#corruption kink question mark question mark??

[sthwaaberry]

hypothetically if i were to write my first fic which would sound nicer bcs i’d have fun writing either one 😓

[lalunanymph]

KILLSHOT

sypnosis when fate gives you back your supposedly “dead” foster childhood bestfriend who is now the colonel of one of the most powerful fleets in the world, what else is there to do but fuck him right in the interrogation room? 

warnings interrogation, caleb is mean for like 0.24848 seconds cause lbr he is a puppy of a man, drugging, drugged sex, improper use of evol, collaring, mutual pining, biting, marking, betrayal, mindfuck, injuries, mentions of blood, psychological warfare, seduction, fighting, hurt and comfort, angst, potential spoilers for “farspace deprivation” and “farspace bloomfall”, dark themes, hate sex, cervix fucking, fingers in mouth, sucking on gloved fingers, gunplay, degradation, undertones of Dom/sub, oral sex, kink, bratting, disciplining, after effects of interrogations, unprotected sex, ceiling sex, grieving, spoilers for chapter 4, mentions of death, aftercare, cuddling, guilt, repressed emotions, 18+

dawn says caleb girlies RISE UP oh we are eating so good our man is back home and you KNOW i had to write about his hot new glowup in that slutty colonel outfit,...

Yet again, you’re in the thick of trouble.

They said curiosity killed the cat, and this time, you had little doubt of coming out alive. But, it can hardly be classified as your fault. 

It was a stupid lead. A blind coordinate Nero sent to you, leading you to stumble right into the heart of a military operation unauthorized. In the world of bureaucracy and red tape, it’s as good as being dead.

Now, you’re being led away, bound and blindfolded with no one to blame but yourself for your shitty luck and foresight. 

Whoever is leading you to your certain death stops in his tracks, nudging you into a cool room. You’re made to sit on a hard chair, and within seconds, your wrists are untied only to be bound again to the chair’s arms and something hard and circular is snapped onto your neck. 

“Unh—” you gasp when you hear the soft whir of the device starting. A sudden pressure wraps around your body, holding you back from resonating. Without your Evol, you’re defenceless and whoever has captured you knows it. 

“Don’t resist.” 

A cold voice pierces the silence. You stop squirming and peel your ears.

“W-who’s there?” You curse the stutter in your question, the trembling underlying your show of courage.

A Hunter resists and never gives up intel easily. Evasion Interrogation Class 101. You weren’t going to cave without a fight. 

The slow approach of boots on the hard floor thumps like the blood rushing through your ears. You tense, feeling the other person’s presence before you. 

Light floods your senses, and your eyes pry open when the blindfold is whipped off your face. You blink, trying to focus on the dark spot standing right in front of you. The furrow of his brow is the first thing you notice, then those piercing violet eyes.

No…

“Hey… Pipsqueak.” 

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, fear shooting up your spine.

It can’t be… you struggle to make sense of what you’re seeing, feeling your stomach dropping heavily right into the soles of your Hunter boots. It can’t… 

You mourned him. You watched your entire family—your world—go up in flames.

This stranger wearing his face sits down in front of you, legs spreading with ease under the stretch of his starched white pants. He’s in a decorated jacket, one you’ve never seen him wear before. It’s like the memory of all that you once knew of Caleb is corrupted with a dark veneer, giving way to this tainted version sitting before you with barely any emotion in his eyes.  

The familiar slope of his features, the same ones you’ve seen throughout the years, changing and growing, as intimate to you as your own breath, is cold and distant. 

Warm sunny days, the smell of freshly cut grass, a hand holding yours through the rain…

It disappears in a flash of lightning, the dark clouds rolling behind him like the dread churning right in your gut. 

Your voice is soft, fringed with disbelief, as the shock renders you immobile to the chair. 

“What?” He quips, and a shadow of his old smile appears. But, where there was once familiarity, now there only exists the ruins of everything you held dear. 

“Don’t you recognize me?” 

It’s as if he’s goading you. 

He picks up an apple from the centerpiece on the table next to the chair he has you strapped in, and holds it in his hand like it would give him all the answers in the world. His pensive gaze, those once wondrous violet eyes catching the last of the sun’s rays as it disappeared over a river, cloud over with an undeniable oppression. 

He can’t even look at you properly. 

“Did you honestly think I would always be the kind-hearted boy from your childhood?” 

Like a horror show unfolding, he lifts his gaze, looking right into your depths, as the snap of the apple's skin gives way to the tension of his jaws. A bit of its juice dribbles onto his lower lip, and you force yourself to tear your eyes away, needing to retain your wits. Caleb sets the fruit down, chewing thoughtfully, before lifting it to your lips. 

“Eat,” he murmurs softly, a shadow of his old self on the tired terrain of his face. “You must be starving.”

The sweet boy from your past can’t be coincided with this cold man right in front of you. Where you would’ve leapt at the opportunity to taste any dish from the labor of his kind hands, you fear this forbidden bite would poison you the second his tainted fruit touched your lips. 

Turning your head away, you glare at the rain-slicked windows, trying to hide the sting in your eyes.

Caleb, knowing how stubborn you can be, sighs and drops his olive branch offering.

“Fine.” His voice is flat. Unemotional. “Let’s get to the bottom of things, then.”

He stands, and you feel a fissure of fear opening in your chest when he retrieves his baton, removing his military cap and tossing it onto the table. 

“Why’re you here?” 

You refuse to open your mouth, glaring at him. Caleb shakes his head.

“You always have to make things so hard for me, don’t you, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs and steps closer to you, the fire in his violet gaze crackling. “You’ve always been insufferable since we were kids. Now—” he frowns. “—why are you here? And how did you find this place?” 

You find your voice, croaking out, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to? Are you sure?” He cuts you off coldly. Caleb straightens and adjusts his gloves. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, though it’s corrupted by the detachment oozing from his suddenly frosty demeanour. “You expect me to believe that? That you just stumbled into the scene like a stray kitten?” 

When you don’t speak, he sighs, kneeling down to your height. The warmth of his eyes is back and a lump forms in your throat.

“Caleb…” your whisper is soft. Tentative. He senses a chink in your defenses, a drop of blood in the ocean, and the gleam of his teeth reminds you of a shark.

“All you have to do is answer my questions, Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke your hair. “Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?” That same, mischievous smile plays on the corners of his lips, though it sends a chill down your spine, instead. “There’s more than one pair of eyes observing you in this room so I suggest you play nice.”

He pulls back again, depriving you of his warmth. “Now that you understand, we can have a friendly chat, hmm, Pips?” When you refuse to look at him, or give any indication you’re willing to cooperate, he sighs. 

Instantly, the sensation of a thousand bricks falling onto your shoulders hits you, and you scream, almost crushed by the pressure. Caleb uses this momentary distraction to kneel down and lock your ankles to the chair’s legs and snap a band around your right wrist, his other hand gently running the ghost of his touch up your ankle. The forcefield of his Evol deters him from ever touching your skin, and if you could look closer, you would’ve seen his throat bobbing from a harsh swallow.

“Do you remember that injured cat you brought back home? Back when we were kids?” He glares up at you. “I got a collar with a bell. That way, it couldn't escape without being noisy,” he gently squeezes your knee. “The same can be said for you—you’re not allowed to leave me again.” 

As he speaks, something sharp pokes your neck and you flinch. While your eyes are on him, the room starts to spin, and before you know it, you’re hunched over the chair, gasping and shaking.

“Caleb,” your voice sounds like you’re whispering from under the sea. “W-what’s—?”

“Don’t worry,” his reassurances warble back. “It won’t harm you—images in your brain,” his words flicker through your consciousness and you feel the collar tightening around your throat.

Shit… He had sanctioned a drug to be shot into your system. 

Your woozy eyes keep on sliding back to the floor. 

Caleb has drugged me.

“Where did you find the coordinates to this place?” 

You’re fighting a losing battle trying to keep your composure. Everything feels too loud—too bright. Digging your nails into the chair’s arms, you grit your teeth, fighting back against the wave of vertigo threatening to take you under. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster, out of breath, the ground dangling far from your feet. Every sharp inhale you take makes you float higher and higher, till you think your brain would burst from the stratosphere of your skull.

Nero… Nero knew this… and he let you walk right into it.

Nero… The sound of Caleb’s voice pierces through your mind like bright light cutting past the fog. That’s good, Pipsqueak. That’s my good girl… Is Nero your colleague?

You think of him, in his horn-rimmed glasses, hunched over his screen.

Good, Caleb’s voice soothes you, a lifeline through this impenetrable fog your mind has settled in. And, why are you here?

The image of his dog tag with the apple charm takes over your mind, and it hits you too late that Caleb can possibly see your thoughts unfold. 

What are the possibilities that you can fight this? Your brain races. You feel like an astronaut stranded in space, isolated from gravity and light, as your spacesuit begins to fill up with water, almost drowning you.

A sharp jab to your chest makes your eyes flutter open, and his baton is pointed right at the apple charm hanging around your neck. Something softer, presumably made out of hide, brushes your chin as he studies the charm in between his fingers, his expression unreadable. 

“It’ll all be over soon,” he whispers, the switch flipping, “As long as you keep on cooperating.” 

You lean into his reassurances, a whimper slipping past your gritted teeth. 

“I know, I know,” he soothes, and stands before you, his hands clenched into fists. “But, it’s for your own good. Just a little longer, Pips.” 

He asks his final question: “Were you trailed?” 

You can’t stop the next thought from forming in your head of your Hunter’s watch. Instantly, the band is ripped from your wrist, and you hear a loud crunch. The air thickens and you close your eyes, trying to find your centre. The world threatens to spin off your axis; G-Force pressure right in your center threatens to tear you apart.

Please… make it stop… 

Like a switch has been flipped, the spinning cyclone in your mind stops. The sound of your harsh breathing and the erratic pulse in your ears is the only thing you can hear. Someone kneels right in front of you, and you don’t have the strength to push him away, not when he’s this close.

“Congratulations,” he says softly, stretching his hand like he wants to pat your head, but retracts it at the last minute. “You passed.” 

The collar slips off your neck, and you hear it being tossed onto the table. “Come here,” he whispers and unbinds you. Caleb lifts you into his arms, though not even his warmth can comfort you. 

Through the fog whirling in your mind, you make a snap decision.

Your hand collides into his cheek, the loud slap ricocheting around the room. He grunts, taken aback, and you use the momentum to swing your legs, wrapping your thighs around his neck so he’s forced to let go of you. Using every iota of balance you can muster, you land on your feet, none too gracefully. His hand wraps around your arm and practically hiss, sinking your teeth into his flesh.

Caleb gasps, and whips his hand back, glaring down at you. 

“Hey! It’s me—”

But, you’re not listening. You’re ready to pounce when he grabs your wrist, drawing you closer to him, pressing your cheek to his chest so you can hear the harsh rise and fall of his breathing.

“Pips, it’s me,” he tries earnestly again. “It’s me. I’m back.”

To your horror, you start to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

You sob and blubber like a child, growing weak in his arms as the hand in his grasp turns into a fist and you smack it weakly against his hard chest.

“How could you?” is the first thing you ask through your sobs. And, the next: “How’re you even alive?” 

Caleb looks away, like he might reveal too much if he stares into your eyes. “It’s complicated—”

“Bullshit,” your anger resounds in the room like the crack of a whip. You should’ve bit him harder. 

You think you see him flinch. You push away from his arms and he looks down at you, every crevice of his face dripping with desolation. There’s a glimmer of wetness in his eyes, and yet, you can’t trust it. 

You can’t trust him. 

“Pipsqueak,” he tries again, reminding you of the times when you were both younger, and he had to sweet-talk you out of a bad mood. “I know you must think some chip got put into my brain, or I’m no longer who I used to be. But, I’m still me,” he urges, and lifts your chin to meet his eyes. “I’m still Caleb. I never left.” 

You grit your teeth and with a strength neither of you expect you to have, you push him against the table, pressing yourself in between his legs. Caleb grunts, but doesn’t shove you aside. He looks up at you, with those same pitiful, defiant violet eyes that urges you to either kiss him senseless or claw his eyeballs out.

… Wait. 

Kiss him senseless? 

You shake your head, pushing those thoughts aside. As if he can’t control himself anymore, he runs his knuckles down the back of your thighs, the new (downright useless) mandated Hunters uniform showing off too much bare skin. But, you couldn’t care less about that right now. 

Right now, you have a score to settle with your oldest childhood friend.

“You’re still the same, huh?” Your hand presses to his chest, feeling the erratic pulse of his heartbeat under your palm. Even through all the layers he wears, you can still feel the heat of his body seeping past your skin. “You’re still the same Caleb I knew—the same one who walked through that damn door—” you growl, curling your hand into a fist and hitting it right into his sternum, “—and blew up on me?!”

“Pipsqueak—”

“Don’t you dare,” you seethe, baring your teeth. Though the tears continue to fall, your mind is honed in. Focused.

The need to obliterate him, to make him feel a shred of the same pain he had put you through for months, rears its ugly head.

Like he can read your mind—and you honestly think he can—he caresses your face, running his thumb over your jaw. The look on his face is pure regret, mingled with something unfathomable. You scent it in the lingering heat of his breath on your parted lips, or how much closer his face has gotten to yours. 

Right here, he’s in the palm of your hands… And yet, why is he still so painfully out of reach? 

“I don’t trust you,” the words slip past your numb lips before you can take them back. You grip his face, steadying those violet eyes on your furious ones. “I need to test you… to put you through a trial.”

The look of indignation on his face is delicious, and it whets your appetite for vindication. 

“A trial?” He almost sounds insulted. “What have I done wrong?” 

Your other hand slowly reaches for the front of his chest, running the tip of your finger down the starch lapels of his jacket. “You were missing. For months,” you grit out the words. “I need to check if you’re still him.”

“Still… me?” 

You growl and tighten your grip on his chin.

“What is my favorite food?” 

Caleb huffs, as if you had just asked him what color the sky was. “Braised chicken wings,” he murmurs almost sarcastically. “Next.”

You glance at the bite mark on his hand. “What is my favorite way of getting you back?” 

He raises a brow. “Biting. I remember how when we were kids, you bit me so hard, the mark took 15 days to disappear.”

You swallow. He’s correct again. 

Reluctantly, you loosen your grip on his chin. The position you’re both in hits you—his arm around your waist, his free hand still stroking the back of your thigh. Your one hand tangled in his jacket and the other still on his chin.

Heat floods your cheeks, and you recall him saying that there were more than one pair of eyes watching in this room. But, a part of you—the one who’s been deprived of Caleb for far too long, who had to contend with days of loneliness and missing him, couldn’t care less.

“Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, and his hand moves from your leg to your hair, gently nudging you deeper into the circle of his arms. The smell of him floods your nostrils with nostalgia and a hint of pine, the old Caleb you grew up with solidifying further and further under your touch. 

“Caleb…” 

Faster than two atoms on the path to collision, his lips are on yours.

Caleb kisses you like you’re the only source of oxygen left in his world. Something crashes onto the floor, and the plate of apples rolls onto the carpet, an orchard of sin scattered in between your legs pressed together. The sweet, tart flavor of the fruit he had just eaten saturates your tastebuds, and you moan when he desperately tangles his tongue with yours. 

He lifts you into his arms bridal style, and carries you down a narrow hallway you had never noticed before, the flashing thunder illuminating the gaudy paintings hung on the wall. 

He takes you to what looks like a medical room, though no one is in there. Your lips press to his neck, kissing and sucking on his pulse point. He hisses and in a low tone, warns, “Keep that up and you might regret it, Pipsqueak.” 

Gently, like you’re precious cargo, he sets you down onto the bed, those violet eyes like a newfound nebula fixed onto you, filled with the brightest stars in the galaxy.

Caleb runs his hand up your thigh, and you flicker your gaze to his gun holster. 

In the split second when he’s distracted, you lunge right for it, grabbing the handle.

He yelps, taken aback, but is faster, snapping his hand around your wrists to impede your movements. The gun drops from your grasp like dead weight, along with your hopes of ever escaping. If looks could kill, you would  be dead meat from the intensity of his glare.

Caleb exhales, fixing his frigid gaze onto yours. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, and you shiver at the dark edge in his tone. “You will pay for that.”

Gravity surrounds you like a weighted blanket, except it pins you to the bed rather than offering any comfort. Your whimper is lost behind the gloved hand that muffles your cries, hissing into your ear to, “Stay still, goddamnit.”

Caleb is breathing hard, a drop of sweat rolling from his temple down his throat. You feel it dripping onto your neck, your wild eyes fix on him. 

When he’s sure you won't retaliate again, he stands up from the bed, bearing down on you. Picking up the gun from the floor, he trails it right to your temple. His Evol hasn’t muffled your speech, but you don’t want to say a word to him, preferring to glare. 

“I asked you a simple question—”

“And, you know I can’t answer that,” he retaliates, recognizing what you’re trying to do. His brow furrows. “There are things I can’t tell you, Pips. Things you don’t even understand—”

“Then, help me understand!” You’re yelling now, close to tears. “Help me understand why you left… why you left me…” your voice breaks on the last word, and a look of regret shadows his face.

“I never wanted to.” The gun slides from your temple right to your jaw, but you’re not afraid of it. Nothing in the world can keep you from knowing the truth; from uncovering every layer in Caleb’s new facade. 

(But, maybe, this dark side of him has always been there, and you were just too blind not to notice). 

He takes a shaky breath. “If I had the choice to do it over again, I would’ve never—ever—left you.” 

Sincerity bleeds past the shades of night falling outside the window. Silence envelopes the two of you, and the realization dawns when he exhales your name.

“Pipsqueak…” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

You’re not his Pipsqueak anymore, the same way he is inexplicably not your Caleb anymore.

He gets back down to his knees, right in front of you. The look on his face is nothing short of misery, heavy with a thousand implications he could never divulge. 

You’re desperate, hungry for more. To know more, to feel more. To embrace the darkness brewing in you like the undeniable heat that’s simmering between your two bodies. 

“Do you hate it?” He asks softly, in a voice frayed with a thousand emotions, and you sense he’s not referring to your old nickname. Do you hate me? 

The silent question hangs heavy in the air, and without a second thought, you turn your face and press your lips to the barrel of his gun.

You can point a weapon at me, but you will never shoot, your kisses on the cold metal speak where words fail you. The gun trembles in his grasp, and between your body pinned to the bed from his Evol and a military-grade weapon pointed at you, what you’re doing is completely ballsy. And, insane.

“I know you have secrets,” you murmur as the cold metal tip travels to the nape of your neck. Despite himself and his rigorous self-control, Caleb is still a man. 

Still flesh and bone. Love and grief. 

“But, we’re a team, remember? You and me. Me and you. We work together, Caleb. Not against each other.” 

Your blurry mind tries hard to focus on the task at hand—needing to throw him off guard—but you can’t deny how the heat in his hooded eyes is making you feel.

He inhales sharply at your words, though the rest of his expression remains unreadable. “I told you, what I know is top secret and even you’re not allowed to know it.”

Those violet eyes trail down your susceptible body spread wide open for him on the bed, and you notice a flicker of hunger behind his dark gaze. 

You’ve always loved Caleb’s attention: whether he’s complimenting you on scoring a goal, or commending your plane model assembly skills. 

Everything you did was, to a degree, for him to see you. To finally accept you wholeheartedly and without restraint.

You were his little tail; the Pipsqueak who followed him around like his shadow.

And even now, when he has a gun right at your throat, all you can think about is how much you want to please him. 

Tilting your head back, you moan when the barrel slides down the valley of your breasts. His breathing is growing heavier; the look in his lilac eyes is stormy and dark.

“You… like this?” 

He sounds hoarse. In disbelief.

You nod. “I…” you lick your lips. “I love it.” 

The cool metal grazes your jaw, and when it taps on your lips, you don’t hesitate to part them. Glancing into those molten, violet eyes, you suck on the hollow tip, aware of his finger on the trigger and the look of undefiled lust on his face. 

“God,” he mumbles, hungrily eyeing how deep the barrel is down your throat. “You’re such a good, good little girl…”

He prises the gun from between your teeth, and the strands of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the spit-soaked metal shimmers in the low light. 

Caleb tosses the gun onto the table, growling as he crawls on top of you. 

The effect of his Evol fades, allowing you to move your feet, but his hands on your knees make sure you can’t pull off anything funny.

“You’re gonna lay back, and you’re going to be good,” he lifts your leg and kisses over your knee. It would be so easy to drive the hard cartilage right into his nose… but, you don’t want his hands to leave your skin. You want to see what he will do next. 

The off-duty Hunter uniform you’re wearing rides up your thighs, exposing the plush fat of your thighs. His gloves rasping on your skin drives a shiver up your spine. 

It’s like he refuses to engage in skin-to-skin, whether as punishment or a caution. 

You whine softly when his bigger body bears down on yours.

“Caleb…” 

He grasps your chin, none too gentle as he pulls you closer to him. “Look at you,” he growls, pushing himself closer—the heat of his body melting with yours. “Look at what you do to me.” 

It’s hard to even breathe when he’s close enough to devour your face. 

His breath grazes your cheek, and you close your eyes. Your oldest childhood friend savors the proximity, taking in a whiff of your clean perfume. 

Before your mind can play catchup, your body falls right into the orbit of his desire; lips on his, breaths mingling as one. 

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, a moan pulled from the depths of his chest, tortured and strangled. “You taste so—nhng—” 

He gasps when your arms come to loop around his shoulders, dragging him almost between your legs. He steadies himself, gloved palms on the bed. You run your hands over the starch grooves of his jacket, finding the first button. 

Caleb lets your touch wander aimlessly, his breath caught in the back of his throat.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, those anguished violet eyes almost gouging into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “Are you sure you want this?”

Are you sure you want me? 

As a silent answer, you lean forward, catching his lower lip in between your teeth. 

“Ngnhmhm,” he moans, gasping when you bite down hard. 

He tastes blood and your desperation, helping you unbutton his coat. The heavy chain slaps against your eager cheek in his rush to slide it off his arms. “Shit—sorry.” Cool fingers brush the afflicted cheek. “You alright, sweetness?” 

You nod, huffing and moving your hands to his other lighter jacket, unbuttoning it. He chuckles at your eagerness and helps you with the brass buttons. As the layer disappears, you’re confronted with another shirt.

“How many clothes are you wearing?!” Your cry brings a mischievous grin tugging on the corners of his lips. 

“Lots,” he murmurs and takes over with a nimble skill only a man of his caliber can have. The grey shirt melts off his broad shoulders, discarded onto the floor, and finally—fucking finally—he removes the black turtleneck, revealing smooth acres of warmed, tan skin right under your touch. 

You exhale shakily, running your fingers down his distinct pectorals, tugging on the dog tag around his neck. Your eyes land on the familiar apple charm.

“How—?” 

He thumbs the similar charm hanging from around your neck. For the first time this evening, he voluntarily gives up some information. 

“I—uh—had someone copy my old necklace.”

The look of disbelief on your face is enough to deter his next words. 

“You decoyed the necklace I gifted you?” 

Caleb winces. “C’mon, Pip—I-I mean, love…” he sighs and presses his palm to the back of your head, drawing you closer to peck your pouty lips. “It helped me make sure you were safe. Plus,” he adds, a touch of humor in his tone. “You did tell me you would kick my ass if I ever took it off.” 

You struggle to understand the layers behind his words, fighting to form a reply when his lips travel to the juncture of your neck, softly kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh. 

Focused on retrieving the truth, you fight hard against his best efforts at derailing you. “You—mhm—were tracking me? All this time?” 

Caleb doesn’t pause his sensual assault, groaning softly. “Won’t call it tracking per say…” 

You want to get mad. Truly, you do. But, the feeling of his teeth grazing your pulse point melts any coherent thoughts left in your brain.

The confusion you felt before gives way to something deeper. Unrestrained. He kisses you again, and you absorb the feeling of warm skin under your palms, feeling the heat of his body thrumming under your touch. His muscles expand and contract with every shaky breath, his chest pressed so intimately to yours.

You squirm, and he hisses, restraining your hips to the bed.

“Stop that,” he hisses. 

Confusion overtakes you, and  you want to ask what’s wrong when he winces and shifts his hips further from yours, instinctively setting a physical boundary you want gone immediately.

“Are you scared?” It’s your turn to goad him. If he thinks you’re going to be nothing but docile and wanting, he’s been away for far too long. 

His lips twitch. “Of you? Nah. But, of what I can do?” His voice drops an octave, and he leans in, one gloved hand going to your chin, holding it in place. “If anyone should be scared, it’s you.” 

Caleb tests the waters of this new dynamic unfolding between you two, dipping his fingers past the gap of your lips. The breach should make you pull away, take a step back to reassess the situation.

But, you’re as much under his spell as you have bewitched him. 

The taste of earthy hardness fills your mouth, and you suck on his thumb obediently. 

Caleb looks down at you, the heat in his eyes almost touching the boiling point. A few more moments of your teasing, and he would be close to bursting and taking you right on this bed. 

Never one to be satisfied with what he is allowed to take, Caleb pushes his luck further, sinking his thumb deeper down the soft gullet of your throat; compressing your gurgled words down to the bottom of your mouth in his journey to devour everything you can give him. 

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when you take another finger into your mouth like you were meant for him. “That’s a good girl… my good little girl…” 

You moan around his digits stuffed down your throat, peeling your watery eyes to his smirking expression.

“Cat got your tongue, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, and stretches your jaw with a third finger. You’re so full of the taste of him, you start to choke. “You look so pretty like this—not a thought in your brain, just relying on me to make you full… to make you whole.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, but deep down, it’s true.

The grief that clashes with his year-long absence, this “new” side to him you are starting to unravel… the old Calen, the one you loved and looked up to, is starting to metamorphosize right before your eyes.

“Cwaleb—” you whimper past his fingers. 

He’s barely laid a hand on you and you’re already folding. 

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he discreetly wipes off your spit on the bed sheets, fixing you with an arched brow. 

As if asking: Well… your move, Pipsqueak. 

Your hands fly to the buckle of his military pants, the sound of his zipper dragging down punctuating the air like a crass remark. 

Caleb stiffens when he feels your cool finger dipping past the waistband and he shudders, mind going hazy at a touch he had only dreamed off but never thought would come true. When you reveal him to the cool air, he’s half-flaccid, already at a six inch mast and the prettiest shade of pink you have ever seen with an undertone of mauve.

He’s part of the thicker team, though length-wise, it would make any woman scream and cream. Heavy balls. A slight curve. Growing up pumped full of hormones, you had secretly wondered how your oldest childhood friend’s cock would look like, but you never once anticipated seeing it in real time.

“Holy…” you trail off, and he grins.

“Like what you see?” 

You’re spread out for him on the threadbare sheets like a vision from a forbidden oasis. As much as he wants to bury himself in you, Caleb needs to make sure you’re ready first. He licks his lips, whets his appetite, and fills up your empty mouth with his tongue. 

“Mhm…” you groan into the depths of his mouth. “Caleb…” You swallow, and deciding to throw him off, you murmur a word he thought would never, ever come out from your mouth: 

“Sir,” you whimper. “ Kiss me harder…” 

Sparks go off in his mind. He feels like the force of the explosion has finally caught up with him a year later and his breath is knocked out from his lungs. 

“What did you say?” 

His deep violet eyes devour the look of wanton desire on your face, mind drawing a blank.

Did you just…? 

Did he hear it right? 

“Again,” he almost stutters, desperately needing to hear that word from your lips. “Say that word again.”

The restraint in your mind is at best a flimsy net letting your inhibitions fly freely. “Sir,” the word drips from your lips like the sultriest confession; the look on his face like that of a holy man scandalized. Except Caleb wasn’t holy—he was hardly a saint. He was the scum of the earth trying to lay his corrupted hands on a being far too precious for him. 

Immolating from his own self-hatred, it’s hard for him to fathom that you want this—that you want him. 

“Please,” your whisper cuts through the tension of the self-inflicted torment settling onto pensive demeanor. “Please… make love to me, Sir.”

All his years of restraint—of immaculate self-control—snaps like the last leaf off an autumn branch. He rains dizzying kisses down onto the jut of your collarbone, summer rain sweeter than sin on your tongue.

Caleb removes his pants, kicking the heavy material down to the floor as he works his boots off frantically with the toes of each alternating foot. 

The feel of his body on yours, almost smothering you to the mattress, drives you wild with a heat stoking right in the heart of your core.

“Sir,” you murmur, almost dizzy with lust. 

He pops open the buttons of your dress, slipping it down your shoulders. The swathes of your bare skin presented for him makes him feel like he’s barely lucid, lost in a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. With one hand, he expertly unhooks your bra and slides it down your body, tossing it onto the floor where it joins his pants.

Caleb is barely restrained when he pushes you back onto the bed, his lips finding refuge in the juncture of your neck and shoulders. He nips, licks and sucks like his life depends on marking you; the sight of his marks on your skin only serves to make his feral need rise higher and higher. 

He takes refuge right at your chest, nibbling and nipping the plush fat of your breasts till you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your nipples wet with his spit and aching for more of his touch. 

The dark haired man can barely stop himself from what he does next—sliding your dress further down your body till the rise of your lace panties appears in his sights like the sun breaking over the horizon.

He feels the warmth of you on his face, right in his cheeks as your thighs tighten around his head.

“Oh, love,” he groans, like a man starving. “C’mere, Princess—”

He pulls you closer till your pelvis bumps his chin and you squeak, feeling his hot breath graze your bare skin. 

“Caleb—”

Your protests die an immature death when he buries his tongue right into your tight cunt. He moans at your taste, the lightning playing with shadows all over your body, illuminating the pulsing beats of darkness hiding behind those violet eyes. His pupils almost swallow those lilac orbs whole, their darkened gaze latched right onto you. 

“God,” he mumbles like a man tasting manna for the first time. “... s’sweet… this pussy is so sweet…”

The charming, charismatic and kind Caleb from before would’ve never dared utter such words in front of you. But, his other twin in bed, the one who wears his face complete with a devilish smirk, rolls his tongue over your syrupy folds, moaning at your flavor.

You taste like candied apples, and Caleb thinks he could eat you up whole. 

He squeezes more moans past your sweet lips when he draws all your folds into his mouth, spitting it back out only to do it again and again and again. 

“You’re so wet,” he slurs, those pretty purple eyes already pussy-drunk. “So fucking wet f’me.” 

Your legs spread, wrapping around his shoulders, the taste of your cunt almost coating the back of his throat—Caleb couldn’t be more in love with you.

“Mhm,” he moans, a sight in between your legs, chin slick with your juices, eyes half-closed in pure ecstasy. 

“You’re so full for me… dripping down everywhere,” he murmurs, placing a quick kiss onto your twitchy clit. “I could drink you for days.” 

Your cries and moans only fuel him to be meaner. Now that he has you in the palm of his hand, he’s not planning to let go of you anytime. 

It’s filthy, animalistic, and utterly raw. The emotions he evokes in you quakes through your soul, seeping out of your core only to be consumed by him, your lust growing his lust, his moans inciting your yearning. 

Caleb continues his gentle assault on your clit with his tongue, grinning against your cunt. 

“Louder… let them hear you.” He slips one leather-clad finger inside your pussy, pressing down on the spongy, soft spot. Those pretty lips wrap around your clit, giving it a gentle suck and you fold. 

You keen, tangling your fingers in his hair. It’s one thing to be eaten out this thoroughly, but another to be subjected to such pleasurable torture by a man who has hungered for you for years.

“Good girl,” the bridge of his nose almost rubs your clit raw when he buries his tongue even deeper inside you. “Louder,” he moans past flesh and more pussy juice gushing onto his chin. “Make it messy, baby.” 

Caleb… Caleb… your breaths come out in huge gasps, your back arching off the bed. 

He makes unravelling you look so easy, and you’d be absolutely pissed off if he wasn’t edging you towards the biggest orgasm of your life. 

While you’re in the throes of your pleasure, you feel his gloved hand wrap around your throat, thumb pushing past your flush lips.

“Mhm—” you moan at the flavor of him saturating your tongue. “Oh… Caleb—”

“Yeah,” he growls, chest rumbling. “Say my name, baby. Say it. Scream it.”

“Caleb,” your moans double in volume, the pleasure about to burst from your seams. “Oh, Caleb—!” 

Heat, wetness, a deep, stirring pleasure threatening to consume you, and then—

Nothing.

Caleb pulls away, squeezing your thighs. He rips off the gloves, and finally—finally—you feel his skin on yours.

The rasp of his warmth across your thighs drives goosebumps down your arms. “Shit,” you whimper when he pushes your thighs further apart to settle in between them. His body smothers yours, encompassing you in the pure mass that is his weight bearing fully down onto your exposed body.

Bastard. He leaves you hanging, reeling from a ruined orgasm, as you glare at him, your anger and indignation sputtering and dying on your tongue.

“Caleb! You—you—”

He grins, dark and sweaty bangs falling all over face as he drags you closer by the hips. 

“Open wide, pretty,” Caleb coaxes, thumbing the head of his pretty cock, smearing precum all over his digit. 

Fuck—ah… you groan sinfully. The sight of him pleasuring himself is seared in your brain. You bite your lower lip, shifting your hips. Need drips from your gasping breaths and your head is spinning.

Easy, he murmurs. I gotcha.

Caleb lifts your hips in his large hands, finding the perfect angle before slipping the sticky head between your folds. Your gasp grazes his ears in a warm puff, a telltale sign of your unexpected surprise at how good this feels.

It reminds you of those times when he would tease you as kids—always holding something out of reach and never giving in unless you begged nicely.

And, you sense it’s what he’s doing right now. Mercilessly teasing, testing your patience. Waiting for you to beg.

Caleb grasps the base of his hefty cock and runs it over the mess of your creases, soaked with your excitement for him. He teasingly pushes the plump head past the slutty ring of muscle gaping open for him, and heaves in a deep groan, like that of a beast about to breed his mate. Your eyes are crossed with pleasure, and you’re whimpering sweetly, no thoughts forming in your brain besides more, more, more.

You ache for him, but all you can do is take his teasing. “Please,” you huff, peeling your docile, little lamb eyes onto him, wishing he would relent and just fuck you.

The sheets twist in your fist and your other hand is tangled in his sweat-soaked hair.

Caleb uses one hand to brush his damp bangs off his face, and he grins, intent on making you pliable to his every whim. He presses a kiss to your jugular, biting down on it, relishing in your jolt of pleasure.

You’re so sensitive, even his pelvis grinding down on your clit feels good and you shift your hips higher, desperate for more friction—for more of him.

“Sir,” you sputter, woozy. “Please… please…” 

Caleb hums, lifts your thighs over his broad, muscular shoulders. The slight tilt spreads you out for him, a wildflower blooming under his touch. You’ve captivated him with your scent, your skin, your sweet sounds…

But, little does he know, you’re equally enraptured; caught in his trap. 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs hoarsely. “Pretty when you beg. Pretty when you look at me like you can’t wait a second longer…”

His wet lips swell around your pulse point again, flowering heated kisses onto your sensitive skin.

“Nghh—Caleb,” you whimper and he chuckles—that bastard.

“You ready, sweets?” He teases you, shooting you a smug, stupid smile much to your consternation. 

You want to roll your eyes and be crass, asking him to just give up and put it in, but your words get stuck right in your throat when you realize you're already on the verge of losing it altogether.

You take one good look at him, and wet your lips, yielding with a nod. 

“Yes, Sir.”

Your obedience is like a hit of ecstasy for him, firing up his veins, and he moans, shifting closer to you. The bulbous tip jostles deep inside you as another inch is added and you writhe, eyes squeezed close in delirium. “Mhnmph!” 

Your moans shoot through his veins like licks of a strong, disorientating drug and Caleb groans. His hefty body is already shaking from the strain, and he doesn’t know how long he can last. His thighs shudder, and he has to bite on his lower lip to keep from moaning like a goddamn loser when he finally sinks his dick all the way into the love of his life. 

“Mhm—ah!” Your nails dig into his shoulders and he hisses. 

He gives you a split second to get used to the sensation, nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, he’s waited for you for his entire life. Etiquette and consideration can come later—all he wants to do right now is fuck the ever loving shit out of you. Caleb sets a pace, one that has you twitching, and he seethes at your lack of resistance.

“You’re—hnng, already so eager,” he snarls. “Been dreaming about this? About my cock?”

The sight of your decoyed necklace slapping against your skin from every thrust drives him dizzy with lust. His name on the dog tag, the apple charm looking so innocent and snug right in the valley of your luscious tits. It doesn’t take much to please a man like him and Caleb is as happy as a dog who got the best bone. 

He gnaws on your shoulder, teeth making indents on your precious skin.

Your thighs tighten around his shoulders, body almost folded in half like a pancake.

Caleb… Caleb… you whisper-gasp, the darkness of the room and the subsiding storm outside the windows lending to the dark yet intense atmosphere.

He licks along your bottom lip, sucking on your tongue. You taste so good, Princess…

Your whimpers brush his chin and his hair tickles your sternum as he ducks his head lower, bringing your stiff peaks into his mouth. He nurses and suckles on you, a fiendish look in his eyes.

“Mhmph—you taste like sin,” he groans deeply, the sound travelling all the way down to your core. The forbidden fruit, right here in his arms and like a selfish man, he wants more.

Without warning, gravity disengages around your body and you’re pinned to the ceiling in the blink of an eye. 

It feels surreal to look over his shoulder, at the bed hovering above your head, the medicine cabinet and lamp all peering up at you like a twisted version of wonderland. 

“Caleb—!” 

He silences your protests with a harsh kiss, licking and sucking on your lower lip till you whimper and quiver. Deftly, he guides your hips away from him and lets gravity do the rest. You sink down—full and to the hilt. He’s so deep in you, you swear you can taste him all the way in the back of your throat. 

Caleb fucks you this way—mean, demanding—using gravity and his Evol to his advantage. 

You writhe and twist in his grasp, head thrown back. The ceiling wall is cold against your back, though he’s warm enough to the touch to make your head spin.

Bodies press intricately, you can’t tell where he begins and where you end. Like two snakes interlocking, you feel Caleb everywhere. His breath on your neck, his hands roaming down your body possessively, the feel of his thick girth hitting every spot just right.

Drool drips down your chin, and you feel him chuckle; the rough rasp of his tongue lapping it up.

Messy girl, he drawls, smacking his lips. A smug grin tugs on his mouth, giving his boyishly handsome face a devilish touch. 

Give me more, he urges. More. Make it messy, Princess.

He sucks on your pulse point, your neck the perfect canvas for his marks. Nuzzling you close, you feel the tenderness behind his searing need.

His cock molds into you like a perfect fit. The sound of his hefty balls slapping wetly against your skin fills the room with a salacious symphony. 

Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. You can’t control the stream of moans escaping your puffy lips. He kisses you hard again, deepening it and letting his tongue tangle with yours in a passionate dance. Your heart swells with adoration for him; his flavor heavy on your tongue, sousing through your senses like a creeping heat reaching towards its completion. 

His touch kindles up more desire as if you’re dry straw waiting to catch fire, and oh—does he let you burn. 

Strings of your pussy juice drip past his balls, streaking his thighs like filthy snail trails. The shine of your own arousal dribbles past the pert curve of his fit ass, and ribbons into droplets falling from the ceiling like it’s goopy rain. 

Caleb doesn’t care about the mess you’re making. All he wants is to see you unravel.

Your cheeks flushed, eyes crossed—he leans in to kiss you hard, needing to taste your desperation firsthand.

Your hot moans give everything up to him, your body quaking like a tempest ready to unleash hell onto his self-control. 

He grunts when you fist his hair, finding your rhythm as you fuck him back, meeting him in the middle. The sway of your hips tells him all he needs to know—his little mei mei isn’t as innocent as he thinks she is.

“—taught you how to fuck like that?” He grunts, lapping at a bead of sweat about to freefall from your chin. 

“Huh?” You peel your watery eyes on his, his sticky kiss gracing your cheek.

“Said—who taught my sweet, innocent, little Pipsqueak to fuck like this?” 

He punctuates his emphasis with two harsh thrusts, his length jabbing your cervix. 

You grunt, eyes rolling back into your head. “N-no one—fuck,” you whine when he slips one big hand between your bodies, rolling his thumb over your lubricious clit.

“A-ah!” your cries rebound across the room as he plays with your fleshy pearl, thumbing circles onto it vigorously, hoping to glean your confession. “Ngh—Caleb!” 

Your thighs begin to shake, and his grin turns wolfish. “Won’t let you come ‘less you tell me the truth, Pipsqueak. M’waiting.”

He stamps a possessively hard kiss onto the nape of your neck, like he’s trying to drive the mark of his mouth past your skin. 

“I’m telling the truth,” you whimper. “Never had no one—no one but you.”

A deep, guttural groan brushes the soft shell of your ear.

“Swear?” he demands. 

“Uh-huh,” you hiccup, all dulcet and demure with the position he has you in. Your lachrymose eyes are fixated on him and only him—Caleb thinks his body might burst from all the blood swelling in his cock and heart.

He huns, and runs his tongue down your clavicle. “Good girl… good little Pips.”

The nickname combined with his derogatory tone inadvertently makes you clench around him tighter, and he hisses. 

“You’ll be the death of me, y’know?” His eyes darken and he drives his hips harder as if trying to make a point. “Gonna make sure you never leave my side—we’ll always be together. Forever.” 

You whine and dig your nails into his biceps. 

“Caleb—” you gasp, almost falling out of his grasp and face down onto a bed 10 feet below you. But, he tightens his grip, and you know he would never let you go. 

He shuffles you deeper into the alcove of his body, and you tighten your hold around his neck. “You—mhm—are insane.”

“Yeah?” He grins. “Only for you, Pips.”

Tingles running down your spine, and you feel hot and cold at the same time. He fixes his sights on your glassy gaze, enjoying how wrecked you look under him. 

(Well, technically, above him with the power of his Evol, but eh, semantics). 

The storm outside is no match for the one raging inside of you, and you cling onto him like a second skin, drunk off the pleasure he’s inducing in you. Kissing his jaw, nipping his lower lip. Caleb grunts when you press your chest to him, the feeling of your pert nipples rubbing against his toned pecs making him feel like this is all a dream—one he doesn’t want to wake up from.

Too soon, his vision to see you come undone flashes as you toss your head back and moan his name.

“Caleb…”

Your whimper is a signal of your impending release, and he grits his teeth, driving his hips further into you, planting his knees on the water-stained ceiling and going ham on your pliant body. 

He feels you shuddering around him, dipping his head to feast on the sweat slicking your tits.

He glances up at you, catching your eye the second your release tears through you, his smirk making your heart skip a few beats.

Caleb feels the heat stirring in his own belly. You’re down for the count, holding onto him like a washed up doll whose lax mouth occasionally lets out a few moans and whimpers.

So pliant… so malleable… so easily molded to his whims…

Breaking you clean, he wants to dominate every inch of your body—claim your thoughts as his so that all you think, feel and want is him.

“Ngh,” he groans, burying his face into the crook of his neck as he finally breaks and fat loads of hot cum fill you up.

Caleb holds you closer—securely—as he reels his Evol in, and slowly floats down onto the bed with you in his arms.

With the combination of the serum, your release and this newfound dynamic between you and Caleb, you’re out cold in seconds.

He feels your body going limp, giving way to sleep and presses his nose into your hair. For a few moments, he refuses to let you go, arms protectively wrapped around you. 

Then, the peace is shattered by a polite knock on the door. 

“... Colonel… we need to evaluate her…”

Shit. He licks his lips and groans softly. You’re so warm, so comfortable in his arms. He can’t let you out his grasp. 

But, duty calls and the Farspace Fleet is a minefield of legality. He can’t steal away and run off with their test subject.

Not yet, at least. 

As much as he wants to stay like this with you forever, Caleb steels his heart and pulls out of your warm, slurry depths. He dresses you first, and then gets himself presentable. 

First Commander Brigette of the medical aide steps in at his signal. Her silver hair is tightened into a bun and mirrors the tight look of dismay on her face. 

“Sir, it is imperative—”

“Don’t. Not now,” he mutters tersely and straightens his tie. “Just check if her vitals are alright. And, don’t you dare mention this to anyone else, you hear me? If you do, things’ll get messy for me—the next round of body bags hasn’t been shipped in yet.” 

She nods, though she looks like she wants to argue. 

The rest of the fleet didn’t yet know of his true relationship with you—to them, you’re just a pretty face their Colonel took a fancy to. And, he wants to keep it that way for as long as he can while he formulates the best plan to get you to safety. 

“The sedative we gave her was meant to lower her inhibitions enough to confess,” Brigitte murmurs. “I didn’t think—”

“If she doesn’t wake up, I’m throwing you and your team right into the Deepspace tunnel,” he threatens. 

The award-winning scientist flinches, and lowers her gaze. “Colonel Xia, we will recover the antidote for her quickly.”

Caleb exhales, the tension in his broad shoulders lessening slightly. That’s what he likes to hear. 

Brigette soon finishes her rounds of physical examinations on you. She bows and exits the medical room, leaving him alone with you again. 

Caleb steps forward and gently runs his gloved fingers through your hair. In the silence of the fleet, where mechanical whirs mingle with his steady breathing, he makes you a promise that he will do everything in his power to fulfill.

“I swear I’m getting you out of here in one piece, Pipsqueak.” He leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Swear it on my life.”

He told you before that you would always see him when he came home and this time, he intends to keep his promise till the very end.

a/n: i need this man biblically and carnally,,,, feedbacks and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my content to AI learning tools.

[ybklix]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

๋࣭ ⭑🕸 pairing: vampire!chrisbahng x inexperiencedfem!reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🦇˚⋆ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: As part of a college assignment, you interview a peculiar doctor about his success and long career, but then he starts telling you about the odd and unbelievable lifestyle he used to lead that got him there, claiming to be something you find funny at first, but then you get caught up in the details, causing tension and questioning reality.

˖⋆࿐໋ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: MDNI 18+, smut, corruption kink, breeding, choking, biting/marking, slight dubcon and sadism, pet names, blood play, fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie. ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 10.2k

𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 (𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 '𝟮𝟰) ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚. 01: vampire

notes: inspired by the 1994 movie of the same name! ✩ it's implied to be set in aus but ik the fall there it's different, but anyway, it's just to fit the theme

It was a cold night, the cool wind blew your hair gracefully and you enjoyed the exquisite scent of the autumn leaves that reached your senses and rustled with every step you took. It was the weekend before Halloween and the whole campus was full of young people walking around in their costumes, you felt a little out of place, as they all smiled and walked shamelessly in their most extravagant clothes, hairstyles and make-up to some party, unlike them, you were wearing your very nice autumn outfit, dark red sweater with V cleavage and a black scarf, mesh tights, brown plaid skirt and knee high dark brown heeled boots and a coat, and you were not going to a party, but to an interview with the handsome and well respected Dr. Christopher Bahng.

Bahng was about to be praised for his long career at the university hospital, for his contribution to society with his own clinic and helping students, mostly medical students, who were fascinated by Bahng’s merits and blinded by their fanaticism and admiration, being carried away by rumors that the guy himself was a medical legend, they suddenly became curious about his life and career, to which they suggested an interview about his professional life as a doctor and specialist. And, mysteriously among the uncertainty there you came in, you were not a medical student, you were in your third year of your nursing degree and saw Dr. Bahng on very few occasions while rotating through your shifts at the hospital, so the offer still remains a mystery to you, why you?

You had absolutely no idea what your colleagues at your faculty newspaper were talking about one afternoon when you walked into the room and there was a loud commotion and uproar, that Bahng had agreed to an interview, but asked that it be specifically done by you. It was an afternoon, when you were about to write and share information obtained from a small unimportant paper you would do, but one of your friends, Yang Jeongin took the courage to approach you and be the first to give you the news.

“Dr. Bahng chose you to do an interview with him for the commemoration of his long professional career at the hospital. You have to be the best, you practically have half the medical school all over you, well at least the annoying students working on his paper who came confused to break the news.”

Bahng was a legend and a mystery. He was handsome and charismatic but you couldn’t find a single social media or photo of him on the internet beyond his LinkedIn. There were pictures of him hanging out with more doctors posted by the faculty, pictures of him looking uncomfortable and always all the way in the background or on the sidelines as if he was out of commitment, pictures of him receiving accolades with a fake smile and medical school articles mentioning him, but nothing else about him. You knew that because you researched him a bit before talking to him as you were terrified to go with a blank mind, from just knowing he was an obstetrics doctor, at first you dug into his professional life which you could find information about, but curiosity got the better of you a bit and you wanted to dig into a more human side of him, wanting to see a picture of him with a friend on the beach, or posting something a thirty-something man would do, a social media or something, but there seemed to be no sign of him.

You rang the doorbell, swaying in place slightly nervously and waiting to be answered, the house was impressive and in a quiet neighborhood away from the busy city center, away from your university and the hospital, Dr. Bahng’s house. Although you had to admit, something about it gave you the creeps, large and well maintained houses that seemed to be inhabited by ghosts, long trees and the blowing of the wind gave you strange sensations.

Dr. Christopher Bahng greeted you with a smile, dressed in casual black clothes, black t-shirt, black jeans, a long chain with a cross and silver bracelets on his wrists.

“Y/n” he said to you, stepping aside to make way for you, “You’re a little early. Come in, please.”

You blushed as you hoped the time wouldn’t be an inconvenience but honestly, it was for you, he was only willing to give the interview at 8pm and although you planned the series of questions and estimated time, it was uncertain exactly what time it might be concluded.

The date and time were problems for you; your friends were upset you missed countless costume parties just to be there. But there you were, the restlessness and curiosity about why he chose you was greater than a lousy college party. You were about to turn down the offer since it meant that you would have to walk back to the university alone and a little late at night, but the medical students begged you to accept it and Jeongin offered to pick you up at night if it was getting late and you felt unsafe to walk back home alone and ask for a ride from an app. You wanted to think that the reason for your appointment time was because he was off work, but that would be a lie, as everyone knew that Christopher Bahng always worked at night.

You walked by his house somewhat blushing, you were there because of something from the university, but it was inevitable not to think about how handsome the mature doctor was.

“Welcome” he spoke again.

“Thank you, nice to meet you, Dr. Bahng.”

“Nice to meet you too” he stared intensely at you, “You can leave your coat here at the entrance if you like. And take off your shoes, sweetheart, nice boots by the way.”

So he knew your name and face. You took off your coat apologetically and hung it on the coat rack but as soon as you did, you felt a chill in the air hitting your body, making you shiver. His house was cold and poorly lit, the lights were warm and dim. To your left were wide stairs and in front of you a wide hallway that led to more rooms. In the distance, you could hear a classical music melody softly.

“Sorry if it’s a little cold” he said, pulling you out of your thoughts, you settled your bag on your shoulder and smiled at him while gesturing with your hands that there was nothing to worry about, “I’ll show you around” he added encouragingly, almost as if he had read your mind that you were thinking about the decoration of his home, “This is the entrance” Chris walked and you followed in step behind him, “Here is a bathroom, feel free to use it whenever you want. Over there is the kitchen, the main dining room and... the main living room where we’ll do the interview so we can be more comfortable.”

You listened to him carefully as he pointed out. His house was huge but it felt lonely and like it lacked some... life. The decor was exquisitely tasteful, modern but without leaving small classic details and made the illusion of antique elements.

He was a sweet and kind man, you were ready to pay attention to any detail for the writing of the article, at the same time you let yourself be distracted by the attractiveness of his countenance and presence, even so there was something in the atmosphere that made you a little uneasy, you could not calm down at all and you were not nervous, it was a strange feeling that you did not know the reason. Or something strange about it that did not convince you.

Chris took you to his spacious living room, colored in a dark red and the soft melody of classical music came from a record player in the room.

“It’s late. Have you had dinner or would you like something, or something to drink?” he suggested politely.

You looked into his eyes, they were absolutely dark, he was so mesmerizing that you lost yourself for small moments.

“I’m fine, thank you Dr. Bahng.”

“Please call me Chris. I seriously love what I do” he brought a hand to his chest, “But people calling me Dr. all the time is exhausting.”

“I thought that’s what they liked to hear, after all they studied and went a long way to be able to call themselves that” you commented, more confidently, wanting to let go of the shyness in your body, seeing his effort to keep the atmosphere from becoming awkward.

He smiled and stared at you. Wow it had been a very very long road for Chris and you had no idea.

“To me it feels like people have been calling me that for over two hundred years. You seriously don’t want anything? I have fresh pomegranate juice.”

His comment confused you a bit and you caught his subtle change of subject.

“Juice is fine.”

He smiled narrowing his slitted, pretty eyes.

“Okay, make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back. Do you want to do it at the table or on the couch?”

He was asking too many questions, you thought. You looked around the room, the ideal and professional would be the table, but the option of the couch and being able to more thoroughly capture everything about him seemed like a better idea.

“I’ll be on the couch, thank you.”

You couldn’t help but feel curious and probe with your eyes every tiny detail of the room, yes it was cold, you were so curious about Chris, but you had to keep a professional barrier, plus he was older and a superior to you. You couldn’t believe that a man like him was alone, he should have some partner out there.

You sat on the couch as you began to set up your stuff and audio and recording equipment, your notebook and pen to take notes, your cell phone in Do Not Disturb mode with the series of questions and before long Chris came over to you, with two glasses of a bright dark red juice, he set them down on the little table in front of you and turned off the record player.

“Thank you” you whispered to him, taking the glass shyly as you took a sip.

Chris smiled and sat down, approaching you and intimidating you with his gaze for the first time that night.

“Are you okay in there? Can you write well?” he asked without taking his eyes off you, raising his straight eyebrows as he stretched out his arm to take the glass and drink.

“Yes, thank you, Chris.”

He smiled again letting out a breath.

“Well” you said again, “Once the interview starts I have to refer to you all the time as Dr, is that okay”

“I understand, absolutely” he crooned softly and attractively, finding you tender when you spoke to him formally.

You admired his manly features and pale face for a second, letting your instincts take over, thinking that having him must be a dream. Chris widened his smile, almost blushing as if he had heard something funny.

“Ready?” you asked, awkwardly breaking the silence, his gaze on you felt heavy.

Your finger was already on the button of your recorder, positioned in the middle of you, when Chris said:

“Can I see your questions?”

“Oh, you didn’t get them?” you replied somewhat worried.

“Maybe I forgot to check the e-mail” he replied calmly.

You sketched a smile as you nodded softly and handed him your phone, he held it between his large hand and read the questions and handed it back to you with a disapproving grimace, worrying you a little more.

“Mmm... I can modify them, we can make this interview better.”

Your body heated up in embarrassment as you couldn’t believe he was doing that to you at the last minute. Those medicine fuckers, you thought, as you didn’t participate in the making of the questions.

“I mean I’ll give you something much better” he added.

You didn’t answer him for a moment but thought that you would see what to do later for it, that at the end of the day, it was you doing a favor by being there next to him at night.

“I want to answer to you, not the snooty med guys. Maybe we can do that later but… what are you thinking” he watched you closely.

Chris leaned his arm on the back of the couch and settled his body pointing in your direction, with a smug smile on his face using a serious tone, you felt his intensity. You only got more confused and thought, what? why would it matter what you thought? what was he trying to say?

“Because I’m interested in you. You come in here with the question of why I chose you, you want to know?” Chris said again, almost scaring you that he was answering what you were thinking.

Either he was fucking smart enough to read people easily and deduce obvious thoughts or there was something about him that was making you uneasy. You took a small sigh, you felt hopelessly attracted to him, dizzy, as if seeing his dark eyes was hypnotizing you, you quickly averted your gaze, scared thinking about what the fuck was going on, you saw the glass of juice, had he put something in it? That’s what you get for accepting drinks from an unknown man…

“It’s just juice” he answered, “You’re not feeling well?” he replied.

You looked at him again confused and slowly regained your composure.

“Why me?” you said, almost in a whisper, he raised his eyebrows waiting to hear more from you, “Why would I interview you at your home, specifically me, I have never interacted with you or been in the same area of the hospital working, besides, I’m just a nurse student.”

You had so many questions that you couldn’t deduce an answer to, you were curious and it made Chris grin from ear to ear. If only you knew, and you were about to, however, Chris just covered up the truth a little.

“You have such a genuine and kind gaze about you, never in the long years I’ve lived in this place have I ever seen a woman like you. You are so human, you are the one who takes care of the patients’ sleep when the doctors are away. I saw you that time when you were on shift at night… I asked your name, something about you never left my mind since then. I wanted to hold you close, to know you.”

And it was true, it was innocence to one of the questions your colleague asked you when Chris overheard the conversation, he turned to see you slyly and you captivated his attention, it was as if he had developed a new sensory ability that revolved around you. That night you left at 4 a.m. from that shift at the hospital, you were covering hours for an occasion you couldn’t attend, Chris lurked in the dark behind your back, making sure you arrived safely.

You understood half the things he said to you, didn’t know whether to take it as a confession, whether to blush, whether he was saying he liked you, you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, you didn’t even think you looked cute in your baggy clinic clothes, you didn’t know what he was talking about. Chris knew how overwhelming it all suddenly seemed to you, so he continued.

“And suddenly I saw, you have this presence about you of being someone to trust, someone who knows how to keep secrets. So I’ll tell you everything, things that people who know about this are dead. I’ll give you a better interview.”

You felt a shiver. Confusion and genuine curiosity in your bright eyes as your breath was cut off at his masculine, domineering presence and wordplay that felt like riddles. For Chris, he didn’t need any more facts about you, he knew absolutely everything. Digging into your little more than twenty years of life was not a difficult task for him, compared to his long journey. There was only one thing he needed and wanted and that was to have you, to breathe your scent, to listen to you and to look into your eyes. He was obsessed, so in his madness he wanted to confess you something that only 1 person “alive” in this world knew. By sharing his secret with you, he hoped to be united with you for eternity.

“What is it about?” you asked with uncertainty in your voice.

The innocence in your gaze filled Chris completely and he smiled smugly, pressing his long index finger on the button of your voice recorder, you became engrossed in the pallor of his strong arm, almost transparent leaving his notorious veins visible, until he spoke and you stared at him.

“My name is Christopher Chan Bahng, I was born on October 3rd, 1797 in Seoul, South Korea. My father was Korean and my mother was French, they met when my mother escaped the country shortly after the French Revolution, her whole family went their separate ways and her ship stopped in the lands of East Asia, she met my father, a merchant fond of the folk healing medicine of the time and I was born, the eldest of three children. I had a beautiful sister and brother, whom I adored with my soul until their last breaths, both died old and happy. And I-, well, I’m still here, right?”

You looked at him puzzled, skeptical, wondering if this was a joke, 1797, French revolution, what the fuck was he talking about? You wanted to start looking around for cameras because you thought it was a fucking joke.

“I had a good childhood, everything was fine until I turned thirteen and my mother had to go back to France because her sister got sick and she was the only family she had, she didn’t hear from her parents two years after she moved to Korea, so she took me and my siblings, leaving my father behind. It was in Paris in 1810 when the curiosity and passion for medicine was born in me, I had seen it a little bit with my father but things in Europe were so different. All the people lived sick, and died young. Conflicts left in their wake an unbelievable amount of disease. I traveled around Europe, learned languages and studied medicine in France, but female anatomy was my particular interest, they were such enigmatic, intelligent beings but my passion leaned more towards obstetrics, it was amazing that because of women humanity kept growing and growing and the world looked down on it. I loved to see and receive a new life… most of the time I was dedicated as an obstetric doctor for women of important families, so carrying the little one in my arms I could deduce that they would have a good life, good, for that time, but I always loved to help, I would visit the French village in search of poor pregnant women and I would do my best to preserve the life of both. Life was always for me… something so precious because back then every day was a new challenge, public executions, dying at sea and never being found when traveling, an infection or disease from an unknown agent that could lead to your death, the bad habits people used to have, the types of beliefs, life back then was ephemeral and a ticking time bomb.”

You listened to him attentively, lost in the details, you didn’t know if it was a joke or a story but… you were slowly falling for it, Chris was telling everything with emotion, with his hands moving and his look… as if he was genuinely remembering his past.

“On the other hand, my siblings made their lives, my sister got married at 20, she was a pianist and singer and went to live in Great Britain. My brother was a respected judge and married at 25 and I... was truly immersed in medicine, I never stopped to think about love, about wanting to marry and live with a traditional family, I was lost in study and in the discovery and advancement of medicine, until shortly before I turned 28, in 1825, my mother became ill with cholera and died. I was devastated, I became obsessed to the point of wanting to study more and more, I studied with some colleagues but I couldn’t stand it and the following year I escaped to Korea again in search of my father, to see if he was well, gosh, it was so extreme the way you had to reach out to someone. I arrived in Seoul the winter of 1826, I was lucky enough to find my father and we had a close relationship again. I went back to work as a doctor, I was a little bit popular as it was so fascinating for the pregnant women of the time, a doctor from Europe and... the following spring I met the love of my life, a popular midwife in town, we met doing our work and I fell deeply in love, by the fall I turned thirty I was marrying Lim Sohee.”

Chris paused for a second and silence fell, as if mentioning that name had overwhelmed him. And it had, it was touching deep down inside him, he hadn’t mentioned he... since so many years ago. You were engrossed, studying his demeanor and listening to the story... if it was a joke, how come he could tell it so well, you were in your mind visualizing every single thing, letting yourself be carried away by whatever he was telling you.

“I really thought I would have it all in Seoul, when I met Sohee I knew I wanted a family, that I wanted to take care of another life, having children and adoring them forever... but she could never conceive. She was infertile. We had a bad time trying, but she was getting sadder and sadder as it was what we both did and she couldn’t have ours. At that time I... was so desperate to know which of us was the main cause so I did something I will never forgive myself for, I impregnated a young, virginal woman from an important family... and the consequences were inevitable, I had my first daughter, identical to me, with my mother’s eyes. Bahng Chanmi was born on April 13th, 1830. I was happy because my dream was to have children, but devastated at the same time. Chanmi’s mother’s family, Insook, found out and for a moment I thought I was going to be executed as I was a married man, but they forced me to leave Soohe and marry Insook instead” Chris cleared his throat as if that was hard to speak, “Sohee couldn’t believe it, she left me and ran away to Japan leaving me heartbroken. I never saw her again and I never thought I would ever be able to love another woman again other than my own daughter, but I felt she took everything from me... until I...” Chris paused again to look at you carefully but continued, “I lost myself again, I didn’t love Insook, but I wanted to be a good father to Chanmi, so I was there for her. Two years after Chanmi was born, my father died, I endured two more years in Seoul and in 1834 I arrived with Insook and Chanmi in Sydney. I loved it here from the first moment I set foot in... but I was still disoriented, I was a mess, I felt that everyone around me was leaving me, I was only there for my daughter, I was passionate about nothing else, I fell into a bad habit of going to parties and taking refuge in alcohol and it was just one day after my 37th birthday when I immortalized that number in me. On October 4th, 1834 at about 3 a.m. in the harbor area of Sydney, a creature creeping in the night lured me with his voice and words, I was drunk, with no mind at all... and it was that night that he made me into what I am now” a new pause, “A vampire.”

You didn’t expect that, in fact you didn’t know what you expected in all that talk... but a vampire explained why he talked about himself living since the 19th century... but a vampire, it was illogical. There was no such thing, still, you again felt a chill and an uneasiness in his gaze. You didn’t want to be intimidated by that... it must be a joke, a scary story.

Christopher remembered it as if it were yesterday, the sleek, slender shadow of a delicate blond man approaching a helpless, drunken, heartbroken doctor. His face was angelic, but his demonic voice and intentions of a cold, murderous beast were even worse.

“I have seen you for a long time Dr. Christopher Bahng, saving lives to the good people in Sydney, doing god’s work... but... I see nothing but hell in you, you are unhappy, don’t you want some remedy?”

His voice was rough, thick, and his tone of voice playful. Chris remembers being dizzy, still seeing his silhouette and face. A young man, beautiful with freckles, long blond hair, wide dark eyes, and pale skin. Chris thought he was dreaming... or to have arrived in heaven, although if that’s what heaven was all about, why did he feel so ill.

Chris watched him in confusion, the cold sea air shivering his body with chill. The man was dressed in black and there was something in his gaze that unsettled every inch of Chris.

The blond huffed out a chuckle.

“I’m going to disappear everything from you... I’ll be your cure.”

“How?” was all a desperate Chris could say.

“All it takes... it’s just a little taste... of your blood.”

The next thing Chris felt was two strong stabs on his neck, the slender boy took his body, biting his neck, sucking and tasting every part of him. Chris whimpered and panted loudly, he felt mutilated, it was worse than the feeling of a scalpel on his skin and the sensation spread through his body, Chris struggled and fought, but surprisingly the thin boy was much stronger than him. Then he fell weak and unconscious, he knew nothing, until dawn when workers shook his body vigorously trying to wake him up near the harbor. But Chris felt different and the sunrise was slowly burning down his skin.

“Felix Lee was the name of the man... vampire who turned me. Felix was an attractive man, he had a unique beauty that mesmerized anyone, his appearance was so innocent which is why people fell for his tricks so quickly, Felix loved the game of seduction, cat and mouse, he would lure both men and women and then kill them leaving them without a drop of blood...”

You looked at him skeptically, his story was making less and less sense to you, Chris stopped instantly knowing what you were thinking.

“I know I know” he chuckled, “A vampire is kind of... crazy, with all the fiction these days, the movies and the marketing but... Party trick, check this out” Chris said amused.

Suddenly, he showed you his teeth, a normal set of teeth until you watched as in a millisecond his fangs lengthened, becoming sharp typical fangs... vampire fangs. You were scared, you didn’t want to believe it, it was impossible. His teeth went back to normal.

"There’s no reason to take the family photos, you wouldn’t believe it, photoshop makes those wonders and old-fashioned stuff out of my medicine materials? People sell it on ebay all the time... how come I can prove it to you?”

“A vampire?” you said in fright, interrupting him, “Really... it’s not a joke...?”

“Sadly no. I’ve been 37 for 190 years.”

You laughed in disbelief, you were beginning to believe... but your mind betrayed you, freaking you out and thinking that maybe this was a killer, a psychopath who likes blood, one of those obsessed weirdo types and perhaps the idea entered his head like internet psycho...? Chris laughed.

“I’m not some weirdo who obsesses over something he sees on the internet, not some random killer either” he commented.

You freaked out and went back to see him... how did he....

“How do I know what you think? I can read minds a little bit” he answered amused.

You denied, you were so scared to visualize anything else... that your mind betrayed you and you thought of Twilight’s movie.

“Twilight, really? Give me something more believable to tell you.”

You widened your eyes in fright, your breathing was getting uneven and you thought about calling Jeongin, that it was enough trick or treat and you had to go home.

“Jeongin... he’s not your boyfriend, is he? I didn’t expect you to want to leave so soon.”

“How do you know all that? Can you stop?”

“I’m sorry, it’s your privacy, I understand,” he apologized, “I don’t want to scare you.”

Chris didn’t know what your reaction might be, that was one of the only things he couldn’t control, but something in him was irrevocably drawn to you and the strength of that desire for you was so strong and hard to handle. It was... as if all his years of discipline, long decades of controlling his hunger and bestial lust were in vain, in the end, he fell for a young and simple human.

He was exactly scaring you... if you believed him... what was the point of telling you.

“I’m not going to hurt you either” he replied.

“How?” you told him more calmly after seeing his soft and worried expression, something in you couldn’t distrust him, “It’s so unreal...”

He sighed.

“It’s one of the questions I’ve asked myself for over a hundred years, but it wasn’t my fault, I didn’t ask to be, I cherished life but I didn’t ask to live for eternity, Felix turned me...”

You looked him in the eyes, “And what happened to Felix?” you interrupted him.

“After he turned me... I didn’t know what was happening to me, I had those two marks on my neck, the sun was burning my body and I had a ravenous hunger that wouldn’t be filled with food. And it was something I couldn’t control even being near Insook or Chanmi, I thought I was becoming mentally ill and wanted to murder them. I walked away from them and wandered around feeling weak and sick, I thought I would die alone. I was locked in my office, receiving no one until a young woman knocked on my door at night, worried about her dead sister’s baby whom she was now caring for, but I couldn’t, the smell of blood was killing me. The child had a fever and I did everything I could, I cured him by telling her that she should leave as soon as possible and to keep me updated if the fever went down and she insisted on thanking me, with the baby resting in a crib, I could not take it anymore and drank the poor girl’s blood and she fell, weak in my arms and I thought I had killed her, I was terrified, I acted on impulse and from there I knew I had become a monster. I didn’t know what to do... but I felt so good, so alive and strong. I took care of the child and left the woman’s body in the office, but she woke up the next day leaving me terrified, all this was defying every part of my being studied by science, I did not know how to control it and I also turned her. Felix showed up one night, congratulating me for my first blood tasting, I wanted to beat him to death, I asked him what I had become and he laughed and told me... a vampire. In the end it was chaos, Felix fell madly in love with the young girl I had turned and convinced me to go and live with them and the baby, as he said... we were the only monsters in Sydney. Felix would kill, but he never turned anyone. He was turned by an English guy who came back to Europe when Felix was innocently looking for some sex. He was obsessed with me as soon as he saw me... but once Adeline came along, the girl I converted, she truly became the love of Felix’s life.”

The distance between you and Chris was getting shorter, you listened carefully to his every word that came out with emotion, more than his old story, this time it was getting serious and you could see it in every part of it.

“Felix became so obsessed because she was a young, virginal woman, bragging that taking her blood was the reason it would satisfy my lust for quite a while. I lived with them but was still caring for and raising Chanmi. They both raised Adeline’s nephew and had the crazy idea of turning him when he was older. They were a mess together, I tried to convince them not to kill, and I fed myself on fake blood donation schemes I made up... but Felix and Adeline had a killer and predator instinct, they loved to catch people and rejoice in their pain and cries. After 10 years of living with them, my little Chanmi couldn’t understand why her mother was getting older and her father looked just like how she remembered him as a child. I made excuses and when she turned 20 I explained to her... Everything was fine, I lived with them because I was obsessed, they were my objects of study, I wanted to know the anatomy of a vampire and how anything worked, but impossible not to be captivated by them and their dirty little games” Chris grimaced, remembering his weak moments when lust would take over his instincts and he would have sex with both of them, “but Adeline had a secret, she was in love with me and not Felix, she confessed it to me after living 15 years with them and in her madness she believed it was Felix who came between us so, one evening in June 1849, Adeline killed Felix, giving him dead people’s blood, making him weak and confused, then stabbed his heart and set the house on fire...”

Chris looked you in the eye as you imagined each graphic scene. At least Chris believed Felix was dead however no body was ever found... although he wondered if it was even possible to come across a vampire body since the house wasn’t completely ruined, they got to cease-fire in time but found nothing.

“Then I did something I’m not proud of” you saw him attentively, “Adeline threatened to hurt Insook and Chanmi if I didn’t stay with her, that she would tell everyone what kind of creatures we are... the next thing I did was to capture her and keep her kidnapped for a week without human blood contact, she was going crazy and her hunger was a thousand times bigger than a romance, she promised to stay away from me if I released her, I did it and never saw her again...”

You worried, thinking that she may be seeking revenge to which Chris smiled, unable to help but read your mind and find it tender that you cared.

You had so many questions as soon as the silence formed... so many but so many questions but you just said:

“So what happened next?”

“Well, I stayed away from practicing medicine for periods because it was so suspicious that I was supposed to be 60 and I looked 30. My life became miserable as soon as Chanmi died at 85. I got to see her two children grow up, but she knew them well enough that she realized if she told them that their grandfather was a vampire they would expose me so my secret went along with her... I occasionally see everyone to make sure my family tree is still there. But the Bahng family name has been lost. I went back to Europe with a new identity, I went back to Asia and back to Australia again, I was just doing that to fill the void, I couldn’t die, and I wasn’t sure how a vampire could die, I also didn’t want to die terribly or in the horrible way Adeline did to Felix; I wanted a normal life, I wanted to grow old, to have children, I always wanted more children, to see them grow up and take them to play...”

You grimaced, analyzing the anguish in his tone as he confessed something that seemed like a dashed dream, you wondered for a second if he could still have children.

“Of course I still can” he replied looking you straight in the eye, making you feel inferior because it was hard to believe he could read your mind, “Physically I’m thirty years old forever, mentally, well... I must have died over 100 years ago” he let out a chuckle.

“And you stayed in Sydney, why? I thought you couldn’t stand the sun,” you said.

You wanted to avoid thinking about him, his closeness, his physical attractiveness, and his serious emotional tone of voice when saying something, as you knew he was going to know what you were thinking about.

“I can do it, for a short time and under a lot of protection, I love the beach, I adore seeing it even if I look like a lunatic covered from head to toe” he laughed again, “I finally stayed in Australia in the early 20th century and it wasn’t until the 80’s that I met someone like me... another vampire who was stalking me for years without me knowing it, Kim Seungmin, the director of the hospital, since then we have a pact, he has taken care of absolutely everything and keeps me in practice, I disappear for a while, then go back to my work, but lately people have been so curious to know what I do, the last identity I had is that I was born in 1987, I think I can work 10 more years, then I’ll step away for another few years until I can reappear, but you young people today, it’s hard to hide identities since you know everything, you’re suspicious of the slightest thing just because I don’t even have a damn instagram. Being a vampire is miserable.”

You opened your eyes in surprise to discover that there was more than one near you, or at least in the same city.

He stared at you again, piercing you with his gaze, “I led a strict lifestyle with discipline, I stopped drinking blood and did so only at Seungmin’s clandestine meetings when he gave it to me. Sometimes I only stayed alive out of curiosity at some point... if I could ever feel anything else, if I could ever let myself feel empty, or if I was doomed for eternity. Now I want to answer all the questions you have, you are free to know everything.”

His face slightly close to yours made you nervous, his gaze carried something you had never seen in someone before. Suddenly you forgot every single one of your questions, from the most serious and sensible to the silliest, you were absolutely unfocused and could only think about how your breath was going away at that enigmatic attraction you felt, it didn’t feel like any normal attraction, but it genuinely felt like something of yours, not something he was making into you. Your intrusive thoughts won out, you wanted to kiss him, you wanted to do it from the second you saw him, and you wanted a little adventure being alone at night, but the small thought of a simple make-out turned dark.

And Christopher could know every single scene that crossed your mind, once again you made him feel different, you made him feel full of energy without the need to taste your blood, he was no longer a soulless creature that had been living in darkness for almost 200 years, he had a desire towards you as any other human could feel but in him, it was a thousand times more intense, he gathered all the energy for the long years he never managed to get it.

He wasn’t sure whether to fulfill your thoughts but he couldn’t resist it any longer, he wanted to have you like he had never felt before and every second he didn’t touch you was overwhelming, he might die if he didn’t.

Your heart pounded as Chris put a big, cold hand on your face. He could smell and feel in every inch of himself your alive, human, blood-pumping body. His lust turned to a dark desire to taste you, an uncontrollable desire to fill your body with pleasure and fill himself with something more intense than a drug, your sweet, thick blood.

“And even after all these fucking years of the same hell... nothing compares to what you make me feel. You drive me crazy. This is something new, after 190 years of study and discipline... that fucked off as soon as I saw you.”

Once again his intimidating, deep gaze fixed on you, Chris brought his hand to your other cheek and held your face, analyzing it, as if it was something so unfamiliar to him... you watched him and let him touch you, almost quivering in shivering, between excitement at the tense atmosphere and uncertainty at the constant mystery he had you trapped in. Bahng breathed deeply, filling himself with your scent and enjoying the feel of your smooth young skin in his icy hands. He moved closer to you, pushing your voice recorder to the floor and you placed your hands over his to feel his long, slender fingers, his protruding veins... vampire or doctor, human, your body was uncontrollably begging for Christopher Bahng.

Finally, he kissed you, his masculine, cold nose touching your face to join your lips deeply and passionately with a hunger that never seemed to cease. It felt so good to be kissed and taken by a man, between his big hands that one of them went down to your neck causing you to shiver every time he had contact with your skin, but for Chris who has lived in coldness for an exaggerated amount of time, having you close and touching you was like discovering warmth for the first time. His lips were soft and plump and his movements delicate but passionate. So far arousal for him had been so normal, an idea that occasionally crossed his mind and he would seek some sex to distract himself and he enjoyed it and liked to do it... but right now with you, it was different, it was a colossal desire to have you, and his desperate touches reflected it.

He lowered his hands to your waist and slowly drew you into his body, until he was carrying you lightly with ease and placing you on his lap. You felt him, felt the firmness of his crotch press exquisitely against your cunt. Chris stroked down your body, stroked your hair in desperate acts as he longed to feel your bare skin, and kept playing with his mouth, lips, and tongue on you until you were breathless and just as you were about to part from him slowly, he found a way to bite down hard on your lower lip, making you moan softly and causing you to slightly expel blood from it; Chris smiled and licked your lip, playfully tasting your blood, as it wasn’t exactly from that source that he could fully satisfy himself.

You both looked at each other expectantly with ragged breaths; Chris acted desperate and took off your sweater, admiring your silhouette to take off your bra, you felt the cold of the room on your body making your nipples hard, you were nervous and stunned at the speed in which things were happening but you let yourself go again as you felt his big hands squeeze and caress your breasts while his fleshy lips went to your neck, kissing it and leaving hickeys that made you moan in pleasure, your center was so needy, throbbing desperately like your heart, it was adrenaline with excitement, it was such an addictive feeling so you began to move gently over his erection, making you both hotter and getting Chris’ rough, sexy short moans on your skin in response.

Chris kept caressing your breasts and squeezed your nipples, adapting to every sensation of his skin against yours, guarding in detail every sound you made and the action of your body every time he touched you. This time he was putting all his will into not letting his bestial side win, but he inhaled the scent of your neck and watched your skin tingle... he wanted to taste you, to drink you, and the idea made his hard erection throb, he had never felt sexual pleasure from biting someone, the action itself conveyed the sensation of intense orgasms together without the need for his genitals to react but right now he was being a mess, he had no control of his body, his cock was alive, hard and present for every inch of you... and the curiosity for your taste was driving him to madness.

“Baby girl I want to taste you... I want you to make me feel so full” he whispered, still torn whether to do it or not.

You stopped moving, and every hair on your skin bristled, you knew exactly what it meant, you leaned back on his shoulders and his hands caressed your waist and back, suddenly you felt the sharp edge of his fangs caress your skin. Slight fear and uneasiness came over your body, and your heart skipped a beat... if you let him do it, where would he do it? To what part of your skin does he get to pierce his fangs? Does it get into a vein? You can bleed to death...? And if it’s something he does, seduce young people and then drink their blood? Will you die tonight?

“Your pretty mind is full of questions...” he said again, his voice full of lust as he tightened his grip on your waist, “You’re a nurse, you shouldn’t be afraid of a little pain and light pinching...”

You let out a gut-wrenching scream, filling Chris’ every sense, he did it, he couldn’t control it and tasted you. He knew it hurt like hell, that only a sick fucker turned on by someone else’s pain could enjoy it and that was him, right now, what he wanted so badly to evade in his younger years in such cruel times.

You dug your hands in and slapped his shoulders, struggling to get away from him, crying as you felt two stab wounds dig in and penetrate your neck beyond your muscle, you wanted him to stop, you were feeling the suction of your blood, it was a new and uncomfortable feeling; for Chris it was heaven itself, 60 seconds in paradise tasting your thick and delicious blood that he had fantasized about for so long, the one that made you so unique, that flowed into your being and carried in it secrets of who you came from. Your blood filled him completely and as soon as he tasted it he knew it was pure and virginal blood. It drove him absolutely insane. And for you, it was hell, 60 seconds of sharp, agonizing pain.

His fangs pierced deep into you, every second was eternal but you felt that no matter how hard you fought it was in vain, you began to feel weak, to stop whimpering loudly and your vision began to blur, you were terrified but weak, you didn’t want this to be your final day.

On the other hand, Chris was holding you tightly by the waist until he left marks on your skin, he couldn’t stop, he had never tasted anything like this, he was obsessed, but he couldn’t prolong your pain any longer so he stopped.

His face turned away from your neck and he stared at you. You could see his smug smile and his lips and long fangs tinged with a thick dark red, which he licked, reveling in every last drop. You reacted again, frightened, your heart wanting to burst out of your chest, you brought your hands trembling with pain and horror to your neck and the wounded area, your neck hurt but it was a tolerable pain of discomfort, you felt the area, terrified to find yourself bleeding out but there was nothing, more than a few small drops of blood that stained your fingers and the sensation of the marks of two circular bites.

“No... I’m not bleeding... why?” you said in terror, feeling uncomfortable at the sensation of his marks as you palpated them.

“You forget I’m a surgeon too and that I’ve been a doctor for almost two hundred years, I made the perfect incision for you, pretty girl” he spoke in an arrogant tone, grabbing your trembling hand with your index and middle fingers enveloped in little blood and licked them playfully.

“I loved tasting your blood, now I’ll love tasting some more.”

Chris moved your body nimbly, sitting you on the couch as he bent down slightly, looking deeply at you again making you shudder, your fear slowly lowered, your body was racing, and you didn’t know if you were alive or dead but the sensations were so real. You felt you shouldn't have gotten aroused, but you did, his big hands tugged your skirt down until it was pulled off, and he spread your legs apart and got down on his knees in front of your center covered by your wet panties and fishnet stockings.

“Let me make you feel good. Is that okay?”

His tone of voice was sensual and captivating, his hands squeezed and massaged your thighs without touching your pussy. You didn’t understand how you went from fearing for your life to being once again with a fierce sexual appetite. You bit your lip to hold back your moan. You were alive. He was a vampire and you were both suddenly looking for sex on that cold and lonely night. You held back a moan and nodded, embarrassed to respond.

Chris drew a mischievous half smile on his face, observing and admiring every detail of your confused and aroused pretty and delicate face, your cheeks red and shiny from your previously shed tears of pain and finally he finely caressed with his fingers the length of your pussy getting as a response a moan and the soft twitching of your body. He pulled off your stockings desperately almost tearing them and pulled the fabric of your panties aside to admire your glistening pussy wrapped in your arousal, he let out an incredulous chuckle, now he was the skeptic that he could finally have you, that you had him trapped and feeling like he never had in 227 years on earth that most seemed like hell to him, until he met you, make today the day he could have you and kissed your lips; and the idea that you were a sweet young virgin woman went to his head, he wanted to make you feel so good, he wanted you to enjoy yourself like never if another boy never did, he wanted to treat you like the delicate girl you were, but also his inhuman pleasure wanted to take your body and feel your insides hard.

“Look at you, you’re beautiful.”

He was mesmerized, sweetly overwhelmed, poisoned and obsessed. He never wanted to let you go. He wanted you to be his, to leave a mark on you that would remind the world that you belonged to him, that he was the lucky one who put his hands, eyes and heart on you.

Chris brought his lips close to your clit, sucking it gently, you were again weak but with pleasure at the same time full of energy, your body was restless mind anxious for everything he could do to you, you could think of nothing else but him and you now in that room surrendered to desire.

Chris began to lick you, pulling away the fabric of your panties with one hand and with the other caressing every area that his mouth could not reach to coat, you moaned, his mouth was also cool to your warm core, it was feeling so good, Chris was hard at the thought of your innocence, of the light fabric that kept him from having you completely naked, that you were just beginning to live, that a few seconds ago you were crying in pain and now you were biting your lip holding back your gasps.

He began to stimulate you, licking your vulva, entwining his tongue in your labia, caressing your clit, pulling back the fabric of your panties, and stroking you over it to play with you and moisten it further, teasing your entrance. You stirred in place, restless and excited, forgetting the pain in your neck and shyly stroking his soft, slightly wavy dark hair. You were so aroused, every inch of you wrapped in fire.

Chris finally removed your panties as he saw you flustered and aroused, enjoying every second of caressing your legs on the spot, and took your pussy again with more desperation, he stopped his slow gentle play and began to eat you roughly but his movements were nimble and pleasurable. His face was buried in your core with his long fingers touching absolutely everything about you and when you least expected it, two of his digits inserted deep inside you, fucking you in a rapid pace.

You watched him the whole time, Chris occasionally gasped into your pussy genuinely happy to taste you, he was engrossed in you, wrapped in pleasure as he heard your moans and felt your body tremble. Chris raised his arm to reach up to caress your abdomen and breasts, he wanted to miss absolutely nothing about you that night he had you. You were on the verge of collapse and he knew it, he looked up as he went back to sucking your clit, he made eye contact with you, his dark eyes watching you fade before him and play with pleasure, you gasped releasing the tension in your lower abdomen, pushing out an intense orgasm that delighted Chris more than thousands of liters of unknown people’s blood could along his vampiric trajectory. Your sweet orgasm juice was something new that he could die from if he didn’t consume it, he discovered his new antidote for eternity.

You were agitated but inside you knew this wasn’t over yet. Chris savored your orgasm and felt impatient, he knew you couldn’t wear two marks on your neck proudly... or maybe you could, with how crazy he thought it was nowadays, but he was past his craziest moment, now he wanted to do to you what any human in a situation like you both were in would do, he was going to forever attach himself to you, he was going to enjoy every second of being inside you and being the first one to do it.

“Fuck, I can take it anymore, you will be mine forever.”

You watched as Chris stood up as he licked his lips covered in your glistening liquid, and took off his shirt in one swift movement because he wanted to feel your ragged breathing on his chest and the pounding of your heart attached to it and stripped completely naked removing his remaining clothes. You didn’t know you were really expected to lose your virginity that night let alone with Dr. Bahng... who confirmed you to be a vampire. You saw his face and pale, muscular naked body without any marks or scratches with nervousness and excitement, feeling your center moisten at the sight of his large erect cock. He moved closer to you, with a lurking gaze and kissed you again, playing with your tongue and your body trembled at the sudden sensation of his cock rubbing between your vulva and being wrapped around your labia.

“Ah, fuck, I’ll make you mine now, baby girl” he gasped in exasperation.

Chris couldn’t resist the softness of your folds teasing his cock so he slowly delved into your entrance, making you whimper as he hurt you again and opened up another part of you. But you enjoyed it, this time the pain was purely pleasurable and the scene of his large, wide cock opening your entrance was so obese and graphic. Chris moaned in pleasure with your walls choking his rigid member deep inside you. You saw the slight bulge in your belly form in your lower abdomen one last time as Chris carried your weak and excited body, making you wrap your legs around his body, he grabbed your ass and began to control your body raising and lowering it to his desire as he enjoyed your insides being sweetly ravaged. You whimpered again feeling so full but sore, you hugged him, pressing your bare chest to his. Chris moved your body with ease and at his mercy, babbling and moaning absolutely lost in the sexy sensation of finally having you, sliding his cock into your newly-used entrance, feeding himself on your soft whimpers. Chris felt full again, as alive as he hadn’t been for long, overwhelming years, your fluids combining with his, sliding along his cock and falling towards the floor gracefully, being a mess of passion that cold night. Chris fantasized about filling every part of you with his cum, the risk of the frantic sex you were having was taking him to the clouds, for the first time he had his experience close to heaven.

You felt your orgasm close, you were on the edge, it felt so good you wanted to arch your back, you parted from him, restless and agitated, throwing your head back enjoying the sweet pace it was to have him deep in you tickling and pounding deep inside you. Chris raised his eyebrows, ecstatic seeing your borderline expression, closing your eyes and throwing your head back panting softly, he stroked your neck at first, running his thumbs over the fang marks on your neck, thinking that lust had won in your body, with the amount he sucked you must have felt dizzy and passed out... but there you were bouncing on his cock, about to have your second orgasm and without thinking about it, again something took over him, to have absolute control of everything about you, to have you on the edge of absolutely every single thing you did, Chris grabbed your neck hard, causing you a sharp pain as he pressed tightly on your still sensitive injured area and started to cut off your breath, choking you and still moving your body with ease on his cock. You looked at him, his expression was soft, his eyes dark, but his actions were brutal, abusing your entrance, cutting off your breath and hurting you more where he had previously done so... the pain was grinding in your neck, which made you let out a tear, the pain in your sensitive pussy burned and throbbed, but you couldn’t help but continue to experience an irremediable pleasure, your pumping system seeking release, fighting against what to control first, you whimpered, his grip on your neck growing tighter and tighter, you pinned back into his strong shoulders, whimpered chokingly, finally collapsing in an orgasm that weakened every one of your limbs. And in the midst of your orgasm Chris cum inside you, fantasizing about the idea that you might be the sweet, tender woman who could carry on the Bahng name after so many years.

He let go of your neck gradually, letting you take a breath of air. Chris pulled out of you, leaving you surrendered with the warm sensation of his cum sliding down your entrance. You wanted to cry from the stabbing pain in your body but you were so tired to do so, you were so shaken, worried about the speed of your heartbeat, but you fell back into his strong arms, leaned your cheek on his shoulder and could only whisper:

“Chris I’m tired.”

Your eyelids began to grow heavy, you were feeling sedated and without control of your limbs.

“Oh my sweet girl, of course you are, I drank a good amount of your blood and you continued to have sex” he spoke in an obvious tone, causing him tenderness at your state.

Chris put his forearm behind your knees, carrying you as your legs felt numb. It was a different feeling, you couldn’t quite rationalize and wanted to fall into a deep sleep. He led you to his room, cold like the rest of the house and your vision began to spin. Chris laid you gently on his bed and you caught a glimpse of his window, illuminated by the night and in front of it the silhouette of a slim blond man... you were slowly falling and before falling into an uncontrollable sleep your mind managed to think of that name Chris mentioned, Felix. Chris read your tired mind for one last time before you closed your eyes to sleep.

He opened his eyes, frightened, there was nothing in the world that scared him more than the demonic presence of that blond boy. His distinctive voice echoed throughout the room and Chris saw his slender silhouette emerge from the darkness of the window.

“Christopher Bahng, my long-time friend. I see you finally got some other lady to have fun with... sharing all your little secrets, but did you miss me?”

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @lailac13 @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne @velvetmoonlght @shadowhunterathene @compersian @binniesbabe @strayywayy @mallielovssyou @isabel-018 @paborachaslvt

[mulloey]

pretty pet • nct 127

as the newest and youngest member of 127, it’s perfectly natural for them to want to take care of you. probably not like this, though.

requested by anon

pairing: johnny/jaehyun/mark/haechan/yuta x f!reader

word count: 4k

hate is deleted and blocked

warnings: oh boy um, a little dubcon, definitely questionable behaviour from the neos, dom!127 x sub!reader, corruption kink, virginity loss, unprotected sex, orgy, vaginal/oral sex, a few slaps, praise and degradation, innocence kink, corruption, implied LEGAL age gap (reader is around 20), sort of manipulation, size kink, power imbalance kind of, probably more but those are the big ones

-

you’d been at SM since 2018, and it was starting to feel hopeless. you’d improved quickly, and by 2020 they were telling you you were ready to debut, but it just… didn’t happen. they’d let you get your hopes up that you’d debut with aespa— no dice. then there’d been talk of another girl group, which had quickly proved to be just that: talk. you were beginning to wonder if it was ever going to happen, or if you’d be better off leaving instead of wasting another six years of your life, when you were summoned to the CEO’s office.

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing— they needed a new member for nct. they wanted something different. they wanted you.

you’d sat there with your jaw agape, unsure how to respond. you? in a… boy group? that boy group? you’d never even met the nct members; the closest you’d ever gotten was when mark had accidentally walked into your practice room instead of his— and his exclamation of “oh shit” before quickly shutting the door was the only time you’d heard any of their voices in real life. and now you were supposed to be in a group with them?

everything was arranged within the hour; gathering this was most likely your last chance to debut before they decided you were too old to bother with, you put your inhibitions aside and agreed. you signed the contract, shook their hands and were making to head back to the trainee dormitories when they’d stopped you— “all your things are in the 127 dormitory,” they told you. you almost laughed; you should’ve figured that they weren’t exactly asking.

you were beyond nervous to meet them; they’d been famous and, more importantly, best friends for eight years— how were you supposed to fit in with them? did they even want you there? not to mention how the fans would react— but that was a problem for a different day.

the first problem, though, quickly proved to be a non-issue; they were beyond welcoming, and quickly took you under their wing. it’s only natural, you supposed— the newest member, completely inexperienced and younger even than the dream members, it’s not surprising they took to you so easily, and were so gentle and nurturing while they showed you the ropes. it was only natural.

to a point.

the signs were there, really; the way they’d looked you up and down before looking at your face. the way their hands lingered on your waist just a few seconds too long when they hugged you for the first time. the affection they showed you that they swore was normal between all of them, but seemed to have… a little more intention behind it. and the way they praised you when you did something well— learning a dance move, hitting a note, remembering a line. “good girl,” they’d purr, cupping your face with a smile. “such a good listener.” perhaps somewhere, deep down, something in you told you this was beyond the caring, concerned members of a group welcoming their newest member. but it was far too deep to notice— buried beneath the heaps of praise and attention they showered you with. until it wasn’t. until it became too obvious to ignore.

yuta was the first one you really noticed. looking back, he was never really subtle; you saw the way he looked at you from the start— the intensity of his gaze, the way he’d swallow thickly, jaw tense when you walked through the living room in your thin summer pyjamas. he was friendly, like the others, but the way he’d find every excuse to touch you, to pull you into his arms, to snake his arm around your waist during practice and whisper in your ear about how good you’re being— was just over the line of excusable. yet you excused it.

maybe you were desperate to fit in with the group. maybe you wanted to prove yourself as an open, reliable member. maybe you loved the way their praises sounded; the warmth of their touches on your waist and thighs. whatever the reason, you never once protested— never once questioned it. even as the other members became increasingly obvious in their participation, and increasingly bold in their claim of you.

it was a few weeks in that it happened. mark had brought home a case of beer and a few bottles of soju— “we always do this, babe,” he’d said. “helps us bond when we drink together, you know?” and you’d nodded, of course; the last thing you wanted to do was question or upset the balance and routine of the group. you still felt very much like an outsider, an intruder, and you wanted to prove you could belong here— to yourself, as much as to them. it was just 6 of you tonight— johnny, jaehyun, mark, haechan and yuta, surrounding you like predators as much as protectors.

looking back, you should have realised then. you should have realised when they’d sat down in a circle, johnny shuffling next to you— “to make sure you don’t get too drunk,” he’d said. “oldest looking after the youngest.” you should have realised when he got closer and closer until, just when you were crossing the line between tipsy and drunk, he pulled you into his lap completely. you should have realised when the first game haechan suggested was ‘never have i ever’. and if not then, then you definitely should have realised when the first question they asked was never have i ever had sex.

you watched them all drink, grinning at each other as they downed the liquid. johnny adjusted you in his arms slightly to allow him to pick up his bottle and take a swig. when their expectant gazes turned to you, you could do nothing but blush. “i—”

if you’d been brave enough to look up, or sober enough to see clearly, you’d have seen the looks on their faces that were unlike anything you’d seen before— shocked, affected, protective. feral. they couldn’t believe it. no one had ever touched you. you were as pure and unsullied as you seemed— theirs for the taking.

“you’ve really,” jaehyun started, voice thick and catching in his throat, “never had sex?”

you shrugged, blushing deeper. “i was, like, 14 or 15 when i joined the company,” you mumbled. “they don’t really— i never had that sort of freedom, as a trainee. or the time.” you were beyond embarrassed, your face surely the reddest it’s ever been. you were certain they were judging you right now; laughing silently at you but too polite to show it. a room full of grown men and you, the only girl, the newest, youngest member, had proven yourself to be even less mature than you already knew they thought you were. you waited for someone to break; to laugh at you or mock you or finally admit that you didn’t belong here after all.

but they didn’t. no one said anything. johnny’s grip on your waist tightened.

“wow,” mark finally broke the silence. “that’s— fuck, that’s precious.”

you looked up in time to catch the glare yuta threw at him. “it is?” you asked. “it’s not— it’s not bad?”

“of course it’s not bad,” johnny breathed. his breath was hot on your neck, making you shiver. you felt his smile against your skin as he recognised your sensitivity. “you’re such a good girl, y/n. we always knew it.”

your mouth opened and closed, words lost on you. johnny’s hand found your thigh and gently squeezed the soft flesh. “we’ve been waiting to have someone like you in the group for a long, long time.”

“i—” your voice broke a little, cracking under the weight of their gazes on you. “really?” you squeaked.

a large, warm hand wrapped around your calf. you turned your head, making a noise of surprise, to see jaehyun staring at you with a look in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “really,” he said lowly. his gaze shifted, catching johnny’s for a moment, then returning to you. he squeezed your leg gently. “you’re really something,” he smiled. the tension in his neck as he swallowed thickly told you he wanted to say something else.

tentatively, you reached down to place your hand over jaehyun’s, still resting on your leg. for a moment he seemed surprised — you hadn’t yet been the one to initiate physical contact with them, after all — but his expression quickly morphed into something else. johnny’s fingers dug into your thigh. “whatcha doing, hm?” he whispered in your ear. the low hum of his voice lit fire on your skin. “you like it when we touch you?”

“i…”

“she does,” jaehyun purred. “eager little slut.”

you knew you should be offended— he just called you a slut, after all, a terrible thing to say to anyone. but instead you felt your stomach twist, and an intense, pulsing sensation a little lower. without meaning to, you let out a soft, mewling sound that seemed to affect all the men in the room. “fuck,” you heard someone, you thought haechan, groan.

slowly johnny’s hand began to move further and further up your leg, closer and closer, like he was testing the waters— seeing how far he could go before you’d push back against him. but you didn’t— you curled further into his hold, into his touch. his hands were soft and comforting. it felt good. you felt special. that was all it was.

when his fingers grazed over your shorts, a fleeting touch of your pussy, you squeaked, squirming slightly in his hold. jaehyun grinned and you watched as his hand moved from your lower leg to your chest. gently he grabbed one of your boobs and you felt your stomach drop. this was the boldest they’d ever been. he wasn’t even hiding it or disgusting it as an accident— he was owning it. he was touching you, you liked it, and he owned it.

“so tiny,” he muttered. you weren’t sure if he was talking about you or the tight little tank top he was running his hands across— when he curled his finger around one of the straps, pulling it back and letting it snap against your skin, you decided it was probably both.

the room was quiet, everyone’s focus on you and the way you were responding to every move they made. if you’d been a little more aware, you’d have noticed them inching closer and closer to you from the moment johnny took you into his arms; but only when yuta grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to meet his gaze by force, did you realise what was happening. they’d surrounded you. you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.

he released your hair and you looked back to meet johnny’s eyes. he smiled down at you, arms wrapped around your torso, and only then did you realise that his grip was tighter, firmer than before; like he was holding you in place. keeping you still.

testing your theory, you tried to struggle; to squirm. but you couldn’t. johnny wouldn’t let you. his brow furrowed. “keep being good,” he said, tone warning. “or this is gonna go very differently.”

you didn’t want to think about what he was implying; a few times he and doyoung had threatened to punish you or take you over their knee, but you’d assumed they were joking or just trying to scare you into obedience. but maybe they were serious— maybe you really were one wrong move away from finding out just what they were capable of. you shuddered at the thought.

you watched as haechan’s hand reached towards you and finally slipped under your shorts to touch your bare skin. his eyebrows raised. “no panties?” he grinned.

you heard some mumbles of surprise and johnny’s dick twitched against your back. “slut,” he muttered. “you planned this.”

“no,” you protested, shaking your head. “i didn’t.”

“don’t lie.” haechan’s voice was firm, eyes dark. you whined again and he pinched your clit, making you squirm. “stop moving,” he said.

he may be the youngest and one of the smaller members, but haechan always intimidated you. you’d seen him angry on a few occasions; watched the rage simmer beneath the surface. he keeps his cool, but you always wondered what happens on the other side of the line. now, though, as he eased a finger into your tight hole, you’d rather not find out.

“is she tight?” yuta asked and haechan nodded, groaning slightly. “so fucking tight,” he affirmed. “fucking virgin pussy.”

“let me see,” mark said. “take her shorts off.”

“good idea,” jaehyun grinned. haechan moved his hand away for a moment, allowing the elder to slide the shorts down your legs, finally revealing what they’d been waiting so painfully long to see.

“jesus,” mark breathed.

“perfect little pussy.” jaehyun’s eyes never left your tight, dripping hole. he looked ready to devour you. “john,” he said. “can you spread her open for us?”

you’d honestly forgotten johnny was there; his hold was so warm and familiar that you hardly noticed it. he chuckled against your neck, breath tickling your skin. you knew he felt the way you shivered in response and you felt his smile widen before he lifted his head to peer down at your naked bottom half. “certainly,” he said. “be a good girl and stay still, baby.”

then his big hands were on your thighs, spreading them further apart to expose you properly. you jumped slightly when he touched your pussy, squirming and gasping until he shushed you softly; then with each hand he spread your lips apart, allowing them a full view of your hole.

yuta was the first to speak. “ok,” he breathed. “i’m fucking her first.”

there were mild protests from the others, but no one made any real move to stop him; clearly, you figured, they all knew they’d get their turn. he made quick work of his jeans; unzipping them and pulling out his dick before you registered what was happening. he caught your eye, smiling slyly. “you want it?” he asked.

at that point, you should have said no. you should have put a stop to all this and run to taeyong, or doyoung, or someone because this was all wrong and you knew that. they knew that. but this had gone too far already and right now, all you cared about, all you could think about, was the hard, dripping cock in yuta’s hand. “yes,” you whispered.

his smile widened as he approached you, situating himself between your spread legs. “hold her still for me, john,” he said. johnny made a noise of agreement, moving his hands to hold your thighs firmly open.

though not the largest in the group, yuta was by no means small; just the sight of his cock throbbing and pulsating in his palm made you twitch nervously. once the tip was resting against your entrance, he gently cupped your face, pulling you forward to press a kiss to your nose. it was tender and sweet and the complete opposite to what was about to happen.

it took him a while to push all the way inside you; his size and your lack of experience made it difficult to fit. but he managed, eventually, with the help of johnny’s finger on your clit, making you wetter for his band mate to fuck you; and the feeling of his dick inside you was beyond description. you felt used, full, objectified in the best way. you felt like a doll; spread open for his cock and ready to take whatever he decided to give you. slowly he started to move; his arms rested on your thighs, holding you down and giving him leverage to fuck you. you threw your head back when he finally hit against your cervix, completely overwhelmed, and johnny took the chance to grab your neck, holding you in position looking up at him. he tilted his head. “feel good?” he asked.

a weak ‘nngh’ was all you could manage in response, but none of them faulted you for it. johnny grinned and released your neck only to shove his fingers into your mouth. you choked at the surprise intrusion but quickly got used to it; soon the large, thick fingers were a comforting presence and you sucked at them desperately as yuta continued to stretch you open. you looked back to face the others, and saw that the three not touching you all had their dicks in their hands, stroking themselves to the scene in front of them.

“no one cum,” johnny ordered the watching men. “she’s gonna take all our loads. aren’t you?”

you nodded, but at that moment, pussy stuffed and mouth full while the others watched, you’d have agreed to anything johnny said just for the fact that it was him that said it— and to hear the deep, approving “good girl”, that came in response.

yuta came quickly and without warning; he moaned and shouted something in japanese as he made two or three hard, final thrusts before you felt him release inside you. it felt warm, strangely. it felt nice.

he stayed on top of you for moment, breathing heavily, before pulling out and retreating. you felt warm liquid slowly spilling out of you for a moment, before johnny’s long finger pushed it back in. “good girls don’t waste their owners’ cum,” he muttered and you blushed, nuzzling into his neck.

“alright,” johnny said, “who’s next?”

“us.” you looked up to see mark and haechan approaching you and johnny raised an eyebrow. “both of you?” he asked.

“pussy and mouth,” mark said, like it was obvious. “duh.”

johnny hummed, pressing his face against yours. “can you take that, baby? two cocks at once?”

“of course she can,” haechan rolled his eyes. “she doesn’t have a choice.”

“take it easy, man,” jaehyun muttered, but the look of sheer delirium on your face told him just how much you were loving this— being used without a say in what happened to your own body. you knew they’d stop if you told them; but why would you?

johnny helped you lie down, head in his lap as haechan climbed on top of your chest. his dick was hard and leaking and right in your face; he slapped it against your cheek a few times before forcing it in.

you choked, eyes watering, but took it into your mouth obediently. you’d never done this before, so you let haechan take the lead, which he probably would have done anyway; you let him slam his dick against the back of your throat, again and again, ignoring you whining and choking around his cock. it was painful and uncomfortable and degrading but at the same time it somehow felt so fucking good. maybe it was the way johnny whispered praises in your ear, telling you how well you’re taking your members, what a good teammate you are. or maybe it was the feeling of mark sliding into your pussy easily, finally filling you up again.

he wasn’t as big as yuta, but especially to someone who was a virgin a few minutes ago, he was the furthest thing from small. he fucked you slower and more tenderly than the elder, but he gripped your hips with the same firm, unquestioned ownership of you that they all exuded. somehow he and haechan fell into the same rhythm, their cocks hitting the deepest parts of you at the same time and it was completely overwhelming. through watering eyes you stared up at haechan, barely making out his face through your tears. you moaned around his cock, struggling with his size and you felt your teeth graze against his shaft. he stopped for a moment, cursing under his breath before his palm collided with your face. it wasn’t particularly painful, but it left a lingering sting that floated among the multitudes of different sensations you were experiencing.

“don’t fucking bite me,” he growled, before his thrusts started again.

you heard johnny click his tongue, running his hands through your hair. “bad girl,” he chuckled. “can’t handle a dick in your mouth, huh?”

you whined, sound muffled by haechan’s cock and you heard the men laugh. “we’ll train her up,” haechan grinned. suddenly he grabbed your hair, pulling your head further down onto his dick as his thrusts sped up. his moans got louder and louder, turning to shouts before he cried out painfully and liquid filled your mouth. it tasted strange; salty and strange at the same time. when he pulled out, you saw white liquid coating his cock. “hold on, haechan,” johnny said. “she’ll lick you clean.”

haechan grinned, and then his dick was at your mouth once again. you swallowed the liquid in your mouth so you could open it again, letting him feed his cock between your lips. you licked and suckled at it dutifully, and when he pulled out again, his cock was clean. “good girl,” he purred.

the sight of you licking his friend’s cock clean seemed to push mark over the edge too; he grunted, cursing loudly before you felt yourself filling up again as he released inside you. panting heavily, he sat limply for a moment before pulling out.

the sight was beyond anything they could have dreamed of; their sweet youngest member, lying naked with her head in johnny’s lap and cum leaking out of her holes, too tired and fucked out to even close her legs. they wished they could keep you like this forever; spread open, used, and ready for more.

you were barely conscious by the time jaehyun pushed into you; by now the intense waves of pleasure were a distant sensation; his voice as he spoke to you clouded by the overwhelming emotions overtaking you. you felt his hands on your face, looking up to meet his kind but dark eyes and you gave him a weak smile.

he didn’t take long to cum, perhaps more out of mercy for you than anything else; before he released he pushed two fingers into your mouth, letting you suck and gag yourself on them while he chased his orgasm. he came with a yell, his final, heavy thrust finally pushing you over the edge too.

you felt yourself release around his dick, body convulsing with pleasure. you were completely delirious, screaming though your orgasm and clawing desperately at johnny’s arms. he talked you through it, voice low, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

when you finally finished, it proved too much to you; you went limp, completely numb as you blacked out. pulling out of you slowly, jaehyun looked uncertainly at johnny. the elder just smiled, stroking your hair. “she’s fine,” he said. “baby can’t handle that much pleasure yet.”

jaehyun smiled, staring down at your sleeping form and running a large hand up and down your thigh. he looked up, suddenly seeming troubled. “john, you didn’t get to…”

johnny laughed, shaking his head. “doesn’t matter. she needed me with her.”

jaehyun hummed, still staring quizzically at the elder, who shrugged. “it’s no big deal, jae,” he grinned. “she belongs to all of us now. i’ll get my turn.”

you woke up in bed hours later, drenched in sweat and desperate for johnny; you cried out for him, reaching into the darkness and hoping you’d find him there. when he finally walked into the room, coming to sit next to you, you were nearly in tears from how needy and empty you felt.

“johnny,” you whimpered again. “please.”

and get his turn he did.

-

thanks for the request! my first nct fic, hope it was good. i def got carried away lol. reblogs and comments appreciated, requests open! love🖤🖤🖤

taglist open!

[eeboyysworld]

Genre: smut

Storm shadow X Male!reader

Contains/Warnings: corruption kink , public sex , cream pies, anal sex , coming untouched, uniform kink. Vry short❕

‘This suit is uncomfortable..’ sighing, rolling your neck, satisfied as you crack it.Papers scattered across the desk, pens and pencil out of ink and dull to the tip.

Rubbing the sleep out your eyes, fixing posture, ready to tap away as the computer screen shined along your face.

Few minutes in, close to finish this report your superior needed, a hand slapped your back, flinching, preparing for the worst as you swing the chair backwards, ready to catch whoever was messing with you.

“Relax.. it’s just me!” Sizing the man you called your boyfriend , who was nested in a bright white suit , new scratches littering his face, grin plastered on his mouth.

‘Looking handsome.’ you didn’t admit that out loud , instead ,standing up and questioning him. “ Shouldn’t you be working?” No response. With all the stress you were put under and having no way to release it from the amount of paper work you had, it ticked you off that he didn’t say anything.

Turning around , ready to throw fury for no reasons, you were met with the other’s face, inches away from yours. “Your ass looks great in those pants.” Wow.

Barely pressing his lips against yours, whispering into you, “ I need you right now..” gripping your hand, slowly bringing it down to his closed crotch, feeling his hard on. “ Look what you do to me baby..” quiet groans left his mouth, forcing your hand to grope onto him.

“It’s only right you help me fix it.” Unsure, as you guys were in a very public place, biting down your lip, face flushed from his eyes lingering on you. “I-i.. there’s p-people here!” Your own eyes flickering across the room to watch out for anyone who may walk in.

A forceful hand gripped your jaw , making you look into the other’s eyes.” People won’t come in-“ the warmth of his hands left momentarily before they were on you again , switching from your jaw to your thighs, pushing you on-top the cluttered desk.

“If they do.. I might let them watch..” shaking your head rapidly, shame filling you up, “I’ll make you feel good.. you know that right?” It wasn’t a question, at the end of the day you were a mess under the man as he loved every inch of your body.

Nodding, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.His hands rubbing down your back, “Words, please?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you found yourself on your stomach, feet on the ground , pants messily pooled around your ankles. No prep, no nothing, the man leaving marks on your neck , murmuring ‘sorry,’ ‘he couldn’t wait to be inside you’

The stretch hurt, the pain as soon as it was there was gone, the burning sensation brought tears to your eyes. But it felt so good.

Setting a Brutal pace, this is what you get for dating a ninja. Hands searching for anything to hold on to, arching for more access , pleads spilling out your lips.

Hitting the right spot , the ache between your legs bobbing up and down from impact.

Biting down your hand , muffling any noise escaping you, leaving teeth marks behind, worried that anyone could see you two.

A slap bounced off the walls, the rough hand hitting back and forth, red imprints left behind , “f-fuck!”

Sweat dripped down your temple, extra hot as your dress shirt was still on, barely hanging on a thread. Hips rocking into you, dick leaking beneath you , tip a soft hue of red as it was left unattended.

“That suit , l..looked so good on you,” finding your hips bringing you up and down,” hugged all your curves.”

Whimpering, his heat twitching inside you, your own flopping around, it was enough to make you release onto your own desk.

No warning, only the mutters of nonsense leaving the other’s mouth , thrusts becoming sloppier, before liquid filled you to the brim, dripping down , the sound filled your ears as he slowly pulled out.

Pulling your pants back up, helping you stand up , knees wobbly, fixing your disheveled hair , kissing the tear stains away. “ You look so beautiful..” rolling your eyes,”You’re saying that after I’m fucked out?” Playfully pouting.

No response as his soft lips clashed into yours, tongues slipping past. Lasting for a minute before you pulled away , knowing you guys had work to attend and couldn’t get carried away again.

What your coworkers didn’t know , was that you guys were one freaky ass couple.

As you squirm in your seat.Not only the suit pants bugging you, cream spilling out your hole, left to stick to you. Reminding you off what happened not too long ago.

A/N: short but i wanna post something today 🤗

[nerdlvr]

corruption kink w bf mark

(MDNI)

corruption kink ofc , inexperienced reader , softdom!mark , use of pet names (angel, baby, princess) , reader is like shy and ditsy , pussy eating , lots of fluids , a lil fingering , requested here !

mark's large hand ran along your smooth legs, goosebumps forming on your skin. the feeling of his lips on yours no longer satisfying you.

"mark, need you, please."

a small smirk spread on his lips as he watched you squirm next to him, thighs pressed together tightly.

"is that right angel? where do you need me hm?"

you whined at his obvious teasing, reaching forward to grab his hand, placing it on your lap. he chuckled pressing down on your clothed core,

"here baby? need me to touch you here?"

you bit back a moan, nodding your head quickly, desperate for mark's touch. he moved to sit in front of you, lightly tugging your shorts down to reveal a wet spot that had formed on your panties. mark felt himself salivate at the sight of you, your cheeks slightly flushed, fingers rubbing your nipples gently through your shirt.

"i'm gonna use my mouth okay baby? promise it'll feel good."

you sat up slightly, grabbing his arm.

"your- your mouth? i've never- i've never done that before."

your boyfriend moved closer to you, planting a light kiss to your jaw,

"it's okay angel, i'll go slow. just tell me if you want to stop, okay?"

you nodded slowly, watching as he settled himself in between your legs. he ran his fingers gently along your slit, feeling your wetness through your panties. you let out a shaky sigh finally feeling some form of friction.

"all this for me baby? this wet from a little kissing hm?"

you ignored his question, scared your voice would betray you, instead moaning loudly as mark attached his mouth to your clothed pussy, sucking gently before backing away to look at you,

"use your words princess, need to know i'm making you feel good right?"

a soft yes mark left your lips, waiting expectedly for more of his mouth. he let out a light chuckle, hand coming up to move your panties to the side, revealing your wet heat. mark let out a groan at the sight of you,

"fuck baby, can't believe no one's ever eaten this pretty pussy, look at you."

you brought your hands up to cover your face feeling overly exposed in front of mark. your embarrassment was quickly washed away as you felt mark's tongue press on your clit, a whimper escaping your lips at the sudden contact. mark moaned at the taste of you, sinking his mouth deeper onto your cunt. he attached his lips onto your clit sucking gently. you sat up to watch him, hand coming to grab his hair as you moaned softly, hips jutting up to slightly grind on his face,

"mmm mark, feels good, s’ good.”

he looked up at you replacing his mouth with his fingers, lightly circling your sensitive bud.

“yeah baby? like when i use my mouth?"

mark didn't even give you a chance to respond before engulfing your heat again, tongue prodding at your entrance, fingers still working on your clit. you arched your back off the bed, legs slightly closing around mark's head. you heard him chuckle under you as he brought his hands up to part your legs again, a firm grip on your inner thighs.

"don't worry angel, i got you, just enjoy hm? i'm right here."

you melted under his tongue, feeling a build up in your tummy, jolts of pleasure running through your body. he smirked into your cunt feeling you squirm under him. his hands moved away from your thighs, one coming up to press lightly on your tummy, the other towards your heat, slipping two fingers into your slowly, feeling your cunt suck him in. your grip on his hair tightened , free hand coming up to play with your tits, mark's name slipping past your lips over and over. mark looked up moaning at the sight of you, so desperate so easy for him to use. you were basically riding his face, chasing your own high, letting mark be the first one to ruin you with his mouth. his fingers in your cunt moved quickly, juices helping him ease in and out of you at an inhumane pace, jaw sore from his constant abuse on your clit. you squeezed your eyes closed, mouth hung open as your back arched of the bed,

"oh my- mark, mark, mark, fuck mark, i'm gonna cum, baby i'm gonna cum."

he nodded quickly into your cunt, your juices soaking the lower half of his face, urging you to finish on his mouth. mark thought he could eat you out forever, removing his fingers to taste your release, licking at your entrance. you pushed his head away overstimulation too much for you to handle. he licked his lips, smiling wide at you,

"let me go again, please? you're so fucking sweet princess."

how could you say no?

[catiuskaa]

i would LOVE to read your vision of boyfriend by dove cameron....... but w minsung x reader 😏

OH MARSYYYY marsyyyy ajdbkskfla youuu how dare youu take my sleep away from me like thisssss kabfoqbfoskj i barely got to 300 words and i was like “yup. there’s no fucking way i’m not writing this.” so @lyramundana @stayconnecteed, pasarla muy bien mis amores bskdbakd id a la iglesia después

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄-𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄����𝐄𝐒.

sum. gentlemen like them make for a better boyfriend, and minho and han will let you know as soon as you come over… they know first times pave the way for more.

yes, the cursive makes a cute lil sentence, kill me

wc. 5.6k (me cago en todo mars)

cw. suggestive, smut! cursive: a lifestyle, the restaurant scene came out really high-class? fem!reader x dom!simp!minho x sub!needy!jisung, the reader is cheating on her boyfriend, so many things happen (praise, degradation, hair pulling, thigh riding, dry humping, oral fixation, marking, mild choking, corruption kink, use of pet names, accidental orgasm denial, oral (f rec.), begging, fingering (f&m rec.) dirty talk, overstim, mild bondage, unprotected piv sex [don't!<3], creampie, breeding kink, dacryphilia). holy shit this is nasty man, aftercare (mandatory) and just have fun lovelies <3<3<3

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Minho has to breathe in, slowly as he smiles, a cat-like grin that has already threatened many people’s hearts, grabbing Jisung’s wrist and pulling him a bit closer.

His company that night —his company forever, if anyone bothered to ask or wanted to know— doesn’t ask why, merely tilts his head, watching, waiting.

“Twelve o’clock. Red and white dress.”

It’s a mumble that the older man makes with his eyes half closed, yet he opens them again after a beat of silence. He grunts, a low, whispered voice, not daring to interrupt the shy flow of music in the fine restaurant, but still takes Han’s chin in his hand, gripping it softly and tilting it a bit further to his left.

“That’s more like one o’clock— oh.” Minho doesn’t dare voice nor even question the way blood rushes to the deepest parts of his body when Jisung licks his lips and stares back at him, lowering his hand with a gentle touch that sets his skin ablaze.

He can’t help but let his eyes trail towards your figure again. The dress you’re wearing, a mix of colours that gingerly combines with that of their own suits, that clings to your shape in a way that threatens his own sanity and the stability of their plan, the impulse of running to you head first wondering what the crash would feel like. He stops himself, and breathes in again, deeper this time in an attempt to stop wondering how the dress would look just a few floors over them, in their hotel room, preferably on the floor, and he finally does, catching the faint scent of Jisung’s new cologne.

Alone. It’s funny to him. Ridiculous, yes, because only a fool would leave such a beauty like you in a situation like that —on your own, waiting in boredom close to death, or even worse, resignation—, and he’s sure that if he were in your place, he would’ve left a while ago. Hell, if he ever pulled something like that, he’d allow for Jisung to choke him —in a non-sexual sense, at least for once—, but he can’t help feeling giddy at the empty sight of the chair in front of you. Almost as if you were waiting for them to get close, to take a seat. And then, maybe you’d smile. Like a little treat.

A cute gift.

The image makes him smirk as he licks his lips. Minho knows he’d wrap you up in a heartbeat.

“What do you think?” He ponders the question lowly, still waiting for the waiter as the restaurant prepares their table. The one next to you, of course.

Jisung’s eyes widen for a moment. “What do I think?”

He gulps, and Minho reels in the way his boyfriend is already blushing, the red dust on his cheeks making him think twice and wonder if he could afford having a little snack before properly taking you both as a dessert, and he can’t help but snicker, tonguing his cheek.

“What are the chances?”

Minho’s fingers stroke Jisung’s palm.

“Well, I did as we agreed. And now the plan follows, jagi. I’m sure you can play your part now, mmh?” His voice is sultry, low, and a whisper, one that deepens Han’s blush and darkens his eyes even further, making his breath hitch to Minho’s amusement. “As if you can’t do whatever you want with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“Min—”

“Welcome.” The whispered whine that Jisung had been just about to say dies on his lips, as tragically —yet not quite as brutally— as the unfortunate and inopportune waiter in Minho’s head.

“Your party for two is ready. Come with me.”

Shrugging away the comment ‘with you here, no one’s coming’, Minho follows behind Han and nods his head after being pointed to his table.

White-collar thieves could have plenty of money and exotic pairs of jewelry. Take any gemstone, for example. In unknown eyes, it may seem flawlessly perfect, but that’s merely a refracted illusion. Its core, deep in there, remains a secret, and it’d take a good crack for it to be seen.

No, this couple had it clear. A thief could steal anything but achieve nothing. And as Minho sends his partner in crime a wink, and the plan finally starts, its gears already set in place, he knows that whatever the outcome of it might end up being, nothing would give a better reward than trying to steal you tonight.

And it all starts with a silly trip of his boyfriend’s foot.

Jisung’s hand saves him from ending head first against your thighs —did he really save himself, Minho wonders, because the thought sounded like heaven—, and he watches as the younger one rushes back up, an apologetic grin on his face that he had seen so many times before and still made him want to kneel in front of Jisung and worship him to death and beyond.

“Sorry,” Ji smiles, bashful, his little dimples showing. He pretends to cringe, an action only Minho can see through.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. Are you alright?” The genuine worry that slips through your tone softens the men.

“Of course. Yes.” Jisung chimes right back. “Such a kind lady.” He grins, pulling his hand in front of him.

Minho is just watching, and the feeling of witnessing such a moment nearly has him bulging in his tailored pants as shy little Jisung kisses the back of your hand.

He can’t believe how obsessed they both are with you, enthralled at the mere thought of having you closer, and he doesn’t care, needing more, more of your confused smile as you stare at his boyfriend, more of the gentle blush that creeps up to your cheeks, more of the way your hair is neatly tied up and away from your face, feeling the impulse to ruin you on the tip of his fingers.

“What’s a place like this doing, surrounding a beauty such as yours?” Minho smiles, taking a seat at his table. Calm. Mindful. With the plan in his head.

You chuckle so politely that it makes Minho fidget with his rings, a laugh so melodic that tickles his heart and warms his insides.

“I stay in this hotel.” Minho knows. He’s seen you before.

“Alone?” Jisung smiles, a bit cheeky, sitting and moving his chair at an angle, making it easier to keep the conversation going.

The way you sigh makes them both angry and giddy. They had seen your partner before, and they almost couldn’t believe their eyes, genuinely wondering what had the ugly man done to deserve such an angel. If it were for them, not for too long.

“Up until twenty minutes ago, I wasn’t, but…”

Crystal clear. They both can see the resignation in your eyes, and Minho can’t help but feel it trail up his skin, needing to do something about it immediately.

“I know it may seem too straightforward,” his mouth is dry and he can feel his ears turning red. “But I wouldn’t mind the extra company tonight. Right, jagi?”

The smile he shoots at Jisung is soft and sweet, feelings conveyed between layers and layers worth of things he hasn’t said yet. A comforting grin that Ji matches, holding his hand from below the table and giving it a light squeeze, catching it.

“Yes. It’d be a pity, using that wonderful dress on such a dull night.” His boyfriend turns to you, smiling widely. “Join us?”

God, yes. The squirm of satisfaction that threatens to leave past his lips has him fidgeting with his fingers, cracking his knuckles in an oh-so-giddy attempt to hide just how excited he is when he sees you stand up and grin sheepishly, moving your chair and settling on their table.

If one tried and overthinked it too much, it wouldn’t work. People tend to feel those kinds of things, the rush, the nervousness, the desperation. Not attractive on a stranger in the slightest. And Minho knows he’s one lucky bastard just getting to sit with you at the same table, sharing sentences with Jisung across the rounded table with just a blink and a cheeky stare through his lashes.

And as the night goes on, sneaky glances, touches, soft hands over yours, their eyes deep in colour, on you as you wine and dine, the white-collar thieves swiftly steal your heart for the night.

A fever dream. You find no other way to word it, how they get under your skin and into your head, how their cheeky antics keep getting you closer and closer in a way that almost baffles you. You can’t even think about that sad excuse of a boyfriend you have when Jisung’s hand brushes your arm again or when Minho’s eyes lock on yours, almost undressing you under his gaze.

You couldn’t call it a red flag. After all, their collars are pure white.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

Jisung can’t hold back any longer.

He opens the door to their hotel room for you, and in an unrestrained need, grabs your wrist and finally pulls you to him.

Minho smirks, closing the door with a thud by leaning on it, watching as his boyfriend ruins and smears your lipstick, giving it just a bit before he pulls him from the back of his shirt, tutting at him.

“Such a needy little slut, mmh? Couldn’t even wait for me?”

His hands thread on Jisung’s hair, pulling in a way that has him already on edge. Minho takes his blazer off under the eager eyes of his company, and also takes Ji’s red one, leaving both on the couch that sits in the corner of the room as he licks his lips and takes his hands to his boyfriend’s neck, kissing him deeply, hungrily, humming a snicker when he feels his cheeky little hands tugging and pulling on his white shirt.

“Brat.” He whispers on his lips. “We have to treat our guest first, don’t we, jagi?”

Heat pools on your lower belly, disarmed as the two gorgeous, disheveled men stare at you with a glow in their eyes so deep it could fuck you alone. Both stare at the other with a sly grin on their faces, the phrases they want to say hidden behind the opacity of their eyes, clouded in lust.

Cheekily, Minho grabs Jisung by his belt, speaking at mere inches away from his lips.

“Be a good boy and hang on the door the do not disturb sign, mmh?” His eyes trail from Han’s neck, reeling on his heavy breathing and how his big brown eyes flutter when his hand teases him, tickling his skin with a brush of his fingers, doing tender and slow motions, opening the lower buttons on his shirt and going down his happy trail.

Jisung only nods weakly, in a daze as Minho lets go of him, blinking slowly and letting out a playful chuckle when he teasingly smacks his ass as he makes his way to the door.

“Now, what do we have here?”

Your throat feels dry and you yearn for the moment in which you’ll finally drown in Minho’s lips. He can tell, approaching you slowly, his steps barely making a sound on the carpet below.

His hands brush away the few hairs that Ji got loose, his hand traveling from the shell of your ear to just a bit after your pulse point. “Such a beauty.” Your heart swoons as he whispers, something that sounds more for him than for you, which does nothing but worsen the situation below your dress.

Licking your lips, you watch as he leisurely sits on the edge of the bed, two fingers teasingly making a ‘come hither’ motion as he spreads his legs, making space for you between them, his tailored clothing hugging his lush thighs in a way that nearly makes you salivate.

“I won’t bite, gorgeous. Not unless you want me to,” he teases, his hands stroking your knees while he sits just a short step or two away from you.

The sentence not only makes you shiver in anticipation, but also makes a small part of you wonder if there could be anything you wouldn’t let these men do to you. Dare I say non-existent, the list seems to be pretty short, as you nibble on your lip and answer to how he pats his thigh, taking a seat.

“There we go.” He grins with a low hum, his hands traveling far past the fabric that covers your thighs, grabbing and kneading the skin under his grasp. “Wonder how long it has passed since you’ve been treated right.” He clicks his tongue. “We have to do something about it, don’t we, jagi?”

He’s talking to Jisung as if you weren’t there. As if they’re taking you, a pretty diamond gingerly falling into their white-gloved hands, and —make no mistake—, you’re letting them, and it’s the end of the story, because you’d be a fool not to.

Besides, it’s already too late to back down. You want this. You couldn’t care less of what happens to your boyfriend after he left and scurried back wherever, attempting to leave you with the burden of paying for everything again without having to deal with the consequences nor the guts to face you. He was going to have a fun time, arriving at your previously shared room and finding that your things had been already packed and you were no longer anywhere to be seen, leaving behind you not only the bill of the restaurant —both his and yours, and then the one you had with Minho and Jisung, of course, an autograph on the receipt and all— but of the entire week you had been abroad, for all the times he had been tricking you and pulling your leg.

Tonight, you weren’t just being stolen. You were being freed.

“What makes you tick? Mmh, gorgeous?” Minho gets you back from your mind, naughty hands traveling underneath your dress and playing with the back ends of your underwear.

He’s dying to kiss you, and he will —he will die trying and he’d be happy to do so—, and he can see it in your eyes that you want just as much, the dark of his reading yours with an ease that does nothing but aggravate the situation, knowing that if he were to kiss you as he had been thinking —ever since he and Jisung had seen you and your boyfriend— would cause you more things than neither you nor him could process, leaving both of your minds blank, wet, legs tangled with one another.

Minho cherishes the way you tremble in his grasp, feeling Jisung’s hands surprise you from behind, playing with the zipper of your white and red dress.

“Baby, you’re already grinding on my thigh.” It’s teasing, it’s a menace, and he fucking loves it, seeing how said sentence darkens both your and Han’s eyes. “What are you thinking, mmh? Want us to figure you out as we go?” He licks his timidly swollen lips, his hands traveling down your legs to take your heels off, discarding the red sole shoes by the end of the bed.

He kisses Jisung over your shoulder, and a moan leaves your lips when said motion —him moving forward, that is— makes him tense his thigh underneath you.

“Jagi, do me a favour.” He whispers on his boyfriend’s lips, next to your ear, as if he’s telling Han a secret you shouldn’t know —but you don’t care whether you should or shouldn’t. You’re already going to hell for cheating on that low-life you call a boyfriend. Could be the wine speaking, or how your pussy is already leaking, but if you’re going to hell, you’ll make it so that these fine gentlemen help you reach heaven first.

“Ladies first, okay? Let’s treat her how a princess deserves.”

Jisung’s eyes smile as he bites Minho’s lip, finally taking your dress off of you, lowering the zipper in a way that his hand strokes your skin as the dress goes further down, and doesn’t stop kissing him, even when his greedy hands take the dress off your shoulders, and travel forward, tickling you menacingly, from your belly to your chest, teasingly playing with the little bow that decorates your white bra before letting his fingers go further up your cleavage.

Minho’s hands move your hips against his thigh, starting to feel the wetness and warmth not only on the fabric between his leg and your sweet sweet core, but on his skin.

He chuckles, panting on your ear as Jisung’s lips hungrily travel to your back, kissing and scratching with his teeth. A man blinded crazy by lust, his hand finally reaching your neck.

The way the action makes you moan is almost obscene, your cheeks as red as Jisung’s forgotten blazer and trousers. His grasp, gingerly cold, as if the rest of his warmth was traveling to other parts of his body —parts you weren’t complaining to be feeling against your lower back—, was a little bit over your collarbone, and it drove you wild.

“Hyung—” It’s a whine so desperate that nearly has him crumbling apart. Jisung’s eyes are teary when Minho’s lock into the dark brown full of lust that they have turned to. Merely pecking his lips, Minho smiles.

“I’m going to eat you alive.” It’s a desperate groan, and his partner’s eyes only glow in a darker shimmer, as if he yearned for just that. “Go on, jagi. Have fun.”

Before you can expect it, Jisung lets out a moan, grabbing your waist and pulling you from Minho onto the bed. Your impending release gets ruined, and you whine, your hand unconsciously traveling to your face.

As the younger one hurriedly finishes taking your dress off of you, discarding it somewhere on the floor —a view that, later on, would make Minho grin cheekily— said gentleman moves and lays down next to you while his partner leaves hickeys all over your inner thighs.

Only pants, whines, and moans leave your lips, low and dimmed, overwhelmed by all that you’re feeling, hiding behind your hand. But they’re gentlemen, after all. Ever-so-observant, Minho’s smile is sweet when he takes your hand and interlinks your fingers.

“Beauty,” he calls, his voice sultry. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

It takes a shy, confused shake from you for him to tut at his boyfriend, and Han stops his antics, licking his lips, his eyes glowing as he strokes your thighs, gingerly comforting you out of your daze.

“Like a traffic light, yeah? Green for when you want to keep going, yellow when you want to slow down, and red if you want to stop.” His hand softly moves, trailing soft motions on your cheek. “Don’t wait for us to ask. If we’re playing the figure-it-out game, I want to hear you moaning ‘green’ every single minute. Good?” You blush, nodding. “So. Colour?”

You give it a thought. You’ve brought up things like this before to your boyfriend. Things he shamed you for. Things you had been wanting to do for a while. And as you stare back at Minho, his eyes widen for a moment when he sees you smirking lightly.

To hell and heaven with it. It had been a close call before, back at the hotel’s restaurant. It’s stupid now, and you can’t believe you almost ran away back to your room and wasted such a divinely given chance like this one.

“Green.” You smile. “Figure me out better than I know myself.”

Jisung’s mind is completely foggy and hazy, his hands kneading your thighs, waiting, panting at your sudden forwardness. He can barely form a coherent thought, his mind consumed by the need to keep going until your taste is all that he knows.

You lift yourself, sitting on the bed, as the focus of the two men’s attention while your hand reaches for Jisung’s chin, and he’s dead. He’s gotta be, because as he moves to keep feeling your soft grasp on him, he swears he stops breathing.

“I’m going to kiss you.” It’s an announcement. Not quite a question but a warning, a narration of sorts. It keeps Minho waiting for a movement, something, whatever, anything to be able to follow what they had started, surprised by the newfound shimmer in your eyes.

And you can only confirm the whole chain of unbridled thoughts that haunt you —that you want to devour them with kisses, that you would let them eat you whole, unashamed, unrestrained, and overly needy— when, after closing your eyes, you erase any space that was between your lips and Jisung’s.

It’s not the butterflies in your stomach, but your own pulse rumbling in your ears, so loud that you think that either of the two men to whom you knew crystal clear that you were going to give yourself to tonight could hear it without making any sort of effort.

Nasty, desperate, wild. Jisung is gone, set on making any trace of red lush lipstick disappear from your lips. He starts kissing you more passionately, taking both of his hands to your nape, pulling on your hair in an attempt to get you even closer to him, the need for oxygen merely a necessity far less important than to keep kissing you and lick away your strawberry lipstick.

“This is crazy,” you pant, gasping for air.

“You make me crazy.”

He’s breathless, and he just can’t stop kissing you. Not when you’re giving yourself back to him with almost the same intensity, the raw need for more overperforming any sort of kissing skills that Jisung thought he had before. Matter of fact, he can’t think. Not when his hands travel from your waist, your skin like a canvas he’d die to keep marking, trailing a teasing path up your back, making you shiver until he finally undoes the barrier that keeps him from touching, and finally tasting —licking, spitting, marking, fondling, kissing, biting, better if it’s all at the same time— your breasts. He swiftly takes your bra off of you, as if it burns. It would’ve made you laugh, but as he cages you against the mattress the only thing you can do is moan.

Yes. Yes. Yes, More. Please. Don’t stop.

There’s a light bounce of the mattress when Minho takes a seat behind you, and Han whines when you leave his lips.

You’re a mess. There’s no other way to describe it, and Minho loves it. He loves how you’re in between Jisung and him. How you’re drooling and moaning, your head leaning against his shoulder as greedy little Hannie goes back to where he was heading before. He loves how you’re not holding back anymore, your right hand pulling on his boyfriend’s hair and your right one on his nape, gingerly playing with it as you squirm under the pleasure that Ji’s mouth brings you.

“Beauty,” Minho’s voice is impossibly low when he calls for you, pressing soft, tender kisses on your pulse point. You whine, a strained ‘yeah?’ that kills him. “How do we feel about this?”

You open your eyes, not really aware when you had closed them, and you look at Minho’s soft hands, his rings shimering under the room’s indirect light. It’s a lace, your fuzzy brain tells you. It has the words Dior written several times on it.

“G-green…” it’s a whine, it’s slurry, and it turns to a hitched breath when Han’s fingers slide inside you with ease, curling and thrusting until you can’t do anything else but moan and whine, trembling as you come, pleasure hitting you in waves.

You cling onto Minho like a rock, as much as you can, his body behind you stroking you in a way that makes you shiver while Ji helps you ride out your high.

“Look at him, princess.”

His tone is slightly mean, and you sigh, feeling his arms surround you.

“He came just from tasting you.”

You’re still a bit out, panting, but your eyes turn to him, whose head is leaning on your thigh. One of your hands moves to stroke his hair, and you grow hotter watching how he shudders for a second.

“He was grinding against the mattress. Like a little horny slut.”

It’s shameful. Minho’s tone is one for mocking. He’s… torturing him. And yet he looks like he might just come one more time from that alone.

“M-min…” Hannie whimpers, a slurred sound of pleasure.

“Oh, beauty. He even wants more.” Jisung’s eyes open, staring at you two from below, and he moans.

You blink, but slowly, you seem to get it. Or, if you asked Jisung, you were a godess sent straight-out from heaven.

“But can he… beg like a… a pretty slut?”

Minho nearly comes untouched at your tone. The way they’re already corrupting you, how you’re degrading Jisung already, watching how he’s unconciously grinding against the mattress again, overstimulating himself.

“Ngh, fuck… p-princess…” his hands travel to your thighs, clinging to them like a lifeline.

You’re unsure of what to do, because you know what to say, holding back for a second.

“Beauty,” Minho kisses your neck. “What’s that brain of you thinking, mmh?”

Your blush covers your whole face, and you smile, as if you’ve been caught on a white lie.

“I… want to, um. Want you to do to him what you did to me.”

Jisung freezes in his place. Minho’s eyes darken. “Keep talking, beauty. Spare no detail.”

Your shyness fades as you look at Ji’s face, reeling at how he moans softly, his body just a tiny bit spent, yet he’s paying close attention to you and your words, not wanting to stop even for a second. The intensity of his stare makes heat hit you, unexpected yet welcomed. 

And with hooded eyes and weak legs, you turn to face both Minho and Jisung, letting go of what you’re thinking without giving yourself the chance to second guess it. 

“I want you to finger him. While you fuck me. And then I want him to fuck me.” 

Perplexed. There are little to no words Minho can manage to say, if any. He knows that he’s a sentence away from losing himself completely to the sensation, your mind and body now completely under the control of the aphrodisiac that is their company and undivided attention, and the intense pleasure it induces. 

“Hyung.” Han’s eyes are teary, and he looks so pretty. 

Why would Minho resist?

He takes you by your wrists and pulls you towards him, kissing you in a way that makes your mind and body completely submissive and compliant. There it is. Minho is finally kissing you, claiming you with each stroke of his tongue. And now he holds no restraint, his hands exploring your body, his touch becoming more urgent and passionate with each moan that goes past your swollen, kissable lips. 

His body presses even harder against yours, pinning you against the mattress as he kisses you deeply, his lips and tongue tracing a path down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Minho bites down gently on the sensitive skin of your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he continues his assault on your senses, his desire for you growing more and more intense.

He moans softly into the kiss, his hands wandering along your body, his touch hungry, as if he couldn't get enough of you —and he can’t, he’s well aware that you might be his last meal, and he’d be happy about it— grabbing and marking and touching all he can reach. He breaks the kiss briefly, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive skin as he pants heavily, his voice low and hoarse with desire.

"You're driving me crazy, beauty," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with lust. "Can't get enough."

“Minho, please,” you whine and beg, shivering when he stands on his knees, looking at you from above, a dark, nasty shimmer in his eyes. 

He pushes Jisung next to you, face down ass up, which only makes the latter moan, desperate to be touched again. 

“You know what, beauty?” Minho grins, mad, crazy, horny, and all of the above, as he takes back the Dior lace and softly moves your hands over your head, making a pretty bow on your wrists, almost as pretty as his needy princess. He’s thankful Jisung wanted to buy that perfume. 

“I’m going to fuck you. Because you want to, don’t you, beauty?” His snicker brings heat to your whole body, and it hits you where you’re restrained, Minho’s hands pinching and teasing all over your torso, watching you crumble and whimper underneath him. “And I’m going to make him come too. You two want to be used like little toys, and it’s just what I’m about to do.” 

He bends down to reach for the lube in the bedside table, but uses that opportunity to meanily bite your cheek. It feels warm under his tongue, the skin red, not only from the teasing bite but from how deep you’re blushing. 

Minho keeps talking while he slowly removes your ruined panties and Jisung’s soiled underwear. 

“I’ll fuck you so good, beauty. So good you won’t ever feel the same, if you fuck that scum you call a boyfriend. I’ll make you come so hard you won’t even remember his name.” 

You don’t know what happens first, but surely, Jisung and you start whining and moaning, panting as Minho fails to keep a steady pace on both of you, his thrusts irregular as pleasure takes hold of him. 

He’s reeling in pleasure, whispering into your ear in between moans and grunts how good you feel, how tight your pretty little pussy clenches around him, how you’re going to milk him dry as he keeps pouncing on you. “If y-you, ever, ever, ever doubt who you belong to…” he moans, watching you cry in pleasure, listening to Hannie’s slurred babbling, failing to get a good grip on the bed sheets. “Remember… that you can always come back… princess…”

After all, his duty as a thief wasn’t only stealing. He wasn’t going to complain when he’d kill for you to sit on his face. Just for starters. 

It doesn’t take long for Jisung to come on his own palm, shivering in pleasure, panting, but smiling at you, and —with his other hand— grabbing yours while you moan and whine and whimper, so close once again. 

T-too much— Don’t stop. Yes, yes, please!

Moaning so beautifully, Minho crumbles. His words are slurred as he whines, something about filling you up that makes you see stars as he somehow thrusts even deeper.

“There, there, ah… f-fuck, I can’t…” 

Dazed, fucked-out, drunk and lost in pleasure, you’re only able to let out louder sounds, tugging at your restraint as the Dior bow keeps you grounded, and Jisung’s now clean hand —you missed when that happened, yet you’re not bothered enough to question it— presses figure eights on your clit. And not even a minute later, you’re both gasping and moaning, and you throw your head back as he comes inside of you. 

It takes a moment for the three of you to move. For a minute, the world stops spinning, and you relish the warmth of his bodies, next and over you, your head still fuzzy with pleasure. 

You and Minho whine when he pulls out, and you shiver at the loss of heat over you and the emptiness inside you. Jisung is quick to fix the first one, softly moving your head over to his shoulder, and he leans his chin over yours. 

“Hey, princess.” He still has a red hue on his cheeks, but you’re pretty sure you’re matching, if not worse. 

You hum, weak, and he can’t help but giggle. His soft hands cradle your face, and he sighs, stroking your nose with his tenderly. 

“I’m really happy you joined us tonight.” 

And with the strength you have left, you merely move to kiss his palm, your eyes closed. They remain closed when Minho comes back, even when he softly moves your arms and links them behind his nape. 

Han heads into the bathroom first, making sure the water of the bathtub is warm enough before sliding inside, helping Minho put you down, leaning your head against Ji’s shoulder and in between his legs. 

You’re half asleep, but you smile when Minho’s hands stroke your legs. Your legs feel sore and you’re a blink away from the best sleep of your life, but first, the best night of your life makes sure to take care of you after all the fun. 

Two pairs of hands clean up the mess they turned you to, and you’re so happy to be taken care of as sweetly and as gently as they are doing, that you weakly peck Minho and Jisung’s lips. 

No words are needed, and Jisung hugs you from behind, pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades. Minho links his hand with yours, fondly staring at the two of you before him. 

Thieves like Han and Minho are masters in their craft. With professional care, they dry your body, tender touches fully lulling you to sleep when Jisung grabs one of the discarded white-collared shirts and gingerly closes its buttons. Bathed, spent, and tired, they settle you in between them, with your back to Minho, and Jisung kisses his boyfriend’s hand, covering all of you with the bed’s blanket. 

Sure, maybe you didn’t do all that you wanted that night. But you don’t mind it. Warm, clean, and thoroughly satisfied, you’re fine with the need that hits you even after you wake up. You want to be theirs so much, and despite the estrangement, it’s a fact that doesn’t change —not even after it dawns on you that neither you nor them introduced themselves, and you don’t know their names.

[🎀 ☆ 🍽️ ☆ 🎀]

kats, who needs a high —infinite, even— dose of grass, stat.

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

[cosycafune]

JEALOUSY; EREN JAEGER:

a summary of this chapter: your boyfriend is mad at you for dismissing him the whole night, chatting away to your puny friend. naturally, he wants to have his way with you — just so your full focus is on him.

a synopsis of acts: smut, rough sex, corruption kink, sadistic tendencies, cumming, creampies, sizing, crying, brat taming and potentially more.

“Eren, please!” You so desperately spewed, your drool inevitably on display whilst Eren’s ample cock laid upon the bottom of your curling stomach.

“Please, what?” Eren bluntly questions you, the largeness of his delicious cock swiftly moving towards the soppiness of your folds.

Eren has sufficiently ruined the entirety of your resolve, mindlessly committing sexual acts that he know would have you eating out the palm of his broad hand. His hand. Not no random man your gaze steers upon, to elicit jealousy within the neglected aspects of him.

Inevitably, Eren knew you were his to indulge in — to stuff the vastness of his cock within and consistently breed you until you’re marked and tinted with a beautiful ivory.

“P-Put it in!” Whimpering, tearing and extremely dazed, you chew your bottom lip with the uttermost shame. Shame as the liveliness in Eren’s viridian, emotion-packed eyes completely admire yet scrutinise the desperation within your choked pleas.

“Why? You spent all day pretending to ignore me, just to talk to that aloof man,” At Eren’s harsh statement, his thick brows furrow before he skims the girth of his cock between your nimble thighs — unable to fathom the concept of not overwhelming and dominating you.

“B-Because I’m yours,” Gulping at your bestowed announcement, your eyes widen as Eren swiftly burrows himself within your cunt — leaving your eyes to widen erratically.

“Say it again,” Loathing the lack of repetition you gift, Eren greedily presses his hips upon your pelvic structure. Cock stricken, your purpose completely flees your lips at the impenetrable closeness of his blessed hips.

“‘M yours! All yours! Ah!” Your melodically generated moans command Eren into beginning to harshly pound within you, yearning to completely break away at the bratty exterior and interior you had settled upon him.

“Then, don’t do that shit again,” Eren grunts out, his eyes lovingly cloudy while he bucks his hips loudly within you — slamming into you at an inhumane pacing.

“F-Fuck! I won’t!” A barely comprehensible mess, you feel the beautiful within Eren’s pace — entwined with unwritten emotions.

Eren’s usually so whiny, so seeing him dominant, complex and riddled with anger heightened your emotions but also played upon your building guilt.

“Say it again!” Eren’s eyes boil and soothe at the concept of you lovingly taking his thick cock, completely overwhelmed and worshipping the heavenly feeling of it all.

“I love you…and I’m yours,” Softening slightly, Eren continues to abuse his reckless pace — his lips instinctively kissing your unchallenged lips.

“I-I love you, too,” Wavering momentarily, Eren lips delicately smother your own — all before he safely buries his head within the crook of your neck.

“Ah!” You harshly moan out, feeling yourself subconsciously cum upon the entirety of his inhumanely-thrusting cock.

“G-Got to be quick, I’ve got a concert soon,” Despite Eren’s suggestion, you innately wrap your toned legs around his sculpted waist — knowing that he’s bound to cum.

“I’d…get you pregnant, just so you’d be all…mine,” Eren chokes out, his delicate breaths laboured before he constructs himself into filling your flowery womb with the soul of his thick, white seed.

“Y-Yes!” Panting with false agreement, you glance into Eren’s strained eyes — drawing him into your homely arms.

“S-Shit,” Carried away, Eren comfortably pulls out of you — glimpsing at you with subtly glassy eyes.

“I’m sorry for making you jealous, Eren,” Apologising so sincerely, you press kisses upon his lips — uncaring for the arrays of cum that spew from your pulsating, abused cunt.

“Just don’t do it again,” Eren groans out, “I love you, though.” Muttering, curling into your hair stroking, Eren relishes all the love that you have embedded within him

“I won’t,” Kissing the crown of his forehead, you apply a kiss upon the top of Eren’s crumpled mind.

—

do not copy my work; all rights reserved. cosycafune, 2024.

[wandagcre]

push it for the pleasure | wanda maximoff 🔞

(College!Perv!Bestfriend Wanda Maximoff x Innocent!Fem Reader)

Wanda’s perverted thirst gets the best of her. You were irresistible and simply for her taking. And what does she do? She doesn’t resist. Instead, Wanda feeds the gnawing, filthy, and hungry monster inside of her by having her way with you even while you’re unconscious.

WARNING: heavy dubcon/noncon themes, fingering, perverted actions such as implied stealing undies, staring, touching and taking nonconsensual nudes, daddy kink (W), corruption kink, somnophilia | 18+ men & minors dni. Words: 3.6k Note: part of the perv!wanda series. you can consider it as a backstory that happened before this oneshot ;)

[perv!wanda series] | [masterlist]

Wanda had an affinity for your tedious nature. Whether it comes down to your personal interests or university workload; not solely rooted by your clear determination written in your adorable face that she admires, but rather, how it leaves you exhausted to your very bones. Tired meant the manifestations of neglect — one that left you comfortable on your bed as the aftermath. 

You were so lucky to have her, not only Wanda has slid a bottle of water or a snack on your side, but on a good day with a less constricting schedule of hers, she's got the privilege of pressing firm around the strained muscles of your shoulder — feeling you succumb into the comfort and her ears being rewarded of your soft moans.

 

A purr escaped your mouth. "That feels so good Wands..." Your body slumped in a relaxed state.

Wanda bit her lip at the innocent play of your words. "Anything for you, dorogaya. Do you want me to press harder?"

"Ah... yes, if- if it's alright with you," came a meek response out of your lips. 

Wanda knew the effect of her native language on you. She couldn't help but lightly pinch your burning cheeks.

As Wanda kneaded the kinks out of your tired muscles, she couldn't help but thirst for more. The tendency of her insatiable want when it comes to you only grows impossibly bigger every day. Whether it was her dying need to touch you or your attention fixated on her - Wanda needs it all.

"It would be better if you took off your shirt. It’s more direct and effective," She murmured at the shell of your ear. Excitement coursed through Wanda's body as you squirmed in your seat.

You turn your head to the side in question. "Wouldn't that be too much of your time?"

"Nonsense. I love doing this for you."

Wanda wolfishly grinned as she saw you eventually nod in agreement.

Oh, you were so pliant and ready for her.

Your bestfriend had to stop her scandalous thoughts of wanting to bite and mark your back as you undressed your top in front of her. She admires the view of your back and its dimples, her mouth-watering and well-awareness of how soft they were. Wanda didn't waste any time on touching you — the breathy innocent moans and soft tilts of your head as you succumbed to her touch whenever Wanda hit a satisfying spot made her mind go haywire. Her thumb applying pressure over the bottom of your trapezius; just where your nape rests upon particularly was a sweet spot. 

You looked lost; wrapped in complete bliss. 

"Can I touch you whenever?"

"Like this?" 

"Yes," Wanda doesn't miss a beat. It was risky and ambiguous, and so she adds, "I love your skin and how soft it is under my touch. It’s so… comforting.”

She decides to take more than she should've and ran her hand across the expanse of your back to caress — how you shivered was hard to go amiss for the woman. 

You know nothing can go wrong especially when it's Wanda. She's the best at attending to your needs, a thought that mildly scared you of how attuned she was, but you knew it was always rooted in benevolence and affection.

Therefore, you couldn't help but recall how come this woman stuck out negatively to other people — having alleged issues of her temperament combined with her altruistic nature. They felt nothing more than a made-up childish rumor in the playground to you as to how Wanda easily conversed with you on that first week when you'd approached her brazenly.

Wanda had figured it out not so long ago; how the double-edged sword trait of yours was how you always believed to see the goodness in the people first. It was a debatable display of strength and flaw.

Besides, you liked having her attention for some reason. Wanda's perfect smile was often so reassuring for you, effortlessly putting you at ease.

"Okay, Wands." was your good-humored reply. Your bestfriend couldn't help but press her lips against the top of your head. You smelled wonderful. Wanda really couldn’t get enough of you.

Your unwavering blind faith-filled Wanda with so much pride.

The cherry on top of it all was how Wanda has taken care of your pretty princess parts; one between your legs and the occasional massages on your breasts. 

It was so easy. 

Wanda thrived on seeing your beautiful irises filled with innocence and gleam as you met her mischievous emerald ones. You've given her the opportunity of a lifetime and she intends to relish every given chance that she can get. It took her baby steps to get here – once she figured out where your affection levels lay, she initiated simple touches – whether it was a hug, tugging you close to her proximity, or now her intentions that stood morally corrupt; Wanda will find a way to accidentally brush against your private parts.

While you lay on one of her arms, Wanda gently ran her fingers through your soft cheeks as you faced her. She soaked in the sweet smell of your shampoo and the distinguishable scent of yours that Wanda could not get enough of. You looked angelic and waiting to be cherished. Soon enough, Wanda seeks for another type of comfort; her hands descending underneath your shirt, tiptoeing almost, with an unstoppable grin on her face — two fingers pushing under the band of your bra. 

"Daddy's here. She'll always be here for you. I'm going to take care of you, dorogaya." Wanda whispered voice lilted with pure desire before her naughty hand came to cup one of your breasts. The recessed night glow that came from your dorm’s window was the only source of light, her actions being done in the darkness amplified the thrill in Wanda’s actions.

A suppressed moan came out of her lips. God, you were so fucking full — supple and fitted perfectly to her palm. One squeeze was followed by a dozen more that inevitably led to pinching and enclosed her fingers from your areola to your now perked tip. 

"All for Daddy..." 

Her thumb came to play for more, in circular motions around your nipple. Your breathing pattern was nuanced although still haven't shown clear evidence of you waking up anytime soon. Wanda rolled the sleeves of her sweatshirt, knowing she had a whole night ahead of her.

Eventually, it wasn't enough. She needed more. 

And so Wanda will make sure to get more. 

Careful not to wake you, she pulls out her arm that served as your pillow from earlier. You now lay on your back, still unphased, Wanda raised the hem of your shirt to reveal your indoor bra. Her eyes darkened at how pure and dainty you were presented in front of her, your blemishes and moles make up a beautiful constellation in Wanda's eyes.

Because of this, she's somewhat still in disbelief at your admission that no one has taken you yet.

But fret not, Wanda thought, because she's here and she's certain that you won't need anyone else other than her anytime soon.

"Daddy's going to play with you dorogaya, trust that it will be so much fun."

Wanda carefully rolls and pushes up your bra and now reveals your delectable breasts, cushiony and hanging free. This simply calls for another photoshoot. 

She quickly retrieved the Polaroid camera that was atop your nightstand, just beside her rings. She's always brought it for a good reason.

Wanda had three subjects; one was nature and the other was you and no one else. What can she say? you've got her wrapped on your finger as much as she does over you. Her last subject was more risqué and controversial, it was still you — although it was a special one — meant for Wanda's eyes alone.

Wanda had placed her lips on your buttery soft breasts and wet them as she suctioned, her tongue coming into play to swirl them around. Her open-mouthed sucks and kisses filled your skin with red and purple marks. Wanda almost had a heart attack at the hoarse, high-pitched timber, a little trait of yours that you randomly let out before you sleepily stretched your limbs. 

You were so cute.

"Dorogaya? Dorogaya..." Wanda hummed in a sing-song, checking if you were still unconscious. 

Once sure that you're in deep sleep again, Wanda doesn't waste a moment to point her camera at your goodies — another one of the latest artworks she had done over you.

Soon as Wanda wrapped up and brought your bra and shirt in its unrattled state, here she was — pensive and debating whether she should ruin your pussy next.

Her greed over you took over with ease. Quickly, Wanda gathers her cascading hair in her hand and ties it up. She masterfully tugged down your shorts and as it reached your ankle, threw it away somewhere in your room. You even wore the red socks she gave you years ago! Wanda swooned at the cute sight. She caressed gently the expanse of your smooth legs where childhood scars and a few more moles came into better view. 

You weren't wet just yet, of course. Wanda immediately wanted to change that and feel the heat you've been hiding away from her — to feel you around her fingers. 

"You're so ready for Daddy, dorogaya. You don't know how much I want to eat you right now... to get a taste directly from its source, my tongue against your pretty and puffy pussy," Wanda knew you couldn't hear her, but it doesn't stop the wanton monologues of her feverish desires over you. "You're just for Daddy, aren't you?" She ran her fingers sultrily across your lower tummy, down to your pelvis.

It simply made her journey worthwhile. She somewhat wanted to communicate how fuckable your virgin self was for her. It was no longer the case as crossed this bridge a few months ago, but her filthy soul relished in corrupting you — with Wanda in complete control and taking you.

Luckily for Wanda, you've raised one of your legs — caught in a folded position, enough for her to pry you open. 

Setting your ribbon-designed undies aside, Wanda’s mouth watered at your inner walls coming into view that she could not help herself and immediately inserted two fingers inside of your velvety walls. 

"Fuck, you're so warm for Daddy!" Wanda rasps out, her body burning. As though in a cue in response, you huskily moaned in your sleep as well. "You love this, don't you? This won't take long, don't worry, dorogaya..."

Your bed rocked and creaked slowly, as Wanda fucked you asleep. The wetness came pouring and coated her until she was knuckle-deep in you. She stretched your now sopping hole, and the breathy moans tumbled out of your pretty lips now and then.

How you did not wake up yet was a miraculous thing for her.

Before Wanda gets carried away in roughly fingering you enough to rouse you out of your consciousness, she pumps and curls her fingers inside of you once more before reaching for her camera. She spreads your inner thighs apart — the viscous wetness that she loved to see was there. The repeated clicks reverberated and the white flashes of her camera came in the knowing four walls of your dorm.

She even inspects your wetness, rubbing and playing with them with her pinched forefinger and thumb.

A wicked smile breaks out of her in glee and satisfaction as Wanda admires for a moment the mess she has made; successful once again as she looks at the polaroid photos she recently took of you.

She pressed a soft kiss on your temple. "You did so well for Daddy."

Almost half an hour later, you wake up confused. You were wet — your cheeks burned. This was becoming a frequent occurrence and you were too old to pee in the bed. You're more than sure that your bladder was well-adjusted. But was there anything else that was wrong with you down there? You tightly crossed your legs.

Wanda appeared from your bathroom. Right, she stayed the night. She was beautiful even if the constant turning in bed had ruffled her appearance. Although, there were much more pressing matters — this is nothing but humiliating for you, surely this spot did not go amiss for your best friend...

"What’s the matter?" Wanda approaches your side. 

You were hesitant, quick to try pushing her away. "Don't come close! I'm wet... I don't know how it happened. Goodness, I know for a fact I didn’t pee myself. Or did I?"

"You did not, dorogaya. Dummy, it was my fault." Wanda gave out a hearty chuckle at your immovable confusion. 

"How was it your fault?"

"I spilled my drink on the bed," Wanda played with your hair and you immediately folded. You were so easy to please. "I was just about to wake you so you can change your shorts and underwear."

You let out another relieved sigh. You were happy to know that it wasn’t your bladder acting up.

"Oh, that kinda explains it. But I think it wasn't your drink that caused this the other nights…”

“Other nights?” Wanda echoed in feigned confusion.

“I-I often find myself wet down there," You confided to Wanda who nodded attentively.

Like a lightbulb moment, Wanda seemed to understand. "It's normal. Our vagina does it by nature, as a way of cleaning itself. It's called a discharge, dorogaya."

As you digest Wanda’s words, confidently assuring you, you take one of her hands and lace it with yours — giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Wands. All this time I thought something was wrong with me." You nervously chuckled, beyond glad that the case was sorted out.

"That's why I'll always be here for you." Wanda shoots you a pearly smile. She tilted her head, "Now, why don't you change your clothes?" She brought her other hand that carried your clean panties and shorts. 

Though you were grateful, embarrassment filled you again as you took it from Wanda with your head down and moved away from to bed to start changing.

Wanda sat quietly at your bed and peered curiously over your timid movements. Unbeknownst to you, she was waiting for whether you'd instruct her to look away as you strip down your ruined shorts and undies. She orchestrated the whole thing after her secret session with you, after all.

"C-Can you look away for a bit, Wands?" You requested, but your timid voice cracked in the process.

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "We have the same parts, dorogaya. Besides, I also change in front of you – why does it matter?" She counters and you can't rebut anything else because it is the truth. "I won't judge you. I'm just... impatient to cuddle with you again."

There isn't harm in it, you suppose. Wanda has always been there for you and has proven herself worthy of your trust. So, you affectionately smile at Wanda's needy self.

Your whole back view almost faced your bestfriend, much to her delight — only that her jaw slacked as she got a brief glimpse of your bare ass. Wanda was certain that it was buttery soft just as your hypnotizing breasts were. 

You saw the clear, gooey, and viscous substance that left a mark in the center of your underwear. Your face curled up in a slight grimace. Even if you knew better about it now — all thanks to Wanda — it was somehow still icky for you to look at.

Wanda hands the clean replacements and before you can tug up your new shorts, she pulls you in her direction unexpectedly and brash to your liking.

"Wands– what?" Wanda didn't speak, touched you gently as though you were going to break. Her hand remained on your hips. 

"Hush now, dorogaya. I need to check something." Her tone sounded serious so you let her. Although it felt too intimate, blood immediately came rushing to your ears and cheeks. "I think you need to replace some of them..." 

You try to protest out of timidness, "But—"

"Let me inspect you first. Promise I'll be gentle. It won't be weird," Wanda gave you a condescending smile and you easily caved in.

You feel Wanda everywhere in your body. Her touch was electric on your lower back, the other was too close to your private parts — all wandering. Wanda's fingers came to trace underneath the garter of your underwear. From your pelvis to your innermost thighs, you almost closed your legs shut in reflex.

The air felt ambiguously thick.

Her hands continue to roam around the material — excruciatingly, it was underneath your buttcheek and the pubis area especially, where Wanda’s hands gravitate and wander back onto — doing motions as though smoothening it out.

You let out a sharp inhale and your stomach twitches each time in sync.

"This shouldn't be too hard and tight for you. Not only does it leave marks, but it's uncomfortable, isn't it? The material also is too thin. It's bound to tear off soon." Wanda lists out and all you can think is holy shit, she's right. You weren't confident with your picks when you shopped for them, in all honesty.

"Yeah. I wasn't sure what to pick..." You admit with your eyes looking at your sock-covered feet and your hands clasped in shame.

Besides, you somehow keep on misplacing them. You were baffled by now because you were getting understocked with the amount of undies you had. Where have they all gone?

"Tell you what," Wanda calmly calls your attention and tilts your head up with her hand, "I'd take you to shop some and help you throughout the process so I can teach you too. Don't worry, it's all my treat dorogaya."

Your eyes beamed. You need as much help as you can. "You'll do that for me? But... isn't it too much? I can’t ask that of you.”

"I don't mind, it's not like we do it often. I’m personally offering." Wanda shrugged. She had a point. You'll stop her the next time she insists... maybe in return, you'll do something nice for her.

Sneakily, one of her hands that rested on your lower back descended to your ass cheeks and came in contact to slap them. You sharply gasped and flinched upon the sudden contact, giving Wanda an unamused look. You hoped that she wouldn't detect the fluster in your appearance underneath it.

You didn't understand how it was somewhat satisfying for you. It was a mere play, an act that was nothing more but to tease you — but it felt good against your ass.

You whisper-yelled, calling out her outrageous act.

"Wanda!"

She sports a mischievous smile, her perfect teeth biting down her lower lip. Wanda shook her head and finally raised her hands in defeat.

"Come on! I thrive on riling you up. It's essentially my duty. Now come back and get comfy here in bed. You deserve more sleep. I'll take care of these," She points to the clothes you stripped out of. "And no complaints. I don't mind, I've seen all of you now dorogaya."

"You will be the death of me."

"I love you too," She teasingly replied before disappearing into your view and the words of your best friend made your heart jump.

You groaned in the soft pillow in surrender although it was too much for you — you knew that Wanda's intentions were coming from a good place. She's nothing but thoughtful to you. Soon, the harmony of cold and warmth of your sheets and duvet became too comfortable. You have proven Wanda right and easily succumbed to sleep once again.

Meanwhile, Wanda gathers the polaroid photos she took just a few minutes ago. She closes the door and threw your shorts to the hamper. But your pretty and soaked underwear? It's coming with her.

With the still-damp material of your undies, Wanda strips out her bottoms and sat to the closed toilet seat. She places the fabric over her now exposed pussy; not wasting any time rubbing it against her wet cunt, starting slow, and even thrusting it inside to stimulate and tease her filthy fantasies of you even more. 

God, here she was, touching herself at the thought of you and the photos she had taken of your pretty princess parts. 

Wanda took a good look at it; albeit with much effort as her eyes were threatening to shut at the sensation. It was easy to recall her indecent touches — the feeling of your folds ridiculously soft and unearthly, stretching your labia so she can insert her fingers inside of your opening and how it sucked her in slowly — fuck, you were so tight!

These thoughts spurred Wanda to rub herself with harder pressure and dared to tug and play with her clit — all while covered with your soaked undies. It was somewhat rough against the vulnerable lines and ridges of her labia and provided the undeniably irresistible friction that she craved, doing it repeatedly until Wanda stretched herself out.

It was your cum coating her own pulsating and clenching pussy. She can't help but moan at the thought as she touches herself inside these four, cold walls. How Wanda can only wish instead of her fingers, it was your dainty ones. Even better, you're on your knees for her... eyes wide, expectant, and obedient to her orders. You always looked at her in a certain way that made her stomach flip in adoration and glee. In her filthiest imaginations, Wanda is calling the shots, ordering you to go flatten up your tongue like a good girl and to lap her faster—!

Wanda finally cums hard, a guttural low moan tumbling out of her lips. 

Fuck, she got so wet that it seeped out, the woman was sitting in her mess. Gripping and glancing at the jerking-off materials, she couldn't be more proud of herself today. 

Another for her beloved and favorite collection — all thanks to you. 

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[aesthetixhoe]

warnings: cursing, thigh riding, soft!dom! ethan, inexperienced!sub! reader, fem!reader, possessive ethan, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, lots of praise, hints of subspace

CURRENTLY THINKING ABOUT

slightly experienced!ethan with an inexperienced!reader.

You were in his lap, hand tangled in his hair, lips interlocked, his hands on your hips, slowly migrating towards your ass. When they finally land and grips your ass you gasp slightly in his mouth.

His hips buck up, making you whimper.

“Are you ok with this? I really like where this is going but I want to make sure you're ok with it too.” He looks up at you breathless with need in his eyes.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you look into his eyes. You nod softly. “I'm ok... I just...”

“Sweetheart, if you're not alright we don't have to do anything, I promise. I want you to be sure before we do anything.” He grabs your hand and runs his thumb over your knuckle comfortingly.

“I've never done this...” You look down at his hands stroking yours.

“You've never been touched by someone else?” He asks, joining your eyes on both of your guys' hands.

“No, Ethan... I've never done anything. Not even by myself...” You speak even softer than before. He hooks his thumb and finger around your chin, lifting your head up so your eyes meet his.

“Baby, are you saying you've never came before?” His question is less condescending than you expected. Everyone else you've revealed the fact to has lost their minds over it. You nod your head softly. “And you want to?” He asks for reassurance, and you respond again with the same head movement.

His lips go back to yours with a new found fervor. It was like the idea of him being the first person to ever make you cum drove him wild.

“If I do something too far just tell me and I'll stop ok?” You nod again. “I need words sweetheart.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Yes.” You know you're turned on, you've felt it before, especially around Ethan, but you don't know how to act on it. “What do I do?” You question quietly.

“Just relax and do what feels right baby. Here, move your hips a little.” His hands fall and grips the meat of your hips, dragging them up and down his thigh slowly. You sigh and your head moves to lay on his shoulder. The friction of your clothing up against your clit makes your body heat up and your breath gets shallower. “Feel good?” He asks, checking in.

You whine an ‘mhm’ into his ear. With the confirmation he speeds his hands up, making you gasp. “Oh god, E...” You moan, muffling yourself into his neck.

He leans back, stopping the motion of your hips. “Nuh uh beautiful, wanna hear you.”

“‘M sorry, was scared I sounded bad...” You whisper. You've never done this before and the insecurity was coming out.

“Oh no baby, I wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make alright?”

“Yes sir.” His hips buck up. Holy shit. While Ethan was more experienced than you, he had still never been called sir. He might explode.

“Fuck baby, like it when you call me that. Can't wait to feel you one day, gonna feel so good wrapped around me.” His grip on you gets tighter and the pace of your hips speed up. You can feel your stomach starting to get tighter and your head falls backwards, exposing your neck to Ethan. He jumps on the opportunity to mark the area. “Gonna mark you up, love. You'll have to show everyone you're mine. Show everyone who makes you feel good. Who is it huh?” He says in between kisses to your neck, and after asking the final question he sucks on the expanse of your neck.

“You!” You moan, “Fuck, you Ethan. You're making me feel good. So good. I- feels weird.” Your hips stutter, unsure of if this is the feeling everyone talks about.

Ethan pulls back, looking into your eyes “No baby, don't stop, it's ok. Keep going, you're gonna cum.” He speeds your hips up again. Your head falls forward onto his chest. There's nothing in your brain, you feel like you can't speak anymore, all you can feel is Ethan and the friction between your legs. It's all too much but not enough.

Your thighs squeeze together unintentionally, but it adds the cherry on top for what you need to cum. Ethan catches on and tenses his thigh muscle. “Gon... Gonna- E- f-fuck-”

“It's ok baby, let go, cum for me.”

[vanilladove]

‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ haunted

spooktober 2024 masterlist

⁶𖤐⁶pairing: demon!fyodor dostoevsky x maid!fem!reader

⁶𖤐⁶genre: (light) smut w/ plot; 18+ only!

⁶𖤐⁶content warnings: nsfw 18+, virginity loss, implied age gap, demon marking, dubcon, supernatural, blood kink, corruption kink, 19th century au inaccuracies

⁶𖤐⁶summary: you're a young maid working for a mysterious, occult-obsessed household, so everything seems normal when a demon appears out of nowhere and is friendly to you...until he marks you; myshka = mouse

⁶𖤐⁶word count: 6.0k

You shivered upon feeling a cold breath against the nape of your neck. Not that it was too unusual⎯this new house was always chilly. That was one of the many strange things you stopped questioning once you started being a maid for the wealthy Ivanov family. The lady of the house had taken pity upon you, a sweet and innocent orphan of the church.

The Ivanovs themselves were interesting...they were obsessed with the occult and their house reflected it. The whole house was black, dimly lit by chandeliers, covered in dark rugs and obscure art, and displayed the family's several haunted possessions. Allegedly, Lady Ivanova had sacrificed one of her children to summon a demon, and several of the previous maids and servants had mysteriously disappeared after having tea with her.

However, you didn't have time to worry about baseless rumors with how much they were paying you and how much more freedom you had now that you were gone from the orphanage. The Ivanovs had gone to a big circus in Ukraine, so you were currently watching the house and in charge of keeping it tidy in their absence.

You resumed hanging up some of Lady Ivanova's gowns, alone in her gothic yet luxurious room. Although cleaning usually brought you some peace, your skin always crawled upon going into her room. She had several creepy dolls, stuffed animals, and figures up on the wall, and you would turn them around to avoid their large glass eyes and deranged faces. Exhaling, you were shocked to see your breath materialize from the low temperature of the room, watching the white fog leave your lips.

Crash!

You yelped upon hearing something fall to the floor. Turning around, you looked to see a wooden demon and a doll dressed in a maid's uniform on the floor. The doll's black gown and white lace apron mirrored your attire. Your stomach turned as you hastily picked them up, rotating them to check for any damages before placing them back on their respective wall shelves. You put the doll back, but the wooden demon's shelf was a bit higher, so you went up on your tiptoes to try and reach it, but your hands flailed helplessly in the air. You sighed as you went down, looking up again to try and see if there was a better angle to reach up from.

Stepping to the side, you used your free hand to grip a nearby shelf and went up on your toes again, grabbing the demon figurine, but the outcome was still the same. You heard the hearty laugh of a man in the background, but you dismissed it, determined to put the demon up. Hearing voices was nothing new, and it seemed like the most activity always came from the lady's room. You swore whatever was in her room was always mocking you.

"Need some help, little girl?" You heard a sultry voice close to you.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Just let me put this cursed piece of wood back on the shelf! You tried to ignore it⎯after all, you weren't quite sure if you were going mad or if supernatural presences really did dwell within the house.

You stepped up again, struggling until a firm hand wrapped around your waist and pushed the figurine up back to its rightful place. You paused, relieved yet alarmed by whatever presence had its chest pressed to your back, which had caused your skin to run cold again.

You yelped upon feeling another squeeze on your waist and cold breath fanning the shell of your ear, "Not even a thank you? Did no one teach you your manners, dear?" Whipping around, you tried to catch the man's face but all that was left was a faded brown book. Peering over, you caught its title.

Crime and Punishment.

Sighing, you turned all the dolls and figures back to their original position before suspiciously picking the book up and heading to the library.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

You had always been pretty lonely. At the orphanage, you watched as your friends got adopted into new homes and the sisters started to leave for new places of need. Even though you had left that place, the Ivanovs had more hired you as a servant rather than as a daughter. You couldn't get along as well with the children either. The fraternal twins that were close to your age both tried to play tricks on you and cut your hair in your sleep, so you tried to avoid conversation with them. You just cleaned and did as you were told, reading in the unused library in your spare time.

Although the house never really felt empty⎯there was always some sort of entity lurking. Lady Ivanova had made you discard the cross necklace the church gifted you, claiming it would scare the 'residents' of the house. They too would play games with you, stealing and rearranging your belongings or messing up the furniture and decor, but it had stopped shortly after an old butler suddenly quit. After that, you would only see human-like shadows move across the walls and hear the disembodied voice of a Russian man. The house got even colder, and it was always the worst inside the library. You had an underlying suspicion that some new entity had possessed the house, but you were always too scared to search further.

But today you had to push aside your fears and enter the library to put the book back. Walking towards the bookshelves, you spotted some faint white smoke in the distance and followed the scent of freshly brewed black tea to a small table with two chairs.

Seated in one of the chairs was a tall, pale man wearing a white suit and matching ushanka, with a long black coat draped over his shoulders. He was holding a novel in one hand and a teacup in the other. You hugged the book tighter to your body. You had never seen a full-body apparition before, much less one that could consume human food or read literature. This spirit must be powerful.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the older man spoke first, "Ah, myshka, you finally decided to join me," he pulled the empty chair closer to him and patted on its pastel floral cushion, "Come, sit. I made tea for us."

A shiver ran down your back as his magenta eyes stared into you, along with the pleased smile on his face. You stepped back in fear, "W-Who are you? Another malevolent house spirit?" You mentally planned the fastest escape route since you weren't allowed to exorcise any entities per the family's rules, but the man sighed upon seeing your wandering eyes. He placed his novel on top of a neat pile of books beside his chair and crossed his legs, tilting his face to the side.

"Well, I am possessing this house. But I'm just in here because of boredom." He flashed you another warm smile, but you still stared at him warily. He had to build up some more trust with you, so he pushed a tiered stand with Russian tea cakes and gingerbread towards you, "Myshka, I know you're lonely, and you surely must be hungry from all that cleaning!" He pushed a teacup with hot tea and a smaller pitcher with condensed along with the stand, "Why don't you just have some tea and talk with me, so you can eat, and I can relieve some of my boredom? No one can tell you off anyways⎯there's nobody in this house but the two of us".

Your eyes perked up at that, and you couldn't deny the appeal of the sweets in front of you⎯dessert had always been your weakness. Clearly the stranger didn't seem to have any bad intentions, but you couldn't really tell since you'd always trusted people a bit too easily. You were also still shaken from the figures falling off the wall, so you supposed a short mental break wouldn't hurt. You still had over two weeks to clean, anyways.

"At least sit and talk with me for a while to repay me for helping you put those cursed dolls back on the shelf". You clutched the book harder.

"That was you? You helped me?"

He nodded slowly in response, laughing to himself as he recalled seeing you struggle on your feet, trying to pull yourself up on the wall for dear life. "Indeed. I tried to play a trick on you at first, but watching you jumping up was so pitiful I had to come to your salvation."

Salvation, huh. You exhaled, deciding that having tea with your so-called savior wasn't too dangerous.

The man smiled as you slowly uncrossed your arms and placed Crime and Punishment on top of his little book pile. As you sat down on the cushion, you watched his expression to see if anything would change, but he only kept his upturned smile. You usually played along with any spirits that came to the house, but it didn't seem like the man wanted anything more than tea with you. Somehow, you felt like you could trust him.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Sipping your milky tea, you took in the new stranger in front of you. You learned his name was Fyodor, and he was summoned by the Ivanovs, supposedly for protection from lesser spirits. He didn't elaborate much on his summoning ritual, but he emphasized that he was simply just interested in observing humans of this era.

"So...are you..." You put your teacup down, trying to take in his appearance, "...a phantom?" You were met with a blank stare, so you guessed again, "...Poltergeist? But you don't seem very disruptive..."

Fyodor sneered cockily, "You think that lowly of me, dear?" You pouted, dipping some gingerbread in your tea.

"I'm a demon. I've been watching over this world for a long time."

A chill ran down your spine from that. A demon? Wasn't he being too nice for a malevolent being? You guessed that explained why the house was so icy and devoid of its usual activity, though. Although your heartbeat was increasing, you tried to remind yourself of the fact that he didn't want to hurt you.

"Do you...drink blood then?" Fyodor leaned forward, eyes full of amusement. You swore you could almost see a glint of red in them.

"Hmmm...not quite. It doesn't satiate me anymore, and I've long outgrown the taste. I much prefer the taste of souls and innocence now, although I'll occasionally indulge in mortal food".

"How old are you then?" You asked, biting into a jam-filled tea cake. Fyodor smirked, entertained by your innocent curiosity. He also found your love for sweets to be quite cute and endearing, matching your delightful personality.

"I stopped keeping track a while ago, but I've lived long enough to see humans repeat their foolishness time and time again," Fyodor tipped your chin up, running a pale finger over your lips to collect the stray powdered sugar and jam sticking on them. His touch made your stomach flutter, and he brought his finger to his mouth, "In human years, I'm probably close to my late twenties⎯maybe 27 or so?" He licked the tip of his finger, making your cheeks heat up profusely. "Well, I'm certainly older than you, no?"

You shivered from the fact that he'd basically indirectly kissed you, "Y-Yes, I guess so!" You chirped, making Fyodor snicker.

"You keep shivering, darling. This house must be too cold..." He shifted, standing up to walk over and drape his fur-lined coat over your smaller frame. You gripped onto the long coat, reveling in the warmth it gave you, murmuring a grateful thank you under your breath. He bent down on his knees to get closer to your height and cupped your face tenderly. "Better?"

You nodded, sure he could see the blush across your face. "Stay warm, myshka, I'd be upset if you froze to death one day and couldn't talk to me anymore." His smile suddenly dropped, which caught you a bit off-guard; you watched him stand back up and dust-off his clothes, signaling he was going to leave.

Remembering your maid duties, you started to stack the fine china and gather the dainty silverware before you felt Fyodor's hands stop you. You looked up in confusion.

"Is something wrong? I have to clean up. If I don't, we'll get rat⎯"

"Leave it there, dear. I'll take care of it." Giving him a puzzled look, you put your hands back in your lap. "I'll talk to you tomorrow night. There are some ghosts outside I have to take care of." Somehow, him leaving you made you sad. It reminded you of when you'd make friends at the orphanage just for them to suddenly leave.

Fyodor took your delicate hand in his and brought it up to his lips, and he pressed a light kiss on the backs of your fingers, lingering momentarily to say, "Sleep well myshka," and then slowly fading away, the tea set-up going away with him.

You pulled his coat closer to your body, "Goodnight, Fyodor..." You whispered into nothing.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

That night, you couldn't stop thinking about him...the mysterious demon haunting the house who somehow was nice to you. Did that make him a friend of some sort? You weren't too sure, as the church and orphanage had instilled in you to always fear and never trust supernatural beings.

Anxiously tossing and turning, you didn't see Fyodor again until the next day. You had just finished drying your freshly washed hair, and you nearly screamed after walking out of your bathroom and seeing him sitting at the foot of your bed, composedly reading a book again.

Upon hearing you stumble across the floor, he perked up with his signature smirk, "Ah, dear, did I scare you? I did tell you I would come back tonight, didn't I?" He slowly closed his book, and placed it next to a flower vase on your nightstand.

You shivered⎯there was an instant change in temperature as you stepped closer to your bed. It got colder and colder as you approached the demon. Fyodor's lowered gaze made you conscious of your thin nightgown which generously exposed your neck and collarbones and stopped right before your cleavage. Not wearing anything underneath, you used your arm to cover your chest, which was definitely more visible thanks to the cold.

"You did mention that, yes," you quickly slipped into your bed, pulling the covers up to shield your upper body, "I guess I just didn't expect you to come so...late." You brought your knees up to your chest, "I'm freezing..." You whispered, feeling a deep chill in your bones.

Fyodor smiled, turning towards you, "Want me to hold you for a bit? Both of our bodies against each other should provide some warmth, no?" His sultry voice sent tingles throughout your body, and you caught the dark purple glow in his eyes reflected by the moonlight.

Feeling a strange pull between the two of you, you nodded, making an opening in the covers for Fyodor to slip into. "S-sure!" You replied, feigning calmness, though your cheeks flushed under his intense gaze. You had never been this close to a man before, much less in bed with a man.

As he moved in next to you⎯which felt like it was taking forever⎯Fyodor chuckled softly, sensing your shyness and nervousness. You tried to move back against the wall to create some distance, but the demon pulled your chest firmly against his, bringing your faces close together while one of his legs snaked in between yours.

"F-Fyodor!" You tried to back up, not used to the close contact, but he held you in place. As you turned slowly, your breath caught in your throat as you met his bright eyes. His presence was equally alluring and terrifying. The room was lowly lit by the hazy night and your warm candles, but it was enough to see the sharp lines of his jaw and the way his lips curved in a mocking smile.

"Are you scared, little maid?" One of his hands went to your lower waist to caress the area, while the other tucked your hair behind your ears. You whimpered lightly as Fyodor drew circles and pressed on your stomach, not used to the foreign sensation or the tension building in your lower abdomen.

You tried backing up again but stopped upon feeling his soft lips run under your ear and hearing a soft groan leave his mouth, ""Mmm...your skin…your hair, so soft and silky…your scent…it's intoxicating," his lips went down to your décolletage and your breath caught in your throat, "...like the sweetest, finest roses of summer. I could just bury my face in your hair and breathe you in all day..."

All you could do was close your eyes, sure your once cold body was hotter than fire now from his touch. You gripped onto his shoulders tightly until you felt his warm breath leave your neck, and you slowly opened your eyes back up and halted his movements, "Fyodor, please⎯it's too much. I've never been touched by a man like this before⎯" You flashed your doe eyes at him, and he sighed and pulled away. You pouted, covering your chest again and pulling up your dress, which had slipped down from his coddling, "I'm warm enough now..." You were sure your flushed face and neck were evidence enough.

His hands went back up to gently rest at your waist, and an unreadable emotion circled in his irises⎯no one had ever stopped him from going further, but he guessed it was due to your shameful innocence that the church had instilled in you.

"Right...perhaps my method of warming you up was too...aggressive..." He tilited his head cutely, trying to play off his devious act, "I thought you had already experienced some form of intimacy." You shook your head shyly, and he frowned when you brought your knees back up to your chest to cover your body.

He wasn't too unsatisfied, though, and a gleam of excitement sparkled in his eyes as he thought of the fact that you were completely untouched, and the fact that he had just marked you, unknown to you. Yes, he was going to have fun ruining you.

"...dor! Are you listening to me?!" A soft poke on his cheek snapped the demon out of his thoughts. He peered back down at you, making you shiver when you locked eyes with him, "I-I asked if you would tell me a story from your past. I want to know more about you."

You really were so innocent that you'd already moved past what he just did to you, huh? "A story from my past?" Fyodor brought a finger up to his lip, contemplating, "Shall I tell you about the times I've seduced innocent women to get my way?" You coughed awkwardly, trying to cover up your embarrassed blush.

"N-No! Tell me about a time when you...umm..." Your frantically looked around the dark room, trying to hide how flustered you were from his burning gaze. He laughed, laying his head down against the pillow and motioning for you to do the same.

He patted your head, "Ah, I'm just teasing you, myshka. I'll tell you about the time I infiltrated a vampire's castle." You hesitantly laid down, resting your head on Fyodor's chest and allowing him to continue stroking your hair gently. You listened intently. No heartbeat.

His hands felt comforting in the cold dusk, and the vibrations from his deep voice put you to sleep easily. It was nice⎯it reminded you of a sister from the orphanage who used to tell you bedtime stories late at night when you couldn't sleep from nightmares.

You smiled softly before dozing off into a sweet dream, thinking about how Fyodor could become your new friend, or at least some sort of guardian since he warded off the other spirits in the house.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The next morning, you screamed loudly when you saw your reflection in the mirror. You had just taken off your nightgown, and right above the the seam of your underwear, a purple and black marking had suddenly appeared. It appeared to be an amethyst-colored Saint Peter's cross that faded out into strange black sigils.

Afraid of what it was, you jumped into the shower and tried your best to scrub it off, the scalding hot water making you wince. It was futile, though, and it only became more vibrant on your skin. You felt lightheaded, had you been cursed or hexed? Surely nothing presumably stronger than a demon could've appeared in the house?

You touched it again and shuddered. It felt just like when Fyodor was drawing circles on your lower stomach, and you felt funny again. You gasped as the marking became brighter, coincidentally also when you started thinking of Fyodor again. Fyodor.

Wait...maybe he could help you figure out and potentially remove the marking? He was certainly more experienced in supernatural matters anyway. You decided you'd enlist his help later as you slipped your black maid uniform on, grabbing the white lace apron as you made your way to the kitchen to resume your cleaning duties. You hoped you'd see the demon again, who had already disappeared by the time you'd awoken.

Grabbing a pail, you ran some hot water mixed with cleaning solution inside, watching your distorted reflection in the sudsy water, the bubbles swirling and making a rainbow cast from the sun's beams. You counted each one patiently as they formed.

...Or at least you thought you were; you made it to eleven before black spots clouded your vision, and a sudden, intense sensation of heat filled your upper body. You felt a cold pair of hands grab your breasts and circle around your aroused buds. A soft whine left your parted lips as you felt ghostly lips trailing across your neck, gently biting on your pulse points. You closed your eyes again, feeling warmth travel down your body, close to the strange marking.

It felt like you were trapped in a dream, and the hands felt familiar. You intertwined your fingers with the ones caressing your tits and slowly brought them down your dress, lower towards your skirt where a wetness was pooling. You tilted your face to the side to give him better access to your neck, feeling his dark hair tickle your shoulders.

Wait...him? Your eyes shot open, "Fyodor?" You turned around abruptly, but the sensations left instantly. You shrieked upon feeling water on your thighs, and looked down to see the pail overflowing and spilling sudsy liquid all over the kitchen floor. You reached to turn the faucet off, cursing yourself silently for getting distracted out of nowhere and making a mess. Additionally, no one was in sight, and there was no sign of Fyodor anywhere. You didn't even feel a nearby chill.

You sighed, stripping off your soaked dress and sweeping up the spilled cleaning solution with your mop and a few towels. You decided to take a temporary break, bringing the back of your hand to your forehead to check for a fever⎯you'd never gotten such intense heat flashes before.

Back in your bedroom, you didn't even bother changing into different clothes before lying back down on your bed, the cream duvet giving your perspiring skin some comfort. The heat flash had worn you out and made your eyelids heavy, so you barely noticed you'd slipped into a sweet dream.

His hands were back on your body again, this time touching your bare skin. You were on his lap, kissing his pale lips, and you shivered as you felt his cold hands down your back. You gasped as he pulled you down and slowly grinded your hips against his bulge. "F-Fyodor⎯" You moaned as his fingers slipped into your lace panties and he⎯

"Having a nice dream, my little maid?" A raspy voice startled you and pulled you back to reality as you tugged the covers off yourself and sat up, shocked to see the man you were dreaming about in front of you, next to the empty space on your bed. He had a satisfied smirk on his lips again, and his hand slowly went up to pet the top of your head.

You swallowed, hard. You'd never had a dirty dream before, and you certainly didn't expect Fyodor to wake you up in the middle of it. Wait, did that mean he heard you moan his name? You blushed and covered your face in embarrassment, in disbelief by your indecency. He giggled amusedly, "Is something the matter, dear?"

"I⎯" you started, mind still hazy and unsure of what details you could tell him. "What⎯" You were confused...when did he appear, and why were you so disoriented? You recalled wanting to talk to him about something, but your head felt full of too many thoughts.

You felt a burning sensation in your lower abdomen again, which reminded you of everything. You didn't know why, but you grabbed Fyodor's arms and pulled him closer, "I-I think I've been cursed...or hexed..." You tried to collect your thoughts as he wordlessly stared at you, urging you to continue, "There's...a strange mark on me...it looks satanic almost."

That piqued his interest, and he perked up, "A satanic marking, you say? That is my area of specialty...Where is it?" He smiled but it didn't quite connect up to his eyes, which were still intensely trained on your figure.

You swallowed, unable to think straight, "Here..." You trailed your hand down to where it was, right above your white ruffled cotton shorts. His eyes smoldered excitedly, but you stopped right before you could pull the waistband down to show him the mark, suddenly feeling hyper-aware of your lack of clothes. He watched, but you were too shy to continue.

Fyodor sighed, "Feeling shy? Allow me," he pushed you down slowly on the bed, and you yelped upon feeling the pillow hit the back of your head. Your hands flew to the waistband of your shorts quickly, but Fyodor only sneered mockingly, prying your hands away with ease.

"Oh, my little maid, there's no need to hide yourself from me. I've seen things far more…stimulating than this," his clawed hand gently pulled your arm away from your body and moved it to rest on his shoulder, exposing your skin to him, "You have nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, you should feel privileged to have such a...desirable body".

You felt the crimson rushing in your cheeks when you heard him say that, about to protest before he silenced you with a finger to your lip. He pulled the waistband of your shorts down slowly, and he smirked satisfyingly when he saw the purple and black mark sprawled across your skin.

You blushed again, feeling strange because he was basically on top of you, "W-What is it? Is it⎯"

"It looks better than I thought...very good..."

Your eyes widened, and before you could speak, Fyodor slowly traced along the lines of the marking, making you shudder uncontrollably. His fingertips felt like ice on your burning body, and you were already sensitive enough. You gasped and shook when Fyodor got to the center of the marking and pressed down on your womb, his claws slightly digging into your soft skin. You hands went back to halt his movements, but he stopped them again.

"Myshka, does it feel strange? You've never felt pleasure or been touched before..." You whimpered. His voice was so low and alluring, and it was making you even more lightheaded. "This marking...it's the mark of a demon. Given that it's here," He poked your womb again, which made you yelp, "it won't go away until your body's satisfied. Each day you delay it, the sensations will get stronger...You might even die if the feelings get too unbearable." He smiled darkly, continuing his slow tracing, making you shake even more.

"How...How do you know all that?" You questioned.

"How? Well, I was the one who placed it on you, darling." He smirked, and you quivered in fear when you saw fangs poking out. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, pressing you further into the bed, "Ah, my little maid…you're so innocent and fragile…and all mine," his hot breath tickled your skin and he gently nipped at your earlobe, "I want to do so many things to you…so many…sinful things… "

Your body jerked up, half in terror and half in arousal. You couldn't process anything, but you knew you didn't want to die. You felt like you were burning again, and the fact that Fyodor had you pinned down to the mattress with his larger, stronger frame didn't help. You still felt unsatisfied from your dream, and you knew your body wanted more.

"Fyodor, make the feeling go away, please..." You begged, and you swore a glint of red flashed in his eyes.

His hands found your wrists, gripping them tightly as he whispered seductively, "I'll corrupt you gently, darling, as your first and last..." You whimpered as you felt his fingers roam your body, his touch becoming more and more possessive.

"The dream you were having earlier...what sorts of things was I doing to you?" His claws pulled your shorts and panties down to your thighs, "Was I touching you here?" You hips bucked upwards as you felt his fingers run over your slit. It felt like you were being shocked, and you moaned when he started drawing circles around your sensitive clit. Your body jolted from the new sensations, and Fyodor laughed lowly at your amusing responses.

"It was something like this, then?" He pressed your hips back down on the floral sheets, and you swore your eyes rolled back in your head from the new feeling. His fingers sped up, and you gasped when you felt him pinch your arousal.

"Mmm⎯F-Fyodor, 'feels...funny⎯" He chuckled, not offering any sympathy and continuing his fast circles, adding to the heat building up in your lower stomach.

"You're so innocent, myshka...I'll make you feel even better." He grinned manically as he slipped your clothes off your legs and spread your legs further, baring your naked body to him. You shivered, not used to feeling this exposed. You'd never shown your pristine self to a man, or a demon for that matter.

Feeling your hesitation, Fyodor pushed himself between your legs to stop them from closing up and slowly kissed down your heated skin, starting from the valley of your breasts and staring into your eyes until he went down to your womanhood. "So delicate..." He whispered, before placing a kiss on your wet slit, making you whine. "This might hurt a bit, but stay still." You nodded slowly before yelping when you felt Fyodor stop his circling motions to insert a finger inside your tight hole. The pleasure turned painful all of a sudden, and you felt a searing rip course through your lower half, as well as a slight scratch from his claws. You grunted and tears stung your eyes from the intrusion, but it only seemed to turn Fyodor on more.

He groaned, but it bordered a possessive growl, "F-Fuck, myshka, you're so tight⎯" The way your virgin pussy tried to push out his slender finger was driving him mad; he hadn't had a pure maiden like you in so long. "I'm going to ruin you tonight..." He whispered to himself, inaudible to your overstimulated ears.

He pushed his finger back in you, trying to go slower to accommodate the stretch you felt. You kept shaking, so Fyodor bent down to capture your lips softly in a kiss, "Is this your first kiss, too?" You blushed, looking away. Truth to be told, although you'd never been intimate with a man, you had kissed a boy from the orphanage when you were younger. It wasn't exactly the same, but it still counted as a kiss, right? You stayed silent and pulled away for a bit, causing a small surge of jealousy to course through the demon's veins.

"...I see." He used his free hand to tear off your thin tank top, taking a moment to allow his eyes to skim every curve and contour of your body. You reflexively wanted to cover yourself up again, but Fyodor's glare cut into you and stopped you from even thinking further about it.

You gulped and looked down to see him pull back his ring finger, which was now lightly coated in blood. Your blood, from what you guessed was your hymen. The crimson reflected off his irises as he licked it off tantalizingly slow, eyes trained on you the whole time.

Then, before you could process anything, he pushed two fingers back inside of you, making you screech again from shock. It surprisingly didn't hurt as much, perhaps because of the power encased in the marking. When he curled his fingers up inside you, you moaned, loudly. A hand flew to cover your mouth to hide the embarrassing, shameful sounds leaving your lips.

Fyodor scoffed, pushing your arm down again, "Darling, don't cover your mouth. There's no one here but me to hear your pretty noises," He leaned down again, biting the shell of your ear, making you clamp down on his fingers, "I wouldn't claim you like this if I didn't want all of you."

Your mouth fell wide open as he fucked his fingers faster into you, the stretch feeling more bearable now. His thumb went back up to play with your clit and his fingers found the gummy spot inside you that made you see stars. He loved the way profanities and his name repeatedly slipped off your tongue as he went on, knowing you were slowly but surely giving into the hedonistic pleasure he was giving you.

He resumed his kisses and made his movements more shallow, which made you claw at his hands desperately, but it did nothing to stop him. "A-Ah, my stomach feels weird⎯S-Stop⎯"

Your whimpers made him smirk pridefully, "Hah, cumming from just my fingers? It's okay, myshka, I know it feels strange." He caressed your cheek gently, "Just release whenever, okay?"

You felt weak by the time your "release" finally washed over you. The pressure made your vision go blank for a moment and you felt your whole body relax blissfully before slowly tightening back up again.

Your muscles were limp and your cunt was so sensitive that you flinched when Fyodor pulled his fingers away. You breathed heavily, noticing the mark was glowing an angry purple. "Was that..."

"A orgasm, yes." Fyodor brushed the tears from the corners of your eyes and brought his fingers to his mouth, slowly sucking your juices clean. He sighed lustfully, voice dropping to a seductive purr, "This taste...is the closest I can get to Heaven..."

You moaned from his praise, watching him savor your taste on his tongue. Once your heartbeat slowed down a bit, you pulled Fyodor back down, missing the weight of his body against yours.

"You're so stunning, darling. I could just…devour you right here," He ran his tongue along the crook of your neck, baring his fangs on your pressure points. He bit down softly on the spot where he felt your pulse, and you exhaled as you felt him drawing blood from your sweet spots, which felt like euphoria, "But this will have to suffice for now..." Your overheated body finally felt like it was the right temperature, and the marking finally faded away.

You tangled your hands in Fyodor's raven hair, whispering sadly to yourself, "Is this...the last time I'll see you?" Are you going to leave like everyone else? Your eyelids felt heavy.

He chucked softly again, "Myshka, don't you know that once you're in a demon's grasp, there's no escape?" He kissed along your bites, your blood staining his pale lips a pretty cherry red. Somehow, his statement seemed more comforting than threatening, which was strange. Perhaps you really had been corrupted, seeking comfort in the sweet nothings of a being who just wanted to taint your soul and innocence.

Fyodor pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as he gazed into your eyes, gaze soft with longing and desire, "Goodnight, my little maid," He leaned in to give you a gentle, sweet kiss that tasted slightly of iron, "May your dreams be as sweet as your taste upon my lips…"

[semetarydrve]

Extra Credit

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CW: smut, light corruption kink, teacher x student, blackmail

Pairing: teacher!Remus x student!Reader

WC: 3.8k

AN: already thinking abt a prt 2 where remus gets territorial abt yn if this one does well ill try to post it next week

╰─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────╯

“(y/n)!”

Your head shot up from the absent-minded notes you had managed to jot down, barely legible due to your seemingly never ending exhaustion. You looked up to catch your Defense Against the Dark Arts professors rather disappointed gaze.

“Yes Professor Lupin? I’m sorry I didn’t quiet catch that last part can you repeat the question.” He sighed and shook his head.

“It’s quite alright, you can just speak to me after your last class.” A wave of hushed snickers drifted through the room. Your face flushed in embarrassment and you nodded meekly. “Right, well on that note the deadline for the essay for your quarterly paper is due next week! Feel free to seek help after school tomorrow if you’re struggling.” He finished, people rushing to pack their things. You graciously took the opportunity to pack your things and attempt to slip by your professor in the crowd.

Unfortunately for you he’d been watching carefully, he couldn’t help himself. As the full moon drew closer he couldn’t ignore the thoughts plaguing his brain. His perverse fixation on you was far from new, still able to clearly recall the first day he laid eyes on you. You’d walked in at the tail end of the sea of new faces, quietly finding your seat conveniently at the front of the room. He’d watched inconspicuously, thinking that even under the unflattering cut of your uniform you brought on a deep primal urge to bury his knot deep inside of you.

When you finally passed by his desk he called out for you. With a shaky and apprehensive breath you diverted your path to reach him. He was now sitting at his desk shuffling around papers as students filed out, rolling up the sleeves on his cardigan and button up to expose his scarred arms. You pushed down the rather inappropriate thoughts about him that had plagued your mind since he’d begun teaching at Hogwarts. When the last few people had left the room he beckoned for you to sit in the chair next to his desk.

“Don’t worry this will be quick. First off I want to say (y/n) you have been nothing but an amazing student this year. But the last month or so I’ve noticed a decline in the quality of your work and it’s affecting your marks in my course. Is there something I can help you with?” He inquired. You sighed and shook your head, heart dropping at the idea of your grades being lowered.

“I’m sorry Professor. I’ll do better.” You said softly. His kind hazel eyes found yours and he shook his head.

“No need to apologize. I’m telling you this because I want you to succeed in my course. With just a bit of extra credit you’ll be back on track in no time.” His reassuring gaze made you feel more at ease.

“It’s not just your class I’m struggling with. Because of the workload I have I’ve been having trouble keeping up with everything. Truthfully I’m exhausted.” You sighed. It felt nice to be honest about how hard it was to stay afloat in school. He nodded sympathetically and smiled, placing a warm hand on your knee. This action was innocent enough but just the feeling of the physical boundaries between you being broken for the first time made him twitch in his pants. Now that he was close enough he could let your scent ingrain itself into his memory.

“I understand, I’ve been in your shoes. The last year is always the hardest. Perhaps when we meet after class I could offer some help to steer you in the right direction?” He offered.

“That would be very helpful if that isn’t too much to ask.” You replied, feeling relieved your favorite professor was willing to do that. He thanked you for your time and said he was looking forward to helping you later today.

As the door closed behind you he sighed heavily. He absolutely knew the complications of being involved with a student but never had he met one he was so tempted by. He did his best to keep it completely professional but once in a while he’d find himself staring at you. Dreaming of pinning you down and having his way with you. Even your sense of humor and sly way of thinking drew him in. Sometimes he wondered if you noticed his lingering gaze. His hand absently drifted to his crotch, palming at his growing erection. With a frustrated groan he sat up and ran his hands through his hair, attempting to pull himself together. He situated himself at his desk and began dealing with the mess in front of him, checking the clock during his next periods in anticipation of your return.

Finally class was dismissed for the last time and he sat down in his chair. He’d thought of this opportunity a million times but now that it was happening he was unsure of how he’d actually approach it. When the soft wrapping of your knuckles on his door echoed out, he swallowed the lump that had been building up in his throat thinking about you.

“Come in!” He called out. You quietly closed the door behind you and made your way to the seat he had placed in front of his desk.

“Thank you for offering to see me Professor. I was too nervous to ask on my own.” You said shrugging off your robe and pulling out your embarrassingly sparse notes.

“Nervous for what?” He chuckled. The question was light hearted enough but your face flushed. He spoke with such a sly tone, completely different from his nurturing instructor one. It gave you goosebumps, feeling slightly put off by his gaze. Not only did he sound different but his eyes had also lost their softer nature. Now they focused on you pointedly, slowly raking over every inch of your body. Finally he looked up to catch your eyes and you felt like he could read your discomfort.

“I just figured you were busy with all your other work I didn’t want to be a bother.” You replied trying to fill the silence, your eyes trailed to the two scars running across his face. 'i wonder how he got those?' You thought taking a moment to admire the way they enhanced his rugged look.

“Is there something on my face?” He asked chuckling. You shook your head. “And I could never be bothered by my favorite student.” He added making you smile and put aside the feeling that something was off. Perhaps you were just over thinking it because you did have a bit of a crush on him.

“Well thank you. If you don’t mind I have a few questions actually.” You said moving to pull out today’s notes. He nodded and stood up, circling around the desk and standing behind you. He bent down to get a closer look, his hands resting on the back of the chair. You crossed your legs and leaned slightly to the side to give him a better view of the paper.

“I see there’s more than a few things you forgot to write down today. I guess it would be best to start by covering what you seemed to have missed yeah?” He said gently placing a hand on your shoulder. He peered down at the notes from over you and slowly began massaging you.

“Sorry about that Professor. I just zoned out for a second during the lecture.” You stammered, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his fingers working over your sore muscles. His right hand found its way to the other shoulder as he planted himself directly behind. The grip was strong and comforting.

“You don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Remus for now. And you what (y/n) I thought of an extra credit assignment that’ll fix your marks.” He said quietly as he leaned down to your ear.

“Just one assignment?” You inquired, trying to ignore the feeling of his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. You felt frozen, mostly confused and a bit afraid, but nonetheless a wet spot marked your panties.

“Mhm. Just one. And you could have it done tonight if you do it right. Does that sound good?” You nodded, unable to speak as you tried to process what was happening. You just knew it felt like saying no wasn’t a wise choice. You were in the last half of your final year, maintaining good marks meant everything. “You’re going to be a good girl and do what I say, and be quiet about it. Do we have an understanding?” He whispered, breath labored as he started to smell you break a sweat.

“Is there no other option? This just doesn’t feel right.” You said shakily, not wanting out right confrontation. He hummed pretending to think about it. His hands left your shoulders and came down to rest flat on the desk before you, effectively trapping you.

“You have two options. You can let me ravish you on this desk…” He started, trailing off.

“Or?” You asked afraid to move or look at him.

“Or you can leave and I’ll slowly but inevitably fail you. Assignments being counted as late, maybe even not turned in at all.” He threatened.

“That’s not fair! I’ll tell the Headmaster.” You protested.

“You could try. But he’s far too busy dealing with Sirius Black on the loose.” Even without being able to see his face you could hear that he was smiling. From your perspective he had a valid point. “So what will it be?”

“Fine.” You said quietly. His mind moved a mile a minute as the very situation he had dreamed about presented itself.

“I knew you’d come around.” He purred. “Now be a good girl and stand up for me.” He stepped back, giving you room.

“Yes Professor.” You said meekly, getting to your feet. For a moment you stood still facing away from him, too nervous to look at him. He gently spun you around by your waist. He looked down at your innocent face and felt his cock throbbing. What a beautiful little plaything you were. He captured your lips in a hungry kiss, your hands instinctively reaching for his bicep. The contact made his body feel hot, thinking about how long he’d been fantasizing about bending you over every surface possible.

"I've wanted to fuck you since the day you pranced into this classroom." He said pulling away breathlessly. Your eyes widened and cheeks flushed.

“Really?” You asked, unable to deny the way his words made your stomach flip. You weren’t used to this kind of attention.

“Yes really.” He said leaning in again for another kiss. He could feel your muscles relax, slowly letting your guard down. Good. "Now be a doll and get on your knees."

“But Professor-“

“Ah ah ah. Remember? You’re going to be good and listen right?”

“I’ve never done that before.” Your words came out small and timid. He couldn’t help but smile.

“You haven’t huh? It’s okay I’ve heard I’m pretty good at teaching others.” He joked. You shook your head and he gently caressed your cheek. “Don’t worry you’ll do great.” He said planting a kiss on your lips and stepping back. You swallowed, now painfully aware of your lack of experience.

“Okay Sir.” You said sinking to your knees. He watched as undid his belt and pants, your hands fumbling. You let out a small gasp as you freed him from his confinements. Bigger than expected was a light way of putting it. You hesitated for a moment, feeling a wave of embarrassment flood your system.

“Go ahead.” Remus commanded, his voice no longer soothing but instead dripping with frustration. He watched as you took the head of his cock in your mouth. He unbuttoned his shirt as you slowly inched him down your throat. He groaned and gripped your head with both hands, pushing you down harder. You gagged and he began thrusting slowly, building up speed making your eyes water. You blinked away the tears making your makeup begin to run down your face.

"Is it too much? Am I fucking your little throat too hard?" He taunted. Your fingers dug into his thighs as you fought his grip. He watched as you struggled, spit dripping down your chin onto the white, now almost sheer, button up. Eyes watery and pleading for mercy. The sight made his hips snap forward, almost cumming right then. "Over the desk. Now." He growled, pulling you to stand by your hair and pushing you onto the desk. Any ounce of self restraint or composure had flown out the window. Now all that mattered was getting to break in his new toy. He yanked your panties down. "Spread your legs." You did as you were told and stepped out of your panties as you opened your legs. He raked his fingers over your hips and thighs giving you goosebumps. Your brain reeled, thighs pressed together for relief from the dripping wetness between your legs and the knot in your stomach. He roughly pried them apart and began lightly tracing his fingers on your inner thigh, inching closer to your clit.

"Please." You cried squirming uncomfortably. He smiled devilishly and removed his hand.

"Please what?" He teased.

"Please touch me." You cried, pushing back against him. He watch in amusement as you begged for his touch, tightening his grip on your flesh and pulling you closer. His cock began slowly sliding between the folds of your pussy, just enough to tease you. The feeling was driving him crazy but now that he had you in front of him he’d savor every moment. Without a word he slipped his cock in carefully. You whimpered and he groaned, shocked by how perfect you felt.

“Now I want you to be very very quiet okay?” He breathed, slowly beginning to rock his hips. You let out a barely coherent ‘okay’ as your focus drifted to adjusting to his size. You reached behind and flipped up your skirt for a better view. He chuckled at your eagerness and gently grabbed the back of your head in one hand and pinned one of your wrists behind you with the other. In one swift motion he started pounding into you, your body pinned in place as he picked up a relentless pace. Without thinking you cried out loudly, immediately regretting your actions as he pulled out.

“Please put it back Remus.” You whined reaching with your free hand to guide him back inside of you. He tightened his grip on your wrist and pushed your face harder into the cool wood surface.

“I told you to be quiet but clearly you can’t.“ He said leaning over you. The adrenaline pumped through you at the feeling of being trapped under him.

“I’m sorry.” You cried, not yet daring to fight against his grip. He released you, stepping back and tucking himself away.

“Don’t be sorry, be better.” He said as you slowly straightened and turned to face him. The look of pure desperation on your face drove him crazy. You closed the distance and placed your hands on his chest.

“I promise I’ll be quiet. Anything you want.” You begged watching his eyes study your face. He actually didn’t have an intentions on stopping this encounter, just curious to see how quick he could have you wrapped around his finger.

"Lay on your back, now.” He watched you scramble to take off your skirt and get onto the desk. He stepped between your legs and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. His lips worked in sync with yours as he pushed your legs open. He ripped open your top, buttons scattering as he toyed with your nipples before running his hands down your body. He stopped at your hip and the other hand wandered farther down. He ran two fingers up to your clit, eliciting a needy moan from you. He pulled away from the kiss to put his fingers to his lips.

"You even taste sweet princess." He said as he licked them clean. He held eye contact as he began to rub slow circles on your clit. You jolted at the contact and laid back on the desk. He admired your cunt, small trickles down your legs making him chuckle. “Fuck you’re wet I might have to cum in your tight little hole.” He said slowly pushing into your heat. You moaned at the sensation, your walls gripping his fingers tightly. He leaned down and seized your throat with his free hand. You raised a hand to the one around your neck, using your fingers to indicate you wanted it tighter. He smirked and replaced the wary grip with a tight, more restrictive one. The combination of his fingers in you and around your throat was heavenly. He curled his fingers slightly sending a wave of unexpected pleasure through you. He took note of this and continued the same motion. Your eyes glazed over and you nodded fervently.

“Don’t stop. I’m so close.” You mewled quietly.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re enjoying this. Maybe I’ll have to keep you to myself.” His words sent you over the edge. Biting your knuckle as the pressure in your lower abdomen built up, your eyes fluttered shut as you came on his fingers. He continued his motions, relishing in the feeling of you tightening around his digits. Your body felt hot and shaky as you rode the high. He slowly withdrew his fingers and cleaned them with an eager tongue. His hum of approval bringing a small smile to your face. You slowly sat up and placed your hands on his exposed chest where his shirt hung open.

“What happened?” You asked studying the scars that peppered his body.

“It’s a long story.” He replied as your eyes found his. He leaned in for a kiss. It was deep and passionate this time. His hand slipped behind you so he could pull you to the edge of the desk. You melted at the feeling of your bodies pressing together. His teeth bit down softly on your lower lip as he pulled away. “You’re doing so good for me.” He murmured against your lips.

“Thank you. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” Your bare cunt brushed against his pants as he leaned into you making you jump. He took notice of this and smirked as he began to slowly rock his hips.

“That’s okay, you’re a quick learner.” He said, trailing kisses down to your neck. His warm breath gave you goosebumps. “ ‘Nd I guess you aren’t as delicate as I thought.” His hand wandered down your stomach, stopping between your legs. Using his fingers he spread your lips causing you to involuntarily push back for more. “Don’t move.” He smirked and moved to bite your earlobe as he moved his fingers to your clit. You breathed deeply, fighting the urge to buck your hips.

“Professor shouldn’t we hurry? I don’t want you to get in trouble.” How sweet. You were worried about keeping your little secret.

“Unfortunately you’re right my love.” You watched excitedly as he made quick work of dropping his trousers. He pulled you in for another slow and tender kiss while lining himself up with your entrance. You both let out a sigh of relief as he used the hand on your lower back to keep you close while he slid in.

“Remus you feel so good.” You said in a hushed voice. He replied with a half hearted ‘my god’, his attention now focused on watching his cock slowly slide in and out. Slick with the taste of you. He almost couldn’t look away but the small whimpers coming from you drew his gaze up.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said breathlessly, speeding up his pace and rubbing your clit. You dropped your head back as he fucked you, your orgasm building quickly until you felt like you were gonna explode. You dug your nails into his shoulders and he watched in awe as profanities fell from your lips and your body began to quiver.

“I think I’m gonna cum.” You said, starting to feel overstimulated by his fingers.

“That’s my girl.” He cooed. “I don’t know if I’ll last much longer myself.” His voice faltered at the end as he felt himself getting closer to his own release. Your nails buried themselves deeper in his shoulders, earning a feral snarl from Remus. He liked when you lost yourself in the feeling of him. You might shape up to be his favorite fucktoy. A few more strokes and you were unraveling before him. You writhed and panted under him, unable to keep quiet. He grunted and withdrew, cum spurting on your lower half.

There was a brief pause as he held you.

“Did I do good, Sir?” You asked dropping your head on his chest.

“Very. But next week I’d like to-”

“Next week? I thought this was just a one time thing.” You said looking up at him confused.

“Did I say that?” He asked slyly. He cupped your chin and titled your face to give you a soft kiss. “But wasn’t this fun?”

“Yes, Sir I had a lot of fun.” You said nodding, fighting the butterflies in your stomach. It felt wrong but you could help but enjoy his presence.

“Good. Then you’ll be here same time next week. Now get dressed. And quickly.” He said beginning to fix his shirt. He watched proudly as you did what you were told. After your skirt was on he helped you put on your robes, pulling the front shut tight now that your shirt was basically useless without its buttons. As you opened your mouth to ask him a question there was a soft knock on his door. He shot you a ‘follow my lead’ glance before walking over to the door as you quickly fixed your hair. Professor McGonagall stepped in the room and looked over at you curiously.

“(y/n).” She said greeting you.

“Hi professor.”

“She was actually just leaving our tutoring session.” Remus said.

“Oh well I hate to interrupt Lupin but Dumbledore has requested to see you in his office.” She said giving him a knowing glance.

“Ah I see. Thank you Minerva.” He said turning his attention to you. “If you don’t mind (y/n), I’m going to step out if you’d like to gather your things. We can pick up where we left off next week.” He said giving you a small smile. You nodded, turning to pick up your parchment and other belongings. Your mind raced, grappling with the situation. As you grabbed the last of your things you turned and said goodbye to your teachers.

“Brilliant student isn’t she?” You heard McGonagall say as you left.

“Oh she’s a gem for sure.” Remus replied with a chuckle.

[aft3rhrs]

— heaven ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance

warnings: yandere, allusions to kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mentions of reader getting locked up, a tiny (👌) bit of angst, possessiveness, corruption kink, rough sex, choking, praise, humiliation, dirty talk, hair pulling, implied big!dick jk 💁‍♀️, he's a simp, creampie, some aftercare & lots of kisses, still messed up tho lmao I'm sorry <3

It never seemed heaven would be so dark. A room draped in shadows, the door carefully locked. Not even a glint of moonlight broke through the drawn curtains; complete isolation from the world down below.

Even if Jungkook turned on the lights, you wouldn't have been able to see much; not with your face pressed into the mattress rocking beneath your knees. The headboard banged against the wall rhythmically, the sound mingling with each slap of his balls against you, thrusts deep and hard, stretching you out to your limits.

You could feel his chest pressing down onto your back, skin warm and sweaty. His hand remained on your head, lips glued to your ear. The sounds spilling out of them made your head spin, drool seeping into the sheets by your open mouth.

"Always such a good girl for me," he whispered, hot and low. His fingers tangled in your hair, giving it a tender pull. "Fuck me back." His free hand squeezed your hip, encouraging you to move. "Come on, baby. Fuck me back."

Your pussy clenched, muffled whines growing louder. Mindlessly, your hips moved with Jungkook's guidance, numb to anything but the searing pleasure of his cock spearing through you.

"Yeah— fuuck—" the soft groans turned deeper, your little hole soaked and so fucking desperate; just the way he liked it. Just as desperate for him as he was for you.

He grit his teeth, trying to hold a little longer, abdomen tensing against you.

"I love you," he gasped, "tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything you want."

A hiss escaped him when he felt you tighten again, signaling that you knew exactly what he meant, and your pretty, little head was no less depraved than his own. That only spurred him on, made his hips snap against your ass faster, sloppier, sweat shining on his temple.

He wasn't expecting you to be coherent and provide an answer to his question; it was like he just wanted to establish dominance, mark his claim, driven by the sadistic instincts that flickered to life in him in the raw dark, like stars. Equally charming and destructive.

"Gonna," he breathed, the slaps of skin against skin harsh and relentless, "gonna come on my cock, you pathetic whore? You're so good for me. You know you're mine, only mine, and this little pussy knows it too. Always so fucking wet for me."

It seemed more like taunting than a simple reminder; he was trying to get under your skin. As if he didn't already make a home within your ribcage. As if he hasn't infested your bloodstream the first time he had kissed you. The filthy words messed with your mind, made your hole pulse around him harder with each thrust.

"Mm, fuck, fuck, ah, why so quiet tonight?" He moaned into your ear, gently slipping his hand around your neck. He gave it a firm squeeze, immediately getting one back on his cock, throbbing and slippery as it pounded into you. "Come all over me, kitten, don't hold back."

You whimpered, your thighs shaking under his, teeth biting into your lower lip, hard. Didn't he fuck your brains out in the last three months? There should have been no thoughts left there at all, and yet something seemed to be wrong, like some semblance of doubt was keeping you hostage tonight. Didn't he do a good job getting rid of that? Jaw tensing, he choked you harder, snapping his hips forward faster.

"I said be a good girl and come for me," he gritted.

He was desperately close himself, his cock hot and swollen, spurting precum as it rubbed against your walls.

"Fucking come for me," Jungkook groaned. "This was supposed to be a celebration. Stop holding back. Do you want me to bring you back down to the fucking basement?"

You gasped, but he could barely hear it over his ragged breathing; how tightly his veiny hand enveloped your frail neck didn't help. However, he could still feel you, especially on his sensitive cock.

"Oh... oh, fuck, are you—"

You quivered around it, so tight his movements stuttered, white spots dancing around his vision at the sensation.

"Did you just come? You want me to keep you like a fucking pet, baby? Oh god, yeah—"

A burst of warmth spilled inside you, your skin tingling and head fuzzy with the limited oxygen his grip on you provided. You shuddered under him, moaning as he fucked his cum deep into your abused cunt. You could feel him all the way in your stomach, his groans loud as kept twitching inside you. Oh, he liked this; how much he corrupted you, how hard you came at the thought of him owning you. He liked it, because he came hard as well, hand loosening around your throat as his hips stilled, last, few spurts of hot seed shooting into you.

You tried to catch your breath, soft kisses trailed along your shoulder slowly bringing you back down from your high. You felt warm, satiated, full; you felt Jungkook's lips quirking in a satisfied smile against your skin, too, his cheek resting on your neck.

"Good girl," he whispered. "So good. I love you."

"I love you," you sighed, eyes slipping shut.

Jungkook hummed.

"Finally got your voice back?" He brushed your hair to the side, exposing more of your skin, his lips pressing into your cheek. "Should I be concerned, baby? Do you want me to stay a little longer?"

You shook your head. Any other time, Jungkook would have cleaned you up, especially before going anywhere. Tonight, though, he wanted you just like this. Naked, in his bed, with his cum dripping out of you while you drifted off. You didn't seem to mind either, heartbeat and breathing steadying as he started getting dressed.

You were almost asleep by the time he crouched down by the bed, the touch of his lips on yours making you stir.

"You know this is just for show, right?"

His question was soft, eyebrows furrowed. No matter how strong, it looked like not even Jungkook could escape some monsters — something like doubt, something like fear. Everything only felt amplified when it came to you.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Promise."

Perhaps three months ago his words would have hurt; but there was no wound anymore, only scars, and his gentle fingers ghosting over them.

Your soft reply smoothed out the frantic, worried fabrics of his soul, the image of you lying there, in his room, glowing; surrounded by his scent and his sheets, so domestic. It was everything he ever needed. His sacred place.

He sighed, contented, pressing the next kiss onto your forehead.

"Good. Mm, then rest. Just stay here and look pretty, my love. I'll collect your ransom and be right back."

He brushed his knuckles along your flushed cheek, dark, hooded eyes boring into yours.

"Can I have another kiss for good luck?"

A pleased hum left him when you leaned in, lips pouty and swollen, ready to be kissed more and more, and how could he ever not want to do just that?

He held your face with an inked hand, and a black mask in the other.

Heaven was a pricey thing to uphold; the church would know. And not that Jungkook didn't already have enough to spoil you, but all angels were painted in gold, weren't they?

"Night, baby," he murmured lovingly.

His voice never led you astray, lulling you to sleep, helping you land safely in the arms of the mellow abyss behind your eyelids. He kissed both.

"Gonna be back real soon."

You didn't get to hear that promise, but he didn't mind. In a few hours, he'll be holding you in his arms. All angels were shimmering gold, to match the golden gates; his angel deserved the same.

In the end, there was nothing wrong with a man of faith collecting donations for the purposes of worship. Right?

[livelaughlovesubs]

Ooh so for the prompts

Spitting in their mouth and hurting them in front of a mirror so they’re forced to watch with Fyodor? Cause he's often super prideful and I have a huge corruption (idk if you'd call it that) kink and it would be fun to break him a lil <3

HAPPY ONE YEAR BLOG ANNIVERSARY BTW YOUR WORK IS AMAZINGGG 💗

THANK YOU DARLING <33 oh and I paired these up cuz they’re a little similar :] (also I feel like this one isn’t that good)

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor - reader is gn

Warning: mirror play, biting, kissing, marking, hair pulling, spiting, teasing, dirty talk (?), a bit manhandling

Anniversary event

“See your reflection, fedya?” You made eye contact with him through the mirror, chin resting on his shoulder while he made himself comfortable in your lap. “Of course I do.” Fyodor answered, a slight frown on his face. He wondered why you wanted to bring a mirror into your play session. “Mhm, look at you, such a pretty boy.” A slight rustle of your clothes, then you pointed at the laid out scene in front of you, kissing his neck softly when you noticed him watching.

His shoulders jerked a little, heart racing by a lot, most of it being due to shame. A shiver ran down his spine. “Is this all? A little bit of kissing?” He teased, almost disappointed as he turned around to properly look you in the eyes. You shook your head, nudging him in order to make him look back into the mirror, mumbling, “be a good boy and keep watching. It’ll be fun.” The ‘good boy’ in question didn’t see the ‘fun’ in it like you did, though nonetheless, he listened to you and obediently did as he was told.

Then you resumed kissing him, moving your lips along the smooth edges of his jawline, down to his throat and lastly his shoulders. You felt him relax in your grasp, a soft sigh leaving his lips while he slumps back against your chest. Seeing how peaceful this was, you wanted to tease him a little, blowing hot air against his ear as you asked, “Feels nice?” He nodded, eyes half-lidded as he lazily gazed into the mirror, still a little confused. “Ah? Want some more action then?”

Fyodor didn’t think much about it, he must have been dozing off since he nodded so easily. “I’ll start slow so don’t worry.” You smirked, then chomped down on his neck, leaving behind nasty bite marks. “Ah- ahhhHh.??!” He yelped in surprise at the sharp pain spreading from the wound, irritating his skin. When you bit him, you didn’t know when to stop, all you could feel was his tender skin getting crushed and the hardness of the muscles a layer beneath.

That’s why it went as far as you drawing blood.

His gaze fixated on his reflection in the mirror, playing out in front of him like a movie. He felt his insides twist and curl when he saw some blood prickling from his bite wound, and you licking it up eagerly. “Ughh..!” When he tried to turn his head around once more, you grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked on it, forcing him to stay seated. “Wha- y/n..?” You interrupted him, “I told you to look ahead, fyodor.” He gulped, eyes slowly wandering back to the object opposite of him.

Poor boy, he couldn’t keep his small whines of pain mixed with lust down whenever you tugged at his hair, or left more marks of ownership on his skin. Soon, his neck and shoulder area looked like a battlefield, with all these bites and hints of remaining blood. Then, by accident, your eyes met. He fixated on your gaze through the mirror, shivering with anticipation. You whispered with an unreadable smile, “aren’t you a cute thing? Making such lewd sounds just by watching your reflection?”

He digressed, wanting to turn around again before stopping himself, not wanting to disobey your orders again, “you’ve been making advanced on me, of course this would happen.” It sounded more like an excuse than an argument, and he didn’t exactly say it with much conviction. “Is that so?” You asked again, pulling at his silky hair. Now you were the one to make him turn and look at you.

“Huh?” His eyes widened, blinking a few times in shock. Fyodor was arching his back because of you tugging his head backwards, hands bawled into fists as he rest them on his thighs. “Stick your tongue out, fedya.” You said, face hovering inches above him, gazing down at him all smug and affectionate. He thought you were going to kiss him, so he blushed a little, then obliged nonetheless. Awkwardly sticking his tongue out, eyelids hanging low over his pupils.

You thought he looked really cute like that. Looking so eager to kiss you, basically trembling with excitement. With something so cute in your presence, you wouldn’t not smile, lips pressed tightly shut to suppress a smirk before kissing the tip of his nose. He frowned at your teasing gesture, wet muscle still hanging out like you wanted. “Don’t look so mad.” You chirped and leaned down to his lips, but instead of doing what he expected, you also stuck out your tongue and let your saliva drip down into his mouth.

He was like frozen, unmoving like a statue. Then you clasped a hand over his lips, telling him, “swallow.” It took a moment for him to register your words, but when he did, his cheeks flushed and he shook his head. “Why, embarrassed?” You muttered, continuing with, “don’t be, I’ve made you do worse.” Fyodor hesitated, then gulped, you saw his Adam’s apple moving. Once he finished, you pulled your hand back, and a whimper immediately followed.

“HnnGh…” some tears were swelling in the corners of his eyes, or you were just imagining it. Nevertheless, you leaned closer to his ear and whispered, “see? Wasn’t so hard. And it seems you enjoyed it in the end anyway.” He whined again, involuntarily of course but he still did, and avoided your gaze by turning to the side, mumbling meekly, “stop talking..” seeing how worked up he was, you couldn’t help yourself, grinning from ear to ear as you teased, “you sure? Since based on your little whimpers, you seem to like what I’m doing quite a bit.”

There was no answer from him, he was way too humiliated to do anything against your relentless teasing. The boy shuddered, and you let go of his hair, instead making him look into the mirror again. “Anyway, shall we continue where we left off?” He had to brace himself for a long night.

[readychilledwine]

Hi Liz! I have been following you for a while now and I absolutely adore everything you write. You are incredibly talented and deserve all praise for it ❤️

I have never actually requested a story from any author simply because I will devour almost any content by fanfic authors and truthfully it makes me feel a little greedy and I never want anyone to feel forced to write anything. However, I have had this idea since I read one of your stories and I feel like no one else would be able to do it justice like you would.

Essentially, the reader is the youngest Archeron sister and is mated to Azriel (mating bond has been accepted and they have been together for a couple of months now) but she is inexperienced (her first time was with Azriel) and Nesta has been giving her some of her hard core smutty books and now the reader wants to explore some kinks with Azriel (somnophilia, cock warming, wing play, bondage) but she’s embarrassed to bring up the conversation with him. Anyway, she eventually has that conversation with Azriel (he’s all too happy about it because no one can tell me this male doesn’t have a corruption kink) and smut ensues.

First of all, thank you for the endless compliments 💜💜 I'm so excited you're here and have welcomed me into your world for entertainment purposes.

Second of all, I could NEVER deny an Azriel corruption kink fic.

Breathe

Summary - A year of sexual exploration hasn't even began to touch the things Azriel would like to do to you.

Warnings - throat fucking, breath play, references to knife play, auralism, jealous Rhys and cassian at the end, mentions of other explored kinks and sexual senerios

Azriel pushed his fingers further unto your throat, his shadows forcing your hair back as he held your book in his free hand.

“I've been wondering why you've been sending me wave after wave of arousal all day,” he rose a brow a passage involving the male character using a knife to pleasure the female main. “Is this what my pretty little mate reads when I'm away? Her big sister's smut novels?”

He watched as you gagged, drool and spit coming to the corner of your mouth as you struggled to breathe and looked up at him doe eyed. “Want me to fuck you with Truth Teller, mate? Does the thought of coming on a deadly weapon soak your little lace panties?” He chuckled darkly. Mocking your inability to answer. 

“You're trained better than this, slut. You know to answer me when I ask you a question.” You whined around his fingers. You  could feel the tension in his body, feel his need for stress relief. 

The two of you had just began exploring physically together. The bond finally snapped after your 20th birthday. After the Mortal queen and the deathless God had been dealt with. After Elain finally let her claws out of him long enough for him to notice you. To feel you.

He had not pushed sex, knowing from Nesta you were the only one of the 4 of you to hold onto that seemingly special thing so tightly. It had taken a year for you to spread those pretty thighs and let him take you, but after that, you fucked like rabbits. Trying every dirty thing and kink your mind wanted to explore.

Azriel had allowed you to dominate him, whining as you rode his cock and denied him orgasm after orgasm, fingers dancing his scarred wings.

He had tied you from the ceiling his dungeon, harnessed up like a swing and fucked you to sweet oblivion.

He had taken every tight hole, came anywhere he could. Marked you in his scent and musk more times than you two could count.

But you were still his sweet innocent girl. 

His little untouched angel exploring your sexuality and urges like an animal in heat sometimes. Your recent needs were punishment. You liked him hurting you, dominating you, watching as you cried. You liked breath play lately, hence his fingers sinking deeper as you struggled, black beginning to form in your eyes until he took those fingers out and slapped you.

“Need you to suck my cock, princess,” he began unlacing his leathers, mind lost in the pleasure your mouth would bring him. “Open. Now.”

You obeyed, throat relaxing and mouth opening as his cock sprung free. Hard leaking and angry from weeks away from you. He pushed in without hesitation, setting a gentle pace as he tightened his grip in your hair.

“She couldn't breathe,” his deep voice began reading from the book, making you whine around his cock as he pushed it down your throat ensuring you couldn't either. “The feeling of the cold hilt in her warm walls causing her to feel wave after wave of shock and pleasure.”

He looked down at you, smirking at the sight of your flushed cheeks, at you swallowing around him as spit pooled the corners of your mouth. His eyes went back to the book. “There was something about the danger, the thrill of this deadly weapon being used to push her to the edge that had her crying out, begging and pleading for more and more as she met every thrust with her hips. Fucking herself harder and harder on her mate's weapon.”

You were aching, dripping for him, and tapped his thigh for a quick breath, watching as he pulled out and looked down at you unimpressed. You panted a few gulps of air before taking him back in your mouth and bobbing your head, hallowing your cheeks and licking each vein on his shift. 

Azriel groaned loudly above you, setting the book down before his now free hand joined the other one tangled in your now messy hair. He began fucking your throat harshly. Barely allowing you moments of air as he chased his much needed high. 

You could do nothing but hold on for life when he did this. When he lost control for you. He pushed all the way in, gagging you again and held you there, nose pressed against his skin. “Breathe,” he commanded in a moan. “Being such a good girl, y/n.” 

Throat fucking as new to you. An unexplored territory you hadn't even considered until he had asked gently. You knew it was more for him than for you, but right now you felt this sense of power as he moaned above you, wings shuttering as his body shivered. 

That power reached a deep set need in your bones, allowing you to relax and enjoy this more with a small moan. “There we go, angel,” he whispered. “Just like that for me. I'm so proud of you.” He began thrusting again, allowing you to hear his pleasure, allowing you to feel that power you had over him. “Keep breathing, baby,” his voice was almost a whimper. “Just keep breathing, I'm right there, y/n. Please honey.”

Him begging had you moaning against him, relaxing your throat further as your watched his breathing pick up, his plump lips part, his eyes scrunch. 

Without warning he pushed all the way in, spilling down your throat, as a roar tore through his own. He pulled back slightly, releasing the last of his cum onto your stuck out tongue with a satisfied smile. 

He kneeled down to you, shadows bringing him a notebook and pen and he wiped the small bits that hit your face off with his thumb before forcing you to suck that digit. 

He flipped through the notebook, a page dedicated to each sexual act and kink you two had explored with a rating and comments from both of you before landing on the page he needed and the adjoining blank one. 

“1 through 5?” He asked you gently, removing his thumb and kissing your forehead. 

“3.5,” you admitted with guilt. “I only enjoyed it because you do, and it made me feel slightly in control.”

He nodded, writing your response as you two both moved to sit cross-legged from each other on the floor. “Do not feel guilty. I am just happy it ranked high enough to be in the rotation. How about the reading to you thing?”

“4 out of 5. I enjoyed it a lot when you were doing that.” Azriel jotted it down.

“And what the fuck is going on in this novel? Do you want to try knife play?”

“Only with you,” you answered. 

Azriel leaned forward, kissing you gently. “It's one of my favorites. I've done it with a couple play partners. I can answer any questions you have.”

The two of you sat there, filling in a few more pages of the book you had started to keep during the beginning of your exploration a year ago, smiling at the things you've already done, going on your list of retries. 

Love was free flowing down the bond, soaking the room and fabric in it's scent, filling the Riverhouse with its presence with every passing moment. 

Rhys and Cassian sighed from downstairs, tapping their feet on the wooden floors as they waited for Azriel to come give them his mission report. 

“This happens every fucking time,” Cassian sat down on the couch. “Is it us? Is fatherhood killing our sex drive?”

Rhys shrugged. “I don't know what's killing your sex drive, brother. Mine is fine. Hince 3 little ones. If you could figure out what's keeping theirs so... passionate, though, I'd appreciate it.” 

[historiaxvanserra]

In Hades I Am With You | Chapter Three

Pairing: Azriel x Hewn!city reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Reader is the ill-fated daughter of a cruel Lord of Night; plagued with prophetic dreams and cursed with rare, arcane gifts. Azriel is the stoic spymaster; forged from violence, lethal and honed to a fatal sharpness. The pair find themselves bound to one another through readers strange, prophetic dreams.

Tags: Forced proximity, strangers to lovers, Night Court lore, Priestess reader, discussions of SA and abuse, discussions of sex work, criticism of misogyny, sexism, and general abuse in all its forms, eventual smut, slight corruption kink, reader is incredibly romantic and horny.

I hold my hands up, as if in prayer, steam coils in feverish tendrils around the exposed curves and divots of my breasts and shoulders. The dark waters roil and spill over the lip of the turquoise pools as I surrender myself to their warmth.  From here, the world is obscured by the gossamer haze that glitters like spun spider-silk.  Like the veil between two worlds. An oppressive breeze cuts through the chamber like a shroud and the scent of wisteria and moonflowers smothers the putrid smell of the city in the wet heat of a summer storm. 

The cruel laughter of the other court ladies rings like a siren song in my ears. A symphony of high-arching sound that echoes off the moonstone pillars. I filter it out; focused instead on my own trembling hands, turning them to admire my fingers which are adorned in rings of amethyst and onyx, mined from the bowels of this wretched mountain that I call home. Then another's fingers interlock with my own, breaking my reverie.

Melinoe’s voice is lyrical and velvety as she wades through the waters before me. Steam rises in columns about her hips and waist, becoming entangled in the damp lengths of her silver hair. It curls over her sloped shoulders like a white raven’s plumage, casting her in a halo of opal light.

“Where were you last night?” 

Melinoe is one of the Lord Protector’s favorites. She is tall and graceful with beautiful smoke-kissed skin and glassy, onyx eyes that mark her as a daughter of this court. Melione was once the companion of Morrigan; The Lord Protector’s only daughter. Though she had been exiled from the Court long before I was born. She had been assigned to my household when I came of age. My eternal companion. 

Though we are bound by duty, there is still something of me that is kindred to her, a shared pain perhaps. She had grown up here, as I had, she too knew the anguish and oppression of this wretched mountain. The longing it can bring. It is why when I decline to answer her question she doesn’t feel the need to interrogate me further. 

“There are whispers amongst the Darkbringers.” Melinoe starts, a conspiratory gleam in her eyes as she looks around the room. The low cadence of her voice echoes dangerously off the mountain stone when she moves through the waters with a serpentine grace. She emerges from the bubbling pools like the image of some dark Goddess, born from the sea to lure men to their watery deaths. Her voice is laden with malice as she eyes the younger girls. How they hunger after every whispered word, circling her in merry rings like dancing water nymphs, or the coiling tendrils of some monstrous chimera.

“That the High Lord will return to court by the moon's turn.” The dancing tide turns volatile and the ladies eyes glint with something dark and predatory in the pallid light. 

Long ago, the first Princes of the Night Court had made their home here, in the cruel depths of the Mountain. The Moonstone Palace had been hewn from onyx stone of the mountain. Hence its name. The facade of the palace itself was adorned with great stalactites of opal that form a series of dark coronas that line its gothic archways, and its stained glass ceilings cast the palace in a wretched emerald light. When Rhysand had ascended the throne, after his father before him, he had abandoned his ancestral seat in the Palace in favor of his ‘Court of Dreams’. 

For millennia Velaris had been shrouded by ancient night magic; kept hidden from us here, under the mountain. Even as war ravaged these lands, and Amarantha made slaves of us all. A city shaded in veins of lavender, amethyst and violet, and saturated in perpetual starlight. 

The people of Hewn City had been afforded no such grace. Left to rot and ruin under the oppressive stone of the mountains. The forgotten vestiges of a dying regime; clinging to the archaic traditions of our forebears, coveting the dark whispers of power inherited from ancestors long dead.

Now, we cower in the cruel, emerald light of the Moonstone Palace, like shadows.

“The High Lord has no tenderness in his heart for us, why would he return if not for ill?” I ask, looking up at her through dark, curious eyes. 

“Because it pleases him to impose his wrath upon us,” Melinoe shrugs, running a fine-boned hand through the tresses of her hair, that refract like smoky quartz in the cold light. 

“And because it serves him to appease the Lord Protector.” Medea insists gently, leaning down to cradle my jaw in her slender hands. The mere mention of his name is enough to bring forth the ferrous taste of blood and hatred to my mouth, and yet, any ill I’d speak against him lives and dies upon the tip of my tongue. 

“Or to bring him to heel.” I interject, parroting the words I had heard from the Darkbringers in the Jade Pearl. 

After a few aching moments, Melinoe agrees as a smoke-skinned wraith drapes her body in a robe of fine, dark silk. The garment is held together by iridescent emerald ribbons that cinched around the curve of her waist, its lapels and cuffs are trimmed with black lace and the hems adorned in the black, floral embroidery favored by the Velarian tailors. A gift from her Lord husband, and my barbarous keeper. 

None of my own garments are nearly so beautiful. My dresses are the austere, high-necked gowns of a novitiate; dark swathes of fabric that cover me like a shroud and veils of silver and alabaster to conceal my face. 

“Perhaps the High Lord and his Illyrian dogs have already fucked their way through all of the dreamers in the so called ‘City of Starlight’ and hope to find some solace here, in the dark where they belong.” Venom laces her words, though her tone is pleasantly breathy and she smiles prettily when she speaks. 

Melinoe only ever speaks to me like this here, in the quiet of the bathing chambers, where the words we speak are our own. Her mother had told us once, a long time ago, that a woman’s first blood does not come from between her legs, but from biting her tongue. I hadn’t known what she meant then but I think I do now. The women of this infernal court are like well trained bitches; obedient, meek, and loyal. I was taught young not to bite the hand that fed me. Taught me how to beg prettily, how to crawl on my hands and knees and throw myself down upon a man’s mercy. 

And there is so little mercy in this world for women like us.

“He is afterall, his father’s son.” I hum lightly, musing on her words and I sink further into the misty wakefulness that usually speaks to a coming vision. 

A few beats of silence pass between us and then the bathhouse is a cacophony of liliting voices and girlish chatter as the other girls dress; whispering and dancing across the tiled floors of the bathhouse at the prospect of our High Lord’s return. 

“So…are you going to tell me where you were last night?” 

“I was here.” I say lowly, as I gesture to the bathing chambers. These apartments are one of the view places I am permitted to be without one of my sworn Darkbringers.

When I was a girl I wandered the Moonstone Palace at my pleasure; I knew every narrow corridor of these hallowed halls. The statue of Astarion that lay beneath the Palace itself, the desecrated temple at the foothills of the mountain, the botanical gardens which held blossoms of foxglove and dhalia’s, and arches of wild flowering jasmine and climbing ivy, the atrium with its stained glass ceilings, through which I observed thousands of constellations that painted the black tapestry of the sky like threads on a loom, and the High Lord’s personal libraries, its high paneled walls holding tomes and scrolls as ancient and arcane as the palace itself.

Over the years. Those freedoms had been stripped away from me for one infarction or another. 

“I came here - after Aelios left - you weren’t here.” Melinoe says dangerously, a thin brow arching towards me. My heart hammers traitorously against my chest. 

If Aelios had sent her it would be under the instruction of my guardian and the Lord Protector of the city. If Keir had the slightest idea of my transgression I would have been summoned by now.

“Did Aelios send you?” I ask tentatively. 

“No - when do I ever do as that barbarous fool asks?” Melinoe retorts, an air of offense on her beautiful face.

“I thought I heard you leave your apartments. I wanted to make sure you were well.” Melinoe approaches the lip of the tub and takes my hand in hers. She touches me gently then, her eyes full of care and affection. 

“The dreams have been getting worse, haven’t they?” She was right, though, that was not the reason I ventured out unseen last night. 

Melinoe runs a fine boned hand through my damp hair, and coos softly. 

“Please don’t tell Aelios.” I beg her, feeling guilt coil in my chest for the sympathy that lights her eyes. 

These visions that plague me are prophetic and dangerous, they speak of sacrifice and sacrilege, of war and ruin. I know that Keir covets the power I possess, I know what this foreknowledge could bring about, in the wrong hands. His hands are mottled with rage and cold with death. 

“I won’t,” Melinoe swears solemnly, “and where did these visions lead you this time?” 

I look up at her through dark, curious eyes from my place in the bubbling pools. Unsure if I should tell her. 

“Th-the lower city.” Melinoe’s eyes widen, sparkling like starlight in the blue light. 

“You mean…you went to the pleasure houses?” She asks aghast. She takes a deep breath and pushes away from me, pacing in circles on the tiled floor. 

“How?” 

“I-I borrowed some of Leda’s clothes - left through the servants quarters - no one saw me.” 

“How can you be so sure?” She asks her voice low. 

“If anyone recognised me I would have been dragged before the High Council and exiled before I even had the chance to tell you.” 

After a few aching moments of silence Melinoe softens, her head tipping towards me. 

“What was it like?” She begs for something tangible to cling to. Some small sliver of knowledge of what lies beyond these castle walls. So I tell her and the whole while she stares at me enraptured. 

I tell her of the whores, who swarm merchants like sirens, singing sweetly to them. I tell her of the sailors and the smell of the ale, the bawdy songs they sing and the vulgar words that color their language. I tell of of the games, coins minted with the faces of our High Lord glint in the light as it changes hands. 

“I-i can’t believe you went out there,” Melinoe sighs enthralled. “Did you see anyone from the Palace?”

“I saw a few of the Darkbringers - I didn’t speak to them though - and…” I hesitate, unsure if I should tell her about my encounter with the Shadowsinger. Who touched me with reverence, whose lips had claimed mine so devoutly. 

That night, I returned to the Moonstone Palace filled with such strange…longing. For what, I am not entirely certain but the Shadowsinger has opened something within me, some old wound, festing and aching for touch.

“And?” She asks. 

I want to tell her. I want to kneel at her altar and confess that his kiss tastes like cedar and night-blooming wisteria. That his eyes hold the darkness from which we were born, and to which we will one day return. The confession dies when she looks at me again. 

The vows I had taken were solemn ones. Last night, I had forsaken every one. If my keeper ever discovered my treason I’d be exiled as Morrigan had been. Disgraced and forced to debase myself amongst the High Lord’s court of whores and tyrants.

What’s more is that kiss, sacrilegious and sacred as it was, belonged to me. A secret contained between myself and the city.

“The soldiers were talking about the war.” I exhale slowly, swallowing the fallow lump in my throat. “An-and the High Lord’s return.” 

I cast my gaze out of the large, gothic archway that exposes the city in the wet heat of the storm. A dark mass of shadows bleeds across the vast black tapestry of the sky until the world is veiled in black. 

Was the Shadowsinger out there? 

Somewhere in the depths of this mountain with the same longing in his black heart?

Melinoe strides towards my discarded clothes, draped over the tiles as she coaxes me out of the baths. Her slender hands glide over the heavy swathes of fabric and she procures my veil from the pile. The elegant spider-silk is almost iridescent in the sapphire light of the Moonstone Palace. It is a cruel reminder of my place here. I feel its heaviness settle over me like a shroud.

Beneath my faded robes I observe the champagne silk of the slip I had worn last night. It was trimmed with lace and tailored to fit my body. It had been a Solstice gift. Imported from Velaris. I wonder if its usual scent of jasmine and bergamot had been tainted with something darker. 

Wisteria and frozen pine. 

“The City Watch said that there had been trouble on the borders,” Melinoe offers. She did this a lot; always hearing whispers of one thing or the other. “Apparently the Princes on the Continent are working with him.” 

“With who?” I ask, tucking back a loose curl.

“The Death Lord.”

“The Priestesses say that The Lord Protector is willing to join them…for a price.” Melinoe says grimly. 

“What could possibly be worth such a betrayal of our traditions?” My stomach turns, a warring and violent storm. Anxiety coils around my throat like the tendrils of some monstrous creature borne from the depths of the ocean. 

“That’s what it is to thrive in this world, sweet girl.” Her voice is softer now, a whisper of gentle night. 

“To make your black deals in the dark and decide what you will trade for power.”

I knew very little of power. 

But I know this: I had forsaken sacred vows at the mere suggestion of it. So what might desperate a desperate man desecrate to know the kiss of that dark, ancient power that bleeds from the infernal heart of this land. 

“I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.” Melinoe turns away from me.

“It- it’s just that with the High Lord’s return…” She stalks towards the open windows, taking in the view of the city from this height, “and your dreaming…does it not speak to something - a coming storm?” 

In truth it had never occurred to me that my foresight might serve as anything other than a shackle. That it might be a warning from out of time. Of things yet to come. 

“Come, sweet girl,” Melinoe coos kindly, turning from me, “it is not for the likes of us to worry about.”

“I will follow in a moment,” I acquiesce, reclining further into the water, running a cloth over the junction of my neck and collarbones and loosing a sigh as the steam envelops me once again, “I will take the waters a while longer.” 

She lingers for a moment more before taking her leave, the other court ladies following her in a daze as they trail out of the bath chamber; in a throng knotted curls and flashes of laughing violet eyes that glint in the seraphic light.

The vision comes with the quiet, fleeting images of the blue light of a bleeding star and a dark-winged angel.

“Are you quite alright, my Lady?” The voice of my handmaiden, Leda, cuts through the arid heat of the bathing chamber. The young wraith's fingertips dig into the tender flesh of my arms as she drags me upward and out of the scalding waters. Leda is a lithe creature, with yellow eyes and thin, arched brows that she furrows when she casts her amber gaze on me in the cruel light. Her features twist grimly at the alabaster film that shrouds my vision, a testament to the fleeting visions and prophetic dreaming that haunts me in my waking hours. 

“Another dream?” Her voice is accusatory and laced with concern. The wraith’s touch is careful and deliberate as she cradles my chin in her cupped palm. A reflexive hand tightens around her as she runs a hand through the loose tresses of my hair as my ragged breaths soften to a gentle exhale. 

“The worst of it has passed, I think.” I assure her, smiling lightly, though I am sure it does not reach my eyes. The wraith looks at me warily and there in the darks of her irises I find a small flicker of courage that coaxes sound from me again.

“I- I dreamt of a winged angel -- a blue star that bleeds over the mountain.” I say gravely, my voice wane and ghostly. My body feels like a conduit of someone else's pain. A vessel of nerve endings and synapses that sear white hot with the last tremors of the dark power that lives in me. 

“Dreams may yet be just that, sweet girl.” Leda embraces me thoughtfully, the crease in her brow deepens and the set of her jaw falls into something akin to sorrow. She wraps me carefully in a dark navy robe, the soft cotton against my skin working to untether me from the ether. 

“Now get dressed.” The wraith speaks gently into my unbound hair. Leda’s voice is stern but her face unserious, one brow arches high and her eyes glitter with devilment in the fireglow.

“The Lord Protector wishes to speak with you.” I falter then and Leda watches carefully as my fingers descend upon the discolored flowering bruises that mottle my skin.

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