#completely ignoring them as their insults turn to groans and their groans turn to pleas

[letitbehurt]

Whumpees hung from the ceiling by their wrists. Defiant Whumpees mouthing off despite the pain, and having weights tied to them as a consequence.

[sergeantxrogers]

| sanctified |

Summary: Bucky Barnes’ holy grail and safe haven are your body and soul, and after getting a taste of them, he finally knows what it means to be a sinner. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Smut!! (switch!Bucky, choking, light spanking, orgasm control, slight exhibitionism), some crying, confessions of love baby

____________________

Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. Sure, there were girls he’d go out with, press a little smooch to their lips just out of principle, girls he’d walk home after a trip to the fair, girls that would follow him around Brooklyn watching his every move in the hopes that they would catch his eye and that he would give them more than just a polite smile. 

Bucky Barnes used to be a ladies’ man, girls batting their lashes at him when he and Steve passed by on their way to Bucky’s place for dinner, throwing themselves at his feet any chance they’d get because they wanted to be something special to him, they wanted to mean something to him, and Bucky always rejected anything serious with grace. 

And then he fell from the train. And he hadn’t seen a girl his age for almost 50 years after that. He had forgotten what it was like to be smiled at, to be searched for in a crowd, for someone to call out his name - his real name, not Soldat. 

He had gotten used to the harsh orders and cruel insults, the flirty, boyish Bucky that winked at the ladies and guided them during dances hidden and stashed away somewhere deep inside him, dormant and asleep. He was fine with being ignored after everything that happened with Steve, and the fall of HYDRA, and Shuri “fixing” his brain. Fine with staying in the shadows when he didn’t need to be out of them, fine with avoiding people and missing their eye, slipping through the streets of New York like a cat, his only goal to get from point A to point B.

Until he met you. 

You, the part-time waitress that worked at the restaurant he frequented with Mr. Nakajima. Bucky took a liking to you the second he saw you. The do no harm, take no shit attitude that every fiber of your being seemed to be dipped in intrigued him. He liked watching you work, multitasking between orders and receipts and drinks and money and all things in between. It was fascinating to him, especially the side-eyed glances you’d give him with an accompanying little smirk whenever he sat down at the counter with his older friend. Intriguing you were, so much so that he quickly learned what days you came in, and what days you didn’t: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 

Yori kept pushing him to ask out the “pretty waitress” at the restaurant, and though she was pretty, she wasn’t the one he had his eye on. 

“You should go out with her, she’s a nice girl,” Yori’s soft voice would mutter into his ear, and Bucky would give him a smile and a shake of his head.

If only you knew, Yori. If only you knew, he thought. 

The flirting started simple enough: a sly smile as you greeted him when he walked in. An “accidental” brush of the hand when you’d hand him his third beer. Biting your lip whenever he called your name out to pay. It was simple enough that Bucky’s elderly friend stayed oblivious on the Wednesdays they’d go out for lunch together. 

And truly, Bucky had no reason to come to the restaurant three times a week, twice without the company of Mr. Nakajima. No reason but the sight of you, and it was enough to keep him drawn in, keep him coming and throwing his money on food he never ate and beers he downed without a second thought because he was so enamored by the way your eyes glimmered whenever you gave him a smile. 

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays went by and by until he started dropping his gaze below your neck, pants growing uncomfortably tight at the way you’d bend over to get a new roll of receipts under the counter, or the small sliver of stomach he would notice beneath your shirt whenever you’d reach up for a glass. 

And it wasn’t like you were oblivious either; on the contrary, you stared at the door on the days you knew he’d come in, waiting anxiously for him to come and sit down just so you could feel his presence. It wasn’t that long before you were asking your coworkers to cover you for a few minutes just so you could lean against the counter by him to chat (and give him a peak of something special, but that was besides the point). 

Chats soon turned into jokes and full-blown conversations, with Bucky staying behind long after closing time just to talk to you about anything and everything, from his past to the way you wore your hair on that particular day. 

Which is how you found yourself in your current little predicament. 

“Fuck, Bucky,” you hissed, slapping your hand against the counter beneath you. 

Bucky’s hand travelled up your back, entangling in your hair and pulling your head back, your back arching against him. 

“What happened, baby?” he cooed into your ear, thrusts relentless and never faltering. You whined in response, swallowing back a heavy breath as his lips trailed against your shoulder.

“So... so good,” you managed, and you felt him smirk against your skin. 

His hand left your hair, snaking around to the front to wrap around your neck loosely, and a chill ran down your spine. 

11:47 p.m. and an hour and a half past closing time, shades only half shut on the glass door of the entrance, the only light in the room coming from the streetlight outside and the digital clock on the wall behind you. 

Heavy lidded eyes traveled to watch the door, only a few feet away from where Bucky was pounding persistently into you, your skirt flipped up and panties around your ankles. The fact that anybody walking by would just have to look through the blinds to see you getting railed made you breathless.

Bucky’s low hum floated into your ears, hot breath fanning against your cheek as he rolled his hips to hit that spot that made you clench around him. 

“I’m- I’m gonna-”

Your stuttering made him slow his hips, and in return you whimpered.

“Gonna what? Gonna cum? Hm?”

You huffed at his condescending tone, and he slowed down even more, to the point where you could feel him dragging along your walls, hot and heavy. 

“What if I just-”

Bucky stopped moving his hips completely, and tears pricked at the back of your eyes as your chest heaved, his grip tightening only slightly around your throat.

“- don’t let you?” he finished, pulling out almost completely then, and you groaned in frustration. You felt the knot that had been forming in your stomach loosen, the tingling in your legs fading, and you furrowed your brows in a desperate plea for release.

“P-please,” you mewled. “Please, please, I need to, I have to-”

Bucky seemed to be satisfied with your begging, because he thrusted himself into you again, bottoming out with the slap of skin on skin and your quiet, breathy moans being the only sounds in the restaurant. Each thrust brought out a moan from your lips, a layer of sweat covering your skin. The first tear left your waterline and rolled down your cheek as he pressed down harder against you, the edge of the counter digging into your hip bones deliciously. 

“More,” you whispered, eyes clenched shut as your head went dizzy with pleasure. 

Bucky obliged, nipping at your neck as his hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat travelled downwards to lay a slap to your ass, and you hissed at the sting. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, eyes rolling to the back of your head and legs going weak. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s body holding you upright against the counter, you were certain you would’ve collapsed. Warmth took over your belly as Bucky groaned in your ear, cumming inside you, and he let go of your neck, allowing you to drop your head down in an attempt to catch your breath. 

After he had pulled out of you carefully, helping you pull your panties back up, you turned around, a lazy smile on your lips as you leaned back against the counter on your elbows. Bucky gave you a skeptical look, smirk crawling onto his face as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“What is it?”

You shrugged, tugging at the hem of his shirt to straighten it out a bit. 

“Nothing,” you said mindlessly, smile only growing larger.

He chuckled in amusement, grabbing your hand in his. 

“What is it?”, he repeated, and you sighed dramatically.

“Well, I mean...,” you started, eyes travelling around behind him in false apprehension. “I hope you know this means you gotta take me out now, Barnes.”

Bucky stared at you for a moment, the grin on his face only brightening. 

“Alright, I promise I will.”

____________________

And Bucky kept his promise. 

Five days after your initial hook-up, Bucky came buzzing at your apartment building entrance, bouquet of flowers in his hands, smile on his face. 

“Wow, Barnes, I didn’t know you were into romantic gestures,” you teased, taking the flowers from his hands. He shrugged, shoving them into his pockets as he walked alongside you. 

“I wasn’t. Not really, never used to be.”

He glanced at you as he finished his sentence, but you were too preoccupied with the smell of fresh blossoms to notice the smile playing on his lips. 

“Things change, I guess,” he muttered, and you grinned at him. 

“So, where are we going?”

“I told you already,” he said with a teasing shake of his head. 

“It’s a surprise.”

____________________

Three official dates later and Bucky finally came up to your apartment. 

Albeit, a bit hesitant, because it was well past midnight and “I don’t wanna wake up your neighbors with my huge footsteps, doll.”

It took some convincing but he finally agreed to come up and sit with you a while. You said you would show him your favorite books, introduce him to some new literature he could catch up on. And you definitely planned on doing that, but things with Bucky have a funny way of playing out differently than you expect. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, doll-”

Humming in amusement, you smiled down at him, straddled around his thighs.

Your fingers gripping his hair, you held his head so his eyes were level with yours, and you saw the struggle in them as your other hand teased his cock through his boxers with gentle fingers. 

“What is it, baby?” you pouted, tugging harder on his hair, and he winced at the feeling. 

“Stop teasing,” he hissed through clenched teeth, and you feigned a disappointed frown. 

“Now that’s not very nice of you.”

Bucky shut his eyes quickly in a split second of frustration, and when he opened them again, you noticed his pupils were blown wide, staring into yours.

After a deep sigh, his demeanor changed, lids heavy and lips swollen from the bites and kisses you attacked them with previously. 

“Please...,” he said in a whisper. “Please don’t tease me.”

His words brought a smile to your face, and you pretended to think about it, tilting your head to the side slightly. 

“Alright, pretty boy, since you asked so nicely.”

You punctuated your sentence with a roll of your hips against his, and a soft whimper left his lips when your bare pussy rolled over his dick. 

Your fingers found the hem of his boxers, and you pulled them down, teasingly slow, Bucky lifting his hips a bit to make it easier for you. He breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling of release, and you felt your breath quicken at the sight of his cock, heavy and hard and begging to be touched. 

“Please.”

It came out quietly, desperately, as he stared into your eyes, and you almost smirked at the way he looked near tears. You hummed in adoration, leaning your head down somewhat to press a kiss to his lips. 

“So needy...,” you muttered into his mouth as you rolled your hips upwards, the tip of his cock gliding through your wet slit, and his hips bucked up involuntarily. 

He whined against your lips, nipping at the bottom one when you sank down onto his cock without warning. A sigh left your body when you felt him stretch you out, filling you out completely. You clenched around him, trying to adjust, and he groaned, forehead dropping against your chest. 

No matter how many times he’d been inside you, you always need time to adjust, and you would wait. Oh, you would wait hours if you needed to, because once you got a taste of him, that was it. You were ruined for other men. 

And Bucky could spend hours inside you, warm and wet and perfectly made for him, your body wrapped around his. All you had to do was ask him, and he would fall to his knees in worship. 

You sat on him, just like that, for... seconds? Minutes? An hour, maybe? Bucky couldn’t tell because it didn’t really matter to him. His mind was clouded with the feeling of you tight around his throbbing cock, and your lips on his neck and jaw, and your fingers in his hair. 

Bucky looked up at you, almost glowing with sex and gratification, and he swore to himself he would pray to you, pray for you, pray with you, every single day for the rest of his life. How he went a century without the absolution of your touch was entirely beyond him, but he knew he wouldn’t let you go now that he had you in his grasp. 

You started moving, slowly, teasingly, and Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. Sighs and pants left your lips at the feeling of being full, stuffed to the brim, and it took everything Bucky had in himself not to grab your hips and absolutely destroy you himself. 

“Oh, God,” you panted into his ear, rolling your hips, chasing your pleasure as Bucky’s chest heaved with labored breaths. 

It was pure torture, in the best way. His eyes watched the way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration, your lips slightly parted. Watched your hands search for purchase on his body, anywhere they could find, as you clenched tighter around him. 

If there was a place he had to choose to stay for the rest of eternity, it was here. 

“I love you,” he mumbled, almost subconsciously, and your movements faltered only slightly. 

Biting your lip, your eyes searched his face, and found only honesty. Bucky’s hands came up to rest on your thighs, fingers digging into them, the contrast of one warm hand and one cold hand sending shockwaves down your spine. 

“I love you more,” you whispered, pulling him in by his cheeks for a short kiss. 

Your pushes and pulls, ups and downs, gasps and moans grew quicker, more incessant, and Bucky could tell by the way your walls fluttered quickly around his cock that you were about to cum. 

____________________

He laid there, next to you. 

He laid there a long time, fingers tracing shapeless patters along your arm as you slept, and his eyes studied your face.

No, Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. There were girls he’d go out with, girls he would smooch. Girls he would walk home and girls he would smile at. None of them ever gave him the feeling he was running after, always thinking it was right there but always just out of reach. The feeling you gave him, like he was underwater but could still breathe. Like he was on fire but cold as ice, like he never breathed properly before he met you and now, after getting a taste of you, he would never be able to breathe properly without you again. 

He laid there, body heavy and mind satisfied, and he understood. He understood why Adam ate the apple, why Orpheus turned around. He understood why Sparta started a war for Helen, and he understood why Romeo drank the poison. 

He would do it all, sin and be punished a million times over if it meant he would get a glimpse of you every day. 

____________________

TAGLIST:

@dreamsley​ @a-ngeli-que​ @mindyoshiii​ @agirlinherhead​ @s-katergorl​ @ace-27749​ @leyannrae​ @tailsoflightning​ 

[gloryofluv]

Reaction to You hiding under a table... (All the boys)

Hiding under a table. Reactions and laughs abound! All the brothers and the dateables.

Lucifer-

He walked into the room and saw you ducking under the table with the cloth hiding most of you. He lifts the cloth to reveal that you’re not shivering with fear at the sight of him. Obviously, you’re not just hiding like Mammon has done. Nope, you had a book and were under a… table???

Cue questionable scowl. WTF is this human doing now?

It only is more confusing for him when you glance up to see him, wave, and smile before returning to your book.

Does he even want to know? Actually, he does. However, should he spend the time to ask?

He does. He’s a sucker for you. Your response is simple. You wanted to read in peace, and (almost) no one would see you here.

He inwardly groans and tells you to go hide in his room next time.

No, he wouldn’t mind seeing you reading in there when he gets home. In fact, go ahead, make that your primary space to hide. Coming home to you would be exactly what he dreamt about.

Bonus points if you laugh and agree. Melted firstborn, anyone?

“If you insist on hiding from my brothers for some peace, you may do so in my room. I won’t be perturbed as long as you don’t tell them.”

Mammon-

Walks into the dining room to try and find something to sell for some quick coin. Scowls at the sight of your shoes sticking out from under the table.

Most definitely will crouch and stick his face in your space. This boi is perplexed at you huddled under the table with your phone.

Huh? Is this a human thing?

You smile and ask if he wants to come to sit with you.

Mammon will snort and toss an insult or bravado of some sort but still be really confused at your new place to sit.

Hiding from Asmo because he wants to dye your hair? Well, that makes a little more sense. However, he still doesn’t get it. You have a bedroom.

You pat the ground again, and he grumbles but agrees. Sitting with him, you start playing the funny Deviltube videos of demons getting scared by human items. You and he are laughing at the idiots together.

He soon wraps his arm around you as you’re cozy in the dim light. Forgetting about his task, he asks if you want to come back to his room. Ya know, to watch videos there???

If you agree, he’ll drag you off. It wasn’t the first time he was hiding under a table, but it would be your last.

“Now, human, that happens again, and ya just come to my room. I’m supposed to be watchin’ ya.”

Levi-

He was walking up to the bathroom. Usually, his nose was stuck to his D.D.D, but he caught sight of you. You were napping under a table?! What?

He thought about leaving you there. Belphie usually falls asleep in the weirdest places. However, why??? Why were you under a table? In the hallway???

Bending down, he touches your shoulder, and you wake up. He asks what you’re doing sleeping under a table like a normie?

You tell him that you were waiting for the bathroom to take a bath, but Mammon was taking forever. You got caught up reading a manga and fell asleep under the table.

Cue heart eyes and blushes! He stammers about going to use the bathroom. When he comes out, you were still under there reading.

Immediately he was a jumbling mess. Asks you if you would read it in his room instead of under a table.

If you agree, expect blushy boi to timidly ask what it's about. If you explain the plot to him, he will definitely show you similar types from his own collection!

He will likely keep you captive all night because the thought of you under a table with a manga stole his otaku heart out of his chest.

“If you d-don’t mind spending time with a disgusting otaku. You could come read it with me. I have more if you like. P-please?”

Satan-

Inquisitive and actually perceptive about his surroundings, he wanders into the library to immediately see you under the table in there. You pulled a chair over to block the view of anyone who would be just glancing in the room.

He ignores you, for the time being, grabbing the book he had an interest in reviewing. Instead of leaving, he picks that chair to sit in.

Minutes go by as he enjoys the subtle sound of your breathing and the beautiful announcement of the pages being turned when he thumbs them.

Is he curious why you’re hiding under a table? Absolutely. Will he ask? Well, he was debating on how long he’d let you believe you’re actually hidden.

Instead of asking flat out, he turns and slams the book on the tabletop, causing you to jump and bump your head. He’ll ask you why you’ve been hiding under a table at that point.

Lucifer.

Enough said. He offers a better solution to your issue. He invites you to his room, where you can seclude yourself from his fury until the firstborn is busy with other tasks.

If you agree, he’ll smirk and feel smug as hell. Lucifer will ask and ask where the human went, and he won’t say a word.

“Honestly, there are far better ways to disappear than under a table. Come to my room, and I’ll shield you from the chaos.”

Asmo-

Glorious clothes. Fabulous makeup! Asmo just returned from his shopping trip and was on a high. He walks into the sitting room to see you lying under the table.

What?

Flat out asks you what you’re doing under the table. Oh, you’re glancing at all the cute outfits in the latest Devildom fashion??? He would climb on the floor and join you if it wasn’t dirty.

Comments on the dirt.

You say that you’re waiting for Mammon, and he never looks lower than the sofa. You wanted to scare him for him stealing your hairbrush. True. Very true. A great place to jump out and scare him.

However, just not working for Asmo. Nope. Insists that you end your ploy to scare Mammon and help him go through his new things.

He promises to help you get back at Mammon with a better, less dirty plan.

If you agree, he will be skipping all the way up to his room. He’ll have you all to himself, and you both can do a fashion montage!!!

“Honey, he’s an idiot, but this is no way to treat your poor skin. Let’s go through all my new clothes and plan something far more deserving!”

Beel-

Baby boy just got done with his workout and was going to walk into the kitchen to make a snack. Walks by the dining room to see your knees under the table.

What?

He stops and scowls. This is a new behavior. Beel goes into the room and ducks down to see you huddled under the table… eating Simeon’s cookies?!

You give him a simper and offer the bag saying he can have one. Beel accepts and then asks why you’re under the table.

Hiding from the others because you didn’t want them to know Simeon made them just for you?

He's a little hurt that Simeon wouldn’t make him any, but happy that you shared. You ask him if he wants a few more because you only had a handful left.

He sits down and eats the offering with a smile. After you both have finished the cookies, he asks if you want to come with him to make a snack.

If you agree, this teddy bear is glowing. He’ll make everything you want, and you just need to sit on the counter and tell him about your day.

“If you want, since you shared, I could make your favorite snack. I love sharing my food with you too.”

Belphie-

Tired. Grumbly. Tired. He walks into the sitting room to see you stationed under the side table.

Um? What? He scowls and smacks his pillow at you reading a book before slumping on the sofa.

His version of asking you what’s wrong??? Well, it worked.

You tell him that Lucifer was looking for you to do a chore and figured you could plead ignorance if he didn’t find you sitting under a table.

Mammon never gets away with anything like that, and Belphie tells you so.

You curl smaller and laugh. See, he can’t find something this tiny, right?

Thump. Thump. Thump. Yes, his heart is just beating for how cute you could be. Tells you how ridiculously stupid that is instead.

You unbunch your legs and sigh. Well, he sucks at times… So, instead of apologizing, he offers to take you up to the attic and hide you in the blankets if Lucifer comes knocking.

If you agree, he walks with you all the way up, and when you snuggle on the bed together, he apologizes for being grumpy.

Turns into a melty soft boy when you run your hands through his hair and say you didn’t even notice with a smile.

“Well, if you want a plan that actually will work. You can come with me to the attic. I’ll hide you in the blankets, and we can nap.”

Solomon-

Walks into the library at RAD with one goal in mind. There was a book on energy manipulation he wanted to read. However, the goal is postponed.

Sees you under the table, and now, he’s completely intrigued. You had your book in hand. You even looked to be in perfect health. Hmm… odd.

Approaches you, and you glance up. No words. Not even a plea for help. Still odd.

He finally asks you why you’ve chosen this space to sit instead of a useful chair. You reply that there was a demon giving you dirty looks. So you ducked under a table, and the demon walked away in confusion.

He finds it fascinating that something this odd would work. Now is intrigued if that’s all demons or just you doing it.

Climbs under the table with you and asks what you’re reading. Makes no effort to remove you from under the table nor ask you to sit in the chair.

Both of you read under the table and watch as demons glance at you with pure befuddlement. Cue laughter and enjoyment. He would have never thought he’d walk into a rare social experiment with demons that day.

“You know, that poses an interesting question. Do demons insist on the same social norms as humans? Care to perform this experiment with me?”

Simeon-

Walks into the House of Lamentation to have tea with Lucifer. However, he is quite amused at the sight of seeing you trying to tuck as far under the side table near the hallway.

He walks over and ducks down, lifting the cloth, asking, what are you doing?

You rush out in a whisper that Levi is angry with you because you beat him at a game. You don’t want him to send Lotan on you!

He nods and hears footsteps on the staircase, so he stands in front of you. Levi comes storming down the staircase and asks if he’s seen you. Simeon spills a few lines from TSL. Levi is blushing and waves him off before stomping by.

He checks the hallway before bending down and whispering that you can come with him back to Purgatory Hall. He’ll explain what happened to Lucifer so he can calm Levi down.

If you agree, he doesn’t waste time to skirt you out the door and away from danger. What a freaking angel??? Well, maybe it’s a little selfish. He gets to keep you safe, after all.

“If you would like, you can come with me and have some tea to calm your nerves. You look shaken, and I do hate to see you out of sorts.”

Luke-

Skips into the sitting room at Purgatory Hall and immediately scowls. What are you doing under the table???

Walks over, and you press a finger over your mouth. You thought you saw a bat. A flappy bat in the sitting room! They see with sound.

What??? Is it a blood-sucking bat??? Does it eat humans? Are things like that really in the Devildom?

Climbs under the table with you and looks around with a hint of anxiety on his face. It doesn’t help that his clothing tickled your arm, and you jumped and screamed.

Insists that you both run into the kitchen to tell Simeon! He’ll know what to do!

If you agree, both of you are bolting into the kitchen to describe an exaggerated version of the event. Your fear was enough to scare this wee angel. You weren’t scared of demons, but were of a bat??? This had to be a very evil bat!

“If we run as fast as we can, it won’t find us right away! Simeon will be able to help!”

Barbatos-

He was well aware of lunacy thanks to his very creative prince. There were things he just expected to weave sideways from the norm. However, you under a table in the hallway of the Demon Lord’s Castle wasn’t one he foresaw.

Should he bother to ask? Yes, he best do so. Bends and questions your oddity.

You explain that one of the Little D’s was yelling at you for walking on their clean floors. It called you a stupid, ignorant human. You wiped your face, and he noted the blotchy color of your cheeks. Well, someone was going to have an unfortunate accident later…

He asks if you would like to come with him to the kitchen. You could have some tea while he prepares dinner.

If you agree (let’s face it, no one tells Barbatos no), he will assist you in climbing from under the table. He will pull out a handkerchief and wipe the tears from your cheek and escort you to the kitchen.

You may not have seen it, but it did bother him immensely that you were cowering under a table. He would fix that and have you smiling in no time.

“I’m apologetic that someone was rude to you. Let me make it up to you with some tea and cookies. We will cure this bad experience with a better one.”

Diavolo-

He was enjoying the party thus far but was in need of a moment, just a brief moment alone. Walking into the dark sitting room, he turns on the lights to see you under a table. Your formal attire was pooling around you.

He walks over and ducks down to see the shock on your face and D.D.D in your hand. Asking what you’re doing in here, he smiles.

You answer with taking a break from the party. Though it’s beautiful and jovial, you were tired of dancing with so many demons.

He agrees and asks if you don’t mind the company. Actually, while he’s asking, he found a way to duck his torso under the table with you. (Big boi could actually break furniture and you if he wasn’t careful)

You show him the cute animal videos off Deviltube, and both of you begin to laugh. One video leads to six leads to twelve. It didn’t matter. It was so nice to just spend time with you.

He asks you if you want to have another table date again. He actually would sit under any piece of furniture as long as you said yes.

“I’m so glad to see you! I was actually exhausted from all the dancing myself. Care if I join you in watching whatever was amusing you?”

[helloprettybb]

orders

i swear i don’t only write smut. i have actual ideas!! but this is all i can come up with and honestly, my mental health has been a steady decline. sooooo, posting a fic will make me feel a little better.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

description: during a mission, you didn’t listen to your captain. so now, you get punished.

warnings: cursing, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), edging, daddy kink, degradation, praise kink (sorta), just a whole lot honestly probably forgot something

word count: 2.3k

“What did I say?” Steve asks once you close the bedroom door behind you. His voice is low and angry, which is scarier than if he were yelling. If you were being honest, you deserved his exasperation. What you did was reckless and completely disobeyed orders, but in the heat of the moment, you didn’t really care.

“Retreat,” you mumbled, knowing how much trouble you were in. Steve hadn’t spoken to you since the mission ended and the two of you could be alone. The moment the jet landed, he stormed off to his room. Steve didn’t even need to tell you to follow him, because you knew whatever was coming would be much worse if you didn’t.

“And what did you do?” Steve questions, knowing you knew the answer.

“I proceeded with the mission,” you replied, head low and eyes stuck on the ground. You were usually confident and brimming with enthusiasm, but on the receiving end of Steve’s anger, you couldn’t even lift your head up. Steve senses your timidness, so he grabs your chin and forces you to meet his eyes. Unlike their usual softness, his eyes are tough and piercing. You fight a little to lower your head, but Steve’s strong grip stops any resistance. You know he’s angry with you, but you can’t stop the dirty thoughts that rush into your mind

“You did. And what happens when you disobey orders?” Steve asks, his tone leaving you trembling beneath him.

“I get punished,” you answer meekly. Steve softens slightly at your small tone, but not enough to concede. After all, you deserve what’s coming.

“That’s right, dolly. And you were a bad girl today.” he says. “What’s the safe word?”

“Daisies.” you tell him.

Steve nods, “Strip and get on the bed.” You follow his orders, shedding your clothes in record time. You know whatever punishment you’re going to receive is going to be bad, so you’d rather have it over quick.

Once Steve sees you positioned the way he likes, on your back and legs spread, he strolls over to the bed. “Now what am I going to do with you? I would spank you,” Steve hovers above you, inches away from your face. You want to kiss his perfect lips, but you know any defiance will be met with even more punishment.

“But you seem to enjoy it.” he whispers faintly. “How about… edging?”

Your eyes widen, “B-but-”

Steve cuts you off, grinning, “No buts, baby. It’s a punishment after all.” He cups your chin with his hand and spares you one kiss. It’s short and hardly enough to appease you, but it’s enough to tell you that he doesn’t want to hurt you too badly. “Now, when I say I’m going to play with the tight pussy as much as I want, you’re going to ask…”

“How many times?” You love your sweet Steve, but when this possessive, domineering Steve comes out, you melt every time.

He hums. “Four.” You refrain from talking back. “But if you cum once, I’ll double it.” Steve moves his right hand down to your clit. After a light slap that makes you keen, he starts rubbing circles. You bite your lip and try to keep your moans in.

A few slip out and Steve says, “Such a fucking whore. Are you about to cum? Is my dumb baby going to cum from me rubbing her little clit?” Steve’s taunts shouldn’t turn you on as much as they do, but your moans get louder after every insult.

You’re on the verge of cumming and Steve can tell as he pulls his hand away. “Count.”

“One.” you say breathily, recovering from the verge of orgasm. Steve kneels, his face level with your pussy.

“Fuck, so wet. Want a taste.” he says, diving into your pussy. He laps it up as if he enjoys it more than you. Steve’s told you before that he could spend all day in between your legs with his mouth on your pussy. Like everything else, Steve’s amazing at eating pussy and you start to squirm above him. Your fidgeting increases and your grip on the sheets tightens.

When you move your hands to his shoulders, Steve pulls away. “No touching.” You let out a whine and Steve scolds, “Spoiled brat. Thinking you can get everything you want. Shoulda taught you a lesson sooner.”

You move your hands back to your sides and Steve dives back in. You’re almost there so you start to shake. Steve stops you with a firm arm across your waist.

You gasp out, “I-I’m gonna cum.” Steve pulls away. He moves up so that he’s face to face.

Steve stares at you expectantly and you say, “Two.”

He smiles, “See, this isn’t too bad. Halfway there.” He kisses you again with a little more heat. When you wrap your legs around his waist, he doesn’t stop you.

“Maybe he’ll be nice and shorten your punishment.” You think, but you’re sadly mistaken. Desperate for more, you move your hips up against his when Steve grabs your sides and pins you down to the bed. He pulls away and whispers, “Oh, so you think you can do whatever you want?” You shake your head quickly.

“Then why are you rutting your hips like a desperate whore?” he asks.

“I want to cum.” you reply.

“You want to cum?” He mocks. You nod, anticipating your release. “Well, you can’t. You still have two left. Now ride my thigh.”

He sits up on the bed and you move on top of him. Straddling his thigh, you grip his shoulders as you start to grind on his thigh. You’re extra sensitive from the previous near orgasms and find yourself needing your release quickly.

“Should punish you for humping my fucking leg.” he whispers into your ear. You cry out from both the pleasure of his thigh and the threat of his words. “But you’re riding my thigh so fucking good.” You would smile at the praise if your brain wasn’t muddled.

“Shit, baby. Making a mess on my suit.” You just about cum at the idea of your cum forever being on his suit. Everyone would know that you’re his and he’s yours.

You whine, “Wanna cum.”  

“Don’t you dare cum. If you do, I won’t touch you for a week.” he threatens. You groan and continue to ride his thigh until you’re about to hit your release.Your movements start to get sloppy, a sign you should stop.

Forcing the delay of your high, you slump against him and murmur, “Three.”

“Dumb little slut. Only listen when you know you’re in trouble.” he says above you. “If you don’t cum on my fingers, I’ll let you cum as many times as you want on my cock.” You perk up at that.

Steve laughs spitefully at your eagerness. He dips a finger through your folds before pushing a finger in. You moan loudly at the sensation and Steve barely gives you time to adjust before adding another.

He finger-fucks you as your grip on his bicep tightens. He ignores your whimpers and pleas to stop as he adds another finger.

Three fingers deep in your pussy, he asks, “You wanna cum? Does the little slut wanna cum?” You nod, pleasure and pain all in one. Your moans get louder, a signal that you’re almost there. He pulls his fingers out and you collapse onto him, with your face in the crook of his neck.

“How many was that?” he asks quietly.

“Four.” you barely get out. Steve rubs up and down your back.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you. I’m so proud.” he whispers sweetly into your ear. “Did you learn your lesson?” You nod. Even though you can’t see his face, you can tell that he’s beaming. “Since you were a good girl for your punishment, you deserve a reward. I think I promised you could cum on my cock as many times as you want.”

You pull away and face Steve. His hard, angry glare is gone and replaced with lust. You lean in and kiss him hard. You grind on his lap, feeling extra sensitive from all the edging. You can feel his dick straining against his pants. Moving against his cock, you hear Steve moan, too.

“C-can I cum now?” you beg. “Please daddy.”  

“Yes, Princess. You can cum now.” he says and you instantly let go. Your long-awaited release rushes over you. Usually it’d take more than a little dry humping to get you off, but right now, all it took was Steve’s approval and you reached your climax.

“Did that feel good, baby?” Steve asks. You nod and he kisses your forehead lightly.

Once your high goes down a little, you ask, “Can you please fuck me hard on your cock?” He groans at your reply and moves you so that you’re lying on the bed again. Completely stripping, Steve turns back to you, his cock hard against his stomach.

He hovers above you and with one hand on his dick, pushes in slowly. You moan at the fullness and Steve immediately starts thrusting in and out. He quickens his pace and you grab onto his broad shoulders. Your nails dig into his back and you’d feel bad, but you know Steve likes the pain. You both do. You’re clenching around him already, on the verge of cumming. Without warning, your climax hits and you moan his name.

Steve doesn’t stop, if anything, he fucks you harder. He hits your g-spot and you yell his name. Your eyes brim with tears and Steve wipes them away. “F-feels so good, daddy.” You cry out.

“Fuck, princess. Your pussy is so tight. Shit,” Steve curses. He pulls out and you whine, feeling empty. He repositions you so that you’re on your stomach with your ass up. He pushes in again and fucks you from behind.

He slaps your ass, adding to the vulgar sounds filling the room. The sound of Steve’s hard thrusts bounce around the room. He moves a hand to your swollen clit and rubs quick circles. Everything is too much and you cum again. You think he’d stop then, but no. He wasn’t kidding when he said you’d cum as much as you can on his cock.

Steve pulls out and changes positions again. Sitting up, he moves you onto your lap and sinks you onto his dick. Your body is drained, too overcome with pleasure. Steve fucks you like a doll and all you can do is moan out his name. You hold onto his neck as he thrusts his hips and moves you up and down his cock.

“S-Steve,” you whimper. You feel something building, but it feels more intense than a usual orgasm. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this, but before you can pinpoint what it is, a huge wave of pleasure takes over your body and you feel yourself blackout for a second. When you come to, Steve has slowed his thrusts down. You hear the loud, wet noise in between your legs.

Before you could get embarrassed, Steve says, “Fuck, I can’t believe you squirted. That was so fucking hot.” You smile loopily and kiss him. He kisses you back and begins to thrust in and out again.

Steve goes harder and faster and you can tell he’s chasing his release. You’re sensitive and tired. All you want to do is sleep for days, but Steve’s moans in your ears keep you going. “You gonna cum, daddy?” you ask, probably more slurred than you intended. “Want your cum in me. P-please, want it dripping outta me.” Fuck, that does it and Steve shoots his load into your pussy. You thought your body was done, but feeling Steve’s warm cum in you makes you orgasm one last time, milking his cock. Steve groans at the tight grip on his dick.

“Shit. Squeezing me so fucking good.” He lets out. You pull away to watch him cum. You will never get tired of his face when he cums. Once the both of you come down from your highs and your breathing goes back to relatively normal, Steve pulls out slowly. He watches as the cum drips out of your pussy and the sight of it almost makes him ready for another round. But not this time, at least, not right now. First, he has to make sure his girl is okay.

“Are you alright, baby?” Steve asks, his tone a stark contrast to minutes ago. You nod, unable to form words. He strokes your back soothingly, “Was it too much?”

You shake your head, “No,” you rasp out. “If it were, I would’ve used the safe word. Don’t feel bad, Steve.” You pull him against you, with his head against your shoulder. Something feels so intimate about the two of you completely naked close together, but not having sex. The mood shifts in the room as the lust dissipates.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you got hurt,” You know he’s referring to the mission and you feel a pang of remorse.

Pulling away, you say, “Hey, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have defied orders.”

“It’s okay. I just…” Steve sighs, “I love you so much and I can’t lose you.” Your heart breaks at his candidness. You pull him into a sweet kiss that reassures him that you’re here and never going to leave him.

Pulling away, you mutter, “I love you, too.” He smiles and gives you a peck on the lips. You reassure him, “And you’ll never lose me.”

[peterrparrkerr]

Prostate milking - read on ao3

Inspired by this picture!

*-*

Peter knows he shouldn't be messing with the suit. He knows. Tony put the training wheels protocol on for a reason.

But Peter didn't need training wheels. He was fucking dating Tony Stark! He was Spiderman, and he was starting college in the spring!

He took out the Vulture and Beck and fought against Captain America! He didnt need training wheels.

Hacking into the suit was a piece of cake, and finding the protocol was easy peazy.

He'd disabled it within ten minutes of finding it, and quickly donned his red and blue suit, ready to test it out. After years of being child protected, it was time to see what he could really do with Stark tech at his disposal.

Only what ended up happening was something he wasn't expecting. The suit stops working completely, and locks up.

"What?" Peter demands, reaching up to pull his mask off. Only it won't come off.

"Karen, what's wrong with my suit?" Peter demands, pressing the spider on his chest to no avail.

He's trapped inside his suit!

"It seems someone has manually taken control of your suit," Karen said. Peter's heart hammers in his chest and he frantically begins clawing at his chest and neck, desperate for a way to get it off.

"Override it!" He demanded, voice raising a couple octaves.

"I'm sorry, it seems whoever has taken control knows all of my protocols and is locking me out."

Peter lets out a small whimper, looking around the room for anything that could help. His eyes land on the computer.

His suit was hooked up to it, maybe whoever got ahold of it snuck through.

Peter drops to his knees in front of the computer, frantically clicking away, trying to find whoever hitched a ride into his suit.

"Peter."

Peter jumped, then let out a breath of relief.

"Tony!" He nearly sobbed. "Someones hacked my suit. I can't get out of it!"

"I know," Tony's voice speaks through Peter's suit. "You think I wouldn't be alerted to anyone messing with my tech?"

"Can-can you fix it?" Peter asked, desperate.

"Of course," Tony said, sounding insulted that Peter would even insinuate that he couldn't. "But first, I think you should be punished."

That stops Peter short. "Punished? For what? Tony I'm stuck in my suit!"

"I know, I put you in there," Tony responded. "You're not ready for the trainingwheels protocol to be removed. I thought we talked about this before."

"I am!" Peter argues. "I'm ready, Tony, I'm not a kid anymore."

"I'm aware of that," Tony sighed. "But you're still not ready. I told you not to hack into the suit and you did it anyway."

"Tony-"

"I'll be home in an hour," Tony said. "We'll see where you're at and determine if you need to be punished longer."

"You're gonna trap me in the suit?" Peter demanded incredulously.

"Yep," Tony responds. "Behave."

And then Tony's voice is gone, and something else happens to the suit.

Peter lets out a yelp when he feels something pressing into his ass. The nanotech of the suit is shifting.

"Tony- Tony! What-" he drops to his hands when the tech breaches him. Its not thick enough to stretch him out, but he feels it press into his prostate.

He yelps when it starts vibrating.

"Fuck," he gasps. "Fuck, fuck, Tony, stop, turn it off."

Tony doesn't respond.

"Karen, over-override systems, turn it off!"

"I'm sorry, Peter, I've lost all controls to the suit," Karen says. Peter groans.

Tony had to have added this special feature to his suit after they got together.

The pulsing vibrations at his prostate has his cock hardening against his stomach, trapped in the suit.

He cums with a choked off whimper, chest heaving.

An hour of this, he thinks with dread. The vibrating doesn't let up.

Peter trembles on the floor, gripping at his mask. He tugs, and almost cries when it pulls free.

He drops it to the ground before frantically reaching for the rest of the suit, wondering if Tony relinquished the controls or if Karen had been able to override it anyway.

But the suit doesn't come off, and Peter shudders at the feeling of the pulsing in his ass.

"Tony- Tony please I can't do this," he said, desperate. Tony doesn't respond.

He turns his eyes to the alarm clock on the nightstand. Three minutes have passed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he grinds out. He can feel his cum in the suit, sticking to his skin.

He shudders and shifts, hands pressed into the floor, sitting on his heels. He tries to take controlled breaths, but its hard.

His second orgasm is sharper than the first one, more intense, and Peter drops to his side, writhing on the floor as his prostate is assaulted without stop.

Its the longest hour of Peter's life, and he cums two more times, each time taking him longer to get there.

He's sobbing by the time Tony comes into their bedroom, and he's so out of it, he can't even register his presence, even when Tony sits down on the bench at the end of the bed.

"Look at you," Tony murmurs. Peter chokes on a sob, forehead pressed into the floor, body trembling. His hips rock on their own accord, and his hands reach for Tony, gripping his pantleg.

"Ton-Tony, make it st-stop," he begs wetly. Tony reaches down and pets Peter's hair, slightly damp with sweat. "Ple-please make it sto-op!"

"Karen," Tony speaks, ignoring Peter's pleas. "How many times has he cum?"

"Four, sir," Karens voice rings out quietly. Peter feels himself tip over the edge again. Its painful and dry and has Peter nearly blacking out. He wails against the floor, trembling like a small dog.

"Please, please, please," Peter pleads on repeat. "I can't, I can't-"

Peter wraps his hand around Tony's ankle, desperate for an anchor.

"Just one more, Pete," Tony says softly, continuing to pet Peter's hair.

"I can't!" He sobs, breath hitching.

"I know, baby, but this is a punishment," Tony responds. "You know better than to mess with the suit."

"Please, Tony," Peter whimpers. He knows it'll take an excruciatingly long time to cum a sixth time. There's a sharp pain in his ass from overstimulation, and his cock throbs in the worst way.

"Come here, baby," Tony hums. It takes help for Peter to crawl into Tony's lap, sobbing and trembling as he does.

He straddles Tony's thighs, wrapping his arms around Tony's shoulders and burying his face there.

Tony runs soothing hands up and down Peter's suited torso, from his sides to his back, then down to his thighs, and back up.

The whole while he murmurs to Peter, soothing words that do nothing to relieve the pain.

"I can't," Peter sobs, voice wet and brittle as tears soak Tony's shirt.

"You're almost there," Tony murmurs, kissing at Peter's neck. "Just one more and then you're done."

Peter's final orgasm is white hot. Pain shoots up his entire body. Theres no pleasure at all, its all painful and dry and Peter wails loudly, gripping Tony for dear life.

"All done," Tony promises. The suit turns off immediately at his words and Peter sobs in relief, his whole body sore and still trembling.

"No more messing with the suit, Peter," Tony says, wrapping his arms around Peter before standing.

Peter shakes his head, wrapping his legs around Tony's waist as the older walks them to the bathroom.

"Lets get you cleaned up."

[pretty-face-breaker]

Need to Ruin Him

c.w. aftermath of torture, cleaning up wounds, bad caretaking, intimidation, manhandling, torture by rubbing brine solution into welts, sadism, begging

—

The spring mattress creaked as Emir clattered on top of it. 

“Take off-...” Pavel stopped, shooting a second look at his bare back, and audibly snorted. “Never mind, just… lie down and I’ll get things to make you look better.” 

Emir whined as he tried to curl in on himself although the loosely tucked bedsheet stopped his arms from getting far. Breathing deep, he took in a whiff of wool and the smell of decay from the old sheets. He could see the almost invisible black speckling against the green, this close up and through his tears. 

He wasn’t certain whether the shock of the whip-marks had worn off. He had only the vague understanding that his back hurt. There was dampness in his hair, the crooks of his body, and on his face but those quickly dried in salty tracks. Hardly there anymore.  

“Bet that’s the last time you’ll do that,” Pavel mumbled. He could see the residue of his crying, the swollen eyes when he turned his head. 

The General had spared no part of the exposed skin, it seemed.

Emir didn’t respond for a few moments as the quiet clutters of Pavel grouping equipment together filled the silence. Then, he lifted his head and the shift in breathing got the man’s attention. But all the abused boy was doing was pulling the corner of a pillow under his chin before he collapsed again. 

Pavel raked his eyes up and down the body, once. Inhaled slowly before turning to stack the peroxide next to the rubber bandage seal. He remembered this one had been produced with a rubber cover so it wouldn’t disintegrate as easily as the paper ones had and recalled how the camp had looked on as the supply trucks had filled in with the equipment during daily drills.

He had jokingly saluted one of the drivers who had turned and smiled. A bright row of pearly whites had peaked beneath the moustache before he had gone ahead and returned the gesture. The image of the ideal worker had been complete. 

Pavel had thought about that man for the rest of the week, inspired by the strength in the smile. 

Spinning on his heel, he returned to where Emir lay half-conscious. “Hey, Suleiman. Look at me.” 

There was a groan and shift. “Don’ call me that,” Emir protested weakly, although his voice was strained with pain and struggle to recognize where the two were. The view didn’t look like the flat one out of his bed with only an iron window and darkness. 

The mattress dipped as he sat. “I’ll call you Edward, if I really want to.” Pavel encouragingly drove the heel of his hand into the boy’s lower back so he jerked and cried out feebly. The faded softness of that pretty little cry made Pavel’s heart race a little and he grinned against his better control. “Sit up or I do that again.”  

Seeing no way out of moving, Emir sighed and winced his way to sitting, facing away from the blond man and his amalgamation of terrible-smelling instruments. Whatever chemicals those were, antiseptic, sterile bandages, they hardly smelled anything close to home. The word home and ‘стерильный’ met his mind at the same time when he threw a glance down to Pavel’s medical tray.

“Sterile,” he read. His throat scratched and the word broke in two. 

Pavel had been tearing open the rubberized protector of the bandages when he stopped with a little smirk. “Yeah. Although, you don’t usually need reading abilities here unless someone sneaks in one of those raunchy magazines.” 

Emir returned a mechanical smile as the rubber tore open until Pavel winked at him and it was then that he raised his eyebrows and broke into a heartier chuckle. Realizing that he had paid the cheap joke with laughter made him clench his jaw in annoyance. 

It was never his intention to get amicable with the enemy but he supposed this one was patching him up which made it easier.  

The bandages were out of the sleeve now - a roll of brown gauze, pin, and two sterile cotton pads. He did notice another thing though, and that was the unsealed opaque jar sitting next to all the bottles. Being close enough, he could almost catch a salty scent sharp in the air. 

A hand quickly covered the top when Emir glanced up. Only slightly taller than him, Pavel’s cheeky smile had transformed into something crooked and cornering. “No peeking now,” he teased. Then, the tone quickly dropped to threatening, traced with amusement. 

“Turn around and don’t make so much noise that people have to come up from an early lunch.”

Emir’s fingers were tightening around the sheets nervously but he didn’t want to give Pavel another reason to make him feel wave upon wave of the same agony he’d gone through minutes before. He exhaled softly and turned to lock eyes with the window, hoping he’d come across as ignorant enough of the jar. 

But what did he care whether he knew? All the better for that sadistic fuck. 

Emir didn’t expect the initial sting as Pavel dipped the cloth into the murky solution and lathered it across his back without warning. Fingers digging hard into the sheets, he squeaked and darkened instantly after, the noise being involuntary. A rumbling laugh made him shiver.

“Don’t worry,” Pavel eased him with his usual mockery of lightness. “This’ll do the trick for all those nasty welts, trust me.” Then, pressed the cloth deeper into one particular stripe that had sliced through him and rendered him speechless, killing the yell on his tongue as General Levkin had brought the leather down.   

The yell was alive now and ripped through his teeth. He was too fucking tired to try to choke them back and what harm was it really? Pavel seemed pleased with the pitch of his wrecked voice and he could alleviate the burning that was eating through his back each time the rag switched directions. 

He wasn’t cleaning, he was scrubbing him. 

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “Argh-... Can you p-please go a bit easier?” He despised Pavel right now, for the pain before, the pain to come, and for rendering him to beg and refresh the dried tear tracks. Blinking quickly, Emir hoped he had caught the tears before they slipped. 

“How else am I supposed to disinfect you? You’re not the first to get whipped.” Pavel’s lilt coiled around his back and legs. 

“Just please-... a little- agh!” 

Emir dropped his chin into his collarbone and squeezed. The strain on his neck was awful. The brine's stench was awful and so sharp in his nose, he swore something would start bleeding soon. At one particularly brutal dig, he gasped and arched away. Pavel’s hand shot to his shoulder and yanked him back in an instant. 

“Stay still, you little shit,” he snarled. 

Emir feebly whispered back. “It hurts.”

Pavel wanted to break into a cackle and tell him that of course it hurt and call him a whole assortment of insults for not realising he was doing it on purpose. Though, amidst the torment, he saw the way his light brown shoulders shook from how hard he gripped the mattress. 

It was a satisfying sight, how hard he was trying to be quiet and then the next moment when he gave up and let his whimpers seep through teeth. A tug of war between his pride and just letting it happen. 

“Plea-... mercy,” Emir gasped at last. 

Pavel was mid-assault on another open welt when he stopped and let his wrist ease off, dropping finally. He choked out relief but the aftershocks of the salt still must have felt like fire. 

Not once during the whipping had he even given the impression that he would beg for it. Not once, and Pavel had been fully confident that the little soldier would wait it out like he did everything with a dormant tongue. Looking at Emir now, he knew that just a little more would have him sobbing and begging in that sweet, wrecked voice-

Mercy, mercy, mercy

“Have mercy, please, God, m-mercy,” Emir hissed again. His arms shook as he held back a ruined sob. “I don’t deserve this.” 

Pavel had stopped now. He was clouded with thoughts that weighed down his hands which were eager for another spin. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, whether for Emir to collect himself - if he could - or to have the thrill to hurt again, to push him over the edge. 

The need to ruin him never came while he was thinking. It left him with dull annoyance as he realized he wanted to leave Emir alone, no longer bloodthirsty. It wracked his brain, the longer he debated just continuing. 

He did deserve it and Pavel was entitled to do it. 

Besides, Emir would probably look beautiful. 

But he didn’t. He dropped the rag, saying nothing, and grabbed the alcohol bottle that was actually medically approved for use unlike his masterfully crafted brine solution. Dabbing some liquid onto a fresh cloth, he applied it gently to the welts but still got that thrill of joy when Emir flinched away. 

“Alcohol,” he corrected quietly. “Not brine.” 

Shivering from the cold and not the pain, Emir nodded weakly and straightened back into his spot. Another moment passed before Pavel was back to work and dabbing away at the redness until he felt the smell of antiseptic was strong enough and switched to the pads. Only two were available. One went on the worst laceration. 

The second, on the one he had created by accident. 

Emir was still shivering. 

He unrolled the gauze and began wrapping it around the boy’s ribcage until the width of all fifteen feet trickled away. The roll felt so much lighter in his hand when he was finished applying it and pulling the end tight. He flicked it to the end of the bed, liking the little thunk it made at the metal footboard.

“Done.” Pavel pushed the tray away from him and Emir gathered up the strength to move. 

“Thank-…” Then, a laboured swallow. “Thank you.” 

He didn’t respond. Emir looked beyond exhaustion. All he did was push his head gently down onto the pillow and let the rest of his limbs take their natural place for comfort. 

He sat there for a long time, watching Emir’s chest rise and fall in even breaths, the sharp stench of alcohol and brine lingering in his nose for almost an hour. 

-

Tagging: @straight-to-the-pain @heathenville @quirkykayleetam @yet-another-heathen  @undertheburrow​ @lektricfergus

 Ask if you’d like to be added/removed!

[an-annyeoing-writer]

Chanyeol x Reader: a day from humble slave’s life. [+18]

Word count: ~5k 

Warnings: s*xual themes, slavery, objectification, minor fat shaming. Please, don’t mistake this with non-con, for it’s not, but if you feel like an impression may trigger you too, simply don’t read it.

This is a fantasy. As much as I tried to portray Chanyeol’s personality accordingly, it has little to do with how I see him as a person, and - especially - with who he really is. Nonetheless, this is NOT meant to insult anyone.

The story was originally a birthday gift for my friend, and therefore, Reader’s age is specified and it’s also mentioned to be her birthday - forgive me that ^_^

7 A.M.

Even before your eyes open, the first streak of consciousness is how you welcome the world.

It’s not going to be a good morning, you think at first; your eyes are sticky as soon as you try to pry them open, your muscles ache, your hair is a mess. How disgraceful, you think. You can’t show yourself to the world like this. Thank God for the attached bathroom.

Look pretty, you were once told, that’s all you can do well.

The words, back then, didn’t sound half as appreciative as you considered them now. But with time, they became a motto, a goal, a purpose. They did say that you’re not good for anything else, but they also said you’re good at this one thing.

Look pretty for the one who deserves it. Whatever your Owner shall want to do with your body, you shall obey.

And if He doesn’t say anything, if He doesn’t even look at you, living His life as if you didn’t exist, then the least you can do is be pretty as to not offend Him: you owe Him your best quality, after all.

The shower is over, the make-up done, the clothes, selected carefully, wrapped around your silhouette as to expose what’s the best in it. The corset is so tight it hurts. But it’s worth it if that’s what He wants.

Off to eat a breakfast. The corset’s gonna get even worse after you eat, but that’s also the price you agree to pay. Eat, to stay healthy: not stuff yourself, not pleasure yourself with sweets. Eat to stay healthy and not cause Him any problems, so that your body stays in the best shape. He expects no less.

He’s there, you realize with surprise. He doesn’t stay around too often and usually doesn’t eat the breakfast at home. But He’s there, sitting in the dining room. Someone is serving Him a breakfast: one of many others, men and women, that He owns. They’re useful, you think. They can cook, they can keep the house clean.

All you can do, is to look pretty.

So you bow deeply as soon as you see Him, and when His gaze finally meets yours, you kneel on the floor next to the door, eyes on the ground as to not annoy Him, letting Him enjoy the sight of what He owns. It probably looks weird, you think, a woman kneeling on the floor with other people around, not an intimate situation at all – she’s not His lover, after all, just a property.

You don’t know if He looks at you, but your posture is perfect as if He did.

When He stands up and goes to the door, you dare not to look up.

When He’s right next to you, His fingers find your lips and put a small chocolate on your tongue, a token of approval; the chocolate is so, so good that you melt in its taste, and you take as much of it as you can, playing with it in your mouth long after He leaves without a word.

*

10 A.M.

Everyone knows, more or less, what’s His job: the exact crimes remain unknown, though, and His secrets stay safe: no one in the house would ever dare to spread them around. And it’s not like it’d be easy to do, either – only some of you are allowed to leave the house in the first place, and you’re not one of these. There’s no reason for you to leave, anyway, since everything you’d need: cosmetics, clothes – there’s nothing more you’d need, right? – other people only give you, and you’re given the exact things that suit His taste, no room for you to do wrong. There’s no reason to give Him surprises, either: you’re like a product, a window’s curtains that are changed to their owner’s liking, not picked randomly in a shop, but chosen by what he likes and what suits the rest of the house.

Your dress now is made of the same purple fabric as sofas in the living room when you’re called over and enter the spacious room with huge windows; a few familiar faces sit in various places all around – not your friends by any means, but people you just saw here before.

“Are you, for real?” one of them says. Your Owner laughs in response.

“See for yourself, Xing” He answers and motions you over.

A small movement of His fingers, a signal you’ve been taught long ago.

On your knees, it says, and you instantly catch the cue, a bit nervous at first, glancing at the stranger’s face just to make sure he’s alright with it: out of pure politeness, because you know that even if he didn’t like it, you’d still do it – it’s not him you’re here to obey, after all.

You don’t ask questions as you unzip his jeans, all the modesty gone as your lips wrap around his cock, as casually as it’d be to hand him a glass of water, no objections: you’re so good, so obedient.

You glance to your side with your eyes slightly blurry from tears. You see an amused, but content smile on your Owner’s face and that’s all the motivation you need to grow bolder, to suck harder. Your throat is not so good just yet, it still needs to get better, you realize, and you choke yourself on the man’s length, punishing yourself for not being good enough. It amuses them. You feel their eyes on you, a quiet sound of someone taking a photo, tears run down your face, your makeup smudged, your hair messy from where the man grabbed it, holding onto it as he set a righter pace for you to follow.

When he cums, you hold still. You swallow what you’re given.

“Thank you, sir” you say in a rough voice, your throat strained. The man smiles at you kindly, and you can’t help but smile back.

You know better than to ignore your Owner any longer though, and you turn to face Him, still on your knees of course, eyes on His shoes.

“Look at me” He instructs. You obey.

He stares at you with a smirk.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir” you reply honestly.

“You can go. Don’t interrupt us.”

Your duty is fulfilled. It feels so good to be useful.

*

1 P.M.

You’ve been sitting in your bathtub for what feels like hours, but it’s okay, it feels good, the water stays warm, your bathroom is so luxurious you can’t help but savor every minute of having access to it: not owning it, of course, but it’s nice nonetheless.

Everything in this room belongs to Him: the tub with heating system, the thick walls, the expensive cosmetics and the softest towels, and, of course, you.

How much do you love to be owned? He asked you once: do you like where you are, what you are?

Yes, sir.

Don’t you just say that to please me?

I mean it, sir.

Do you, really? Come here, then. Show me how grateful you are. Let your mouth convince me, but not with words.

It felt intimate, to be allowed so close to the one you looked up to. Being allowed to please Him was a blessing, and you wished you’d do it more often, but never dared to ask: you’re too low to demand His attention, so even if He was to say no, it’d be a waste of His precious time to consider your plea in the first place.

So instead, you savored every moment He allowed you, as much as you savored the memory of His small groans, the way He relaxed under your fingers, leaning back in His armchair and not even looking at you, but clearly enjoying this little paradise His humble slave served Him. Oh, how well He trained you, you know just what to do to make Him feel good. He deserves the best of you for He’s the one who gave it to you in the first place.

The memory sends a pleasant tingling down to your core and your fingers instinctively reach down, willing to relieve yourself.

But you stop yourself halfway.

You’re not meant for receiving pleasure, stupid, you remind yourself. There’s a smile on your lips at the thought. You’re good, you won’t do this, it’s not something He’d enjoy knowing of, and therefore there’s no reason to do it.

You choose to stay desperate and you’re proud of this choice.

There’s knocking on your room’s door.

“[F/n]? You’ve been sitting there for ages. Come out, I have something for you!”

“Ah, five minutes!” you call back.

“I’ll wait, then!”

You choose to rest just a little bit longer. She can wait, you decide. The water is just too warm.

*

1:30 P.M.

“Seriously, I thought you died in there” are the first words you hear upon leaving the bathroom. Your friend seems annoyed and it’s, truthfully, justified. But then her face brightens up. “Ah, look, I’ve got something good!”

She has boxes with various types of food sprawled over your bed, variety of tastes, mostly healthy, but some sweets as well, and these are mainly things you haven’t tasted in ages since you didn’t really consider yourself worthy of such luxury.

But then, you haven’t seen her lately, you missed her: she always brings something good to share, either be it food or jewelry you can wear for some time before returning it. These are little breaks in your routine, small pieces of something different than you usually experience. It’s good to recall how usual, human life looks like, even if you’re back to your own usual self soon later.

You notice a new, leather collar wrapped around her neck. You feel like you’d look good in one if you had it, too. Your Owner just never thought of idea as such, but who knows, maybe He’ll see her and decide it’s a good one? You can always hope for it.

“What’s that?” you ask, picking a random box. It smells good, sea-like.

“I have completely no idea, but it tastes good” she replies, stuffing her face with some vegetables she holds with sticks. You learned already that as much as she likes food, she never uses her brain to memorize any dish names. It’s not like she has too much brain to begin with, so who cares, anyway. She’s not a cook, but a slave like you, a different kind, but just as devoted and happy with her place. “Ah, try this.” She fetches some sort of candy and puts it by your lips, reminding you briefly of what happened this morning. You take the candy, it melts in your mouth almost instantly.

A few seconds later, her lips are on yours instead, and you taste the pepper with cinnamon she just ate; it’s a strange connection, but it tastes good, and, somehow, it suits the candy’s flavor still present on your tongue.

You feel stiff at first, but quickly melt into the sensation. You weren’t caressed like this in ages, your mouth has only one purpose on daily basis; it feels nice. Her hand is soon on your breast, squeezing it through the thin fabric of your silk bathrobe. She doesn’t wait long before pushing the fabric off you, your fresh and clean body, exposed to the air, getting still hotter with every passing second.

The door creaks and you two finally part; your eyes are on the man that stands in the door frame, his eyebrows raised at your friend as she lets out an awkward laugh.

He rolls his eyes, only half-amused with what he just saw.

“We’re going home” he says sternly. Then, without bidding you a good-bye, she gets off the bed and runs to him, and soon, you’re left alone. You didn’t even notice that your robe was off all this time.

But at least you get to keep the food, right?

*

5 P.M.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

He doesn’t invite you over for dinner often, so you try to enjoy it as much as possible. Yet, your stomach is still full – it wasn’t a wise choice to eat that much at once. You feel like you will blow up if you eat a gram more of the pork in front of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not hungry, I ate earlier” you explain yourself. It’s not a reply that satisfies Him, but He doesn’t pry, and you hope that He will just brush it off.

“Eat.”

You don’t object, you know you can’t. Your stomach is so full you want to throw up. You take a bit of the pork and slowly munch on the meat, hoping that it’ll become more bearable with time. You don’t want to stretch your stomach like this, you’ll feel hungry more often, and what will He say if you gain weight?

You have to endure.

“What did you eat?” He asks.

“Quinoa with vegetables, fish, oats with milk, candy” you answer truthfully. There were some other funny combinations that you consumed, but you decide these are the essentials.

“Hmm, that sounds like a lot. What if you get fat?” He asks calmly.

“I, uh… I don’t think it’s possible if it’s just one time” you try to state so as humbly as possible, but you feel like no matter what you said, it wouldn’t sound good. Maybe you should have apologized instead? Asked Him to be merciful?

“Are you trying to argue with me?”

“No, sir” you answer instantly, your face showing fear at the thought; you wouldn’t dare, no, never. He seems to see it, the way you shiver at the accusation, and He smiles. You’re relieved. You know that He may punish you, that He may use it as opportunity to give you pain, and even tell you that you deserve it – to not feel bad about doing it to you. However, knowing that it’ll give Him satisfaction, that He won’t do it because He’s authentically mad at you, but just wants to play with His toy, is what makes you happy and excited for what’s to come.

For now, at least.

“I thought so” He just says and goes back to His meal.

Just as He told you to, you continue to eat your portion, trying to stuff yourself as much as possible, knowing that your stomach will hurt even more, and thanking God for not wearing the corset any longer.

“On your knees” He suddenly says when you’re almost done. You don’t object, you do as you’re told. “Crawl there” He motions you to sit nearby, not too close to him, off the rug and on the cold panels, hard under your knees.

He leans chin on His hand, watching you, almost bored.

“Make yourself vomit.”

You swallow your saliva nervously and glance up at Him, hoping that He’s just joking, testing your reactions. His face doesn’t change though, and, as you hesitate, His eyebrows raise in doubt. Will you do it? Will you humiliate yourself as a punishment? Will you ruin yourself once again, not through sex, but through being genuinely disgusting in front of Him?

Will He even like it? How could He enjoy such sight? Won’t He feel sick, since He barely just ate? Is it really what He wants?

“What are you waiting for? Did you not understand me? Or should I go over there and push my own fingers down your throat? That’d be so gross. You don’t want me to dirty my hands, do you?”

You quickly shake your head. Of course, no, He doesn’t need to do something that disgusting. You’ll do it, you can do it.

You push your fingers into your throat until you feel the food go back, and you close your eyes tightly, throwing up all over the floor, sensing it dirty your legs, but refusing to look at it. It feels disgusting, painful, the acidic sensation in your mouth making you want to throw up again.

“Look at me.”

You obey. Your face is still twisted in disgust and He watches you, almost unmoved with the scene that just unfolded.

“Gross. Wash the floor, and yourself. Can’t keep it clean today, can you?” He snorts. “I’m not hungry anymore” He announces suddenly, then stands up and exits the room, leaving you on your knees among your own vomit, allowing you to dwell on your pathetic, miserable self.

You sit there, breathing heavily for what feels like an hour at least.

Then you stand up, still dirty, and still disgusting, probably stinking, too.

And for some reason, it feels good, because you just did what He told you to, and there’s nothing more fulfilling than listening to your Owner’s commands, no matter how destructive and unpleasant would they be, and how unwanted and unattractive they would make you seem.

*

8 P.M.

You lie in your bed, exhausted. Your skin feels dry from all the washing today, especially since you spent so long in the tub earlier. You have your thin robe back on, and your eyes are getting sticky from how tired you are, so you close them and let your body relax. That’s so good, that’s so comfortable.

You don’t know how long you lie there, drifting off despite the early hour, before something rouses you out of the blissful state. You open your eyes and look around: the room is empty, lamps still off, but some of the street light entering through the windows allows you to see the surroundings rather clearly, especially since your eyes already accustomed with the darkness.

And said surroundings are quiet and empty, but your instinct tells you that you should get up just because, and you choose to listen to it: you’re not that tired anymore, you got a bit of rest and this day is far from over.

You stand up and turn on the lamp on your bedside table, its soft light brightening up the whole room, although not too intensely.

The door suddenly opens and a woman speaks to you from the corridor.

“Master wants to see you. Go to his room. Hurry.”

With that, she leaves, and you’re dumbstruck for a few seconds. You quickly realize your mistake: it’s not the time for you to be slow or hesitate. Whatever He wants, you’re here to deliver. It surprises you, though, He never makes requests like such. You wish to know if you should change into something more elegant, more suitable, just in case He’s not alone – the bathing robe exposes a bit too much and you’re worried that He wouldn’t appreciate it right now. Yes, more precise instructions would be appreciated.

But with what you’ve got, all you know is that you should hurry. You don’t take nor change anything, then, only making sure your hair looks presentable – the makeup is already gone, but it will have to stay this way – you fix the belt of your robe, too, not wanting it to slip by accident since you have nothing underneath.

You get up and go. You know where to go, although His room and yours are a few corridors apart – the mansion is big and you need to pass through all the most important places to get there, including the door to one of the living rooms and other servants’ bedrooms.

You knock on the door after a short hesitation: not too quiet, not too loud – it’s hard to measure, you rarely ever knock on any door, not to mention the door to His very bedroom.

“Come in.”

You open the door.

The bedroom is not that much larger than yours, but it seems more personal – there are souvenirs, ornaments, belongings that you don’t get to own, things that prove He owns this place.

And then He’s there: in sweatpants and nothing else, droplets of water randomly running down His back where He didn’t dry them with a towel, or where they slipped from His wet hair. You don’t get to enjoy the sight for long though, because He grabs a shirt and pulls it over His head, and you lower your gaze, realizing that staring probably wouldn’t be approved.

“Bend over the table” He instructs, still not looking at you. He walks around the room and enters the attached bathroom, doing all these small evening things: skincare routine, perfumes that seem to help Him sleep and so on. You stand where you were told to, trying to stop yourself from peeking curiously; it takes Him a few minutes of completely ignoring your presence before He finally sighs and turns to you.

He stands behind you, out of your sight. There’s a silence for a few moments before He suddenly pulls on your robe and throws its lower part over your upper back, exposing your behind. His hand pushes on your shoulder, forcing you lower, pressing you against the table’s surface. You don’t flinch.

“Spread your ass” He says, and you obediently move your hands to your cheeks; it feels awkward at first, the air hitting your most private parts, although you know already, there’s no private, and all of you belongs to Him only, all of you is for Him to see, judge and use. “More.”

It almost hurts and you wish you knew what exactly He sees back there; but you don’t. He doesn’t touch you, and a part of you wishes He did – you crave His touch, but you’re aware of your place, you learned to act accordingly.

You jump slightly when He unceremoniously pries your pussy open with His fingers, your hands tremble slightly – it feels so good, His fingers feel so good you could come just from feeling them on you, no matter where, really.

“I heard it’s your birthday today” He says suddenly. His two fingers dive into you and you struggle to keep your composure; your thoughts fly away before you manage to form them into an answer. He pulls His fingers out, spreading your apparent wetness all over your folds. “Is it true?” The touch disappears for a moment and you finally get a chance to breathe.

“Y-yes, sir” you force out.

“I see.”

His fingers are back there, rubbing you slowly a few times, as if checking for any deformations – of course there are none, but He checks nonetheless.

“What’s your age now?” He asks. You wonder if He really doesn’t know, it’s not like He has a reason to care.

“T-twenty one” you mumble in a strained voice.

“Twenty one. In centimeters, that’s how high heels you can only wear from tomorrow on, understood?”

“Y… Yes, sir.”

His hand must be stained with natural lubricant, you realize, as He moves it higher, smoothly pushing one finger into your ass. It’s a miracle you manage to stay still. He doesn’t dwell much on that place though; instead, He pulls out and neatly puts the robe back into place.

“Up and face me.”

Sometimes, you wish to be roughed up – to have your hair pulled roughly, to be manhandled. But He never does that. You know your place. His word is enough to make you do whatever He wants, so why be rough? He’d get unnecessarily tired, and you’re not worth of His sweat, are you?

You stand in front of Him, eyes down, His breath on top of your head, you almost feel His body warmth – you didn’t notice He’s so close, but He is, if you just reached out…

He doesn’t hesitate before pushing the robe open, exposing your front. His hand wraps around one of your breasts, squeezing it so hard and so suddenly you almost scream, your knees trembling. You force yourself to stand straight, but God, does it hurt. He pinches your nipple, no gentler, but at least doesn’t keep it for so long. He does the same on the other side, and you swear you’ll have them all purple tomorrow, and it lasted less than a minute. They hurt so much.

As soon as He loses interest in your breasts, you wrap your arms around your chest, trying to soothe it. His hand moves to your chin instead, forcing it up.

“Open” is all He says and you obey. “Wider.” You try to, but it’s not enough. Pushing fingers into your mouth, He pushes your jaws even further, to the point it hurts and you feel like it will soon break. But you don’t object. He pulls on your tongue – it’s hard not to pull back. You gag as He pushes His fingers deep, but – thank God – takes them out before you can repeat your act from earlier.

You pant when He finally retreats and the contact breaks.

“When was the last time you came?” He asks as soon as He decides you’re in the state to provide an answer.

“T… three weeks ago, sir” you mumble.

“That’s not too long ago, is it?”

“Not too long…” You whimper slightly, confirming.

He doesn’t really hold you accountable of this on usual – only when He, for some reason, feels like making you a bit more desperate, a bit more pathetic. But it’s not something that happens often. On most days, He doesn’t even care for your presence, so even if He – or anyone else He approved of – decided, on rare occasions, to use your pussy for a change, He couldn’t care less if you came, as long as you didn’t make His own experience any worse.

But then sometimes, just sometimes, He wanted to see you struggle.

“What’s the longest you went for?”

“A-a month, sir…”

“Well then, what about we make it two?”

You gulp.

“If you wish so, sir…”

“But that’s starting from tomorrow. You will come today.”

Your eyes snap up at Him as He turns around and sits back on His bed, crossing His legs leisurely. You don’t dare to move from your spot – a good choice.

“Kneel down and touch yourself. Leave the robe on, but don’t cover yourself.”

He watches you with a small smirk as you get down. Your pussy is already exposed; you spread your legs as far as you can and lean slightly forward on one hand, the other finding the most aching spots.

Your Owner watches as you start to rub yourself – and you’re shook about how little it takes for you to find yourself on edge.

“Stop.”

You press your lips together, holding back a whine that tries to push through your lips. It hurts, you wish you could just make yourself come, you’re so needy, so starved for it, it’s been so long…

“Give me your robe.”

You don’t ask. You take the fabric off, fold it neatly and stand up, head low, reaching out with your both hands. The man takes it without care, throwing it onto the floor, far from you.

“Go to your room now.”

“Yes, sir…”

You glance briefly at the clock on the wall – it’s almost nine. And you only wonder, how many people will you pass by, going through the cold corridors, with your pussy leaking and your breasts slowly turning blue.

*

11:49 P.M.

You’re asleep when the door opens again – the sound waking you up slowly, your sleepy movements incoherent as you try to turn the light on. You stop though, as, in the darkness slowly dissolving in front of your eyes, you recognize the silhouette that just welcomed you. Your hazy mind doesn’t proceed it fully though, yet, and you don’t know, what would be the right way to react – stand up? Kneel down? Out of no cue, you stay where you are, watching with wide eyes as the man approaches your bed and sits on the mattress.

His hand finds the edge of your sheets and pulls them away from your naked frame – you often slept naked, and now that he rid you off your usual evening attire, it feels like an even righter thing to do.

“S… sir…?”

“Don’t move. Don’t talk.”

You stay in your place, your eyes following every movement, and when his hand cups your sex, your breath hitches and you struggle to stay still – of course you struggle; you want to grind down, to prove how needy you are, like a bitch in heat.

But he said, don’t move. So you don’t.

He spreads your legs a bit and teases you, stretching your entrance a little just for the sake of his entertainment, like most of the things he does to you, anyway. But then he suddenly stops and starts to gently rub your clit. You press your lips together. It feels so good, so hot, you wish you could moan, scream for him.

But he said, don’t talk. So you don’t.

His other hand is soon on your hair and he pulls you up, not too gently, but not unnecessarily roughly either. His face is so close, his eyes boring into yours. What did you ever do, to deserve a proximity like this? To deserve that much attention? To deserve his hand pleasing you so well, so good?

Nothing, is the answer. You’re not worthy of it, yet he gives it to you: how generous of him, isn’t it? To be touching the filthy animal you are. He’s so good. He feels so good, and you struggle even more, trying to keep yourself together and hold back for the sake of feeling it just a little longer.

“You may come, if you want.”

“Sh… should I?”

He smirks.

“Do you want to?”

You hesitate, a second too long.

His hand disappears and you’re left panting, writhing, squeezing your legs together for friction, but feeling as though nothing can satiate you as well as his fingers did, and you finally let out a cry. How vulnerable.

When you come back to your senses, you feel his eyes on you and quickly return the gaze – you don’t want him to think you’re ignoring him, never. You may have lost your mind for a few moments, but it’s back there – figuratively, for you’re just a dumb whore, there’s no much mind left in you.

“I told you, that you will come today, but you didn’t listen.” You quickly glance at the clock – it’s 00:02. Oh, God. Oh, no. “And now that your birthday is over, I don’t need to hold back, do I?”

You want to say that he shouldn’t hold back regardless of the day, but you soon realize it probably wouldn’t be in your best favor.

And that he doesn’t really need your approval.

Please, reblog if you enjoyed!

[lokihzra]

My Heart’s On Fire For Your Love

Chapter 7: I don’t have a voice

Summary: Only a lucky few happen to find their soulmates. It was so rare that it became a myth. So why did Tony find an L on his wrist a couple hours after Loki threw him out a window and why did he agree to Loki and Thor moving in the tower?

Tony couldn’t deny his heart shattering in his chest, the shards cutting open his lungs in the process. He wanted to freak out, he wanted to yell, yell at Thor for not knowing, he wanted to go to Asgard and poke out Odin’s good eye but he didn’t, instead his eyes well up with tears as he mumbles out “what?”

Tony didn’t think one name would make him sober up completely. Like that time he was wasted after promising Pepper he would stop drinking and she fucking caught him. He sobered up in an instant at her pained expression, now they’re broken up all because of alcohol.

“yep” Loki hums before sitting back down and going back to his book, completely ignoring Tony’s presence like he was never there.

“why? why the fuck would he do this to you?” Tony asks a bit louder, not caring that his voice shakes because Loki doesn’t fucking do anything other than flip a page of his book “Loki why would he do this to you?”

Nothing.

No reaction.

“it wasn’t because of the invasion right?” Tony can’t help but ask “I mean he’s your da-“ Tony tries to make sense of why Odin wouldn’t do this but Loki catches him off guard by interrupting him.

“he’s not my father”

“I know but he raised you-“

Loki speaks louder this time “raising me does not make him my father, loving me and caring for me would make him my father and he’s never done either”

Tony frowns because that’s the exact reasoning he uses to disown Howard before he snaps out of it and realizes this is what Loki wants, to distract him from the real reason he’s here “Jesus you really do know how to use your tongue” Tony states “I almost forgot what we were talking about”

Loki sighs loudly, looking back at his books he says “I hate that you’re intelligent”

“well thanks and I hate that you actually live up to Silvertongue”

Loki looks up at Tony through his eyelashes “you have no clue Stark” Loki says lowly, his tone suggestive and it almost works as Tony's mind flickers over the possibilities.

He’s smarter than Loki thinks, he knows Lokis game “don’t flirt with me to try and make me forget about the fucking cuts all over your back from Odin”

Loki sighs loudly, placing his book on the bed beside him, Loki really does not want to say anything but Tony is fucking persistent and he could use this to his advantage. “promise not to tell Thor”

Tony frowns at that “he’s your brother”

“he’ll tell my mother and my sister and it will just go to shit after that”

“stop swearing” Tony complains with a groan and in reply Loki spits “fuck you, do you promise to keep it to yourself or not? ”

Tony hates promises just as much as he hates breaking them but there’s likely no other way he can get the God of Manipulation to tell him “I promise I won’t say anything”

Loki is quiet for a moment, taking in Tony’s clenched fists and jaw, his tapping foot and quick breathing “I called him Argr after I yelled at him for lying to me, being a terrible father and treating us all horribly, told him that he didn’t deserve us or Asgard” Tony won’t tell and if he does Loki will just throw him off the building.

“you’re not wrong about that” Tony says without missing a beat but quickly asks “what’s Argear?”

“Argr” Loki corrects “worst insult in the Norse language, I’m lucky he didn’t kill me”

“what the fuck is Asgard?”

Loki ignores him and continues “calling someone Argr results in a battle between the accused and accuser, if the accused proves himself a man then he can decide if the accuser dies or lives”

“so what does Argr mean?”

“unmanly, coward, informally it means having relations with a man”

Tony frowns, trying to wrap his head around it “so it’s like Asgard's equivalent of faggot?” Tony asks because it’s the only thing he can compare it to, except that shit doesn’t result in a fucking fight to the death.

You don’t know that

“if it is then why are you saying it?” Loki retorts quickly, hopefully shifting the conversation.

Without missing a beat Tony says “I’ve fucked with men as much as I’ve fucked with women”

“and you’re proudly telling me this?”

Tony shrugs “not in Asgard, people are free to love who they want here”

Loki huffs out a bitter laugh “I see why people like you”

Tony doesn’t ask. Loki wouldn’t tell him anyway. “people like me until they meet the real me” the only people that still like him after knowing him are Happy, Pepper and Rhodey. His own uncle can’t even stand him, Tony doesn’t blame him for that though, he did kill his son, even if it was self-defence.

“When will I meet him?” Loki asks with a raised brow.

Tony can’t help his eyebrows shooting up, he thought Loki would be smart enough to notice the shift “you’re talking to him”

Loki scans him for a moment before nodding with a hum “I like this Stark better” Loki states

Tony's brain short circuits “well I’m going to bed I guess”

“don’t tell anybody” Loki reminds him as he walks out and Tony calls out a quick yeah before heading to Thor's room.

There’s a promise not to say anything.

There’s no promise keeping him from writing it.

Tony backed out. He wouldn’t want Loki to do that shit to him so Tony couldn’t do it, he couldn’t break his promise, he can’t tell anyone. So how can he get them to know without Tony physically telling them? He can’t show them, he can’t write it, it’s the same as telling someone. Fuck he’s supposed to be a genius.

“Stark”

Tony snaps out of it to find Thor heading out to the helipad “when my brother wakes up can you tell him I will return tomorrow”

“of course” he replies too quickly and Thor frowns, noticing his bouncing leg and fidgeting hands.

“is something bothering you?” Thor asks “anything I can do to ease your anguish?”

Tony frowns even harder, his leg bouncing faster. How can he tell Thor, how can he make Thor figure it out? “the trail, Loki’s trail” he mutters “what happened?”

Thor frowns harder “is something wrong with my brother?”

“no no I’m just-“

“maybe I should stay” Thor nearly whispers

Tony’s eyes widen as he sits up “no no Thor, Loki is okay I just wanted to know what-“ Tony stops as it finally hits him “I gotta go”

“do what?” Thor asks as Tony gets up and walks to the elevator.

“ya know work stuff, sign papers, look over footage, make some calls, that boring stuff” he lies easily and he can tell Thor doesn’t buy it as the elevator doors close.

Thank god he’s catching on.

Turns out Thor didn’t catch on.

Tony was in the lab all day watching footage of the tower. Loki had the cuts since the day they showed up to the tower so it confirmed Tony's suspicions of it happening after the trial when Thor came to earth ahead of Loki to inform them of the situation. Loki has magic so that explains why he wasn’t weak or covered in blood.

But why the fuck is he hiding it?

May 19th, 2012

It happened accidentally.

Tony fell asleep during a movie on the couch in the living room. He fell asleep staring at the pictures of his back. So when Steve came in and went to wake him up, Steve freaked out before he could, making Tony literally fall off the couch from flinching so hard.

“what the fuck?” Steve yells

“no no Steve shhh” Tony hushes him loudly as he scrambles to his feet and snatches his phone out of Steve's hand before anything else.

“who the hell did that Tony?” Steve hisses, pointing at the phone in Tony's hand and on instinct the latter shoves it in his back pocket.

“Steve I’m fine” Tony almost yells as he turns around and lifts the back of his shirt a bit “see? I’m fine so stop fucking yelling” he demands and turns back around to face the superhuman.

Steves face hardens before he asks lowly “who did that?”

“It wasn’t done to me ” he says slowly, not knowing how to explain it to Steve without flat out saying it, knowing Steve likes things to be sugar-coated.

“what?”

“the bond” Tony says, hoping Steve could figure it out on his own.

“Loki, you got those from Loki?” he snarls, ready to go fuck him up but Tony quickly says “no Loki didn’t give them to me the bond did”

“What?” Steve frowns before his arms fold together and he asks lowly “does Thor know?”

“No” Tony admits and Steve immediately turns to the elevator. “no no no no Steve please don’t” Tony begs as he steps in front of the man “I promised Loki and-“ he trails off, almost mentioning Odin.

Steve’s gaze hardens as he swerves around Tony and marches out, ignoring Tony’s pleas.

Tony was anxious as shit. He was pacing, biting his nails and constantly checking the time to see how long it took for Loki to come and kill him.

Bruce and Natasha simply sat and watched until a glow of green lights up the room for a split second and Loki appears out of nowhere yelling “you fucking told them?”

Tony holds his hands up in a submissive manner as he steps behind the bar “no I didn’t tell-“

“so what did you write it?” Loki roars as he marches over to Tony and thankfully doesn’t join him behind the bar,

“no Loki-“

“you said you wouldn’t say anything”

“and I didn’t”

“I trusted you with this-” Loki yells even louder because he never trusts anyone, ever “-what if I told them about-“ Loki trails off with a groan, running his hands through his hair. Loki wouldn’t go that low, Stark may go that low but Loki won't. “now my whole fucking family is gonna split up because of me”

“because of Odin” Tony corrects, stunning Loki into silence “it’s not your damn fault he can’t take a fucking insult”

Loki drops his hand from his hair with a sigh and says “my sister will most likely show up with my brother”

“Yeah I heard the Bifrost” Tony mumbles

“you don’t know how badly I want to smash this glass-“ Loki points to the window beside them “-with your head”

“get used to it” Tony retorts without missing a beat.

"seriously you're going to have to" Natasha butts in "I've known him for a little over a year and the urge is still as strong as ever" she says lightheartedly.

"I think I might like you" Loki states, Natashas jaw falling open and he resists smiling by turning back to Tony and asking “if you didn’t tell them then how does Rogers know?”

Tony presses his lips together as he digs out his phone, Loki watching silently as he scrolls through it until Tony throws it down on the counter, the phone nearly sliding off the edge but Loki quickly catches it.

Loki ignores his stomach throbbing with his heartbeat as he stares down at the phone showcasing wounds on Tony's smooth tan back. He simply slides it back across the counter “delete that and don’t show my brother and especially not my sister” he demands before walking to the stairs.

[nightowlfandom]

Vampire! Kim Namjoon- A Little Game- Part 1

So this is a completely different approach than what I normally do...Let’s see where this goes.

This story has a completely different direction that my usual stuff, it’s still going to be kind of smut oriented, but...yeah

Leggo!

...

Of all the days to get attacked! It just had to be in the dead of night in the woods no less. With a huge bloody scratch running up your arm, another down your leg you stumbled down the dirt path trying to fight any way out of the path.

“Somebody!” you coughed. “HELP!” You scratched out. You shook uncontrollably from the cold and blood loss. You were certain you were walking in circles at this point. “SOMEONE!” you coughed. You had taken off your jacket to apply pressure to the wound, but it was only doing so much.

Whatever attacked you ran off, but no doubt it would be back. Sweat had began to burn your wounds, making it hard to focus on getting to safety. It was cold and wet outside, the worst time to be outside. Your vision was blurry. You couldn’t see where you were going. North? East?

“HELP! PLEASE!” you screamed. That was a huge mistake because you wound up coughing violently after your plea for assistance. You found yourself leaning against a tree. You were dizzy as all hell. Before you knew it, you had fully collapsed onto the floor. You coughed up more, feeling that revolting metallic taste in the back of your throat. Blood maybe? This was it...this was the end for you. Of all the times to be a dead woman.

“Do you yield?”

What? Who was that?

Through your blurred eyes and sweat stained strand of hair that had fallen onto your face, you saw the silhouette of a male figure. He was somewhat close to your face, enough for you to get a good view of his eyes. “Do you yield...” he repeated.

You didn’t even know what that meant. You just needed help!

“P-please...help.” your voice cracked. “Please. Pl....ease” you felt yourself fading away from consciousness. You had hoped you hadn’t pissed off whoever was watching over you up there because you fate was practically in this stranger’s hand. He could either help you, or leave you, or maybe even end up taking advantage of you in such a state. You were scared of the latter.

The man stared down at you. Had it been any other person, he would have just left you in the dust to rot. However he seemed to have a strange look on his face, the way his face scrunched up seeing your nearly mangled body and wounds. He pitied you.

“I now give you live. Let the power of the blood moon flow through your veins and allow you to breathe again. My blood now flows through your veins, my venom is now forever part of you.” You could hear low murmuring from whoever this was. You were about to use your remaining strength to ask this man just what the hell he was babbling about but you were cut off by him speaking again. “I’m sorry about this.” he mumbled as he neared closer and closer.

To say you were in even more pain was an understatement. It felt like a million needles stabbing into your body at once. The pain felt like it was seeping beneath your flesh, into your veins and moving around and one hundred miles a minute. Your back arched  and your felt the pain reach your chest. You could only cry and trash. You were to distracted by the sounds of your own screams and thrashing to realize that whoever had done this to you was in the process of picking you up. You were slowly losing touch with reality, slowly but surely.

...

Instead of the rough forest floor you had originally made shelter on, your back was against a soft plush surface. The air was warm and light instead of cold and heavy.

The change alone was enough to make you shoot up in confusion. You stared around the room looking from wall to wall. The windows were all shut but there were dangling lights from the ceiling that casted a glow around the room rather than bright lights. You stared down at your body to find your wounds bandaged up. They almost look professional with how well they were wrapped up.

“Wha-AH!” you rolled off the bed, landing on the velvet carpeted floor with a loud thud. However, you didn’t fall onto your back and roll over onto your stomach like the clumsy buffoon you’ve grown into. You landed on your hands and toes, almost like a push-up. ”Huh?!” You were confused as you stood to your feet. It was getting loud, like high pitched screams were entering into your ears and violating your brain. Everything, screams, cars, even a train! It was ramming in your ears.

In an attempt to ease your pain, you slapped your hands over your ears, only to grab the attention of a full body mirror. You ran over, hand shaking as you stared into the reflection you swore wasn’t yours. Well, it was definitely you but...it didn’t feel like it. You pants had been torn on one leg and for some reason you were covered by a large suit jacket. Not your own because you were wearing a plain blouse as you recalled. You touched your face, running your hands through your hair. 

“What the fu-”

“You’re awake.” a voice that wasn’t your own grabbed your attention. You slowly turned around to see a man walk in. His hair looked as if it was slicked back but had fallen out of place due to activity. His black button up was partially unbuttoned like he was exhausted.

“Stay away from me!” you pointed a finger. “Whoever you are...”

“Please calm down.” He held both his hands up cautiously. “Your brain won’t be able to process everything so quickly if you aren’t careful. It could cause you to faint.”

“Where am I?” You held up a warning finger, ignoring his precautions. “Who are you!”

“Please, you need to relax. I’ll explain everything. You’re in a sensitive condition. I didn’t expect you to wake up so soon.” he spoke. “It’s only been three days.”

“Three days!? Who the fuck even are you!?” you were now close to freaking out. 

“Is that any way to speak to your sire?” his voice lowered significantly. “I suggest you watch your tone.”

“Sire?” you repeated. “I don’t even know you!”

“Hm..what do you remember about the past few nights?” This man seemed eerily calm for having just met you. Was this a normal day to day occurrence with him?

“Um...I was running-”

“From what?”

“I don’t know! I was attacked by...something and I was running and the blood loss was g-getting to me and after that was...” you stopped yourself from speaking. “Ow...my head..” you tried to rub your temples, but it wasn’t easing the pain.

“Easy now.” he came closer, putting his hands on your shoulder. “You need blood in your system and fast.”

“Excuse me?!?” you gasped, taken aback. Your surprise had caused your head to ache even more. “I won’t ask you again, who are you?”

“My name is Namjoon. Kim Namjoon. The newly crowned King Of Vampires.” the man replied, straightening up his posture as he introduced himself to you. The King of Vampires?

“What?” you took a step back in shock. “Vampires don’t exist, you psycho! Now I know you’re crazy.” At this point you were looking for places to escape, all of them seemed impossible with him right in front of you.

“Oh but they do. There’s an entire world humans know nothing about. A world where the impossible is very, very much possible. A world that we fight to keep private.” his voiced lowered dramatically. “Make no mistake, my saving you wasn’t because I wanted to.”

Wow, okay. How polite. Not.

You just stood there for a minute, perking up an eyebrow at this Namjoon character. Not even ten minutes knowing you and he’s managed to insult you.

“But-” His interruption made you look up. “I have my reasons for sparing your pathetic human life.”

“Okay dude.” you were getting annoyed. “Your little jabs are really starting to bother me. If you could just show me the door, I’ll be on my way home.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”Namjoon began walking in circles around you. “By now the news will believe you to be missing, and later possibly even dead.”

“Which is why I should go now so I can y’know...tell them that I’m not missing or dead? That’s kind of the point of leavin-”

“I’m saying that you can’t leave.” he cut you off. “It’s forbidden for a sire to allow his newborns to roam freelee just yet.” he explained. “It would be dangerous because you’re so vulnerable.”

“Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out. You aren’t my sire because vampires don’t exist-”

Suddenly, Namjoon grabbed onto your forearms, yanking you towards him.

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLE-”you were about to yell when your head began throbbing even more than before. This time the pain was nearly unbearable. You were met by images flashing across your head like a tape on fast forward. Images of you running away from some beast, then getting attacked, tumbling through the woods like a crazy person, then nearly bleeding to death in the middle of the forest, then...something else. Only this time instead of your blurry vision, it was clear as day. A pair of crimson red eyes glaring down at your almost lifeless body with pity swirling in them. Then you saw it. What appeared to be great, sharp, canines.

I’m sorry about this.

You found the wits about you to yank your body away from his touch. The impact was enough to make you drop to your knees and gasp for air. “D-don’t...you EVER touch me again.” you snapped. “What did you do to me?”

“I gave you new life.” he crouched down in front of you. “You don’t know it, but part of you agreed to this. To relinquish your human life in exchange for...”

“Don’t answer that.” you groaned, not wanting to believe what you thought he was saying. “....So if what you’re saying is true, then that means I’m...”

“Yes.” he answered for you. If what happened really happened, then he was telling the truth. “What’s your name?”

You slowly stood up, staring at your hands. You noticed there was a funny kind of writing on the backs of your hands. “What’s this?”

“Ancient scripture. This tells other vampires who your sire is.” he replied. “Soon when you aren’t just a fledgling, you’ll be able to read it for yourself.” Your eyes gazed over the tattoo-esque writings. You stared up at Namjoon. Everything was like a whirlwind. Was this really happening? Something about him really put you off, and not just because of the whole sharp teeth, red eyes thing.

“Y/N...” you grumbled after a second. 

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Y/N.” you repeated. “Y/N L/N...” you tried to look everywhere but at him. “So basically I have to make my family believe I’m dead?”

“Yes. That would be the rule.” Namjoon nodded. “But you won’t exactly be homeless if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What?” 

“You are sworn under my guardianship, which means I have to mentor you. You could stay here with me. I’ll have the maids prepare you a room, a lesson course. In theory, I’d be your guide, a master of sorts.” he explained. “Many vampires who haven’t had proper guidance have ended up rogue or even dead. I doubt you’d want that for yourself.”

“Um, no not really! Death isn’t really good for me.” you let out an awkward laugh. To be honest you were reacting eerily calm for the situation you were in right now. You turned back towards the mirror, processing all the words you’ve heard. 

“It’s your decision. Although it would be wise for you to learn how to be out in the sun for long period of time, and find blood for yourself, little fledgling.” he spoke. “I should also have you meet some people.”

“Let me guess, more weird vampire guys?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. Yes you were salty, this whole situation would make anyone feel the same way. It was hard to think that you couldn’t be around your family or friends anymore, at least for a long while. 

“Trust me, they’re good people and my closest friends. I trust them with my life.” he tried to reassure. 

“No offense, but I have a hard time as it is trusting you...and technically you’re my sire or whatever you called it before.” you muttered. If only you hadn’t left home that day. 

“Well you will soon. The bond between fledgling and sire is an unbreakable one. No matter how hard many rogue vampires try, they can’t avoid it.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” that statement scared you. 

“...I’ll let you know.” he walked up behind you. You tried to focus on your own reflection but only wound up staring at him. 

“Now with all of that out of the way, you must be starving.”

...

“Drink slowly.”

You eyed the thick red liquid with caution and distaste. You were used to blood sure, but not copious amounts of it in a wine glass. Although you were disgusted, you couldn’t help but stare. 

“Ew.” you winced. Hesitantly, you took the glass from him. “Do I have to?”

“Well if you don’t want to become malnourished and start ripping your own flesh apart.” he replied with a stone face.

“Y-you’re kidding, right?” horror crossed your face as you pictured that vision. When he didn’t reply nor change his reflection, you had your answer. “Jesus.” you sighed. You could only hope it wasn’t cold, oh fuck that would be absolutely disgusting.

“Take your time, it’s tough the first time.” Namjoon studied your hesitant mannerisms. “It isn’t that bad, it just goes down funny.”

“Now I’m really regretting leaving home.” you groaned, lifting the glass to your lips. Like he had instructed, you sipped slowly. As you had expected, it felt disgusting. You weren’t focusing on the taste so much as the way the blood burned your throat like liquor. You squeezed your eyes close, trying not to gag. It was cold with a stale like flavoring. You didn’t feel bad for whoever’s blood you were drinking. If it tasted this bad, the person was probably better off without it.

Or maybe that was just you being grossed out.

“Slowly.” Namjoon repeated himself. “Take a break if you have to.”

As soon as he said that, you took the glass way from your mouth, biting back the urge to gag. “What the hell was that!”

“Blood? I thought we talked about this?”

“No! I mean whose blood was that and why does it taste so awful!” you burped. “Oh my god it’s even worse a second time.” 

“Hm, that’s strange.” He raised an eyebrow. “I guess it depends on the person.”

“What does that mean?”

“The taste of blood depends on the vampire. Everyone is very different. To someone else, this blood might taste like fine wine. To you however-”

“It tastes like shit.” you cut him off. 

“Yeah.” he chuckled. “Someone else’s might taste like the best thing ever. It would be so intoxicating that you’d be afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop.”

“How would you be able to tell?” you looked up from the glass to him.

“You just know, just being around them human or any other creature. Something about them will send your senses haywire. Since you’re a newborn, those senses haven’t kicked in yet.” 

“So until then, all blood will taste disgusting and cold?” you reluctantly took another sip. “Ugh.”

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve been a fledgling. I can only assume so.” he shrugged. “It gets easier.”

“Yeah, sure.” you shook your head. You reluctantly downed the remaining contents of the glass. “Dear god get it away!”

Just what exactly have you gotten yourself into?

[wingsofkpop]

When You Love Someone - Part Five /// Pragma

pairing(s): Park Sungjin x Reader, Day6 x Reader

genre: High School!AU, Young Love!AU, some Angst, but there’s definitely more Fluff

warning(s): None

word count: 2,7k

synopsis: There are many paths in life, but the longest of all is the path to the heart. In your eyes, what does it truly mean… to love?…

chapter directory

If he’s been ignoring you all this time, why in the world would he want to see you now?...Correct answer, he wouldn’t! So why on earth you allowed Wonpil to talk you into coming here—You should just leave! Stop standing around, mulling over the idea and just go, (Y/N)! But what if there is a chance…? 

The argument between your own thoughts sparks the beginning of a headache in the back of your brain. A groan falls from your lips as you peer over your shoulder, debating whether or not to make a break through the pouring rain and book it before your best friend comes home—Can you even call him that any more? What does that make you two then? 

You groan again, dragging a frustrated hand down your face. If only you could go back to Winter Formal and do it all over again, and maybe instead of telling the boy he’s nothing but an uptight, boring goody-goody that’s only there to help you with your math homework, you’d leave your insults for Nayeon... or just shut your mouth entirely. You can’t even remember why you said the things you did, since all of them were far from true, nor can you imagine why you’d ever try to hurt him in the first place. He was only defending his girlfriend after all, rightfully so, and you brought up the one thing you knew would get under his skin: His insecurities. 

Your eyes well with tears at the memory of the argument, remembering the pained expression that completely overtook his features. You remember the betrayal that shone through his chocolate eyes, that gaze still continues to haunt you when you close your eyes at night. There’s only a teaspoon-full of times you’ve ever seen him cry—and you never imagined you’d be the cause for one of them. 

Once again, you attempt to calm the racing of your thoughts by focusing on the sound of the raindrops meeting the pavement, but it’s no use. You haven’t been able to get him out of your head for the past however many months. A single droplet escapes your eye, trailing down your cheek before you have the chance to wipe it away. It was as if there was a gaping hole in your chest—and it could only be filled by the one who holds the piece. 

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Panic erupts through your veins at the familiar voice as warning bells go off inside your brain. You quickly wipe any remnants of liquid sadness from your eyes and turn to face the newcomer, which only proves to be a bad idea as the sight of him drenched from the storm makes you want to burst into tears. 

“I-I shouldn’t have come,” You hurriedly say, aiming to move around the boy and run far, far away, “I-I-I was just leaving-” Before you can scale the first step and rush down the porch, a set of fingers latch around your wrist to keep you in place. You try to pull yourself from his grip, but he only grabs your elbow with his opposite hand. Against your better judgement, you surrender your struggles—trying to ignore the warmth of his touch.

“Don’t, please…” His plea has your heart racing as your eyes hesitantly lifting to meet his own. Almost immediately, you find yourself drowning in the irises, wanting nothing more than to indulge in their warmth. However, his next murmur steals the air from your lungs: 

“I... I want you to stay…” 

“Sungjin-” You shake your head, unable to reply in anything above the sob that spills from your lips. Sungjin immediately pulls you into a fierce embrace, practically suffocating you with his arms. You greedily accept, having been deprived of his bear hugs for so long, and bury your face into his chest to muffle your pathetic sounds. He allows you the time to cry, and you almost swear you could feel the weight of his own liquid sadness landing atop your head. 

Your suspicion is answered when you raise your head, finding Sungjin’s cheeks littered with rainwater and his own teardrops. He moves one of his hands to wipe the tears from your cheeks, peering at you with such affection that it almost makes your heart burst. He purses his lips, as if hesitant to say what was on his mind. You only have to wait a few more moments, “I hate when you cry... It kills me…” 

You don’t know how to respond, and instead pull him in for another hug. This one lasts a bit longer than the last, almost like the both of you were growing acquainted to one another after so long of being apart. Just the thought of returning to how things were only minutes ago sends a wave of nausea through your gut—What if he doesn’t forgive you? And ends your friendship for real? He couldn’t… could he?

You pull away from the boy with a deep inhale, ready to pour every little thing that has piled up on your shoulders like dirty laundry: 

“Sungjin… I’m so, so, SO sorry…” You begin, shaking your head, “...Everything I said was completely out of line and so not true… I shouldn’t have tried to hurt you like that-” Sungjin patiently waits as you collect yourself, blinking away the fresh round of tears that threaten to leave your eyes. Only after you’re sure you won’t succumb to another melt down, do you continue, “and I know I-I don’t deserve your forgiveness and that’s-that’s completely fine-you can hate me- I just needed you to know that it-it kills me inside and-and that I know I-I’m the stupidest person on the planet-” 

“-Stop, (Y/N), stop-” Sungjin suddenly reaches forward to take your face between his palms, hushing the babbles that fly from your lips. He soothes the tremors that attack your body and the anxiety attack building in your chest—all the while mindlessly caressing the hot flesh of your cheeks. Once he’s sure the majority of your panic ceased, he pulls back to connect your gazes once more. 

He nods, “What you said… did hurt me… It hurt me a lot, but (Y/N)-” The boy quickly wipes the start of another droplet from the bottom of your eyes with a soft smile. You silently continue to drink in his comforting touch, clinging to every word that passes through his lips, “-we all make mistakes… and it’s our responsibility to learn from them to be better…

“And I could never hate you, sweetheart…” Sungjin chuckles, his eyes glazed with unshed tears and a plethora of emotions that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “Not even if I wanted to… Not even if I had to…” 

You tearily laugh, “This world doesn’t deserve you, Jinnie… I don’t deserve you…”

“You deserve far better than me…” Sungjin pulls you in for another embrace, but this time, his arms seemed a lot more tighter...and secure. 

“Promise me that you’ll always be here?” 

“I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth and back…” He whispers back, his chin lowering to rest against the top of your head. “I love you too much to let you go…” 

“I love you too.” 

—Little did the two of you know at the time…The both of you meant it… Truly. 

One thing your high school has always prided itself in is their biweekly basketball games—more so since the basketball team has been undefeated since the start of the season. The student body and spirit squad always team up in order to make the events as entertaining as possible, even for the students who don’t necessarily enjoy the sport. Most even consider them as a sort of fun “early weekend celebration”. It’s also a plus to be able to skip the last two periods of the day. Since freshman year, you’ve always attended the games with your friends. It’s just become the norm, especially after Sungjin joined the basketball team. Jae and Wonpil usually perform during the half-time intermission too. Although this time, they'll be featuring a third party. 

You watch the uniformed  players as they make their way off of the court, the whistle announcing the end of the second quarter having just rung only seconds before. Through the uniformed crowd, you manage to spot Dowoon chatting away with none other than Brian. Ever since the night after the convenience store, the two of you have become decently good friends. At your advice, he's also become a lot more of a people person, even going as far as to join the basketball team for the rest of the season. It took some time, but people are finally starting to really see him for who he is. 

Your gaze wanders to the opposite end of the bench, your chest tightening at the sight of Sungjin sitting by himself. During half-time whenever Wonpil performed, you and Sungjin would always sit together and cheer the musician on. And although the boy’s face was black, you could still feel the sadness radiating from his form—the same sadness lingering in your own heart. Maybe he missed you just as much as you did him. 

“Hey, (Y/N)!” You whirl around to find Jae, his guitar already prepped and resting against his hip. He nudges your shoulder with a sly grin, “You look hot... like smoking hot!” 

“Thanks, Jae.” Rolling your eyes, you playfully return the boy’s mischievous comment with a shove to his chest. He chuckles, but the sound gradually dies out as he notices your eyes flick back toward Sungjin. He also glances at the basketball captain before sending you a sympathetic expression. 

Jae nudges your shoulder again, except the act is more encouraging than any. “Hey... Don’t worry, the guy’s been in love with you for years. Everyone knows that.” 

“Everyone except me apparently,” You answer sarcastically, tugging at the fabric of your navy gown. Your other hand flies up to mess with your hair and smooth away the imaginary fly-aways. A sigh drips from your lips as you drop your limb and turn to face your friend, “...What if all of this is for nothing? I mean, he basically said that our friendship is over-” 

“-That’s just the talk of a broken heart.” Jae says. 

“But what if I seriously messed everything up!?” You shake your head, “I promised him that I would never hurt him again, and I went and did just that!” 

Your companion sighs, “We went through all of this already, (Y/N).” 

“But-!”

“-(Y/N).” With two hands on your elbows, Jae hushes the rant forming on the tip of your tongue. You close your mouth, unable to argue against the intensity of his eyes—it reminds you of Wonpil from the other day—and like clockwork, the same question falls from his mouth: “Do you love him?” 

But unlike last time, you don’t hesitate, “With everything I have.” 

“Then get out there, and show him.” Jae nods toward the center of the gym where Wonpil was already waiting at his keyboard, his eyes reflecting the same determination present in the guitarist’s. Once more, your gaze falters to the boy that holds the key to your heart, mapping out lines and planes of his handsome face... Just like that, you have your answer. 

You accept the microphone that Jae offers with a deep exhale, “I’m ready.” 

Before you know it, you’re standing in the center of the court with dozens of pairs of eager eyes looking your way. The silence of the room cuts at your nerves like a hacksaw, but you muster the strength to stand your ground, glance toward the awaiting keyboardist, and nod your head. Your best friend provides you one final smile of comfort, before turning to his instrument and strumming the first chord. It’s now or never—  

—and with that, you swallow the knot in your throat and inhale a deep breath. 

“You’re such a soft-hearted person… Every time you are silently in pain, even if I have to give it my all, I want to make you smile again…” 

Unable to help yourself, your eyes fall to Brian and Dowoon, who were staring back at you with the largest grins across their faces. The younger of the two sends you a thumbs up, while the other gives you a wink—their support doing wonders to your racing heart. You peer back at your two bandmates, earning the same reassurance from their smiles.

“I want to cry for you, I want to hurt instead of you… I don’t want any scars in your heart, ever again…” 

You’ve never been much of a singer, but you find your voice easily melding with the melody of Jae’s guitar and Wonpil’s keys. One glance at the crowd has confidence blooming throughout your veins, seeing the majority of the students already swaying with the beat. You can’t help but smile. 

“When you love someone so much that it overflows… It’s so amazing because that’s how it is…” 

After what seems like eons, you finally turn your focus to Sungjin—and when your eyes meet, it’s like fireworks erupting throughout your very being. For a moment, you actually believe that your heart was going to leap from your chest just at the sight of him, staring back with an expression of disbelief. However, his shock dissipates as the next lyric floats from your lips: 

“This is a song for you… I’m singing for you…” 

You practically melt into a puddle right then and there, watching the pure love that floods Sungjin’s face like an absolute dream. He rises from the bench, his gaze never faltering from yours, and shakes his head with his signature smile along his lips. Holding back a large grin of your own, you nod your head and continue to spill the true feelings of your heart. 

“This is a song for you, I’m singing for you... I’ll give you everything…” 

Before you even realize, the melody of the song cuts out and is instead replaced by the whistles of the wild crowd. Even so, the sounds are unheard against your ears with your attention centered on something else—on someone else. As if drawn to each other, you abandon your stage and meet the boy halfway. You simply stare at one another, drinking in the mutual emotion curling around your bodies like a tightrope. 

Sungjin is the first to break the silence, tilting his head with a chuckle, “Wearing my favorite color, huh?”

“Maybe.” You snicker and dramatically drop into a curtsy, “You like it?” 

“Yeah… The sneakers are a nice touch.” 

“Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.” 

Sungjin doesn’t hesitate to follow your command, winding his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. One of his hands cups your cheek as yours take purchase in his soft hair. His lips easily find your own, and though it’s cliche, they seem to fit like puzzle pieces—almost as they  were meant to fit together. The kiss is brief, but filled with everything that you have been holding back for years; all the passion. The desire. The love. 

You notice a bright grin across Sungjin’s features as you pull away, the sight spreading the most pleasurable warmth throughout your veins. You can’t help but tighten your arms around his neck, leaning up until your noses were barely centimeters apart. His breath can be felt against your cheek as you murmur, “Does this mean you’ll go to prom with me?” 

“It’s just like how I said, sweetheart.” He smooths back your hair with a gentle hand, peering down at you with those same eyes that always manage to make your heart go wild. “I’d follow you anywhere you go-” 

“-because I love you too much to let you go.” You finish. “Then I hope you know that you’re stuck with me for a long time.” 

Sungjin smiles, “A lifetime loving you doesn’t seem so bad... especially since I’ve made it this far.” 

“You’re mean.” Your companion bursts into laughter at the pout that forms along your lips, but quickly leans down to kiss it away. You melt into his touch for the second time, ignoring the obvious cheers of your friends somewhere across the gym. Instead, you focus on the feeling of just existing with your lover in the passion of his embrace. Again, it’s cliche, but it’s as if this was truly meant to be. 

It’s so strange when you love someone... but then again, it’s also amazing…

...because that’s just how it is.

[words-of-sin]

A Nunh’s Carrrre

Commission for the fantastic @darthsuki!

Relationship: DFAB!Miqo’te!Reader x U’odh Nunh

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You know you need the aid of the once-great adventurer, U’odh Nunh. Problem being, his rut is near and you happen to be prime for breeding.

Notes: Contains the following: DFAB!Reader, Seeker!Reader, Heat-Induced Sex, M/F Relationship, Slight Mindbreak, Cock Worship, Dirty talk, Breed kink, and more.

Visiting a tribe of Seeker Miqo’te near their mating season was nothing short of reckless. If the U Tribe’s cycle was anything like your own tribe, it would be within the next Moon. Still, the scions made it clear that time was not something you had to spare. You needed to gain favor with the Company of Heroes now. The threat of Titan was far more important than any personal comfort, after all.

Y’shtola had double-checked with you before you left, asking if you truly felt it wise to go with such a sensitive time nearing. You’d laughed, assuring her it would be fine. After all, you’d met many Tias before, and the pull of your own tribe’s Nunh had never been an issue.

But by the Twelve, you were not ready for the way he purred. Even his smell was more enticing than anything you’d experienced before. It took only ten minutes in the Nunh’s hut for you to realize why Y’shtola was so concerned: the U Tribe’s heat was far closer than you had anticipated. U’odh Nunh retained a sense of composure about him that almost made you question if he truly was the one who gave off the scent that was making the air feel so heavy. He listened earnestly, his ears flicking as he thought over your plea for his aid. His tail swatted behind him, and you watched as his eyes dragged across your form.

You could tell he was nothing short of a warrior with that gaze. His eyes, a sharp off-white that practically glowed in contrast to his dark skin, felt so heavy on you. He held mischief in him with how his lips quirked into a slanted grin. It was enough to make you nervous, to wonder just what was he thinking? You knew the traditions you would have to follow to gain his approval for the request: if you were an outsider who wished to have the aid of the Nunh, you must appease he and his tribe alike. 

It would have been simple during any other season, you were certain. Perhaps he would ask you to prove yourself through some menial tasks. Maybe you would have to fight something? Take part in a hunt? Your ears pressed flat against your head, watching U’odh stand. His arms crossed behind him as he rounded the table, your gaze never leaving him. He was silent in his movement, stalking behind you with only a light tap from his shoes on the rug below telling you where he went. 

The two Tias and attendants in the room watched him. You held your breath even, eyes closing as you urged the tension that filled the room to not affect you. Turning to face him would be an insult, showing your distrust. The temptation remained, however, especially when the other four Miqo’te in the room all seemed to glance at one another, sharing a silent but knowing look amongst them. 

The Tias both gave a nod towards U’odh. The attendants headed towards the door as U’odh spoke from behind you, “adventurrrrerrr...stay where you are," it was no mere request, the purr sending a shiver straight through your tail. The Tias followed after the attendants. The older of the two, a black-haired Seeker with glasses, remained silent as he walked past you without so much as a glance. The other grinned, white and black ears flicking.

“Good luck, Adventurer,” He whispered as he passed you, giving a sly snicker and wink before he disappeared from your view as well. The door shut and you felt the awareness of your situation grow. It was just the two of you now, the desire to turn around and see what the Nunh was doing stronger than ever. 

Your ears flicked, searching for any sort of sign or noise to tell you where he was and what he was planning. The heat coming from his body hit you first, his arms caging you as his hands pinned themselves to the table on either side of you. U’odh was close, the scent coming off of him so godsdamned strong as his hips pressed into your lower back. A small voice echoed inside how dangerous it was. Nunhs could set their female born tribe members into heat with the pheromones from their own, couldn’t they? Did it work if you were from another tribe…?

“You are so farrr from home at this time of year,” his voice was barely more than a growl as he spoke into the crook of your neck. “Tell me...have you no place? No Nunh?” 

“I-I….left,” you answer. “I felt a calling and...I followed it.” The Seeker hummed as his claws dragged across the wood of the table towards you, hands placing themselves cleverly. His right was on your hip, low enough to give his intent and high enough to show his respect; you were an outsider who did not belong to him. The Nunh’s advances were bold, something tribes looked down on. Were you claimed, his touch alone would be a threat to your Nunh. What if you were lying? He was playing a game of absolute risk.

U’odh showed no worry as his left hand was used to move your hair away from the sensitive nape of your neck, breath hitching as a single claw dragged along your skin. It was a special place for the Seekers; the nape of one’s neck was used to show if you’d been bred that season by the Nunh, his scent and mark being held to show his claim. The nerves were sensitive, something that no one dared touch casually, and it sent trembles through your body. U’odh was an experienced Nunh, nearly half his years spent in the role. There was no position or gesture he didn’t know, and touching such a place was no mistake.

He was serious: he truly meant to breed you. To claim you in ways your tribe’s Nunh failed to.

“I underrrrrstand...the call of adventurrre. You are herrre for aid because you seek to do what I have, arrren’t you? Slay the prrrimal Titan as I had in my youth?” He was asking but you knew well enough he was simply toying. Each word could be felt at your nape, his breath was so hot on your skin as his lips ghosted over the spot. Speaking was merely an excuse to tease. A deep breath to clear your mind failed, more of U’odh’s scent filling your head.

“Y...yes. I...I’ve slain a primal before--Ifrit. I can do it, I just need information,” you swallowed hard as the hand used to brush away your hair glided down your side, a single claw tracing the shape and dips of your curves.

“An imprrrressive feat. Adventurrrre is truly your calling but you...such a prrrretty thing...surrrely your Nunh wanted to keep you.” It was clever how he urged you to reveal what he wanted to know. He was a proper Nunh, after all: he took only what was unclaimed, especially if it was from another Nunh’s tribe. “How did you everrr manage to escape his grrrrasp?”

“He...ne...never ha-had me.” You could feel his fangs now, each word he had spoken enunciated by the way they scraped along your skin. It was foolish to tell him that, to tell him that you were free to take. Still, the words tumbled forth without much thought. “I didn’t...I wanted...to explore. To see more. If I….he wouldn’t….le...let…”

“Huussshhh,” U’odh pressed harder against you, the clear shape of his hardened cock impossible to ignore now. “You needn’t worrrrry about that now. Such a prrrrretty thing you arrre, though. And to have neverrrr had the touch of a Nunh? Such…..trrrrrravesties shouldn’t be allowed….but...we could….rrrrectify that. Wouldn’t you like a taste of it…? To have a Nunh?” 

“I...M-my….Titan-” you tried, U’odh silencing you with his right hand squeezing at your hip. It traveled down, slipping to your inner thigh. You felt a dull throb as a groan escaped, watching his left hand as it revealed a small drawer hidden under the table. He pulled out a slender vial that made your eyes widen.

“Just forrrr the night, prrretty thing. Forrrr a night, you will be brrred by your new Nunh….and then I will give you this...and aid you in yourrr quest.” His voice was deep, drowning you as each purr rumbled between your bodies. U’odh held the vial up, giving it a small shake in front of you. The tincture was popular amongst women who wished to prevent becoming impregnated, a special concoction created with Miqo’te heats in mind--no matter how much cum he filled you with, the tincture would take care of it. It would be like nothing happened, you told yourself as his right hand explored over the fabric of your pants. 

“Just...fforrr the night,” you purred back, face red at the way your tongue rumbled over the words. “One night...and then you give me the potion...and you help deal with Titan.”

“Aye, my prrretty thing. I am a man of my worrrd.” 

You nodded, eyes still locked onto the vial as it was returned safely to the hidden drawer. You found yourself licking your lips as it closed. “What...would you have me do?”

"What you would do forr any Nunh, my prrrretty thing,” U’odh mumbled into your ear as he nuzzled into your hair. A tight grip on your hips spun you to face him, your eyes locking and you could see the way his pupils were blown wide as he spoke in a growl, “prrresent yourrself."

Present yourself? You knew of the custom of course; a female to be bred was to position herself for the Nunh, bent over with their ass high and tail lifted out of the way. It was an unspoken welcome to the Nunh. All the female born Seekers were taught when they were of age, but you had chosen to not allow your Nunh into your chambers when Heat came: to be bred meant to be bound to the tribe and that meant ignoring the call to adventure. You would have kits, and such a responsibility was too much to balance with your status.

Still, you were no virgin. You were at secretly thankful you had taken on a few Tia lovers here and there to aid in the heats before. That you weren’t completely out of your element as you squeezed out from between his body and the table to give yourself the space needed to work at your clothes. 

U’odh watched you, drinking in the sight as you began with your shirt as his tail flitted about behind him. His own vest was shrugged off with ease. You shivered, fingers stumbling over the buttons. The Nunh caught it effortlessly. You avoided looking at him as he stepped forward and took your hands in his own as he pulled your bodies close once more.

"Prrrretty thing, why do you hesitate? Arrre you so inexperrrienced? Nerrrrvous?" The hand that held yours was callous and strong. U’odh dragged you close, chests pressed together as the vibrations of his purr thrummed through your body once more. The Nunh used a single finger to lift your chin. 

"I…. Told you,” your eyes slipped half-closed, gaze shifting to his lips as you mumbled. “I’m not…inexperienced but...my Nunh and I…”

U'odh stiffened, and for a moment you feared he would reject you. Of course. A Nunh was used to the pleasures of his tribe and of mates who had long since learned the art. You, on the other hand, chose adventure and never regretted the choice till that very moment. If this was to be the only way you would gain his favor then- 

"Sweet little thing….prrrrrrecious warrrrriorr…I told you, I am yourrr Nunh. You need only to say the worrrd and I shall do as all Nunh should." U’odh hummed, cutting your worries short.

"An…. And that is….?"

The distance between you shortened, his breath dancing on your lips he cooed, "Take carrrrre of you."

You felt consumed by him, the kiss earning a whimper from you as his hands dropped to your hips. It was little surprise that he was strong, yet you still yelped as the ground disappeared from under you and your legs wrapped around his waist out of instinct. His hands rested on your ass, holding you high as each breath you took was cut off with his lips. They were rough, your own more soft than his. Had your previous lovers’ lips tasted this good? 

The movement was barely registered past the way his steps made your body grind against him. His hair was soft, your fingers tangled as you pulled him in for more. How quickly that word took over your mind, a kiss alone sending you into a mantra of more, more, more. 

It was miserable being let go of, spilling back onto the table as he laid you out before him. The whole of your body felt cold, the loss of his lips being the worst of it all. Propping yourself up with your elbow, you watched as his hands slid along the length of your thighs. “U’odh….?”

“Hussh, Prrrretty thing,” he cooed, the man dropping to his knees as he spread your legs, hooking them over his shoulder. “I am yourrr Nunh, rrrrememberrr? When we brrrrreed, you call me Odh.” You flushed at the gesture, his true name being granted to you so easily.

“Y-Yes Od-Oh!” You jolt as his tongue dragged over the fabric of your pants. His ears flick as he grins from between your thighs, arms wrapped around your legs so he can hold you to him. You could feel the muscles tense as he pressed his mouth to your core. Each breath he took was deep, inhaling your scent as he nuzzled closer. It was frustrating, your hips rutting of their own will in the hops that the feeling your clothes dulled would become stronger. 

You were no match for his experience, no matter how many Tias you had bedded before.

He looked up, eyes glowing with mischief and you swore you could feel his smirk through your clothes. U’odh stood, taking your legs with him and making your back arch. All that remained on the table was your shoulders and head, thighs still over the Nunh’s shoulders. 

“If you wish to fight the prrrrrimal,” U’odh spoke between each kiss and lap of his tongue, the blood rushing to your head making the pleasure rattle through your senses harder than before. “You will need...betterrr arrmorrrr, Warrriorrr.”

“B...Better...armor?” You asked, your mind hazed over from the feel of his mouth. The fabric around your sex was soaked now, the question of if it was your need or his tongue being the leading cause becoming impossible to answer. “What...where would I…? Wha...what is...wrong with….”

“The fabrrric...it’s much too thin,” U’odh hummed, shoulders rolling as he moved his hands from your knees. You watched best as you could at the given angle as his grip slipped to your inner thighs, inches from your core. “I shall supply you with something strrrongerr. It’s the least I could do afterrrr this.” 

“After what-?” The tear of fabric cut your words short, your heart skipping at the realization. His claws dug into the fabric, shredding easily as he tore both pants and smallclothes alike. The Nunh’s breath was impossibly hot, the man not sparing a single second before rejoining his mouth with the newly exposed slick folds.

Your own claws dug into the table, tail bristling and wrapping around one of U’odh’s arms. You were certainly no stranger to pleasure, and to say you’d never had a lover taste you would be untrue. But his tongue, his mouth-

The Nunh’s experience was clear as he sucked at your clit, the pressure calculated and knowing. Each stroke of his rough tongue sent a shiver through you, every noise he drew from you causing his ears to flick. 

“O-Odh...I-I...Haaahhoooww?” It was maddening, the Nunh pinning each of your sensitive spots within moments. The familiarity he approached you with was that of an old lover, every secret unfolding before him with utter ease. 

“Oh, prrretty thing,” he moaned, the expression he wore nothing short of lewd. His mouth was shimmering from the liquid, mouth hung open as his tongue resisted being more than even an ilm away from your cunt. Never had you seen anything like the look in his eyes, his pupils reminiscent of a Hyur’s through his hooded gaze. “Prrrrrecious Darrrrling, do you not know...how sweet you arrre? Such a delicious flavorrr you possess...Yourrr poorrrr Tribal Nunh--he knows not what a trrrreat he has lost.”

His ministrations were highlighted with a flick of his tongue and your back arched, tail squeezing at his arm as tightly as it could manage. He nuzzled into your thighs, his facial hair tickling at the skin your torn pants no longer covered as his purrs vibrated against the sensitive bud that absorbed his focus. 

“Oh Gods,” you whimpered, the table splintering under your claws as the heat built in your belly. How had you never had a lover purr for you like this before? Your hips rolled, curses for all your past lovers failings slipping away. “Cl….cllooossse! O-ohh….Oodh!” 

The pressure was maddening, the whole of your core throbbing as you teetered. It was close, so close! You could feel how your sex throbbed, beckoning to be filled. Your mind melted into more, more, more until-

He stopped. 

“No! N-no...nono, noo-ooo, O-Odh why!?” You squirmed, voice barely more than a mewl as your legs kicked behind his head. You tried to curl forward to grab at his hair, unable to do much with the majority of your body being lifted off the table still. A slick smirk danced across his lips and you wanted nothing more than to shove his mouth back where it once was. “I-I was...sssooo close! Wh...why would you..?” 

“Prrrecious little thing...you trrrruly think I would let you be spent so soon?” He licked his lips, slow and deliberate as he seemed to savor the remnants of your taste. “I’ve yet to even begin with you.”

Your body reconnected with the table, legs still in the air as U’odh held them to his chest. He pressed forward, the wet mess of your near orgasm soaking into his pants. It was impossible to resist the urge to grind your hips at the feeling of his clothed erection against you. The man’s ears flicked, a small grunt and shiver telling you that the friction worked at making him lose just a fraction of control. 

Your shoes were tossed with another promise for replacements that you hardly cared about hearing. All focus was on how you squirmed against him--to feel as much as possible as he worked off the tattered clothes from your hips. There was hunger in his movements that grew with each successful grind. He eyed you as a predator would, claws making simple work out of your shirt as they would if you’d been nothing more than prey beneath him. 

The thought was shamefully exciting. 

The air was cold against the heat of your skin, breasts bare to him. An instinctual reach to cover yourself was halted with a growl, U’odh eyeing you as he pressed your wrist to the table above your head.

“You don’t hide frrrom yourr Nunh, Prrretty thing. I get to see all of you.” His words came out as a hiss, head ducking down to take a sensitive nipple in his mouth. The harsh bang of your body jolting echoed in your head as U’odh worked both wrists into one hand. His free hand explored, claws dragging along your skin until he reached the breast his mouth left unattended. 

“I-I’m ss-Sorry, Oh-dh!” Your voice breaking as he nipped at the underside of your breast, sucking at it until you felt a mark bloom. Each jolt from his attention caused your hips to grind together, his cock teasing through even the thick layers of his pants. 

The seeker shifted, mouth taking in the nipple that had been pinched between his fingers. Every ilm burned, his hand dipping along your naked torso until it was no longer touching you. There was a sort of rattle and the sound of fabric dropping was registered. Your ears swiveled, trying desperately to locate the source--you’d been stripped bare already...what cloth had he removed? 

The press of his hips was a simple answer, the belts and fabric that had been wrapped around him no longer in the way. The outline of him was unbearably clear now, the head of his cock almost teasing to press into you already, and a bold desire sparked inside your chest. 

Squirming, you managed to loosen his grip, breaking your wrists from his grasp with a sudden tug that seemed to throw him off. U’odh may have taken on the role of your Nunh, but you were still a warrior and to forget that would be his own error. 

The wood of the table scraped along your spine as you slid forward, the press of his hips allowing his cock to slip along your torso. You wanted, for a moment, to feel it against every ilm of your body. The Nunh took a forced step back once your knees hit the floor, his tail fluttering behind him. A thick brow raised as he watched you, his gaze locked with your own as you felt pride in surprising the experienced man. 

Your right hand clung to the leg of his pants, left slipping around the thick girth that pressed desperately against the fabric that contained it. A shy tongue lapped over the fabric, tasting cotton-soaked need from your own sex being pressed against him. He snarled, hissing at the touch as he bent forward. The smell of his cock was strong, the pheromones rooting themselves deep within you as you nuzzled into his groin. If he hadn’t triggered your heat before, it was certainly happening now. 

“Odh...my Nunh…” You spoke with a gasp, mind hazy as your actions were now melting into simple instinct. There was no want for anything more than what was efficient, his pants pulled just low enough for his cock to be free. 

The smell was everything now: your thoughts, cravings, and wants all focused on the scent alone. Air tasted of U’odh Nunh’s heat, the sight of him making your head spin. Tia you had seen before, but what was before you made what you had known seem like a cheap imitation. 

The Nunh was thick, red slick skin already wet from the pre-cum that dripped out of the tapered tip. Small bumps seemed to line its length, ending at the base of his cock where his knot was. 

Oh Gods, the knot. 

Every bit of him was shaped to breed, the angled tip lining up perfectly for the task, you imagined. It made you shake, imagining the volumes of cum that he would press into your core. The hole his precum was leaking from was sizable, easily fitting the tip of a curious tongue, U’odh groaning as he gripped the table’s edge as your thoughts filled solely with the thick taste. Your hands became slick with a single stroke of the length, both being used to encompass the full girth of his knot. 

“Currrrrrious thing arrrren’t you?” U’odh released the table with one hand, stroking the top of your head as you looked up at him. He shivered at the sight, the tip of his cock still in your mouth and your pupils blown as wide as his own. Your ears twitched in thought; there was an innocence in the way you attended him. Your head shifted, turning to different angles to better feel the shape with both lips and tongue, caring little for the noisy nature of your curiosity. The odd scrape of the teeth made him hiss, gripping the top of your head between your ears. “Do you like the taste, Prrretty thing?”

A whimpered groan was all that could be managed, the thought of taking the Nunh’s cock fully out of your mouth rejected entirely. It was so warm, the pre-cum being swallowed thickly with each bob of your head. U’odh remained still, giving you control over the little experiment until your boldness grew--he was much too entertained by your curiosity to stop it.

In a daring movement, you pushed forward, mouth stretching as much as it could as the tip of his cock pressed to the back of your throat. His knot was close, the puffs of air from your nose hitting the sensitive bulge. The Nunh twitched, hips thrusting forward on instinct and choking you as the knot pressed fully into your nose. He tugged you back from your hair, his cock fully springing out with a pop from your lips. 

“Odh,” you whimpered, tongue still hanging past your lips and curling towards the cock. Put it back, put it back, put it back--

“Darrrring arrren’t you? To take so much yourrr firrrst time with a Nunh--you certainly have the attitude of a Prrrrimal slayerrr.” He jerked your head back, forcing your gaze up and away from his sex. The grip on your hair was rough, your tail flicking in response to the pain infused pleasure of it. His own seemed to be moving a lot behind him as well, glimpses of white catching your eye as you tried to look down your nose--trying desperately to see the twitching cock before you. 

Thoughts of anything other than his cock were few and far between, the heat radiating from it still near your skin. It hit your throat most of all, the idea of swallowing it consuming your being. A hand reached up only to be smacked back by the Nunh. He growled, another tug of your hair drawing out a whimper. When was he going to give it back? 

A hiss slipped past your lips as something wet hit your breasts. U’odh had taken his cock in the hand that had pushed yours away, a small stroke encouraging more precum to dribble out. It dripped onto your skin, setting it on fire as it slid along the curve of your breasts and over the perk of your nipple. Without much thought, the hand he’d rejected reached up and rubbed the thick fluid into your skin, eyes slipping closed as you moaned with an open mouth.

“You arre darrring,” U’odh decided, watching the sight of you. It was shameful--the great warrior reduced to a squirming mess as you pressed your thighs together. The other hand joined now, both breasts being massaged with his precum. It was slick, the smell dizzying and warmth wonderful. You barely registered the tut-tut he gave. “Naughty as well...to think I’m the firrrst Nunh to have you….”

Cock still in hand, he gave the length another stroke before using it to smack your face, regaining your attention. A single eye opened, vision utterly glazed over as the heat against your cheek pressed. You tried to lick the length near the edge of your mouth, unable to fully turn with his grip still in your hair. He watched with clear amusement as you chose to instead nuzzle into his cock, nose bumping against its heat. All rational seemed to be completely faded away, an afterthought to the craving of more, more, more. His grip loosened.

“Tell me, adventurrrerr, what is it you want? What would please my prrrecious little loverr?” 

But a single bell ago, you would have answered differently. Aid in slaying Titan, perhaps, is what you would have said. His approval as one of five from the Company of Heroes, even. A single bell ago, those things mattered, but not now.

“Youuu,” was the answer instead. “Brrrrrreed me, my Nunh.” You spoke in a sigh, your head turning so that the underside of the sensitive knot could be covered in fluttering kisses. U’odh chuckled, a pleased purr rumbling in his chest as your eye slipped closed once more. He let your hair go completely now, returning to the gentle strokes over your sensitive ears as you squirmed at his feet. 

“Then I will tell you again, my prrrretty little thing: prrresent yourrself to me.” The words themselves sent a wave through you, an unrestrained moan escaping as one last drag of your tongue traced his cock’s length. It would be where it belonged soon-oh so soon.

Your legs shook as you stood, U’odh holding you up by your arms as you leaned against him. Your lips continued a trail along his skin, clumsy and disorganized over his chest. The scars of his past victories earned your tongue, tracing the lines and punctuating each with another kiss. The man let you cling to him as he stripped the remaining clothes with quick ease, progress hindered only by the groan as your mouth stopped at his chest. A clever tongue flicked his nipple as it was revealed with the discarding of his shirt, the gesture returned with a nip at your ear.

He grabbed your hips, turning you both so your back was to the door and his to the table. He gave a single sharp order: “Turrn.” You did just that, knees weak as you realized that you were now facing the door. It hadn’t been locked, had it? At any moment, it could be swung wide open and you would be seen completely. The realization was exciting, the rattling shiver it sent through you making you drop to all fours before the Nunh. 

Your breath hitched as you heard the Seeker drop behind you and grabbed you by the sensitive nape of your neck, your face pressed into the rug. You arched on instinct, ass high in the air and tail lifted even higher and curling out of the Nunh’s way. He laughed, a single finger sliding along your slick folds. “To think you werrre so shy beforre. Has the embarrrrasment passed?”

Words failed, and you could only reply with a whine as U’odh chuckled once more. It was embarrassing, but the maddening need of your freshly triggered heat didn’t care for what made you feel embarrassed or not. All that mattered was that you had more, more, more.

“O-Odh….” you managed when he pressed against you. Still, he did not fill you. Instead, his cock was rubbed along your slit, the tip pressing into your clit and making your body spasm as your thighs became drenched in the mixture of fluids from you both. “M...my Nunh….Please….”

“Such a strrrong herrro you arrre...and yet here you arrre, rrrreduced to such a cute little kit beneath me…” His tail flicked, tickling your leg as it swept past. Everything about you felt so aware as you focused, desperate to feel every ilm of him entering you. 

At first, you worried he may deny you such pleasure, the tip of his cock instead pressing against your hole and simply rubbing barely a quarter of an ilm as his pre-cum circled the tight entrance. It was agony, his grip on the nape of your neck holding you down as his other hand gripped your tail and made you yowl. You couldn’t even move backwards, locked in place by his hold. 

“O-Odh….M...My Nunh….p...p-puhllleeease…” You cried, tail curling and flicking in the air. “I...you have….you have to...put it...put it inside…” Why wasn’t he? Surely he wouldn’t leave you at such a miserable edge, not while he was in his heat as well. “Y-You...you said you...w-wuh...would...be my...my Nunh.”

“I did, didn’t I? Prrrretty little kit, I think a night may not be enough forrrr you…” Finally, an ilm. Your breath hitched, eyes wide and fingers digging at the rug. It was finally there, the heat of the first ilm of five snug inside your cunt. Four more, and the delicious knot would be next. “Perrrrhaps I should keep you....I wouldn’t want to make the same mistake yourrrr trrribe made.”

Another half ilm, and your tail thumped against his chest. Were all Nunh this cruel? You weren’t sure you could handle such torment. He didn’t move either, instead opting to remain painfully still as you tried to squirm, fidget, wiggle--anything to get even an onze of friction. Still, you tried to think about what he said.

“I...I have to...Th-There was suh...something I…” Why did you say only a night? Why not stay forever? The question rattled for only a moment, the rumble of U’odh’s chuckle being felt even through the connection of your sex with his. 

“Oh yes, that’s rrrright. Poorrr little thing….you have prrrrimals to slay, don’t you?” He teased, a mischievous lilt to his voice. Any response you could have made was cut short by another half ilm: two now, two whole ilms were inside and there were just a little more than three now-

You should have cared more for what he said or even for the reason you were there in the first place. Instead, the cycle of more, more, more spoke over your thoughts. Still, he didn’t move, intent on waiting for your response before granting you any more of his cock.

“R-rrrrri-AH-ight,” you jolted as he squeezed the base of your tail. Your claws hooked into the rug as you dragged them down, trying desperately to create more movement between the two of you. “T-Titan...I ha-avve to...ssssssslaay the….prrrrimal…”

“How arrre you planning to accomplish that? Do you plan to fuck the Prrrrimal? Just look at you…” U’odh hummed, your tail curling up the arm that held it. He pulled you back onto another ilm and you moaned openly at the way the girth began to stretch your cunt to its shape. “Prrrretty thing, rrrreduced to nothing morrre than a hungrrry little kit begging forrr a sweet. Don’t you want morrrre?” 

“Yes!” You gasped out immediately, your eyes snapping open at the sound of the word more. You pushed to lift yourself, trying to look back at the Nunh. He stopped you, the grip on your nape tightening as he pressed you back down to the floor. Try as you might, the cruel grip on your tail held your hips still, stopping any attempts at moving towards the Nunh to take in more, shame long since forgotten. “Y-Yees-oh, Odh, please--! Please, mmorrrre! Y-Yuh….Y-Youu said….plee-aahze!” He laughed as you begged, and allowed you the third full ilm. 

“Prrrretty kit...Prrrrecious mate...don’t you want to have this everrrry season? To be brred and fucked so wonderrrrfully?” The Nunh leaned in, much as he could without pressing his hips closer, and tugged you back to arch closer as he spoke into your flickering ear. “Say the worrrd, prrrretty thing, and you will be mine. Everrrry season I’ll fill you and you won’t even have to beg.”

The promise made you sob, all sound halting in your arched throat. The fourth ilm entered even slower than the last, pausing momentarily after only half of the full ilm before he continued. Your foot thumped uselessly against the floor as you felt your sanity leave in waves. It was thick, yet you felt yourself stretch over his girth with more ease anything you’d ever done in your life. It made little sense to you, how the thick size of it could slide inside of you without so much as a single onze of resistance, the only lubrication needed being your mutual arousal. Yet, on another note, it made perfect sense how he filled you.

He was your Nunh now, after all, and as your Nunh, it was simply his job to give more, more, more. U’odh rocked, ever so slightly, with those four ilms he let you have. Finally, some friction. Still, you needed more, more, more! It wasn’t enough yet, not until his knot was fully inside. 

“Y...yes…Yes! Yes, I’ll...ah...ah I’ll...I’ll be yours a-and...you...Your kits!” The words spilled from your mouth, rapid and clumsy as you tried to urge him. Desperate to convince him to fuck you already. “I-I’ll give...so many...as...mme….ma...many...as you... want! I’ll...have...a-all th..the kits...you want…Y-You’ll...be their Daddy! A-All you want! P-Please, Odh! By the t-Twelve just….just fuck me!” 

The final ilm hit you without pause. U’odh tightened his grip back onto the nape of your neck, claws digging into the sensitive skin as your face was practically slammed hard into the floor as the other hand tugged your tail back into his thrust. The feeling made you choke, eyes rolling back as you felt whole. 

“Thhhaa….thaank...yu...yoouuuhh! Th-thank..y-you...sssshoo mmuch, Daddy~!” You moaned, a messy smile fucked onto your face as he thrusted again and again, more and more and more. Your tongue lulled, drool finding its way down your cheek and onto the rug. The Seeker grunted, his grip on your tail loose enough now that you could finally move along with him. 

“Mmmnf...oh-Odh...gi-give...y-your kits! I-I’ll make you...a Daddy! Again! And again! A-All you want! Mmmy Nunh!”

“Prrrretty thing--” U’odh groaned, pressing his chest to your back as he fucked you. “Prrrretty thing….you arrre so filthy-”

“Y-yea-uh,” you agreed, hardly caring if it were true or not. His cock pressed inside so deep like this, the knot hitting your clit with each thrust. When had you learned to move your hips like this anyways….? “A-Ah...aahh-abso...lutely!”

“Ha..have you...everrr felt...so good?” His breath was on your nape, his other hand moved from the base of your tail to your ass. U’odh squeezed as he helped you fuck yourself on his cock. His own breath was coming out more rigid than before, the hot air tickling you. “P-Prrretty thing...t...tell me...what you want.”

“Cummm! Cum and k-kits. Mmmaake me...m-mommy and...y-you can be...D-Daddy-!” Gods, your throat was hoarse, mouth dry as you tried to swallow down more air. Your breasts ached, the friction of the rug resembling the rough tongue of a Miqo’te against your nipples. For a moment, you thought to contain yourself--to try and quiet your cries and moans. You were still facing the Gods damned door. Surely whatever whorish noises you were making escaped the hut easily, yet only a small portion of you cared. 

Who cared who walked in? Worst they could do is join or simply watch, marveled by the sight as U’odh’s cock pressed against your core. How you wished you could see it yourself: the sight of his cock’s length burying itself inside your heat as he rutted against you. Surely your cunt would be red with the abuse, his knot threatening to enter you. You felt your hips roll at the thought, tongue curling as the image of another Seeker joining, whether it be another female to be bred by U’odh or a Tia to suck. All that mattered was that you felt more, more, more.

Lost in thought, you’d failed to realize just how close the knot was getting to filling you until a final hard thrust popped the knot through your tight entrance. It was all so much, the entirety of your being burning as toes curled and eyes rolled back and fluttered. The knot filled and locked you under him, his grip on your neck releasing and moving to your hips. For a moment, you thought to ask why he’d let go, the pressure on your nape being wonderful.

U’odh didn’t allow such a question to form.

His teeth sank into your nape, the sensitive skin screaming at the attention. He sucked hard, bruising and marking the spot you were claimed. The cry that erupted from your throat was foreign, your body quaking. U’odh moaned loudly into your neck, his body shivering as your orgasm made your cunt squeeze his cock and knot. 

Still, he continued to thrust into your sensitive heat. Your tail curled around him, joining his as each movement sent another wave of pleasure through you, your belly twisting with another orgasm threatening. Moans and cries escaped without shame and by the Twelve you hoped the whole tribe knew. You, an outsider, were bred first for the season. The thought made you grin into the floor, any other responsibility long forgotten as U’odh stilled and pressed. Your eyes closed as he growled, blissful as you focused on the way his knot throbbed with each glob of cum he released into your cunt. If you tried to focus, you could feel it traveling along the length of his shaft too, pulsing deep at the core of you as you were bred. 

“O-Odh….mmm...my Nunh,” you sighed happily as he released your nape, the cool feeling of his tongue lapping over the blooming mark being followed by a kiss. He trailed along your spine as he rolled himself back into an upright position behind you, claws releasing your hips as the pads of his thumbs massaged into your skin. His knot remained inside, your recent orgasm still throbbing over him. He purred, hummed, and ran his hands along the curve of your back. He massaged the mark, pleased to show the world how you’d been bred. 

“Prrrrrrecious thing...oh how I want to keep you…” You gave a content flick of your tail in response, humming along with him. His hands continued to travel along you, rubbing and pressing along your spine. It ached, to be in such a position, but you lacked the strength to even try to lift yourself. “Perrrrrhaps...when you arre done being a herrrro.”

“Don’t….wanna be a hero….I want...more of that,” you confessed with a mumble. The Nunh chuckled as he let himself nestle behind you, sitting back on the floor. Your hips followed, the connection between your bodies still intact as he pulled you up. A sigh escaped as your eyes closed, his arms wrapping around you. The man held you close to his chest, a hand absentmindedly rubbing your stomach. The front of you was cold, your back soaking in body tingling warmth from the Nunh. You rested your own hand over his. 

“My prrrecious adventurrrerr...you will always have plenty of time afterrr, just as I do,” He spoke softly, nuzzled into your neck as his purr vibrated against your shoulders. “I will wait...and brrreed you when such a time comes. You’ll be filled with kits next I get my claws on you,” he promised. The idea of it, though it was not something you’d entertained before, was wonderful.

“Verrrry well,” you purred back, nuzzling back into him as your tails danced together, twisting together. “But….”

“But?” An eye cracked open to meet his curious gaze from over your shoulder. You grinned. 

“You said a night...did you not? I don’t think the sun has even set yet, my Nunh.” You felt a wide, fanged grin against your neck. U’odh shifted, kissing the back of one of your ears. “If you are to give me such a powerful tincture in the morning...should we not ensure it is well worth the use?”

“Aye, I did say that...and I am a man of my worrrrd.” The man grinned, eyes filled with the kind of mischief and energy only a Tia could rival. “I hope you have plenty of time to rrrrest anotherrrr day, prrretty thing. You’ll not have any tonight if we arrrre to test the strrrrength of the tincturrrre.” 

You squirmed, feeling his knot finally pop out and the thick puddle of cum soak your thighs. Twas no loss, not with how much was to come anyways. Twisting around on his lap, you straddled him and pressed your chest into the warmth of his. His lips claimed yours, tongue teasing and swiping at your fangs as he leaned forward, your back slowly meeting the floor as his hands wandered. 

Forgetting such a night would prove impossible.

In the morning that followed, you would indeed consume the tincture, ensuring no kits this season. Still, you’d leave with U’odh’s word that he would aid you, new armor to protect you, and a sly grin as you stole one more kiss before returning to your role as the Warrior of Light. There would be but a single thought in your mind.  

You would have to return next season for certain, and for no less than two nights.

[the-actor-himself]

Can we start a trend of Top Tuesday and wreck the little shit? I’ll go first! [throat, restrain, vibrator, edge]

[throat] - to grip my muse gently but firmly by the throat + [restrain] - to tie my muse’s hands to prevent them from moving them + [vibrator] - to use a vibrator on my muse + [edge] - to edge my muse/deny them orgasm

It’s rare to find something that can keep Mark’s attention better than your presence can. You’re used to everything being (subtly) dropped when you stop in, sudden excuses to spend time together, meals that were already ‘in the works’ that he can ‘expand to feed two’ when there were always two steaks thawing in the sink and you both know he never intended to eat more than one.

So for something to hold his gaze away from you? Normally it might be a blessing. A relief compared to the smothering attention he so often wished to shower on you. But tonight it… irks. Tonight you find that down-turned head, the distracted hum of acknowledgement when you speak, to be an insult rather than a blessing.

So you, of course, need to do something about that.

His distraction does serve the useful purpose of letting you gather the materials you need to enact your righteous justice. You gather them up and set them very carefully to the side, out of sight, when you reenter the room and find him exactly as you’d left him. Casually, you saunter around the chair he’s curled up in and stand before him. He doesn’t even glance up. You can’t tell if his flickering eyes are darting to you or if they’re just flying that quickly across the page.

Clearly, more drastic measures are needed to even get things rolling.

Mark doesn’t quite know what’s happening, but suddenly there’s a warm palm pressed firmly against his throat, making him hyper aware of his pulse as it suddenly flutters. His head finally lifts, the pages he was reading lowering, and he looks up at you in surprise as your careful grip briefly tightens, teasing at restricting his airway even slightly, before relaxing again. Your palm is warm against his throat, and you feel the way it bobs under your hand as he swallows.

“ Well, isn’t this a surprise– ” You put a halt to that schmoozy tone before he can even complete his first thought, squeezing again, just briefly. Enough to send a warning, though, and he snaps his mouth shut again. Heat flares in his eyes as you lean in closer to him.

“ You were ignoring me, ” you say, and he blinks. Before he can defend himself, you continue. “ If you don’t feel up to entertaining me tonight, then I’ll just entertain myself. And you– ” Your free hand taps the tip of his nose lightly, making it crinkle. “ –are going to let me. ”

It takes less than a minute for him to make his decision. His legs shift, and splay out just a little bit wider. Welcoming you in. “ I don’t feel like I’m going to have much say in the matter, ” he purrs, and when you let go of his throat he remains where he is. Waiting for your direction.

You roll your eyes at him and return to the small bundle you’d brought into the room with you. When you turn back you catch him craning his neck to try and see. He winks at you cheekily, and you huff as you stroll back over. “ You’re enjoying this too much, ” you warn him, and he just grins.

“ It’s not my fault. As punishments go, this one isn’t very effective. ”

Yet.

You take the long strip of velvet - the belt from that gaudy robe of his never gets boring as a method of restriction - and you order him to place his hands behind his back. He complies, still leering and clearly enjoying himself. Teasingly asking when the real punishment was going to start. If only he knew.

You tie his hands securely with the belt, looping it around the back of the chair to ensure that he couldn’t wiggle himself free. He’d be taking the chair with him if he wanted to go anywhere. Or ripping that beloved robe belt.

Mark tests his bonds when you finish, wiggling, twisting his wrists. But the knots hold fast. And now the game really begins. You crouch down in front of him and start working his shirt up his body, for no real purpose other than to be able to enjoy the sight of him with his shirt rucked up. Then you unbutton his slacks, and slowly draw down the zip.

He lifts his hips helpfully, and soon his pants and underwear are down around his knees, already sagging down further toward his calves. His cock is already more than a little invested, bobbing in invitation with each wriggle and buck of his body in the comfortable chair he’s bound to. But for now, you ignore it.

You move back to the couch and grab the other two things you’d stopped for. Lube, which he seemed all too happy to see. And a vibrator, which made him look, for even a moment, decidedly less certain as to his fate.

Being tied up and used as a motorcycle was clearly where his mind had been at. But the truth of the matter was far less merciful. And it was about time that he started to realize that.

You press the button on the toy and it bursts to life in your hand, the vibration creating a quiet scream of effort, a potent shudder traveling up the arm that held it. You bump it down a few settings, to lessen the initial impact. Level five will be there when you need it, but no need to begin higher than a two. You hum as you lean in over him again, trailing the tip of the vibrator over one thigh, and then the other, teasing strokes working their way inward toward his cock.

Mark’s arms flex, and you can imagine his nails digging into the velvet belt. The vibrator nudges against the base of his cock, and slowly drags upward. The actor’s head falls back, and he groans. You chuckle, and guide it back downward. “ Legs wider apart, ” you instruct, and he obeys, as his pants bunch around his ankles now. You put a foot on them, and wait as he struggles to wiggle his ankles fully free.

Your hands slide under his thighs, and lift, spreading him open nice and wide. He gasps, and the sound cuts through the room over the quieted buzzing of the vibrator as you drape his thighs over the arms of the chair, keeping him nicely displayed for you to play with.

There’s redness bleeding from the tips of his ears down into his cheeks now. His teeth catch on his bottom lip as he watches you grab the bottle of lube and crack it open. “ You had better warm that up,” he warns, and you give him a slow, knowing smile that spreads, gradually, wider and wider.

“ And what are you going to do if I don’t? ” Briefly, you smear the cool gel around on your fingers, coating them liberally. His eyes are tracking your every move, his breathing picking up just a little in anticipation, watching as your hand dips down between his spread legs. A finger circles, rubs, and sinks in slowly. His hips jolt and a chill sends goosebumps racing across his skin. He whines, and you laugh softly, enjoying every second of his squirming.

Thus begins a rather lengthy segment of teasing in which you thoroughly prepare him with your fingers. First one, and then two, and finally with three, turning him into a trembling mess before you even slip the vibrator inside him. His lips are reddened from his teeth, his bared torso starting to develop a light sheen of sweat.

The moment it comes to life inside him, you get to sit back and enjoy the way his muscles work, straining, body quivering as the pleasure builds. He’s moaning, unable to help it, and the chair creaks under him as he tries to buck his hips down onto the toy. You draw it out of him a little and he whines. Then chokes on a grunted “ Fuck! ” as you thrust it firmly back in.

Effortlessly, you drive him on, wringing every desperate sob and gasp and plea from him as he gets closer, and closer–

Only to draw the vibrator out, leaving him open and wanting, begging for more. Quite literally. As you patiently wait for his body to relax, for the edge to be off. For his desperation to become more emotional than literal. And then you move forward, and start it up again.

By the time you allow him his release, he’s willing to promise you anything.

[noxleyfin]

Newsies Imagine: Homeless And Annoyed PART 2

Newsies x 13-year-old (M) Newsie (Homeless And Annoyed) Part. 2

→ a/n: I don’t know any of the actors personally nor do I own them or their characters. What’s written below is fiction and should be thought of and treated as such. I am essentially using them as a name-claim and face-claim. I’m creating my own character and using the actors as background characters, and just using their name and features for details. I do not directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. → summary: this kids done with his living situation and stumbles upon a fellow guy in need. → warnings: mentions of past abuse, violence, strong language, stupid Delancey's, bad writing → word count: 1097 → completion: done → (Y/N) - Your Name 

Saturday, August 15th, 1899 5:04 p.m. 2nd Person POV

Life sucks. And that’s a fact. 

“Hey, dirtbag! Where ya’ running to?” Your new ‘friend’ called from behind you.

Up your mother’s ass.

Of course, you didn’t say that. Probably wouldn’t have been a very good idea. 

What you really said was, “Didn’t know there was a curfew, Nerf Herder!” 

...That probably wasn’t much better, was it?

“The hell you call me?” 

You turned into your alley. “You deaf or somethin’?” 

Swinging your body around, you watched the dark shadow figure follow behind you. 

Well, at least this one isn’t super ugly. It’s real embarrassing to get beat by a guy who’s less handsome than you. Luckily, that doesn’t happen often. He was older than you, maybe by 5 years. His face was bare of any hair but his dumb looking hat distracted you from the fact that he hasn’t puberty yet. You’ve seen him around before; he and his brother like to go around messing with people. Speaking of which, where is his brother? 

“So you found the rat, Oscar?”

Speak of the asshole.

“He tried to escape, but he couldn’t get past me,” Oscar informed his brother with a smirk.

You just stood there looking at them and they looked at you. 

“Get him.”

Your mind was fuzzy after he said that. 

“Geroff!”

You could faintly hear the sound of your body flopping to the ground and the insults that the brothers yelled at you as white-hot pain exploded everywhere. “Leave me alone!” 

It felt different from when that one man kicked you in the chest, that had only lasted a few days but this felt like it would stay with you forever. “I’m...I’m warning’ ya’.” You don’t even remember when they stopped hitting you. 

“Hey! Leave ‘em alone!” 

And then it went dark. 

Sunday, August 16th, 1899 8:13 a.m. 3rd Person POV

“What’s gonna happen to him?” 

“I got no clue, Kid.” 

“But what about his family?” 

Les wasn’t exactly happy about what happened to his new friend. The night before, while on a walk, Race and Jojo had found  a half-dead (Y/N) unconscious in an alley with the Delancys on top of them. When they finally managed to chase them away, they dragged him between them to the Lodging House. The warden had sent for a doctor and Snipeshooter ran to the Jacobs’ apartment to bring David and Les along. Les, unfortunately, was not allowed to stay the night so only David could come. When he saw what had happened to the boy who had reunited him with his little brother, he went into a rage, mumbling about how he was gonna kill Oscar and Morris, all while wiping at the bloody wound on (Y/N)’s forehead. 

After he cleaned them up to the best of his ability, the doctor arrived with the warden and Davey was shoved to the side. With an extensive evaluation, the doctor concluded that while nothing was broken (thank god), he had a severe concussion and was ordered to stay in bed for at least a week. The newsies gave him the extra bunk that David usually used while he slept over. In the meantime, David decided to sleep on the old couch in the front room. It wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, but he wasn’t leaving. He felt a strange protectiveness over the young boy, like he was another younger brother. 

Jack sighed. Les had been brought over by Race not too long ago and wouldn’t shut his trap. We love the kid but (Y/N) was right, the kid really is annoying. 

“We don’t even know if the guy has a family or not, Kid. We just have to wait ta ask him.” He explained. 

“C’mon, Les,” David called from the corner. “Leave Jack alone. Wanna draw with Smalls?” He gestured to the close-in-age girl sitting next to him. 

Smalls looked up with a smile and waved Les over. Les grinned and jogged over and was handed a green crayon and the two kids began to color together. At this point, David started to worry and for the fifth time that day, sat next to (Y/N) and brushed some hair out of his face. 

“Dave,” Jack sighed from his spot at the cards table, “Leave the poor kid alone. You gonna give him a heart attack when he wakes up.”

David sighed and began to stand up, knowing Jack was right, but as soon as he did, a soft groan emitted from (Y/N)’s body. Conversations stopped as everyone stared at the young boy. Jack and Davey were the closest and therefore, the first faces he saw when (Y/N) finally opened his eyes. They opened slowly, more groans and grunts coming out as he did. However, when he saw who was above him, he was not happy.

“Get away!” He started to yell. He went to sit up but Jack held him down...only making (Y/N) more mad but he only attempted to fight for a few minutes before falling back in exhaustion. “Where...where am I?” He stuttered out, trying to move his head but hissing at the pain it caused. 

“Woah! Slow down, Kid,” Jack did his best to calm him down but he was still attempting to fight the tight grip on his shoulders. 

“Please let me go,” (Y/N) begged. David could see tears forming in his eyes. His gaze met Jack’s and he nodded to the other boy.

Jack slowly let go of (Y/N)’s shoulders but didn’t put his arms down right away. 

“Is’okay. We ain’t gonna hurt ya’.”

Eventually (Y/N) relaxed back into the hard mattress but anyone could see he was still tense; that is, everyone except Les. As soon as he thought was appropriate, the boy rushed over to the other, ignoring Smalls’ offended look when he threw her green crayon to the floor. 

“(Y/N)!” He called out, smiling brighter than he had in a fair while.

Once (Y/N) saw Les, at first he grimaced but it soon melted into a reluctant smile. “Hey, Kid,” he called briefly. That was enough for the expectant Les. He began to ramble on about nothing and everything while David and Jack backed off, choosing to ignore (Y/N)’s desperate look. They exited the room and spoke quietly despite being away from the group. 

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” David asked. 

Jack thought for a moment. He and the others had seen the flinches and heard the boy’s not so quiet pleas back in the bunkroom; it wasn’t hard to determine what had possibly happened to him in previous times. He sighed deeply before answering his friend, “I’m not sure, Dave. But that’s what we’re here for.”

[feathers-and-fisticuffs]

An Old Flame...

[chapter list HERE]

Kabu heard his Rotom phone beep, gesturing it over to see that old familiar message once again.

I'm in town right now. Are you busy?

He waved it away just as quickly, declining to answer. Just like last time. He looked at the boy curled up on his lap, sleeping so soundly, still burning with fever, and pet his two-toned hair. He was busy, and his old friend would never understand.

Kabu had invited Piers and his sister over to visit with Basil, though he'd be lying if it hadn't been in a desperate attempt to find a babysitter so he could head to the local battle cafe for a drink. Basil didn't seem to mind, and Piers agreed it would be good for Basil and Marnie to meet. They needed more friends their own age.

Kabu ordered his coffee, black, and sat down at a table in the corner, glancing at his phone every few minutes.

It would serve him right if the old man didn't show up now, he had blown him off so many times before...

His phone buzzed and he grabbed for it, excitedly, only to sigh when he saw it was just another of Raihan's selfies posted to the gym leader groupchat.

"Oh, I'm sorry am I interrupting something?"

Kabu jolted up out of his seat, cheeks burning as the snide voice startled him. "Oh! No I--" his words got caught in his throat as he stood face to face with his old friend.

"Kabu... You got old." Nanu's had wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled, giving him a sharp-toothed grin. "Well? Aren't you glad to see me?"

Although he was startled at first, he quickly regained his composure long enough to embrace him. "Nanu... You have wrinkles now." He laughed, and Nanu laughed with him. "I didn't think you were going to show up."

Nanu sat at the table with him, poking about with questions, trying to figure out why Kabu had been ghosting him without outright asking why.

Kabu dodged the questions with expert precision, Nanu might have been a skilled cop and an expert interrogator but Kabu had learned a few tricks of his own, deflecting with his own digging questions.

Neither man was able to get any information out of the other, so after a few minutes of failure, their talk turned to 'the good old days', and reminiscing on how things used to be.

"I've missed you, Kabu."

There was a raw honesty to the statement that crushed Kabu's heart. "I know." There was an unspoken admission of the same. "I had to... Focus on me. On being a gym leader. There was a lot going on."

"Yeah. Of course." Nanu looked away then, his red eyes flashing dangerously. "Very important stuff I'm sure."

"Stop that." Kabu could feel his own temper rising. "You don't have a clue what I was dealing with!"

"I know! You wouldn't tell me!"

Their voices had begun to raise, and it was drawing worried looks from the other patrons.

Kabu took a deep breath. "Can we not do this right now? Not here."

"Oh I'm sorry! I forgot I was embarrassing to be seen with!" Nanu snapped and got up, slamming his chair and storming out.

Kabu pinched the bridge of his nose a moment, trying to keep his own movements calm, taking another deep breath before following him into the street. "Nanu stop that! You're throwing a fit like a child! Grow up!"

"Stop stringing me along, Kabu. Just tell me you're not interested!"

Kabu flinched as Nanu turned on his heel to face him. He'd almost never seen Nanu this angry, and he felt guilty. This was his fault. He grabbed his friends wrist and tugged. "Not here." It wasn't a demand. It was a plea.

He kept hold of Nanu’s wrist as they walked, afraid if he let go for even a moment he would vanish like a memory, and Kabu would never get him back.  He pulled him along to a quiet spot in the Wild Area just outside of Motostoke, before finally letting him go.

“If you want to yell at me then go ahead and yell.”  Kabu said, keeping his voice even and reserved.  “I know I deserve it.  So go on.  Out with it.”

Nanu grabbed Kabu’s shoulders and the old man tensed, awaiting a barrage of insults and, if he was lucky, it would end at a black eye.  Back in the day the two of them could fight it out and be friends again in a matter of moments, but he was too old for that sort of thing now.

He was not expecting Nanu’s lips pressed against his, a passionate kiss that pulled him even closer.

Kabu pulled away immediately.  “N-Nanu!  Stop that!  It’s not... it’s not proper to...”  His voice trailed off as he watched Nanu’s confidence fall away.  “Nanu... I...”

“Why did you even agree to see me today, Kabu?”  His voice was heartbroken but his eyes, never breaking contact, were intense.  “Just to gloat?  To prove to me that you don’t want anything to do with me?”

Shaking his head wordlessly, Kabu sank to his knees.  “You wouldn’t understand.  I have too much going on right now.  You could never understand.”  He whispered, utterly defeated.  He was surprised when Nanu did the same, kneeling in front of him, intense as ever.

“You don’t know that.  Try me.”  His anger had slowly turned to concern, and he reached for Kabu’s hand.  “Please.”

Kabu squeezed back, and tried to explain what had happened the last time they had seen each other.  He had been young, and scared, and Nanu had moved too fast.  It wasn’t his fault.

“I did want to see you again.  But I was afraid.  Afraid that you were making a mistake.  I tortured myself over it every day.  But I couldn’t let myself fix my mistake, because I knew in my heart you deserved better.  And then there was an accident... And I took in an orphan.  I couldn’t handle the stress of that, and trying to be what you needed, and... time just got away from me.”  He told him about losing his friends all those years ago, and promising to take care of their son.  He told him everything, explained every scar, laid all of his feelings out bare for Nanu to see.

“That’s why... thats why I was avoiding you.  Because I’m an idiot.”  He gave Nanu a half smile at that.

Nanu was quiet for a while.  Kabu was right, it was a lot to take in.  But he understood.  He couldn’t blame him, Nanu had been feeling the same way all these years.

“I... I never moved on you know.  I couldn’t.  I waited for you.  There was never anyone else who struck me like you did.”

Kabu nodded.  “I know.  I’m sorry...”

“So what’s your excuse this time?”  He said suddenly.  “Too much responsibility as a gym leader?  Don’t want the paparazzi to find out?  Adopt another orphan?”  He sneered at that.

“Actually...”

Nanu paused a beat, then burst out laughing.  “You’re kidding?!”

“Stop laughing!”  Kabu’s face grew hot.  “I’m serious!  I know you heard about what happened with our beloved Chairman...”  He wrinkled his nose as he spoke.  “He left behind two boys.  Opal is taking care of the other.  They’re young, they need guidance.  I owe it to him to be there for him, and not be distracted.”

“He doesn’t even have to know.”

“I’m not letting you stay the night, Nanu, and that’s final.”

************

Basil gasped awake with a cry, swatting at the air and grabbing at his neck, fighting off someone that wasn’t there.  It was the 3rd time he’d had that dream this week, and he knew if he tried to go back to sleep, he’d just have it again.  He could still feel Oleana’s cold hands around his neck, and he gasped for air to no avail, trying to calm himself down.

He felt guilty, but he was scared.  He slipped on a pair of slippers and his robe and trudged down to Kabu’s room, every shadow making him jump. 

He shook the shoulder of the figure in the bed gently, and whispered his name.  The mass of blankets moved and let out a groan, and on the other side of the bed, Kabu jolted upright.  

“Fuck.  Basil?  Are you okay?”

Basil quickly pulled his hand away and gasped, as a stranger poked his head out from under the blankets.  “Mm?  What’s going on...?”  He said groggily.

“K-Kabu..?!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!”  He promised, voice still hoarse from sleep.  “He’s a friend.  He’s just uh.  Staying the night here so he doesn’t have to get a hotel room.  Come here, sweetheart, I’m sorry we scared you...”

Basil rushed to the other side of the bed and crawled up beside Kabu, shaking and clinging to him tightly.

“Did you have the dream again..?”  Kabu asked quietly, and kissed Basil’s forehead when he quickly nodded yes.  “I’m sorry.  You’re safe here, just breathe, everything will be okay.”  He soothed, gently stroking up and down Basil’s arm until he stopped shaking and was breathing evenly again.  Once Kabu was sure he was asleep, he laid back down on his side, still keeping an arm around his boy.

“Little old to be sleeping with daddy isn’t he-- OW!”

Kabu reached over and twisted one of Nanu’s nipples.

“Okay okay I’m sorry I’m sorry!”  He hissed, laughing a bit.  “Jeez, touchy subject.  I’m just saying, my pop would never have let me come sleep with him at that age he would have called me a pussy and told me to grow up--”

Kabu elbowed him.  “I am not my father, or your father.”

Nanu grinned.  “You like it when I call you Daddy though-- OW OW OKAY STOP!”

Kabu was not as amused.  “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out!”  He kept his voice at a whisper, but made sure his anger was clear.  “I want you out of my sight right now!  What if he had heard you?!”

“Oh come on!  I was just joking, and besides!  Where am I gonna go?”

“I don’t care just go.”

“The hotel isn’t making anymore reservations tonight I-- Kabu where are you going--”

Kabu sat up and scooped Basil in his arms, having some difficulty.  “Shh, shhh.... I’ve got you.  Come on, we’re gonna get you all tucked in,  Everything’s okay.”  He whispered and left the room, ignoring Nanu completely.

He trudged up the stairs and into Basil’s bedroom, letting out his Arcanine and Ninetails.  “Guard the door.  Nobody gets in or out until morning.”  

He closed the door and crawled into bed with Basil again, holding him close.  “It’s gonna be alright dear.  I’m here.  I won’t let anyone hurt you.”  He promised quietly, humming softly until Basil fell asleep again.

************

Basil laid awake in Kabu’s arms, thankful for the comfort but feeling guilt wash over him again and again.  He had heard everything.  Was Kabu’s friend right?  Maybe he was, maybe he was acting like a baby and he needed to grow up.  He felt tears stinging his eyes.  He was disappointing Kabu acting like this.  He would never let this happen again...

[welllpthisishappening]

All Was Golden in the Sky (13/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—

Rating: Mature AN: If you’re reading this, I think you’re lovely. I hope this chapter makes you feel real, human feelings. (That can totally be soundtracked to this song from the credits of Pocahontas. I offer no reasonable explanation for how often I have listened to this song in my life, but the lyrics make sense and I wrote to it for this chapter) As always @resident-of-storybrooke​ @distant-rose​ and @bmbbcs4evr​ are fantastic. 

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam || 

“This may be a good time to come up with a few more new and creative curses, darling.”

Emma kicks him, the toe of her shoe colliding with Killian’s ankle and she fully expects whatever he does with his eyebrows. And his mouth. She’s admittedly a little more preoccupied with the mouth thing, a quick quirk of lips and his tongue clearly swiping across his teeth and Rumplestiltskin is still smiling at them. 

There’s a dead dragon a few feet away. 

The whiplash of it all continues to be absurd. 

“How are you here?” Emma asks, not sure who she’s directing the question to anymore. It seems to be the only question she’s capable of asking. 

She briefly wonders if it’s possible that Rumplestiltskin actually has more teeth in his mouth than the average human being. 

It certainly looks that way. 

There’s not much light on the track, mostly because they’re underground and several other factors Emma isn’t willing to consider when Killian’s arm tightens slightly around her waist and there’s a dead dragon a few feet away, but she’s certain any hint of brightness reflects off Rumplestiltskin’s copious amount of teeth and the result leaves goosebumps on her arms and magic fluttering in her veins and she’s having a difficult time breathing consistently. 

That’s probably because of the arm around her. 

“Stop that,” Killian mumbles, not quite a command. It’s more like a plea. And not at all what Emma expects. 

Figures. 

She snaps her head up, eyes going narrow. “Wait, what?” “Your magic. Stop it.” “I’m not--” Killian shakes his head deftly, a sharp, jerky movement that makes Emma nearly swallow her tongue She really needs to stop thinking so much about her tongue. “No, no, it’s--” Killian argues, hissing in a breath and obviously ignoring whatever sound Rumplestiltskin makes. It’s not quite a laugh, but it’s a little familiar and just as disconcerting as it was years ago. 

Gods, it’s been years. 

“I can feel it,” Killian continues, voice strained. “What it’s trying to do. I’m not--stop it, Emma.” It’s getting more and more frustrating to be as confused as she is. 

Rumplestiltskin makes that noise again. 

“If I could interject,” he says lightly, and Emma’s whole body reacts to that, a burst of power and energy that’s like several thousand light bulbs flipping on at once. Killian groans. “Oh,” Rumplestiltskin laughs, finally moving his hands away from his cane to flutter his fingers in the air. “Well, that was certainly unexpected, wasn’t it?” “Shut up, crocodile,” Killian sneers, and Emma has no idea where to look. 

Her hair is still glowing. 

She’d very much like to punch Rumplestiltskin in the face. Or kick him as well. She’s not going to be particular about it. 

“That delightful insult doesn’t quite make sense anymore,” Rumplestiltskin says, as if that should be enough to change the direction of this wholly ridiculous conversation. Emma almost feels like she’s spinning. “You’ve made sure of that.”

“It’s not yours. Not anymore.” “Ah, well, that’s a matter of debate isn’t it? And I’ve come all this way. You’ve made it so easy for me, after all. Walked right into it. Again.”

“Shut up!” “And who are you talking to, exactly?” Emma’s eyes bug, realization reaching out and slapping her. Metaphorically. It hurts anyway. She wants to kick...everything. And it’s petty and unnatural and not at all helpful in the moment, but she knows and Killian’s skin is clammy as soon as she twists, a hand on his cheek and his chest heaving against her side. 

“Me, you’ve got to look at me,” Emma says, not sure if it’s working or right, but the words fly out of her without much thought to this overall success rate. “Please.”

Killian squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing in something dangerously close to agony and every single one of the veins in his neck are obvious. 

Emma resists the urge to gag at the scent of magic around her. 

Fighting back.

Fighting her. 

“Oh, Captain, Captain, Captain, it’s not going to be that easy,” Rumplestiltskin says, the look on his face turning almost triumphant and they haven’t really done anything yet. “It’s more difficult now isn’t it? To stay on this course. With her here. Makes you wonder all sorts of things, reconsider all those things you can’t change.” Killian doesn’t answer, but Emma’s magic is still roaring, enough that her knees wobble and the few pieces of wall that are still, miraculously, standing shake as well. That seems like a fairly shitty miracle, all things considered. 

Rumplestiltskin takes a step forward, rubble crunching under the toe of his undoubtedly expensive shoes and Emma doesn’t think. As per usual. She waves her hand and tilts her head, a flash of light that may still be coming from her hair or just from, like, her soul at this point, and Rumplestiltskin jerks to a stop almost immediately. 

His lips part slightly. 

“Impressive magic,” he muses. “But that’s always been the case, hasn’t it? That’s why I’m so sure this is going to work.” Emma rolls her eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, I’m not interested, I’m--” “--already trying to save him. Again. Always, isn’t it?” Her teeth ache. Probably because she’s clenching her jaw so hard, something actually popping and that can’t possibly be healthy, but Emma’s mind is still bouncing and jumping, trying to latch onto something that’s right and normal and neither one of those words have much meaning anymore. 

Rumplestiltskin laughs. “It’s only a guess,” he continues, eyes shifting quicker and maybe he’s just not human. That doesn’t bode well for the plans Emma’s mind is half forming already. They’re admittedly not good plans. “But from the look on our dear Captain’s face, I’d imagine your magic is doing a fairly good job of trying to fight his.” “Try and make some sense.” “I am, Savior, are you not listening? He’s spent years trying to find you. All that True Love and its ability to conquer all.” Rumplestiltskin scoffs. Emma isn’t sure Killian’s breathing. “It’s fairly simple if you think about it. He loved you. You loved him. You--well, you mucked it all up quite a bit, didn’t you, dearie?” “If you’re looking to point out all my magical failings, you’ll have to get in line,” Emma mutters, working another laugh out of Rumplestiltskin and she’s probably just going to have goosebumps on her arm for the rest of her life. “Get to your goddamn point. What do you want?” “That’s obvious.” “So say it out loud.” “I want magic, my magic. I was merely content to find you, Savior. This all could have been avoided, you know. But--” he clicks his tongue, a quick shrug that doesn’t match up with the three-piece suit he apparently lives in, “--Well, as I say, you’ve managed to muck it all up rather magnificently. I’m sure it’s a record of some sort.”

“Where the hell did you get a dragon?” “You really did not have to kill her, you know. That’s...it’s rude, honestly.” “Is it a prerequisite of being a complete dick that you can’t answer questions?”

“I think you just called your boyfriend a dick, Savior. Rude. Again.” Emma makes a wholly disgusting noise in the back of her throat, certain it does damage to the muscles there. And she’s not entirely prepared for the weight of the prosthetic that, finally, lands back on her skin, drifting towards the small of her back like he’s trying to ground himself or make sure she’s still there and she’s got so many questions she is going to burst with them. 

That will undoubtedly be very gross. 

“She was one of yours wasn’t she?” Killian asks, and he already knows the answer. Rumplestiltskin’s lips twitch. “She wasn’t...I’ve never seen a dragon like that. That wasn’t like the books at all.” “Have you read a lot of books about dragons, Captain?”

“Gods, she’s right, you’re an ass.” Rumplestiltskin shrugs again, more teeth and maybe crocodile was right. Still. Even without the magical skin thing. “You do bring up an interesting point though. I suppose that means all your research was almost worth your time, pouring over books, trying to find something, anything that would lead you back--” “--Answer the question,” Killian roars, and Emma doesn’t mean to gasp. She doesn’t. She hates that she does. She can’t help it. 

Because the walls rattle and her heart sputters against her ribcage, a burst of darkness that’s unlike anything she’s ever experienced before. It’s more than that. It’s fury and disappointment and every absolutely awful, terrible emotion one human being could feel in a single moment. 

Killian pulls her back against his chest when another piece of ceiling drops. 

His chest heaves against her, haggard breaths and air that shouldn’t be nearly that cold brushing against the side of Emma’s neck. She ignores the stab of pain when his chin digs into her shoulder, fingers tugging at the bottom of her shirt and Emma bites her tongue so she doesn’t say anything. 

She says something. 

Figures. Again. 

“It’s ok,” she whispers. “It’s ok. You’re ok. Just keep breathing. In and out. Count them.” “Gods, you know that doesn’t work,” Killian mumbles. 

“Three in and four out. Breathe out slower.” “Emma.” She shakes her head, sure she’s getting hair in his face. He doesn’t argue. “No, c’mon. Let me--please, Killian.”

It takes a moment, blood pooling under Emma’s impossibly large tongue, but she can feel Killian’s inhale and she mumbles numbers under her breath, a quiet metronome she only hopes will work. 

The rest of the ceiling stays in tact. “That’s pathetic,” Rumplestiltskin snickers, leaning his weight on the cane with his head tilted appraisingly. “Honestly. Just...worthless.” Killian exhales, Emma still flush against his chest. “Your dragon, wasn’t just a dragon, was she?”

“At least you’re almost smart.” “A woman?” “Dragon first. Woman when it was convenient. I believe she was friends with your Ursula, actually. You know you’ve really written your own demise here, Captain. It’s unfortunate, the great tale of Captain Hook and the magic he tried to keep at bay. All in the name of love. It’s not going to work. None of it. You’ve walked yourself into another trap because you were so incredibly short-sighted.”

“Captain Hook?” Emma balks, rolling her eyes when Rumplestiltskin starts to laugh again. She’s going to punch him unconscious solely so she can count his teeth. 

“Ah, yes, I’d imagine you didn’t have much time to discuss all of that after breaking Regina’s little curse, did you? He was already a pirate, your highness, for you, lest we forget all what your dear Dark One did for you.” “You don’t have magic. There’s nothing holding me back from cursing you.” “You won’t.” “And you know this…” “Because you’re curious,” Rumplestiltskin answers simply. “And your pirate is far too ashamed to tell you the truth. I’m sure Ursula mentioned it when she saw you. She, admittedly, was a little confused since she didn’t realize the worthless sot was fighting his brand-new desires, but--well, even without the darkness coursing through him, he wasn’t all that good anymore. The magic helped amplify what was already there.”

“Why did you need a fucking dragon?” Emma demands, and whatever noise Killian makes at that isn’t quite a laugh, but it does manage to do something very particular to several different parts of her and she’s, at least, seventy-six percent certain he kisses where his lips land. 

Whiplash. 

It’s exhausting. 

“I just told you, Savior, Gods, but you are dense.” “The sword,” Killian mutters, surprise coloring every single letter. “Oh, bloody fuc--” Rumplestiltskin grins. More triumph. More whiplash. Emma isn’t sure how much longer her legs can hold up. “That was an interesting move on your part, I’ll give you that.” “Generous.” “What the hell are you talking about?” Emma shouts, the light at the end of her fingers flaring. Killian groans. “If you were looking for the sword, why would you need a dragon?”

She get slapped again. Metaphorically. Again. 

Her magic is making it difficult for her to remain upright. And it can’t possibly be good for Killian to be groaning that much. 

Rumplestiltskin looks overjoyed. He doesn’t quite jump, does something more resembling some kind of twisted jig and it’s more déjà vu and memory and Emma has to take a deep breath to stop herself from glowing even more. 

“Thank you,” Killian whispers, and she’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. 

Emma hums, chewing on the side of her tongue. “A dragon,” she starts, “can find--” “Is drawn to treasure,” Rumplestiltskin corrects. “Innately. It’s part of their very soul, the one thing they’ll look for more than anything else. And what greater treasure is there than a sword that can destroy and control?” “What?” “Why do you think he wanted it, Savior?” “I don’t---” “The sword, Emma,” Killian mutters. “It’s...whatever we did, it’s even more than that woman knew, I think. It’s…” “A talisman,” Rumplestiltskin finishes. “Able to control the darkness and the one who wields it. Being in possession of that sword is a very powerful thing. Which is why I was so stunned to find that he didn’t have it on him during our little escapade in the bar.” “You weren’t there,” Emma argues, not sure what she’ll do if Rumplestiltskin shrugs one more goddamn time. Something drastic, she’s sure. 

“I’m very good at pulling strings, my dear.” “Manipulating them, you mean.” “A little of column A, a little of column B. I was very intrigued that you didn’t remember who you were though. Must have been a rather shoddy casting of the curse.” “Maybe it was just a shitty curse.” Killian laughs. It’s ridiculous, but then so is whatever emotion explodes in the very center of Emma because, that time, she’s absolutely positive he kisses the curve of her neck. 

“I wasn’t sure where you’d gone,” Rumplestiltskin continues, seemingly unperturbed by their banter or back and forth or public displays of affection. “After you disappeared from Storybrooke. I wasn’t sure where the Captain had gone after he’d disappeared from Misthaven.”

“I’ll be honest, this really makes you sound like you’re garbage at being in control,” Emma reasons. 

Rumplestiltskin ignores her. “But then there was that burst of magic. Oh, any being in a thousand-foot radius would have felt that. The power of True Love.” “You didn’t though, did you?” He pales. And Emma’s smile hurts every one of the muscles in her face. 

“Gods, but you’re brilliant,” Killian murmurs, mostly into her skin and Emma’s magic flutters again. He slumps against her back, the force of it making her stumble a bit. “Fucking hell.” “Eloquent.” “Emma, I can’t--” Rumplestiltskin’s eyes go wide, the laugh bubbling out of him. He stands up straighter. “You bring up a very good point, Savior,” he says. “I didn’t feel it. Because you robbed me of what is rightfully mine. So I am here to remedy the situation. At first, I was more than content to simply demand you reignite my magic--” “--I can’t do that.” “Please, don’t interrupt, dearie, it’s ruining the flow of this. The prophecy claims you can. A spark? Don’t be obtuse.” “But?” “There it is,” Killian grumbles, Emma reaching back to wrap her fingers around the hand hanging at his side. The plastic is cool under her touch. 

“But,” Rumplestiltskin echoes. “The pirate disappeared in Misthaven. He’d been searching and fighting. Picking battles and growing that rather sinister reputation. I’m sure it helped to have a weapon at the end of his hand.” Emma blinks. “Oh yes,” Rumplestiltskin nods, “rather unsubtle all things considered, but he probably just found it on his ship. A hook. Made him feel very menacing, no doubt.” “You cut off my fucking hand,” Killian yells, Rumplestiltskin making a far-from-repentant noise in the back of my throat.

“And your True Love stole my magic, twisted you into the worst version of yourself and you still followed her around like some puppy dog, desperate to be told how wonderful you were. You walked into this, pirate. You twisted and knotted it all, made it so I had no choice but to follow you because you sent away the one thing a dragon could find. Treasure. Tell me something, how did you get to New York?” Killian doesn’t quite freeze, which is probably a good thing, but he certainly tenses, a shift and a turn of shadows and Emma’s only going to be able to smell sulfur for the rest of her life. Her stomach has apparently taken up residence in the back of her throat. 

“It was the sword,” Rumplestiltskin says, answering his own question with a knowing smile. “That pull. The draw to be in control of yourself, even when you weren’t sure who that self was anymore. You tried to find her, I’m sure, but, in the end, the power got the better of you. And here we are. Back at square one. So,” he says, snapping his gaze back towards Emma. Her magic flares. “I have a few demands, Savior.” “You do not have any magic.” “That’s my point.”

“Make it clearer, then.”

“Gladly. I want my magic back. I want it gone from him and back where it belongs. With me. I want to get out of this Godforsaken realm and I want this pitiful excuse of a Dark One to stop trying to defend you. It’s not going to work anymore.”

Emma blinks. And licks her lips. And blinks again. She nearly trips over herself when she spins back around, not sure when Killian’s arm fell away from her waist, only sure that her hands reach out on instinct and practice and he doesn’t flinch. 

He doesn’t move. 

“What does that mean?” Emma asks softly. “Killian, what is he talking about?” There’s the laugh. 

It’s not natural or human or anything except absolutely, God awful, an almost childlike-sound of glee to it that makes the hair on the back of Emma’s neck stand up and her breath catch and her lungs pinch. It’s memories of skin that wasn’t quite normal and dead grass under her feet, of days that lost all their meaning and...mucking it all up quite a bit. 

“Killian,” Emma repeats, tugging lightly on the front of his shirt and the chains there shift slightly. There’s no ring. Liam’s ring. Her ring. She doesn’t know where that is. “How did you get here? Why...why are you--” “--Emma,” he cuts in sharply, but it’s not the hatred it’s been. It’s pleading and disbelieving, bright blue eyes that stare at her like he can’t possibly comprehend why she’d have to ask that question. He shakes his head, hair shifting towards eyebrows that are pulled low in something almost resembling incredulity and, for half a moment, Emma doesn’t think about Rumplestiltskin. She doesn’t think about the dragon or crumbling foundations or what he’d done to the retaining walls. She thinks about better memories and near-perfect moments and the feel of the blankets in the captain’s quarters of the Jolly. 

“Why? And how?”

“You’re the most determined woman in all the realms, you realize that?” “That’s not an answer.” “It’s not a good story.” “He’s not a good person,” Rumplestiltskin calls out, and Emma’s not sure which one of them moves quicker. Her wrist flips again and Killian blinks, dark ropes appearing around Rumplestiltskin almost immediately and it takes a few prolonged seconds of slightly stunned silence for him to topple to his side. “Shut up,” Killian growls. His eyes don’t drift away from Emma though, bits of blue lingering even in the darkness that clouds his gaze. “He’s not entirely wrong though.” Emma nods, not sure if she’s agreeing or, simply, accepting, but the hand on Killian’s chest hasn’t ever moved and that’s probably something. “The truth, Lieutenant. Please.”

“Ursula was right.”

She was expecting the answer, so Emma does her best to keep her face schooled, but he’s always been impossibly good at reading her and she tugs her lips behind her teeth before she can even consider all the reasons she shouldn’t. 

Killian chuckles, left hand shifting towards Emma’s side before he seems to think better of it. “She was right,” he says again. “I knew what the cretin was doing. He was trying to get you. He was...he was recruiting magic, trying to find anyone who could get him here and--” “--How did he know that we were here, though? Like this...specific part of the Land Without Magic. Did you?”

“Not at first.” “Gods, that’s not an answer!”

He flashes her a smile, not entirely him, but enough that Emma almost starts to breathe normally. “I found out,” Killian replies evasively, thumb brushing over the side of Emma’s jaw when she throws her whole head back to groan. Rumplestiltskin is still struggling against the ropes around him, one of them moving towards his mouth. 

“From?” “Does it matter?” Emma sighs, frustration and something else that she can’t quite put a name to mixing together to make the world’s single most depressing sound. She shakes her head. “Ursula was right,” Killian says again, and Emma does her best to temper her impatience. 

It doesn’t work. She knows it doesn’t. 

Whatever Killian’s expression does make it obvious. 

“I was...I told you, love, Rumplestiltskin was coming for you. He thought he could get you to give him back magic or reignite the darkness in him and I wasn’t--” He grits his teeth, leaning his cheek into Emma’s palm when she pulls it up again. “I couldn’t let that happen. No matter what.”

Emma doesn’t answer. She’s not sure what she’d even say, far too overwhelmed and glowing and it’s a mess of feeling and magic and the smell of goddamn sulfur. 

She gags. 

That’s not the best response, really. 

“Do you remember when we were younger,” Killian starts, “there was a story. We heard it...some old captain docked in one of the shadier parts of the town and he claimed there was a beanstalk on the other side of the Enchanted Forest. Where the--”

“--Ogres were,” Emma finishes, Killian humming in agreement. “That was all just hearsay though. The giant and the--oh, fucking hell.” Killian nods, the ends of his mouth tugging up into something that’s almost a smile. “It was real?” Emma whispers. “You found a magic bean?” “Not on the beanstalk.” “Then where?” Killian shakes his head, a flash of something that might actually be amusement when Emma’s frustration turns nearly palpable. “Ok, fine, fine, you don’t want to tell me, whatever. But you got a bean?”

“Aye.” “And?” “And it was dead.” Emma tires to make sense of that. And, really, it doesn’t take long for her to understand – she’d argue it only takes as long as it does because she’s exhausted and, admittedly, a little overwhelmed and she keeps trying to count how often she can see the blue return to Killian’s gaze. It’s not as much as she’d like. “So,” Killian continues, “I had to find something to revive it.” “You couldn’t?” He shakes his head, regret dripping off the movement. “No. That’s--that’s light magic, love I wouldn’t have been able to do it if I tried. You, on the other hand…”

“Is that why you needed Ursula?” “Aye, she...well, I was told she’d be able to lead me to Nostos.” “And she did?” Killian hums again, fingers tracing patterns on her side. The blue is gone again. “She wanted something in return though. Everyone always did.”

“And you--” “--Betrayed her,” Rumplestiltskin calls out, somehow twisting away from the ropes and there’s more than one patch of redness on either side of his chin. 

Emma’s eyes flicker up, dropping her hand to grab around Killian’s wrist. He presses his lips together. “What happened?” “She wanted to leave,” Killian responds simply. “She didn’t realize I had magic, but I--” “--Dark One tricks, Dark One lies,” Rumplestiltskin yells, voice turning hoarse and screech-like and Emma’s eyes bug again. Killian doesn't respond. “She told you, Savior. She told you what he did, let her take the danger unto herself, steal that squid ink and…” “Wait, wait, wait,” Emma interrupts. “When we were in the bar, Ursula said that squid ink helped with memories. Did you think that would happen? Losing your memory?”

Killian clicks his tongue. “I was trying to be prepared.” “Because you had a magic bean that could be revived at Nostos and you...needed Ursula to bring you there?” “That’s the crux of it, aye.”

“I never understood why you really needed the sea witch,” Rumplestilskin muses. He’s sitting now, only slightly absurd with his legs tugged up to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. “You have magic. More magic than anyone left in that realm.” “Strangely enough that didn’t make me omniscient,” Killian bites back. “She knew where it was. How it worked. If it would work. And I--” “--You wanted to protect the Savior. From me.”

“I’m going to kill you. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

Rumplestilskin laughs, a quick wink and sarcastic nod and Emma is certain this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation. “Keep telling yourself that, dearie. I’m sure it will make all those sins feel a little bit better.”

“Is that why you sent the sword away?” Emma asks suddenly, the question all but leaping out of her mouth. That may actually be her magic. 

“Someday I’m sure you’ll stop surprising me, love.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” He chuckles, part him and part not and it’s the mix of both that makes every one of Emma’s muscles ache. “If I was going to jump into a portal to the Gods knew where, not entirely sure what was going to happen, then I wanted some backup. I’d read about squid ink. It can immobilize those with magic as well and I’d come up with some rather dastardly ways to use that if everything else went to shit.” “Has it not?” “No,” he shakes his head. “You found me.”

She does something. She knows she does, if only because the push of her toes makes noise and the flash of pain that settles into the shift of her calves makes her grit her teeth, but Emma isn’t altogether sure what, exactly, she does, just that it happens. 

And for one, nearly blissful moment, it’s fine. Genuinely. And truly. The hand on her back shifts, tugging her closer to him until their knees clack together, lips catching lips in something that isn’t desperate, but might be drifting closer to True Love. 

With capital letters. 

And the power to break any curse. 

Emma slings her arms around Killian’s neck, fingers finding the hair at the base of his head. She scratches her nails against the skin, light touches and her lips part as soon as she feels the first brush of his tongue. He’s smiling. 

She can tell. 

They rock against each other for a moment that feels as if it could last forever and still not be long enough, swaying slightly until it seems as if they’re both determined to occupy the same space and Killian’s laugh when Emma’s foot lands on his is as wonderful as it is surprising. 

She can taste it. Like joy and good and those capital letters again. 

And, strictly speaking, that should probably be at the top of the list of most disgusting thoughts she’s ever had, but it’s also almost comforting and wonderful and the burst of blue in his eyes makes her think of everything she’d forgotten. 

“I was always trying to get back, love,” Killian whispers, forehead resting against hers and Emma is loathe to close her eyes, but the weight of the words slink into her and she can’t really help it. She wonders if keeping her eyes closed will make the memory last longer. 

“I know.” Killian makes a noise, almost contentment and nearly happiness, but then Rumplestilskin laughs again and Emma’s magic flares – another burst of near-blinding light that leaves her blood thrumming in her ears and the blue is gone as soon as she looks back up. 

She can barely see Killian’s face, hidden by shadows that wrap around every inch of him. They twist and curl, hanging off the ends of his fingers and the edges of his jacket sleeves. 

Emma gets brighter.

She flashes like she’s a goddamn lighthouse, trying to fight against a variety of hurricanes and several different tropical storms and the explanation almost makes sense because the wave of emotion playing out on the man in front of her makes it feel as if she’s going to need to talk to several different governmental organizations about monetary aid eventually. 

She groans when she loses track of the metaphor. 

And Killian hisses, chin falling to his chest as if the shadows clinging to his back are too heavy. 

“Stop it,” he says, and they’ve circled back to the beginning of the conversation. Emma’s going to set a groaning record. 

The whiplash has got to stop. It’s making her head hurt, as if she herself is being knotted as well and that would probably be more comfortable than whatever Emma is experiencing, her magic shouting at her to do something, but it doesn’t seem to know what and Killian’s eyes aren’t just dark. They’re empty. 

He’s staring above her head. 

“I’m not doing--” Emma starts, but he jerks slightly and she knows that’s as much of a disagreement as she’s going to get. “Ok, ok, it’s my magic, right? It doesn’t...like your magic, because it’s--” “--Dark,” Killian breathes. That, almost, makes sense. “It’s…” He doesn’t quite scream, but it’s far too close for comfort, and Emma’s almost forgotten about the stupid sword. Killian grabs it, fingers curling around a hilt that’s far too familiar and entirely different than it was before.

He snaps back, Emma’s mind jumping to more memories and sharp folds, the crisp line of a uniform and maybe that was her first mistake. He should have stayed at the docks. He should have--”Oh, fucking hell,” she mutters, understanding rippling through her again.  

Killian points the sword at her. 

Rumplestilskin’s laugh takes a decidedly gloating turn. “Well, this is even better than I could have expected. Savior, you remember my terms?”

“I’m not giving you magic,” Emma mutters. Her fingers flutter at her side, bits of light and warmth bouncing between them. 

It doesn’t get Killian to lower the sword. 

“Stop it, Emma,” he says, each word measured and absolutely, positively not him. She closes her eyes again. 

That might be defeat, though. 

“It’s fighting him, Savior,” Rumplestilskin explains. “It’s interesting, I’ll give you that. How True Love can hold on even when you’re on opposite sides of the spectrum. And, well...as you can see, your--” He chuckles again, the noise turning to a groan when Emma waves her hand and tightens the ropes around his ankles. “Your magic is doing its best to destroy him. That’s why I’m going to win. You have to take it from him. And I want it back, or I'll send an army after you and everyone you care about.”

Emma throws her whole head back, heat racing through her veins and sparking under her skin. She glances down to make sure she hasn’t, actually, burst into flame, only slightly disappointed to find that her skin has remained in tact. 

Killian’s arm must hurt. “You can’t do this, Emma.” “I’m not doing anything!” “I’m not giving him our magic, I won’t--” “--Wait, wait, did you say our?” Emma asks, all but growling when that snaps into place as well. “The voices. The other Dark Ones, that’s what it was wasn’t it...why...” Her eyes flicker towards the tip of the sword pointed at her, dangerously close to the exact location of her heart. “Killian,” she starts, leaning forward against her better judgement, and the pinch between his eyebrows looks permanent, “Babe, listen to me. Not them. Just me. Please.” “Ah, I wouldn’t do that, Dark One,” Rumplestilskin objects, and Emma is not prepared to fight a battle on so many different and simultaneous fronts. “She wants to destroy darkness. She wants to get rid of your magic. She wants to send you back to what you were. Do you remember?” Killian shakes his head, as if he’s trying to shake away the memories themselves. Emma watches the muscles in his throat shift, a quick bob and a flash of teeth and she can’t move any closer to him. 

He’s still pointing a sword at her. 

“Magicless,” Rumplestilskin continues, and each letter feels like it cuts through Emma’s entire soul. She’s apparently very melodramatic when everything is going to shit. “Powerless. Nothing more than a charity case for a want-to-be royal.” “No,” Emma cries. Literally. Metaphorically. It doesn’t matter. It’s difficult to see the sword through the tears stinging her eyes. “That’s not true! It’s not, Killian. Never!” He shakes his head again, the tip of his tongue pressed into the corner of his mouth, and Emma can see the battle there, a one-man war against an army of magic and darkness and the desperate desire to control everything. 

After years of the opposite. 

She takes a shaky inhale, trying to steady herself and her emotions, but her magic is kind of a dick and it refuses to settle. It spikes, likely reacting to the haphazard rhythm of her pulse. Killian’s eyes dart towards her as soon as he feels it, and she’s never sure how he manages to take a step forward without actually stabbing her, but Emma assumes she should be grateful for the lack of stabbing and--

“It’s never going to end, Savior,” he hisses. “You can’t be here anymore. None of us can.” “Why not?” “Regina told us when we were in the castle. This land, this realm, it’s not meant for us. Not for the ones with magic. It’s never going to survive.” “The only reason it did, your highness, is because of you,” Rumplestilskin says, far too joyful and Emma’s having more and more trouble summoning her magic. It jumps and leaps and does several things an invisible force should never be able to do, but then it disappears as suddenly, leaving an empty void that she isn’t entirely sure how to feel. 

Loneliness. 

That’s what it is. 

All over again. 

“It was dying from the moment you got here, Emma,” Killian continues. “It lasted because you’re...well, powerful. And it sparked when you found me, but now--” He shrugs, a sarcastic tilt of his head that makes the hair falling across his brow shift and Emma’s breathing as heavily as if she’d never interacted with oxygen before. “Now, your magic won’t shut up.”

“Stop listening to them,” Emma says, hating how quickly her voice turns to pleading. Begging, really. She’s begging and hoping and it’s not easy to do the second one when she feels as alone as she ever has. “This isn’t--” “--You’ve got a few choices, Savior,” Rumplestilskin cuts in. He, somehow, works back to his feet, wobbling just a bit, but the look on his face makes it obvious he believes he’s already won. “Again. You let us all stay here, in this realm, to fester without magic because, let’s be honest, dearie, whatever your True Love sparked, it won’t last long now that the pirate remembers. You abandon him, again, leave him to the darkness and find a way back to Storybrooke with--” “--Your magical author guy?” Emma suggests. 

Rumplestilskin hums. “Clever, isn’t he? Again, I hate to point fingers, but that was mostly your pirate’s fault. He disappeared through that portal, Ursula made sure he wouldn’t remember and then, rather immediately, brought her talents to me. Willingly, I’d add. That’s how I met Cruella who, in turn, introduced me to Isaac.” “Quite a little network of assholes you’ve got going on.” “You’re distracting me from your final option.” “Spit it out then.” “Take the darkness out of him. Give it back to me. Where it rightfully belongs.” Emma scoffs, but her mind is already racing and her heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her eyes flash towards Killian. 

Instinct. Or True Love. 

He blinks. 

“You did it once,” Rumplestilskin presses. “So, let’s skip right over the part where you tell me how impossible it is. It’s beneath us, don’t you think?” Emma shakes her head – from disbelief and...not much more. She can’t believe they’ve come to this. Or that she’s actually considering it. She fists both her hands at her side, trying to contain the magic pulsing out of her and it doesn’t really work. 

Killian’s yelp of pain makes that clear. 

“No,” Emma whispers. “No, I won’t--” “--He’ll kill you, princess,” Rumplestilskin says, cutting her off and there’s more blood in Emma’s mouth. “He won’t think twice about it. I’ve heard those voices too and they are not all that interested in bartering with you. They don’t like it when you try and destroy them, you see.”

“That’s not Killian.” Rumplestilskin clicks his tongue in reproach. “It is now. You made sure of that.”

The tears that land on her cheek are hot. Scalding, even. Flush with magic and feeling and it’s all too much and not enough and Emma almost doesn’t hear it at first. 

“Swan.” She spins on the spot, breath rushing out of her and the lights at the end of her hair as bright as they’ve ever been. Hopeful. Powerful. Chock-full of capital letters. 

“Hi,” Emma breathes, and it is, hands down, the single worst response she could possibly come up with. Killian’s lips quirk up, the arm holding his sword shaking and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but there’s definitely blue in his eyes and Emma steps forward. 

He doesn’t stab her. 

So, points or whatever. 

“Swan, you can’t--” He groans, jaw cracking when it snaps open and--”That’s enough! Enough!”

He’s not talking to her. 

Emma’s eyes widen at the realization, ignoring every inch of her that hurts, far too much magic and movement, pushing up on her toes to rest her palm on his cheek again. She brushes her fingers over his forehead, moving strands of hair away from his eyes. She lets her thumb graze over as much skin as she can reach, like she’s trying to mark him or remind him of something, anything, a single reason to keep fighting and--

“I need your help, love.”

It takes her, exactly, three seconds, one genuinely disgusting sniffle and a far-too-dramatic gasp to understand what he means. 

Rumplestilskin howls. 

And the rest seems to happen in a blur, voices coming from the tunnel at the end of the track and Emma hears her own name screeched through the air. Killian’s head falls on her shoulder, a heavy weight that shouldn’t be nearly as comfortable as it is and she grips the front of her jacket to keep them both upright. 

The ground shakes again. 

It probably has something to do with the appearance of the seeress. 

“Oh God, what the fuck,” Emma grumbles, working an entirely out of place laugh out of Killian. He kisses her shoulder again. 

“She does have absolutely horrible timing doesn’t she?”

The seeress doesn’t respond, but Emma can feel her staring at them – even with her hands covering her eyes. She, as always, looks exactly the same, like no time passed at all, but there’s something slightly different, as if there’s a shift in the energy and the magic around her, and Emma can’t quite put her finger on it. 

She knows it’s important. 

The most important, maybe. 

“Are you making jokes now?” Emma asks, laugh shaky and watery. Killian grins. It’s entirely out of place, particularly when it appears the seeress’ shoulders are slumping in a decidedly defeated way, and Rumplestilskin is still making that God awful noise, but Emma hoards it anyway, trying to brand it on every inch of her memory because she knows. 

She knows what has to happen next. And the thought makes her want to collapse. 

There’s not enough time for that though, more noise coming from the tunnel, and Emma twists in a way her spine doesn’t appreciate. Ruby’s fingers are curled around her amulet, mouth hanging open. There are tears in her eyes as well. “Emma, can you--” “Yeah,” Emma interrupts. “Can you?” “Yuh huh. It was like, shit, I don’t even know, an earthquake or the first time I transformed. It was so strong. I’ve never known magic like that.”

“And you came here?” Ruby glares. “What else did you expect me to do? I--shit, you were gone again and you’d never come back, Emma. After that--” She runs a ragged hand over her face, Will wrapping an arm around her middle when she starts to wobble slightly. “It had to have reached back to Storybrooke too and--” She snaps her jaw shut, a sharp inhale as soon as her eyes pull away from Emma’s. “Oh dammit, all. Is that…” “Lady Lucas,” Killian murmurs, free hand working back around Emma and she has the growing suspicion he’s trying to touch as much of her. Before. She can’t bring herself to imagine the rest of that sentence. 

“It’s Captain now, isn’t it?” “Something like that.”

“Does someone want to explain what the hell is going on?” Will demands, and Emma can’t really blame him. His shoulders are heaving, clearly out of breath and she doesn’t spend too long wondering how they got there. Killian’s hand is still moving. 

Belle’s expression is unreadable – gaze penetrating, but she’s not looking at Emma. She’s staring straight at Killian with thin lips and wide eyes and Emma feels his magic stutter slightly under the force of it. “Ma’am,” he says. “I, um...I should thank--” “--Shut up,” Belle snaps. “Shut up, shut up, shut up. Was that...how much of what the sea witch said was right?” “Almost all of it.” “And Emma’s a princess?” “What?” Will shouts, but Belle is on a roll and if Emma weren’t so goddamn depressed, she’d also pretty impressed. 

Killian nods. “Aye. And I’m--” “--You have to let it happen, Dark One,” the seeress says, impossibly calm. That’s probably for the best since no one else is. Emma’s tears spill onto her cheeks and Ruby makes a noise that’s somewhere between a gag and a groan and Will has started shouting some rather impressive curses that Emma’s never heard before. 

Belle stays suspiciously silent. 

Killian’s fingers still. 

“Aye, I know.”

Rumplestilskin might be crying. It certainly sounds like it, soft whimpers and pained noises, and Emma’s spine is going to rise up in revolt of her and her movements and her magic. She moves anyway, hands flying back to Killian’s chest.

His arm shakes at his side. The one holding the sword. As if the sword knows. Gods, the sword probably does know.

“What is she talking about, Killian?” Will asks, and Emma is legitimately impressed that he keeps demanding information. Something about stubborn and how it’s appropriate in the right circumstances or whatever. 

Killian swallows, a quick exhale that makes the ends of Emma’s hair flutter. “We have to do it, love,” he whispers. “This is--” Emma shakes her head. It’s pointless. She knows. She doesn’t care. Her neck shifts and her muscles protest and her magic makes the rocks at her feet float a few inches in the air. “No,” she argues, well aware that she’s simply wasting time. “There’s got to--” “There’s not, your highness,” the seeress says. “There never was.” “Wait, what?”

Killian pulls Emma closer to his side, the pressure on her skin likely leaving bruises because his magic is still fighting back and it must know. It has to. This is the end. “You said we couldn’t make the same mistake again,” he mutters. “What aren’t you telling us? Emma counts her breaths. Two in, a far-too-sudden exhale. Three in, way too wobbly to be helpful, but her exhale is a bit more measured that time. She swallows and licks her lips, does it again, waits and tries not to be too impatient, but she can practically hear Killian’s eyebrows move in frustration and Ruby makes a noise as soon as Rumplestilskin tries to move. 

She’s barely more than a flash, a few quick steps and teeth that are slightly longer than normal. Will and Belle follow her, their own eyes narrow and there’s no magic, but there’s definitely something resembling fury and Rumplestilskin cowers under the combined threat of them. 

“No need to get so snappy, dearie,” he mumbles, but that only draws another growl out of Ruby and she flexes her fingers in his face. 

There are claws there. 

He doesn’t say anything else. 

“What aren’t you telling us?” Killian demands again. The seeress still doesn’t respond, eyes falling to her feet and arms hanging limply at her side, and Emma’s exhale flies out of her in a burst of emotion and understanding. 

“No, no, no, no, that can’t be right,” she fumes, anger not entirely unexpected. It’s even worse because she knows it’s still pointless. 

She can’t stop crying. 

The seeress pulls her head up, staring at Emma like she can see her and--”Oh, bloody hell,” Killian mumbles. Emma flashes him a tight-lipped smile, his own realization settling on his face. He shakes his head. “The whole time?” Emma shrugs. “If she’ll actually tell us, but--” “It is,” the seeress says, and Will actually grabs a handful of dirt to throw in understandable annoyance. Most of it lands on his shoe. 

“What does that mean?” “Us,” Emma answers simply. “We always thought the prophecy only mentioned Killian and I once. The Swan and the Knight. That was--” 

Eventually, she will be incredibly disappointed that she can’t finish her sentences. She knows she’s on borrowed time and the sword is still shaking, a faint glow around the edges that’s only slightly menacing, but Emma can’t seem to get the words to form on her tongue and it’s her goddamn tongue again. 

It’s not really her tongue. 

She licks her lips, tugging them behind her teeth and she can only imagine what she looks like. Her cheeks hurt and her muscles ache, a pounding in the back of her head that might be her magic or just... everything and Killian’s smile looks forced. 

“It was never about Rumplestilskin,” Emma whispers. “Not really. The future of magic and light in the dark. That’s us. Right?”

She turns towards the seeress, hands staying at her side, but the woman’s lips twitch slightly and her head nods slowly and--”I didn’t realize,” she says. “Not at first and that’s--” “--Not exactly doing a lot to inspire confidence,” Ruby sneers, Killian making a noise of agreement in the back of his throat. 

Emma curls herself closer to his side. She counts breaths again. And every swipe of his fingers.

The seeress nods once more, quiet defeat and an apology without actually saying the words. “Rumplestilskin believed he was the center of it all. As did we all. And he might have been at one point, but as I told you, things did not go according to plan. They were changed and the power of True Love influenced it all. We didn’t realize at first. That was a mistake, a foolish overlook of the kind of love that you and the pirate have.” “Fucking hell, we’re still on that,” Killian grumbles, and Emma can’t contain her laugh. He kisses the top of her hair again. 

“Things changed in that field. Decisions that could not be altered and it, in turn, altered the meaning of the prophecy. So, now you have a choice ahead of you Savior.” Emma scoffs. “Isn’t that always how it works?” “Your magic found me, Swan,” Killian says. “You weren’t trying to get here, right?” Emma shakes her head, and the puzzle pieces are starting to form an actual puzzle. That sucks. The picture is ugly. And she hates it. She’s still seriously considering collapsing. “Because magic was never going to be able to survive in this realm. The only way you’re going to be able to get back, to save magic, was if it got that spark.” “Awfully presumptuous of you,” she mumbles, drawing an incredulous laugh out him and she’s almost prepared for the way his mouth crashes against hers. 

It’s greedy. That’s the word for it. Like he’s trying to make up for lost time, which, really, is kind of absurd because she’d been ridiculously attracted to him from the moment she saw him in the hallway and the very first time she saw him and, honestly, fuck prophecy. 

She surges up, relishing whatever noise that makes, one hand flying into Killian’s hair and the other curling around his shoulders, pulling him as close to her as she can. 

“Something about True Love, huh?” Killian mumbles against her mouth. He kisses away one of the tears that hangs on her cheek. “It’s ok, Swan.” “Bullshit.”

“Gods, but you’re stubborn.” “I’m not--I can’t do this again,” she admits, and the words sound weak even to her own ears. She can only imagine what they sound like to the rest of the universe. Pitiful. And pointless. And everyone keeps telling her there’s some kind of choice and options but Emma knows they’re all lying to her and there’s nothing except what she has to do. 

Save everyone, apparently. 

“I can’t,” Emma repeats. “Not after the last time.” “I wasn’t actually dead the last time.”

Emma makes the world’s most ridiculous noise. Ruby is a close second. “Shut up,” Emma mutters, but she can’t quite get the right amount of venom in her voice, and Killian grits his teeth again. His magic jumps, flares around him in a burst of shadow that makes Belle gasp and Will curse again. 

“You’ve got to do it, Swan.” “No.” “Emma.” “No,” she yells, the word scratching its way out of her. It hurts, a dull throb in the very center of her that makes her limbs quiver and her heart lurch and she keeps breathing through her mouth. “I--it’ll be real this time,” she whispers. “And I--”

Killian ducks his head, one side of his mouth tugged up. He moves his hand again, drifting up and down her spine and resting on the side of her hip, fingers brushing underneath the hem of her shirt. “It’s got to happen, love,” he says, all matter-of-fact and certain and Emma knows he’s only doing it so she won’t simply wilt in front of him. She hates it. “It was us the whole time. The key to defeating darkness.” He nods towards the sword in his hand, the tip of the blade sitting between bit of rubble. “We did that.”

“Oh, fuck that.” It works another chuckle and an even quicker kiss out of him, the force of it almost bruising. He’s still trying to make sure he remembers it. Or she remembers it. No matter what happens next. No matter where he ends up. 

And, really, she’s not sure what possesses her to say the next few words, but the next few words simply start spilling out of her and Emma imagines it’s probably got something to do with cyclical forces and the universe and the power of True Love. 

“I was fourteen,” she starts, Killian’s eyes widening slightly at an understandably unexpected story, but there’s blue in his gaze and the other side of his mouth moves, “and it was the first time I’d been able to get out of the castle in weeks. It had snowed and that one passage out of the garden had been blocked. 

And I asked David for help. We must have spent hours outside, we used magic and our hands and melted the entire snow pile and it took forever, but then he--oh, shit.” Emma sniffles again, unwilling to move her hands or wipe away the tears that won’t stop falling. “Anyway, um...I got out and it was only long enough to just see you, but you said--” “--Even a few minutes were better than nothing,” Killian finishes, his own eyes turning slightly glossy. He nods quickly, lips ghosting over Emma’s forehead. 

“That was it.” “That was what?” “When I knew. I--even a few minutes were better than nothing. I’d take them all. Covet them, even. Because it’s always been you, Killian. Always.”

He leans back, expression stunned for a moment, but then it’s a bit like staring straight into the sun and there’s no shadow, nothing except how clearly and completely he loves her back and Emma’s shoulders shake with the force of her sobs. 

“Every single time, Swan.”

She nods, not sure if she’s agreeing or convincing herself or, simply, accepting fate, but maybe those few minutes are all she needs and Killian’s fingers are warm when hers curl around them. The sword underneath them is cool. 

Killian’s cheek brushes against the side of her hair, a jerk of his head that Emma knows is supposed to be encouraging. He presses another kiss to her temple, a mumbled it’s ok and it’s not, it’s absolutely not, but then he’s taking a step back and his lips are pressed together and Emma can see the determination in his gaze. 

Blue. Bright blue. 

“I love you,” she says. 

He tongue flashes between his lips. “I love you.”

She’ll do her best to not ever think about it again. She’ll try and forget it and ignore it, the pain that sparks in every inch of her, like she’s the one with a goddamn sword piercing her, but it will never actually work. 

Emma will remember every second in excruciating detail – how heavy the blade is in her hand, like it’s aware of what she's about to do, the sound it makes when it moves through Killian, the slight resistance there because he’s so human and so alive, but then there’s another noise echoing around her and it takes Emma a moment to realize it’s coming from him. 

It’s worse than it was in the field, a cry that settles in between each one of Emma’s ribs, taking up residence between her joints and her muscles and it will play on loop in her memory for days. 

He falls forward, chin colliding with her shoulder. It takes all her strength not to drop with him, knees buckling under the sudden weight she’s trying to balance. His hand moves without much purpose against her face, thumb pulling at skin and pressing against her cheek, breathing turning labored. 

There’s light. It flares and sparks around them, a surge of power and burst of heat that contradicts the feeling of absolute emptiness Emma can feel slinking down her spine. She twists her hand around the front of Killian’s jacket, pressing her forehead against his and she can already see him struggling to keep breathing. 

She pulls the sword back. 

Another noise. Even worse. 

And he looks like him, the him she’s known and loved and waited for, the one who promised a few minutes and called her Swan and believed no matter what. The sword dissolves in her hand, the hilt falling out of her grip with a soft thud. 

Killian sways, hand reaching out and Emma can barely see him through the tears in her eyes, but it only takes a moment to notice the darkness forming just underneath his left jacket sleeve and she wraps both her arms around him when his legs, finally, give up. 

He’s impossibly pale. 

“No, no, no, no,” she mumbles, twisting so he’s flat on his back and she can’t stop moving her hands. She traces over him, sure the weight she’s resting on his chest can’t be helping, but being anything except as close to him as possible is a thought Emma can’t even begin to process. 

Killian doesn’t say anything. 

His head lolls to the side, a soft exhale that feels like the end of everything and, Emma supposes, in a way it is. 

She can’t feel anything. 

“No,” she repeats, shaking at his shoulder. Nothing. No response. No movement. 

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

Her breath shakes out of her, a stinging that might be the state of her lungs or her magic and she can dimly hear movement behind her. 

“Thank you, Savior,” the seeress murmurs, crouching next to Emma and she has a response. She does. Something about fucking off, she’s sure, but she’s far too busy crying and her neck does not seem all that interested in supporting her head anymore. Her forehead falls to Killian’s chest, more misplaced weight and white-knuckle grips, but then the seeress is moving again and she’s trying to take him. 

“No,” Emma cries, hopeful, someday, she’ll say something else. She pulls Killian’s hand into hers, holding on like that will make the difference. 

He’s freezing cold already. 

The seeress doesn’t respond. She doesn’t lift her head, just bows her neck and mumbles a few words under breath and there’s suddenly nothing under Emma’s hand. 

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

“Holy shit,” Will breathes, and Emma isn’t sure what’s going on behind her, but it sounds like a punch lands on skin and Rumplestilskin makes another noise of absolute despair. 

She almost understands. 

And the hand on her shoulder makes her flinch, Ruby’s mumbled words barely audible over the buzzing in Emma’s ears. She stands up without realizing her brain has decided to do that, locked knees and parted lips and Ruby cups both of Emma’s cheeks in her hand. 

She doesn’t say anything – there isn’t really anything to say – but she doesn’t blink and Ruby doesn’t stumble when Emma quickly and easily goes to pieces.  

[icyhobi]

Milk (M)

Summary: When trying to deal with your hybrid’s sudden obssesion with milk, you would have never guessed that things would turn out so differently. 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut, hybrid!au, fluff

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This is a two-shot! So please keep in mind that there will be a second part to this story! Any who, this fic contains heavy dom/sub undertones, graphic descriptions of sex, degrading names, slight milk/lactation kink… urmm if you don’t know what that is, maybe this fic isn’t for you :’) Also breeding/mating kink. The majority of the smut will be in the second part! Thus, you have been warned!

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“If you’re looking for the milk, you’re not allowed to have any.”

“Excuse me?” the hybrid questioned, almost sounding like he was mocking you.

You sighed as you looked up from your spot on the couch, to see Yoongi standing still at the refrigerator, with his head craned towards you, waiting for your replying.

You knew by the way his long black tail snapping up and down behind him in harsh movements, was an indication of how annoyed he was. You couldn’t even see his dark eyes properly since his black fringe was covering them partially, but you could already just imagine the intimidating glare upon them.

You could easily read his emotions because you’ve been living with him since you were only 7 years old. At the time, you were mindlessly on the carpet playing with your stuffed animals, when your parents came home with your mother holding the hand of a young boy. He looked close to your age, maybe a couple of years older. He had porcelain like skin, which contracted his dark black hair. And you remembered the look of excitement that graced your chubby face when you saw two furry white ears atop of his head, and a long furry tail that swayed slowly behind him.

“Kitty!!” you squealed in joy, as the young boy suddenly saw you, and cringed at your loud voice.

You hastily stood up and stumbled your way towards the boy who tried to hide behind your mother. It didn’t work though since you were determined to touch his soft cat-like ears. So with a harsh dash, you finally reached upon to touch his ears in excitement, only to have him hiss back at you. Your eyes widened as saw the sharpened canines of his teeth, and it was your father who pulled you back away from the boy.

His actions angered you, all you wanted was to touch his soft ears! Why was he so mean?

“Bad kitty! Mean kitty!” you suddenly shouted at him, with your chubby small hands pointing towards him.

You saw his pupils momentarily turn into slits, as he glared at you.

“Y/n!” your mother exclaimed, trying to ease the tension between you two. “You can’t talk to him like that!”

You cowered under your mother’s scolding tone, starting to feel your anger slip away.

She then turned to look at the boy and knelt down to his height to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry about that Yoongi… this is our daughter Y/n, she can be a little bratty at times.”

“Hey!!!” you whined at your mother’s insult, only to see the boy smirk at your upset tone.

Your father then held you gently by your shoulders, to lead you towards the boy named “Yoongi”. He stood you half a metre in front of him, to introduce you two properly. “And Y/n, this is Yoongi. He’s a hybrid and he’ll be living with us from now on.”

“What?! You’ll be living with us? Why?!” you blurted out in shock. Why would your parents bring home some random kid to live with you guys?

“Because Y/n, he needs a proper home to stay. And besides, remember your friend Taehyung? He and his family have a hybrid as well, so it’ll kinda be like that,” your mother reasoned with you, trying to make sure you would understand.

You recalled how your schoolmate Taehyung had mentioned he had a hybrid named Jimin at home. You didn’t really know what a hybrid was, but the way he mentioned it, made it sound like he had a pet.

“Ohh! So he’s our pet!”

“No!” your parents said in unison, worried that you would offend the boy.

“He’s not our pet Y/n, he’s… a friend. He can sort of be like a big brother to you.”

“Big brother!?!” you sputtered. You didn’t want a big brother! You liked having all the attention on you, since you were an only child.

“Well yea, how old are you Yoongi?” your mother questioned the boy with a soft gaze.

“I… I’m almost 10,” the boy said quietly, with his eyes on the floor.

“Oh really?” your mother smiled, then pointed towards you. “Y/n is only 7, so I think you can be the cool older leader here.”

What!?! Why couldn’t you be leader!? You were just about to voice your disdain until you saw Yoongi smile for the first time. You stared at him with mesmerized eyes as your complaints died down your throat.  

“Would you like that, Yoongi?” your mother asked.

He looked up around at your family’s home, then towards your mother and father, then lastly at you with a small smile gracing his porcelain features, before he spoke:

“Yea… I would.”

 Ever since that moment, Yoongi has lived with you and your family. It wasn’t till a couple of years later that you learned that Yoongi was a stray abandoned hybrid, that your mother and father saw sitting by himself in the rain, from one of their nights out. They immediately took him in as they couldn’t bare letting something bad happen to him.

In the society that you lived in, hybrids were looked down upon as an inferior species to humans. However, many people did own them for various reasons; for company, labour work, and even intimacy. But if a hybrid was a stray… there would be a good chance that the hybrid would be kidnapped and forced into sex trafficking or slavery. That’s why your parents took in Yoongi, because he was just a small child like you at the time. Any hybrid without a collar, would be considered a stray, so the next day when they brought him home, they went to fill out the registration forms and buy him a collar to officially become the ‘owners’ of him. They never treated him badly though, they treated him more like a family member, and sometimes you even felt as if they would give him special treatment… which irritated you greatly.

Living with Yoongi for all these years wasn’t necessarily bad, it was just that… he found great pleasure in ignoring you and purposely trying to make you annoyed. Like honestly, what was his problem? You always tried to be nice with him, but he would just ignore it or retort with a rude side comment. You wondered why he couldn’t be more like Taehyung’s hybrid, Jimin. Jimin was also a cat hybrid, but he was so cute and friendly unlike Yoongi, who looked as if he would claw your eyes out if you bothered him too much.

To make matters even worse, when you finally decided to move out and get your own apartment for school and a job, your parents signed over Yoongi’s adoption forms to you. Thus, he also moved in with you. Yoongi himself complained about it, but your parents didn’t want you to move all the way into a brand new city by yourself.

The first couple of months living with just Yoongi was horrible. He could be such a dick at times, much like when he was when he was younger. Till this day you still don’t even know why. He was nice to your parents, but when it came to you, it was as if he found you irritating. And all though you would never admit this to anyone, but it did sort of hurt you. You’ve been living with him for almost 16 years now, and you couldn’t help but notice that he grew into be one very attractive hybrid. A very annoying, but handsome hybrid.

“What’s with the stupid look on your face?” Yoongi said, breaking your thoughts.

“What?”

“You completely zoned out.”

“Oh sorry,” you said with a slightly embarrassed tone. You looked at his annoyed glare while he was still holding the refrigerator door open.

Oh right, the milk!

“You can’t have anymore milk, Yoongs.”

You saw his hands form fists at the nickname you gave him to purposely bother him.

“And why not?” he asked, getting tired of even speaking with you.

You sighed in irritation, did he really not know? “Yoongi, you already drank two full bags of milk this morning! There’s only one bag left, and you aren’t allowed to touch it until I go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

“Well its not my fault for being thirsty,” he scoffed.

Really? Was that all he had to say in his defense? He was drinking an unusual amount lately, and it was honestly doing a huge number on your grocery shopping bill.

“Uhh yea it is! If you’re really that parched, just go and drink water!” you reasoned.

“I don’t like the taste of water.”

“Water doesn’t have a taste!”

“Exactly. Glad you agree with me.”

“Ughh!” you groaned, finding him to be extremely difficult to deal with today. Why couldn’t he just ever listen to you like a normal hybrid?

You glance over to see that he has completely ignored your request and continues to stick his head in the fridge to find the last bag of milk you hid. He reaches in the far back to move half of a watermelon, only to find the last bag.

“Here it is,” he said with a little victory smirk.

You saw that he was really going to cut the plastic open, and drink straight from the bag, ignoring your pleas.

“Yoongi!” you screeched, rushing over to stand by him to snatch the bag out of his hands. Except as soon as you had touched it, his grip tightened while you tried to pull it away.

“C’mon now Yoongs, I think you’re a big kitty now that can handle a day without milk.”

You were expecting him to get mad and sneer a sassy retort at you, but you saw his nose start to twitch intensely and his pupils turn into slits for a few seconds.

“Uhh, Y/n can you please go…” Yoongi groaned as he shook his head while still trying to keep the milk to himself.

Why is he acting like that? Does he smell something bad? I don’t smell anything… you mentally questioned in your head since it looked like there was a scent that was affecting him.

“No. I said you can’t have anymore,” you spoke with a stern voice.

“Oh please Y/n like I’d listen to that.”

Ughh! Rude! Why does he have to act like this?!

“Why must you always have to act like a dick? I promise I’ll buy more for you tomorrow, just please leave this one, so I can at least have some.”

“I act like a dick because you’re overly annoying me.”

That was it. You were getting mad at this point. How were you annoying him, when he was the one acting like a stubborn child? It was such a simple request and you can’t even fathom why he always wanted to disagree with you.

“Just be a good little obedient hybrid, and listen to your owner!” you shouted, without thinking.

You saw him stiffen at your harsh words, and then took that as your opportunity to snatch the milk away. Except… you gripped the bag a little too tightly and pulled with all your strength – only to have it rip and all the milk splatter over Yoongi and the floor.

Oh no… what have I done…

The air was filled with complete silence as you watched Yoongi’s hands form into fists and look up with venomous eyes.

Even though Yoongi himself wasn’t that much taller than you, the looks and aura he gave you, was enough to make you wish to dig yourself a hole and never come out. His white fluffy ears were pulled back, a sign of great stress.  You’d imagine that his cat-like ears and tail would make him seem a bit less intimidating, but it was the complete opposite. Since you knew he didn’t have no indoor housecat in his DNA, but that he was mixed with the genes of a strong and fierce white tiger. Thus, you were a bit nervous as to how he would react.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t me-”

“You did this on purpose.” he seethed, interrupting your apology.

Just the way he spoke, gave you goosebumps – you knew you were so fucked.

“N-no I didn’t!” you stuttered, trying to ease his anger. “Here, I’ll go and set up a bath for you!” you suddenly blurted, then ran for your life towards the washroom, to avoid his uproar.

You knew he was beyond pissed. He didn’t get to have any milk, and now he had to go wash himself, which he despised. Naturally, him being part feline made him not so fond of getting wet – so the fact that he had to bathe again because of you, most likely made him furious.

You quickly arrived in the bathroom, then turned on the tub to fill with warm water. You plug in the drain to make sure the water stays, then grab the soap to make bubbles. You were so focused on trying to make a perfect bath for him as an apology, that you didn’t even notice when he slowly walked in behind you, locking the door.

Just looking at you, kneeling and bent over the tub, was making Yoongi go insane. This was all your fault. You were the reason he couldn’t quench his immense thirst – because his thirst was for you. Even though you two have been living together for so long, he was surprised and annoyed about how little you actually knew about hybrids, more specifically about him. The reason his been especially thirsty and avoidant of you this week was because you began your ovulation cycle. Ever single time you were menstruating was pure torture for him. Why? Because he could smell how ready you were to be bred. How eager your body would be to bare his cubs. How nice it would be to drink your milk instead of the stupid store-bought ones.  That’s why he would try his best to keep his distance away from you, whenever it was close to your time of the month. And the fact that you were spending a lot of time with Taehyung, and his hybrid Jimin, drove him nuts. You’d always have that cat hybrids scent all over you, which he hated.

You were his.

He knew that you had to be his mate, he wanted no one else.

But he just didn’t know how to express it. He was abandoned one time, all those years ago, and he didn’t want that to happen again. He didn’t want to be so close with his owner, only to be thrown on the street again. But he knew that you and your family weren’t like that. He was just… scared. He was just so bad at expressing himself, so that’s why he chose to always act a bit cold towards you. But he also did it to get a rile out of you. To get you hot tempered and flushed face. He knew you so well. He knew how you loved to act like you were in control, that you can lead. But he saw all through that, because in reality… you were a little brat who was always eager to please.

You were just a sub in disguise.

And as he walked quietly behind your unknowing form, a small smirk played on his lips, knowing exactly how to make you realize what you were.

You jumped a little when you suddenly felt cold hands wrap a piece of fabric around your neck. You touched the article and looked down slightly to see the little bell in the middle of it.

Isn’t this… Yoongi’s collar?!?

You whip your head back only to see Yoongi staring down at you with a hooded look in his eyes. Your eyes travelled to his neck, and you realized that your suspicion was right – he removed his collar and put it on you.

“What the hell Yoongi?!”

He ignored you, and went to turn the tap off, stopping the water from overflowing. He then crouched down to your kneeling height and tapped your shoulder.

“Turn around.”

You felt your voice get caught in your throat from his demanding tone. And for some odd reason, you hesitantly listened to him, shuffling around till you faced his dark eyes.

“You know,” he spoke with a deep voice, while toying with the humiliating bell on the black collar that was around your neck. “You’re such a little brat.”

What?!

“E-Excuse me!?!”

At your shocked expression, Yoongi’s smirk only grows wider. “You like people to think that you can lead, that you have control, that you are superior. But I see right through you Y/n.”

What… is he talking about?

“I can see that you like to pretend that you have some sort of dominance over me, but oh how wrong you are. You’re just a kitten who loves to mess around and be put into her place.”

Where is he going with this… you freaked mentally, since his close proximity was starting to make you feel nervous. Nervous that he could sense how your heart beat increased dramatically when his hand would gently glide over your neck. And most of all, you were nervous that he could sense the slight tingle you felt down there, the more he played with the leather restraint on you.

He then gripped your collar, bringing your face closer to his before he finally spoke his thoughts with a bite on his lip;

“Why don’t you be a good little pet, and let your owner take care of you?”