelches each time him cock breached your walls.

his head had fallen into the crevice of your neck, his lips continuing the path they had taken earlier. his biting on spots that were sore from his previous actions made you scream into his palm. you could feel his smirk on your neck. the feeling caused you to wrap your legs around his back, heels pressing in to try a get him deeper, get you fuller.

the hand that had been resting on your waist moves up, abusing your chest. “my little slut hmm ? just can’t get enough of my dick huh ? my- fuck- good little whore.” his words were breathy, and the sound made you clench around him, just making him release more of those sounds. it was a vicious cycle but one you never wanted to end.

“soon- soon- please, fuck i- fuck please !”

“my cock fucking you so good ? fucked you dumb, pretty thing ?”

“soonie please- right there !”

“fuck so perfect for me baby. so fucking warm.”

the squelching had gotten louder, his grunts were becoming more consistent. your hips were tilting down to meet his thrusts, so close to reaching your peak. he could tell from the fluttering of your walls, suffocating his cock.

“you close baby ?” his head lifts up from your neck, to look into your fucked out eyes. not being able to form words from the intense pleasure, you simply nodded your head. you’re eyes were boring into his, begging for release.

“y-yeah me too love. squeezing me so tight i can’t help it.”

his hips no longer held a rhythm, just sloppy pumps into your depths, chasing his climax. his low grunts had become breathier, whiner. he removed his hand to smash his lips onto yours, your tongues dancing as your whines mixed together. his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit.

“please- please let me cum. soonie-“

“shhh babe i got you. let go for me. cream on my cock love”

after his permission reached your ears, your mouth dropped open, soonyoung licking into it. your thighs were shaking around his hips, as your back arches, eyes rolling back.

he continues his powerful thrusts to help you ride out your orgasm, as well as chase his own.

“gonna cum, baby. fuck, squeezing me so tight. shit- where do you want me love ?”

his voice was desperate, his hips bucking wildly into yours, on the brink of his orgasm.

“inside ! soonie please !” there were tears in your eyes from the overstimulation, desperate to feel his cum inside you.

“gonna fill you up so good baby, pump you full of my cum- shit !”

his words were cut off, his lips crashing back into yours to muffle his whimpers. soonyoung had never had an orgasm this powerful. his cum was filling you up, painting your insides as his thighs trembled. the two of you were gripping each other so tight- tight enough for bruises to form on your hips, scratches down his back.

after he calms down, the two of you still. he was still buried deep within you, as you both panted into each others mouths.

“fuck… sorry. didn’t realise i’d cum that much” he shoots you his signature grin, one of humour & innocence, as if his cock wasn’t going soft inside your walls.

“‘ts okay, soonie.” you kiss him, softly this time. he begins to pull out, & you both hiss at the sensation. glancing down at his cum leaking out of you, his stuffs his fingers back in.

“gonna keep it all in for me ?”

“i don't know babe... you came a lot” you grinned up at him, both feeling giddy for getting away with this. or so you thought. as you leaned forward to share another kiss, a voice interrupts you.

“you guys done in there ?” it was seungcheols voice, his words drowned in disapproval.

“oh shit- yeah man ! be out… in a sec” his voice died down as his eyes met yours, pure fear in them.

“hurry up. because you just had to get your dick wet we only have 5 minutes before we’re on. get out here now.”

you hear his footsteps fade away, and you and hoshi lean into each other to hide your giggles.

“mkay… i gotta go love. you gonna be okay ?” his gaze was worried. aftercare was a big thing in your relationship, and you could tell he felt guilty about having to rush through it.

“i’ll be fine soonie, okay ? you go kill this stage” he helps you get dressed, shooting you one last look before booking it out of the room. you smile fondly at the sight, before the extent of what just happened dawns on you. the two of you were going to be in big trouble.

not proof-read ! lmk if there's any mistakes (づ￣ 3￣)づ

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #svt #svt x reader #svt smut #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung smut

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seravphs · 1 year

Text

棠 —

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — TEEN DAD! GOJO x FEM READER

Gojo has something to tell you. Megumi is unfortunately still a member of the male species. Tsumiki just wants to watch the sunset.

wc — 1.5k

cw — interlude between tried to live in a softer way and stockholm (coming soon), 棠 means "wild plums", Megumi’s a good boy but he’s still a boy (gross), part of teen dad gojoverse, in which you and Gojo raise Megumi together, I lowkey forgot Tsumiki existed when I first started writing Teen Dad! Gojo so now I have to retcon her in

Megumi’s mouth is smeared with purple pulp.

“You better have washed that,” you warn him as you carefully cut Tsumiki’s fruit for her. Your knives drip juice onto the ground, requiring careful attention to make sure the sugar won’t rust them.

Some cursed weapons are durable, outlasting generation after generation of the sorcerers that wielded them. Yours are more delicate. Like flowers, they require great care.

Tsumiki takes the slice you hand her with gratitude and pops it into her mouth with a little shiver of happiness. Her fingertips are turning purple to match Megumi’s lips. You pour a little water from your bottle over them, and place another slice into her mouth yourself.

“A little dirt is good for him,” Gojo calls from where he’s wedged halfway inside the trunk, fighting for the folding chairs he threw in haphazardly. Now they’re stuck. You told him they would be, and he hadn’t listened.

You make an unconvinced noise in the back of your throat, pursing your lips. He can’t see you, of course.

“Germs are gonna make his immune system stronger. Eat up, Megumi!”

Megumi wrinkles his nose and unhappily swallows his bite. The next time Tsumiki hands him a slice of her (washed) plums, he takes it. Nothing ever works as well on him like Gojo and inadvertent reverse psychology.

After another minute of letting Gojo struggle to prove a point, you reach over and tug on a latch. The chair Gojo is struggling with snaps shut so you can effortlessly pull it out of the trunk. Gojo smiles sheepishly.

“What did we learn from this?”

“Wife is always right?” He says cheekily.

“Can I help?” Tsumiki pops up underneath your elbow.

“It’s okay,” Gojo ruffles her hair. “We got it.”

He pushes you gently away when you try to take a chair, carrying three singlehandedly to the spot where Megumi and Tsumiki are waiting with the picnic basket. You know he wants you to gush over him, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

You purposefully turn away to start setting out the food, only for him to saunter over as soon as Tsumiki and Megumi are sitting in their newly placed chairs.

“Did you see that?”

“You are the strongest, Satoru.” This is easy work for him.

“Okay, but it’s still cool, right?”

Sometimes you want to ignore him and sometimes you want to give in. Gojo, like Megumi is predictable. He needs the carrot and the stick.

“Yeah,” you smile. “It was cool. You know what would be cooler?”

He’s setting out the dishes before you even have to ask.

You’re not fooled even though Gojo’s acting completely normal. As lighthearted and nonchalant as he is, anyone who didn’t know better would think there’s nothing in the world that could phase him, but you do know better.

He’s not the type to share his issues, especially not when he thinks he can solve them on his own, which is what you think is going on here. It’s fine.

You don’t press. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

“Someone’s coming,” Megumi announces.

Gojo raises an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

He looks away, eyes shifty.

“You know you’re not supposed to be summoning your dogs in public!” You scold him.

Technically, he’s not supposed to know anything about his technique yet. Young sorcerers aren’t allowed to use their technique if they’re not enrolled at Jujutsu High. Of course, it’s different for clans, especially big clans. None of the elders who sit on the council are going to punish one of their own for getting ahead of the game. In fact, they’re quite willing to turn a blind eye to anything that makes their clan more powerful, even if it means starting their young off early. Too early, in your opinion.

Gojo disagrees with this judgement, as he disagrees with everything the elders say. He’s been training Megumi in secret, slowly getting him used to the Ten Shadows. The dogs, which Megumi’s manifested since he was young, were the first to become tamed. They’re the easiest for him to control, so he looses them more often than he should. Regardless of what Gojo thinks, it’s simply not safe. You don’t want to give the Zenins any reason to take Megumi and Tsumiki.

Megumi calls his shikigami back. They evaporate into shadow just as an old couple hobble up the dirt path.

“Oy, granny!” Gojo calls, ignoring you as you smack his arm. “You need a hand?”

“I’m okay,” she calls back. “Don’t worry about me! Just taking my daily walk.”

Gojo gives you an aghast look.

“Why are they hiking up here? One of them is going to break a leg,” he hisses.

“Are you sure?” You ask them hesitantly.

“My, aren’t you sweet! I’m alright, hon. The fresh air will do these old bones some good.”

Beside her, her husband nods in agreement. He seems like the silent type to her extrovert.

“What’re you two doing up here?” She says, picking her way over.

Tsumiki holds up her plate. “Picnicking!”

“How cute,” the old woman coos as she pinches her cheek.

“And you! Why, I could just eat you up,” she tells Megumi, who looks mildly alarmed, not at her words, but at her attention. He squirms in his seat.

“Your little brother?” The couple smiles as you stiffen. It’s not their fault. They have no idea.

“My son,” Gojo says, his own smile turning unpleasant.

“Oh!” She seems to sense she’s made a mistake of some sort, taking her husband’s arm once more. “I’m sorry, you seemed so young. Well, I’m sure you want to get back to your picnic without these old folk. Be careful not to stay out too late! I hear there’s a storm brewing.”

Her husband helps her carefully over the grass back on to the dirt path. She turns back to wave, just once.

“That wasn’t nice,” you say, watching them leave. “They didn’t know.”

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Look!” Tsumiki jostles Megumi, who’s still focused on his food instead of the sky. “The sun is setting!”

Gojo picked a good spot. No trees obstruct your view of a sky stretching as far as the eye can see. As someone who’s lived in the city for so long, it’s almost a miracle to witness.

The sky is awash in floral hues. Burnt orange, ashy lavender, and muted links spread throughout the clouds. You’re smiling, awestruck at the sight, when you hear a click. You turn back just in time to see Gojo shove his phone in his pocket.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Nope! Why don’t you sit tight while I repack everything?”

Even when you try to help, Gojo pushes you back in your chair. His little helpers dash back and forth from the makeshift campsite to the car until everything is safely packed away.

When you finally get up and brush your lap off, Gojo offers you his arm.

You laugh at him. “Come on, I don’t need that.”

He pushes his arm in your direction again, insistent. He’s being such a baby today, but you can’t help spoiling him. You take it as he escorts you to the car and opens the door for you with a flourish.

The kids don’t want to go home, but Gojo distracts them with promises of McDonald’s on the long, winding trip down the mountain. Megumi’s at that age where he knew better than to trust the strange white haired sixteen year old who offered to take him in but still gullible enough not to understand there are no McDonald’s on mountains.

He and Tsumiki fall asleep in the back seat as the rain patters rhythmically on the windows. All around you, the earth is lush and verdant. You’re in Eden before the fall. It’s hard to stay mad when the forest is putting on such a show for you outside. The earth is blooming, beckoning.

Gojo rolls down the sun roof so the warmth of weak sun beams shines into the car. If you look up, the rain beads on the glass like crystals on a backdrop of dove grey storm clouds.

It’s still raining when you get home.

Gojo carries Megumi and Tsumiki inside, one in each arm. It’s a testament to their sleepiness that neither protest. You drop a kiss on each cherubic little cheek as you tuck them into bed, pressing the covers down around them.

Gojo’s waiting in the kitchen when you quietly close their bedroom door.

“I have something to tell you,” he says almost half-heartedly, looking out the window. “But you have to promise not to be mad.”

You knew it.

Whatever it is, you’re sure you can take it. You and Gojo have been through the worst of everything together, from a bullet in the shoulder to whiney, feverish children. There’s nothing you can’t handle to keep your little family together.

“The Zenins want to take Megumi away,” he blurts out.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t what you were expecting, but it’s fine. You can make it work.

“They’re coming tomorrow.”

You’re going to kill him.

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojou fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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sprout-fics · 6 months

Note

(I have to bc of the ovulation joke) a drabble for Red being preggy with a werewolf baby?

Of course! Please have some very tender pregnancy fluff (ft. Laswell)

-----

“Ah-ah, no.”

König flinches away from the wooden spoon that raps his knuckles in a swift swat, drawing his hand back with mild offense to cradle it. Laswell levies a stern stare at him despite his woeful eyes, and you hide a snicker behind your palm at her reprimanding gaze.

“These are for your wife.” She reminds him, gesturing with said spoon. “Are you begged me to make them for her. Shame on you.”

König splutters at that, trying to find a reason to touch the still cooling sweets atop Laswell’s fireplace. He comes up empty handed instead, offers a small apology of “Entschuldigung.” instead.

Laswell looks unimpressed. “You can have one after your wife has.”

“Mate.” He grumbles in correction, and ducks his head as her eyes narrow.

You watch the scene from your chair, where a thick blanket is draped across your form and your growing belly. A hand smooths over it, feeling for a kick that is a sure sign of the life growing inside you.

It had been an easy decision to come to Laswell’s following the beginnings of your pregnancy. It had been smooth at the beginning, small bouts of morning sickness, a voracious hunger that spoke of a need to eat for two, but otherwise it had been fine.

If anything, it had spawned a strange new instinct in König- the desire to provide, to prove himself worthy of fatherhood. More than once he had been gone for days at a time to bring back something worthy of your approval in the form of game, goods from a nearby village stolen under the cover of night, beautiful flowers plucked from the mountainside. Each time he’d push his snout into your hands, request your approval, a reminder that he had proven himself to you.

König has been nothing but supportive throughout. Dropping what he was doing to massage the ache in your back, rub at your swelling feet, hold you through random bouts of hormonal tears. Even when you had once snapped at him, he’d merely taken you into his arms and offered a soft apology that forced your annoyance to quickly fade to regret.

He’d become increasingly clingy as well, insisting on you sleeping with your back to his front, holding you as you busied your hands, pressing soft kisses into your shoulders as his hands roamed across your stomach.

“My mate.” He crooned, oddly pleased with himself, hand flat against your belly. “Our pup.”

Yet as the weeks progressed, it became increasingly clear you and König could not handle your pregnancy alone. The symptoms of your pregnancy had worsened, and you had confessed to him your fear of trying to endure childbirth without guidance. Reluctant though you were to leave the den you called home, it had become increasingly necessary to seek out aid. Laswell had been the natural solution, and for several months you’d both stayed in her cottage so she could assist with the progression of your pregnancy.

Of course, it had also taken time for her to become adjusted to the once monster that had terrorized your village. It required many assurances on your part, and a fair amount of appeasement on König's part as well. He’d committed himself to the chores she set out for him, busied himself with chopping wood, hunting, tending her animals, and even repairing the stables kept for her visiting friends. Eventually she had eased to the presence of the werewolf, but still retained a certain air of predominance over her home.

Such as right now.

You watch as König rubs his neck sheepishly, and turns away from the plate of sweets to come kneel by your feet, resting his cheek on your stomach with a sigh.

“Madame Laswell is cruel.” He laments, and you chuckle, pet at his hair until he hums a low note of pleasure.

“I tried to warn you.” You remind him, and he huffs, shuffles so he’s further pressed to your lap. “She’s just protective.”

König makes a small noise of agreement, craning his head to prop it up and look at you with dopey, warm eyes.

“My beautiful mate.” He coos as you stroke his face. “So warm and happy and taken care of.”

“Thanks to you, beloved.” You remind him, and his smile spreads happily across his face, eyes alighting with pride.

“Our pup will be here soon.” He comments with a contented little sigh. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“I know, darling.” You return softly, glancing up at the other side of the cabin to see Laswell regarding you both warmly out of the corner of her eye.

König rests there at your feet, perfectly happy to rest his head in your lap with tender affection. A love so fierce it cracks at your ribs fills you, and your face falls open with tender bliss at the touch and adoration of the man you have chosen, who continues to prove himself to you with each passing day, who will soon become the father of your child.

The air is knocked from you, however, when suddenly the life inside you suddenly shifts with vibrant attention. König's head shoots up immediately as the kick grazes his cheek, and his eyes dart from your own surprised gaze to your belly and back again. As if to prove a point, the little one inside you kicks again, and you make a little noise of discomfort.

“Hush, little one.” König soothes with a wry little smile, smoothing his hand over your belly. “Let your mother rest.”

You chuckle, and gaze longingly at the cooling sweets atop the fireplace. “I think perhaps our pup is hungry.” You provide in a thinly veiled excuse, and König returns your smile.

When you both look over at Laswell, she fails to look unimpressed, and hides it behind a roll of her eyes.

“Fine.” She declares. “But. Ladies first.”

“She hates me.” König murmurs in feigned oppression, and when you laugh the child inside you kicks again.

#konig x reader #könig x reader #fic: rotes madchen #werewolf König #konig x you #konig x f! reader

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bunji-enthusiast · 2 months

Note

I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING!!!! 💕💕

No joke, I love reading your stuff! It always has me kicking and giggling :}

I hope you're not stressing yourself out with the writing tho!! I know you prod want it perfect or close enough to it, but please remember it always doesn't have to be 💕

I love dogday as much as the next person but- huggy was my first and even tho you barely even write him I still end up loving him so much when you do lol. I really liked your jealousy one! I was hoping you could do one with huggy?? With an employee reader pls. So sorry if that's every little information, not rlly the best at requesting still.

Tysm!! 💕💕

{So sorry if I send this when request r closed}

Jealous, Jealous Toy

Note || AHHH your so sweet, absolutely I’ll try to write Huggy for this :)

WC || 642

Sypnosis || What happens when a jealous toy gets possessive of an employee?

Order was an important piece to your life, you liked to be orderly and keep things to an absolute T. Even if it had meant fraternizing with your superiors, though you weren’t much of a sociable person really. Being more so closed off and introverted, you simply had opted to be straightforward and cold when necessary, never to employees younger then you or even lower then your position at Playtime Co.

Many had viewed you as odd when you began talking to the life-sized huggy, made real and ready to always interact with children. Benign enough to be harmless one would guess, just nobody would ever truly understand the level of ferocity one would possess if you were there. If anyone in the room had seen the same thing you did when that very event had happened, nothing was estranged enough to be sure – yet you still couldn’t explain it to this day.

Huggy Wuggy was interesting, strange but very cuddly to hug (as he was made to do). You always had thought he was neat, clean and cool to a point.

“Hey Huggy! How are you?” Yet ever as always, the Huggy Wuggy statue had remained cold and conclusive, never moving unless it was in strange specific circumstances. “Right.” You never expected him to move anyway, another voice had snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Hey brat.” Your superior, though he was one of the many, he was like an older brother to you. You thought he was lazy for lack of a better word, but his work ethics and accountability of words from other employees had proved that otherwise. You let out a large breath, stifling a feigned huff. “Yo, what’s your deal Daniel?” You asked him.

He nodded his head at your weaponized words, then walked up to you, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Just needing you to fill out some paperwork, ain’t nothing major then I’ll–” A choked noise escaped his throat, causing you to look up from where you stood, eyeing him wearily as you began to get concerned as to why he looked so pale.

“Daniel.. You alright man?” His hand on your shoulder fell off from where it had laid so gently, Daniel’s other hand raised to the spot he seemed to be in such a ghostly panic about. You too had been shocked, seeing Huggy’s row of teeth hanging over Daniel’s head, you didn’t know what to do. Huggy never had behaved in such a way, leaving you to raise a brow – lips pursed as you maintained calm in the inconceivable silence.

“Huggy..” You began, raising your hands as a gesture toward Daniel to back away slowly. “Chill out, that’s just my friend.” Daniel had obeyed you, inching away from Huggy who clearly seemed to be pissed off. Conveying a means of anger as his hands were outstretched toward Daniel ever so slightly, Daniel nodded once more and slowly he had done so, trying to get him to cool off at the same time as you were.

“Can you get him to stop.. This?” Daniel whisper-shouted, you shrugged. Then you looked up at Huggy, maintaining a sense of eye contact with his own eyes. It struck a sudden chill throughout your spine, causing you to flinch as you had noticed his murderous intent, now it was slowly dissipating the further away Daniel had gone. “I think he doesn’t like you very much, I’ll come later for those papers all right?” To which he had nodded with an exasperated sigh.

Finally once he was out of sight, Huggy seemed to be less tense now – teeth relaxed and resuming his original position. You sigh, crossing your arms as you try to coerce your own mind about the events that had happened just mere seconds ago.

“Jealousy is not a good look on you my friend.”

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime huggy #huggy wuggy #huggy wuggy x reader

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2hightocare · 4 days

Text

from the vault pt2 🤍 kuwtb au’

"Haul time!" You squeak as you skip to the living room with the big box that you just got delivered a few minutes ago.

"What did you get, baby?" Your husband cranes his neck backward from the couch to catch you doing a happy dance with the big box covering your face. A small chuckle escapes his lips as he watches you make your way to him.

"Let me help you, that looks heavy as shit. Don't want you having back problems," Jungkook begins to stand up, only to be stopped when you drop the gigantic box in front of him on the carpet with a loud breath. "I got it, I'm independent," you click your tongue, dramatically flipping your ponytail to the side.

"Okay, not too much now," Jungkook shakes his head before reaching for your waist and pulling you on top of him in a swift motion. "Hey! I was going to show you my outfits," you giggle, pushing on his face with your left hand as he tries to pepper kisses on your face.

"You can show me later, but for now just let me love you," he mumbles into your collarbone before situating his head in between your boobs. His teeth graze the top of your tube top before trying to pull it down, making you squirm with a laugh-pushing him off.

"You took a long-ass nap, had me staring at the wall— bored, baby," Jungkook pouts, before cracking into a full-on smile. He runs a hand through his hair before putting it behind his head-his eyes trained on your flushed face while your fingers play with the seam of his T-shirt.

"Could've napped with me," you shrug, your fingertips slowly making their way under his shirt, slowly tracing his v-line.

"Yeah?" He smirks, his dimple popping out.

"Yeah. It was a good nap," you giggle before retrieving your hands from under his shirt and getting off his lap, making your way to the box full of clothes you had ordered online a couple of weeks back.

"Baby!" Jungkook whines as he watches you drop to your knees on the gray carpet in front of the box, ignoring him once again.

"Baby," you mock him; he playfully rolls his eyes at you.

Jungkook throws his head back in defeat before joining you on the floor with a happy sigh.

"Okay, gimme your haul, princess," Jungkook leans back onto the couch as he watches you open the box with your acrylics, like you always did. He takes notice of your mismatched socks, smiling to himself-your ass up in the air, as you look into the box, your light purple gym shorts hugging your curves perfectly.

"I got so many clothes it's actually insane," you say to your husband, who's watching you with hooded eyes.

"You still got space, nah?" Jungkook asks, talking about your walk-in closet, tilting his head to catch your eyes.

"Yup, I still have so much space," you pipe happily, opening the first bag. A small short sundress you forgot you had ordered stares back at you.

"That's cute, baby," Jungkook says, bobbing his head approvingly at the white lace sundress you're holding up.

"Cute, right? Should I model?" You wiggle your eyebrows, folding the dress into you. "Oh, for sure. I'll give ratings like that game we played with Jiho on Roblox," Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to remember the name of the game, snapping his fingers as if that's going to help him remember faster.

"Fashion Square?" He raises an eyebrow, the sly smirk on his face making you giggle at his attempt. "Fashion Famous," you correct him, biting your lip.

"Yeah, that," he smirks, with a final snap of his fingers.

"Can't believe the ugliest ones always win— when they’re not even on theme," Jungkook rolls his eyes, making you burst out laughing.

"Sassy Men Apocalypse got to you, Jeon," you tease, clenching your teeth and making a 'tsk' noise. "You are my biggest hater, I'm afraid," Jungkook shrugs before pulling you into him in a quick motion, catching you off guard.

"Baby, what? I'm literally in the 'I Heart Jeon Jungkook' club! And I have a shirt to prove it," you say, straddling him. The pout on your face makes him want to kiss it off.

You lean forward, dropping your head on his chest, looking up at him while he looks down at you.

He gives your left ass cheek a soft squeeze. "Oh, tell me more about this club. How many members are in it?" He taunts playfully.

"Around twenty," you reply nonchalantly, making his eyes widen in surprise.

"Really?" He questions, playing with your belly piercing.

"If all my personalities count, then yeah," you shrug.

“Leave some for me, fatty,” the raven-haired boy says, slapping Namjoon’s wrist when he tries to reach for a piece of chocolate cake that’s sitting in the middle of the counter—you just baked it.

Taehyung snickers. “You look like you’ve had enough cake for a year.”

“The fuck? For your information, I’ll let you know that it takes hours in the gym to look as good as I do,” Namjoon retorts, a dramatic roll of his eyes eliciting a laugh from the petite, curly-haired girl beside him— Ari.

“Hours with your head inside a fridge, that’s for sure,” Eunbi pipes in, inserting a bite of cake into her mouth before reaching for the cold glass of milk that your husband just served and taking a sip with a knowing smirk.

“Crazy,” Namjoon points his fork at everyone who just came at him.

Taehyung’s eyes are filled with amusement as he shrugs and lets out a chuckle. “Can’t take constructive criticism,” Jimin joins in, as you try to hide your laugh behind the fork in front of your mouth while your husband leans on you, his chin on your head, hearing everything.

“He’s not fat, guys, he’s just big-boned,” Jungkook inserts himself into the conversation, which has Namjoon’s head snapping to him. “You did not just call me big-boned,” he gasps, as Eunbi and Taehyung burst out laughing, giving each other high fives like they’re six in second grade.

“I’m trying to defend you!” Your husband raises his hands in defense as Lora shakes her head, digging into the cake, ignoring everyone.

“Yeah, but big-boned is crazy!” Joon gapes at Jungkook, who actually seems confused. “Personally, I wouldn’t let that slide,” Eunbi points her fork between Namjoon and Jungkook, trying to instigate.

“Why you out here being messy for?” Lora jokes, nudging the blonde to the side, making her giggle.

“What I actually meant to say is that you’re buff as fuck and they’re obviously jealous of you,” Jungkook explains before turning his attention to your best friend.

“Damn, blondie. Being my biggest opp even after I bought you the stupid ferret you wanted so much for your birthday,” Jungkook points his index finger at Eunbi, who gasps while chocolate cake is shoved into her mouth.

a/n: here’s some more unfinished works that I want to get rid of, so here’s a lil gift🤍

#ask! kuwtb💌#jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jjk #bangtan #jeon jungkook #jeongguk x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #fluff #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut

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3hunnidstunt · 10 months

Text

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── W3LL D3S3RV3D ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

‧₊˚✩彡‧ men who are terrible when it comes to apologizing for something they did. they know what to say but when it comes to the point of expressing it they lost it. they know how bad they hurt your feelings and that you hate them at this point on but they wanna make it right.

‧₊˚✩彡‧ men who spam your phone with messages and calls and voice messages begging and apologizing but you’ve blocked them. so they go to other social medias ( snap, insta, tiktok, twitter ) but they already block. their friends texted you to “ unblock him ” but no chance. they will go so far as to emailing you a whole paragraph of an apology but you denied it telling him that “ if you really mean it you’ll do it in person ”

‧₊˚✩彡‧ truth is you adore this effort and it’s cute. but you wanna see him in person and hear his voice slur out these words that he’s typed. so he does. he pulls up to your house around midnight before you go to sleep. nonetheless you walk out your house/apartment in a pink hello kitty hoodie and grey biker shorts. your new wavy lace install in two braids, lashes done, and glossed lips. the moment you opened the door you can smell the weed he’s smoking and his low eyes.

‧₊˚✩彡‧ you sit quietly, hands inside the pockets of the hoodie waiting for him to speak up. “ can you say some? you scaring me right now ma ” “ shouldn’t you be the one speaking if not i’m wasting my time ” you sigh moving towards the door ready to get out but he pulled you back. his words all glued to together as you stare in him in confusion.

“ imsorrymamatheshitididwasfuckedupandyoudeservesomeonethatwilltreatyoubetterthanthisbutimsorryiaintmeantodothattoyoupleaseforgiveme ”

‧₊˚✩彡‧ you made him repeat what he said and he took a deep breath leaning closer to you holding your hand in his. this time your biting your lip trying to not smile. you blame it on the way he’s staring at you. he’s all high and lost but he knows and you know what he’s saying — and he means it. “ hm i don’t know-“ “ c’monn stop playing with me, you know i am it…matter fact i’ll prove it ”

and he keeps his word. his seat a little leaned back while you on top of him. a creamy ring forms on his cock, from you and his previous orgasms. his tongue wrapping itself around a nipple while his hands spreading you ass bouncing you up and down feeling his tip hit your g spot. you tighten up on him making him moan as he continues to apologize. “ ride that dick baby - makin’ me feel so good. pussy so fuckin good ” his words begin to slur, his cock twitching and his abs flexing “ you gonna come again daddy, give it to me please oh my god ” you hold onto his arm as you chase both his and your own high. your pussy wetting/creaming on his as he plays with your clit. “ shit im finna cum, ride that shit baby ” you lean down nose bumping against his as you try to quiet down you moans with his lips. loud smacks and skin slaps and wet/creamy noises fill the car.

‧₊˚✩彡‧ eren, connie, ony, gojo, toji, draken, aki, + ur favs

#eren x black fem!reader #connie x black reader #ony x black reader #gojo x black reader #toji x black reader #draken x black reader #aki x black reader

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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

Text

“No.”

Lance groans loudly, forgoing smacking his face in his hands and going straight for banging his head repeatedly against the elevator doors, which Keith thinks is a touch dramatic. But regardless he crosses his arms over his chest and stubbornly refuses to budge from his position.

“Keith. For the love of God.”

“God is dead and I’m not climbing out of a goddamn ten thousand foot elevator hatch with you.”

Keith admittedly puts a tad too much emphasis on the ‘with you’ part of the sentence. It’s obvious in the way Lance stops and lifts his head up and glares at Keith so icily he doesn’t need to squint to make out Lance’s expression in the low emergency lights; his eyes practically burn a hole through Keith’s forehead. Keith winces but doesn’t say anything.

“You have gone toe to toe with a goddamn zombie dictator,” Lance grinds out, “but you’re too much of a pussy to climb an elevator shaft?”

Keith stiffens. “I’m not — shut up!”

Smirking, now, visibly delighted that he’s managed to press Keith’s buttons (God Keith wants to punch him), Lance leans against the elevator wall, hip cocked, feigning nonchalance.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says, inspecting his nails like it doesn’t matter. “I just never would have thought that the best pilot out of the Garrison and literal pilot of the Red Lion is, you know, a chicken.”

Keith clenches his fists. Lance is frustrated and bored and pushing Keith’s buttons because there’s fuck else to do. He is. Keith knows this.

But he is so goddamn good at it.

“I’m not a fucking chicken, Cargo Pilot.”

‘Cargo Pilot’ is usually a hole-in-one insult that’s guaranteed to make Lance bristle, sure to make him bare his teeth and go bright red and generally lose his absolute shit. Keith is even sparing in his use of the term, careful not to let it lose its potency.

But because the universe hates him and also Lance is the most annoying motherfucker alive, his smirk only widens, and he flexes his fingers, still fucking casual, still not even bothering to look up in Keith’s direction.

I hate you, Keith thinks, with feeling.

“Sure,” Lance says, without. He shrugs. “Prove it.”

For a second Keith thinks he’s so mad that he might. But then he imagines it fully, pictures his bare back pressed against Lance’s, feet planted on the slippery castle walls, lights probably still out, struggling to put one foot in front of the other and drag each other upright. He thinks of how much effort that would take and how easily he would start to sweat, how easily every shift of their muscles would loosen the friction-borne grip between them, how easily his foot could slip. He thinks of how long a ten thousand foot drop would take, how long he would have to accept that he’s going to die before he splats on the pristine floor.

His stomach turns. His face goes green.

Lance’s jaw drops.

“Oh my God, you’re afraid of heights!”

“I am not!” Keith snaps, because he isn’t, he just has a fucking brain. “It’s just — it’s ten thousand fucking feet, Lance!”

“A pilot!” Lance screeches. “A pilot afraid of heights!”

“You are so goddamn extra!” Keith cries.

Lance makes more vague screeching noises. He gestures furiously at Keith, then pauses, then makes a sound in the back of his throat akin to a loudly dying whale, then gestures back at Keith, then at the ceiling, then at the elevator as a whole. Then he lets out one loud, long, final yell, completely wordless and directed at what Keith can only assume is the heavens, and stops, closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and very calmly crawls onto the floor, belly first, and lays perfectly flat with his face pressed to the tiles.

“I hate it here,” he says serenely. He pauses for a minute, thoughtful. “Also, I hate you.”

“Ditto,” Keith mutters, finally giving up and joining him on the floor. He tips his head back until it thumps on the elevator wall and sighs, loud and long, wondering vaguely if this is punishment for the hundreds of times he mocked Shiro for his fear of squirrels. He truly thinks it might be.

All he wanted was twenty goddamn minutes in the pool. That’s all. He’d have even taken ten. He just wanted to swim a few laps, maybe float for a bit, and pretend he was in a lake somewhere without pressing problems such as saving the universe and the fate of every single soul in it.

Eight minutes, really. Seven.

The lights flicker back on. Lance lifts his head, hopeful, then stretches out one ridiculously long leg (seriously what is the deal with that he’s basically a giraffe, it’s too much, Keith should talk to someone about it because since when were legs allowed to be that — long and shapely, or whatever, it’s weird) and presses the closest button with his toe.

It does nothing. Lance stares at it for a few minutes, as if attempting to bring the elevator alive by manifestation alone, but no life is forthcoming. Lance huffs sadly and returns his face to the floor.

“That’s really disgusting,” Keith says, although he has his fair share of Floor Time. “People walk on this floor all the time.”

Lance doesn’t bother looking up, groaning loudly for several minutes before simply rolling away to the opposite side of the elevator.

“Shut up,” he says finally, after so long Keith almost forgets his original comment. “You just —”

Abruptly he straightens up, pulling the towel off his neck and crawling forward to place it in the middle of the elevator. Keith rolls his eyes so hard it actually hurts, a little.

“You and your commentary stay on the loser stinky mullet half of the elevator,” Lance says. “The pretty half that’s not infected with your rancid vibes belongs to me.”

“Were you trained to be this annoying?” Keith ponders, half out of genuine curiosity. “Like, do you do this on purpose?”

“Ignoring you now,” Lance says primly.

Keith scowls. He’s not — Keith isn’t the one who’s too irritating to be around without going insane.

“I’m ignoring you, asshole.”

Lance doesn’t respond. Keith closes one eye and holds up his thumb and forefinger to the approximate shape of Lance’s face, pretending he’s squishing his head. It brings him great peace.

After a while, though, he starts to get restless. His legs starts bouncing, up and down so fast it’s blurry, and then his fingers start to tap, but the feeling of rustling under his skin only gets worse, spinning faster and faster and coil tightening more and more in his stomach until he just — implodes, really, until his brain goes boom and says if you don’t get moving right this second, and Keith says in response to it, believe me I’m on it. He’s scrambling to his feet before he has the conscious thought to do so, hands moving before he tells them to and pushing him upright, bare feet padding rapidly on the floor as he paces, three steps until he hits the wall then pivot then three steps then pivot then three steps again. Over and over and over. His fingers stop tapping but his shoulders get twitchy; itchy under his skin and on it, sweaty because there’s no airflow and this goddamn elevator is sweltering. Or he’s just hot. He usually runs hot. He’s not sure and he doesn’t care to know, because the pool would have been refreshing but instead he’s stuck in a ten by ten by ten cube stuck somewhere on a ten thousand foot tube and to his right his rival-slash-teammate keeps huffing and rubbing his hands on his arms and muttering to himself.

“Could you maybe cut that out,” Keith snaps, which is entirely unfair because his pacing isn’t quiet, but Keith is three seconds away from attempting to climb the walls and it’s Lance, anyway, when are they not arguing, so it doesn’t matter.

Maybe when you’re having a crisis-brought bonding moment, says a voice in his brain. Stuck elevators are kind of a crisis.

Shut up or I’m going to give myself a concussion, Keith responds to it.

“Not my fault it’s goddamn freezing in here,” Lance snaps.

Keith pauses. He looks down at Lance. He frowns.

“Your lips are blue,” he observes, bewildered.

“Eat shit,” Lance responds, predictably. He’s fucking — he’s shivering.

Keith is made astutely aware of the cooling sweat on his back and grimaces.

“Lance,” he says slowly, “it is not cold in here.”

Lance blows out a breath like the goddamn weight of the world is on his shoulders. He flicks his eyes up to meet Keith’s, who is standing behind his head and leaning down, and somehow manages to seem like the more put-together person between them, which is bonkers.

“I’m anaemic, stupid.”

Keith blinks. Suddenly the air feels very solemn, and he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t know you had an eating disorder,” he manages eventually.

Lance’s faces scrunches up in confusion for seven whole seconds before it clears, and he looks at Keith like he is the dumbest man alive and then bursts out laughing.

“That’s — anorexic, you idiot! I don’t have enough blood!”

“Oh,” Keith says, face heating. He scowls as Lance continues to laugh way harder than what was called for, clutching his stomach with tears rolling down his face. He pokes Lance aggressively with his toe, and by that he means his kicks him. “Will you stop — it’s not that funny, dickhead!”

“It really is,” Lance wheezes.

Keith scowls harder. His face is as red as his shorts and the flush is starting to spread down his chest and Lance notices and it only makes him laugh more, because he’s a shithead of the worst kind. “I hope you choke.”

Keith flicks his towel over his head and yanks, embarrassed, stomping to the other side of the elevator as if that will somehow make Lance shut up faster. It doesn’t, obviously, and he hears Lance laugh for several minutes until he finally winds down to giggling, then eventually nothing.

Keith harrumphs quietly to himself. He resolves to sticking in his corner like he should have from the very beginning, until the elevator starts moving again or someone on the team comes to save them. At this point he’s so done he wouldn’t even care if it was Shiro, wouldn’t even care if Shiro gloated about it for eternity (Keith saved his ass from government experimentation, anyway, so he wins by default for the rest of time). He faces his corner and pulls his knees to his chest and starts picking at a loose thread in the seam of his shorts to amuse himself.

Several minutes later, he hears Lance shifting. He ignores it. He pulls at the thread until it comes loose, then busies himself with tying the thread into the most complicated and random knot he can.

A few more minutes later, and there’s the sound of fabric rustling and draping, then quiet cursing. Keith untangles and retangles his knot for the fourth time.

After what must be a half hour, Keith hears the sound of teeth chattering.

He sighs. He looks forlornly at his knot.

“I could just ignore him,” he mutters to himself. “He probably won’t die.”

He thinks of how short Lance’s shorts are. He pinches his own towel in his fingertips, so thin he can practically feel his fingerprints. He remembers blue lips and a clenched jaw and raised gooseflesh.

He sighs loudly, more of a groan, and flicks his ball of thread away.

It takes Lance a few seconds to respond to Keith looming over him, which is worrying. But eventually he cracks open one brown eye and flares up at Keith.

“What,” he mutters. His teeth are chattering so bad it sounds like two words.

“You’re freezing,” Keith says. His voice is softer than he expected it to be.

Lance huffs, closing his eye again and curling further into himself. “No shit.”

Keith frowns. “I’m not.”

“Well, rub it in, why dontcha.”

Keith frowns. “You’re not understanding.”

Lance ignores him. Keith has a sudden and vivid memory of the year Shiro and Adam drove him up to Seattle in the winter so he could be more cultured, or whatever (or less of a desert menace, Adam had argued, and perhaps more inclined to stop biting people), and spent the whole car ride lecturing him about hypothermia.

“It doesn’t take very long to set in,” Shiro had said.

“And once you have it you need to warm up or your heart can stop,” Adam had finished, very serious.

Suddenly Keith starts to feel very panicked.

Lukewarm tea, warm blankets, skin to skin contact with someone who’s warm, were Shiro’s instructions. And then possibly hospital.

Well. Keith has one of those things.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he wraps a gentle hand around Lance’s shoulder, tugging him upright, then pulls him forward so his cradled hands are pressed against Keith’s chest and his head is tucked into the junction of Keith’s neck.

Worryingly, it takes Lance almost thirty seconds to start complaining.

“You smell like mullet,” he whines. But he doesn’t move away. In fact, he burrows closer.

Keith swallows down his worry. “Mullets don’t smell like anything, dumbass.” He brings his hands up to press against Lance’s back. Lance groans, curling deeper into Keith’s hold. His nose is icy and burns a trail across Keith’s shoulder, down his collarbone. Keith’s flush from earlier makes an enthusiastic return, because nothing good still exists in the world.

“I still think you’re annoying,” Lance mumbles. Every move of his lip brushes against Keith’s skin.

“Shut up and focus on not freezing to death,” Keith snaps.

Lance snorts. “I’m not gonna freeze to death, doofus. It’s just a dead elevator. Once I fell asleep on the Garrison rooftop in January and only had to spend three days in urgent care, so basically I can withstand anything.”

Keith pauses. He tries to reconcile the Lance who just said that to the Lance who came up with a life saving plan in thirty seconds on the Balmera to the Lance who threatened to stick Keith in a wormhole to the Lance who smiled and said they made a good team before passing out in Keith’s arms.

“You are a very confusing person,” he says when all the reconciling does absolutely nothing.

“Thank you,” Lance says, sounding pleased.

Keith snorts and tightens his hold. Lance sighs and sags a little. Slowly his fingers stop feeling so much like ice blocks, and his breathing doesn’t sound so erratic. Keith doesn’t know how long it’s been. He stopped trying to count somewhere between when Lance’s cheek squished against his chest and his fingers started tracing featherlight patterns across his skin.

Lance yawns. Keith tries to fight his but ends up yawning anyway.

“Is it bad to let a person with hypothermia sleep?” he mumbles, half-slurring his words.

Lance hums. “‘M not hypothermic.”

“Dunno. Could be.”

He sighs again, a puff of air against Keith’s neck, and spreads his palms against Keith’s chest, flat. “‘M not. You’re too warm.” He pauses. “Freak.”

His tone is fond. The corners of Keith’s lips quirk up. “Weirdo.”

“Mhm.”

He falls asleep trying to count Lance’s breaths. It’s — groundbreaking, somehow.

———

(“Oh, my God.”

Keith cracks open bleary eyes, lifting a hand to rub his face. Lance groans from his place on Keith’s chest — in a puddle of drool, why is that not nearly as revolting as it should be — and snatches Keith’s wrist way faster than he should be able to as groggy as he is, placing it back around his waist.

“Oh, my God,” the voice repeats, gleeful.

“Shut up, Shiro,” Keith mutters. “Fuck.”

It takes him a minute.

His eyes fly open at the same time as Lance’s, and they look at each other, and then Keith is being shoved and kicked at the same time somehow and Lance is scrambling backwards at the speed of light, screeching. A loud bang makes Keith look over and he discovers his brother, who is dead to him, collapsed on the floor, laughing so loud Zarkon can probably hear him.

“What — Shiro — go — stop fucking laughing, you piece of shit!”

Lance continues to screech. Keith whips a towel at him.

“You gay pining loser!” Shiro shrieks. “I’m going to tell literally everyone!”

Keith puts his head in his hands and wishes he’d fallen down the goddamn elevator shaft.)

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christinebloodwrittings · 29 days

Text

To hunt or be hunted #5

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Bath time has proving itself to be a revealing process, specially when in company of someone else. Warnings: Angsty stuff, fluffy at the end.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100

Walking around the hallways, now that you could freely do so, helped with your insomnia. You tried to minimize how often you did it, afraid to upset someone with the endless pacing noise.

Mindlessly you ended up in the highest floor. As you turned to walk down the stairs a sound made you stare at the light under one of the doors.

You knocked on it knowing the owner of the room, “Alastor? Are you killing someone or are you in pain?” the demon didn’t answered, worried you opened the door a little, peeked through a small crack as to not interrupt if he was busy.

Your heart raced when you saw the taxidermy hanged on his wall, the warm old ambiance made you feel like you were back to the 1920’s. Just at the end of the room there was this annex, something you didn’t noticed when you dropped his clothes a few months ago.

It was a forest, like the bayou you used to frequent to avoid the police. It had the same swampy smell. The next sound made you jump, it came from the bathroom, like the sound you can make by kicking water.

“Alastor?” your voice caused him such a surprise, that the next you heard was a shriek then a lot of radio static, “I’m not going to open the door, I just…Are you okay?” his shadow creeped out from under the door, pulled you inside the room and closed the main door.

“Yes dear, I’m okay” since you couldn’t exactly tell by his tone, you turned to the shadow, he slowly smiled in return, “Okay, pardon the intrusion” You managed to turn around, but stopped to see the bunch of "No" signs on the door, as if Alastor's shadow didn't want you to leave.

“The stitches got a bit lose” He spoke as the figure on the wall gave you an image of your previous suturing work and how it had come loose and deteriorated, until it was like a badly patched jacket.

“Describe how the wound looks” Alastor made the mistake to move very suddenly, tensing the edges of the scab, he winced before giving you an answer, “Red, it’s mostly scab, but the stitches got lose and teared apart some of the scab”.

“How about you finish there and when you’re a bit decent, I take a look?” the handle loosened allowing the door to move backwards from the frame, “Come in” 'No way! He will be naked in the bathtub, no! But it could be serious, at worst I just keep my eyes on his torso and then turn around' you panicked internally, then took a step forward.

“Don’t be ridiculous, open your eyes, you’re going to hurt yourself!” you had your eyes covered, as you made your way to the bathtub, failing because you knocked your knee against the sink, “You have to remember what kind of upbringing we had; I only saw my ex-husband naked in his entirety” he was embarrassed, but seeing you being in a worse state, kind of reassured him.

Due to the water, parts of his fur stick to the skin and sometimes leave certain marks on the skin visible. In Alastor's case, his cream-colored skin was partially covered with short but spacious scars, since in contrast is a much darker color it made them stand out easier.

The worst thing about those was that they did not have a pattern that could resemble a “professional” torture technique, but it seemed as if they had stoned him, which is something that happened a lot to people whose skin color was darker at the time. The racists used to tie the person to a pole and throw rocks at someone.

A truly sickening activity.

“Oh those are…I didn’t noticed those scars, I’m so sorry” immediately you diverted your eyes, out of respect mostly, “You had seen the…process?” you shook your head, “I used to scare kids that planned it, no one is brave enough when they have an axe against their neck”.

After snapping out of it, you approached him, you thanked him internally for having his knees pressed together and up to the level of his chest, so you wouldn’t see his privates. Two old fashioned mannered persons on a room, or prudes, as Angel would said.

The stitches did got lose, but he was supposed to take them off at a certain time. You assumed you didn’t warned this to him, so that fell on you, “Mmh, I’ll get tweezers and scissors, if I use my claws I might make it worse” mindlessly you pressed your hand near the edge of the wound, it wasn’t hot nor red enough to be an infection.

“Your hand is so warm” he placed his fingers on the top of your hand, “Funny how you don’t shove me away” you were aware of his repulsion of touch, weird enough he was always willing to invade your personal space, like the other day, but he shoved any other person trying to approach him physically, except for Nifty and you.

“I think, if you wanted me dead, I wouldn't have been able to return to the hotel” being playful with life and death matters was a refreshing interaction for you to have with someone, Alastor made it fun.

“Charlie would’ve had my head if you hadn’t” literally.

“You had the chance to kill me three times, if I recall correctly” You had, but that’s not the thing that makes him curious, it lead him to ask an interesting question, “Why didn’t you?”.

“The first time, you were eating someone, it made me gag so I walked away” the image of you being with your axe ready to strike and then waking away repulsed made him laugh, you couldn’t resist a giggle either.

“Down here, when you first arrived, I wanted to level how stupid you were, since you didn’t attacked me, I didn’t either” that was one hell of an intense staring session, in which Alastor walked away first, the implied threat was strong enough, so he moved away from you to continue terrorizing the city.

“And in the rubble, I just wanted to give you a lesson” he made what you could interpret as a pout, twitching his eye and his ear.

“Your hair is dry” You noticed, now that you looked at his ears.

“I haven’t washed it yet” Alastor saw a light in your eyes that meant trouble, leading to a back and forward: “Can I?” “No” “Please?” “No” “Please?” “No” “Please?” “No” “I’ll do whatever you want”.

“Then you’ll join me for my broadcast tomorrow night, you’ve been quite evasive about it”, Since your presence became public knowledge around the hotel, Alastor felt the liberty to approach you more often. The tension from the first interaction dissipated over time. However, he constantly invited you to spend some time in his studio, subject that you’ve been avoiding. Nonetheless, he doesn’t stop asking.

“I´m sorry” you materialized two cotton balls in your hands, then placed them carefully on the insides of his ears, before wetting his hair.

“Have I done something to provoke it?” he was genuinely concerned. He knows himself far too well to know he can be correct and at the same time be offensive, and doesn’t mind the reaction unless it affects him directly.

“No…I keep most of me to myself, force of habit. Also I fear that you may want to talk about past lives” No matter what topic you start the conversation on, he always handles it in such a way that you end up talking about the 1920s and the society or politics of the moment and compare it to the technological advances of the new generation.

It got old very quickly.

“We could talk about other things” it was unusual for you to hear him be genuine, but you weren’t complaining. “Like?” he relaxed once you started massaging the shampoo into his head, “This cotton ball method is genius” his ears rotated as your fingers worked the foam around them, “I had the same issue, until I saw videos of cat owners washing their pets, using cotton balls to protect their ears”.

“Did your husband also enjoyed this kind of attention?” You didn't have saliva to swallow, and even if you did, the knot in your throat wouldn't allow it. “Not with me” he laughed, clearly not reading your clear discomfort, “One of my main victims were men who committed adultery, maybe his body is now rotting in the bayou”.

You decided to swallow your pride and let his unpleasantness pass, “Unlikely, I cracked his skull open” he took your hand off his head and placed a kiss on your knuckles, “Deservedly so” you smiled for a second, before his next statement rose a bitter taste to the back of your mouth.

“Men are often asses, it’s no wonder that woman want them dead. Fortunately, my mother raised me accordingly” you rolled your eyes at his ego, “Remind me to lit a candle for her, she’s most likely in heaven” his heart, as black as it could be, fluttered by the mention of a lovely practice.

“You knew of her?” You were clearly older than him, he had a small hope you could speak of his mother, “No, but the way you talk about her, that’s proof enough”. It took you a few seconds to remember one of your husband’s so lovely gifts, a cookbook, given the fact that – according to him– your meatloaf was dry every time.

“I think I had her cookbook, Amaya Heartfelt, right?” his microphone made a crowd laughing sound before he spoke, “Ah, that’s why your Jambalaya tasted familiar” funny, you thought you saw a grimace when he ate, now that was the reason.

“I make a decent Jambalaya, accept it” rather than being playful, your voice turned to be a bit brazen, not by accident that is. “More than decent, but my mother wins against you by a landslide” you hummed in utter defeat, “Fair enough, mamma’s boy” he scoffed, but did not correct you.

“If we had met properly, we probably would’ve been best of friends” 'Oh Alastor, you're cute and all, but with your urges and my to-do list, we would have had more than one friction, the friction would have caused a fire, and not the good kind' you almost could imagine yourself being his wife at the time, certainly would’ve been better than your actual ex-husband.

“I don’t dwell in what could’ve been” he made a deer-like sound when you scratched behind his ears, “I mean, what’s the point? You can’t go back to do things different” you poured more water on his head to wash away the foam. “Do you regret something?” he spoke after you removed the cotton balls off his ears.

“Not shooting my parents when I had the chance” he visibly tensed, then turned his head around slightly, “How can you say that?” his brow was so closed together in his frown, that it almost seemed one.

“What do you mean?” his eyes shifted colors, his sclera darkened and the dials were bright red, “What could be reason enough to get rid of the people that raised you? The woman that birthed you? People that kept you safe and loved!” his radio filter turned on and off as he spoke, raising his voice as well in utter disbelief, “I have my reasons” shrugging your shoulders unlocked even more anger in him.

“Your parents must’ve had a hard time raising you” your mind fell silent, “That’s an ungrateful thing to say, no reason can be enough to want to do something like that” as you listened to his rant, your hands turned white against the edge of the bathtub, squeezing it tightly.

“Spoke the cannibal” you sillily thought that would put an end to the conversation, “But I had never disrespected the memory of my mother, nor I could ever” you laughed, anger burned the back of your throat, “You are a man, you don’t understand a thing” the radio static in the air and the tension provoked by the argument, was unbearable, blood would be shed if he didn’t stopped that instant.

But he went too far, “Then illuminate me then, what could’ve been so terrible?” his smile was one of mock, his tone sarcastic and his smile challenging. Something snapped inside of you, a bunch of words trapped inside your mind, now set free to burn everything they touched.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and allowed the poison escape your body, in the shape of the truth, “My father was addicted to the game, he sold my alcoholic mother, my sister and I to the mafia, to repay his gambling debts” you could still remember your mother screaming ‘BASTARD’ repeatedly, after receiving your father’s call about the situation.

“My mom was the first to shoot herself before the men broke the door, I shot my sister before they could take her, but I failed to it myself” they grabbed you and the gun before you could pull the trigger, last thing you saw was your sister last smile before the light left her eyes.

“You were belittled, sure, but you will never understand what it means to be sold and treated like livestock” your voice trembled and broke. Still with your eyes closed the tears burned the insides and leaked a few down your cheek.

You opened your eyes, looking down at him exactly how you would look at your father if you had him in front of you, “Now, Alastor, I believe my parents didn’t do a thing for me to be grateful for”.

“I…overstepped” he blinked a few times, his eyes normal and the static gone, “Indeed” the ceramic made a cracking sound under your hands as you released it. “Let me make it up to you” Alastor tried to grab your hand, “Don’t bother” you cut him off.

When his hand was close to your wrist, you tapped lightly on his skin, that single tap felt as a full slap. A shiver ran though his spine, his stomach burned painfully, “Y/n” he pleaded, he wanted to chase after you, but he was naked, wet, and the thought ‘I shouldn’t have spoken’ shouted inside his ears.

“Cut the strings on one side and pull gently, then apply antiseptic, do not cut in the middle” you then closed the bathroom door behind you, as well as the main door.

🍎📻

Making your way to the stairs, your steps were heavy as well as your efforts to avoid letting more tears come out. Almost blinded by them, and rage, you accidentally knocked against something, or rather, someone.

“Y/n?” Lucifer turned around, embarrassment rose and showed up on your cheeks, while you cleaned the remaining wetness of your face. “Lovely night, isn’t it?” despite your state he smiled, not making fun of you, nor pointing it out.

“Could I ask you for an embarrassing favor?” he was nervous, you even more so, “I don’t think it’s the time–“ he pulled you by your hand and guided you down the hallway on the opposite direction from Alastor’s room.

“I’m shedding, with six wings it’s a huge bother, specially with the ones closer to my back, I lost the stick I use for those and they really itch, could you lend me a hand?” he had this stare only puppies have when they are asking to god himself for you to give them a rub and a treat.

You were weak to that fucking stare, and if you had seen your daughter grow old, she with no doubt would’ve gotten everything out of you just with that stare.

“Uhm, sure” anything to get you away from more suicidal thoughts, “Thank you, you have no idea how much I appreciate this” he was practically skipping as he walked.

He sat on the middle of the massive bed you put together, tossed his coat, vest, all possible garments away, then extended his wings for you.

15 minutes went by.

“Y/n? Your hands are trembling, is everything okay?” the silver carved brush shook along with you, of course he was going to notice.

You could say you were tormented by the memories of your past, that you blurted out the most horrifying seven years of you life to a man that doesn’t give a single shit about you, that you haven’t slept a proper wink in thirty years. That you feel under-fucked and alone, and could make a deal with any wretch that came your way for a bit of love and sympathy. Overall, you have no purpose, no will to live, nothing except the small praises you hear in the four courses of meals is a reason strong enough to get you out of bed in the mornings.

Sure, you could say that and look more pathetic than you already did. Mind the sarcasm.

“Yes, it’s just…I’m a bit overstimulated” again, understatement.

He didn’t understood that word, but he found you almost ripping your eyes out to stop yourself from crying, your hair frizzled and claws out. He had to give you a distraction, something your mind could be busy with.

“This doesn’t hurt, right?” he heard the concern in your voice, “Not at all, I feel a great relief, lighter even” he noticed how close you were to him, your tail was long enough to go pass his thigh, “Either way, let me know” he absentmindedly took it and worked his fingers against the pointy hairs at the end.

“These scars” the distinguish smell of his blood was clear, his milky-colored skin, pure and beautiful, was accompanied by a golden mantle, as if he had millions of freckles that are actually burns on his shoulders down to the lower back.

“They’re horrible, right? I got burned with hellfire during my fall, Lilith always commented how rough my back felt afterwards–” the sole way the was talking about himself made you want to cry, after a few self-loathing words out, your brain muffled his voice away.

Slowly you felt yourself drift, as well as you leaned forward, gently pressing your cheek on his shoulder. His warmth, the sweet smoked apple scent, even the sound of his heartbeat, overwhelmed you.

“Y/n?” the muffle went away; you heard his curious voice loud and clear though his skin. “The pattern reminds me of a swarm of fireflies dancing above the river” you laughed, painfully removing yourself from him, “I said something weird, didn’t I?” you smiled, but it fell as soon as you heard a sniffle.

“Sir, are you…” you tried looking pass his shoulder, but he composed himself faster than how the Dublin wall fell, not that you knew of that of course. “Sorry, that was beautiful, thank you” his smile, ear to ear, everything about him glowed.

“What do I do with the feathers?” you had collected them inside a pillow case, given the lack of plastic bags around, “I usually trash them” there was a big red one that was beautiful compared to the wilted looking ones, you saved it, sending it away with a smoke.

He noticed you saving one of his feathers, it in fact, sent a pleasant shiver up Lucifer’s heart and got him smiling like a teenager.

“How often do you roam around sleepless?” he folded all the clothing items he dismissed earlier, as he asked. You opened the bathroom’s trash can, poured the feathers down as you thought for an answer, but you just couldn’t lie, at all.

“Four to five times a week” he hummed, “So I gathered, nightmares?” you made your way putting the case back on the pillow you took it from, “Memories” you felt a poke on your back, that made you turn around, when you did, his face was almost at the same level as yours, he muttered “Quid pro quo” before a light went through his eyes.

“I know a spell that can help you, in exchange you become my cuddle buddy” he emphasized every damn word, like he was presenting a big opportunity, you were flabbergasted “Huh?” was the only thing you could utter that wasn’t a mental mess.

“Fun, right? Also you get out of that tomb you call a room” You weren't going to compare him to your friend in life Louanne, but the way the devil himself saw through you better than anyone had tried before was terrifying and yet strangely satisfying.

“Did I guessed?” worst thing is that he was right, he knew it, he knew you knew, and your face couldn’t be funnier to him, “You read me in a way I find distasteful” your annoyance was a delight, “I get that a lot” no he didn’t.

“If you do anything weird–“ he cut you off, “You will be allowed to bite me to a breaking point” oddly enough, Charlie’s attitude towards you was the stinking reflection of his father, you couldn’t have guessed it in a million years. “You and your daughter will be my ruin…Fine” for the sake of finally sleeping , you agreed.

“Any specific area you’d like me to avoid?” he took your hand again, just to have your fingers on his palm, “The ones that are obvious, also inner ears and the base of my tail” a serious tone, a warning, regarding your tail, “Just the base?” he asked, puzzled yet loving that you said yes.

“Well it’s connected to my spine, so it hurts a lot when manhandled” he kissed your hand, “Got it, please get comfortable while I dust off my wings, part of the process I’m afraid” he disappeared around the bathroom wall.

Half a second it took you to process what he said, before asking: “You want to start tonight?” your voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Yes, you don’t?” utter disbelief all over again, that man was too straight forward.

“I haven’t slept near anyone for more than a century” walked up to the bathroom door, high voice like when you used to whine about the prices getting too high for everyone’s sake. “Then I’ll try to be gentle, I haven’t slept correctly in seven years, I’m really excited” as fast as he walked in he was out, towel on his hips, wings folded inside somewhere. He then went in the walk in closet, like a diva getting ready for her next show.

“Are you…making fun of me?” that was a strange feeling, you weren’t in control at all, erratic feelings flooded you. “Nope” he made a pop sound, sticked his head out the door and winked with his forked tongue out. How is that the same man that had you nervous for your death in the kitchen the other day?

“I’ll get my nightwear” frustrated already you moved two steps, but he stood in front of you with a bag on his hand, “Already ahead of you, figured a two piece would be more comfortable” your mouth hanged open, speechless.

“You planned this ahead– know what? I don’t wanna know” you took the bag off his hands, in it there was a long sleeved shirt and a pair of shorts, both black with plastic cat images. “Little kittens? How cute, I can keep these right?” he nodded enthusiastically so. “Yes, look! Mine are ducks!” he made a little jump, opening like a starfish, “You look like a child!” you laughed, how long as it been since you did? “Hey don’t be mean, now who’s mocking who?” it was so contagious he ended up laughing too.

After changing, you left your boots and uniform on a chair, then walked to the already tucked in king, sliding down the covers in the space he made for you. You weren’t sure who hugged who, but he answered that for you when he nuzzled under your neck.

“You have a lovely laugh” he purred, hugging your waist, “Thanks, I don’t do it often” the vibration of his voice right in your heart was a weird but delightful thing to have back. Also the warmth of having someone to hug instead of a pillow, which is amazing, “Neither do I, thank you”.

His tail, right you forgot he has one, entwined with yours, that never happened before, but then again it would’ve been weird that your husband had a tail, right? He felt you tense up, so he passed his knee in between yours, then placed a loving kiss on your cheek before nuzzling back in.

“You can stop fighting now” words that worked almost like the spell that poured out of his fingers, “No one will hurt you”, four seconds, knocked out cold for the first time in 30 years.

------------------------------

Stay tuned ;3

Part 6

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