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theladysunami · 2 months ago

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My latest SVSSS LesBingqiu idea: A harem drama where both Shen Qingqiu and Binghe are members of the same imperial harem!

———

The original Shen Qingqiu, Shen Jiu, was a high ranking concubine —though more due to her family’s status and her own political machinations then actual favor— while Luo Binghe was one of the lowest ranked concubines. Jealous of Binghe’s (comparative) youth and beauty, Shen Jiu constantly tried to ruin poor Binghe’s reputation, and make her life utterly miserable.

Unfortunately for Shen Jiu, her efforts only managed to encourage the originally pure and virtuous Binghe to become more cunning and pragmatic herself, as she gained allies and thwarted Shen Jiu's devious plots. Eventually Binghe even learned she had a secret royal linage of her own, and gained a large array of forces from her father's subjugated kingdom that were completely loyal to her!

When Shen Jiu's final poisoning attempt went awry, their emperor husband, Liu Qingge, was condemned to a slow and painful death. (Binghe used her knowledge and connections to slow the poison and delay the inevitable, but unfortunately his fate was sealed.) Luo Binghe then revealed Shen Qingqiu's treachery, and convinced Liu Qingge to make her his empress before it was too late. Shen Qingqiu and her entire family were condemned to death, while Luo Binghe became the first Empress Regent, ruling her soon dead beloved's empire with a cold heart and an iron fist.

———

Naturally when Shen Yuan transmigrates as Shen Qingqiu, she turns things around entirely, and does her utmost to spoil and dote upon her precious 'Bingmei'. More than anything, Shen Yuan wants to thwart the tragic ending of the original story, and help Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge fall in love and rule the empire together instead! (The original ending was just too sad!)

Somehow though, things don't go at all the way Shen Qingqiu expected. Sure Luo Binghe's courtly manners and political skills are improving by leaps and bounds with Shen Qingqiu's help, but instead of getting closer to their lord husband... it almost seems like Binghe is feuding with him.

While Luo Binghe orchestrating interruptions any time Shen Qingqiu is alone with Liu Qingge makes perfect sense —they are technically still rivals for the position of empress and all— it's strange how Binghe doesn't seem keen on spending any of her own time with him either!

It's also great that Luo Binghe is so dedicated to learning martial arts, since that's an interest she and Liu Qingge can share (and there was that tidbit about female martial artists being commonplace in her father's kingdom)... but does it have to involve challenging the emperor to quite so many duels? And why does she actually look like she wants to kill him???

Unbeknownst to Shen Qingqiu, Binghe is in fact 'blackening' at record speed, not because she's being mistreated, but because she's determined to conquer the kingdom and get rid of Liu Qingge just so she can marry Shen Qingqiu herself!

———

More Plot and Character Details Below!

Shen Qingqiu (Shen Jiu): Current Highest Ranking Concubine of the imperial harem. She was born the ninth daughter (and only living di-child) of a preeminent noble household struggling from financial strain and a frustrating lack of living sons. Her mother despised her, and her father neglected her, thanks to her ‘failure’ to be the son they so desperately hoped for.

Despite her protests, she was previously betrothed to the low ranked but very wealthy Qiu Jiangluo. His horrific death (perhaps soon followed by that of a second betrothed, Wu Yanzi) made future prospective husbands wary of marrying Shen Qingqiu, but she successfully managed to secure herself a place in the imperial palace despite this.

Qiu Jiangluo: A cruel man with many shady business dealings, who hoped to lay claim to the Shen patriarch’s title after marrying Shen Jiu. (He might even have been partially responsible for orchestrating the Shen clan’s financial woes.)

When he discovered Shen Jiu’s efforts to make better arrangements for herself, Qiu Jiangluo attempted to force the issue by forcing himself on her. Shen Jiu thwarted his attempt and retaliated by killing him and any potential witnesses, before burning down the Qiu manor.

Yue Qingyuan (Yue Qi): Head Eunuch and Protector of the imperial harem. He is the illegitimate seventh child of a moderately powerful noble, who was reluctantly brought into his father’s house. After falling in love with Shen Jiu, he tried to gain a status that would make him worthy of marrying her through military accomplishments.

Yue Qingyuan ended up being instrumental in the defeat of the Mo Kingdom’s ruler, Tianlang Jun. Unfortunately for him, his older brothers were wary of being surpassed, and manipulated the former emperor into “gifting” him the head eunuch position, thwarting his marriage prospects entirely.

Liu Qingqiu: Emperor and only di-son of the previous emperor Liu. He’s a skilled fighter and general, but hates politics, so he leaves most of the empire’s management up to his mother, Dowager Empress Qi Qingqiu.

He is ‘aggressively’ demisexual, which makes him quite uncomfortable around most of the women in his harem, due to their expectations of him. He only visits his concubines out of duty, and never slept with any of them more than once —on their respective wedding days— assuming he didn’t avoid sleeping with them entirely.

His life would be so much easier if Shen Yuan’s didn’t transmigrate in and accidentally steal his heart. He really doesn’t know how to handle his sudden desires.

Qi Qingqi: Dowager Empress and true ruler of the empire. She’s well aware of her son’s distaste for politicking, so she has drilled it into his head he must choose an empress who can take over those duties herself.

Qi Qingqi is the reason the original Shen Qingqiu retained her high position in the harem for so long, since although Liu Qingge disliked Shen Qingqiu personally, he knew her political and strategic skills were unmatched.

Liu Mingyan: Liu Qingge’s younger sister, and the First Princess. Both Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi find it rather unfortunate the previous emperor was too traditional to name her Crown Princess, as she’s probably more suited to the role of ruler than her brother.

In the original work, she became Luo Binghe’s best friend and one of her closest allies while they worked together to uncover Shen Qingqiu’s schemes. She is possibly betrothed to Gongyi Xiao (whom Shen Yuan nicknamed ‘the Male Binghe’), but is secretly in love with her brother’s foreign concubine, Sha Hualing.

Ning Yingying: Personal Attendant to Shen Qingqiu. Ning Yingying is a sweet girl, and quite fond of Luo Binghe despite the reprimands of her original mistress.

In the original novel, Ning Yingying’s fumbling attempts to help were often an accidental source of misery for Luo Binghe. For example, she would give Binghe gifts only for Shen Qingqiu to later claim they were stolen.

Ming Fan: Either a more vicious attendant of Shen Qingqiu, or a young eunuch completely dedicated to following her orders. Regardless of the specifics, (s)he was very cruel to Binghe in the original work, bullying her even when not ordered to by Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe: Newest and Lowest Ranked Concubine in the imperial harem. While she doesn’t know the details, she was told her birth mother was involved in some sort of horrific scandal, so she was shipped off to be raised by her maternal cousins. The family that raised her treated her more as a servant than a family member, and she was left mostly in the care of the family’s washerwoman.

Once she was of age, her ‘adoptive’ family saw an opportunity in her beauty and talents, and had her installed as a low ranked concubine in the imperial harem, purely to elevate their family’s own status.

(Alternatively, she was originally sent to be a servant of Shen Qingqiu, but her mistress hated her. To help Binghe avoid a ruined reputation after one of Shen Qingqiu’s cruel setups, Liu Qingge made her one of his concubines.)

Luo Binghe is actually the secret daughter of the disgraced noble Su Xiyan and the Mo Kingdom’s former ruler, Tianlang Jun.

Su Xiyan: A non-traditional noble daughter of the Su clan, who was more fond of the gentlemanly arts of swordsmanship, archery, and equestrianism, than any of those considered more suited to women.

As the Mo Kingdom has a long history of skilled female martial artists, Tianlang Jun was the only one of her suitors unbothered by her interests, and with no wish to stifle them. The Su family was happy their daughter found a man who appreciated her as she was, so despite the tense relationship between the Mo Kingdom and the central planes the two were swiftly married.

Less than a year into their marriage the Su family was framed for treason, and the entire clan was sentenced to death. This provoked a vicious war between the Mo Kingdom and the central planes, which resulted in Tianlang Jun’s death in battle.

After a difficult birth, and with enemies at the gate, the recently widowed Su Xian sent her newborn child away with a trusted midwife to be cared for by distant relations. With Su Xian’s own death, Luo Binghe’s fate as an orphan was sealed.

Tianlang Jun: The last king of the Mo Kingdom. He was incredibly fond of the literature and plays of the central planes, and so secretly visited the cities bordering his own kingdom quite frequently. As the largest of those cities was under the protection of the Su clan, naturally he and Su Xiyan often met one another there. Despite the escalating tensions between the Mo kingdom and the central planes, he happily took Su Xiyan as his queen and only wife.

Unfortunately, the arrest and deaths of Su Xiyan��s relatives happened before his first child was born, instigating a war between the Mo Kingdom and the central planes. In the fighting that resulted, Tianlang Jun was ultimately killed, with his beloved wife following not long after.

Huan Zhuhua (Old Palace Master): The Minister of Finance. He’s a nasty individual who would rather break his own “toys” than see them in the possession of someone else. His long standing hatred for the “barbaric” Mo Kingdom only worsened when his beloved Su Xiyan married Tianlang Jun rather than himself.

He framed the Su family for treason, making it appear as though they were conspiring with the Mo Kingdom to rebel and take over the central planes. Thousands of lives were lost in the war that resulted, while the Huan family managed to profit greatly from the spoils.

Huan Lihua (Little Palace Mistress): A Fairly High Ranking Concubine. She despises Shen Qingqiu for both her higher position and for constantly outwitting her attempts to advance. The original Luo Binghe successfully charmed her way into Huan Lihua’s favor with flattery and false reverence.

Sha Hualing: The ‘Foreign’ Concubine. Sha Hualing’s parents were nobility in the former Mo Kingdom, so after Liu Qingge took the throne, she was made a concubine as a gesture of good will towards the remaining Mo citizenry. In the original work, after Luo Binghe uncovered her own secret origins, Sha Hualing became her most loyal female underling.

Qin Wanyue: A Mid Ranked Concubine, along with her sister Qin Wanrong. She and her sister were Binghe’s first friends among her fellow concubines in the original work. However, many perceptive readers were able to recognize that Qin Wanyue’s friendliness was mostly out of a desire to earn Binghe’s trust, then use her skills and intelligence to aid in her own advancement.

Qiu Haitang: A Mid-to-Low Ranked Concubine with a serious grudge against Shen Qingqiu. She (correctly) blames Shen Qingqiu for her brother’s death, but willfully refuses to acknowledge her brother’s obvious predatory behavior or how strange it was for Shen Qingqiu to somehow end up alone with her brother in their manor in the middle of the night.

Prior to her brother’s death, she had a very rosy view of her brother and Shen Qingqiu’s relationship, somehow believing them to be genuinely in love. She also latched onto Shen Qingqiu as an older sister figure, and did her absolute best to emulate her.

Mobei Jun: A Mo Kingdom noble who eventually revealed Luo Binghe’s secret origins to her in the original book. He became her most loyal male underling, and once she took over as Regent Empress, he was her personal bodyguard and enforcer.

Shang Qinghua: The Minister of Works, and a Mo Kingdom spy. He had a very minor role in the original work, mostly there to take bribes, organize clandestine meetings, and act cowardly. (Really he was just Airplane’s self insert, there to fawn over his ideal man.)

Wei Qingwei: The Minister of Defense. He is Liu Qingge’s closest friend, and former favorite sparring partner (before Lou Binghe became skilled enough to match him).

Mu Qingfang: The Head Imperial physician who really wishes everyone would stop poisoning one another for five damn minutes. *sigh*

Shen Yuan (Original Life): In his past life, Shen Yuan identified as a straight male. If anyone were to actually succeeded in dragging him out of his cis-heteronormative mindset though (a tall order) he might have admitted his gender was more along the lines of “whatever”/“anything’s fine” while his sexuality was some shade of gray ace/demisexual.

Despite his own obliviousness, he was somehow a magnet for other queer folk. Of his few male friends, most were infatuated with him, while every ‘girl’ he ever dated either came out or discovered their queer identity soon afterwards. (Shang Qinghua was possibly one such ‘victim’).

As Shen Qingqiu, Shen Yuan fully identifies as a woman, and hasn’t put much thought into how easily she took on her new role. It’s only once she finally recognizes Binghe’s attraction towards her that she really considers her previous straight male status, concluding it’s somehow responsible for confusing the poor girl.

(The original Binghe also had a great many highly charged homoerotic interactions with her female peers, but Shen Yuan alternately didn’t notice, or just waved it off as blatant pandering towards the growing male audience.)

Shen Yuan started reading the harem drama at the behest of his younger sister, but ended up far more invested in novel than she ever was. Luo Binghe was his absolute favorite (though not in a creepy way, unlike some other male fans. Ugh.)

Shang Qinghua (Original Life): In his original life, he was a trans man, and the son of divorced parents who weren’t very supportive of his literary ambitions or his gender. He ended up pouring a lot of his feelings towards his gender, his sexuality, and his family life into his work.

He remembers commenter ‘Peerless Cucumber’ quite fondly, as the guy was quick to lambast any and all fan service moments, calling Airplane out as a creepy male author tainting was was clearly meant to be a feminist power fantasy. (✈️: “Thanks for the affirmation bro!” 🥒: “What the f ck are you talking about?!”)

———

The BingLiuShen Ending:

In one possible ending, after most of the court drama has been resolved, and all the hidden plots uncovered, Luo Binghe finally decides Liu Qingge is dedicated enough to Shen Qingqiu to be a passible father for both their children. (If Shen Qingqiu didn’t like children so much, or Luo Binghe could somehow father their children herself, things might be different, but some things just can’t be helped.) Shen Qingqiu is a bit puzzled by the combative nature of the Bingliu branch of their little love triangle, but decides as long as they’re both happy it doesn’t really matter.

Shen Qingqiu becomes Liu Qingge’s official Empress, while Luo Binghe gains the titles of ‘Royal Consort’ and ‘Queen Governor of the Mo Lands’, as a tacit apology for the previous emperor being taken in by Huan Zhuhua’s scheming.

Under the pen name Liusu Mianhua, Liu Mingyan publishes a very dramatized version of events in which Luo Binghe’s proxy is a male demon lord, Liu Qingge’s is an immortal war god, and Shen Qingqiu’s is a heavenly maiden tragically torn between her love for them both.

As it’s Liu Mingyan writing it, naturally the Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge’s proxies end up doing quite a bit of hate screwing while competing for their beloved’s hand in marriage. To Liu Qingge’s horror, and Luo Binghe’s delight, the Luo Binghe proxy is the gong. (😈: “It’s not like we haven’t done it that way before.” ⚔️: “Shut up!”)

———

Other Random Details:

Luo Binghe originally called Shen Qingqiu ‘Qing-jie’ in private, but Shen Qingqiu felt this was a bit awkward with the number of Qing’s around, so asked her to use ‘Yuan-jie’ instead. (Most of the other concubines refer to her as Shen-jie).

The deadly poison that killed Liu Qingge in the original story was a Mo Kingdom poison appropriately called Without-a-Cure. (Liu Qingge gets to be the one poisoned by it for once!) Young Mo Kingdom nobles were typically given an incredibly dilute and less fatal variation of this poison, along with another herbal concoction, for immunity purposes (their own flavor of mithridatism). Unfortunately, having received a full dose of the nastiest variant as a full grown adult, Liu Qingge’s life could only be extended by slowing the poison’s progression.

After Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua discover their shared transmigration status, Shang Qinghua offers to call Shen Qingqiu ‘Peerless Melons’ or ‘Melon-jie’ in deference to her new form. He gets a fan beating in response. Probably for the best really, since he doesn’t want Bing-jie to murder him for noticing her beloved’s ‘melons.’

As a possible plot twist, maybe Tianlang Jun didn’t die during the war after all, but was dragged off to some secluded mountain temple by his nephew instead, where he has been slowly recovering from his grievous injuries. After leaving said mountain, he ends up being a big fan of Liusu Mianhua’s work.

#BingLiuShen #LesBingqiu #Bingqiu #Luo Binghe #Shen Qingqiu #Liu Qingge #SVSSS #SVSSS Idea #Story Idea

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sincerelyrki · 1 year ago

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you don’t look like an angel

being heavens highest angel, lee heeseung was completely and utterly fucked. he’d made the one mistake that could cost him both his wings and his immortality- he had summoned a demon into the most sacred paradise on earth. it was only his luck that it wasn’t just a regular impure demon; no, it was worse. he had summoned a succubus.

paring : virgin!angel!heeseung x succubus!fem!reader

warnings + genre : smut. slightly dubcon (heeseung didn’t know what was happening). corruption. religious guilt. begging. unsafe sex. marking. oral (m). riding. slight degradation. begging. profanity. blood. cumming untouched. demons hiss and purr.

wc : 5.9

a/n : idk what this is but i had to read the entire thing out loud to make sure it sounded right and i think it’s safe to say that this might be one of my favourite works i’ve ever written so far? something about heeseung and corruption…anyways, as always i’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts 🤞

written perm taglist : @vousty @ilololoveyou @moon0fthenight

Heeseung was just finishing his final prayer when it happened, his hands still pressed together at the base of his forehead. Earlier in the day he’d heard about a new prayer, one that was said to be extremely popular with the rising youth.

It was spoken in another language, one far too complex for Heeseung to understand. But the words were simple, easy to pronounce and fairly similar to a chant he’d heard his mother pray with.

Due to its simplicity, it allowed more room for error. One small mistake could change the outcome of any prayer spoken through an angel's lips. Their loving prayers were far more powerful than any other beings, their direct connection with the lord strengthening their pleas.

With the ability to heal an unknown disease with a singular sentence, an angel's voice was the most sought-after remedy.

But as the old saying says, with great power comes great responsibility.

With a voice as strong as theirs it was bound to be heard. Whether it was heard from the lord or other angels, someone was always listening.

What Heeseung failed to realize was that the language of his new prayer was the language of the unknown. No living human understood the language, their own interpretations being nowhere near the direct translation.

But like all other sayings, their false words made their way through the clouds. The wind was listening, the echoes of their translations meeting the ears of a few young angels.

They weren’t of the right age to learn about the wind's voice yet, so they did what they thought they had to. They spread the word, the listening angels hearing their prayers.

It was a cruel game of telephone, the words jumbling together until it was forced to make its own poem. Heeseung just happened to be at the receiving end of one of one.

For a room that was well above the atmosphere, it was oddly humid. The freshwater flowers that thrived in his usual cold room were now completely withered. Their once vibrant petals were now dyed a terrific red, the hue straining their pure white appearance.

Heeseung watched with the utmost confusion as they contorted within seconds, the vapour diffusing into a puddle of red acid that gathered alongside the vase, identical red streams dripping from each individual stamen.

His hand moved on its own, his fingers a hairstring away from the mysterious liquid before a loud voice echoed from the other side of the room. Heeseung’s main light went out, his bedside lamp coming to life on its own.

“You shouldn’t touch that.” Heeseung jumped in place, his wings springing free from their confinement in his attempt to defend himself.

He was light on his feet when he spun around, unfortunately for him- he saw nothing but darkness on the other side of his room. Your figure blending right into the background.

He grew panicked when his hand was met with air when he reached back for his bow, the situation drawing down fast on him. Not only was he stuck in a room with a mysterious creature but he was left defenseless in said room with the mysterious creature.

What were the chances that you were another angel?

“Are you looking for this?” The angel's jaw fell in shock when his missing bow dropped by his feet, the riser snapped clean in half. His heart sank at the sight, pain creeping across his chest.

His bow was crafted with the finest materials, the limbs harvested from their most sacred willow tree’s aged bark- embezzled with an intricate carving for each of his greatest accomplishments.

In an instant Heeseung grew nervous, he knew he wasn’t in the presence of an angel. Each angel was sworn by an oath, and the roots of the tree webbed across their every bone, making it impossible for them to harm such a sacred weapon.

His jaw remained open when you finally revealed yourself, you were the envisionment of sin.

Yep, you definitely aren’t an angel.

Your breasts were held up with the tiniest fabric he’d ever seen, nothing but two small triangles hanging from your shoulders that were attached with a thin knot. The article did nothing to hide your body, everything except for your nipples out for him to see.

His cheeks grew inflamed by an invisible force pulling his eyes down to follow the curvature of your exposed waist. A slightly larger triangle sat hugging your hips, the right side of your hips was exposed, the fabric cascading in a diagonal slit towards your left thigh. It took him several seconds after staring at your legs to realize what he was doing. He slapped his right hand over his eyes, lips opening to recite his prayers.

Heeseung felt ashamed of his reaction, as angels weren’t supposed to observe nudity in a sexual manner. He’d never viewed another person's body in the way he did yours and he’d spent many hours aiding the other angels bathe during their sicknesses- this was a whole new territory that he’d never dared to think about.

You, of course, noticing his ashamed prayers couldn’t help but take offence. Why would he beg for forgiveness after he called out to you? It wasn’t god who he should be worshiping, it should be you.

“You can’t help your reaction, my body is supposed to make you feel like that.” You humoured him anyways knowing that none of this ashamed shit that he was feeling would matter in an hour.

Heeseung vigorously shook his head in denial, your words not helping his inner turmoil at all. You were wrong, you had to be. He was supposed to be an angel and angels don’t act upon sin.

He’d spent his entire childhood learning about each sin, spending hours of his life drowning in the promise of devotion.

He had been loyal since the day he was born, temptations weren’t even a thought in his head anymore. He was the living epitome of purity. How could he honour his mother if he gave into the word of the demon?

Heeseung kept his eyes on you whilst he completed his prayers, his final words building a sanctuary around his untainted blood. The blood of a virgin.

You started your advance with small steps towards him, your bare feet making no sound as you neared him. The closer you got the more potent the blood’s smell became, iron heavy in the air as your body heat drew closer.

You stopped halfway across the room, your mouth was practically watering by the time you were able to make out the small pool of red, the pretty flowers only making it seem more appetizing.

“Do angels ever crave blood the way we do?” You knew they didn’t, it was against their entire existence but some sick side of you wanted nothing more than to see the angel’s reaction to your question.

Pretty boys were your weakness and Heeseung was so fucking gorgeous. You grew jealous of your future self, loathing that she got to touch him- to fuck him the way you’re imagining it right now. You couldn’t wait to watch him shake beneath you, begging to whoever was listening for you to stop.

Heeseung’s mouth dropped in horror, you craved blood? He looked at you like you were insane for your completely valid needs like he couldn’t fathom craving something so inhumane. He wasn’t completely sure if you meant human or animal blood but after seeing the way you looked at him he’d say had a pretty lucky guess.

“Because I've never craved it more.” Chills went down Heeseung’s spine while he tried reading through your words, were you a vampire who smelled him from Earth? He knew angels smelt the best to them.

His questions answered themselves through the sudden wave of iron clashing with his sensitive nose. He looked over his shoulder towards the flowers that were now completely drenched.

“Whose blood is this?” He was barely finding his voice before he forcefully stuttered his final question, his throat burning with a newfound emotion.

Your head cocked to the side while your lips pulled up into a side smirk, your pink tongue quickly coming out to wet them. It was almost an endearing sight, almost.

Heeseung stumbled back with a small shriek when you suddenly appeared right in front of him, your chest pressing flesh against his for a few seconds too long.

He watched the way you kept your eyes on him whilst reaching one of your fingers out towards the pool of blood, a gasp crawling up his throat when you brought your fingers to your lips.

You made a show of sticking your tongue out, trailing your finger from the bottom up before you stuck in between your lips.

You let out a small hum of approval, the sweet taste of his blood tasting better than any you’ve tried before. You finally understood what your friends meant when they swore that a virgin’s blood tasted the best, however, they never got the pleasure of tasting it from an angel.

“It’s your blood, who else’s would it be?” You watched in amusement as the angel’s face blanched, his wings twitching behind his back as he attempted to curl into himself. ‘Cute’, you hummed to yourself as you mentally took a shot at this moment. If there was one rule about angles that every species seemed to agree on was that angels have always been beautiful. But there was something about this specific one that felt so different. It could’ve been the fact that he was untouched, or it could’ve been the way his fear shone so obviously in his eyes that turned you on so fucking much.

Typically angels smelled of a plethora of flowers, gardens growing from their untainted hands. Usually, the scent bothered you, your body being much more used to the fruit-like and sensual scents that the demons claimed as their own.

Many angels assumed that demons would smell of burnt flesh and plied wood and sometimes they definitely weren’t wrong. But most smelled like you- after all, you needed to smell as good as you looked. No one wants to fuck someone who smells bad, even demons had class.

“What are you?” Heeseung questioned, his wings still pulled behind his back. Even though he knew you weren’t an angel, he still had his doubts. Demon wasn't even a word in his vocabulary, it was one of the few words that were forbidden to be spoken in heaven. Sure, you had wings and the same flawless skin he sported but your wings… they couldn’t be any more different.

Your wings were almost double his size and they appeared much more feathered, looking as if they’d been plucked from the most gracious birds and dipped into the darkest ink, black and red sunsets carving up each intricate row of feathers.

He just never expected you to become his beautiful devastation.

You ignored his question and continued observing the way his body reacted to you. His smell quickly became addictive, your adulterated temperament wearing thin the longer he lingered in your senses.

“What do you want me to be?” You purred out in your most seductive tone. While waiting for his response you took it upon yourself to move closer to him, your steps much less hesitant than earlier.

There was no denying that the man before you was truly captivating but there was something else that caught your attention much faster. His pearlescent wings were practically glowing in the dark, a layer of pale blue surrounding the smoothed edges. Which, after thinking about it for a few seconds didn’t make very much sense to you since the angels tended to constantly stay in the light.

“An angel?” You made a sound of disgust at his disrespectful words, you? An angel? Honestly, you’d rather be a troll which says a lot considering their reputation.

“I’ll be your angel if it helps?” Heeseung tried hiding his very evident fluster by attempting to turn away from your vision but when he tried to move, he couldn’t.

You giggled out loud watching the panic spread throughout his face, your mind fogging with all the ways you could use him whilst he’s in this state. There was something so satisfying about having complete control over another person's body, whether it’s through your mind or actions.

“Aw, what happened?” You cooed, acting dumb has always been one of your strong forts. It came in useful at times like this, the ability to feign innocence with a singular pout.

Heeseung, unfortunately for him, fell right into your trap. He was naive enough to believe that you had nothing to do with his state, which is way beyond you. It would’ve been obvious to anyone else that you were controlling him but perhaps angels thought differently.

“I can’t move.” Heeseung nearly screamed when your hand pressed on the spot where his heart lay beneath his chest, his heart thundering louder than before. It was only racing because he was scared, there’s no way your touch was affecting him. Angels don't feel lust.

Lust. The definition is described as a “disordered desire for inordinate enjoyment of pleasure.” Heeseung lived by the word of the lord. He’d spent his entire life bending backwards to live by the commandments that were shoved down his throat, his lungs choking against the words bubbling to come out.

It wasn’t hard to drown into the mold that’s been made to best fit him but it was nearly impossible to escape. He thought he was fine in this confined space, lonely sure, but free of sin. He was accepted by the lord and that’s all that he’s ever wanted.

But he was made for sin because he was made for you.

“Then I guess I'll have to take care of you. I can’t leave you here all alone, not when you’re this vulnerable.” Poison disguised as worry spilled from your lips and slipped through Heeseung’s mind.

Your words drew more than reassurance through Heeseung, it drew guilt. Guilt for doubting your intentions, for believing that you could’ve been here to harm him. He felt so wronged for you, you must’ve been so angry at him. But still, you offered your help. Maybe he’d slip you into his nightly prayers, thanking the lord for gracing him with your presence.

All the thoughts frozen when your hand touched the edge of his wing, his body electrified with a foreign feeling. No one else has ever touched his wings before, it was an action that was far too intimate to allow anyone else to try.

He knew his wings were sensitive but he never knew they were this bad. His wing twitched under your touch, pushing itself closer to your hand.

You watched in amazement as his wings awoke from their state, your touch bringing them to life. You never controlled his wings, the action far too cruel for even a demon to pull.

You tested the touch again, pressing your palm flat against the parts that were attached to his spine. They fluttered again, a brighter light emitting from the edges, oh. His wings don’t always glow, they won’t glow when they’re being stimulated.

Your wing's nerves were linked to the ones that spread across your pelvis and down. You’d witnessed many demons talking about using it as a pleasurable advantage. Succubus was seen as a sex symbol, so obviously their experience matched the description.

But you’d never gotten the chance to test the theory for yourself. Now that you have you weren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to stop.

Without Heeseung’s knowledge, his cock jumped with each touch. It wasn’t that he was aroused, just overstimulated. He loud out a quiet whine, one that stopped as soon as it came. To you, he was so fucking pathetic. Whining after getting touched twice? But just as pathetic as he was, he was hypnotic.

“Sh, I’m helping you in the best way I know.” You shushed his whines before you moved to stand in front of him, pressing your chest against his. Heeseung wasn’t sure what you were doing when you did that but then something surprising happened.

Your chest began letting out these small vibrations. Your eyes stared up into his whole you enhanced the force, your purrs reaching your throat.

He was so pretty standing all pliant, unmoving as you controlled his body. The purrs came out of nowhere, the sudden affection catching you off guard. But you soon appreciated it, Heeseung deserved only the best.

It was at this moment that you decided that you wanted to keep him. There was no way in heaven or hell that you’d let anyone take him away from you, you’d let the world burn before a singular finger touched his- your- skin. From this second on he belonged to you, wholly and completely.

You’d mark him after mating, your gums were already aching at the thought. As a demon, you could mate however many times you wanted. But you could only have one mate, your bite would solidify the union.

But for now, you just returned your hands back to his wings. And as expected, he choked out another whimper, his mouth gaping open at the liquid heat gathering in his stomach.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” Heeseung, thinking he was still sin-free, nodded his head. He adored it.

You let out a cat-ish grin, your pointed canines poking from beneath your top lip. Heeseung knew of only two species who had pointed canines but only one had retractable ones.

You were a demon.

It didn’t scare him as much as he thought it would, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t say an extra prayer in the morning.

And like always, you could tell that he had found out. “I’m a succubus, you summoned me.” Through Heeseung’s cloud of pleasure, he couldn’t make himself question you. Yeah sure, he totally summoned you. He’d believe anything you said as long as you keep making him feel like this.

His head flew back when your hand touched a specific spot on his wings, the only bare spot.

For both angels and demons alike there was a singular spot on the top corner of the right wing. It was bare of any feather, it was strictly skin. There was a small string of skin that held the strongest nerve in your entire body.

The nerve was used for connections, it was what allowed them to converse with the wind. But it wasn’t until now that you both learned that it was much more because the second you touched it, you felt him.

You felt his every emotion, the warmth in his stomach, and the pounding of your cunt.

It all happened too fast, gone before you could relish in it. But if you allowed it for now, there would be many other opportunities for you to test out the connection.

After all, Heeseung would become yours for eternity.

Your mouth widened in amazement as Heeseung came untouched, his mouth opening with zero sound coming out. You weren’t even sure if he knew what was happening, it made it all more enjoyable for you.

“You came untouched?” It was a rhetorical question but still, Heeseung had no idea what you were talking about. All he knew was that there was a euphoric feeling rushing throughout his body, he’d never felt more alive than at this moment.

All he wanted was to feel it again and again, uncaring about what you tabled it as. He didn’t know he could feel this good without sinning, he honestly couldn’t wait to tell his friends.

If only you could hear his thoughts, you’d bathe in them forever. It was cute how Heeseung thought that he was still sin-free, not knowing that he’d committed one of the worst ones yet.

The feeling faded away after a few more seconds, his mind clearing as his consciousness rushed back. He was now much more aware than before and finally noticed a new detail.

You noticed the way he was trying to look down and decided to be a bit kinder, allowing his head to move on its own. Heeseung didn’t seem to notice that he now had full control of his neck, all he saw was the giant wet patch on his bottoms.

It was also now when he noticed he was crying, his tears making smaller marks around his wetness.

“What is-“ He was cut off by your hand grabbing his chin, pulling his confused eyes away from his soiled pants.

“I’ll make you a deal, hm?” Heeseung nodded through his crocodile tears, his puffy cheeks stained with his fallen tears. You gave Heeseung a small smile, making a point to soften your eyes to appear more trusting.

“I’ll help you out if you promise to… I can’t say it, I know you’ll say no.” You knew how to play your cards with a man who was desperate enough to do anything.

“Please, I’ll do anything!” Heeseung didn’t know a thing about being manipulated. It was a concept that didn’t exist in his world. Or maybe it did but was disguised as something much less sinister.

“Do you promise?” A hiss. All it took for Heeseung to doubt himself once again was the small hiss that made its way through your throat. It sounded far less human than he was comfortable with, but he trusted you, did he not?

The lord swore forgiveness to everyone who’s wronged him, why wouldn’t Heeseung do the same?

“Anything, please I promise! J- just help me.” An angel's promise. It was the only thing you needed to know that you finally had him.

The only other thing that every species knew about angels, was that they could never break a promise. It was the greatest sin of all, a betrayal that wasn’t worth forgiving. No one, not even the lord, forgave promises. It was the highest honour an angel could give, their promise.

Heeseung knew that he couldn’t go back and undo what had been done, to take back the words that were spoken in a sense of urgency. And he didn’t really know if he wanted to, not when he was finally able to move his arms.

“Sit on the bed.” Heeseung’s legs moved under your command, the promise allowing you to control his every move. What he didn’t know was that you didn’t need his word to control him, it was part of your demon abilities.

He had no choice but to comply with what you said, he wasn’t labelled heaven's highest angel for no reason.

You weren’t completely sure where to start because usually you just did whatever you wanted, uncaring about the other person. All the other people who’d summoned you had already been asleep when you arrived and stayed asleep the entire time. Their mortal minds were far too weak to handle the pheromones releasing from your body, even the other supernatural species couldn’t handle it.

“Mate me.” It was easier to get straight to the point, there was no need for any foreplay at this stage. The connection that you’d made with him was enough to prepare you for him, it was in your dna.

Heeseung on the other hand, didn’t take it as well. He denied it right away, his head practically exploding at your words. Mate you? The lord would never forgive him, he’d be breaking his promise to him.

Promise after promise, it was all Heeseung was good for. He’d promised his life away, his celibacy. He’d be banned from heaven, shunned of his wings. He’s already made the grave mistake of bringing you here, but this? This would cost him everything, his entire life.

But still, you made him feel alive. You made him realize that he’d never felt anything before- not even joy. He’d been a cast of a person who he was forced to be, who even was he anyway?

A follower. And that’s all he’ll ever be for the rest of his life. He’s never hated anymore more than how much he hates you for making him come to terms with his life.

It was his prayers that did this, why would the lord give you him if it wasn’t supposed to happen? You were supposed to be here, the lord approved of you. Why else would you come? It had to be what was happening, Heeseung was finally allowed a pass to be the person he’d locked away many lifetimes ago.

But it stung, deep. His guilt came out in a wail of tears, angry fists banging against the bed beside him. His tormented thoughts roared with life, he was finally letting go.

Fuck the commandments, fuck his promises, and he only hoped the lord would let him fuck you.

And so with a wave of fresh tears and forgotten fears, he did what you said. He stood from his spot, your mind open and free of the handles you had strapped to his wrists.

He’d pulled his pants down in one yank, his underwear pulling down with them. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he was alive. alive. Lee Heeseung was finally alive.

The air smelt different, curtsey to your pheromones. Your hands felt rougher when they met his now bare chest, the bed feeling softer as his wings cushioned his fall.

His head was clear when he felt your hand grab his cock, his heart void of guilt when he felt your mouth wrap around him.

But as the circle goes, it comes back around.

Knowing that other men enjoyed thinking that they’re too big for you, you fake choked on him. Your eyes filled with fake tears as you pretended to gasp for air. Your chest heaved at an uncontrollable speed, fingers numbing at the thought of making him feel good.

Sex came naturally to Heeseung, which was something the two of you didn’t expect. His hands pulled your head back toward where he needed you the most, his thumb pulling your lips apart before he pushed you down to suction around him.

“God- you feel so fucking good.” He doesn’t even recognize himself anymore, his mind too full with the feeling of you to realize that he’d spoken the lord's name in vain.

He wasn’t just betraying himself, he was giving up heaven. He'd give it away a million times more if it meant that he’d spent his life with you. Your name was the only one rushing from his mouth, the only one getting worshiped as your tongue wrapped around his bulbous tip.

You used your tongue to trace circles around the small slit at the top of his cock, collecting everything he was giving to you. He tasted so sweet, nothing like anything you’ve tasted before.

He didn’t warn you before filling your mouth, his amateur thrusts being overshadowed by your much more experienced lick.

You’d pulled away from him after holding him in your mouth, waiting to feel him soften before pulling him off. Heeseung’s head tilted to the side in confusion when you opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be seeing- oh…

You felt a surge of confidence rushes through your body at the feeling of him hardening against your hands. “Already? you’re so needy.”

You rose to a stand, grabbing his hands to pull him to stand instead. All it took was a snap of fingers for your clothes to be gone, leaving you completely nude.

Heeseung felt like every moment of his life had led up to this, you were his final destination. Without him noticing, he whispered one final prayer. Right when he went to recite the trinitarian formula, he noticed.

Guilt was unforgiving but so was hesitation. He hesitated to give in earlier, but now?

“Are you ready?” Heeseung didn’t recognize his voice anymore, a much deeper one coming out. His hands moved on their own when he pulled your legs around his waist, pushing his hips forward until his cock pressed against your lips.

You nodded once, pushing your legs further apart as you waited for him to make the move. He looked down at you cunt in appreciation, the lord really did take his time creating you. It’s too bad that his favourite creation was going to ruin it.

Heeseung wrapped his hand around his base before giving an experimental squeeze. Heeseung had never touched himself before today, having no idea what was supposed to feel good.

He ignored his embarrassing inexperience and used his other hand to open you up for him. His mouth watered at the sight of your bare in front of him, you looked so welcoming.

He tried not to stare for too long because he knew that if he did he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from using his mouth first. But he’d much rather finish it all off by licking you clean, drinking everything you have to offer.

He tapped the head of his cock against you, watching from under his eyebrows at how you reacted. From the way your hips pushed up, he knew exactly where to touch you.

He kept his head pressed against you as he pushed down, stopping once he reached your entrance. This was the moment that would change his entire life, he was never going to be the same way he was before.

And when he finally pushed in, his head fell forward with a loud moan. The blood of the virgin became the blood of the demon, he was no longer considered an angel in the lord's eyes.

Your hands grabbed his biceps as he pushed in deep, his cock hitting places you’ve never felt before. He sped up, his hips slamming against yours over and over as he grew into a routine.

You obviously liked the way he was moving if your moans meant anything.

“Bring me to heaven.” You managed to plead through your now real choked gasps. Your head was filled with explosions of colours, real pleasure rushing through your blood. His big cock felt too good pushing against your gummy walls, each curve of him fitting perfectly in your crevices. He was made for you.

Heeseung sucked in a harsh breath, a teasing smile growing on his opened mouth. His eyes were now open, staring into your own as he ravished your body for what it was.

“But you’re a demon, and we’re already here…” He let out a small grunt at his harder thrust, his eyes closing once again. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d reached this specific spot in your body, but he was certain that once he found it again he wouldn’t let it go.

“Not that heaven-” your smile matched his as your body burned with the same flame, your impurities mixing with his. You shakily raised one of your hands up towards his face, your fingers wrapped around his jaw as you forced his face close to yours.

His eyes opened once again, his irises now completely black as he let himself fall into the pit of pleasure. “Your heaven” Your back arched with a moan while your legs tightened around his waist.

Heeseung swore he was in love. With you, and the feeling of you. Nothing could turn him back now. He pulled your legs over his shoulder, his chest pushing away from yours as he pushed all his weight into his legs and hips.

He pressed kiss after kiss against your ankles, biting down to create indents across your calves. He knew this angle hit deeper into you because finally, he felt that spot and and over.

Both your volumes rose into near screams when you both reached your peaks. Without thinking twice Heeseunf pressed your knees flat to your chest, his neck stretching out to bite against yours.

Your blood filled his mouth

Angels too sealed the mating process with a bite, but it was different. The magic was stored in each individual tooth. The pockets of their poison were located in their mamelons. And so when the angel bites into their mate, the pockets open into small needles. Three sharp needles accompanied each tooth, it was the only part of the tooth that got pushed through the skin.

Heeseung wasn’t lying when he mentioned not craving blood, but now? His arms shook when had to pull himself away from you, the desire to drink from his new mate stronger than anything. “Thank god-“ He didn’t know what he was thanking anyone for, but he needed something to fall back on. It just happened to be the roots that caught him.

Your broken moans were drowned out by your returning purrs, your eyes white as they rolled into the back of your head. Holy fucking shit, Heeseung marked you first?

Without allowing Heeseung to pull out you flipped him over, his back flat against the bed while you sat flush against him. He looked up through tired eyes, his mind coming back to normal as he softened inside of you.

“Don’t thank god, he had nothing to do with this.” You growled at the angel before you released more pheromones. They seemed to do their job as he was hard again within seconds.

You felt him throb inside of you before you rose the tiniest bit, dropping down right away. Heeseung’s hands gripped your ass, helping your waist move forward and back with each raise and fall.

His hips buckled to meet yours, loud slaps echoing across the room as you sunk into him over and over. Heeseung forced his head up enough to look at where the two of you were connected and god, the sight didn’t fail.

There was a thick ring of cum formed around his base, sticky strings connecting the two of you with every new raise. He’d almost come on the spot once again, his body way more sensitive than yours due to his inexperience.

You saw the way his face scrunched up and automatically knew that he was trying not to cum. You used your mental hold on him to remove his hands from you and pinned them by his head.

His eyes were wide when they met yours again. He felt his heart stutter at the glare on your face. Has he done something wrong? Is he not pleasing you correctly?

“Don’t keep anything away from me, give it all to me.” Your hips momentarily stopped, only his tip remaining in as you stared down at him.

“Breed me.” Your quiet whisper caused an eruption of pleasure to burst through his chest. He had you lying back on your back in seconds, his instincts putting you into the mating press.

“Don’t start what you can’t end.” He didn’t say more before he pushed into you once again. He leaned his head down to meet yours, his lips pulling your bottom one between his teeth.

He gently tugged at it once before he forced his tongue between your lips, your mouth tasting of his earlier release. “You don’t look like an angel,” He ignored the harsh look you threw at him, giving you a small smile before he pressed his lips against your pulse point.

He breathed in a deep inhale, his body welcoming your new scent, one that was mixed with his. He bit the skin twice, the second much harder than the first before he soothed the wound with his tongue.

He trailed small kisses up your neck, all the day until he reached your ear. He pulled your earlobe between his teeth before placing a gentle kiss against it. “But you definitely taste like one.”

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nezuswritingdesk · 9 days ago

Text

In front of the altar (sylus x gen!reader)

A/n : I may or may not have been inspired to write this scene from the new banner. I dont know what possessed me to stop my other work immediately just to do this. Will be word-vomiting.

Tags: sylus being love sick, you also being as equally love sick, can be interpreted as either mc or reader and is gender neutral but is called mrs qin (at the end ) not proofread im just brain dumping. Ooc sylus, I wrote this instead of sleeping so none of this makes sense I think just let me word vomit in peace!!

Wc: 996 words

Sylus never imagined a day he would walk down the altar.

The life of being the leader of Onychinus, the strongest man in the N109 zone, was in short, difficult, and fleeting. He watched how men trembled before him, how he built an entire empire from the ground up with own bare fists stained with blood— he was never the man that deserved to be waited for at the end of an altar.

Until you came along.

It was strange at first, how Sylus seemingly found himself so mesmerized by you, how his eyes followed you across the rooms you'd enter, how he felt his facial muscles soften and twitch when you smiled brightly like the sun itself, how your voice brought comfort to his troubled and lonely soul.

It was strange at first, yes, but it blossomed into something pure and wholeheartedly made with utmost love and devotion. One that you and Sylus tended to, watching your love take root into your hearts and the day-to-day lives you had, how the flowers bloomed brightly in the spring, and how your touch reminded him of what heaven felt like.

When he proposed, you didnt give a moments hesitation. Despite your tears, you nodded vigorously, repeating yesses over and over again as the cool metal slips against your ring finger. You kissed his lips like his was oxygen and you needed another moment to breathe.

The months leading up to the wedding were hectic. Sylus had to make sure that your safety was of the highest priority. He scouted venues, contacted individuals for gown commissions, and helped you plan everything for the day. He made sure to get the gown you wanted, to call the florist that you wanted Daturas, and even got a small wedding cake for the both of you to share.

The day you married Sylus was a quiet day. It was as if the world held its breath as you and he drove to the destination together. You both opted for a private ceremony, with only the both of yourselves as a witness to a love only for yours to adore. The paperwork has been settled, the place cleaned , and yourselves ready.

But even with all the preparation, knots tied in your stomach. The closer you got to old cathedral that Sylus bought for the occassion itself, you began to wonder if you were doing the right thing.

Afterall, you aren't just marrying Sylus. You are marrying into the life he had built for himself, which will soon be shared with you. A life that was fast-pasted and intense, filled with business deals and other matters.

As you continued to spiral, you felt a hand grasp yours.

"We'll be okay," Sylus said softly, lowering the radio, "We'll figure it out together, my love."

You nodded slowly. He smiled, stopped by the side of the road and kissed the crown of your veil. You knew it was tradition that a groom should never see his bride before they get married, but tradition never mattered for you and Sylus.

As the drive reached its end, you find both of yourselves in front of the old cathedral. Its tall, imposing structure battled against the growing moss and vines. Red Daturas bloomed around the steps that lead inside the chapel.

Sylus offered his hand.

You took his and went inside.

The interior looked younger than the exterior. Old wooden pews became overgrown with plants, the window stains hummed an old melody of years long passed. Datura flowers popped against its dullness.

Sylus held your hand tighter, and you both made your way to the altar, the lace of your fingerless gloves intertwined with his flesh.

You glanced at him, seeing his softer features. The same ones he showed to you freely and with no restraint. He smiled, cupping the side of your face with his hand and took both of your hands, raising it up close to his chest.

He took a deep breath and said,

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He said, his voice filled with reverence, his eyes slowly began to mist, "I want to create memories with you to last lifetimes."

The quiet and comfortable silence filled the altar, your dress seemingly glowing against the moonlight. Heartbeats rung loud as bated breaths await whats next.

"I want the same things to," You tell Sylus, your voice breaking, "I want to stand beside you and be the light amidst the darkness you've only known."

Sylus smiled. He lets go for a moment, and reached for his pockets, presenting a pair of wedding bands. Silver with red spinels. His hands shook slightly, his voice wavering as he began to slip the ring onto your finger,

"I, Qin Che..." He says slowly, his voice firm yet soft, "Take you to be my wedded spouse. For better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health till doomsday descends and death parts us."

You teared up even more, shaking from emotions. You took a deep breath, and repeated the same words, slowly placing the ring on his finger,

"I, take you, Qin Che..." You said in between tears, trying your best not to ruin the makeup you had worked hard for, "to be my wedded husband. For better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health till doomsday descends and death parts us."

A comfortable silence filled the room once more, your tears ran down your cheeks as Sylus wiped them away. He pulled you close, slowly lifting the veil.

Oh.

oh.

"May I kiss you?" He asked.

"Yes..." you answered. He pulled you even closer, sweeping you off your feet, your lips pressed against each other like perfect pieces meant to stay alongside each other. It lasted for a few seconds before you pulled away to gasped for air before kissing him again once more.

"Mr. Qin..." You said softly.

Sylus smiled, "Mrs. Qin..."

#love and deepspace #nezusdesk #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads #nezuswriting #nezuswritings #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus fluff #qin che fluff #qin che x reader #lads fic #lads fluff #lnds #lnds sylus

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diejager · 1 year ago

Note

Not gonna lie, love the Only Human Series and some of the fluff you do.

Thinking of including this in my own fanfics, but want to see how you would make it. Hunter is a medic and a smart one…

How soon until she exploits the 141’s monster weaknesses?

Soap pinning you down only to give out to belly rubs, Gaz getting preened and his feathers ruffling when you hit the relaxing sweet spot, etc.

Cw: teasing, using vulnerabilities, tell me if I missed any.

At a certain point, you’d gotten tired of their shenanigans, the small pranks and fright they pulled on you when they felt especially cheeky. Gaz and Soap were the biggest culprits, their streaks of mischief the highest than any. Soap would jump you when you lounged around in the Task Force’s personal red room, his round fingers finding a sensitive spot under your ribs and sinking into it with a conviction as strong as he had in battle. Gaz was the cheekiest of them all, throwing you a flirtatious grin before he swept you off your feet, pulling you left and right to appease his little need for attention, his talons finding comfort under your arms and teeth under your jaw.

Whereas Horangi and Rudy were more… mellow, their mischief calmer and rarer than the two first. Horangi, being a stalking feline, stealthily made his way around you, feet carrying him from shadow to shadow with utmost silence without alerting you of his presence and jumping at you when the moment was perfect. Rudy was the least problematic, his gentle soul a being of tenderness, yet still full of eager teasing, whispering sweet words in your ears while you worked, drawing your mind elsewhere until you shooed him off, still squirming in your seat.

You swore the others knew ��you knew they did. Ghost’s shoulders would shake in silent chuckles, his eyes warmly staring at you and Soap fighting on the couch after you fell down. Price smoked his cigar while he watched you, his shoulders slumped down and posture relaxed, unbothered by your screeching and Gaz’s cackling. Alejandro, for all his sugary smiles, did little to hide his wide grin, enjoying watching your thighs clench and bite your lip when Rudy pressed himself against you, breathing flirtatious words in your ear. And König, the giant percht was consciously acting as a wall between you and Horangi, helping him get an upper hand into scaring you, his low rumble and big hands caging you between them after a scare, wandering over you until you scolded them.

You would get back at them —you did. Soap was your first victim, the first out of eight that you would make him regret ever tiring you. You knew his tail was sensitive, the soft furs and the nerves connected to his spine made it especially prone to overstimulation, which made it your perfect weapon against him. When you found him relaxing on the couch, his body draped over it, tail swaying softly, you stalked towards him and pulled on it. He jumped, a loud moan slipping from his lips, his back shuddering as your brushed your hand from the base to the tip of his tail, his fur bristling up.

Horangi had the same vulnerability, his tail standing out like a red signal, dangerous and weak. This time, you used Königagainst him, walking as quietly as you could behind the percht, following them and only sliding aside when you found his tail curling upwards. You’d never heard him screech as loudly as he did, his ears raised so high as he whipped around, cheeks flustered and eyes wide as he stared at you, his pupils dilated. Your stroked his twitching tail, smirking at his dark blush as he stumbled on his words, forcing him to curled towards you with shaky hands clutching your arm and waist. You turned a big, bad tiger into a small house cat.

Gaz was more tricky, you knew his wings were sensitive, the pin feathers prone to feeling the change of air current or touch but the muscle of his back, between both wings, was the most sensitive, it was robust, but a weak point for most flying hybrids. You teased him when he came for a check up, realising his wings had a few new feathers, short and young, still so new as they grew out of its root. You unconsciously brushed your fingers over them, gazing at his bare back ripple and tense, his sculpted back jerking and muscles moving at the slightest touch, then you found an excuse - you couldn’t even remember - to knead his pectoralis muscles and watch him stiffle his moans and squirm beneath your touch.

Rudy was the hardest to pick at, he didn’t have any animal characteristics or sensitive spots a monster would have, he - essentially - was a human with special powers. Then, you figured that you might as well give him a taste of his own medicine, turning the tables against him and tease him red. You had no qualms in hissing out promises and filthy secrets into his ear, your hands running over his shoulders and sliding down his arms, holding him still by the hips. You couldn’t hold down the smile that kissed his lobe, feeling the skin warm with a fiery blush, listening to him stammer and choke down any whimpers that threatened to slip. It was your turn to leave him squirming and blushing, biting his lip to stop himself from following the sway of your hips, eyes bleeding out his need for your touch and affection.

Revenge tasted the sweetest when served cold.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

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netherfeildren · 1 year ago

Text

Honey, Stomach, Mine ; 1. Genus: Tragedy

Series Masterlist ; Part 2.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Existence is a needful thing. Choice is fickle, nature inescapable. Run to the end of the world, Joel, all those things will still find you.

She'll still come for you.

-OR-

the A/B/O outbreak AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics; Dystopian Society; Outbreak not Cordyceps AU; Light Angst; Slow Burn; Shocking Considering the Implications of Me and This Trope but Alas; Biologically Assigned Soulmates; Power Dynamics; Topping From the Bottom; Government Controlled Reproduction; Segregation of the Designations; Institutionalized Sexism; Vaguely Handmaidien Undertones; Incredibly Soft Despite the Tags; Be Not Afraid, Dear Reader!; Yearning; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Competence Kink; Alpha Joel; Omega MC; Very Soft Joel; Older and Jaded Alpha; Young and Needy Omega; Age Gap; Size Difference; Size Kink

A/N: I've found there is an absolutely shocking lack of A/B/O in this fandom, and this is my contribution to begin rectifying that. I swear that despite the way the tags read, this is entirely and sickeningly sweet soft, comfort, caretaking fic.

Share thoughts, please. It's sort of a different one.

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Tip Jar

Genus : Tragedy

To a one Mr. Joel Miller,

500 Sheahan Road

Clallam Bay, WA 98326

United States

We are writing to inform you that as of January 8th, 2015 there remain two weeks until your designated omega’s twenty second birthday, and a year since she has come of age. We have made several attempts to contact you with no response. As mandated by the federal government, you must collect her by January 22nd, 2015 or she will be distributed to another individual of the designation alpha who would be willing to accommodate her.

The omega’s evaluations are all up to date, and she has displayed pristine results in both health and behavioral tests. It is estimated that her first heat will occur soon, and we strongly encourage you to collect before the fever starts and our facility is forced to place her with another willing alpha that may see the process through. As she is part of the Federal Alpha/Omega Pairing Program, and is biologically paired to an alpha already, that being you, if not collected she would be placed in the bidding pool and distributed to the highest offer.

Again, we strongly encourage you to contact our facility with a response on your decision as soon as possible so that we may prepare the omega. We would like to remind you that these creatures are delicate, and unexpected changes to their habitats and surroundings cause high levels of distress. It is of the utmost importance that we proceed in accordance with the omega’s nature.

Enclosed is a brief note from your omega that she has requested to attach:

Dear sir,

I hope that you are well. I have been told that you have not decided if you will come for me, but I ask that you please do. I have been waiting, but they have told me I cannot wait anymore, and I do not know what will happen to me if you don’t come. I promise that I’ll be good if you do.

And at the bottom, in a pristine and swirly pen, and kindly, her signature, there for him to see. The name of the woman, or girl, who seems to have taken all of Joel’s choices from him. He follows the letters with the nail of his thumb, scratching at the ink as if he could make it disappear, make the reality of this poor thing out there in the world waiting for him, disappear.

At the outbreak of the designations, twelve years ago, there had been mass hysteria, mass chaos, a terrible uncertainty of how the world could continue on, segregated into biological designations as it had suddenly become. Thought to be a product of the dwindling population rates, some whispered a government experiment gone awry, a freak genetic mutation had begun to appear within the biological markers of certain people.

Designations: Alpha, Beta, Omega.

It was not that society had unfolded, lost sight of itself, it was more so that from one day to the next, a new and unknown sort of hierarchy had been established, those that were, those that were not. Those that could live their lives as they’d always done, unruled by their biological urges, and those now marked as something new and different and set by a different sort of mandates.

Joel had been one of these people.

The designations had become controlled, weaponized, systemized, almost immediately. Almost. Before the government had mobilized and taken stock and hold of the situation, there had been a momentary lapse of order. Chaos wearing the names and faces of the people he’d once known, people that should have been safe or protected, protective. The true nature of the dynamics were quickly revealed. Obvious: an unmated alpha in need of an omega was a volatile thing, quick to aggression, hungry for violence. Less so: an omega, once thought self sufficient, independent, autonomous, was found to be at times fragile, vulnerable, full of necessity. Both connected by that string of desperation that could only be soothed in a pairing of the two. The desperate drama of being no longer only yourself.

It should have been an obvious thing, the mutation, a byproduct of the dwindling population levels, reproduction rates, was in service of something that would correct this misdirection of nature. Alphas and omegas were, are, idealized pairings for one another in terms of reproduction, in terms of biological pairings. It should have been obvious that this would be wielded as a means of control. It should have been obvious that this was an untenable situation that would cast people into roles that left no choice for autonomy, for freedom.

It should have been obvious to Joel, who almost immediately, and even though he had been well into adulthood, a father to a young daughter, presented as an alpha, growing pains once again this late into his life. It should have been obvious that this was a situation that should have necessitated greater care, vigilance, protection. After all, this was the role of an alpha. He should have listened to this new nature of his that was suddenly, demandingly, presenting itself, acted quicker, stronger, with more wisdom. But he’d failed, he’d continued to fail for years to come after that terrible night when the world had turned back to its base nature in a hedonistic attempt for the preservation of humanity.

Alphas were immediately feared, ostracized, and above all else, obvious. A designation was not a thing a person could hide, especially not an alpha, the truth of their nature. Many were gunned down in the streets at the start, imprisoned, experimented on and sold, debased and tortured. They’d been caught, him and Sarah, separated from Tommy trying to escape the madness. She had, in her innocence and without designation, still only herself, still only his little girl, been caught in the crossfire of a world's desire to tame or trap something it could not understand.

Joel had, in many and the worst of ways, been caught in the crossfire too.

With time, years and the sort of suffering that can only be forced upon anything that is different or out of the norm, a system had been created. Government mandated programs, laws, registries that kept track of the designations. A hierarchy in which those that were essentially and biologically considered stronger than what a normal human should be, were ostracized, exiled, denigrated, muzzled, and those that would be considered weakest, left without any voice at all, without freedom either.

The Federal Alpha/Omega Pairing Program had been established for the continued preservation and furthering of reproductive rates. A registry was created in which all those with the designation either alpha or omega had to present themselves on, biological markers determined, all choices stripped. The program served as a match making machine, when two biological markers presented themselves as compatible, as mates of one another, an omega was assigned to an alpha for keeping. To do with as they’d see fit.

He had gotten word of her only last year. Twelve years of solitude, of nothing, of running from a girl with green eyes he’d not been able to protect and the reality of himself he detested, the what and why of who he was. He’d left Austin, wandered and hidden and groveled in the dirt like a worm until he’d finally found a quiet place to settle. A place alone, undisturbed. And for so long, he’d not been happy, surely, but he had been. Joel had been.

He looks down at the letter in his hand, dragging his thumbnail over the swoop and slope of her signature once again. This was a person who, as mandated by law or biology or fucking whatever, had been deemed as his. His other half, mate, ball and chain. The terrible reminder of what he really was and could not escape, in the form and shape of his perfect opposite.

Last year, when he’d gotten word of her existence, that she’d reached the age of twenty one and was now ready and available for his retrieving, he’d balled up the letter and thrown it with such weightless force into the fireplace in his living room that the air filled wad of paper had fallen limp and nothingful just shy of the flames, rolling in the ashes and dust, coating the reality of this imposed, undesired fate in dark soot. He’d been so angry he’d gone out and howled at the moon like the beast the world would have themselves believe he truly was.

He did not want to be an alpha. He did not want an omega. He did not want to live off the coast of Clallam Bay alone in this house he’d built with his bare hands because he had no other use of them now, no other function or purpose or meaning. He did not want it to be now, he wanted it to be twelve years ago. He wanted to still be a father.

He did not want to be an alpha.

He did not want an omega.

He crumples the letter in his fist, looking out at the bay over the edge of the cliffs from where the cabin is perched. From his spot on the deck he can see as far out as the sea allows, sight stopping suddenly as if the edge of the world had dropped off a ledge. Sometimes he longed, so, so badly, to go find that edge, to drop off it as well. He had only tried once. Never again. The grizzle of scar tissue at his temple, a testament to yet another one of his failures.

The first summons had come two weeks before her twenty-first birthday, and he’d laughed, after the anger, he’d laughed. A girl-woman of only twenty one years, deemed of age, for the role the government or God had deemed her ready for, served up on a platter to him for his own ravaging. For the correction of what nature told was an anomaly that only their coming together could solve. It was sick, disgusting. He wanted no part of it. And so, despite the knowledge that this poor thing was out there, in some government facility, places they took omegas, many orphans, but also, oftentimes separating them from their families for so called safe keeping, just another word for kidnapping. Rearing and breeding and no choices, no choices for any of them ever.

He’d ignored it, turned a blind eye and a revolted heart away from it all, and shirked the supposed responsibilities he owed this omega who he knew nothing about, who knew nothing about him. But nature is, after all, a terrible and inescapable thing. And not even so much the nature of his designation, although that did, unfailingly, play a part in his demise, surely, but the nature of his character, of Joel’s heart, that was the true heavy player. He was not the sort of man who could turn away from someone who’d rely on him, who’d need him. A responsibility. That was, he convinced himself, all he should or could see her as. And for a year there’d been a sort of tugging of a string from behind his navel, an umbilical cord connecting him to his ignored fate. He hated it all. He wanted nothing to do with any of it. He wanted to rot in his aloneness and misery and bitterness, fester in the fear that lived around him from the world. It’s why he’d come here, it’s why he’d exiled himself. Balanced on the tightrope border between the Salish Sea and the Makah Reservation on this high and pristine cliffside cut from the crust of the earth; he was left entirely alone, at peace with only his own chaotic demons to torment him. He wanted it this way, he wanted this; please, please, he’d already given away so much, lost so much of himself. Should he also be forced into this too? To sacrifice the terrible peace of his solitude to save this poor creature that was being forced on him. He wanted to say no, that he didn’t give a fuck, that what would happen to her could, it was no business of his. But those words… another willing alpha, bidding pool, highest offer… they made him see, not even red, black, black and devastating anger or rage or something horrible and base, and what could only be a product of mother nature railing against him for ignoring what he truly was. Something that whispered terrible words of mine, mine, fucking mine. A hiss he did not recognize, did not want to admit he recognized.

He was old, weathered and beaten and past his prime. Unmated. At the end of his line and unmated and purposeless, and his bones were tired, but itching and clamoring within the confines of his skin that this was wrong, that he was wrong, and that he needed to right this immediately.

That she’s waiting, and dear sir, I do not know what will become of me if you do not come. I promise that I’ll be good if you do.

And so Joel goes to her because he knows she is waiting, because fate or purpose or nature is not a thing to be ignored forever.

“It’s her birthday today,” the caretaker says, voice ascetic and cold and direct. Not a voice, Joel thinks, for soft things; cadence that has his teeth on edge, hackles raised. “You’ve arrived just in time. She’s been asking for you, and we’d just set her name in the pool, ready to release for auction tomorrow.” That black rage muddies the corners of his vision, and he focuses on the cold shock of the blank white hallway they’re making their way down. Hospital-like, barren and hard, this place, facility, prison, they keep them in, the omegas in the program. He feels slightly sick, uninhibitedly angry as if his teeth would fall out of his skull, as if he could throw himself to the ground as a child throws a fit, spew his anger for the world to see how much he does not want this, how vehemently he’s opposed to it all.

“She may seem young and small, but she’s twenty two now. She’s ready, and she’ll take it as you wish. It’s what she was made for.”

Joel seriously considers, just for a moment, killing the cretinous little man beside him. Take it, he says as if he has any right to speak of you taking anything that Joel would give you, as if it’s any of his business, anything he could ever understand if the beta stench oozing off of him is any indication. He hums nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement. If he parts his teeth he’ll take out a chunk of flesh. He should behave, there are easily frightened things nearby.

White doors with a small circular window at the center line the hall on either side, endlessly down the length of the seemingly endless corridor. The caretaker, white scrubs, pristine like the rest of everything here, and Joel feels suddenly huge and bestial and brutish, marring and dirtying this place that is supposed to be of peace and quiet for the fragile things locked inside.

A terrible place that makes him desolately depressed. You’ve been here so long, and he had not come, and it’s all just one more tally of failure on his rap sheet.

When they finally stop before a singular door, the number fourteen emblazoned in large black, bold print just beneath the small viewing window, Joel suddenly feels– he can’t say for certain, he doesn’t know, or doesn't want to acknowledge the truth of the voices and sounds ringing in his ears, but he knows, recognizes it for the sound of the moment Sarah died all those years ago. His past and present suddenly clashing to meet here in this antiseptic white void, before the door to this fate that’s clamored in quiet waiting for exactly a year today. The sound of her voice, calling his name, saying it hurts, Tommy, his shouts ringing loud and then ebbing soft and as lifeless as she was while the reality of what they were living came to pass before Joel too, could realize. He’d left too, his brother, ran from the truth of Joel at the first easy opportunity. And she’s just there, her voice and her eyes and the feel of her is just there in his mind, on the tip of the tongue of his memory, and then the man opens the door and then there you are.

He feels worse now, hulking, deformed, malformed like he was born wrong. “I’ll give you a moment,” the man says low, that cold voice monotone and almost too quiet to bear now. Joel feels he needs something loud and shocking. He fears he won’t fit through the door. “It’s better if you meet for the first time without distractions. She knows you’re coming.”

He thinks he asks if you’re sleeping, he can’t be sure, but he feels the vibrations of his throat work, his jaw move as if it’d come unhinged, his tongue swollen in his mouth, gums fat and painful, full of bile and terrible memories, and he is a badly made thing in need of some goodness in this moment. And then a shift of the small lump beneath the blankets, the reality of the moment snaps into focus, he steps inside the white box cage you’re kept in. The door shuts behind him, and then it is only him, the thing he would not be, and you, the thing he would not want.

He doesn’t decide it until he finally peers into your eyes, that he can’t, will not, keep you.

Wide, luminous and wet, but not afraid, wholly curious, peering up at him from above the edge of a thick wool blanket. Something drab and gray and stiff looking that immediately sets him on edge, brings that anger back, just the simple sight of the blanket. The two of you stare at each other in silence, the weight of that thing that tells of what you are, sitting heavy between the two of you as he looks down at you from his great height, presence that should be intimidating and cowing, looming over your prone and small form on the bed. But despite his stance, something swelling within him causing him to puff up like an angry dog and want to bear his teeth at you, despite the curtain of tears in your eyes, there’s nothing of the stench of fear.

He shuts his eyes to the sight of you, huffing long and bullish through his nose, mistake, the scent of you, God, help me, and he listens to the rustle and shift of the blankets, opens his eyes to see a little nose peeking out from beneath the gray, drab thing to sniff primly at the air he’s now filling with his presence.

Soft and warm and woman, the smell of a cunt that belongs to him. That’s what it is at its basest. More complexly: vanilla, bergamot, juniper berries, sweat and fever and salt. Taking a plunge off the cliffside, bypassing the sharp teeth of rocks that would kill you, waiting for the dark ice shock of sea and finding nothing but molten life. This is what you smell like.

Worst of all, there is something in you that smells of him. His, yes, but not what he means, not his, him. Something that smells of recognition, like the two of you are the same.

Something chained inside of him rattles at the bars of its cage, desperate to be let out and quenched.

He steps back, frightened at your movement, at the reality of what the two of you are, so obvious here in this cage, at your perking up, your recognition of who and what he is, what he’s come for. You don’t speak, but you tell him. You wriggle beneath the covers, shimmying to turn and face him more fully, still clutching the blanket up high over your mouth, still covering half of your face, and he wants to bark at you to let him see, that he needs to see, but he grinds his teeth together. Molars going to dust down his throat, muscle wrapped around his mandible strung so tight he fears the fibers of it might burst and pop.

You settle on your side facing him now, and then something to beguile him, to bring him to his knees muzzled and obedient and calm, the sweetest, sultry little crooning cry. Something provoking, alluring, something to beckon him to you in surrender and acceptance and welcome, come from your chest up your throat to his ears. He jerks back at the sound, your big eyes still expectant and wet but demanding now. I am here waiting for you. I have been here waiting for you. Come now. He steps back to your bedside, a too small, too stiff metal railed cot he’s going to wrap around that fucking guard, caretaker, idiot, whatever he is when he comes back, falls to his knees, and your little fingers peek out and up and over the edge of the blanket now. And you surprise him doubly, tenfold, more than he can comprehend – but he already decided he will not keep you, he already made up his mind – when you say: “You came. You remembered me.”

He could never have forgotten.

A low hum, a sound to make your eyelids flutter and your legs shift beneath the heavily draped blankets. “Today’s your birthday, sweetheart, is it? Would you like to come home with me as your gift?”

He could never have forgotten.

The house that the large man who you’d waited your whole life and then a year for, brings you to – and you can’t be entirely sure, for you’ve so little experience or knowledge – but from what you can think you’re feeling now, from what you can decide, is lovely.

He had taken you in a car, a truck, you like the sound of the word, —ck, —ck, —ck, and driven a long while, through the big city which you’d seen little of, between forest and beside sea, and then finally up a long and winding road and more forest, more trees and green than you’d ever seen in your entire life, until you’d come to a cliffside, the backyard a drop off of air and rock and endless dark water, and a small house perched just there at the edge. Wooden slats, weather beaten and salt lashed, a copper sloped roof, and two pert chimneys, despite the not large area of the house, cabin. It looks, very much, as if it had grown straight from the cliff rock, sprouted by the forest, strong bones that spoke resolutely of remaining where they were no matter how hard the wind howled.

“How did it get here?” You ask the man, alpha, who’s name is Joel who has finally come for you after a life and a year of waiting.

“I made it,” and his voice is rough and demanding of attention, demanding of you, even if you don’t know, although, you do understand, what it is he’s demanding.

And you think, yes, of course. It looks a little, a lot, like him. Obvious, that it came from him.

It would be easy to think that you’re nothing but young and stupid and untried. Just a little omega kept in a cage. But you feel, after this life, not life, of being you and the thing you are, that you’re none of those things despite it all. You had lived, you had been out in the world at one time, even if briefly, even if only as a child, green and inexperienced and innocent, and although you still remain all those things, you had been out there at one point. You had never had a mother or a father, dead when you were an infant, killed in the outbreak, but you had lived with your aunt, your mother’s, many years older, sister, until you’d been ten years old. So you see, and he should see too, this man now before you, this alpha, that you were untried and inexperienced and young compared to him, but you’d had a decade of real life, even if it was the life of a child, even if afterwards it was a not life, but the before, that counted very, very much to you and so deserved respect and acknowledgement. And he should see that, although you do not know, you do understand.

After your aunt had died, and they’d taken you, first to the orphanage, and then to the place for omegas, after you’d started to mature and develop, perhaps that real life had ended. Or been put on hold, waiting for him, this alpha who seems, for all intents and purposes and from what you can gather from his sullen silence and dark looks, nothing like pleased at your presence here now. But then there was the: today’s your birthday, sweetheart, is it? And yes, yes it is your birthday.

It’s your birthday, and you’re free. And yes, you’d lived the not life in the white box for so long, and yes, you are, in fractions, so afraid and knowing so little of the world, but you do know that you want to live and to see the sky.

You want to see the sky every single day.

His big clunking truck rolls to a slow stop before the house, a wide deck wrapping around the entire boxed thing of it, and he starts to move, unclipping his belt, grabbing the bag he’d brought with him stuffed with his clothes he’d promptly tucked and folded you into when he’d shuffled you into the cabin of his truck, and you’d been all thank you, sir, to which he’d given a shake of his head, only Joel. Only Joel. No other words, no other directions, only his hands pulling your strings like a puppet. You had accepted it for the chance to feel his touch, to familiarize yourself with the closeness of him.

You want to know things. You want to know him.

He’d barely said a word the entire drive here, but you could be patient, and they’d prepared you for this, after all. They’d prepared you long and well and told you all they thought you’d need to know. So you find yourself, and not at all shockingly, as you’d waited so long for this, for him, for freedom and the sky, and look, now there’s even sea too, not even a little bit afraid, only anticipatory in bated breath, stuttering heart, excitement.

You had never seen the sea before, and you want to know things. You want to know him.

He jumps heavy and thudding form the truck, and you start to shift, something suddenly frantic and clawing rolling in your chest when you realize he’s leaving the confines of the small space the two of you had found yourselves encased in together, the warm heat from the vents blowing his smell, his smell, all around you. You’d never encountered anything like it before. Salted vetiver and warm cardamom, something sweet and musked and heavy like what your fingers taste like after you’ve pet long and needy at that soft wet place between your legs when the hurt was so tight you felt nothing would sate it. It’s a scent that you think would devastate to have taken away now that you’ve tasted it. And it’s everywhere as the two of you’d sat in his staunchly imposed silence on the truck ride to this place he was bringing you to, his home at what seems like the end of the world. It’s in your nose and down your throat, heavy and cloying and sweet on your tongue, wrapping around your waist and covering your skin and your hands so that you’d even pressed your palms entirely over your face and rubbed yourself like a cat, coating yourself in him.

The door slams, bringing you out of his scent induced reverie and back to the present, and you scramble to undo your buckle too, even though when he’d clipped it for you he’d very sternly said to not take it off, desperate to follow him wherever he’d go. But you realize quickly he’s coming around the front of the truck to your door, and then he’s there pulling it open and letting in a biting gust of wind come off the sea and up the cliffside to slash you across the face with its icy rancor. You shiver, teeth clattering and chattering in your mouth, trying to gather the blankets he’d cocooned you in, his too big, so soft clothes, more tightly around yourself, and find your feet.

He gives a rough but soothing noise, and easy as anything, plucks you up and out of the seat and into his arms, kicking the door closed behind him as he goes. Into his arms. You hold yourself stiff and wide eyed, chewing on the tips of your frozen cold fingers, and staring at him this closely, it’s shocking. Large, had been the first thing. Tall and broad and thick the way they’d said alphas are. This you had expected. The rest, you had not. The eyes, you think, more than anything. His eyes, a strange mix of hazel and brown, but dark. Eyes, that even in your greenness, you can recognize as sad and angry. And the creases at the corners, between his brows, the gray threaded through the lush, dark curls and at the corners of the hair along his jaw. He looks like he would be someone’s father. The patch of bare skin, heart shaped, amongst the whiskers. He’s beautiful, and unthinkingly, or perhaps entirely intentional, you stick out one of your saliva soaked fingers and poke him gently there, only a small prod, to feel what the heart feels like. His gait stops instantly, that permanent frown he’d worn since you’d first laid eyes on him, deepening. “Don’t do that,” he gruffs, continuing his steps up the porch now, the dark, heavy boots you’d noted as he’d taken you from the facility falling thunk, thunk on the wooden boards beneath. He’d not given you shoes of your own. And at his tone, the grumpy look, you have the inexplicable urge to laugh. To laugh at him. Surly, you want to tease, but swallow it, itchy fingertips back into the warmth of your mouth to stop yourself from touching again.

Another gust blows against the two of you as he somehow transfers you, cradled into only one arm, to pull the jingle of keys from his pocket, and you’re jarred with painful shivers, huddling closer into the unbelievably broad expanse of his chest, the unbelievably steaming warm slab. At the touch of your cheek against his collarbone you realize all he’s wearing is a simple, green flannel, no coat, nothing warm. “Aren’t you cold?” It seems suddenly, supremely important you ask, head shooting back up. He peers down his nose at you, finally getting the door open, and his eyes are a very peculiar sort of dark, you cock your head at him, a very strange sort of creature this man is, who’s come to collect you, who you’d waited all your life and a year for.

“I’m fine,” he says.

You don’t believe him.

He sets you down on a large, dark leather sofa, chocolate, the hide smooth and worn and lived in. The rest of the house, not only a house, also a home, for it’s obvious in the way of his things, the way they’re arranged and fixed and the way they too live here, not only exist here. I’ll be like that too, you think. It’s all comfortable, it’s all warm, like a den and a place to relax and be protected, juxtaposed by the sight beyond the large windows, nothing but dark, violent sea as you’ve never before seen.

He really had found a perch at the edge of the world, brought you here to perch as well.

There’s a large fireplace, inlaid with large slabs of dark stone and thick beams of wood, and yes, this too is also obvious in a peculiar and particular way. The house very much looks like it was made by the hands of a single man in some way that you cannot specifically say, but can obviously see the truth of. He made this house, and then he came for you and now he’s brought you here, and you feel, suddenly, so pleased and warm and right. Everything feels so, so right. You sigh dreamily, suffused at once with a tight, deep heat at the pit of your belly, the scent of him everywhere, bubbles floating up from the bottom of you and seeming to pop out your ears. You lean back into the deep couch, wiggling this way and that, rubbing your bottom into the soft cushions to snuggle up, bringing the neck of his sweater he’d put you in up to your nose to breathe deep and long.

He’s moving around, arranging things this way and that, a thick log in the slumbering coals, a pillow here, another blanket atop you, not looking at you, setting a wide berth once he’s settled the throw, not talking to you. It’s fine, let him do as he pleases and needs, you’ll sit here and watch. You can tell he doesn’t like to talk, that words cost him something, and you know so little, but you understand this. Words do cost something, truths, the truth of your before life and your not life. The truth of those realities cost. So, yes, you understand, and he doesn’t have to talk if he doesn’t want to yet. And looking at him, you realize that everything inside of you feels soft and bruised and little. And yet, despite all that, ready, in want and need of him. Ready to be big.

Joel.

You must say the word out loud, his name, for he stops and finally turns to face you. There is something vibrational within him. Different. You’ve never seen a creature as such. You’d never seen an alpha before, not since you’d presented, you’ve never been around one. The caretakers were all always betas, people who would not be affected by the omega’s presence and fluctuations.

He swallows once, twice, twitches and jerks and heaves a big sigh. He’s so full of energy as you, suddenly, in opposition, feel so sleepy and drowsy and ready to close your eyes and only feel warm and relaxed. You like his house, you might love it, even.

Your eyelids droop low, slow blinks, and you watch his face fold into a frown. You want to laugh, he does that so much. They’d said that alphas could have big tempers, that they could be brash and aggressive and loud, but that the omega would naturally temper that. You think it may be true because as you watch him through the weave of your lashes, his frown deepening the longer he stares at you slowly drowsing on his couch which you hope he’ll never make you move from, the jitters and the shakes and the trembling that he’d seemed, just a moment ago, to be so full of, begin to quietly abate.

He takes a step toward you, another and another until his shins meet the edge of the sofa, and you snuggle deeper into the cushions, making yourself into as little a ball as possible, so full of sleepiness.

“How do you feel?”

“I like your house so much,” you slur, head drooping, lashes drooping.

He clicks his tongue, makes that rumbly noise you think is an alpha thing because it has your eyes suddenly clicking open, sleep haze clearing momentarily so that you can look up at him again, and he’s looking at you so peculiarly. You scrunch your nose up at him, there’s no need to look at you so, you’re only an omega, only a little tired, nothing to stare at so strangely.

“I’m–” he clears his throat, makes that rumble, growl, huff sound again, “I’m glad you like it. I wanted you to be comfortable while you’re here.”

And oh, he’s so nice, you tell him, and, “I am. I’m so comfortable.” You melt further into the couch, and he crouches down to peer at you more directly, pulling a soft pillow from the opposite end and tucking it under your head, the large, rough cup of his paw cradling your skull, big fingers weaving through your hair. He arranges you so gently, like he’d take care of you. Like you’re here, finally, finally, you’re here to be taken care of.

It’s what they’d said would happen, and you’d waited so long. You’d waited too long to be let out of the white box, for him to come, to see the sky. And now there was so much; of him, of the house, of the sky, of your whole life and the sea.

You nuzzle your head into his big hand, the heat of it searing your scalp, your ear tucked into his palm. “Brave girl,” he hums. He has such a deep voice, a good voice for an alpha, you think, a very good voice. You feel it vibrating in your toes and in your eyelashes and in your belly. “You’ve been through a great deal, haven’t you?” You want to say yes, you want to remind him that you’d waited for him for so very long, and that when you woke up, if you remembered, you’d be very cross with him for taking so long to come for you.

“You rest now,” he says. “It’s all alright now.” Yes, a very good voice.

2. More Intelligent Than a Face

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#HSM fic #vic fic #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #the last of us AU #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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skywalkr-nberrie · 5 months ago

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I think it’s so under appreciated how much Anakin admired Padmé and looked up to her while also being madly in love with her. She wasn’t just the woman he loved, she was many things in one. She was also an inspiration for him, and Anakin had the utmost respect, love, adoration, and admiration for her. So I wanted to bring this into light.

Let’s begin.

Starting off in Secrets of The Jedi where Anakin states how he’s proud of Padmé’s reputation that she’s built for herself as a well known and outspoken Senator.

The way he lists of all here in Clone Wars: Wild Space that she had many aspects to her and he absolutely adores and loves all of them. Again his pride for her seeping through in this passage.

If anyone knew better how much difference Padmé makes everyday with her influence and position, it was Anakin. He always believed in her and he knows the Republic needs her.

Anakin hyping his girl, stating the facts that she’s no dolt and he rightfully acknowledges her intelligence and excellence 💯 he knows his wife is a queen.

“you are anything but weak-minded.” 😭

Literally this passage of Brotherhood where Anakin admits he sees Padmé as a guide in his life in her own way. The amount of respect and high regards he must see her in to view her as something so special 🥹 he admires her morality and determination to do her duty, that he feels inspired by it.

Which brings me to my favourite page in “A Jedi’s Journal” where Anakin sketches a picture of a feisty Padmé and writes about how he doesn’t want to look like a failure in her eyes. Her opinion of him matters to most to him.

One of my fave Vader comics (Vader and the lost command) where Vader dreams up an AU where Padmé lives and he defeats Palpatine, and the clear vision of seeing Padmé as becoming the Chancellor because he always saw her as the only person fit to rule over the galaxy. And in this particular page, we see Padmé doubting herself and Anakin reassuring her that she’d never make the wrong decisions, that she was “born for this role”, that there couldn’t be anyone better for the job. A testament to how much faith he has in her and her capabilities even as Vader ♥️

Moving onto the next page from the same comic, we see how Padmé is referred to as the “the galaxy’s true guardian of peace and freedom”, and reminder that this is still Vader’s vision, and that means it’s truly something Anakin/Vader thinks of Padmé (despite that it is in fact true.) as I mentioned, he always sees her in the highest regards.

Vader even dreams of their kid “Jinn” making note of how with Padmé in power, the use of the Jedi will become “obsolete” and Anakin himself replies “we can only hope.” It’s like he sees Padmé as the true hero and not himself, the ‘Chosen One’ and ‘The Hero With No Fear.’ or the Jedi. 🥹

Then it ends with Anakin stepping up to Padmé and tells her how everyone adores her, because that’s exactly the kind of respect and love Padmé deserves, he knows it, and he envisions it so clearly. Cause that’s how things SHOULD be.

Padmé is the reason why Anakin is the man he is, she’s responsible for making him into the hero he’s become and Anakin really said it himself in Clone Wars: Wild Space pretty clearly without hesitation:

“The point is that without you, I’m nothing. Without you, Anakin Skywalker doesn’t exist.”

#star wars #anakin skywalker #padmé amidala #anidala #pro anidala #sw novels #star wars: wild space #star wars: a jedi’s journal #star wars: brotherhood #star wars: secrets of the jedi #sw comics: vader and the lost command #attack of the clones novelization #anidala meta #anidala study #anakin study #anakin and padmé #anakin x padmé #skyberrie

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mindfulldsliving · 10 months ago

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Rivers of Living Water: Embracing Diffusiveness for Spiritual Fulfillment

In life, diffusiveness emerges as a vital and compelling force, spreading ideas, emotions, and actions much like water flowing in a river. This endless movement isn't just a natural phenomenon but a metaphor for adaptability and growth.

Be Like Unto this River And when my father saw that the waters of the river emptied into the fountain of the Red Sea, he spake unto Laman, saying: O that thou mightiest be like unto this river, continually running into the fountain of all righteousness.~ 1 Nephi 2:9 ~ What is your present spiritual condition? Are you finding yourself struggling in life? It may be time to consider adopting a…

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bella-goths-wife · 7 months ago

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Kiss the barrel of my gun softly: chapter five

Chapter warnings: violence, prostitution, misogyny, men being men, arguing, angst, protective Sevika, mentions of sexual acts, mentions of non-con, cruelty

After the rough few weeks that Sevika had experienced, she decided it was high time to drown herself in her usual vices of drinking, smoking and gambling. So she took the night off from doing Silco’s paperwork and took herself to the bar in The Last Drop and hoped for a peaceful night.

She had hoped that every swig of her whisky would dull the feelings of guilt in her chest, had prayed that if she polluted her lungs with the smoke from her cigarillo she’d eventually be able to swallow the lump of remorse in her throat, begged for the winnings in her pocket to weigh more that the weight of her regretful, shrivelled up heart.

She had told Silco of the decision she had made and he expressed pride at her ability to weaken you, and the actions had been put into immediate action. Silco had warned all chembarons to not associate with your brothel until his say so, and he wouldn’t lift the ban until you attended the meeting with him that he demanded.

The effects had been immediate from what Sevika had seen from her walks home and past the brothel the past few weeks, the lack of customers and incoming gold had been evident from the lowered prices the girls were offering. She can’t say that the pathetic state of your prized business that Madame Emerald had left for you hadn’t left her with a heavy heart.

But a part of her hoped this would lead you to see sense and to finally accept a partnership with Silco, and hopefully that would lead to you coming back to her and forgiving her-

“You need to see this” young Peter scrambles to her table and to the rest of her crew with a poster in hand which he slams down on the table they were currently playing poker on.

“What the hell” Sevika exclaims with a furious look, anger at her lost winning streak very visible on her face.

“Sorry boss” young peter coughs out sheepishly before pointing excitedly at the poster he’d laid out on the table “but this is just too good”

“What is it?” Sevika asks with a roll of her eyes, assuming it was another pointless fighting event that the younger members of her crew seemed to enjoy so much.

However, she stilled when she read the contents of the poster and her blood ran cold.

‘The Gemstone brothel presents once in a lifetime opportunity: A night with the Madame’ the poster read in large, bold print ‘gold offers will be accepted at brothel, highest bidder wins’

A night with the Madame was always a last resort for brothels, the Madame being the title that requires the utmost respect and one that gains you many enemies. By participating in the night with the Madame you are opening yourself to losing all the respect you had gained and being forced to do the most dehumanising acts all for the entertainment of the highest bidder.

You were prepared to at best have to sleep with a random for money and at worst risk having to perform dehumanising acts to protect your brothel from going into debt over attending a simple meeting with Silco? She knew your hatred could range on for miles but she didn’t think you were this reckless.

“I don’t get the excitement” Buff Wade’s voice breaks Sevika out of her shock as she watches the muscular man shrug and for once she feels something akin to pride for the idiotic man at his lack of reaction.

“Its a night with the Madame” young Peter exclaims in shock “you can pay to fuck her”

“Why pay for what I’ve already had” Buff Wade states smugly with a shrug and a smirk

Sevika loses all the previous hope she held for the moron as her eyes narrowed into a harsh glare.

“You and the Madame fucked?” young Peter shouts out in shock

“Yep, before she became Madame Obsidian” Buff Wade confirmed with a smarmy smirk “back when she was still old Emeralds lackey and actually had to work for a living instead of sitting there and looking pretty”

“The madame never did brothel work” Sevika grunts out with a challenging glare, not wanting to listen to another one of this fools lies about you.

“Any of the girls living in that brothel will do brothel work if you offer them a gold coin or two” Buff Wade laughs out mockingly “I was just lucky to get the Madame for a night before she got that stick up her ass about us going in that shithole of hers”

“I don’t do brothel work” your voice echoes through Sevika’s mind

Sevika internally has to calm the waves of anger inside of her, she couldn't go making a scene and risking both your reputations over some stupid assholes lies and insults.

“Y’know the offer doesn’t say anything about multiple people spending the night with the Madame” young Peter howls out through laughs with a smarmy grin “Maybe we could finally teach that bitch to respect us”

“What’ve you got in mind?” Buff Wade asks curiously as he and the rest of the crew lean in with interested eyes

“We can pool our money together and make an offer, we’d be a shoe in combined” young Peter looks almost sinister as the cruel words stumble off his tongue “we can make that prudish bitch do whatever we want and finally get some respect out of her”

The entire table erupts into rounds of laughter as they all list off things they could make you do, each request more grotesque than the last. Sevika can only sit and watch on in silence as her fists clench and she attempts to calm herself.

“Maybe I could go looking for that stick up her ass” Buff Wade laughs out before crudely wiggling his eyebrows “or make her shove something else up there-”

That was the straw that broke the camel's back as Sevika felt herself stand up, the entire table turning silent and looking up at her with curious eyes. She can’t stop herself as her hand snakes out and smashes Buff Wade’s head against the wooden table, her first hit on what would be a very long and violent massacre.

Sevika can’t help but think of you during this bloodbath, of how desperate and scared you must be right now to make this offer, of how much you must need her right now.

Of how stupid you were for not coming to her for help first.

———————————past——————————

Sevika paused in her steps when she saw you and Madame Emerald stood in front of Silco’s office, The madame staring down at you adoringly and patting your head gently before leaving you standing alone.

You hadn’t accompanied the Madame to any meeting for the last month and Sevika hadn’t been able to spot you around the markets like she usually has, its like you’d dropped off the face of the planet until this moment.

That's why Sevika can’t help but just stare at you for a few moments, enjoying seeing your pretty face after so long and all but forgetting your unpleasant ending to your last encounter. Your head turns to her direction after you briefly hear her shoes and Sevika knows she's been caught in her gawking.

“Oh” you say quietly “it’s you”

Sevika nods and wordlessly comes to lean against the wall to your side, almost routinely at this point.

“Didn’t think you’d be here” Sevika comments gruffly, almost wanting to yank you about and question you about your sudden disappearance from her life.

“Madame and Silco are having another meeting” you inform quietly “She needed me here”

“How long are they gonna be?” Sevika asks through a grunt, wondering how much time with you she has.

“Not long, it's unlikely they’ll make a deal” you speak quietly as you throw her own words back in her face.

There’s a beat of awkward silence between the two of you as Sevika looks at your neutral face and fights the urge to hold it in her hands.

“Where have you been?” Sevika asks quietly, breaking the silence between the two of you

“I thought it was best for us to have some distance” you admit through a sigh, your eyes looking down to avoid her narrowed gaze.

“Why would we need distance?” Sevika asks confused through a scoff, why would she need distance from you when all her body craves is to be near yours?

“Because I think we want different things” you say quietly as your voice wavers in hesitation on whether or not to have this conversation now.

“Like what?” Sevika grunts out with a slight sneer.

“I think you want sex” you state with a sigh “and i think you want to have it discreetly so that Silco and Madame never find out”

Your words shock Sevika as her eyes widen and practically bulge out at your forwardness.

“And what do you want?” she asks in an almost defensive tone

“I want love” you admit with a pleading tone “and I can feel it coming and I don’t want you to hurt me”

“You want love?” Sevika scoffs out

“It’s not impossible to want” you exclaim defensively

“Just impossible to get” Sevika fires back mockingly but regrets it immediately once she sees your hurt expression.

Your hurt eyes look at the ground to avoid showing her your weakness before you let out an exhausted sigh.

“Sevika” your eyes snap up to look at her once again “what do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” Sevika repeats in confusion

“You’ve pursued me for a year now, we’ve kissed and you feel jealousy and possessive over me but whenever an opportunity for us to have something appears, you turn it down” you rant off with frustration clear on your face “so i'm asking you directly, what do you want from me because any of the directions you want to go in only lead to trouble”

Sevika lets out a huff of frustration as she listens to you talk.

“What do I…..” Sevika speaks quietly as she attempts to put her feelings into words, something she’s always struggled with “i want you, i want you for myself and you won’t give me what I want”

“Because I don’t want to sneak around behind our bosses backs and be accused of betraying them” your words come out quickly and in a pleading tone “because I don’t want to be your secret”

“Maybe I don’t like the idea of us having to be public for you to want to be with me” Sevika attempts to mask her true feelings with whatever excuse she can find, but you see right through her.

“That’s bullshit and you know it” you raise your voice in frustration at her shitty excuses “I want to be private but not secret, going behind our bosses backs will only end in tears”

“I can’t let my personal life get in the way of business” Sevika scoffs dismissively, not understanding the hurt her words could bring “bringing this to Silco would just be a waste of time”

You visibly stiffen at her words as your face becomes a mixture of hurt and anger, your eyes staring up at her becoming increasingly wet with the need to cry.

“So you see us as a waste of time?” you ask quietly with a hurt tone.

“No, that’s not what I meant-” Sevika quickly tries to backtrack but you cut her off.

“Good to know” you scoff out as you storm away from her and out of her line of sight.

Sevika wants to go after you and apologise, beg on her hands and knees for your forgiveness but she can’t when she sees two of her men approach her. She has to stay in her place, put on her usual stoic expression and pretend like nothing happened.

Pretend like she isn’t yearning to chase you down and beg for forgiveness for her stupid words.

—————————-present——————————

You pace around the room in an anxious panic.

Everything looked perfect, you’d arranged the candles and the decorations in the client room to make a romantic and relaxing atmosphere, you’d dressed yourself in the finest silk lingerie, you’d applied your makeup methodically and made sure to bathe and shave every part of your body to perfection.

But no matter how pretty you make the surroundings, it wouldn’t change the situation.

Tonight would be the night you would have to service a client or clients for the first time in your life for the first time in your life, and it scared you shitless.

The women around you had offered you many tips on how to make certain acts hurt less and reassured you that Ginger and a few others would be outside the entire time in case something went wrong but that did little to calm your raging nerves.

The client wanted to stay anonymous but the extremely generous offer they’d bid was enough gold to fund the brothel and feed its workers for the entire month, buying you enough time to figure out what to do next. You needed to suck up the fear you were feeling, you needed to do this for your girls.

You continued to pace the floor of the bedroom, fussing over small details to distract yourself from your undeniable terror.

The door slamming open shocked you as you quickly whipped your head around to find Sevika standing there. She was covered with blood and was panting as if she’d just ran from piltover to the undercity just to see you, a bag of gold coins clutched tightly in her hands.

“Oh” you say in shock and disbelief with wide eyes “it’s you”

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