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joycrispy · 7 months

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One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #Crowley #Aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta #unfortunately I do not have trains of thought #only long meandering strolls of thought #sorry about it #anyway tl;dr Crowley is a nerd #also I have a strange emotional attachment to the idea of 1500's Crowley...#...facedown in a pile of Mona Lisa sketches; drunkenly info-dumping about Aziraphale #and Da Vinci is just like. 'Ahhhh mio amico Antonio. You fucking simp.'

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slippery-minghus · 11 months

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i feel like i just can't quite catch my breath today. is it anxiety? adderall hitting my system weird? something else? the world may never know!

#i just want to go home #being at work has been bery hard lately #i stopped wearing my calmers for a while bc my ears have been so itchy and for a bit i could handle the extra sensory input #and a few weeks ago i started wearing them again only to lose them like two days in #and i *don't* lose things. i. don't.#so i'm a little upset about that #but also they had been really bugging me to wear so idk if they're the sustainable choice #but... sensory bad. sensory exhausting #personal

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myguardianangel-ina-trenchcoat · 11 months

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Ok but the quality of images and gifs here is incredible, and it's so peaceful... I love it here

#hoarding jenmish pics like they're rhe only thing that'll sustain me over winter #and and and #there's no infighting #what is this #it's so calm #so very... tumblr #by which i mean weird as hell but in a good way

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meara-eldestofthemall · 6 months

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Gee, thanks DC! You Just Turned Bruce Into An Irredeemable Ass.

So, at the end of Gotham War Bruce has officially lost everything. Alfred is still dead, Selina is "presumed dead" and Bruce is both financially and morally broke. Why, you may ask, is Bruce so much worse off this time? Let me count the ways.

He preformed a psychic lobotomy on Jason

The "it's for your own good" excuse only makes the mental rape undertaken by Jason's own father that much more heinous.

Just when you think Bruce can't sink any lower he does. When Dick recognizes that Bruce has lost it, he attempts to use a failsafe disconnect that Bruce himself built into the system. How does Nightwing get thanked for that? Well that brings us to number two on the list.

Batman attacks up his eldest son for doing what he's supposed to do when Batman has gone rouge.

Bruce beats him up because nothing proves you are in control of your sanity like hitting your children. While Dick is holding back, Bruce does no such thing. He hits Nightwing hard enough to send him flying. It could have gotten even worse if Tim hadn't shown up.

Tim arrives and attempts to talk some sense into Batman.

Tim tries to talk Bruce down. It doesn't go well. When Robin is trying to help, as he always does, Batman uses the attempt to reason with him to put the smack down on his son. Bruce could have killed Tim but apparently feels no remorse or guilt.

If there was any teeny tiny little doubt that Bruce will not win the Father of The Year award in 2023 it died a horrible screaming death when Batman abandons his children to potential arrest. Yes, he left a batarang for Dick and Tim but any glimer of possible hope associated with that action was instantly extinguished by Damian's reaction to Batman's callous betrayal.

Bruce abandons Damian.

Look at Dami; he's devastated. Since he came into Bruce's life, Damian has struggled with feelings that he can never earn his father's love and respect. Well, that negative self-image was reinforced in way that may never be repairable. Bruce just utterly destroyed a 13 year old child because of his inability to feel any kind of empathy.

And how does this all end? The best part is that Bruce takes all of his parental responsibilities and dumps them onto Dick.

Thank you Chip Zdarsky and Trini Howard. You've taken Batman from being an edgy anti-hero and made him into a callous monster. Part of me hopes that Bruce never comes back because he doesn't deserve his family.

The only positive aspect in this convoluted mess is that Damian and Tim will be far better off with Dick than with Bruce. Yes, Tim is mostly independent but he still needs guidance (particularly since Tim's first instinct is to try and save Bruce). Damian is essentially Dick's son emotionally anyway so this might help to sustain the positive character growth we've seen in him as of late.

The point of this rant is to wonder what on earth DC thinks they're doing. This story arc has been pure character destruction as far as Bruce is concerned. It's bad storytelling too; rushed, frenetic and massively disappointing.

Hasn't the popularity of Good Dad Bruce in Wayne Family Adventures proved that fans are tired of Bruce being a dark depressed and brooding edge lord? We all accept that Batman is a character with deeeeep issues who is in desperate need of therapy. I, however, draw the line at Bruce being an abusive a**hole.

In years to come when fans wonder when Batman jumped the shark, this is the plot line they'll point to.

#bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #batman #nightwing #tim drake robin #damian wayne robin #batfam #dc stands for disappoints continually

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zephyrchama · 23 days

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You're wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets, warm and safe in your plush bed at the House of Lamentation. Your eyelids are heavy and you're tuckered out from another long day of devilsitting. The comfort and quiet feels amazing, and you're dozing off to sleep as the clock strikes midnight.

A grandfather clock in one of the manor's many distant hallways chimes to mark the occasion. Twelve reverberating rings.

And then a squeak.

You brush it off as part of a dream, or maybe you're so tired you're imagining things. Maybe someone passing by stepped on a sqeauky floorboard.

Two more muffled squeaks. Your eyelids flutter. It couldn't be a mouse, not after the thrashing Barbatos gave everyone last time the house got infested. You hear it a forth time, but decide the problem can wait until morning, if it's still around by then.

Another squeak, and an undeniable scream. Is that Asmodeus? This time your eyes are wide open and you jolt up. The squeaks are getting louder, and more frequent. You hear a scuffle happening downstairs, like things are being thrown about. Is the house under attack?

Nobody's come to get you. If there was any danger, one of the brothers would be at your doorstep in a heartbeat. The fact that they aren't fills you with a heavy anxiety.

The ground shudders and you hear Leviathan's scream. You're out of bed, grabbing the first solid thing you see for self-defense. Plates are crashing, you can't tell when one squeak stops and another begins. Is it safe to leave the room? What in the world is happening?

Your D.D.D. is quietly charging and shows no new notifications. Hesitantly, you open the bedroom door and step out into the hall.

The air smells like smoke and curses. The squeaking and shouting is so much louder. You hear Satan and Lucifer roaring as if engulfed in a fierce battle. They might need your help!

You run down the stairs. Mammon is strewn out on the bottom step, and you almost kick him in your haste.

"Mammon! What's happening?" You shakily try to hoist him up.

"They got me..." he rattles. "Can't... there's too many..." He's breathing so hard, he can hardly speak. Only stare towards the horror that awaits.

You pass Beelzebub and Belphegor hiding behind an upturned table. They're holding something, but you can't make it out in the dark. "Don't do it," they hiss, but the squeaking is too loud to hear them. They look like they've sustained heavy injuries too.

You sully forth. Leviathan is unconscious, having been thrown into a shelf. You rush to inspect him. He's covered in... paw marks? His hand is tightly gripped around a charred stick-like object.

You hardly even recognized poor Asmodeus laying feet away, covered in glass shards. He is not going to be happy about the state of his face when he wakes up.

A small explosion makes you jump, and you run into the living room. You thought you were prepared for anything. Your adrenaline is pumping, magic ready at your fingertips.

Lucifer and Satan are in the midst of a legendary battle. They're holding paws on sticks and fiercely booping each other, causing the sticks to squeak loudly with every impact. Satan laughs maniacally, charging towards Lucifer head-on as Lucifer parries magnificently.

What? What is going on?

"What's happening?"

The squeaking is so loud you can't even think straight. There are small fires everywhere. You side-step just in time to avoid a brick falling from the ceiling. Lucifer is so fast that your eyes can't keep up. You only see the afterimage of Satan's tail as he bounces off the walls with unrestrained murderous intent, sending more debris your way.

"Stop! Right! Now!" You yell with every fiber of your being.

The twins probably keeled over from the intensity of your pact command, too, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Lucifer and Satan tumble to the ground, stunned.

"When did you get there?" Satan's voice is shaky, almost overly excited.

"How long have you been there?" Lucifer asks. He sounds more surprised and concerned. Satan seizes this chance to boop him in the ear and Lucifer glares at him murderously.

"What's happening?" You repeat. The living room and surrounding areas are in shambles. The two people who usually have it together are embroiled in a crazy battle in the middle of the night, wielding squeaky paw sticks.

Lucifer and Satan boop each other simultaneously. "He started it."

#boopageddon in the HoL #i literally threw this together hope it makes sense happy april fools boopers #obey me #obey me!#obey me scenarios #omswd #obey me crack #obey me scenario #obey me oneshot #obey me drabble #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanon #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me satan

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pr1ncemax · 4 days

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i think the thing thats getting me most about the watcher situation is that the worth it style videos aren't even the issue ??? like. Spending 1,000$ on food for content isn't the issue

the issue is paying 13+ staff members on a fucking lets play video, or a video of them just getting drunk in their own backyard.

example, their backrooms video game lets play Video which has 450K views and 21K likes

And I know some of these are repeat staff with more than one role but they have listed out:

HOSTED BY x2

DIRECTOR x1

PRODUCER x1

Tech Director x1

EDITOR x1

POST PRODUCTION SUPERVISOR x 1

PRODUCTION COORDINATOR x1

GAFFER x1

CAMERA OPERATOR x1

SOUND MIXER x1

PA x1

ASSISTANT EDITORx 1

LOGO DESIGNER x1

HEAD OF DEVELOPMENTx 1

HEAD OF PRODUCTION x1

HEAD OF POST PRODUCTION x1

EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS x3

that's at least 20 roles. Roughly, 10-12 people. They're paying 10-12 people for a LET'S PLAY VIDEO.

Markiplier, on his most recent let's play video, has 1.5 MILLION views, and 124K likes.

He has himself, and three editors. That's it. FOUR people.

I don't think you need 10+ people for a fucking let's play video watcher. I really don't think you do.

And clearly, their idea of 'quality' isn't what people flock too. Because Markiplier is literally sitting in a room with a facecam. And yet, watcher only has 45% of the views that mark does.

There's a reason.

People don't care about quality, they care about personality. If you think you need more money to create this content, then fix what you're doing, don't go panhandling from your fans? Look at other content creators to see what they do. There's a reason Mythical is doing as well as they are, there's a reason college humor got to the point of dropout after years. The method forward is not alienation or guilt-tripping of what 'real' fans do. The method forward is figuring out something more sustainable. Getting a quick and bigger influx of cash isn't sustainable, without the content and game plan to back it up.

#just sayin #watcher

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bunjywunjy · 2 years

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Tell me about the olm?

olms are blind translucent salamanders that spend their entire lives in caves. they're about a foot long and can go literally years without twitching a single muscle. they only breed something like once a decade, and they can live for over 70 years.

aaaand they're also one of the biggest organisms to be totally cave-bound!

see, the thing about caves is that there's... not a whole lot going on. once you go pass through the Bat Zone and enter the parts of the cave where the only residents spend their entire lives there, you discover this:

yeah. these chambers have spent literally thousands of years away from the sun in unchanging darkness, so there's really not many nutrients passing through the food web here.

pretty much only the tiniest mere dribblings of nutrients are occasionally washed through underground rivers that pass through the cave, sustaining tiny cave fish and invertebrates. and also the olm, giant among its cave siblings.

so because there is so very little food and nutrimants around, olms have adapted to just. not use energy. at all.

they don't expend ANY energy at all unless it's to sip up a passing particle in the water. they are as still as statues otherwise, biding their time.

oh, I do NOT like looking at it head on.

and once they've built up enough reserves, they'll go find a similarly motivated partner to go create some little olms with! but then it's back to a decade of stillness in the dark for Olm.

it's okay, though. they've got time.

#cursed biology #deeps

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clandestineloki · 11 months

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Cold Flower (NSFW)

A/N: My public apology for going dormant on Tumblr for nearly 5 months.

tw: jotun!loki dom!loki, sub!cottagegirl!reader, loki’s cock is big but his size kink is bigger, corruption kink, praise kink, manhandling but very cutely if i may say!!, unrealistically fast paced because loki is horny ) >:D

read it on ao3!!

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The grass tickles your ankles as you step through the bushes, careful not to step on any pretty flowers in your path.

Sunset is nearing, and you've only gotten so much as a few ferns. But you don't mind. The forest will bloom when it wants to, and even if you haven't collected any flowers for your work you're having a wonderful time looking around at all the birds and the deer and the butterflies and nature; just getting away from the busy life in the village is enough of a treat.

Stepping through a clear patch, you look around for any deer traps. What deer traps? The ones that have hidden nets that burst out from the ground like flytraps and scoop up any poor being that just happened to be there, leaving them trapped up in the air by a rope tied to a tree.

Now that you think of it, a clear patch in the middle of the forest means one thing: a deer trap has been set off already.

Right above where you stand.

Realizing the danger of being anywhere near a threatened or harmed deer, you’re ready to bolt out of the woods when you look up, and see a net that’s filled with leaves, branches, and stray grass reeds.

And dangling out of the net is a leg— a leg that looks less like a deer’s… and more of a person’s.

You gasp in horror. Someone’s caught in it!

Running around the tree, you find the rope suspending the trap buried in the ground. You rummage for your shears and hastily cut it, grabbing the rope to pull it down with your weight and let the trap sink to the ground slowly.

When it does, you run over, cutting away as much of the net as you can, digging through the leaves until you reach someone covered in an enormous fur cape.

You gingerly pull it back, and stare in awe.

It’s a man, with dark hair and sharp features, no doubt very handsome despite the scratches and cuts he’s sustained. The linen top he’s wearing is littered with twigs.

Softly, you brush away the twigs when you touch his wrist and freeze.

And quite literally, because his skin is as cold as ice.

Almost as if he were a corpse.

“Sir! Sir! Please wake up!”

When Prince Loki’s eyes open and adjust to the glare of the sun— and the silhouette blocking it out— his breath hitches.

Is this Valhalla? Am I… dead?

Surely, he must be. For above him kneels the most beautiful girl, almost shimmering in the golden light, it’s definite that you’re an angel.

“Hello? Sir? Can you hear me?”

An even lovelier voice for a radiant woman. He nods, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness!” You lean forward, brushing away twigs from his face and cloak. “I thought you had died! I hate those deer traps, they’re dangerous and they're so hard to see! It almost killed you! Are you alright?”

“Yes- Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

It’s as if he spoke without thinking, eager to hear more from your pretty lips. You catch your breath, kneeling back down, and he sits up to get a better look at the captivating face of his savior.

“How long have you been up there?”

Loki brushes his hand against his cheek. “I'm not quite sure- ah-”

He hisses when his fingers graze a wound on his temple, and he retracts his hand to find a few specks of scarlet.

“Probably not long, I'm still bleeding,” he shows you his hand, and you gasp.

“Oh, no,” you take a closer look at his face. “My house isn't far from here, I can help you clean up and get some rest. You must be exhausted. Are you alright with some porridge and biscuits? They're all I have the ingredients for and the farmers’ market is a bit far so I'm sorry if...”

Loki honestly can’t concentrate on what you're saying. He nods along, but he's rather focused on you.

As he tags along behind you as you retrace your steps to your home, Loki whispers a thanks to whatever Gods led him to be graced by your beauty in this moment, regardless of the circumstance. He had just been hunting for sport, unaware of the trap that had pulled him up into the tree so suddenly and rendered him unconscious.

Now, he's found something— no, someone— better; a much more rewarding, delicious little prey.

“I just realized I haven't introduced myself."

Loki looks up just as you say your name, timidly holding out your hand. He takes it after a moment.

“Loki,” he replies, once he finds it in himself to speak.

“Like the prince?"

He recoils a bit in surprise. “Yes- Yes, like the prince. Uh-"

“How are you feeling?" you ask, dabbing the cloth lightly against his wrist.

“They don't hurt if I don't move."

“Okay. Let me know if it does.”

Loki nods, watching you silently tend to his wounds, before he hisses softly.

You flinch, pulling away. “Oh, I'm sorry-"

“You really don't know who I am?” Loki asks.

A second passes as you look down at him, brows furrowing as you sit down next to him on your bed.

“I can't recall. Sorry, have you ordered flowers from me before?"

“You run a flower shop?”

“Yes, that's why I was in the woods. I was looking for fresh flowers and came across you up in that trap.” You tilt your head. “What were you doing in the forest, anyway?"

“I was... hunting for deer, and the last thing I remember is hearing something above me snap.”

“Hunting… Is that what you do for a living?”

“Well, no. My brother and I do it for sport."

“Oh."

Loki stares at you blankly. “My brother, Prince Thor."

You nod.

Loki chuckles. Your pretty little head hasn't registered it.

He leans in close, brushing his lips against your ear, and whispers very slowly:

“I'm Prince Loki."

And the reaction he gets is the cutest. Your lips part as your eyes widen, to which he grins.

But he doesn't expect you to fling yourself off the side of the bed and onto the ground, bowing down to him.

“Your Highness!” you squeak. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know!! I-”

“Darling, please," he chuckles, shaking his head. “That isn't necessary-"

“I'm so sorry, I'll get some tea, do you want anything from the market? Please, allow me-”

Loki bends down, lifting you off the floor in a princess carry and sets you down on the bed.

“Please, don’t stress yourself. You saved my life.”

He takes your hand, kissing it softly as he smiles up at you.

“Thank you, pretty angel.”

Your eyes widen as you stutter out tiny breaths. Norns, aren’t you the most adorable?

“I don’t think you believe me.” He stands up, pretending to be offended by your silence.

“No!” you cry . “I mean- I do believe you! It’s just- I was surprised, I didn’t think-”

“Didn’t think what? A prince would just be out in the woods for no reason?” He laughs, leaning down to you. Before you can respond, he chuckles again. “That’s alright,” he steps back, “you just need a little… evidence.”

Loki closes his eyes, and lets himself shift into his true form: blue skin, dark green patterns across his biceps. He hears the tiniest gasp of amazement from you as the magic also heals his wounds and cuts (and hopes that he’ll hear more of those cute noises very soon).

When he’s done transforming, he opens his eyes and stares down at you.

Dear Norns.

He knew he was already taller than you in human form, but this was just delightful. You’re much tinier than him, staring up at his stature with those wide doe eyes of yours.

“You are-” you blink a few times in shock. “You are the Jotun prince.”

He smiles even wider. “That’s right.”

“And… I… just saved the Jotun prince.”

He starts laughing, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Clever girl.” He knows he’s downright cruel, teasing you just because you’re so cute. “And do you want anything in return for ‘saving the Jotun prince’?”

“Well, I don’t know-”

Loki walks closer to you, and stands between your legs as he drops his cloak to the floor and leans down, drawling his next words very slowly.

“You deserve something… special. Something downright… pleasurable as a reward for saving my life. Something that you’ll remember for the rest of yours.”

He chuckles darkly when your breath hitches in realization.

He wants to make love to you.

“What?”

He pushes you down on the bed, trapping you in with his large body as he takes your wrists in one of his hands.

“You’ll feel undeniable bliss. I’ll take you over and over and over again until I’m sure you’re truly satisfied, because you’re such a sweet little angel saving my life and cleaning me up and looking so fuckable.”

You mewl, no doubt keening from his dirty words. He cups your chin.

“All you have to do is say yes. You don’t even have to do anything~”

His thumb brushes over your quivering lips, and push into your mouth. Loki grins as you look up at him, nodding slowly.

“Use your words, angel,” he teases, pulling his thumb away from your mouth.

It takes you a few moments to catch your breath. “Okay…”

He wanted to make you beg. He wanted you to say please, please fuck me so he could flip you over like you weighed nothing and take you over and over again like you’d asked but the way you whimpered withered away the last of his patience.

He had to make you his.

Loki captured you into a passionate kiss, muffling every last sound your pretty lips made so that only he could hear. He pulled away only to push you down on the sheets again, forcing his tongue into your mouth as you twitch in his hold, unable to comprehend how dizzy you are from just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for air as his dark green irises watches your eyes glaze over with submission. He grins, unbuttoning his white button-up and tosses it elsewhere.

He grins as you stare at his chest. Your tiny hands reach for him, tracing over the markings and patterns.

Loki hisses, taking your hands in one of his. You whimper as he stares down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Did that hurt?”

“No, no.” His voice softens as he leans in, kissing your nose gently, his other hand pushing your dress up your thighs. He kisses your cheek, then presses his lips against your ear. You shiver at his ice-cold breath.

“It doesn’t, angel. It’s just that if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to resist flipping you over and pounding you into the sheets until you’re dripping with my cum and you can’t think.”

He pushes his knee against your crotch, making you squeak like a pathetic little mouse. Loki grins.

“I will be doing that, mind you,” he teases. “But I simply have to get a taste of your pretty juices first~”

Your skirt bunches up against your twitching hips as Loki stares down at your dripping cunt.

“Oh," Loki chuckles. “You're already wet for me, angel, isn't that adorable~?"

You mewl, bashfully covering your face as he grins at your embarrassment.

“Stop teasing..."

Loki shakes his head, pouting in mockery. “Only if you stop being so cute when you're flustered. But until then…”

He places his hands on your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he lowers his face to your mound.

“... I'll enjoy fucking you until you submit to me.”

Your eyes widen as he licks your folds very slowly, and you whine shakily.

“Prince Loki..."

Loki grins, kissing your pretty cunt wetly and pushing his tongue into your dripping hole. And your helpless whimper of pleasure as he devours your pretty pussy whole is the cutest and most captivating noise he's ever heard.

He draws it out of you again, and again, and again, drinking every bit of your slick, even if poor little you are just getting wetter and wetter.

You're panting now, and Loki is equally as short of breath, only ever breaking away from you to watch your pretty face scrunch up so cutely. Loki licks his lips, nibbling on your thighs and making you squeak and tremble in his icy grip.

“You're such an adorable little angel," Loki grumbles. "Makes me want to eat you up like a little mouse, hmm?”

He holds you down firmly as your moans tickle his ears. The way your little hole squeezes around nothing is just so cute, he just has to stuff you full after he makes you come far too many times than you can handle.

“Aww,” Loki chuckles as you whimper breathily, thighs thumping helplessly against the bed. “Little angel can’t take it anymore?”

He brushes a blue finger against your dripping folds, sinking into your hole for the millionth time making you squeak and sob in sensitivity.

“P-Please…” you mumble, glazed eyes pleading for a moment of rest.

He sighs, forgetting you’re just a pure little thing having her first time, and gently scoops you into his arms to press a few kisses to your cheek and whispering your name.

“Have I thanked you enough already~?” He teases, and you nod, nuzzling into his hold though you shiver lightly.

Loki’s heart skips a beat. He feels you cling to him tighter and he feels your little ass grinding against his cock.

“Well,” he muses, “I believe my kingdom will be overjoyed to find that an angel like yourself saved their prince, hmm?”

“Huh?” you ask, still pleasure-drunk as you settle into his lap, as if you perfectly fit in his hold.

“I said,” Loki chuckles his icy breath tickling your face, “My kingdom would be overjoyed to find a pretty thing like you saved the royal prince, wouldn't they?"

“Mhm..."

“And they'll throw a week-long celebration...” he continues, trailing kisses from your cheek to your shoulder. “All for you~”

“R-Really?” you gasp as he begins sucking on your skin, sure to leave marks after. “A whole week? That's too much-!”

Loki laughs against your shoulder, holding your hips down so he can feel your hips grind against his cock. “Nothing is too much for a perfect little angel like you~"

Loki licks the bite mark he's so carefully placed on your skin, then looks up at your glazed eyes and twitching pout.

“Would you like to come back with me to the palace?"

The look of confusion and bashfulness across your face makes his cock twitch against your bare folds.

“Me?! With you?!"

“Do you abhor the idea of that?”

He knows he's being mean and he knows you don't hate the idea, but Loki just can't resist seeing you so embarrassed and stuttering to apologize.

“No! I didn't mean that! I was just surprised-"

Loki shakes his head with a little chuckle, and brings you closer to his face to kiss the crease between your eyebrows.

“I know, I know. I was just teasing."

“Don't be mean like that!”

Loki laughs darkly when you cross your arms.

In a flash, he’s got you on your hands and knees before your pretty head can even figure out what’s going on.

“And if I do, what are you going to do about it?”

You shiver at the dark growl in his voice.

You're so far deep in this haze all you can see is blue.

“Your highness-!”

Loki presses your chest against the bed, leaving your pretty ass on display, purely his for the taking.

“You’re just a little mouse that can’t hurt anything, hmm? Just so innocent, and weak, and ready to be ravished.”

A cold, thick finger traces your wet folds, and you whimper, burying your face in the sheets as he tickles your hole until you’re shaking with need.

“Maybe I’ll take you back home with me… and make you my wife.”

Loki shoves his finger all the way in, knocking the wind out of you because you swear you can feel him in your tummy.

“Your- Your wife?” You ask, voice higher and breathier.

“Yes~” he mocks your airy voice. “My pretty wife, who won’t have to get her pretty hands dirty ever again, who I’ll take care of, and protect, and fuck every single night.”

Loki curls his finger, reaching that sensitive little part in your cunt that effectively leaves you a mumbling, drooling mess on him.

When he’s gotten you wet enough, he draws his finger back (to his cute little angel’s momentary dismay) and forces your thighs apart with his body, the head of his cock twitching against your folds.

Loki will forever remember the gasp you let out when you feel just how big he is.

“Do you want to be fully mine? Do you want me to fuck this little hole of yours with my cock until you’re screaming for me?”

You whine at his dirty words, slurring something that sounds like a yeah, and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

“Really?” he chuckles, fingering your little hole one more time to slicken your folds. “Do you think I’ll fit~?”

And with the dirty wet noises that tickle his ears as he sinks all the way in he gets his reply.

“Oh?” Amused, he runs an icy finger up and down your bare back. “She can take it, after all. What a good girl~”

Loki barely gets the praise out before the prettiest whimpers fall out of your mouth like sweet honey, your poor cunt clenching down on him as your voice gets higher and breathier by the minute.

“Please-” you hiccup, turning to look at him with those pretty teary eyes.

His vermillion eyes stare you down cruelly as he grinds his hips down into your ass, making your head fall onto the sheets as you slur out a moan.

His cock feels so heavy inside you and by the way he laughs quietly you know he knows just how big he is compared to you.

And the way he pins you down harder lets you know he loves it.

“Oh, you just feel so good around my cock,” Loki groans, pulling back and thrusting into your leaking little pussy.

Poor you, already sensitive beyond imagination as this handsome blue prince ruins any other man for you with the way his cock stretches you out better than anyone ever will.

Not that anyone else will get the chance to. Loki’s decided it: he will take you home to the palace and make you his wife, and everyone will bow before their new princess.

Loki can't resist you any longer. He beats your poor cunt like the beast he is until you're whimpering and bucking against him helplessly.

“Feels... weird..." you shudder and gasp, tears leaking from your eyes as he sinks deeper into you, his huge cock hitting all the good spots inside you as your pleasure takes over your senses.

“Oh, is she close? Is this perfect little cunt going to come all over me?”

Loki's dirty words make you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Yeah," you sob.

Loki laughs at how blissed out his little saviour is and stops,pulling out slowly and groaning when he hears the sinful squelching as your juices drip onto the sheets. He turns you on your back, pinning your wrists to your sides, and captures your lips in his as he sinks into you once more.

“I missed these pretty lips," he smirks into the kiss, taking you for himself.

“Y-You just kissed me a few minutes ago..." You sigh dazedly, though you love the attention he's giving you.

“Still can't get enough of you. You're just so sweet~" Loki licks your lips, thrusting harder and making you squeak and link your fingers through his.

“Say my name."

“Loki...”

“Gods," he throws his head back, almost moaning at how submissive you sound. “Surrender to me, darling."

His hands snake down to the back of your thighs, lifting them and pressing them to your chest, quickening his pace.

Your eyes scrunch up as you nearly scream in pleasure, wriggling away as if you could escape from him.

“Surrender to me, angel~" he grins, kissing your neck and marking you up. “A pretty angel like you deserves to be pampered like this every day. Imagine that? You'll never have to lift a finger, I'll do all the work, I'll do all the fucking.”

Loki accentuates that last word with a hard thrust into your hole, making your eyes blur over with tears as you mewl helplessly in the Jotun prince’s tight grip.

“Awh, don't cry," he teases, kissing your nose when he gets a sinfully great idea.

He stops his movements, making sure he's buried all the way inside you before he flattens his tongue against your soaked cheek and licks your tears away.

You gasp, stunned for a moment before you keen and twitch helplessly, whining loudly as he does the same to your other cheek.

And your poor little cunt just clenches down again.

Loki growls, his primal instincts taking over because you're his ideal mate and you're nothing like he's ever seen. The sounds in the room get filthier and filthier as he loses control and rams into your poor hole.

“What do you say, angel?" Loki asks, letting go of your wrist before his hand makes its way down to your clit, rubbing the little bud and making you scream and tremble in his arms. “Be my- fuck- be my bride? Be my pretty little princess?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, chest heaving as your eyes flutter shut.

“Are you close?"

“Mhm..."

“Cute little mouse," he chuckles, pressing open mouth kisses to your neck as he rubs your clit. “Let go for me now, angel."

It’s a sight from heaven as you orgasm all over him, soaking his cock with your juices and helplessly thumping your thighs against the bed because Loki won't stop thrusting in and out of you.

Loki growls, pinning you to the bed. He stills, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm, thick cum filling you up. It makes you feel even more full than you already do and it makes you dizzy with even more pleasure.

It becomes too much for your melting brain to handle when he pushes deeper into you and you gasp, attempting to kick him away.

A firm, cold hand grabs your ankle and spreads you wider, and you whine shyly when he grins at you with a cruel glint in his eyes.

“Stay with me, darling," Loki teases, gripping your hips possessively and holding you still on his cock so he can finish filling you up.

It feels like hours before he breathes again, but it's only been seconds for him, already wanting another round with you.

But the prince resists, setting your sore legs down slowly and carefully sliding out of your cunt.

You sigh in exhaustion, but your breaths falters in embarrassment when you feel just how much he pumped into you, dripping out of your twitching folds and onto the bed.

A tiny drop even lands on your ass and Loki chuckles at your wide eyes, leaning down to kiss your lips and whisper a dirty promise that he'll fuck you down there too next time.

“Next time?” you ask, lips parting.

“Yes," he teases. " I've decided it, you're never leaving my side, my guardian angel~”

And he scoops you into his side, letting you rest before he has a few more rounds with your pretty hole— then he'll take you back home to the palace and convince you to stay. He'll show you the library. He'll let you lose yourself in the royal gardens all day if you wish! As long as you return to his chambers each night and let him please you the way you deserve to be.

But he's fallen for you already and the whole kingdom will burn in a blaze of sapphire dust if anything or anyone ever keeps him away from you.

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riality-check · 10 months

Text

TW: past verbal and emotional abuse

The Harrington house is a game of perfection.

Steve has known this fact for as long as he can remember. There is a right way, a narrow way, a rigid way, of doing things. Numbers dictate all: rebounds, points, and assists for basketball, new PRs in freestyle and backstroke for swim. The numbers themselves do not matter; all that does is that they grow and shrink appropriately.

Infinite growth is not sustainable; not for Steve's stats, not for Richard's stocks. Both of them strive for it anyway.

The house must be clean. The parties can't be busted. The people of Hawkins will only say good things about the Harrington family. Gloria strives for these things, day in and day out.

The Harrington house is also a game of Perfection.

Steve hated that game growing up. The one with the little yellow pieces and the blue board. He was never able to get all the pieces in the right spot before the board spit them all back out.

It made a ticking noise, like a time bomb. Steve doesn't know when he started associating that sound with his parents.

It fits. It fits almost too well. They're fine, at least for a little while. The ticking starts quiet, then grows louder and louder until everything blows up.

The thing is, in Perfection, that the board blows up even if you put all the pieces in the right spots in time. The thing is, in the Harrington house, that everything blows up even if Steve does everything right.

The ticking lasts for days sometimes, weeks others. It's impossible, random, and impossibly random.

The only consistent thing is the board blowing up. And when that happens, so does the shouting.

The Party thinks that Tommy and Carol taught Steve to be cruel. That they're the ones who taught him how to bare his fangs and spit venom. That once he left them, the rage left him.

He's okay with letting them think that. It's easier than explaining that Richard and Gloria are the ones who taught him how to snap and shout, how to tear holes in other people with a few well-spoken barbs.

When Steve thinks of his parents, he thinks of fighting. He thinks of his father calling him useless and his mother calling him an idiot. He thinks of his mother calling his father dirt and his father calling his mother a bitch.

There are never any apologies. "I'm sorry" is never said in the Harrington house, even when the board gets reset.

They say "I got you pizza for dinner." "I saw this at the store and thought of you." "Do you want to come with me to get gas?"

And with that, the ticking starts up again.

Horrible things are said when the board blows up. Steve says horrible things when the board blows up. He's called his father an asshole and his mother self-absorbed and apologized without any apology at all.

He cleaned the pool instead.

Steve doesn't want to the board to blow up in the middle of the Munson trailer. It's why he's keeping his mouth shut while Eddie yells at him.

"What the hell, Stevie?" Eddie shouts, arms flying. "I told you that you can’t do that!"

“You told me you don’t want me to,” Steve says, staying calm and measured.

Calm and measured. Not blowing up. Steve isn’t going to snap or shout or bitch. He isn’t.

“Fucking semantics!”

“They were saying-”

“I don’t care what they were saying!” Eddie roars. “I don’t give a shit what they say about me!”

It’s true. Wayne calls Eddie “Teflon,” says that nothing sticks to him, least of all anyone’s opinion. Steve knows that Eddie doesn’t care about what most people in Hawkins think about him.

But he cares very much about what the people who care about him think.

Steve can say a whole lot of things right now. He’s angry, physically biting his tongue to ground himself. He can say a whole lot of things to cut Eddie to the bone, to end the argument and then some.

But he won’t.

Love is knowing how to hurt someone and choosing not to. It’s using a knife to split an apple to share instead of to cut skin to ribbons.

Steve can’t trust himself not to slash Eddie open. He says awful things when everything goes to hell like this, snaps back hard when snapped at first, operates purely on instinct.

He doesn’t want to hurt Eddie, so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I care that you could have gotten hurt when you swung at those assholes,” Eddie continues. “I care that I wasn’t there with you when you defended yourself. I care that you won’t let me take a look at your hands and make sure they’re alright.”

Steve squeezes the knuckles of this right hand in his left. It stings, but he’s fine. Nothing broken. He knows from experience

“Stop it, you’re hurting yourself,” Eddie barks.

Steve lets go of his hands, lets them hang loosely at his sides.

“So, what the hell, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, still loud, still snappish.

A variety of terrible answers surges to the front of Steve’s mind. Eddie’s biggest insecurities, the things he’s only told Steve when he thought he was asleep. Ways to wipe the anger off his face and replace it with stuff easier to manage: shock, hurt, sadness. Things he would say if he didn’t particularly like Eddie, if he were still in high school, if he were still in his parents’ house.

Steve doesn’t say anything. He keeps the knife in its drawer. He closes his eyes tight and breathes in once, then again.

“Hey,” Eddie says, softer.

Steve opens his eyes to find him a step closer, hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

Oh.

Well.

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’s said it before. Of course he has. He knows the words, knows that he needed to say them to Dustin and Robin and Max, and he has. He’s stepped too far with jokes and forgot about some things and missed some things they’ve said.

But he’s never yelled at them. They’ve never yelled at him.

This is not how this is supposed to go. Eddie isn’t supposed to apologize. He’s supposed to clean Steve up or make him dinner or invite him along to go grocery shopping.

And Steve was supposed to snap back.

“It’s okay,” he says because that’s what he’s supposed to say, yeah?

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s not. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“It was bound to happen.”

Eddie stares at him, big doe eyes shining, like he has five heads. It makes Steve want to put his bloody hands behind his back, make him shrink.

He swears he can hear ticking, but the board just reset. Didn’t it?

“What?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I got scared, but that doesn’t mean I get to yell at you. That’s not okay.”

What does Eddie get to do, if not yell?

I deserve it, Steve thinks, but he’s smart enough to know that saying that out loud will just lead to another fight.

There’s been barely any time to put the pieces back.

Steve doesn’t get it. But, he figures he’s always been a little slow on the uptake, so he can watch. Observe. Figure it out later on his own. He’s pretty good at that.

“Okay,” Steve says.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, and he holds his hands out for Eddie to take.

He’s dragged along to the sink, where Eddie rinses the cuts out with cool water before bandaging them up with the remnants of a box of Band-Aids from the bathroom. When they’re dry and finished, he presses a kiss to each knuckle, feather light.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, looking at Steve very seriously.

“Me, too,” Steve says, voice a little hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

It feels good to say. It feels good to mean.

Standing there in the kitchen of a trailer in Forest Hills, looking at the mismatched furniture and half-full ashtrays of the living room, holding hands with his boyfriend formerly accused of murder and apologizing for the first time and meaning it, Steve feels like he can finally breathe.

The ticking has finally stopped, and silence sounds so sweet.

#ria writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst #fluff #happy ending #tw verbal abuse #(it’s in the past)#idk what else to tag this #i’m tired #anyways it’s projection hours

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changbunnies · 3 months

Text

Scent Of You, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Wolf Hybrid!Bang Chan x Fem Bunny Hybrid!Reader x Wolf Hybrid!Changbin

♡ Genre: little red riding hood au, fantasy/supernatural au, hybrid au, vague allusions to omegaverse dynamics, porn with plot, dubcon

♡ Word Count: 7.8k (oops)

♡ Summary: In which a sweet, naive bunny hybrid nicknamed 'little red' becomes lost in the forest at night, and finds herself face to face with the big, bad wolves her grandmother always warned her about.

♡ Warnings: uses the little red riding hood fairytale as a base for inspiration before it devolves into smut, words like "alpha" and other omegaverse terms aren't used but the vibes are There lol

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): dubcon (but the smut itself isn't very rough), pet names (though mostly as a title- such as bunny, little red, and sweetheart), the word slut is used a few times, gendered language such as "dirty girl", a lot of kissing, size difference, size kink (i'm sorry if you're tall just pretend ur small and they're huge because ur a rabbit and they're a wolf fsdgsdf), oral (m + f rec), some manhandling, some banter and mild rivalry between bin and chan, unprotected piv, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms and multiple creampies

♡ Notes: so i intended to take a small break from writing after finishing crave but inspo struck me as i was trying to fall asleep and i NEEDED to write it so i literally shot up and wrote all of this in one sitting in a cold sweat fsdgdsf so here we are, one last surprise upload before my break <3 it's easily the most self indulgent fic i've written to date dfdgh bunny is my fave petname and this is basically just my excuse to be called bunny in a wolf binchan sandwich lmao this is not as proofread as my other stuff given how quickly i wrote it, and it's my first time writing a threesome, but i hope you enjoy! edit: there is now a sequel you can read here !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

"Please, take care sweetheart. Don't stay out too long," your grandmother warns with a tender kiss to your forehead as you prepare to head out for the day, pulling the hood of your long, red cape up over your head, tucking in your hair and covering your lopped ears. "I know, grandmother, I know! I'll be back before you know it, I promise," you assure her with a smile, hooking your twine basket into your arm, empty and ready to be filled with treats of the forest.

Your grandmother heaves a soft sigh, as she falls back against the bed, and you give her hand a reassuring squeeze and a soft goodbye before you make your way out of your quaint cottage, a long line of intimidating, tall standing trees before you. Grandmother always worries for your safety, as the woods aren't entirely safe for a rabbit like yourself, but so long as the sun hangs bright in the sky, you'd be perfectly fine.

As grandmother has warned you countless times, it's only at night that the woods near your home become truly dangerous, as all manner of nocturnal predators leave their dens in search of their next meal. For a rabbit such as yourself, lingering in the woods at night is assuredly a death sentence; your diminutive stature and weak limbs would cause you to easily fall victim to the beasts that stalk through the forest with the moon's aid.

The only thing on your side would be your speed, but even then it's no guarantee of safety once a predator has you in their sights; and so your grandmother always instilled a proper fear of the dark within you, in the hope that you'd never find yourself in a situation in which you'd have to flee in the first place. Entering the forest brings with it countless anxieties for your species, but it's not like you can simply not go- the gifts of nature are what sustains you, and you have to enter the woods, even live near them, if you want to have food in your tummy and herbal medicines on your shelves.

As such, you are always very conscious of the amount of time you spend in the forest, only ever entering when the sun is brightly illuminating your surroundings, always careful and alert as you gather what you need. You observe the sun's position in the sky, use it to determine how much time you have left before it begins to set, always heading back well before it starts to sink behind the trees. And you'd never stay longer than necessary, especially not when you have grandmother waiting at home praying for your safe return!

But well.. grandmother is quite ill these days, and you spent more time than you usually would gathering the berries and leaves you’ll need to make her sweet, healing brews of tea. Soon enough, winter's chill would cause all the greenery to frost and wither, and you wanted to stock up now to ensure you had enough to last 'til the end of the season. It was for grandmother's health! Surely she'd understand and forgive you if you stayed out just a little longer than usual.

But as dusk started to settle over the trees, and you realized how precious few moments of sunlight you had left to make it home with, panic began to accumulate in the pit of your stomach. You tried your best to take deep breaths, to not allow your heart to race- as long as you remained calm, you could get back before dark, you were sure of it.

The more the sun sank however, the more you lost your clarity; you found yourself stumbling in circles, the encroaching dark causing the forest to become unrecognizable, leading you blindly in circles. You'd long since lost sight of the path you always followed home, and the moon and stars, which were normally such a beautiful sight, now came with a sense of foreboding. It was dark, you were lost, and grandmother was now all alone, probably worrying herself half to death wondering where you could be and if you're even still alive.

You continue blindly weaving your way through the trees, just praying that you're moving in the direction of home; you can't afford to hide away and wait until morning, not when a beast could be around any corner. Using your speed to your advantage, you dart past a near endless sea of trees, praying, praying, and praying the clearing will come into view and you’ll see your cottage in the middle, with orange light from the fire peeking through the windows and smoke billowing from the chimney.

Suddenly you stop, entire body freezing as your hair stands on end, nose twitching as an unfamiliar scent fills your nostrils; someone is near- someone that you should avoid at all costs. It’s so heavy, overwhelming beyond comprehension- the scent of the forest itself is still identifiable, but mixed now with something akin to leather, black coffee, and hot iron. The scent is actually quite pleasant, so that's not what causes you to freeze; it’s the unfamiliarity that is the true root of the problem, evoking a deep rooted, innate fear response.

You know all the “safe” smells- that of other prey animals such as yourself, for instance, are recognizable, comforting, and bring about a sense of calm. To be met with the unfamiliar is to be met with danger; it means that whatever is near is something you’ve never encountered during your safe treks through the forest, it means that a predator likely has you in their sights, because as grandmother has told you, if you smell them it’s already too late- they’ve found you.

“Now, now, what do we have here?” A deep voice calls, hidden from your sight. Your heart erupts in an erratic rhythm, a chill running down your spine as your eyes desperately search the darkness for the source of the voice. And there, you finally see it- or rather, him. A man, standing much, much taller and bulkier than you, sharp fangs exposed with his smile, fangs that you are sure will be used to rip you apart.

You see pointed ears and dusky blue-silver fur, a long tail that swishes with intrigue and delight, a fur coat with the arms cut off, an exposed chest laden with scars both fresh and faded. He’s a wolf, you realize with dread, the thing you were taught to fear most of all. You unconsciously take a step back as he approaches, the moonlight illuminating him in a way that evokes both fear and reverence; as beautiful as he is dangerous. “What’s a little thing like you doing in the forest at night, hmm? Don’t you know it isn’t safe, little red?” he says with a sickeningly sweet smile, referencing the caped hood you’re wearing, a gift from your grandmother meant to keep you safe from men like him.

You clutch your basket tighter as your legs begin to tremble, lowering your head and pulling your hood down further, trying your best to ensure your ears and other features are completely covered. He probably knows by smell alone you’re a prey animal, but you vainly hope he’ll let you go if he doesn’t realize you’re a rabbit- a stupid hope, but it’s the only one you have. “Poor thing, don’t be scared. You got lost, didn’t you, little red?” With each step towards you he takes, you take another step back, until your back meets that of a thick tree, the erratic rhythm of your heart building to a speed you thought otherwise impossible.

“Tell me- where did you come from?” The wolf asks with an intimidating smile full of fang, “I recognize you from somewhere. Where was it I’ve smelled you before..?” With nowhere to go, caged against the tree as the wolf closes in, all you can do is tremble as you watch him sniff the air, licking his lips as if tasting your scent. Most prey animals are generally the same, but there’s only one place he’s gotten the scent of sugar and cream from..

“Ah, I know,” he says suddenly, smile growing wider as he speaks, “That little cottage in the clearing- that’s it, isn’t it? That’s your home?” You swallow as you timidly nod, your nerves much too frayed to attempt to lie- you’ve never been a good liar anyways, your grandmother having raised you to be honest and good. “You’re quite far from home, little red. But I can help you,” he offers, but you know better than to trust a wolf- they’re liars, all of them.

“N-No, I.. I can get there by myself,” you say, finally finding your voice (shaky and timid though it may be.) The man hums, seemingly amused by your brave display; he knows how scared you are, can quite literally taste it, but he has to commend you for trying, at least. “I’m not sure that’s true. Do you know which way home is?”

“W-Well, uhm, I.. I- I, I don’t-” you stutter and fumble, and he chuckles, a smug look of “thought-so” clear on his face as he grins at you. His hand finds your cheek, and you look up at him with glassy, teary eyes, heart thumping out of control as he strokes your skin with his thumb. He smiles sweetly, almost boyishly- a look that would be endearing if he wasn’t a wolf, and you weren’t afraid for your life.

His clawed hand travels from your cheek to the top of your hood, and you quickly reach your hands up to clutch the fabric, keeping it fully tugged down in a vain attempt to continue to hide your identity. The wolf laughs, clearly amused at your reaction. “Come now, little red, show me what sort of ears you’re hiding under there,” he coos and you shake your head, eyes squeezing shut and knuckles turning white as you desperately cling to your hood.

At this point it probably no longer matters what you are exactly- no matter the answer, it’s clear the wolf before your eyes has plans for you that won’t go unfulfilled. But still, your survival instincts are in overdrive, and you can’t help but try your best to protect yourself, even if the endeavor proves to be worthless. He tugs at your hood, not yet trying to fully pull it off, but rather playing with you- he could easily pull it off in one quick swipe, his claws could tear the fabric to ribbons, but he chooses to instead have his fun, watch you panic and struggle with the hood in your tiny hands.

You look at him, unfallen tears blurring your vision; you don’t know what else to do. Grandmother always said if you found yourself cornered by wolves, your only option would be to run and pray for the best, but is that really the best you can do? And while you’re fast, wolves are faster- you’re sure the man would be able to catch up with you easily, especially given that the moon is his ally and he is likely extremely familiar with the deep woods.

Further still, he clearly stated he knows your home; even if you escape, he knows exactly where to go to find you. It fills you with dread, knowing that even if you do make it home, your grandmother would be there too; and you’d never forgive yourself if something bad happened to her because of you. It’s an impossible choice you are being dealt- surrender to your fate now, or try your best to flee and risk dragging your precious grandmother down with you.

But as he finally tugs down your hood, your white, snow-like lopped ears are fully exposed, and the wolf’s fangs shine as he gleefully smiles, you find yourself unconsciously making a choice- you run, as fast as your legs will carry you. The cape gets caught and snags on stray branches from the myriad trees, tearing as you continue to run, adrenaline coursing through your veins, chest aching from the erratic, forcefully thumping of your heart, breath coming out quick and harsh.

You barely make it 10 feet ahead through the trees before you’re crashing into something, the sudden impact causing you to let out an involuntary shout as you stumble back and fall ungracefully on your backside. Looking up, tears fall from your eyes when you realize it’s another wolf- shorter than the one who’d cornered you previously, but bulkier, with fur as dark as obsidian and a scent that matches it. You suspect that he was there the entire time, and you just didn’t notice due to the panicked focus you held on getting away from the blue-silver wolf.

“Where do you think you're going, little red?” the new wolf speaks, affirming your fears; he was there for the entire exchange, witness to the moniker you’d been given and now using it for himself. “Oh Changbin, you caught her,” you hear the previous wolf say from somewhere behind you, leaves and twigs snapping beneath his feet as he approaches your spot on the ground. “Course,” the dark wolf evidently named Changbin speaks, kneeling down to look directly in your teary eyes, “I’d never let such a sweet little thing get away from us.”

He reaches to the side of your body, where your twine basket has fallen from your arms and spilled its contents, all the berries and leaves you gathered now decorating the dirt. “Hmm, most of these are herbal. What a sweet granddaughter you are, gathering until late into the night! Your grandmother must be proud of you, hmm?” Changbin smiles, looking up to the previous wolf once he stands again, your basket in his hands, “Don’t you think so, Chan-hyung?”

The blue-silver wolf, that the dark wolf calls Chan, hums in agreement, once again calling you a “sweet thing.” Chan offers you a hand to help you stand, and you hesitate, swallowing as your eyes dart nervously between them. Their eyes on you make you nervous beyond just the predator-prey relationship you share; they’re both so impossibly ethereal in the light of the moon, and it makes you wonder if all wolves are such divine creatures.

Maybe that’s why the rest of the forest view them reverently; beautiful, powerful, utterly intimidating in all aspects- they offer no choice from a rabbit such as yourself but submission simply from presence alone. “What’s your name, little red?” is Chan’s next question, and again, you find yourself unable to lie; against your own sense of self-preservation, you tell him your name. And he hums, repeating your name as if testing the way it falls from his tongue before diverting back to his nickname for you.

“Let’s make a deal, little red,” the wolf says, still holding out his hand, waiting for you to take it. You finally do so cautiously, letting Chan help you to your feet, your legs still trembling but not yet buckling in the face of fear. “W-What kind of deal?” you ask hesitantly, looking between the two wolves who smile and lick their lips, tongues ghosting over their fangs as they do. Beautiful, powerful, intimidating, your mind repeats.

“We want to play with you,” Chan says smoothly, the answer coming natural to him, “play with us for a little while, and then we’ll take you home. We promise.” You look at the other, younger wolf who nods, backing the sentiment of his superior. Here you are, confronted in the deepest reaches of the forest by two wolves, and instead of devouring you they just want to “play”..? What does playing entail with them?

You’re not sure how much you truly want to know, but the promise of home dangling in front of you makes you consider their offer despite how foolish it may be. “You’re not.. tricking me, are you?” you ask, voice small, full of naivety and hope. “Of course not, sweetheart, we would never,” Changbin affirms, even going so far as to pick up the spilled contents of your basket and nestle them carefully back inside- a promise that by the time you’re done “playing”, you’ll be reunited with your sickly grandmother and able to care for her again.

“You just smell so sweet,” Chan says, his clawed fingers once again tracing over your cheek, “and we’ve always wanted to play with a sweet little bunny like you.” You nervously exhale the breath you unconsciously held when his hand traced your skin, searching his eyes for any sort of deceit. If you’re being honest, you’re not entirely confident in your ability to tell if the wolves are lying to you- they’re masters of manipulation, after all; lying is second nature to them.

Still, you want to trust them- trust that after you play with them for a little while, they’ll keep their promise of taking you home with your basket in your arms and everything you need to get through the winter. “If you really promise, then.. I’ll play with you,” you answer, and the wolves both smile eagerly, with the elder wolf taking you in his arms, swiftly lifting you up off your feet. You squeak in surprise, instinctively clutching tightly to his fur coat, scared of being dropped.

“Let’s go have some fun then,” Chan grins at you, making sure his hold on you is secure before he starts to move, “but not here. The floor here’s too dirty for you, isn’t it?” It’s a rhetorical question in which he expects no answer; instead he starts winding through the trees quickly, a destination clearly in mind. You vaguely see the other wolf trailing behind before you squeeze your eyes shut, the blur of trees and wind whipping through your hair and past your ears making you dizzy as you’re carried further and further into the forest, likely towards its center.

It takes you a few moments to open your eyes once you’ve realized you’re no longer moving at high speeds; Chan, who still has you in his arms, is now walking at a leisurely place through what you assume is his den. The smell of other wolves is distinct but distant- evidently, the three of you are the only ones home for the night. It makes you breathe a small sigh of relief to know the rest of his pack is absent, attending to their own matters. It makes you feel safer, somehow; as if you’re not literally inside a wolf's den, at the mercy of whatever it is the two before you want with you.

Eventually you are carried into a bedroom- one that smells more of Chan than the other wolf, which leads you to believe this is his room specifically. Changbin doesn’t seem to mind that the “playing” will take place here, a smile still clear on his face as he shuts the door behind himself, locking the door behind him as Chan sets you on his rather large bed.

Your ears lie flat against your head, your nerves eating away at you as you fiddle with your hands. You watch them both carefully, taking note of where Changbin sets down your basket before he meets you and Chan at the bed. The two of them standing over you makes you feel impossibly small, affirms how much better they are than you in every evolutionary aspect; speed, strength, size- they have it all. And you, one measly little rabbit with no significant qualities in comparison to them, who has no choice but to put her life in their hands if she wants to survive. How unfair.

“Tell me, little red,” Chan starts as he sits next to you on his bed, one large hand enough to cup your entire face and direct your complete attention towards him, “are bunnies as slutty as they say?” Your eyes widen as you gulp in shock, having not expected such a forward, explicit question. “Yeah, I’m curious,” Changbin follows up, sitting firmly on your other side, caging you in between the both of them, “they don’t say ‘fucking like rabbits’ for no reason, right? So what are you? A slut?”

“I-I’m not!” you sputter out; it’s true that rabbits have a reputation for promiscuity but you live a rather sheltered life with your grandmother- you hardly even know other rabbits your age, much less male rabbits. That being said, you have been a little.. let's say intense during your heats- but you rode those out with toys, not with the help of men. And you don’t think there’s any shame in promiscuity, but that’s simply not the life you lead; you live modestly, simply taking care of your grandmother to the best of your ability. You barely even have time to masturbate these days- fucking is entirely out of the realm of possibility, as busy as you are.

“But you’ve taken cock before?” Changbin asks from behind you rather shamelessly, and Chan looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer with a cocked brow. “W-Well, yes, but-” you start and Chan is smiling again, another happy hum leaving his lips. ..Does your virginity status really matter here..? Your eyes widen again when the reality of what you’ve agreed to clicks, and Chan chuckles at your delayed reaction. “You’re not very smart, are you, bunny? But that’s okay- you don’t need to be smart to have fun, isn’t that right?”

Changbin is the next to speak, his hot breath coming out against your ear, his hands tracing your hips, “Mhm, sweet, dumb bunnies are cute, don’t you think? I bet they have lots of fun,” It’s vaguely condescending, how they speak of you- sweet and dumb, as if your intelligence pales next to theirs, as if you are an object designed for their pleasure and no other. And somehow, it adds to the tremble in your legs, your breath hitching when Chan squeezes your cheeks between his fingers and thumb, forcing your mouth to open.

You overtly whine, the wolf’s obscenely long tongue sliding into your mouth, exploring with another eager hum, his fangs catching on your lip with each kiss. As he kisses you, his fingers tug at the knot of your caped hood, leaving the task of discarding it to the other wolf once the knot is undone. Goosebumps once again rise on your skin, with Changbin kissing and licking your neck after your cape has been tossed aside, deeply inhaling your scent as Chan continues to abuse your lips with his tongue and teeth.

“Chan-hyung wasn’t kidding when he said you smell so sweet,” he whispers against your skin as he continues to trail his kisses down towards your shoulder, “it’s intoxicating.” It’s shameless and almost embarrassing, the way arousal pools in your underwear despite all preconceived notions of how a rabbit should behave in the face of a predatory animal; but the more they kiss and lick, the more fear ebbs away, and becomes replaced by pleasure and yearning. It’s been so long since you last felt the touch of someone else, having been stricken to solitary heats since becoming your grandmother’s carer. It almost humiliates you to admit how good their touch feels on your burning skin.

They can quite literally feel your body release its tension, Changbin’s strong arms being the ones to hold you up as you melt, and the smell of your leaking arousal obviously doesn’t go undetected by either of their noses. Chan pulls away from your lips, a smirk visible on his features when you open your eyes to look at him. “What a dirty girl you are, excited already,” he says, another whine escaping you not only from his words, but from the feeling of Changbin’s teeth grazing your neck.

Chan, who could quite easily rip your dress from your body, instead opts to tug the fabric away much more carefully than you’d have anticipated- perhaps they really mean to return you home after this? Changbin, whose torso was substantially more covered than his elder’s, removes his top, leaving you to feel his bare, muscular chest against your now exposed back. He wastes no time in latching back to your neck, licking, sucking, teeth grazing the skin, but not biting down- whether to spare you the shame of returning home with the clear mark of a predator, or because he doesn’t have permission from lead of the pack however, is unclear.

Your breasts, which you’ve always considered quite full, despite your diminutive frame, easily fit within Chan’s large palms. Their ability to not only make you feel, but look small leaves you dizzy. You should be afraid of how they eclipse your frame with their size, but instead you find it exciting, your brain unraveling everything you’ve been taught about self-preservation in favor of experiencing utmost pleasure from two hulking wolves.

Shame, it seems, has entirely left you, as slick leaks from you easily, drenching your underwear with each touch from their rough hands. Chan’s fingers play with your sensitive nipples, pulling and tugging until you’re writhing against Changbin’s body, who has his own hands tracing your hips and thighs, pressing lingering kisses to any patch of skin he can reach. Chan lowers himself to take one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as his hand continues to play with the other.

Meanwhile, Changbin’s hand slinks around, brushing over your stomach before his hand dips between your legs, rubbing your heat over your soaked underwear. “Fuck, this messy for us already? You have to feel her, hyung, touch her pussy,” Changbin speaking such filthy words right next to your ear makes you shudder, a whimper leaving from deep in your throat when Chan obliges, his hand quick to replace the younger wolf’s. Instead of touching you over your clothes however, he opts to completely tear them from your body, in stark contrast to how he treated your dress- you suppose the underwear is less important to remain intact, or maybe he just can’t help it after having gotten this far?

“Oh, look at that Binnie, you’re right,” Chan grins as his fingers rub along your folds, spreading the slick around to create even more of a mess between your legs, “You’re such a dirty bunny underneath, hmm?” Your face burns red, another whine escaping as shame finally returns to you, your hands reaching to cover your face. The pair of them coo, finding the display cute, whilst simultaneously making their cocks throb- what a treat, to have found a bunny that is both incredibly sweet and effortlessly sexy all at once.

Chan pushes Changbin’s hands away from your body, and quickly turns you around. Your back is now against Chan, and he hooks your legs over his knees, spreading you open for the younger wolf to see. “Let’s give Binnie a look at your dripping pussy, don’t you think he deserves it after being so sweet to you?” More slick dribbles its way out of you, soaking the mattress beneath, a treat for Changbin’s eager eyes.

Peeking between your fingers, you see his dark tail swishing behind him in delight, very clearly excited by the sight he’s met with. “Can I taste her, hyung? I want to so bad,” he asks, licking his lips, his eager, sparkling eyes not leaving you for even a second. “Mm, what do you think, little red? Should we let him have a taste?” Chan asks, and though you can’t see him anymore, you can practically hear the smile in his voice- playful and fun.

You nod quickly, though Chan doesn’t seem content with that response- he tsks, once again grabbing your face and twisting your neck to look at him. “You gotta use your words, sweetheart, you understand?” You start to nod again, but then quickly follow up with a small “yes”, to which the wolf smiles, and diverts your gaze back to Changbin, forcing you to hold the darker wolf’s gaze. “Good bunny, go ahead and tell him, then. Tell him you want him to eat you.”

He can feel your face burn beneath his fingers, and though you can’t see it you’re sure there’s a smug smile gracing his perfect face as he waits for you to properly address Changbin. “I-I.. I want you to eat me, please,” you force yourself to mumble out, not missing the way Changbin’s cock throbs in his torn shorts. With one last lick of his lips, he’s diving between your thighs, looking up at you with a grin, “I’ll devour you, sweetheart.”

You gasp when his tongue licks between your folds, a loud moan unintentionally falling from your lips as he eagerly laps away at you. You can’t help but squirm in Chan’s hold, his legs continuing to hold yours open and preventing them from closing around Changbin’s head. Changbin moans as he licks and sucks on your clit, as if the act is more pleasurable for him than you; and eventually he alternates between giving his undivided attention to your clit, to sliding his tongue as deep into your hole as it’ll go, letting his nose bump your clit instead.

Chan’s erection digs into your back, sometimes groaning when your squirming and twitching causes friction; but he’s not content to just sit behind you and watch- he wants to add to the fun. So his hands come up to the soft base of your ears, expecting it to be as erogenous of a zone for you as it is for them- and by your reaction, he can tell it is. Your head falls back against him, and he can just catch a glimpse of your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, mouth hanging open as more moans and desperate whimpers leave you.

“You getting close, sweet bunny? You wanna cum?” Chan asks, grinning when you once again quickly nod your head, a near endless stream of whimpery moans leaving you as your high approaches. “Answer properly,” he reminds you, though his tone isn’t as strict as before- it’s almost playful, amused; he’s having fun. “W-Wanna cum, please, please let- hah- please let me cum,” you beg between harsh breaths, your entire body feeling like a wire on the verge of snapping.

“You heard her Bin, make her cum,” you hear Chan say as he becomes harsher with your ears, his calloused fingers now rubbing in rough circles. Your entire body jolts and convulses as the wire finally snaps, cry after cry of white pleasure spilling from your lips as you release on Changbin’s waiting tongue. He hums as he licks up all you offer him, not separating himself from his spot between your legs until he’s sure he’s got it all and you’re shuddering from the overstimulation.

Changbin takes your face in his hands, pulling you just slightly away from Chan as he drags you into a kiss, his tongue shoving its way into your mouth. Your taste is all over his tongue, his mouth stealing away all the breath you’ve just barely managed to breathe into your lungs after the intensity of your orgasm. Your eyes are hazy when he pulls away, fogged over by lust and needs for the wolves you are sandwiched between.

You just barely register Changbin looking past you to Chan, as if asking what to do next; though the exchange is silent, it seems like Changbin knows exactly where to go from here after receiving a certain look- have they done this before, you wonder? Changbin scoots back just a bit before grabbing your legs, unhooking them from Chan’s knees before he’s pulling you down, closer to him. You gasp, your head falling straight onto Chan’s lap- well, more accurately, to one of his thighs, before he’s closing his legs to act as a pillow for you.

His cock, though still obscured by the fabric of his shorts, is right next to your face and impressive in its size, just as Changbin’s is. The two of them, in almost practiced unison, pull down their shorts, though the task is harder for Chan, who has your head resting on his lap. He still manages well enough, and you’re met with the sight of his hard, leaking cock right in front of your eyes, almost close enough to touch your cheek.

You look up at Chan, who looks down to meet your gaze with a grin. “Hope you’re ready, bunny,” is all the warning you get before you’re flipped around to your front, another squeak of surprise as you’re manhandled to your knees, bent to where Changbin wants you, with your face still squarely in Chan’s lap. One of Chan’s hands holds his cock at the base while the other reaches under your chin, lifting your face up to look directly at him. “Show me what you can do while you’re taking cock,” he instructs, your body trembling as you feel Changbin’s cock rub between your folds, slicking himself up.

You whine when his cock presses against your hole, Changbin’s hands holding your hips up while Chan’s guide you to take his leaking cock into your mouth. You never imagined you’d be in a scenario where you’re taking in the cocks of two wolves at once, but you welcome the challenge. Changbin enters you first, the stretch the most intense you’ve ever taken- you can’t help but gasp, the sting pricking up every inch of your body. Chan, thankfully, doesn’t force you to take him entirely into your mouth in this state- he lets you instead kiss and lick the tip, recognizing your need to adjust to a size you’re entirely unused to taking.

They both praise you, though Changbin’s voice is significantly more strained and breathy as he continues his slow push inside your tight heat. Your nails dig into Chan’s thighs for support, and he doesn’t scold you for taking pauses in giving him attention, instead just watching as you squeeze your eyes shut and do your best to control your heavy breathing. “Big stretch, isn’t it bun?” Chan ends up asking, which causes you to nod with teary eyes. “‘s so big,” you exhale, and Changbin whines from behind you- you wonder if he likes hearing how big he is?

You can also hear the loud swishing of his tail, almost like a whip with how quick it snaps from side to side; it’s an undeniable truth that Changbin has been very, very excited to play with you the entire night. Changbin hisses once he’s fully aside, while Chan takes this time to rub your back in a soothing gesture you wouldn’t typically expect from a wolf. You look up at him, eyes full of equal parts gratitude and lust, and he simply smiles, hunching his back down to meet your lips in a kiss.

“Not fair, I wanna kiss her too-” Changbin protests from behind you and Chan scoffs when he pulls away from your lips. “Your dick is literally inside her Bin, shut the fuck up,” he says and to your surprise, you giggle- Changbin is kind of cute, isn’t he? At least, in a weird, wolf sort of way. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, and you can almost hear the playful sort of pout in his voice. “S-Sorry, didn’t mean to,” you mumble, hoping you didn’t offend him.

You take a cautious peek at him from over your shoulder, relieved to find that he’s actually smiling once he stops his dramatic pouting. Cute, you think again, but he doesn’t let you feel that way for long. He pulls out to the tip and presses back inside in one, swift motion, causing a moan to erupt from you as your nails once again dig into Chan’s skin. “Won’t be laughing by the time I’m done with you, bunny,” Changbin says as he repeats the motion, and it takes everything in you to not utterly collapse onto Chan’s lap.

He hits your spot every time, and you swear you can feel it all the way in your stomach- but Chan doesn’t let you stay idle in your pleasure for very long. “C’mon, sweet bunny, you know what to do,” he says, his hand under your chin directing you back to his own neglected length. Unable to control yourself much after Changbin starts picking up his pace, you simply open your mouth and stick out your tongue, allowing Chan to enter your mouth however much he wishes to, completely handing your control to him.

Changbin’s thrusts cause you to take more of Chan into your mouth than you’d initially take all at once, and it causes Chan to curse, his cock hitting the back of your throat within seconds of entering your mouth. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to well with tears, and then for those tears to cascade down your cheeks, trying your best not to choke and gag as Changbin, voluntarily or otherwise, forces you to take more and more of Chan’s cock down your throat.

You can hardly even breathe between the pleasure of Changbin drilling you from behind and Chan’s cock obstructing your primary airway, but it makes you dizzy in the best way possible. You feel floaty, every cell in your body knowing nothing but intense pleasure. Chan strokes your head, sometimes petting your ears for that extra burst of pleasure that makes you clench tighter and causes Changbin to curse from behind you each and every time.

Changbin, who is observing the way his cock looks sliding in and out of your tiny hole, gets a flash of inspiration when he looks at your cute, fluffy cottontail. Experimentally, he takes it into his hands, rubbing your tail between his fingers, and you keen, a shiver traveling throughout your entire body. “Oh, you like that?” he asks, a bit smug as he continues to rub and gently tug at your tail, a loud whine escaping you that is muffled only by the cock lodged in your mouth.

Chan can see your eyes rolling back, and decides to double the pleasure, not letting his hands leave your ears for even a second. Your noises tumble freely now, quick and constant, rising in volume despite how muffled they are. It’s overwhelming being played with like this, but it feels so fucking good you’d never think to complain- you may become addicted to this sensation when it’s all said and done.

You’re so wet and warm, and now squeezing impossibly tight- Changbin isn’t going to last, and you can feel him throbbing and twitching as his pace begins to stutter. “Shit- fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” he whines, letting go of your hip with his other hand to reach under you and find your clit with his fingers. “Cum with me, pretty bunny, c’mon, I know you’re close too,” he says, quickly rubbing your clit between two of his fingers.

Chan guides your head off of him, letting you suck in the breath you desperately need before he’s lifting you up just enough to meet his lips, capturing your moans with his mouth. You cum again with a succession of loud whimpers, your hands squeezing at Chan’s body desperately. “Oh my god, yes, ‘m cumming, c-cumming-” Changbin gasps, his cum shooting inside you in quick spurts, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he groans.

Chan lets you fall back to his lap, breathless and almost entirely spent, with Changbin breathing heavily behind you. He pulls out when he finally starts to soften, and you glance behind you the best you can to see him pouting at his elder again. “You did that to make me jealous!” he accuses Chan in reference to kissing you, and the other wolf simply shrugs with a smirk. “I can kiss you too, Binnie,” you mumble, just loud enough for the two of them to hear.

He whines again, and you realize it’s the first time you’re actually using one of their names. “You should’ve said my name while cumming, bunny,” he grunts as he scoops you up, pulling you back to his chest. “I don’t think she could’ve-” Chan starts to interject, laughing when Changbin glares at him, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss.

They’re not actually fighting over you, but you find the dynamic fun- maybe that’s why they like to share; and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this desired before. Changbin’s tail is swishing again as he kisses you, and you giggle when you hear it- he’s like a puppy, you think; eager, and easily excitable, with a hint of jealousy that makes him fun to tease. When he pulls away, he looks at Chan and then back at you, “Can you handle one more, sweetheart? Channie-hyung still needs a turn with you.”

“I can take it, I’m a good bunny,” you affirm and they both grin, Chan reaching out to you and pulling you away from Changbin’s arms, into his own. “Such a good girl,” he hums as he lays you down on the mattress, taking his place between your legs while Changbin lays down next to you, rubbing his hand over your soft tummy. Changbin’s cum is leaking steadily out of you, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind the mess it’s making on his mattress- you've made your own mess of his bed too, after all.

Chan instead uses his fingers to gather up what has leaked and spread it over his own length, using it as lubrication for his own push inside of you. Changbin presses kisses to your heated cheeks, licking away the tears that fall as Chan starts to push his cock inside you. Chan, who has been entirely composed up to this point, finally breaks just a bit- enough for his breath to start coming out harsher as you feel him twitch and throb inside you.

His tail doesn’t swish as fast and erratically as Changbin’s but it is nonetheless moving happily side to side, a clear indicator that you’re actually affecting him and he’s not all confidence and smug charisma. “Can I play with you while Channie-hyung fucks you, bunny?” Changbin asks, his hand creeping up to your chest, smiling when you quickly nod at him.

Chan should scold you for not answering properly, but he’s focusing on his own pleasure now- taking your legs into his hands and holding them open while he fucks in and out of you. Changbin plays with your nipples, his hand taking turns between them while the other is used to keep himself propped up to watch. “You’re making him feel good, can you tell?” he asks, and you look at Chan, who has sweat trailing down his brow and his plump bottom lip sucked between his teeth, face scrunched in pleasure.

It makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you turn back to Changbin, a small pout on your lips. “I-I wish I-” a deep breathy moan interrupts your dialogue as Chan hits your spot, but you continue, “I wish I could’ve s-seen you too.” You bet he looked absolutely divine, just as Chan does. Changbin groans, your sentiment evidently having an affect on him. “God, you’re the fucking sweetest, bunny,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss you some more, his tongue once again shoving it’s way into your mouth. You tangle your fingers in Changbin’s curly hair as he kisses you, and he hisses when you unintentionally tug during a particularly harsh thrust from Chan.

Changbin simply watches your face in awe for a moment when you pull away to breathe and let yourself fall back against the mattress, finding you incredibly cute, beautiful even, even with your hair a mess and drenched in sweat. “B-Binnie, Channie, think ‘m gonna cum again-” you whine, eyes rolling back once more when it causes Chan’s thrusts to become harsher. “Yeah? Gonna cum again, slutty bunny?” Changbin smiles, egging you on with his voice.

You nod quickly, pleas starting to fall from your lips effortlessly, “I-I can, right? Been a good girl, a good bunny? Good bunnies can cum?” They both smile, endless encouragement leaving them such as “yes pretty, go ahead and cum for us,” and “good bunny, good girl, cum sweetheat.” Changbin pulls you back to his lips as you cum, wanting to kiss you as you cum since he missed the chance earlier, and he eagerly swallows your noises, his fingers finding your clit once more to drag out your orgasm.

Chan as well starts to become louder, his grunts becoming more successive with each thrust, not losing speed even as his hips start to lose their rhythm. He grabs your face and tears you away from Changbin, kissing you in a display that is either meant to make Changbin jealous again, or is simply for his own pleasure. Or maybe it serves both purposes at once, because as Changbin whines in protest, you can feel Chan smirk against your lips before he’s losing himself again, his groans muffled against you as his hips stutter once, twice more before he’s spilling inside you, ropes and ropes of cum filling you to the brim.

You reach out to Changbin’s hand, squeezing it in a gesture that is meant to stop his jealousy, and he smiles at you, calling you a “sweet little thing” once more, giving you a peck to your forehead. Your eyes close, not opening even as Chan softens and slips out of you, exhaustion having clearly seeped into every molecule of your body. “Poor thing’s tired,” you vaguely hear Changbin say as he wipes the sweat off your brow. Chan responds, though it’s hard to make out what he says as you unconsciously slip into sleep, unable to prevent it with how heavy your entire body has become, rest quickly claiming you.

The sound of birds loudly chirping wakes you, and you blink slowly awake, eyes straining as you realize you’re in the sunlight. You sit up quickly, looking down at yourself and then your surroundings; you’re out of the forest proper, in the clearing where your home sits quaintly in the middle, and dressed back in your prior clothing and with your hood over your ears- barring the underwear you lost.

You’d think last night was a dream if it wasn’t for the fact that you could feel yourself bare underneath your dress; so they really upheld their promise and brought you back home..? You see your basket, sitting neatly in arm’s reach, a small note resting atop the berries and leaves you gathered yesterday that simply reads, “Last night was fun, wasn’t it, little red? Come play with us again sometime,” with a cutely drawn heart at the end, signed ‘Binnie and Channie.’

#skz x reader #bang chan x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #werewolf au #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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