#✦ — • VERSE • Where the Dead Never Sleep Smut •

[wherethedeadneversleep]

And So We Meet & Revelations

Featured couple: Buffy & Archangel Michael

Michael's power grew stronger every day, but he was also biding his time. It was all about finding Dean and securing his place. His true vessel had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. He could fight and deny all he wanted, but in the end, he would simply give in, and say "yes" to him. Michael always won in the end, because fate was always inevitable.

But what was a surprise to the archangel was Dean's choice of company: a bewitching vampire slayer known as Buffy Summers. From the moment he seeped into Dean's consciousness, and peered through his eyes, he saw the little blonde human for himself. She was a petite thing with a smart mouth, but a fiery, passionate personality that easily kept up with Dean's temperament.

She was a fighter like Dean. Like him, she was destined to protect humanity, and she sacrificed so much if only to gain so little in return. Yet she continued - or rather, continues - to do so, even if it meant being left alone to fight her battles.

Michael found himself drawn to her. Though she was human, he couldn't help but be fascinated with her, and not just because she was with his vessel (though, the idea of taking what belonged to him highly amused him to no end). The blood of the demon flowed through her, but even that fact didn't disgust him... for once. She was an anomaly he wanted to explore with his own hands.

This time around, he chose not to pester Dean. Rather, he would give Buffy a visit. Through the vastness of space-time, he traveled, until he arrived at his destination. Dark clouds sifted, and stars faded in the process. No matter what, his vessel couldn't interfere with his one-on-one with Buffy in her dreams.

"And so we meet," Michael spoke to the blonde as he appeared from behind. It mattered not what scenario was going on in Buffy's dream. He shattered through the environment effortlessly, and as calm as one could be: a tall, dark-haired individual with bright, glowing eyes, and smoldering good looks that could land him on the cover of a magazine.

"Dean's had a lot to say about me, I'm sure."

As Buffy drifted off into a deep sleep, she found herself walking in a graveyard. The moon cast an eerie glow over the tombstones, creating long shadows that danced in the night. The air was heavy with an otherworldly stillness as if the spirits of the departed were holding their breath.

Buffy's senses heightened as she cautiously made her way through the maze of graves. She could feel a subtle chill in the air, sending shivers down her spine. Her Slayer instincts told her that something was amiss, that danger lurked in every corner of this haunting place. Every creaking branch and rustling leaf seemed to echo in her ears, amplifying her unease. The darkness seemed to consume everything around her, making it difficult to distinguish much of anything. Every step she took felt like a leap into the unknown, her senses on high alert, ready to react at the slightest sign of danger. 

She couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, as if unseen eyes were following her every move. Despite her years of training as a vampire slayer, this particular night felt different. As she walked down the dimly lit alley behind the graveyard, she tightened her grip on her trusted stake, ready to face whatever awaited her in the darkness. The eerie silence only heightened her senses, making her acutely aware of every sound and movement around her. 

Just then the sky above her head was engulfed by rolling dark clouds, causing the stars to vanish. The only source of light she had was the faint glow of the moon peeking through the clouds.

Buffy was rarely taken off guard but the voice that came from behind her does just that. It's not one she recognizes, it's deep and mysterious. Buffy's instincts kick in immediately, her body tensing as she swiftly turns around to face the source of the voice. As her gaze settles on a figure, a stranger stands tall and imposing, cloaked in an air of enigma. His deep voice resonates with an otherworldly quality. A flicker of curiosity replaces her initial surprise at the words he speaks. " So you're the one that's been following me all night. What was your plan to just walk behind me to death? " Admittedly he was he was strikingly good-looking, tall with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and piercing eyes. Was it just a thing for all the good looking guys to be stalkery psychos?

Buffy's eyes narrowed as the next words he uttered were Dean's name. After uttering those words, there was no doubt in her mind that this could only be one person ─ The Archangel Michael. " Oh God " For a moment she felt her heart sink inside her chest. Buffy's mind raced as she tried to process the implications of Michael's presence. She couldn't believe that Michael was standing right in front of her. The weight of his presence was overwhelming, and Buffy's mind was filled with a mix of awe and fear. She had heard stories of his immense power and divine purpose, but never did she imagine that she would come face to face with him. As her thoughts raced, she couldn't help but wonder why he had chosen to reveal himself to her. No matter what she couldn't let him shake her.

" So this is your grand plan to make Dean say yes to you, going after someone he cares about? That plan is overrated and has been used way too many times. I thought someone like yourself could have come up with something more original. "

Michael couldn’t help but smile condescendingly at Buffy’s remarks.

“No matter how many times the Bible’s been written, re-written, and RE-WRITTEN,” he said, “I’ll give them this matter-of-fact statement about originality from Ecclesiastes 1:9 - ‘What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.’ Or, I like the quicker version: ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’”

He eyed the graveyard that consisted of Buffy’s dreamscape. It was a constant reminder of her destiny. Dean had the same reminders – nightmares – when he slept. No wonder these two were bonded. The horrors they faced when they were awake followed their every waking and sleeping moment.

Michael took one step forward and vanished – only to appear right behind Buffy, and was practically against her backside.

“Turn around to do anything, and I promise you that I will obliterate the place you and Dean are staying in, along with the occupants that are inside of it,” the archangel warned. The child that stayed with them would never have her chance at revenge if the beautiful slayer made one false move against him.

Michael stepped to the side of Buffy, where his lips brushed alongside her ear. In a hush voice, and with his hand upon her shoulder, he said, “I do see why Dean likes you, though. You have a spark about you. Smart mouth. Spirit. Even against the likes of me. You want to fight me. I can see it in your eyes. Even in your thoughts. I know what you’re thinking. You’re going to keep challenging me, even if you’re scared. That’s why I like you. I shouldn’t, though. The thing of it is, I don’t care for humans. My brother, Lucifer? He hates them. He really, truly hates them. Which is why we’re in this predicament right now. That monster needs to be punished for defying our father, and as his older brother, it is my duty to do so.”

Being this close to this human, Dean’s human, Michael couldn’t resist using his finger to stroke the side of her cheek. Her skin was soft as silk. He couldn’t remember the last time he allowed himself to be indulged like this. Attachments weren't his "thing," yet he was slowly but surely becoming fond of this woman.

Michael stepped away from the blonde slayer and informed her, “Don’t worry, when the population of humans declines sharply, I’ll make sure you are spared.”

As Buffy stood there, her eyes widened in disbelief. Was Michael actually reciting scripture to her?

Michael disappeared before she had the opportunity to utter a word, only to reemerge positioned directly behind her. Her chest hitched as she felt his body pressed tightly against hers. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. The sudden proximity made her heart race, and she struggled to find her voice. His presence was both exhilarating and unnerving, leaving her unsure of what to expect next. But that was soon answered when he gave his bone chilling warning. She knew she had to stay vigilant, prepared for whatever might come next. As much as she wanted to turn around and face him she remained where she stood. 

The Slayer's eyes closed feeling Michael's lips against her ear. How was he making her feel this way? She couldn't deny the attraction she felt towards him, even though her instincts screamed at her that this was wrong on so many levels. Buffy's heart raced as Michael's words sank in. She had always prided herself on her strength and resilience, but this unexpected connection with him was stirring emotions she hadn't anticipated. 

She knows that if he succeeds in his malevolent mission, countless innocent lives will be lost forever. No matter what threat the indiscriminate destruction of countless innocent lives is never an acceptable solution. That's when the gears inside her head begin turning. Her eyes narrow as he steps away from her and states how he'll have her spared.

Buffy's hands clench tightly by her hips, and in that moment, she comprehends the error he committed. Michael had issued a menacing promise to annihilate not only her but also Dean. Michael had an unfathomable way of tormenting Dean, but he had no intention of ending his life. To have the ultimate confrontation with his brother, he required Dean's vessel to remain alive. The second mistake he made was declaring his intention to do it in their shared location. If she was present with Michael, she couldn't simultaneously be with Dean ─ unless she was dreaming.

She made her move, her fists still tightly clenched. Advancing towards him, she pulled back and landed a powerful punch directly on Michael's face not even realizing she had most likely broken a few fingers on that hand.

" Bet you didn't see that coming. You want to recite scripture to me? You and Lucifer both need to get over your Daddy issues. You want to do what God tells you to do by fighting your brother and killing thousands of innocent people in the process. Don't you find that rather odd when he also told you to love humans more than you love him? News flash Michael, you can't do both at the same time. Neither of you care about humans so straight out of the races you're both already defying your father. Have you ever once stopped to think maybe for his own twisted amusement he's testing the two of you? " She was beyond angry and she wouldn't hold back.

" Your second mistake is threatening the people I care about. You say you'll make sure I'm spared but know this, it's my ' duty ' to protect these people and I'll go down doing just that ─ Vampires, Demons, Werewolves, Angels, it doesn't matter to me. If you're a threat to humanity you're gonna have me standing in your way. So stop trying to seduce me with your Angelic charms. "

Michael’s nose broke, and his head snapped back, but he made an instant recovery, due to his healing abilities. Nasal cartilage and bones were instantly repaired, and Michael faced forward once more. He had to commend Buffy on her reaction. Even with his threats, she still took a chance to attack. What would Dean say in this situation? “She had balls of steel.”

“I ‘tolerate’ humans, but don’t forget my father sacrificed humans many times over the centuries,” Michael reminded her. “It was out of necessity, and yet they still loved and devoted their lives to him. I still remain faithful and duty-bound to him. I can do away with as many humans as I see fit because more will be born. It’s Lucifer who is rather gung-ho about killing them like sheep in a slaughterhouse. But don’t misunderstand me, Miss Summers. I do love my brother, but he needs to be punished for misbehaving. He’s been a bad, bad boy.”

The archangel disappeared once more, only to appear a few feet away. This time, he was crouched on top of a headstone that read “Buffy Anne Summers.” It had her birth year and death date, along with an epithet that read, “SHE SAVED THE WORLD A LOT.”

He didn’t appreciate her playing armchair therapist about his family. With anyone else who spoke to him so openly, he would have destroyed them without a second thought. Yet, she still remained alive and still dreaming. Why? Was he simply amusing himself by allowing her to win this confrontation on her own turf?

“You like it when I seduce you, don’t you?” he asked, putting on a charming face for her, even as the dark thoughts continued to swim in his head. “You wouldn’t mind if I brushed up against you again? I bet Dean would have a problem with it. He hates the fact that we’d have shared custody of you when I take over. He’s the jealous type, and he hates sharing.”

It was his destiny to fight Lucifer. Nothing and nobody would put a stop to that. Yet after sifting through Buffy’s memories, it surprised him to learn how often she too had been betrayed and abandoned. All he wanted to do was be a loyal son to God. All Buffy wanted to do was be a fighter for humanity, and to be a good friend.

Michael’s eyes softened just a bit. Huh. Well, interesting. Maybe they had a few things in common after all.

Buffy's mind raced as she tried to make sense of the situation. She clenched her hand, feeling the throbbing ache intensify with each passing moment. The sharp sting of pain was too vivid, too tangible to be a mere figment of her imagination. She desperately searched for any signs that would confirm this was all just an illusion. Pinching herself, she hoped for that familiar jolt of disbelief that would wake her from this dream. But there was no waking up.

" Why can't you and your brother deal with this on your own without hurting innocent people? There are still good people out there who deserve a chance to live their lives. I don't know where you've been for the past decade or so but Lucifer doesn't want to destroy this planet. He might still have a distaste for humans but he's not out there killing them. " She wished there was something she could say or do to change his mind, to talk him out of this upcoming apocalypse. " If you really loved your brother you would want to help him not punish him and cause him pain. If god wants him punished why have you do it instead of him being a parent and doing it himself? " Why couldn't she make him understand this? It honestly hurts her knowing any parent would pit their children against each other.

Suddenly Michael disappeared once more, causing her to search the graveyard with her eyes and ears. Eventually, she found him perched atop the very same headstone that had emitted an uncommon energy just before he materialized. Buffy's heart sank in her chest as she approached. It was her grave from Sunnydale, a haunting reminder of the trauma she had endured. The mere sight of it brought back the night she was torn from heaven and forced to claw her way out of that very burial site. Was this his way of trying to scare her? He should know she had no fear of death if it meant she was able to save the people she cared for. Was this his attempt at instilling fear in her? He ought to know she had no fear of death when it came to protecting the ones she loved.

Her eyes narrowed as she observed Michael's charming facade. " Michael... " Buffy said firmly, her voice laced with both caution and defiance. " You seem to misunderstand the situation entirely. Dean and I have a partnership built on trust and respect. There is no 'shared custody' when it comes to me. " She took a step back, creating some distance between them, her body language reflecting her growing discomfort. She purposefully disregarded his questions, for the reality was that she did enjoy it and it was unjust that he had the ability to delve into her thoughts and perceive that. Why her body reacted to him the way it did she was unsure of but she refused to succumb to it or him. Despite her determination to resist, his presence continued to affect her in ways she couldn't fully comprehend. It was as if he held power over her, effortlessly unraveling the layers of her emotions. The more she tried to push him away, the stronger her desire for him grew, creating an internal conflict she couldn't escape. Yet, she remained steadfast in her decision not to let him break down her defenses, determined to protect herself from the vulnerability he seemed to effortlessly expose.  

Unexpectedly, a transformation occurred in his eyes, a softening that diminished his previous anger and condescension. While that grave still caused her great discomfort she moved forward until she was standing before Michael again. " You keep saying all these things about you and I. What exactly do you want from me, Michael? "

Michael ducked his head when Buffy questioned his father’s motives. How ironic she didn’t understand how fate worked: no matter how many choices were played out, how many alternate choices could have been made, the results would have wound up the same in the end. It was like how destiny would’ve worked out for Buffy. Her fate in becoming a slayer would have been the same in the end, regardless of what other choices she would have made, had she not moved to Sunnydale right away.

Him being on her grave stirred a surge of mixed emotions within her. She tried to defy him, but at the same time, she wasn’t completely discouraged by him, either. Truth be told, this was new territory for him. Never before had he been tempted by any human, as he saw himself too busy doing his best to be a loyal soldier and son for God to be stirred by any creature. Buffy undoubtedly fascinated and captivated him like no other being had before.

Just like the first time he’d felt her presence.

Tapping his finger on her headstone, Michael spoke once again.

“You don’t remember me,” he said to her, his eyes all-knowing, “but I clearly remember you. The day you died, and your soul went to heaven? That was when we first met. You fought the brave fight by sacrificing yourself in place of your little sister. Such a doting, responsible sibling you are. You didn’t stay long, though, did you? You were ripped away from us before you had a chance to settle down. But I never forgot about you.”

The archangel smirked, as he climbed down from the tombstone, and was now standing in front of Buffy once more. He could still recall the day her soul breached heaven. She was a pure source of energy, unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

“Now, for what I want from you?” he asked, finally getting around to answering her question. He could still feel that radiant energy that sung to him the moment she arrived in heaven. It was untapped energy he wanted to embrace and become one with. Even within the human body Buffy possessed, her very aura shined brighter than the sun itself. The more he stayed in her dream, the more prevalent her presence rapidly became for him. She challenged him in ways that didn’t annoy him, but rather, made him question himself inward.

Michael held his head high, as he brought his hand up, and cupped the side of her face.

“I’ll make it simple,” he said at long last. “What I want, is you.”

Before she could say anything else, he reached in and planted a kiss on her lips.

Buffy didn't exactly believe in fate and that there was no such thing as free will. However, recent events had started to make her question her long-held beliefs. The constant battles against supernatural forces, the unexplainable coincidences that seemed to guide her path, and the eerie way everything always seemed to fall into place had started to chip away at her skepticism.

As she delved deeper into her own introspection, Buffy began noticing patterns in her own choices and actions. She realized that even though she believed she had free will, there were moments when it felt like an invisible hand guided her decisions. Whether it was an instinctual urge or a gut feeling leading her down a particular path. But she couldn't let herself believe this to be true. Wasn't Lucifer a clear-cut example that free will exists? The war between Michael and Lucifer was meant to happen and if that was his destiny why did he fight it so hard? Why was humanity not at stake all this time he walked the earth? He simply wanted to live his life on earth alongside his family.

As Michael started talking, her eyes welled up with tears. Her insides twisted and the world around her seemed to spin. How could this not be the first time she had met Michael? She tried to compose herself, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. She could recall the immense confusion and agony she experienced when her friends forcefully ripped her out of Heaven. She had finally found tranquility, completion, and joy, but they had cruelly snatched it away from her. She had been consumed by the feeling that she was trapped in a living hell. The way Michael talked about not forgetting her was as if they had experienced something more than just a casual encounter in Heaven. Was he lying to her? Was he trying to play some game to twist her mind up? How could she know for sure? Everything around her started spinning more.

" You're lying. "

As Michael descended from the top of her tombstone, a chilling sensation enveloped her, rendering her immobile despite her desire to move. She could feel the coldness seeping into her bones, causing a shiver to run down her spine. The air around her seemed to grow heavy. Buffy's heart raced, her instincts urging her to flee, but an inexplicable force held her in place. The more time she spent in his presence, the more difficult it grew for her to fight against him – even more so after what he had just revealed to her.

She wanted to pull away from his touch but she felt her head melting against his palm. Her eyes closed as she heard him speak the answer to her initial question.  Michael's touch was tender yet filled with an undeniable passion. The weight of his words lingered in the air, leaving her breathless and unsure of how to respond. But before she could even think of doing so his lips were upon hers. As their lips met, a surge of electricity coursed through her veins. The memories of her and him started flashing back to her, gradually seeping back in one by one. As their kiss deepened, her arms wrapped around his shoulder, finger grasping in the back of his hair. She could feel the passion building, threatening to consume her completely.

The desires that spread throughout his body surprised him in the best way possible. It was unlike anything he could have possibly imagined. More than ever, he didn’t want to let her go. Just like when her soul reached heaven, he wanted to keep her there. He refused to release her. They were here now. For the first time, he wanted to be selfish and to keep something for himself for once.

His hands fell to her waist as they continued kissing. The air grew warm – in fact, he felt feverish. Impossible, seeing as how the body he inhabited shouldn’t be capable of being ill, especially in a dream landscape. But part of him was losing his senses as he allowed himself to sink more into Buffy’s kisses. He, a top tier archangel, was allowing himself to show weakness to a vampire slayer. This would’ve spelled doom for anyone else, yet he was letting his guard down for one person.

Fingers lifted from her waist and wove themselves through her silky blonde hair. Lips momentarily left her mouth, only to leave trails of kisses along her jawline and neck. His thoughts became silent, as his bodily instincts took over. Again, new territory for the likes of him, who’d never allowed himself to indulge in such selfish acts. Everything he’d done before, was for God, and God only. Never before did he comprehend even thinking of doing anything to appease himself… until now.

Once again, his lips reached her ear, where he admitted in a hushed tone, “Lucifer might be onto something.”

Free will. What a concept. But would he admit that so readily to his little brother? After all, this was Buffy’s dream. Perhaps by the time the slayer woke up, she would forget all about this. Michael, too, might move on from this by the time he arrived at Earth. He couldn’t possibly believe such a relationship would work out between them. But denial now? While he was so in over his head with how far he’d gotten already?

Michael hummed as he inhaled Buffy’s scent, giving her one more kiss on the lips, before standing tall before her. His fingertips danced through her hairline and trailed across her cheeks, and down her neckline until he left her body entirely. He didn’t want to leave her, but he knew dreams only lasted for so long for humans.

“Dean’s going to throw a fit once he finds out how fond I am of you,” Michael jested, his lips curling into a slight grin. “But don’t worry, you’ll hear from me again real soon, much to the ‘delight’ of my vessel. You can pass along my visit to him if you wish. Or if you keep our get-together hush-hush, I won’t blame you. Either way, he’ll find out once I take over.”

Buffy quickly found herself caught up in the intensity of the moment. The way Michael's hands held her waist made her heart race, and she couldn't help but reciprocate his passion. As their lips moved together, a surge of desire coursed through her veins, making her forget everything else. The dream landscape around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own world. The air crackled with electricity, and she could feel the heat radiating from Michael's body. It was as if their connection had ignited a fire within him that burned hotter than any fever.

The kisses along her jawline and neck made her eyes flutter. She could sense the conflict within Michael ─ the battle between his devotion to God and the overwhelming pull of his own desires. Yet, she couldn't help but be drawn to him, captivated by the intensity in his eyes and the vulnerability he displayed at this moment. She knew that pursuing this connection with Michael would come with its own set of challenges and complications. The clash between their contrasting beliefs and desires seemed inevitable, like two opposing forces destined to collide. Yet, in the midst of this internal struggle, there was an undeniable chemistry between them that defied all logic and reason.

It was as if time stood still, allowing them to forget about the complexities that awaited them. Yet reality would soon come crashing back down upon them. That moment came sooner than later, at least for her when Michael stepped back from her and mentioned Dean's name. As she listened to him she couldn't figure out if she was more hurt or just pissed off.

Briefly, her eyes closed as she struggled to pull her words together. " Is that what this was all about? Just another way to hurt Dean? " Just that quickly her fists were balling together at her sides again. " I'm not some toy to be used between the two of you. " The mere idea of that had her turning her back to him.

Maybe Michael was right all along. Was every event that occurred in Heaven merely a prearrangement for this precise moment? Could it be possible that every single event, every twist and turn of fate, was leading up to this very moment? The idea that her entire existence, filled with hardships and challenges, might have solely served to appease someone's ego, surpassing even their god complex, was unbearable to her. Was there any meaning to her journey, or was it all just a cruel game? No, she would not accept that as truth.

Whipping back around to look Michael in the eyes she demanded. " I refuse to believe that. Tell me something, Michael. You talk as if all of this is some great destiny and you can't even see how much free will you actually have. We both know you could have gone after Dean directly, you didn't need me for that. The obedient son deviated from his mission for something he wanted for once in his lifetime. Unless I'm just some damn bargaining chip to you, prove it to me here and now. Because if you don't and you do somehow manage to get Dean to say yes to you I'll be the first person to tell you to go get bent. "

Had any other human spoke so boldly and defiantly to and about Michael, they would’ve been eradicated on the spot, and without hesitation. Yet Buffy’s words struck a multitude of nerves within him. Yes, he wanted something for himself. He’d done everything ever asked of him. Everything he’d ever done for God, he did so without question. Yet where was his reward? Aside from being worshiped for eons, and having great power, in retrospect, it felt like he was still missing something.

When he first went after Lucifer, he took his little she-wolf of a wife to lure him out of hiding. Never could he have fathomed that a lover would have been a weakness for his brother. She, not even a human, prevented Lucifer from destroying mankind. Lucifer settled down with this werewolf, even took in her child, and raised it as his own. He allowed himself to grow soft… Yet it was what Lucifer wanted freely, and without shame.

Michael fixed Buffy with a hard stare. Was he no different from his brother? Having such feelings for another creature, only such was that of an actual human being? And of his own free will? She wasn’t a maggot like the rest. He’d care if something did happen to her. Oh, he’d more than care. No, he’d truly be bothered if anyone dared to lay a finger on her. He would absolutely lay waste to an entire landscape if his human were to be harmed.

“You’re quite the challenge I hadn’t expected,” Michael admitted, as he closed his eyes and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you know something? I won’t mind this extended stay at all.”

He snapped his fingers once. Gone was the cemetery and its gloomy atmosphere. Now Buffy found herself in a beautiful garden under a moonlit sky. As far as the eye could see, there were all sorts of fruit bearing trees, along with rivers that stretched far and wide. Michael opened his eyes and he stood gloriously before Buffy… without a single stitch of clothing on.

Being in control was one of Michael’s strongest characteristics… yet, it quickly failed, as he couldn’t help but admire how lovely Buffy looked, as she too was without any clothing on. He willed it, after all, when he teleported them within Buffy’s dream to the Garden of Eden. She was a warrior who still looked like a maiden, with how slender and delicate she appeared. As he advanced toward her, his eyes remained steadfast on hers, his breathing steady, and his vessel’s heart racing.

This was madness. It was unlike anything he’d ever done before. That was the excitement that drove him to this moment, this point of no return. He stood over her, their nude bodies now mere inches apart, and even knowing what she was capable of, she somehow looked so vulnerable. It was so wrong, but he couldn’t wait to taste her again. He never wanted anything more in his life.

His second kiss was filled with more urgency, as he wrapped his arms around her. The feeling of their bodies pressed together went straight to his manhood. He immediately wanted more of her, and he pulled her body flush against his. Even going as far as to bring one of her legs up and hook it around his waist.

Buffy was never one to hold her tongue not even after being constantly reminded of the tales, and repeatedly told, of Michael's cruelty and ruthlessness, and how his temper aligned with both. However, as she stood there bravely revealing her truth in a way that no one else seemed willing to do, she remained oblivious to that aspect of his character. She believed that beneath his rough exterior, there was a flicker of goodness waiting to be ignited. As she observed his inner turmoil, she saw a chance for redemption, a chance to bring out the best in him. 

If a wrathful Archangel was capable of love, then he was capable of change. Love had the power to transform even the most hardened hearts, melting away anger and replacing it with compassion. Michael's realization of his free will, which he had always possessed but lacked the confidence to acknowledge could come to light by that same love. Perhaps, it could potentially empower him to step off the playing field and express to his father that enough was enough. 

The way Michael looked at her made her swallow roughly. Her attention was then caught by a quick change in his gaze. It transformed from disbelief to a more intense possessive stare, causing the tiny hairs on her arms to stand up. The intensity in his eyes made her heart race, and she couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were swirling in his mind. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull between them, but she also couldn't ignore the warning bells ringing in the back of her mind.

" I'm not like most humans nor anyone you've had to deal with. " Buffy replied, exuding her signature blend of fiery spirit and sass. It was the little details that truly defined her character. His mention of an extended stay caused a raised eyebrow, piquing curiosity.

In the blink of an eye, she was transported to a completely different place. The sight of magnificent trees adorned with blossoms and endless rivers captivated her. A sense of familiarity washed over her as she realized she hadn't laid eyes on this place in years. As she stood there, taking in the breathtaking scenery, memories flooded back to her. The nostalgia brought a smile to her face, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for this unexpected journey down memory lane. Then, as her gaze ceased to wander, her sight landed on Michael. Another gulp came as she beheld him standing there completely naked before her. As she realizes she is fully undressed also she can't help but feel a hinge of embarrassment as she attempts to cover hers with her arms. Yet another small detail that defined who she was.

As he drew nearer, she sensed a suffocating sensation. This wasn't quite what she had envisioned when she challenged him to prove himself, but in this instant, she couldn't ignore the escalating intensity and her overwhelming desire to experience his touch once more. Even if she had desired to, she couldn't divert her gaze from his. Her heart thumped so loudly that its pounding echoed in her ears. The air crackled with anticipation, and every nerve in her body tingled with excitement. She yearned to feel his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on her skin, igniting a fire within her that only he could quench.

She was fully aware of the wrongdoing, acknowledging the need to jolt herself awake by pinching or any means necessary. The primary cause of her unease was the presence of the man slumbering beside her, and the overwhelming guilt that would consume her upon awakening and having to look into his eyes. Perhaps she was being greedy and selfish by loving them both, but the heart desires what it desires. She could deceive anyone else, but betraying her heart was an impossibility.

Their lips collided with an uncontrollable longing. Her arms intertwined around his shoulders, with her fingers firmly gripping the back of his hair. Her body ignited with a blazing fire as he pressed against her. Unable to restrain herself, she continued to entwine her legs around him, swiftly utilizing her power to secure both limbs tightly around his waist instead of one. Her back arched pressing her breast against his firm muscular chest. Soft moans escaped her lips each time she found herself needing to surface for air. " Make love to me, Michael. "  Uttered words filled with an intoxicating desire.

Rational thoughts flew out the window for Michael the moment he heard Buffy’s request to make love. His body moved automatically, and he had no issues with this whatsoever. The strength she demonstrated when she tightened herself around him was arousing. Hands soothed themselves through her hair while their tongues danced in their mouths. Without having to rely on his angel strength, Michael carried Buffy over to the nearest tree and carefully lowered her beneath the branches. He treated her as if she were made of glass, all the while still tasting her, and exploring the womanly, feminine curves of her body.

These desires within him screamed to just take her and ravish her, but those rational thoughts he assumed vanished returned and urged him to remain calm. Buffy wanted him to make love to her, and he’d do just that. He wouldn’t rush this. Even as he covered her soft body with his masculine one, he would take his time with her. Peppering her neck with kisses, he reached between her thighs and ran a finger along her sopping, wet slit.

His cock stiffened, and it pulsed with aching need. He’d never been one to indulge in such pleasures of the flesh as other angels may have done before him. It went against his duties, and it was the reason why he was the most powerful archangel. He kept himself focused, yet here he was, at the sheer mercy of a slayer who had him humbled and weak at the sight of the most beautiful body his father could have gifted among mankind.

Taking his moist finger out, he slid her honey along her inner thigh and cupped the underside of her breast. He thumbed her hardened nipple, fascinated with the sounds she made in response to his touch. Curiosity got the better of him, and he brought the finger he’d used to touch her folds to his tongue. He licked it, and he closed his eyes in delight.

“Never tasted anything so good,” he murmured as he stared lustfully at her through half-hooded eyes. His body grew increasingly warm. With a hum, he added, “I want more.”

Scaling himself back, Michael kept Buffy’s legs apart and focused. Though his cock was still solid, and he was more than ready to take her, he was steadfast in pleasing his lovely little human. Leaning down, the intensity of his eyes met hers briefly, before he proceeded to lap her pussy, eagerly tasting her sweet nectar. Long, lingering strokes, even going as far as to thrust his tongue in and out of her core.

Pulling his tongue out, he planted a kiss on her inner thigh, and asked, “Do you wish to reach paradise now before I properly claim you? Or I can stop right now, and take you in the more traditional sense? Either way, I have no complaints. You taste divine, my little human.”

Michael couldn’t resist giving Buffy’s slit another long, lingering lick before she could even give him a response. He could already feel a bit of semen leak from the tip of his cock. His restraint failed him, but it was difficult to keep himself in check when the slayer was the very definition of perfection in his eyes.

Buffy had a specific motive for her request. She believed that engaging in heated passionate sex without a deeper emotional connection was merely a fleeting moment of pleasure. She yearned for a love that transcended the physical realm, where every touch and caress held a deeper meaning. To her, making love was an intimate dance of souls, a sacred union that brought two individuals closer together in mind, body, and spirit. She wanted to be connected to Michael in every way possible. 

Michael, the eldest and mightiest among all the Angels, displayed an extraordinary tenderness with how he touched her. As their bodies intertwined, she could feel the power and grace emanating from Michael. His touch was gentle yet commanding as if he held the universe's secrets within his fingertips. She eagerly explored every inch of his physique, her hands gliding across his well-built form. He was perfect in every sense. It wasn't until his hand dipped between her thighs that her eyes fluttered closed. Her back arched away from the ground as she released a breathy moan. 

As the flames of passion engulfed her, she could feel an exhilarating surge of energy coursing through her veins. It was as if every dormant dream, every suppressed desire, had suddenly burst into life. The intensity of this newfound fire consumed her thoughts, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, she felt reborn. In that very instant, she realized that there was still a glimmer of hope remaining. The fact that Michael could expose his vulnerability and establish such a profound connection with her indicated that there was still a chance for this world.

If his intense focus on her nipples didn't already make her squirm, it definitely did when she witnessed him savoring the taste of her. " Oh God... " Her desire surged within, causing her inner walls to tighten with an intensity surpassing the fiercest flames she had ever encountered. As her desire grew stronger, she could feel her heart racing in sync with the wild rhythm of her thoughts. Every breath she took seemed to fuel the fire burning inside her, spreading warmth to every inch of her being. The anticipation of what lay ahead made her tremble with a mix of excitement and nervousness, like a tightrope walker teetering on the edge of a thrilling abyss.  

" Michael... " Buffy let out a cry as his head vanished into the space between her thighs. Her heart raced as she felt such intense pleasure coursing through her body. The intensity of the moment overwhelmed her, and she instinctively tangled her fingers into the top of his hair. Her mind was consumed by a whirlwind of sensations, each one more electrifying than the last. As his tongue explored her she couldn't help but rock her hips ever so lightly. God, it was too much, and yet still not enough.

A whimper of discontent drew from her lips as soon as she no longer felt the sensation of his tongue. She found herself in a whirlwind, her heart racing as she struggled to catch her breath amidst the overwhelming shower of euphoric praises being shouted at him. She couldn't handle it any longer she needed to have him inside her, to feel him stretching her so perfectly. Another fluttering roll of her eyes came when he went in for seconds. He was going to be the death of her and she knew it, but what a glorious death it would be.

She was so wet already and the need she felt for him surpassed anything she's ever known. As heavenly as his tongue had felt she needed more. " Please, Michael... " She practically begged, her head lifting enough to catch his gaze. " Now, I want you now. " With her hands, she effortlessly brought him back above her. Their mouths met, their tongues intertwining with a fiery passion.

He enjoyed teasing her and listening to the sounds she made was music to his ears. It churned his own burning desires for her and stirred the aching within. Never had he imagined such joy in being intimate with another like this before. When she begged for him, and their mouths met once more, who was he to deny her? For once, he was at a human’s mercy – HIS human’s.

Cupping her cheeks with both of his hands, they continued to share a deep, passionate kiss. He savored the way her tongue danced with his, the touch of her soft lips against his, and the sweet, breathy pants against his mouth. Already, her legs were wrapped around his hips, and the tip of his manhood rubbed against her slick entrance. He made sure her hips were arched just at the right angle, as he temporarily broke their kiss. His gaze was intense when he spoke.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me.”

The tone was both accusatory and at the same time, an admission of feelings he’d been denying himself. Nevertheless, Michael knew there was no turning back. Buffy was his human, and he’d do whatever it took to protect her. While he still had questions about his duties to God and his conflicts with Lucifer, there was no doubt his feelings for Buffy were strong and positive. Having her writhing and naked before him, completely open to him, assured Michael that the universe was on his side when it came to benevolent fortune.

Again, he kissed her, and at the same time, he pushed his long cock inside her. Michael closed his eyes and relished over how warm and tight she felt. He never felt anything so pleasing in all of his life. This was a type of paradise that he hadn’t imagined possible. Instincts urged him to thrust his hips against hers, and he moaned into her mouth.

His hands ran down to Buffy’s side until he grabbed her hip. He held her down to the grass so that he could thrust his cock deep, faster, and harder into her. Panting heavily, he groaned as the wet, slapping sound of flesh on flesh was heard in the night air. Pleasure was swiftly building within him, that it was nearly overwhelming.

He knew what would happen if he didn’t stop this. The consequences of an archangel and a human mating would be dire, but during this moment of bliss, Michael didn’t care. For once, he allowed himself to be selfish. Wrapped in the arms and legs of his own angel, it was impossible to want to stop. He wanted to own her body, much as she would own his. Lust and desire would conquer all tonight.

The incredible sensation she experienced solely from his touch and kisses was indescribable! Never before had she encountered such bliss. All she desired was for it to continue endlessly. Her body was trembling with the force of her desire for him, her body withering beneath him. She wanted to etch this moment into eternity, to savor the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin against hers. In this moment she knew that this connection between them was destined to be an everlasting flame, burning fiercely amidst the chaos of the world.

Buffy's heart raced as she locked eyes with Michael, his words echoing in her mind. The man she was looking at now was not the same as he had been earlier that night. The hard edges that had once defined his features seemed to melt away, revealing a vulnerability she had never seen before. It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders ─ as if he had shed his armor and allowed himself to be seen for who he truly was. He wasn't the only one who with those feelings because she knew after this night she would never be the same again. From the revelation he revealed to her earlier that night up until this very moment, something inside the Slayer had crossed over and never wanted to go back.

" I'm saving you... " She whispered back to him.

She was sure her face had never had such a look of pure unadulterated lust upon it as it did right now. His tongue searched every corner of her mouth sending sparks of desire throughout her taut trembling body. Michael was the missing piece of herself that she had longed for since her return from heaven. Warmth spread through her body as she embraced him. She kissed him back, feeling as if her soul was merging with his. She felt consumed with passion, her skin burning with need. But her wait was short-lived as she felt him penetrating her at long last.

Her body stiffened with pleasure causing her lips to break away from his as a heavenly moan broke past her lips. Every single nerve ending of her body came to life in ways she didn't even know existed. She barely had a chance to catch her breath before he was thrusting in and out of her aching channel. The harder he pounded into her, the louder she got. She moaned his name repeatedly as she wrapped her legs tighter around his waist. Simultaneously she begged him with words and with her actions to go deeper, harder, and faster. His movements were perfect, and she could feel her body trembling with pleasure.

His shoulder felt solid beneath her touch, a reassuring anchor amidst the swirling emotions within her. The arching of her back allowed her to press closer against him, their connection growing stronger with every passing second. It was as if their souls were dancing in perfect harmony. The grip on his hip tightened, conveying both desire and possessiveness. Her knuckles whitened under the strain, mirroring the fire that blazed within her eyes and heart. Their bodies moved as one, guided by an invisible force that defied logic and reason. Each thrust of his hips brought her closer to paradise. " Promise to never leave me again... " Breathing heavily again his ear.

Michael’s own body was overpowered with warmth and intoxication. His fingers kept busy weaving through her golden tresses, and occasionally cradling her head in the palm of his hands. He continued to revel in the taste of her mouth, and the way their tongues intertwined in a sensual dance. Yes, she was indeed saving him. He truly accepted it as fact.

The powerful emotions he had for her continued to surge through him. Listening to the sounds she made while his body moved with hers caused electricity to spark through him and jolt his nerves. Nothing about what they were doing or where they were doing it was wrong. Nobody could tell them otherwise.

Lust pummeled through his entire being. Buffy was the sweetest sin he’d ever known. When she begged him to fuck her harder, he happily obliged. He shifted their positions just slightly, making sure they couldn’t let go of one another, yet her glorious pussy would take on the pounding.

It was then he heard her plea whispered into his ear. There was no doubt in his mind – he was never going to leave her. Especially now, as they shared this moment of heated passion between them. If anyone dared to interrupt them now or even thought about taking her away from him, he’d destroy them in the blink of an eye. But thoughts of destruction swiftly banished, as ever-mounting rapture neared its peak.

Hoisting himself just high enough so that he could peer deep into her eyes, Michael grunted, “I promise… I will never leave you.”

That was a vow. In this body, or in Dean’s, Michael would not break his promise to Buffy Anne Summers. He sealed that declaration with a kiss, right as he surged into her once more, with wild, uncontrolled thrusts. The hard grip he had over her created bruising on her body, and even drew blood. She could take the pain, as she was stronger than she looked. Too many people underestimated her. She desired this, and he wasn’t going to hold back. They both wanted this.

The archangel was lightheaded. He was close, and it was hard to think. As much as he wanted to savor this frenzied state of pleasure, he could no longer keep himself in check. Michael groaned, continued to move as one with her, and within mere moments, spiraled to the highest peak. It was no gentle release, but a raging inferno. It consumed him, and it left him barely able to breathe, as he emptied himself completely inside her.

Even though Buffy knew she was dreaming, she couldn't recall a better dream. It was one she didn't want to wake up from. Her grip on him could not be tighter than it was already. Buffy knew Michael could handle her strength so there was no fear or restraint on her part. She felt safe and secure in his arms as if she belonged there and nowhere else. It was here that she felt content with where she was and with who she was with. How could this be wrong when it felt so damn right?

It was known that Slayers who didn't become rogue always reached the pearly gates of heaven when their ticket was punched. She had no doubt that this act alone would be enough to condemn her to the fiery pits of hell. It wasn't solely because she was in love with two different men, but the fact that God's most loyal and obedient son no longer seemed on track with his father's plan.

When his hips picked up the rhythm and she heard his answer to her question her eyes fluttered. She felt her body temperature rise and she could feel her heart pounding. At this point, she was sure her body was all over the bed she slept on. Buffy could feel her body shaking from the intensity of the pleasure she was feeling. She felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. Her body tensed up and then released in waves of pure pleasure.

She could no longer contain herself when she felt his strong, powerful body tensing above her. Her own body felt like a volcano ready to erupt. Every touch, every caress had ignited a fire within her that now burned with an intensity she couldn't ignore. As his muscles flexed against her skin, she could feel the raw strength emanating from him. The weight of his body pressing against hers created a delicious friction that made her heart race and her breath hitch.

Their bodies were entwined in a dance of desire, their connection electric and undeniable. She surrendered herself completely to the sensations coursing through her veins, losing herself in the depths of passion that consumed them both. Her body tensed and she flew straight over the edge, her climax so strong that she shouted his name so loudly that she was sure god himself had heard her. The entire time she refused to close her eyes, instead she kept her eyes locked on his. She wanted... needed... to see every single expression that touched his features.  It was as if his face was a canvas, displaying the intricate tapestry of his innermost thoughts and feelings. 

Both her hands raised to press palms to both sides of his face as she attempted to steady her breathing. As she pressed her palms against his face, she could feel the warmth of his skin against her fingertips. The touch brought a sense of calmness, grounding her racing thoughts. With each breath, she could feel herself slowly regaining control over herself. Both her thumbs lightly brushed against his lips.  " What are you doing every night for the foreseeable future? " She just had to ask to see if his answer had changed from earlier that night.

He wouldn’t dare look away from her. There was nowhere else he wanted to look. His fascination with the slayer was beyond obsession. Nobody would dare take her away from him. He’d marked her and planted his seed in her. Dream or not, they were now united as one.

His hand caressed the side of her face as her own hand explored his. He couldn’t stop touching her. It was like a renewed sense of wonder every time. She fascinated him in numerous ways. She was like no other human he ever encountered. Michal was mesmerized. He would dare say that his father’s greatest human creation was this woman beneath him.

Though their lovemaking had ceased, he refused to pull out. Instead, they remained entangled in each other’s arms, as they continued to touch and admire one another. Sweat on sweat, skin to skin, neither ever wanted to part. They were truly one and the same in the Garden of Eden.

Michael slowly blinked at Buffy’s question, as if their wondrous act of sex tired him out. He didn’t need to sleep, but the thought of having her rest in his arms beneath the branches of this tree did bring joy to this archangel’s heart. It was one of the first selfless joys he experienced in eons.

“I’ll be visiting you in your dreams every night as I prepare to make my return back to the mortal realm,” he declared, as his fingers trailed lazily through her silken blonde hair. He gently pushed her hands away from his face, only so he could dip down and pepper her neck with kisses. While in the crook of her neck, he declared, “Consider me your personal guardian angel.”

As Buffy continued to gaze at Michael, she couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Every time their eyes met, it was as if the world around them faded into oblivion. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull between her and Michael. It was a connection that defied logic and reason. The intensity of their gaze held a promise of a love that could transcend time and space, a love that could conquer any obstacle in their path. At that moment, Buffy knew that Michael had become the missing piece in her life, he was the one who had made her feel complete.

She found it difficult to fathom that throughout this entire time, she had been led to believe that he was a heartless, uncaring monster. How could someone capable of having such passion and beauty be labeled as heartless and uncaring? It was almost heartbreaking to think this encounter between them would soon end. 

As she lay there, her body tingled with a mix of pleasure and longing. The lingering sensations from their passionate encounter left her craving more. Each movement of his hips, though tantalizing, only scratched the surface of her desires. She felt like she was on a high that her body refused to come down from. If she ever had an addiction he was surely it. 

Her eyes fluttered again feeling his lips trailing across her neck. It had always been one of the most sensitive spots on her body. Knowing she was going to see him every night from here on out until she got to finally touch him in person had her heart pounding inside her chest. Chills rolled down her spine and without thought she found herself flipping the tables. Within an instant she had Michael lying on the grassy ground with her straddled on top of him. 

" I hope you can get used to me being insatiable. " Both her hands rested at his shoulders, not that she thought she could even attempt to overpower him, but so that she could slowly and teasingly rotate her hips. Her eyes remained locked on his because no matter how long they were together it was never enough. " I hope my guardian angel can keep up. "

A second wind? The thought drew a smile upon his lips. He didn't object in the slightest. It amused him to find himself beneath her, and he didn't fight it. His vessel certain didn't mind, as a surge of pleasure swelled in his lower regions, as she rocked her hips against his.

"No hope needed, because I will keep up," he promised, as his hands slid up her arms, and stroked her skin. He drank in the sight of her breasts as they jiggled with every movement she made. Every inch of her was flawless.

Now, Michael's desires surpassed anything he could've dreamed of. Gone were his needs to please anybody, other than this mortal seated upon him, whimpering, and moaning his name. He had a new love that extended besides his father and brothers, one that he'd kill for, and protect with his own life. This love was one he'd ensure would be one that would be crying out once more with pleasure and ecstasy. His hands cupped her breasts as she continued to ride him, rocking his hips against hers. Oh, how he wanted to lick the sweat off her stomach, as he drove his shaft deep into her tight sex.

Buffy gasped at the intensity of the sensations coursing through her as their bodies fused together. Michael's hands roamed over her skin, sending shivers down her spine. She felt alive in a way she never had before, like nothing could ever touch her again. Buffy's breaths grew more ragged with each thrust, her hands clutching Michael's shoulders as she ground herself against him. She felt as though she could never get enough, never spend enough time wrapped up in his embrace. Her heart pounded in sync with his, each beat a testament to the undeniable connection between them.

 As they continued to move in sync, Buffy felt as though she was floating on air, carried away by the intensity of their connection. Their bodies melded together perfectly, creating a sense of completeness that she had only ever felt once before. Michael's hands sliding across her skin, his lips trailing kisses along her neck, sent shivers down her spine. She knew she wanted more, needed more, and she would do whatever it took to have him — and not in just some out of body dream world. Their lovemaking was not just about physical pleasure, but emotional and spiritual as well. It was a connection that transcended time and space, and she knew that she would never be the same after this.

 She arched her back, pressing herself closer to him, her hips moving in a steady rhythm. " Michael… " Buffy whimpered as her body trembled, the pleasurable sensations coursing through her reaching a fever pitch. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in sync with the rhythm of her body. She clung to Michael, her nails digging into his shoulders, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. But suddenly she heard in the distance a familiar voice calling out her name. She tried to shake it off but as she looked down at Michael his figure began to blur. Something or someone was trying to pull her back. Her fingers gripped tighter to Michael’s shoulders … " Not yet…please… " She pleaded.

Michael was still riding high from his climax, savoring his own intense rush, when he also heard that overly chummy voice calling out to his human. The waking world summoned her at the worst time. They were two souls reunited at long last--better later than never. Their time together was brief, but at least it was sensual and meaningful. Most importantly, it was impactful. What he left within Buffy would allow his return to Earth to be much sooner than anticipated.

The fear in Buffy's eyes, and the way she gripped him with iron tight intensity, caused him to carefully sit them up off the ground. If it'd been anyone or anything making her so distressed, he would've destroyed them in the blink of an eye. Nobody would've stood in his way, because none would've lasted a second if they hurt what was precious to him. But because it was his vessel, and because of circumstances, he couldn't do anything, but allow her to be awakened.

"It won't be too long before we'll truly be together," Michael promised, as he carefully shifted their bodies, so that their foreheads tenderly rested against one another's. This gesture was a stark contrast to how he acted when they first encountered one another. The thought of her leaving him displeased him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "I promise you that you'll have a reminder of me in the waking world."

Michael glanced at the morning skies, noticing the light colors breaking through the darkness. It was the first time in his billions of years of existence that he noticed that none of his father's creations could match Buffy's natural beauty. He shifted his gaze back to her, and used his fingers to stroke the side of her face and lips, allowing himself to enjoy their velvet softness one last time.

After doing so, he gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, then whispered, "Wake up."

------- One Month Later

"… Buffy?" Dean's voice called out to her from the distance. "Want some breakfast?"

Buffy slowly blinked, her eyes unfocused as she opened them to the world around her. She reluctantly let go of Michael, feeling the void left behind as he vanished from her grasp. She was disoriented and felt the remnants of the dream world still lingering within her. She was lying on her bed, her clothes disheveled and messy. It was the sight of her torn blouse and the dampness between her legs that reminded her of the intense dreams she still had. They felt so real. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had truly been with Michael, that they'd shared an intimate connection, and that it was something she desperately wanted to experience again and again.

Hearing Dean’s voice brought instant guilt within her. She had to get up, to act normal, to pretend like nothing had happened. She was still in shock, and she knew that Dean would notice something was off if she didn't get a grip on herself. She sat up, smoothing out her clothes as best she could. " Be right there, Dean ! " She called out, her voice weak but steady.

As she walked out of her room, she could feel the aftermath of her dream still coursing through her veins. Her heart pounded, her face flushed, and her mind couldn't shake the memory of Michael's touch. It was as if he had left an indelible mark on her soul, one that she was afraid could never be erased.

Darting past the kitchen and straight into the bathroom she took a moment to splash her face with some cold water. As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but run her fingers through her tousled hair, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She had to do something to try and clear her head. She needed to focus on the here and now. But she couldn’t shake Michael’s last few words " I promise you that you'll have a reminder of me in the waking world ". Was he talking about Dean ? Because if so that was kind of cruel, but Michael wasn’t the cruel monster everyone lead him out to be so that couldn’t be it.

Buffy knew that she had to keep her feelings for Michael a secret, at least for now. She couldn't let anyone, especially Dean, know about the dream she had or the strange connection she felt with this mysterious figure. She had to maintain her normal facade, and try to push the dream to the back of her mind.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. " Hey, Dean. What's for breakfast ? " She asked, trying to sound casual and carefree. She knew that if she let on that something was off, Dean would immediately sense it and she wouldn't be able to shake the feeling that she was holding a secret from him.

Dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a well-worn shirt, Dean was already working the skillet over a heated oven when he heard Buffy call out to him. He almost didn't hear her over the sizzling bacon and oil. Buffy must've had a hell of a dream to have slept that long. He almost regretted waking her up. She deserved rest. God knew he needed to sleep in, but his internal clock wouldn't allow him. He felt guilt more than half the time doing so. It was like he didn't deserve it, even after all of his personal achievements over the years.

After cooking the bacon and sausages and setting them aside, Dean prepped the hash browns and onions. Growing up, he made meals like these for Sam during the rare times they had enough money to buy real ingredients, and not junk food from the gas stations. Good old-fashioned hobo meals, or "Mulligan stews." All he needed to add left were the eggs, cheese, and milk, and boom! Breakfast was served.

Even as he moved about the kitchen, Dean's mind shifted to Buffy. When he woke up earlier, he remembered how gorgeous Buffy was in bed. Even with her clothes on, he couldn't remember seeing anyone at peace like her. When he tried to wake her the first time, he wished he hadn't done so. He internally kicked himself, and retreated to the kitchen, where he decided to make breakfast for the two of them. It was only after he warmed up the oven, and busted out the ingredients, did he consider calling out to her again. They were both destined to fight and protect others, but she deserved to rest more than he did.

"Hey!" he greeted when he finally heard Buffy's voice. "Just in time! 'Bout finished here. Have a seat at the table, and I'll serve you a mix of eggs, bacon, sausage, and onions. You up for coffee or juice?"

 Buffy hesitated for a moment, her mind still foggy from the intense dream. She forced herself to focus on Dean and the present moment. " Um, coffee please. I definitely need the caffeine this morning. " She replied, managing a small smile.

 As she sat down at the table, she couldn't help but notice how attentive and caring Dean was being. It made her feel even guiltier about the vivid dream she'd just had about Michael. She watched Dean move around the kitchen with practiced ease, plating up the hearty breakfast he'd prepared.

 " This looks amazing, Dean. " Buffy said, genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness. Dean was so good to her, so attentive and caring. And here she was, her mind still reeling from the intense dream about another man. She took a long sip of coffee, hoping it would help clear her head.

Maybe everything would be okay as long as he didn’t ask to many questions. As hard as she tried she couldn't stop thinking about Michael's touch, his words, the intensity of their connection. But she knew she had to push those thoughts aside and concentrate on Dean, but it was so hard to focus right now.

 " You didn't have to go to all this trouble. " She said, watching as Dean set a steaming plate in front of her. Her stomach growled and churned but she didn’t think it was because she was hungry. The smell of the food was causing her some discomfort. She picked up her fork, poking at the eggs, willing herself to take a bite despite her churning stomach. " How long have you been awake ? " She asked to make some conversation to distract herself, but she could bring herself to look him in the eyes because of the guilt eating her up inside.

"'Bout two hours or so," Dean replied after he turned off the stove. Once he made sure everything was secure, he served himself a plate of food, along with a cup of coffee. After grabbing the morning paper, he took a seat next to Buffy, where he scanned the headlines for any potential leads for new cases. Dean wanted to make sure he was on top of anything that might lead them to their next mission. Failure could never be an option for him.

Under normal circumstances, Dean was laser focused on his next hunt. It was his job, after all. There was no quitting when it came to being a hunter. But ever since Emma mentioned Buffy's situation, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He allowed his emotions for his daughter to blindside him over what was closest to him, what was right in front of him. He couldn't focus when two women he cared for battled for his attention in ways that tied him up and spun him around at the same time.

Dean was a soldier, and he was also a simple man. There was no beating around the bush. Buffy was puking in the bathroom as of late. Picking at the food. Avoiding eye contact. Making small talk. Wasn't acting like her cheery self.

Was she...? Maybe...?

The paper fell to the table. Dean didn't even touch his food nor coffee. Hazel eyes studied the blonde next to him.

"How late are you?" he asked her.

Buffy froze, her fork hovering midair. Her heart started racing as Dean's words sank in. She slowly lowered the utensil, her appetite completely gone now. She knew exactly what he was implying, and the possibility terrified her.

 " I... I'm not sure, " she stammered, her mind whirling. She hadn't even considered that as a possibility, but now that Dean mentioned it, the signs were there. The nausea, the fatigue, the VIVID dreams... " You’ll have something in the waking world to remind you of me. " She swears she just heard his voice clear as day - it caused the fork in her hand to fall clanking against the plate.

 Buffy trailed off, her thoughts in turmoil. If she was pregnant, whose baby was it ? Dean's ? Or... She couldn't even bring herself to finish that thought. The possibility was too overwhelming. " Dean, I... " she started, then faltered. How could she possibly explain the dreams, the connection she felt with Michael ? How could she tell Dean about any of this without hurting him ?

 She stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair. " I need some air, " she muttered fighting back her tears as she headed for the door unable to find the words to express the storm of emotions inside her. The guilt, the fear, the confusion - it was all threatening to overwhelm her.

Dean rose and pushed his seat back. He drew in a sharp breath as he started to leave the table, and yet he could only take a few steps forward, before he stopped all together. Something felt off. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was in the back of his mind.

"Buffy?!" he called out to her. "Wait!"

'Go to her!' he screamed at himself. His hand gripped the side of the table until veins were visible. There had to be something more to this than just a baby on the way. The way Buffy acted, it was as if she was extremely upset. Like she did the unthinkable. But what could it be? He didn't want to waste his time racking his brain over the many possibilities while her hormones were making her upset.

With a grunt, Dean pushed himself away from the table and hurried out the kitchen door. Busting outside under the early morning skies, he found the blonde not too far away, but slowed his pace down, so he didn't come off too intimidating. Her back was facing him, so he adjusted his posture, and remained behind her, where he made enough noise so she knew he was present.

"What's up, babe?" Dean prodded gently. "I'm here for you, y'know?"

Buffy hugged herself tightly, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back sobs. She could sense Dean behind her, his presence both comforting and distressing. How could she face him ? How could she explain what was happening when she barely understood it herself ?

" I don't know what's real anymore, Dean, " she whispered, her voice trembling. " These dreams I’ve been having... they feel so vivid, so tangible. It's like I'm living another life when I close my eyes. "

She turned to face him, tears streaming down her cheeks, eyes wide with guilt and anguish. " And now, if I'm really... if there's a baby... " She couldn't bring herself to say the word 'pregnant' out loud. " I… " She suddenly feels like her stomach is going to turn upside down.

There is literally no way out of this now. " I'm not sure you'd understand, " she whispered. " I'm not sure I understand it myself. " Buffy looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The love and concern in Dean's gaze made her heart ache with more guilt because she knew exactly what it meant.

" The dreams I’ve been having, " she began hesitantly knowing she just had to spit it out no matter the outcome. " They're with... Michael. " As soon as his name left her lips she dropped to the ground on her knees. She couldn’t even face him as her eyes focused through the tears on the sandy ground beneath her.

Buffy took a shaky breath. " I didn't know how to tell you, Dean. I was scared. I thought maybe I was going crazy, or that it was just stress but he said he was giving me something in the waking world to remind me of him… and now… " She trailed off, unable to voice that somehow, impossibly, the child might be Michael's.

Dean's breath caught in his throat. Muscles went rigid. The word "baby," mixed with Buffy and Michael, left him in a stupor. Dean's relationship with the archangel was complicated enough. He hated him, and Lucifer, for what they put him and his brother through. Now with the possibility, or rather, the reality, of what was to come, hit fast and hard.

Despite his soldier mentality filing through the facts of what this meant, the dire consequences that would come out of this, the sight of Buffy in tears and in utter defeat, tore at his heart. At the same time, Dean was beside himself. Michael, an archangel who didn't seem to care one way or another for humans, had slept with Buffy in her dreams. Without a physical body, he was able to impregnate her with his child - a child that would be born a Nephilim. That proved how much power Michael still had.

Wordlessly, Dean shuffled toward Buffy's fallen form, until he was able to kneel before her. The day had just begun, but Dean was already exhausted. Michael left him emotionally drained with the fact that within a few months, a hybrid would be among them, and the end of the world was around the corner. Michael and Buffy were in trouble. Dean couldn't drop that news on Buffy, not yet. He had to figure out something out fast.

Before Buffy could lift her eyes to look at him, Dean gently put his arms around her, and gathered her against his chest. Burying his face into her hair, he murmured, "Hey, let's get you back inside so you can rest, okay?"

Buffy tensed as Dean's arms encircled her, half-expecting him to push her away in disgust. But his embrace was gentle, comforting. She melted against him, clinging to his shirt as sobs wracked her body. But this was far from over. There was still one confession she had to face up to. This was already so much for Dean to take in and what if telling him how she felt about Michael was enough to break that fragile line he was already on ? " No, no you don’t understand. " She couldn't keep hiding the truth from him because it was tearing her up inside. He deserved the truth.

 She shook her head because deep down she felt like once she manages to get it out that everything’s going to change. Buffy pulled back slightly, her tear-stained face looking up at Dean. " There's... there's more. It wasn’t the dreams alone that I was scared to tell you about. " She whispered, her voice barely audible. Her fingers clutched Dean's shirt tighter, as if afraid he might disappear once the words left her mouth.

 " I have feelings for him. For Michael. I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear. But in those dreams, it's like I'm a different person. And that person... she loves him. " The words hung heavy in the air between them. Buffy couldn't bring herself to look at Dean's face, terrified of what she might see there. Anger ? Betrayal ? Disgust ? She trembled in his arms, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

 " I'm so sorry, " she whispered, her voice breaking. " I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, Dean. I do. But these feelings for Michael... they're real too. And I don't know what to do because I love you both. " She finally gathered the courage to meet Dean's gaze, her eyes pleading for understanding, for forgiveness. " Please say something. " She begged because she needed to hear something, even if it was him exploding at her.

Dean's arms remained around her, but they no longer had the strength they once did. They simply hung there, limp. His eyes were void of the warmth and concern they once held for the blonde. As of now, they were filled with confusion and hurt.

Well, shit. It was far from the first time he was ever deceived by someone he loved. He lost count on both hands and toes the number of times he'd been stabbed in the back. Why did this hurt worse than having his heart literally ripped out from a hellhound? Buffy looked and sounded so damned sincere about her actions, that Dean almost believed it. He should've known he wasn't meant for love. The two women in his life ultimately proved it to him: his daughter, and now Buffy.

Dean's hazel eyes hardened, but he still said nothing. There was no way she could possibly love him and Michael both. That was the swan song for him right there. Michael didn't love humans. He didn't hate them, either. How could he love Buffy? Who was he trying to kid? He forced Buffy to have his child. There was a sick plan involved. He must've brainwashed her somehow. Buffy must have been tricked into thinking she was in love with Michael. That was what Dean believed.

He took his arms back and stood to his feet, carefully stepping away from the slayer. As he turned away, a tear unknowingly slid down his face and onto the ground. A harsh sigh escaped his lips. It was difficult to think, let alone breathe. After everything Michael put him through, Buffy claimed to be in love with him? No, no, it was a trap. It was a deception. Over and over again, his mind rapidly told himself she was under his spell. The archangel harmed her, and now she was forced to carry his baby. That was it, end of story.

So why couldn't Dean believe it?

Dean made a tight fist at his side. If Michael was present here and now, he would've loved to hit him square in the jaw, over and over again, even if he broke his fist. There would've been plenty of words exchanged. Instead, Dean slowly relaxed his hand, and used it to wipe the rest of the tears that threatened to spill from his face.

"Wish I could believe you, Buff," he said, his voice utterly defeated. His back remained facing her, but his shoulders sagged, as he struggled to understand why this had to happen. "After all we went through together, after all I went through to accept you for who you are, this is what you do to me? Seriously?!"

Dean's words hit Buffy like a physical blow, causing her to flinch. She reached out towards him instinctively, but stopped herself, her hand hovering in the air between them. " Dean, please, " She whispered, her voice thick with emotion. " I know how this sounds, but you have to believe me. I never meant for any of this to happen. I fought against these feelings for so long, tried to deny them, but I can't anymore. "

 She took a shaky breath, trying to find the right words to make him understand. " What I feel for Michael... it's different from what I feel for you. It's not better or worse, just... different. I’m telling you this because it’s the truth. "

Buffy picked herself up from the ground and stepped closer to Dean, her heart breaking at the sight of his slumped shoulders. She longed to comfort him, to take away his pain, but she knew she was the cause of it. " I understand if you can't forgive me, " She said softly. " But please, don't think for a second that what we have isn't real. My love for you is as true and deep as it's ever been. That hasn't changed. "

Buffy's heart was pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. She watched Dean's back, willing him to turn around, to look at her, to give her some sign that all wasn't lost between them.

Buffy felt like she was drowning, desperately searching for a lifeline. " Dean, I— " The words hung between them like a physical barrier. Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold and alone. " This is what I do to you ? " Buffy choked on those words. Dean's words echoed in Buffy's mind, each syllable piercing her heart like a dagger. Like she had planned for this to happen. That she went above and beyond to betray his trust. She took a trembling step towards him, her voice barely above a whisper.

" Dean, please... I know I've hurt you, and I hate myself for it. But you have to understand, this isn't something I chose. These feelings... they're confusing and terrifying, and I wish I could make them go away. " She paused, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. " But I can't. And I won't lie to you anymore. You deserve better than that. " Buffy longed to reach out, to touch him, to make him understand. But she knew she had lost that right.

Finally she managed to steady herself, a new train of thought about the situation storming into her head. " Like it or not, Michael is a part of you. Is it so hard to believe I’d fall so damn hard for you both ? " There was a flutter in her stomach almost as if her baby knew she was upset and was fighting inside her. " It happened to your brother and sister-in-law, didn’t it ? I love you, Dean, but if that’s not enough and you honestly think I planned all this out just to hurt you that I could be that cruel… then I don’t know what's left to say. "

Buffy was crying--he could hear it in her voice. It killed him to know she shed tears for him. He hated having her upset, but it went both ways. He was hurting big time, too. Yeah, Michael was a part of him, but it didn't mean he liked it. His destiny was intertwined with God and the archangel. It shouldn't have to involve his love life as well.

The more he listened to Buffy's pleading, the more he was tempted to turn around. Every word sounded heartfelt. Maybe she was telling the truth. He never heard her sound so desperate before. But the mention of Sam and Marie, and their relationship, only irritated him more. He couldn't understand that complexity to this day, and the thought of sharing Buffy with Michael, was a concept he refused to accept. He didn't even realize it was going to be the same like them until Buffy pointed it out. The same, but "different." Unlike Sam and Marie, Michael and Buffy were going to create an offspring that would cause death for both parents, and cause doom for the planet. Dean couldn't let that happen.

He raked his fingers using both hands. The anger would only bubble and fester until it exploded. He needed to get away and think. Let some aggression out. If he was going to do anything destructive, he'd do it away from Buffy and the baby. He'd refuse to call it Michael's child. The very thought of her carrying his baby made him sick to his stomach.

"I still love you, Buffy," Dean said, as he offered her a sideways glance. He revealed her one teary hazel eye before he quickly turned away, determined to focus on his next phase of action. "There's no mistaking that. I'm going to do what I can to protect you and the baby. But for right now, I need you to let me have some space. I just gotta process this whole… everything you told me, okay? I'm gonna come home. I won't be gone for long, and I have my phone on me."

Buffy's heart clenched at Dean's words. She wanted to reach out and stop him from leaving, to beg him to stay and work through this together. But she knew he needed space, and she owed him that much after everything she'd just dumped on him.

 " Okay, " She whispered, her voice small and fragile. " I understand. Just... please be careful out there. " She watched as Dean began to leave, his shoulders still tense, his movements stiff. Just as he was about to leave, Buffy found herself calling out to him one last time. " Dean, " She said, causing him to pause. " I know you need time, and I respect that. But please know that no matter what happens, no matter how you feel about me after this, I will always love you. And I will always fight for you. "

 As Dean's footsteps faded away, Buffy felt the full weight of her confession crash down upon her. Her legs gave out and she sank back to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. The sobs she'd been holding back broke free. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by her muffled sobs. She rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection, as if trying to protect the life growing inside her from the emotional turmoil surrounding it.

 Minutes passed, or perhaps hours – Buffy couldn't tell. Time seemed to stand still in the wake of Dean's departure. Eventually, her sobs subsided, replaced by a hollow emptiness that threatened to consume her. She slowly uncurled herself, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles. Buffy's hand drifted to her stomach, gently caressing the slight swell there. " I'm sorry, little one, " She whispered. " I'm so sorry you have to go through all of this. " The one thing she could never be sorry about was the life growing inside her. Never had she thought the possibility of her being a mother would ever become a reality.

 With a deep breath, Buffy pulled herself to her feet. She made her way back inside but only went to the window, staring out at the darkening sky. The sun was setting, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink. It was beautiful, but Buffy couldn't appreciate it. Her mind was racing, replaying every moment over in her mind. Each word, each look, each painful silence – it all haunted her.

 She placed her hand on the cool glass, seeking some kind of anchor to reality. The weight of her choices, her feelings, her very existence seemed to press down on her shoulders. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a different life – one where she wasn't the Slayer, where Dean wasn't a hunter, where Michael…

 Buffy shook her head, banishing the thought. There was no use in imagining 'what ifs'. This was her reality, complicated and messy as it was. A soft kick from within her womb brought Buffy's attention back to the present. She looked down at her slightly swollen belly, a mix of love and fear washing over her. " I know, little one, " She whispered. " Everything's a mess right now. But I promise you, we'll figure this out."

 As night fell, Buffy found herself pacing the room, alternating between checking her phone and glancing out the window. Every passing car made her heart leap, hoping it was Dean returning. But each time, disappointment settled heavily in her chest as the vehicle drove past.

[zepskies]

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: There’s only so much teasing Ben is willing to take. He has no choice but to punish you.

AN: Here we go! lol. This is the highly requested Part 2 to This One’s For You, over in the BMD-verse!

Word Count: 2.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, edging, teasing, fluff, and feels.

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

You gasped, your nails raking through his hair. Your grip threatened to rip out a few strands as you panted into his neck.

“Ben, please…for God’s sake…”

“Please what?” he said. There was grit in his voice when he spoke into your ear, but he was all too controlled. Taunting.

Asshole.

He was relentless, dragging his fingers inside your quivering pussy, rubbing his thumb around your clit, but almost never where you wanted him. Your thighs were shaking on either side of his frame as he had you naked on your back, writhing in the middle of your shared bed. You’d sucked him off until his spine rattled and his eyes nearly crossed, swallowing up as much as you could of what he had to give.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied.

“I’m sorry!” you burst in frustration, but you also had to stifle your laughter. Your husband narrowed his eyes at you, spying the hint of your smile.

“How come I don’t fucking believe you?” said Ben. With his elbow digging into the bed beside your shoulder, his occupied fingers curled inside you, finally brushing against the sensitive ridge of your inner walls. It drew a faltering moan from your lips. 

“What exactly are you sorry for?” he demanded. He bowed his head and laid a biting kiss along your throat. “Use your fucking words.”

You exhaled roughly, gripping his hair tight again. Now that he couldn’t see your face, you could allow yourself to grin in amusement.

Three Days Ago…

Ben was tired and more irritable than usual when he stepped into the Flatiron Building. The night before had been a battle of wills between him and his infant daughter, who’d been finnicky, having a hard time going back to sleep. He’d done his best to help her get back to sleep, since you had been dead to the world and unable to leave the bed (or so you’d seemed).

Now, he took the elevator up to the right floor and used his key to get into the office suite, where Butcher and the rest of your delinquent friends were already dicking around.

Some horrible French rap was playing on the Bluetooth speaker. Kimiko was flicking tiny pieces of paper across the dining table, into a “goal” made by Hughie’s hands. Frenchie wore a “Kiss the Cook” apron as he pulled a fresh batch of croissants out of the oven in the kitchenette, while M.M. swept the excess flour stains off the counter. 

Annie was trying to get Butcher to smoke his cigarette out on the balcony.

“Really, you had fucking cancer. You’d think you’d try a little harder to take care of yourself,” she said. Butcher gave her a wan smile, and blew a coil of smoke upward between them.

“Nice,” she said flatly.

But all that stopped when Ben strode into the room. They stared at him, each starting to smile, no matter how much some of them tried to hide it (like Kimiko, with a hand over her mouth).

“What the fuck’re you staring at?” Ben snapped. “We got a job, right?”

Butcher cleared his throat and recovered first. He dabbed his cigarette on an ashtray on the dining table and grabbed an iPad to give to the supe.

“Yeah, got us an escapee. Our little slumlord, Sapphire,” he said.

Ben frowned. Sapphire was the supe who nearly vaporized you a couple of years ago, after they broke up her drug ring. While he read the file documenting detailing her escape and what the CIA knew of her whereabouts so far, Hughie shared a look with Kimiko and Annie before he spoke.

“So, uh, how’s Lila doing?”

 Ben shot him a look through furrowed brows.

“Fine. She’s with her mother,” he replied. Hughie predictably asked about you, and again, Ben said you were fine at home with the baby.

“Lila’s almost a year old, right?” Hughie asked. “Aw man, that’s gotta be a fun age, right? I mean, fun, but challenging. All the crying, the diaper changing. Getting her to sleep through the night must be tough.”

Ben’s attention piqued at that, and not in a good way. His dark suspicion grew when his gaze flicked up to Hughie’s dumb fucking face, and then the rest of them, with their dumbass smiles. Biting her lip to stop herself from smiling, Annie pressed a button on her phone.

All of a sudden, Ben heard his own voice playing from the speaker.

“H-Hey there, Delilah, what’s it like in New York City?”

“Now ain’t that a lovely warble,” Butcher remarked. Ben shot him a warning glare, but the Brit raised his hands in amused surrender. He crossed his arms and continued to smoke as he watched the scene unfold.

Ben tossed the iPad onto the kitchen counter and strode over to Annie with menacing steps, intending to put an end to this bullshit. She grinned and tossed her phone over to Kimiko, and Ben glowered, changing directions.

“I'm a thousand miles away, but girl, tonight you look so pretty. Yes, you do. Time Square can’t shine as bright as you…I swear it’s true.”

Kimiko’s eyes widened at the angry supe heading toward her. She tossed the phone to Frenchie next. The phone bounced between his flour-stained hands as he yelped in surprise.

“Oh, shit,” he uttered, when Ben began stomping his way.

“Hey there, Delilah, don't you worry about the distance. I'm right there if you get lonely. Give this song another listen…”

“A voice like warm butter,” Frenchie praised. He quickly tried to move from side to side to evade his attacker. “You should be proud, Monsiuer Grincheux! A man soothing his baby is a beautiful thing.”

“Shut your fucking cockhole,” Ben gritted out, but he still reached out when the phone sailed under his arm—only to land in M.M.’s hands. He froze with widened eyes, not wanting to be in the game. But it was too late, for him and Ben.

“Hey there, Delilah, here’s to you,” his voice sang, more quietly, more tender, deep and baritone. “This one’s for you…”

A brief pause. And then—

“What the fuck’re you doing?”

M.M. managed to pause the video. A beat of utter silence, and then...

Everyone burst out into laughter. Hughie started it; he was damn near folded in half, leaning heavily on his girlfriend as he wiped a tear out of his eye. M.M. tossed the phone back to Frenchie, whose entire frame was shaking with restrained glee.

Ben’s jaw worked as he contemplated how exactly he was going to kill every one of these cocksucking morons.

And then you. Because how else had they gotten that video? You had to have sent it somehow before he got ahold of you last night.

“All right, enough!” he bellowed.

The entire room fell silent.

“First of all, erase that shit right now, or it’s coming out your ass,” he barked, pointing at Frenchie. The other man jolted and did as he was told.

“As for the rest of you, I better not hear another fucking word about this, or so help me Christ, I’m gonna do some barbecuing.” 

About three days later, Sapphire had been caught and re-imprisoned, and Ben returned home. He found you in the living room. He was taciturn to your happy smile when you welcomed him with a hug around his waist, though your smile fell after he didn’t respond to your kiss.

He slowly lowered his gaze down to you, and you knew.

Biting your lip, you soothed a hand along his cheek. “So, how’d it go?”

“Fine,” he said, but little else.

In fact, Ben didn’t speak to you for most of the evening. You tried cooking him a good hot meal, but he barely said two words to you. The only thing he did, before he was even showered and changed, was venture into the nursery to lay a gentle hand on his daughter’s head as she slept, over her downy brown hair. He bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

After that, he strode past you in the doorway and slammed the door shut in the bathroom.

Aw shit. Despite yourself, you couldn’t help chortling with laughter. You should’ve known he’d be a great big man child about this.

So you decided to call your mom and see if she could take Lila for the night.

You had some damage control to do.

Now…

He'd brought you to the edge of your pleasure three times before he withdrew his mouth or his hand from your body, not letting you touch yourself, not letting you come—driving you to the point of frustrated tears.

You grabbed his head with both hands and guided him to look you in the eyes.

“Baby, please. Stop torturing me,” you pleaded. You used every tool in your arsenal to make him break, giving him soft, tearful eyes. You leaned up and pressed gentle kisses to his cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.

“I need you,” you whispered, drawing him into deeper, messier kisses. Part of him started to falter. He briefly closed his eyes and breathed into your kiss.

But then, he stubbornly broke from you with a frown.

“Nice try. You’re not getting off that easy,” he said. “Now say it. Why the fuck are you sorry?”

You huffed in aggravation, but you twined your arms around his neck and brushed slightly sweaty strands of his hair away from his forehead.

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you,” you said, even though your mouth began to curve upward. “It was a sweet thing you did, and I’m glad I captured it. But I am sorry that sharing that moment with our friends bothers you so much.”

“First of all, they’re your idiot friends,” he said. You wanted to interject on that one, but you knew he wasn’t in the mood, and you didn’t want to fight with him for real.

“Second of all,” he began…but he didn’t have any more words after that. They were caught between his irritation, and his unwillingness to even voice what it was he felt. Eventually, he found them.

“There’s some shit that needs to stay between us,” he said.  

You smiled, but you mercifully drew him down for another slow kiss.

“Okay, okay. I hear you. It’s not that big a deal though. You love your family, and look! Your macho-ness is still very much intact,” you said, gesturing at his very much hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Now are you gonna fuck me like a man, or do I need to find a vibrator that will?”

At that Ben looked down at you with a raise of his brows. His lips twitched, mostly at your audacity. Shaking his head, he slid a hand behind your neck and drew you in for a kiss, fueled by passion and frustration in equal measure.

You wrapped your thighs around his hips, urging him closer. His straining length pressed against your center, the wet tip slipping against your glistening folds. He groaned at the sensation.

“Please,” you repeated, licking into his mouth for a sensuous kiss.

The once-iron grip on his restraint finally broke. Ben slid a hand between you to hold himself to your entrance. With one smooth thrust, his cock buried deep inside you. Your moan of relief echoed his own. If nothing else good came out of this situation, you two hadn’t had the time or the energy to go at it like this in a long time.

He grabbed your thigh and angled you higher, so he could sink in at an even better angle as he began to rut into you.

With all of his earlier edging and teasing, you were already so close. Your inner walls fluttered around him, welcoming him home and gripping him tight. All it took was a few well-placed swipes of his thumb over your clit to have you tumbling over the edge—a delicious cresting of pleasure that made you arch off the bed, biting your nails into his shoulders, a cry caught in your throat.

Ben fucked you through your release, all while chasing his own. His grip on your hip tightened as his thrusts grew ragged, his own breathing shallow and rough, until his balls tightened and his body locked up on him. He spent himself inside you, coating your inner walls until he had nothing left.

He just barely managed to keep himself from smothering you as his body relaxed. You still welcomed his weight on you, soothing your hands up and down his back while you both caught your breath. Your thighs slipped from his hips, your feet meeting bed and sliding out a little.

Ben brushed your sweaty hair away from your face. Looking down on you now, his face gentled from its hardened angles and furrowed brows. You smiled lazily.

“Still mad at me?” you teased.

Ben resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he let out a rough exhale through his nose.

“Something tells me you didn’t learn your lesson,” he said, somewhat incredulous, and yet, amused.

Your smile was undoubtedly cheeky, even as you leaned up to give him a sweeter kiss.

“Sure did, baby,” you said against his lips. And another kiss. “Lesson learned, I promise.”

He really did roll his eyes this time.

AN: 😂 Ben just can't win, can he?

Translation: Monsiuer Grincheux - "Mr. Grumpy" in French

Keep Reading in the BMD-verse:

Coming up next, Ben has his Adventures in Babysitting moment in Green:

Summary: Ben spends the day alone with his daughter, to varying degrees of success. When you get home, it prompts a serious conversation.

▶️ Keep Reading: Green

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[fabbyf1]

Regarding that consent reblog: I appreciate the way you handle consent, education and kink in your fics so much! I love kink in fics, I love fics that are deep dead dove territory, but nothing makes me nope out more quickly than a story that has dubious consent or rape, but doesn't address it narratively or even downplays it. I read a published erotica novel recently that a friend recommended and I was close to tears by how upsetting I found the way it dealt with consent. I have no issue with reading rape, and do read it occasionally, but I find it fucked up when non-consensual situations are downplayed to something just slightly toxic, but acceptable. After that, I had even more appreciation for how you write. Specifically the warming verse made me re-evaluate how I would approach certain kink conversations with a partner. So, thank you!

tl;dr kate's rambling again but this time about consent

😭😭😭 thank you for writing all this out, bestie. this was very well said and i'm so glad that you enjoy the way i handle consent/kink in my fics!

i know not everybody likes talking about it, and clearly some people don't want it in fics at all (though i don't think they're readers of mine. i've received a lot of weird anon hate and "constructive criticism" over the years and never once has it been like "ew you write too much consent" lmfao) but it's always nice to know that people are enjoying the way i write it.

believe it or not, i never set out to be a smut writer 😂 if you go back to the very beginning of my ao3 history, i reallllllly struggled with smut at first. my first dabble into smut was in my 1D fic (which has little to no smut) and it took me ACTUAL MONTHS to write one scene. it just wasn't something i ever saw myself doing. but even though this is fanfiction and not all that serious, i still feel responsible to make it as realistic as possible.

mostly because that's what i like to read, but partly because... i think it's important people read it.

it's easy to get sort of... lost in ao3 kink/smut/dead dove stuff when you're consuming SO much of it (or too much of it) which sort of goes in line with what you were saying about non-consensual situations being downplayed to something just slightly toxic.

i feel (personally. this is different for everyone, but i'm sure some people can relate) you can easily get into a bad place where the lines of reality start to blur and you can almost... forget? that there's a difference between fanfic smut and real life sexual encounters. and i never want any of my readers to forget that they should ALWAYS advocate for their safety, for their consent, and for any other thing my characters talk about.

i never want any of my readers to go out looking for a kinky relationship (especially if they only realized they might be into that from reading my fics) and forget to protect themselves. because their safety is more important to me than views. it is more important to me than pleasing random anons who are just looking to get off and not reading the full story. and it is definitely more important to me than ao3 kudos.

i'm 33 years old, and i've found myself in too many situations in my life where i haven't always felt heard or safe in my surroundings. and if i can gentle-parent my readers into always remembering that consent is sexy and that their safety is valid and important and not worth leaving out of a silly fanfiction, than i can sleep soundly at night.

thank you.

[lis-likes-fics]

Rhyme and Reason

Pairings: Corinthian x dream!Reader Word Count: 8.7k words Prompt: Corruption Kink Warnings: NSFW, dubious consent, explicit descriptions of death/murder, torture, descriptions of blood, smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), slight hair pulling, multiple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, corruption kink, creampie, fucking in front of a dead body... A/N: This is a repost bc why not? Thank you and enjoy!

The little party you find yourself in is just that, little. It takes place in a bar rented out by the set of hosts, a get together with maybe a little over twenty party-goers.

It took so long to find him.

When your lord Morpheus disappeared some fifty years ago, you and the rest of the Dreaming were left…confused. You thought that maybe it was a test? He wanted to see how loyal his creations really were to him, their king. Would they revolt the moment he no longer gave orders?

But, after the first two decades, you concluded that he was just…gone. And you, among many dreams, left as well.

You spent the next twenty years in the Waking world, searching the world aimlessly for something to inspire you.

When Dream still resided in his realm, you would sing for him. He dreamed up a dream of music and song and you became. He loved your songs, he was inspired by the music you made.

When you sat in Fiddler’s Green, you would sing about the butterflies fluttering through the breeze or the bees in their honeycombs. When you sat by the sandy beach, you would sing about the lap of the tides against the mouth of the sea. When you looked up at the skies, you would sing about the sun and moon, how they loved each other so.

On some nights where you danced in the heads of your mortal lords, he would be there, in the seat in the back, listening to you soothe the minds of frightened children or ease the thoughts of anguished men.

Morpheus loved your sweet music, your heavenly song. You reminded him of someone, someone he loved very much.

Much he knew nothing of how you longed for more than your kindly poetry and prose. You loved the gift he bestowed upon you, but you grew weary of your melodies of dancing birds and sugar cane.

He knew nothing of the way you gazed at the dark and twisted dreams that walked his realm, the way they strut, the way they smirk, the way they spin their fables and tricks and white lies. You wished you could sing in deviant keys, tales of wicked fantasies and depraved beasts.

How you longed for the voice of a siren, rather than the whistle of a songbird.

So you looked for inspiration. And you found it.

The humans were a new kind of nightmare. Yes, they had so much love and light and whatnot, but the depravity. The debauchery and sin you found among their kind, it was more than you could have dreamed of.

You didn't just want to sing their songs, you wanted to create them. You wanted to write your verses as they wrote theirs. You wanted to sing your tales and inspire the rest in the same way your sweet lyrics did.

But you didn't know how. You searched all over for someone to teach you, to show you how to take their sullied natures and adopt them into your own poesy.

Soon you realized that no man could teach you how to sing. You'd almost given up your pursuits of fulfillment until you heard of him; a dream you'd never met but had heard of so many times before in the sleeping realm, a nightmare so infamous and so curiously revered by your former lord. You'd heard it through the mouths of chattering men, then read it in the paper. A “man” whose deeds were so reminiscent of the devil, everyone had to know his name, to know who to protect themselves against.

The Corinthian.

He captured men and took their eyes. He made them see all the wonders of the world. And you wanted to sing them.

It took so long to find him.

You seduced and bribed and begged your way through every little turn in order to get to him. And now you're here with a drink in your hand and so many inspirations surrounding you in this little bar.

And he is beautiful.

It's things like him that inspire you to sing. He’s charming and tall and the sight of him, his dark glasses—which hold more truth than eyes could ever tell—frame his face as the golden rim adores his golden hair. You catch yourself staring too often, so enamored and enchanted by the symphony that he is.

But he'd noticed you too, in the moments where your eyes don't find his. Of course he had. He knows exactly who you are, the music of the Dreaming. He hears it in every little breath you take, the gentle lilt of your voice. You were spoken of with as much regard as he was, though in the more virtuous way rather than in the way of his own notoriety.

What an odd little creature. He'd heard so much about you, how sweet and gentle you were. How Dream would sit for hours and listen to you sing in the meadow. And here you were, surrounded by the darkest of creatures, unbothered but so curious.

How nice you would be to…play with for a while.

“Well, hello there.”

His voice seeps into your skin and has goosebumps rising along your body. You turn and look up at the Corinthian like he was a sight to behold. Your eyes are slightly widened with wonder, and you look like you'll get to your knees and begin praising him at any moment, as though he is some great saint.

“Oh,” you breathe, trying and failing to be subtle. “Hi.”

He leans his elbow on the bar, looking you up and down through the dark of his glasses. “What's your name, little thing?”

You scramble to organize your thoughts once more. He's scrambled them with just the sound of his voice. “Uhm,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you offer him your name.

He chuckles lightly, his charming smile curling over his lips as he shakes his head. “No, hah,” he mutters, “I meant your alias.” He turns a little as he motions to the people in the room, dark souls able to be free in the little space of this bar. “Everyone here has an alias. What's yours?”

“Mine?” You clear your throat. “Oh…” You hadn't thought about that. You rub your palm against your thigh, smoothing your dress over your legs nervously.

He thinks you're precious. He turns with a chuckle, looking around the room before gesturing with his head toward two men talking amongst themselves.

“You see him over there? On the right?” he asks. You nod, staring at the man as the Corinthian speaks. “That's the Extinguisher. He's a pyromaniac. He traps his victims in their own homes and covers them in gasoline. Burns it to the ground, starting with them.” The way he speaks is like music, and you get lost in it.

He stares at the wonder on your face, his lips twitching into a curious grin. “Him, there? He goes by the Boa Constrictor. Like the snake. He ties up his victims real nice and tight until their skin turns purple and numb. Then he…” he breathes a little laugh, “...ties a rope ‘round their necks and keeps it there…nice and tight, until they stop squirmin’.”

He expects you to pale, to see the fear light up in your little eyes. But you don't. You stare, hypnotized by his voice and his words.

“Wow,” you whisper. “What about her?”

He smiles wide, looking at the woman in question. “Oh, her?” He licks his bottom lip. “She comes in a pair, only the public doesn't know that. Actually, they think it's a man. She and her friend over there are known as the Tailor, but they call themselves the Seamstresses. You see, it's easier to be taken seriously as a man in this age, otherwise no one would bat an eye at their art.”

Your eyes twinkle with wonder. He doesn't think you realize it when you grab his arm, clutching it as you continue to listen, watching the two ladies talk. He leans nearer to you, speaking gently into your ear.

“They slice the limbs off their victims, nice and clean cuts, and stitch them back together after they've already bled out.” He tilts his head. “They're actually quite sweet.”

You sigh, almost like you're in a dream. “Woah.”

He turns his body back to you, and you realize your hand grasping him. You let him go, offering an apology through a small smile as you looked up at him. He watches it fade, the wonder returning as you take him in.

“If I had to guess who you were…” he says quietly, his voice a whisper as his eyes wander your face, “I'd say you were the Whisperer.”

You tilt your head, watching every little shift in his face as he speaks. He smirks, “Am I right?” You blink at him, moving to speak but unable to find the words. “The artist who sews the mouths of her victims shut so they can't speak,” he seems to lean in further, his voice getting softer and softer as your eyelids flutter. “Sings a little song to them as she…slits their throats wide open.”

You sigh, nearly folding under the weight of his gaze. You nod gently. “Y-yeah,” you rasp, clearing your throat. “Yes, that's me.”

He smiles wide, leaning back to release you from the spell. You let out a breath at the distance, seeming to come back to yourself. “I admire your work,” he says. “That job you did up in Malibu was just…beautiful.”

You don't know where that is, but apparently this Whisperer did. You nod, “Thanks. Thank you.”

“In fact,” the tips of his fingers brushed your hand, turning it to hold in his palm, “I would love a demonstration. Up close and personal.”

You bring your other hand to graze the side of his palm. “Would you mind giving me the honor of witnessing it firsthand?”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. Firsthand… “Uh, I don't have…thread on me.”

He shrugs. “Well, I'm sure the Seamstresses wouldn't mind lending their tools. If we ask nicely anyway.”

“Well–”

“Come on,” he chuckles. “Just…one little show?” He shows a finger, grinning his charming grin.

So pliant to his word, you give in. “Okay.”

The proud grin he displays is wide and triumphant. “Well,” he says, “thank you very much.”

~

The Corinthian opens your door as you step out of the car, looking out over the large building lit up from the inside and crawling with people. He offers his hand, which you take gratefully as your stomach turns, anxiety and anticipation sharp in your gut. He gives you another charming smile.

You both walk inside, taking in the nightclub still in full swing. It's a Friday night, so there are plenty of people here looking to let loose after a long work day.

There's a small band on stage playing upbeat jazz, a singer performing for an enthused crowd. You know this song, you know every song.

The Corinthian’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to him as he seems to glare at the bodies mingling with one another. It's possessive, like he'll cut the eyes out of anyone who so much as glances the wrong way at you. You lean into him.

He leans down to your ear, his smile returning as he speaks gently. “Who here sparks your interest?” he asks. “Who fits the bill?”

You look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“A target.” He looks around the club, as though he's searching for someone who sparks his own interest. “Most artists have a pattern among their chosen…” he makes a gesture with his hand, trying to find the right word, “canvases.”

You like the way he speaks. It's poetic.

You lick your lips. “What's your pattern?”

“Oh, me?” He shrugs, looking over the crowd again. “I don't follow anything specific.” Tilting his head, he hums, “I suppose I do have a bit of male preference… but I'm not picky.”

“Ah,” you mutter.

“Well?” he wondered. “Anyone?”

You look around at all the people, dancing and sweating and talking. Eventually, your eyes land on a man. He's tall and lean, with black hair messy from dancing.

He reminds you of someone.

“Him.”

The Corinthian’s gaze finds the object of yours. A grin curls devilishly over his lips.

“Very nice.”

“So…” you look up at him, “What do I do?”

The urge to play with you is strong, like it's embedded in the tissue of his being. “You don't know?”

You nod quickly, trying to figure out what to say. You're supposed to be a professional.

“Well, uh, yeah, of course I know,” you clear your throat. “B-But what do you think I should do?”

He chuckles, turning you to face him as his hands cup your waist. He leans in, moving slowly as his lips brush your ear. He lowers his voice to a deep hum. “I always find that seduction works wonders.”

You nod gently as he pulls aways. His black shades stare into your eyes, dark and compelling. “Alright.”

He chuckles, jutting his chin out toward the man, your canvas. “Go on,” he bids. “Take him to the hotel a few blocks down. I'll be waiting for you there.”

Again, you nod. He knows best.

“Okay.”

He grazes his knuckles along your cheek, granting you one last grin before turning and leaving you to your own devices. You would be fine.

You turn toward the dark-haired man, taking in a deep breath before setting a small smile upon your lips. You begin walking over to him, sinking into the music to blend in with the crowd. Even as your hips sway and your face shifts into something more sultry, your hands tremble as the anxiety slips into your skin.

Stepping up behind him, you get his attention by placing a palm on his slim waist. He glances down at your hand and follows it up your wrist, your arm, your shoulder, up to your pretty face as his own smile spreads across his pink lips. “Hello,” you smile gently, leaning forward just enough to tilt your head back to look up at him.

He turns, enjoying the way your hands shift to stay at his sides, your thumbs feeling over the fabric of his shirt. He’s handsome, easily falling victim to your own charm as he lets you seduce him. His smile widens, though he doesn’t look predatory, like a lot of men you’ve come across among the years. He’s charming.

“Well, hello there.” He looks you up and down, and you take in the sight of his pale blue eyes as he does.

You just keep smiling, and it’s all you have to do for him to fall further and further for your charm. “Hi,” you lick your bottom lip.

Considerate of you, he places his hand on your shoulder and brushes it down your arm slowly until he slips it into your hand, holding one of them and setting his other hand onto your own waist. Yours eased to his shoulder, and soon you were holding one another as you danced on a slow tempo to the quick rhythmed music.

“How's a pretty girl like you doing on a night like this, hm?” he wonders, his voice warm and just as smiling as his lips.

You shrug a shoulder as though you're shy. “I'm doing alright,” you chuckle lightly, breathily. “Are you having fun?”

He hums. “Now that you're here? So much fun.” He watched you appreciatively, biting his lower lip and sighing. “You lookin’ to play with little ole me?”

You tilt your head gently. “Do you like to play?”

“Doll,” he chuckles, “I love to play.”

You giggle softly, and you watch him seem to almost melt at the sound of it. “You wanna play with me?” you lean in a little closer.

“Do I?”

You stand on your tiptoes so your lips brush his ear as you whisper, your words light and airy. “Why don't we go somewhere more private so we can…play?”

He sighs longingly. “Oh, I love the sound of that.”

You smile wide, pulling away from him as you keep your hands firmly clasped. “Well, come on then,” you say as you pull him gently toward the door. He walks with you, joining your side and exiting the club with you on his arm.

As you're walking out, his lead taking you in the direction of his car, you find yourself humming the song that had been playing inside under your breath. His gaze turns to you and he finds himself even further under your enchantment.

What a wonder you are… An angel from heaven.

He helps you into his car, shutting your door and rounding to the other side as he takes his seat as the driver. “So where are we going?” he asks, looking at you with anticipation seeping through every pore.

You smile, and he swears you speak like a melody as you say, “I've got a room down at the hotel.” You bring a hand to your face as you rest your fingers just under your chin. “We shouldn't be interrupted there.”

He grins. “Whatever you say, doll.”

~

He's been so sweet, much closer on the sweeter side of the men you've met since you first came to the mortal plane. Graham, he said his name was.

You nearly felt bad about what was going to happen to Graham…but you wouldn't be putting him to waste. No, you would be honoring him. He would inspire your songs, he would give life to them. That was an honor you felt befit him, an honor he deserved.

The hotel comes into view, and your stomach flips. Graham parks, opens your door like a gentleman, and then offers his hand as the both of you enter the building. You glance around as you walk, wondering what you're supposed to do now. He just said to meet him here…

You walk, tucked into his side as you try not to aimlessly wander. He stays close to you, almost dutifully, and you don't notice the way he gazes at your face.

You look up at him, an innocent—almost naïve—glow to your eyes that makes his smile grow. “You're beautiful, you know that?”

You hum lightly, smiling gently. Your gaze wanders from his and falls upon a conference room door, the window on the door reflecting something off its surface.

Your eyes catch on the silhouette of such a familiar man. You walk over, pulling Graham with you as you push the door open.

“Thought we were going up to your room, doll?” he wonders. You pull him into the dark conference room, glancing around for your new mentor and finding nothing but shadows.

You turn back to Graham, thinking on your feet as you give him a smile. “I…just couldn't wait that long,” you chuckle lightly. You step forward, your hands on his chest.

He smiles, pushing the door closed behind him with his foot and turning the lock as he looks down at you with a smile. “Sounds good to me,” he grins.

He holds your body close, wrapping you up in his arms. Your smile falls as he leans in closer, and when his lips brush yours, you can't help but push him away with the gentle push of your fingertips.

He seems concerned as he takes you in, holding his hands up enough to show he isn't going to hurt you. “What's the matter?”

In the corner of your eyes, you catch a shadow. Your gaze lands on the Corinthian, hidden in the dark space behind Graham with a finger held up to his curling lips, and your breath hitches in a small gasp.

You watch him silently, watching as his hands gesture toward the both of you. He just nods, urging you on.

You look back at Graham, his eyes still just as concerned as before. You remember to smile, stepping back toward him as you slowly set your hands on his shoulders. “Nothing,” you whisper. You kiss him, and he takes a moment to allow you space before his hands fall to your waist again. His lips are soft, comforting.

Tilting your head, your eyes creak open to see the Corinthian again. He smiles reassuringly, lifting his hand to cover his eyes. After receiving your confused look, he just gives another encouraging gesture. You figure, he knows best.

Pulling away again, you keep your hands on his shoulders. Graham opens his eyes, watching you smile up at him. “Close your eyes?” you ask gently.

He chuckles, amused, “Why?”

You bat your lashes, a subtle but rapid blink that makes him pliant to you. “Trust me?” Your voice is gentle and small, a whisper he has nor reason to doubt.

He just sighs and laughs, shaking his head as he brings hand to cover his eyes, peeking at you teasingly before hiding behind his palm again. You look to the Corinthian for more instruction.

He raises his finger to tap his throat. You watch his other hand come up, balling into a tight fist. He punches his palm soundlessly. And you understand.

You place your gaze upon Graham once more. His pretty face, his messy black hair, his pink lips, his closed eyes hiding pale blue rings around his pupils. You clench your fist, feeling the tightness in your fingers, the strain of the skin over your knuckles.

You take in a deep bracing breath, and he's still waiting patiently for you. Patient, gentle, good.

And you strike him hard in his throat, your fist colliding with his Adam’s apple as his eyes bulge from his skull. He tries to gasp at the sudden impact, the sound barely coming out in a painful wheeze as he raises his hands to his throat.

He looks at you, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. His mouth is open wide as he gapes, trying so hard to speak, to breathe, to figure out why.

You hadn't even realized it when the Corinthian moved, his hands landing heavily over Graham’s shoulders as he wheezes and gasps, making the most dreadful sounds in an attempt to breathe.

“Hello, there,” he grins, Graham’s eyes finding him and bulging. When did he get there?

His gaping mouth tries to form a word, and the Corinthian tilts his head to hear it before chuckling lightly. “Don't try to speak. You'll find it hurts more.”

He pulls a chair from the large conference table and sits him roughly down onto it. Graham doesn't try to bolt, the door is locked and he isn't confident in his ability to get out of here with the Corinthian as your apparent partner. He tries to speak, to negotiate, but he can't get any sound past senseless croaks.

The Corinthian joins your side, wrapping an arm possessively around your waist as you stare at the man you'd doomed. Doomed. That's a nice word.

He opens up his jacket, reaching in an inside pocket as he pulls out the silver needle and red thread he'd procured from the Seamstresses.

“Now, beautiful,” he says, handing it over to you, “why don't you take this while I help you out a little?” You look at the tools he offers, blink a couple of times before picking it up.

His crooked finger brushes under your chin before he turns away toward your friend again. He rounds to another chair, which he pulls from its spot tucked at the table, a duffle bag you hadn't noticed before sitting in the seat. In the bag is rope, strong rope he uses to tie Graham to the chair as he kneels behind him.

You glance at the needle. “What do I do with it?”

He looks up at you as he wraps the rope around the back of the chair and his chest and ignores Graham’s struggles. He says it like it's obvious. “You'll sew his mouth shut.”

Graham struggles against the rope, but to no avail. The Corinthian makes a tight knot, looking at him with a warning in his tone. “I suggest you be nice and good for her or…” he smiles, his hands on his shoulders as his lips brush the shell of his ear, “I'll just have to intervene. And you don't want that.”

Graham goes completely still, sweating and crying now. The tears roll down his cheeks and he gives you a desperate look.

You realize your hands are shaking, like the first time you even stepped foot toward him.

“I…” you mutter, staring at the needle.

The Corinthian’s smile remains unchanged, encouraging. “Come on,” he says as he stands, walking over toward you once more. “Don't be shy.”

The anxiety curls in your stomach, shakes in your hands. You take a step back, turning to him timidly as you don't meet his eyes. “I'm… I'm not her,” you say, struggling to get the words out as the nerves eat away at you. “I lied… I'm not the Whisperer. I'm just…some dream… I'm just a dream.”

He laughs, and you watch him as the confusion sinks into the features of your face. Graham is out of both your minds as you stare at him.

“Well, I know that.” He chuckles, stepping into your space as he grabs your free hand, cradling it in his palm. “But you're not just any dream, are you? You're Aria. One of Morpheus’ special dreams, his little song.”

Irritation rises in your belly and you shake your head, stepping back and letting go of his hand. “I'm not Aria,” you bite. “Not anymore. I hate that name.”

He raises a brow. “Do you now?” His smirk is devilish. “Who are you then?”

You stare at him, offering the name you'd take thirty years ago when you left the Dreaming for the first time, your new name with its new rhythm and rhyme. The Corinthian repeats it back to you, tasting it on his tongue like honey.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, another step taking you away from him. “But I'm not the Whisperer.”

He shrugs. “‘Course you're not. I made her up.” You watch him, surprise in every crevice of your face. He reaches out and takes your hands, pulling you close again as he watches you, the look I'm his eyes almost predatory as he lowers his voice for you to hear. His words seep into your skin.

“But you want to be, don't you?” He smiles, “I can see it in your eyes, you wanna be more than Dream's ‘little song’, don't ya?”

Graham watches, feeling his vocal chords easing in the slightest bit. He still can't speak, can't scream, can't get any sound out but a whisper so quiet, he still can't be heard.

“You want to be something not so sweet,” he continues. “You wanna sing something other than Kumbaya, holding hands with your neighbors and bein’ all nice and happy.”

Your lip twitches at the mention of that song, a campfire song that felt like a pinnacle of your distaste for the music you've been forced to sing. “I hate Kumbaya,” you mumble.

He chuckles. “Don't we all?” He brushes his knuckles along your cheekbone, smoothing down to rest underneath your chin. “You can be so much more than that. I know it. You can leave behind all that sweetness, and become like me. Remake yourself in your own image.”

He raises your hand, still cupping the needle and thread in your palm. “All you have to do…” he gently pushes your palm toward your body, separating each word as he does, “...is take the needle.”

He takes a step back, giving you space to think.

You look down at your palm, contemplating. This is it. This is your chance to become more than a little songbird. You could become better. You could fulfill your own hopes and dreams and become a better version of you.

Your fingers curl over your palm.

Your eyes turn on Graham, and fear flashes across his face. You take the first step toward him, then another, and he begins to squirm in his chair as you do. The Corinthian tuts, walking toward him as he places his hands on his shoulders to keep him down, still.

He smiles, a dark and wicked smile. “There you go,” he encourages. “Do it. Become more than that sweet little dream. Do what you want to do, not what you were made to.”

You take the string of thread and punch it between your thumb and forefinger, stilling your breath completely as your slightly shaky hands work to thread the needle. It takes a moment for you to get it through the eye, letting out a relieved sigh when you do.

Graham keeps squirming, despite the uselessness. You stand in front of him. “Take a seat,” the Corinthian says. “It'll be easier.”

You set your free hand on his shoulder, lowering yourself onto his lap as you straddle him. His mouth forms a word, the slightest whisper tearing painfully from his throat as it did. Please. Please. Please.

He casts a desperate, pleasing gaze upon you, his life in your hands—the hands of the beautiful siren who had forsaken him. You watch him with an unwavering gaze, the anxiety and anticipation curling your brows.

He is so good. So genuinely good. The kind of good that stares at your face and calls you beautiful. The kind that keeps calling you beautiful until you no longer have the capacity not to believe it. He's the kind of good that holds you when you're sad, wipes away your tears when you cry. The kind of good that makes you feel better about living in such a cruel world.

And you want to feel bad about taking his life away, about taking the rhythm of his heartbeat away.

But you can't, and you don't. And honestly, a rage and desperation flares within you as you stare at him. Because he is good. And that's just the problem, isn't it?

For so long, all of your songs have been so good. Songs about dancing birds and twinkling stars and buzzing bees. Songs about hope and love and care and whatever else. And you're sick of it.

You were only drawn to him because he's good.

You need something new, something a little fiercer than the blazing sun in the sky, something a little darker than the moonless night. You need inspiration.

And he could give it to you. The Corinthian would help.

You begin to move your hands toward his face, and Graham desperately tries to move away. You sigh, looking up at the Corinthian. He understands immediately.

Taking Graham’s face in his hands, he holds his head still and his jaw securely closed. He bears his teeth like a frightened animal, breathing quickly as whispers of protest strain in his crushed vocal chords.

You use one hand to hold his lips closed. The Corinthian nods along with you. “Just at the corner. Right there.” You slide your pinched fingers over to the left corner of his lips. “Very good. Now just…push it in…”

You position the needle, holding there for a long time as you internalize taking this step. All you have to do…is push it in.

The needle pierces his flesh, sinking into his skin as he screams silently, held still as a statue by the Corinthian, as though his strength is nothing to him.

The sharp end comes out on the other side of his bottom lip, and you pull it all the way through as the red thread becomes redder with the blood staining it. You pull until you have enough length, tying the end off with steadier hands.

“Very good,” the Corinthian praises. “See? You're a natural.”

He takes in his success, his great triumph. Dream's little song…nothing more now than the outlines of a nightmare waiting to be filled in with a little more color. He almost feels drunk off the sight of you, straddling this man as you continue to pierce him with your needle and sew his lips shut, tight, taking away the one thing you were made to do.

Sing.

Such a sweet little bird you are now, a corrupted and twisted little dream in the hands of a wicked nightmare.

He watches you thread the needle through his flesh as Graham continues to cry and try and try and try to scream, to have someone hear him, save him from the pain and torture. But you're all alone in here, locked inside this room with nothing but the night…

As you focus, you find yourself easing into the task. Pinching and piercing and pulling and repeating. You smile, calm as a melody comes to mind.

You hum it, lower and slower than the original speed. The Corinthian watches, in awe of you as you continue to work. He almost swears the rhythm of Graham’s silent breaths and cries begin to form to the rhythm of your song.

“Say ‘Night-ie night’ and kiss me,” you whisper, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Graham’s nose. “Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.”

You poke the needle through the end of his lip, piercing the far right corner slowly, calmly. “While I'm alone and blue as can be…” You tie the end of the knot, singing a little slower as you do. “Dream a little dream of…me.”

You lean forward and cut the thread with your teeth, taking in the sight of your good work. The Corinthian lets Graham go, and he just sits there, still sobbing, his face wet with tears and blood and sweat.

“Look at that,” the Corinthian admires, laughing deep in his throat as he sets his hands on your shoulders and shakes his head. “Beautiful.”

You stare at him, taking in the sight before you. The Corinthian’s hands fall to your waist, and his head rests at the crook of your neck. Graham’s eyes struggle to stay open, his vision blurry with tears and the adrenaline and pain crashing down and making it hard to find the will to stay conscious.

“Look at all your hard work,” the Corinthian hums, the sound of your song still playing in his mind. “How does it feel?”

You look at him. His dark blood is crimson as it stains his shirt. His messy black hair is only worse now, his pale blue eyes brighter and paler as his pupils grow to the size of a coin.

He looks beautiful, you think.

“Different.”

The tip of his nose brushes underneath your ear. “Do you want to finish it off?”

You nod gently.

The Corinthian fishes a sharp blade from the inside of his jacket. He takes your hand and wraps it around the handle, gripping it tight and helping to guide you.

“Right…” he moves the tip of the blade to press against Graham’s straining neck. He presses it right under his chin, starting from the far right, opposite the needle, “...here.”

“Here?” you ask as he lets go, keeping the blade steady.

He nods. “Right there.”

You lift your other hand to hold the back of his neck steady. Graham watches, terrified. You stare him dead in the eyes, unblinking, unwavering.

You carve the blade into his throat and slice. All the way across, you take your time in slowly slitting his throat. You only blink as the blood sprays out of his sliced arteries and spray all over your face and neck. It keeps spraying and keeps spraying, coming in spurts as he chokes on his blood, gurgling and coughing.

You continue to stare at him, even as you've finished even after he has died and the light has left his eyes and the songs have left his soul. His eyes are bulgy and he's drenched in blood. Butchered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a dark hand reaching out to Graham. You want to turn, to see her take him, to watch as he is swept away in the hands of Death to his afterlife. But you don't. Watching Graham, you see the flickers of hope in his eyes die out as the life leaves him and replaces it with emptiness. A momentary silence is filled with the gentle flap of wings.

The Corinthian comes back to mind as he pulls you back enough to see the whole of your work. He shakes his head in admiration, smiling wide.

“Your first one,” he says.

“My first one.”

“How does it feel?”

His hands on your hips pull you back against his body. You lean into him. “Different.”

He chuckles lightly, one of his hands moving from your waist in favor of sliding up the length of your body to wrap around your throat, resting there as he holds you securely. His other hand slides down your arm and takes the knife from your hand.

“I think you liked it,” he hums in your ear, dropping his knife on the table with a clatter and holding your neck tighter. “Having his life in your hands?”

You swallow thickly, staring at the dripping blood as the crimson on your face dries. “I–”

“Say it,” he cuts you off, his lips right by your ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe. “You loved it. You loved silencing him.”

He feels your shallow breaths beneath his palm. Still dazed, you say, “I–”

“Say it.”

You take in a slow breath, filling your lungs before you admit it, the curling in your stomach gone and replaced by the chills along your skin. “I loved it,” you sigh. “I loved silencing him.”

He smiles triumphantly. “I know you did,” he chuckles. “Now look at you. A new person, a new dream.” His smile widens and his hand tightens. “You're just like me.”

“Just like you.”

“A nightmare.” His lips graze the shell of your ear.

“A nightmare.”

You lean into him with a slight moan when his lips press against your neck, kissing it with insistent lips and insistent teeth. “Just like you,” you whisper, like the repeating lyrics of a song.

“Just like me.”

Your eyes flutter at the way his teeth nip at your flesh. “A nightmare.”

“A nightmare.” He turns you around in his arms, moving you so your back presses against the table. His lips crash down on yours, swallowing you whole as they do. He can taste the blood staining your lips. You melt against him, weak and wanting as his body presses flush against yours. He bends you back against the table, laying you down as his lips trail down to the skin of your neck, kissing and biting and sucking.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “A corrupted little dream.”

Corrupted. You like that word.

“Corinthian,” you moan, bringing your arms up as your hands wrap around the back of his head and keep him close to you.

“My little dream,” he scoffs, his hands gripping your body tightly.

You go to speak, but he cuts you off. He laughs wickedly. “But you're not a dream, are you? And you're not a nightmare.”

“Cor–”

“You're just a little whore, aren't you?” he smirks, riding your shirt up as his hand slips under it. “A little whore who wants to be something else.”

You moan. “A whore.”

His face is inches from yours again as he speaks quietly, his voice low and rough and dangerous. “You thought I wouldn't know what you were when I saw you?” he questions, finding it amusing. “You thought I wouldn't know you were just a dream trying to be something she isn't?”

Your breath has picked up, heavy as your head spins. “I–”

He's not having it. He silences you again, holding your throat still as he makes you look at him, as he makes sure you can't look away. “Let me show you what you are,” he breathes. “Then I'll rebuild you into something you can be.”

Enchanted by him and his words, you breathe deeply. “Show me what I am,” you echo.

He nods, “That's right.”

“What I can be.”

“Good girl,” he praises. He attacks your mouth once more. It's a bruising kiss as he wraps you up in him. His hand grips your neck tightly, constricting your breath a bit as he does. With one hand, he rips your dress from your body and lets it fall to the ground in rags. You gasp as he does it, your body now exposed to the chilly air as you're left in nothing but your undergarments.

He hums deeply as he looks over you. He smiles. “Dream had it right with this body,” he says, running his hand over your skin and listening to the way you moan.

He hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them roughly down your legs to reveal yourself to him. “Look at you,” he breathes as he smooths his hand over your mound. “You're so pretty, aren't you?”

You moan when his long middle finger sinks inside of you, sliding between your damp folds. He's surprised by how wet you are, though he supposes he shouldn't be.

You immediately clamp down around his finger, and he lets out a long sigh. “Such a tight little thing.”

Your legs move to close at the intrusion, not new to the feeling but still not quite used to it either. He just forces them apart, keeping you spread wide for him as he does. “Don't you hide yourself from me,” he says, thrusting a second finger inside of you as you moan at the stretch.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, collecting the gathering wetness as he watches you through his dark glasses, admires the way your body responds to him.

Your hips meet his hands as he keeps touching you, eager to feel more of him as your shallow breaths continue to pass between your lips. When he pulls his hand from you, you whimper at the loss, clenching around nothing in an attempt to feel him again.

You watch as he sets his fingers on his tongue, closing his mouth around them and suckling with a deep hum. He caresses your name with his lips as he looks down at you. “You're delicious, sweetheart,” he says, and your body keens into his touch.

His hand around your throat tightens as he bends down so his face is hardly separated from yours. “I bet you'd just love to feel my mouth on you, hm?”

You nod quickly, “Please.”

He laughs darkly, kissing you roughly and letting his mouth trail down your body—down, down, down until his mouth ghosts over your fluttering pussy.

Your back arches when you feel his hot mouth against you. His tongue laps against your folds and he suckles around you, tasting the sweetness of your nectar. His tongue flattens against you as he begins to lick you up.

His hand loosens around your throat before ultimately letting go to hold your grinding hips down. Your mouth falls open and you give into him, tangling your fingers in his hair and encouraging his mouth against you.

He laps at your pussy like you're the finest wine. He can taste the virtue that pulsed in your veins, and he can taste the darkness beginning to replace it. His tongue delves inside of you, his lips wrapping around your throbbing clit and suckling gently.

The pleasure jolts through your body like a fire, and you’re entirely willing to let it consume you. You want to feel its burning flames lick at your flesh, searing it from bone to turn you to ash and create something new out of the remains.

The Corinthian sinks three fingers into you after a while, pumping them in and out as you enjoy the delicious stretch with closed eyes, moaning and grinding. He looks up at you, looking for your eyes and finding them hooded.

You mewl when he pulls away from you. “No, no, no,” he says. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. You gotta watch me make you mine.”

You do as you're told, opening your eyes and doing your best to keep them that way. He praises you with another “good girl” before he's wrapping his lips around you again.

He enjoys every second immensely, tasting the sweet nectar of your arousal as he coaxes it from you, taking the grinding of your hips every time he curls his fingers or sucks on your clit.

You moan his name as you feel the rise in your stomach tightening with an oncoming pleasure. You clench around his fingers, your clit pulses against his tongue. You've forgotten all about Graham's body slumped in his bindings, you'd forgotten the blood staining your face and neck. It's all the Corinthian.

You throw your head back roughly and gasp when you cum, your head spinning as the back of it smacks against the table. Your thighs tremble and shake as he refuses to let up, sinking his tongue deeper inside. Your moans almost sound like tiny cries as you grind your hips into his mouth.

He licks his lips, tasting you on his tongue with an immense amount of appreciation. "You're fucking delicious, baby,” he hums, smirking dangerously.

He sits up to his full height once more, his hand finding its place around your throat as he bends down to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on his tongue is intoxicating.

His lips smack as he pulls away from you. Without a word, he flips you onto your stomach atop the table. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing it roughly. The breath is forced from your lungs as your chest presses against the table.

The Corinthian tangles his hand in your hair as he roughly pulls your head up, making you look up as your eyes fall on Graham.

“Look at him,” he hums. “Look at all that good work.”

You do. You take in the sight of him with a new set of eyes. The red thread keep his lips shut tight. He'd made such wonderful sounds when you'd sewn them. You'd taken his song and added it to your own, his fear and his desperation had been the perfect addition to your symphony.

His blood soaks his clothes, as well as your face, what was once crimson now darker from being exposed to the air. You can still hear the way he choked, the way he gasped for air that wouldn't come.

His skin was so pale, his eyes that were once a pale blue now cloudy and grey with the mask of death. His once pink lips are just as grey. You can still see the smile they made, the words they spoke. The things he could sing.

You could still hear him singing.

You moan when the Corinthian’s hand presses between your slick folds again. He smiles, another dark chuckle slipping from his lips. “There you go,” he says. “Nice and slick for me. Be a good girl and say please.”

You let out an airy breath, mumbling a tiny whisper of, “Please.”

But he isn't convinced as he groans and shakes his head. “No, you can do better than that, sweetheart. Now I'm not going to give you what you need until you say please.”

Desperate and needy, you let out another breathy moan. “Please,” you whine again, louder this time as your words form into a melody. “I need you. I need you to make me yours.”

He's drunk off your obedience, the way you gave into him so easily from the start. He inclines his head, satisfied. “Good girl.”

The jingle of his belt buckle fills your ears with its gentle ring. Your pussy flutters when you feel the tip of him press against your folds. “Please,” you whisper again.

You let out a long breath when he buries himself to the hilt inside of your hot cunt. A rough groan falls from his lips, the tip of his cock pressing deep inside of you as you lose your breath.

You grip the table, allowing the pleasure to fill you as he holds your hips tight. You moan at the stretch of him inside you.

The Corinthian lets out a deep breath, steadying himself as he pulls out just barely to the tip before roughly thrusting back into. You moan loudly, your head dizzy with the feeling blossoming inside of you.

He doesn't allow you a slow build. He doesn't give you the privilege of easing you into the monstrous nature of his love. Instead, he holds you steady as he fucks into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust to him.

He grunts and groans behind you as he uses you to his need. He feeds off your moans, their song-like nature filling the air and seeming to hypnotize him into wanting even more of you, into needing even more of you.

The sound of his hips smacking against your ass fills the room. It joins your moans and his dark grunts, blending together perfectly.

“Listen to you,” he grunts. “You're my little song now.”

You can no longer think straight, your head spinning with pleasure, with the sound of Graham's singing in your head, with the sound of flapping wings.

You watch Graham as if through rose-colored glasses, the pleasure mixing with the sight of him creating something you've never felt before as you continue to moan meekly.

And, for a moment, you think of Dream.

As a melody plays in the back of your brain, a new melody you've never heard before, you think about how much you want to show Dream.

But he abandoned you. And, before that, he'd created you as a sweet dream that could never know anything other than harmony. And you hated him for that.

So, as you watch the blood drip from his sealed lips, you smile and give into the Corinthian completely. His fingers press to your clit, and you shudder as you feel yourself getting so close, so close to falling apart and forever becoming the Corinthian’s song…ready to leave Sweet Dream behind forever.

The pressure builds as his speed on your clit does as well. You clench around his cock, your head light and your moans scratching your throat. “Corinthian,” you whine. “I'm so close.”

His hips snap into yours a little harder. “I bet you are,” he huffs. “Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make you nice and full.”

The pleasure rises within you until you can’t hold it in anymore. With a thrust of his hips and a circle of his finger, you fall apart. Your whole body shudders as you let out a loud, breathy moan as it all comes crashing down. You give in to the Corinthian’s symphony of death.

A rough groan, bordering on a growl, erupts from his throat as he shoves his cock as deep inside you. He gives in to the squeeze of your cunt and cums, grinding his hips so deep as he fills you to the brim.

And with one last thrust, with his cum buried in your fluttering pussy, he claims you as his. He lets go of your hair, pulling out of you with a heavy sigh.

You whimper at the loss of him, laying on the table as your legs shake.

The Corinthian’s arms wrap around you, picking you up and pulling you to stand as he embraces you in another kiss. You lean into him, letting his lips meld against yours.

He looks over your face, the new clarity in your eyes. He smiles.

“Sing me a song, sweetheart.”

And you do. You sing a song of a dying promise, the sounds of the symphony you'd just created allowing you to sing a melody of broken hope and shattered dreams.

You sing for a long time as the Corinthian listens to you, enchanted by your song, by your new dream.

Now, you belonged to him.

The Sandman taglist: @poetic-fiasco @the-nerdy-goddess @life-on-needs @fanreader @jamiethenerdymonster @sarahbullet235 @majestyjade @melinoe-the-rat @katsukis1wife @sugakookieswithacupoftae16 @hatterripper31 @kplatzman @kmc1989 The Corinthian taglist: @waitingformysandman @honey-im-hotdog @saltysasque @anotherblackreader Tag yourself here...

[sarcasticdolphin]

“Visitor” Ivory tower verse todolf. (Rudolf=Sophie, Tod=Kore). 

Smut isn’t the most graphic, but smut. And like Sophie’s not taking prisoners. 

I’m putting this on the drabble fic because I don’t want to up Ivory Tower’s rating.

@fitzrove reminded me that it is lesbian visibility week so this happened. 

Almost goes into the realm of crack at a few points, but .... idk. It’s getting to the point at night where I start second-guessing all my choices.

Also, it is pretty late as I finish this, so likely there are more grammar/English issues as compared to normal.

It started almost as a bit of a little joke, on their wedding night. That they were married now. They should sleep together. 

Kore’s bed was big enough for both of them, plenty of space left between them, as they watched each other through half-lidded eyes, fingertips just touching where their hands came together.

They woke almost nose to nose, the two clouded leopards curled up between them, purring softly. The kisses that morning had been lazy, gentle things, interspersed with moments of calm, as they nuzzled each other. 

Sophie had never slept in her own bed again. At first, she had rationalized it that she slept better, in Kore’s presence. And it was true, but there was more to it than that. The daemons were happier. And Sophie could never get enough of Kore’s kisses, from the gentle little ones in stolen moments to long and languid ones when they were alone in their little world at the top of the tower.

The daemons too seemed to appreciate it, always together, grooming or napping or settling into the two women’s laps. 

Dressing each other came as naturally as breathing, and Sophie was eternally grateful for it. She had never really learned to do her own corsets, but Kore’s skilled fingers put her in stays with ease. Stays that fit, that didn’t hurt. That couldn’t hurt, and that couldn’t lace so tight in that way her mother preferred. And the other woman was so patient as Sophie’s own fingers gradually become more skilled with Kore’s stays, lacing them just so.

Her friend preferred leggings and tunics most of the time, but Sophie never did shed the dresses she had worn all her life, though they became more practical as time passed. And it did pass. Tributes came to the tower. The days grew longer and shorter and longer again. The stars danced above them. But Sophie would be lying if she said that she had been paying attention. Time seemed as if some foreign concept, as she and Kore lay in each other’s arms one night.

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

There is a letter, eventually. Sophie reads it once, twice. Then tosses it into the fire, watching the flames eat at the spidery scrawl. 

More letters come. After the third Sophie doesn’t even open them. Her father sent her to what he believed was her death. There is nothing he or her mother could say that would make her relent. If they would send her to her death then she is dead to them. And they to her.

A small rational part of her mutters that she should find it entirely disconcerting, the dark look in Kore’s eyes, the triumph behind them as the paper crumbles to ash, as she tugs Sophie back to the bedroom, already pulling at their stays. 

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

So when a servant appears one morning - Kore calls them her angels, the pale blonde servants - and speaks of a carriage far away at the tower’s base, Sophie wants to turn the woman who was once her mother away, leave her alone on the vast plains. Not alone, for Queens are never alone, but enough.

But then Kore is murmuring in her ear, painting a picture with her honeyed words, intoxicating. Impossible to resist.

The garb had been a tribute from far to the south. Two matching sets. One white, the other black. The material was so light it floated on the air itself, sliding like the barest breath of silk over skin as it did so. Kore had danced for her once, spun in the same fabric. Sophie had thought she was flying. 

But there is more - the fabric needs layers to even begin to be decent, but this - it has layers, but only a dozen. Revealing, but only of form, of shape. Her skin was Kore’s to see. No one else’s. And Kore’s was hers.

They trade a few more kisses as the clasps are secured, and then Kore reveals the crowning jewel of it all. The necklaces are more collars than proper necklaces - silver and with a pretty chain that hung, laying between their breasts. There are more silver pieces that go with them - for their wrists, their fingers. Sophie wouldn’t know, entirely distracted as she was by the feeling of the cold silver through the thin layers of the dress, by the way the matching pendant hung on Kore’s bosom.

They trade one last kiss before pausing, and looking in the mirror. And what a sight they make - dark and light, perfectly matched. Blonde Kore, pale and ethereal, skin stark against the inky black of her garb, the silver cutting through the darkness. And herself. just as pale, dark hair - her mother’s hair - falling over the white material, silver subtle, minor little highlights. 

“Beautiful.” Kore might have wanted to say more, but Sophie cut her off with a kiss. Their tongues danced for some time, until Sophie pulled back to nuzzle her friend.

“Shall we?” Kore’s arms wrapped around her own as they paced out to the room her friend had appointed. It should be disturbing, that Kore had a matching room already ready for this little bit of subterfuge, but all Sophie could feel was gratitude for her friend, who had divined her intentions so well.

The two clouded leopards are waiting, sitting on one of the platforms. Seeing their humans off to battle.

And as the door shuts behind the angel who will bring Sophie’s mother, and they are kissing again, slowly but oh so gently, the insistence, the possessiveness, the fire building little by little. Mine, each kiss proclaims. Claiming.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Kore’s hand goes to Sophie’s locks, tilting her head back, baring her neck, and the kisses turn to little nips of the skin. Sophie for her part pushes Kore back, though Kore flips them before they hit the bed, so it is Sophie who looks up at her friend’s eyes, so dark and full of terrible promise.

And it is as they are kissing once more, Sophie sprawled beneath Kore, that the scream - though perhaps it is more a startled noise than a proper scream - comes. 

“Sophie!” Her mother’s tone is startled. Just startled, for now. There is no reproach yet, just surprise.

“Sophie.” Her mother speaks again a moment later, as Sophie and Kore slowly break their kiss, resting forehead to forehead for a long moment before turning to Sophie’s mother.

“Sophie, I’ve come to take you home.”

“Oh?” Sophie turns back to Kore. She can’t even bear to look at the woman in the doorway. 

“Sophie-” Her mother starts in shock when Kore grasps Sophie’s necklace and pulls her closer, demanding a vicious kiss. Sophie’s mother gives a shocked noise. Appalled. A noise Sophie is all too familiar with despite how distant her mother always had been.

“Sophie-” the fear and compassion in her mother’s tone are gone, the reproach now all too evident. 

“Does it surprise you so-” Kore’s very tone is an insult. Sophie could kiss the other woman. And does, cutting her off for a long moment. “That Lord Tod likes us so well-practiced?”

And Sophie would kiss her friend for that, for those words which silence her mother. But she doesn’t. There is a way to drive the knife yet deeper. She wraps her hand around Kore’s necklace, pulling the other closer.

“He’s so skilled-” You’re so skilled. “The way he mounts us, one after the other-” Elisabeth is starting to take steps back even as Sophie kisses Kore once more.

The kiss is long, and when they finally break the queen is gone.

And so they flop on the bed, Kore calling for the daemons to be let in. The needy little things will want their scratches. But once that is done, she is over Sophie once again, and the kiss has more intent. Fingers find clasps, and the silky fabric slides to the bed. Some of it is later kicked to the floor, not that either of them is really paying attention.

It’s not the first time Sophie’s friend has had her, fingers and tongue wringing pleasure from her body, but she does it with a wicked triumph. And Sophie wants more. More of Kore’s hands, more of this victory that is theirs, hers and Kore’s.

Eventually, Kore does let her reverse their positions, and Sophie sets out to find out just how well her friend can sing. It’s dawn before they sleep, intertwined. Sated. Victorious. 

And somewhere far below, on the dusty plains, the queen who had traveled so far weeps.

[ficrecsbybu]

WinterIron fic rec 2021: Part I

Note: this fic rec consists only of Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark fics. the only Stucky & Stony you might see is as past relationships but that’s it. it’s also complete works ONLY. also - no underage stuff 🔪.  if you have any requests for Winteriron fic recs (for e.g non-superpower au, only one shots, series, hardcore smut, post-tws, college au, not team cap friendly fics, bodyguard au etc.) you can send me requests ^^. anyway... enjoy 😉 

✨ The Guiding of Death by RayShippouUchiha

“That whole Merchant of Death thing,” someone off to the side faux whispers, “makes a lot more sense now.”

It echoes across the bridge like a gunshot. 

Rated M, Hades & Persephone AU, Canon Divergence, always female Tony Stark, not Team Cap friendly. word count: 41391

(note: listen... I know het pairings and/or gender bend is not popular and I never really read those in general BUT this is straight up one of the best fics I have ever read so I NEEDED to share this with y’all...✌️)

✨ Forms of Love by bear_bell

Tony's the bad guy, after all. He's used to it. He's fine with it. He's good at it.

Only now, there's something far worse loitering around the tower - The Winter Soldier. No one notices the guy at first, but when they do, Tony figures that he should have the soldier's back.

Birds of a feather should flock together, and the bad guys should start a book club.

Rated E, Post-CW, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, Team Iron Man. word count: 33591

✨ Looking at You by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Bucky looks for so long that now all he wants to do is touch and hold and fix everything. But Tony can barely be in the same room as Bucky, cant even look him in the eye. So Bucky doesn't know what to do about Tony, but he is determined to do something. Because all he wants is to look at Tony, and see Tony looking back with a smile.

Rated E, Post-CW, PTSD, team heals, mental healing, forgiveness, angst with a happy ending. word count: 28,168

✨ I'll Be Your Bodyguard (If You'll Be My Security Blanket) by NarutoRox

When one of Loki's pranks gone wrong leaves the team with a young Winter Soldier in their care, they know they're going to have their hands full. Especially since this newer, tinier version of Bucky seems to have a bodyguard complex - and a particular attachment to Tony.

Rated T, kid fic, age regression/de-aging, de-aged Bucky, tiny bodyguard Bucky. word count: 4,993. 

(note: finally something CUTE. Im so sorry for being such a slut for angst and heavy stuff 😅)

✨ Fate Strings Not Required by Akira_of_the_Twilight

Tony took the hint.

Tony wrapped his hand around the new guy’s elbow. He kept his touch light and breakable in case he’d misread the cue.

“Just some guy claiming to be my soul mate, babe.”

The new guy’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise. He chuckled and gave the first guy a smirk. “Strange. Last time I checked we were soul mates.”

Rated T, AU - no superpowers, AU - soulmates, Bodyguard Bucky Barnes, age difference. word count: 7,032.

✨ Shameless  by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

Tony isn’t actually sure which of them starts it—he’d like to take credit, but if he’s learned anything it’s that Barnes is by no means a wilting flower. Besides, the start doesn’t matter as much as figuring out who’s going to actually finish it.

rated M, flirting, dirty talk, sexual tension. word count: 2,560

✨ Winter Wooer by salytierra

Winter may not be the most pleasant guy to live or share your body with, but he isn't nearly as destructive as everybody expected him to be either. He likes to brood in the corners, watch British TV, and freak people out. And Tony. He really, really likes Tony Stark. There's just one problem – Bucky's pretty sure he doesn't feel the same way about the guy.

Rated M, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, team as family. word count: 8,726

✨ Even Darkness Must Pass by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)

“Fake it till you make it,” Bucky whispered to himself, swallowing around his panic. Sam had drilled the idea into him, and it had become a mantra of sorts, something to hold onto when all he wanted to do was blend into the shadows and disappear.

“You’ll be fine.”

Steve placed a warm, strong hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed, his super soldier ears having picked up Bucky uttering the now familiar saying.

Bucky nodded, tried to believe his own words, and followed Steve onto the common floor, a wall of sound hitting them as they entered.

rated M (but mild sexual content), parent Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes recovering, team as family, of love and hobbits 🧝🏻‍♂️. word count: 15,289

✨ Paths Are Made by Walking by Potrix 

The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best.

Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.

rated T, post-TWS, fluff, humour, getting together, idiots in love. word count: 4,744.

✨ Rise In Perfect Light (Be Not Fearful Of The Night) by RayShippouUchiha

At first, the new element singing in his chest, Tony doesn’t understand what he’s done.

Doesn’t understand the full consequences of his actions.

But, to be fair, there’s no way he really could have.

Not even a futurist like him could have ever seen this coming.

rated G, post-CW, past Stony, angst with a happy ending. word count: 3,589.

(note: this fic is SO BEAUTIFUL. lemme just asjkdjnsjkdm)

✨ and amidst the ruins, there was you by TheKitteh

With everything resolved - post the Berlin conflict, Siberia and the rogue Avengers' return - Tony relishes in the clarity of what the team is now. He can finally see the well-defined lines, he can rely on solid rules and the chain of command. He's settled into his life like never before.

That is, until one day, an unhinged sorcerer with no grasp on his magic shatters that new-found balance.

As a result, half of Tony's soul is now gone, but he's willing to do anything to get it back.

rated T, post-CW, canon divergence, au - Dystopia, Dimension Travel, magical accidents, slow burn, getting together. word count: 36,976

✨ and so we unfold by TheKitteh

Senbazuru. Thousand Cranes.

An ancient Japanese legend that promises anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some stories believe you are granted happiness and eternal good luck, instead of just one wish, such as long life or recovery from illness or injury.

Bucky’s not big on believing in any legends, not after all that has happened. He just wants to create something for a change, not destroy.

He needs to prove himself that he can be trusted to handle something delicate. He doesn’t need a promise of a wish come true. He just,- needs to do this for himself.

He doesn’t need noticing how sad, tired Stark looks. Doesn’t need to want to do something for the man, when he can barely do anything for himself.

rated T, CACW canon divergence, getting together, reconciliation, POV alternating, Bucky Barnes recovering. word count: 14,449

✨ Spilt on the Ground like Water by tisfan

Tony has been black-bagged and illegally held at the Raft. Steve has no intentions of going to rescue him.

But the Winter Soldier isn't going to leave him behind.

rated E, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, implied/referenced torture, frottage, dub-con, mention of part non-con (HYDRA trash party), not Steve friendly, suicidal thoughts, touch-starved. word count: 10,853

✨ Norns, Save Us (From Ourselves) by phlintandsteel

It’s been ten years since half the universe was dusted.

rated E, post-IW au, A/B/O verse, Omega Tony, Alpha Bucky, Soulmates, Peter & Harley playing matchmaker, still recovering Bucky Barnes, not Steve Rogers Friendly, angst with a happy ending. word count: 37,324.

✨ Change You Like A Remix by ficlicious 

No one ever said Avenging would be easy, but Bucky could have really used a memo about the weeks where the hits just didn’t stop coming. He’d probably still have signed his soul away to the gods of spandex and paperwork, but a heads up woulda been nice before he nodded and smiled and took up residence in the house sanity fled when the Avengers moved in.

---- Soulmates, misunderstandings, snark, genderswap and sleep-deprived Avengers abound. Tony's a woman. Must be Friday.

rated E, AU - soulmates, established relationship, temporary gender swap, jealous Bucky Barnes, misunderstanding, miscommunication. word count: 10,494.

✨ Getting to Know You by orbingarrow

It had been an adventure, navigating the sweetly apologetic Bucky Barnes, who haunted the tower most days, and the the Winter Soldier, who occasionally inhabited Barnes’s body. The Winter Soldier was not apologetic; he was scary. And he was currently chilling out, uninvited, in Tony's lab.

“Leave,” Tony said, because Tony was either a dead man or not, and there wasn’t much he could do about it before coffee.

“Or you could give me permission to be here,” the Winter Soldier suggested.

“I don’t let strangers poke around my stuff,” Tony grumbled, as he walked past the Soldier to take a seat at his workbench.

“Easily solved,” the Soldier deflected. “Get to know me.”

-This is what happens when Tony does.

rated G, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are different personalities, fluff, Clint Barton is a good bro. word count: 9,470

✨ Safe House by ali_aliska

For years, Tony had successfully kept his secret. Neither the world nor his team knew he was Iron Man and as far as he was concerned, everyone was better off that way. On his best days, Tony Stark was not someone people liked and trusted, so the last thing Tony wanted was to tarnish Iron Man’s good reputation by revealing the truth.

But then SHIELD falls, the Avengers face disarray, and a stray Hydra assassin forces Tony to go into hiding—and where better than the safe house he had just crafted for the Avengers and their own ex-assassin ready to come in from the cold?

Tony plans to hide away from everyone in his makeshift workshop until the coast is clear and he’s safe to go home. No one would care to spend any time with the reclusive, arrogant billionaire anyways, right? Iron Man is the one everyone wants around.

Bucky Barnes, on his own journey to reclaim his life and identity, seems to disagree with that sentiment.

rated T, post TWS, canon divergence, au - Secret Identity, mutual pining, team as family, slow burn, misunderstandings. word count: 89,533

✨ Versace on the floor by withered

The modern man’s armor is his clothing, and Bucky wants Tony out of his.

rated T,  post CW, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Separate Personalities, Barnes & Soldier & their hard-on for Tony, not team cap friendly. word count: 2,127 

[jenoslutie]

I posted 771 times in 2022

That's 670 more posts than 2021!

142 posts created (18%)

629 posts reblogged (82%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@wickedangels

@g0thjeno

@haechanitboy

I tagged 368 of my posts in 2022

#jenoslutie - 43 posts

#nabis fic recs! - 41 posts

#jenoslutie asks - 30 posts

#nct smut - 15 posts

#angelwonie <3 - 13 posts

#nct dream smut - 13 posts

#nct - 11 posts

#jeno smut - 10 posts

#jaemin smut - 9 posts

#haechan smut - 9 posts

Longest Tag: 101 characters

#im pretty sure its gonna be jaemin but the member might change depending on how i end up writing this

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

haechan x fem!reader

genre: fluff, crack & slightly suggestive

warnings: none

Haechan thinks you've been spending far too much time on your phone lately. Having made him 5 different playlists and telling him "this reminds me of you!" when they're songs he'd never listen to but he did give them a listen. Only for you though. Thats not where it ends though.

"Hyuck!" You called from the other room.

"Yeah?"

"Go look at my insta story" He sighed playfully before opening up Instagram and clicking on your story. The first few stories were posts that you reposted and then he landed on the one you intended for him to see. It was a picture of the both of you from yesterday. Lips locked in your first winter kiss of the year. Both of your cheeks rosy as you squished his cheeks with your glove clad hands. The picture was posted with the song Melting by Kali Uchis.

"You got some soft lips and some pearly whites I wanna touch them in the dead of night Your smile ignites just like a candlelight"

Haechan took a quick screenshot of the photo before walking into your bedroom where you sat with a sheepish grin on your face.

"Did you like it?" He scoffed playfully before pulling you in for a kiss.

He was sure he was in love with you.

"Oh hey, by the way, do you know what the first verse of that song says?" You gave him a look to show your confusion but shook your head either way.

"When you're around. my insides turn inverted" You still didn't get where he was getting at even after he sang the lyric with his angelic voice which has sang you to sleep on multiple occasions.

"Let's rearrange your insides" He smirked.

Your smile dropped. "Lee Donghyuck!" he shrieked and ran away from you when he saw you pick up a pillow and get ready to attack him with it.

"I'M SORRY!"

519 notes - Posted November 16, 2022

#4

pairing: jeno x reader

warnings: smut, phone sex, use of toys. i think thats it :) lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 575

jenos at work and you're very well aware that you shouldn't bother him. however you're even more aware of the growing ache between your legs.

jeno has been super busy and has had no time at all for you, working late nights and being too tired to do anything when he gets home.

and you have been miserable.

you've never wanted your boyfriend as bad as you do now. so you decide you're definitely bother him at work.

starting off by scrolling through your photos until you find a video jeno had sent you, jerking off on the same bed you were sat on, his low groans sending shivers down your spine, getting you even more worked up. you reached towards your side table and pulled out your dildo that you used for times jeno wasn't home. slipping it between your soaking wet folds, you rubbed it in between your folds a little before sinking down on the toy, the sound of your dripping wet cunt mixed with jenos groans making your thoughts hazy.

following along to your original plan, you grabbed your phone and quickly opened your camera app, setting your phone low enough to capture where your cunt swallows up the clear glass dildo and pressing record. bouncing on the toy like your life depends on it, reaching a hand down to toy with your clit, adding on to the pleasure, your body shaking with no control as you toppled over the edge, moaning out loudly "d-daddy miss you s-so much" your climax hitting you hard, body shuddering while you rode out your climax before you came to a stop, lifting off the toy which was coated with your juices.

knowing what jeno likes best, you lowered yourself onto the bed, so your face was visible in the camera, taking the dildo in your mouth eagerly, sinking down all the way to the base. the sounds of you gagging filling the room. you made sure to make it extra sloppy, just the way he likes.

when the toy was clean of your juices, you ended the video and sent it to your boyfriend straight away.

not long after, the sound of your phone ringing fills the room, you looked at the caller id and it was none other than your boyfriend.

“hey” you greeted but no reply, only heavy breathing could be heard from his side. “babyyyy?” a smirk forming on your lips, knowing exactly what he’s up to. “you knew i was at work y/n”

he’s right. you did.

but what’s the fun in waiting right?

“but i was so needy and i missed you so much” that’s all it took for him to send a video call request. you accepted and were faced with the sight of jeno with his head thrown back and the sounds of low groans. “such a needy little thing fuck you’re so impatient baby, need to fuck you so bad” he was blabbering any and everything that came to his mind. “missed your cock so much daddy, need to feel you” he gasped softly at your words, nearing his high. “i-i’m gonna fuck you so good when i get home, i promise” he groaned loudly before his high came over him, sending waves of pleasure through him, legs shaking and hips jerking up, riding out his high.

“you could’ve told me before you know?” he chuckled to which you shrugged

“i liked this way better”

See the full post

547 notes - Posted August 18, 2022

#3

you've been getting on haechan's nerves all day today.

on purpose, that is.

so there was no questioning why haechan had you bent over his desk, your panties stuffed in your mouth and your arms behind your back in his hold while he thrusted relentlessly into you.

"you're much more tolerable when you're not running that mouth of yours" he spat. your brain not processing anything he said to you because of the way his cock was kissing your cervix. your body going limp in his hold. "such a dumb little thing"

your noises got louder as you got closer to your high, letting your panties fall out of your mouth "s-so close" you whined, moving your hips to match with his thrusts.

"my baby's close hmm?" haechan cooed softly. nodding desperately, you threw your head back, at the edge of your orgasm when haechan pulled out of you suddenly, leaving you desperately clenching around nothing, looking back at him with teary eyes and he laughs at you..

"you thought you deserve to cum after being a fucking brat all day?"

hey guys <33 i been busy so this was a little rushed but hope you'll like it ! feedback is always appreciated <33

also feel free to send me ideas if you'd like !

721 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

#2

synopsis: gaming was never really your thing but when you invited jaemin to play some game you found, you realize you're better at games than you thought.

pairing: jaemin x fem reader

genre: smut, fluff kinda

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it !), oral (m receiving), choking, they basically mirror everything in a sex game so yeah, lmk if i missed anything.

word count: 801

a/n: my entry for the @neohub level up event! also this didnt come out the way i wanted it to but enjoy nonetheless, feedback is always appreciated

the sound of jaemin’s ringtone rang throughout his room, interrupting what he likes to call his jaemin time (which is basically just him sitting at his computer and editing photos of his friends). looking down at his phone to see who interrupted his jaemin time. a smile quickly replacing his frown when he saw who the culprit was. 

“hey!” his smile grows wider at the sound of your voice. 

“whats up?” you take a hesitate a bit before answering 

“so.. i found this game and i think it’d be fun if we played it together!” jaemin knows gaming isn't your forte nor are you any bit interested in it. that's why he was thrown off when you invited him over to play some new game you found.

arriving at your apartment, he followed you to your computer and he definitely wasnt ready to see you playing some 3D sex game off of some sketchy website.

"look at the game i found!" flopping down at your desk you began clicking the buttons and creating the character of your choice while jaemin stood behind you with raised eyebrows, watching as you enthusiastically created your character.

"done! do you wanna play?" you looked back at him. "sure" jaemin nodded and sat down where you previously sat. clicking the start button, jaw dropping at the sight in front of him, a male POV and a female character kneeled in front of him with some lewd animations of her giving him a sloppy blowjob.

"this is...interesting?" playing around with the characters as his confused expression turned into a smirk, jaemin shifted in his seat, scooting further back from your desk to give his legs more space, unintentionally giving you space to slip under his desk. "what are you doing?" he looked down at you with raised eyebrows. "nothing, do what you're doing"

jaemin did in fact know what you were up to when you began to slide his sweats down until they pooled at his ankles. "no touching" you gave him a small smile before taking him in your mouth eagerly, taking as much of him as you could, trying to mirror the characters in the game. you could hear jaemin softly groaning above you as you began jerking off the rest of his cock that you couldnt take in your mouth until jaemin’s hands found their way onto your head, pushing your head further down on him, groaning at the sight of you trying not to gag around him. 

jaemin's fingers maneuvered from your head to the keyboard, pressing keys until the scene changed to the female character bent over, getting her back blown out by the male POV, pulling you off him, he bent you over your desk, hooking his fingers around the lace of your panties and sliding them down your legs to pool at your ankles. the new angle making it so you were right next to your computer, the game more visible to you now. "baby you're so wet just from sucking me off?" he chuckled softly before aligning his cock to your cunt, sliding in slowly, he was relishing in the sounds of your little gasps, "jaem do it like them please" you whined loudly, tapping your fingers on the screen softly.

jaemin's thrusts already started off relentlessly, rocking your body back and forth with the way his cock was hitting so deep in you. reaching back, you brought his hand that was once resting on your waist, up to wrap lightly around your neck, mirroring the new position on the screen

"s-so close jaem" your moans mixed with jaemins grunts echoed throughout your room. "cum for me baby" he tightened his hands around your neck, adding on to your state of bliss, your vision blurred as your orgasm rippled through you. Jaemin’s hips rutting into you with a merciless rhythm, chasing his high with the determination to make you see stars. 

“s’ too much” jaemin chuckled at your overstimulated state, choking on his words as his hips still, eyebrows furrowed as he gave one last thrust before spilling his cum inside you, painting your walls white. pulling out of you as he sat down on your seat again, pulling your panties back up before his cum could leak out of you. you flopped down onto his lap, both of your panting filling the room as you tried to catch your breath. 

“guess you’re better at games than you thought” your boyfriend huffed out a chuckle. “you’re not that bad yourself,” you giggled. jaemin pressed a kiss to your head before clicking out of the game. 

“maybe we’ll need that for another time” he chuckled, picking you up and bringing you to the bathroom for a shower. 

you smirked at him “we’ll need it for our next play date” 

See the full post

851 notes - Posted April 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

jeno x fem!reader x haechan

(9:10pm)

“Yeah, you like how he’s fucking you?” Haechan whispered in your ear, his hands flat on your thighs keeping them spread for Jeno who was thrusting relentlessly into you. You could only moan in response, lazily nodding your head. 

Jeno brings a hand down to rub at your clit, his thrusts not slowing for even a second. You squealed, overwhelmed with the feeling, trying to squirm away from Jeno. Haechan scoffs at you. 

"You can take it" He reassures you, caressing your thighs and kneading the skin, keeping your hips pinned down. Jeno breathes out shakily as you squeeze around his tip, letting out a loud groan. If you weren’t already on the edge, you sure were when Haechan leans up and pulls jeno by his hair and kisses him. It's heated, needy, and desperate. 

Unable to hold back anymore, you fall apart on Jeno’s cock, arching your back. Jeno’s thrusts are unfaltering. Haechan pulls away from Jeno to focus on you. The only noises you can manage to let out are weak cries. 

“Jeno no m-more” He could tell you were close again. Paying no regard to your plea, Jeno continued to pound into you. You reached back, gripping onto Haechan’s hair tightly, earning a small groan from him which was enough to send you over the edge once more. Your legs shook around Jeno’s and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. With Jeno’s high just around the corner, you felt his dick twitch. His eyebrows furrowed as he gave one last thrust before spilling his cum inside you. 

Jeno chuckled, pulling out of you and flopping on the side, allowing Haechan to take over. He smirked and laid himself between your thighs, eyes trained on the mixture of yours and Jeno’s cum dripping out of you. Without warning, he dived right into your center, lapping his tongue all around your center, making you squirm away from his tongue, too overstimulated to go again. 

“Don’t run from it now baby”

i wrote this a couple months ago it was just in my drafts lol. 

not proofread <33 enjoy! 

1,617 notes - Posted March 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ktheist]

2 | all yours to enjoy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read part one, play me like a toy, here.

muses. heiress!reader x ex-mafia!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia au. arranged marriage au. modern au.

warning. implied smut, mentions of gun use and all that mafia shizz

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs.

synopsis.

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

the carved name above the handle points in wayward angles. as if made by a child.

well, 5 year-old-you lacked tact. and a sense of artistry but nobody dared insult the work of the only daughter of the han group.

the room hoseok stepped in feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. it’s been years, but the pink unicorn plushie still sits on your bed like it’s waiting for you to climb in and cuddle it every night.

the pastel peach walls have been repainted in a deep maroon shade. at your order, hoseok suspects. it’s as if you’ve renounced that childish innocence and took on a blood oath for the han family name.

much of that youthful wander in your eyes has disappeared.

‘it was my fault, i shouldn’t have left her all alone in this wretched place,’ hoseok surly thought to himself.

before he can even think about how inappropriate his actions are - to have stepped into a woman’s room without a reason - a surprised voice echoes from the door adjacent to where he’s standing.

“hoseok...” you’re standing there, in front of the ajar bathroom door, with a pristine white towel around your body and another wrapped around your head, water dripping from the stray strand that manages to escape from your towel turban.

perhaps he had a reason, after all.

perhaps he just wants to see you, the person who coerced him to come back to this god forsaken house where he’s seen more deaths than his fingers could count.

“i’m sorry- i didn’t know you were taking a bath-” hoseok didn’t even manage to take a step back when you shake your head, a smile he’s not used to seeing curved on your lips.

“it’s fine, come in. close the door behind you.”

when he remains frozen in his spot, hand on the handle that seems to seep cold, icy frost into his palm - you raise a pair of trimmed brows, “what? we’re getting married, aren’t we? you forgot but you’ve seen all of me,” a coquettish smile on your lips, “don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now after announcing to the entire head of families that they should sleep with one eye open.”

the funeral had been handled by uncle jihoon, your father’s right hand man and most trusted confidant. he probably cleaned up the skeletons in your father’s closet more times than you’d met your own father in your 25 years of living.

your father had enemies and someone had to get rid of them.

such was the ways of the hans.

yeojun was yours and sehun was chanyeol’s.

hoseok was meant to step in once uncle jihoon resigned since at an early age, he’d gathered enough support to ruin the whole nation. his only fault was being loyal to your father, han jiseok.

and it was his loyalty that made your father drive him away.

because no matter when hoseok was and what he was doing, he’d never betray the hans.

“he’s just a kid,” you’d once heard him say to uncle jihoon.

several months later, he’d announced at the annual family gathering that hoseok got into yonsei university as a business major. it also meant that his ties with the han group would cease to orphan student-influential family sponsors. every record of his existence was wiped clean. he was no longer the child uncle jihoon took in because he pitied hoseok’s miserable state of living. he’d come to your house in tattered clothes and a bluing bruise on his cheek.

jung hoseok was meant to carry half of the burden of the head of family until the true heirs grew up and learned the ropes of leading the han group.

in short, hoseok was a proxy. a stand-in who gathered a little too many support that threatened the powers of the actual heirs.

their bow lingered longer, as if they were thanking the gods for bringing him back just as they’d lost a great leader.

you didn’t mind though. you liked hoseok - he was the only one that didn’t look at you like you were a prophecy of death. a child who’d grow up just as wicked as her father.

he’d looked at you like a human.

han jiseok took a liking to hoseok, the loyal dog of the han family that would drive a fist into someone’s gut at the command of the head or any of his heirs. hoseok wouldn’t question it either - why he was beating someone up half-dead, he just... did it.

so when that jung hoseok who got cut off from the han family at chanyeol’s whining over how his succession would not be supported by the branch families if hoseok were to remain as the stand in - came back and announced  first thing after his return, his engagement to the heiress of han group, naturally, all hell broke lose.

hoseok had stood by your side as you’d kept your head low, the black veil covering your eyes and nose did well to hide your dry gaze.

true to his reputation, as soon as he stepped into the mansion with you, the men who swore their loyalty to the han family, one by one, started bowing at hoseok whilst the heads of the vassal families started whispering among themselves.

“hoseok, the loyal dog? that’s him?”

“did the boss ever say who was going to inherit the family business?”

family business was just a white washed term of the commercial front of han group that was meant to blur the eyes of the korean government on what truly goes on underground.

“the attorney hasn’t been found, right? that means nobody here knows the contents of the will.”

“did he ever mention chanyeol would inherit the business?”

“____’s achievements aren’t something to be turned a blind eye on either.”

one of the heads of the branch approached you, he smiled too sweetly on the day of his principal’s passing. rubbed his hands together schemingly as he murmured words of condolences that sounded like congratulations, “the boss suffered for so long from leukemia, the gods must’ve answered his prayer. i’m sorry for your loss, miss ____.”

foolish fiend.

kang sungho was chanyeol’s uncle from his mother’s side. he was the head of one of the closest branch family who’d swore loyalty to the han’s. yet he acted like a stranger who didn’t have anything to do with his brother-in-law’s passing.

“say, hoseok, you’re here too,” sungho didn’t even wait for you to respond - perhaps he thought you were too in shock to say anything, “it’s been a while, thank you for coming even though you have no relation with han group anymore.”

just like that, sungho made a u-turn and spoke on the behalf of han group.

your hand that you didn’t even know was balled up into a fist shook silently - that was, until hoseok slipped and grasped it with his large hand as he lowered his head in a nod.

“it’d always been my intention to come back to serve the new boss,” his hand had left you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “well, a husband is a slave to his wife, anyway, right?”

it was clear from what hoseok said that he didn’t mean chanyeol was the soon-to-be wife.

you’d sent yeojun to the hospital to confirm your father’s status while you’d met up with an - well, you were holding her son and husband hostage if she didn’t corporate but still - acquaintance who works at the korean embassy to speed up the marriage registration process.

it was when you were walking out of the embassy and to the car that hoseok slips his hand in yours and murmurs to himself.

but you’d heard every word of it, “your hands are trembling. you’ve never shot a man, have you?”

a sense of melancholy paints his face as his grasp tightens on your hand, as if saying ‘sorry i left you all alone in that house.’

you shook it off, heart too dried and withered to ponder on what he’d thought. thoughts of you father filling your heart.

no ceremony, no nothing.

and now you’re married.

the hoseok from just hours ago stood with his back straight and an ease in his aura. yet his presence alone was enough to make even the eldest of the head bow to him.

“are you... are you okay?” this hoseok asks you with hesitance in his voice.

“what makes you think i’m not?” you amble to the bed and drop your towel, letting it pool around your ankle.

there’s no mistaken low breath hoseok let out at the sight of your naked body. as if he’s a teenage school kid who’s never seen the body of a woman.

“do you mind zipping this up for me?” you say, standing with your exposed back on him, damp hair pulled to drape over your shoulder and chest.

hoseok lets out a cough. as if to announce that he was in the room and he was coming closer.

the fingerpads feels callous against your skin. you have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose than hold it in until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

hoseok takes his sweet, leisure time tracing down his index finger down your spine to get to the zipper. and when he does, he drags it up in an agonizingly slow pace, the grazing sound it makes causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“skip the after-reception... you look tired,” he says after his hand falls away from your body and you’re suddenly missing what warmth it provides, like a flame that thaws the ice in your heart.

a dry laugh escapes you, “the elders are finally looking at me as an heiress, you know i can’t afford to slip out of the spotlight on the pretense of fatigue.”

before hoseok can offer any response, you twirl around, arms banding around his waist and bare face buried in his chest.

“hold me like you used to when i woke up from a nightmare and i’ll be fine,” the remnant of your sob threatens to spill from your mouth - true, you didn’t shed a single tear when you arrived late at night at the hospital.

the death of your father had been announced at 1703 hour.

but it’s only ever sunk in that the only family you have is gone - once you’ve left to your own devices to take a bath and change into new clothes before the after reception begins.

it’s then, that the waterworks began to pour over your cheeks without any hints of stopping.

hoseok must have seen the aftermath of your puffed, pink eyes when you stepped out of the bathroom, not expecting for anyone to be there except the silence.

a pair of strong, secure arms wrap around your body wordlessly. hoseok tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against the side of your head.

“you grew a few inches,” his husked voice brushes your ear like a dream you’d never want to wake up from.

a small laugh escapes you, “oh come on, i got more than my height on me but you-”

hoseok groans and you clamp your mouth shut, chuckling.

“i’m sorry,” he confesses, a treasure trove of remorse laced around those two little words.

all of a sudden, guilt gnaws at your conscience for having teased him too many times about forgetting something he couldn’t control, “don’t say sorry,” you mumble, “now i feel bad.”

“i used to tease you a lot about your obsession for ponies and unicorns.” his voice drums in your ears.

“i used to fantasize about finding a unicorn in the forest behind our beach house and beating chanyeol at a race someday,” without you realizing it, your cheeks are hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

silence lapses around you.

but it has no space in between your flushed bodies. you hear hoseok’s unusually fast heartbeat.

“you’ve changed...” you murmur, somber.

“i did?” he sounds melancholic, as if reminiscing about the days in this household.

chasing after the troublemaker daughter that always thinks they’re playing hide-and-seek. beating and threatening any rival members he sees hovering around the han group’s territorial influence.

“i didn’t say i don’t like the new you,” you tear your face off his chest, tilting your chin to gaze up to his warm eyes that appear deep brown under these fluorescent lights.

standing on the tip of your toes, you peck his lips lightly.

a sweet smile plays on your lips.

‘yeah, his lips are as soft as they look,’ you affirm.

it’s the way his eyelids cover his eyes as he blinks. the way his lips part as if surprised at the sudden, unannounced advancement. the way the realization seems to sink in that there was nothing stopping you from kissing him again-

an index finger presses against your pouted lips as you stand on the tips of your toes once again.

“it’s dangerous...” is all he offers.

but with the way his gaze becomes hooded as the chains of self-restraint shackles his hands and ankles, you think you know what he means.

instead of offering an answer, you sweep your tongue over the length of his digit, mouth opening to lightly bite his finger all the while gazing into his stormy eyes.

“guess i’m just a little kitten compared to the wolves in that room full of old wolves to you, huh?”

once the storm passes, his gaze becomes hooded with something - something you can’t pinpoint.

yet you let him slide his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling the soft pink flesh of your tongue on his fingertip.

you flutter your lashes skittishly, hand pushing the hair to the back of your ear as you lick a strip down his finger like you would his other head. but the rap on your door and the “miss ____, it’s yeojun,” coming from the other side almost sends your heart leaping into your throat.

you suck in a deep breath around hoseok’s finger before pulling away and stepping to the side, completely aware of the sexual tension that hovers in the air like thick, dark clouds.

“yeojun, is everyone here?” your gaze is fixed on the handle that your hand’s reaching out for.

“everything’s set, we’re waiting on the priest to arrive,” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

you step out of the door with half-damp hair and a face bare of make up whilst patting down the skirt of your dress.

but it’s not your half-as-acceptable appearance that makes yeojun stare at you for five solid seconds.

rather, he’s staring at something behind you as you feel the warmth of a body heat against your back.

“i’ll be the one escorting my fiance, yeonjun.”

he speaks casually despite yeojun being older than him and yet it felt natural. hoseok holds out his arm for you as yeojun stepped back with a bow, making way for you and hoseok to walk down the hallway leading to the flight of stairs where the main hall would be.

x

“god, i hate ties,” hoseok murmurs under his breath from next to you, nimble fingers pulling on his collar.

“you wear it well for someone who claims to hate going around in crisp button downs and shiny leather loafers,” a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

chanyeol finally stepped away with the madam for some fresh air. maybe the death glares she’d been shooting you since you arrived - has finally got the world spinning behind her eyes.

“was the only option an orphaned nobody like me had when i was offered to work a nine to five,” he says casually, still fumbling with his tie.

your hand feels like a child’s when you place it on his. he pauses, gazing down at you before letting his hand fall on his side whilst yours remain on the knot of his necktie.

“may i?”

hoseok’s head moves, not quite a nod but not a shake of ‘no’ either. so you take out the pin from your hair that yeojun fetched from your room after your hair started falling into your face with every head bow you made in front of the guest. undoing the knot on hoseok’s tie, you slip the pin between the knot before looping the end over the knot and patting it down once you’re done.

the ‘how did you learn to do that’ look that hoseok shoots you makes you laugh. he’s both impressed and suspicious.

“my mom-” the one who’s confined to the house your father give and can’t even attend her late husband’s memorial service, reception and after reception, “-taught me all the things i needed to know to be the ‘perfect’ wife.”

“never pegged you for someone who’d obediently absorb her teachings,” he comments.

back then, you were as ruthless and spoiled as they come. the fine lines on your mother’s forehead was probably caused by your bursts every time she tried to push her views on you.

“a year after you left the seong’s proposed for our families to join together... they had a son and daddy had a daughter at his disposal... i was preparing to be a bride because that’s all people around me made my life to be until i just... had enough of being treated like a doll. so i cut a deal with seong joongki, got rid of his dad so he could step up as head, we remained engaged until i turned 18 and broke it. now he’s one of the people i know i can count on,” a shrug of your shoulder and you look up to him, locking his gaze with yours.

“seong, huh?” hoseok scanned the faces of the guests behind you, eyes narrowed like a hawk before they paused on something.

his gaze returns to you, an overly sweet smile appearing on his face as his dimples dig into his cheeks, “people like him cut and run when things get messy.”

you laugh, it sounds tired, but it’s still laugh, “if he does, i’d be the one to tell him to.”

“and i’ll put a bullet in his head if you didn’t,” he says words of murder like a romantic confession as he gazes into your eyes like there’s no where he’d rather be.

that is, until an unfamiliar voice calls the husband of the heiress by his name.

x

“namjoon,” hoseok hugs the chairman of kimcorp. for a lingering moment as the man pats his back once, as if unspeakingly consoling him.

kim namjoon, the second child and heir of kimcorp. and hoseok’s college friend and boss who booked a sudden trip back to seoul at the news of the head of the han group’s passing.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

when they break apart, hoseok turns to you, arm around your waist, “___, this namjoon. namjoon- ___... my wife.”

hearing the word ‘wife’ slip out of hoseok’s mouth warms your heart yet makes your stomach knot painfully. ironic how you’d want to believe the heartrendering way he introduced you to be anything more than the act you told him to put on.

“ah,” kim namjoon narrows his eyes at you, as if shifting through his memories, “the kid hoseok babysat.”

the disparaging regard to your status as heiress tells you enough what this so-called friend of hoseok thinks of you.

“the friendless nerd hobi befriended out of pity,” you state, flashing you best smile.

a nod from his side. as if saying ‘touché’.

“ah, mrs. aera didn’t come?” hoseok asks, eyes searching the crowd until namjoon shakes his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“she’s too tired so i told her to rest at home,” he says and hoseok nods, as if understanding the underlying reason that kim aera is missing from honoring the master his husband’s family’s served for generations.

the kim’s are one of the oldest families that was tied down to han group by an oath. your great great great grandfather helped his great grandfather build the legacy the kim’s found themselves on now.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

he steps away, greeting chanyeol and han chohee, your father’s legal wife before meandering away and keeping out of the spotlight for the rest of the night while you amble languidly with your hand on hoseok’s arm, exchanging pleasantries with the guests like it’s a wedding rather than a funeral until it’s time for the head of the family to gather in the boardroom.

everywhere you and hoseok goes, eyes follow. those who you approach tenses up while they wear their best smiles and utter words of sweet saccharine but as soon as the attorney turns up, you have no sliver of doubt that these people will be the first to vote for your head if it turns out the will appoints chanyeol as the next and rightful heir of han group.

those who you pass by end up with twisted faces. they’re the acquaintances of the han group, loyal to no master - the actual people who’d cut and run.

“mr. jee,” the middle aged man with too big of a nose and overbearing personality turns his full attention to you after hoseok was done talking about the stock market he’d been investing in, “a friend of mine, doctor maria wong, is a skin specialist who just received the asan award in medicine for her recent findings, i can introduce you to her, if you’d like.”

the youngest jee suffers from a rare skin condition which is why she never attended any social functions. they claimed she got accepted to a boarding school in europe when she was actually getting treated in one of the most prestigious private hospitals in the world in switzerland.

the situation is kept under wraps. you lost one of your holiday villas for this piece of information.

“o-oh, yes,” it takes a moment of him staring at you like you’re emitting halo from your body before he stammers back to life, “i- we,” he looks at his wife who shares the same hopeful gleam, “would really like that.”

“one down... tens more to go,” hoseok murmurs under his breath when you walk away from the couple, “you’re pretty good this ��you know whose side you should be on, don’t you’ kind of threat.”

“i threatened the jung hoseok to marry me, this is child’s play,” you shoot him a coquettish smile, not expecting for him to lean down to your ear and whisper lowly.

“the lock was on the whole time,” he chuckles as he straightens his back at the announcement summoning all the heads of the families present, its representative, the children of the han’s and their spouses to the meeting room.

hoseok pulls out a pair of tucson, ariz’s tucked behind him and places them on the metal tray soobin’s holding out. he slips a hand under his suit, pulling out a revolver from his shoulder holster you didn’t even know he had on. then, two grenades from each of his pockets like he’s taking out a piece of candy. a foldup knife from the pocket of his blazer.

red lights go off when he walks past the metal detector, cursing to himself before he shoots you a sheepish look - the one the new hoseok would - and bends down before pulling out two kolibri the size of your palm and appear like toy guns in hoseok’s that was strapped on both his ankles.

one of your father’s men manually hovers a handheld metal detector and scans him from head to toe before giving him the greenlight to walk into the room just as kang sungho screams, “i’m the uncle of the future head, you’ll regret this!”

you roll your eyes at the old man’s outburst, taking out the dagger strapped to your thigh and pretending to not notice hoseok’s ogling at your exposed thighs when the dress rides up.

“bringing a knife to a gun fight - ballsy,” hoseok murmurs under his breath, his words meant only for you as you join his side, both of you stepping into the still-empty boardroom as the heads of the branch families you pass by grumble to themselves, pulling out the weapons they have on them and piling the tray in front of them.

one even pulled out a bandolier wrapped underneath his coat. the others merely have a pile of handguns and revolvers on their tray.

“oh, i brought something better,” you feel your lips stretching into a smirk as hoseok pushes the chair behind you before slipping in the one next to you, inquisitive eyes boring into yours.

a peck lands on his lips as you giggle at the way his eyes go wide for the briefest moment.

“tch,” someone says as they pass you and hoseok. chanyeol sits across from you, glare digging holes into your skull as he looks at you as if you were guM under his sole.

“please, tell me you have a plan that involves me driving my fist in his face,” hoseok’s low voice sends shivers down your spine.

it takes a moment for you to grasp that his statement needs a response.

“even better,” you murmur, head tilted to him, “you’ll get to do whatever you want with him after we walk out of this room.”

x

“we can’t go on without a leader for longer than 48 hours!” kang sungho smacks his pudgy fist against the clear glass surface of the oval table.

“we get your frustrations head family kang, but we need to locate attorney hyeon first,” seong joongki speaks informally to the man 20 years his senior and kang sungho can only grit his teeth.

in this room, no peerage title exists. every head is equal and that means every single person here is below you and chanyeol, the heir and heiress of han group.

“for all we know, attorney hyeon could be dead,” ahn sujin glances around the room, meeting every eye of the head until her gaze rests on you, “they found traces of tires on the road and a wrecked tree trunk a few feet away.”

“are you saying attorney hyeon got into an accident on the way here but someone quickly moved the car and bodies as if they were planned it, auntie sujin?” chanyeol baritone cuts through the tense air.

he throws you a side glance as he sits at the end of the oval table where your father and his father and his father’s father sat, bearing the weight of a legacy as old and majestic as the royal family had they survived all these years. the audacity of this man you call a brother walked straight up to the seat your father used to occupy and plopped down as if he owned it.

“the crash mark in the bark of the tree was still fresh,” ahn sujin nods.

“well...” at the sound of your voice, the whole room falls silent, “let’s ask him shall we?”

soobin, nods at you like he’s known your ways for years. he pulls out a remote and the tv screens tacked behind the leader’s seat.

the screen flashes with a picture of uncle jihoon getting into a sleek black car with the plate number HG that only you, chanyeol, the madam and your father have access to.

a blurred buzzing echoes against the soundproof walls of the boardroom before it gradually becomes clearer.

“...get the names?” a deep voice asks - the owner sitting directly across from you stares with knitted brows as he focuses on the familiar sound.

“a-... -re you... sure about...? ...involve ...your mother’s family...” uncle jihoon’s dialect wrapped around the syllables of the words, giving out who that voice belongs to.

he used to be proud of where he came from and wore his dialect like a medal.

“..-actly, they’re my mom’s family. not mine. ‘sides, kang sungho’s been clinging onto dad like a fucking leech even though he knows there’s nothing he can offer us that we want.”

silence fills the audio.

hoseok’s hand slips over yours, as if reminding you to let out that breath you’ve been holding.

chanyeol’s jaw tightens as he shoots daggers at you with his eyes.

“the names, uncle.” a sense of urgency laces around chanyeol’s voice.

“th-the kang’s, byun’s and ahn’s agreed to get molly to the scorpios in thailand on 23rd of april on flight ka8792 at 2:35 pm.” uncle jihoon says after a heartbeat.

each of the families listed are known for either their couture designs that receive orders from ministers’ wives all over the world, custom made colognes or either owns five star hotels in south korea and overseas.

“this isn’t enough, you think the cops are gonna believe all we have is the names of families involved in some mid level drug smuggling? my reputation’s on the line here.”

“a-and a fishing vessel will be making port at around 3 in the morning five days from now. it’s owned by the cha’s, they’ve been using it to smuggle meth and hide it under the hauls of fish they caught.”

the cha’s hold the monopoly to the wet market business.

“that’ll do for now, get out.”

the audio cuts off and the screens begin to move again, this time showing shots of chanyeol and a man in his 40′s sitting across from each other, having coffee.

shifting your hand so your palm is facing up in hoseok’s, you slip your fingers in the gap of his longer ones.

“that’s detective kim namseok and my beloved brother having brunch together - that’s right, chanyeol with the held of uncle jihoon, sold the kang’s, byun’s, ahn’s and cha’s off in his grand scheme of getting the leader position in exchange for police immunity for the han group... oops?” your lips purse into a mocking pout.

“lies! you know how much this bitch wanted to take over han group!” chanyeol roars, pushing himself off the chair and turning to face the wide-eyed gazes and dropped jaws of the heads of the families.

“i-i was b-blackmailed...” uncle jihoon stares at his reflection in the table, as if in a whole different world, “i-it’s not my fault! the young master threatened me!”

“let’s ask the detective shall we? since it’s been  proven that men from the han group have a hard time believing the women’s words,” you roll your eyes.

the screen flashes with an dark, barren room with nothing but a man tied to a chair in the middle of it. his head is hung low but there’s no mistaking the sight of blood covering his face and shirt.

the ghost scent of the blood makes your stomach churn yet you wear the malicious smile of someone who’s about to grasp the very thing she desires - perfectly.

“he’s a little... tied up. we caught him just in time before he called up his partner and spilled everything your darling heir provided.”

“uh, hello? are we live?” a cautious, brittle-like voice echoes from the intercom as a man with greying hair enters the frame as he adjusts his glasses to sit higher on his nose bridge.

“attorney hyeon, you’re live,” you affirm, smiling tightly.

“ah, good evening,” a light of recognition glints in the man’s eyes as he smiles, bowing deeply before straightening his back and backing up until he’s standing next to the half-conscious detective, “i apologize for not being able to attend the meeting myself. i got into an accident, drugged and would have had my nails pulled out if miss han didn’t come to my rescue and brought me here.”

“argh... a... ah...” the detective interjects, groaning.

attorney hyeon laughs calmly as if he didn’t just hear the bloodied and bruised man asking for help.

“in my hands here, i have the contents of the will which i will now have my... uh, assistant-bodyguard share it to the screen and send to your phones... are you sure... they’re sent?” his voice becomes quieter whilst phones and tablets begin to ding with a notification simultaneously.

“... the three holiday villas in incheon, jeju and daegu will respectively go to the madam...” he begins listing out the properties owned by your late father and the distribution of a portion of it to the madam and your mother.

no one interjects even though attorney hyeon’s voice seems to drone on and one despite the tape and audio that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

“...and for matters regarding the succession of the new head, the boss, han jiseok, wishes a fair voting system be used to decide whether mr. han chanyeol or miss han ___ will take the position a starting a month after his death.” by the end of it, the room is deathly silent as if a pin drop would echo like thunder in this spacious room.

“the heir and heiress are given three months for them to prove themselves to the vassals and in the absence of a leader, jung hoseok will be appointed as proxy-”

at that, the whole room breaks out into a roar.

“jung hoseok hasn’t stepped foot in han manor for over fifteen years!”

“miss ___ and hoseok are married! this will lead to unfair results!”

a screech against the floor as a chair falls over.

“you still want to support the son of a bitch that’s willing to sell all of us out to the blue bastards?!”

“who’s to say the young master’s not selling out the names of sons of bitches like you who switches sides the first chance you have!”

in the midst of the shouting, chairs screeching and the elderly lawyer trying to gain calm the elders, chanyeol turns to you with the eyes of a man who’s watching his legacy fall right in his very eyes.

“i should’ve left you in the forest when we got lost 15 years ago,” he reaches for something behind his back.

you recall the brother with scratches all over his body, the sun was setting and his back had looked broad for your 8 year old self. you were just two kids who lost their way, slipped and fall in the forest not too far from the family villa.

that same brother is holding a gun to your face.

x

hoseok takes a long whiff of the cigarette that sits in between his index and middle fingers.

“that was a shitstorm,” someone laughs from behind him - your voice sounds oddly free for someone who’s about to either get hexed or get worshipped within three months.

the curve of smile on your lips makes him smile too. he breathes out, laughing, “yeah...”

“do you mind sharing?”

hoseok blinks once. then he regains his senses, looking at the smoldering bud and tapping the middle part of the cigarette with the tip of his index finger to get the ash off so it wouldn’t hurt you if it fell.

“yeah... here.” he pushes down the wince that comes from the slightest strain of passing the cigarette to you.

the way your eyes linger on the clean white bandage on his arm tells him you’re not fooled by his unfazed mask. yet you don’t say anything, your eyes flutter close as your matte burgundy lips wrap around the beige colored bud and inhale.

when chanyeol pulled out the gun, hoseok tried to reason him out of it. promises were made at the expense of his own life. all that, in exchange for yours. in the fleeting moment that chanyeol took to consider pointing the gun at hoseok, you find your opening, shoving his hand upward and hitting that spot in his rib.

the bullet didn’t hit you but it grazed hoseok’s arm. he was standing right next to you.

And hoseok has a brand new pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with an electric lighter - he’d probably grab them both in one grasp if he slipped his hand in his pocket now.

for some reason, he takes the cigarette you pass and takes a good, long whiff out of it.

“did you know?” the puffs of smoke pass through your mouth as you speak and breathe out.

“when i left,  boss told me that i should be ready to drop everything i have... everything i am at any moment... they would have dragged me back one way or another and it’s not gonna be with a gun with its safety lock on if i didn’t walk in on my own accords,” hoseok taps the ashes off a second time, watching them flutter down and settle in between the green blades of grass.

a sense apprehension follows your nod as you stare at your reflection in your polished pumps, “after all this... after i convince the vassals, i’ll make sure you walk out of this alive. heck, i’ll sign the divorce papers today-”

the half of the unsmoked cigarette hits the ground.

hoseok finds himself swallowing the gasp that slips out of your lips at his sudden movement. you freeze underneath his fingertips like the ice you build in your heart but you don’t push him away and hoseok takes that as a maybe.

maybe there’s stability in this chaos.

maybe love does bloom in the most desolate place.

he feels his heart leap into his throat when your arm goes around his neck as you kiss him back just as desperately.

maybe, just maybe, you need him as much as he needs you.

x

the three months fly by with you gathering the majority of the votes by exposing the dirt you have on chanyeol as well as obtaining support from the main branch families by giving them more control over the underground market that was previously monopolized by han group.

though you’re competing with no one, the three month grace period still went on to ease you into the leadership spot.

to keep everything fair, you and hoseok lived apart. him in his apartment he’d been living in up till now and you in one of the holiday villas that your father gifted your mother.

by virtue, you had every right to keep staying in the main mansion as the heiress but chanyeol’s presence was still too strong. his people still lurk behind the mask of the so called loyalty for the han group. he’s locked in one of the safest hideout where only a selected few know where it is. one of them being hoseok. you never asked him what happened with your brother.

that brother of yours was dead to you the moment he pointed a gun at your head.

and with that, you find yourself in a standstill when it comes to your relationship with hoseok.

the last time you mentioned divorce was on the day the will was read. you ended up in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion because yours was too far away. hoseok fucked you into the silk satin material of the bed like he did that night. as if begging you to keep him - even if it was only for cheap thrills and fleeting passion.

once you stepped out of that room - somewhat presentable and barely any feelings in your leg, so much so, he had to wrap an arm around you to keep you upright - he was whisked away to discuss ground rules of what being the proxy head is entitled.

and that included maintaining a professional - as professional as a mafia leader can be - relationship with the heir and heiress he were to oversee.

once the three months were over, hoseok moved in with you. did all the things married couples would do - attended social functions and established your power as the head and him, the husband of said head. as if saying he had no eye for the position of the head. as if saying if they’d get on their knees and bow down at his will, they better be ready to die for you at his will. only when you’re away on trips overseas, visiting other ruling families in tokyo, hong kong, china and everywhere in asia - would he take over your job.

he kept the men in check and made sure they had a good beating if they went astray. and even then, they’d still follow him to the ends of the earth.

jung hoseok has the full support of the people who swore loyalty to the han family and you have the majority support of the heads of the branch family.

to anyone and everyone, you two make a dangerously powerful couple.

except there’s one problem: you’ve only consummated your marriage once and you can barely kiss your husband without him running away like you’re the literal devil that’s after him.

“h-honey, you’re back,” hoseok stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gazes down at your exposed cleavage that’s pressed up against his body, trapping him between the desk and you.

he looks as if he’s a touch away from losing his mind and fucking you against the table in front of the frames of your predecessors on the wall.

but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t need to take it but he does, a ‘namjoon’ flashing across the screen.

as if seeing a lightbulb go off his head, you shake your head, ‘don’t you dare’.

“i remember taehyun caught the baek’s men in our territory, they’re in the tortu- interrogation room. i was gonna kill them and get rid of their bodies, but since you’re back... i have golf with namjoon, see you tonight.” with that, he kisses you on the corner of your mouth.

in other words, hoseok was saying ‘they’re your problem now, boss.’

“wh-what, jung hoseok, you-!” you manage to yell back but he’s out of the door before you knew it.

hours later, the clock hands strike an hour and a half past midnight as they mock you for making your own husband run away at the sight of you. the door clicks twice as some slips in and shuts it behind them.

you don’t even catch the sound of footsteps as hoseok goes about the room, taking off his shirt and wrapping a towel around his waist. the only indication he’s even here is the body that suddenly freezes up at the sudden flash of light on the nightstand on your side.

“where were you?”

“i was out... golfing... with namjoon...” he drags out the sentence as if his brain short circuited when put in the spotlight in nothing but a flimsy towel around that muscular body of his.

“your wife comes back after two weeks and you decide to go golfing on the very day she touched down?” you say curtly, arms crossed over your lace donned chest.

“i-...” hoseok starts pointing to the open bathroom door behind him that he was about to go in had it not been for your abrupt intervention.

“come here,” you order.

“i just got back and i sweated a lot-” is it the way your eyes bore into his without so much as blinking that makes him clamp his mouth shut?

“yes, ma’am.”

a sigh leaves your lips heartbeats after he comes to stand by the bed, head hanging low like a puppy who knows he’s about to receive a scolding. but you’re not his owner and hoseok’s your husband. your lifetime companion.

“hobi,” the nickname slips out of your mouth without you realizing it as your fingers graze his, tugging on his index finger like a child.

he seems to understand your beckoning, bed dipping when he takes a seat, facing you. it takes everything in you not to let your eyes linger longer than a millisecond at the way the towel ends up stretching, revealing a very noticeable lump protruding in between his thighs.

you clear your throat, mentally chiding yourself for the wave of memories that flood your mind when hoseok is looking at you with attentive eyes. all ears for you.

“for some reason, i feel like you’ve been avoiding me and it’s not just this afternoon. since we started living together... it feels like we’re back to being strangers with memories who happen to have to spend their lives together from now on.” you play with his fingers that you tuck into your lap, heart beating too fast for you to look at him in the eye.

and to think you started off like a lioness prepared for war.

all of a sudden, the temperature of the room drops as you mention the word you promised you’d never utter again since the day of the reading of the will.

“i meant what i said about divorce - monthly alimony until the day you die, a house in gangnam a car with a driver, all expenses paid. and if you find someone and want to start a family with them, i swear on my honor as the head of han group, your family will be protected under our care for as long as i’m alive.”

“i don’t want a divorce.” hoseok says, sounding somewhat hurt.

“then- why-” you begin but he cuts you off with his troubled voice.

“____, i watched over you, i dropped you off and pick you up after school,  taught you how to ride a bicycle-”

this time, it’s you who speaks over him,“-ten years ago. hobi -”

i’m an adult who literally knows how to put a bullet in someone’s head.

but you don’t get to say that when hoseok shakes his head.

“do you remember why you started calling me that? because you came home one day and said you learned a new word- hope. you said i was your hope and you were so excited because you could equate a new word to someone you know... someone who’s been like a brother figure to you- how messed up am i to marry the little girl that i watched over and actually desire her as a woman now?”

“so you do see me as a woman.” is all you say.

“is that all you heard, ___?” hoseok’s wide eyed gaze bore into yours, as if disbelieved by your nonchalance.

“it’s the only thing i care about,” you shrug, the easy arrogance almost costing you another ruined relationship but you sigh a second later, eyes fixed on the motionless hand in your lap before you slip your hand in his, holding it like you’re about to commence a thumb war, “i may have acted like a spoiled brat the majority of the time after we met again which is probably why this whole existential crisis is happening right now,” you laugh, “it’s easier to play the role of a bimbo daughter than a strong overbearing heiress. i guess i acted like that for so long, i started becoming that.

your hand lies still in hoseok’s as you look up, meeting his gaze for what it is, “i admit, it’s my fault if you think that my feelings spurred from the fond memories of the only person who treated me like a human.”

“but i assure you, i didn’t get to where i am now because i’m driven by sentiments like hate for chanyeol and everyone who looked down on me nor the love i had for you as a guardian. in life, there’s only one thing i want and that’s to be the head of han group. you’re a chest piece that helps turn the tables around for me but you’re not my only piece.”

the line of hoseok’s shoulders sag, as if hearing the truth hurt him more than the lie convinced himself of.

“choosing to make you my king is entirely up to me... not because of some childhood memory or dependency on a guardian figure like you thought but...” your thumb grazes hoseok’s knuckles as you lift his hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss on his knuckles, “we can take it slow, i won’t tease you anymore and you can see for yourself how true my words are.”

“feels like i should be the one saying that,” the lips on your forehead feels warm, spreading through your body like a mid summer’s night.

arms wrap around your body, hugging you to a strong, tight, unclothed chest as your breath hitches in your throat. you raise your hands to return the embrace but decide against it - it feels like a sin to be drooling over hoseok’s abs and greek god-like body when you’ve just promised to stop jumping the gun.

“you smell nice,” you finally cave, slender hands wrap around his naked torso as you breathe in his scent - a faint trace of musk and sea and masculinity.

at that, the body underneath you seems to freeze up, “i-i think i should take that shower now.”

hoseok’s sudden retreat almost has you falling face first into the sheets. you watch as he covers his face with that large, pretty hands of his while his feet carries him into the bathroom door and closes it shut.

x

the room is silent.

save for the sound of the droplet gathering underneath the tap before hitting the quartz countertop.

hoseok stares at himself in the mirror. lips parted, glazed eyes that are becoming clearer with each passing second as if gradually realizing the sticky situation he found himself in.

the bathroom smells like your favorite floral bath gel but he can still sense the scent of his arousal that, after running the shower head over, finally washed down the drain.

the water was obviously hot. not scalding - hoseok couldn’t take scalding hot showers like you do. but since he’d moved in and after screaming and almost tumbling down to his death if the water didn’t boil him alive first - the next day, he’d found the water to be cooler. warm enough not to make him freeze but not hot enough to have his skin emitting vapor like a half cooked human meat.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is - he’s already had a good, warm shower and jerked himself off but he’s still hard.

it’s the way your delicate frame presses against him when you try to hug him. no- hoseok shakes his head mentally, it’s the way you breathe and compliment his scent which, hoseok is certain, smells like sweat and grass and soil that he rolled over after miserably failing to hit the ball.

he might be well acquainted with riches and luxuries but he’ll get used to these rich people hobby namjoon’s been trying to get him on after his marriage with the head of han group.

these days, it feels like namjoon’s been trying to get hoseok to meet him more than the times they have to actually see each other when he was slaving over his perfectionist ass at work.

before hoseok can even ponder further on namjoon’s unarousing quirks and get his boner down, he hears a rap on the door and a hesitant,“hobi?”

“y-yeah?” ha manages to answer somewhat smoothly.

“i just wanted to say that i can sleep in my old room... if you’re not comfortable sleeping in the same-”

“no!” a rushed rejection, a heart trembling inside a chest.

hands of fear grasps at his wrists and ankles as though if he stayed tight-lipped any longer, he might actually walk out to an empty bedroom with no trace of you at all.

as this is all just one beautiful, tragic dream.

“no, i like sleeping with you.” hoseok slaps himself in the cheek, “i mean i like sleeping next to you... in the same bed.”

the silence seems to stretch on for hours until he hears the giggle coming from the other side of the door - hoseok’s heart warms, you sound like you’re back to yourself, “okay, well, come to bed faster.”

“i will!” he curses himself for that rushed response but you’re probably back in bed with the lights from the nightstand off, probably tired as fuck after a one hour flight back to seoul, having had baek’s men’s territory breach matters shoved into your arms and waiting up on your pitiful husband who was avoiding you over his conflicted conscience.

by the time he’s out of the bathroom, loose pajama pants hanging lowly around his hips, he sees that small lump underneath the blanket, your fetal position telling him you fell asleep facing his side of the bed.

hoseok slips into bed, laying on his side and admiring your pretty lips and thick lashes. his hand clenches and unclenches as if he’s not sure if he should sleep hugging you the way he’s used to.

he caves, hand wrapping around your back as he kisses the top of your head.

unbeknownst to him, you’re still awake. you pretended to be asleep because you didn’t want to make hoseok uncomfortable. but now he’s cuddling you like a child whilst his semi erected head presses against your stomach and it’s kind of too late to say anything.

not to mention, you were a virgin up until awhile ago and you’re not sure if it’s normal for men to be able to hold out this long without fucking their wives or if hoseok’s self-restraint is just over the roof and you’re the one with too high of a libido.

‘damn it, should’ve jumped on his dick before initiating a heart-to-heart.’

[feetoffire]

Captain Christopher Pike, the rec list

I had this almost finished and ready to post, and then the kitten wiped everything, so here it is, a gazillion years later than I wanted. Yay. 

Ongoing - the fic is complete, but not all chapters are posted

WIP - fic isn’t finished

Incomplete - last-updated-more-than-a-year-ago WIPs

recs under the cut; spoilers abound

AOS

Gen

Pike’s Office by AnxiouslyGoing. Poor Jim has a Tarsus related panic attack, and ends up sleeping in Pike’s office/on Pike’s lap. Academy Era, bonus appearance by Spock, dad!Pike. 2k oneshot.

Another Life by LullabyKnell. Time travel fix it for ST2009. As ever, LullabyKnell gave us a spectacular, delightfully well-written fic. Dadmiral Pike, even if he’s technically a captain at this point. No pairings, everything is platonic. 12 chapters, 61k, T. Complete. 

Watching the Cloud of Dust by AngelQueen. Pike runs into Spock Prime while seeing the Enterprise off. Cue melancholy fluff (it follows Spock Prime around like a dog). 1.7k oneshot, G.

Phil Boyce/Chris Pike

horizons universe by gracieminabox. Massive, massive series spanning the whole of Chris’ life. Not canon compliant, i.e. Pike Lives. “Christopher Pike, in word and in deed.” Series, 263k in seventeen parts, G-E. 

Altered Horizons by InsaneSociopath. The bar fight goes very differently because Chris gets elbowed in the face. Featuring depressed!bipolar!Chris, who is Not Having A Good Time, Emergency Department (ED) doc Bones, and mother-hen!Jim. Phil is essentially Sir Not Appearing In This Fic, but he and Chris are married. Seven chapters, 14k, G. Incomplete. I adore this one. 

When Darkness Drifts by InsaneSociopath. Tarsus fic. Jim gets adopted by Starfleet but still ends up on Tarsus, except Chris is there. All Tarsus-related warnings apply. Jim and Chris centric; Phil is most present in the last few chapters. Six chapters, 44k, M. Complete. 

Kinktober 2017 by nerdqueenenterprise. What it says on the tin. Series, 13k in eight parts, T-E. Complete. 

A Vacation Long Overdue by nerdqueenenterprise. Reunion sex, mostly. They haven’t seen each other in six months, so they take leave on a remote beach. ~9k oneshot, E. 

The Weight of a Man by imachar. Another huge series charting the evolution of Chris and Phil’s relationship. Both canon compliant and canon non-compliant, so there’s a choice if you want it. Series, 174k in sixteen parts, M-E. Complete. 

shatterproof by gracieminabox. Will Make You Cry. Phil’s POV, STID compliant, featuring a picture from their early days. 4.3k oneshot, M.

Winged Desires and Veiled Persuasions by imachar. Post-Narada, ignores/was written before STID. Bones ends up hanging out with Phil and Chris at Spuhura’s wedding reception, and then the three of them have sex in Phil and Chris’ hotel suite. Pretty much pure smut. 12k oneshot, E. 

McPike

The Wind and Its Satellite by severinne. Long series, some BDSM, eventual Bones/Jim/Pike. Something of a McPike classic. Series, 186k in twenty parts, M-E.

Partridge Fallen From the Pear Tree by severinne. Post-divorce Bones works as a prostitute to make ends meet. Pike comes to town to recruit him, ends up paying for a night without knowing Bones is Bones, and then they both freak the fuck out when Pike realizes who he is. More-or-less just smut and angst. Pre-canon. Three chapters, 12k, E. Complete.

Singularities Verse by FrancescaMonterone. Bones and Pike fall in love, Pike adopts Chekov, Jim is Jim. Bonus Admirals Archer and Reed, and Archer/Reed. Mostly pre-canon, ace Pike. Series, 81k in six parts, T. WIP. 

Need by Noranem. Post STID, Pike and Bones invite Jim into their relationship and their bed. Established McPike, early days Bones/Jim/Pike. Four chapters, 12k, E. Complete. 

Pirk

See All The Stars by HoneyBeeBritt. Chris and Jim fell in love some time before Daystrom. Fluff and angst, with a happy ending promised in part four. I come back to this one regularly, especially part one. Series, 6.2k in three parts, T-M. Ongoing.

Shining On The Quay by topaz. Post-Narada through Beyond, ignores STID. Chris and Jim fall in love, get together, and figure out how to keep a relationship going when one of them is in space and the other is an admiral. Series, 32k in three parts, E. Complete. 

You Still Got Wheels, Kid by withthepilot. Yes, this is partially on here because it’s one of the few (good) fem!Pike fics. Pre-canon, Pike finds out Jim’s alive because she (not Winona or Sam) is listed as his emergency contact. Prostitute Jim. Takes place two years before canon, I think. 12k oneshot, E. 

Moments along the path by InsaneSociopath. Jim, through no fault of his own, is assigned to Pike as an aide bc Command thinks he’s a loose cannon. Pike is delighted /s. (he warms up eventually.) Some Tarsus PTSD; also a fair amount of fluff. Academy Era slow burn that goes right through to (immediately) post-Narada. 46k oneshot, M. Second chapter is artwork. Long but 100% worth it. 

How Do You Want Me, How Do You Want Me? by babykid528. Get together via smut. Feelings abound but talking about them does not. 3k oneshot, E. 

The Ocean Between Us by severinne. They get a drink in a bar. They’re both dead. Something of a get-together fic. Can and Will sucker punch you with feels. STID compliant. 1k oneshot, T.

Mutual Profusion of Good Feeling (aka Wherein the Aliens have a Flair for Mood Lighting) by kayliemalinza. This doesn’t really count as Pirk, but it’s not platonic enough for the gen category. Away mission, the premise is ‘aliens made them do it’ but there’s no sex or fade to black. Romantic, I guess? I really don’t know, but the prose is gorgeous. Also a Pike Lives/returns to the Enterprise AU. 5k oneshot, T.

Timeline Shenanigans

In plain view by IceCream_Junkie, Killermanatee. Pike/Pike. What can I say? The image of Greenwood’s Pike and Mount’s Pike together is very pretty. 2k oneshot, E.

Out of This World by TheAsexualofSpades. Space Puns. That is all. 1.1k oneshot, G. 

Discovery/quasi-SNW

Gen

A Small Storm by EKthered. Spock goes to visit his captain and ends up comforting him instead. Post Boreth. 2.3k oneshot. 

you were never broken by ordinary things by SiderumInCaelo. Michael Burnham & Chris Pike. Michael has only an inkling of what’s going on, but she manages to comfort Chris anyway. Post Boreth. 1.2k oneshot. 

Piler | Chris Pike/Ash Tyler

the chair and the badge by ninjamcgarrett. The boys are soft and in love. Lots of smut, but a fair amount of plot. Their respective traumas are addressed too, so there’s plenty of h/c. Honestly? My favorite from this pairing. Series, 59k in five parts, M-E. Ongoing. 

Reality by aishahiwatari. Initially a take on how these two idiots settled their differences, and evolution from there. Part two is post-season two of Disco. Series, 5k in two parts, E. Complete.

survival is insufficient by topaz. Post-Disco; they get together to remember Discovery’s crew, and then they get together. Traumas are addressed. Part two is a sort-of case fic, TW starvation. Series, 33k in two parts, E. WIP.

Feeling Too Deeply by NightOfTheLand. Established Piler, post-Disco season two couch sex. 6k oneshot, E. 

dancing to a beat of our own, flying with the speakers blown by wolfhalls. Neither of them want to talk about anything, aka Horrible Coping Mechanisms TM. Bottom Pike, quasi-hurt/comfort. 2.7k oneshot, E. 

Christmas in Sickbay by lah_mrh. Chris is accident- and injury-prone and has a new reason to hate spiders. Ash just wants to spend time with his boyfriend. 1k oneshot, G. 

The Pillow Will Disappear When I Forget I Put a Pillow There, Worry Not by prototype_malice. Sleepy fluff and cuddles. (they deserve it.) 665 words, oneshot, G. 

Chris Pike/Una | Number One 

it will take place without witnesses by love_in_the_time_of_kohlinahr. Post Disco, Pike is struggling with the knowledge of his future, so he and Una play chess until stupid o’clock in the morning (as one does), and then he lowkey has a panic attack. Una POV. Also features sleepy sex, but it isn’t plot-important and can be skipped over, if you wish. 2k oneshot, E. 

Overtime by Astronoddingoff. Una has Thoughts about Chris working doubles for the better part of a week. Also men get pegged. Definite sub!Chris. 7k oneshot, E. 

Terminal Velocity by Astronoddingoff. Una pegs Chris and drags his favorite fantasy out of him. Chris is On Board with all of this. Implied poly!Chris (i.e. Boyce/Pike) and hardcore switch/sub vibes from Chris. 6.8k oneshot, E. 

All for One by knightinmourning. D/s universe, where Pike had/has to hide the fact that he’s a sub to make (and stay) captain. Mostly reccing for part two, which has a fair amount of hurt/comfort (and also hints at threatened sexual assault and definite torture; be forewarned). Technically also Chris/Phil and Chris/Spock, but there’s no pairing sex, and part two is entirely Una’s POV. Series, 4.2k in two parts, M-E. Probably incomplete. 

A Gentle Touch by jedi_harkness. Chris and Una shower together. Body worship, no sex. So Much Fluff (and also happy tears). It’s super sweet. 1.7k oneshot, T.

Phil Boyce/Chris Pike

Decompression by Astronoddingoff. Chris is elated by a recent treaty success and the time spent dirtside. Phil does his best to make him even happier. Lowkey sub Pike. Implied poly!Chris (i.e. Pike/One). 3.5k oneshot, E. 

Most Pike/Boyce fics fall under the AOS tags

Una/Phil/Chris

Triangulate by Astronoddingoff. Sex pollen, but they’re already-kind-of-mostly in an established relationship. Recent miscommunications lead to angst. They all love each other and they’re all idiots. Lowkey sub Pike. Two chapters, 20k, E. 

Holy by Astronoddingoff. Self-actualizing featuring religious guilt/conflict, i.e. Pike is a sub and religion is weird about enjoying yourself. 2.7k oneshot, E. 

Happy Birthday by MeganMoonlight. It’s Phil’s birthday. Cue breakfast in bed. 530 word oneshot, G. 

[angzlicas]

Since we've hit 100k works on ao3,

I've gotten many asks about my favorite Destiel fics! Instead of replying to them all, I thought I'd just list them here along with the summary, word count, and my opinion on each (as a side note, all of them are Explicit):

In a Mirror, Darkly by anyrei, mugglerock Words: 196,710, Canon

Summary: “Do you trust me, Dean?”

“You know I do,” Dean answered, his voice carrying resignation and sadness. He knew Cas was right. This was the only way if he wanted to help save his brother. He had to do it, even though everything in him wanted to fight it. But he trusted Cas with his life. And now he was going to show him just how deep that trust ran.

Dean fell to his knees in front of the angel, bowing his head forward as he was fitted with the extraordinarily heavy collar. Castiel’s fingers caressed his skin when he closed the clasp of the sign of slavery; the symbol that gave Dean’s life over to the angel’s mercy. Dean suppressed the urge to close his eyes.

Opinion: This fic is my all-time favorite. No seriously, it's the first fic I recommend to people when they ask. And I've read it 3 times over a 3 year period. I'll never get tired of reading it. It follows Cas and Dean having to pose as master and slave to rescue Sam from Angels in Limbo. Lots of smut, basically a Porn With Plot fic but the smut adds SO MUCH to the story. Amazing fic.

Taker of Souls by jscribbles Words: 128,665, Canon

Summary: The angels have fallen. Castiel is human, Sam is recovering from the trials, and Dean doesn’t want to expose them to the world as it’s crumbling outside the bunker doors.

To pass time in their solitude, Dean discovers a hidden room in the bunker full of dangerous magical artifacts and accidentally exposes his friends and family to an ancient horror. If Castiel thought adjusting to humanity was already a terror in itself, he experiences a world of pain when the ancient spirit Dean released chooses him as a vessel to fulfill its evil prophecy.

Castiel begins to change as voices call out to him in the night and take the form of the one righteous man he desires, temptation drawing him to complete a ritual that will allow one of Hell’s most feared ancient entities to occupy his vessel.

Before Sam, Dean, Kevin and Crowley know what is happening, they are thrown into a lockdown, unable to escape the bunker as the cruel, twisted monster inside of Castiel prowls the hallways, hunting them, thirsty for their blood, hungry for their souls.

Opinion: This one was very gory, very scary. A cheeseless and modern take on the horror movie The Evil Dead (1981 2013) where Cas is the villain but unwillingly. Heartbreaking angst with a happy ending, this little fic is overlooked because of being tagged as a crossover. I hadn't seen Evil Dead when I read the fic and the author did such a good job describing every single scene, I didn't need to. READ TAGS

Out of the Deep by @riseofthefallenone Words: 488,608, Mer!Cas/Human!Dean AU

Summary: Stay away from the light-beds. Stay in the deep.

It is the first thing hatchlings are taught the moment their fans unfurl and they can swim without their parents to buoy them along. It is the first rule, the first law. It is the beginning of every boogey-monster bedtime story told when they settle against the cliffs to sleep.

Castiel should have listened better.

Opinion: WOW. Where to even start. This fic is a staple in the Destiel AU fandom. The world-building is absolutely incredible and the author stayed true to the characters' personalities and what makes Dean and Cas, Dean and Cas. I was hooked from the very first chapter and read it within 2 days. Although the 500k words may look daunting, it's ABSOLUTELY worth it, I promise. You'll get. everything you could want from this fic including fluff, angst, heartbreak, hurt/comfort, smut, just everything. And if you're staying away because of the mermaid thing, let me tell you. The author just makes it so realistic and believable and beautiful, a few chapters in is enough to change your mind.

The Graveyard Shift by @purgatory-jar, @riseofthefallenone Words: 620,733, Monsters Living In Harmony AU

Summary: Dean’s favourite coffee shop, The Graveyard Shift, is only open after the sun goes down. Which is perfect for him, because that’s exactly when he craves coffee the most while doing the overnight at the fire hall. The coffee shop’s owner is pretty perfect too, but it’s kind of a bummer that Dean never gets to see Cas during the day. In a world where the supernatural live more or less in peace with the rest of humanity, it’s a little impolite to ask Cas just what he really is - or what his dark past entails.

Opinion: Although it's over half a million words, this fic is incredible. From the world-building to the mysterious air it has, the art, as well as the writing, makes it a must-read. I can't tell you how many times I've recced this to someone in the fandom. I won't spoil it for you, but it's absolutely adorable. Again, the authors work so hard to make sure that Dean and Cas' personalities are true to the show's. It's coffee shop!au meets fireman!au meets monster!au. A slowburn truly worthy of it's title.

Hunting for Faith by @perunamuusa, @riseofthefallenone Words: 270,952, Reverse!verse AU

Summary: It starts a few days earlier.

Castiel first notices it in the middle of the night when the dreams of fire and screams have kept him awake. He’s kneeling before the altar, praying, when the glass in the windows start to shake, the very air vibrating around him. Castiel is on his feet and reaching for the gun tucked into the back of his pants as the shutters over the windows start to rattle.

Opinion: If you have ANY interest in Hunter!Cas/Angel!Dean, go read this fic. Like now. So, so awesome. I won't say any more other than Cas is a priest and a hunter and Dean and Sam are angels, because I don't want to spoil it. Truly a masterpiece.

If you want to see more of my favorites, check my BOOKMARKS on my Ao3!

[adonis-koo]

sate • jjk

↳ Summary: It was forbidden, your love for him. The glances you’d both steal when no one was looking and the whispered sweet nothings he’d say when you were alone. He would never be yours and his thirst would never be sated until you were his.

↳ Genre: Vampire!AU, Prince!AU, mutual pining, slight angst, smut,

↳ Word Count: 14k

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/Reader, Taehyung/Reader

↳ Tags: Virginal sex, praise kink, slight begging, eating out, fingering, finger fucking, multiple orgasms, biting, blood drinking, forced orgasm, squirting, dirty talk, unprotected sex,

Note: it’s spooky season and this oneshot is a big rabbit hole to halloween!verse so prepare yourselves.

“Don’t look so depressed Y/n- maybe he doesn’t remember?” Those were not the words you wanted to hear. Of course you wanted to imagine that maybe he didn’t remember, maybe this was just a coincidence, it could be a lot of things. And if you really wanted, you were sure you could convince yourself with enough past humiliation and lingering embarrassment that he definitely didn’t remember. If he had, remembered it of course. 

The Prince, was a gentleman and had never brought it up, but on the days when your neck was exposed and you’d bend over a little too far to grab something in his presence, you could swear, you could feel his gaze lingering on your chest.

Just the thought had your cheeks flushing red and your body pulsing in both shame and arousal. You had grown up in the castle, having been there since the royal guard stumbled upon you in the remnants of a crashed carriage, left out in the cold night of October, abandoned by your parents, you never knew a life outside of these stone, gothic walls. 

You always saw the Prince and he would ever so often see you, but nothing more than a passing glance between maids while passing you down the hallway, or perhaps when you stood off to the side when the king was holding court. He had seen you, but he never truly saw you

Not until four months ago when the head of royal staff gave you consent to use one of the guest rooms to bathe in, your room at the time had been occupied by a wounded vampire in needed of both healing and rest leaving you without a place to wash. 

It had been a pure mistake, you didn’t realize the guest who had been departing that day had previously left her necklace inside the room- and of course being the gentleman he was the Prince had went to receive it for her. What he instead found was you, having just got out of the bath and barely covering your naked, exposed body in time. Your hair had been pushed back and your neck fully of display.

You had never seen his eyes turn such a bright red in your whole life, his fangs had been protruding and you were surprised he had such self restraint to keep himself from just lunging at you and taking you on the ground, it had been late that evening before most feeding times for vampires, leaving them hungry and ready for their meal. 

Instead he had shut the door before apologizing, though it came out more like a hungry, lust filled growl. You had been mortified and that day had played in your head on repeat ever since.

Ever since then his gaze had begun to find yours more days then less, and if you weren’t so pragmatic, you would’ve assumed he had even been searching for you throughout the crowd of maids that filled the halls. There had been a shift in the air ever since for you, and now being his personal maid? It was a true hell.

He’d never bring up that incident but today- he had referenced to it. Or at least you assumed, he did when you whirled away from him with bright pink cheeks and watching that fowl predatory smirk burn into his lips only but for a brief second. 

He was going to be the death of you! You often stayed by his side most days down, fetching anything he could possibly need or want and when you weren’t doing that you were usually running errands for him or cleaning up both his office for official business or his room. His bedroom.

Being a human, in a kingdom of vampires was a very strange feeling, it wasn’t necessarily rare for there to be humans technically they weren’t needed, born vampires could still used turned vampires to feed on, humans were still welcomed nonetheless. 

But to understand that difference was seldom something you could comprehend. A bedroom, for instance, was a general, practical use for a human, it’s where you slept every night, where you’d go if you were sick or tired. None of which was useful for a Vampire.

Vampires, rarely had use for a personal room, the only exception was that it was their private space, somewhere they could relax in the brief long life they lived. It was for humans too of course, but you understood it was vastly different, Vampires didn’t take luxury of sleeping most nights given it wasn’t needed and there was always work to be done.

You still didn’t understand why vampires were so picky on who entered their space, but their bedroom was almost completely off limits to anyone as it was a sacred space for themselves alone. Asides from their mate whom they usually shared it with and the exception of one maid to clean it.

The main reason they had a bedroom, was because that’s where they fed. Just the idea had you flush in the cheeks, feeding was rarely just them biting a neck and going on their way. Or so you had heard from donors. Most vampires, usually mixed their sexual appetite with their hunger when they fed, apparently the adrenaline made it that much better from the human- or again, so you had heard.

Adjusting the blood red choker you wore you fidgeted before sighing, “Yeri, vampires have better cognitive memory than humans can even comprehend. I’m positive he remembers.” Your mind had far drifted from the topic at hand though. Your choker wasn’t for fashion sake, all of the human royal staff were gifted with one due to its charm and sigal placed on it.

Should a vampire ever try to bite you their teeth would practically shatter before puncturing your skin and if they dared try to take it off, the sigal would cause their skin to burn. It didn’t have to be worn, but for those humans who didn’t want to risk assault usually wore it, yourself included.

Lots of humans usually volunteered through the donor practice making sure vampires were well fed, the royals kept among themselves though. Your Prince, having his own personal pick of several human ladies in waiting as even for feeding it was important it would remain in his circle of wealth. 

You had heard the pleasure from it was like none other from plenty of people who had become a donor, but you yourself had always been too nervous to enroll in a donor practice, you hadn’t even slept in the same bed as a man before.

You had spent your whole life working to become apart of the Sisterhood who worked under the moon goddess and protected most of the forest. Or so you had seen and aspired to be like, you would first have to work as a nun though and thus taking an oath of celibacy. It wouldn’t be until the upcoming spring though, leaving you with less then a year at the palace.

Glancing down into the large goblet you watched the red wine mix with the blood that had been stored in the kitchen, a vampire delicacy, Yeri frowned before she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, her face pale and lifeless but it shone like the moonlight sparkling against the sea, her eyes almost hypnotically dark enough to get lost in, “I’m sure he meant no harm by his comment, go on you shouldn’t keep his Highness waiting.”

You nodded, offering a weak smile before shuffling out of the kitchen and back into the large hallway, guards filtering past you on rotation and a few ladies of the court giggling in the corners of the room, you, much like most maids were simply in the background of a beautiful portrait that was the livelihood of the castle. 

You had quickly journeyed up the many sets of stairs, your legs weak and pulsing in a dull ache for protest to stop as you finished your last set of stairs into the hallway that you had become painfully familiar with.

Pausing in front of the large solid door you gave a gentle knock, you had always knocked, always frightened despite his insistence that in fear you would walk in without announcement and he’d be in the middle of feeding, even if it was unlikely. 

Vampire’s always fed after dark or before they took luxury in sleeping and everyone knew that, had you walked down the halls in the dead of night you could hear the soft moans that filtered through the hallway.

“Come in.” His voice was soft and deep, dulcet and yet strong at the same time, Jungkook had already sensed your presence, the beat of your heart pulsing in the rhythm of the only human within the next four floors. Opening the door gently his back was turned to you, books scattered around his desk, some from personal entertainment while others had been from his studies. 

Even long past his days as a physical child most still looked at him as nothing more than a youngling, and you supposed for most vampires he was, staggering at the young age of 225, it was still hard to imagine he was really that old. 

He didn’t look a day older than twenty two at least, his long locks of black hair silky to the touch and his pale face sculpted with fullness and life making his supernatural beauty all the more striking.

Closing the door gently behind you before approaching him as you softly called, “Here, something to help the thirst.” His eyes flickered up from his book as you set down the goblet near him on the desk, his lips quirking upwards slightly and his deep red eyes- ones only the royals held seemed to brighten a little as he nodded his head in gratitude.

Not a word was spoken after that as you changed out his old sheets, he was fairly clean when he fed but you could tell he must’ve been hungrier than normal last night, the blood smearing against sheets in several splatters as you pulled them off, it was rare for the sheets to appear so...sloppy. 

You didn’t know what it was like to have a lust for blood though and therefore never felt comfortable judging a vampire on how they fed, you couldn’t imagine what kind of self restraint it took to feed slowly and never make a mess. Pulling the sheets neatly over the corners of his bed before resetting each layer of blanket.

You couldn’t resist letting your hand run over the red velvet throw blank that went on the edge of the bed, it was so soft and brought a sense of comfort against your fingertips, “You’re always so fond of that blanket,” 

You jolted, heart rate jumping as you clutched your chest at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, his eyes still focused on his book before letting them flutter to meet your figure, “Why not just take it? I can have another replaced.” He had noticed that? You supposed it had become a habit for you to run your fingers along the fuzzy, soft material each day you made his bed.

Glancing away from him you finished smoothing out the fabric before humming, you felt a weary smile pull across your lips as you murmured, “Red’s never been my color.” 

You could feel his eyes drop to your neck, the dark red choker that clung to your skin shielding him from the temptation to have just a taste, his appetite never sated at night knowing you were in your own bed alone, those pretty locks of hair out of the loose style you always wore up and maybe, if he were lucky you’d have took your choker off. 

He could feel the sting in his abdominal as his feeding hour ticked closer and his fangs threatening to lengthen, “I’d disagree,” He hummed, forcing his eyes back down to the book as you paused, taking your own turn to watch the strands of black hair grazed over his eyes, “You make red look divine.” you could practically see the flash in his eyes as they hungrily met yours with a murmur of his own.

Your cheeks flushed the same color as the blanket you had finished smoothing out as you now refused to look at him. It would be hard to deny the attraction you felt between you both, but it was also silently agreed to never go farther than a mere few whispered words saying otherwise. 

“I’m sure red looks good on anyone too you.” You muttered before going to the head of the bed, fixing the pillows properly as you refused to meet his gaze that blatantly kept on your figure, his attention now more fixed on you then his studies. 

Red, was often not worn by vampires- as it was a color that humans were supposed to wear by law when they went out. Red just like the blood that flowed through your veins.

“Come here.” His voice was soft, but the demand was prominent in his voice making you freeze before swallowed, your grip on the round cushion tightening before you forced your knuckles to curl from it’s material while setting it down. Obediently you walked up to his seated position, eyes on the patterned dark rug as you felt your anxiousness creep up on you and the heartbeat you knew he could hear spike.

Jungkook stood up before grabbing the goblet you had so kindly thought of getting him as he glanced down at the deep maroon taking a sip of it himself as the sweet liquid slid down his throat, licking his lips before his gaze set on your figure who refused to look at him. 

Cupping your chin gently he lifted to make you gaze at his tall dark figure, the long dark raven hair slanting the view of his eyes as he thumbed your chin before sliding his thumb across your bottom lip, so soft. 

He could only vividly imagine what it would be like to kiss them, pressing the goblet to your lips he finally let out a soft purr, “Drink.” You let your eyes flutter shut as he lifted the glass, letting the dark liquid slip between your lips.

The wines sweet taste was overpowered by the bitter twinge of metallicness causing it’s texture to become thicker than normal but you obediently swallowed the small sip before he pulled the goblet from your lips, letting his thumb swipe at the leftover stain it left on your lip.

He finally let go of you before letting his tongue drag over the pad of his thumb, his lidded eyes never leaving yours, “Nothing compares to even just a taste.” He leaned in as he murmured, barely above a whisper. 

Glancing up at his towering figure your mouth quirked into a frown he never enjoyed seeing on such pretty lips, he and you both knew there was no point in whispered sweet nothings, or even flirting with the idea. If he ever drank from you, you’d be exiled no doubt and you had no family or home to go to if that were too happen.

And yet you still found yourself drawing closer to him, you couldn’t use his seductive charm as an excuse as your choker warded it off, it was his own energy that drew you in. Just before your lips could meet fate had knocked on the door causing you to jump back as he sighed. 

Eye’s still shut briefly as if already knowing someone had been on their way up. You seemed dazed for a second, your cheeks red and ears burning before rubbing your head and quickly making way for the door.

Opening the door you anticipated one of the servants to be requesting you for something, your lips already parted ready to speak before they your brows shot up at the sight before you, “Lady Kang,” 

You instantly dropped to a small curtsy, this must’ve been the lady in waiting he had chosen for feeding, wasn’t it a little early though? “My apologies, I would’ve left sooner had I known you would be arriving early for the night.”

Kang Minsoo only spared you one guarded glance, her face curled in slight disgust as to why a lowly maid such as yourself was in the bedroom of the crown Prince, “Apology accepted, be sure to leave early tomorrow though, I will be arriving at the same time. You may see yourself out.” 

Her words were formal and sharp as she sized you up, you supposed she had every right, she was after all possibly the most likely candidate chosen to carry the next heir of the kingdom.

You instantly curtsied once more as you answered, “Yes m'lady,” You quickly skirted past her out the door before silently sighing turning around briefly to find Jungkook peering at you from the other side of the door, Minsoo in front of him and yet his eyes hungry stared at you, “Have a nice night.” 

You closed the doors, cutting off your view of the Prince before sighing, pressing your head against the hardwood briefly, your fingertips brushing over your lips where Jungkook had previously placed his own.

You could already hear a loud moan from the otherside of the door as you clenched your fist in anger. How dare he make you feel so exposed, so open only to knowingly be interrupted. Did he just enjoy taunting you? Knowing you could desire him all you wanted but fully knowing you’d never have him. 

At the sound of another moan, you forced your breath to calm as you straightened your back. If anyone where to pass by you’d surely look indecent listening in on the intimacy of Jungkook’s feeding.

Swallowing you turned your back, forcing the emotions back down your throat before making your way back down the stairs, candles lining against it casting a darker tone over them.

Feeding would begin soon for the rest of the vampires and it would be best if you headed for bed. No longer required by the Prince for the rest of the night, though secretly you wished he would.

Opening the door to your room you sighed, gently shutting the door before shedding your clothes for your nightgown, your hand briefly running over your neck while the vivid memory of Jungkook staring at the skin burned in your mind, your body was burning in such intense desire it felt difficult to stand. 

You forced yourself to lay down, refusing to let your hands get the better of you as your imagination ran wild. You doubt you’d get any sleep that night.

You could feel the stares on your figure from most of the knights in the room. The Prince had asked you to accompany him on this meeting and more days then less, it was never needed and you often just busied yourself when he attended them. Today had been different though and you couldn’t place why. You’d never deny him though and therefore stood a little ways behind him, hands clasped behind your back as you observed their discussion.

“Your Highness, Incúrsio has requested for aid, their sacrifice to the dark lord will be upon them soon and their hysteria is heightening with each day. They fear they’ll be raided by the near pack Blood Moon despite our treaty with them…” The head knight, Marcello had reported, his eyes had only met yours briefly when you had entered into the room behind Jungkook. 

Despite your presence in the room being unnecessary, no knight had the courage to speak up on it though, was it from fear, or from loyalty? You weren’t sure but stayed quiet throughout the meeting nonetheless, assuming they wouldn’t want the opinion of a maid regardless.

The village on topic: Incúrsio had apparently been under plague of a demon’s curse where the village would sacrifice a young virgin girl every year to keep from the demon destroying it’s village- though you had heard different tales saying it would swallow the world whole. You had always been a little more pragmatic though. And like most knights in the room- though they hadn’t said it, you could tell they didn’t believe the myth, and neither did you.

Jungkook remained quiet until then, sitting leaned back in his chair and his hands had intertwined while his chin rested on them looking in deep thought before speaking up, “I’m aware Incúrsio is used heavily for our most used trading route. It would make sense to repay them for their agreement to let us pass through, would it not?” 

Everyone was quiet for a moment, as if not sure what he was getting at. But you had to resist the urge to smile, his logic couldn’t be faulted, it was not only a good reason but a kind one as well to send guards as thanks for tribute to the successful trading route that had been established through passage of Incúrsio, but more importantly it kept the wolf pack Red Moon at bay from suspicion of a possible attack on their kin and the villagers of Incúrsio more secure of their safety while all parties remained neutral with each other.

Your Prince was always a smart one, you’d give him that. You felt an odd sort of pride swell in your chest as you glanced at the back of his chair. He had always been so kind to everyone and never dismissed a persons concerned, no matter how silly and Incúrsio was a perfect example of his truly gentle nature.

All of the knights began to slowly agree as if finally coming to the conclusion and the meeting had since been dismissed. All of the knights leaving outside of one. Your childhood friend Taehyung’s eyes lingering on yours for a brief moment as you passed him a small smile, walking over letting him speak before you as he always did, “I didn’t expect to see you here Y/n.” 

He had already grabbed your hand, an awful habit of his since he was a child but you couldn’t reprimand him when he had such a soft boxy smile adorning his features.

You had parted your lips to speak only for the voice behind you to speak louder, “Unless you have council with me Kim you may go.” Jungkook’s voice was deeper than usual and held an almost icy tone making Taehyung quickly straighten up, his hand letting go of yours as he bowed. Sending you one last look before departing from the room. 

Frowning you watched him shut the door before turning to face the Prince, his hair had been covering his eyes making him look more broody and his glare rested on the door that previously shut before he allowed his shoulders to relax and his expression soften as he let his gaze cast over you, “What do you think Y/n?”

You tilted your head curiously as he swept his hair from his eyes to get a better look at you, “Pardon?” You asked unsure of what he had meant as you were still focusing on what had just happened. You couldn’t even say a word to Taehyung before he had been abruptly dismissed by your master.

Jungkook allowed a small smile to pull on his lips, finding your puppy like confusion sweet as he replied endearingly, “Incúrsio, what do you think? About the demon’s curses.” You curved a brow before giving a small shrug. You never thought incredibly hard on it, and it was mainly an old folktale told by the maids during work to make conversation.

“Well,” You paused, licking your lips as your eyes squinted on the table in thought, “I’m not sure your Highness, I’ve never traveled outside the city before so I’ve never been to Incúrsio. But if something as powerful as a demon would plague it’s village, I think the better question to ask is why. Do you think a demon plagues their village?” 

Surely a demon wouldn’t have need for a virgin girl let alone barbarically feast on her. You lived and shared the world with Vampires, Werewolves and Ghouls alike, if a demon were to exist- and you were sure they did, you wanted to imagine they weren’t as monstrous as humans like to make them out to be.

Jungkook let a smile quirk on his lips at your question as he hummed, “Perhaps, I’m a believer in oddities. I wouldn’t be surprised if a demon did plague them. We’ll have to visit for ourselves one day I suppose.” You glanced away from him at his words, visit? Together? You knew it was meant as himself and you travel to accompany him. But you couldn’t help but wonder if it’s overtones had meant to sound like traveling together, as a couple.

“I’d rather not,” You settled for answering truthfully before humming, letting your fingertips tracing against the beautiful dark oak table, “...That’s where I was close to found…” You murmured more to yourself then him, after a second you finally registered the silence before looking up to see Jungkook staring at you intently, his full attention on you keenly as if taking in your every word. 

Flustered you cleared your throat with a sheepish smile, “I...I’m sorry- It’s just...I never knew my parents, the guards on rotation from Incúrsio found me not too far off it’s road, they said it looked like a bandit raid from a carriage but there wasn’t any death followed. Just abandoned and broken and me left there…”

You felt your cheeks burn as your stare on the table hardened and you tried your best to smile but it felt more like a grimace. Defeatedly you let your lips drop  before swallowing down your old emotions. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened, did your family leave you behind? Or had they been taken? Were they still out there, looking for you?

You jumped at the feeling of two large hands cupping your face, having not realized Jungkook had stood up from his seat, now standing in front of you as he gently lifted your gaze to meet his, “Never apologize for what you cannot change.” His words were sweet and gentle as he whispered them, the cold nip of his hands sending a pleasant shiver down your spine and goosebumps along your skin as you could help but let your eyes fall shut. 

Unconsciously leaning into his touch as he soothingly stroked along the warm skin of your face, thumbs padding along your cheekbones as he calmed your nerves, “Don’t you wish for closure? You might find it there if you went.” He murmured delicately, his grasp on your face never leaving as he continued to let one hand stroke down to your jaw, making you preen closer for his affection, not aware of the gentle smile pulling on his lips at the sight.

At his words you eventually sighed, letting your eyes open again making a frown pull on his lips mirroring your own at the dejected, formal tone taking over your expression once more, “I was found on the road to Incúrsio, not at the actual village,” You pulled away from his grip as you wrapped your arms around yourself, looking at him a little more guarded than before as his expression crumbled slightly at your defensive stance, “Going there would be nothing but a bitter reminder of that. If you don’t have any other need for me I’ll see myself to help in the dining room.”

Jungkook turned around to hide the hurt in his eyes and the ache in his heart as he walked to the large window overlooking the courtyard, “Yes that’s all I needed Y/n, you may go.” You lingered for a second, glancing at his regal figure that peered out into the evening sky before turning around. 

Your heart begging you to stay, but your head forced you out the door. It would never work out anyways. There was no need to stay behind and entertain the idea...though you’d admit, it was getting more difficult with each day.

It was like it was any other morning, you were tired and you were sure it was cast over your features after yet another long and painful night, thoughts surrounding the Prince in less than decent ways as you struggled to not submit to the crave of your body he had power over even when he wasn’t present. 

You had been pledged to the Sisterhoods monastery like most of the human maid’s since you were a child, one of the vows you’d be taking was to submit from all physical desire, you wouldn’t take that vow until spring but you had been taught from a young age by the nun’s that it was a lifelong practice for a fellow sister.

You wanted to try your best to maintain purity and to abstain from any sort of physical pleasure but the Prince was making it more and more difficult by the day. It was so cruel, he could have any woman he wanted, even if he didn’t have a choice, he could easily take whoever he pleased. All you had was this one option, you couldn’t ruin it for yourself.

Your feet were beginning to ache and they took you out of your thoughts as you finished dusting around the office. Jungkook had just finishing signing off a seal of approval to one of the outer villages, guaranteeing they’d have shelter from the harsh weather to come when he spoke, “Y/n.” 

You paused, glancing around as you rose your brows in acknowledgement, “When do you pledge?” You had expected him to request for you to bring him something.

Having him ask not only a question but a personal one made your lips parted, “Less than a year,” You murmured, turning your focus back on the bookshelf as you wiped it down once more to try and make yourself look busy, “I’ll take my oath come spring.”

“And will you live in the monastery?” Jungkook’s voice was level and you couldn’t read his tone nor figure out why he had suddenly decided to ask. Pausing once more you debated your options. Was there a particular reason he asked? Or was it to just make small talk? He often did so with you on quiet days such as these when he spent them mainly in his office.

“Yes, sisters are expected to live there.” You answered, your back still turned from him. Perhaps for the best, he was already aware of your pledge and yet that never stopped either of you most days in getting caught up with one another, even if it was less than a glance. You didn’t necessarily want to move away from the castle, but this was for the best now. 

Your feelings for Jungkook would only blossom with time and you knew they would become nothing but wilted and crumbled when he married and raised his own family. You weren’t sure you could be here to witness that, let alone be by his side as his personal maid in the process.

“I see…” He replied, his voice still unreadable, you were never disciplined enough to stay away from his gaze for so long, forcing you to turn around as you glanced at his seated figure across the room, it was silent for another steady breath, those dark maroon eyes burning into yours were worth more than a thousand words, “A pity,” He finally resigned, forcing his gaze to drop to the letter in front of him, “You’d make such a lovely wife for a man lucky enough.”

Your grip on your rag tightened at his words and you struggled to keep your face neutral as the scowl threatened to twist onto your lips. Why did he always say such things? It was already hard enough having to rein in your desires.

Having him force more ideas into your head, one where you were his wife, it was beginning to become more painful with each day, “All pretty things wilt in time, I’m not any different. I doubt I’d find a single human male in a kingdom of vampires.”

Your future really was bleak when you lived with almost near immortal beings, you turned back to the bookshelf feeling his gaze burn dark on you, and you could almost see his lips part in defense before snapping shut, as if knowing he had no say regardless, “Don’t say that.”

“What?” You looked over your shoulder back at him only to find him standing up from his seat making you sheepishly look ahead once more. You could hear the soft padding of his feet as they traveled across the room and your heart rate had spiked once more as he answered, “That you’ll die.”

You could feel the sudden tension in the room spike as silence filled the room, your movements paused but you didn’t dare turn around to face him, the sudden need to relieve the stiffness in the air as you spoke, “It’s true your Highness,” You meekly turned to face him before offering a small smile, “I’ll be rolling in my grave before your 500th birthday.” 

That was apparently a big turning point in every Vampire’s life, for what? You weren’t sure, they were always so keen to keep their secrets among themselves, “All humans share the same fate in the end, that’s just life.”

Jungkook stood in front of you now, forcing you to crane your head to look at him, his eyes were hooded and dark, your joke not being taken as such forcing his maroon eyes to dim further as the frown forced its way onto his lips, “Not if you were turned,” His voice low and a slight husk making your thighs squeeze together involuntarily.

His words made a small breath escape your lips before you scolded, unable to hide your expression anymore from him as you glared towards the ground, “Don’t say something so ridiculous.” 

Humans who were turned into a vampire were often bound to their creator for life and furthermore turned were never truly needed outside of procreation purposes. Born female vampires were not fertile leaving the males to mate with turned or humans alike. It was why Jungkook would not only have a wife, a full blooded royal vampire, but also a lady in waiting turned to have his children, which you would be neither, “I doubt anyone would be willing to sponsor me turning.” 

Your blood practically boiled at his words as you whirled around, unable to even look at him anymore. You had accepted your life long ago, being human. There was nothing you could do about it. And you’d be open to talking about all sorts of possibilities if it were anyone but Jungkook opening the discussion.

“I would.” You almost jumped out of your skin at the arms that suddenly coiled around you, your back pressing firmly into his chest and you could vividly watch the walls you had built so high, so desperately to keep him away just crumble at being in his cold grip, those soft ice cold lips brushing against your ear with a murmur, the beat of his own heart- off rhythm from that of a human. 

Your body was stiff at first but it was difficult to not relax in his grip, he felt so safe, it felt like this was meant to be. As if his arms were always meant to be wrapped around you.

“But you can’t.” Three words, it was all you spoke; for the first time in four months. You supposed it was time for this conversation with him, the one you thought for sure you both silently knew should never take place. And yet here you were, uttering them anyways. You always understood them, but they felt bitter on your lips and the pain flushed in your chest at having to admit to it.

His arms wrapped tighter around you as if speaking silent defiance, his hair tickling your shoulder and his nose dragging against your neck as if to replace his teeth, “Take off your choker.” Your body shuddered at his words, his hands pulling to the sides of your waist as he began to pet down the sides of your body making you instantly shift closer your head leaning back against him. 

Your hands were shaky but they obediently went to your neck, fumbling as you went to take off your choker. Timely interruptions were always made though as a knock sounded on the door making you almost jump out of his grip. Jungkook inhaled sharply, annoyance flooding through his body as the voice called through the door, “Your Highness the court seeks audience with the king, it was requested that you be present.”

“I will be out in a moment.” Jungkook answered, his forehead pressed against your neck before letting his lips chastely kiss against it’s skin before murmuring, “I expect you in my room tonight, I will see you then, my love.” Your heart rate was near airborne as your breath hitched, his love? You were his love? It should’ve made you happy, but all you felt was miserable, a situation like this was always bound to end in either death or heartbreak.

Jungkook let go of you before exiting the room and nothing but the memory of him remained with you, openly you sighed whilst running a hand through your hair feeling lost and unsure of what to do or how to feel anymore.

You had just finished helping in the kitchen, most of your day had been spent there as Jungkook hadn’t required your assistance the rest of the day, well it more had to do with him spending most of his day in court listening to whatever was being discussed. This often happened whether it was plans of invading lands, help for the people, anything could be going on in that room. You were rarely needed there and therefore made yourself busy meanwhile.

It was quiet and the kitchen servants had just left to tend to the court ladies afternoon tea leaving you to watch over the simmering soup that had been prepared for the human side of the court.

The room was quiet and you had been left alone with your thoughts, Jungkook’s words still ghosting against your ear. Would you go to visit him tonight? Surely he wasn’t serious, you felt a twinge of worry gnaw inside you, he’d need to feed tonight and you could only hope he wouldn’t be waiting for you to sate his hunger.

“Gotcha!” You nearly screamed at the harsh squeeze on your waist and shouted words, not expecting anyone else in the kitchen before you heard the deep laugh fill the room as the grip on your waist was released, “The look on your face was priceless!”

You whipped around with a glaring scowl as you threatening pointed your spatula at the cheeky Vampire knight, “Taehyung you near scared me into my grave!” he was going to give you a heart attack one of these days, Taehyung not only had been your childhood friend, but a servant at the castle for as long as you as well, you had grown up together side by side. 

The only difference was that he had recently become turned at request to become apart of the knights. It was a huge honor for a human and he had been hesitant at first but you had supported the idea one hundred percent and therefore lead him to his undead life.

Undead wasn’t necessarily the right word for it, humans often made up silly folklore for vampires, in which none of half were true. Vampires weren’t necessarily dead- though some could be, most were an entity all on their own with their own heartbeat and almost tar like blood, they were in a sense like werewolves except they were cold blooded in nature making them icy and cold to the touch.

“Like you’d ever sit in your grave for too long,” Taehyung replied as he snatched the spatula away from you, scooping up it’s contents before popping his finger in his mouth. Puckering his lips he hummed, “It’s a little salty.” He gave a boxy smile as you rolled your eyes, “Wish I could enjoy it the way I used too.” His nose wrinkled a little. You couldn’t say you were surprised. 

While turned vampires could still eat human food but they could no longer sustain on it the way they used too. The need to feed for blood was now in Taehyung’s transformed genetic makeup now, it didn’t matter how much human food he ate. He would never be satisfied until he fed.

Sighing you grabbed the spatula from him before setting it down on the countertop, “What are you doing here?” You always enjoyed his company, especially now that he was always busy with the knights but he would always spare you every free second he got and given the interruption you had gotten from Jungkook last time you spoke, you’d be more than happy to talk with him now. 

Every since he had become turned though, you’d only ever admit to yourself that things weren’t quite the same anymore, that was okay though. You were okay with it, in fact, you were happy for him, to see he had found his own place in the court. He served well as a knight.

“Am I not allowed to visit my favorite girl?” Taehyung questioned though he was well aware of his words as he curved a thick brow with a smile, your cheeks burned as you huffed, looking away from him. You had been well aware of his interest in you for some time now, but with the way things had been going with Jungkook you never had the heart to flirt with him.

Rightfully, you should’ve turned both your interest and affection towards Taehyung, he was far better suited for you and you knew he’d never let you down, not intentionally. His beautiful unnaturally blue eyes staying on your figure and you had his every ounce of attention, if you knew what was good for you, you’d let him have your undivided attention as well.

But Jungkook’s ghosted words whispered in your ear once more, ‘My love’ just the memory had chills running down your spine before you cleared your throat with a cough, feeling your cheeks flush except this time not because of the vampire who stood in front of you, “I’m being serious…” You peered down into the boiling pot with a murmur.

“So am I,” Taehyung replied, his voice softening, forcing you to turn around to face him with a quizzical look, you couldn’t help but feel cautious as he stepped closer to you, taking your hands into his larger ones filled with callouses from his sword training, “I know you aren’t interested in me, but at least let me try to court you. Who knows,” He gave you a boxy grin and a wink, “Maybe I can win your heart.”

Your heart, already belonged to Jungkook. You pushed the thousands of thoughts swarming your mind to the back as you frowned, you could easily say no and you knew he’d respect your wish. But...maybe you should give it a try? Things would never work out with the Prince anyways, and maybe Taehyung was right, maybe he could win your heart, “You really think you can?” You finally murmured softly, glancing up at him as his smile widened, his hands squeezing yours gently as he nodded.

“If you give me the chance,” He leaned his forehead against yours, his skin cold just as any vampire but it still didn’t feel natural to you, not when you had known Taehyung your whole life with deep warm skin now pale as the moon and his once warm brown eyes as blue and lit up as the night sky, “Let me take you out tonight, there’s something I’d love to show you.”

You parted your lips to say yes only to pause. Tonight? You swallowed your words at the memory of Jungkook, he said he was expecting you in his room...Tonight. But...he couldn’t of been serious. Whatever it was he was planning, it was a bad idea regardless. Surely he knew that. 

No matter how much he liked you- or you liked him, things would never work. It was time you accept that and at least moved onto someone who you could learn to love. Taehyung had always been handsome as a human, his features had only become more sharp and regal at his turn, you’d be a fool to pass up a chance of life with him. Maybe you wouldn’t have to pledge after all.

“Alright,” You sighed closing your eyes, “What time shall we go?” You could practically feel his smile beaming down at you, his hands excitedly squeezing yours at the chance to prove himself as he hastily kissed your forehead, “9 o’clock in the courtyard, I’ll see you there Y/n.” You could hear another knight teasing him from the hallway as they called his name. With one last smile he exited the room with a spring in his step.

Sighing you felt a drop in your stomach, you could only hope Jungkook had changed his mind at such a silly notion and would go about his regular feeding. Rubbing the spot where Taehyung kissed your forehead you finally allowed a small smile to pull on your lips. Maybe life shared with him wouldn’t be a totally bad idea.

It was nearing time to go and you could feel the anxiousness build in you as you laced your bodice, would Jungkook be okay? Would he be able to feed throughout the night as he normally did. Hungry Vampire’s never bode over well and for him to be a royal. You sighed, forcing your thoughts and concerns for him to the back of your mind as you pulled the thick red cloak over your shoulders and pulling up the hood.

Stepping out of your room you made your way down the hall, stopping briefly at the thought. Surely it wasn’t too late, he’d most likely be on his bed, sitting patiently for your arrival as you had cleaned his room early that day. 

His eyes would be near blood red by now, and his hunger beginning to set in...you felt your knees beginning to weaken at the idea before you shook your head. No, he’d already be on top on Minsoo by now, drinking from her and sating all of his needs. He didn’t need you.

The guard nodded to you while opening the large door of the caste, allowing you to slip out before seeing the familiar dark head of hair peering out at the moonlight, Taehyung looked so serene since his turn, he had naturally become more nocturnal by nature and the moon suited his pale skin almost making him glow. He looked ethereal.

Already sensing your presence Taehyung turned around, his own black hood cloak covering his figure and color clashing against yours, smiling he took your hands into his before pressing a quick kiss against your knuckles, “Are you ready?”

“Of course.” You offered a tiny smile as he began to lead you outside the large gates of the castle and down the large brick walkway, everything was so polished and beautiful in the vampire kingdom, they were far more refined than humans could ever be. Or so you had been told most of your life.

You had never been to one of the human lands before and briefly, you couldn’t help but wonder what the difference would be between them. Taehyung had lead you through most of the city that was now vacant most vampires feeding and briefly you glanced towards Taehyung, had he fed early just so he could take you out? You smiled gently at the thought, he truly was too kind for his own good.

“Alright, we're almost there, just close your eyes.” Taehyung looked like he did when he was little, his eyes brimming with excitement and his boxy grin looking almost childlike and all the more enduring as you rolled your eyes with a smile, putting your hands over your eyes as he lead you by the waist down the worn and weaved path of the woods.

You stumbled slightly causing his grip on your waist to tighten a little making your face flush and your heartbeat quicken in your chest. He paused making you stop for a moment before he spoke, “Alright! You can open them now.”

Pulling your hands from your face you parted your lips only for no words to be spoken. Your mouth became agape at the sight of the gorgeous lake, the willow tree’s blowing by the chilled breeze of air and the full moon had lit up the whole lake leaving it sparkling and transforming the moss that clung to its sides like seafoam. 

It was beautiful, you had found yourself speaking those words to Taehyung who grinned like a child at your reaction, “I found it during one of my rotations along the south side of the kingdom, I always love to come here to relax after a busy day.” He lead you to a spot before you both sat down in front of the lake, the fireflies dancing just above the water and if you didn’t know any better you’d this was a home to pixies.

“Thank you for giving me a chance Y/n,” Taehyung breathed out gently, leaning into your side as his eyes washed over the scenery, his shoulders relaxed and at peace, “I know you pledge in spring but...I don’t know if I could live with myself if I didn’t at least try to change your mind.”

You fiddled with the hem of your dress, unable to meet his gaze as guilt gnawed in you before sighing, “There isn’t much life for me outside of the sisterhood Taehyung, I don’t want to leave the castle but...what choice do I have? Besides the sisterhood aren’t just nuns, they’re warriors, protectors of the woods. It’s an honor to have them take me in.” 

You were true in your words. You had looked up to the sisterhood your whole life, while you’d start as a nun at the monastery for the moon goddess it was so much more than that. They were trained like warriors and fought not only with fury but also grace, you had been training your whole life with them for this pledge.

“Don’t say that, it’s not your only choice…” Taehyung murmured, his eyes becoming more timid as he glanced towards the lake, appearing a little shy which made you perk in slight curiosity, where was he going with this…? “Y/n…” He shifted in his seat before he let his own eyes meet yours, “I brought you here to ask you something, and I don’t expect an answer right away but…” He glanced down at his lap before bringing both of your own hands into his, “If you were given the chance to be turned...would you take it?” He asked meekly.

Your brows shot up immediately at his question before you shifted away from him warily, what was that supposed to mean? Turned vampires themselves couldn’t actually turn humans, only a born vampire was able too, “I…” You faltered in your sentence as your gaze cast down, “I don’t know…” 

You were torn between an answer, because you still enjoyed life as a human, even if vampires looked down upon you as a lesser being. Most would say yes at the idea of eternal youth and life on earth for millennia, but you couldn’t help but frown at the idea, didn’t it ever get lonely? 

Watching the world around you wither away as you stayed young, whatever human you befriended becoming old and frail in age before eventually going beyond the veil, “Why do you ask?” You finally plucked the courage to glance up at him again a little more weary.

Taehyung shifted once more, his gaze still timid before his eyes fall to your hands that were intertwined, “Ever since I turned I can’t stop thinking about you Y/n,” He confessed with a whisper, “About your morality, your time is so short on this earth it scares me. My master….he...he’d be willing to sponsor your turn- should you ever decide this is the life you’d like to live. I know it isn’t fair of me to spring this on you. And you want to join the sisterhood but, please consider it. For me.”

Your lips parted several times but no words came out. His master would sponsor your turn? You nibbled on your lip before looking away, feeling torn. You weren’t sure if you ever wanted to become a vampire. If you did that meant you’d be tormented all the longer at watching Jungkook grow into the king he had been born to be...Jungkook…

It came like a wave in your chest as you sighed, unable to look him in the eyes as you murmured, “I’ll think about it.” You would not.

Waking up in bed you felt groggy as you shifted, the rays of morning light causing you to squint before sighing, you didn’t remember falling asleep in bed? You had ended up staying most of the night with Taehyung by the lake, your conversation moving to more pleasant topics and you had lost track of time, ending up falling asleep against his shoulder. He must’ve took you back home.

A surge of warmth filled your chest at the notion before you pulled yourself from your bed, changing into your regular work attire as you fixed your choker that had become crooked. After you finished changing you went about your morning routine, waking up a few of the ladies you would help tend to that morning before going to the kitchen to serve those of the human side of the court.

It was nearing eleven when you made your way to Jungkook’s office, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little nervous, he’d be on a morning ride no doubt but still being in his space left you anxious. Had he fed last night? Surely he did…Closing the door to his office you sighed in relief at the empty space, you began your usual cleaning routine in hopes you’d finish before he had come in unlike yesterday which lead you to this situation.

Thankfully it didn’t take long to do your usual polishing and dusting before exiting the room, next you would’ve tended to his bedroom- except you were stopped short in the hallway at one of the uppermaids who near begged you to help out with one of the ladies in waiting who was throwing a tantrum about not having enough maids to help her get ready. You never turn down a fellow maids request and therefore made your way to the room.

The day had only became more grueling from there, the lady had almost snapped at your entrance and disregarded the fact that you went out of your way to help and almost immediately began demanding you fix her hair. 

Upon her exit from the room you were positive almost all of the maids let out an audible sigh of relief, yourself included, “Could you get her a lavender satchel from the apothecary in town Y/n?” One of the maids asked, her eyes glossy as if she had been trying to hold back her tears from the court lady who had been nothing short of rude to you all, “Please? I must get back to my mistress.”

“Of course,” You smiled gently while nodding as she cried out a thank you. You had afterwards sighed, you’d never tend to the Prince’s requirements at this rate. Going to your room you plucked the red cloak before pulling it over your shoulders and heading for the apothecary shop. 

It shouldn’t have been too far of a walk, you had already made your way down the stone walkway and into the busy town. Everyone was as lively as ever, stalls had just opened and the human farmers of the land had just set their produce out for one another.

Stepping inside the shop you couldn’t help but let the brief smile pull on your lips at it’s quaint appearance and warm homey atmosphere, flowers adorned the whole shop inside giving it a beautiful fragrance and vivid color as you glanced around, you had never been somewhere with so much color, it was gorgeous. You stopped short at the pretty wrath hanging from the front desk of the shop, the pretty delicate purple flowers making you lean down, the urge to pluck one just to smell it’s pretty petals.

“Careful,” You jumped at the sound of the voice from behind you, you had whirled around with cheeks slightly flushed at the sight of the girl, no older than you with a large crooked smirk on her face and feline like eyes, long, thick, beautiful lashes fluttering as she glanced up from you from her large round and pointed hat, “Periwinkle is often associated with witchcraft you wouldn’t want to be seen wearing those in your hair.” You felt an odd shiver up your spine at her oddly playful words, timidly you gave a nod and small polite smile in thanks.

“Would you hush and go tend to the herbs!” Another girl had quickly stepped into the room from it’s back door, her sister you assumed as she scolded, quickly walking behind the desk as she gave you a smile, “I’m sorry for my sister, she never knows when to quit.”

You briefly glanced at the sister who only let a mischievous smile pull on her lips before she sent you a wink, exiting out the backdoor her sister had just come through. You felt a surge of oddness come over you, what odd sisters who ran the shop. You quickly gave your note to the shop owner for the order of lavender and she wasted no time pulling it from the other side of the desk.

For as beautiful as their shop was, you couldn’t help but be thankful to step outside of it, bringing the lavender satchel up to your nose only briefly before smiling at such a pleasant smell. You were deft in your return to the castle once more, stopping short in the courtyard as you almost ran into a figure. 

The familiar dark head of hair turning around in confusion before beaming at you, “Y/n,” Taehyung instantly took your hand to brush a kiss over your knuckle, “I didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“I had to fetch an order for one of the court ladies,” You held up the satchel with a small smile before feeling your cheeks tinge slightly pink, “Thank you for bringing me home last night…”

Taehyung’s smile softened, his hand squeezing yours before pressing his lips back to your hand, “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Your face had become even more flushed at his words. Those unnatural blue eyes that looked so foreign on him compared to those warm brown hues he had when he was a human.

“Y/n,” You almost immediately jumped from Taehyung’s grip at the sharp voice that came from ahead, the sight of Jungkook nearly made your heart drop into your stomach, his expression was neutral but you could tell there was tension in his shoulders, “There you are, you weren’t attending to your regular duties.”

You instantly dropped into a curtsy as Taehyung bowed, “My apologies your Highness, I was sent by a lady in waiting to receive an order for her. I’ll return to my duties.” You could feel his gaze burn into your figure as you kept your gaze from meeting his. As always he was calm and composed, whatever was going through his mind kept secret from you.

“All is forgiven, don’t let me keep you.” Jungkook gave a single nod, his gaze lingering on Taehyung briefly before he turned on his heels and sauntered away leaving you gasping for breath though hoping it didn’t come out as such. Must he always have such an effect on you?

Sighing you watched his broad figure disappear into the castle before turning back to Taehyung with an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry, but I must get back to my duties.” Taehyung nodded understandingly before you bid him farewell and returned to the lady’s room and put the satchel of lavender by her bedside.

Relieved to finally have your offset morning rectified you made your way to the kitchen to help prepare for lunch. Your thoughts lingered on Jungkook the whole afternoon though, you had only seen him once today and out of all times it had to be when you were with Taehyung. 

He didn’t seem angry though nor was he crazed by bloodthirst. You couldn’t help but feel relieved by the notion, all had returned to normal it seemed. And though you felt a little dim from the idea you knew it was for the best.

You repeated to yourself once more that it was never meant to be anyways. Nor would it ever work out. You were not only a human but a maid and the whole court had a tendency to snub both of which you fell under. You supposed what you felt must’ve just been seduction from him. Most women would feel that way regardless, the Prince didn’t need his supernatural charm to win people over.

Sighing you set the plate down as you helped served the human ladies in waiting as they all sat at the small table on the terris laughing in delight at one another's conversation. One of these women would be carrying Jungkook’s children one day, the idea almost made you sick. But this was always the harsh reality you faced. That couldn’t ever change.

It was nightfall and you were well aware you had gotten caught up in the day all too fast and had forgotten to clean up Jungkook’s bedroom altogether, sighing you supposed it would be another late day and Kang Minsoo would not be happy to see your presence leaving as she entered.

But unless she wanted to be took on blood stained sheets- the ones which were her fault. Then she’d simply have to deal with it for today.

Gently knocking on the door you waited a moment only for no sound to reply on the other side. Opening the door you noticed the room was empty, it was rather odd given Jungkook was usually retired by now but then again it also wasn’t uncommon for him to work later into the night, vampires didn’t require rest the way humans did after all.

You had instantly began sprucing up the room, cleaning and tidying his things before stripping his bed from it’s sheets, you swallowed a cringed at how rough the bed appeared today. The sheets torn and lewd marks and liquids covered it but there was not a drop of blood to be seen. 

You frowned before sighing, pulling them off and into the hamper before setting out a fresh sheet and making the bed, finishing with all of it’s pillows back in place before folding the final blanket- the velvet one you secretly loved. Gently smoothing out it’s edges as you finished your final touches on the room.

“Where were you last night?” You almost jumped out of your skin at the harshly whispered words in your ears, arms tightly coiling around you body as Jungkook growled against your ear, “I waited for hours my love.”

You stiffened at his words before swallowing harshly, guilt instantly biting in your stomach at how hurt his voice was and how the anger quivered in its wake, you should’ve known better then to assume he was fine, “Do you know how vile it is to drink from those women?” His nose brushed roughly against your neck as he growled them out, “I was so frustrated last night when I had her in my bed when all I wanted was you.”

You could feel your lips quiver slightly and the burn between your legs increase as you frowned, staring down at the red velvet before finally murmuring, “You know as well as I do that nothing good would come of this. It was for the best....please let me go.” You weren’t sure if you meant it physically or emotionally.

Your words only made his grip on you tighten as he growled again, fingers digging into the fabric of your bodice and his cold breath against your skin causing goosebumps to form in its path, “I’ll renounce my whole life before I give up my mate.” 

Your gasp was stuck in your throat his words his...mate? Mate was used in two terms- one in reference to a bond formed between two vampires, the equivalent of a human marriage, and then mate which referenced before marriage that likened to that of a soulmate. Seldom did a vampire actually come across their mate, and here Jungkook was claiming you were his.

“Please don’t make this harder for me…” You almost pleaded softly, closing your eyes as your hands wrapped around his arms, squeezing tightly as if hoping your grip would make him let go. You could bare plenty in your life, but having him act as if you were mates, you don’t know if you could go on any further with that information.

Jungkook fingers dug further into your skin making you emit a soft whimper, his voice gripped and tone serious as he replied, “You are my mate. I’m only telling you the truth. Why do you think we’re so drawn together.” 

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his cold soft lips pressing into your neck, your eyes drawing closed at the soft sensation as his grip released into a gentle hold, his fingers petting down the sides of your body, “You’re the love of my life Y/n, I won’t let you slip away from me. Not now, not ever. You’re mine as I am yours.” He pressed kisses into your neck with each word, “Now let me make you mine. Take it off my love. I’ve craved you for so long. Don’t deny me now.” 

He spoke soft ushered words that tickled against your skin. Your resolve had been broken so quickly as your fingers fumbled to your neck undoing the chain before letting it flutter to the ground as Jungkook let his own hands begin to untie your bodice.

Jungkook let his lips part as he grazed his tongue over your skin causing you to shutter, feeling the bodice slip from your shoulders leaving you feeling bare and open in just your slip dress.

His hands tenderly dragging up your stomach until they kneaded against your breasts, “Mmm! Y-your Highness I can’t be your mate…” You were already rubbing your thighs together as heat pooled between your legs.

His tongue left your body void but his grip over your breasts didn’t falter, “But you are my love,” He continued his trail of wet kisses along your neck, “I’ll protect you, I’ll turn you and you will carry my children, be my wife if you’ll only let me.” His hands were already pulling up your dress, suddenly pulling it over your head leaving you bare and your nipples perking to the cold air of the room making a whimper escape you. 

The idea had nearly swept you off your feet and your panties clung to your folds in a sticky mess at the feeling of his cold hands running over the open skin of your near naked body.

His hand made its way back down your body before making you gasp at the feeling of his hand pushing underneath your panties, his long slim fingers grazing delicately over your hypersensitive bud, “Oh! Mmm! Y-your Highness.” Your arms finally shot up over your head to dig into his hair as he sucked down against your neck, the wave of pleasure shuttering in your body making you squeeze your thighs tightly together.

“You’ve never even touched yourself have you?” Jungkook murmured with a purr as he let his digits rub back down against the sensitive bud making a new louder whimper fall from your lips, “So sensitive and pure,” Jungkook smiled sweetly into your skin as you pressed against him harder at the feeling of his fingers only moving a hair faster against your clit, “I’ll have to treat my princess well tonight won’t I?”

Your hips embarrassingly bucked into his hand at the intense pleasure tremoring through your body and your need for more rushing through your body, “I-I was taught my whole life to abstain. You’ve made that hellish that past four months.” He chuckled softly against your skin before removing his hand from your panties making you stifle a whined objection. 

Jungkook turned you around to finally feast his eyes on your body, your shyness had begun to take over shifting and trying to not cover yourself. It was in one swift motion Jungkook had pushed you onto the bed, pulling your thighs over his shoulders making your face turn bright red.

“Mmm I could tell, I could smell your arousal everytime,” Jungkook let his tongue graze over your inner thigh causing you to squirm with a whimper, “You’re so wet and I haven’t even done anything,” Jungkook almost groaned before letting his tongue press against the fabric separating his tongue and your soft wet folds. You almost strangled out a cry at such a foreign sensation but your body was burning in need for more, “P-please sir-”

Jungkook pulled at the band of your panties before his eyes lidded, “Say my name.” It was a calm demand as he forced his gaze to hold yours while pulling off your panties, you felt flush and exposed, your cunt dripping wet and slick to the touch as your arousal began to slide with a drip.

“J...Jungkook please.” Your voice was soft and pleading, your tone timid as your lips quivered your body ached in such an intense need you could hardly comprehend it. You needed him so badly you were sure you’d step into your grave early if he didn’t take you now.

You watched his lips flick into a wicked smirk changing his whole demeanor as he thumbed against your hipbones, “What a good girl,” He cooed out making you throw your head back with a whine, your cunt aching to be filled as he let his tongue drag against your thigh, purposely ignoring the delicious sight just begging to be ate, “Does my princess want something? Use your words.”

You had arched your back with a whine as he trailed his tongue teasingly closer to your dripping folds, “Jungkook don’t tease me,” your words were begging as you squirmed beneath him, “Please use your tongue, please!” You whined at feeling your pussy almost burn in desire, you needed him so badly.

Jungkook let out an approving hum before leaning down, letting his tongue swipe up a strip of your folds making you almost cry from the odd feeling, his wet tongue mingling with your juices as he inhaled slowly, “You taste just as good as I imagined.” 

And in one breath he began given your needy cunt kitten licks while making his way up to your clit. You were a moaning mess as your back cramped from it’s arch and the soft bed beneath you offered no comfort as his tongue slowly dragged against your sensitive bud, “O-ooh Jungkook! Mm!” 

You were almost incoherent as you thrashed beneath him your body in near shock at the intense pleasure running through your body. Your hips almost rolling along with his tongue as he dragged it against your clit before hitting a spot that made your vision almost blurry.

Gathering your little clit into his mouth he sucked against it gently, letting his tongue prod along it’s sides while you moaned helplessly beneath him unable to even speak anymore as the orgasm rode through your whole body. Jungkook had allowed his long digits to run along your wet folds as he continued to help you ride your orgasm out before pushing a finger inside you.

Pain instantly shot through you as you whimpered trying to pull away on first reaction, “Shhh,” Jungkook cooed out lovingly, pressing a little kiss against your thigh as he pulled out, gathering more of your wetness along his finger before pushing back into your entrance with ease, “Just relax love, it won’t hurt for much longer.” Your thighs were already shaking but you attempted to do as you were told. Whimpering slightly at the feeling of his digit pushing further inside you before pumping slowly.

Your arousal was messy and undoubtedly dripping on the bed by now as it continued to produce from your entrance, his gentle pumping picked up a little at the sight of your hips beginning to roll in sync, “Does it feel good darling?” Jungkook cooed, his tongue dragging back down your thigh again as you whimpered with a nod, causing the smirk to break back onto his lips, “Such a good girl for me, you look so pretty right now Y/n.”

He watched in almost blind pleasure at the way your hips bucked into his hand at his words and the way your velvety wet walls clenched around his single digit as you whined, “Someone loves being a good girl? Don’t you?” His smirk widened at your nod, your neck stretching out and head turning as if just offering yourself for taking as your hips quickly rode against his finger. Jungkook slowly pushed in his next digit, your little whimper like music to his ears as you stretched to accommodate him.

It was slightly uncomfortable at first but your hips refused to stop riding his fingers, the stretch not comparing to the feeling of the pads of his fingertips grazing against the walls of your needy pussy, “Do you want your second release?” Jungkook asked with a purr making you choke out a whimper as you nodded.

He instantly let his fingers curl inside you making you clench around him with a moan at the unexpected new sensation, pleasure shooting through you as you whimper, “A-ah! Jungkook, right there!” You whined your thighs clamping around him harshly, those silky long locks of hair tickling against your skin as his fingers dug into your g-spot.

“Mmm, you sound so pretty when you moan like that sweetheart,” Jungkook murmured, his hand pumping into you quicker making sure you were nothing short of a whining, moaning mess as you clenched around him harshly, body so sensitive as you bucked into him, “Cum for me princess.”

Obediently your walls clenched around him harshly as he hit your g-spot one last time, your body curling and aching as your second orgasm washed over you and your cunt needily sucking his fingers into you further as you moaned far louder than you ever wanted too. 

Just at the peak of your pleasure you felt a sharp sting in your thigh before the pleasure in you almost twisted and snapped even harsher making your head fall back with close to a scream leaving your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes were bright blood red before fluttering them shut as he bit into your inner thigh, your blood sweet and light nearly making him dizzy headed. Euphoria nearly achieved as your hips rode against his fingers, letting them hit into your g-spot skillfully making your next orgasm arrive closer.

“J-Jungkook I’m- I’m..!” Your voice was cracked and another whimper fell from your lips as his thumb suddenly dragged up to your clit as your hips continued to move with his fingers. 

Rubbing friction between both spots had you coming again as you moaned brokenly, nearly sobbing at the pleasure and sensitivity your body was under as you rapidly clenched and released around his fingers, a weird sensation bubbling inside you making you swallow and whimper before liquid came spewing from your abused little hole.

You were hazy and you could feel the wave of embarrassment but it didn’t quite reach you due to the pleasure your body was swimming in. Jungkook pulled away from your thighs, his usual maroon color burning blood red and color was flushed in his face making him more human than he’d ever be, his hair now wet and the haughty smirk coiled on his face grounding you back to what had just happened as your lips parted several times, “I...did I..?”

Jungkook released your thighs from his grip as he set you down, kissing along your stomach as he replied, “You squirted princess, and you looked fucking hot while doing it.” Your mouth went dry at his vulgarity but your body was relit at his words despite your thighs snapping shut. Jungkook had pulled away before unbuttoning his shirt leaving you almost swallowing your soft whine at the sight of his chiseled upper body on display.

It was when he let his pants drop that your lips quivered into a pout at the large cock that sprang from it laying towards his abdominal. His shaft was thick and curved slightly with a vein protruding, leaving you with the strong urge to touch it as precum oozed from his large bulbous head as he licked his lips, “Don’t worry my love,”

He lunged down, caging you between his arms as his lips sucking against your neck, “It’ll fit. It may be uncomfortable at first so tell me to stop if it hurts.” He peppered little kisses into the crook of your neck before parting your legs and slotting himself between them, grasping his cock as he pumped himself a few times while letting out a breathy moan.

You shifted slightly against him with a shaky breath yourself only to flutter your eyes shut at the feeling of his head running along your sticky slit, letting it drag in circles over your already sensitive clit as you bit back a cry.

Jungkook continued to let his shaft run along your folds covering himself in your arousal before lining his hips up with yours, with ease he began to push his tip inside you causing you to whimper from the uncomfortable stretch. Jungkook buried into your neck as he paused his movements pressing a little kiss against your skin before easing himself in further with a soft relieved sigh.

“Y-you’re so big.” You whimpered, your body clenched around his size as he gently pushed his shaft further inside you. You could feel his cock throb slightly at your words and his lips parted against your neck before sucking it’s skin.

“You feel so good princess,” Jungkook finally released a moan, forcing himself to stop at the sound of your whimper now taking his whole cock inside you like the big girl he knew you were, “I’ve loved you for so long now, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.” 

He kept kissing your neck, not only was he in physical euphoria, but he was also in emotional as well, finally having you in his arms after all these years, always having to pretend as if he didn’t see you among the crowd of servants, how long he ached for your touch, “How much I need you.”

Your body shuddered at his words as he began to pull himself out of you and rolling his hips gently into you again, letting out a soft moan your walls began to relax and stretch comfortably around him, “I- I love you too.” You finally said those dreaded, damn words you had worked so hard to never think of, Jungkook had made them so easy to say as he thrusted back into you deeply, his thick shaft running along your g-spot making you moan as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Jungkook instantly let his fangs run along your neck as his hips suddenly snapped into yours making you whimper at the rough sensation as your legs shakily wrapped around his waist, “Mmm, my beautiful mate,” Jungkook’s voice was filled with pride and lust as he let his hips take over, thrusting into you at whatever speed they pleased as you whimpered.

Clenching around him as he continuously dragged along your g-spot, his pubic bone rubbing into your clit as you moaned, hands tangling into those long silky locks you imagined doing so many nights spent alone, “Where did you go last night?” He suddenly demanded, his tone stern and hissing in possessiveness, “Was it with that little knight that wouldn’t keep his hands away from you.”

His voice snapped as much as his hips, you couldn’t even form a full sentence as his thumb suddenly reached down to rub harshly over your abused little clit, “You’re mine. Mine.” He hissed with venom, “Mine to hold, mine to love, mine to fuck. Mine.” He emphasized every word with each punctuated thrust that had you rapidly clenching around him as he roughly rubbed circles around your hypersensitive nub. 

You were coming for the fourth time in seconds as you clenched around him harshly, eyes watering from how sensitive you became as the pain smoothly mixed with the pleasure he put your body under, “Say it.” He snapped, lips lunging down before he let his fangs sink into your skin making you cry a whimper as your euphoria clouded your vision and your orgasm magnified once more, his release stringing deep inside you as his own orgasm took over his body.

‘I-I’m yours! I’m only yours Jungkook. I only belong to you.” You whimpered feeling his body relax and your head become lighter as he drank slowly and with ease as his hips slowly followed suit until he pulled his softening cock out of you. Cum dripping between your legs and a sheen of sweat covered both of you.

His fangs dug into your skin and his thumbs rubbed gently against your thighs as he took his time, enjoying the only blood that could ever sate his appetite, his emptiness and loneliness. 

Your eyes were becoming heavy with a need for sleep as Jungkook continued his feeding, careful to not overindulge or drink too fast. Your body felt complete, and whole, safe with him hovering on top of you protectively.

Slowly you let your eyes droop before allowing yourself to fall into a restful sleep.

Waking up your vision was blurred and your body nipped with a chill as you shifted, a little confused at first, you never had this much sunlight in your bedroom...Your eyes suddenly shot open when you remembered it was because you weren’t in your bedroom. Instead you were in the only bedroom you had become so acquainted with outside your own.

Jungkook’s arms were wrapped around you and your back was pressed snug into his chest, his locks of hair tickling against your cheek as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing a sleepy kiss into his bite mark making you wince from the afterpain.

You allowed yourself a few minutes to enjoy the silence of the room, the love of your life holding you in his arms with no objections or misleading words to shoo you from his room, it was perfect. You could wake up like this every day if you could...If you could…”Jungkook.” You finally murmured softly.

“Hm?” He hummed out, his voice groggy and his eyes still snapped shut, perhaps still half asleep and not even fully conscious of his voice.

Shifting slightly you let your fingers trace against the cold skin of his hand that had begun to stroke your stomach gently, “What’s going to happen now? If anyone finds out you bit me…” 

Your lips quivered at so many thoughts crashing into your mind, what of the sisterhood? Your only solace now took from you. What about Taehyung and his love for you now fully unrequited. What was going to happen to you?

“If they find out they’ll answer to me my love,” His voice was deeper than usual, ridden with sleep as he shifted against you, not particularly worried as he lovingly stroked your soft skin, adoring the gentle beat of your heart as he let his nose rub along the sweet love bite tainting your pure skin, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Turning around to face him you, for the first time in all your life you let full happiness flood every fiber of your being, a beautiful smile Jungkook would forever cherish sight of staining your lips before pressing a sweet, chaste kiss against his lips. 

Letting his nose rub against yours before gently stroking your hair and tucking you away into his chest, “Now go back to sleep, my love, all will be taken care of.”

[lis-likes-fics]

Rhyme and Reason

Pairings: Corinthian x dream!Reader Word Count: 8.7k words Prompt: Corruption Kink Warnings: NSFW, explicit descriptions of death/murder, torture, descriptions of blood, smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), slight hair pulling, multiple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, corruption kink, creampie, fucking in front of a dead body... A/N: There are only two left, guys! I might be able to do this! This took a minute to write cause ADHD is a bitch. But I finished and I hope you like it! Thank you and Happy Holidays!

The little party you find yourself in is just that, little. It takes place in a bar rented out by the set of hosts, a get together with maybe a little over twenty party-goers.

It took so long to find him.

When your lord Morpheus disappeared some fifty years ago, you and the rest of the Dreaming were left…confused. You thought that maybe it was a test? He wanted to see how loyal his creations really were to him, their king. Would they revolt the moment he no longer gave orders?

But, after the first two decades, you concluded that he was just…gone. And you, among many dreams, left as well.

You spent the next twenty years in the Waking world, searching the world aimlessly for something to inspire you.

When Dream still resided in his realm, you would sing for him. He dreamed up a dream of music and song and you became. He loved your songs, he was inspired by the music you made.

When you sat in Fiddler’s Green, you would sing about the butterflies fluttering through the breeze or the bees in their honeycombs. When you sat by the sandy beach, you would sing about the lap of the tides against the mouth of the sea. When you looked up at the skies, you would sing about the sun and moon, how they loved each other so.

On some nights where you danced in the heads of your mortal lords, he would be there, in the seat in the back, listening to you soothe the minds of frightened children or ease the thoughts of anguished men.

Morpheus loved your sweet music, your heavenly song. You reminded him of someone, someone he loved very much.

Much he knew nothing of how you longed for more than your kindly poetry and prose. You loved the gift he bestowed upon you, but you grew weary of your melodies of dancing birds and sugar cane.

He knew nothing of the way you gazed at the dark and twisted dreams that walked his realm, the way they strut, the way they smirk, the way they spin their fables and tricks and white lies. You wished you could sing in deviant keys, tales of wicked fantasies and depraved beasts.

How you longed for the voice of a siren, rather than the whistle of a songbird.

So you looked for inspiration. And you found it.

The humans were a new kind of nightmare. Yes, they had so much love and light and whatnot, but the depravity. The debauchery and sin you found among their kind, it was more than you could have dreamed of.

You didn't just want to sing their songs, you wanted to create them. You wanted to write your verses as they wrote theirs. You wanted to sing your tales and inspire the rest in the same way your sweet lyrics did.

But you didn't know how. You searched all over for someone to teach you, to show you how to take their sullied natures and adopt them into your own poesy.

Soon you realized that no man could teach you how to sing. You'd almost given up your pursuits of fulfillment until you heard of him; a dream you'd never met but had heard of so many times before in the sleeping realm, a nightmare so infamous and so curiously revered by your former lord. You'd heard it through the mouths of chattering men, then read it in the paper. A “man” whose deeds were so reminiscent of the devil, everyone had to know his name, to know who to protect themselves against.

The Corinthian.

He captured men and took their eyes. He made them see all the wonders of the world. And you wanted to sing them.

It took so long to find him.

You seduced and bribed and begged your way through every little turn in order to get to him. And now you're here with a drink in your hand and so many inspirations surrounding you in this little bar.

And he is beautiful.

It's things like him that inspire you to sing. He’s charming and tall and the sight of him, his dark glasses—which hold more truth than eyes could ever tell—frame his face as the golden rim adores his golden hair. You catch yourself staring too often, so enamored and enchanted by the symphony that he is.

But he'd noticed you too, in the moments where your eyes don't find his. Of course he had. He knows exactly who you are, the music of the Dreaming. He hears it in every little breath you take, the gentle lilt of your voice. You were spoken of with as much regard as he was, though in the more virtuous way rather than in the way of his own notoriety.

What an odd little creature. He'd heard so much about you, how sweet and gentle you were. How Dream would sit for hours and listen to you sing in the meadow. And here you were, surrounded by the darkest of creatures, unbothered but so curious.

How nice you would be to…play with for a while.

“Well, hello there.”

His voice seeps into your skin and has goosebumps rising along your body. You turn and look up at the Corinthian like he was a sight to behold. Your eyes are slightly widened with wonder, and you look like you'll get to your knees and begin praising him at any moment, as though he is some great saint.

“Oh,” you breathe, trying and failing to be subtle. “Hi.”

He leans his elbow on the bar, looking you up and down through the dark of his glasses. “What's your name, little thing?”

You scramble to organize your thoughts once more. He's scrambled them with just the sound of his voice. “Uhm,” you stutter. Shaking your head, you offer him your name.

He chuckles lightly, his charming smile curling over his lips as he shakes his head. “No, hah,” he mutters, “I meant your alias.” He turns a little as he motions to the people in the room, dark souls able to be free in the little space of this bar. “Everyone here has an alias. What's yours?”

“Mine?” You clear your throat. “Oh…” You hadn't thought about that. You rub your palm against your thigh, smoothing your dress over your legs nervously.

He thinks you're precious. He turns with a chuckle, looking around the room before gesturing with his head toward two men talking amongst themselves.

“You see him over there? On the right?” he asks. You nod, staring at the man as the Corinthian speaks. “That's the Extinguisher. He's a pyromaniac. He traps his victims in their own homes and covers them in gasoline. Burns it to the ground, starting with them.” The way he speaks is like music, and you get lost in it.

He stares at the wonder on your face, his lips twitching into a curious grin. “Him, there? He goes by the Boa Constrictor. Like the snake. He ties up his victims real nice and tight until their skin turns purple and numb. Then he…” he breathes a little laugh, “...ties a rope ‘round their necks and keeps it there…nice and tight, until they stop squirmin’.”

He expects you to pale, to see the fear light up in your little eyes. But you don't. You stare, hypnotized by his voice and his words.

“Wow,” you whisper. “What about her?”

He smiles wide, looking at the woman in question. “Oh, her?” He licks his bottom lip. “She comes in a pair, only the public doesn't know that. Actually, they think it's a man. She and her friend over there are known as the Tailor, but they call themselves the Seamstresses. You see, it's easier to be taken seriously as a man in this age, otherwise no one would bat an eye at their art.”

Your eyes twinkle with wonder. He doesn't think you realize it when you grab his arm, clutching it as you continue to listen, watching the two ladies talk. He leans nearer to you, speaking gently into your ear.

“They slice the limbs off their victims, nice and clean cuts, and stitch them back together after they've already bled out.” He tilts his head. “They're actually quite sweet.”

You sigh, almost like you're in a dream. “Woah.”

He turns his body back to you, and you realize your hand grasping him. You let him go, offering an apology through a small smile as you looked up at him. He watches it fade, the wonder returning as you take him in.

“If I had to guess who you were…” he says quietly, his voice a whisper as his eyes wander your face, “I'd say you were the Whisperer.”

You tilt your head, watching every little shift in his face as he speaks. He smirks, “Am I right?” You blink at him, moving to speak but unable to find the words. “The artist who sews the mouths of her victims shut so they can't speak,” he seems to lean in further, his voice getting softer and softer as your eyelids flutter. “Sings a little song to them as she…slits their throats wide open.”

You sigh, nearly folding under the weight of his gaze. You nod gently. “Y-yeah,” you rasp, clearing your throat. “Yes, that's me.”

He smiles wide, leaning back to release you from the spell. You let out a breath at the distance, seeming to come back to yourself. “I admire your work,” he says. “That job you did up in Malibu was just…beautiful.”

You don't know where that is, but apparently this Whisperer did. You nod, “Thanks. Thank you.”

“In fact,” the tips of his fingers brushed your hand, turning it to hold in his palm, “I would love a demonstration. Up close and personal.”

You bring your other hand to graze the side of his palm. “Would you mind giving me the honor of witnessing it firsthand?”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. Firsthand… “Uh, I don't have…thread on me.”

He shrugs. “Well, I'm sure the Seamstresses wouldn't mind lending their tools. If we ask nicely anyway.”

“Well–”

“Come on,” he chuckles. “Just…one little show?” He shows a finger, grinning his charming grin.

So pliant to his word, you give in. “Okay.”

The proud grin he displays is wide and triumphant. “Well,” he says, “thank you very much.”

~

The Corinthian opens your door as you step out of the car, looking out over the large building lit up from the inside and crawling with people. He offers his hand, which you take gratefully as your stomach turns, anxiety and anticipation sharp in your gut. He gives you another charming smile.

You both walk inside, taking in the nightclub still in full swing. It's a Friday night, so there are plenty of people here looking to let loose after a long work day.

There's a small band on stage playing upbeat jazz, a singer performing for an enthused crowd. You know this song, you know every song.

The Corinthian’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to him as he seems to glare at the bodies mingling with one another. It's possessive, like he'll cut the eyes out of anyone who so much as glances the wrong way at you. You lean into him.

He leans down to your ear, his smile returning as he speaks gently. “Who here sparks your interest?” he asks. “Who fits the bill?”

You look up at him. “What do you mean?”

“A target.” He looks around the club, as though he's searching for someone who sparks his own interest. “Most artists have a pattern among their chosen…” he makes a gesture with his hand, trying to find the right word, “canvases.”

You like the way he speaks. It's poetic.

You lick your lips. “What's your pattern?”

“Oh, me?” He shrugs, looking over the crowd again. “I don't follow anything specific.” Tilting his head, he hums, “I suppose I do have a bit of male preference… but I'm not picky.”

“Ah,” you mutter.

“Well?” he wondered. “Anyone?”

You look around at all the people, dancing and sweating and talking. Eventually, your eyes land on a man. He's tall and lean, with black hair messy from dancing.

He reminds you of someone.

“Him.”

The Corinthian’s gaze finds the object of yours. A grin curls devilishly over his lips.

“Very nice.”

“So…” you look up at him, “What do I do?”

The urge to play with you is strong, like it's embedded in the tissue of his being. “You don't know?”

You nod quickly, trying to figure out what to say. You're supposed to be a professional.

“Well, uh, yeah, of course I know,” you clear your throat. “B-But what do you think I should do?”

He chuckles, turning you to face him as his hands cup your waist. He leans in, moving slowly as his lips brush your ear. He lowers his voice to a deep hum. “I always find that seduction works wonders.”

You nod gently as he pulls aways. His black shades stare into your eyes, dark and compelling. “Alright.”

He chuckles, jutting his chin out toward the man, your canvas. “Go on,” he bids. “Take him to the hotel a few blocks down. I'll be waiting for you there.”

Again, you nod. He knows best.

“Okay.”

He grazes his knuckles along your cheek, granting you one last grin before turning and leaving you to your own devices. You would be fine.

You turn toward the dark-haired man, taking in a deep breath before setting a small smile upon your lips. You begin walking over to him, sinking into the music to blend in with the crowd. Even as your hips sway and your face shifts into something more sultry, your hands tremble as the anxiety slips into your skin.

Stepping up behind him, you get his attention by placing a palm on his slim waist. He glances down at your hand and follows it up your wrist, your arm, your shoulder, up to your pretty face as his own smile spreads across his pink lips. “Hello,” you smile gently, leaning forward just enough to tilt your head back to look up at him.

He turns, enjoying the way your hands shift to stay at his sides, your thumbs feeling over the fabric of his shirt. He’s handsome, easily falling victim to your own charm as he lets you seduce him. His smile widens, though he doesn’t look predatory, like a lot of men you’ve come across among the years. He’s charming.

“Well, hello there.” He looks you up and down, and you take in the sight of his pale blue eyes as he does.

You just keep smiling, and it’s all you have to do for him to fall further and further for your charm. “Hi,” you lick your bottom lip.

Considerate of you, he places his hand on your shoulder and brushes it down your arm slowly until he slips it into your hand, holding one of them and setting his other hand onto your own waist. Yours eased to his shoulder, and soon you were holding one another as you danced on a slow tempo to the quick rhythmed music.

“How's a pretty girl like you doing on a night like this, hm?” he wonders, his voice warm and just as smiling as his lips.

You shrug a shoulder as though you're shy. “I'm doing alright,” you chuckle lightly, breathily. “Are you having fun?”

He hums. “Now that you're here? So much fun.” He watched you appreciatively, biting his lower lip and sighing. “You lookin’ to play with little ole me?”

You tilt your head gently. “Do you like to play?”

“Doll,” he chuckles, “I love to play.”

You giggle softly, and you watch him seem to almost melt at the sound of it. “You wanna play with me?” you lean in a little closer.

“Do I?”

You stand on your tiptoes so your lips brush his ear as you whisper, your words light and airy. “Why don't we go somewhere more private so we can…play?”

He sighs longingly. “Oh, I love the sound of that.”

You smile wide, pulling away from him as you keep your hands firmly clasped. “Well, come on then,” you say as you pull him gently toward the door. He walks with you, joining your side and exiting the club with you on his arm.

As you're walking out, his lead taking you in the direction of his car, you find yourself humming the song that had been playing inside under your breath. His gaze turns to you and he finds himself even further under your enchantment.

What a wonder you are… An angel from heaven.

He helps you into his car, shutting your door and rounding to the other side as he takes his seat as the driver. “So where are we going?” he asks, looking at you with anticipation seeping through every pore.

You smile, and he swears you speak like a melody as you say, “I've got a room down at the hotel.” You bring a hand to your face as you rest your fingers just under your chin. “We shouldn't be interrupted there.”

He grins. “Whatever you say, doll.”

~

He's been so sweet, much closer on the sweeter side of the men you've met since you first came to the mortal plane. Graham, he said his name was.

You nearly felt bad about what was going to happen to Graham…but you wouldn't be putting him to waste. No, you would be honoring him. He would inspire your songs, he would give life to them. That was an honor you felt befit him, an honor he deserved.

The hotel comes into view, and your stomach flips. Graham parks, opens your door like a gentleman, and then offers his hand as the both of you enter the building. You glance around as you walk, wondering what you're supposed to do now. He just said to meet him here…

You walk, tucked into his side as you try not to aimlessly wander. He stays close to you, almost dutifully, and you don't notice the way he gazes at your face.

You look up at him, an innocent—almost naïve—glow to your eyes that makes his smile grow. “You're beautiful, you know that?”

You hum lightly, smiling gently. Your gaze wanders from his and falls upon a conference room door, the window on the door reflecting something off its surface.

Your eyes catch on the silhouette of such a familiar man. You walk over, pulling Graham with you as you push the door open.

“Thought we were going up to your room, doll?” he wonders. You pull him into the dark conference room, glancing around for your new mentor and finding nothing but shadows.

You turn back to Graham, thinking on your feet as you give him a smile. “I…just couldn't wait that long,” you chuckle lightly. You step forward, your hands on his chest.

He smiles, pushing the door closed behind him with his foot and turning the lock as he looks down at you with a smile. “Sounds good to me,” he grins.

He holds your body close, wrapping you up in his arms. Your smile falls as he leans in closer, and when his lips brush yours, you can't help but push him away with the gentle push of your fingertips.

He seems concerned as he takes you in, holding his hands up enough to show he isn't going to hurt you. “What's the matter?”

In the corner of your eyes, you catch a shadow. Your gaze lands on the Corinthian, hidden in the dark space behind Graham with a finger held up to his curling lips, and your breath hitches in a small gasp.

You watch him silently, watching as his hands gesture toward the both of you. He just nods, urging you on.

You look back at Graham, his eyes still just as concerned as before. You remember to smile, stepping back toward him as you slowly set your hands on his shoulders. “Nothing,” you whisper. You kiss him, and he takes a moment to allow you space before his hands fall to your waist again. His lips are soft, comforting.

Tilting your head, your eyes creak open to see the Corinthian again. He smiles reassuringly, lifting his hand to cover his eyes. After receiving your confused look, he just gives another encouraging gesture. You figure, he knows best.

Pulling away again, you keep your hands on his shoulders. Graham opens his eyes, watching you smile up at him. “Close your eyes?” you ask gently.

He chuckles, amused, “Why?”

You bat your lashes, a subtle but rapid blink that makes him pliant to you. “Trust me?” Your voice is gentle and small, a whisper he has nor reason to doubt.

He just sighs and laughs, shaking his head as he brings hand to cover his eyes, peeking at you teasingly before hiding behind his palm again. You look to the Corinthian for more instruction.

He raises his finger to tap his throat. You watch his other hand come up, balling into a tight fist. He punches his palm soundlessly. And you understand.

You place your gaze upon Graham once more. His pretty face, his messy black hair, his pink lips, his closed eyes hiding pale blue rings around his pupils. You clench your fist, feeling the tightness in your fingers, the strain of the skin over your knuckles.

You take in a deep bracing breath, and he's still waiting patiently for you. Patient, gentle, good.

And you strike him hard in his throat, your fist colliding with his Adam’s apple as his eyes bulge from his skull. He tries to gasp at the sudden impact, the sound barely coming out in a painful wheeze as he raises his hands to his throat.

He looks at you, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. His mouth is open wide as he gapes, trying so hard to speak, to breathe, to figure out why.

You hadn't even realized it when the Corinthian moved, his hands landing heavily over Graham’s shoulders as he wheezes and gasps, making the most dreadful sounds in an attempt to breathe.

“Hello, there,” he grins, Graham’s eyes finding him and bulging. When did he get there?

His gaping mouth tries to form a word, and the Corinthian tilts his head to hear it before chuckling lightly. “Don't try to speak. You'll find it hurts more.”

He pulls a chair from the large conference table and sits him roughly down onto it. Graham doesn't try to bolt, the door is locked and he isn't confident in his ability to get out of here with the Corinthian as your apparent partner. He tries to speak, to negotiate, but he can't get any sound past senseless croaks.

The Corinthian joins your side, wrapping an arm possessively around your waist as you stare at the man you'd doomed. Doomed. That's a nice word.

He opens up his jacket, reaching in an inside pocket as he pulls out the silver needle and red thread he'd procured from the Seamstresses.

“Now, beautiful,” he says, handing it over to you, “why don't you take this while I help you out a little?” You look at the tools he offers, blink a couple of times before picking it up.

His crooked finger brushes under your chin before he turns away toward your friend again. He rounds to another chair, which he pulls from its spot tucked at the table, a duffle bag you hadn't noticed before sitting in the seat. In the bag is rope, strong rope he uses to tie Graham to the chair as he kneels behind him.

You glance at the needle. “What do I do with it?”

He looks up at you as he wraps the rope around the back of the chair and his chest and ignores Graham’s struggles. He says it like it's obvious. “You'll sew his mouth shut.”

Graham struggles against the rope, but to no avail. The Corinthian makes a tight knot, looking at him with a warning in his tone. “I suggest you be nice and good for her or…” he smiles, his hands on his shoulders as his lips brush the shell of his ear, “I'll just have to intervene. And you don't want that.”

Graham goes completely still, sweating and crying now. The tears roll down his cheeks and he gives you a desperate look.

You realize your hands are shaking, like the first time you even stepped foot toward him.

“I…” you mutter, staring at the needle.

The Corinthian’s smile remains unchanged, encouraging. “Come on,” he says as he stands, walking over toward you once more. “Don't be shy.”

The anxiety curls in your stomach, shakes in your hands. You take a step back, turning to him timidly as you don't meet his eyes. “I'm… I'm not her,” you say, struggling to get the words out as the nerves eat away at you. “I lied… I'm not the Whisperer. I'm just…some dream… I'm just a dream.”

He laughs, and you watch him as the confusion sinks into the features of your face. Graham is out of both your minds as you stare at him.

“Well, I know that.” He chuckles, stepping into your space as he grabs your free hand, cradling it in his palm. “But you're not just any dream, are you? You're Aria. One of Morpheus’ special dreams, his little song.”

Irritation rises in your belly and you shake your head, stepping back and letting go of his hand. “I'm not Aria,” you bite. “Not anymore. I hate that name.”

He raises a brow. “Do you now?” His smirk is devilish. “Who are you then?”

You stare at him, offering the name you'd take thirty years ago when you left the Dreaming for the first time, your new name with its new rhythm and rhyme. The Corinthian repeats it back to you, tasting it on his tongue like honey.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, another step taking you away from him. “But I'm not the Whisperer.”

He shrugs. “‘Course you're not. I made her up.” You watch him, surprise in every crevice of your face. He reaches out and takes your hands, pulling you close again as he watches you, the look I'm his eyes almost predatory as he lowers his voice for you to hear. His words seep into your skin.

“But you want to be, don't you?” He smiles, “I can see it in your eyes, you wanna be more than Dream's ‘little song’, don't ya?”

Graham watches, feeling his vocal chords easing in the slightest bit. He still can't speak, can't scream, can't get any sound out but a whisper so quiet, he still can't be heard.

“You want to be something not so sweet,” he continues. “You wanna sing something other than Kumbaya, holding hands with your neighbors and bein’ all nice and happy.”

Your lip twitches at the mention of that song, a campfire song that felt like a pinnacle of your distaste for the music you've been forced to sing. “I hate Kumbaya,” you mumble.

He chuckles. “Don't we all?” He brushes his knuckles along your cheekbone, smoothing down to rest underneath your chin. “You can be so much more than that. I know it. You can leave behind all that sweetness, and become like me. Remake yourself in your own image.”

He raises your hand, still cupping the needle and thread in your palm. “All you have to do…” he gently pushes your palm toward your body, separating each word as he does, “...is take the needle.”

He takes a step back, giving you space to think.

You look down at your palm, contemplating. This is it. This is your chance to become more than a little songbird. You could become better. You could fulfill your own hopes and dreams and become a better version of you.

Your fingers curl over your palm.

Your eyes turn on Graham, and fear flashes across his face. You take the first step toward him, then another, and he begins to squirm in his chair as you do. The Corinthian tuts, walking toward him as he places his hands on his shoulders to keep him down, still.

He smiles, a dark and wicked smile. “There you go,” he encourages. “Do it. Become more than that sweet little dream. Do what you want to do, not what you were made to.”

You take the string of thread and punch it between your thumb and forefinger, stilling your breath completely as your slightly shaky hands work to thread the needle. It takes a moment for you to get it through the eye, letting out a relieved sigh when you do.

Graham keeps squirming, despite the uselessness. You stand in front of him. “Take a seat,” the Corinthian says. “It'll be easier.”

You set your free hand on his shoulder, lowering yourself onto his lap as you straddle him. His mouth forms a word, the slightest whisper tearing painfully from his throat as it did. Please. Please. Please.

He casts a desperate, pleasing gaze upon you, his life in your hands—the hands of the beautiful siren who had forsaken him. You watch him with an unwavering gaze, the anxiety and anticipation curling your brows.

He is so good. So genuinely good. The kind of good that stares at your face and calls you beautiful. The kind that keeps calling you beautiful until you no longer have the capacity not to believe it. He's the kind of good that holds you when you're sad, wipes away your tears when you cry. The kind of good that makes you feel better about living in such a cruel world.

And you want to feel bad about taking his life away, about taking the rhythm of his heartbeat away.

But you can't, and you don't. And honestly, a rage and desperation flares within you as you stare at him. Because he is good. And that's just the problem, isn't it?

For so long, all of your songs have been so good. Songs about dancing birds and twinkling stars and buzzing bees. Songs about hope and love and care and whatever else. And you're sick of it.

You were only drawn to him because he's good.

You need something new, something a little fiercer than the blazing sun in the sky, something a little darker than the moonless night. You need inspiration.

And he could give it to you. The Corinthian would help.

You begin to move your hands toward his face, and Graham desperately tries to move away. You sigh, looking up at the Corinthian. He understands immediately.

Taking Graham’s face in his hands, he holds his head still and his jaw securely closed. He bears his teeth like a frightened animal, breathing quickly as whispers of protest strain in his crushed vocal chords.

You use one hand to hold his lips closed. The Corinthian nods along with you. “Just at the corner. Right there.” You slide your pinched fingers over to the left corner of his lips. “Very good. Now just…push it in…”

You position the needle, holding there for a long time as you internalize taking this step. All you have to do…is push it in.

The needle pierces his flesh, sinking into his skin as he screams silently, held still as a statue by the Corinthian, as though his strength is nothing to him.

The sharp end comes out on the other side of his bottom lip, and you pull it all the way through as the red thread becomes redder with the blood staining it. You pull until you have enough length, tying the end off with steadier hands.

“Very good,” the Corinthian praises. “See? You're a natural.”

He takes in his success, his great triumph. Dream's little song…nothing more now than the outlines of a nightmare waiting to be filled in with a little more color. He almost feels drunk off the sight of you, straddling this man as you continue to pierce him with your needle and sew his lips shut, tight, taking away the one thing you were made to do.

Sing.

Such a sweet little bird you are now, a corrupted and twisted little dream in the hands of a wicked nightmare.

He watches you thread the needle through his flesh as Graham continues to cry and try and try and try to scream, to have someone hear him, save him from the pain and torture. But you're all alone in here, locked inside this room with nothing but the night…

As you focus, you find yourself easing into the task. Pinching and piercing and pulling and repeating. You smile, calm as a melody comes to mind.

You hum it, lower and slower than the original speed. The Corinthian watches, in awe of you as you continue to work. He almost swears the rhythm of Graham’s silent breaths and cries begin to form to the rhythm of your song.

“Say ‘Night-ie night’ and kiss me,” you whisper, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Graham’s nose. “Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.”

You poke the needle through the end of his lip, piercing the far right corner slowly, calmly. “While I'm alone and blue as can be…” You tie the end of the knot, singing a little slower as you do. “Dream a little dream of…me.”

You lean forward and cut the thread with your teeth, taking in the sight of your good work. The Corinthian lets Graham go, and he just sits there, still sobbing, his face wet with tears and blood and sweat.

“Look at that,” the Corinthian admires, laughing deep in his throat as he sets his hands on your shoulders and shakes his head. “Beautiful.”

You stare at him, taking in the sight before you. The Corinthian’s hands fall to your waist, and his head rests at the crook of your neck. Graham’s eyes struggle to stay open, his vision blurry with tears and the adrenaline and pain crashing down and making it hard to find the will to stay conscious.

“Look at all your hard work,” the Corinthian hums, the sound of your song still playing in his mind. “How does it feel?”

You look at him. His dark blood is crimson as it stains his shirt. His messy black hair is only worse now, his pale blue eyes brighter and paler as his pupils grow to the size of a coin.

He looks beautiful, you think.

“Different.”

The tip of his nose brushes underneath your ear. “Do you want to finish it off?”

You nod gently.

The Corinthian fishes a sharp blade from the inside of his jacket. He takes your hand and wraps it around the handle, gripping it tight and helping to guide you.

“Right…” he moves the tip of the blade to press against Graham’s straining neck. He presses it right under his chin, starting from the far right, opposite the needle, “...here.”

“Here?” you ask as he lets go, keeping the blade steady.

He nods. “Right there.”

You lift your other hand to hold the back of his neck steady. Graham watches, terrified. You stare him dead in the eyes, unblinking, unwavering.

You carve the blade into his throat and slice. All the way across, you take your time in slowly slitting his throat. You only blink as the blood sprays out of his sliced arteries and spray all over your face and neck. It keeps spraying and keeps spraying, coming in spurts as he chokes on his blood, gurgling and coughing.

You continue to stare at him, even as you've finished even after he has died and the light has left his eyes and the songs have left his soul. His eyes are bulgy and he's drenched in blood. Butchered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a dark hand reaching out to Graham. You want to turn, to see her take him, to watch as he is swept away in the hands of Death to his afterlife. But you don't. Watching Graham, you see the flickers of hope in his eyes die out as the life leaves him and replaces it with emptiness. A momentary silence is filled with the gentle flap of wings.

The Corinthian comes back to mind as he pulls you back enough to see the whole of your work. He shakes his head in admiration, smiling wide.

“Your first one,” he says.

“My first one.”

“How does it feel?”

His hands on your hips pull you back against his body. You lean into him. “Different.”

He chuckles lightly, one of his hands moving from your waist in favor of sliding up the length of your body to wrap around your throat, resting there as he holds you securely. His other hand slides down your arm and takes the knife from your hand.

“I think you liked it,” he hums in your ear, dropping his knife on the table with a clatter and holding your neck tighter. “Having his life in your hands?”

You swallow thickly, staring at the dripping blood as the crimson on your face dries. “I–”

“Say it,” he cuts you off, his lips right by your ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe. “You loved it. You loved silencing him.”

He feels your shallow breaths beneath his palm. Still dazed, you say, “I–”

“Say it.”

You take in a slow breath, filling your lungs before you admit it, the curling in your stomach gone and replaced by the chills along your skin. “I loved it,” you sigh. “I loved silencing him.”

He smiles triumphantly. “I know you did,” he chuckles. “Now look at you. A new person, a new dream.” His smile widens and his hand tightens. “You're just like me.”

“Just like you.”

“A nightmare.” His lips graze the shell of your ear.

“A nightmare.”

You lean into him with a slight moan when his lips press against your neck, kissing it with insistent lips and insistent teeth. “Just like you,” you whisper, like the repeating lyrics of a song.

“Just like me.”

Your eyes flutter at the way his teeth nip at your flesh. “A nightmare.”

“A nightmare.” He turns you around in his arms, moving you so your back presses against the table. His lips crash down on yours, swallowing you whole as they do. He can taste the blood staining your lips. You melt against him, weak and wanting as his body presses flush against yours. He bends you back against the table, laying you down as his lips trail down to the skin of your neck, kissing and biting and sucking.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “A corrupted little dream.”

Corrupted. You like that word.

“Corinthian,” you moan, bringing your arms up as your hands wrap around the back of his head and keep him close to you.

“My little dream,” he scoffs, his hands gripping your body tightly.

You go to speak, but he cuts you off. He laughs wickedly. “But you're not a dream, are you? And you're not a nightmare.”

“Cor–”

“You're just a little whore, aren't you?” he smirks, riding your shirt up as his hand slips under it. “A little whore who wants to be something else.”

You moan. “A whore.”

His face is inches from yours again as he speaks quietly, his voice low and rough and dangerous. “You thought I wouldn't know what you were when I saw you?” he questions, finding it amusing. “You thought I wouldn't know you were just a dream trying to be something she isn't?”

Your breath has picked up, heavy as your head spins. “I–”

He's not having it. He silences you again, holding your throat still as he makes you look at him, as he makes sure you can't look away. “Let me show you what you are,” he breathes. “Then I'll rebuild you into something you can be.”

Enchanted by him and his words, you breathe deeply. “Show me what I am,” you echo.

He nods, “That's right.”

“What I can be.”

“Good girl,” he praises. He attacks your mouth once more. It's a bruising kiss as he wraps you up in him. His hand grips your neck tightly, constricting your breath a bit as he does. With one hand, he rips your dress from your body and lets it fall to the ground in rags. You gasp as he does it, your body now exposed to the chilly air as you're left in nothing but your undergarments.

He hums deeply as he looks over you. He smiles. “Dream had it right with this body,” he says, running his hand over your skin and listening to the way you moan.

He hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them roughly down your legs to reveal yourself to him. “Look at you,” he breathes as he smooths his hand over your mound. “You're so pretty, aren't you?”

You moan when his long middle finger sinks inside of you, sliding between your damp folds. He's surprised by how wet you are, though he supposes he shouldn't be.

You immediately clamp down around his finger, and he lets out a long sigh. “Such a tight little thing.”

Your legs move to close at the intrusion, not new to the feeling but still not quite used to it either. He just forces them apart, keeping you spread wide for him as he does. “Don't you hide yourself from me,” he says, thrusting a second finger inside of you as you moan at the stretch.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, collecting the gathering wetness as he watches you through his dark glasses, admires the way your body responds to him.

Your hips meet his hands as he keeps touching you, eager to feel more of him as your shallow breaths continue to pass between your lips. When he pulls his hand from you, you whimper at the loss, clenching around nothing in an attempt to feel him again.

You watch as he sets his fingers on his tongue, closing his mouth around them and suckling with a deep hum. He caresses your name with his lips as he looks down at you. “You're delicious, sweetheart,” he says, and your body keens into his touch.

His hand around your throat tightens as he bends down so his face is hardly separated from yours. “I bet you'd just love to feel my mouth on you, hm?”

You nod quickly, “Please.”

He laughs darkly, kissing you roughly and letting his mouth trail down your body—down, down, down until his mouth ghosts over your fluttering pussy.

Your back arches when you feel his hot mouth against you. His tongue laps against your folds and he suckles around you, tasting the sweetness of your nectar. His tongue flattens against you as he begins to lick you up.

His hand loosens around your throat before ultimately letting go to hold your grinding hips down. Your mouth falls open and you give into him, tangling your fingers in his hair and encouraging his mouth against you.

He laps at your pussy like you're the finest wine. He can taste the virtue that pulsed in your veins, and he can taste the darkness beginning to replace it. His tongue delves inside of you, his lips wrapping around your throbbing clit and suckling gently.

The pleasure jolts through your body like a fire, and you’re entirely willing to let it consume you. You want to feel its burning flames lick at your flesh, searing it from bone to turn you to ash and create something new out of the remains.

The Corinthian sinks three fingers into you after a while, pumping them in and out as you enjoy the delicious stretch with closed eyes, moaning and grinding. He looks up at you, looking for your eyes and finding them hooded.

You mewl when he pulls away from you. “No, no, no,” he says. “Open your eyes, sweetheart. You gotta watch me make you mine.”

You do as you're told, opening your eyes and doing your best to keep them that way. He praises you with another “good girl” before he's wrapping his lips around you again.

He enjoys every second immensely, tasting the sweet nectar of your arousal as he coaxes it from you, taking the grinding of your hips every time he curls his fingers or sucks on your clit.

You moan his name as you feel the rise in your stomach tightening with an oncoming pleasure. You clench around his fingers, your clit pulses against his tongue. You've forgotten all about Graham's body slumped in his bindings, you'd forgotten the blood staining your face and neck. It's all the Corinthian.

You throw your head back roughly and gasp when you cum, your head spinning as the back of it smacks against the table. Your thighs tremble and shake as he refuses to let up, sinking his tongue deeper inside. Your moans almost sound like tiny cries as you grind your hips into his mouth.

He licks his lips, tasting you on his tongue with an immense amount of appreciation. "You're fucking delicious, baby,” he hums, smirking dangerously.

He sits up to his full height once more, his hand finding its place around your throat as he bends down to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on his tongue is intoxicating.

His lips smack as he pulls away from you. Without a word, he flips you onto your stomach atop the table. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing it roughly. The breath is forced from your lungs as your chest presses against the table.

The Corinthian tangles his hand in your hair as he roughly pulls your head up, making you look up as your eyes fall on Graham.

“Look at him,” he hums. “Look at all that good work.”

You do. You take in the sight of him with a new set of eyes. The red thread keep his lips shut tight. He'd made such wonderful sounds when you'd sewn them. You'd taken his song and added it to your own, his fear and his desperation had been the perfect addition to your symphony.

His blood soaks his clothes, as well as your face, what was once crimson now darker from being exposed to the air. You can still hear the way he choked, the way he gasped for air that wouldn't come.

His skin was so pale, his eyes that were once a pale blue now cloudy and grey with the mask of death. His once pink lips are just as grey. You can still see the smile they made, the words they spoke. The things he could sing.

You could still hear him singing.

You moan when the Corinthian’s hand presses between your slick folds again. He smiles, another dark chuckle slipping from his lips. “There you go,” he says. “Nice and slick for me. Be a good girl and say please.”

You let out an airy breath, mumbling a tiny whisper of, “Please.”

But he isn't convinced as he groans and shakes his head. “No, you can do better than that, sweetheart. Now I'm not going to give you what you need until you say please.”

Desperate and needy, you let out another breathy moan. “Please,” you whine again, louder this time as your words form into a melody. “I need you. I need you to make me yours.”

He's drunk off your obedience, the way you gave into him so easily from the start. He inclines his head, satisfied. “Good girl.”

The jingle of his belt buckle fills your ears with its gentle ring. Your pussy flutters when you feel the tip of him press against your folds. “Please,” you whisper again.

You let out a long breath when he buries himself to the hilt inside of your hot cunt. A rough groan falls from his lips, the tip of his cock pressing deep inside of you as you lose your breath.

You grip the table, allowing the pleasure to fill you as he holds your hips tight. You moan at the stretch of him inside you.

The Corinthian lets out a deep breath, steadying himself as he pulls out just barely to the tip before roughly thrusting back into. You moan loudly, your head dizzy with the feeling blossoming inside of you.

He doesn't allow you a slow build. He doesn't give you the privilege of easing you into the monstrous nature of his love. Instead, he holds you steady as he fucks into your tight pussy, snapping his hips in and out of you without sparing a second for you to adjust to him.

He grunts and groans behind you as he uses you to his need. He feeds off your moans, their song-like nature filling the air and seeming to hypnotize him into wanting even more of you, into needing even more of you.

The sound of his hips smacking against your ass fills the room. It joins your moans and his dark grunts, blending together perfectly.

“Listen to you,” he grunts. “You're my little song now.”

You can no longer think straight, your head spinning with pleasure, with the sound of Graham's singing in your head, with the sound of flapping wings.

You watch Graham as if through rose-colored glasses, the pleasure mixing with the sight of him creating something you've never felt before as you continue to moan meekly.

And, for a moment, you think of Dream.

As a melody plays in the back of your brain, a new melody you've never heard before, you think about how much you want to show Dream.

But he abandoned you. And, before that, he'd created you as a sweet dream that could never know anything other than harmony. And you hated him for that.

So, as you watch the blood drip from his sealed lips, you smile and give into the Corinthian completely. His fingers press to your clit, and you shudder as you feel yourself getting so close, so close to falling apart and forever becoming the Corinthian’s song…ready to leave Sweet Dream behind forever.

The pressure builds as his speed on your clit does as well. You clench around his cock, your head light and your moans scratching your throat. “Corinthian,” you whine. “I'm so close.”

His hips snap into yours a little harder. “I bet you are,” he huffs. “Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll make you nice and full.”

The pleasure rises within you until you can’t hold it in anymore. With a thrust of his hips and a circle of his finger, you fall apart. Your whole body shudders as you let out a loud, breathy moan as it all comes crashing down. You give in to the Corinthian’s symphony of death.

A rough groan, bordering on a growl, erupts from his throat as he shoves his cock as deep inside you. He gives in to the squeeze of your cunt and cums, grinding his hips so deep as he fills you to the brim.

And with one last thrust, with his cum buried in your fluttering pussy, he claims you as his. He lets go of your hair, pulling out of you with a heavy sigh.

You whimper at the loss of him, laying on the table as your legs shake.

The Corinthian’s arms wrap around you, picking you up and pulling you to stand as he embraces you in another kiss. You lean into him, letting his lips meld against yours.

He looks over your face, the new clarity in your eyes. He smiles.

“Sing me a song, sweetheart.”

And you do. You sing a song of a dying promise, the sounds of the symphony you'd just created allowing you to sing a melody of broken hope and shattered dreams.

You sing for a long time as the Corinthian listens to you, enchanted by your song, by your new dream.

Now, you belonged to him.

The Sandman taglist: @poetic-fiasco @the-nerdy-goddess @life-on-needs @fanreader @jamiethenerdymonster @sarahbullet235 @majestyjade @melinoe-the-rat @katsukis1wife @sugakookieswithacupoftae16 @hatterripper31 @kplatzman @kmc1989 The Corinthian taglist: @waitingformysandman @honey-im-hotdog @saltysasque @anotherblackreader Tag yourself here...

[dolcetters]

vanilla sunday .

no one asked, i just heckin’ felt like it m’dude. under readmore for length. i’ll try to keep my answers relatively to-the-point, too, since this’ll be a longer post but feel free to inquire on things or ... whatever u-u/ aye. i go sleep now.

is your muse a romantic? do they dream of love and marriage?

short answer: no.

as a teenager, dol didn’t have much interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with any of his peers around yuflam--or at all, really. by the time he got to academy things were either too busy or starting to get too tense for him to consider the idea. and shortly after that he went over a decade thinking he’d never even see sunlight again.

at this point, he just... --it’s just another thing he might want but doesn’t recognize it as something he wants. because he’s earnestly so bad at listening to his own desires and is more than willing to cast them aside if it means aiding someone he cares about achieve their own.

is your muse a deviant? are they overly flirtatious or forward?

no. there’s no real expansion on this, just no. <xD he tends to be much more bashful and sheepish, partially because of aforementioned inability to recognize he might want a relationship with someone. and even if he DOES realize this, he’s... extremely self aware. we’ll leave it at that.

is your muse good at kissing? are they experienced?

NOPE. and no. he’s never kissed anyone.

does your muse initiate a lot of physical contact?

nooooo no no no. he has an anxiety disorder (haphephobia) revolving around physical contact and even something as “small” as shaking hands or a shoulder bump can make him very nervous, uncomfortable and alert. the reaction is almost doubled if it comes with the sensation or energy of being grabbed.

it’s going to take a lot of time, patience, and trust for him to be comfortable initiating physical contact with you.

is your muse comfortable with public displays of affection?

no, for both the above reason as well as the paranoia that comes with being a fugitive/legally dead. the less attention that’s drawn to him, the better. at most, he’d hold your hand... but refer to the previous question for that.

does your muse steal clothing from their partner?

less “steal” and more borrow. due to having limited resources after escaping the labs and very few belongings he can truly call his own, dol wouldn’t/doesn’t just take or use things that belong to friends, family or potential partners (part of this spurs from his OWN resource guarding). he’d be more likely to approach you while you were brushing your teeth and be like “hey, s’it cool if i wear your hoodie today” and then respond based on that answer.

and he’s going to ask you every time. he doesn’t assume.

is your muse the big spoon or the little spoon?

varies! but most likely, when they’re facing each other, he little-spoons because pressing his face into the curve of the neck just above the collar is not only secure and comforting somehow, but he can hear your heartbeat.

when one of them is facing away, he tends to big spoon. --and obviously this is all assuming he’s at that level of comfort when it comes to physical touch + the partner.

is your muse comfortable with, or proud of their body? are they insecure?

complicated?

he’s very comfortable and proud of his body when it comes to his physical build, strength, fitness, etc. his strength and speed is something he values and keeping himself healthy and capable is very important to him. he knows he’s done a good job (those arms don’t lie) and he takes pride in that.

~however~, being a chimera... --he’s optimistic, yes. he’s just happy to be alive, of course. it’s not so bad. ...but he is fully, deeply, and painfully aware of how someone might react to witnessing some of his “quirks” when it comes to his splice or the idea of being with someone who isn’t entirely human. and the fact that he often became a target of light jabbing and jokes with the nesties, because dog behavior is much more well-known and commonly familiar than croc or snake or bull behavior, has only added to this awareness.

then, of course, there’s the added detail that he’s not even a perfected chimera. he’s just a successful one. a C- on some government biology test; barely passing.

so yeah. there’s some surface level pride, but... a lot of shame underneath.

is your muse attracted to any features in particular?

physical? no.

he has a soft spot and respect for people who refuse to give into their pain, though. where he experienced trauma and fear and let it make him hardened in a lot of ways, there are other people who have only become brighter, warmer, and do whatever they can to keep someone else from experiencing what they have.

to say he admires that trait in a person is an understatement.

have their crushes been mostly male, mostly female, or evenly split?

he’s only really had two, and they’ve both been gals, so i guess that makes it mostly female. i’ve mentioned before that he might have been uselessly in love with martel in the time before the raid (whether she felt the same is unknown) and he in default verse is lowkey sweet on rose.

have their partners been mostly male, mostly female, or evenly split?

he hasn’t had a partner.

is your muse easily flustered? do they blush, swear, etc.?

yes, yes, yes. him being flustered is usually a combo-result of: (1) not being used to that kind of attention from someone he actually likes,  (2) having no idea how to respond, (3) internalized shame over what he is, and (4) he’s a fucking idiot.

where is your muse most sensitive?

his head, mostly, especially on his hair line and around the ears.

and i can 10000% promise to you that if he ever lets you comb your fingers in his hair or rub around his temples and you make some kind of dog-related-comment, you’re actually going to cause a shit-ton of psychic damage i’m gonna need you to roll like 10d6 for me.

please, please please please don’t ever refer to him as--or make jokes connecting him to--a dog in moments that are supposed to be vulnerable and/or intimate, i can’t... express this enough, it will hurt him.

is your muse more submissive or dominant in a relationship?

idk, i guess submissive but again: idk

would your muse ever tempt their partner, e.g. flirting, wearing tight/sexy clothing?

nah. not really his thing.

if he does “tempt” them it’s going to be sincerely accidental. like... yeah you walked in on me doing pull-ups i guess. would you hand me my water bottle? i’m parched.

does your muse initiate heated/sexual contact, or do they wait for their partner?

i feel like this question deserves it’s own post because i have a LOT of thoughts regarding rosecetto, specifically, on this topic.

outside of that ship, however, the answer is likely no. he’s not the initiator primarily for touch-anxiety reasons and also chimera-related-shame reasons, even if the partner has assured him there’s nothing wrong with him in the past.

does your muse leave hickies? do they ask for them?

eeehhhhh???? ... i guess accidentally sometimes?? and no.

does your muse like to be pinned down, or to pin their partner?

that’s a big NO. if you pin him down, even if he’s reached a point of security with you that he allows you to touch him, you’re going to flare up any of that anxiety that had previously subsided. he’s been physically restrained and held down far too long and all for bad/painful reasons, and he can’t associate it with anything other than “they’re going to hurt me and i need to get away, no matter what i have to do”.

as for pinning his partner, it’s likely also a no because he’d just... be too aware of his own trauma to even try doing it and he’d probably be uncomfortable being asked to do it.

has your muse reached first/second/third base? home run?

honey, he’s done nothing, he hasn’t even swung--

would your muse be interested in engaging with multiple partners?

no. he doesn’t see anything wrong with it when it comes to other people but this is definitely not for him or something he could be comfortable with.

would your muse ever send a sexual text message? would they send pictures?

n/a, but even in modern verses the answer would be no

does your muse read smut, own magazines, or watch p-rn?

nah

is your muse the type to discuss their sex life or sexual prowess with others?

abso. fucking lutely. not. no no no.

at absolute. MOST? he might open up to sakura (yinseal) about it. maybe greed (avadite). and it’d only be if he felt like he was doing something wrong or felt overwhelmed and self-conscious. but otherwise this is his and his partner’s business.

is your muse a top, a bottom, or a switch? do they have a lean?

defaults to bottom but will top if asked or in some circumstances.

crystal has confirmed that rose (forsakenflora) tops, so jfdlfjklsjkldhsd

how interested is your muse in sex and sexual activity?

he’s not.

it’s not a priority of his, and he definitely doesn’t want to hear about yours.

do they have sex frequently, occasionally, or rarely?

not at all right now jf kljdklhshf lhfklsdg

[dazed--xx]

Useless

Request: Can you do a one shot were you fight and he says something that really hurt you bc you were insecure about that and then you act kinda distant and idk can it fluff and angst pretty please 🥺 I love your blog 💜(tae)

Summary:  “Maybe I wanted to have some time to myself for a change? Did you ever think about that? Maybe I didn’t want some clingy leach attached to my hip at every second of the fucking day... I finally wanted to be able to fucking breathe. Like damn I can see why your parents didn’t want you... you're fucking useless....” The foul insults like venom. Useless... He thinks you're useless...

Member: Taehyung x Idol!reader

Word Count: 2,276

Genre: Angst, light smut, light fluff

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONS OF ABUSE

A/N: Shout out to the reader who requested my first Tae one shot, hope you enjoy. I got some big things planned to come out so i hope yall follow make sure you check out my masterlist for other stories 

(Not my gif)

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“Y/N!!” Tae shouts from the living room finally acknowledging my presence for the first time today. Waking me from a dead sleep, that falling feeling startling. “Y/N!!!” His voice booming. Sluggishly, WHAT TIME IS IT?? 1:54 am the alarm clock reads I scream into the pillow and make my wake to the living room. The bright light blinding, Tae on the couch with Jungkook. “Yes?” the annoyance in my tone evident. “We’re hungry can you make us something please?” THE FUCKING NERVE!!!! I roll my eyes “Did you speak to me for the last 16 hours?” confusion creeping onto his face at my passive aggressive attitude. Jungkook’s face contorts obviously uncomfortable. “I was just asking you to make us food, no need to be a bitch about it ill just order out” He snaps back “and by the way if you have something to fucking say then say it I don’t appreciate the off handed comments especially when you could have come to me as well and speak to me..” his eyes roll, Jungkook eyeing the door “WELL!.... this has been......fun. I'm gonna head out. Sorry Y/N didn’t mean to upset you” I smile at his friendliness. “Goodnight Jungkookie, I'll see you next time okay I'm sorry to make you feel uncomfortable.” I escort him out the door.  

Tae’s eyes fuming as I turn around. “Look what you fucking did! You made him leave all because of you’re stupid fucking attitude!” He shouts, throwing his controller on the ground smashing it. “You couldn’t just say you didn’t fucking feel like it instead of pushing my friend out the fucking door” fear creeping up in my body. Me and Tae have fought before but he’s never raised his voice like this. He’s never been THIS angry before. “Tae, I’m sorry but I was sleeping and-” “DOES IT LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FUCK ABOUT WHAT YOU WERE DOING?” his terrifying voice booming. Tears sting my eyes all my anger from the day boiling over as the confession spews out of my mouth “NO YOU DON’T BECAUSE YOU NEVER FUCKING CARE ABOUT WHAT THE FUCK I DO TODAY WAS A CLEAR INDICATION OF THAT NO? YOU HAVE A FUCKING DAY OFF AND YOU LITERALLY SPEND IT IGNORING ME AND PLAYING YOUR STUPID ASS GAME. I ASK YOU TO TAKE A WALK WITH ME AND YOURE TOO TIRED. I ASK YOU TO TAKE A NAP WITH ME YOU WANT TO BE UP. SO, WHAT THE FUCK IS IT HUH? SO, WHEN I FINALLY, FINALLY FALL ASLEEP YOU WANT TO FUCKING WAKE ME UP TO ASK ME TO COOK FOR YOU AND JUNGKOOK?????????”  

“Maybe I wanted to have some time to myself for a change? Did you ever think about that? Maybe I didn’t want some clingy leach attached to my hip at every second of the fucking day... I finally wanted to be able to fucking breathe. Like damn I can see why your parents didn’t want you... you're fucking useless....” The foul insults like venom. Useless... He thinks you're useless...

*10 YEARS AGO,*

“Y/N! YOU RUINED IT! IT WAS MY FAVORITE AND YOU BROKE IT!!” My older sister shouts, as her hand harshly cracks along my cheek. Tears stream down my face, “I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to...” I whimper. The mirror on the ground shattered like my heart, my sisters rough hand shoves me to my knees. Glass stabbing at my skin like a thousand knives, her hand in my hair. “CLEAN IT NOW!!!” Her shouting alerts my mother. “Y/S/N? What's going on?” My mother's soft voice asks as she comes into the room. “Tsk....Y/N what did you do now?” Annoyance in her tone, her eyes rolling. “She broke my mirror. She broke my favorite mirror....she's so useless mom why is she here she needs to go.” My sister whined.  

“Let her go, Y/N pick this up and come to my room...” the tone dark. Fear taking a hold of my chest. Whilst cleaning the mirror my sisters torture did not end glass penetrated my hand every time, she shoved me over as I held each shard with care. Dread fills me as the mirror is completely clean. Slowly, I trek to my mother's room my 12-year-old frame trembling as I stand in front of my mother's door heart beating threatening to burst out of my chest.  

“Y/N LETS GO NOW” my mother shouts from the other side of the door. The beating didn’t last too long the pain only temporary; the lecture lasted a lifetime the pain forever. “Why do you have to be so damn useless huh? It's like you enjoy ruining our lives, you never seem to do anything right and I'm so god damn tired of fucking covering for you. SO, you need to go, I don’t care where it is you go but it's not here. I want you out by tomorrow and don’t take none of that expensive shit that’s mine”. I was out within the hour, terrified of what may come if I lasted until tomorrow. Rushing out of the door at 3 am with all of my essential belongings in hand, with no destination in sight.  

Months go by living all around Seoul at parks, bus stations, motels when I get really lucky. Singing in the street to come up with a few dollars to eat. Some days I didn’t make enough and I would slip items in my clothes, becoming quite the “artist”.  One day, I’m singing in front of a small store front 2 gentlemen dressed lavishly listening intently phone recording as my verse comes to an end. Their eyes burning holes into me as a blush creeps up onto my face. The crowd disperses at the top of my hat a business card BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT. Confusion strikes me turning the card over. A small hand written note and address on the back ‘TOMORROW 2 PM’. My heart races WHAT????

*TRAINEE DAYS*

“Y/N-AH STOP BEING SO DAMN USELESS AND PLEASE HIT THE BEAT ON THE RIGHT COUNT!” My groups dance lead, Hye-un shouts. Fury in her eyes, “Seriously we probably would have debuted by now if you could do something right like you can't sing, you can't dance...what can you do huh?? Stand there? Remember you’re only here because Namjoon oppa felt bad for you.” her words cut like knives. “Namjoon oppa thinks I'm good..” I mutter weakly, under my breathe as tears slide down my face. Every girl laughs, “No, honestly no one does like come on, you can't see it, He felt bad for you idiot. You were homeless and needed a place to go.” Jisoo snaps. Her words breaking my heart, grabbing my bag and dashing toward the door. They won't get to see me cry...not like that... not for them.  

Running down the hallway, hunting for the farthest studio away from them to release my demons. THUD! “Oof DUDE WATCH WHERE YO-” The loud voice cut off “LOOK IM NOT IN THE FUCKING MOOD MOVE” I shout as I stand up to run past the stranger. “Damn... Okay... rude... are you okay though you look like you’re crying” He says as I wipe my eyes getting a clear view of the man that I've collided with. A blush instantly creeping on my face as the familiar face becomes recognizable and my head shoots down, Taehyung oppa. All the anger in me fades quickly as the god like man shifted. My voice is shaky, “IM SO SORRY, I wasn’t paying attention. I'm just having a rough morning. I should get going, I'm so sorry... I..Um...S-Sorry” He chuckles “Ha, you said that already...3 times in fact” a small giggle escapes my lips.

“So, I know you don’t know me or anything but I’m a great listener. Maybe you can tell me what's going on, it might help” He says sincerely. Hesitant, I look down “um....-” “Look, don’t worry if you don’t want to physically tell me give me your number you can text it to me then that way you and I don’t have to be face to face and it can help you to get more out that sound good?” I nod as he pulls out his phone and asks for mine. His number in my phone as Tae<3. A smile creeps up onto my face as he pulls me into a hug. My body melts into his like I've known him for years. “Okay so I'll talk to you later” A smile on his face as he walks off.  

Blushing, as realization dawns on me as I pull my phone out to text him.  

*PRESENT*  

From there I told Tae everything, my fears, my past, insecurities. Useless....that's all I’ve ever been. My sobs no longer able to be held back as they barrel their way through my chest. “F-fin-ne then Tae you won't have to worry about me being in your way anymore” I whisper as I turn around and walk into the bedroom Tae and I share. Locking the door behind me I curl up in bed and let the tears take over me. Mama never loved you, the girls never wanted you to debut with them, they made you go solo because of how useless the group thought you were, You're so fucking useless to Tae. I ruin fucking everything I'm sorry Tae. The tears putting you to sleep eventually.  

TAE’S POV  

FUCK!! FUCK!! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!! FUCK! YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO???????!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!!! The regret fills my mind as the bedroom door locks in my face. Her sobs filling the apartment, my heart cracking at the sound. Sitting outside of the door listening to the love of my life cry herself to sleep in our bedroom, alone, because of me. Baby I'm so sorry...you know I never would mean anything like that, but the words never come out.  

Nothing can physically come out as my heart pounds in my throat terrified of what tomorrow could bring. Would she leave? NO! Tae don’t think like that Y/N loves you and she’ll know you could never mean that...right? Tears streaming down my face at the thought. You fucked up...you fucking hurt her in one of the worst fucking ways possible. There's no way she's going to forgive you. Trudging back to the couch as I let the tears consume me.  

Y/N’S POV

The sun beaming in my eyes, burning, as I blink myself awake. Eyes sore, Tae’s words resting at the front of my mind. Making my way to the restroom, the second the door is open Tae is in front of me on his knees. “Baby, I’m an asshole okay but I love you and-and I'm sorry” He pleads as he wraps his arms around my waist head resting against my stomach. Disgust filling me, “Move, I have to use the restroom” Tae’s saddened figure retreats back to the living room defeated. Tears stream down my face as the hot water from the shower soaks me. My pain evident, Tae shuffling outside of the bathroom door every few minutes whispering to himself before disappearing back into the living room.  

Placing one of my tank tops and sweat pants on, I make my way out of the bathroom. Tae rushing behind me as I walk back into the bed room. The saddened puppy looks still on his face. His regret in his eyes, his face is puffy and red proof he’s been crying over his words. The sight weakening my angry state as he reaches for my face and looks into my eyes caressing my cheek. His gaze drifting to my lips, slowly leaning forward he brushes his lips against mine looking for some form of consent. My eyes close as he presses forward and kisses me with so much emotion, his tongue delving in to my mouth and tasting me. A slight moan released from his lips as he presses me against the bedroom door slamming it shut. He lifts my right leg over his waist pulling me closer, as lips slide down to my neck. The way his tongue attacks my neck, drawing a puddle in my panties, his member grinding against me hard as a rock. The need for more grows inside me as Tae pulls his lips off of my body as he whispers in my ear his voice shaky and terrified “I-I’m so s-sorry, I love you and you’re not useless. I didn’t mean it. I could never mean it, you’re perfect I swear. And I'm such an ass for saying something like that there’s no excuse for what I said but please, okay, I'm BEGGING you don’t leave me.”  

A tear slides down my face as he shakes, crying into my ear wrapping his arms around my waist. Tae’s sadness washing away any animosity toward him at his words. “Baby... you hurt me but I'd never leave you. You're all I have and I'm never giving you up” I hug him back. His smile against my neck. “I don’t deserve you.....I'm sorry” I nod and run my hands through his hair. “SO! Were you just being a tease or are you gonna finish what you started?” I ask seductively as I put Tae’s hand in my pants, a smirk creeps onto his face.  

“Oh, Kitten, I have so many plans for us today”  

[mychemicalficrecs]

do you have any longer frikey fics, preferably bottom frank if theres smut

I do have some longer Frank/Mikey stuff, but no guarantee on bottom Frank!

Longer Frank/Mikey

Emotional Brilliance by kopperblaze, 21k, Mature. Toro and Mikey are a good team, Mikey doesn’t get why Brian had to hire someone else. In particular he doesn’t get why Brian had to hire Frank, who knows nothing about Lush products and who's incapable of keeping his mouth shut. Lush!AU. The one where Ray is a skin care expert, Frank is obnoxious, Mikey is annoyed and Pete leaves glittery handprints all over everything.

Gross roomies by turps, 36k, Explicit. Frank loves living with Mikey. Sure, the apartment is a mess, the kitchen's a toxic wasteland, and there's something growing in the refrigerator that's just a day or two away from becoming sentient, but other than those minor inconveniences, it's all cool. Or it is until Mikey decides to embark on a journey of sexual discovery and adventure and Frank's left at home with nothing but the fridge monster for company. To make matters worse, Mikey insists on telling Frank everything he does with his new kinky friends, right down to the tiniest detail. And now suddenly Frank is best friends with his right hand and he can't stop thinking about Mikey in ways he never has before. The really big problem, other than suddenly being in lust with his best friend, is that Frank isn't sure why.

Won't Know 'til You Begin by knight_tracer, Sena, 24k, Explicit. In which Frank is an accidental pervert, Mikey sleeps with Fabio, Gerard is much too sincere when talking about pain sluts, Ray is terrible with women and great with guitars, and Otter's got really bad taste in music. Alternately, the one where Frank realizes he has a thing for Mikey, Mikey realizes he has a thing for guys, and they're both adorably stupid failboats.

On Air by ladyfoxxx, 15k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank's a radio DJ at an alternative station, spinning punk tracks and talking shit. When he gets handed the most popular show at the station to host, his first guests are independent horror filmmakers Gerard and Mikey Way.

Standing on a Planet that's Evolving and Revolving by Green, 13k, Explicit. The evolution of Frank Iero, age 15.

Buenas Noches From A Lonely Room by Femme (femmequixotic), 15k, Explicit. Frank wants to touch Mikey, to slide his fingers across the sharp angle of his cheek just below his glasses, to drag his thumb along the curve of his bottom lip, to smooth his palm down Mikey's long throat.

What Dreams May Come by sperrywink, 15k, Explicit. His career in music derailed, Frank never met the other guys in My Chemical Romance. A silly tale of teleportation.

a scent and a sound by mwestbelle, 15k, Explicit. In an urban fantasy world where werewolves can't hold a decent job and no roommate wants them, werewolf Frank is looking for an apartment. He finds one with Mikey Way.

Heart Wrapped in Clover by Sena, 19k, Explicit. Everbody's got their not-so-secret secrets on tour. When you live out of a van, you just can't help but notice things that you shouldn't talk about if you don't want to embarrass your friends or start a fight. Frank wishes sometimes they talked about things, though, because he's dying to ask if anybody else has noticed that sometimes, Mikey wears panties.

Tints Verse by turps, 65k, Mature. A MCR AU where Ray has his own gardening firm, and one day he does a job for the Ways.

We Used To Be Friends by ladyfoxxx, 50k, Explicit. "You and me, right Mikes?" "Yeah, fuck everybody else." Best friends since high school, if Frank could've chosen a brother, he'd pick Mikey. Then Mikey became a rock star and Frank... didn't. After years of radio silence, Mikey steps onto a stage in Jersey and back into Frank's life. (Or, the one where Frank is a school teacher and Mikey plays rhythm in The Used.)

And the Painted Ponies by turps, 35k, Mature. After years of struggling to be taken seriously as a bodyguard, Frank Iero is finally well established. He loves his boss, Ray, he loves his job, and he prides himself on his professionalism. But then he's assigned to be the personal bodyguard of Mikey Way. Mikey Way, aka Roboboy, is a successful high fashion model. Loved by designers and the public alike for his trademark lack of emotion, but mocked by the tabloid press for the exact same reason. Mikey is someone that Frank's sure he'll hate. Except it doesn't work out that way. In fact, it doesn't take long before Frank discovers he really likes Mikey. Maybe too much.

Better Than A Paid Life by gala_apples, 15k, Explicit. Gerard and Mikey Way are the Killjoys, a motorbaby duo. That is, until their car gets wrecked in a battle and the dashboard accessory of their new Trans Am is an ex-Companion with a mission.

Crash by Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd), 26k, Explicit. In a future version of Seattle, Frank Iero's a lot of things: bike messenger, cage fighter, sometimes thief, Ray Toro's roommate. Mikey Way's also a lot of things: record label owner, co-heir to his grandmother's fortune, younger brother. Neither are normal. But they don't know just how far each other's abnormalities go until Frank's past and a secret of Mikey's unexpectedly shove together. (Dark Angel AU.)

Sound Tracking by turps, 46k, Mature. The beat is muted, almost non-existent, and the loss hits Bob hard. He's used to living his life in a constant thrum of sound, sensing those around him, the rhythm of the universe a constant companion, but here there's almost nothing. He can feel the sound that's been pulling him for weeks now, but little else. This place is dead, almost silent, and Bob aches with the feeling of being cast into nothingness. A MCR - Bob and Gerard centric space AU where Gerard's band has been taken from him and Bob helps find them. Also features FOB, especially Pete.

Drink Cider From a Lemon by turps, 20k, General Audiences. A story about friendship, love and building your own kind of home.

Mikey Way and the Quest for the Stone by Roxy_palace, 29k, Explicit. “I’m in Colombia!” Mikey said, raising his voice over the crackle of a poor connection. “No. no, no, no, no,” James wailed. Mikey could really relate to his disbelief. He couldn't believe he was in mother fucking Colombia either.

Below the Trees, Which Are Below the Stars by alpheratz, 38k, Explicit. In the mid-1920s, Gerard and Mikey moved to France - Gerard to pursue art, Mikey because he couldn't stay behind. Now, it's 1930, and Mikey's become an airmail pilot, flying the mail route to Dakar with his navigator Frank. For a long time, the only rough thing about Mikey's life was the strain on his and Gerard's soulbond when Mikey was away, but his growing feelings for Frank and the arrival of Frank's old friend Ray could change everything.

Food of Love by Lucifuge5, 12k, Teen And Up Audiences. Ever since it re-opened, Frank's been "Sweet Nothings"'s number one customer. That he harbors a gigantic crush on one of the owners is something that he's kept to himself for the most part (Ray will never tell a soul.) It's not until he strikes a friendship with the older brother of the object of his affection that he 'fesses up. Moved by Frank's pining, Gerard promises to help Frank woo Mikey. Complications arise when Gerard's "helpful advice" is anything but. Will Frank be successful in his courtship or are his chances to win Mikey's heart as ruined as a burnt cupcake?

You Only Hear The Music (When Your Heart Begins To Break) by Acadjonne, 28k, Mature. Mikey and Frank have known each other for years. They're roommates, and best friends. They're also friends with benefits. The arrangement is casual, and it suits them both. Somewhere along the way, Mikey develops feelings for Frank, but he pushes them aside. They aren't important, he'll be fine. Or, Mikey is fine, until he somehow ends up pregnant a year into this thing with Frank, and all of a sudden, he's got more to deal with than just how long he'll be able to hide his feelings for Frank or how the hell he's supposed to afford his transition.

Give Me A Reason To Believe (Failboats In Love) by Acadjonne, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. On the night of October 31st, Linda and Frank Iero welcome a baby boy into their family. He weighs six pounds, four ounces, and is nineteen inches long. They give him a family name, and he becomes the third Iero man to bear the name of Frank. A year later, on All Hallow's Eve, a sleeping baby is taken from his crib and replaced with a fake. The babe will later be taken from the hands of the goblin that stole him, and he will be raised by two rowan treefolk, a house brownie, and some pixies. ----- When Ray walks down the stairs to the Way family basement, the last thing Mikey expects to see is a scrappy and long-haired form following behind him. But as he later finds out, Frank is almost always unexpected in the best of ways, the rest of the world be damned.

Death's Muse by TheFratelliEffect, 53k [WIP], Mature. Lonely and depressed, Mikey Way is battling through the drab years that immediately follow college. Struggling to make a living as an artist, Mikey has became a battered down, quiet introvert whom wants nothing to do with the abusive romance he is unwillingly involved in. On a cold winter morning, the starving artist is confronted with the opportunity to paint Frank Iero, the Midnight Falls' elusive, young doctor, which he takes up immediately. Love and lust ensure as the story opens on the painter as he meets his muse.

Gallons Of The Stuff by MCRmyGeneral, 20k, Explicit. Frank has been amused by blood for as long as he can remember. When he was a child, it was a simple fascination; the way it felt on his hands, the way it looked dripping to the floor, the way it smelled. But as he grew older, that simple fascination morphed into a daring lust. Blood no longer amused him, now it turned him on. Frank has never intentionally hurt someone just to see their blood. He just takes what he can get whenever an accident happens. But when Mikey is hurt bad, Frank discovers how hard it is to keep his hands, and thoughts, to himself. He loves Mikey, he has for a long time. But now, he finds his silence so much harder to keep. He has two choices: either tell Mikey how he feels, about him and his blood, and risk scaring him away, or keep quiet, and never let the man know how much he means to him. Whatever he chooses, he knows that someone will get hurt.

[artificialqueens]

Duality, Chapter 2 (Crygi) - Metaluna

Chapter summary: Reflecting on an interesting day at work, Gigi goes to the bar with absolutely no intention of seeing a certain human.

A/N: Hi everyone! So I’m really bad at submitting on here, but feel free to read it on ao3 where i’m a few chapters ahead. tw for smut and light bloodplay.

thank you to Juno for beta reading and to crygijankiedoll-rps for making sure that my smut wasn’t too awkward since it was my first time writing it :’)

A few days later, Gigi sat in her office deep in her thoughts which were rushing through her head all at once to the point that she could barely keep up with them. The same string of thoughts were replaying themselves. The thoughts didn’t lead to Crystal, or any of the events from the night at the bar. They all led back to her humanity.

When Gigi was first turned, Nicky would constantly mock her for her sympathy toward humans. The first time she had to feed, she sobbed for two days, and starved herself for a week, only able to think about the look of fear in the woman’s eyes as the life faded from her body. Sometime in the past few decades, the empathy she held toward humans faded away entirely.

The more she thought about it, the more Gigi realized, it wasn’t that her humanity went away on its own, she forced it down deep inside of herself. There was no way she could be a killer if she maintained her sense of empathy that she had as a human, was there?

Why now, after nearly a century were all these emotions bubbling back up to the surface?

She knew the answer.

Crystal.

There was something about Crystal that made Gigi think of humans as more than an annoyance or a food source. She wasn’t sure what it was about the girl that had Gigi so intrigued, but she didn’t like it, just like she didn’t like thinking about her humanity.

Maybe she could attempt to be more human. As human as a 115 year old vampire could be, anyway.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Jackie walked into Gigi’s office nervously.

“Do you need something, Jackie?”

Jackie looked away. “Can you please do me a favor?”

“Maybe?”

“So, you know how I have a hard time with the visitations of kids and teenagers…?” Jackie trailed off.

Gigi groaned.

“I’ll do your filing for a week.”

“I’ll do it,” Gigi replied instantly.

“I’ll do your filing if… and only if, the family doesn’t request that I come in instead. So you better be on your best behavior.”

“I’ll be nothing short of a saint,” Gigi promised.

If nothing else, this could help Gigi practice her empathy toward humans.

By the time Gigi went inside the visitation room, the casket had already been moved into place. The girl had died of an overdose that the family swore was accidental. Gigi, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. Humans would much rather be in denial than to admit the truth. The mother even went on a tangent about how her daughter had been having a hard time in school before quickly changing the subject to the color of the floral arrangements.

Humans liked to claim that their loved ones looked like they were sleeping when they saw them in an open casket. This annoyed Gigi. Nothing about this girl looked like she was asleep. No matter how good Gigi was at what she did, the corpses were dead. They looked dead. Not asleep.

Whenever there was a sixteen-year-old girl, Gigi couldn’t help thinking about her sister. Even if this girl’s appearance was the opposite of her Nora’s. As she set boxes of tissues on the chairs lining the room, she began thinking about Nora’s sixteenth birthday.

Somehow she still remembered the day perfectly.

Gigi was so deep in her thoughts, she didn’t see the first person arrive. It was a girl, who looked to be a few years older than the body who Gigi assumed was her sister. The resemblance between her and the pictures Gigi was given was striking. The girl was dressed in an oversized flannel and jeans, with her hair in a messy bun.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear you enter,” Gigi said.

“It’s okay,” the girl’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry I’m early. I just wanted to see her before anyone else.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Quickly, Gigi looked at the sign to see what the girl’s name was. Rarely did she remember. Nia.

“Are you Nia’s sister?” Gigi asked, walking over to the girl.

The girl nodded. “I’m Olivia.”

“Gigi.”

The girl stepped up to the casket. “Can you like… stand next to me? I’ve never seen a dead body, and this is weird. Especially because it’s her…”

“Of course.”

Off to a good start. Maybe this would be easier than she thought.  

“Thank you. It’s so weird, like… I was always told that they look like they’re sleeping… Mom said she’d look like she’s sleeping. She doesn’t look like she’s sleeping. There’s something too still, I think that’s the problem. I don’t know… But she looks good though. You took good care of her.”

“Thank you.”

As the girl gently stroked her sister’s hair, Olivia started crying. No, not crying, sobbing. Normally, this is the point Gigi took a step back. Instead, she stayed by her side and handed her a box of tissues.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Just as it seemed as though Olivia was calming down, she started crying harder than before. Gigi comfortingly rubbed the girl’s back. In response, the girl hugged Gigi. She didn’t hug Olivia back, but simply stood as the girl got tears on her favorite shirt.

“Sorry,” Olivia mumbled as she pulled away.

“It’s okay.”

“I can’t believe my baby sister is gone,” Olivia whispered.

Gigi could only take so much in one day, and by now wasn’t sure how to comfort the girl, other than with honesty. As she led Olivia to a chair she said, “I’m sorry. This is horrible, but it gets easier, the grief you’re feeling. Soon, you’ll be able to think about the good memories, instead of seeing her like this.”

“Really?”

Gigi nodded. The two of them sat together wordlessly until others started to file in the room.

“Thank you for listening to me,” Olivia said, hugging Gigi once more.

Gigi hugged back this time. “Of course.”

With the visitation well under way, Gigi took her spot in the back corner as she watched the family interact with one another. Nia’s loved ones were overcome with grief. Somehow, the entire time, Olivia managed to not only remain calm, but also was able to calm down her family members.

Right as Gigi was watching Olivia and another girl her age talk, Gigi felt the familiar urge to feed. She shut her eyes and clenched her first, desperately trying to ground herself.

Not now.

Somehow, Olivia noticed and came over. “Gigi? Are you okay?”

Gigi nodded. “Just ate something bad at lunch, I guess. Give me a minute?”

She walked off before waiting for a response. Once she made it into the prep room, she swirled the blood like a glass of wine. The thought of drinking the blood of someone who she knew something about made it almost difficult to drink. Almost.

The rest of the visitation was uneventful, but the entire time, Gigi kept watch over Olivia, making sure that she was okay.

Before she left, Olivia approached Gigi. “Thank you again. For everything.”

Gigi smiled as the girl walked away, not realizing Jackie was watching.

“Wow, you didn’t get a single complaint! Also, I could tell you were really good to that girl.”

“I just hate filing. That’s all,” Gigi said coolly as she walked away.

Even though Gigi knew that she had a lot of work to do, she sat at her desk, thinking. Absentmindedly tapping her pen against her desk, all she could do was think about the the past few hours.

Gigi knocked on the door of Jackie’s office. “Would you like to go home early? I have plans.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow. “You? Plans?”

“Do you want to go home or not?” Gigi snapped.

Jackie laughed. “Yes. It’s date night.”

“Every night with you and your wife is date night.”

“Come over for dinner sometime. Jan loves to cook and always makes way too much.”

Usually on the nights that Gigi had to hunt, she didn’t get ready as soon as she got home. Tonight was different, and she hated that it was because the thought of seeing Crystal excited her. She didn’t even know if Crystal would be there. For all she knew, she was getting her hopes up for nothing.

Normally, she did her makeup similarly to how she would do the makeup on a body of someone her age. It was natural and simple, but with some added eyeliner. Tonight she decided to do something new. Gigi hadn’t worn elaborate makeup since the 1980’s when she had her Madonna phase. As she opened the single eyeshadow palette in her possession, she realized she had no idea how to do makeup the way girls did in this decade.

Thank God for the Internet. Three and a half makeup tutorials later, Gigi was well-versed in cut creases and halo eyes.

Watching the makeup tutorials passed the time. By the time she finished, she was right on schedule. Staring into her closet, Gigi realized she suddenly hated every article of clothing she owned, eventually settling on a fitted leather jacket over a tank top.

Just as she always did, she took her same spot at the bar as she watched the patrons interact with one another. After silently judging the passerby, she found her mark, an athletically-built man who was a few years older than Gigi’s physical age.

Just as she was about to make her move, she felt a tap on the shoulder. Gigi was pleased to see Crystal standing in front of her. Taking her in from head to toe, Gigi saw how beautiful she looked, and appreciated her bravery in outfits and makeup.

“Hey!” Crystal greeted. “You’re out again.”

“So are you.”

“What happened the other night?”

Gigi shrugged. “Sorry about that. I realized that I had to go feed my cat, and now that I’m saying that, I’m hearing just how pathetic that sounds.”

Crystal laughed. “Your cat caused you to run away directly after making out with me and then biting down on my neck like a fucking vampire?”

Gigi stared at Crystal.

“I’m kidding.”

Gigi forced a laugh as she sat on a barstool. “I know.”

Crystal took the stool next to hers. “I’m glad it wasn’t me that made you run away.”

It was 100 percent you.

“Of course it wasn’t!”

“Good,” Crystal smiled.

After an awkward silence, Gigi asked, “Do you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

“What do you drink?”

“Jack and coke.”

Gigi waved the bartender down. “Two Jack and cokes please.”

Alcohol had absolutely no effect on a vampire. In fact, it tasted disgusting as most human food did. She’d only drank it a handful of times for appearance sake. Normally it was champagne or wine, she’d never had whiskey before, or Coke the way it was now. The thought of things being sweetened with corn instead of sugar was disturbing to Gigi.

The bartender set the two drinks on the bar as Gigi set a twenty on the table. Money accumulated when one had unlimited time and a high-paying job.

“Keep the change,” Gigi instructed.

“You tip so generously. You must be in the service industry.”

“Kind of,” Gigi said as she tentatively took a sip of the drink. Gigi had no idea what to expect, but she fully didn’t expect it to taste like fizzy paint thinner. As much as she tried, she couldn’t hide her facial expression.

“Not a whisky person?”

“Not quite.”

“You didn’t have to order what I ordered,” Crystal laughed.

“I’m not a big drinker. I never know what to order.”

“Got it. Also, how do you kind of work in the service industry?”

Gigi tapped the rim of the glass. “I’m a funeral director.”

“I mean, you’re servicing dead people.” Crystal realized how her words sounded. “Oh, shit. I mean. Uh…”

This made Gigi laugh. “I know what you mean.”

“Excuse me, I have to go walk off a cliff.”

Never had Gigi met a human she actually liked, even Jackie she merely tolerated. But, for some reason there was something about Crystal that drew her like a moth to a flame. Between that, and her attempt to be less callous, she was interested in continuing the conversation.

“No, don’t do that, you’re far too interesting.”

“You’re pretty interesting yourself,” Crystal said as she took a sip.

“You think so?”

Gigi had been called many things over the past century, but “interesting” was never one.

“Well, first of all, you work at a funeral home, which is cool as hell, second, you’re probably the baddest bitch here, and it’s like you don’t even know it.”

Yes I do.

“What do you do for work?” Gigi asked, not knowing quite how to respond to Crystal’s compliment.

“I’m an art curator.”

“You look like you work at an art museum,” GIgi said.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes.” Gigi had no idea what possessed her to ask the next question that came out of her mouth. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Promise you won’t run away for your cat?”

Gigi smiled, slinging her handbag over her shoulder. “If we’re at my apartment, you can meet my cat.”

“I do love cats… Let’s go.”

The drive to Gigi’s apartment was mainly silent. Halfway through, Crystal placed her hand on Gigi’s thigh and continued to move her hand upward, rubbing deliberate circles with her thumb.

“You’re so cold,” Crystal mused.

“I’m always cold.”

“Just like your bodies.”

Gigi couldn’t help but smile at the offhand comment. “Something like that.”

Crystal continued rubbing small circles as Gigi shifted in her seat. While Gigi had sex in the past, it had been roughly two decades. The thought of possibly having sex soon made her nervous, which was a rare emotion. Why was she thinking about sex? For all she knew, nothing was going to happen… But what if it did?

Before she could think about it for too long, they arrived at Gigi’s apartment.

Gigi had just barely shut the door before Crystal started kissing her, the force behind Crystal’s kisses surprised her. Gigi blindly led them to her bedroom as she took off Crystal’s dress, tossing it aside, admiring her full breasts as she began gently playing with her nipples, focusing her attention on the one that was pierced, the silver jewelry glinting in the light filtering in from the window. As she guided Crystal onto her back, beginning a trail of kisses starting on Crystal’s neck, she felt her fangs protrude.

Fuck.

Thankfully, Gigi managed to retract them as she pulled away.

“Everything okay?” Crystal asked breathily.

Gigi nodded in response.

Crystal bit her lip. “Can I make a request?”

“Yes.”

“Rougher. Make me fucking hurt. Make mebleed.”

“That can certainly be arranged.” The look in Gigi’s eye had become that of a predator eyeing its prey.

Immediately, Gigi pinned Crystal against the bed, who tried to fight back. Crystal’s fighting was in vain, a human’s strength paled in comparison to that of a vampire’s. Gigi had such a tight grip on Crystal’s wrists, she’d cut off the circulation if she maintained the pressure too long. The power imbalance excited Gigi, who returned her attention back to the inviting column of Crystal’s neck.

“You like kissing necks, don’t you?” The question was innocent, a mere observation .

“I like biting necks.”

Gigi knew her next move was a risk, but she bared her fangs. If nothing else, she could glamour the girl and it would be like nothing ever happened. The thought of glamouring Crystal wasn’t appealing, but if she had to do so to keep the girl from panicking, she would do it without a second thought.

Crystal sat up, completely fixated “What… Are those ?”

“Remember when you said I bit your neck like a vampire?”

Crystal only nodded in response, unable to look away from Gigi’s fangs.

“You’re taking this rather calmly,” Gigi mused.

Crystal’s face flushed. “I may have a few… fetishes.”

“Do you now, darling?”

Crystal nodded again.

Gigi raised an eyebrow, lips pouting seductively, making sure her fangs were on full display . “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to bite you?”

Crystal took a moment to reply. “Yes. I think so.”

“You think so?” This was not a good enough answer for Gigi.

“I want you to.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” Crystal didn’t respond, the silence lingered between them before Gigi spoke again. “You need to use your words, darling.”

“Do it. Please.”

Regardless of what Crystal replied, Gigi knew she wasn’t completely sure what she was consenting to. It had always been a desire of Gigi to fuck a girl while drinking from her. Nicky always told her how incredible it was, but Gigi had never become close enough to a human to do so.

Crystal had closed her eyes in anticipation for what was to come. At first, Gigi was going to bite Crystal’s neck, the spot in which she was fixated earlier but then she got another idea. She stroked Crystal’s thighs as Crystal opened them in eagerly as she arched her back, lifting her hips to make it easier for Gigi to remove her thong.

Remembering Crystal’s request, Gigi ripped the delicate lace thong as if it were made of paper and threw the remains on the hardwood floor. Gigi started kissing Crystal’s inner thigh, lightly running her fangs up and down, licking the small droplets of blood left behind, stopping just before Crystal’s entrance, which she teased with her fingertips, feeling just how wet she was.

“Oh, darling is all of this for me?” Gigi licked at her fingers, savoring the taste, only imagining how incredible her sweet blood would taste.

“Just do it,” Crystal moaned.

“As you wish.”

Gigi sank her fangs into Crystal’s thigh as she entered Crystal with three fingers with no resistance, Crystal’s euphoric moan was music to Gigi’s ears as her blood flowed steadily into her mouth. Although she took more than she initially planned, Gigi ensured Crystal wouldn’t die of blood loss as she paused her drinking to murmur to the writhing girl below her.

“Oh, you have no idea what that moaning does to me.”

It didn’t take Crystal long to finish, between the euphoria of her blood being drank, in addition to Gigi’s skillful fingers building her up to her climax, Gigi didn’t have time to use her tongue, much to her disappointment. As much as Gigi wanted Crystal to fuck her, between the blood loss and the intensity of her orgasm, Crystal instantly fell into a deep sleep, her body drained from everything it had endured.

God, I missed sex, Gigi thought as she covered Crystal with the blankets and lightly shut the bedroom door.