#For his Master's arms are warm around him‚ his skin is human and his breath is close and this is all he had ever wanted.

[whimsyvixen]

𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕖

Resident Evil Drabble

Pairing: Lord Dimitrescu x Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: You learn that you can never refuse your Lord's desire for you.

WARNINGS/TAGS: dark smut, rape/noncon elements, extremely dubious consent, explicit content, teratophilia, master/slave, monster/human, overstimulation, forced pleasure, table sex, dacryphilia, food kink? Lord D likes to attend to you, unprotected sex, creampie, very obvious size difference since he's literally fucking 9'' tall.

A/N: Guess my perverted ass did want to write more filth for this man. Gonna have to dedicate this to all those Lord D fans out there 💋!! I changed up his design a little so I hope you still like it!

The castle was cold, goosebumps rising on your skin and making your nipples stiff beneath your dress. You couldn’t suppress shivering, folding your arms over your chest to try to stay warm, unknowingly giving your Lord a flattering view of your cleavage. You squeezed your legs together, mortified when you could still feel it swirling inside you, Lord Dimitrescu’s gift to you filling your womb. 

After swallowing the last bite of food on your plate, you looked up nervously to your right, flinching at the intense look your captor threw your way. He was a giant, making you feel like little more than a doll seated at the table, the satin, maroon night dress you had donned making you self conscious from how thin it was. It did little to hide every imperfection or curve along your body, making you lift your shoulders up defensively as his eyes traveled down your seated form. 

He filled up your cup, the red liquid swirling around the glass making you uneasy as it reminded you of the color of blood. You didn’t bother to reach for it, Lord Dimitrescu already bringing it to your lips to coax you to drink it. He held your chin gently, his eyes focused on your puckered lips as he raised the glass. To your relief, it tasted like ordinary wine (albeit with a very rich texture) and not the metallic taste you feared. The liquid ran smoothly down your throat, a trickle escaping the corner of your mouth to trail down the length of your neck to slide between your breasts. 

Lord Dimitrescu’s attention was fixated there, bringing a calloused thumb to trace the path of the droplet, grazing the numerous bites and hickeys littered across your neck and shoulders along the way. When he tugged down the front of your dress, exposing your naked tits to his hungry gaze, you had to resist the urge to scoot away from him, gripping the sides of your chair tightly to allow him to inspect you. 

The feeling of his warm palm caressing your globe had you biting your lip, unwilling to let him know much comfort it brought to your freezing body. When he tugged on your nipple, squeezing the tiny nub between his thumb and forefinger, you couldn't contain your small mewl, breathing shallowly as your nerves lit up with your arousal. He shifted his gaze back to your heated face, taking in your tortured expression with a smile before leaning down to kiss you gently on your soft lips. 

It started out innocently, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing manner as he continued to grope at your plump breast. It had you sighing into the kiss, your body responding to his soft touch as it warmed up your body. When you felt his other hand squeeze your inner thigh, you gasped allowing his tongue to breach past your lips to plunder the hot caverns of your mouth. From there, the open mouth kiss turned heated, your tongues dancing aggressively against each other, Lord Dimitrescu growling deeply with every muffled moan escaping your sweet lips. The hand on your thigh traveled up to push your dress out of his way, his thick fingers brushing against your swollen folds to make you jolt in your seat. You flinched away at the contact, your wet lips disconnecting from his sensual mouth when you shoved him away from you.

“I, I..” you stuttered out the words, snapping your legs closed to prevent him from touching you further. “I don’t…” You cast your eyes down, trying to explain yourself when a stony expression crossed his face. “It still hurts.”

Your response only had him raising an eyebrow, Lord Dimitrescu clearly not pleased with your reluctance to service him once more.

Suddenly, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you off your chair. He sat you on top of the table, amused at your little shocked gasp before pushing his chair back to kneel before you. He brought his hands up to his neck to begin unbuttoning his shirt, showing off the broad expanse of his chest and muscled form as he pulled the fabric to the sides. You couldn’t look away from his body, your mind replaying the events of last night when you lay under him, screaming and moaning out in ecstasy as he took you over and over, uncaring of your sobs as he brought you to climax after climax. 

When he applied pressure on your knees, his large hands possessing the capability of breaking your bones, you knew what he wanted. 

“Open up for me, uibito.” His smooth voice tickled your ears. “Let me see what I’ve done to you.” 

“M-my Lord!” You put up your hands to stop him, “Don’t you think it’s too soon to… to-.” A shriek escaped you when he forced your legs open, the cool air stinging your inflamed vulva and making you shudder when you felt his cum dribble out of you in copious amounts. You tried to reason with him once more, desperate to hide your shame from his curious eyes. “What I mean to say is, I have not fully recovered from your affections, and I don’t think it’s a good idea that we–AH!”

He rubbed your engorged clit, shocking you enough to have you fall back on the table on your elbows. You tried to shove his hand away, tears of humiliation glistening your eyes when you felt his spend leak out of you to pool on the table cloth. You hated how you couldn’t control yourself, your hips grinding against his palm despite your protests. He rubbed none too gently at your stimulated nub, taking note of how your little breathless gasps indicated your body’s readiness to take him once more. With his other hand he tugged down his pants, the twitching organ responding to your pleasured moans as it sought out your tight pussy. You shook your head, twisting and turning your body when his cock rubbed along your ass. 

“You’re still of a mind to refuse me? My patience grows thin with you, draga mea.” Lining up his cock to your reddened folds, he began to push his way through, delighted at the sight of your pussy struggling to wrap around his sheer girth. “Shall I remind you what it means to be mine?”

💓 Thank you for reading!! 💓

Here is the art for my drabble ft my OC so enjoy~🫣🤭

For the full NSFW Art, select here --> (⁠●⁠♡⁠∀⁠♡⁠)

[boothillssugarmomma]

Steel Here

(Boothill x Fem!Reader)

cw-: Body dysmorphia, slight talks of hating themself, other than that fluff fluff

🎀 authorsnote: Rn I'm feeling like my body isn't great so I used this fic to sort of get it out! And it actually felt great!

please don't steal my work!

Taglist🎀HSR Master List🎀Other Lists🎀

Boothill’s quietly sitting in his room that you begged him to have on The Astral Express. As his girlfriend you've been trying to get him to stay around more and he adores it.

But it also gives him more time to really think...and he doesn't know if he likes that part.

Ok...he hates it. He hates that fact that he has to see himself when he passes a mirror, he hates it when he feels his cool steel against his face, he hates how he can't feel your hugs...

Boothill stands and looks in the mirror, flexing his mechanical arms softly and glancing over his fake abs. He shakes his left metal leg and sighs.

He hears the small mechanical noise of his bedroom door and looks over to it. He smiles softly as he sees you.

“Hey sweet thang...” He shoots you a warm smirk, trying to cover up what he was doing as he quickly sits on his bed. You glance over at the mirror and back to him. Piecing it in your mind what exactly he was doing. “What do ya need hon...?”

You're silent as he asks. No response as you just blink. Your eyes communicate to him that you want him to tell you what you saw.

Your boyfriend sighs a little. Placing his head in his hands and closing his eyes.

“Don't gimme that look...” He breathes, obviously frustrated as he looks back up at you, “Fine...I'm startin' to wish I was me again...I don't want this body anymor'.”

"Oh honey..." You whisper softly as you sit next to him on the bed. You place a hand on his back but remember he won't even be able to feel it...

“See...now would ya look at that...?” Boothills voice drawls, he places a hand on your thigh and sighs as you shiver at the cold metal. “I...guess this is ma' life now..." He scoffs softly. "Can't even curse...it's all 'muddle fudger' this and 'fork that' and 'son of a nice lady'..."

"Boothill sweetheart..." You whisper as you lean against him. "Don't say that..."

Boothill hesitates on resting his temple against your head, he doesn’t need his body reminding him that part of his ridiculous body is only metal.

But he doesn’t know what else to do to comfort himself. He’s frustrated to the moon and back, frustrated at being in this body he doesn’t want.

“I don’t think you understand, darlin’” Boothill whispers. “I miss the me I once was. I just… don’t feel quite like myself anymore…”

"You're still...my Boothill..." You pull away gently and grasp his cheek.

The corner of his lips quirk upwards at your words, but the warm touch and caress of your hand on his cheek still doesn’t feel the same. He wishes of his could feel the same kind of texture he once thrived from and took for granted in his human skin...not just his face.

It’s almost...cold to him.

“You’re the only one who can remind me of the old me that’s still lyin’ somewhere underneath this piece’o’junk body.” He murmurs.

"It's not a piece'o'junk..." You imitate him with a smile. "Boothill... you're amazing just the way you are..."

There you go smiling. If there’s anything that’s capable of changing his mood for the better, it’s you.

Boothill gives you a chuckle. “Look who’s sweet talkin’ who now,” his voice is a bit more lighthearted than previously. “You’ve gotta stop bein’ like this darlin’. You’re gonna make me blush.”

You smile softly and kiss his cheek. "Honey...look at me..." You take his face in your hands. "I love you..."

Boothill smiles, feeling your lips press against his cheek. His hands find their way to your wrists, gently caressing them and wishing he could feel your skin. He knows it's definitely a lot warmer than the cold of his steel.

“You’re a real charmer, y’know that?” He says, his voice low and amused. “I don’t reckon I can look anywhere else when ya say things like that.”

"Now...how can we make you feel better?" You hum softly in his ear.

“You have no idea how bad I want that...” Boothill replies with a grin. He pulls your face closer to his and whispers into your ear. “But you’ve got to keep those sweet words of yours comin’.” Boothill’s voice is low and seductive. “I’m starvin’ here, darlin’.”

"Pamper Queen tonight aren't we?" You laugh, placing your hand on his chest.

“Only for my darlin’.” He teases, placing a hand over yours and gently rubbing his thumb against your skin. Boothill’s other hand caresses your cheek. “Let’s be frank; you’ve gotten me spoiled rotten, and I ain’t mad about it.”

Your face contorts into a look of pure thought. "Here...since you give me massages sometimes..." You get up and walk over to his closet.

Boothill’s curious as his gaze follow your movements, hands resting on the arm rest. He wonders if you’re looking for something specific.

“Whatcha lookin’ for, darlin’?” He asks, tilting his head to rest his cheek on his metal palm, fingers pressed against his chin.

"How about we polish your metal?" You pull out some wax and a waxing machine.

Boothill’s expression changes into something resembling a mix of disbelief and shock, then into amusement as he bursts into laughter. He had an expectation for what you were going to do, but this wasn’t it.

“Is that a euphemism for something I’m not gettin’?" He jokes, his laughter trailing into a playful smirk as he watches you closely.

"Well...I don't know the equivalent of a massage for cyborgs!" You whine playfully.

Boothill chuckles as he playfully rolls his eyes at you. “Oh, I’m certain a few people out there would call this ‘metal maintenance’ or something.”

He then rises to his feet. “And I wouldn’t mind havin’ ya give me a good ol’ metal maintenance, darlin’. But I hope you know I’m ticklish in some spots.”

"How are you ticklish..." You murmur and plug it into the wall.

Boothill chuckles again, crossing his arms as he gazes down at the metal machine in your hands. “I’m ticklish ‘round my neck and behind my knee, believe it or not. I ain’t kiddin’.”

He walks over to you and stands before you, a grin spreading on his face. “I’ve got a feelin’ you’re gonna use this as a weapon against me, aren’t ya?”

"Phantom tickles on the knee I guess..." You hum and fire it up. "And it's NOT a weapon..."

“Aww, shoot… and here I was, thinkin’ you’d give me a break.” He quips, shrugging his shoulder and letting out a small chuckle.

In truth, Boothill is a little excited for you to polish him. “How are you at polishin’ machines, darlin’? Cause it ain’t gonna be clean if you don’t know what you’re doin’...” He teases as he glances at the polishing machine, then back at you.

You hesitate and cough. "I'm...great?" You quickly get to work before he can question anything.

Boothill raises a brow as he eyes you with a small, amused smirk. He has a feeling you're definitely not good with these machines.

“I’m sure ya are.” He teases, a small, playful chuckle falling from his lips.

While Boothill initially stands still, he can’t help but feel a little ticklish as he can feel the machine polish the outer surface of his thigh. “Careful with that…”

You giggle softly as you keep polishing his metal body. You slide up to his neck and carefully polish it.

A soft, amused chuckle leaves Boothill as he can’t help it. Your gentle polish on his neck is a little ticklish, which causes him to tense up from the sensation. He’d definitely describe it as ticklishness. He rests a hand on the back of your head as you polish his neck, caressing the underside of his fingers against your skin.

“Oh, what a sight to see. I’ve got my pretty lady polishin’ me to perfection.” He teases.

"D-Don't distract me or I'll move!" You whine.

“Distract you?” Boothill murmurs, his lips tilting into a small smirk. “I’m just complimentin' you.”

He gently moves your chin with a finger, guiding it to meet his gaze as he gazes down at you. “And don’t move. I like the way your beautiful eyes look when you’re focused on me.” A tease disguised as a compliment.

You freeze as your heart pounds in your chest...which was not the best move because the polisher slides right off him and shoots at the wall.

A small gasp leaves Boothill when he watches the polisher slide off him. But then he bursts into a hearty chuckle, his hands resting on his waist. His eyes are closed while he laughs, and when he’s done, he glances at the wall where the polisher’s been launched into.

“That wall didn’t do nothin’ to deserve that, darlin’...“ He teases through stifled giggles.

"Y-Yeah well...you distracted me!" You whine before sitting in his lap.

Boothill pulls you onto his lap and rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms naturally wrapping around your waist. As you lean against him, he can see the machine embedded into the wall from the corner of his eye. He shakes his head and laughs again.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t ya?” He teases, nuzzling his face to the crook of your neck and trailing his lips against your skin.

"It's not like I did it on purpose..." You mutter into his hair.

Boothill lets out another chuckle, feeling the warmth of your breath against his head. “I know you didn’t.” He murmurs, letting out a low sigh that’s a mix of contentment and relief.

He gently presses his cheek to the top of your head, his fingers gently rubbing your waist. “I’m just teasin’ ya, darlin’. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. ‘Sides, look at the bright side.” He adds. “At least the machine didn’t land on my toes.”

"You don't even have toes!" You blink and roll your eyes.

Boothill’s expression turns into a grin as he laughs, pulling you closer to him. “See? Told ya you’re the feisty one.” He teases, tilting his head to kiss your temple. He places another kiss on the top of your head, savoring the feeling of your warmth against his.

“Maybe I don’t have toes.” He begins, placing another kiss on your cheek. “But this body’s got everything else ya need.”

"See that's my Boothill..." You smile warmly. "Don't think of yourself the way you were before...and if you do...let me know?" You whisper.

As he hears your words, a soft smile forms on Boothill's face. He places a hand on your cheek, gently stroking the side of your face as his other rests on your waist.

His eyes look deep into yours with affection, and a corner of his lips quirks upwards. “That's a mighty good offer ya’re givin’ me here, darlin’. But I’d rather you stop me from thinkin’ like that before I could.”

"Now that is a better plan..." You smile before leaning in to kiss him.

Boothill’s eyes flutter to a close as your lips press against his, a warm fluttering feeling erupting in his chest. The kiss is slow and tender, and he melts against your touch as he pulls you a little closer and into his embrace.

Once the kiss ends, Boothill opens his eyes and sighs, feeling calmer and a lot more pleasant than before.

“You’re way too good for this broken ol’ geezer.” He whispers affectionately.

"Boothill...honey... you're not even old!" You laugh softly and nuzzle against him.

Boothill lets out a low chuckle, his hand gently caressing your skin as he leans into your touch. "You sure about that, darlin'? I feel like a relic with all this metal on me."

He glances down at his metallic hand, flexing his fingers. Then, he looks back at you with a smile. “But as long as you’re tellin’ me otherwise, I guess I ain’t.”

"That's what I thought~" You press a kiss to his forehead.

A smirk spreads on Boothill’s face as he watches you kiss his forehead. He lifts a hand and gently caresses your face, his thumb rubbing your skin.

“Ain’t you a precious one?” He muses, his grin widening as he gazes at you. “I reckon I ain’t that old after all.” He adds, his teasing tone laced with an affectionate edge. “What gives you the right to be so adorable?”

"I'm your girlfriend, it's my job!" You smile warmly.

Once again, Boothill’s gaze falls into yours, and he feels a flutter in his chest at your words. He rests a hand on your waist, caressing your skin with the back of his cold metal fingers.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, a warm smile spreading on his face as he nods. His eyes lock with yours, and he lifts a hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“And I reckon you’re doin’ a real good job at it, darlin’...” He adds, his voice low, warm and affectionate.

"Y'know... I'm always going to be here..." You smile. "Hey, hey!" You start to giggle. "I'm 'steel' here..." You joke.

Boothill lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head as you throw in a joke. He takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, lifting it to his lips and planting a kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re real clever,” he murmurs, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his smile grows wider. In all honesty, he appreciates the effort you’re putting into cheering him up.

“Ain’t a doubt in me that you’d always be here for me, darlin’.”

You kiss him one more time. This time more passionate and love infused. As you pull away you smile. "I'll always...be here..."

The unexpected passion in your kiss catches Boothill off guard and leaves him breathless. As you pull away, he lets out a low gasp, his grip on your hand tightening just a little.

When you declare your promise, he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he lets the moment sink in. He feels a wave of warmth wash over him, and he whispers back.

“I’ll be here for you, too, darlin’...”

🎀End🎀

[ateezscupid]

Can I request an Ateez Vampire Yeosang x reader where it's her first time everything? First time orgasm, first time squirt so he makes her squirt a couple times, first time having sex and she bleeds and freaks so he helps her and calms her through it? Very smutty and extremely fluffy?

Probably the smuttiest thing I've written with Yeosang ever????

𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬. ♡

warnings ─ medieval au, vamp!yeosang, human!fem reader, implication of turning reader into a vampire (doesn't happen, but yeosang does bite reader on the neck twice), yeosang and reader are married, fluff

tags ─ @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @jeonride

m.list ┃ nsfw warnings under the cut.

warnings ─ soft!dom yeosang, sub!reader, loss of virginity, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise and degradation, pet names, unprotected sex, overstimulation, squirting, mention of pee (no, not in the nasty way LOL)

Yeosang sat on the sprawling porch of your ancient mansion, the sun's warm embrace barely peeking through the dense canopy of the surrounding forest. He nursed a cup of tea, the delicate porcelain warming his fingertips as he held it with a gentle grip. The newspaper lay folded beside him, forgotten as his gaze drifted to the garden, his girlfriend worked with a quiet determination. You had your back to him, your slender form moving rhythmically as you tended to the blooming flowers. Your hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and every so often, a tendril would escape, dancing in the gentle breeze. The sight of you filled him with a sense of peace and a yearning that was both new and familiar.

Your movements were graceful, a silent pattern of care and dedication that spoke of your love for the earth and the life it nurtured. Yeosang felt his chest tighten, his fangs throb gently in response to the allure of your humanity. He set the tea and newspaper aside, the rustle of the pages a small rebellion against the serene quiet of the afternoon. Slowly, he rose from his chair, his long shadow stretching out before him as he descended the porch steps.

The soft scent of blooming roses filled the air as he approached you, your crimson petals a stark contrast to your skin. He could hear the distant sound of bees industriously collecting nectar, a gentle hum that seemed to echo the thrum of his own pulse. When he reached you, he didn't say a word. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close so that you could feel the beat of his heart against your back.

You stiffened for a moment, your gardening sheers hovering in midair, before relaxing into his embrace. Your cheeks flushed a delicate pink, a color that stood out starkly against the emerald of your eyes. You leaned back into him, your head tilting slightly to the side as you looked up at him with a shy smile. "What is it?" you asked, your voice a soft melody that made him want to pull you even closer.

Yeosang leaned down, his breath a whisper against your ear. "Just watching you," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're so beautiful." He felt the rapid flutter of your heartbeat, a tantalizing reminder of the life that flowed through your veins. He resisted the urge to bite, instead pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. You giggled, the sound music to his centuries-old ears.

You stood there for a moment, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company. Then, Yeosang spoke again, his words a soft coax. "Take a break," he suggested. "Come inside with me." You hesitated, your hands still clutching the sheers, but the desire in his voice was palpable. After a moment, you nodded, allowing him to lead you away from the garden and into the dimly lit mansion. The door closed with a soft click behind them, leaving the outside world and its mundane tasks at bay.

In the cool interior of the house, Yeosang led you up the grand staircase, his steps silent on the plush carpet that lined the steps. You made your way to the master bedroom, a sanctuary of velvet and lace that smelled faintly of your mingled scents. He could feel the anticipation building within you, a sweet, intoxicating aroma that made his fangs throb in anticipation.

Once inside, you pulled away from his embrace and danced over to the walk-in closet, your eyes scanning the racks of clothes. Yeosang leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a smoldering gaze. "What are you looking for?" he asked, his tone playful.

"Something to wear tonight," you replied, your cheeks still flushed from your earlier encounter. You pulled out a few garments, holding them up to the light that streamed through the stained-glass window. Each piece was a whisper of fabric that promised to leave little to the imagination, and Yeosang felt his heart race at the thought of you wearing them.

He pushed himself off the frame, stalking closer to you with a predatory grace that made your pulse quicken. "Why bother with clothes?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "You're already the most beautiful thing in this room." He took a garment from your hand, a delicate piece of black lace, and let it slide through his fingers. You giggled, swatting his hand away and hiding your face in his chest.

With a playful growl, Yeosang wrapped his arms around you again, lifting you off the floor and spinning you around. You squealed in surprise and delight, your laughter echoing through the room. He set you down, your feet barely touching the plush rug before he captured your mouth in a hungry kiss. His fangs grazed your lower lip, and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you melted into him. He could feel your heart racing, the sweet scent of your arousal mixing with the earthy smell of the garden soil that clung to your skin.

Your kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as Yeosang backed you towards the bed. You stumbled slightly, your hands clutching at his shirt. He broke away, his eyes searching yours for permission, for the confirmation that you were ready for what was to come. When you nodded, your eyes wide and trusting, he felt a surge of love and desire that was almost overwhelming.

Gently, he laid you down, his body hovering over yours as he began to remove your gardening clothes. Each layer revealed more of your smooth skin, and he couldn't resist the urge to kiss and nibble the soft flesh he uncovered. Your breath hitched as his fangs grazed your collarbone, and you arched your back, inviting him to continue. The tension in the air grew thick, a heady mix of excitement and nerves.

"Your skin is like porcelain," Yeosang murmured, his voice thick with desire as he unbuttoned your blouse. "Soft, delicate, and begging to be touched." He peeled back the fabric, his eyes drinking in the sight of your lacy bra, the cups a delicate cradle for the treasures beneath. "These…" He trailed off, his fingertips tracing the edge of the lace. "They hide the most beautiful parts of you." With a flick of his wrist, the bra was gone, your breasts spilling free. He took one in his hand, his thumb brushing over your erect nipple. You gasped, your back arching off the bed.

"And these…" He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he trailed kisses down your stomach. "These curves drive me wild." He tugged at the waistband of your trousers, his eyes never leaving yours. "Every inch of you is perfection, and I want to worship it all." Your hands trembled as you helped him, sliding the fabric over your hips and revealing the matching lace of your panties.

When you were naked before him, Yeosang sat back on his haunches, his eyes roving over your body with a reverence reserved for the most sacred of artifacts. He took your hand in his, his gaze intense. "Are you sure, my love?" His thumb traced the veins that pulsed with your life beneath your skin. "Once you give yourself to me, there's no turning back. You'll be mine, forever."

Your eyes searched his, finding the love and protection you craved. You nodded, your voice a soft whisper. "I'm ready. I trust you." The weight of your words hung in the air, a silent promise that bound you together in ways you hadn't yet fully comprehended. But you knew that you wanted this, needed this connection with him more than you'd ever needed anything.

Yeosang took a deep breath, his chest expanding with the gravity of what was about to happen. He leaned in, his fangs grazing the soft skin of your neck. "If you change your mind, you know you can tell me." He kissed your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste your sweetness. "But know that once we start, I'll crave more than just your blood." His voice grew softer, a seductive purr that sent shivers down your spine. "I'll want your body, your soul… everything that makes you, you."

Your pulse raced at his words, your heart fluttering like a caged bird. You nodded again, more firmly this time. "I'm ready," you repeated, your voice stronger, more assured. "I want this. I want you."

He smiled, a soft, tender curve of his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good," he said, his voice a dark promise. "Because I've wanted this for so long." With that, he leaned down, his fangs sinking gently into the flesh of your neck. You gasped, your body stiffening before melting into the bed beneath him. The coppery taste of your blood filled his mouth, a symphony of sensation that made his head spin. He drank, savoring each drop, as he continued to tease and explore your body with his hands.

Your legs parted for him, an unspoken invitation that he couldn't resist. He kissed his way down your torso, his hands skimming over your hips, your thighs, before finally reaching your core. His eyes widened at the sight of you. You were a vision of innocence and desire, your pink flesh glistening with need. He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste you, to learn the secrets of your body. Your hips jerked, a soft moan escaping your lips.

"You taste like heaven," he whispered, his voice muffled against your sensitive skin as he traced the seam of your sex with his tongue. You gripped the bed sheets, your knuckles turning white as you fought to hold onto reality. "Every part of you, so sweet, so perfect." His words were a gentle caress against your soul as he explored you with an almost reverent hunger.

Your body responded to his touch in a symphony of sensation. Each flick of his tongue, each suck of his lips, sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, threatening to drown you in a sea of ecstasy. Incoherent sounds tumbled from your mouth, a mix of whimpers and moans that grew louder as he worked his magic.

"Do you like this?" he asked, his eyes looking up at you, filled with a fiery need. You nodded, unable to form coherent words as he swirled his tongue around the swollen bud of your clit. "I love making you feel this way," he said, his voice a low growl. "You're so responsive, so beautiful."

Your hips began to rock against his mouth, a silent plea for more. He obliged, his tongue pressing harder, his strokes becoming more insistent. You could feel the tension building within you, a coil winding tighter and tighter with each pass of his mouth. Your breath hitched, your chest heaving as you approached the edge of something you'd never felt before.

And then you were there, teetering on the brink, the world around you fading into a blur of sensation. Yeosang's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched your body convulse, your first orgasm ripping through you with the force of a tempest. You cried out his name, the sound echoing through the bedroom and sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He lapped at you, savoring your sweet release, his own need growing with each tremor that wracked your frame.

As your climax subsided, Yeosang moved up your body, kissing and nibbling along the way. He hovered over you, his eyes a dark, endless pool of desire. "Again," he whispered, his fangs retracted but the hunger in his gaze was unmistakable. "I want to feel you come apart for me again."

Your eyes were glazed with passion, and your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. "I-I don't know if I can," you murmured, your voice tremulous with the aftershocks of pleasure. But Yeosang knew you better than you knew yourself, and he recognized the challenge in your words. He kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth, sharing your taste with you. You moaned into the kiss, your body already responding to his command.

He slid two fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit with the same rhythm that had driven your over the edge moments before.

"Good girl," he praised, his tone low and seductive. "You're so wet for me."

Your cheeks burned at his words, but you couldn't deny the truth of them. Your body was responding to him in a way that was utterly foreign, and yet it felt so incredibly right. You bit your lower lip, trying to keep your moans of pleasure from escaping as he grew bolder, his strokes becoming more insistent.

You bucked against his hand, your nails digging into his shoulders as you sought purchase. He felt you tighten around him, your breath coming in short gasps. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a gentle rumble. Your eyes snapped open, locking with his, and he watched the realization dawn in them as you felt the beginnings of another climax building.

"Yeah, baby, that's it," he murmured, his praise sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "You're so beautiful when you come."

The way he talked to you, the way he touched you, it was all so overwhelming. You felt a mix of pleasure and a hint of something else, something darker that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It was as if he was claiming you, marking you as his own with every stroke and every syllable of praise that slipped from his lips. And you liked it, more than you cared to admit.

Your breathing grew ragged, and you could feel the tension building inside you like a storm about to break. Your eyes went wide as you felt a sudden, unfamiliar sensation building in your lower abdomen. Your body began to quake as a second, more powerful orgasm ripped through you like a bolt of lightning. He knew it too, his eyes burning into yours as he whispered, "You're going to come for me, aren't you?"

It was both a question and a command, and you found yourself nodding frantically, your hips rising off the bed to meet his hand. His fingers moved faster, pressing harder, and you could feel the dam about to burst.

"You're going to squirt for me," he said, his voice a dark promise. "I want to feel it, baby."

"Yeosang," you stutter trying to form a sentence. "I-I feel like--" you felt embarrassed to say it.

"You feel like you're going to come," he finishes for you, his voice a smug whisper. "It's alright. Just let go."

"I-I feel like peeing-," you mumble. "S-Stop, I don't-"

"Shh," he hushes, his thumb circling your clit with a maddening precision. "It's not pee, it's your body's natural response to pleasure." His voice is soothing, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you closely. "Trust me, it's going to feel amazing."

"Squirt for me."

The word "squirt" was like a trigger, and you felt your body tighten around his fingers as the most intense pleasure you'd ever experienced washed over you. It was as if you'd been holding your breath for an eternity and were finally allowed to exhale. You cried out, your eyes squeezed shut as you rode the wave, feeling your muscles spasm and release in a delicious, liquid rush. A rush of liquid spilled from you, soaking the sheets beneath you. You could feel the warmth spreading between your thighs, a sensation that was both shocking and exhilarating. Yeosang's eyes widened in surprise and delight as he watched your body respond.

The release is unlike anything you've ever felt before, a mix of pleasure and relief that leaves you panting and trembling. Yeosang's eyes are wide with excitement, his fangs peeking out slightly as he watches you come apart in his arms. He pulls his hand away, his fingers glistening with your arousal, and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, the realization of what just happened finally sinking in. "Oh my god," you whisper, your voice shaky. "What was that?"

"That," he says with a smug smile, "was your body giving in to me." He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. "You're mine now, in every way that counts."

"Now stay still," he murmured, his voice filled with desire. "You're so perfect. Doing so good for me. Let me help you finish." He didn't stop his ministrations, instead, his thumb pressed harder, his fingers moving faster as he coaxed another wave of pleasure from your trembling form. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, a delicious pressure that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head.

The feeling grew more intense, the warm liquid continuing to spill out of you until you were sure you would drown in it. Yeosang's eyes gleamed with excitement as he watched you, his own arousal evident in the hard line of his cock pressed against your thigh. He leaned down, his tongue darting out to taste the newfound wetness, a growl of pleasure rumbling in his chest.

The intimacy of the moment was almost too much to bear. Your body was laid bare before him, a canvas of passion and need. But instead of feeling embarrassed or shy, you felt powerful, like you had unlocked some ancient, primal part of yourself that had been waiting for this very moment.

He kissed you deeply, the taste of your own release on his lips a heady aphrodisiac that only served to fan the flames of your desire. Your hips rocked against his hand, your body begging for more, even as you felt the last tremors of your second orgasm fade.

When you opened your eyes again, you found him watching you, his gaze filled with love and an almost tangible hunger. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle despite the urgency in his touch.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice shaky with pleasure. "More than okay. That was… incredible."

He smiled, his fangs peeking out slightly as he kissed you again. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispered, his eyes dark with need. "Now, let me show you what else I can do."

He slid his hand away, and you felt a moment of loss before he positioned himself between your legs. His cock nudged at your entrance, and you gasped at the sheer size of him. But you were so wet, so ready, that you knew you could take him.

With a gentle push, he entered you, the sensation of him filling you, unlike anything you'd ever felt before. You tensed for a moment, pain ripping through your body. He paused, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress, his concern clear even in the throes of his own passion. "You're okay?" he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

"I…" you went silent, your hands reaching for his forearm. He watched you intently, the love in his gaze almost too much to handle as you felt a sudden rush of wetness between your legs, not just from your arousal, but the blood that accompanied your first time. The sight of it made you panic, and you looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. "What's happening?" you whispered, your voice shaking.

Yeosang leaned down, his forehead against yours, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's okay," he soothed, his voice calm and steady. "It's just a little blood. It's normal." He kissed you gently, tasting the hint of fear in your mouth. "I'm with you," he assured you, his hands moving to gently cup your cheeks. "I'll never hurt you."

Taking a shaky breath, you nodded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed in a little further, your body stretching around him, and you bit your bottom lip to stifle a gasp. It hurt, but you didn't want him to stop. You could feel him, so deep inside you, and you knew that you were his, forever. The pain was a strange sort of pleasure, a reminder of the bond you were forming.

As he began to move, your eyes drifted shut, and you focused on the feeling of him inside you. The pain began to recede, replaced by a deep, insatiable need that grew with every stroke. Your body felt alive in a way it never had before, your muscles tightening around him like a vice.

"You feel so good, my love," Yeosang murmured, his voice thick with passion as he began to move within you, his strokes slow and gentle at first. He watched your face, your expressions a tapestry of pain and pleasure that painted a picture of the virginity you were giving to him. He knew he had to be careful, had to make sure you enjoyed this moment, that you felt comfortable and loved.

Your nails dug into his arms, but you didn't push him away. Instead, you clung to him, your body adjusting to the new sensation as he continued to move, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder than the last. The blood had stopped, but the memory of it made him ache for more, made him want to claim you fully. But he held back, knowing that this was your moment, your first time, and he needed to make it perfect for you.

Your breathing grew ragged as you began to move with him, your hips rising to meet his. He kissed you, his fangs grazing your lower lip as he tasted the lingering fear that mingled with the sweetness of your blood. "You're mine," he murmured against your mouth, his voice a dark promise that sent a thrill of excitement through you.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you nodded, your voice a soft whisper. "Yeah, I'm yours."

The words seemed to unleash something within him, a primal need held in check by his love and respect for you. He began to move faster, his hips slapping against yours as he claimed you in the most intimate way possible. You moaned, your nails now raking down his back as you arched into him, your body begging for more.

Yeosang could feel his own release building, the pressure at the base of his spine growing unbearable. He reached down, his thumb finding your clit, and began to rub it in tight circles.

Your eyes shot open, and you stared at him, your pupils dilated with lust. "Yeosang," you gasped, his name a plea on your lips.

He leaned in, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "You're so tight, so wet," he whispered, his words hot against your skin. "You're going to feel so good when I come inside you."

Your body tensed, your nails digging into his back as you tried to hold onto the last shreds of your sanity. But it was no use. His words, his touch, it was all too much, and you felt yourself hurtling towards another climax. This one was different, though. It was as if your entire being was coiled tightly, ready to snap.

"Oh god," you whimpered, your hips bucking up to meet him. "I'm going to come again."

He grinned, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Do it," he urged, his voice a dark caress. "Come for me, baby. Show me how much you like it."

With a strangled cry, you did just that. Your body spasmed around him, your muscles clenching as you came harder than you ever had before.

Yeosang watched you with a mix of awe and pride, his own climax a distant thunderstorm on the horizon of his pleasure. He knew he could keep you on this precipice for hours if he wanted to, but he also knew that this was your first time, and he didn't want to push your too far too soon. So, with a gentle kiss to your forehead, he pulled out, your juices coating his cock in a warm, sticky mess.

He sat up, his eyes never leaving yours, and reached for a pillow behind you. Carefully, he placed it under your hips, elevating you to the perfect angle. He kept your thighs spread, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he positioned himself above your once more. The pillow made your feel even more exposed, more vulnerable, and you bit your lip as you watched him enter your again.

This time, his movements were more deliberate, his strokes slower and deeper. You could feel every inch of him, the veins of his cock pulsing with each thrust. The pain had mostly subsided, leaving behind a deep, all-consuming need that you hadn't known existed. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer, your heels digging into his back.

Your eyes remained locked as he began to move again, his hips rolling into yours in a rhythm that was as old as time.

His hand slid from your thigh to your lower stomach, his fingers pressing down firmly, guiding your movements, setting the pace. You gasped as the pressure built, your nails digging into his back as you felt the beginnings of a third orgasm coiling within you. Yeosang watched you with an almost painful hunger, his eyes dark with desire.

Your words grew more desperate, more explicit with each passing second. "H-Harder," you begged, your voice a needy whine. "D-Don't stop, please, don't ever stop..." He could feel his own climax approaching, a warm tingle at the base of his spine, but he held back, determined to give you everything you needed.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss as his hand moved lower, his fingers sliding through your wetness to find your clit. He circled it with the same rhythm as his hips, feeling your body tighten around him. The dirtiness of your pleas only fueled his desire, his own moans growing louder as he felt your body responding to his touch.

Your movements grew erratic, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as the room filled with the sounds of your passion. Yeosang's whispers grew more heated, his words a delicious mix of sweet praise and dark need. "You're so tight," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "So wet and perfect for me." His fangs grazed the soft skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Your moans grew louder, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he continued to push you closer to the edge. "You're going to come again, aren't you?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "You're going to scream my name as I fuck you so hard you forget your own." His words were a heady mix of love and possession, and you couldn't help but respond to them, your body arching off the bed as you neared climax once more.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a seductive purr. "T-Take it, take everything I give you." He thrust harder, his fingers working in tandem with his cock, pushing you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you let out a scream of pleasure, your nails raking down his back.

Your body convulsed around him, your pussy clenching in a vice-like grip as you came for a third time, your orgasm shaking you to your very core. Yeosang watched you with a mix of love and hunger, his own release just out of reach. He knew he was close, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, but he wanted to make sure you were satisfied beyond all measure before he gave in to his own needs.

With a gentle but firm hand, he rolled you onto your stomach, your ass in the air, and your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. You whimpered, your body still sensitive from your previous climaxes, but the position was one of submission and trust, and you knew he would never hurt you. He kissed the back of your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You could feel his cock, still hard and slick with your arousal, pressing against your thigh.

He reached around you, his hand finding your clit again, his fingers resuming your relentless dance. You moaned, your hips moving involuntarily as you felt the beginnings of another climax coil within you. It was too much, you thought, your body couldn't possibly take any more. But you were wrong. Each touch, each stroke, brought you closer to the precipice once more.

"Y-Yeosang," you cry out, your face now falling into the pillows. "T-Too much--"

"Never too much," he whispers, his voice thick with need. He slides into you from behind, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You feel filled and complete like you're made for this. His hand moves to your hip, his grip firm, guiding your movements as he begins to thrust. You push back into him, the angle hitting your g-spot with precision, making you moan into the fabric.

Your rhythm builds, your bodies moving together like you're one entity. You're lost in the sensations, your mind a whirlwind of pleasure. You've never felt so alive, so utterly consumed by someone else. His teeth graze your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. You know what's coming, but the anticipation only makes you wetter.

"I need you," he says, his voice strained. "I need all of you."

The words send a shiver down your spine. You nod, your voice lost in the symphony of pleasure. He sinks his fangs into your neck, the pain sharp and brief. The taste of your blood fills his mouth, and it's like nothing he's ever known. He groans, his hips moving faster as he drinks from you, feeling your pulse against his tongue. You gasp, your body tightening around him, and he knows you're close.

With a final, desperate push, he feels your orgasm ripple through you, your pussy clenching around him like a fist. It's all the encouragement he needs. He pulls out of you, his cock pulsing with his own release. He comes all over your back, the warmth of his cum mixing with the sticky wetness between your legs.

For a moment, you're both still, panting, your hearts racing in tandem. Then, Yeosang pulls you into his arms, turning you so you're nestled against his chest. He kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. His tongue laps at the wound on your neck, healing it with his saliva. You shiver, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

"How was it?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"It was…" you trail off, trying to find the words. "A-Amazing," you finally say, your voice a whisper. "I didn't know it could feel like that."

He smiles, his eyes shining with love. "I'm glad I could be the one to show you." He runs his hand through your hair, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

"But we're not done yet."

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 - chapter one mafia! charles leclerc x fem! reader ( fluff ) series summary . . . after preparing your whole life to be married off to a mafia boss, you now have the difficult task of figuring out your new marriage and life, ensuring they don't turn out to be miserable.

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chapter one summary . . . it's hard to process as the day goes by and you cant snap yourself out of your thoughts. it has happened but it has not yet registered, and as charles holds your hand, you can't help but let your mind wander on what comes next. (448 words) content warning . . . ( contains smut, 18+ mdni; pnv, vanilla mostly, over stim if you squint, inexperienced/virgin! reader )

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The croaking in the night gave you a sense of comfort. Leaning your arms on the balcony railing, you watched the trees sway in the cool wind. The high moon provided enough light to see the wide garden below, on which you plan to add more colour and atmosphere.

There are many things for you to figure out in the morning, the most important being getting this chaotic villa in order and mapping out the neighbourhood to find the pond where all the frogs are probably residing.

You’ll, of course, have to figure out your new responsibilities as well. As the wife of Charles Leclerc and the co-leader of the Monégasque underworld, many duties are waiting for you.

The most important of which is probably making sure that Charles didn't drive himself nuts; helping him save some sanity for family time and personal duties that come with being a mortal human.

Speaking of Charles. You heard the door of the ensuite bathroom click open. Glancing through the corner of your eye without turning fully you could see the red towel wrapped around his waist, his body shining with just a bit of the water that hasn't dried yet.

You looked back in front of you when he noticed you looking down to stubbly study him. You could hear his footsteps near and the towel brushing against his skin. He was probably drying himself.

"You'll get a cold," He muttered leaning on the railing beside you. You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from mumbling a comment about him being more naked than you. And just as gently as he has been with you all day, Charles puts the red towel on your wet hair.

You turned your head, staring deep into his green eyes— a beautiful colour you could never understand. You stayed still, watching as he stood up straight to gently ruffle your hair dry with the towel using both his hands.

Your eyes fluttered shut from a stray strand which Charles quickly brushed away moving to stand behind you to take care of your hair. When you open your eyes again you see that the moon had set. It left the sky and neighbourhood dark in its wake.

You don't know where it had gone off to, but that allowed the stars to shine. And for their beauty, you admired. The Grandfather clock downstairs chimed. It was loud you could hear it from here. The old jingle and melody always scared you as a child, especially at night. You never knew you still had that fear.

Charles had noticed your jolt when the chime played. He gently moved your hair off your shoulder placing a kiss to the back of your neck.

Ding, the clock chanted loudly through the empty house, providing you with ever comfort.

You sucked in a breath when you felt the warm muscular hands wrap around your waist.

Two chimes.

The Monegasque's fingers found the string to the string to the silk robe you'd pulled from his closet. It was red. You couldn't understand his obsession with the colour.

Three chimes.

Breathing in and closing your eyes, you felt Charles peer off your shoulders, his fingers delicately pulling the messy bow untied.

The fourth and fifth rings followed as Charles trailed his hands up your shoulders, burying his face in your hair and breathing in. And if you could plead to the stars. Plead that what comes next is as beautiful as they say. Plead that they'd keep you safe.

You gulp as the silk is pulled off to fall at your feet, soft cool wind greeting your skin.

At the 6th ring, Charles wrapped his arms around your stomach and pressed the chest to your back. His body offered you heat and protection. You could feel the lines of his muscles on your back, how his thumb gently stroked the skin of your stomach.

With the next ring, you're body lit up with a gasp. Charles pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, his hands moving to your hips, giving a little squeeze.

The eighth, ninth, and tenth rings followed; each "ding!" giving Charles a cue to kiss more to touch more. And each time you stayed quiet, feeling your chest rise up and down deeply. In fear was it? Or anticipation? Curiosity? Expectation.

On the eleventh ring, you let Charles pull your cheek back so he could press a kiss to your lips. You let the stars out of your sight as you kissed back, electricity stinging you somehow in your lower spine. His lips were soft. Softer than you expected.

Feeling another set of lips on yours felt weird as well. Feelings his lips. Charles' lips. Charles' back. Charles' fingers, his arms, his chest rising and falling, the steady lub-dub lub-dub vibrating in his chest onto your back.

Such foreign. Feelings that you don't understand and don't want to end.

When the twelfth ring comes, Charles takes a step back and pulls you with him from your hips. But you don't go with him and his touch disappears. Your hands gripped the railing until your knuckles turned white, preventing you from returning to the warm bedroom with him.

You face front and look down at the garden. And for some reason, your body felt empty as you listen to Charles sigh and retreat to the warm bed.

You look up to the stars, wishing they could provide you with some comfort. And if they could talk, they'd most likely scold you.

Charles is not your enemy. He's not going to hurt you, he's shown that a lot today. He's going to be the rest of your life. And you don't want to make this situation worse. You want to be happy. You want a happy marriage.

Charles looked up from where he sat on his side, his eyes following you as you stepped inside, closing the sliding glass after yourself and taking steps till you were standing in front of him.

You pulled the two rings off your finger, sliding the wedding band back on and holding the purity ring for Charles to take. He looked up at you, understanding what you were asking him to do. What you didn't expect him to do was hold your hand and hold your palm to his mouth, leaving a kiss as he pulled the ring in his mouth.

Your face flushed red at the look his eyes gave you as he looked up at you through his eyebrows, moving his tongue in his mouth to wear the ring on his tongue.

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"Relax," Charles huffed, holding your hips down as he ripped open a packet with his other hand and teeth. "You know you can look," He says sliding the condom on.

"I— I don't know." You stutter, keeping your head laid back with your eyes screwed shut, hands over your face from the embarrassment you're feeling. The man chuckles and holds your hips. His smile widens when you yelp as he pulls your lower back onto his lap so your body is at an angle.

"I want you to look, I want you to know what's happening." He tries again, peeling your wrists off your face when he's unsuccessful and pinning them to your stomach instead. "Open your eyes," He ordered rather softly and you complied.

"There's nothing to be scared of," Charles promises as you run your eyes over the position he put you in before looking back in his green eyes. The brunette was sitting on his knees with your ass on his lap, your parted thighs at either side of his waist, his hands gently pining your wists down.

"Tell me if it's too much, if you want to stop, if it hurts, if you don't like it." He says, pulling you further up on his lap, leaning to bend his toes forward for extra support. "I'm with you the whole time," He whispered once more time, looking down at you.

Charles found himself laughing as your face flushed, embarrassed by the noise you made. "It's okay," He tells you with a smile, one that is oddly comforting. The Monegasque had barely pushed in and you'd squeaked loudly in surprise. You frowned, feeling a sense of shame and humiliation that he laughed.

A grunt left your lips as he shuffled closer and pulled you higher in his, leaning his body to yours. "It's okay," he smiles again, trying to get you to relax. You let him kiss you, hesitantly copying his movements to kiss him back. "You learn fast," Charles grunted pushing his hips and pulling yours.

A strangled cry left your lips which was swallowed in a kiss quickly by the man on top. Your hands flew out of his grip, one finding his hand another an arm. "You're doing great," His comforting voice came again, pushing further causing your body to arch up to his. He held back your arm and hand, pressing the latter to his chest.

"You're doing so good," He praised as you pressed your head back in discomfort, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. "So good, amour."

"You're going to split me," You whimpered, digging your nails into his arm and heels in the mattress. The feeling was foreign, stretching you out too far in hot pain. You didn't know what to make of the part of Charles inside.

"No no no," Charles shook his head, leaning his hands on either side of his head so he could hold his body up and show you. "Look, you're taking me so well," He held your cheek for a moment before putting his hand on your stomach.

You're glad at least one of you knew what he was doing. When you're body accepted Charles he'd started moving slowly, you were glad that he let you hold his hands, even entwining your fingers together.

This time around, you let the noises roll past your lips as Charles thrust his hips to meet yours. He held up your hands above your head, fingers entwined, bodies pressed together, utterly connected. He drank every moan you gave him like a starved man, leaving hickeys where he kissed your neck and shoulders.

At some point you found your arms wrapped around his back, your nose nuzzled in his neck. You felt your body rock back and forth with the quick pace of his thrusts, feeling deliciously full. It felt like you were whole. Like all the wrongs in the world were correct. Like this was where you were meant to be, all along.

With every pull and push, your tummy flutters and a soft moan falls from your lips.

Charles was grunting and moaning now too, his soft breath in your ear as he whispered to you in French. And you had to admit you loved his voice, his noises. Seeing him in this state— it was a beautiful sight, one you admired with half-lidded eyes.

Hearing him call your name as he nibbled on your ear and neck, whispering things like 'You fit me perfectly,' or 'You feel so good I don't think I'll stop,' or 'You're so perfect'. It filled you with confidence maybe a bit of bravery. It made some coil— some ecstasy inside of you tighten in an overwhelming intensity. And for some reason, you wanted to snap the coil.

"So tight?" Charles huffed, trying to push deeper, to explore and memorize you. You've heard the term "cock-drunk" before and now you understand. The feeling of veins dragging against your wars, his length twitching here and there. "You're close?" Charles asked.

"Close?" You asked through pants and little moan-hums, voice barely above a whisper. You move a hand to your head and look back to see how far your head is from bumping into the headboard.

Charles chuckled and smiled. He found it cute how little you knew. "Close here," He corrected, moving a hand down to your core, catching some of your dripping arousals before coating your clit.

His smile widened at your reaction, the way your back arched up into his chest, soft boobs against his hard abs, bouncing with every thrust; the way your hand left your head and gripped on his hair instead, a full needy moan leaving your lips that you couldn't bother to subdue.

"You're so pretty," Charles says, breath hot on your chest, peaking down to watch as his thumb press on your clit. He smiled again with a low laugh at the way you squirmed and moaned, pressing your face further into his neck. "I love how you react to me. So perfect for me. So Pure."

You felt his weight increase on you, a breathy moan echoing in your throat as he reached deeper inside you. "You're— s— so far in," you try to speak, looking in his eyes with furrowed brows.

Charles chuckles down with a, the hand he'd used previously to hold himself up with now cups your jaw instead. "Am I?" He asks, kissing you. You nodded, humming a 'mhm'. "How far?" He asks further, pinching your clit between his forefinger and thumb.

"S— so far—" You cut yourself off with a gasp and a whine, arching your back up and trying to pull him down. "Charles," the name is begged quietly. Charles only smiles softly, panting as he presses circles to your clit with his thumb, watching you squirm and whine.

"So sensitive aren't you? So pure. For me to love. For me to take, to ruin." He hums, thrusting a few more times until your body spasms beneath him. He relished in the loud whine, leaning his hands on either side of his head as he fucked you through your first orgasm while you hold onto his shoulders whimpering beneath him as the pleasure becomes too much.

Charles slows down to a stop before you're overstimulated. Gently, he takes your hands from his shoulders and presses kisses to your forehead, whispering praises in French. You didn't understand a single word but you still loved it.

You leaned up to catch his lips, cupping his cheek as you kissed passionately. His warm hand held yours once you pulled away, holding your hands in his lap as he sat back on his knees to look at what he'd done. The image of your rising and falling chest, your spent body, and ruffled hair cascading your face sticking to your forehead with beads of sweat.

"Charles— nghh," You whimpered, feeling his hips thrust. You were not expecting that. Not expecting more. White hot euphoria that made you squirm in discomfort.

"Sorry sorry," Charles apologised, thrusting his hips and watching as your body rocked and jolted. "I'm so close, I'm gonna cum," he heaved, relishing in the feeling, moving softly to not overload you too much.

"You're doing great, so great," you could only screw your eyes shut, shuffling your legs at his sides as he chases his pleasure. And as promised, he climaxed on top of you. You could feel his body shudder and hear a low moan. You watched as he slipped out, both of you tensing for a second before relaxing and falling back with a moan.

You gladly climb onto his chest with his help, holding your hands to your chest as he hugs you, his finger brushing through your hair, a feeling you're starting to adore. "How do you feel?" he asks and all you can bring yourself to whisper as you nuzzle in his neck is a quiet, "Empty," He chuckles, kissing your head as your eyes flutter shut.

[death---dealer]

Cross Contaminate. ( Noa x Human!Reader. ) Part Sixteen.

okay i lied so we got this chapter and then one more after.

Title: Cross Contaminate. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Mentions of Ape Mating, Human sex. The next chapter is where this is gonna go absolutely ballistic lmao.. ) Words: 9.2K+ Pairing: Noa x Human!Reader. Summary: The last bit of remaining doubt is brought to light before you commence into the Mating Ceremony to be bonded to Noa. Nerves are fresh. READ THE SERIES HERE.

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It was remarkably fluid, your eyes staring holes of envy straight into two sets of hands, twenty fingers, that were communicating without many words, only a few grunts distributed when the infliction of the sign language wasn’t enough to convey proper and adequate feelings. Your fingers on the other hand… Glancing down at your scarring calves, you drifted the very tips of your finger pads against the pink nature of the healing skin and drew a deep breath in. Not as sharp as it was three months ago when it felt like literal knives of hot branded iron where being cased against your ribcage.

But, in the position you were in; feet splayed out in front of you on the grassy nature of the meadow now often used to play Monkey ball during the warming afternoons of the Spring Time when there was time to play outside of the erection of the new Village. Your upper body crouching in to get a better look at your own reminder of the hands of Death, breathing was difficult as you were squeezing your ribs against each other. 

It felt good at times like this, in some sickeningly twisted manner. It reminded you that… Despite the care and affection you held towards the Eagle Clan, the culture and customs that were slowly becoming your own without remorse and with the utmost kindness… Noa’s features came into view as your perception of jealousy hazed into admiration for the stance of which he held himself. Confident… Radiant, almost in the way that the sun danced against his fur coat. 

Honey-ladened around the very edges and a dark rich brown near the skin, he looked like he was ablaze to your vision and you wanted to touch him. Wanted to caress Noa to see if his fur had soaked up the warmth of the sun and if he’d be willing to share that with you as a lick of anticipation based shivers wracked down your spine. He must have known you were looking at him; the hackles against his shoulders rose ever so slightly at your gawk, lips parting when you were able to make contact with the gold-green eyes that had become a constant thought late at night.

His shoulder, your gaze swept it as Noa admired your expression. Content, the Ape thought to himself, more so now that you were allowed to move on your own two legs and often accompanied him outside of the healing hut you were in before. 

Happy… since the moment that you held onto Noa’s forearms so desperately when you were first beckoned to stand, the Master of the Birds now still able to feel your fingers against the grain of his hide there as you were so afraid to fall as Soona chattered to him about the Eagle Enclosure. Noa knew he should listen; it was important but the fantasy ran wild and his thoughts were unable to tangle themselves away from you.

The wrapping of his long arm against your hips, the bone so soft to him as the Ape was recalled to hyperactive reminiscence. Tugging you against Noa’s broad chest, how you gasped for him as your feet staggered under your weight and how Noa felt the tips of his rounded ears prickle with an aggressive desire to hear more.

Another moment of secrecy that you wanted to hold onto and never let go as thoughts of the unknown made themselves ardently present as if they were not known in the words you and Noa had spoken before, in the actions of the past. Noa would… hold you again like this someday in a different… Context. He’d hold you, Soona’s words next to him becoming nothing more than a fevered motion, Noa would… always… Hold you…

Golden flecked and predominantly foliage eyes narrowed on you in a way that could only be described as acute possession. The way your hand pressed against your calves, the way you were looking at his own body in mirrored empathy. Both healed almost fully. It was hard at the distance you were enjoying the weather to actually see the indentation against his right shoulder cap, to see the missing splotch of fur from the wound that had taken its course against Noa’s tendons there, but you knew… 

Your fingers flicked against the scar on your left calf. You knew it was there, you had kissed it with your eyes, your lips crying themselves into a pursed smile at the thought that someday you’d be able to lay your saliva against it and whisper how truly grateful you were that he incurred such a injury because of you. No… You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly running dry with agitated worry. Noa did it for you, not because of you.

An Echo and an Ape, heatedly marked in some ritual that you were forever going to share the bond of what caused the damage. A bond of more; your heart raced at that thought, the prospect that eradicated all your other senses that you were to be a Mated Pair and the imagination that ran wild with conversations of the past were all validated in a moment of confession. 

The Chimp who always garnered your attention. Their leader in particular held the most affection and the last three moon cycles have felt like a dream from the moment that Noa touched you so passionately. Rising your left hand upwards, you placed it against your thigh.

The skin no longer yearned for just your touch, it felt rejected as you moved to swirl a figure eight against it. It begged and sang for Noa to bring his wrath down once more to the point of  antagonistic desire of wanting him to catapult the deepest and darkest of bruises against the delicate flesh. But, for every vision of happiness you had, self-deprecation had to play his nasty hand right back at it to keep even you… The Human of choice that the Ape wanted more than anything, humbled and foregrounded. There was always the nagging sensation that you were just…

An Echo.

The reverberation of a word casted along the long narrow ways of the Ruins that were a melancholic call back of your own Humanity. How you hated it at times, letting the inhale you had taken in a minute ago release with a fiery exhale, the heated air feeling good against the brisk breeze that had decided to fall against the Village.

The way that the Male and Female Ape moved together, non-logistic as it felt at times when his hands were too close to yours, so natural as you watched her push onto his broad shoulder to get his attention as Noa had been staring at you in the open, the one that had healed remarkably quickly with a loud guff of approval over his intentions for the the next phase of the Eagle Enclosure. 

Noa deserved better, your mind quipped at itself. He would always… Deserve better. Soona could give him what you lacked, what you were always going to lack and the idea was persistent in your mind as Noa began the courtship to garner your hand into something more. How quickly you were to accept it, how fast you wanted him to take you… Noa would always cause you to swallow and lap up whatever you could, just looking at his broad shoulders all the way down to the tapering of his thin waist… Everything was so inviting.

Canines bared themselves as he laughed at something that Soona said, the reflection of the sun so great against the sharpness that you wanted to reach out and touch them. Because they were yours to touch, right? Yours to… touch… Noa’s to dig into your body whenever he wants. The huffing of his chest drawing your attention. You wanted him to react to you that way. Carnal and primal intent, nothing more. Your jaw locked in on itself as you peered at Soona; a mixture of rageful jealousy cupped with self-hating ideas were falling quicker than your mind was able to rebut against. She’d be… better for him. A friend from the time they were born. Within a Sunset, they always told you with a smile. Anaya was there too; all three of them… Such good friends.

And their little Echo who was going to be the downfall of the great culture and customs that they had all grown with, all known and all encompassing. 

A little Echo who was afraid of their own shadow at times and clasped too tightly to an Ape who was able to give them… Everything.

A twinge of saltiness hit the back of your irises as your eyelids fell shut. What… would Noa do if… You were unable to give him what he sought? Never explicitly stated, but it was implied with the urge to mate with you. The more animalistic tear that you both ignored at times when you discussed how soon you wanted to mate together, how soon was too soon? The Apes had a way of doing things, similar to Humans the first time that it was talked about in detail. Dating for you, courting for them. 

Things were done a certain way to show interest though the interest was always there from the beginning. It made Noa feel comfortable, you realized. It opened him up to you in ways that were… New. Enlightening… The Eagle Clan master was sure of his choice, it was clear in the way he spoke to you, spoke to his fellow Apes… Parting your lips again, you wetted them before smearing your mouth together in deep thought and affirmation. He loved… you. You knew that. You loved him, and Noa knew that…

Two more months was the agreed timetable but what if in the next two months, Noa realized… To whatever is above, you cursed silently in your head as the tears of agitated anxiety hit more coarsely against the back of your eyes, now threatening to be released to tredge down your cheek. What if… Noa came to light that you were just… A Human?

Sure, you tilted your head and looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes in acute disgust at the fact that they seemed so weak compared to Soona’s who stood so grounded and hard against the Earth, her feet just as dexterous as her hands, sure you had heard stories from passing groups of Humans during your upbringing but they were used to fuel nightmares. Hybrids. Ape and Human hybrids. All terrible, all inflicted with irrational growth and permanent damage to their tiny bodies that they often didn't make it past the newborn stage, let alone to full term to actually sustain giving birth. 

Giving… Birth… Was another aspect that would leave the Mother inebriated, tethering on Death itself again but that wasn’t the worry anymore. You’d die for Noa, you felt it was in the cards that you brought to the table and it was just a matter of time when it would happen. If you could give him what he wanted, then it would all be worthwhile.

A child. Not some sick science experiment that Humans had to just see what could possibly happen with a hybrid, but a baby… Made from love and adoration that was a rampant part of the relationship. Hard to see now, you were mean to yourself as you looked at Soona once more. You were weak. Would you even be able to carry a child for Noa when Soona herself was able to carry half her body weight with ease? You could barely pick up a thatch of wooden bricks that were used for the fireplace without straining yourself. She’d be better for Noa, you thought affectionately towards the Female Ape. She’d always… Be better…

‘Almost done.’ 

Startled, you were torn out of your decrypting nightmare and felt your shoulders jolt, the tiny hairs prickling against your body as Noa came to hunch beside you, his hands laying flat on their knuckles between the muscular thighs you wished your caress with both your own touch and your full body.

Noa… Could feel the shake in your heartbeat from the flatness of his feet against the ground, his gaze scrutinizing against the minute details of your expression. Glossingly, your eyes looked to the side as you drew a taut breath in, the way that your chest rose gave no satisfaction to the Ape as your breasts were not ample to move. You wished he spoke instead of using a sign, your gaze glancing back over at him as you caught the tail end of his stocky fingers moving. 

“Are you---” That didn't sound like your voice and you hated it. How desperate it sounded, just two words drawing themselves into a whine of sorts as you stared widely into Noa’s eyes, his body rocking towards yours out of instinct once you locked pupils. “Sure that you don’t want to talk more with Soona? I-I can always go back to my hut for the night if you wanted to wor… work more with her.”

“Would rather spend my time with… My Echo.” A hand was touching your left calf and it took not one moment of reflex for you to raise it in a desperate plea for Noa to touch it more adoringly. Me, you shut your eyes and felt the fuzz of his fur dragging itself against your already sweat-prone skin, touch me…

The nickname you garnered from Noa was endearing, you loved to hear it at all times. But now, it felt almost like another knife was stinging into your gut and causing your organs to fall in on themselves as your brain was quick to rationalize it to just… Echo… Just… Human… You’d been through this time and time again with yourself. The want between you two.

The gravity that pulled your forms together, even more so as Noa brought himself into a seated position, the Earth whispering against his fur and coating it with blades of grass that were now just turning a lush green that reminded you of his gaze. You looked at him, mouth contorting into a frown of sorts that was trying to display itself as a smile. Noa looked at it with a squinted stare before drawing his attention back towards your eyes.

“I don’t understand why.” You admitted shamefully, not feeling the vibe of pessimism that was rising in your shoulders and against the base of your neck like a fiery undertaking had exploded from your stomach. “Soona and Anaya need you just as much as I do---” Noa sighed. You could hear it against your ears like a drum pounding but there was no doubt that it was merely blood rushing in as you suddenly felt a wash of anxious contempt. It was as if to say in a quiet and forlorn way that Noa was aware that this conversation would happen, the doubt would ultimately outride the pleasure. In his time of knowing you, there had never been seeped worry on your part. You always displayed the perfect confidence that he would mimic.

What… Was Noa meant to do now that it was shattering? That you were drawing away from him again? Something. Anything… He looked down at your half cusped calf and tightened his grip on it with affliction of tenderness. Affirmation, Noa hoped and brought his mouth together as his nostrils flared with contemplation. “Do not understand… Where is this coming from? Thought you were… Happy here.” You grunted softly in your chest which caught in your throat, coming out sounding more like a disgruntled whimper. “You know I’m h-happy here but…” You looked over his shoulder at Soona as she began chattering with Anaya about something. Most other situations, you’d have laughed at the interaction. How easy they were to communicate with one another, the mild annoyance that Anaya caused that Soona would just burden with a laugh. She enjoyed it just as much as he did, you knew as you looked at Noa’s shoulder. “I… Worry… A lot…” “Told you many times… Not t---” “Soona would be better for you.” “Do not want---” “I’m just a Human, Noa. What are we doing---” “We do not need to go through this!” Noa snapped at you, canines flashing for only a split second as his temper flared. Not often, but it did scratch at the innate part of your mind that the Ape was a force to be reckoned with at times and Noa was ardently protective of the things he held most dear. And now, your mouth falling shut slowly as to shut yourself up from digging into a hole you were unable to get out of, you stared at him and swallowed hard.

“We do not…” Hand leaving your calf, it rested lightly back onto the ground as Noa chose to stare at it instead. The pinkish nature was unnatural against your skin tone and it tugged at the part of his mind that begged into the submission of guilt. Always… guilt for causing you so great and extensive tears into the skin he loved but was never willing to admit it until recently. 

“Why… is it so hard… To understand…” Noa raised his hand once more and you were accepting of any of the touches he was going to bestow onto you. Briskly, his knuckles touched at your calf and drew themselves upwards and tapered off right above your kneecap. “You were… my choice…? Do not want… Soona. Or any other Female. I have… Chosen only you.”

“A stupid Human---” Self-loathing did not suit you, you realized and felt a few tears prickle down your cheeks which you were quick to reach up and brush away, but Noa in his reflexes were quicker as he tugged his right hand against the upper part of your cheekbone and wiped them off as they came down. 

“A… Smart… Beautiful…” Noa tilted his head in to captivate you into a forehead kiss but you were not feeling up to receiving such affection and turned your head to the side as you sniffled softly. Expanding his hand from your swiped away tears, Noa’s palm and fingers fell in line with your jawline and urged you back to look at him. Stay with me, he wanted to whisper but the words escaped him. You had to know that even after all of this time, words did not come easy to him and he needed time to process them in order for the meaning to truly come across. Stay with me, his green irises flooded into your own. “Mate…”

“I can’t give you what you want!”

You blurted out without reserve, not wanting to hold your tongue as you were aware of a group of Chimps rounding the meadow you were sitting in having just returned from a fishing expedition and carrying the evening meal against their back. Noa glanced at them as they witnessed what could only be described as an Echo emotional outburst and his stance told them to keep walking and to ignore what they were seeing. Skuttingly, they were out of the picture and Noa felt the fur on his shoulders fall back down as he no longer needed to be defensive of the situation you were drifting in. He’d protect you, you knew that. Always… 

“Want nothing more… than you…”

“W-What about the Clan’s future? I-I can’t…” Whimpering softly, you finally broke down and brought your forehead crunching down onto his. Noa was brisk to sustain his weight and the sudden influx of yours that was brought along with it. “Soo--- Soona…--- Can give you what I can’t, Noa.”

Noa tilted his head into the affection that you were giving him and let his gaze fall shut for just a moment as he caressed the side of your face. Fingertips urged you into him even more, your hot breath eradicating against Noa’s mouth as he muttered, “What… do you think it is… I want it so badly?”

“A mate who can---” Your voice cracked and it wavered to the point where you couldn’t finish the allotted statement. “Wh… Who--- can… Child…”

Words were failing, you were reduced to a fumbling mess of barely comprehensible English as Noa scooted his feet the few inches so his toes were now pressing against your hip and you were able to nearly flush your entire face against his if that’s what you so chose to do.

So… The Ape sighed once again, captivating you to pay close attention to his Noa’s chest rose and fell slowly, beckoning you to a state of calm if you were able to follow his breathing. That’s what this was all about. The one… Unspoken undisclosed relation of the entire scope of things. A child. A baby. Your own. His own.

Stories were told, Noa had Dar tell him about them after they were first mentioned three months ago. Stories of Ape cruelties towards Echo and impregnating them unsuspectingly to play a game that would have never been dealt with in that manner. Gruesome they were, Dar’s words were a testament to the savage nature that Apes would tear themselves into given the chance.

Apes beyond the Valley. Apes from other lands who wanted to cure their own morbidity. The results were born tangled in on themselves. Aspects of the face are more Echo than Ape, their limbs more Ape than Echo. Their body coated with fur that was thinned, more like the hair that protected your scalp from the sun, not thickly placed as Noa’s.

They’d never cry, Dar told Noa. They never lived beyond the womb. That was the reality of the stories that she had heard. That was a reality that Noa wanted to keep from you, never knowing that Humans… Echo had the same stories where it was they themselves who inflicted the aspect of cruelty that spurred such agony in the unborn. Juxtaposed in everything, even Birth.

Noa felt that at times as he grasped the back of your head slowly, feeling the drench of your hair falling between his thick fingers. Morbid curiosity but not in that way that he wanted to destroy you to seek what you thought he needed. He just wanted you… All of you. Fruit or not, it never mattered. If fruit, then he would do his best to protect you during. There were too many variables at play that were to drag both of you down into a pit of worry that you’d never escape from. No fruit, then that was the way of the Eagles. That was what was meant to happen and you’d acquire an heir from a more unconventional aspect.

“That does not matter.” “The Eagle Clan---” Noa felt a state of pride that you cared so deeply about them. About their security in the future and it just further encapsulated as a rightful Mate for their leader. Sure, Soona from a logistical standpoint made sense. Sure, Noa knew he could trust her and would be able to lead and have assurance. But, she was not who he wanted to wean the rest of his life with and it tore Noa to shreds, much like his shoulder had been that night you came to defend what was his, what was yours…

It dug its claws into him like a ravenous Eagle that you were unable and unwavering to see that you were a choice that he made not out of necessity, but out of… Noa swallowed hard and nuzzled his forehead aggressively against your own, the sound echoing against you as he tightened his hold onto the back of your skull. Romantic love. The type you had described to him. The type that you gave him.

“You… are a part of Eagle Clan,” Noa was assured in that as you sniffled once more, the friction between your eyebrows and his browline brought you back to a more grounded state against the World. “You… Give everything I need just by… accepting… me…”

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All your possessions, what little you had gathered during your time alone, during your time without Noa and the Eagle Clan, all capsules of memories from your past, had been packed and taken away according to the nest you were to share with the Master of the Birds and soon to be  christened with a Bond that the Clan had never experienced before.

Where you were going to be spending the night in, laying yourself in the full spectrum of his study. Drawing your shoulders in, you felt the push of your breasts against the ripstop fabric of your shirt and the dappling of your heart quickened. It was only a moment’s glance at the room, your eyes flickering against your shadow on the wall. The fire… How you felt kin to it. The dying embers glowing against your face and kissing a sweetened goodbye to your skin. 

The jagged nature of the feathers that danced with the festering light against the wood panels of the wall as your casted shadow moved alongside you, the jutting protrusion of them against the headpiece that was fitted perfectly, tangling into a few braids that Soona was sure were easy to dismantle for Noa as was their custom.

Their… Custom… Swallowing hard at your projected reflection without a face, you nodded minutely at them as if to give them the approval that you needed from another Human. Noa was going to be taking all of these things off of your body, as per Soona and Dar’s instructions when you asked about it before they left. There was a shared look between them as they recognized that you… Had no idea what you were going into, empathy ran itself in circles.

“First, the headpiece.” Soona explained in a soft voice. “Noa… knows… Head first…” your mouth twitched at the words she was using, “Then the cloak… Different for this… For… Echo. Clothing comes after that, Noa might---” Laughing slightly, she huffed, “Get confused… Might need to help him.”

“What after that?” 

Voice barely a touch above a whisper, Soona looked at Dar at the intimate aspect of your question. It was not in your Echo nature known to either of them for you to ask such private inquiries but it was eating you alive, it seemed as if your stare was desperate for confirmation as if you did not already imagine what was to come. Dar looked at you with a small nod that you acknowledged as being the answer to your speculation.

You were to do the same for Noa. Headpiece first… Then the cloak. And as if you had never seen him… Felt him, your hand squeezed in on itself, as if you’d never feasted your eyes on him, you’d see Noa bare in front of you. It would all be new; it would all be yours to explore for as long as you wanted.

As was the way of the Eagle Clan. Like armor from a battle, piece by piece would come off along with your clothing. The headpiece that wrapped around the crown of your skull and catapulted two feathers into the sky, the cloak against your shoulders suddenly felt heady with worry that you were going to fumble helping Noa take his off when the time came and them the flimsy nature of your own Humanness that carved into your skin like a suffocating second skin.

Clothing. Fabric. You were going to slate yourself trying to get the button of your pants undone, you were going to be innately sweaty for the Ape when he went to draw them down your smoother legs. You hoped Noa understood that; sweat being indicative of nerves that rattled from the knowledge that he was going to see you in a way that no other had ever seen.

The bicep band. You were unable to see in the darkened vision of your body against the wall and with gentle caressing fingertips, you swiped it. That would remain. The only piece of garment to see and to hear what Noa would do to you. To be involved in… Your attraction to Noa was always going to be justified.

Your fingers swished against the leathered nature of your banded upper arm, you just wished… That someone you knew was there to hold your hand; Soona and Anaya both having departed and awaited your arrival with the rest of the Apes, Dar was conducting the ritual and needed to leave and prepare herself.

They could not help you, Noa… Would only be there for you when you finally mustered the courage to leave the hut. He would be there for you, your mind pestering like a broken Eagle song. This was… not a joke. You were not going to leave and have to face the laughs of a hundred Apes at the audacity you had to think that you were special enough to be cared for by their Leader. This was… Happening. 

There was only a second's worth of admiration for the space where the Chimp admitted his truest intentions to you but it felt like it was drawing into the Universe like an hourglass that only moved one speckle of sand at a time. Your customs were to become theirs, and their own were to become yours. The cloak adorning your shoulders, not as heavy as it appeared when Dar so carefully placed it, trying it in the front by your scalloped collar bone indentation where the bones fused to meet, became drastic with weight.

Words… As if they were needed at a time like this, a sacred ceremony of the Apes that you had no idea what to expect as Soona had placed the headdress on you accordingly only minutes ago before letting you linger alone in solemn silence for a few seconds before you were urged by Elder Luna to depart. Words did not exist here for you.

The shift in your stomach from apprehension to crude worried excitement was cardinal and made you nearly topple over from a sense of heaved unbalance. It was time. The entryway seemed so small, your vision blurred and you felt like heaving your body over to get sick. Anxiousness was present and she was not going to let you go. 

There was only Noa.

There was only Noa. Your eyes squeezed shut as you drew a stifled breath that was tugging around the edges with a self-deprecating laugh as your body worked of its own volition and carried your twiggy legs out of the hut and into the exposed air for all the Clan to see you in their familiar garments that held the years of customs you were to make your own with consummation.

There was only Noa. Every step that you were taking towards the communal bonfire that now served as a flame of the departure of yourself to become one with another, toes were tickling the Earth and servicing dirt that had rid itself of the soot of destruction from flames. 

There was only Noa. The way that he looked standing next to Dar, eyelids fluttering open to acknowledge the Elder who had come to beckon your presence for the rest of the Clan to admire, your peer ample with wonderment at the split second you caught hold of him and how left you shell-shocked and full of nothing but stammerance that was unable to come to the surface as throaty words.

How Noa… looked like you, your heart pressed itself to the very back of your esophagus, suffocating in the best of ways as the Eagle Clan’s leader looked you over with matched expressions. You were his, from the cloak that moved with your gait, to the way that your feet kissed the ground, bare and strong. Noa looked like you, you could not get that out of your mind, you bottom lip quivering as you exhaled slowly to bend your anxiety to your will. Like you were staring at a reflection of your own self in a mirror that had been shattered into tiny fragments and then scolded back together. 

Noa reached his hand out for you, the action telling you in bated silence to come take your rightful place by his side. You looked like Noa… Parallel as your own arm peeked out from behind the cloak and the shudder of the breeze captivated against your thinned camisole. It threw you off, the chill in the air and in instant relief as his larger palm cusped your softened skin, hot and enamored, directing you to the spot that had been so vacant in front of him.

You stared at his face, sorry for taking so long to muster up the courage to meet him while telling your body to resist the temptation to just fall into Noa’s long arms. You peered into equally jeweled irises that played perfectly against the colors of his headpiece, against the hues of the beads that were entwined so deeply in them. Blues, grays and whites. 

Green, you were going to wrap yourself up into the very leaves that danced beyond the Village’s edge in the night time as Noa released your hand much to your ardent disappointment. Feeling your fingers chase after him, you smacked at the hand mentally. All had its time and place. To smear the ceremony with Echo habits would not be kindly looked upon as you gazed out into the crowd of faces you were unable to properly see detailing from due to the flames proximity. That… did not mean they were unable to see you.

The Apes of the Clan, all bi-pedal to gawk and their stubby legs rose to grind the muscles of the calves in order to stagger over one another to get a better view of their Leader and as much as you hated to admit to any garnered attention… They were all needing to see your presence in full, in the coverings that held such a sincerity of affection and memories cased within each thicket of twine and each feather that resided.

All eager and desperate now to see what would come of this union as Dar clasped the back of Noa's hand against her loving palm and yours in the other. in adjacent positions. What would happen? You wanted to know and felt a rocketed shock lick up and down your spine. The future was unknown but that made it only more exhilarating and terrifying as Noa caught your eyes. 

Frantic green flickers between your pupils were placed and shackles of hard breathing through Noa’s nostrils were noticed as your lips parted as if you wanted to whisper to him that it was all going to be alright.... Between your fingers rested azure feathers. Both Ape and Echo’s were from Eagle Sun’s undercarriage. Noa was a bit longer and thinned; yours stubby and smoothed around the otherwise cutting edges that reminded you of the flickering of a waterfall in the distance, catching the suns rays just right and momentarily leaving you both blinded with the happenstance of what was to come in mere minutes when the ceremony tied itself into an end and you were announced together. 

The Master of the Birds and the new Mother of the Clan. 

To take the position from Dar was bittersweet but she was assuring in how she held the back of your hand and admired the tender profile features of your face. She would be there for you, your eyes drifting to hers as you felt a tear roll down your cheek. Noa would be there for you, you longed to have him closer as you were toe-to-toe now. Inside of me, your body yelled at itself from inside the cage that you were able to let the Chimp into. Inside all of me.

Anaya and Soona, looking at Noa with such awe as if they had never seen this ceremony and did not know the intricacies before glancing towards you as you released a rather shaky breath that Noa used to keep himself from flying off the edge. The entire Clan who scrutinized your every move searched to latch onto something that might be considered dis-respectful but for Noa… You were steadfast, your toes sinking into the Earth as if you were an Ape this entire time and your arm wavering from a shake to a solid iron as Dar squeezed your knuckles in her encompassing grasp.

There was no way to look at anyone else, your eyes were acutely focused on Noa… The attention that was sought towards the way that his broad collar bones were holding the cloak of his Father and his lineage, soon to be yours, you felt a flare against your diaphragm at the exciting fear that laid against his body, soon to be replaced with your own heat and heady desires as if they were at the forefront of your mind from the second that Noa decided to save you. 

Faithful and reassured, the Male Ape looked at you and drew a deep breath in that you were quick to follow suit in sharing exhalations with. The first of many, you thought with a brisked smile that Noa returned. His scent was clear to you and how it made you want to sink into every crevice that Noa had to offer. The pine of the bristing trees nearby as they had survived the devastation that traveled through the Clan months ago, the water of which became the symbol of your relationship, from the crushing torrents of the oceans itself to the softened breezes of a stream against a sediment torn waterbank and the grassy embark of the nest that was newly appointed to the two of you.

Everything backdropped and began fading away. This little while in the grand scape of things, like so many other pairs before you, was witnessed as a spectacle, one that was in the throes of celebration considering Noa’s status to begin with and there were now ways for you to now ignore the every present notion that some of the other Apes did not see the union as a blessing of future knowledge and advancement, but as a precursor.

They did not matter anymore, your heart quickened to a pace that did not feel humanly possible. Just look at Noa, your mind told itself over and over again. Just… Know… He chose this; Echo as a Mate. Human… To love and adore. You wanted nothing more than for him to crack your skull open here and to dig his way into your thought stream so Noa was innately aware that you felt the same. He was not an Ape. He was not an animal… He was yours. Mate. Lover. To cherish and hold. 

Every line of feathers that were placed by a generation that had gone through similar bonding, rituals laid against your body and followed suit to Noa’s, but none of them were the same as this lingerance in time that you two were living through. History, you hated to say it as it sounded so mundane and normal… 

Noa was the first to move upon command of Dar, his actions surprisingly collected and it dawned in your mind that he was working his way to keep you calm as Noa was able to sense the terse nature of anxiousness that you had carried alongside your body to the altar. “Place the feather upon the headdress of the Elders present and the Elders passed.”

A simple statement, but Noa felt the fur against his entire body light up as if it were apart of the bonfire that swept the Clan into an ambient night of flushed oranges and yellows, some even darkening to red against the more gray and black feathers that catapulted against your camisole laden chest and mimicked a dance that Noa was already ingrained in. Slowly and surely… The blue feather that Noa had held onto for the last five months was drawing itself to your headdress of twine, leather and beaded ornate. 

You did not need to dip your head but found yourself doing just that to help ease the Ape into the first moment of intimate breakage of a virginal process. The shaft of the feather, thinned and small compared to the rest, slotted itself between the already existing gray feathers that were reaching into the Heavens itself. You could feel the shuffle of the action as Noa moved inwards. Your breath hit his chest, the movement of the feathers with your exaltation just the first of many you hoped for the rest of your life, only the remaining would be drawn against his bare fur. 

No barriers needed any longer, Noa released the feather gently and brought his hand down to tuck a piece of your hair that was rampant from the pressing of the headdress itself behind your ear, cupping around the body part and down your chin to bring your eyes upwards to his own with a ghosting touch. Melting was not an option, you knew that. Falling over was not needed, but you felt it as you drew your shoulders back upwards, rustling the feathers alongside with your more confident stance. 

Your hooded gaze refused to leave his own as you gasped lightly at the way that the Chimpanzee brought his hand down against your jugular. Breaking and shattering for both of you, your knees were brought together as he felt your pulsating heart. Part of the ceremony? You were unsure… Hazed, surely…  Noa was the third feather just placed in the headpiece, blue and trusting; the one to take you into his arms and to grow with you and with this came the departure of your past life and discrepancies. For all of the Apes to see here, Noa had taken you in front of them all.

‘I will catch you.’ 

He signed with his free hand, carefully and disguised between your two bodies were were only centimeters apart from completely collapsing against each other like they were yearning to do for months. He must have sensed your sudden fear of unbalance, a small smile lifting onto your cheeks that Noa had seen the shuffle of your stance catering towards falling over. So Echo it was, you knew that but Noa never seemed to mind and fell right into it with you as a guilty pleasure that cured him of all notions that Echo were as bad as he had been told his entire upbringing.

“Very good, my Son.” Dar’s voice brought back the moment that you and Noa were suddenly thrusted into. The desperate need to be alone to see what was going to come of this as if it were not going to be anything beyond satisfaction. You needed it… Reaching your free hand up that was not gently holding onto the feather, you were fast to snap it back to your side as the rampant idea of grasping his hips was brought closer and closer as Noa looked at Dar with a nod of acknowledgement for her praise. How you needed him… How you were always… going to need him. It was just a matter of minutes.

“(Name).” Your name did… not sound like what you had been called your entire life. It sounded foreign and so far away as you Noa admired the way that the flames played against your face, the shadows casting themselves against your expression. From the tightened pose between your eyebrows from a wash of worry of doing something incorrectly, to the pursed smile you gave him that was seeking assurance from him… Noa loved it all. Flashing in his mind was the knowledge that in a few short minutes, he’d be alone with you. Not for the first time at all, but for the first time as a Mated pair. 

Shy and reserved, ready to tear into each other but afraid of how to do so… Noa stepped a bit closer and you could feel his strong toes placing themselves on top of yours which caused you to softly giggle, giving the Ape a good view of your blunted teeth that he yearned to touch with his fingertip. How much duller than an Apes? How much smoother? He needed to know it all, everything about you… 

“Place the feathers… of the Elder’s present…” There was a spotted glance towards those very Elders whose scrutiny you had to overcome still but there was headway in that as Noa was adamant of their approval despite the apprehension brought from your species. He did not care, he was willing to risk it all just to have the chance to hold you against his shaking body, clasping to a release that you were only allowed to give him. “The Elder's past…” 

There was a shuffle from everyone that was caught in your peripheral. Upwards… Towards the sky itself that happily played a full moon along with the speckling of the stars. Those passed… Koro and many, many before him… You hoped he would be proud of his Son. You… Knew he’d be proud of his Son. 

“Placing… The feather onto Noa… With that… Will come your duty to… Eagle Clan. To… Learn our ways. To become the Mother of our future.”

There was a speculative hushed whisper at that, completely justified but no longer a threat to your held position against Noa. The implications of Dar’s words were enough for the Apes to understand and think. Mother of their future, what good was that going to be when you were unable to provide even that? Noa was fixated on the way that your jaw locked, the muscles flashing in the light of the blaze to your left. Still a worry to you, he was unable to break that way of thinking when it was admittedly very ingrained in their culture, their way of life…

Carefully, Noa looked at Dar for a permission that was granted and then back towards you and grasped your free hand into his own. Commandeering… Reassuring… Things would turn out the way that they were meant to… It was clear from the moment that Noa, Anaya and Soona first found you. Your calves flared at the memory. It was clear from the first moment that Noa and you, like pieces in a  game, fell into each other and refused admittance or to submit to each other as they both claimed to be the stronger player. It was… There, ever persistent as you were willing to risk yourself for Noa’s life. For the Clan itself. Everything was gravitas and pulled you in as you nodded finitely to Dar’s words. Apes clattered at that, you could hear Anaya and Soona hoot in adamant joy of your acceptance of what was to come for their Clan. 

It was Noa’s turn to dip his shoulders, this movement being far more drastic than your own as he was taller than you.

You looked down and allotted into amusement at how his shortened legs fell inwards, his knees clutching at his weight as he positioned his large body perfectly for you to slide your chosen blue feather in. The muscles of Noa’s thighs were on display for you to perfectly see as your eyes danced their way back up his body.

From the thin waist you were going to sit on in what your Human brain conceptualized as pleasure, to the flaring of his chest, so drastic in size to his pelvis and it held such great power as it was adorned finely with the feathers. Shoulder to shoulder, you hungrily admired what was to be yours. The base of his thick and muscular neck, the shape of his nose, one nostril slightly smaller than the other but Noa’s facial harmony sang to you and made your blood feel heated. 

Stepping forward, Noa’s line of vision was flushed with your feather adorned chest and the waft of your scent drove him to the very brink of what felt like teetering insanity like he was standing on a cliffside, ready to take a dive in knowing that he was unable to keep his body afloat and swim to shore. You were only wearing the shirt on top, Noa was able to see the crested nature of your sternum flat against the fabric as you raised your hands up and shifted the cloak tastefully.

Bare… It would only take a few actions until your skin was exposed for him to admire. It was hard to look up at you properly from the ridge of his browline so Noa found his gaze falling shut as you shuffled inwards with exposed feet against the dirt to slip the feather in accordingly. There was admiring satisfaction with a small gasp from your lips at how it fit perfectly, much to your delectations as you swept it into him, taking what was rightfully yours with one quick movement and Noa was fast to stand in front of you.

The darker speckles of the Chimps expression drew you in, always. The way his muzzle protruded and fell into a laxed ajar position which was framed by grayish-white speckled fur that playfully kissed around his mouth and chin followed by the heaved breathing he was casing against your face from pure driven excitement. You were soon going to swallow whatever hoots, hollers and huffs Noa had to offer and you were going to eat into them with a savage hunger no Ape had ever seen before. 

Animalistically, you wanted Noa to bite you and scream into your veins in a way that a mere human had never experienced. Primally, you want to see how Noa’s body fit between your legs as he took you for the first time, undomesticated and untamed. 

Needingly, you… Wanted to see your face in his.

Noa’s arm was around you without a split second. Hard, the staggering muscles ripped into your flesh despite the friction it caught from you being clothed in a ritual garment and a shirt. It was over, Noa knew. Noa had seen this before with another Apes of the Clan. He had to wonder if his parents themselves felt this pull to each other after their ceremony, but how could they when they were flushed with the known?

He had been a spectator at one of the ceremonies before and now all that rested for you was the unknown. You were given no time at all before you were crushing against Noa, your chest bouncing against the dense pectorals he had tickling along feathers and happily, the garments kissed and fluffed at their reunion as you were grateful to accept the Ape’s affection. 

So ardent and full of himself, rightfully so as Noa tugged his forehead against yours. No longer chaste, it lingered longingly, intentions now blown out to everyone who was there to bare witness of this monumental moment. Noa… Was yours. The nearly two year culmination that began in nothing but fear of Death ending in a laugh of love as you bursted out into tears, your bottom lip trembling softly at how it felt to have him against you in front of the entire Clan. 

How strange it must have looked to them all to see the confusing nature of an Echo crying at such an occasion but that did not seem to take away from their calls of jubilee. The shouts that were given from Dar next to you as she was soon to be joined in by Soona and Anaya, traveling like a soundwave across all of the others, some of which were even perched high above sitting on the winding elevation towards the family nests and the Eagle Enclosure as to see what they had only heard about in stories.

They were loud and boisterous in your ears like a wave against the cliffside that Noa had been staring down, beckoning to him with a song of temptation that turned into rampant affection as you grasped around the Chimps neck to keep yourself from toppling right over. 

Flattening your face against Noa’s, you captivated him in what you needed to close the ceremony. From the flashing of your tongue against his sharpened canines, the embrace… Echo… Noa’s eyes fluttered shut from the pull your mouth gave him as you blessed him with a kiss. His hard breathing was against the downward slope of your face as you smooshed into him hard, nose bending into his flatter bridge.

Harder than you had intended, your entire weight was falling against his as you were afraid to pull away from the lip lock that Noa accepted as being one of those Echo things, and it was greeted by his arms stiffening at first before tugging you even harder against him. 

Noa… Growled into your mouth, tongue sliding itself to barely touch against your own as the intentions of goodwill were running away from him. If he did not get you away now, there’d be agony to pay for everyone else having to witness Noa mounting you. Noa… swallowed into the kiss, taking your saliva down his throat. It was good… Sweet and carnal to mix with his own fluid. So unfamiliar as you panted upon disconnect, your forehead hard against his in hopes that Noa accepted what you had just given him.

It began here. The bringing together entanglement of Echo and Ape as he experimentally dragged his mouth against yours once more, your eyes shut as you felt Noa reaching a hand upwards to caress the back of your head and eclipsed green and darkened eyes flickered between yours in a silent inquiry. 

 “Th-that’s called a kiss.” You laughed at him, right against his teeth that you peppered another loving embrace onto with your mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks that he was fast to wipe away with one hand as the other kept you close. His taste lingered on your tongue as you dove in and placed a more gentle peck to Noa’s curled up lips once his slightly ajar mouth pressed together in a desperate bid to get his breathing under control. 

“Echo thing.” He muttered, resting your feet back down onto the ground. “Will you… show me more…?” His words were not lost in the commotion as the actual celebration began that you two were going to ignore in favor of leaving. They could celebrate themselves… Noa… only wanted to celebrate now with you. Even after all this time, the agreement stood. Only now… You were allowed to demonstrate as if you had any clue what you were going to show Noa. 

There was only one thing left, you said in silence as you carded your hands through his neck, Noa’s fingers reaching up and cupping at the sides of your face to hold you near to him, his pelvic bone, so different than two days ago, drifting and sliding itself against your navel as confirmation that he shared the sentiment. Raka was right. The ways of Caesar… Were right as Noa felt his heart pounding at his ribcage. 

As if those things mattered in the moment but it truly did give peace of mind to know that Raka did not perish in vain. That Noa subsided to his words and drove himself into obsession just to have you hold onto his hand the entire time, whether you knew that or not. Echo and Ape were able to live side by side, even if it were just one pair. Even if it were just you and he; Noa did not want it any other way. And as you moved inwards once again,, Noa stiffened and brought his other hand upwards to hold onto your shoulder blade as you felt him shift his hip bones into your own, there truly was only one thing left…

“Would you… Like to go....” Breathing rapidly, you peered up at Noa and drifted your touch under the cloak that cased around his shoulders so you could touch his upper arm in reassurance as you were both flooded with adjoining nerves. “Nest…?” “Will you… take me?” There… You wanted to finish but your words caught themselves in the back of your throat like a terribly placed cough.

Noa nodded in silence, feeling the resistance of his body against yours as he pulled back, only enough to grab hold of your docile hand which your Mate was sure to lead in the right direction.. “You are… mine to take.”

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[sopebubbles]

Master List

Sixteen

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: getting closer with the pack means you'll have to learn to live with Kim Namjoon.

Warnings: drinking, breaking things, yknow namjoon stuff.

WC: 7.6K

After both your heats, you and Hoseok were nearly inseparable. When you were home, you followed him around like a little puppy, and he absolutely adored it. He appreciated how well you had taken care of his home and everyone in it while he was off his feet. When he told you as much, you assured him that it was your pleasure, and you would gladly do any chores he needed from you. 

But your housework wasn't the only thing Hoseok had come to love.

You had become his new favorite cuddle buddy, much to your tiny pack's annoyance. Any time he could get his arms around you, he'd have you settled right against him with a proud smile on his face. And you certainly weren't complaining. You'd never known that omegas' cuddles were the best. Soft and warm and sweet smelling. Being held by Hobi was bliss. You wouldn't admit it to anyone, but you felt a bit of jealousy every time you scented Jin's sweet, nutty smell on Hoseok's skin, knowing that he had gotten to hold your omega all night long.

It wasn't until you came home from work one afternoon a few weeks after your heat and Hobi pulled you onto the couch, insisting you take a nap, that you realized something was different. You could still smell the light fragrance of Hoseok's body wash, so you knew he'd showered a few hours ago. But he smelled like praline pecans. Nutty like Seokjin, and different from Hoseok normal brown sugar. A new blend of the two.

"I'm going to stop working," you said suddenly.

He pulled back so he could look down at your face. "That would be great, but why so sudden?"

You shrugged and nestled back into his chest. "I just want to help you here more. It seems kind of silly to be cleaning for other people when I should be here cleaning with you."

He couldn't argue with that. Yoongi had told him about how you had called their house your home after your last heat, and it made his heart soar. He certainly wasn't going to deny you the domestic bliss he had always wanted to share.

"I like the sound of that," he murmured into your hair. "I would love to keep you here."

You were anxious to tell Yoongi about your decision, but when he got home he looked stressed and dejected. His shoulders hunched in a way you hadn't ever seen before. Seeing him look so weary made your heart ache. You approached him quietly as he took off his shoes in the entryway. 

When you took his hand, one look into your sympathetic doe eyes was all it took to bring a genuine, lighthearted smile to his face. Somehow, one look from you and your tiny hands around his large one manifested energy from thin air. He pulled you closer and cradled you against his chest. Silent, except for a soft happy rumble in his chest, he held you like that for several minutes, but you wouldn't move for all the world, content to gently sway in his arms. 

"Was it a bad day?" You asked softly. He hummed. "Come sit down, and I'll get you something to eat," you told him as you pulled away, ready to take his hand and guide him down the hall to the kitchen. But he pulled you back, unready to allow so much space between you. He picked you up by the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up, leaving you no choice but to wrap your arms and legs around him.

"In a minute," he mumbled into your neck, where he took deep breaths of your scent, allowing it to fill his lungs and soothe his nerves.

You complied and let him carry you to the couch as if you were no more than a child. Even if he was tired, holding you was nothing, not compared to the benefits. 

"What happened?" you pressed gently after a moment.

"Nothing, really." He didn't need to burden you with the DOA he'd had today. Car crashes could cause such carnage, and he didn't need you to think of that. "I asked my supervisor if I could switch to a permanent day shift, but he denied me," he said after a moment of toying with your hair between his fingers.

"Oh. Why did you want to change?" 

"I was hoping it would allow me to spend more time with you," he admitted. "I hate that I'm not able to see you. One of us is always working."

"Oh." A smile tugged at your lips and you cleared your throat. "Well, actually, I was thinking…" He lifted your chin gently with his fingers to see your eyes and waited for you to go on. "I want to quit my job. I-if that's okay."

"Really?" He asked excitedly as he pushed you away to look at your face better. 

"Yeah, if it's not a problem," you answered quietly. 

Yoongi pulled your hips tighter against him. "Of course it's not a problem! I was never going to tell you to quit, but I was always hoping you would. But why now? Did something happen at work?" His expression turned serious in an instant. 

You shook your head. "No. Work is fine. I just feel like it's time to help Hobi out. And I can take care of you and Jimin. You're my pack after all."

"We don't expect you to cook and clean for us, princess," he said, tucking your hair behind your ear. Even though he meant it, he felt his heart flutter knowing you might want to.

"But it's my job."

"It isn't. That's not why we want you here. It's not why we're keeping you around. It never will be." His tone was serious. His eyes looked intently into yours. Heat flushed all over your body, and you tried to backtrack. 

"I know that, Yoongi. I actually wasn't thinking that way, which is kind of funny because normally I would. This isn't a-take-care-of-alpha-before-he-throws-you-out thing. I just care about you and I think about taking care of you a lot. Want to know if you're eating well and sleeping well."

Yoongi's smile returned, and he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against your cheek. "Good. That makes me more happy than you'll ever know."

"Aish. I'm not really doing it for you," you teased. "I want to stay home and help Hobi."

"Ah, yes, you're new BFF," he teased back. "That's fine. I'm sure he'll be happy."

You nodded. "I'll put my two weeks notice in tomorrow."

"Why bother? Just quit. You're never gonna need another job again." He grasped the back of your head and pulled you into a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless.

"Aren't you gonna eat something?" You asked hazily, a long moment later. 

"Yeah," he grinned. "I'll eat you,"

"No!" You screamed amid your giggles as he playfully tried to bite your neck, tickling your sides at the same time. When you were gasping for breath, he scooped you up in his arms again and carried you into the kitchen. He set you down to sit on top of the kitchen counter.

"I'll fix something for you," you told him as he walked toward the refrigerator. 

"You stay," he ordered as he looked inside. "Did you cook this?" he asked, showing you a container of the leftovers from the evening's dinner. You nodded. "Then your work here is done," he said before placing the meal in the microwave. 

"I heard the sound of a happy pup," Jimin said as he entered the kitchen. You blushed when he stood beside you. He had been sitting in the pack's nest with Namjoon and Jungkook when they heard your screams and laughter. He wasn't the only one curious, but he was the only one who ventured out to see what was going on. 

Yoongi beamed. "Y/N has decided to quit her job and stay home."

"Oh, good thing you made that choice before Taehyung started courting you," Jimin responded slyly.

"What do you mean? Court me?" You stared at him in confusion.

Yoongi nodded. "It's true. He asked me for my blessing already. I told him I don't mind. He said he's going to take it slow, not jump into anything. But now you'll have plenty of time to get to know each other." Yoongi wriggled his eyebrows. 

Your voice caught in the back of your throat. Too many feelings swirled deep in your stomach, and you couldn't parse them out. "You don't mind?" you finally asked.

Yoongi gave you a soft smile and lifted your face to meet his eyes. "As much as I love our little pack, I've always known it wouldn't always be the three of us. I mean, I hoped. There's no rush, but I think some day it will probably be all eight of us. And that will be great, too."

You tried not to think about that possibility too often. It made your head spin. Seven packmates. Four alphas. You weren't sure you could handle it. "But I only want you to be my alpha. If Jin–" you cut yourself off abruptly. 

"If Jin what, princess?"

"If Jin wants to claim me, won't he be my pack alpha? But I only want you to be my pack alpha!" 

Yoongi couldn't bear how childlike you sounded. It made his heart hurt to hear you so anxious and confused. He smoothed a hand over your hair and pulled your head to his shoulder.

"It's okay, baby. Jin will never be your pack alpha. I'll always be your number one. You really think I'd let anyone take my place in your heart?" he cooed.

"What are you so worried for?" Jimin chided. "Who's talking about Jin? It's just Taehyung right now. He's a great alpha. You'll see."

You sniffed and pulled away from Yoongi when the microwave beeped. "Why did you say it was good I'm quitting my job because of him?"

Jimin smirked. "Taehyung could never allow his omega to work outside the home."

"Why not?"

"One, it's too dangerous. It would drive his anxiety crazy. Best to keep omegas safe in the den. Two, it would hurt his pride. He makes more than enough money to support you and Hobi all on his own. And three, Taehyung may have the disposition of a golden retriever, but even the sweetest dogs don't like strange dogs looking at their bones." Jimin grinned deviously. 

You pushed his shoulder. "I'm not a bone!"

"Oh, yeah? Just wait until he starts gnawing on you!" Jimin picked up your arm and pretended to bite it much like Yoongi had before, and again, you thrilled them both with your shrieks and giggles.

While the days got longer and hotter with more sunlight, it seemed that each workday dragged on slower than they ever had before. You were diligently waiting your two weeks, but by the time you were nearly there, you wished you'd taken Yoongi's advice to just quit. You were aching to be at home every minute you were gone, and that was a feeling you had never known before.

When Yoongi brought you home on your next to last day of work, you walked into something you'd never seen at the house before. It was something of a party atmosphere, and they were all celebrating the end of the school year alongside Namjoon. Jin and Jimin had yet to return home, but Jungkook and Namjoon had beers in hand, chatting cheerfully at the kitchen table while Taehyung put out snacks on the counter. You walked carefully past them to wash your hands before you sidled up beside Hoseok where he was forming beef patties between his delicate hands.

"Hamburgers for dinner?" You asked. 

Hoseok smiled down at you and gestured to the side with his head. "You can slice those onions and tomatoes," he told you before you could ask to help. 

When the rest of the pack came home, you all accompanied Hobi outside on the patio while he grilled the burgers. Yoongi anxiously held you back from getting too close to the flames, nervous you might hurt yourself. The afternoon was lovely, and you all decided on eating outside to enjoy the spring weather. You spent most of the time clinging to Yoongi, either in his lap or next to him, holding his hand. He didn't mind in the slightest, nor did he mind the jealous looks he received from Taehyung, who tried to make the both of you jealous by fawning over Jimin. All of them were oblivious to the true reason for your clinginess.

Namjoon tended to stand quietly on the fringes of Seokjin's pack. His status was never in question, and he didn't shy away from sharing his thoughts and feelings, but whenever you were all together, he simply allowed others to take center stage. But tonight was different. Tonight was his celebration for another completed school year, and he felt no need to stay to the side and listen to others. For once, he dominated the majority of the conversation, discussing funny memories from the school year and a few complaints he usually tried to swallow. As the night grew longer and he drank more, his voice boomed louder across the large backyard and you pressed yourself closer to Yoongi.

When it got dark and the air turned chilly, everyone moved back into the kitchen. You were exhausted, but decided to help clean up before you tried to excuse yourself to go to bed. Everyone was having a good time, all of them drinking a little even though you didn't, and you didn't want to bring the mood down, but you were growing tired. When you finished washing the dishes you went to stand by Yoongi, who was laughing heartily to the story that Namjoon was telling. You could wait a few more minutes, but you didn't really want to go to bed alone, and you didn't want to miss out, listening to all their laughter from your room while you sat alone. As Namjoon continued his story, he gestured wildly with his hands. The condensation on the beer bottle made it slick, and the brown glass suddenly flew out of his hand, whizzing past your head in a blur. You were hiding under the counter by the time the glass hit the wall, shattering to pieces and dumping its liquid all over the floor. Shards of class popped around the room as you buried your head in your knees and covered yourself with your arms. A scream built in your throat, but you knew better than to let it out.

Don't scream. Don't scream. It'll only be worse if you scream.

The whole room went silent and motionless for two seconds as they registered what happened. Then at once everything was in motion. Yoongi got out of his chair to check if you were alright, but Taehyung was quicker. He didn't take a moment to ask how you were or assess the damage. He simply gathered you into his arms and lifted you off the ground, careful not to bang your head on the granite countertop. He carried you directly up the stairs and to your room, with Yoongi behind him and Jimin bringing up the rear.

In the kitchen, the remaining two alphas stood, frozen in shock, but Hoseok didn't waste any time putting on shoes and grabbing the broom.

"Hobi, let me," Namjoon tried to say, reaching for the broom when he finally came out of his stupor. 

The omega pulled away. "I got it. You stay over there until I get this all cleaned up. There's lots of glass."

The flat, subdued tone of his voice hurt Namjoon as much as the way Hobi wouldn't look at him. "It was an accident," he whispered.

"We know that, Joonie," Jungkook assured him with a light smile. "It's not like it's the first time you've broken something around here. It's just…" His eyes drifted toward the stairs. 

"I would never throw something at her," Namjoon defended. 

"I know, babe, I know. But she doesn't. It's natural for her to be scared. Don't take it too personally. She's just skittish," Jungkook tried to convince him. 

Hoseok felt a tug of war within himself. He was usually always the first one to comfort Namjoon when he accidentally broke something or made a mess. But now he really wanted to check on you, to make sure you weren't hurt or scared. He wanted to hold you in his arms, but he knew if he ran off with the others it would hurt Namjoon, and he knew that it wasn't really his fault. Namjoon was just clumsy, some might say cursed. He never meant to cause chaos, but he did anyway. You would get used to it, eventually, but right now the omega could understand perfectly why you were afraid Namjoon might hurt you without even intending to. His head swirled with competing worries as he swept up the glass and dumped it into the trash can. 

"Are you hurt?" Yoongi asked as Taehyung set you down at the edge of your nest. He shouldered the younger alpha out of the way to examine you. You were still too stunned to answer, but it didn't really matter; Yoongi was going to look over every available inch of you regardless. He gently tilted your face this way and that to make sure it was unscathed before he moved onto your arms, lifting and twisting each in turn to ensure your skin was unharmed. There was a small cut on your forearm and he frowned. It wasn't even from the incident that had unfolded moments before. It was from work earlier today, and the blood was already dry—you hadn't even felt it at the time.

"Jimin, go get the first aid kit from the bathroom," he instructed, holding your arms carefully. 

Feeling Yoongi's steady hands on you helped to ground you and bring you back to your body, out of your shock and panic. You took in a deep breath and breathed out, "I'm okay."

Jimin shuffled back into the room carrying the first aid kit and handed it to Yoongi. The alpha plucked out an alcohol pad and ripped open the packet with his teeth, spitting out the torn piece. 

"It's gonna sting," he whispered, but you didn't react as he swiped it over your skin. "It's dry." You looked down to the very minor wound he was tending to. 

"That was from work. It's fine," you told him, but he didn't seem to hear you. He had already taken a bandage from the kit—neon pink—and gently but firmly pressed it over your cut. "Yoongi?" He looked up into your eyes and you could see his own were full of worry. He shrugged. 

"It makes me feel better."

You cracked a genuine smile and it lifted some of the weight off his chest.

"Are you sure you're okay, sweet little?" Taehyung asked. His hands were still shaking from the course of adrenaline when he thought you were in danger. 

You nodded. "I'm okay. I was just scared. I'm not hurt."

"You shouldn't be scared at home," he replied.

"Come sit with me," you said softly, patting the spot next to you. Your heart ached to see how distressed he was over you. Taehyung lowered his head and came to sit near you, not quite in your nest, but just outside of it. When he got close you realized something the rest of them hadn't. They'd been too worried about you to assess their own well-being. 

"Tae, you're covered in beer."

He had been standing closest to where the bottle had hit the wall and, as a result, had gotten sprayed with the contents as well as some glass. 

"You're bleeding," you added. "Yoongi, your patient is right here."

Your alpha smiled weakly at how brave you were trying to be. He could tell by the way you were still shaking that you weren't as calm as you pretended to be, but he would talk to you about it in a little while when things settled. For now he turned to Taehyung. Without a word, he began to clean the man's wound, and you held his hand while he winced through the burn on the alcohol. You pulled a neon pink bandage from the box beside you and handed it to Yoongi to apply.

"Now we match," you told him, and it brought a bright, boxy smile to Taehyung's face.

"Why are you the one comforting me?" He asked, bumping your shoulder. 

"Why don't you go clean up and get changed? Then maybe you can come cuddle me in the nest?" You offered. "If you want to," you added quickly. 

Taehyung nodded enthusiastically. "Be right back," he said before scurrying out of the room. 

"Yoongi, you need to go downstairs and see if everyone is okay down there," you told him.

He growled softly, mumbling, "They can take care of themselves."

"Alpha," you cooed, reaching out to touch his cheek, "don't be like that." He pouted for a moment, but nodded and gathered the pieces of trash from his work before he took the first aid kit downstairs. 

"What about me?" Jimin stood proudly in front of you, fists in his hips, waiting for his instructions. 

"You come cuddle me until the others come back." He didn't waste a second, shucking off his pants and shirt. You'd gotten used to the fact that Jimin preferred to sleep only in boxers. Who were you to force clothes on him if he slept better without? After your heat, it had ceased to make you the slightest bit uncomfortable. He quickly climbed onto the bed, wrestling you into the nest and underneath his body, where he could get the upper hand on you and make the last of our distressed scent disappear as quickly as it had come.

When Yoongi reached the bottom of the steps, Namjoon turned anxiously to look at him. He was cleaning the last of the beer off the wall, looking rather like a pup with his tail between his legs. This was hardly a rare scenario for him, cleaning up his own mess no matter how Hobi tried to tell him to leave it. It wasn't the first glass he'd broken nor the first drink spilled. Namjoon was a walking disaster. He knew that. It couldn't be helped, and everyone knew that, too. But normally, everyone would stick around to help and cheer him up and comfort him when he made a silly mistake like this. This time, half his pack had disappeared up the stairs with you, and he couldn't help feeling a bit hurt about it. He regretted it. He always did, but he couldn't take it back, and he just couldn't change. He opened his mouth to explain to Yoongi, but nothing came out. 

"Is she hurt?" Hoseok asked from the sink, after Yoongi and Namjoon had stared at each other for several tense seconds. Yoongi's face was a cold mask of stone, revealing nothing but disdain. Namjoon looked utterly crestfallen. 

"She's not hurt. Just scared," Yoongi answered, shaking his head when he finally broke eye contact with Joon. 

"That's a relief," Namjoon sighed, and his face showed his relief was real. 

"Taehyung got cut up a little bit," Yoongi said sharply. It was petty, but he didn't want the younger alpha to feel as if there was no harm done, and he didn't expect Namjoon to care that you'd been shaken up. 

"Is it bad?" Jin asked, looking concerned. 

Yoongi shook his head again. "I patched him up. Y/N invited him into her nest to make him feel better, I think." He paused for a second, thinking about your behavior. "She sent me down here to see if anyone was hurt."

"We're all fine, Yoongi. Come have a seat," Jungkook replied, pulling out the chair beside him. 

"I should go back to her."

"Yoongi." Jin's voice wasn't raised, but it was loud and firm enough to have Yoongi freezing as he turned away. He hugged the first aid kit to his stomach and dropped his chin. "I'm sure Jimin and Tae are taking perfectly good care of her. Come sit for a minute."

Yoongi hated the way it felt like he was in trouble, when he knew he had no reason to be. He hadn't gone and ruined a perfectly nice evening, or spooked his very nervous omega. But he turned and walked slowly to the table to sit anyway. 

"You know it was an accident," Jin said calmly.

"I know," Yoongi answered curtly.

"Just let him apologize." Jin's voice was the slightest bit pleading, as if he were desperate to avoid more conflict between his alphas.

"I really am sorry, Yoongi. I would never–"

"You don't need to apologize to me," Yoongi interjected. "I'm not angry. Maybe if she'd been hurt…but I know you can't control your body. You've never been able to. I get that. But she doesn't know. She's terrified you will hurt her, just by accident. And with you accidents are bound to happen."

"I–" Namjoon began, but the other alpha didn't let him finish. 

"Do you know how it hurts me to see her afraid? After all the horrors in her life, I only want to keep her from feeling afraid. I don't just want her to be safe. I want her to feel safe. And if she can't then we…If she can't feel safe with you…" The look of pure devastation on Yoongi's features hurt Namjoon more than any other thing could have.

"What can I do, Yoongi? Tell me. I'll make it right," he begged.

Yoongi sighed, desperate to keep himself together. "If you and her are going to live in the same house…if you're going to spend the whole summer together, you have to try to be gentler. Please try."

Namjoon reached across the table to lay his hand over Yoongi's where he clutched the kit still.

"I will try. I promise. I'll be more careful," Namjoon assured him. Yoongi merely nodded silently, unsure if that would be enough to settle all your nerves about the pack's largest alpha. As if he could read Yoongi's mind, Jin cleared his throat. 

"I think, maybe, Y/N might feel a little more comfortable with us if she could see that you're comfortable with us," he suggested quietly. Yoongi's eyes flickered to the pack alpha's and then back to his hands. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Jin sighed, "you're still holding us at arms length. I get maybe you still want to punish us for what we've done. I don't want to tell you how to feel or to get over it. But how could she ever trust us if she knows you don't?"

"She'll come to her own conclusions,"Yoongi mumbled. 

"So you admit that you still don't trust us? You're still angry with me?" Jin sounded frustrated, but Yoongi could hear that really he was just heartbroken. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, knowing that his distance was hurting Jin. He wasn't really angry anymore. He hadn't found the time or energy to be angry. Any spare thought he had went directly to you. Maybe it was unfair, because he knew clearly in this moment that he still carried plenty of love in his heart for Jin and Namjoon. 

"I'm not angry," he answered. "I just don't know what you want me to do. I've stayed. I've brought her here—sometimes against my better judgment—I don't know what I'm meant to do to fix things. They just have to heal in their own time." He shrugged. 

"But how can they when this is the longest conversation we've had in weeks?"

"I don't know, Jin. It's just not my priority right now!" Yoongi snapped. 

"Okay!" Hoseok interjected, coming closer to the men seated at the table for the first time. He'd been hesitant to interfere in the alphas' problems, but he knew both men well enough to see they were on the verge of saying things they didn't mean and would regret later. As soon as he approached, Jungkook's linen scent fluffed through the room, easing away the alphas' tension. "It's all okay. We don't have to solve it all tonight. It's late, and I think we should all just go to bed. Hm?" Hoseok put his hands on Jin's shoulders and gave a squeeze, satisfied when his shoulders relaxed. 

"Yeah, fine," Yoongi answered. He stood quickly, scraping the box along the table before he picked it up and moved toward the stairs. He didn't want more conflict. He wasn't trying to prolong their distance. But it was impossible not to want to keep them away when he wanted so badly to be close to you, and to keep you safe.

Yoongi stopped in the bathroom, relieved to hear the giggles of you, Jimin and Taehyung coming through your door. After tucking the first aid kit back into its spot under the sink, he brushed his teeth. Hoseok met his eyes in the bathroom mirror when he stopped outside your door, but neither said a word before the omega slipped into your room to see for himself that you were unharmed. Yoongi remained quiet when he joined the four of you. Jimin had managed to get you into a pair of pajamas and your hair was an adorable disaster from being rolled around in your nest. You'd settled now between Jimin's legs with your back to his bare chest, your attention on Hoseok until Yoongi walked in, but you only spared him a glance. He wondered if even Jimin could tell how hard you were forcing your smile and your happy scent. Had he noticed that your eyes lacked the shine they usually got when the beta scented you silly?

"Come to bed so these kids can get to sleep," Hoseok said to Taehyung while Yoongi changed into his pajamas. 

Taehyung whined softly. He'd only just been invited into your nest, and he wasn't ready to leave it already.

"Go on, Tae. Joon needs to know you're not upset with him," Yoongi encouraged quietly.

"Maybe I am," Taehyung mumbled. Hoseok reached for his hand and took it into his lap. 

"You know he can't help himself, Tae. Give him a break, okay?"

The alpha grumbled wordlessly, but you nudged him with your foot. 

"Go on, Tae Tae. I will be okay. My alpha is here." Taehyung's low rumble turned into a real growl, but you knew it was playful. 

"Two alphas are better than one."

"Three are better than two!" Hoseok added. He stood from the edge of the bed and tugged on the youngest alpha's hand to come along. Tae allowed himself to be dragged off the bed, but pulled back to give you one kiss on the top of your head.

"See you tomorrow, sweet little. Sleep tight," he murmured, and then he was gone.

Closing the door, Yoongi turned off the lights before crawling into bed beside you.

"Goodnight," Jimin said, leaning over you to kiss Yoongi, making sure you got properly squished in the process.

"Goodnight," you whispered with a giggle when you received your own kiss. 

You said nothing to Yoongi as the two of you cuddled together. Your head laid on his chest, listening to his slow, steady heartbeat as the house slowly went silent. You laid there, but didn't close your eyes, and Yoongi watched you without saying a word. You let the minutes stretch on until you'd been there for almost half an hour. 

"How come you aren't sleeping?" you asked softly. 

"You aren't sleeping either," he replied. You shifted slightly without moving away and traced his stomach with your fingertips. 

"It's hard for me to sleep without your snoring." You felt his chest rise and fall with a huff and looked up to see his gummy smile for just a moment. Then he looked down at you seriously.

"You don't have to pretend for me. You don't have to pretend for anyone, but especially not me." You shifted again, but this time he could tell you were putting space between you. 

"I don't know what you mean."

Yoongi grasped your wrist gently before you could move away from him. There wasn't far to go before you would run into Jimin, but he could only bare for you to move as far as it would take for you to look at him eye to eye. He rolled over and scooched down so his gaze was level to yours. 

"You don't need to act as if Namjoon didn't scare you. You're still scared now. I don't think I can convince you that you're safe right now, but you are. I'm right here." 

Your chest tightened at his words. You whispered, "I know," but it didn't stop your eyes from watering. Yoongi gathered you close, pressing you into his chest. 

"I'm so angry."

"It was an–"

"I'm angry with myself. I shouldn't have brought you here." He felt you try to pull away, ready to argue, but he held you tight. "I should have taken you somewhere else. The three of us could have gotten an apartment. Shouldn't have kept you here with such clumsy, stupid alphas." At this point he sounded as though he was talking to himself, mumbling out the thoughts he'd been repeating in his head for the last hour. 

"It's okay, Yoongi. I didn't get hurt," you tried to tell him. 

"But you got scared, and that's just as bad in my eyes." You managed to pull away from him enough to look up at his face and touch his cheek. "You're still shaking. Do you think I can't feel that? Jimin and Tae scented you, but you didn't feel safe enough to let yourself get all dopey. Do you even realize? I can't stand this, and I hate that you're pretending just so we don't feel bad."

"Yoongi," you frowned and stroked your thumb over his cheekbone. "I'm not pretending because of that. I'm trying to be brave because I want to stay. Namjoon terrifies me, but I like it here. I like living with Hobi and Tae…and you and Jimin here. I'm still scared, but not enough to leave. So let me pretend, okay?" Yoongi sighed, a sign he wasn't accepting this yet. "I may not feel completely safe, but I feel happy. I'm like a stray dog. I may never feel safe, not completely. I might always be a little jumpy. But that doesn't mean I don't love my new home, or that it's not a good home."

Yoongi laughed almost silently and buried his head in your neck. "Don't call yourself a stray dog."

"That's what I am," you replied, combing your fingers through his hair. "I came up to you with big puppy eyes and asked you to stay."

"That's definitely not how it happened," he mumbled. But when he pulled you closer and inhaled your scent, you couldn't help smiling. 

"I won't let anything happen to you," he breathed as he relaxed against the nest at last. 

"I know," you replied. "So I think we can sleep now."

"Go ahead. I'll watch over you."

Your last shift ended fairly well. The library staff even brought donuts to wish you well. A couple of them who were betas even confessed that they were glad to hear you had settled in with a pack and would be staying home, because they often worried about you. You waited outside the library at your usual spot, pacing and checking your phone as minutes ticked by and terrible thoughts began to creep in.

What if they got into some kind of accident?

What if they dont want you, after all?

Just as you began to spiral into your worst thoughts, a familiar vehicle pulled up abruptly in front of you. Although you'd never ridden inside of it, you could still recognize Namjoon's blue volvo without looking at him, which you only did for the briefest of glances, just to be sure it was really him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said, sounding out of breath as if he'd run instead of driven here. 

I wasn't waiting for you, is what you wanted to say, but you merely stood still and stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers.

"Um," he began awkwardly as he got out of the car without killing the engine and walked toward you until he was only a couple yards away. He scratched nervously behind his ear as he tried to start again. "I know you were expecting Taehyung, but he cut his foot on a piece of glass that wasn't cleaned up from last night, and Hobi took him to the emergency room about twenty minutes ago. Didn't they text you?"

You shook your head, remaining silent.

"Yeah…so I was the only other person home so…here I am." He looked anxiously at the car, like he wished you'd just get in and save him the embarrassment of standing here in front of you. "I promise, I'm a good driver. And we don't have to talk or anything, if you don't want to."

You stared at him for a moment longer before your tongue unglued itself from the roof of your mouth.

"Does Yoongi know about this?" 

Namjoons throat felt like sandpaper, and he seemed to shrink an inch. He shook his head. "I tried to call him but he didn't answer. He must be busy." 

You hadn't moved an inch since he arrived, and he couldn't help wondering if he was really that terrifying.

"I promise, Y/N, I'm not going to hurt you." The idea that you ever thought he would hurt him in a way he couldn't account for. He knew he wouldn't, but the idea that you couldn't believe that cut him deep. What would he do if you never learned to trust him? If you never let him close to you? It wasn't something he ever gave himself permission to want, so why did not having it wound him so? He shook his head clear of the questions. "You can sit in the back and pretend I'm just the chauffeur."

You lifted your chin in his direction and narrowed your eyes. "I think I'll just take the bus."

Namjoons eyebrows raised. You can't possibly think he's that scary, could you? But instead he used what he knew was the only way to convince you.

"Do you really think Yoongi would approve of that?"

Your jaw tightened. You knew he was right. Looking down at your phone, you hoped for a notification from Yoongi, but there was one from Hoseok instead. You swallowed thickly when you read it.

Sorry, pup! There was an emergency. Namjoon should be there to pick you up. I promise it will be okay.

"How do you know you'll take me home and not somewhere else?" You finally asked. Namjoon's eyes grew wide and he actually took a step back. He rubbed his hand over his hair as he tried to process your question.

"What makes you think I would do something like that? What did Yoongi say to you?" Your brow furrowed at the strange question. 

"Yoongi didn't have to say anything for me to know you don't want me around," you answered, an edge of bitterness lacing your words. Namjoon nearly choked.

"Y/n, that isn't true."

"If it isn't then why didn't you ever tell yoongi where I was when you knew I worked here? You and Jin didn't want him to know. You don't want me in your pack. I get it. It's fine. But you should know that Yoongi does want me, and if I don't come home there's no telling what he'll do." You were surprised by the firmness of your own voice as well as how sure you felt of your own words. Yoongi did want you, and you knew that was as fierce an attachment for him as it was for you.

Namjoon took several full breaths before he responded. "Y/N, I promise you, all I'm trying to do right now is take you home. I won't lie to you. I didn't want you to become a part of our pack at first but things have…changed. You're a part of our lives now either way. And I wouldn't risk losing Yoongi over you. I never would. So please. Just come home with me," he begged. While the two of you maintained eye contact—for longer than you had ever done before—he fought the instinct to grab you and put you in the car if you continued to protest, but he knew that would only hurt his cause. Just when he was about to lose this staring contest to you, your phone began to ring with Yoongi's ringtone.

"Hello?" You answered, only dropping your gaze from the alpha in front of you for a moment.

"Princess, are you okay?" He asked, sounding out of breath from the way his heart was pounding.

"I think so," you mumbled.

"I got a message from Joon that he was going to pick you up." You narrowed your eyes on the man in question. 

"Yeah, he's here." Yoongi sighed in relief. "What should I do? I can take the bus."

"No, princess. Just go home with him, okay? I promise everything will be fine."

"I'm scared," you said so softly that Namjoon couldn't hear it.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but you don't need to be. You'll be safe with him, and I'll feel better if you go with him than on your own. I've got your location on. If anything happens to you I'll be there as soon as possible. But you're going to be okay. Trust me?" It was that simple, really. If Yoongi was asking you to trust him, then you would. As long as Yoongi promised you'd be safe, you'd make yourself believe him. He wouldn't let you down.

"Fine."

"Good girl. I'll be home in a few hours and I'll give you a reward for being so brave." Your cheeks heated at his words, but you couldn't deny loving it when Yoongi sometimes treated you like a child. No one had ever treated you with such gentle care before, and it felt like real love.

"I'll be waiting." You hung up and looked at Namjoon again. He looked back expectantly. "Yoongi said to go home with you. So I guess that's that."

You walked around the vehicle to sit in the back passenger seat, as far from him as possible. Namjoon didn't say a word as you got inside his car and buckled yourself in. As he pulled away from the library, you kept your eyes out the window even though you could feel his gaze on you through the rear view mirror. He chewed nervously on his lip as he glanced back and forth between the road and the mirror, but he kept silent until he was on the main road between the library and the house.

"We should try to be civil, at least," he said at last, speaking as if you'd been privy to the conversation in his head instead of coming into the middle. You didn't respond, so he went on. "We're going to be home together a lot this summer, and it would be easier on everyone if we tried to ease the tension." He finished softly, perhaps knowing he sounded ridiculous to you.

"I'll do my best to keep out from under foot, if you try not to throw anything at me again."

Namjoon deflated with a sigh. "I swear it was an accident."

"That's why I said try."

"I'm just clumsy. I never meant to hurt you."

"Do you honestly think I haven't heard every excuse in the book?" You rolled your eyes. "It just slipped. You ran into my fist. You really should be more careful where you're going."

"Y/N," Namjoon interrupted, trying hard not to become distressed as he drove, but honestly, your words were tearing him apart. Did you really have no idea the effect you had on him? "I'm sorry. I realize I haven't apologized to you directly for last night. I'm sorry for being so careless. I really will try to be more cautious. But I'm also sorry that other people have given you reasons not to trust them, or alphas, or me." He pulled to a stop at a red light and turned in his seat to look at you. "I get that you have no reason to trust me, and that I have to work for it. That's okay. I don't mind. But can you give me the benefit of the doubt and trust that Yoongi wouldn't have me in his life at all if you couldn't trust me?"

At last, you turned your head to look at him. "Why does everyone always pull the Yoongi card on me?"

"Because it always works," he smirked.

"Fuck," you muttered, because he was right. For whatever reason, you trusted Yoongi implicitly. And Namjoon had a point. Your alpha wouldn't have a dangerous person in his life, let alone trust them to be around you. So you merely nodded to his request, and the man turned forward just in time to see the light turn green before he drove you the rest of the way home. 

A/n: I don't feel like this has been my best chapter, but I would love to hear your thoughts on it! Thanks for reading!

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[luveline]

radio cure | steve harrington

an unhappy you meets steve harrington and his merry band of dorks. he shows you that some things are worth sticking around for.

5k words, fem!reader she/her used, tw mentioned/implied suicidal ideation please don’t read if that’s going to have a negative impact on you (no graphic imagery. but reader is passively suicidal and dealing with the other factors of that), robin steve + eddie chaotic trio, friends to lovers, multipart, swearing, friendly teasing, sarcasm, artist!steve, 90s au

.•° ✿ °•.

You're twenty two when you decide to kill yourself.

It's a warm day. The sun shines like a flower bud unfurling, a faint hint of golden yellow masked by cloud cover. You're savouring the brief moment of blessed cool as you walk around Lover's Lake, your ipod in one hand, headphones around your neck.

The flowing pants you're wearing help mitigate the heat around your legs, an itching, slick thing. Warmth feels like oil on your skin. You tip your head back and smell the grass, the lake water, the dry mud under your feet. You're thinking it's as nice a day as you're going to get this week, and you're forlorn, because it doesn't make one drop of difference.

You look up at the blue sky, squinting against the light, and you think it to yourself resolutely. This is going to be my last year. When your savings run out you're giving up.

It doesn't feel conclusive. It doesn't feel scary. It's just a decision.

You walk over dry grass until you reach the short pier on the leftmost side of the lake and sit down. You pull your headphones over your ears and bite your lip when the music isn't loud enough. The dock is rough. You're uncomfortable immediately. You want to go home, but you pull out your little craft sketchbook made of yellow paper and a pencil you've sharpened with a pen knife, staring out across the lake for something to strike you. A duck. A goose. Anything at all.

The thing is, you don't want to draw. You aren't some master, though you try, and you aren't a natural talent… You try sometimes. Nothing seems right. Most people have a style, charm, but you could draw a picture perfect copy of the day in front of you and still feel the lack; you have no idea what it is that makes other people's art beautiful, and that's the problem.

It doesn't matter. You put the sketchbook away. You have nobody to impress but yourself, and besides — you're not the first person in the world to feel uninspired. Thousands of people must feel it everyday, and they aren't throwing any pity parties. You peel off your cardigan, ball it up, and lay down with the fabric behind your head. You can hear the soft pant of a dog across the way, the happy chattering of a Frisbee game. Under the dock, little bodies thwack the planks, tiny green frogs that occasionally hop in the grass nearby.

You press your arm against your stomach and you fall asleep not long after that, your ipod playing music a few feet away.

—

Steve Harrington doesn't know why he stops to look at you. You're just a girl enjoying the summer sun, and he doesn't mean to be a creep. But you've left your stuff laying in small hills around you and your body's lax. You're asleep.

He kneels down next to you. Enough room to swing away if you try to stab him for perving. He isn't perving, he reasons. He wants to check if you're okay.

He tilts his ear toward you and holds his breath.

You're snoring.

Good, he thinks, crawling back to the far side of the dock, at least two feet between you. You're sleeping.

He sits down, knees up, hands between his thighs, and looks out across the lake. The sun shines high as the clouds shift to reveal it in full force, a burning yolk. It kisses every bit of green foliage it can find, dappled sunlight everywhere he looks. Steve is out today to draw whatever beauty he can find, and the light across the water riding the rippled waves of ducklings and brave human swimmers seems nice enough. He peers out of the corner of his eye at you, deems you still sleeping, and takes the pocket sized sketchbook out of his denim jeans.

His pencil is a stub folded between the pages. He lays down graphite in big sweeping lines, more focused on the impressions of shape than the specifics. It's hard to see a coloured world in black and white values. Steve isn't great — he's been drawing for two years now, and that feels like both a lifetime and a flicker. Every day he learns something new about making art, and every day he looks back and feels embarrassed at what he made before. The start of his sketchbooks make him cringe. This one is a mixture of pride and tepid reluctance.

Being bad at something is a stepping stone at getting better. Not every drawing he makes is good, but hopefully it's teaching his brain to be better. He doesn't know what he believes about art but he likes to draw, and he has gotten better.

The point isn't in being good, he'd told Robin. I just need something to do. Before I go crazy doing nothing. 

He draws the lake. He loves the way it comes into being. Ten minutes can turn grey splotches into trees, and bluegrass, and the heat rising off of the water. He draws a duck when it swims really close, though he has to abandon it when it swims away, leaving a half formed lovecraftian creature to haunt the page. He draws the dock, and his shoes, and your shoes, and your hand curled weakly next to your ipod. He draws your wrist, though he stops quickly.

He looks at your sleeping face.

Steve thinks you don't look like anyone he's ever seen before. He notes your lashes, your brows, and your nose. The sun emphasises the fine hairs across your cheek, and the texture beneath them.

He wants to draw your face, but he thinks drawing your hand and your shoes might have been too much without permission. He lets you sleep for a while, and then when he realises the heat is making him dizzy, he can't leave you there to bake.

He rips a sheet of paper out of his sketchbook and shoves the small book back into his pocket. The dock groans as he stands, and he casts a shadow over your face and upper torso.

"Hey," he says.

You flinch awake.

"Don't panic," he says, which is something a pervert might say, so he amends, "don't freak out, I'm just worried you're gonna cook your brains. I didn't want you to get sick."

You sit up. You look kinda cooked already, blinking and disoriented.

"You okay?"

You don't look up. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you for waking me up."

"Yeah, sure. Here."

He holds out the drawing of your hand. He doesn't think it's good, doesn't want you to see it, but he already did it. Giving it to you will ease his guilty conscience.

It's unlike Steve to bail, but he bails. Your fingers are barely brushing the paper when he's wiping his palms on his thighs and stepping away.

"Bye," he says, uncertain. "Try not to fall asleep again!"

—

It's not so weird. Sure, he'd made your fingers skinnier than they really are, and he made your shoelaces look like spaghetti, but they're good drawings.

You're trying to read a book in the corner of Benny's when he finds you a second time. He hovers, and you're not cool, you aren't, you're working with what you've got. Not many people skills.

“Hi,” he says.

"They were good drawings," you say, in lieu of your own hello, thumbing at the pages of your book all full of jumpy nerves.

"Thank you, I'm… new to it. My best friend, she's– she's actually nicer than she should be about them, I can't lie. I was going to say she thinks I should be banned from picking up a pencil, because I wanted to make you laugh, but. She's nice when it matters."

You can't keep looking down, it wouldn't be polite. You dog ear your paperback and let it lie against the tabletop, greasy to touch but you doubt it'll make a difference. The book is old and had cost you 50 cents at Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler's yard sale.

He's tall. Hair falls around his face and curls gently against his cheeks, a sandy brown. He's wearing a hat. He hadn't been wearing one the day he'd given you his drawings, but you can understand why he needs it. The sun is an inescapable force: sun stroke has half the town down for the count. The whole reason that you're in Benny's is because it's air-conditioned and shady.

"Do you want to come and eat with me and my friends?"

You say no automatically. "No, that's okay. I don't wanna," —you don't know what to say, so your voice hikes up awkwardly— "impose."

"You don't have to, but if you want to, you're not imposing." He twists at the waist and nods to a booth across the room, where a boy and girl sit. When they see you seeing them they look away. "Sorry, they're dorks. There's usually more of us, but Jon's in work and Nancy's in Emerson, so…" He seizes up.

You wonder why people are so afraid of being awkward. It terrifies you, to think one day you'll fuck up and be awkward and the other person will remember it and laugh, but looking at him now, you can't see why it matters. It actually makes you feel better, knowing he's worried too.

"I only brought enough for the milkshake," you say.

"I'll get you something."

"That's– no, that's okay."

He hesitates. "You'd be doing me a favour. I love them, really, but I can't stand it when they're together, they bully me."

It would probably be worse to reject his offer and sit here lonely while they laugh and talk. You'll worry they're talking about you.

"Okay," you mumble, picking up your book and your milkshake.

He grins at you and you follow him through the diner. It's not busy today, but there's still feet to fall over and backpack straps to tread on, so you watch the floor.

"My name is Steve, by the way."

You tell him your own name, which brings another quick smile to his face. He slows as he approaches the booth of his friends and beckons for you to slide into the empty side before following you in.

"Guys, this is– Eddie, what the fuck is that? We said no gross shit at the table."

"This, my friend," Eddie says, words rolling around his mouth grandly, "is a monster."

It's a little man made of coffee stirrers, sporks, and chewing gum seams. It's kind of gross, but it's cute. Grossly cute and cutely gross.

"We're about to eat."

"You're stepping on his artistic licence," says the girl, her voice distinctly pretty and a tiny bit hoarse.

"Disgusting," Steve says.

You shift on the leather chair underneath you and anxiety pulses in the bottom of your stomach. They're ignoring you, but not really. Both have lifted their eyes to look at you, and, in sync, they smile. The girl's smile is startling, lip gloss lips and white teeth. Eddie's is softer, less happy and more reassuring.

"I'm Eddie," Eddie says, though you'd figured it out. "That's Robin. Do you think my monster is gross in the gross way or gross in the sick way?"

"He's cute," you admit to thinking. "But the gum…"

"I didn't have any glue."

"Steve told us about his drawings. If he's holding you hostage right now, blink three times, okay?" Robin jokes.

Eddie and Robin lean their shoulders together and start a bit where they count your blinks. There's murmurings about shelters and how they can definitely throat punch Steve hard enough to make him mute. You're stunned at being the object of a joke and don't know how to react, feeling like you've been whacked and now there's cartoon birds flying around your head and they can all see them.

Steve grabs the menus out of the rack and slaps one down in front of everybody. "Alright, team. You know the drill. Last person to choose what they want has to buy drinks." He spares you a glance. "Except you. She's on me because hostages don't pay for themselves."

"I would make such a pretty hostage," Eddie says.

He is pretty, in fairness. Dark curls thick with baby hairs frizzed up in the summer heat frame a pale face. He has big brown eyes.

“And talented,” Robin adds, poking the gum man until he falls flat on his face. The head pops off and Eddie shrieks, not loudly but with a passionate upset about him that makes you laugh.

Steve leans over. “Please choose quickly so I don’t have to pay for Robin's lemonade addiction. No pressure.”

“I’ll just have what you have.”

“With a coke?”

“Sure.”

“Robin?” he asks.

“I want a cheeseburger with a lemonade and then, if you will, another lemonade.”

She dumps her menu in Eddie’s lap, who looks up from his decapitated figure with a look of defeat.

“Wh- hey, she cheated. She hurt my dude.”

“Rules are rules.”

Eddie sulks and accepts everybody’s money. He slinks up to the window like an annoyed cat. After he’s placed the order, he looks back to the table and flips the bird covertly.

“So, how old are you?” Robin asks.

“Twenty two.”

“How’s that?” she asks sympathetically.

“Robin.” Steve chides. “She’s twenty so she thinks she’s a baby.”

“I am a baby. This is my first year not being a teen, which means it’s my first year as an adult. I’m one.”

“We have this argument a lot,” Steve says, though not with any bravado. Simple explanation, his voice soft and warm. “When being an adult actually begins. It’s not the adult part that even matters, it’s the not having rules that fucks people up. Look at Eddie. He’s been out of school for a year and he’s been arrested three times.”

You frown, not because his getting arrested would bother you (depending on the charge), but because you’re surprised, and surprise is quick to appear as anger on your face. His shirt and rockstar rings, his nice smile, his gum man — you’d assumed he was a huge nerd. His arrests are a surprise.

“What for?” you ask, before you can remind yourself that invasive questions are rude.

“Once for indecent exposure– completely accidental. Once for trespassing, and the last time was because he chained himself to a tree outside of Tawny’s bar. They weren’t cutting the tree down,” Steve says. “He, and I quote, wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

“Don’t give away my RAP sheet when I’m not here,” Eddie says, placing a tray of drinks on the table carefully. Three cokes and two lemonades.

“It’s not a RAP sheet if you don’t actually get in trouble. They let him off ‘cause they know his uncle. And also ‘cause it’s Hawkins.” Robin slides her slice of lemon between her teeth, shepherding her two lemonades as far away from everybody as she can, looking extremely hedgy. “I’s a bitch sheet.”

Eddie feigns for her second lemon slice and snickers when Robin defends it, elbowing him hard in the ribs.

“I paid for it!” he says through laughs.

Your hands start to shake. You hide them under the lip of the table but it’s no use. Soon your legs are shaking, your arms, all of you. They’re minute tremors, both invisible and impossible to ignore. You glue a smile to your face and try to calm down. You’re overwhelmed and you don’t know why — this isn’t a new feeling. You are not the first person to feel this feeling.

Then why does it feel like it?

Sometimes, everything gets so scary so quickly, and you sit there wondering why it isn’t scary for everybody else, and you wonder why they can’t see it on your face how scared you are, and they must see it? They must know you’re fucked.

You’re shot with thoughts. These people, you could be friends. All you have to do is make a good impression. But how should you go about that? How do you talk? What do you say?

“I draw too,” you say, hands clamped between your knees.

Steve’s eyebrows do this little dance. It’s adorable, and it makes you want to be his friend most of all.

“You do?”

“I do. I’m not good, I mean. I used to be better. I’m out of practice.”

“I draw,” Eddie says.

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Jonathan, too. God, you should see his shit. And he’s an even better photographer. But I draw shitty zine comics. And Robin does the typesetting for me.”

“Oh, wow,” you say genuinely.

“Nancy writes,” Robin says. “So we’re, like, a jerk circle of artists. She’s good, too.”

“She’s good,” Eddie imitates fondly. “I bet she is. Robin’s gonna be a great writer as well, once she gets all these private Nancy lessons.”

Steve puts a hand up and Eddie promptly shuts up. He takes a big, sheepish slurp of coke and you feel like you’ve said something wrong though you barely said anything at all, sipping at your own coke.

“What are you reading?” Robin asks.

You slide the book toward her so she can see for herself. “The Sea, The Sea,” you tell her. “It’s about, uh,” —you’ve only managed to read the first thirty pages, and that’s after reading the first ten five times straight— “this guy named Charles, he’s unique. He’s uh, annoying.”

“You know, Nancy used to have a book that looked just like that,” Steve says.

You laugh weakly. “It must be popular. I got it at a yard sale.”

“Can I open it?” Robin asks.

“Of course. It’s already pretty beat up, I don’t think there’s anything you could do—“

Robin opens the book with one hand, thumb and pinky fingertip pressed to either side, and tries to take a sip of her drink without looking, tipping her glass of lemonade straight into the pages of The Sea, The Sea. What doesn’t get soaked up by your book rushes down the length of the table and into her lap.

Steve reaches across the table to grab up the glass, but the damage is already done. Your lips part. Eddie gawps, throwing a hand over his slack-jawed face.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she says, looking at you with wide eyes. “I have the worst case of butterfingers ever, I’m sorry.”

It’s as if she can’t believe she did it. You fluster when you realise they’re all waiting for your reaction.

“It’s okay!” you say, as loud as you’ve ever spoken in public.

“You can be mad,” Steve assures you.

“No, it was an accident. I’m not mad, it cost fifty cents, and it was totally garbage anyway. I’m really not mad.”

Eddie stuffs napkins under the table and Robin shivers uncontrollably, dishing ice cubes from her lap and the seat. Steve, laughing now, says, “God dammit, Robs,” sounding like she might be the most golden person on the planet.

—

Steve works his hat over your hair the best that he can. “There. Now you won’t die from heat stroke.”

You bring both hands to the hat to encourage it down onto your head. “Steve,” you say, sounding unsure on how to continue.

“It’s on loan.”

You nod and look out over the lake, where Eddie stands at the edge of the dock. "It's getting way too fucking cold for this," he complains, in swim shorts and a shirt, gazing in distrust at the lake’s shimmering surface.

Lake is kind. It is technically a lake, but also technically a really, very pathetic lake that feeds from a pathetic tributary. If you stationed Steve on one side and you the other, he would strain to hear you talking. Likely infected with brain eating amoeba or tadpoles or leeches. Slimy things. It’s less disgusting than Lover’s Lake, a condom cesspit, so that’s a plus.

You aren’t looking any more eager about jumping in than you had been, thighs naked and kissed by the hem of an oversized, black t-shirt. It’s wrinkled. Steve kind of loves it.

"Just jump in, you big babies," Robin says.

She'd already jumped in, screamed at the cold, and now languishes in the chest height water in front of the small fishing dock with a smug smile on her face. "Not you," she says to you. Steve rolls his eyes.

You shake your head, hair slipping out of the hat. You sigh as you pull it off and readjust the sizing band.

"I guess I am being a baby,” you say to him quietly. “The sun’s been out all day, how cold can it be?” You’re not feeling confident. It seeps into your voice, to which Steve lends a placating smile.

"Really fucking cold."

"Eddie, shut up. Y/N, it's fine. You'll like it."

“I really don’t think she’ll like it.”

Steve doesn’t either, but he wants you to feel included, and less tense. Distract you from whatever it is that’s giving you such a big case of the frownies, and prove he and his friends aren’t just book-ruining hooligans.

Eddie finally jumps in over Robin’s head, disappearing into the not quite blue water with a cut-off curse. He appears again a few seconds later, black hair slicked to his face, neck and shoulders, wiping the water from his eyes as he splutters and giggles boyishly.

“Shit, Stevie,” he says. “Not that cold after all.”

“You don’t have to jump in, you can just ease off the dock, if that’s better,” Steve says.

“Frogspawn,” you murmur.

Steve does a bunch of flexing, throws in a jumping jack for good measure. “Alright,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let’s go.”

You shake your head gently.

Steve doesn’t wanna embarrass you further, or insist when you really don’t want to, so he nods and smiles and takes a running jump into the lake. Robin and Eddie both swear and dart away as his body collides with the surface of the water, and he sinks like a well-practised stone to near enough the lake bed, feet gracing slippery pond weed and things he’d rather not think about. The air shatters out of his lungs and the water, despite the summer sun, is cold. It feels amazing — he hadn’t realised how warm he was until the temperature abruptly shifted.

He rushes back up to the surface and shakes his hair out like a dog, water running down his face and shoulders in fast thick rivulets. He peels his eyes open and turns to find you still hesitating on the dock. Robin splashes at Steve in retaliation for his hair splatters and Eddie laughs evilly as he joins in.

“Come on!” he begs you. “I told you, they bully me! I need back up!”

You toss his hat on the dock. The jump you take into the lake is timid but enough to miss the frogspawn and not break your legs, a cold splash of water and you’re there. Luckily, your presence has Robin and Eddie both stopping in their cruel tracks, and you don’t have to save Steve after all.

Your happy laughter is stunning.

"It's so cold!" you squeal, water in your eyelashes.

Eddie takes one of your hands and together the four of your tread into deeper water.

"Now that all who can be present are present," he says, falling into his dungeon master drawl, "it's time we commence the The Tournament. Swimmers, take your stations."

Everyone falls into line. You don't know what you're falling into line for, raising your timid voice to ask, "What's the game?"

"The game is me and you dunk the ever-loving out of dumb and dumber," he says.

"Hey, what?" Robin asks. "How come you get her? She's a total wild card, she might win the game all by herself."

"Or she might really suck. We don't know, and so in the interest of fairness, I propose she swims with me." Eddie's wet sleeve sticks to your skin as he nudges you. "But you don't suck, do you?"

"Um…"

"Attagirl. On your marks, get set, go!"

You spend an hour like that. Steve and Co, they're stupid, but they aren't stupid stupid. The Tournament is a series of chasing and dunking (stupid but fun) wherein you get to throw yourself on the shoulders of the person you're chasing and submerge them (stupid again). You can't hold them down, though, they aren't trying to drown one another. Much.

The sun regretfully starts to set. If it's anything like the last few days, that means it's likely near 10PM, and they're all working tomorrow.

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Steve asks in concern, after he's heaved himself up onto one of the huge stones on the opposite side of the lake.

Cattails obscure you from view on your own stone. Across the lake, your possessions lay thankfully unscathed on the dock. Robin sits as close as she can to Steve on his rock, kicking water at Eddie every time he tries to approach.

"You fucking rat," he fumes, mouth full of lake water.

"I'm not really working right now,” you say.

"Do you need a job?" Eddie asks. "They're hiring— Harrington, restrain your creature! They're hiring at the Palace Arcade, aren't they?"

Steve nods voraciously. "Yeah! Hey, we can get you an interview no problem, they probably won't even ask you that many questions. I mean, Keith worked there."

"Don't be mean about Keith," Robin says, though she doesn't really like him. He thinks it's akin to defending your deadbeat older brother.

"I don't know, I think even a couple of questions might be too many," you worry.

"How come?"

You pull the fluff off of a cat tail, and it explodes in your hands. Steve yanks one down to do the same, watching the fibres float across the lake's disturbed surface with a cool breeze. Robin shivers beside him, sensitive to the cold in her wet clothes, the adrenaline of swimming and almost but not really dying wearing off.

"I'm bad at stuff like that."

"I don't think anyone's good at interviews at our age," Eddie says, nose wrinkled as cat tail floats toward him. "We're, like, babies."

"I always feel like I'm really old," you confess. You look down at your naked knees. "Like I wasted all the good years already."

"What, school?"

"And the four years since," you say.

Steve gets it, in a way. His high school years sucked, and he'd maybe thought he'd get out of Hawkins on a track or swim scholarship, basketball — anything. But he's here still, and at first that hadn't been what he wanted. Sure, he'd expected it, but in different ways.

Steve pushes back the cattails to see you clearly. "I didn't even get any real good years until just now," he says, as kindly as he can.

"I failed senior year twice," Eddie speaks up, "I kinda thought I was wasting my life too, but if I didn't, I wouldn't even know Robin, and she's, like, my best friend."

He throws his hands over his face before Steve can kick a huge wave of lake water into his eyes. "Get your own," Steve fumes. He's not really mad.

"Yeah, these are the good years," Robin says, "probably. I never had guys fighting over me in high school." She laughs and tucks her wet hair behind her ears, her freckled cheeks pale in the oranging light of the sunset.

You hold your hands out for Eddie and he finally climbs onto one of the rocks. From this side of the lake, you can watch the sun set behind the silhouettes of Hawkins town a half mile away. It dips slowly down, meandering almost, a pearl sinking through layers of raspberry pink and orange and, as Steve holds his breath, that sudden flash of electric green.

"I'm blind," Eddie mumbles, falling back into the rocks and grass.

"Shit, that was cool." Robin stands up and stretches. "I'm so cold I'm gonna die right here. Steve, do you still have a blanket in your car?"

Steve looks over at you again. You look shell-shocked, not quite awed. He doesn't know what emotion you're feeling, only that you're feeling it, eyes wide and set across the lake at the darkened sky, lights from the buildings like stars shimmering in your pupils.

He stands up and offers his hand to you. When you take it, he pulls you up without hesitation, not a flicker of doubt or an ounce of struggle.

"I'll get you that interview," he says, questioning, soft. If you want it. 

Your fingers linger in his palm.

"Yeah, okay. Thank you."

"Come on!" Robin says, taking your other hand and tugging without apology, barefoot over the asphalt path surrounding the lake. "Before the gnats come out."

"We might see fireflies if we stick around," Eddie says.

They bicker. Steve lets go of your hand and you and Robin walk just ahead, your head bobbing between his two arguing friends like you're watching a quickfire tennis match.

You turn to the side and hide a smile. Steve sees it, and he figures it's a start.

"Munson," he hollers, "how about you stay and watch the fireflies and you tell us all about it? Me and the girls aren't gonna freeze out here so you can get back in touch with nature."

It's a bad joke, but it works. "Fuck you, Harrington. The ladies wanna see the lightning bugs, don't you?"

"I can't remember the last time I saw them," you say.

"Then we have to stay," Eddie says smugly.

You all crowd the back of Steve's car, the heaters on but not doing a lot, the blanket stretched over Robin's shoulders. She tucks it behind your back, and you all look out to the night and scout for bugs.

"There," you whisper, pointing.

Green dots of light rise from the dry grass like tiny lanterns, a handful at a time.

"Jonathan's gonna be sad he missed this," Robin murmurs.

You try to count them all. Four voices whispering bets into the night air, though the real number isn't possible to calculate. "Winner gets a new paperback on Robin," Eddie jokes, swiftly quietened by a barrage of elbows to his side.

They let you win.

[scary-grace]

Shigaraki x Reader WIP Poll

I started but didn't finish a bunch of fics for Halloween, and in an effort to distract myself from everything I'd like to get into them! Below are excerpts from four fics I got a decent start on. Once you've read them, vote in the poll at the bottom for which one you think I should finish first!

Necromancer Shigaraki

            Tomura stares at your body, torn. You’re just barely dead. He watched you take your last breaths only seconds ago, and he knows even without touching you that your skin’s still warm, your blood still liquid, your brain still alight with electrical impulses. You’re the perfect candidate for a resurrection, and Tomura needs a perfect candidate, or it’s not going to work. Spirits of the restless dead might be drawn to Tomura like moths to a bug zapper, but the real money in necromancy comes through resurrections, and Tomura’s never done one successfully.

            That was fine while Tomura’s master was still in charge, but when he was captured, his guild disbanded. Tomura and his friends had to find a new home, and their new guildmaster gives zero shits about potential and all the shits about results, which means that Tomura’s inability to manage a complete resurrection has gone from an awkward conversation to a significant problem. Tomura’s friends have made themselves useful to the Hassaikai guild already. If Tomura can’t, he’ll be out on his ear.

            He needs to resurrect somebody, and he needs to do it fast. You’d be the ideal subject if your last words hadn’t been a demand to do the exact opposite.

Demon Shigaraki

In all of Tomura’s depictions, he’s missing something – his index and middle finger off his left hand. Offering him yours should get his attention. You adjust your grip on the handle of the knife and speak. “I conjure you, Shigaraki Tomura, instrument of destruction and symbol of fear. Come to me.”

            The circle hums to life around you. The book said it would do that. The book also said to explain. “Someone took everything away from me. I want to pay him back, but I can’t.” Bitterness fills the back of your throat, stings your eyes. Your hatred for Keigo chokes off your voice for a moment. “Shigaraki Tomura, spirit of entropy, dominion of grief, vengeance is mine. Help me claim it.”

     You set your hand on top of the ninth symbol, spreading your thumb, fourth, and fifth fingers wide, leaving a clear strike at your index and middle fingers. Seeing them there, isolated on the red-chalked concrete floor, turns your stomach. How hard will you have to strike to amputate them? What if you can’t do it? This is insane. You need to move on. Move towns, move countries, dye your hair and change your name, go under and surface again somewhere far from Takami Keigo, where you’ll never hear his name again. Is vengeance against the guy who did you wrong really worth mutilating yourself? Do you really hate him that much?            

Yes. You do.

Crossroads Demon Shigaraki

Tomura doesn’t know how time passes for humans when they’re alive, but he knows how it passes for you because of how you wake up. Most of the souls at Tomura’s crossroads were dead before they knew what hit them, and they wake up slowly, peacefully. They seem to know they’re dead already. They get up fast and walk faster, dissolving into nothingness past the edge of the crossroads before they even realize that Tomura’s there. But you knew what hit you. You know something went wrong. Tomura knows, because when you wake up, you lurch upright, clawing at your chest and struggling to breathe.

You’re dead. You don’t need to breathe. You don’t need to shiver, either, but your spirit’s shaking all over as you press your hands against your chest, touch along your arms and legs, reach up to the back of your head and press down hard. Tomura remembers what your body looked like on the road, and you must remember, too, because with every injury you can’t find, your panic increases. Your hands keep returning to your chest, the back of your head, like you’re trying to hold your body together.

You don’t have a body anymore. There’s nothing there, and Tomura doesn’t like the way watching you makes him feel. “Hey,” he says, and you freeze in place. “Pull it together. You’re dead.”

Cyborg Shigaraki

You work your fingers beneath the net, pulling it up and away from his neck so you can cut it away without getting the knife anywhere near his skin. Once you’ve made the necessary cuts, you get to work unwrapping it, sliding your hand behind his head and lifting it as gently as you can manage as you tug the net free. He’s almost dead weight, but not quite. When you lower his head back to the sand, you take a moment to move his hair out of his face.

            You get a shock from there. His eyes are open, their irises blood-red, and there are scars over his eye and the corner of his mouth. As you watch, he blinks slowly, then focuses on you. The voice that passes through his cracked lips is raspy and quiet, so quiet that you have to lean in to hear. “Leave me.”

            “I can’t do that,” you say. You can’t call for an ambulance – there’s no cell service down here, and in the time it would take you to get back in range, it’ll be too late. “Nobody should be alone when they –”            

“Won’t die.” He coughs, and a spatter of blood exits his mouth. Blood wells up around the driftwood spar, too. “Once I take it out.”

[sunfyresrider]

*ೃ༄WICKED INTENTIONS | NETEYAM S.

✩Synopsis. You made the foolish decision of seeking sanctuary with a vampire.

✩Tags. blood, hypnosis, dubcon, fem!receiving, p n v, Vampire Neteyam, uhhh just smut. 1k words

✩Note. SHE HAS RISEN (lol hi)

minors dni 18+ minors dni 18+ minors dni 18+ minors dni 18+

As Neteyam lay asleep in his lair, melted candles and cobwebs lining the once luxurious walls, he had dreamt of times long past. He saw images in his dreams, from wars won and lost, of loved ones he had left behind, and of the world he had once known without a thirst for blood. In his nightmares, he prayed that he would be freed from his eternal solitude, join his companions in their graves.

Even whilst he slept his mind roamed ceaselessly, for the creature he had become never fully knew peace. The warm embrace that rest provided had been out of his reach for centuries, perhaps that’s why he had gone mildly mad. The last creature he had interacted with had been ten… no fifteen years prior, in passing. Solitude

An itchy feeling crept up Neteyam’s spine, his nose twitching as a new scent invaded his senses. Both of his pointed ears began to twitch, the pitter patter of feet quickly approaching the grandiose entrance of the castle. His eyes shot open, his golden irises gleaming with excitement. Neteyam’s body floated out of the coffin, the aroma of pulsing blood carrying him to where it stood.

A young woman, decorated in muddy fabrics and torn stockings sunk to the floor in the grand foyer. Your eyes were glazed over with tears, clutching your arms tightly to her body as she quickly glanced around your surroundings. The scent of her blood, rich and pure, was intoxicating. It was sweet and thick, like a fresh honeycomb dripping with dew.Twas a pity you appeared so patheticly helpless clinging to the old carpet.

Neteyam approached the trembling girl, his eyes fixated on the steady stream of red trailing down your pale arm. Your body was littered with scratches and bruises, blood seeping from each wound. She must have stumbled upon the castle after getting lost in the forest. The moment you spotted him you knew you had made a grave error, his appearance was far from human, more tragically beautiful beast than man.

You stuttered attempting to grab the nearest curtain to lift yourself, but your fingers only grasped thin air. Neteyam kneeled, his face mere inches from yours, his breath was cool against your flushed skin. A single claw traced your cheek, a shiver of fear running down your spine. “An intruder? Were the bodies outside not frightful enough to deter you?” Panic began seeping into your bones, you were so focused on running you hadn’t noticed anything…

“I-I mean no harm! I'm terribly lost and afraid… I only meant to come in for safety, I swear!” He stared down at the whimpering mess beneath him, the fear in her voice was intoxicating, her scent even more so. The vampire felt a stirring deep within his abdomen, his fangs beginning to ache.

The sight of your veins pumping and the delicious fear in your eyes made him more aroused than he thought possible, perhaps denying himself both food and company had long lasting effects. Neteyam picked you up by your arm, his cold skin making contact with yours. He wanted nothing more than to rip open your chest cavity and feast on the crimson liquid within, but something else stirred inside him, a desire he had long since forgotten.

“Do not fret, I don’t intend to kill you.” The master of the castle hands slipped down your neck, letting his fingers hover over your pulsing veins. “If you wish to stay, you’ll have to pay for it.” His golden eyes pierced into yours, fangs glistening, the grin on his face grew into a wicked smirk. You felt your resolve fading, eyes fluttering shut as you stared into him. Before you could utter a word the room changed, the clocks stopped ticking as you were laid out on his lush bed.

His hand caressed your cheek, a finger brushing against your bottom lip. The touch of his lips mirrored his appearance, frigid and lifeless. Your body felt light, eased into a faux sense of comfort, your mind in a cloudy haze as his lips trailed down to your nape, inching closer to your core.

thump thump thump

The sound of heart race quickening made his cock twitch with anticipation, the excitement of devouring his next meal was overwhelming. Neteyam’s tongue delved into your sensitive spots, basking in your flavor and heat he could not possess. His tongue prodded your entrance, lapping up the nectar flowing freely from your cunt.

Your hands shot down, tangling his dark hair in your fists, legs quivering as he toyed with your clit. The sensation of his cold tongue against you felt euphoric, like a cool breeze on a humid day. Your back arched, head falling back against the plush pillows as a high pitched whine escaped you.

The monster below you chuckled, your sweet taste lingering in his mouth. He brought his lips up to your ear, whispering sweet nothings as his thumb played with your clit. With the wave of his hand, the man pulled his trousers down, exposing his cock.

Neteyam hovered over you, lining himself up with your entrance, slowly sinking into your heat. The intensity of your heartbeat echoing within his ears made him shiver, denying himself the one pleasure he could obtain in this world. His hand squeezed around your throat, his thrusts quickening to match the pulsating veins within, worshiping the feeling of blood freely flowing.

His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, hissing under his breath. His free hand found your clit, rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves. The feeling of his hips against yours was intoxicating, the fullness inside of you had you drooling. Your eyes began seeing stars, the feeling of being so full, and the lack of air making you dizzy.

The intensity of first time pleasure was overwhelming, a tear falling from your eye as you struggled to breathe. The way your cunt tightened around him, and the delicious scent of your arousal only drove him more wild. Your heart pounded within his chest, the sensation of life pumping through him for a few short moments, and the tight grip on his hair made him weak.

The noises coming from you were only comparable to a goddess, if he could listen to them forever Neteyam would gladly live with his cunt stuffed inside you...

Your thighs began to shake around his waist, your orgasm rapidly approaching. Neteyam brought his lips to yours once more, kissing you roughly, biting your bottom lip till the sweet taste of iron flooded his mouth. He felt you tighten around him, walls clenching as he inhaled the sweet scent of you. Neteyam’s head dipped down into your neck, his eyes fluttering shut. “What if I drain you dry and keep you here with me forever, princess.“

Your eyes shot open, the feeling of fear beginning to seep back into your conscious as your body began to overwhelm with ectasy. His teeth sunk into you as your orgasm rippled through your body, his cock spilling inside you. Your eyes rolled back as he drained your essence, the feeling of bliss disappearing as your mind became hazy. Your eyes began fluttering close, all the limbs in your body becoming too weak to move.

Neteyam’s face came into your faded vision, hot blood streaming down his shiny fangs. “Sweet dreams, darling."

[izvmimi]

cw: post-nrc. suggestive, no overt smut. minors dni.

"have you ever hoped that i were softer, malleus?" you whisper in the dead of night. it should be too quiet for him to hear, even if there are only inches that separate the two of you in bed, your head rested against his chest. it's been just under a month since coronation, and another week since you've become something more than human, but something not quite fae, and the stares and the looks, and the demands have reverted you back into your protective shell. here, in the afterglow of lovemaking, you feel safe and warm and soft in your marital bed, but the tension of being perfect, balanced, strong yet kind, continues to wear on you. you're aware of every time you've let your smile falter, every moment in which you've had to make a decision that would render a smile on your lips empty and meaningless.

there's a happy medium, and you're not sure you've mastered it yet. you can feel the new pressure in the length of your limbs, the tips of your toes and the pads of your fingertips.

you hoped he wouldn't hear you just as quickly as you spoke. and yet his eyes open, and he pulls you closer, letting his arm wrap around you tighter, his lips kiss the top of your head.

"what do you mean? you're plenty soft, as you are right now," he speaks into your skin.

"i can tell the court is angry at my resistance. any time i question the elders, they bristle. maybe i'm too difficult... i?"

malleus pulls your fore- and middle finger to his lips.

"you're perfect as you are," he says. your finger goes into his mouth and he gently suckles, teasingly, and in the moonlight you can see his eyes twinkle. you can tell he's messing with you, and you're not sure how to let go of your apprehension. he takes your other hand and intertwines his fingers with yours.

"is the court giving you trouble?" he asks. his voice is light but you can tell an answer in the affirmative will darken him.

"no, it's just..." you trail off. "...i wish i was better at nodding and agreeing," you insist.

"and why is that?" he asks. you can feel his eyebrows raise. he pulls you so that you're laying on top of him and you rest on his chest, head positioned to listen to his paced, stable heartbeat.

"perhaps they don't want me to make any decisions. just be sweet to you, a pretty flower to hang on your arm."

you can hear him hold his breath, and you find yourself looking for his face, looking for his eyes.

"are you not one? a flower, i mean," he asks.

"more of a cactus," you joke. you smile, but the laugh is nervous. "i'm prickly," you add.

"not a cactus. a rose," he insists.

the words hang in the air for a moment. it's so simple, so clearly stated out loud, enough that it feels cliché.

"beautiful regardless of any thorny parts," he elaborates. he kisses your forehead again, and you repeat it to yourself.

"a rose," you say in hushed breath. you can feel him shift, and his smile also gleams in the night. his kisses are lower, more passionate now, more fervent, and you accept that you've awakened him as you soften, despite your perceived inability to, under his touch.

a rose, just as sweet, as worthy, despite it all.

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Sleep, Demon! (Lucifer drabble)

Lucifer has fought literal wars. He's faced down forces of nature, had armies bend the knee at his beck and call, subdued entire realms.

So why, how, is this menace of a human still alive?

'Alright, enough.' MC sighed after walking into his office to find him still at his desk, unmoving. 'Get up, you've done enough.'

'Excuse you, I have work t-'

He didn't get to finish his sentence, they planted their palms over his papers and looked deep into his eyes, sleep in their own.

'Lucifer, I can literally feel your exhaustion through the damn pact. You've been awake for two days and I don't care what the fuck you are, that's not good for you. We are going to bed, right fucking now.'

The stare off was immediate, he can't argue that he's tired, but things need doing and he's stayed awake for far longer than this before. He's a demon, he'd be fine, if a little irritable.

But this human, wasn't having it. His human, he called them.

MC rarely changed that dynamic. They were very much master of his brothers, but the pact with Lucifer had been on his terms and thus, Mc gave him the right of way, most of the time.

Tonight, however, they weren't having it, and made it clear by the gentle tug he felt at the back of his neck, their magic pulling at his pact, informing him that he'd be getting his rest, whether he wanted it or not.

Still, he's the Avatar of Pride, and will always have the last word.

'Very well, but you will be joining me.'

'Yes, Lucifer. Now come to bed.'

He has no real way of forcing them, but doesn't need too, there's comfort in their eyes and warmth on their skin as he places his hand on the small of their back and guides them to his room, making sure his brothers wouldn't steal them.

MC kept their word and had their sleep clothes ready in his room, eagerly curling up in his silk sheets.

The nights without sleep soon caught up to him as he sank into the mattress, feeling their warmth seep into the sheets and warm his skin.

He cleared his throat, and they wordlessly slid their back into his side, settling their head in the crook of his arm.

The stress, the to-do list, faded into nothingness as MC's breath settled and stilled, melting away anything outside of those four walls. Their pact is a sweet lull between them, a firm connection never to be broken.

'Next time, just say you need help getting to sleep, you stubborn creature.' MC mutters sleepily, gently toying with his fingers.

'Next time, you should remember who you're dealing with, you little menace.'

'Hmph, if I make you breakfast tomorrow will you forgive me?'

'...perhaps.'

'Really? Even if I make your favourite tea?'

'You are a very daring little menace.'

'And you love me, so who does that make you?'

'Your handler. Now sleep, as you insisted I did.'

MC pouted, craning their neck for a kiss. Lucifer made a show of a reluctant sigh, even as he leaned down to indulge in the taste of them one last time that night.

The human tugged him close before he could pull too far away, whispering their words against his lips.

'I love you, Lucifer.'

The first born melted, all pretence falling away at once. He wrapped both arms around them, pulled their back firmly into his chest until there was not a breath of air between them.

'And I, you.'

[rokishimizu4]

A big brother’s sick day

Sorry everyone for such a long wait, from family drama to being sick, it has been a month and I want it to be done.

For @gaytransratboy, thanks for the request.

Enjoy this little snippet of my BatFam story

TW: Reader being sick and mentions of Joker venom

The frantic pounding of heavy combat boots against the carpeted hallway as Alfred struggles to get his suit jacket over his pajamas, but a swift kick against Alfred’s bedroom door made him give up on that idea entirely.

“Master Jason! What on?” He was quickly silenced as the bedroom door was kicked open and Jason rushed in with a squirming bundle of black and purple goo in his arms, his eyes wide and face paler than the moon outside.

“Grandpa!!” Jason yells in pure panic as he rushes into Alfred, almost knocking them both over if Alfred didn’t right himself up with the help of the struggling child, or Sleeper as they like to be called.

It has been quite some time since Alfred has taken care of a sick child, since Damian rarely gets sick and Tim is too stubborn to be taken care of for more than an hour or so, and it does not fill his heart seeing the agony on his youngest grandchild’s face.

“I don’t know what happened! Sleeps just literally dropped in on me as I was patrolling and Mare (Symbiot’s name for now) was screaming about the cold and how it burns!” Jason tries to explain as Alfred carefully takes Sleeper away from Jason and carefully sets them down on his bed.

A short, but quick, examination allows Alfred to see that somehow Sleeper breathed in some Joker venom, which made them have something similar to the flu.

“Master Jason, I need you to go start the bath. Set it to warm, not hot like you and your brothers like and not cold. I will also need our best towels, the softer the better, and a clean pair of pajamas.” Alfred turns away from Jason to allow him to carry on his new tasks, and to deal with the most difficult task.

“Master Bruce, Master Dick, I have been a butler for the Wayne family since Master Bruce was a baby. I have already gave Master Damian a list of what I will need for the human half of Sleeper. I will be damned with I cannot take care of another child in my care!”

Alfred turns to the whimpering mass of alien and child, withering in pain as he carefully wraps them into his soaked blankets and carry them into the connecting bathroom, where Jason sits testing the water with his hands and adjusting little by little.

“Should be warm enough, don’t know how our little sleep demon can get sick, but I just..” Alfred cuddles Sleeper in his other arm as he places a hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“Her and Mare will need all the rest that they can get. You are doing your job as their big brother by helping me get them cleaned and warmed back up. Have faith in yourself young man.”

“Heh, alright Bruce two.” Jason jokes as he helps Alfred unwrap Sleeper from the massive burrito blanket roll and watches as Mare slowly pulls away from their human half, only to start throwing up in the toilet.

“There there, let it out. It will do the body much better to get that bloody gunk out of your system.” Alfred takes a cold rag from Jason and holds it against Mare’s thick leather-like skin, only to take it away when it hissed at him.

“So cold equals bad, thanks for telling us.” Jason grumbles as Mare pulls far enough away, or sinks in Jason couldn’t be bothered to ask, for him to see Sleeps sickly pale skin, thankfully not a hint of green in sight.

However, both him and Alfred stops when they see the ace bandages wrapped tightly around Sleep’s chest. They both turn to look at Mare, who was trying to get rid of the taste of bile.

“Sleeper is us, We are Sleeper.” Was his only response as he spits some more bile down into the toilet bowl, before returning to their body, to deal with the rest of this so-called ‘Joker Venom’.

“So a they, yeah lets just go with that.” Jason grumbles as he unwraps the dirty ace bandages, and lets Alfred handle the rest.

“I will be in charge of Master Sleeper’s care for the time being. Master Jason..”

“Yeah, I know.” Jason says as he cocks a few hand guns on his person, setting out to do damage control, both inside the manor and outside.

Alfred turns back to Sleeper and allows Mare to help him clean them off. “Don’t worry Master Sleeper, no one will ever harm you again.”

Hope you guys enjoy. I don’t really know what I want to name the Symbiotic and the Reader. I want to do a fear and sleep theme. Let me know what you guys think. Also, I don’t like using Y/N or You for my stories unless it’s in the reader’s POV. Don’t ask me why.

[ladyduellist]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 1: Song

Ao3

Next Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Sexual Language

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

I am aware of how cruel the moon can be—the many phases it sheds. Lovers, most vulnerable, suffer from such severity of its usually silvery boon. The waxing and waning of their intimacy. Their lives. Their time. By astral’s will. A day, years, or centuries of seeking out each other's tender lips. The tides of the lune renew what is fated to be.

— Unknown

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

One Year Before the Nautiloid Crash

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“Where are you taking me lover? I cannot wait to experience what you’re able to do with that tongue of yours,” the human man headily breathed against his nightly suitor’s ear, while Astarion placed a kiss along the softness of his jowls.

The pale elf hummed into the man’s skin as his mouth slowly trailed pecks down to the side of his neck, in tandem with his uncontrolled gasps of assured pleasure. Ringlets of golden spools, bearing the beginnings of silver finery depicting his age, spilled down above his shoulders.

Astarion wrapped a strand around his finger, tugging gently, allowing him to feel a slight pull at his scalp. ”Dear pet, your hair is like that of a crown fit to sit upon the brows of angels. I am undeserving to keep such holy threads wrapped around my fingertips.” He inhaled deeply whispering low into the shell of his ear, “However, I can think of another—more eager—part of your body I would enjoy having wrapped around me that I will have ruined in sin before the night is through.”

His ears perked up when he heard a sharp intake of air from the minor noble pressed deliciously at his side as they walked arm in arm towards the tavern. Hazel eyes dazzled with sparks of lust. Another simple target. The spawn was grateful.

The scent of a cheap carafe red was thick upon his tongue as his breath fanned near the vamp’s face. Vinegar piss. Wonderful. 

“I…I am not used to such salacious remarks. Please do not keep me waiting much longer,” the man keened.

The familiar burn of disgusted bile bubbled in Astarion’s throat. He detested this part of the evening with his nightly liaisons—the purgatory in between.

Come with me, ye bleating sheep to the lion’s den!

Oh, but he would practice his due diligence to get his victims to adore him with his charming swagger and a faux interest in their pathetic lives! Eventually whisking them away to bed with a performance of erotic words dripping from his serpent’s mouth; he could make anyone fall in love with him. Yearning eye contact. A feathery brush against their necks with his fingers. An alluring grin. The promise to know them.

Thousands of denizens he deigned upon for the sake of his one and only exalted master. He was the carrion for the true evil that lurked. The one that tightened the leash around him at every turn.

”Good boy, come eat your rat.”

It repulsed Astarion the moment his victim’s lilting voices careened into his pallored ears to speak of their lives. Adventures he would never have. People he would never meet. Treasures he would never see. Pleasures he would never partake. But, most of all, the sun’s warm grace he would never again feel cradling his skin.

His life ended and began with Cazador in his palace of blood and rape. Whips, chains, and the prettiest of screams. Kennels to contain his most prized pets. Lest he not forget his sudden interest in epidermis poetry! How talented his master was indeed.

The purest of shit to endure.

The people of Baldur’s Gate loved to talk about themselves. And he would listen. He had no choice. He had to feign interest. To enchant them. To indulge. It was all part of the plan—after all.

Ah, but there were times he would come upon those in the flicker of a candle’s light in Sharess’s Caress or burrowing their heads in a pint at a tavern that he would take a more special interest in. A young man that had never been kissed. A forlorn maiden that was escaping an arranged marriage. Maybe even a harlot that was once an aristocrat and had fallen into ruin. Those with stories that lived actual lives outside debauchery and the criminal mind. Rarely, were they people that would undoubtedly be missed, but Master Cazador deserved only the most beautiful beings to add to his “collection” of drained corpses.

In Astarion’s more whimsical moments, he would become the storyteller and regale his prey with memories from his mortal life—at least those he could recall—or fabricate a life that never existed. He would possess positions: a craftsman, a trader, a politician. He had been married, had children, ran away from his family, and widowed. Once, he had owned a lavish manor, with privately catered dinners to his palate. Another time, he had traveled with a king and nearly worked as his personal tactician.

Even so, there would never be a relationship to build upon for the vampire. The victim’s fates were sealed the moment he set his designs upon them, manipulating them by way of exchanged bodily fluids and depraved pants given to the night. Unfortunate souls ripe for the reaping of his master.

“My sweetest treasure, it is not much further now,” Astarion assured his target with a playful smile. He dipped his head to speak against the Adam's apple of the man, lowering his voice a few octaves to vibrate against his flesh. “Then, I will take you again and again until I have had my fill. Would you like that? For me to fuck you until you beg me for mercy?”

The man blushed a deeper shade of red than the wine he imbibed earlier, grabbing tightly onto the vampire’s arm with a few quiet nods.

“Good pet. Follow me.”

It was on the precipice of their journey for Astarion to bed this pathetic mess of a man, that he heard it. The distraction. A hypnosis taking him over, causing his usual instinctual schemes to falter. The constellation that made up his soulmate mark, behind the right shell of his elven ear, suddenly had a strange nerve of feeling pulsing softly.

How curious. Nearly 239 years of life—mortal and immortal—the mark finally comes to life.

Astarion had nearly forgotten about the dusty reminder from who he used to be when he was “alive.” More than likely it had faded in color, along with the rest of his skin tone. One would be so lucky to be born with such a mark, a comforting solace of a personal intimate attachment shared with another being. However, it only served as a severed connection from his corporeal mortality lost against his will. He wished he could scrub it entirely from his flesh.

As they approached the dark alleyway of the Elfsong Tavern, Astarion halted them, his body rigid of the utter intrusion paying pittance to his ears. Eyes fluttering shut, he attuned them to the delicate notes swept upon the strings of a lute just around the corner from them. He took a relaxed breath, his nostrils expanding, reveling in the blithely song gracing his ears.

There was a memory here. One buried well beneath his spawned life and hidden away from the prying eyes of Cazador. A piece: a fragment of leftover humanity just for him. Yes, a song that stuck to the walls of an abode, safety and comfort swelling within. It brought up a familiar vague idea he once might have felt in his former life. An idea of…home. He nearly retched from the very thought of it.

What a sense of humor the gods have to send such a melody along the eventide’s breeze! Astarion scoffed to himself.

The golden haired man at his side cleared his throat in frustration. “Why ever did you stop?”

The vampire’s attention was leagues away, no longer concentrated on his promise of an unforgettable tryst. He cupped a hand over the bloodsucker’s crotch, rubbing his softened cock through the leathers of his pants with a frisky grin.

The tune tapered off, and Astarion—still dazed from the music—gradually opened his eyes to peer down at his movements, registering that the evening needed to end. He patted the hand massaging his member and lifted his victim’s chin up, quickly pressing a chaste kiss on the side of his mouth.

“You, my darling, have purified the longing puddles of void in my heart. Forgive me, but I must end our soiree a bit early. May I come find you again another evening this week?”

Letting him leave without delivering him into Cazador’s arms, was a terrible decision to execute. Yet, this fucking canticle was a succubus that would not release him no matter how much he could get down on his knees and beg, licking the succulent juices of it’s harmony.

He was starving.

Lips pouting, the dispirited patriar removed his hand from Astarion’s breeches, straightening his overcoat and shirt. He stared at him in shock, his mouth opening and closing several times. “I—I see. I bid you goodnight.”

As he turned to leave, ringlets bouncing with the few steps made, the man quickly turned back around with a finger pointed in the air, as if he suddenly remembered he was supposed to deliver an important message to the vampire.

He came closer to Astarion, leaning into his neck to snuffle at him. “By the way, darling, you smell of fetid rats and sewer shit. I can only imagine the state that cock of yours must be in.”

Astarion froze. His narrowed crimson eyes followed the man’s mouth flip into a victorious smirk that he wanted nothing more than to carve away with the most serrated edge of a knife. The vamp’s lips tensed as he found himself grabbing violently onto the gentleman’s bicep, swinging him around to push him against the wall of the tavern with a loud thud, nearly cracking the stone.

“Ah, I understand now,” Astarion grinned, pressing a leg in between the nobleman’s thighs, locking him in place.

The spawn quickly removed a five inch dagger from this boot, without even so much as loosening his grip on him, and pointed the tip into the man’s throat. His messy curls fell forward, kissing the middle of his pronounced brow.

“Though I wonder, pet…” Astarion deftly reached inside his mouth to pry his tongue out between his sudden sobs. He dragged the dagger upwards from his throat, to his chin, and then without warning, placed one of the sharpened sides of the weapon against the wiggling muscle. "just how rough you like it. Given that you have such a tongue to tease me with.”

Drops of sweat beaded at his temple. Panic. And then, the begging began. Of COURSE he would beg. “Pleaseth do nat hurrrt me! I…I didnet mean it. I…pleaseth…I ‘ave coin. You can ‘ave as mulch as oou ‘ike! I caan, um, I caan…” he pleaded, nervously crying as a spittle of saliva coated Astarion’s fingers.

The vamp beamed as he traced the dagger lightly against his tongue. “You know—I think there’s quite an important lesson to learn here, don’t you?”

He nodded quickly, tears streaming, a snotty nose sniffling.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure out what exactly that is on your way home. You seem intelligent enough to solve such a conundrum! And I must give myself credit for making it so easy for you.” Astarion lowered his dagger, a menacing smirk pulling the skin of his mouth upwards. “Now, it may be best for you to scurry home—lest I change my mind.”

He stepped away wickedly chuckling with the knowledge that this man that saw fit to cross him, would keep this interaction quiet. With one arm crossed nonchalantly on his chest and another open to his side—dagger still in hand—he presented him with a mid bow and the permission to leave.

The lowly patriar bent over, vomiting on the ground. He heaved and sobbed until there was nothing left in his stomach, leaving it to the fates of the acids that resided inside. Poor delicate human.

Taking one step forward, he peered at his predator, checking his features for any signs that it was unsafe to leave. Astarion only continued to grin with impish teeth gleaming in the haziness of the town, glowing eyes unblinking. “Run, rabbit, run.”

It was a final warning—one he didn’t chance as he fiercely strutted away.

It was still dusk by way of the ombré purple and blues cavorting across the sky. The sun was beginning to slumber, bidding farewell to his inamorata moon as her light beamed through the clouds.

Astarion tucked his dagger snuggly back into his boot and ran his cool fingers through his curls, setting them back into place. The night had not progressed as planned and it did not bode well; Cazador expected a meal tonight and would expect Astarion to “dine” with him.

Annoyed, he groaned as he crossed the threshold of the tavern. A crowd of people— including small children—were gathered near the front entrance, holding one another with simpering affections towards an elven woman. There was a lute in her hands, slightly weathered and warm in color, with beautifully detailed carvings of flowers inlaid on its soundboard.

Astarion eyed her as he stalked by. At first glance, he was disenchanted. Oh, how delectably plain this bard looks! Her hair is just sloppily braided over her shoulder. Is her eye color truly that muted? Natural makeup adding nothing to allure her audience. Gods, and her clothes! Did bards truly leave their homes looking like that?! Pitiful creature. She may never recover, he thought with a quiet tsk under his breath.

Enough of a distance away to be free of the throes of the audience, he settled himself against one of the street lanterns across from the tavern. Yet, he remained close enough to sate his curiosity he so righteously tried to resist. The perfect wallflower. This woman owed him, after all, for disrupting his composure.

“Play it again! Please please pleeeaaassseee! But, with words this time,” some of the children begged with toothy grins. The rest of the group chuckled, commenting about how wonderfully precious the young wee ones were for taking such an interest in music tonight.

The bard smiled playfully from her sitting position on top of an overturned food crate. “Hmm, I suppose I could make an exception for one more song tonight, but then I must pack up to attend to a few things before the night is through.”

She leaned forward to tap the nose of a little girl, face covered in mud, mesmerized by the songbird. The girl blushed and excitedly sat up straight.

Lute back in hand, she started off slow, finger-picking at the strings. The children’s mouths were agape and a wave of silence settled the crowd. Up and down her fingers strode, moving like a ballerina across the stage.

She switched to a tone, all emotional sweetness, as she dwindled off from the more gloomy beginning, enthralling the audience immediately. A bit more quickly she moved, her pads lightly touching the strings in cadence with her other hand that’s switching from note to note on the fretboard.

Then, she started to sing. And her voice was as beguiling as a nightingale.

The lute eased, but her voice only grew louder. It was all delightful confectionaries being made by a chocolaterie and otherworldly siren song in one. Astarion paused, cocking an eyebrow before narrowing his vision towards her. There was a faint longing ache of his soul mark behind his ear that he didn’t register.

Her throat bobbed as she hit a tender note and the vampire couldn't help but notice how pale and velvety her skin appeared. It was a stark contrast against the darker clothes she was wearing, but it only added to her…well—whatever the hells she had going on over there, he griped.

The songbird beamed at her listeners, a twinkle in her eyes. She swayed effortlessly, genuinely seeming to enjoy the moment. It was a gift to her, this quaint stage she had set. With an audience that wished to truly engage with her music. Astarion could hear the puttering flits of her heart beating nervously, while she maintained a tight composure—an act he found fascinating, given her profession. She looked so alive as she sang.

As her song steadied for its descent, stopping the instrument in her hands to place emphasis on her voice, he saw her peering out into the crowd, catching his pair of scarlet eyes nearly glowing under the light of the street lanterns. There was an intense smirk pulling at the vampire spawn’s lips as he watched her, regarding her gaze.

He nodded in her direction, a final sinuous grin causing a lovely blush to appear upon the swell of her cheeks. A devil she doesn’t know; a dangerous thing.

The bard closed her eyes, tempering the song to its end. Then, there was clapping and coin clinking at her feet. She straightened her back, arms outstretched to her sides like a bird in flight, and bowed. When she rose, she casually searched the audience for those red orbs and snowy curls, but he had already departed—taking her curiosity and “love” with him.

[astarions-darling]

Your Eyes Can Be So Cruel

Raphael x GN!Reader I hate how there is no cutscene whether you win or lose against Raphael. Anyway, this is just a little drabble for if you lose (part of it was inspired by Labyrinth and I've borrowed some dialogue and altered it a bit) no real warnings but he is a Villain™

“And now down here comes the claw.”

You stares at the devil, his face twisted in glee as he stands above you. Lying on your stomach, you try to push yourself up on your elbows even though every muscle in your body screams in protest. Everything aches. Your skin is scorched and bleeding but the little strength you have left is used to sit up, your legs splayed to one as a hand stay firmly planted on the cold marble ground. Exhausted and bone-weary you sigh. It had been a long battle—a battle that has now been lost.

“What a clever mouse you thought you were,” says Raphael as his body shifts, the human disguise returning—not a hair out of place as he smooths down the front of his doublet. How you despise it when he appears so, and you feels he knows this. It makes him too soft and appealing, trustworthy. It’s harder to remember the devil he is with those warm eyes and soft lips. And those lips are dangerous, for his honeyed words spill so effortlessly from them and it’s all too easy to believe them. “But this is my house you’ve been scurrying around in and I’m afraid you aren’t leaving with my cheese. In fact, you will not be leaving at all.”

“Please, Raphael, I need the hammer! A deal—“

His face contorts, the unbridled rage from earlier returning, how it twists his handsome face. “No deals! I’ve been more than generous up until now.”

“Generous?” You can barely speak through a bloodied lip but you manage it. There is still the desire to fight burning low in your belly. You will not lie down like some obedient dog waiting for its master's forgiveness. Your words come out in a hiss between your teeth. “What have you done that’s generous?”

“Everything!” he roars, his eyes burning like the hells. You know his grip on control can only be held for so long, you feel the power radiating off of him. “Everything that you wanted I have done. You asked that I help you with your tentacle problem and I did. You demanded that I translate your little vampling’s scars. I did. I have offered numerous times to help you. I gave you an easy and painless solution, and yet you decide to come into my home and steal from me—destroying my house in the process." He sucks in a shuddering breath through his nose, eyes hard as he stares down his nose at you. "I have not crushed you like the ungrateful vermin you are. Isn’t that generous?”

“Please, let my friends go.” There is only desperation now and you are begging. It hurts you, more than the pain inflicted against you from his earlier wrath.

“Oh, I shall let them go,” The sudden change in his voice, from sneering rage to eerie calm is more terrifying than anything else. You feels your stomach turn to knots. “Even better, I'll return them to their masters.” There is something pressing against your sides and then suddenly your body is hoisted up. You can't move your body, arms pinned to your side. The cambion slithers up behind you silently before his hand is under your chin, forcing you to look at your fallen friends before you. Your back is pressed against his and your body yearns to fall against it, you are grateful that you are frozen in place and can't submit to the whims of your weak mortal flesh.

Raphael's other hand extends before you and you watch his long fingers snap, fire and magic uncoiling from their tips. There is nothing you can do but watch, horrified, as Karlach disappears in a flurry of ash. You had promised Karlach that she would be free. You had promised.

“Zariel will be happy to have our dear Karlach back.” The words are felt against your neck and they make you shudder. His fingers click again and you watch as Shadowheart disappears as well. “I hear Shar can be quite unforgiving but I’m sure the girl will survive.” You know what is next and your eyes land on Astarion as he lies crumpled and bleeding on the floor, his pale hand outstretched toward you. “And our little vampling—“

“Don’t!” you beg. You try to break free of his hold but the pain is insurmountable when you attempt it. “Please, don’t!”

A slight squeeze at your throat. “Perhaps this can be a valuable lesson.”

The third snap of his fingers rings in your ears, the smell burning your nostrils as the vampire disappears in a cloud of ash. You know you’ll never see him again, knows that he will die. There is a yearning chasm deep in your chest as your despair eats away at you. Astarion had escaped once, you tell yourself…maybe he will escape again. Maybe they all will. But you have little hope, in fact, you have none. Your tired eyes fall on Hope, her body lifeless and face blank.

“How sad it is for our adventurer when Hope is gone.” Raphael sighs, his face now coming to rest next yours. His voice is low and tender, and his cheek is pressed against yours, how it burns your skin. “Luckily for you, my little mouse, your master will be much more forgiving than those of your rabble." The spells suddenly ends and you collapse to the ground, limbs smaching against the hard floor as tears fall down your grimy cheeks. The devil circles you slowly, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous room, until he is standing before you.

Your glance up at him, and how you wish to fall into the blackness that lingers behind your eyes. His sneering face regards you. "Yes, I have been more than generous with you. But I can be cruel." The only sound is your laboured breathing as you scowl at the devil. His lips twitch into a smile. "Now kneel.”

[ayyydra]

It’s Rude To Stare | F!Reader/Millions Knives Oneshot (NSFW)

A/N: OOC Tristamp Millions Knives humouring reader with his arms. This little one-shot blossomed from an idea that I had, and subsequently shared, in a Trigun server. Gets quite spicy towards the end. I also have a bit of a Knives muse floating around in my head who comes and goes as he pleases. He's pretty fun to write. Words: 1254. Tags: Vaginal fingering (f!receiving), Finger fucking (f!receiving). Ao3 Link Trigun Fic Master List Divider Credit: cafekitsune

It’s rude to stare, or so that's what you've been told for most of your life.

But you can't seem to tear your eyes from the sight of the way Knives’ arms flex, tense and relax. Not only do you stare from afar when he's training, but it’s the first thing you notice about him when he’s idly standing about or sitting down, or when he is talking to you. It’s those moments like these when your mind begins to wander...

You wonder what it’s like to touch them. You wonder how hard the muscle must feel when it is flexed, and how soft it must be when relaxed. You wonder if the skin stretching over said muscle is smooth and supple to touch. 

But when Knives catches you staring for a little bit too long, his blank expression shifts into one of curiosity.

“What are you staring at?”

Your expression is that of prey being caught between the jaws of a predator, your eyes widening in panic as he calls you out. You stutter and whatever speech you had suddenly evades you. You are unsure of how to respond, but when you've attempted to string something together and make an excuse, he's already picked up on why you're staring. 

And he humours you.

"Is this human entranced with the sight of my arms? Very well, if I must pique your curiosity, then here..."

His hands are broad and soft - uncalloused - as he takes yours and places them on his shoulders, the top half of his skin-tight suit dematerialising. He’s warm and soft, exactly like you had imagined, his muscles firm as your hands slide and drift down to give his biceps a gentle squeeze.

"Is this what you were after?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at you. 

You’re afraid to express yourself for a moment, but the cadence and softness of his voice, and the way his eyes search yours for a response oddly calms you.

“Yes…” you breathe, sliding your hands around to his triceps to feel and gently squeeze the muscle there.

A laugh rumbles from his chest, reverberating throughout his body so much so, that you can feel it in the flesh beneath your palms and fingertips.

“Such predictable and simple creatures…” he remarked softly as he looked down at you. 

But Knives' arms aren't just for show, oh no. There is brute strength behind those arms of his, even if he is seen utilising his bladed tendrils to make quick work of his foes, and those who stand in his way on the daily. Perhaps that's how his skin has remained unmarked and unblemished all these years; never letting anyone, not even a human, come too close for comfort.

Well, that was until he met you of course.

You are perhaps the only one - the first and last human on this desert planet - that has and ever will experience first hand, the brute strength of Millions Knives. But it's a different type of brute strength that you experience.

It's not the kind you see him use when resorting to violence and bloodshed, but it's one that no one else has ever seen him use.

Ever.

Not even in the one-hundred and fifty years he's been roaming this desert planet.

Until one day when you were being particularly unruly and rebellious - enough to test Knives' patience and push it to the brink - was when he took you completely by surprise. You let out a surprised gasp as he effortlessly lifted you up with one arm and draped you over his shoulder. As you were being carried away, your face bloomed at the thought of what else he was capable of when using both arms on you.

And you very quickly learned what these capabilities were. 

A sheen of sweat covers your bodies as a single hand of his pins both of your wrists above your head, the other, working between your spread legs, prying a never ending river of slick from your core. It’s truly a delectable sight, watching his forearm and bicep tense and relax as he works two of his thick fingers into your cunt; his fingers curled nice and deep inside of you, the soft pads of his fingertips hammering away at your most sensitive spot as he finger fucks you. 

"For your unruly and petulant misbehaviour earlier, this is your punishment..." he scolds, his voice not faltering for even a moment as his hand continues to work you into a babbling mess.

You weakly nod in response, far too carried away with what was going on between your legs and the pleasure addling your brain. You wouldn't exactly call this 'punishment' more than you would call it a 'reward', but you were smart enough not to tell him that even in such a state. If anything, you were getting almost exactly what you wanted from him, and it was all because of those damn sculpted arms of his and how badly you wanted him to man handle you with them.

The sounds that fill the room are so wet and lewd. He's bringing you pleasure that you're not quite so sure that you yourself could ever bring with your own fingers ever again. Perhaps you would find a way to make this a bit more of a common occurrence with your ways, maybe you would bring yourself to ask him to use you and your body as a way to explore humans in a 'different' way.

You lull your head to the side, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to focus on the pleasure rapidly building between your legs, pushing you closer and closer to sweet bliss.

"Look at me."

His command snaps you from your short-lived pleasure filled daze. You do as you are told and slowly turn your head to meet his ice-blue gaze; only to find it unwavering from yours. A light grin tugs at his lips when you comply as he begins to grind the heel of his palm against your sensitive clit; your eyes blowing wide and your back arching at the added external stimulation. Wanton moans slipped from your lips as the calculated, yet careless assault on your sweet spots intensified; the internal and external stimulation now overwhelming you, pushing you to the brink of an orgasm. 

“N-Nai… I’m gonna… Oh... Oh f-fuck, fuck, fuck…” you curse, throwing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut. You were so, so close...

"Do not look away…” he growls through grit teeth. “Look at me when you cum…”

Knives keeps up with his pace as you weakly attempt to hold your head up to look at him. The sight above you is heavenly, the beads of sweat forming on his temples, the way his platinum blonde hair sticks to his forehead and his eyes focused in concentration on you is enough to bring you to your orgasm; your hips stuttering and walls contracting hard around his fingers as you cry out his name in rapture. Thick, smooth and soft digits continue to fuck you through your orgasm as the heel of his palm continues its grinding on your clit to the point of overstimulation, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes from the intense stimulation as your body goes limp beneath his touch.

You whimper as he removes his fingers, his hand petting your sopping wet cunt as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Good girl…” he purrs against you.

And here you thought it was rude to stare…

[mslanna]

Consequences of Cuddling with an Incubus

Procrastinating on posting my Beauty and the Beast AU by slipping in this piece of utter smut.

Tav managed to teach Haarlep what cuddles are an is enjoying the well-earnt rewards of their efforts. Until the Master of the House returns early and unhappy from one of his trips. He will have his relief, one way or another. they/them Tav, AFAB with top surgery

Read the whole story on AO3

It is worth the pain of getting Haarlep to understand the concept of cuddles for this. Tav lies on their side, one leg pulled up comfortably with the incubus draped over their back. A wing builds a sheltering canopy over them and the fiend's skin is warm against their own, almost like a very heavy, heated blanket. They had not anticipated the devil returning early from his excursion.

Tav wakes because Haarlep squirms over them, moving into a new position trying not to reveal the human under their wing. Still a clawed hand reaches around the incubus and digs its nails into Tav's shoulder. "What have we here?" The voice growls pulling Tav back against the incubus.

"They were lonely, Raphael," the incubus intervenes but to no avail.

"Well, they are not lonely any more, are they?" The devil presses up against Haarlep. "And how rude it would be to cast them out in their time of need."

"It's not-"

"Sh!" A finger clasps over Tav's lips, it's nail digging into the sensitive flesh under their nose. "Stay. I am sure you won't be in the way as my incubus services me, will you?"

Tav freezes, a trickle of blood running from the puncture wound over their lips into their mouth. Then they shake their head carefully.

"Excellent. If you would get to it, Haarlep." There is a threat in Raphael's voice that makes both of his servants shiver. Whatever happened on his foray, the devil did not return home in a happy mood.

Haarlep writhes against their master, working furiously to enable penetration quickly while the devil presses on, every breath an impatient growl.

Caught under the two fiends, Tav does their best not to exist. But the groans of lust and the soft slapping of desire are impossible to ignore. The rhythm hammers into them through Haarlep's body that still covers theirs.

As Haarlep works his master, the incubus' cock slides past Tav's sex repeatedly, each time harder and more intoxicating. They try their best to hold still but the promise of the incubus touch is irresistible. They insides hunger to be filled with the divine cock, created to elicit pleasure.

Slowly, Tav turns and wriggles lower. The breath of the incubus grazes over the top of their head hot and heavy. It takes only a little manoeuvring to position themself in the path of their cock. It slips in easily and the ridges tug on Tav's nerves just as they remember.

The hand returns to their shoulder, nails going for blood unhalting. "Nobody said you can play," Raphael growls. In their craving, Tav completely forgot that the devil feels what Haarlep does in his shape. As soon as their cunt slips over the incubus' cock, Raphael feels it close around him tight and wet.

Tav moans, grinding back against Haarlep anyway. The incubus picks up on the new rhythm and relays it to their master. For a moment Raphael does nothing, then he thrusts forward hard. Tav moans as the force presses Haarlep deeper into them. They push faster. Running themself through until the protrusions of Haarlep's cock hit on all the right spots on their course.

Raphael moves faster. No longer content with receiving pleasure, he demands it with heavy strokes and curt commands. Haarlep bucks under the double pressure, keeping it together to avert their master's ire. They clasp an arm around Tav, holding their rutting body close. A hand slips between the paladin's legs and Tav cries out when the tip of a finger slips over their clit.

They cunt clenches around Haarlep's cock, dragging it in and down so hard, Raphael gasps. "Not the pup," he growls, pushing towards his climax. "You may come, Haarlep, after me, but the straying pup has to learn not to sneak where they don't belong."

Tav feels the devil's orgasm spill over their body, barely cushioned by Haarlep. The incubus wrings his master dry, each move forwards a thrust into Tav as well. They remove their finger from the paladin's clit and when Tav tries to reach with their own, Haarlep catch their wrists with one hand.

Then Raphael retries. He glances at his toys, writhing on his bed. "I want to hear the pup beg," he calls moving to clean up. "I want to hear them all the way to the Feast Hall. Maybe I will feel magnanimous then."

"You heard the master," Haarlep breathes into Tav's ear. "Beg!"

Tav shakes their head. They are not so far fallen to beg the devil for anything. So they clamp their lips shut and endure the infernal cock that drives them to the edge.

Haarlep pulls back before they can come. "Beg," they repeat. Their breath heavy and heady with promised release. The incubus slows down, their penetration precise, tailored to their own desire for once.

"I hear nothing." Raphael returns, his voice full of apprehension and anticipation. "Are you not doing your job, Haarlep?"

Wails of frustration form on Tav's lips unheard. They will not beg as the incubus slowly works himself over the edge. Each time Tav crests towards ecstasy, the incubus drags them back painfully slow. Tav's world ceases to exist outside the cock riding them and the ecstasy dangled before them and denied. Yet they cannot break a single please from their lips.

Finally, Haarlep pours themself into the trapped form under them. Delirious with ecstasy they grind deep and slow until the their cock slackens.

Tav lies on their stomach, limp cock still inside and weeps in frustrated lust. They squirm in Haarlep's grip, trying to rub any part into the sheets that may trigger release.

"You should have begged." Raphael's voice is close and cutting. The incubus is pulled off Tav's back and claws rake down their skin. Infernal heat drifts from the fingers, longer than Tav remembers. They venture a look over their shoulder, but a red-hot hand presses their face into the pillows before they catch much more than a glimpse of yellow fires caged by black bones.

"You should have begged," Raphael repeats. His voice is rougher now, gravel and cinders in the vowels. A second hand descends on Tav's back, bony fingers digging into the soft flesh of their ass. It reaches under their body and for a moment a hot nail claws over Tav's clit. They quiver as pain mingles into their need.

"Haarlep." The word is accompanied with a gesture Tav can't see. A moment later the incubus takes over the old of their head, putting their other hand over their shoulders.

Two jagged hands grasp Tav's hips, holding the paladin an inch higher than their knees support. Then a long claw rips over their clit again and when Tav arches down with a scream scream, Raphael thrust in. His ascended cock burns hot and big, and Tav sputters when it sears into them.

They form a 'please' on their lips but is is lost in the pillow when the devil pulls back for another thrust. He comes down hard, forcing his length into Tav's slick cunt. The heat overplays parts of the pain as Tav widens further than they thought possible.

Raphael works himself into their body relentless and steady. Each time he pulls out completely, Tav takes a gasp of relief, only to have it forced from their body again in a fell swoop. They fight against Haarlep's hold long enough to wail a "please" through their chattering teeth. Then their face is embraced by silk again and their hips shudder under the pleasure and pain from Raphael's ascended form.

"Too late," the devil growls. He sinks back in ridges scarping along Tav's insides. His fire claims Tav's, threatening to crumble the pent up lust with each filled inch. They howl into the silk, need and desire rearing up against the pain.

Just when Tav feels about to break apart, something scrabbles gently against their clit. The feeling vanishes as soon as Raphael pulls back. Tav waits out a harrowing thrust and there, at the every depth of Raphael's plunge the tease returns. A tiny tease. A drop of water into the inferno that slips over them and revives their primal want.

Tav buck against the devil's next coming, forcing themself over the bulky, infernal cock until their clit brushes over the protrusion again. They moan, grinding back to reach a firmer stimulation. A mistake, as Raphael takes up the cue and embeds his full length in them. But each time he enters them completely, Tav's centre is tickled and their arousal swells back up.

Howling into the pillow Tav works, breaking themself over the ascended hard-on that impales them through and through to elicit another thrill from their raw nub. Agonising need for release sweeps through every movement. Saliva mingles with tears in the pillow that embraces their face wet and slick – a mirror of their sore cunt that seeps hot fluids down their thighs.

The irregular edges of the ascended cock work up an increasing barrage, pressing Tav wide, demanding every inch of space they have to offer. The throb turns familiar, bouncing, flaring over sensitive spots, delivering a final outburst when the outer outcrop finally touches down of Tav's clit.

Excited by the paladin's sudden compliance, Raphael fucks down hard. His gaunt fingers scorch lines into Tav's torso where his grip pulls them up close over him. Infernal claws leave red marks on broken skin. His pace accelerates, leaving barely a breath between back and forth. Each muted scream sinks into his desire and boosts his movements.

For a heartbeat, Raphael rests, his cock buried in Tav to the base and the animal respond of sheer need rising from the writhing paladin ignites his lust for power. He circles his hips slowly, scraping along Tav's insides and rasping over their clit. A long wail drifts up, unable to be contained by the pillow and Raphael repeates the motion. Experimenting with the angle and depth of the bulge that grates over Tav's clit.

Their cunt clenches desperately, carving themself on the hard ridges embedded in their flesh. And while Raphael wants to come, to release himself into the whimpering body, the power over this uppity mortal runs through him sweeter than release. He runs Tav's sex over his cock, relishing in their muffled sobs he elicits, the thrashing against him, their inconsolable attempts to scour themself over the edge.

Now and then he pulls out and revels in the wide, slick opening waiting for his return. He forces the length of himself back in one fast movement and the moans crumbling through the pillow closing Tav's mouth are sweet enough to earn them a dedicated wear of their clit. Every muscle of the human's body tremble with want and exhaustion.

An inaudible string of pleas are swallowed the pillow over Tav's mouth. The words are forced out strong about to vibrate in their body. Raphael rewards each with a deep thrust. As the words come faster, so does he. On a cue, Haarlep raise Tav's face and beseeching wails fill the boudoir.

Tav renounces all shame. They plead and implore, ask for more and for release. Incoherent under the devil's impassioned strokes. Their words go unheeded as Raphael rides them to his own climax. He comes strong, burying his cock deep and pressing down deeper in his ecstasy.

Tav wails and struggles into his body, rubbing at the outcrop over their clit with abandon. The devil slackens inside them and allow Tav to press up tighter against the bulge stimulating their clit. Combined with that his size is enough still to push them over the edge. A desperate roar rolls from their lips as Tav throws themself into their release. They grind against the devil, wringing ecstasy from their overstimulated body with every motion.

Haarlep has to pry Tav off Raphael. Their hands a gentle, but firm keep caressing the paladin that keeps grinding against the mattress overstrained by the euphoria and agony ravaging their body. The incubus' tender touch doesn't help. It's inescapable arousal compounds Tav's turmoil as they ache around a centre that is now empty.

An exchange flies over their head in a language Tav doesn't know, coarse and dismissive. Then something slips into them, angular and hard. It doesn't go deep but stretches them still. It is enough to work off the strains coursing at their body. Tav sighs as they slowly relax. Haarlep assists once more, prying their cramped limbs straight.

The incubus rolls Tav to their back where the paladin lies gasping and trembling. Raphael towers over them in his ascended form, skulls managing a leering grin. Hot air wavers around the burning figure, its tall wings folded close to the body. Raphael has his arms crossed and watches with mild interest as Tav wades through their abating ecstasy on the tip of his tail.

When Tav realises what they are riding their ecstasy out on, shame floods their face. But their need is stronger and they hold the gaze of the fiend until they find a semblance of tanquility. Tav closes their eyes with a sigh and lets their head loll back. The bony spire pulls back and wanders up their belly, leaving a slippery trail behind. Tav doesn't resist when it curls over their throat and finally hones in on their mouth.

The black strands covering white hot flame taste of iron and sulphur tinted with the tang of themself. Tav gags on the tail but Raphael pushes on. "I hope you have learnt your lesson," he asks calmly.

Unable to answer, Tav nods.

"Very good." The Tail is removed from their mouth. "Beg."

Disbelief flares up in Tav's eyes. They glance at Haarlep but the incubus seems miles away.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" the devil threatens.

Tav shakes their head. The tip of Raphael's tail hovers before their face ready to strike and Tav knows that they are lucky if it goes for the mouth. "Please!" The word falls from their lips. "Raphael, I beg you." Tav doesn't even know what they are begging for, so their fall short.

But Raphael is satisfied so far. "Go on."

Not knowing what the devil wants, Tav wrecks their brain. Nothing comes to mind. As they hesitate, Raphael moves the tip of his tail back between their legs. When the pause lingers too long for his liking, the devil strikes.

"Forgive me!" Tav blurts out. Their body winces under the sudden intrusion, sore and tired. "I am sorry. I swear! Please. Don't-"

The tip of the tail twists angrily and Tav sobs as memories of the night crash over them. "Please! Raphael. Please!"

Words become difficult under the continued onslaught but desperate repetitions of his name and broken pieces of an ever-present 'please' seem to satisfy Raphael well enough. After what feels like a lifetime, he relents. The tail returns to his owner's side and hovers at eye height as a visible threat.

"It suffices," he growls. "For now. If I find you trespassing again, you better hope I am in a lenient mood. Or this was just a taste of the whole feast."

He turns and leaves Tav whimpering on the bed. Their first instinct is to crawl to Haarlep. After all it was work to teach them the meaning of cuddles. Remembering how they ended up like this, Tav recoils and curls up around their hands instead.

It is Haarlep who curls around Tav, caressing their hair and arm. "He won't be back for a little," the incubus promises. "Coming in this shape always takes it out of him. Enough time for you to recharge and get to the restoration fountains."

Tav wants to believe. They drift away on the tender touch that lays itself over their strained nerves like balm after the violent intercourse. Tav nods of to the pulsing of their sore body. Maybe it won't even matter if Raphael finds them in his incubus' embrace once more.