#and those pools only look big for a human eye

[keferon]

So.... how do you want Jazz's enclosure? I'm planning out some things, but I want to know how you want the story to go. Is it completely empty or really nice or something in between?

So far he has two, his main tank and his stage tank.

Please tell me your desire, what is your vision. 🌟

This will effect not only the vibe but the world. Don't let me pick, I have too many possibilities, and I need a point to start the "butterfly effect" lol ^^;

-GLC

You know by asking me you probably just erased any hope he had for a nice comfy place ahahahha

Basically. I'm thinking of something similar to what most of the real world aquariums have. Which is haaahhm. Not fucking comfortable. Because the whole thing is just a concrete pool. With NOTHING inside. Sure Jazz can escape from it at nights and go wander around but his own place is an empty box. Staff can bring him some toys and fun stuff like music but they aren't allowed to let him keep it.

Half of the reason - empty pool is infinitely easier to maintain. Another half comes from the first one - it is also cheaper. If there's no objects then Jazz wouldn't accidentally break them and their pieces wouldn't accidentally hurt anyone or clog the filtration system or something.

So I'm thinking yeah he would have his main tank and the stage tank but this is it. No pretty/comfy/fun places to live in. Cause that's how bad it is in real life. Empty concrete box that will make you want to bash your head against the nearest wall just from sheer boredom.

I'm not sure what kind of architecture you had in mind but I was imagining something like this pretty much the whole time

Surely there's a lot of people who find this cruel but unfortunately Jazz is basically a money printing machine for the aquarium bosses so their number one goal is to make the most profit with as little expenses as possible.

Which results in Jazz having such poor physical and mental state. Between the performances and training sessions he basically lives in solitary confinement.

[viridescentelf]

Yandere elf x reader - Bath time :)

Character and Art belongs to @meo-eiru! Please check out her blog ✨ Another BIG thanks for creating him!

This is a follow-up to my last fic: if you want to read that one, click here. I'm not sure if I'll do another one, a bit out of ideas lol.

Warning: 18+ content, drugging, general nsfw, explicit

—————

The water stung your damaged knee. Silas was preparing something in a wooden pail, humming some tune, while you sunk deeper into the hot spring. The water brushed your chin, as you glared at the back of the stupid elf’s head, bobbing back and forth as he dunked colorful fluids from flasks into the bucket. His long, luscious hair was levitating on the water's clear surface, covering his butt.

You were so close to freedom. He told you he’s enchanted the area now, stopping you from leaving entirely. No idea how that worked, but he showed you by pushing you gently against an invisible barrier. Your cheek had squished against the unseen partition, like when a human tests their cat’s intelligence against walls in those videos. “To protect you”, he explained in his sing-song trill.

If you hadn’t been injured, you would’ve made it. Away from this maniac.

“Look what Mama made!”

Silas held the bucket under your nose, smiling serenely. The liquid was a mix of pinkish goop and specks of sparkles. Your eyes lingered on the strange soup, then turned up to meet his excited face.

“What the fuck is this”, you mumbled crossly.

“No swearing, darling!” He patted your head. He didn’t know what the word “fuck” meant, but he read that it is bad for children to use. “It’s my healing salt! Doesn’t it smell amazing?”

Silas kept holding it under your nose. It did smell good, damn it.

“It will heal your poor leg. Plus, it makes everything feel a bit tingly. Healthy for cleaning up down there.” He gestured to his crotch.

Fuck.

Without warning, he dunked the solution into the bath. The mixture oozed slowly into the clear spring. The effect of it was almost instantaneous. You felt the biting pain ebb from your limb and you sighed in relief. Elf magic was so fascinating. If only Silas wasn’t such a freaking psycho. You would love to learn more about it. And then go back home and sleep in a bed without tits in your face.

He was right about the prickly sensation. You felt a warmth pulsate down there, as you absentmindedly sunk deeper into the water. Your gaze blurred and you felt the comfort of the heat engulf you.

Silas pulled you to him and placed you in his lap. His towering upper body remained out of the pool, the breezy touch of his skin a great juxtaposition to the searing heat of the water. To be fully engulfed, he would have had to spread himself across the whole spring, leaving no room for you.

You felt him grow below you. The effects of the water seemed to work on his form as well. His cheeks blushed.

“Be good, darling.” He breathed into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Let’s heal you completely.”

Your leg was fine. You didn’t need any more healing.

Silas’ lips brushed yours, his tongue slinking quickly and entangling in yours. The potion and his saliva were making you go crazy, your lap roaring with want. It was impossible to bottle up.

The potion made movement slow. You were attempting to push away with the last of your wits, but it came across as you gently pressing his chest together. He misunderstood and held your face up to his breasts.

“Drink up…”, he trebled, leading your mouth to his hard teat. It was hopeless.

Your wet lips traced around it and you felt the elf jitter under you with excitement. His hands were softly trailing down your back and took hold of your bottom, squeezing the soft tissue. The water delayed his movement, but you felt him lift you slightly, hovering dangerously above his throbbing shaft.

You could feel him against your entrance, nudging slightly. The heat consumed you, thrumming in the area, wanting. You released your lips from his chest, gazing dozily into his red face. If he was blushing more, you could not tell. He looked so enthralled; the big, dumb eyes full of devotion to you.

Silas crashed into your lips again, kissing desperately, lapping up every part of your mouth. The more saliva you exchanged, the more you felt yourself pulsate. The waves within you crashed, begging for relief. You tried to use your arms to push him off of you, but they felt so limp.

You hated this effect he had on you. You couldn’t stop yourself. This surge and needing the release - it drove you insane.

Floating above him in the spring, you felt him twitch there in unfair expectation. He was far too massive for you.

Silas wrapped one arm around your waist, pushing you closer into his body. Your breasts compressed against his and he moaned shakily at the sensation.

“Mama will heal you, dear…”, he huffed after releasing himself from your lips, with bits of drivel escaping his mouth. “I lov-“

You couldn’t take it anymore. You sat down on him, letting the beginning of him enter you with a strong jerk. He filled you up, with just so little of him inside. Your entire body shook from the flash.

Silas head knocked back; his eyes crossed as he let out the loudest yelp you had ever heard from him. He had never felt you like this before. He only dared milking himself in your sweet mouth, for fear of tearing you apart. But this… the feeling of your tight, velvety walls, the little he could feel of it was enough to make his world spin.

He instinctively grabbed your hips with a jolt and lifted you up and down on him. He wanted more of that sensation, more. More. More!

You were bouncing on top of him and felt every sinew explode with electricity. He bucked his hips slightly when you bobbed back down, but not too much in fear of breaking you, slowly deepening each thrust.

Although you could hear his pitiful “Ah! Ah! Ah!”s, your entire environment seemed to muffle. All you could feel was the inconsolable penetration. The way every jab made your groin burst into flames. The water splashed vigorously around you, as he guided your body into his. He lifted you like you weighed nothing. His head was still jerked back with his eyes in the back of his head, it seemed he was unable to do anything other than plunge halfway into you.

You couldn’t help but release low moans yourself, the note of your bellows making him tense up more. His large hands were clasping your ass, the flesh spilling out between his long fingers. You whimpered and let him consume you, every thrust splitting your walls further. The loud clapping of your bodies and the vigorous splashing, you were intoxicated. The sounds. The sensation. It was diabolical.  

You let out a string of deep moans, as you came, the wetness around his shaft increasing as you tightened your grip around him. Silas couldn’t hold it any longer, either, as he erupted within you, squealing from the overwhelming pleasure.

He spilled out of you. A puddle of white foam bubbled around you. Silas heaved loudly, blinking excessively and tilted his head back forward, staring dumbfoundedly at you.

He looked like you beat him up. Tears were escaping his rippling eyes, as a tiny sob hiccupped out of him.

Fucking baby.

“D-Do you feel better now? Have I healed you?”, he squeaked, pulling you into his arm cages again.

You rolled your eyes and nodded out of sheer vanquish. There was no point explaining to him that this wasn’t how you heal humans. There was no point explaining to him that mothers don't do this.

Silas kissed your head and swirled his hand in the water, making his semen drift away from you. “Oh…all the precious milk. Gone…”

He grabbed a sponge from behind him and started cleaning you feebly, his hands still shaking from the massive release. You saw a tear fall from his cheek. Without thinking, you brushed another one off his cheek.

He gaped at you after the gesture, pausing his scrubbing.

“O-oh darling. You really love me, don’t you? That’s why it felt so good…”, he smiled widely, more tears splashing out of his googly eyes.

You didn’t answer. You didn't know why you just did that.

Silas hugged you so tightly, you let out a wheeze.

“I love you too, my sweet!!” he squeaked and squished you more. “It’s getting late. We still need to have dinner! And you need a proper portion of milk!”

You closed your eyes, sighing.

Another milking session...

[phantasm-ae]

cw: fluff, cowgirl afab reader x ghost, grumpy x sunshine, clumsy reader

HEADCANON: the team meets Ghost’s little bird

PAIRING: Simon Riley x reader

It all started when Soap, half-joking -- not really -- asked over a pint of that terrible guinness that one of the recruits mentioned that he voiced out a lingering thought out loud,

"So, Ghost. Ye ever gonna introduce us to yer missus? Or is she just some hallucination ye made up tae wind us up aye?"

Ghost, who had never confirmed nor denied anything about his personal life, simply shrugged. "Pub. Friday. Seven."

Soap thought he was joking.

At exactly Friday, seven-fucking-pm though. Soap. Soap realized he was wrong.

They met at a grimy pub near base. Price was wary. Gaz looked openly curious. Soap just looked excited, because how normal could Ghost’s wife possibly be? Some goth lady with a death glare? A sniper with a scar over her eye? A shadow in human form?

None of the above.

What actually walked in was—

A tiny woman in a beat-up leather jacket, dusty denim jeans, a battered cowboy hat tilted low over her messy braid. Coupled with a pair of cracked leather boots that clomped across the floor like she owned the place.

Holy shit

She looked like she could ride a bull, shoot a rifle, and kiss you breathless — not necessarily in that order.

She waved frantically the moment she spotted them though — knocking over a chair and nearly tripping over her own boots as she did.

"HEY, SI" she yelled across the entire bar.

Ghost — stoic, terrifying, 6'4" Ghost — immediately straightened in his seat like a teenager seeing his crush. He actually moved. Stood up. Went to meet her halfway like she was the only thing that existed.

Soap’s jaw was physically on the table.

This tiny woman. Small. Wiry. Sun-kissed and with the greatest pair of tits Soap has ever seen immediately launched herself into Ghost’s arms like a missile. He caught her easily -- of course -- one hand on her lower back, the other ruffling her tousled brown hair with ridiculous tenderness.

Leaning down to let her smack a kiss right onto the cloth of his mask like she couldn’t give a single shit about what people thought.

She yanked the brim of his hat down over his eyes — wait! when had he gotten a hat?? — and laughed that big, reckless, wild West laugh that turned every head in the pub.

The team stared in horror and awe.

"This can’t be real," Gaz muttered. "I’m dreaming. I died in Syria."

"She's so small," Soap whispered back, scandalized. "And she’s—she’s—hot??"

They made it back to the table, Ghost’s hand resting casually on her hip like a leash.

When they made it back to the table, she shoved Ghost into a chair, plopped herself onto his lap without ceremony, and grinned at the rest of them.

"Howdy, boys," she said, tipping her hat.

Soap almost cried.

She was absolute chaos. Stole the darts right out of the wall and challenged Soap to a game ("loser buys shots, city boy" "'m from Scotland, lass" "Cattle country ain't like sheep country, sugar" "we have cows. They moo too").

Gaz: "You're so fucking stupid mate"

Soap: "Shut it aye?"

Flirted shamelessly with Ghost across the table — calling him "sugar," "cowboy," and "my big strong man" with zero shame in her Southern-twanged voice. Told Price he looked like a "sheriff with a broken heart."

Somehow wrangled Ghost into a pool match where she used him as her pool cue guide — pressed up against him, his huge hands guiding hers, while she winked at the others over her shoulder.

Ghost never smiled. Never joked. Never talked much. But with her? He was... different.

Softer. More human. Maybe even a little helpless, the poor bastard.

Price, to his credit, kept a straight face. Barely.

Soap, meanwhile -- after losing to her on those stupid darts and took on the challenge of guzzling down the said shots -- was vibrating with suppressed laughter.

She was chaos. Pure, distilled chaos — loud, funny, mean, fun, but also wildly affectionate. She stole a chip off Gaz and a stranger's plate without asking. Shooed off two creeps with a death glare who wouldn’t stop pestering the girls at the counter. Challenged the bouncer -- a hulking and massive bloke -- to arm wrestle and actually fucking won! Spent half an hour helping to take pictures of an old couple on a vacation to send to their grandkids. And started a chant for Price to shotgun a beer (he declined, though grimly but... endeared).

And through all of it, Ghost just... watched her. Silent. Steady. The same way he’d scan a perimeter — except more devoted. Soap swearing that he could even see him smile behind the mask.

At one point, she tugged on his sleeve and whispered something in his ear that made him let out a genuine, low chuckle. An actual laugh. Gaz's drink came out of his nose at that and Soap almost passed out from the shock.

By the end of the night, they were all completely obsessed with her.

(And slightly terrified. She challenged another guy twice her size to a pull-up contest and won.)

As they stumbled out of the pub, she looped an arm around Ghost’s waist and shouted, "THIS IS MY HUSBAND! HE’S BIGGER THAN YOUR HUSBAND!" at absolutely no one.

Ghost didn’t even blink. Just tugged her closer and murmured, "Alright, birdie. Inside voice yeah?."

"YOU LOVE ME BABY," she hollered back.

"Yeah," he said simply, not caring who heard. "I do."

And if anyone at the pub dared to stare — well, nobody wanted to make eye contact with a man wearing a skull mask who looked like he could bench-press a car and the woman who looked like she could drive said car through you and still smile while doing it.

Soap later: "Lass is unhinged aye?." Gaz: "You’re just mad she drank you under the table, mate." Price: "I like her. She’s good for him." Soap: "Naw, like... she’s pure mental. He’s just as daft. It’s a match made in hell, I’m tellin' ye.

Ghost, hearing them gossip: (Just shrugs.) "I like her loud. Makes it easier to find her."

masterlist

[babystarbun]

fucking you right— j.jk

pairing— alpha!jungkook x omega!reader

genre— abo, dubcon, smut, stepcest, MDNI!

word count— 6400

warnings— fondling/body inspection, slut shaming, mentions of being drugged(not by jungkook), somnophilia, size difference, big dick jungkook, degradation, unprotected sex, rough sex, squirting, breeding

‘Watch over your sister for me, yeah? I really didn’t want you brats to come along on my honeymoon but her mom insisted.’

‘Step-sister.’

Jungkook curses under his breath, lathering his chest with sun protection from the pool chair he’s been glued to while silently watching you prance around flirting with every damn Alpha in sight.

This is fucking ridiculous. 

He tried to argue with his father, exclaiming loudly that he’s no one’s babysitter. He’s too old for this shit, you are too old for this shit. Only to get shut down immediately and reprimanded for being so insolent. 

It’s only been 3 months since your parents mated and decided to take the traditional human route. An absurdly overpriced wedding ceremony and luxury cruise honeymoon, one that he had zero interest in being a part of, and yet here he is. Against his will.

‘Not everyone can be lucky enough to bring their kids along on a once in a lifetime vacation like this.’ Your mom had said with a huge smile, squeezing you against her side while Jungkook’s father grimaced and forced a pleased grin onto his unenthused face. 

Kids? He’s a fucking grown ass man. Not his fault that piled up student loans have screwed him out of the opportunity to move out sooner. He’s not the one that insisted on becoming a doctor. 

‘No son of mine will embarrass my name with some bullshit nonsensical career. Medical school is the only option unless you plan to find your ass on the street in a few weeks.’ 

God, his dad can be such a fucking dickhead.

The last thing Jungkook wanted was to spend a week stuck on a cruise ship with you of all people. Even worse when he found out you’d be sharing a room together. At least he got to claim the bed closest to the window, not that looking out of a cruise ship did much other than make his stomach turn upside down. 

This is seriously miserable. And of course you managed to pack nothing but the skimpiest summer outfits. If your parents weren’t so busy holed up together likely fucking like rabid newlyweds(disgusting), he’s sure that your mother would have some choice words for your attire.

“Should you really be wearing that?” He snickered at you this morning. Still laying in bed when you exited the bathroom with your hair and face all dolled up. Nothing but a string bikini and sheer sarong hung on your hips. “It’s 9 in the morning.”

“We’re on a cruise and it’s mid-August. Just because you like to create a sauna for your balls in those baggy sweats doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy summer.” You shot him a glare before sliding on a pair of sunglasses. Flicking your hair over your shoulder and exiting your shared room without another glance. “Later loser.”

Really, he should slap you. Right on the ass. It’s not as if you have any problem showing it off. Especially not around the hungry unmated Alphas that have started to swarm around you at the pool currently. His father would probably pat him on the back for putting you in your place, someone has to. Who knows when the last time was that you had a real Alpha in your life that corrected this foul behavior for you. Heaven knows your mother is much too clueless to bother punishing you for acting like such a..

“Slut.” He scoffs quietly, rolling his eyes. Another young, unmated, handsome Alpha approaches you, easily gliding an arm around your waist with a huge grin on his face that you reciprocate. This has to be the seventh guy that’s approached you in only the last 2 hours now. It can’t seriously be this easy..

It’s annoying more than anything to listen to you squeak out little playful screams, soft breathy giggles, utilizing your loose hands to grab onto the many different bulging biceps attempting to latch around you. Jungkook can’t help but to feel more and more enraged the longer he sits here watching. God, you haven’t even noticed him. 

He can’t stand to watch this bullshit for much longer. His dad had bribed him with limitless spa visits and bar access anyway for agreeing to come.

He sighs and hesitantly gets up, sauntering his way over to you. Taking a hold of your elbow from behind, he pulls you against his chest. “Hey you.” He says flatly, tone low and serious.

“Huh? Ew, get off of me!”

Jungkook’s ready to tell you off, only to be stopped by 2 large Alphas that shove him back. “Hey man! You heard her!”

“Stop stop!” You intervene before they can pummel him into smithereens. “He’s my step-brother.”

A silent ominous dread passes between the two of you, catching each other's gaze for only a few fleeting seconds before looking away. “Whatever.” He mutters, carelessly waving you off. “Hope they do something unforgivable to you.”

He’ll regret whispering that if any of these brutes touch you without your consent. They shouldn’t. They don’t even know or care about you. Not that he does either.. but he knows you well enough to know that these aren’t the Alphas you should be wasting your time with.

The bar calls to him, charging his way towards the one far away from the pool area. His march slows down, coming to a halt mid-hallway to shove his head inside of a dark room full of neon lights and rapid clicking sounds.

“Gaming room?!” Leave it to his father to fail to mention this ship has a huge fucking arcade. He’s always hated Jungkook’s lifelong gaming addiction. Knowing his son, he’d predict for him to be holed up in here the entire trip instead of enjoying his vacation.

Hours and hours fly by as he competes with the other losers holed up in the ships arcade. Young men with no interest in burning off their first layer of skin out on deck. He plays well into the evening until his hand starts to cramp up and he envisions a clear future of himself 50 years down the line with a permanently claw shaped grip.

“I should head out.” He announces. Bowing before parting ways with the new group of shipmates he befriended while playing, mentioning to catch up with them tomorrow. He walks out toward the room he’s sharing while rubbing at his stomach. Definitely missed dinner while lost in an intense brawl in Street Fighter, room service would have to do.

He’s starving actually, the more he thinks about it. You had a lot of snacks when you unpacked, maybe he could sneak something for himself. By now you’re probably locked up in some Alphas room doing what he refuses to let his mind imagine.

The last thing he’d expect to see when unlocking the door is you laid out in bed, flat on your stomach and fast asleep. Still in your tiny bathing suit, curled up like a kitten breathing softly. It takes him aback for a few seconds, gripping onto the door frame as he takes in your manicured toenails, smooth waxed limbs, and the pert round of your ass jutted out so nicely. Locking the door behind him, he recalls his father’s words to watch out for you, make sure you stay out of trouble.

Something about how a pretty little Omega like you is susceptible to dangerous Alphas wanting nothing more than to bite into your supple flesh. To mark you as theirs.

Jungkook should check, make sure his dads worries have not come true. That’s the only reason he gingerly lifts your ankle up and smooths his palm up your calf. Slowly tracing up the muscle in search of any markings that could indicate an Alpha attempted to claim you as theirs.

It’s amazing how silky soft your skin feels, not a single bump or even a slight hint of stubble. You really must have gotten waxed before venturing out on this trip, which only makes him wonder if you opted for a full body service. That would only make sense, what with the 10 different stringy bikini sets he watched you pull out of your luggage. 

“Hmm,” pushing your thighs apart, he climbs onto the bed. Knees sinking into the mattress between your spread open legs. 

Inner-thigh would be a prime area for any Alpha to leave a mark. Something not too obvious that reeks of ownership. “Nothing.”

Not a single mark on your smooth skin, so easily rippling under his touch. Sinking and kneading his fingertips into the meaty flesh lining your upper thigh, he can’t stop the sigh that exits his mouth. Leaning down closer to untie your sarong.

You must have come back from the pool all heat exhausted and knocked out. Good thing, because any Alpha would be too tempted around an Omega so innocently vulnerable like this. Not Jungkook though, he’d never do anything to hurt you. That’s why he has taken it upon himself to watch after you, his precious baby step-sister. Because who better than him to make sure a bratty Omega like you knows her place? 

Oh what’s that? Is that..

“Bite marks.” He sneers, pushing your buttcheeks open to get a full look at what looks like indentations left behind on the top of your left ass cheek. Who the fuck have you been allowing to mark up your otherwise flawless complexion?

Right on your ass? You fucking slut. 

He licks at his teeth out of hunger, sitting back on his haunches and bending in even closer for a real magnified look. Cupping your ass and pushing your butt apart, he buries his fingers into your buttcheeks. The tip of his round nose brushes along the backs of your thighs. Squinting at your rim covered only by a small teenie lycra material that flexes with each rough massage from his hands.

They could be teeth marks, maybe a light scratch. Maybe his heated up brain is playing tricks on him. Either way, one thing is for certain, no one should be leaving a mark on you. No one except him.

“Jungkook?” Your groggy confused voice opens his eyes wide and full. Looking up over the roundness of your bottom, he catches your gaze momentarily. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done weeks ago.”

Jungkook gulps, shaking his head rapidly with his back pressed to the door. He hasn’t moved an inch since entering your room. Swallowed up by the scent of you spread between these four walls. He has to work to control his breathing, reaching up to physically cover his eyes and push away the thoughts filling up his head. 

He shouldn’t be imagining such things. Thinking up the different ways he could touch you so inappropriately..

No. He shouldn’t be salivating over his step-sister passed out in bed half nude. Vulnerable for any deplorable Alpha to take advantage of. It’s his job to protect you, to make sure your precious womb remains untouched from any unworthy Alpha scumbag.

“Jungkook?” You ask out sleepily, voice all tired from screaming and laughing with random Alphas. 

“Yeah.” He says through gritted teeth, forcing himself away from the door.

“Smelled you.”

“Oh yeah.” Stiffly sitting down on his bed, he squeezes at the tops of his thighs. Pushing his legs together tightly to quell the warmth building up in his ballsack. “Tired?”

“Mmmph..” mumbling something incoherent, you roll over until you reach the edge of the bed. Pushing yourself off to stand clumsily and furiously blink sleep away from your eyes. “I d-don’t even know why.” You slur, swaying from foot to foot.

Jungkook frowns, observing your lazy hunched forward posture. How you can’t stabilize yourself, how your hands flail in search of something to grab onto. “Hey, what’s going on?” He says, mildly concerned. Standing back up to rush over and grab a hold of you before you collapse back onto the bed. 

Lazy eyes struggle to blink up at him, spending extra time attempting to fully open them and get a look at his face. You almost look..

“Are you drunk? Did you take something??”

“N-no..” you gargle, easing into his hold more comfortably. “Feel dizzy..”

Fuck. He knew it. Those fucking untrustworthy Alphas must have slipped you something. “What did you take?”

“W-water..” clutching your hands onto his biceps, you squeeze down to keep yourself standing. Scuttering on the balls of your feet and toes trying to stay steady.

“Water?!” He practically shouts, moving around to set you down on your bed. He sits you up right, grabbing a hold of your face to get a better look at your eyes. “Fuck, don’t you know better than to accept drinks from strangers?!?”

“Stop yelling at me!” You whine, scrabbling at his abdomen. “I f-feel.. nothing. Can’t feel anything at all.”

“God, just—hold on.” Letting go of his grip on you, he spins around quickly to the bathroom. Searching for a small cloth towel to immerse in cold water while slamming open a cabinet that had complimentary water bottles stowed away inside when you arrived. 

Fuck, this wouldn’t even be happening right now if you’d just listened to him in the first place. If you’d just let him stick around to watch those assholes you were hanging out with. How could you let this happen?!? He’s going to have to keep you under a tight watch for the rest of this stupid cruise.

“Alright, you need to drink this.” He instructs walking back into the room. Halting dead in his tracks when he sees you knocked out once again. 

Only on your back this time, legs slightly spread open. Leaving him no choice but to gawk at how smooth your inner thighs are. How your tiny little bikini clings to your pussy. He stumbles back against the door frame and forces his eyes shut to catch his breath, has to pinch himself to make sure he’s not hallucinating again. 

At least you’re safe with him now, here in this room you’re sharing. Safe with the pounding heat between his legs growing larger by the second. Every ounce of worry he had dissipates quickly in favor of once again taking in your legs hanging off the bed. The way your chest slowly rises and falls back down with each easy breath you inhale and exhale. 

“You’re impossible.” He says to himself, pushing off from the door. Dragging his feet across the floor, he plops down next to you, reaching to move the strands of hair away from your face that cover your cheek. You’re really out of it, eyes open enough to see some of the whites, breathing so softly and calmly. Completely unaware of your step-brother’s internal struggle. So innocently naive to his gaze burning down your body.

He shudders a little bit, bouncing around the cooled down wash cloth in his other hand. He should place it on your head.. should try to wake you back up. Yes, because he knows that’s the right thing to do.

“You need to wake up.” He struggles to say through wads of saliva collecting in his mouth. Laying the towel against your forehead gently, he traces down your cheek to your parted lips. Lightly tapping the middle of your plump bottom lip. “And drink water.” Letting out a sigh, he continues to brush tendrils of hair away from your neck. Smoothing them back past your shoulders and chest.

That’s when he sees it, a jagged little mark on the side of your neck. It’s light, as if a set of teeth tried to dig in and failed. A smidge of blood, barely a hint of it, dried up along the peeled skin. 

Anger rushes through him rapidly, clutching his hand into a tightly balled up fist. He sits up fast and hooks onto your shoulders. Hoisting you off the bed to press his nose in close to the barely-there wound. The scent of Alpha hits him first before your savory sweetness can. Instantly causing his blood to boil. He snarls at the hint of another Alpha trying to claim you against your will.

Trembling hands pull you up the bed, shaking as he moves to stand and looks over you. If those brutes could get this close to your scent gland, who knows where else they could have left a mark. He can’t calm down enough to rationalize whether or not this is a bad idea. Every inch of him screams to lick you clean. Clean off the unwanted and unpermitted scent of trash lingering to your skin.

It’s what your parents would want.. your mother would lose her mind if she knew you’d let any old Alpha touch you improperly. 

This is his duty as your older brother. 

Step-brother.

He sinks back onto your bed, knees digging into the mattress by your side. Licking over his lips as he hunches over your limp body, drained of energy by whatever was slipped into your drink. He has to get closer, get a good look at every inch of your precious skin. 

Starting at your neck, he checks behind your ears. Along your nape, down to your collarbone, lift your arms up to drag his nose along the inside of your forearm down to the crook of your elbow.

Unknown scents of Alpha continue to swarm around him, furiously moving faster to find something he may have missed. It’s nothing like his fantasy this time, he can’t control himself anymore the stronger your delectable sugary sweetness infiltrates his senses. Throwing a leg over your hips, he mounts your lower half and proceeds to reach for the triangles covering your breasts. Groaning as he pulls them down and your fat tits bounce out so freely. “Fuck.” He salivates, licking at his sharp canines.

No marks, nothing to ruin your perfect breasts. Your nipples pointed up taut and hard from the cool air filling up your room. The wrinkled skin of your aureoles a few shades darker, tempting his hungry mouth the longer he examines the skin between your chest. “They could have gotten you here, huh?” Sucking at his teeth, he smooths up your stomach and cups under your natural heavy tits. Pushing them up with a groan. His hips roll down against yours instinctively without a second thought. The marks of your bikini top indentations line up above your rib cage, pushing more saliva to swallow up his tongue. 

“Fuck, see, this is where I would have marked you.” He mutters raspily, hips jerking again. The tent in his pants poking at your mound. “Mom and dad would never be able to notice, not with these big pretty titties. They’d sit just right on any mark, cover them up perfectly.”

He hisses, lapping at the drool leaking from the corners of his lips. Who is he kidding? He’d have to leave bite marks all over you. Needs to make it clear that you belong to him only. Your flesh, your sex, every centimeter of your body is his. It’d be for the best, such a stupid Omega like you, so easily impressed by Alphas far beneath you. Jungkook would make sure you’d act proper, that your eyes would never roam away from him.

As tempted as he is to do just that right now, he has to keep looking. Desperate to ensure that the rest of your flawless skin hasn’t been fucked with, he scours lower. Dragging the tips of his fingers down to your waist, digging into the dips there. “You’re so pretty, it’s no wonder they were all over you out there. Should have let me put them in their place and set the rules down.” Gruffly speaking, he continues to venture lower, reaching the strings of your bikini.

“You didn’t..” raising an eyebrow, he pulls at the bows tied up on your hips. Gingerly lifting the straps up to unveil your mound. Hairless, absolutely hairless, and so God damn smooth. It’s unbelievable that you could be even prettier between your thighs, your most hidden area. “None of them would deserve it, you know that right?” He goes on conversing with himself like a man gone mad, scooting back to barely place his weight on your knees. 

“I would keep my Omega satisfied.” He nods to himself, revealing the rest of your cunt with a deep inhale. “Fuck.”

You’re perfect, absolutely perfect in every way. Twitching his cock to full size against his pelvis, he can’t stop his hips from jumping forward. Dropping the strings of your bathing suit just to sit back for a moment to drag his eyes all over your body. From your supple rounded breasts lifting up on top of the rise from your lungs expanding, to the dip in your waist trailing down to your curved hips encasing the cutest little pussy he’s ever seen. 

It wouldn’t be right for any other Alpha to have you over him. He’s the only one who would treat you right.. keep you safe and give you a good life. You’d never have to work, only worry would be to keep your Alpha pleased. Wouldn’t be hard at all judging by the way his cock can’t stop throbbing, pushing against his bottoms to be let out. 

Looks like those creeps weren’t around your thighs, that’s good.. maybe one of them got too bold while sniffing around your throat. Unless..

Sinking down lower with his stomach pressed to the bed, he nudges your knees apart more. Slipping in closer until his face is right in front of your core. “Did you let any of them touch you here?” He asks almost mindlessly. Tongue heavy and mind blanketed with a thick haze.

The Jungkook you’ve come to know as your step-brother is long gone by now, fully taken over by his Alpha instincts that crave to feel you from the inside. To stuff himself so deep inside of you so that you only taste him for weeks to come. “Let me get a look at you baby.” Sucking at the saliva pooled in his mouth, he parts your thighs open even more with a muffled groan. 

He’s not one to use terms of endearment with you ever, overcome by his desire to leave his own marks behind, he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth. “Just like that.” Huffing through his nose, he grabs onto your knees to press the sides of your thighs against the bed. Spreading you completely open for his curious and hungry gaze. 

Fuck. You’re already wet, so wet. There’s no way you didn’t let one of those pigs touch you here. That simply won’t do, Jungkook can’t let their scent stain your gorgeous Omegan aroma. Can’t let remnants of those Alphas remain inside of you. 

You’d let them fill you full of his seed, wouldn’t you? So desperate to be loved by anyone. You’d let them use you like nothing but a cheap Omega whore.

A twitch up your thigh under his caressing palm snaps him out of his mental despair. Shaking off his anger to squint and get a good look at your parted open labia folds. They glisten so fucking pretty. 

Looks normal, tight little hole pulsing lightly. Continuously streaming a line of slick down to the crevice between your squished buttcheeks. But maybe he needs to do a more thorough check. Really get in there.. who knows. Asshole Alphas are capable of anything.

Shifting himself into a better position for his face to hover near your cunt, he swipes a thumbs gently between your puffy outer folds. “Fucking hell..” he whispers, sucking drool once more before leaning his face in even closer. Getting his nose close enough to suck up a deep greedy inhale of your sweet slick without actually touching you, yet. 

Slick won’t stop trickling out even now, raising one of Jungkook’s eyebrows with interest as he purses his lips and blows at your exposed clit. That earns tremor through your limbs, bouncing under his hand that’s still laid on top of one of your thighs. Each small touch from his thumb moving your folds from side to side to get a look at every inch of you seems to ignite another shiver. Clenching your tight entrance each time trembles work through your body. He curses under his breath with fixated large eyes stuck on your hole, grinding his teeth together to not let out another obscene compliment about how pretty your pussy is.

It’s too much for him, already dizzied by only looking at your wet cunt. He almost caves when your thighs begin to snap around him, forcing his hand to slide off as your stomach folds in and you let out one of the sweetest pitchiest moans he’s ever heard. 

There’s no way.. no way all it took was some barely there touching to make you cum. “Did you really just—“

In full awe, he grabs onto your trembling thighs once again to set them against the bed. Returning his hand back to your pussy to stroke between your sensitive lips. “That really all it takes to get you off baby? Cause I have so much more for you.” 

Jungkook contemplates how much longer he can continue to inspect you before his dick suffocates and dies inside of his pants. Using two of his digits to hold you open, his other hand smooths up your thigh. Flicking his thumb out teasingly at the small hood hiding your clit. 

“How many Alphas have had their way with you baby?” He asks desperately. Fearing that you haven’t had many, if any at all. No slutty Omega could ever cum this easily, only one so touch deprived and needy.. “My baby sister..” he hisses, licking at his teeth. “You’re really too sweet and innocent, aren’t you?”

Stretching your slicked up folds apart again, he slowly blinks and sighs. Tapping your fluttering hole. “I’m way too big. I’ll break you.”

And that’s exactly what you need, to be broken. No other Alpha should have this chance with you. Jungkook’s doing you a favor, really. He’s doing this as a man with your best interest who cares about you and loves you.

“You’ll thank me later.” 

Settling between your thighs, he strips the strings of your swimsuit away. Sliding the material out from beneath you to leave you completely nude for his lust filled eyes. His hands itch again, slowly dragging from your ankles, up your smooth calves, to your knees and thighs. Pinching and kneading the skin lining your inner thighs as he swallows down another breathy groan and reaches for his pants. 

It’s hot as fuck inside of his boxers, sticky with precum and the heat radiating off of his skin from keeping his cock trapped for so long. He deserves an award for taking this much time to appreciate and admire you like the piece of art you are before hanging you up on his walls for no one other than himself to enjoy.

He’d bury his face between your thighs if not for the way his dick smacks against his abdomen, leaving a stream of wet above his navel. He’s shocked he didn’t cum from that alone. Softly grunting as he peels off the rest of his clothing and works simultaneously to kick and toss aside the damp materials coated with his sweat.

“That’s better.” He whispers, pulling the backs of your thighs onto his bare ones. It’s only right with the way your pussy hasn’t stopped dripping down onto the bedding that he assists your needs. Even if you were to wake up now, you wouldn’t stop him. You’d moan and beg for more. For Alpha to somehow get deeper inside of you than he already plans to.

You really are too small now that he slaps his cock down onto your mound. Rubbing his lips together as he drags the tip past your bellybutton and stays still to take in how fucking big he looks against your stomach. With his dick fully sheathed inside of you, he’ll practically be fucking between your lungs.

How is he supposed to even get his cockhead inside of your tiny little pussy? Let alone far enough inside of you to paint your cervix white with his hot cum. 

Reaching under the weight of his heavy length, he spreads your cunt open again with his digits. Struggling to hold you wide open with the amount of slick that’s gathered between your pussy folds. He shifts back letting out a wet gasp as he slides the head of his cock down to your hole. 

It’ll hurt if he fucks you already, you might even wake up. Might thrash around and shout that it’s too much, it’s too damn much for your sweet tight cunt to take. A few more thrusts and he’d have you singing a different tune. It’s just too tempting to not try, to stop himself from pushing in a mere inch of his thick girth. To watch your hole expand past the slit of his tip, fight against the wide stretch that splits you open.

Supple soft thighs twitch around him as he does just that and teases at your entrance. Biting down on his lips with wrinkled eyebrows, he can’t stop the pleasured moan that escapes. He knew you’d love it, the small bit of contact from his cock already jolting your hips up for more.

Popping the little bit of tip out that he got inside, he lets out a winded gasp. Clutching onto the base of his cock before dragging it through your folds, prodding the chubbed up flesh from side to side. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Probably thinking about me. All the ways you want Alpha to ruin your pretty fucking cunt.”

He’s delirious now, muttering nonsense the more he fights against himself to not glide his cock inside of you. A moment of silence washes over him as he takes you in one more time. How God damn pretty you look, all peaceful with shiny drool on your lips, parted open quietly panting but still loud enough for his ears to pick up on. Nipples erect, hard and pointed at him begging to be nibbled on.  

So perfect in every way. His little step-sister, his Omega. 

A quiet breathy moan draws him back, shaking his head rapidly before staring down at you with huge wide eyes. He scoops around your thighs, tugging you over his hips completely. “I know baby, I know.”

Swiping his cock between your folds again, he gets himself nice and wet. Slick dripping down to his balls before placing his cockhead against your hole again. Slowly inching closer, he stuffs the tip against your resisting hole, groaning deep as he pushes in more than just that half inch he teased you with. Getting the fat tip of his size further in until your cunt hole snaps around him and your breath catches. Chest rising faster from the intrusion of a thick size you’ve never taken before.

Wedging himself even deeper between your legs, he finds the perfect angle to start rolling his hips forward. The first thrust of his cock inside of you still struggles against how tight you are even with the amount of slick pouring out of your hole around his size. It takes a few more attempts before he finally feels himself sinking inside of your wet heat. Jaw dropping at the suck around his cock, how your walls throb against his penetrating girth and try to push him out and pull him in at the same time. It’s fucking mind numbing, rolling his eyes back as he gets the rest of his dick slotted inside of you until he’s filled you to the brim.

“Fuck baby.” A loud deep groan bursts out of him, unbothered by how loud he’s being anymore. If you wake up, then fucking wake up. He’d love to see you try to deny how good this feels, how right this is. “So warm, wet..” he rambles, going on to himself about how tight you are. How good you suck him in, clenching even tighter around him on his next thrust inside. He can’t stop groaning now, shaking sweaty strands of hair away from his face as he reaches for your waist for better leverage. Using his rough grip on you to build up speed and pin you to the bed.

“Fuckfuck!” Jungkook gets too rough too fast, stealing broken sobs out of you. Bouncing your body higher up the bed with each violent thrust until the top of your head meets the wall and he has to grab onto your shoulders to keep you in place for his cock to take and take.

“Yeah, that’s it sweetheart.” He says breathily, eyes wrinkling shut when you tighten up around him so much that he’s forced to slow down. Using extra strength to fuck in past how tight you’ve gotten, how much your pussy sucks around him indicating how close you are to release. He can’t hold back the string of curses that scream out between his grinding teeth. Pounding his cock in harder as your hips rise up from the bed like you’re offering yourself to him. Even asleep you’re such a fucking slut.

“T-too good, feel too good for me.” He nearly whimpers. Hips stilling when your thighs quiver on his and a hot stream of clear liquid shoots out around his hidden cock. Powerful enough to make him stop, out of breath and slumped over in awe watching as slick fountains out around him.

“God sweetheart, no way you seriously j-just fucking squirted.” Gasping for air, he has to tear his gaze away from where his dick begins to slide halfway out of you. Gritting his teeth to tone down the dragged out moan that slips out. Slick completely covers his groin, filthy and clumped up in his pubic hair. Wetting his cock enough for his next thrust to cram the entirety of his size inside of you seamlessly. “You’re taking me so good now. My pretty fucking Omega learns so fast.”

Jungkook hooks around your thighs, fully slotted inside of your tight delicious cunt as he props his feet hard against the mattress for better force. Throwing the fronts of your thighs to your chest, he draws out to the tip only to slam his lower half back down and pretzel you into a brutal mating press position. Determined to stuff your pussy to the brim with his seed, he pummels down harder. Building up a fast and steady rhythm from the start despite the sweat that drips down into his eyes. 

“That’s it, take it.” Curling in his upper lip, he sucks at the sweat trickling down. Dropping his body against your limp one. He sinks you deeper into the cruise ship bed that will never be the same again once he’s done with you. “Take it so fucking good, gonna fuck you full of my pups. Make you my breeding bitch.”

Lost to his Alphas desires, he continues to plow into you. Eyes heavy with sweltering body heat and sweat, failing to notice your own fluttering open. You under him, finally awoken by the overstimulating sensitivity shooting from your core.

“J-Jungkook..” you whisper helplessly. Blearily staring up at the beast on top of you having every bit of his way with you.

“Fu-fuck!” He cries out, digging into the backs of your knees. Pushing at them until they meet your shoulders and he can push his cock inside of you balls deep. The deep growling call of Alpha rips out of him, face scrunched up as hot semen ripples its way out of his heavy balls pressed to your ass. Shooting out violent streams of hot cum to coat your cervix with as he promised himself. 

Slowly heaving for breath and blinking, you meet his ravenous gaze. Opening and shutting your mouth to get some saliva on your dried tongue. Pathetically squeezing around his cock for the last bits of cum.

“Y-you came inside of me..” you say confused, sounding drowsy. Straining your neck to watch as he pulls out, releasing a loud wet pop as his softening length slaps against his upper thigh. Gleaming in remnants of your slick mixed with his seed. The feeling of emptiness between your thighs immediately sinks down your chest. Letting out a soft complaining whine, having to calm your Omega from embarrassing you and begging to be stuffed full of cock again.

Jungkook grabs onto your thighs, cupping the backs of them and hauling them up to expose your gaped cunt. The size of his thick cock leaving you stretched open, angling your hips up to watch his cum glide deeper inside of you. “I did.”

“I’m not on the pill.” You say quietly and ashamed. Turning your face to the side to bury into a pillow. 

A groan rumbles up his chest, licking at his bottom lip with a pleased hum. The visual of your pussy swallowing down his future pups and your confession shoots through his cock. “Your mom would be so proud, getting pupped by your step-brother. You could only ever pray to every deity to be so lucky.”

“You can’t..” you sigh. More exhausted now after climaxing over and over again. “They’d disown us.”

Jungkook throws your thighs down onto the bed, stroking his cock back to its fully hardened size. “Let them then.” Grabbing onto your hip, he pushes you onto your stomach. Wrapping one of his hands along the back of your neck before you can break out of the position he’s got you into. “You’re mine now Omega. Won’t stop fucking you until you’re bred full of my pups. Gonna keep you stuck on my knot from now on.”

“Jungkook..” mild fear sounds in your voice, shifting your face to plant your cheek to the bed. Peering back at him from the corner of your eye. 

“Beg for it.” He says dangerously. Slapping his full hard size against your ass. Hissing from the way your skin ripples upon contact. Soft and supple under the weight of his heavy cock.

A silent moment of curiosity and anticipation passes between you. Blinking long and slow at him before pouting. “Alpha..”

“Say it.”

“Alpha, please,” shoving your stomach against the bed, you arch out. Presenting your bottom to him. “Knot me.”

[cum-a-calla]

Getting The Poison Out

in which you’ve been acting up all fucking day and Joel has to put you back in your place with a punishment tailored to fit the crime.

——

under the cut (a little something new): serious daddy kink/ddlg vibes, rough spanking, pet names, lots of crying, some dubcon vibes, fingerfucking, pussy eating, PIV sex, creampie, aftercare.

——

It’s been miles with this fucking clicking sound.

You sigh, heavy, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and not be irritating - though you can feel it, a ball of growing frustration and annoyance that just hasn’t gone away in - what? 50 miles? 75, 100? Does it really matter?

Joel’s stopped a couple times now to check things over - yes, the check engine light is on. That’s typical - he’s good at working with machines, good at fixing a problem. Good with his hands. You stare out the window and, feeling like a fucking kid in a coming-of-age movie and not a fully grown adult with an attitude problem, you lean your forehead against the passenger window and stare. The clouds outside are fluffy, the sky a deep, open blue, the kind that isn’t tinted and dusty with pollution. It’s like a photograph. Soft, open fields, yellowing with the deep summer sun. Windows slightly cracked to allow in the fresh air. Abandoned, broken fences, wandering animals, dusty roads and those shimmering phantom pools in the distance that disappear the closer you get, a trick of the heat on the asphalt. You imagine dipping a toe into it, the toe of your dirty boot trying to dip into a glittering, morphing puddle and finding the stiff barrier of cracked road and dirt. Reverie over.

“That noise,” you grumble.

Joel grunts. He barely spares you a glance, glaring stonily ahead, focused on your destination. It should be coming close now, actually - some place in some barely-existent town you have to spend the night in, somebody’s spare room. Something Joel needs to collect. The hot air blows through the cracked window, through loose hairs you didn’t tie up, and you’re grateful for the sweat dripping down the back of your neck and all along your hairline.

“What the hell is that fuckin’ noise,” you grumble at the window, your own breath fogging it up. In a fit, you rub it out, putting a smear on the glass. It only annoys you further and you fix yourself eyes-forward, glaring out the windshield instead. It’s dented, cracked a little in the corner. Smeared with fucking bugs.

“M’not gunna talk to ya when you’re like that. It’s unpleasant.”

“Unpleasant,” you repeat sourly, the taste of the word in your mouth making your mood worse. You eye Joel out of the corner of your eye and the crease in his brow, the distinctive frown in his lips, well - that just serves to piss you off even more. “Well, sorry about that.”

“Ain’t sorry.”

“What?”

“Ya ain’t sorry,” he repeats slowly, loudly. He finally turns to look at you, brows drawn. He looks exhausted. Well who isn’t, right? Fuck. Fucking - you turn and look out the windshield again, beating your own pervasive guilt down by counting rusty old street signs, some of them so worn or vandalized you can barely guess where you’re at. The end of the goddamn world.

You choose to not answer Joel at all, or even acknowledge him, instead choosing to marinate in your own irritation and slight guilt. It’s not hard to do… it’s been a long day, and Joel’s been carting both of you in this fucking hot truck for hours, stopping occasionally to check on whatever might be going on. Apparently it could mean something or nothing at all. All you know is that the sound of it is grating, and Joel’s complete absence of commentary - as usual - is somehow bad today. Everything feels bad. Everything feels like a big, heavy chore, weighing you down, and you actively know you’re being unpleasant - he’s right. But facing that fact seems impossible in the face of your own displeasure.

You’re only human, right?

What-fucking-ever.

Joel’s not apparently as willing to give it up as you might have thought. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see him shoot you a glance - a glare, likely. It makes you feel justified in some weird way, but mostly it makes you even more miserable.

“Actin’ like a fuckin’ brat.”

Well, there it is - can’t ignore that, can you?

“Excuse me?”

“Y’heard me, kid. Actin’ like a goddamn brat. Spoiled little baby.”

“Oh, so - ” at first you ball your fists, but then you explode your fingers open in a stupid little display, throwing them up in defeat, scoffing, huffing, acting exactly like he’s describing and only getting angrier that he’s right. You want nothing more than for this trip to be over, for you to be able to lie in a bed and sweat there instead of this fucking truck, but here you are, going through hell with Joel. Knowing exactly how you’re being and having no intention of quitting anytime soon, your better sense be damned. “So, I’m a baby, huh?”

“Mmm. Reckon so.”

The next several miles are spent in silence, your burning, impotent rage filling you up until you can feel your own angry flush on your cheeks. No matter how long you stave off from looking toward Joel - which you do as subtly as you can, staring ahead and flicking your eyes toward him only once in a while - his expression never seems to change. It’s the same stoic, pinched brow, the set in his jaw that makes you want to (lick it) scream at him.

Joel pulls down a gravelly road, dust pluming up behind the tires. The air is clouded with it, but there isn’t a fucking thing either of you can do about all that. Joel glances your way as if daring you to bitch and moan about it, and for a shining moment, you consider it. You really consider it, licking your lips, going as far as to open your mouth, but ultimately you stare miserably out the window and watch the dust fly.

Up ahead, there’s a little property - a small house with another, smaller one sitting kitty-corner on the lot. Joel pulls over beside another beat up, dusty car and shoots you a look.

“Wait here,” he says simply, grabbing a duffel bag from the backseat and slinging it over his shoulder.

“What’re you doing? Why can’t I go?”

Joel simply shuts the door on your questions, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips as he turns and walks up to the house, knocks on the door. A man glances over at the truck and allows Joel inside. You slump down in your seat with an impatient sigh and play with a frayed edge on your shirt, feeling the weight of the pout in your expression but doing nothing to fix it. Who cares.

He comes back and you’re standing outside the truck, leaning against the passenger door. You open it back up and he gives you a curt shake of the head.

“Stayin’ here tonight. Get your shit.”

“Yeah, let me just grab all my luggage,” you mumble sarcastically.

“You’d do well to be a little more grateful,” Joel snaps, and his tone makes you look up at him for a second, a little twinge of fear blinding the irritation you’ve felt all day long. He looks angry and even a little disgusted, and it makes you feel even worse. “Gunna stay in that little house over there for a night or two. My friend up there doesn’t have to do that for us, but he is. Now fix your fuckin’ bad attitude. Should be apologizin’.”

“I haven’t needed a daddy in a long time, Joel, and I don’t need one now,” you snap, slinging your bag over your shoulder and slamming the truck’s door a little too hard. You turn and glower toward the house, more of a shack than anything but still a sight for sore eyes - and sore backs. If there’s actually a bed in there, you might just cry.

After you both deposit your bags on the bed, you sigh and swipe a hand over your forehead, working to open each and every window while grumbling.

“Fucking hot in here,” you mumble, crossing your arms like a petulant child as you look out the bedroom window. Insects buzz and chirp outside.

“Y’ain’t gunna quit, huh?” Joel’s glaring, and he nods toward the mattress, snapping his fingers. “Get on the bed.”

“What?”

“On the bed. Now. On your belly.”

There’s a brief moment of pause in which you’re both staring at each other. Joel sighs impatiently and comes to you, his big hands reaching for your pants. The moment you try to block him out he lightly slaps your hands away.

“Stay still, kid. Fuckin’ gunna do it m’self for ya - what’s new,” he says, voice dangerous and low. He sounds pissed. He makes quick work of the button, the zipper, and yanks them down your thighs, looping his thumbs into your panties to take them down all at once. He shoves you so that you lie on your back and then your fight-or-flight kicks in a little, and he has to grunt and struggle to get your legs under control to rip your jeans clean off your legs. “Be fuckin’ still. Quit squirmin’.”

“Joel, stop -” You wriggle a little up the mattress, lifting up on your elbows to scoot away.

Instead of answering you, Joel yanks your ankle and you’re sliding down again, on your back, the tiniest yelp leaving your lips as your face flushes. It’s embarrassing, Joel seeing you like this - no bottoms to speak of, completely bare to him while you kick and half-heartedly struggle; but there’s a little give, there, isn’t there? A part of you that likes it. That likes the feeling of his calloused fingers hooking underneath the soft, silky flesh behind your knee to keep you in place, his eyes roving over your nudity, your bare pussy.

Joel grabs your hips with purpose and flips you easily to your belly, climbing up onto the mattress himself until it’s dipped beside you. He has one large, warm hand on the small of your back, anchoring you there.

“Been a goddamn brat and a pain in my ass all day long. I know exactly how to take care of a little fuckin’ brat.”

His other hand is warm on your ass, but now, everything is clicking into place and you squirm a little again, heart pounding in your chest. “Joel, you - you can’t.”

“Sure fuckin’ can, and I will. Y’gunna stay nice and still for me so we can get this over with, hear me? Gunna listen to me for once.”

The first slap stings. The sound you make is mostly out of disbelief, your eyes widening as they train on the scratched old wall behind the headboard. There’s a nightstand, to the side there, a candle on an old, yellowed doily. Joel’s hand comes down again, harder, and this time you hold your breath. There’s a drawer - you wonder idly if there’s a bible in there.

If this is happening, you’re going to have to hold out. Not think about it too much, even though your face is already flushing. It can’t be that bad, not really - right? He’ll get it out of his system and it will be over. Joel wouldn’t really hurt you. He wouldn’t. He -

The next slap is followed immediately by more, raining down against your ass so that it really starts to fucking sting, and there you are - spine arching up a little, feet kicking again, but he has you. He holds you down against that mattress and it’s not even a contest; he’s so strong, so sure of himself, and he grunts and clucks his tongue at you.

“Y’ain’t goin’ anywhere, darlin’. Gunna take it all for me. Teach you a fuckin’ lesson.”

His callouses skate over your warm, tingling flesh and it kind of hurts. You’re already starting to hyperventilate as he raises that palm up again, body screaming with anticipation before he slaps one ass cheek and then the other. He repeats this, over and over, harder with each go.

It’s only minutes - it can’t be longer than a few minutes of this before you’re squealing under him. Your breath hitches in your throat and the tears come so fast it’s dizzying, sniffling as you press your hot face into the mattress and wring your fingers into the sheets.

“Joel, please - I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you bawl.

“Mmm. Betcha you are. Not sorry enough, though - not yet, kiddo.”

“N-no, wait -”

“Deep breaths, honey,” he interrupts, and fuck - he sounds tender, his voice heavy with something. Something you’ve never heard in his tone before, a deep, pleasant rumble that is so unlike the way he continues to spank your ass raw. “C’mon; in, out. Good girl.”

Joel hums as you sob and twitch and writhe, nowhere to go while he punishes you. It feels like your tender flesh is going numb and becoming more tender with each pass, somehow, all that sensation mingling together impossibly until your mind is screaming with panic each time his hand lifts up. When he takes his hand off your lower back and there’s a moment of peace, you don’t even move. You just shudder and hiccup, hands shaking. The clink of his belt, the sound of a zipper. His deep groan and then a hot, slick feeling against your ass cheek.

Joel’s cock. He rubs the leaking, fat head of his cock over all that burning, welted expanse. It hurts. It makes your stomach flip. He does that for a moment and then his fingers are gently probing between your thighs. Even with them pressed together, he works himself where he wants to go, parting your slit and feeling you there.

“You’re soaked,” he mumbles.

“S-Sorry, Daddy,” you whine. Oh, god, his scoff of a laugh.

“Thought you didn’t need no daddy, remember?” After a beat in which you’re too humiliated and confused to answer, Joel’s humming again, pushing one thick finger inside of your cunt, then two. “S’okay. Normal for baby girls to get wet for their daddies after a hard spankin’. But we ain’t through - not yet. Just a little more.”

He clucks his tongue again and shushes you as you whimper a weak protest.

“None of that. Be good. Be good for Daddy, sweet thing. Little more.”

The rest of the spanking is so much more intense; there’s been a moment to cool down, to start relaxing away from the sharp, burning pain of it all, and it’s so fucking rough going all the way back to 100 after that. His fingers are wet with your own fluids and it makes the spanking worse, somehow. He goes out of his way to press his broad palm right up against your cunt, grinding the heel of it so that your wetness covers his skin. He delivers the hardest slap yet with that hand, a deep, predatory sound coming up from his chest. It scares you. The fear is fleeting, however, as the hot wave of blinding pain rushes up your spine and it’s almost like you’re whiting out, just for a second. Tiny, glittering sparkles waver in and out of the edges of your vision for that moment before they burn out like fireflies, and you realize that you’re moaning, wailing. It’s like your hearing comes back into focus, your mind viciously slamming back into your own body after Joel nearly beat it out of you.

You’ve never shaken this hard before, not really. Not from anything like this.

Joel’s cock is back against your ass and it stings so fucking bad when he drags his slippery cockhead over his own welted handprints. He strokes himself and the sound of it is so lewd, seemingly louder than your own choked sobs.

“Hurts pretty bad, huh, darlin’? I’m sorry I had to do that to you,” he says, and his voice is still that deep, low tone, but instead of anger, there’s a kind of tenderness there. A warmth. “Understand why Daddy had to give you a lickin’ though, don’t you?”

“Yes…” The word barely comes out whole, drawn high and shuddering like your gasps.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Daddy, I - I’m… I’m s-sorry fuh-f-for -”

“Shush, now - no more’a that. Just let Daddy make you feel good, babygirl. Mean part’s over.”

Joel fits those long, big fingers back against your cunt, rubbing your clit in slow circles. Gentle - lovingly, almost. He does this for a long few moments while you catch your breath, murmuring little words of praise. Done so good for me. Just breathe. Good girl. Go ahead, let it out; give it all over to your Daddy. And soon enough, you’re throbbing, rocking back a little against his touch. His cock rests against the back of your thigh and you focus on the way it pulses against you, little twitches. It’s dripping, there, a hot, slippery gathering of it on your skin. Feels so warm. So do you. Your face, your aching cunt, your poor, abused ass.

Joel leaves your clit and his hands are gingerly at your waist, helping you to roll to your back as he gazes down at you.

“I know, I know. Know it’s all sore. Lemme make it better.”

God, he’s gorgeous. Big, broad, his heavy cock freed from his jeans and visibly throbbing. His eyes are so soft and heavy-lidded, licking his lips as he parts your thighs and gazes down at your pretty, pink pussy, open and swollen like some delicious little gift, like ripe fruit. Just for him.

“Baby… oh, lookit you. All this for me, huh?” Joel pushes his fingers slowly inside, crooking them to nudge against that spot inside that makes you gasp, makes your spine arch just a little bit. “That’s it - so good.”

Joel leans down between your thighs until you feel his breath against your molten, waiting flesh, his fingers still working that spot inside of you. He drags the flat of his tongue up the open seam of your cunt and moans, losing himself in the act of worshipping you like this. Making it all better - what a good Daddy. Maybe you can be good, after all. You could.

You allow your eyes to slide shut as you rock your hips against his ministrations, already so embarrassingly close for him. He inhales through his gorgeous nose and hums in pleasure, taking in your scent - that’s what he’s doing. Fuck. This realization pushes you even closer and there it is - the slow roll over the edge, falling down into that star-filled wave that has you gasping.

“Daddy, I’m fucking - oh, my god, it’s so - it’s -”

Joel only moves a little faster, a little deeper, milking your climax for everything it’s worth. He doesn’t want to put you off track, doesn’t want to fuck up the trajectory. The way your cunt flutters and twitches around his fingers makes him squeeze his free hand around the base of his cock, groaning, forcing himself to wait. He wants to take all of it from you - it’s his, after all. It’s all for Daddy.

When your loud moans melt off into sweet, keening little whimpers, Joel pulls away, sucking his fingers clean and steadying his hands up underneath your knees, pushing gently forward until you’re bent in half.

“Gunna be a lot, little girl,” he murmurs, eyes on yours. He grinds his hips and the weight of his body hovering over yours, his dick on your pussy, the sheer pressure of the thick head as he presses it up against your hole has you scared all over again. “Might hurt a little, but it’s a good hurt. Ready for Daddy? Wanna hear it.”

“… yes.”

“You know what I need to hear. Try again.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m… ready for you.” Oh, you sound so pathetic, so small and nervous. Your big, shining eyes, lashes still wet. Lips all pink and parted like your beautiful slit.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl.” Joel sinks his cock inside little by little, thrusting shallowly in and out to gather your own mess all over his length. Easing the passage the best he can, memorizing the way your brows draw together and you wince with each passing inch. “Daddy’s gotcha. Daddy’s gotcha…”

He whispers it like a mantra as he reaches up to tenderly wipe new tears from your eyes. They gather there, big fat drops that roll silently down the sides of your temples to wet your hairline.

It’s not hard to melt you against him, and he shifts, bending you just a bit further now that he can sheath his long, thick cock all the way inside. It grinds softly up against your cervix as he waits there a beat, hissing a breath through his clenched teeth as he enjoys the slight discomfort of your tight little pussy around him.

“Fuck, honey… y’perfect,” he murmurs, rolling his hips. He works into a new rhythm, knowing he won’t be able to last long. Not with you all pressed beneath him and whining with all that flush on your cheeks, down your chest. That spray of freckles glow against the fever-spots of your cheekbones and Joel stills himself only for a moment, lest he cums on the spot. Just a little more. Just a little fucking longer.

By the time he absolutely can’t hold it in anymore, his heavy balls bouncing off the warm flesh of your ass, he reaches up to stroke your face. He pushes a thumb between your lips and there’s not a single word exchanged; you take him in, cheeks hollowing slightly as you suck. You wrap your hands around his strong forearm as if to keep him there, and you suppose it’s true - the feeling of the rough pad of his thumb over your tongue is intoxicating. Soothing.

Joel looks as though he’s in agony, and then he’s fucking into you hard enough that he can feel your teeth on this thumb as you lose focus, and fuck - you’re cumming for him again. It’s gorgeous, the sound of your tortured moans as it catches you by surprise, fingers trembling and digging into him a little. There’ll be tiny, crescent-shaped hints of your nails there later on, and he’ll run his lips over them when you’re not paying attention.

Joel grunts with each brutal thrust and finally the pressure bursts. He pumps his cum as deeply as he can, bodies flush together until you’re squirming.

“Be good, baby, you c’n take it - fuck, let Daddy fill you up…”

Joel sounds like an animal as he shoots his load in thick, hot ropes. He’s so utterly deep that if you focus, you can feel each little spurt right up against your battered cervix, each contraction as he empties his balls into you. He hangs down low enough that you manage to push up and kiss the bridge of his nose. A shiver runs up his spine and gasps, nuzzling mindlessly into it.

He unfolds your legs, slowly bringing them back down before he pulls out of your body and lies beside you. You’re both panting, and Joel traces his fingers over the ball of your shoulder as you come down in the comfortable silence. You’ve never felt this exhausted in your life. You can’t seem to muster any energy at all, eyes slipping shut. All there is are the sounds outside the window, Joel’s even breathing, the almost imperceptible rasp of his rough fingers on your soft skin.

“Feelin’ better? …get all the poison out?” His voice, so soft for once. You nod and he exhales an amused little laugh through his nose. Even with your eyes shut, you can feel his wry, handsome smile. “That’s my girl.”

[sunni-stuff]

Three days had passed since Jellybean, your rescued stray, vanished. Though an outdoor enthusiast at heart, she'd never missed a meal. Now, your phone tracker beeped, signaling proximity. The crafty runt had escaped, but you were closing in. Jellybean's street-smart ways usually brought her home, yet this time felt different. As you followed the signal, hope and worry battled within.

You traveled alone as none of the townspeople were brave enough to help with your search. The mere mention of the North Woods shook them to the core, earning your request swift declines and slammed doors in your face. Whispers and rumors follow you with every interaction 

Secluded and untraceable, his cabin lies tucked away, invisible to prying eyes.

Rumors swirl of his territorial fury. Trespassers beware—this hunter stalks from afar. His domain is unforgiving, and his presence is a constant threat. The lucky ones spot the warning sign; others never see him coming.

Even the butcher, renowned for his toughness, said no, unwilling to even hear you out.

“There’s a man in the woods,” he said, voice unwavering. “You’d be smart to forget the idea.”

The boom of the door closing makes you flinch, jumping back a bit. A man in the woods? Surely not.

Even more absurd than some creep in the woods was the thought that the big, bad butcher was scared of him. This was a man who walked you home at night, who sneered at men and pulled you close to his side when you became uncomfortable. You knew him for a long time and you’d never seen him so much as flinch, but suddenly he was all squinted eyes and hushed tones at the thought of even stepping a foot off the beaten path. It couldn't be true, right?

Well, there was only one way to prove him wrong, and it was the only way you were gonna get Jellybean back. You’re going in that forest, urban myth or not.

Shadows lengthen as you exit your truck. The door closes with a hollow thud. The townsfolk's warnings replay in your mind, urging caution. You scan the area, heart racing. Drooping leaves cast an ominous veil over the forest. The murky depths seem to whisper, both alluring and forbidding.

Anxiety grips you as you take a step further. "Bean?" You whisper, voice trembling.

Silence answers. Twigs crack underfoot, and each snap creates an ominous echo. You cringe, the sounds amplifying your unease. Yet you press on, searching the quiet forest.

Minutes stretch like hours as you quietly call Bean's name, doing your best not to attract any unwanted attention, as the woods loom, hiding unknown dangers. Glancing down, your phone shows her location, unchanged, since she first wandered off. Jellybean's absence at this late hour is unsettling. She never stayed out of the house this long, and not so still, either. You can't help but think the worst, deciding to hurry closer to her, praying to find her safe.

Venturing deeper, the terrain grew wilder. Massive leaves parted, revealing fallen trunks and tilted trees. The more you looked around, the more it became clear that the uncharted wilderness wasn't made for humans.

There was no possible way.

The forest gave little leeway to those travelings through its domain. Predators strayed barely out of sight, lurking in hopes you'd be their next meal. A howl in the distance has you on edge, skin crawling, the feeling of being watched running anxious edges.

"Just keep walking. It'll be okay. The tracker says she's near." You reassured yourself under quite murmurs, trying to will your heart calm.

Then it appeared without warning.

A wolf lurches from the woodland gloom, baring his jagged canines, poised and ready to pounce. He circles you in a slow, menacing loop, foam pooling from his parted jaws. His eyes blaze with a frenzied gleam, wild and driven by something beyond hunger. Some dark, unseen force propels him, and you feel it tightening around you.

You turn and run.

Run as fast as your legs can carry you, tearing through the thick underbrush. Foliage slaps your arms and face, and the weeds clutch at your ankles like skeletal fingers desperate to drag you down. You ignore the stinging scratches, the pounding in your chest. If you fall, if you falter for even a second—you know it’s over.

Run.

The untamed beast snaps its jaws inches behind you, hot breath searing your calves, each bite narrowly missing as he hounds you with ruthless, single-minded determination. You crash through a thicket, branches clawing at your arms, tearing through your clothes, until you stumble onto a barely visible trail where weak shafts of light seep through gaps in the trees.

There’s no time to think. No time to process the sting of cuts or the burn in your lungs, nothing beyond the raw, primal instinct to get the hell away from the rabid creature on your heels.

Then you see it.

A cabin.

Really, a dilapidated shack, its sagging roof overrun with twisting vines, looms before you, barely held together by rotting beams and splintered boards. The whole structure looks one hard gust away from collapse, yet it’s the only shelter in sight. You don’t hesitate, heart hammering in your chest, and charge toward the door.

In your frantic rush, you miss the glint of watching eyes, shining like dark coals from the shadows behind, tracking your every move.

You burst inside, slamming the door shut with a desperate shove, then lean your back against it. Your chest heaves, each ragged breath scraping your lungs as you struggle to catch your breath, the weight of dread pressing down on you even harder than the beast’s pursuit.

The aroma of simmering soup wafted through the air, warmth enveloping you. A cozy scene unfolded: a bubbling pot atop a wooden stove, a modest desk tucked away, and a solitary lantern casting a soft glow. The space exuded an unexpected warmth, soft light pooling over worn furniture and the faint scent of old wood calming your frayed nerves. Your pulse slowed as the familiar coziness settled around you. Then, a gentle brush against your leg pulled you from the haze of adrenaline.

You glanced down—and there she was. Jellybean, her eyes wide and radiant, a few telltale crumbs clinging to her brown fur from some long-forgotten snack.

A rush of tenderness overtook the fading remnants of panic. You reached down, catching the elusive little troublemaker as she gave an indignant squirm. “You little—” The half-hearted scold fizzled, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming need to hold her close. “How—How did you end up here, huh?”

Holding Jellybean close, you feel the weight of your situation settling over you—a stranger in a cabin far from familiar ground, with the last of the sunlight slipping away, trapping you inside until dawn. Outside was darkness thick and impenetrable, the forest itself a living maze you dared not attempt at night.

“Shit,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might stir something in the shadows.

Slowly, you move deeper into the space, eyes sweeping over the bare walls and spartan furniture. There’s something unnervingly sterile about the place—no photos, no knickknacks. Not a trace of personality or life. Who would live here? The rumors of some reclusive figure haunting these woods flash through your mind.

No. You shake your head, brushing off the thought. This was probably just some hunter’s shack. Or a place someone from town stayed now and then, just a shelter, nothing more.

Your foot presses down on a loose floorboard, and a loud creak echoes through the stillness. You freeze, heartbeat stuttering. Jellybean’s ears twitch, but she remains calm. Before you can step back, a low groan seeps from somewhere within the cabin, rolling through the floorboards, shivering up your spine.

Your grip tightens on Jellybean, and you hold your breath, listening.

“I-Is anyone there…?” Your voice barely steady. The words hover in the silence, as though the shadows themselves are holding their breath, waiting.

Then, clear as day, you hear it.

“Help… me…”

The voice is thin and broken, barely more than a whisper. Instinct screams at you to ignore it, to sit tight until morning. But something tugs at you. The sound is weak, desperate—human. The cabin feels suddenly smaller, its walls pressing in, urging you to run.

“Please… someone help me…"

A shiver races down your spine. Curse your altruism. You clutch Jellybean tighter, swallowing back the fear rising in your throat.

“U-uh, where…?” The question slips out before you can think, shaky and uncertain.

Silence stretches taut, pressing against your ears. Then, faint and low, a whining sound rises from beneath the floorboards, almost like a wounded animal. Every instinct screams at you to turn back, to stay safe. But you find yourself edging closer to the noise, heart hammering against your ribs.

Your gaze lands on a small, almost-hidden door near the far wall—the entrance to a cellar.

The pleas are louder here, wavering but persistent, each whisper curling up from the depths. “Help… please…”

You should walk away. This is a bad idea. A terrible idea. But, against every sliver of common sense, your hand reaches out, fingers trembling as they brush over the handle.

It turns with a rusty groan, and you pull the door open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into shadow. At the bottom, you catch the flicker of ember light, glowing faintly as if from a dying fire.

The cellar stretches out before you, a vast, dimly lit space far larger than should exist beneath such a modest shack. Shadows cling to the walls, the only light casting a faint, sickly orange glow that barely cuts through the murk. You step cautiously, heart-pounding, but then you glance to your right—and freeze.

The scene hits you with a nauseating force. Men hang suspended from thick meat hooks, bodies bruised and broken, some barely clinging to life, others unmoving, their faces blank and eyes empty. Their battered forms twist slightly in the air, like grotesque puppets left to dangle and rot. You swallow hard, stomach twisting as bile rises in your throat.

But then the horror deepens—recognition dawns. One face after another, familiar, each one seared into memory. The delivery driver who refused to take no for an answer, the lawyer from the pub whose relentless advances wore you down, the pizza guy who loitered outside your job, watching, waiting. All here. Hung like slabs of meat in this nightmarish cellar.

Your mind spins, the details piecing together in a sickening realization. The butcher. He’d warned them off, told you they wouldn’t bother you anymore. But this? This was something beyond any threat, beyond any punishment you’d ever imagined.

How? How had they ended up here? How did any of this exist beneath an unassuming cabin in the middle of the woods?

You weren’t supposed to see this. This was something that should have remained buried, hidden in the depths where secrets go to rot. The enormity of it presses down on you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

But then, one of them stirs. The pizza guy, his head lolling weakly to the side, lifts his face. His eyes, clouded and bloodshot, light up with recognition—a desperate spark of life in his hollow gaze. “Help! Please, before he comes back!” he rasps, voice cracking.

He.

The word rings in your mind, cold and jagged. He? Who could do this? Who would do this?

Your voice trembles as the question slips out, a thin whisper in the oppressive silence. “W—who… who are you talking about?”

The cellar door slams shut behind you, the echo reverberating off the cold stone walls, trapping you in the silence that follows. Heavy, methodical footsteps descend the rotting stairs, each step creaking beneath his weight. His breathing is deep, ragged, each inhale and exhale marking his slow, purposeful approach.

Don’t turn around.

Your body locks up, instinct screaming to flee, but your legs refuse to move. You clutch Jellybean tightly to your chest, but suddenly, she squirms, thrashing in your arms in a way she never has before. Confusion twists through your terror—Jellybean has always clung to you, never trying to escape. What was she doing?

With a leap, she slips from your grasp, landing soundlessly on the floor. She pads past you, moving behind you, and the silence is filled with soft, delighted purring.

You don’t want to look. You hold still, desperately hoping that if you don’t move, you’ll disappear, fade into the shadows. But you can feel him standing just behind you, the weight of his presence pressing down like a storm cloud.

And then, a voice. Familiar. Deep, smooth, and thick with a British lilt, edged with something that both chills and soothes you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a note of affection clear in his tone as he addresses Jellybean.

Recognition strikes you like a blow. That voice—you’ve heard it a thousand times. The same voice that always offered a warm “good evening” when he walked you home at night. The same voice that laughed as he handed Jellybean her treats at the butcher shop. The same voice that warned you, with a peculiar intensity, to avoid these woods.

The butcher.

---

A/N: I don't usually do long writing stuff... but I've had this one in the drafts for too long and wanted it out. I kind of like how it turned out but I can def improve!

[bunnis-monsters]

Bee Hybrid Lore Pt 1

What do the bee hybrids look like?

I’ve had quite a few asks about this and I’m here to explain!

Firstly, with each new queen, the bee hive becomes more diverse and each new generation of bee hybrids looks different. So one generation may look wildly different than the other, while some may look relatively similar with little differences.

For the base bee hybrid that has only had bee queens; they have a somewhat human shape. Their eyes are big and bug like, their mouths always in a smile. They are colored yellow and black, and are fuzzy all over. Some have human like hands and some don’t!

They are usually more bee like than human, and some cannot communicate unless they send pheromone signals to their queen, so they can’t speak. But, they are still a human and bee hybrid, just more bee like. I’d say these are what a hive usually starts with, and it evolves from there.

The bee hybrids you reign over are very diverse! This is usually preferred in a hive, since there is only one female the males are expected to be diverse and provide quality eggs for the queen.

Your bees look a bit more human, most of them have hands and lips, can speak and know bits and pieces about human culture. Some are intelligent while others are your dumb little babies!

Saying this, bees vary in size. Some are as tall as 10 feet(possibly crossed with a giant mother) while others can only grow as tall as your waist. It all depends on who mothered them and which give they’re from.

There’s often trades with other hives for some of the queen’s best children to come and mate with other queens and join the hive. That’s how each hive has so many different types of bee hybrids!

Though, there are some hives that are strictly the base bee hybrid, and those hives are usually run by corrupt queens that refuse to trade their sons or take in any new males to add to the gene pool. This usually results in the eventually death of the hive, because new generations will inbreed with the queen and become unable to produce with honey due to deformities.

So the short answer is they can look a variety of different ways, so use your imagination!

What are some kinks they have?

Most of the bee hybrids are into breeding, lactation, sharing, and praise(giving and receiving).

They’re mostly into pleasuring their queen, and although they enjoy working, they’d rather be between your legs making your eyes blurry with pleasure at all times of the day.

You are their first human queen, so getting to explore your body and find out what makes you tick is very pleasurable for them!

What are they like?

Like with appearances, every generation of bee hybrids is different, but I’ll lost some common traits between them.

Every bee hybrid is extremely loyal and protective of their queen. For some maybe that’s their original queen, or maybe their mother or the one that’s taken over the hive and treated them well. Whoever they choose to be their queen, they will die for them.

Though some bee hybrids are extremely intelligent, a lot of the masses are a little dumb. Not stupid or anything, but not too bright either. They don’t understand some things from the human world and struggle with problem solving, so the more intelligent bee hybrids usually guide the rest while the others so easy repetitive tasks like collecting and making honey.

All bees have a big sweet tooth and can be persuaded into doing things for others if given something sweet to keep for themself in return.

The first person they protect is the queen, and the second are any of her eggs/hatchlings. They are fiercely protective of the queens young and will gather them up and flee after the queen has been taken somewhere safe during a dangerous situation.

Roles in the hive

Queen: this is the female that they have chosen to be queen. The queen can be of any species as long as she can incubate their eggs. She is seen as the top of the hive and if she dies, the hive will either die out or be in grave danger. Usually, queens try to have good relationships with at least one other hive so in the case of her death, her hive can merge with the other, thus saving her children and subjects. Many will die off due to depression and starvation because they are loyal to their queen and would rather die than be without her, but the ones that survive will be taken care of by the sister hive.

Princes: these are the sons of the queen. Some are traded/married off to other queens for diplomatic reasons. Since there is only one female per hive(the queen), more males are needed to help make the hive more diverse and to make sure no inbreeding happens. They are usually loyal only to their mother, and sometimes act as spies or assassins if need be. There have been cases where princes have fallen and love with their new queen and abandoned their mother, but it’s rare.

Princesses: these are the daughters of the queen. They are raised until they are old enough to leave the hive, then are sent out to start hives of their own. About 1 in 100 eggs will hatch a female, so the female children are both celebrated and feared. They are usually loyal to their mother as well, but will take care of their own hive and put their subjects first.

King: this is the queen’s official mate, who will provide more of her eggs than most. He is the one that stays close by her side, but the king has no power without the queen. If he crosses her, his status is gone and he may even be kicked from the hive or executed. The queen is not required to take on a mate, but most do.

Workers: these are the majority of the bees. They do the most important jobs in the hive and keep everything working. They protect the hive, attend to the queen, forage for food and water, build the comb, and so much more! They run the hive and make sure the queen is always happy.

Drones: if the queen does not have a king, their job is to be there to mate with her and fill her with eggs as much as possible! All the bee hybrids get a turn, but they’re the ones that fuck her and keep her belly nice and swollen. If the queen has a king, they’ll not fuck her as often, but their purpose is to mate with the queen, so that’s what they’ll do when the king isn’t able to completely fill her.

Baby bees: their job is to be cute and grow big and strong so they can take over the hive one day!

Typical day in the hive

In the morning, the queen is woken up by her attendants, stretched out with their fingers before whoever is next in line gets their turn to fill her with eggs.

While the queen is being mated, bees that are not getting their turn start to leave the hive to forage.

After being filled with eggs, the queen is bathed and fed honey, then given her breakfast. She’s taken to the nursery to attend to the baby bees and gets to choose what to do with her time until lunch.

Some days she has lunch with other hives and visits her sons, other days she walks around the hive and listens to the complaints and suggestions from some bee hybrids, and is often touched and felt up by her subjects.

Then she is mated again, usually the bee hybrids are unable to hold themselves back from mounting their queen when she’s just so pretty!

After that, she is given dinner and put to bed.

When she’s more heavily pregnant, she skips all of this and retires to her room after lunch and is pampered. They massage her, feed her, and just coo over her swollen belly.

Then she’s put to sleep, and the cycle continues the next day.

Want to know more? Send me asks and I’ll explain more bee hybrid lore!

[slightly-knot-insane]

Centaur Riding Class (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 28 [ Greek Mythology ] by @/ozzgin

[ centaur x fem!reader ]

a/n: this is a mini choose your own adventure fic! please vote in the end, let's see who will you end up with :3 content: sfw

Your dear friend insisted on getting some horse-riding lessons. It will be fun, she said. It will occupy your mind, she insisted. And god knows you needed some distraction after that nasty break-up.

What you didn't expect was a centaur riding school. And it's a huge fancy place with massive centaur-oriented houses, porches and pools, and large fields everywhere.

"Don't worry, it's a special place," she winks. You are now not only suspicious but alarmed. Where did she bring you to? As you enter the estate, you notice that both people and centaurs are wearing bathing suits. Wait. No, those are... underwear? And some have nothing at all!

"They are naked!" Your friend clicks with her tongue and pushes you further and into the biggest building, telling you to shut up and stop worrying.

As you enter, you're greeted with a beautiful mare. No, no, they are not mares, they are women! You remember your other friend who dated a centaur told you that centaur folk don't like being called mares and stallions. It's kinda offensive... until you get to bed them. Then it's, apparently, a big turn-on. Do centaurs even have beds?

"Hey!" Your friend snaps her fingers in front of your face. "Stop daydreaming and tell madam what are your preferences."

"Madam? Preferences?"

The lady centaur in front of you delightfully giggles, her long horse legs crossing each other in a rather human-looking way. "So this is your first time in our fine establishment." It wasn't a question.

"I would love to treat her with some free classes." A very handsome stall... I mean, centaur man leans against the wall, eyeing you with a smirk. His black hair and skin are so beautiful and shiny. He must be oiled with something, nobody can glisten like that. He wears a rather posh shirt and vest but they cling to his body like a second skin. You hope nobody noticed you wiping off your drool.

"Oh, our best mentor offers his services?" The madam rolls her eyes playfully. "I thought you weren't interested in any more work today."

"Well..." He flashes a quick smile and his eyes meet yours. "I am now."

"What a schmoozer, oh dear, oh dear, I'm gonna faint!" A muscular female centaur enters the room wiping her neck with a towel while feigning awe. She's only wearing a sports bra, and her exposed abs are covered in sweat. And soon you are. She sticks her tongue out at the male centaur. "Be direct and say that she's super cute and want to mentor her - like I do." She winks and her smile lights up her whole face so that her bright red hair looks like fire.

"I thought you will go home after gym?" Madam asks her and crosses her arms.

"That's true. But if our new visitor decides she wants to give me a chance, I'll take a quick shower and show her some useful moves." Is she flirting with you too?

"Now who's a schmoozer?" The man shakes his head.

Madam looks at you and smiles a graceful elven smile. Can centaurs be elves, too? "Well, these two are our most excellent mentors. I warmly recommend their services and experience. And since they are quite interested, I guess your first time will be on the house. Who will it be?"

[ part 2 ]

[kissthesunandmoon]

To win her hand-part 2~

SMUT! MDNI

(Part one has only been up for about half a day but so far quite a few people seem to like it so I thought I’d hop straight on with a part 2, hope you enjoy. I am so sorry that it is quite long but I felt some build up was necessary, hopefully it’s worth it!)

Making your way up the stairs, your ears finally felt relief from all the obnoxious drunken chatter and cheering, with one final glance back you see your father drinking with the Yautja leader, apparently the two were really bonding over your new union. Truthfully you had genuinely asked Ka’Toah to head back to your room to get to know each other better, away from curious ears and prying eyes, but of course you couldn’t ignore that it was your wedding night. You knew that your culture and his were vastly different, but you could only assume that their traditions of newly weds were the same, what you couldn’t assume was, well…how they were in that department. Through the night of celebrations you had many of your people congratulating you, and most likely due to the drink, you had been let in on the fact that not only did many of your own kind desire the Yautja, but there were a number (higher than you had imagined) of those who had actually pursued them. Both women and men came to you to you telling you stories of their conquests with the god like beings, though you had never asked. Of course these were one nights stands driven by lust and pleasure so you couldn’t fully make your predictions from that alone, but there was one word that you had heard more than a few times. Rough. They were rough, and big. I mean it didn’t take a genius to figure the latter out, your new husband towered over you, he was tall and very muscular. With this in mind it made sense that they would be well endowed to put it politely, and the fact that they obviously weren’t human would account for their apparent roughness. The thoughts consumed you and you found yourself growing nervous, of course you felt comfortable and safe with your new husband, more than you had expected. But the thought loomed over you that you didn’t know him, or why he had even wanted to win your hand in the first place, you had no idea of his intentions and you had never thought to ask. Perhaps he would be rough with you, rougher than you could handle, you were sure he wouldn’t do it intentionally but he could very well end up hurting you. You felt the anxiety building like a knot in your stomach and a cloud in your mind.

The two of you soon came to the door of your room, and once entering you watched as his eyes wandered, curiosity and awe behind them. To call it a bedroom was an understatement with its impressive size, on one side was a large round bed, adorned with silk sheets perfect for the hot climate of your home. There were a few other typical bedroom items, a type of vanity, a seat, but it was none of these items that caught his eye. On the other side however, was something that only a princess could have in her chambers, it looked like either a very large floor level bath, or a small pool. He analysed the slight steam coming from it and he let out another, slightly proud purr when he recognised the heating technology was that of his own. Another generous gift brought to your people by his, a flawless underfloor heating system far more advanced than any created around the world. And of course, straight ahead was an arch that lead to a substantial balcony which like the rest of your room was made from a beautiful, slightly tan marbled stone.

Without even discussing it the two of you instinctively made your way to your balcony looking over your home, the night air was still warm, the sky danced with the lights of the stars and moon, and the sound of vibrant chatter and festivities still hung in the air. You stood quietly for a moment, before he spoke in your own native tongue catching you a little off guard, “You are uneasy of something, Princess” you couldn’t help your smile at both the effort he was clearly putting in to speaking your language which must have been difficult for him, and of course the nickname. Although it was your formal title of course, it sounded sweeter coming from him. But of your smile faded slightly as you processed his words, it wasn’t a question, he wasn’t asking. He knew something was bothering you. You inhaled a breath trying to formulate a sentence in your head, you didn’t want any poor wording offending him. Before you could speak he turned to you, gazing down with gentle eyes, “Are you…having reservations of our union?” You didn’t even hesitate before you replied a loud “No!”, maybe a little louder than you anticipated. “Sorry…I mean no, that isn’t it” you said softer this time, before letting out a small sigh and averting your gaze to the ground. It didn’t take long before you felt a gentle finger under your chin, tilting your head back up to look at him, and you almost melted when you did. His eyebrows were knitted into a look of concern, but his eyes were probably the softest you had seen them, he didn’t push you but gave you a small nod prompting you to explain when you were ready. Taking another shaky breath you knew you owed him an explanation, you hated the idea of him thinking you were having regrets. “It’s just…how do I even say this?” You swallowed hard before continuing, your mouth suddenly dry. “I know now that intimate relationships between our kind are not as uncommon as I had thought, and I know that you would never hurt me…but Im much smaller than you and- I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous, I’m sorry”. You felt the sting of heat in your cheeks, unlike when you had locked eyes however, this was a blush born from embarrassment. You heard that familiar purr you were growing to love as his fingers moved from under your chin, to cup your cheek affectionately, his fingers grazing your hair and you looked up at him again. Once again he spoke in your language with great effort, the moment feeling too important to be communicated through a robotic voice, he needed you to hear him, even if it was slightly broken and his pronunciation flawed. “Do not apologise, I understand I am much larger than you, you fear it will hurt?”. You just nodded shyly at his question and he continued again, the back of his palm caressing your cheek as he did. “I will never do anything to hurt you, but I do not want you to be frightened, we do not need to cross that line if you do not wish to”. You put your hand on his, leaning into his touch, your heart feeling eased by his words, the fact that he was willing to remain without your touch for your own comfort was more than most of the men within your own kind would have offered. “It’s not that I don’t want to…I do, I just-“ you didn’t even know how to finish the sentence, and you didn’t have to. Ka’Toah watched you for a moment, before bending down and scooping you up bridal style and carrying you back into your room, he placed you gently on the floor near your pool. Before you could even process it, he began to rid himself of his armour, you debated averting your eyes but found yourself unable to, staring shamelessly at his now naked body. He then turned stepping into the heated water, then he held a hand out to you. Realising what he was insinuation your breath hitched for a moment, eyes never leaving his and slowly you mimicked him, slowly undressing yourself until you were completely naked as well.

You took his hand and stepped into the water, your size different apparent as the water which reached the middle of your chest, sat just above his hips. He slowly walked backwards with your hand in his until he reached the wall of the pool where there was a ridge to be used as a seat, he sat down and stood you between his legs facing him. You looked at him curiously tilting your head slightly, “We can get to know each others bodies without going all the way, how about we simply get comfortable with each others touch” he explained without you even having to explicitly ask. “Okay” you practically whispered, you stood and watched as his hand found your cheek once again caressing it gently, before it slowly ran down to your jaw and then your neck. You focused on steadying your breathing, enjoying the feeling of his skin. It was so different to your own, but the contrast was absolutely divine. His hands continued, running down your collarbones to your chest, he looked up at you for a moment before touching you there. He was asking for permission, you nodded and he didn’t wait another second before his hands found your breasts, circling your nippled with his thumbs and letting out a deeper purr than you had heard previously. You let out a small gasp, his rough fingers adding just the right amount of friction as he circled, you found your mind wandering, fantasising about how that gentle pressure would feel elsewhere.

Although his intentions were genuinely not to coax you into sex, you found yourself pressing your thighs together to ease the heat building there. His hands moved from your chest, gliding down your waist almost engulfing you with the size difference, those mischievous thumbs once again running down your stomach tracing light patterns. His eyes were focused on your body, memorising every curve, indulging in the softness of your skin. Soon his hands moved down to your hips, running over your outer thighs, you could hear him muttering in his language, you didn’t know what he was saying but from his tone, you could tell they were compliments. No limits to his curiosity he used his hand to gently part your legs, wanting to feel the soft skin of your inner thighs. First he dragged his fingers along the outsides once again with your heart already pounding, before finally they trailed to the insides once again trailing up and down. You figured he mustn’t have known that the inside of the thigh was an extremely sensitive part of a human woman, because his fingers took one particular high drag. And you couldn’t hold it in anymore, your body trembled and you let out a loud gasp, stumbling forward slightly having to steady yourself with firm hands on his shoulders. His hands had gripped you to steady you, and for the first time in a while his eyes met your own, looking slightly alarmed. It didn’t take long apparently though before he recognised the look in your own, finally less distracted by the feel of your body he took a moment to analyse your body, and he realised. Your heart was beating faster, but not like before, not from nerves. Your cheeks slightly flushed, breathing shaky, he could tell without a doubt. You were on fire from his touch, the look in his eyes shifted slightly to one a mix of curiosity and desire. Bringing his hands around the backs of your thighs he gave you a gentle tug closer to him, so close that your front was almost pressed against his own, after all with the height difference he was practically eye level with you despite sitting down. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need words, neither did you. He moved his hands back to the insides of your thighs, trailing up and down once again, but each time he would go higher, and higher. Your breathing became heavy, your hands still gripping his shoulders as you looked down at him. He was teasing you. Just as it almost became unbearable, his hand trailed up and instead of dipping back down, he went higher. Finally pressing his fingers against you, you whimpered slightly eyes still locked in his. He waiting for a moment, as if trying to give you time to back down if you wanted to. But instead your body spoke on your behalf, as completely on their own accord, your hips rocked forward slightly. That was enough for him, his other hand came to wrap around your waist steadying you, and then he began moving his hand. His middle finger began to circle your clit, your body trembled again, the feeling was overwhelming in the best way. One of your hands left his shoulders to cover your own mouth, stifling yourself, but before you could get comfortable his hand at your waist flew up to grab your wrist. Pulling it away he shook his head, tutting at you leaning forward to put his face beside your ear “Now how will I know how good you feel if I can’t hear you?” He cood softly, he let go of your wrist and you wrapped both of your arms around his neck holding him close, keeping his head next to your own discovering you enjoyed his lustful words against your ear. His hand traveled back down, this time resting on your hip.

He continued circling his fingers a little faster now, your hips continued rocking and you didn’t hide your moans this time, he continued to growl and mumble in your ear. Various words of praise guided you through your pleasure, sometimes a little teasing, but you liked it “right there hmm?” “Does that feel good?” “You like that princess?” All of his words bringing you closer and closer, you grabbed at his arm between your legs, panting and gasping. He knew you were close, and he didn’t stop, his fingers worked tirelessly and finally without warning, the band snapped and you let out a strangled moan as you came, his fingers worked you through your orgasm as your moans turned to whimpers, and finally whines of overstimulation. You pulled back looking at him trying to catch your breath. But before you could even wrap your head around what happened, once again he scooped you up causing you to yelp slightly, climbing out of your pool with you in his arms, apparently not caring about the fact the two of you were soaked as he lay made his way to your bed, laying you on your back. He hovered above you slightly as you gazed up at him through your now slightly hooded eyes, he used his hand to brush some of your hair out of your face staring into your eyes. “Beautiful…” he whispered softly to you “We don’t have to do anything else, your pleasure is more than enough-“ he began, but before he could even finish you wrapped your legs around his hips, the fear of pain seemingly long gone from your mind.

He looked at you for a moment his hand gripping one of your thighs at his waist, he needed verbal confirmation from you. “Please” you breathed, your voice slightly weak from your high, and that was all he needed. He began slowly pushing in, you winced from the stretch, your eyes squeezing shut as you subconsciously held your breath. The arm he was supporting himself with next to your head moved to stroke a finger along your cheek, as his the thumb from his other hand make delicate circles on your thigh. “Breathe for me”. You let out a shaky exhale as he pushed in further and further until you were full, and then he stopped waiting for you to adjust to his size. Your hands wandered, gripping his shoulders, biceps, neck, chest-whatever you could find. He lowered himself so that he was almost flush against you, still running his hands along your cheek, your hair, your lips trying to soothe you. If he was honest, he was almost debating pulling out and scooping you up to cuddle you instead, he hated seeing your face scrunch up with pain, your slight whines of discomfort. But then just as he almost did, your face and body relaxed, your breathing steadied and your hands came to rest on his back. Testing the waters slightly, he rolled his hips, not too much but just enough to gauge your comfort. And he found much more, you let out a soft moan as he did so, your legs tightening and your nails digging into his back. And so he did it again, and again, each time pulling slightly further back, rocking his hips just a little harder. And soon, you were a moaning writhing mess beneath him. Your hips moved with him, desperate to feel him, and suddenly the talk of the “roughness” didn’t seem to scare you. “More, please” you managed between your moans, and finally he felt that you were truly comfortable enough for him to let himself go. Two of you losing yourselves in the pleasure together, you didn’t try to be quiet and neither did he. Just as you thought it couldn’t feel any better, he angled his hips differently, so that he went deeper and his pelvis rubbed against your clit. Your moans grew louder as you practically clawed at his back as you felt that familiar build low in your stomach, the new angle along with your nails also edged him towards his own orgasm. Lifting himself slightly he rested his forehead against your own, once again muttering sweet nothings as he felt you tighten around you. “There you go princess, that’s it, right there” and the sweetness of his intimacy collided with the rocking of his hips, and you came undone again. Harder this time, your back arched as your legs shook around him, moaning, panting and gasping. The sight and sound of you pushed him over the edge, as his hand reached under your back, pressing you into him. He let out a deep primal growl, not pulling out as he filled you. You weren’t sure if he could get you pregnant, and you didn’t care. You needed to feel him. Finally the two of you slowed your hips, you stayed there a moment before he finally pulled out. And quickly he sat up against your pillows, pulling you into his lap and against his chest, rubbing your back and running his fingers through your hair. He must have asked you a million times if you were okay, and each time you reassured him. You were more than okay, in fact as you relaxed into him coming down from your second high of the night you only had one thing on your mind. One more couldn’t hurt, right?

(OKAY so I am so sorry that this is so long, but I really hope it was worth it! Once again this is my first time with fanfic so I hope the smut was okay. Let me know if you enjoyed it, and if you want a part three or have any one shot requests!)

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Useless, part 2

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister

Requested: not, no one asked for this, I just felt like writing it. And you guys seemed enthusiastic with that poll so here it is.

Synopsis: you, Sam, and Dean have some things to get used to with him back as a human.

Part 1 is here

Warnings: abuse, addiction, anxiety, reader likes Taylor Swift

Sam was worried.

In the days after you detoxed from demon blood, he had been relieved that you didn’t seem to be afraid of Dean, even after everything he’d done as a demon. Neither you nor Dean would speak about what had happened in those weeks, so Sam had to be content to let things be forgotten. But something about the way you’d been tagging behind Dean at all times was…not normal.

He wondered if Dean saw it too, although he suspected that Dean was so relieved you didn’t hate him that he didn’t notice.

He was wrong; Dean knew exactly why you never left his side.

“Stay close, and don’t try anything. I taught you all of your tricks, so we both know you won’t get away with it.” It was the first time you had been unchained since Dean took you from the bunker, so you decided not to argue with him for now.

It had been four days of the same suffocating motel room, with only Dean and Crowley to keep you company the few times they’d stumbled in, so even the sight of a dingy bar was welcome to you.

Other than Crowley, the whole thing felt almost normal—Dean drinking and trying to pick up the bartender with cheesy pickup lines. If you didn’t currently have demon blood pumping through your veins and cuts on your wrists from where your big brother chained you up, you could almost forget he was a demon.

In fact, it was so normal that you got a little too comfortable. You quickly bored of watching Dean flirt, and you found yourself wandering over to the nearest pool table. You hadn’t even set up the balls yet when a vice grip on your arm froze you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dean spat out through gritted teeth.

“Playing pool.” You scoffed at your older brother, not quite realizing that you were pushing at his fragile nerves. “You’re hurting my arm, let go.”

“I don’t think you’re getting something here, little sister.” Dean drew himself up to his full height, and you suddenly realized just how very small you were. “This isn’t playtime. You don’t get to run around wherever you want anymore, understand? I’m in charge now, and you’re going to do exactly what I say, or I’ll make you regret the day you were born. Now I told you to stay close, and I meant it.”

You opened your mouth to fight—you may be forced to ride along, you may even be forced to drink demon blood, but you weren’t his lapdog, and you wouldn’t be treated like one—but the words died in your throat when you looked up and your eyes were met with black orbs.

Dean wasn’t just Dean anymore. He was capable of…

Of—you didn’t even want to know what.

“I’ll make you regret the day you were born.” Dean’s words echoed in your head. He was just trying to scare you, obviously. Dean…Dean would never hurt you.

Dean turned on his heel and returned to the bar, and you found yourself following. Until you knew exactly what this black-eyed Dean was capable of, it was safer to do what he said. For now.

“That’s what I thought,” Dean grumbled, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his flask. “Drink.”

“But…people…” you glanced around, wary of the other patrons.

Something hard suddenly collided with the side of your face, and the metallic taste of blood followed a sharp pain in your lip. You blinked once, twice, trying to make sense of what just happened. The flask was still in front of your face, only now there was the dark red of your blood staining the side of it.

“I said drink,” Dean growled.

Your bleeding lower lip quivered for a second before dropping open, and Dean tilted the flask up, pouring its contents into your mouth while your distracted mind whirled.

He hadn’t meant to do that, right? Dean had never—never—hurt you. He was just lifting the flask, and your face got in the way. He hadn’t hit you with it—he wouldn’t.

It was just an accident, you told yourself.

The twisted grin on Dean’s face said otherwise.

“Hey, thanks.” Dean’s happy tone caught Sam’s attention, and he looked up to see you handing Dean a sandwich. That was something else—you seemed to be anticipating Dean’s wants or needs and getting ahead of them, like there was some weird telepathic link between the two of you.

You were standing at Dean’s side now, staring at him like you were waiting for something.

“You need something?” It was Sam who spoke up, not Dean.

“N…no.” You took a half-step back from Dean and stared at your shoes like you’d been caught doing something wrong. Sam had no idea what to make of it.

But Dean did.

…

Dean hadn’t even noticed you lingering at his side until Sam questioned you. He turned to look, and he caught your expectant expression for half a second before it dropped, and you were stepping away from Dean.

“N…no,” you mumbled to Sam, looking uncharacteristically guilty.

Dean felt like a rock was lodged in the pit of his stomach. The sandwich, the lingering, the guilt…

It was evidence of a pathway in your mind that Dean had meticulously paved as a demon—give him what he wanted, and nothing bad would happen—and it made him sick to his stomach.

Even now, he watched your hands shaking and knew your subconscious was screaming for blood—because he’d trained you to expect reward.

“Did you clean the guns?” Dean asked you, desperate for a change of topic to ease the tension in the room. You often cleaned the weapons after a hunt, since the brothers rarely let you after the monsters, and it gave you something to do. However, Dean instantly regretted asking when all the color drained from your face.

“I—um—I forgot.” Your hands were fidgeting, and your eyes wouldn’t leave your shoes. “I’m sorry De, I can—I’ll go do it right now. I didn’t mean to—“

“Hey, you ok?” Dean hadn’t noticed Sam crossing the room until he was in front of you, trying to get you to meet his eye as he spoke.

You weren’t ok, and Dean knew why.

Dean had been getting annoyed with Crowley lately. His demons were always under foot, and Dean wanted to teach him a lesson. When one of the demons got a little too close and comfortable, Dean decided to act.

“I want you to exorcise that one,” he muttered to you.

You lifted your head, locking your eyes with the demon he was referring to before looking away quickly.

“De, I’ve never—I don’t know how to—“

“Did I tell you to ask questions?” Dean snapped. Your protests stopped.

“No sir.”

“Good. You know how to do it, you saw Sam do it, and you’ve got demon blood. Now do it.”

You swallowed hard, returning your gaze to the demon whose attention was now elsewhere. Your hand twitched as you focused, the blood pulsing in your veins as pain shot through your head. You winced, feeling hot blood dripping down your nose as you concentrated.

The demon started to cough and gag, black smoke coming out of his mouth. But he didn’t leave his vessel.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Dean mumbled, watching the demon carefully. His eyes switched to you when you gasped in exhaustion, collapsing back into the counter as your strength gave out.

“I can’t,” you whimpered. “I’m sorry—“

Dean didn’t stay to listen.

“I’ll deal with this myself,” he growled, and in two strides he was near the demon, letting his fists loose on him in a firestorm of rage.

You watched in silent horror for as long as you were able, but when the demon’s face was unrecognizable in the carnage and he was sobbing and begging for mercy, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Dean, stop it!” You ran to your brother, but he didn’t give you so much as a glance or a grunt. “Dean, that’s enough!” You grabbed your brother’s arm as he wound up to swing again.

It happened in a flash, and you were flat on your back before you even began to feel the sting on your face. You took a deep breath as your brother continued his attack on the demon, trying to replay the last few seconds in your mind.

Dean hadn’t meant to do that, surely. He was just swinging back to hit the demon, and you’d gotten in the way. He hadn’t slapped you—so hard that you could practically feel your face turning black and blue—on purpose, right?

Of course not. Dean wouldn’t ever hurt you on purpose.

Dean shoved the demon to the ground; he was done. His attention turned to you, but when he saw your pathetic form, battered and barely able to get off the floor, his gaze didn’t soften. He didn’t ask if you were ok, he didn’t apologize for accidentally hitting you.

Instead, his harsh grip yanked you to your feet by the arm, and your back was against the counter before you’d registered that he shoved you.

A cry of surprise and pain escaped your lips when Dean backhanded you across the face.

“Don’t ever tell me what to do again,” Dean growled. “And next time I give you an order, I expect you to do it.”

That hadn’t been an accident. There was no confusing it for anything but what it had been—your big brother slapping you across the face because he was angry with you.

But it didn’t feel right; it didn’t feel possible.

You must’ve deserved it, a voice from the back of your mind said. You got in his way, and he can’t let you do it again. He hit you to teach you—he’s teaching you to protect you.

Everything about that thought felt so wrong. But not nearly as wrong as the truth felt.

“Don’t worry about it, ok?” Dean spoke up. “I needed something to do this afternoon anyway, I’ll take care of the guns.”

You went quiet, slowly nodding as you calmed down.

“I need to go get us some supplies,” Sam cut in, his eyes still trained on you. “You wanna come with, kid?”

Dean watched as your gaze shifted to him, a lingering question in your eyes. You were waiting for permission, whether you knew it or not.

“Y/N?” Sam said, and his voice snapped your attention.

“Oh, um…ok.” You seemed to realize you didn’t need permission, but you were still lingering by Dean’s chair, tension clear in your stance.

“Bring me back some beer,” Dean said, and you seemed to relax a little at the permission implied in his statement. “And pie.”

…

You could feel Sam’s eyes on you as you walked around the store with him. You knew you were acting weird, but you’d spent so long with demon Dean that you weren’t so sure what normal was anymore.

Following Dean and listening to his orders felt so normal, but now even Dean was giving you those worried looks when he caught you lingering.

“Here.” You blinked when Sam waved a water bottle in front of your face. “You look thirsty.”

You lifted your arm to take it, but the second it was in your hands your grip slackened, the bottle falling as a not-so-distant memory knocked you back on your heels.

“If you can’t do a simple thing I ask, then maybe I don’t need you here.” Dean was chaining your wrists as he spoke—something he hadn’t done for a couple of days, because you’d been obedient. “Now you’re gonna learn about consequences, kiddo. And when this is over, maybe you’ll actually be useful.”

You no longer doubted Dean’s willingness to hurt you, so you were prepared for the worst. But you weren’t prepared for Dean to turn on his heel and walk out the door. Hours went by, and every one that ticked on made you realize that this punishment was worse than Dean hitting you. You were desperate for blood—it felt like your bones were drying out, like your powers were seeping through your skin and taking your energy with them. Your nerves were on fire, and you were shaking by the time night fell, but still Dean didn’t return.

You nearly cried in relief when the door opened, and then again in disappointment when you saw not Dean, but one of Crowley’s henchman. He barely gave you a glance as he crossed the room and opened a suitcase.

Just another lapdog fetching something for his master, you thought bitterly. Not like I’m much better.

“Hey.” You spoke up before you’d even made the decision to do so. “Wait, don’t go.”

“I’m here to get something for the king, not to talk to his pet’s pet,” the demon snapped.

“I get it,” you scoffed, “you think I’m some nobody. Not like you’re exactly in charge.”

The demon started to walk towards the door.

“I can help you!” You said. The demon’s step faltered, so you continued. “I have influence. You may hate my brother, but Crowley listens to him, and Dean listens to me.” Dean didn’t listen to you, but hopefully this demon didn’t know that. “So maybe if you do a little something for me, then I put in a good word for you.”

“Why should I believe you have influence?” The demon argued. “You’re in chains.”

“Freedom and influence aren’t the same thing,” you countered.

“Say I did believe you,” the demon ventured. “What would you want from me?”

“You know I’m jacked up on demon blood,” you said, hardly believing the words coming out of your mouth. Maybe you didn’t need to do this, maybe this was how you could stop, maybe Dean cutting off your supply was a blessing.

Then pain shot through your body, cutting off your argument with a whimper as you curled in on yourself.

“Well…” you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to continue. “Well my big brother’s been a little busy lately, and I need a hit.”

“So…some of my blood.” The demon pulled out his knife and held it to his hand, but he didn’t cut. “How exactly could you influence Crowley?”

“What do you want?” You asked.

“I want to be in charge of the crossroads,” he said.

“I’ll tell him you’re the most powerful demon I’ve ever seen, I’ll tell him whatever you want him to hear. Just help me out.”

“Fine.” The demon grunted as he sliced into his palm, grabbing one of the paper coffee cups off the desk and letting his blood drip into it. You waited in agony as the blood slowly filled the cup, before the demon wiped his hand and held the cup out for you.

The cup hadn’t even touched your lips before the door opened, and your whole body stiffened in terror as Dean strode into the room, Crowley at his heels.

“Hey—what—“ Dean watched the scene for less than a second before he had the First Blade in his grip, his eyes pitch black as he yanked the demon away from you, the blood-filled cup spilling on the carpet.

“Wait, wait!” The demon whimpered. “I-I didn’t think you—I didn’t know—“

Dean wasn’t listening. He drove the blade into the demon’s chest, and the demon’s pleading stopped.

“Hey!” Crowley protested. “He was one of my best dealers!”

Dean turned his steel gaze on the king of hell. “He tried to give my sister his blood,” Dean growled. “He got what he deserved.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t done,” Crowley scoffed.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t understand the problem, I can’t help you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, and you curled in on yourself.

“De, I-I didn’t—“

“Oh, you did. You think you’re a big girl now, is that it? A big girl with her big girl powers trying to be big enough to get her own supplier, huh?”

“I-it hurt so much, and I—“

“Did you really have to kill him?” Crowley’s interruption had Dean’s fists clenching as he gritted his teeth.

“She has powers,” Dean spat, furious that he had to explain himself. “And while I’m her supplier, her powers are my powers. So yes, I had to kill him—and you’d better hope the rest of your little demons get the message. She’s mine. No one else feeds her, no one else talks to her, no one else looks at her.” Dean’s eyes were back on you, deep pits that had been haunting your nightmares. “But don’t think this means you’ve got power over me, kiddo. If you’d taken even a drop of that guy’s blood, you’d be dead right now. You’re under my control; you eat when I give you food, you get blood when I give it to you. You’re only breathing right now because I allow it. Forget that again, and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

“Alright, you’ve made your point.” Crowley grunted as he dragged the body to the corner of the room.

“Crowley.” Dean’s eyes never left you as he spoke. “Get out. I need to teach my little sister a lesson.”

“Dean—“

“De, don’t,” you interrupted Crowley. “You-you don’t have to do this. You’re still my big brother.”

A cruel glimmer lit up in Dean’s eye as he started to laugh.

“Aww, isn’t that just sweet. But you’re not gettin this, kiddo.” Dean’s hand was at your neck before you’d even seen his arm move. “I’m keeping you around because you’re useful, and honestly I’m having fun with this.” Dean’s fingers were slowly tightening, and when your attempt to breath came up short you whimpered, your eyes shuttering closed as Dean continued. “But the minute you become more trouble than you’re worth, you’re done, you hear me? I’ll throw you away like trash, and not even Sammy’s gonna want you now, all juiced up on demon blood.”

Sammy didn’t want you anymore. Dean didn’t want you either, not really. All he wanted was to use you…

You weren’t wanted. But if all you could be was useful, then maybe you could do more to be of use to Dean, before he got rid of you.

“Now you crossed a line,” Dean continued while Crowley left the room. “And you’re going to regret it.”

You swallowed hard, willing your shaking hands to still. You knew this was going to be bad, but you were going to take it.

And you wouldn’t give him a reason to do it again. You were going to be useful.

“I don’t want it.”

“What? Kid, it’s just water—“ Sam bent down and picked up the bottle, holding it out for you again.

“No!” You slapped it out of his hands before backing away. “I—I won’t, I won’t do it!” You spun on your heel and ran down the aisle, turning and bolting straight for the door. Once you were outside, you slid against the side of the building and dropped to the ground in the alley, pulling your phone from your pocket and pressing Dean’s number.

“Hey, did they have pie—“

“Dean.” You sniffled, your voice shaking before you swallowed hard.

Get it together, you urged yourself.

“Dean, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Kid, what’s going on?”

“I—I didn’t take it—I’m not—“

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think.

He’s gonna beat me again. He’s gonna abandon me.

“Y/N? Hey, you ok?” Sam was next to you now, shaking your shoulder. He took your phone when your grip faltered. “Dean? Yeah, we…we’re coming home. It’s ok.” He hung up, putting his full attention on you. “Honey, what’s going on?”

“No,” you whimpered. “I can’t do it, he doesn’t want me to.”

“Who?” Sam asked. He put his hands on your shoulders. “What are you talking about? Dean? N/N, he’s not a demon anymore. You’re safe, he’s not gonna hurt you.”

You didn’t respond, so Sam lifted you into his arms and carried you to the Impala.

“It’s ok,” he promised. “You’re gonna be ok.”

You didn’t speak the whole way home, but when Sam parked the car and tried to lead you inside, you froze.

“De’s in there,” you mumbled, and Sam couldn’t tell if you were talking to him or yourself—you looked so out of it.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “But it’s just Dean, he’s not gonna hurt you.”

“He can’t—I can’t let him see me,” you sniffled, rubbing at your tear-stained face. “He can’t see me like this.”

You didn’t know that Dean already had; he was standing at the edge of the hallway, watching as Sam tried to coax you further into the bunker.

He knew exactly why you didn’t want him to see you, and it made his heart twist just thinking about it.

It was a few hours after Dean had beat you for the first time. He’d fed you some of his blood after as a “reward” for taking the beating “without being a wimp.” Then he’d left with Crowley again to get more beers, and when he’d returned he was ready to move on to the next town—this one had gotten boring.

“It’s time to go,” he said, reaching up to unchain you. You didn’t fight, but Dean heard a sound that set his teeth on edge; you were sniffling. “Are you crying?” He snapped.

“I’m-I’m ok, just give me a minute,” you pleaded.

Dean stayed eerily silent, watching you. You ducked your head—you knew he’d seen you crying, but you still didn’t want him to watch.

“So this is what you do when I leave.” Dean shook his head. “Is this what you used to do in the bunker too, when you’d hide in your room?” Dean needled you. “What, you think just because you don’t let us see you cry, that makes you tough?” He scoffed, his hand coming up behind your neck and grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so you couldn’t hide your tears from him. “You’re still crying like a little brat. So no, I’m not gonna give you a minute. I’m not gonna give you a second—you get it together and stop acting like a baby, or I’m gonna beat the weakness outta you, understand?”

A sob escaped your throat before you could stifle it, but when Dean lifted a hand to hit you, you quickly quieted, wiping your tears away and pursing your lips shut tightly.

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, dropping his hand. “I better never see that again, understand?”

“Yes sir,” you promised, getting to unsteady feet and letting Dean lead the way out of the motel room.

“Why can’t Dean see you kiddo?” Sam asked gently.

“I’m weak.” You were desperately wiping at your eyes, but the tears kept coming. “I’m weak and I’m useless and I can’t be!”

Dean had seen enough.

“No you’re not,” he said, cringing when you jumped in surprise. “You’re not weak. It’s ok, you can—“

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, backing away from Dean and wiping your sleeve against your face so hard that you were turning red.

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Dean was in front of you by the time you lowered your sleeve. He raised his hand to wipe away the tears that were still flowing.

Your eyes screwed shut as your shoulders tensed and your whole body flinched. Dean froze, feeling like an ice cube was dropped down his shirt. His hand was shaking as he gently touched it to your face. You flinched again before slowly opening your eyes when you realized he wasn’t hitting you.

“I’m not mad,” Dean said softly. “I’m never gonna hurt you again, ok? I promise.”

You were still crying, so Dean pulled you into his arms. Sam watched helplessly, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he began to realize just how bad your life had been with his demon brother.

“I think we should go for a little drive,” Dean suggested when your whimpers finally faded away. “I’ve got some things to say to you.”

You were shaking like a leaf, but you didn’t say no. Sam just watched as Dean slowly led you out to the Impala, and he couldn’t help but think this was a horrible idea.

…

He’s never coming back. He doesn’t want me anymore. I’m all alone.

Every time Dean left you alone, the worries started. If he decided you were too much extra weight, you’d have nowhere to go and no one that would take you in—no one would want a demon blood addict. Sam would be so ashamed of you.

“Hey!” Dean snapped his fingers in front of your face, and you flinched. “Would you pay attention? I’m back, that means get up and let’s go.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, jumping to your feet and grabbing the bag Dean had bought you, which was always packed. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” he grumbled.

“Ah good, you’re still here.” Crowley said after opening the door without knocking. “I think we need to have a little conversation. About her.” Crowley nodded his head in your direction.

“Go ahead,” Dean answered. “She won’t mind.”

Your hands were fidgeting in your sleeves while Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Fine. I’m sick of dragging the kid around. She’s useless—“ he glanced at you— “no offense.”

“I told you already Crowley; she stays with me.”

“She can’t even do anything with that blood you gave her,” Crowley shot back. “Just leave her here for Moose to find. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

Your heart was in your throat, your attention fully on your big brother as he pondered Crowley’s suggestion.

“Dean, I’m—I’m trying. I’ll learn to use my powers, I promise!” Dean didn’t even glance your way, and you started to get frustrated, your anger directing itself as Crowley as you stepped towards him. “You can’t just—“

“Hey.” One of Crowley’s goons—who had trailed in behind the king—stepped in your way, his hand raised like some kind of secret service agent. “Back off.”

“Screw you!” You yelled, raising your hand and screwing your eyes shut in concentration.

For a long, sickening moment, you thought nothing was going to happen.

Then the demon started to scream.

You waited until the screaming stopped to open your eyes. The demon’s vessel was sprawled out on the floor, groaning.

“Hey!” Crowley snapped. “You can’t just—“

But you weren’t listening. You didn’t see anything in the room except for Dean’s proud grin.

“I knew keeping you around was a good idea,” he chuckled, pulling out his flask. “Drink up kid, you earned it.”

All you had to do was be useful, and you’d never be alone.

Was Dean angry? Probably—you hadn’t remembered to clean the guns, and then you’d ditched him to go to the store with Sam, and then you’d cried.

He doesn’t want me anymore. He’s going to kick me out of the car and leave me.

Your heart was beating nearly out of your chest, so loud in your ears that you wondered if Dean heard it. He was silent beside you, even though he’d said he wanted to talk to you, which made you even more sure that he’d brought you out here to leave you.

“We gotta fix this,” Dean said finally.

Fix what? Fix me?

“It can’t keep going like this.”

So he does want to get rid of me.

“You hearing me, kid?” Dean asked.

You didn’t know what to say, so you responded automatically.

“Yes sir.”

“No, I…ok.” Dean sighed, turning the Impala into a near-empty parking lot. “Let’s try this.” He parked the car, then stared at you for a long minute. “You gettin out?”

Your hands were shaking as you glanced out the window, then back at Dean.

This is it. He doesn’t want me anymore. He’s abandoning me.

…

Dean’s hands were tight on the wheel as he drove, the silence beyond awkward. You sat tensely beside Dean the whole car ride, not saying a word. He knew he was still scaring you, but he just didn’t know how to fix it.

“You hearing me, kid?” Dean asked, turning to glance at you.

“Yes sir,” you answered.

Dean’s heart dropped—he really was scaring you.

“No, I…ok.” Dean sighed, pulling into a cafe parking lot. “Let’s try this.” Maybe it was being stuck alone in the Impala that was making you nervous—maybe if he got you around people, you wouldn’t be as scared of him.

He parked, but you still didn’t move—if anything you seemed even more scared and tense.

“You gettin out?” He asked. That was, apparently, the wrong thing to ask, though Dean didn’t understand why.

Your hands were shaking so bad that your sleeves were fluttering, and it looked like you’d stopped breathing.

“I can do better.” Your voice came out barely above a whisper. “Please don’t leave me here, Dean. I’ll do whatever you want, I promise!”

“Hey, whoa, what?” Dean stiffened in his seat. “Leave you—kid, what are you talking about?”

“I-I know I’ve been screwing it up all day, but I’ll do better, I swear!” You pleaded. Dean still had no idea what you were talking about. “Just don’t make me go, please don’t make me.”

“Hey, hey, stop.” Dean reached out and grabbed your hands, trying to ignore the way you flinched. “Stop it. I’m not leaving you here, I just—I’m trying to talk to you.”

“You’re not mad?” You were curled in on yourself, staring up at Dean and looking about 3 feet tall.

“No.” Dean spoke gently, deliberately. “Of course I’m not mad at you. But things have been different since…since everything. And I want to fix it. I don’t want you to look at me like I…”

Like I’m a demon. Like you think I’m gonna hurt you.

You were relaxing, slowly but surely.

“So…so you’re not gonna leave me out here?”

“Why do you keep asking that?” Dean demanded.

“I just…you threatened to do it so many times before…” you weren’t looking at Dean anymore, your eyes trained on your lap. Dean’s heart twisted in his chest, and it took a moment before he was breathing again.

“I was a demon, kid. And that doesn’t make up for any of the crap I said to you—but I don’t feel that way, not for a second. I’d never leave you behind, never.”

You kept babbling on.

“I know I’m not as useful anymore—“

“Hey,” Dean interrupted. “Kid, we talked about this. Don’t you remember?”

“I guess, I just…” you sigh. “I wasn’t sure if…if you meant it, or if you just felt bad.”

“Every word. I meant every word,” Dean assured you. “I know you’re still scared of me, but you don’t have to be. That stuff I did won’t ever happen again, ok?”

“Ok,” you mumbled, but you didn’t sound so convinced.

“How about this.” Dean sighed heavily. “How about…we talk to Sam about what happened. It’s not gonna be fun, but maybe he can help us. He’s about as close to a therapist as the two of us are gonna get, and he keeps us in check. If you start gettin scared, he’ll understand. And if I start being a jerk, he’ll knock me into shape. Sound good?” Dean felt the pain in his chest easing as he watched you become less and less tense.

“Sounds…better than nothing,” You decided.

“Good. Let’s head back then.” Dean started up the Impala and swung the car into a u-turn.

“Hey Dean?”

Dean hummed.

“I’m trying not to be scared of you.”

Dean offered you a faint smile.

“I know kid.” He sat in silence for a minute before a grin lifted his features. “How’s this for not scary?” He reached down under his seat and pulled out a cassette, popping it into the player. “I was gonna give you this on your birthday.”

The opening notes to your favorite Taylor Swift song started playing, and Dean laughed at your shocked expression.

He started to sing along with the tape, but he didn’t get a single word right.

“You’re doing it wrong!” You insisted, smacking Dean on the arm. But you were smiling more than Dean had seen in weeks.

“No, I’m not.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810 @tell-elle

[smileyoongle]

Pairing- VampireKing!Jungkook × Human!Reader

Genre- Arranged Marriage AU (Sort of?), Enemies to Lovers, Soulmate AU

Summary- Jeon Jungkook was known to be a tyrant, destroying anything and everything to get what he wanted. And this time, he wanted you.

Warnings- Mentions of blood, gore and murder scenes, eventual smut, JK is definitely a hard dom and mad possessive, vampire bites and blood sucking.

A/N- Even though I have tagged the people who asked to be tagged, there will be no taglist for this series from here on. I only tagged you guys to sort of let you know this series has started. It's a big struggle to keep all those usernames up to date so you might wanna turn on the notifs :)

Please find the introduction to the world of Amour Mort here!

You ran through the forest, tears in your eyes making it difficult to see the path ahead, but you could tell you were venturing deeper into the more dangerous side. At the back of your mind, you were very aware that you shouldn’t be here past midnight, and that if someone found you breaking curfew, you would probably be executed by the throne, thinking you were some sort of rebel revolting in the recent uprisings. But all of that paled in comparison to the despair gnawing at your soul.

The branches clawed at your skin, leaving angry red marks, but you didn’t slow down, only realizing you had come here barefoot when tiny stones began hurting the bottom of your feet. You were being chased—not by a person, but by your own thoughts and the relentless ache in your chest. Your father’s words would not stop playing in your mind, your palms pressing against your ears as you closed your eyes in an attempt to silence his voice.

"You're nothing but a burden to me. I wish you had never been born!"

Suddenly, a sharp pain seared through your right foot, sending you stumbling and falling to the ground with all the air being knocked out of your lungs. You winced, letting out a whimper as you managed to look back, gasping at the bear trap that had clamped around your foot. Its teeth dug into your flesh, and blood pooled on the dead leaves beneath you.

“No…” you cried out, sobbing at your misfortune, the pain from your wound shooting through your leg in waves. A thought came to you: maybe this is how you die, completely alone and unloved, with no one to care that you weren’t at home right now.

‘That’s not true! Lila cares…’

Your mind screamed at you, your sister’s pretty face popping into your head. Well, this was true; your sister did care about you. But really, there was only so much she could do when your father did not even acknowledge you as his daughter. You still remembered the party where a guest mistook you for a maiden working in the mansion. It had truly hurt you, but there was nothing you could say, not when that is probably what your father wanted the world to think. A part of you thinks he hates you because your mother died just five days after you were born, but how could you, a mere baby, be at fault for that?

Gathering all your energy, you began to drag yourself to a tree nearby, wincing and whimpering with every wave of pain that washed over you. You could even feel the burn on the skin of your forearms where it rubbed against the rocky and muddy ground, convinced that the sleeve of your dress was beginning to tear. Were you even going to make it back home? Did you even want to make it back home?

Upon reaching the giant tree, you pushed yourself up, managing to rest your back against the trunk, finally getting a good look at the steel trap wrapped around your foot. Meant for animals, it was likely a tool for the poorer vampires who couldn’t afford human slaves and fed on animal blood instead. It was the one law that favored humans: vampires were forbidden to feed on them freely. But nonetheless, it was always the innocent ones who had to pay the price. The night-walkers were given the gift of strength and brutality that they used against the weak, be it you or an animal.

Your chest rose and fell quickly, your breathing growing harsh, and your vision growing blurry. It was the blood loss, and you couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. Either you were getting used to it, or your body had started focusing on the fact that you were dying instead. Whatever was happening, it was not good, and you had no idea how to help yourself.

“You shouldn’t be here. Not at this time.” A voice broke through the darkness, making you jump in surprise, your eyes immediately landing on a man’s silhouette standing just a few steps away from you. Your heart hammered in your chest, and, swallowing thickly, you pressed yourself further against the tree, hoping that would make you disappear.

Was this someone who was going to turn you in? Maybe the cause of your death was going to be execution and not a bear trap?

Your silence only prompted the man to move closer to you and into the moonlight filtering through the trees, your lips parting as you took in his face. He was truly breathtaking, with black hair that fell across his forehead and eyes that seemed to pierce through the night. There was black ink peeking at you from under the collar of his black shirt on his neck, more patterns emerging from under his rolled-up sleeve right up to his knuckles, making you wonder just how much of his body was tainted like this.

“N-neither should you,” you said bravely, though your voice was small and weak.

He chuckled in response, making you purse your lips as you watched him kneel down beside you, your body subconsciously shifting backward even though there was nowhere to go, every single thought in your mind long gone in the presence of this man.

His eyes slowly moved across your body, taking in your tear-stained cheeks, your tattered dress, and your bloody foot, tutting at the condition of your wound.

“This is why you shouldn’t be here, little human,” he said, your eyes widening as you caught a hint of amusement on his face, your blood running cold at the realization. Your breath was caught in your throat, and you were suddenly very aware of the blood you were soaked in, your eyes nervously flitting between him and your poor foot. If you had to die, you didn’t want to do so at the hands of a vampire. In fact, you couldn’t even imagine the pain that was probably about to suffocate you when he ripped your heart right out of your chest.

“Please don’t kill me,” you begged, staring into his eyes with tears in yours, shaking your head when he smirked and leaned in closer to you. Closing your eyes, you let the tears fall freely and turned your face away from him, his breath fanning your neck and making you whimper.

“You must taste exquisite.” He inhaled deeply, your chest heaving as his words made your heart thump harder in your chest. This has to be it. He was going to drain your body right now, and no one was going to find out ever.

Preparing yourself for the attack, you closed your eyes shut and gripped the skirt of your dress, thinking about your family for the last time before your life was taken from you.

“But I’m not going to do that.” Came his voice, your eyes slowly opening as you glanced over at him, noticing the sudden distance he had put between the two of you. A frown etched on your forehead, your tears drying up on your cheeks as you processed his words. He was not going to hurt you?

“I’m too old to lose control over a bit of blood.” He gestured nonchalantly towards your foot, shocking you at how he thought this was just a bit of blood. You were literally going to pass out soon.

“Wh-why are you here?” you stammered, biting your tongue when his expression hardened, his eyes sending daggers your way and letting you know that you shouldn’t have asked him that. Silence engulfed you both, your eyes failing to look away from him. It was almost as if he was holding you prisoner under his gaze, a flash of guilt disappearing from his dark eyes as soon as it came.

“I had to get away before they caught up to me,” he confessed, a cool breeze ruffling his hair as he stood up and stared down at you, his eyes reading the confusion in yours.

“Who-”

“My sins,” he responded before you could even ask, his thick boots crunching the leaves on the gravelly path as he walked in front of your stretched-out leg and sat down on one knee. A flash of lightning struck through the sky at that very second, as if to show that the heavens had heard his confession too. And when the thunder illuminated his face, you could swear you had seen the very face of evil.

“Are you scared of me?” he asked, tilting his head as you swallowed thickly, shaking your head hesitantly. But you knew he didn’t believe you when he let out a small laugh. It sounded bitter to your ears, like he was mocking you for being so weak yet trying to fool him at the same time.

“Well, you should be.” In one quick motion, his hand ripped apart the trap into two pieces, your flesh being freed from the sharp claws that were jammed into it. Dots filled your vision as your lips parted in a silent scream, your chest hurting as if you were having a heart attack, and maybe you were because you felt your body go limp as your eyes rolled back into your head.

Strong arms held you before you could hit the ground, your head suddenly resting against a firm chest as your breath came out all raggedy. You could feel sweat beading on your forehead, your body not having any energy to even let you open your eyes for a second.

“W-why…” you breathed out, your voice a bare whisper in the night. And the next thing you knew, you felt a hand pressing against your lips before a metallic taste filled your mouth. With all the energy left in you, you opened your eyes wide and grabbed the tattooed arm feeding you blood, your attempts at pushing it away failing miserably.

“Sshh, you need this. You need me,” the vampire whispered above you, his chin resting atop your head as he ran his free hand through your hair. Knowing that you couldn’t fight him off, not like this, you gave up and swallowed the disgusting liquid that made your body feel warm all of a sudden. You could hear your heart pumping and your breathing steadying as the blood worked its way into your system, your senses sharpening, and your strength slowly returning.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled his arm away, and you let out a string of coughs, gasping for air while the awful taste lingered on your tongue. It was truly ironic how the blood of someone dead could heal a living being. How a killer could give life to someone. And you were sure that this man who had saved your life was a killer too. Why else would he talk about his sins catching up to him?

“What did you do that you had to run away?” you asked as soon as you found your voice, your tired eyes glancing up at the man holding you. His eyes flitted between your eyes and your lips, sending shivers down your spine when he brought up his thumb and rubbed away some blood from the corner of your mouth.

“What’s your name?” He avoided your question smoothly, pretending you hadn’t spoken a word to him. Frowning, you thought about it for a moment, wondering whether it was a good idea to tell him who you were. But at the same time, you weren’t a very valuable human. There was really nothing he could want from you that would make him hunt you down.

“Y/N,” you said, averting your gaze to your foot, which was now void of any wounds. Your skin looked completely smooth and untouched except for the dried blood staining it, leaving you staring in awe.

“Well, Y/N,” he started, regaining your attention, “you’re gonna find out tomorrow.”

You frowned at his words, wondering if this implied that he was going to see you tomorrow to tell you what sin he had committed. Too lost in your head to notice that he had stood up, you saw him offer his hand to you. Your fingers hesitantly took hold of his cold ones. With ease, he pulled you up as you slightly lifted your dress and examined your foot, pleased with the fact that there was absolutely no pain anymore.

“This is-” You turned to glance at the man, only to be met with darkness. The vampire was gone, the forest was silent, and you were alone once again.

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @girl8890 @adasboredom @acrazybiotch374 @tutnotmytea @leilei-9 @yoonjinhusbands @kumakoyan @ttanniett

[simpingforbots]

Big Scary Grandpa

You sighed heavily as you were brought along to this school trip, looking out of the window and watching trees pass by. You were the only one out of entire group of teens soon to be adults who were actually interested in Transformers life besides the war they had for over millennia, and were looking forward to learn something new besides what yoou can scavenge in books. As a kid you were always interested in ufo and if there was life out there, finding human history growing boring, dull and repuitative. And for that you did not had much of friends, it did not helped that you were also a new student in this school, another reason to be shunned by your classmates. Finally the bus stopped in front space bridge memorial and every one rushed out, to tiered of seating inside the yellow bus and wanting to roam around, not paying attention to their teacher an curator, who was already panicking about how many of them there were and that no one was paying attention. You only rolled your eyes and decided to stick around the lady, who was now struggling to gather every one else around and in the end just gave up, proclaiming that teens were free to roam inside the memorial ground and to not leave, with which it was greeted with cheers and the crowd dispelled quickly. You were left alone, next to the curator, who seemed to sort of relieved that they won’t have to deal with kids, quickly pulling the teacher aside to have a chit-chat. You sighed and looked around, trying to find something for you to do, which is probably the best will be paying respects.

With every one scattered you walked towards the murals, activating the hologram of cube with flowers. From what you read so far every flower represented a life lost, both transformers and human alike, in this great and horrible war. You walked up to it, looking at it in silence, paying your own little tribute to those who fell. Such a horrible thing and hardly any one of your classmates respected. You just stood in silence, pondering to your self, then looked around for a bench in secluded place to read the book you brought from library, plunging in to the history you were promised to hear about.

Megatron watched from a far at the bus pulling up and the kids pooling out from it, immideatly scattering around, not paying attention to any thing or even respect the place they were in, making him huff with anger. A chuckle escaped from the side and he turned his head slightly to look at Prime, who looked at those youngling with soft smile.

“Don’t blame them. The young generation ususaly do not want to sit down and listen to anything. It hard to get their attention unless it’s something flashy”

“Still, those young one do not have any respect at all.” Megatron grumble, shifting from one leg to another, crossing his arms on his chest. The whole reason for them being here was because the school organised some special event and they were invited to teach kids about their past or something like this, yet it seamed like it will be a waste of time completely, but hey, who’s gonna complain about not being surrounded by little annoying kids who clearly had no respect and were going through puberty or what ever humans called it. Letting another angry huff until he noticed one human, apart from the small groups formed by other teens, walking over to the cube and staying there, silent, not moving or doing anything, just being still. Then they moved from the glowing replica of the cube towards stone monuments with carve in names, walking slowly and then they looked around, spoting something and heading towards a lone bench, far away from all the ruckus, seating down and pulling a book out.

Megatron was a bit taken back by what kind of book this little human had – it was a book on his kind history, crudely translated in to human language, but still, it was nice to see some human finally doing something respectful in this place, besides Terrans and Dorothy’s kids. Prime walked off to try and talk to kids, to do what he was invited for to begin with, which quickly got every teen’s attention, except one, letting them bombard him with questions about him and his weapons, as per usual. He continued watching the small little human from a far, until he sort of felt like he wanted to speak to them. After all, it will be boring just to stand here doing nothing while there was someone who clearly interested in their history.

Trying his best not to scare them, yet seeing how engrossed they are in the book, Megatron slowly walked over, doing his best to not shake the ground to much, knowing well how human are sensitive to big bot’s steps, able to detect , but it really did not take much effort to get close by this one’ side and get comfortable on the ground. It’s was really stupid just how blind they are to their surroundings, but it is usually in such situation when one wears glasses. It can only provide this much of field vision, leaving peripheral quite bad and an open spot for something to sneak on upon them. So he just set there, quietly, time to time glansing up to look at other kids, who still did not see him, or wanted to see, instead engrossed in conversation with Prime and now Elita-one. You still stayed focused on the book and after some time you seemd to finally move, come back in to reality only to freeze up. Here we go.

You were so in to the book, that you did not feel anything, heard or saw. You did not feel ground shake lightly beneath the heavy peds, someone grunting as they set by your side and them just being next. You just continued reading your book, ingrossed in different world history and the hardships of civilisations, before the war. Only when you moved to get some water that you noticed something in the corner of your eyes, turning to see someone from your class only to jump inside your skin at seeing a huge foot of a big robot, who was seating by your side, just quietly. Slowly looking up, your eyes widen in shock that it was someone that was not so well liked by population, yet you were not scared, just shocked that he was there and next to you, without much noise that would alert you o him.

“What are you readin, young one?” he asked while rising one of his metal eyelids and coking his head to the side.

“Cybertron history” you replied, closing the book with finger inbetween the pages and showed the cover to the big bot, who seemd tiered. You always felt like he looked tiered and despite his history, felt like he really regretted the war he was involved in. You knew that he was problbay instigator, yet something told you there was more to the story then meets the eye.

“And how do you find it?” Megatron eyes focused on the title, happy to see that it was not about the war, but the times before. Primus, he wished he never started this war, but inequality was relay weighting on him down back then, and blinded by the rage, he did not expected it to last this long, with so much casualties, so many life’s lost to it.

“It’s good..." you glanced down, felling cold chill running down your spine. You were scared and rightfully so. He was big, scary and you were small, fragile and weak. But with how he acted so far, you felt so stupid for being scared. Swallowing your fear, you looked up at him, fixing your glasses “Was... How was it like?”

“What do you mean, little one?” shifting a bit, Megatron asked, confused for a second. Did this human was really engaging with him, and not asking about war.

“Before.. war. How was Cybertron?”

It took a few second for Megatron to even clock in what the little human just asked. They were asking about the Cybertron, life before the war, and from the eyes he got, he can see they were quiet interested in this. So why not to indulge the little ones curiosity for a bit. Shifting to be even more comfortable he started telling the little one about the life before the war he started, how it was and all the hard ships of the life, corruption and other stuff. Your eyes seemed to light up as he spoke abut the life, shifting to be able to face him without trouble, moving your body to fold your legs, completely focused on him. He was taken back by such undivided attention, but in a pleasant way, shifting as well, happily continuing his story telling, with a few gesticulations, forgetting the cold stares he is so used form other humans, finally able to see another human as a friend. Slowly the story telling of history slowly changed in to life stories, talking the kid about funny situation Megatron found him self and his fellow miners, earning a few chuckles from the small one.

The time sadly passed to quickly and when an adult suddenly interrupted him, Megatron glared to the side, only to realise he just scared the teacher you arrive with to death, their eyes wide and body stiffened, almost ready to bolt any second like some doe, caught of guard. Looking around, the sun was slowly going behind horizon, bathing the sky on orange and red hues, with chill slowly settling in to the air. All the students were in a bus by now, staring at two of them from “the safety of the vehicle”, some even pulled their phones out. Damn teens and their “smart phones” and they need to record every thing. Letting out a heavy huff of disappointment, Megatron got up, with a few grunts, acting as a signal for you top get up as well and collect your thing. You still shined brightly with happiness and curiosity, yet it slowly deemed as the teacher, blabbering about something Megatron did not paid attention at all, garbed you by your hand, dragged you away. Raising his servo, big bot slowly waved a goodbye, watching you being dragged away, able to hear other human teens howling abut you being in trouble, yet he felt that he was forgetting something.

“Wait”  bot held his hand out, his voice still soft though poor human adult froze in spot, turning around slowly while you only coked your head to the side like some kind of puppy. “What is your name, young one?”

“Y/n” you smiled, softly “It was nice meeting you mister Megatron”

“it was nice meeting you too”

With nothing else, you were dragged away and the bus left, leaving the place get shrouded in last light of fading behind horizon, before the Spacebridge Memorial got draped in darkness, with weak light of light pole slowly flickering back to light, drowning the place in silence after hours of happy chatter. Letting a heavy sigh, Megatron crossed his arms on his chest, letting him self process just what he has done. He talked to a human for hours without a worry, like he would with Dorothy and her kids, giving him sort of peace of mind that there is another human who does not sees him as Megatron, the leader of Decepticon’s. A snicker brought him back from his thoughts, turning aorund and staring at Elita and Optimus, who were looking at him with a very familiar glint in their opticks and smirks. Oh, what now?

“What?” he snorted out, baring his denta a bit, not really in a mood for any of their teasing.

“Youi seamed to found a new friend?" Elita chuckled, walking over and punching Megs in his shoulder in friendly matter.

“I have not” rolling his eyes, Megatron grumbled, praying that there will be some kind of mission to call them suddenly so that they can forget this whole thing, well they could, he will cherish it.

“I heard that this school had some planes on returning” Prime “pondered” out loud, smirking and squinting at Megatron, with his antennas moving a bit, but it all he had to say to quickly get reformed decepticon’s attention. It will be nice to see you again. And hopefully soon. After all he had a lot more stories to share.

[sich-sehnen]

Eternally Bound Part Two

Synopsis- König, God of the sea and its creatures, isn't known for his even-tempered personality. Swift to anger with a blood thirst to match, he had made a reputation for himself. So why does he look like a lost puppy begging for scraps of attention?

Category- Still have no idea what the fuck the category is for this. I might categorize this after it's all written.

Warnings- Kind of based on Eros and Psyche's story if you squint really fucking hard, captor/captive situation, not really any warnings for this one but I am writing as I go so whatever I have planned for this might end up differently by the time I get to it.

Notes- Hello welcome to part two! I'm low-key obsessed with Greek mythology and its overall vibe, and I love how all the stories of love are just gods whipped for their women. So this is how Eternally Bound will play out; with our big boy wrapped around our fingers. There is a specific way I imagine 'human' König (here) in this story but overall he will be a massive, thousand-foot-tall being that reigns over the ocean and its creatures. I am using DeepL Translate for a more (hopefully) authentic translation than Google Translate.

Wordcount- 2,541

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

You wake up in a strange place. The last thing you remember is the dark unforgiving cold of the ocean, pulling you down into the depths of its maw until the reaper plucks your soul from the mortal realm.

Memories flash before your eyes, your mind throbbing with a piercing pain. Brief images of glowing, white eyes. Steady, strong hands.

Curling, writhing, gripping.

Burning, pressure.

Relief.

Nothing.

The bright light of the sun sparkled above you, its shining rays only obscured by the crumbling stone overhead. Something dripped, its constant echo reverberating throughout the seemingly forgotten temple.

You were lying on something soft, your legs tangled in something silky. It took a moment for you to gain your bearings, to realize you weren't dead.

Pulling yourself into a seated position was hard, your aching bones still etched with the remnants of the frigid water. You were on a large bed, pearly white, silk sheets wrapped around your naked body. Large bedposts rose high and dark, whispy fabric draped from one corner to the next creating a sheer barrier between you and the crumbling temple around you.

It seemed odd, the contrast of the beautiful bed and fabrics so different from the mossy, cracked structure you resided in. The only thing more beautiful than the bed was the pool that lay in the middle of the large room. Its water was crystal clear, small ripples caressing the edge of the pool's confines.

You gently swing your legs over the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold floor. You almost want to crawl back into bed, to succumb to the sleep your body was begging you for. But your curiosity had always been your downfall.

Wrapping the silk sheets around your body, you slowly walk to the water's edge. It looked deep, from what you could see, the water growing darker the further down it went.

You couldn't see a bottom.

You look around, noting the absence of a door or hallway on the four walls surrounding you. Just the expanse of intricate stonework, pillars, and arches. It was exquisite architecture, in all honestly, if it hadn't looked like it was one wayward bump from falling to pieces.

There wasn't a way out, to your dismay. Only up through the open roof, or down into the depths of the pool.

You were looking at the water once again, entranced by the glittering ripples and many little fish that swam close to the surface. Reaching a hand in, you intend to play with the guppies but the moment your finger breaches the waterline the temple rumbles.

Glowing white eyes, the ones still haunting your memory, open far below the surface. The water was pitch black, obscuring anything but those eyes. You were pinned the moment you met them.

They begin to grow closer and you scramble back, your palms scrapping against the rough stone in an attempt to scurry faster. You couldn't see the depths anymore, only the silvery line of the surface.

Your back hits a pillar and yet you're unable to take your eyes off of the pool in the center of the room.

Suddenly, something breaches the surface. It was dark and clothlike, the object rising to reveal crudely cut eyeholes, a bare chest, a soft stomach, and long powerful legs.

The man stepped out of the pool, water droplets dripping off of him as he stepped forward.

"Keine Angst, Kleines, du bist sicher." (Fear not, little one, you are safe.")

You stare blankly at him, his words foreign to your ears. Your heart was thumping against your ribcage, its erratic pace threatening to burst through your chest.

"Wha- I."

The man tilts his head, the dark fabric covering his face shifting with the action. He looked every bit as regal as he does menacing, with gold-trimmed cloth covering his modesty. It was such a stark comparison to his tattered, stained mask.

He stepped forward and your instincts finally kicked in.

Shooting up to your feet, you book it as far as possible. Which wasn't very far despite the vastness of the room. You couldn't help the pathetic cry of frustration that ripped its way out of your throat.

Yet again you managed to become a prisoner with nowhere to escape as your captor closes in on you.

"Stay away!"

You bark, trying with all your might to sound intimidating. You fail, the quiver to your voice betraying you. In your futile attempt at an escape, you trip over the silks wrapped around your body. The yards of fabric weighed you down, yet you refused to drop them, refused to expose yourself.

He stepped forward once again, his blue eyes capturing you. He looked almost worried, his form slightly crouched and his palms presented to you as if you were a wounded animal.

"Bitte, ich will dir nichts Böses." (Please, I mean you no harm.)

You clutch the silk at your chest, pulling it tighter around your body as you feel along the floor, not wanting to take your eyes off of him.

"I do not understand."

You search for something jagged, the pile of debris at your fingertips offering you only a pointy rock. You hold it up as he stalks forward.

"I-"

He clears his throat.

Then he steps closer, his long legs carrying him to you faster than you would have liked. He kneels before you and grasps your shaking hand in his. The rock is plucked from your fingers and gently placed on the ground.

He doesn't let go of your hand.

"I do not mean harm."

His voice was thick with an accent when he spoke your language, his tongue stumbling over the words as if he hadn't spoken them in such a long time.

"Stay away from me."

Your words were steady now that you had an understanding, but the debilitating panic still swarmed all around you. You watch as he stands to his full height and looks down on you, his eyes still kind and gentle.

He sighs, his chest heaving with the action, and steps back. It felt like you could breathe a little more, and think a little more with the couple feet of distance between the two of you.

There was a beat of silence where he just stared at you, those swirling pools of blue never once leaving your cowering form. He turns his back on you after a while, your trance broken as you watch him go to the water.

He steps in, walking deeper until you can't see him anymore. You wait three minutes. For what you do not know.

For him to resurface?

For bubbles to rise instead, his lifeless body sinking to the bottom?

You scramble to the water's edge, eyes scanning the depths to ensure he is truly gone. You didn't care whether he was dead or not. So why are those sad blue eyes haunting you?

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

You don't know when you crawled back into that bed, you only knew that when you woke up, you were surrounded by fluffy pillows and thick blankets.

The lingering chill of the morning had you burrowing into the nest that had been formed around you, your mind not catching up to the present as you chased a quickly fading dream of warm hands and soft eyes.

You toss and turn, the room quickly becoming too hot for the duvet on top of you. When you toss them off your body, your sleep-addled mind and body waking up, you notice three things.

There was now a table at the bedside.

A bowl of fruit, a pitcher of crisp water, and a set of clothes rest on the rich brown wood of said table.

And the room looked different.

Instead of the deterioration that you awoke to yesterday, the temple floor was free of wreckage. No longer were there large boulders and piles of jagged rock at your feet. You could see, now that it was clean, that the floor was a beautiful, shiny marble. Now that it wasn't covered in the dust the crumbling debris caused, you could fully see the glory that was the temple.

Notes of pearl swirled along with the midnight black of the marble floor. The stonework, although still falling apart at the seams, lacked the moss and algae that muddled the gorgeous pattern etched into its surface.

It looked as if it had come alive, like you should expect a Priest or Priestess to saunter in covered head to toe in deep blue robes. Yet, despite all the change, there still wasn't a door leading out. Instead of a prison, you were now trapped inside a gilded cage.

Hesitantly, you toss the sheets off of your body and grab the soft clothing off the table. The gauzy fabric was smooth against your fingertips. White, pearlescent ruffles make up the entirety of the garment with a long, opaque, muted blue slip for modesty.

It was as extravagant as the temple around you and as it slid over your body you felt as if you belonged. Like you were made to spend your days among the worshipers of whomever this temple was dedicated.

The only thing that was keeping you from truly appreciating the beauty that surrounded you was the man who plagued your dreams. Surely he was the one to bring you food and clothes? Was he the one who cleaned? How was he able to come and go when there wasn't a door or hallway?

You couldn't imagine one person, no matter how strong they looked, picking up the massive boulders and disposing of them. Where would have have disposed of them anyway?

You chalk everything up to a trick of the mind. At first, you were focused on the water, then the man, and then everything was a blur after that. Maybe you imagined the decay that tormented the beauty of the room.

A sudden, piercing growl emitted from your stomach and you were torn away from your wondering thoughts. When was the last time you ate?

How long have you been in this place?

When you reach for the bowl of fruit, you realize just how hungry you are. Even if the delicious mango, banana, strawberries, and melon stopped the churning of your stomach and quenched your thirst, you needed something more susceptible than fruit. But it was all you had. So you eat, sticky juice coating your face and hands as you devour fruit after fruit.

The pitcher of water was a welcome reprieve from the thickness that had coated your mouth during your time on the ship. The freshness of the liquid, devoid of the salt of the sea, almost made you groan with relief.

Satisfied and clothed, you lean back on the bed.

The soft light shining above warmed you, its rays bathing your skin in comfort and relaxation. Yet, no matter how comfortable you were nestled in the fine fabrics, you couldn't shake the man from your mind.

Who was he?

Where did he go?

A splash drew your attention, the marble outside of the pool now wet with a puddle of water. The man was nowhere to be seen, but on the lip of the pool lay various bottles and a stack of white, fluffy towels.

Again, your curiosity compels you out of the bed, your bare feet padding against the lovely marble and echoing throughout the room. You inspect the bottles carefully, gently picking them up and turning them every which way.

There was no label or engraving to tell you what was inside. But once you pried the cork out of the opening, you were granted the pleasure of the soft scent of pomegranate, vanilla, and something musky.

They were soaps.

One bottle held a clear liquid that lathered quickly while the other held a thicker, more opaque liquid that held no lather at all. You assumed those were meant for your hair, with them being the biggest of the few.

There was a small bottle, its size no bigger than the palm of your hand. An extravagant oil resided in that one, smelling of patchouli and citrus. A bar of soap was the only thing left untouched, its surface rough with grains and lavender buds.

You look at your hands, noting the dirt that had caked under your nails and the dried blood that coated the scrapes on your palms. It didn't take a thorough once over to tell that you were in dire need of a bath, your scalp itchy and your body gritty.

You eyed the only source of water, hesitant to even step closer in case the man appeared again. Split between a nice, cleansing bath and the arrival of your captor, you stay rooted in place.

The soaps smelled so lovely though. And you despised the idea of being so unclean whilst lounging in such extravagance.

You bite the bullet and slowly peel the flimsy dress off of your body. When you gently dip your toe into the water, you brace for that same rumble that brought the man from the depths.

It didn't come. The only thing that greeted you was the unusual warmth of the water, further luring you inside.

There was a set of stairs that kept you safely away from the drop-off that darkened the further you looked down. You kept your eyes on the soap, intent on just bathing yourself instead of working yourself into a frightened tizzy.

You released an uncontrollable sigh, your body melting into the water as your bones and muscles finally relaxed for the first time in you didn't know how long.

For a few minutes, longer than you intended, you just sat there- soaking up the warmth. You thought about a lot of things at that time. How your family was taking your absence and how many days had passed since you last saw them. You missed them dearly and your heart ached at the thought of their sorrow.

To distract yourself from the tears that would inevitably flow if you continue down that path, you lather a dollop of soap into your hair. You scrub at your scalp, at your body, and face, watching the water turn milky with the dirt and suds.

You were focused on a particular spot on your shin when you spotted something moving beneath you. It was deep enough that you didn't automatically panic, your curiosity outweighing your instincts. But when it moved again you caught sight of a large, black tentacle.

You were out of the pool within an instant, your wet hair and body creating a large puddle. You grab a towel, not at all caring about cleaning your mess as you wrap up and hop into the only safe space you have.

The barrier of the flimsy fabric that canopied the bed would do nothing if the man decided to come back and harm you. But your confused and panicked brain decided that the bed was the only place you were safe, especially if you were buried in between the mountain of blankets and pillows.

You spend the rest of the day with a watchful eye trained on the pool, your anxious hands picking at the skin of your thumb.

[shybluebirdninja]

Bloodheat

Summary: His rough, feral mouth trails lower, and suddenly every vow you made to your husband burns away in the heat of Logan's desire.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Fem!Human-reader

Note                : Infidelity and cheating, cunnilingus, smut

The night air is thick, the kind that wraps around you like a heavy blanket, sticky and humid. The rumble of Logan's beat-up truck is the only sound cutting through the silence as he pulls off the road, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The cabin of the truck feels too small, too intimate, and your heart pounds louder than it should. You know this is wrong—so wrong—but fuck, the second Logan's hand brushes your thigh, all that guilt slips away like water through your fingers.

You glance over at him, his jaw set, eyes focused on the dark road ahead. There's something raw about Logan—something feral. His beard’s a little rougher tonight, and those strong hands gripping the wheel send a shiver down your spine. There’s no room for doubt, not anymore. You knew what you were doing when you climbed into his truck. You knew this wasn’t just a casual drive.

His voice breaks the silence, low and gravely, sending heat straight between your legs. “You wanna keep playin' house with him, or you gonna admit you’re already mine?”

That damn voice. It’s like whiskey and smoke, rich and dangerous. You don’t answer, but your body does, leaning closer, like it’s instinctual, like it’s always been him. Logan’s hand drifts higher on your thigh, his fingers rough and calloused, and you can’t stop the soft gasp that slips out.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, and pulls the truck to a stop. The engine cuts off, leaving only the heavy sound of your breathing in the cab. His eyes meet yours, that familiar heat simmering just beneath the surface. “You got somethin’ to say, darlin’?”

You bite your lip, torn between the voice in your head telling you to run and the heat pooling low in your belly, making your skin buzz with anticipation. “Logan, this—” You try to speak, but he cuts you off with a rough, demanding kiss.

It’s not gentle. Nothing about Logan ever is. His lips crash into yours, a fierce hunger behind every move. His hands are everywhere at once, sliding over your waist, gripping your hips. It’s wild, untamed, and fuck, it’s everything you’ve been craving for weeks.

The guilt melts away, replaced by that electric fire he ignites in you every time he gets close. You kiss him back just as hard, fingers threading through his thick, dark hair, tugging him closer. You can feel the low growl vibrating in his chest as he pulls you onto his lap, his big hands sliding under your shirt, calloused fingers rough against your bare skin. Every nerve in your body is alive, buzzing with need.

Logan’s mouth moves from your lips to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. He bites down just enough to leave a mark, and you gasp, arching into him. “Fuckin’ missed you,” he mutters against your skin, voice thick with need.

Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans, desperate, but Logan grabs your wrists, holding them still. “Not yet,” he growls, his eyes dark and dangerous, pupils blown wide. “I got plans for you first.”

Before you can process his words, he’s sliding you off his lap, pushing you back onto the worn leather seat. His hands are on your jeans, undoing the button and yanking them down in one smooth motion. The air hits your skin, cool against the heat radiating from your body, but that’s the last thing on your mind when Logan settles between your legs, pulling you closer with that trademark Wolverine smirk on his lips.

He spreads your thighs wide, eyes locked on yours, and the way he’s looking at you—like he’s about to devour you whole—sends a shiver of anticipation through you. There’s nothing rushed about the way he leans in, taking his sweet time, letting you feel every second of his lips ghosting over your skin. “You taste so fuckin’ good, y’know that?”

Your breath hitches as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, so close to where you want him, but not close enough. “Logan, please…” The words fall from your lips before you can stop them, need dripping from every syllable.

He grins against your skin, rough and teasing. “Beggin’ already?” He lets out a low chuckle, then finally—finally—his mouth is on you. His tongue flicks out, slow and torturous, and your back arches off the seat as pleasure floods your body. It’s like he’s claiming you with every lick, every pull of his lips around your clit, and it’s so fucking good you can’t think straight.

His beard is rough against your inner thighs, rubbing deliciously against your skin as he works you over with his mouth. You can’t stop the soft moans escaping your lips, can’t stop your fingers from tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Logan groans against you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his mouth, but Logan grips your thighs, holding you down with that impossible strength of his. His tongue moves faster now, flicking and sucking, and the tension inside you coils tighter and tighter, ready to snap.

It’s too much, too good. “Logan, I—” You can’t get the words out, and he knows exactly what you need. He sucks hard on your clit, and that’s it—you’re gone, your whole body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

The pleasure hits you like a freight train, intense and overwhelming, and you feel yourself gush, the slick wetness covering Logan’s mouth and beard. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, drinking up every drop like he’s starving for it, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin. You whimper, overstimulated, but he just smirks, beard soaked and glistening in the dim light of the truck.

“Damn, you taste even better when you’re comin’ all over my face,” he growls, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but the glint in his eyes tells you he’s far from done. He leans back, eyes raking over your still-trembling body, and the hunger in his gaze makes your breath catch. “Think you got another one in you, darlin’? 'Cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

You can only nod, the words lost somewhere between the lingering pleasure and the heat building inside you all over again. Logan’s already got you addicted, and you know you’ll never be able to go back.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 34 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

CW: Blowjob, cum consumption, how many words can I stretch out a blowjob?, Alastor being confused about his feelings about sex

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi Show your support by leaving a tip, buy Kit a coffee

“Kneel then,” Alastor said softly, “Between my knees.” 

“Will you teach me?” you ask, timidly looking up at Alastor from between his still clothed knees as he lifted his hips, shuffling the seat of his pants and the waistband lower, before he sent them to the ground in front of you.

“I will,” Alastor ran his hand over your hair as he took in the sight of you. It baffled his mind that he was here, loving you enough to allow this to happen, to want it to happen- though he’d loath to admit it. 

You were naked, legs folded under you as you looked up at him from between his legs. Alastor wasn’t one who found many things that stirred anything resembling sexual desire, but the sight of you was as close as it had ever come. 

He couldn’t explain what it was about the sight that did it for him. You were not the first he had seen kneel between his knees, intending to take his most sensitive part into their mouth. You were the first he wasn’t dreading it from, though. 

Oh, he was very much not dreading the feeling of your mouth stretched around his cock and that confused him. From you, he wanted it. He had nearly let you slip your core over him before you caught a grip on his sanity. 

He wouldn’t indulge in that until he solved the issue of your marriage, but this? This he could allow. Hell, he almost looked forward to it. Perhaps his Ma had been right all those years ago and all he needed was to find the right person. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong or different about him.

Reaching out, your hands came to rest on his shins as you scooted yourself between his knees. The contact drew him out of his thoughts. His eyes met yours as you shuffled, unsure how to navigate his pants pooled around his ankles. 

“Oh,” you pulled back from him as he worked a foot out of his pants, allowing him to scoot the fabric out of your way. With a clearer path, you inched closer, slotting your body between his knees. 

Alastor looked down at you, hair ruffled and eyes wide as you looked back at him. The desire to possess you burned in his chest with such fierce heat that he couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t felt even the embers of it a month ago. He was keen on examining why that changed, why it had snuck up on him. 

Now wasn’t the time, though. Now was the time to give you what you wanted, the one thing you had asked of him. He watched as you leaned forward, fingers trembling slightly as they ghosted the inside of his thighs. 

It was clear as day you did not know what you were doing, how to move forward as you looked up at him with those big, doe-like eyes. He loved how you submitted to him. You took whatever pleasure he gave you, learning to hunger for what only he could give you. 

The fire in his abdomen burned brighter, knowing that you hadn’t done this for anyone else. This was a first he was stealing out from under your fucking husband’s nose, just like every orgasm he had given you. Oh, what would the pig of a man think if he knew how you looked up at another man? 

“Take my shaft in your hand,” Alastor urged softly. “Remember, you can stop whenever you want.” 

Big eyes blinked up at him before falling from his face down to the rest of him, standing in front of your face. Nimble fingers wrap around him, encircling his shaft in a light grip. He fought to slow his breathing as it tried to spike, excitement coursing through him. He wanted to ensure this would last so you could find out if you would enjoy this. If you didn’t, he could put the silly notion to bed and not slave to his physical urges for you. 

You stroked up his shaft slowly, taking in the sight of him from a new angle. Never had you been this close to a man’s tool before, at least not face to… member before. It was a strange moment of examination as you took in the veins running up his length and the flair of the smooth head. The sack that hung from him was wrinkled and strange but soft to the touch as you braved stroking lower. 

“You can touch there too,” Alastor said reassuringly. “It’s sensitive, too.�� 

“Do you like it when it’s touched?” You whispered. 

“A fair bit,” Alastor said in a tone that made you question the truth of that statement. “Do you still want to…?”

“I do,” you whispered as you scooted closer, “I just don’t know-” 

“Why don’t we start small?” Alastor said as he wrapped his forefinger and thumb around his base and pointed the head of his cock more toward your face. “Why don’t you just try licking along the underside of the shaft or at the tip?” 

You licked your lips as your eyes flicked up from his cock to his eyes before focusing on the sight in front of you. Your heart pounded in your chest. All you wanted was to do good for Alastor, to please him. 

“If you find it distasteful, you can stop.” 

With one last nod of your head, you leaned in. Bracing yourself against his inner thighs, you closed your eyes and stuck your tongue out, preparing for the worst. The skin was soft and smoothe over hot iron. He was salty and musky as you took a deep breath into your lungs. 

Neither the taste nor the scent was unpleasant, just… strange. You had expected far worse, considering your face was nearly nestled in his crotch and your wet slick had dripped onto him. As you reached the tip and your tongue retreated, dry now, into your mouth again, Alastor purred praise. 

“How did you find that?” Alastor asked as he ran his hand over the side of your head. 

“Not bad,” you whispered as you opened your eyes again, looking up at him. “But you didn’t-”

“All in good time,” Alastor said, “We’re only dipping your toes in before you try more. Why don’t you try that a few more times, get used to the feeling and taste and then you can decide if you wish to go further.” 

“Okay.” Small fingers wrapped around his base, overtop his as you braved holding him yourself. 

Swallowing thickly, you leaned forward and ran your tongue over him, getting more and more comfortable with the salty taste of him. Each time you finished a pass, you grew bolder. Your mouth watered as you wetted your tongue and repeated the process. The heavy shafted bobbed, bumping your nose and cheek as you worked your tongue over the length of him.

Lips brushed against the soft skin of his cock as you tried to wet your tongue. The action turned into a wet, open-mouthed kiss on his shaft that earned you the sound of him taking a deep, slow breath. One turned into another and then the muscle of Alastor’s thigh jumped under your hand. 

“Good,” Alastor murmured as you came closer to the head of his cock. “There’s more of your slick on the head and some of mine. It’ll taste different as you get more of it.” 

“Okay,” you whispered, lips moving against him. You had noticed the difference in salty taste of him and the heady taste of your dried slick. 

“There’s some of my essence at the tip,” Alastor directed as he caressed the wrist of the hand holding his base. “It leaks out when I’m aroused. If you’re feeling brave-”

Alastor’s sentence ended with a gasp as you pointed his head down and placed a wide lick over his head, gathering the fluid over your tongue and swallowing it. You didn’t know if it was the right thing to do or not but the way Alastor’s sentence ended; you thought maybe it was.

Alastor watched as you placed an open-mouthed kiss on his head before you ran your tongue around the ridge of his head, exploring every part of him. With each pass of your tongue, you grew bolder and bolder the longer you worked him. 

“When you’re ready,” Alastor waited for your eyes to meet his before he continued speaking. “Remember how you circled your hand around me, running it up and down?” 

“Yes?” You showed how you remembered by doing that very thing. He was wet, covered in your saliva. It wasn’t a feeling you thought you’d like, but it felt dirty in a delightful way. 

Women should be pure. They were vessels of goodness that were only good for caring for others and producing life. They were not for being dirty. You shouldn’t have been dirty. 

“Good, yes.” Alastor breathed. “If you want to do more, put the tip in your mouth. Only if you want to.” 

You hesitated for a moment before opening your mouth and licking up the length of him. One last deep breath filled your lungs as you open your mouth wide. 

“Stick your tongue out,” Alastor said, “Just over your bottom teeth then go slow.” 

You did as he said and then set the tip of his member on your tongue. Sliding it in, you wrapped your lips around him. 

“Good, suck on it. Take more in as you’re ready. Only as much as you-” You ran your tongue around his shaft as you pull him deeper into your mouth. He was thick, and it was a strain to wrap your lips around him, but you were determined to manage. 

The way his thigh twitched and jumped under your hand made you want to try all the harder. You pushed lower, taking him deeper into your mouth as you bobbed slowly. He felt good on your tongue, or did it just feel good to know you were doing something to make him feel good? 

Alastor watched as you worked down his shaft, saliva collecting around your lips as you sank down on him. You made a sight you he never thought he would enjoy, and he was sure you had no idea how men would kill for the view he had. It was something he only was beginning to understand himself. 

Your breasts were perky, moving with you. Big eyes glanced up at him for approval that he was freely giving. Oh, how he understood it now as you worked him closer. The needy coil in him wound more and more each time you bobbed. Reaching down, he softly grabbed your shoulder and pulled you off him. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You were quick to ask, licking your slightly swollen lips. 

“Not at all,” Alastor said, “I just wanted to check that you’re enjoying yourself.” 

You flushed and stammered, not sure how to answer. You were not sure of the answer, in truth. You were not not enjoying yourself. What you felt was something different, though. You felt powerful each time you pulled a sigh or groan from him. It was those sounds you were enjoying and wanted to hear more of. 

Was this what he felt when he gave you pleasure? 

“Can you lean up on your knees?”

“Like this?” You asked as you changed position, rising over his lap slightly, holding your knees tightly together. 

“Spread your knees,” Alastor directed, absently stroking his shaft as he watched you open yourself. “Very good. Do you want to continue?” 

“Is it feeling good for you?” You felt so timid about asking. 

“It is,” Alastor said as he curled in on himself as he pulled you higher on your knees. He kissed the lips you had just had wrapped around his cock hungerly, without the slightest hesitation, stoking his length as he did so. “But I want you to be enjoying yourself. Can I help you make sure you do?” 

“I- okay.”

“All you have to do is keep doing what you were doing and do what I say, alright?” Alastor asked as he kissed you again. “Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded and sank down. A soft, open-mouthed kiss burned the head of him. Before he caught himself, Alastor’s hips twitched up, and he thrust his head between your parted lips. Control. You were taking all his control from him, but he couldn’t manage to be angry with how you looked up at him. 

“So beautiful,” Alastor said as he ran his fingers along your cheek. “The hand you have on my thigh? I want you to take it and feel your chest.” 

Your already flushed face grew hotter as you tentatively touched the swell of your breast. 

“Good girl.”You felt his hips twitch with the praise. The head of his cock hit the back of your throat softly as you tried to take him as much as you can. You stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth while you watched every shift and twitch of his face and torso. 

Your breast was soft under your touch. Shame and something else burned in you as you mimicked how Alastor had touched you. You gasped in through your nose when you pinched at your nipple lightly. Never had you touched yourself as he would touch you. 

“Good,” Alastor breathed, “Run your hand down now, take your hand all the way down between your legs. Touch yourself where I touch you.” 

It felt good. You were slick and wet, dripping as you had been while you were on his lap. Alastor kept watching you as he directed you through running your fingers through your folds. 

Never had you felt yourself in such a way before, but each stroke of your fingers left sparks of pleasure through you. They were the same sweet sparks of pleasure that you felt when he would touch you.

“Very good,” Alastor’s voice was thick as he spoke. “Put a finger inside, like I would.” You moaned around his length as a finger sank down into your core. 

“Feel how you clench?” Alastor said as his hips twitched up, cock hitting the back of your throat again, this time harder. You coughed and gagged, swallowing around him. “How you squeeze around your fingers?” 

You moaned around his cock as he kept talking, instructing you through working the coil in you tighter and tighter. Each moan was met with praise and oh, how good you were doing for him. His voice washed away any shame you had, the way he gasped as you worked yourself as far down his shaft as you could and the way his body twitched and stuttered. 

Alastor couldn’t take his eyes off you. He didn’t want to miss a second of the show you were putting on for him. Did you know how good you were doing for him? He tried to tell you, but a moan stole the words from him. 

“I want you to come for me,” Alastor said, “Take yourself over that edge. I know you’re close. I can see it in your face.” 

You moaned deeply around his cock; the vibrations running through him as his balls pulled tighter. He was close now. Oh, how he didn’t want this moment to end. 

You choked as you leaned forward, the power of your orgasm washing over you and upsetting your balance, pushing his cock deeper into your throat before you caught yourself. 

“Ah!” Alastor cried out as he struggled to wind his fingers into your hair, pushing against your head as his hips bucked. He had intended to pull you back, but the situation had crept up on him. “I’m going to-” 

You gasped for breath as his cock fell from your lips, white hot cream shooting up from it as you did so. He bucked his hips, biting his lips and groaning as his cock thrust into the air, pumping his white seed out in pulses. 

Tired and spent, your head rested on his spasming thigh. Your hands never stopped, one working lazily through your sensitive folds as you felt the muscles under twitch with the aftershocks. 

Your other hand continued up and down his shaft, quickly covered by his as he guided you in a much tighter grip. The pace was faster as he exploded into the air, spilling sputtering cords of cream down his shafted and across his abdomen. 

Never had you seen what happened when a man finished and deposited his seed. You knew the general idea;, it came from their member and it was creamy but the force of it shocked you. It was a full body event.

“Are you pleased?” Alastor asked as he slowed his hand over yours, squeezing out a few last drops from his tip. “Now that you’ve gotten to see me like this?” 

He was flushed, breathing hard. Sweat dotted his brow as his seed glistened in the light. It was a beautiful sight. Vulnerable. Relaxed. Spent. 

“I am,” you whispered as your hand stilled, slipping from your folds.

You took your hand from his softening member and looked at the seed that covered it. He had tasted every part of you. 

“I’ll get you a wet towel to clean that up with,” Alastor said, not moving yet to get up. 

He watched instead, as you took your hand closer to your face. Your tongue darted out from between your lips. The salty taste of his essence filled your tongue along with something you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t pleasant, nor was it unpleasant. It was a taste you would learn to love if it pleased Alastor. 

“You don’t have to,” he said. 

You had grown tired of Alastor telling you what you didn’t have to do. Alastor never forced you to do anything, you knew that. Everything with him was your choice, though you saw how he would encourage you to step just a little further when you were too scared to take another step. 

For him, you would do anything because he never made you do anything.

He had eagerly devoured everything your body had to give him and yet every time he spoke, he was almost telling you to not do the same to him. Not even because he didn’t want it, but by his words, because he didn’t want you to feel forced. 

Don’t force yourself. Don’t force yourself. Being forced, having to do something wasn’t something you wanted to think about when you were with Alastor and yet he kept saying it. He would never, you knew that. 

It was time you put that idea to bed. 

Raising up on your knees, you grabbed his cock, currently somewhere between flaccid and hard, and ran your tongue over the slick seed that had run down his skin. Not breaking eye contact with him, you greedily licked up everything he had spilled over his head and shaft before cleaning what had run down his balls.

Alastor watched, smile twisted and mouth agape as you worked. Each pass of your tongue had him growing harder. Your nose tickled the skin at the base of his cock as you cleaned his balls. Every time your stomach turned, or you thought about the way you were behaving, like a dirty, loose woman, you reminded yourself of how he eagerly worked his mouth over you with no hesitation. 

You worked your way up his abdomen, cleaning him of his seed as your eyes fluttered closed, unable to focus on your task while looking into his intense eyes. The scattering of hairs on his stomach, the path that lead to his member. 

He watched you as you kissed and licked up his seed as you held his hardening cock to the side. The way you took in all he had spilled mesmerized Alastor, though you didn’t need to, and he hadn’t asked for it. It hadn’t been something he particularly found attractive, but with you, with the way you hummed at the taste of him on your tongue, he struggled to breathe and calm his body. 

Alastor fought the jerk of his hips and failed as you leaned up, running your tongue around his naval. You hadn’t intended to, but your hand had run up his shafted and you had brushed against his sensitive head. 

“Ah, wait.” Alastor panted, pulling you up, ensuring your hands were far from his cock and tucking you into his side. “It’s- I’m too sensitive.” 

That wasn’t exactly it but Alastor knew it was close enough to the truth for you. What he really needed was time to figure out what was going on in his head and why he was enjoying your touch so much right now. He needed a minute to get his head on straight. 

Alastor needed to prove to himself that whatever change you had triggered within him, he could still control his body, regardless of the way you looked at him with those big eyes. He would not have his control undone by the woman who already had to gall to steal his heart out from under his nose.

He could feel your body tremble while you were standing. Your legs struggled to support your weight, but you did little more than smile at him until he pulled you down to join him on the couch. 

With a hand under your chin to direct you, Alastor turned and kissed you deeply. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for entry into a place you seemed determined to keep him from. Sharp teeth nipped at your lips, bringing a gasp out from between your lips. As they parted, Alastor wasted no time tasting his seed on your lips, on your tongue. 

It felt dirty, to be kissed by him so deeply after what you had done. It stole the air from your lungs and had your head spinning. When had your arms wound around his shoulders? The hot skin of his body pressed into your chilled chest as he held you tightly to him. Who had been groaning, moaning into the kiss? Was it you? Was it him? Neither of you could be sure. 

“Ma cherie,” Alastor whispers as he pulls away, breathing hard. “We need to clean up and sleep. We’ve got a long day of travel tomorrow.” 

“I don’t want to sleep,” you whisper, tears threatening to gather in your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was cry again, not on your last night with him. “I don’t want it to be over. I’m not ready for this to be over.” 

“This,” Alastor squeezed your hand as he ran his other hand over your thigh. “This will never be over.”

“But it will,” you whimpered, catching the sound in your throat before it gave way to a sob. “I’ll have to go back to him and-” 

“And we’ll still have this.” Alastor reached up, cradling the back of your neck in his hand. “We’ll have to be careful until we can find a way to get you out of your marriage, but I will love you after tonight. I will love you after tomorrow. I will love you after a month, a year. I will love you for a lifetime and then some.” 

“Alastor,” you sighed, melting into his touch. He said such sweet words, but could you believe them? “You deserve more.”

“I will get you away from him,” Alastor promised, “and then I’ll have what I deserve, what belongs to me already.” 

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Office Life (Shigaraki x Reader)

Just Shigaraki awkwardly fantasizing about the cute receptionist who works in the same office building as him. You guys let me know if you like this quick “imagine” format for when I don’t have a full fanfic idea.

Smut. 18+. Violence/Blood (not Reader’s). Gender neutral Reader. Dubcon.

Shigaraki, who never had much interest in sex before, when he was so busy with the League and the war. Sure he jacked off to hentai every now and then, but the thought of having real life sex with a real live person didn’t really enter his brain. 

Until now. 

Shigaraki, who is fresh out of prison and working a dumb office job as part of his “rehabilitation”. Who is ignored and avoided by most of his coworkers because of his very publicized past. 

Shigaraki, who just can’t understand why you’re nice to him, why you smile at him so sweetly, like he’s an actual human being and not a monster. Why you, the cute receptionist from down the hall, keeps coming into the office he works in with five other men, desks all lined up neatly. 

Shigaraki, who likes that you look at him and acknowledge him, but sometimes has the irrational urge to show you how terrifying and monstrous he can be, to make you fear him the way everyone else does.

Shigaraki, who sometimes has violent fantasies about you that he will never act upon. Like today when you come into the room to share cookies you baked and brought in to the office. You, having such an obvious crush on him that even a socially inept weirdo like him can tell, blush and smile shyly when he takes a cookie from the box you hold out to him. 

Shigaraki, who has no idea what you could possibly like about him, but feels a little smug that the rest of the guys in the office are clearly jealous. 

And as you move toward the back of the room handing out cookies, constantly glancing back to see if he’s eating his, as if wanting his approval, Shigaraki’s dark fantasy takes over again. 

He imagines standing up from his chair and moving through the room, decaying each man in turn, most of them still holding their dumb fucking cookies, only to reach the back, where you’re cowering in a corner, trembling with fear as blood pools around your feet. 

You turn around to look at him, terror in those big wet eyes of yours, and then the pleading starts. He imagines you begging him not to kill you, babbling promises to not tell anyone, confessing your love in some desperate attempt to win his favor. You’re still clutching your frilly pink box of homemade cookies in your shaking hands. 

In his fantasy, he has perfect control over his quirk at all times, and with no effort at all he can decay the clothes right off your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable in the room full of bloody chunks. And you drop the cookies in your shock, trying to cover yourself with your hands. 

He won’t allow that. He’s wondered what you look like under your clothes for too long. And so he roughly pulls your hands away, getting an eye full, before shoving your back onto the nearest desk, spreading you open and unbuckling his pants. 

In this fantasy, you always struggle at first. But after he starts fucking you hard, you begin moaning his name, wrapping your arms around him, looking up at him with teary eyes and blushing cheeks as he rails you. 

Shigaraki, who snaps back to reality when you walk by him, the scent of your floral perfume drawing his attention. You look at the uneaten cookie in his hand and a flash of sadness crosses your face. He hurries to take a bite, and tries to give you a smile that isn’t creepy. 

You smile back, and he knows for a fact he will never, ever act on his worst impulses with you. Because far more than his desire to show you how much of a villain he can be, he wants you to keep smiling at him. 

And someday, maybe he’ll stop being a fucking coward and ask you to go to a movie with him.