#feels like nothing will ever help to alleviate this darkness

[karlachismylife]

Oh how I love when you start a hurt/comfort piece while you're feeling absolutely worst, but then talk to an amazing human, have your favourite cig and cookie, succeed in math and suddenly you don't want to die so much

but now you can't finish that fucking text cuz you can't get into the headspace

Man I love writing :))))

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.

about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.

“you could kill me if you wanted to.”

it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “

“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.

“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”

“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.

you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”

“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”

satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.

his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.

in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.

he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”

there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.

“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”

“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”

“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.

“i need you.”

“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”

“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.

usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.

those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.

“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”

but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”

your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

After a few weeks, you’re forced to acknowledge you were wrong about Coriolanus.

His mere presence assuages your hurt, and none of his actions bear a hint of impropriety.

He’s simply being a friend, comforting you and supporting you in a time of need.

His visits grow more frequent. 

You’re amazed he even finds time between the University and his apprenticeship with Dr. Gaul. Still, Coryo never misses tea time with you, sometimes even bringing books and sweets. You’re thankful for the time he spends doting on you, even if you hate keeping him from his studies. You know how eager to succeed he’s always been. 

But you can’t deny you missed the feeling of having a brother, of having this person who cares for you, looks out for you and protects you unconditionally. 

And while you’re aware Coriolanus isn’t your actual brother, having him besides you helps alleviate the weight of grief and loneliness. Being with him makes you feel closer to Janus. You’re also solaced by the knowledge it’s what your departed brother would have wanted.

There is one person however who isn’t too keen on the rekindled bond between you and Coriolanus Snow.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him,” William notes, tracing the lines in your palm.

You’re both lying on the couch in the sunroom, your back against William’s chest, fingers interlaced with his. Sunlight spills from the stained glass in the ceiling, painting your fiancé’s brown curls in bronze hues. 

This is a moment of tranquility you’ve longed for, a sliver of calm amidst the storm and chaos wedding planning has turned out to be. You reckoned it’d be easier than it has been. Instead, it seems nothing ever goes right. Between incidents with the cake, your wedding dress somehow being lost by the store, and the venue perpetually being booked…you’ve grown disheartened and exhausted by the entire process.

It’s almost like some higher force is trying to prevent you marrying William. It’s ludicrous, of course. But the ceaseless string of bad luck is beginning to drain your hope that your wedding will happen before the year ends. 

You and William even had to push back the date. There was no choice as hurdles kept emerging.

So you bask in your fiancé’s presence, soaking his warmth and familiar smell, reminding yourself why you’re going through so much trouble. Marrying William is worth it.

“Yeah. He’s my friend,” you state casually. 

“Your friend. Baby…” There’s a brief pause during which William appears deep in thought. When he speaks again, it’s with a softer tone. “At the risk of sounding jealous, the way he’s looking at you…are you sure that he knows that?”

His words make you sit up straight. 

“William,” you admonish, taken aback by his preposterous insinuation. 

Coriolanus’ a gentleman. He hasn’t made any moves towards you and he wouldn’t. Sejanus trusted him and you trust him too.

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs.

“I’m just saying. We’re getting married soon, and everything’s been so…tumultuous. I just want to make sure that you won’t…”

You search his forest gaze. Shock fills you at the doubts you find lurking there.

“That I won’t what?” You give a light punch to his chest. “Get cold feet? William, are you mad?”

His shoulders slump. “I know your parents wish I was from a great house like him.”

William looks away and you put your hands on his face, drawing his focus back to you.

“It doesn’t matter what my parents think. I love you.”

He smiles, that beautiful sunny smile that blows a warm breeze through your chest every time.

He grabs your hands and kisses them.

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

“William, you’re good and kind and caring. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” You hold his eyes. “He’s just a friend, I promise you. You…You’re my future.”

William studies you, love and devotion illuminating his features. His lips then collide with yours. He nudges you down on the plush beige upholstery, humming low in his throat.

When his hands find their way below your skirt, you push against his chest.

He immediately stops.

Your hot, rapid exhales mingle as you steady your breath. 

“You know I’d rather we wait for our wedding night,” you mutter apologetically. It’s not the first time things got hot and heavy between you and William and you slowed them down. You know how frustrating it has to be for him and you commend his patience. “ I know it’s old-fashioned but I…”

He quiets you with a tender kiss on the forehead.

“No, it’s okay,” he says, holding hands with you. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I got carried away.” Pink dusts his cheeks as he adds, “You just smell so good and you’re so beautiful.”

A smile breaks across your face. “You’re not too bad yourself, pretty boy.”

He tilts his head and laughs. 

“How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when you talk to me like that?” He bites his lip, his lids dipping to half-mast. “Can I at least get another kiss?” he whispers suavely.

“Hm, we’ll see about that…” you mumble, closing your own eyes.

“Apologies, hope I’m not  interrupting anything?”

Coriolanus’ sharp inflection shatters the spell, making you leap away from William.

Heat nestles in your cheeks as you rise to your feet, hastily smoothing the wrinkles in your dress. Your fiancé clears his throat and runs a hand through his tousled locks.

“No, we’re…William was leaving,” you stammer, struggling to meet Coriolanus’ stark blue gaze.

William’s brows squeeze together at that. But you shoot him a glare that pulls a deep sigh from him. He nods and pulls you to him one more time. 

He kisses you but you note it lasts much longer than usual, his fingers curling around your waist possessively.

Embarrassment flares inside you that this is happening right in front of your friend.

When he releases you, you’re breathless.

“Coriolanus,” William greets stiffly as he brushes past the blond.

“William,”Coriolanus replies, his tone somehow icier.

Once your fiancé has left, a weary exhale floats from your mouth.

“I don’t understand why you two can’t just get along. You both matter to me.”

Coriolanus smirks. “Oh, princess. You wouldn’t understand.”

“What wouldn’t I understand?” you inquire, blinking up at him curiously.

His tight-lipped smile expands as he gauges you. 

“Nothing.”

You scrunch your nose, displeased by his answer. He’s always so cryptic. A chuckle peels from his lips at your sour expression. His knuckles sweep over your cheek.

“There should never be a frown on such a pretty face.” He digs inside his satchel before retrieving a slim, leather-bound book. He places it in your hands as you gape at him, puzzled.

“Here, I brought you this. This will cheer you up.”

You examine the book. Surprise mingles with elation when you notice the words on the cover. The engraved letters spell out a familiar title. It’s one of your favorite books from when you were younger. It bewilders you that he even remembers. As if no time has passed.

“Oh my god! How did you…” An excited squeal leaves you. Then your voice lulls to a whisper. “It’s a first edition, Coryo.”

“It was printed and bound before the war,” he explains. “It wasn’t easy to dig up.”

Your brows rise. “An antique. You shouldn’t have.” You cradle the book against your chest. “You’re too good to me.”

His mouth quirks lopsidedly.

“Anything for you, princess.”

You both sit down for tea, cakes and macaroons. Time flies as you chat about everything and nothing with your friend. As always, you do most of the talking as he dutifully listens, only interjecting to ask you to elaborate on a particular point. 

No matter what you jabber on about, his interest never appears to wane.

You eventually land on the matter of your wedding planning. You share all the troubles you and William have had and Coriolanus hums in response.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” He sips from his cup of Earl Grey. “How…unfortunate.” 

He then pauses, seeming to ponder something. “I have a proposition.”

Your brow arches in question.

“Clemmie is throwing a party tonight. Let me take you, get your mind off of all this.”

Your lips part. Clemensia? A party? None of it sounds enticing to you.

“I’m not sure…” you trail off, your eyes finding the floor.

“What better way to cheer you up than a party, princess?” Coriolanus’ voice mellows as he adds, “You can’t stay cooped up here forever.”

Words falter on your tongue as your eyes swell with unshed tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern oozing from his gentle tone.

You shake your head.

“You’re crying,” he insists, reaching over the table to lift your chin.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says sternly. “Talk to me.”

His unwavering  inflection nudges you to admit, “I’m just scared.”

“What are you scared of, princess?”

You suck in a shaky breath.

“Every part of this house, every nook and cranny carries a memory I have with Janus.” You glance about the sunroom. Here alone you can count so many hiding spots from games you and your brother played when you were kids. “It’s easy, keeping him close here. It’s just that…”

“You’re scared to move on,” Coriolanus finishes for you. His thumb glides over your cheek, collecting a tear you didn’t realize had spilled over. “But you have to.”

“Sejanus wouldn’t want you to wilt away in this house like one of your roses.”

You mull over his words. You suppose he’s right but you’re still not convinced. Parties like the kind Clemensia is fond of hosting aren’t exactly your scene. 

A lame excuse flows from your lips.

“I don’t even know what to wear.”

“Then I’ll choose for you,” he replies without hesitation.

“What?”

“Let’s go to your room.”

Before you can protest, he seizes your hand and drags you upstairs.

“Wait, Coryo…”

He ignores you, making his way to your room with brisk strides you can barely maintain pace with. Once he’s there, he rummages through your closet. You let him do it, half-skeptical, half-jaded. Most of these garments weren’t picked by you anyway, but by your mother based on whatever fashion trend raged in the Capitol at the time. And those trends change every other season. You since long gave up on trying to keep abreast of them.

“Hm, this one is perfect,” he announces, drawing a red number from the closet.

You gape at the dress he chose. It’s a slip satin dress the color of blood. The waist is cinched with a thin belt and the lace sleeves, adorned with embroidered flowers, flow elegantly.

It’s beautiful, radiating a timeless elegance…but the neckline is low, displaying more cleavage than you’re used to. 

Your cheeks warm. “Are you sure?”

“Just trust me. Try it.”

Your eyes bulge but you relent, something about his tone curbing your impulse to argue. “Okay,” you quaver.

Trying not to squirm beneath his intense stare, you grab the dress from him and slip behind the wooden divider screen.

Chewing on your lip, you peek above the folding screen.

“Maybe you could…get out while I change?” you suggest while fumbling with the lace strings of your day dress.

Coriolanus casually sits on your bed, his crimson coat pooling around him. He leans back and spreads his large hands over your bed sheets. A small smile dances along his pink lips.

“I won’t look, I promise. Don’t you trust me, princess?”

“I do but…”

“But what?” he challenges, cocking his head in question.

Stumped, you come up short of a decent answer. “Nothing,” you mumble.

You shed your clothes quickly to try on the red dress. The whole time, you can feel the weight of Coriolanus’ unnerving scrutiny on the other side of the wooden screen.

He gives you a sluggish onceover when you step out from behind the screen. Your skin prickles as you shake.

“Hm nice, twirl for me.”

His blue eyes sparkle when you do as he says. He gets to his feet. He slowly strolls towards you.

Once he’s in front of you, he also arranges a few wisps of your hair in a way that he likes.

“Gorgeous,” he lauds when he’s done. 

He tilts your chin up, his gaze corralling yours.

“See? All you have to do is to trust me, princess.” His deep voice dips to dulcet tones. “Just trust me and, I promise you, everything will work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.”

“You came,” Coriolanus points out, that signature smirk of his adorning his lips.

“I promised I would,” you defend.

He snorts. “I’m glad. Saves me the trouble of having to drag you here myself, princess.”

Nervous laughter peals from your lips at his strange joke and the intent way his eyes rest on you. For a while, he doesn’t say anything, drinking in the sight of you in the crimson dress. The very same one he picked himself.

He then loops your arm around his, bending near your ear to whisper,

“Let's re-introduce you to everyone.”

You look around yourself, curious as you’ve never been to Clemensia’s house. The atmosphere is more intimate than you expected. The only source of dim light in the Dovecote’s sumptuous living room emanates from candelabras scattered all about, the wobbly candlelight casting twisting shadows over the damask walls. The crackle of the logs burning in the gigantic fireplace mingles with the soft piano tune filling the living room. 

“Coriolanus, did you bring a ghost to my party?” Clemensia jests when she sees you. Her expression then turns serious as she studies you. To your utter surprise, she wraps her arms around you and hugs you. You freeze, too stunned to return the gesture. The two of you were never close, the opposite in fact. It all stemmed from the way she and her friends ostracized you and your brother in school. Maybe it’s all water under the bridge now that you’re older. “Oh, you poor thing,” she laments. “I’m here for whatever you need, okay?”

You nod stiffly. “O-Okay.”

Coriolanus hardly conceals his amusement at the interaction, mirth swaying in his cobalt orbs. 

He and Clemensia keep introducing you to people. Some you recognize; some you don’t. 

It makes you realize how much you missed. 

After a while, faces blend into each other. You end up nodding and smiling to most of the small talk, your attention span dwindling by the minute.

Eventually, you decide to retreat to the bar to take a break. The barkeep nudges a drink your way and you thank him quietly. You swirl it in your hand, your thoughts drifting. Maybe this is what a return to normalcy must feel like. Slightly strange and overwhelming.

You gasp as Coriolanus appears at your side. “Are you alright, princess? Too much?”

Your startled reaction draws a chuckle from him.

A slow exhale drops from your chest. 

“A little,” you confess. “But…I’m glad you took me. A change of scenery is nice.”

It occurs to you that you haven’t had time to wallow in your sadness, too caught in conversation with other people. However frivolous the topics, it did keep your mind off of things. No thoughts of dead brothers have crossed your mind tonight.

It might not be much but it’s a start, you suppose.

Coriolanus’ brow curves teasingly. “See? This is why you should trust me.”

“Don’t push it, Snow. You’re on thin ice.”

A laugh bursts from his chest but, as he peers down at your drink, all humor vanishes from his face. He swipes it from you and sniffs it. 

“Hm, what’s wrong?”

A frown puckers his forehead. 

“Who served you this drink?” he rumbles.

You shrug. “I don’t know. It was just…brought to me.”

“There’s something in it.”

“What?” Ice spills in your veins. “Oh my god.”

Your mind whirls as you peek at your surroundings, paranoia creeping in. You wonder who could have done this and why. Just to mess with you? Or maybe even worse…

Your gut sinks. Thank god Coryo put a stop to whatever awful thing could have happened to you.

He puts his hand on your arm reassuringly. “I’ll bring you a clean one.”

“T-Thanks,” you stutter. “Just nothing with alcohol in it, please.”

“Of course.”

He returns with a brand new drink in a jiffy. 

“Thanks for looking out for me,” you beam before taking a sip. You were starting to get a little parched.

“Always, princess.” He grins at you while you take another sip.

A wave of queasiness suddenly hits you. 

The room starts to spin around you, blurring into crooked shapes and colors. You try to stand but your knees buckle instantly.

If it weren’t for Coriolanus swiftly catching you you’d be a heap on the floor.

“Coryo…I’m not feeling so good,” you slur, struggling to speak. Cotton seems to fill your mouth, the mere act of forming words demanding great effort.

“It’s okay, lean on me,” he says, slipping his arm around your waist.

“Head…heavy.”

“You’re alright. Just hold on to me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl.”

In a daze, you stagger along as he escorts you through a series of hallways and up a flight of stairs. You grow so weak that you slump against him. With ease, Coriolanus hoists you in his arms, carrying you bridal style the rest of the way.

You fall onto something heavenly soft that sinks under your weight. Like fluffy clouds. 

Your thoughts collapse, muddy and haphazard as you blink up at the ceiling. An antique chandelier hangs from it.

“You just need a little bit of rest.”

Coriolanus’s voice is warped, disembodied almost.

“Rest…” you echo.

But as soon as your eyes begin to close, the feeling of your dress hiking upwards tugs you back to consciousness. 

Befuddled, you look down. You’re welcomed by the sight of Coriolanus wedged between your parted legs, hands clasped around your thighs. His waistcoat and white blouse are gone, exposing his pale, broad chest. 

“Coryo, what is happening-”

His soft lips cover yours, stifling your protests. His tall frame pins yours to the bed. He purrs against your lips, framing your jaw when you feebly pivot your head to the side. 

When his lips free yours, your mouth still tingles with the forcefulness of his bruising kiss. 

He returns to the space between your thighs. 

You lie back, your bones like jelly, as you feel the delicate material of your panties sliding down your legs. 

Your brows twitch. “Coryo…”

His blue eyes glow strangely in the darkness. A chill slithers through your core. 

“Shh, don’t worry about it, princess, just sleep.”

You want to move. You feel you have to. But you can’t. 

“I…”

The syllable dies in a sharp gasp as Coriolanus’ cool tongue drags down your slit. Long fingers spreading you open, he traces wet circles around your bundle of nerves. He rasps against your center and the vibrations rock through your core. Your breath hitches. Your chest tightens. Heat builds in your stomach as he makes you dangle off the cliff of pleasure. He soon adds a finger and you cry out.

Coriolanus pumps in and out of you, gauging your expression as he grazes a particular spot that has your toes flexing. You writhe over the sheets, eyes blindly rising to the ceiling. 

You clench around his finger, your cunt clinging to him reflexively.

He sinks a second digit inside you and you whine, back arching at the abrupt stretch.

Short, chaotic breaths rush through your lungs as he works you open. His slow, meticulous drags have your chest rising and falling rapidly. 

Your legs quake as the coils in your belly grow unbearably tight and hot.

He stops as you’re on the cusp of your undoing. Your boneless frame sags onto the sheets.

He leans back and you hear the rustle of his pants coming undone. You get a faint sense of wrong trying to pierce through the haziness, but you can’t grasp at it.

Still, your fingers stretch towards the edge of the bed, your body rolling to the side. The meek attempt is interrupted as Coriolanus yanks you back onto the sheets, snatching your wrists and pinning them above your head. His frame drapes over yours. The scent of roses coats your senses.

“We’re not done, princess,” he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your face.

A painful pressure starts prodding your entrance. He grunts, hovering above you as he pushes past your tight ring of muscles. 

You feel as if you’ll tear as more of him buries inside you. Every second is agony, your core burning at the blunt intrusion.

A sigh of pleasure floats from his mouth when he reaches the hilt of you. He stays there a while, seeming to bask in the feeling of you around him. 

When he starts to move, your eyes flutter open. He sets a steady pace right away, thrusting inside you as if his life depended on it. Wordless screams rip from your throat. He releases your wrists, his long fingers latching onto your waist instead. 

Each of his slow, deep thrusts sparks warm tingles through your body.

Sweat collects between his brows as he grunts in pleasure.

“I knew you’d feel just perfect around me,” he rasps, delighted. 

His cadence quickens, his hand digging bruising grooves over your hip. Choked moans spill from your throat. His other hand crawls beneath the thin satin of your dress, fondling your breast and flicking your pebbled nipple. His hands feel everywhere at once and that sense of wrong rolls over you again.

“Ever since I saw you in this dress, I’ve been dying to fuck you in it,” he confesses, lust bleeding in his fevered tone. 

The mattress squeaks as he relentlessly rams into you.

A uniquely sharp thrust has your slick walls tighten around him. His cock stirs, a throaty moan pouring from his chest.

The repeated friction against your soft spots has you seeing stars.

A feral glint bounces in his blue eyes as he admires your panting form, lost in the throes of pleasure. Strangled shouts escape you as another wave of pleasure crashes over your frame.

His pace slows, sloppier than before as his cock twitches between your walls. His eyes roll back as he sighs, tension draining from his muscular frame. Hot ropes spill inside you, overflowing until you feel the warmth dripping along your thighs.

Your mouth wobbles, silent tears streaming down your face.

Coriolanus cradles your face, kissing away each of your tears with tender brushes of his lips.

“Shh, don’t cry,’ he mumbles. “It’s okay, princess. I’ve got you.” His cock stiffens inside you once more. He lifts you and snaps his hips viciously into yours, drawing a broken whimper as he bottoms out. A lopsided smile blooms on his lips when he begins to move inside you. Helplessly, you lie back as he takes you again.

“I’ve got you, and I’m not letting you go.”

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Meaningful Mistakes | Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: After what you had thought to only be a simple one night stand with Cassian and Azriel, you discover that you’re pregnant, and while delivering the news, the bond between the three of you snaps.

Word Count: ~3.4k

Warnings: Smut, so much smut, mlm, gay smut, threesome, penetration, oral, hate sex, ovulating? just a monster in general, also (surprise) pregnancy, mentions of morning sickness, nausea..all the things that come along with pregnancy

Minors, do not interact

A/N: I feel like so many ppl make the multiple mates thing but then only make it seem like they’re in love w reader which is so weird to me…this request was such a good one and a chance for me to play around with this, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Azriel and Cassian had known you for a few centuries, and while the three of you were close friends, you never would’ve thought you found yourself in this situation.

Sure, the two were close, but when you’d woken from a nightmare late at night, walking to Azriel’s room, you found it odd that the shadows weren’t swirling beneath the door like usual.

Even weirder, the door was slightly ajar, half an inch or so, and the sounds of panting and ragged breathing from inside only registered in your brain as you peeked open, sniffling before your mind was registered blank as you saw both of the males inside.

Cassian was sprawled out, wings spread and twitching, legs being forcefully held open by dark shadows, the shadowsinger himself above Cassian, Azriel shoving himself in and out of the General at a punishing pace, dark splotchy marks on his necks. It looked more like a hate fuck than anything, Cassian trembling and babbling beneath him.

Azriel’s gaze immediately snapped to you as you stared, frozen in place, at the sight before you. His sharp gaze took in everything, even while Cassian squeezed him so tightly. The dried tears on your cheeks, the way you sniffled a bit, and your scent, even while slightly tainted by arousal, still reeked of being upset or fearful. His gaze softened as he leaned down to speak to Cassian, pace slowing down until stopping completely as he pulled out.

He murmured something to the male, who groaned as the shadows slowly released him, moving his large body to sit up, eyes widening slightly as he saw you, a tiny blush on his cheeks that you were quickly distracted from as he softly grinned at you, waving you over.

“C’mere, sweet girl.”

You sniffled, still upset from the nightmare, and now feeling even worse for interrupting them in the throes of their pleasure. You walked over to him, and he promptly pulled you into his lap, seemingly in a more affectionate mood than usual as he rubbed his face against your inner neck multiple times, his length rubbing against the bottom of your nightgown.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Azriel asked, voice quiet and gentle as ever, as if nothing had been happening mere moments before. His shadows’ soothing touch against your skin mingled with his scarred hands as he reached to grab you from Cassian’s arms, only for the male to refuse to hand you over, intent on rubbing into you until you reeked of his scent.

You shook your head, though the answer was lost as you watched the two of them glare at each other, Azriel’s growl that tumbled from his lips doing nothing to alleviate the tension, and Cassian’s returning growl not helping. You sighed, a nightmare long forgotten as you dealt with the new nightmare you’d created.

“Quit with the territorial shit, just…share, or something.”

You said, Cassian giving you a skeptical glance. Azriel, however, looked like he’d just realized something, a dark feline glimmer entering his eyes as he smiled slowly. Cassian and you both noticed this, glancing at each other.

“Scheming face?”

You asked in a low tone. Cassian sighed.

“Definitely.”

He answered, already dreading what his brother would think, but excited as well.

“You want us to share you, hmm?”

Azriel’s voice, now a low purr, asked as he crept closer to you and Cassian on the bed. A flush entered your cheeks as you realized what he was implying, and how much you liked the idea was obvious based on the heat already pooling in your core, much faster than it usually would’ve, and should’ve been.

Cassian grinned wickedly, clearly enjoying where this was going. Azriel tilted his head slightly at you, clearly asking for your consent, even if the answer was obvious. Your little nod was all he needed before his hands were on both you and Cassian.

“Let’s continue where we left off.”

He said with a small smirk, easily flipping Cassian’s muscular body over onto his stomach, with you lying further above him on the bed. You watched, nearly entranced as Azriel’s throbbing cock pushed into Cassian’s ass, the male jerking and rubbing his hips into the bed for any relief or friction.

“Az—“

“Get her ready for me, Cass.”

That little order was all the General needed, clothes ripped off by his large hands and lying on the floor in pieces. His tongue was immediately on you, giving you no reprieve as it licked a stripe through your sopping wet core, the erotic sounds of slurping filling the air as he lapped up everything your pussy had to offer for him, nose brushing against your clit as he began tongue fucking you, groaning against you as you moaned his name.

The familiar white-hot pleasure was building in your core as your hand fisted in Cassian’s hair, tugging at the already loose bun it was in as he moaned into you, tongue loosely vibrating with the action as he began sloppily sucking your clit, throwing his ass out to meet Azriel’s thrusts as the shadowsinger also grabbed his hair, pulling back as you pulled forwards.

He’d already been on the edge, but the minute your hands gripped the base of your wings and squeezed, he came all over the mattress, face buried in you as Azriel groaned at how he’d tightened around him, thrusts speeding up before he came right after you.

It was a mess of moans and sloppy sex, before Azriel slipped out of Cassian, pulling the General up into a wet kiss, both males were still dazed, but Cassian pulled away despite Az’s growl of protest to mumble something out.

“She’s ovulating, Az.”

He said, panting for air as you watched the both of them in a heated gaze. Azriel’s eyes widened, before filling with a dark heat as he looked down at your spread form.

“Is she?”

He crooned as he pulled you back up into his arms, glancing at Cassian as the other male moved behind you, arms sliding over your waist and groping your sensitive breasts as you moaned at it, mind still spinning from your last orgasm as Azriel’s hand went to settle on your hips, the other stroking himself as he looked down at you.

“Does our pretty girl want to be bred? Does she need two big, strong males to fill her up?”

He crooned, a rare and wicked smile beginning to form on his lips as you whimpered, nodding as he lined himself up with your entrance. You heard the ‘click’ of something opening and squirting out, before being put back on the nightstand.

Glancing back, you saw Cassian rubbing lube onto his dick. He gave you a lazy grin when he saw you watching him before Azriel pushed into you and made your attention snap back to him, despite Cassian’s slick hands fingering your hole, lubing you up now.

“Azriel..”

You said breathlessly, inches and inches of him pushing in, stretching you wider than anyone you’d ever had before. It didn’t help that Cassian slowly began pushing into your ass at the same time, sandwiching you between their warm chests as Az’s shadows caressed your nipples.

“Please, please-“

You mumbled as they both finally were to the hilt, rubbing gently up and down your walls, only a thin layer of flesh separating their dicks.

“Easy, angel. Tell us ‘red’ if it gets too much, alright?”

You nodded, but Azriel didn’t seem impressed, looking you in the eye as he began moving in little thrusts that Cassian quickly picked up on and matched.

“Words.”

Azriel said firmly, looking you in the eye. You whimpered.

“Y- yes.”

You managed to get out, even as their thrusts turned deeper, faster until you could feel every delicious vein rubbing against you. Cassian groaned, hips snapping against you at a punishing pace as his chest rubbed against your back, his teeth and tongue on your neck.

“Oh fuck, ‘can feel you throbbing, Az.”

He groaned, panting against your skin, the pace only speeding up with Azriel matching him. Azriel’s gaze was unfocused as you tightened around him, his wings shuddering.

Cassian’s hands went from around you to around Azriel, reaching over and to his back. Azriel’s eyes widened as he saw what he was about to do, and his hands shot out to stop him, but they were too late as Cassian groped the base of Azriel’s wings. Azriel let out a lewd moan, hands then groping Cassian’s wings and he did the same, both bucking into you at random, eyes rolling skywards as Azriel came, spewing thick buckets into you.

Cassian panted, dick throbbing as you came for the umpteenth time that night. The two exchanged a glance, a silent conversation happening between them as Azriel pulled out, and before you could even whine at it, Cassian bullied his dick into your hole, pushing it as deep as he could as you cried out, his cum mixing with Azriel’s

He shuddered, collapsing onto you, only pulling out because Azriel managed to grab you and move you over to him, pulling you against his chest as Cassian whined and scooted over to the both of you, arms sliding around you next to Az’s, his wing draping over both of you, Azriel’s wrapped around both of you underneath his.

“You okay?”

Cassian asked, sounding tired, but content and satisfied. You nodded, sighing.

“Yeah, that was nice.”

You mumbled against Azriel’s shoulder, eyes starting to slowly shut, your mind keenly ignoring the mess all three of you had made in the bed.

*********************************************************

That night had been a one-night thing, you told yourself.

Even if you’d had morning sickness the past three months, your stomach had been bloating badly for weeks, the mornings you’d had to skip training or found your feet sore and aching.

Even as you lay down on the table, Madja’s cold, skilled hands ran over your stomach and pushed, touching, feeling for tense minutes, before she delivered the news you’d been hoping against.

“You are…pregnant. It’s too early to determine anything further than that and too late to abort it.”

Her old voice rang out, and you swallowed, shoving down the feelings and tears that bubbled up as you nodded. Getting up and pulling your shirt back on as you went for the door, mumbling thanks.

“I..wish you the best.”

She muttered as you walked out, making your way to the training grounds from Madja’s tent, where you knew Azriel and Cassian would be sparring, or maybe today’s training would be over by now.

Your suspicion was confirmed as you spotted the two downing water, Cassian grinning about something that was probably as stupid as he could be sometimes, while Azriel gave him an unamused look. Azriel noticed you first, gaze darting towards you, seeing your upset and slightly panicked look and immediately trying to figure out what was wrong, why, when it had happened, and how he could fix it.

He said something to Cassian that not even your Fae hearing could register, and Cassian frowned, glancing at you. When you reached them, the General held his arms out, and you stumbled into them, bursting into tears and reprimanding yourself mentally for it.

Both of their eyes softened and Cass was holding you close, Azriel right by him, one hand on your shoulder comfortingly.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I’m pregnant.”

You said with a sniffle, and then your already hazy vision went downright blurry as you began crying anew, this time at the feeling, the snapping in your chest of something slotting right into place. And then Azriel was crying and holding onto you and Cassian, and then Cassian was crying.

It was an entire mess, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, having those two as your mates, and them having each other as mates. The need to be around and with them at all times, to have them inside and out, to hold you, was all too overwhelming.

And to know that…

“It’s…ours?”

You were carrying one of their children?

“Yes.”

You managed to get out, tears reduced to sniffles from all parties as Azriel then easily picked you up, Cassian right beside him, the both of them walking into the House, but Azriel faltered at the stairs.

“Your room.”

Cassian said. The male wanted to be smothered with the scent of his mate’s scent in his room, in his sheets, with his shadows. You lived in the townhouse, so your room wasn’t an option, unfortunately enough.

“Yours.”

Azriel countered, a hint of pleading in his gaze that Cassian had rarely seen before. With a sigh, and running a hand through his dark hair, he relented.

“Fine. My room.”

Cassian’s room probably had fewer hidden daggers under pillows, mattresses, and gods know where anyway, you figured, as you were carried to Cassian’s room and into the warmth inside it, Az’s shadows following along eagerly. They were surprisingly friendly, immediately tightening around you and Cassian, especially on your stomach, even if there was barely any sign of it showing yet. As he noticed it, Azriel’s gaze turned concerned.

“Have you had any morning sickness?”

He asked in a concerned tone. You hesitated before speaking.

“Or cramps?”

Cassian then asked, shuddering at the thought of it.

“Or aches and pains?”

“Or sore ankles?”

“Or nausea, vomiting, and fatigue?

“Oh gods, don’t tell me you’ve had any heat flashes…those are the worst.”

They went on and on listing any and every pregnancy symptom you’ve heard of, and some you hadn’t before you interrupted them.

“Guys, yes to most of those, but I’m fine.”

Their faces only seemed more concerned with that, Azriel speaking.

“You are growing a child, one of our children inside of you, which might have wings that can make a birth deadly, might I remind you, and you expect us not to be concerned?”

He asked, Cassian then horrified at the thought of it. You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll all be okay, Madja told me that some females adjust to the wings and their birth canal widens.”

Cassian raised a brow.

“Feyre’s didn’t.”

“Yeah, well Feyre was born human, died, and was brought back to life with magic. She might not be the best example.”

You said dryly, Azriel setting you on the large bed, big enough for both of the Illyrian males to easily have enough room for their wings to spread. That was probably purposeful, given what you’d caught them doing three months ago. Your face crinkled in a thoughtful frown as you thought about it.

“How long have you two been fucking?”

You then asked. Cassian coughed for a minute, swallowing, and Azriel had a light dusting of pink on his cheeks as he tried to answer, stammering, before giving a resigned sigh.

“It’s an…on and off thing.”

He answered in a slightly strained tone, and you were skeptical, as was clear based on your expression.

“Not anymore, I guess. Not that I mind.”

You said with an amused smile, and Cassian only grinned, sitting down next to you as he leaned over and gave Az a chaste kiss on the lips, still grinning like an idiot when he pulled away.

“You don’t know how good it feels to do that and not feel an ounce of regret or the urge to hide it.”

He said to you, still grinning out of pure joy as he then kissed you on the lips. Even Azriel had a small smile on his face, one that turned into more of a surprised expression as you pulled a packet of crackers from your pocket, the kind you would only get from a restaurant as a small side, and opened the package, offering one to Cassian, and one to him.

“Are you sure?”

Azriel asked, clearly mirroring Cassian’s thoughts as they shared a glance. You nodded.

“I’m sure, and before you even think about it, it won’t hurt the baby as long as we don’t go too rough.”

“It’s called a frenzy for a reason.”

“I wasn’t aware a frenzy would involve bashing my stomach in.”

A low growl sounded from both males as you even said that in a dry tone.

“Don’t say such things.”

Azriel said with a huff, pulling you further back into the bed to lay down with his hand on your stomach, Cassian eagerly joined you, laying his head down right above your stomach and smiling down at the tiniest of little bumps that were there, his hand caressing the bottom of it. It could easily be mistaken as just bloating or a little stomach pouch, but they knew.

With one hand, Cassian popped the cracker into his mouth. Azriel hesitated, but seeing Cassian do it, and seeing you so at ease with them made him sigh and relent, one bite swallowing the cracker whole from him.

*********************************************************

The frenzy hadn’t been tame at all, but the full force and frustrations they couldn’t involve in their sex with you, they took out on each other.

Sometimes it was slow, and loving while you got to watch and lay on the sidelines, and with how often you were sick in the mornings or nauseous or just plain tired, you were perfectly content doing when not catching up on lost sleep. However, more often than not it was fast, aggressive, and more like a battle of dominance between the two males that Azriel usually ended up winning, but when Cassian did….

You still couldn’t get the sight of Az, ass up and filled by Cassian, face shoved down halfway into the mattress by the firm hand pulling on his hair, his mouth open as he, the stoic shadowsinger and Spymaster, moaned and whimpered, eyes wide and shadows holding him down for Cass.

When they did take their turns with you, determined not to overwhelm you, they were nothing more than gentle and loving, restraining themselves to an almost painful point.

When the bond had finally died down, the two took up what was almost like shifts. When Azriel had missions, Cassian was watching you, tending to you and your every need. When Cassian had to go visit the war camps, Azriel was there, quiet and loving you in his quiet way. On the very rare occasions that they were busy, Azriel would leave his shadows with you, or some of them at least, and check in on you very often.

You wanted to go walk and get food? No. They could carry you. You didn’t need to be putting weight on your ankles.

Your feet hurt? Cassian would take the left and massage it, Azriel on the right while the shadows fetched a cold towel for the heat flashes you’d had.

Morning sickness? They had Madja on speed dial with the herbs and tonics and everything they could get for you, besides holding your hair back as you hurled and cleaning it from your mouth.

Weird food cravings? They would fetch it without a single weird look, and you even got Cassian to try a pickle with hot sauce on it once.

Anything you wanted, you got. Hot baths with both of them, massages, heating pads, specific cravings, medicine, love and affection, cuddles, kisses, literally anything. These men were whipped for you and each other, and their favorite time of day was when you were all home together at night.

Cassian would be on your left side always, claiming it as the superior side and his favorite, his arm wrapped under you, his hand on your belly and wing curled around both you and Az as his head lay on the pillow next to you, hot breath fanning over your neck.

“G’night, love ya.”

He mumbled, a sleepy grin on his face as he looked from you to Az. Azriel had one arm wrapped under and around you as well, the hand that wasn’t in use on your stomach right above Cassian’s. His wings were stretched beside him, hanging off the bed so the wind from the window would blow onto them, something you suspected helped soothe the scars that covered the leathery appendages.

“Goodnight, Cassian. Goodnight, Y/N.”

Azriel would speak, voice betraying a bit of drowsiness. You were sandwiched between the two, but between Cassian’s heat on your left, and the cool window air and touch of Azriel on your right, it was a nice balance. You smiled, one hand on your stomach, between Azriel’s on the top and Cassian’s on the bottom, yours just in the middle.

“Goodnight, mates.”

You murmured, smiling to no one in particular as you drifted off to sleep.

[bamgyw]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the third night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"i gave myself to satan, i should be a wrinkly old witch by now. my hair a tangle of venomous serpents, my skin green like a toad, black flames coursing through my veins." - belladonna of sadness.

cw: +18 so. blowjob (main event). long ass aftercare. hm. pet names. i suck at adding the tags. anyway. themes of misogyny and parental abuse. catholic guilt (expected). i always end up becoming desensitized from reading and checking it so many times, so it’s probably much filthier to the common of mortals than to me. and what else. no i think that's it. a/n: i am so sorry for shamelessly lying to you, i'm never promising a fixed update time every again. i can't help it, i do be a perfectionist. anyway. this part is long as fuck, sorry about that too. hope u like it. hehe. kisses. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here

desire is sin, and sin is death. that was the grim truth that had sunk into your mind. a persistent, gnawing thought ever since beomgyu closed the door behind him. it was your only rule, how could you had forgotten? how could you have been so stupid?

shame and mud had taken root in your body, their claws perforating their way through your soul and clutching every rosy thought, choking them all into submission. slut, nympho, mary magdalene, whore.

you were haunted by the memory of his touch, the warmth of his breath against your skin, the whisper of his words in your ear and the pain of knowing it was all wrong, sinful and forbidden. it was a sweet torture, a reminder of what you had lost and what you could never have again. not if you wanted this shame to go away.

if he had stayed, perhaps his warmth could have filled the void within you, congesting your body with butterflies and hydrangea blooms before the self-condemnation had a chance to seep in, oozing out your mouth, your ears, your cunt like a gooey toxin.

but he left, and you were alone. in that icy isolation, you came to realise that you would always be alone. letting him in had been as mindless as it had been short-lived.

he was your foolish indulgence, a desire fragile like a stained glass window that your daddy would shatter the moment he found out. just like he had with soobin.

so the morning after, you woke with tear-streaked cheeks, the dried remnants of your sorrow clinging to your skin.

your eyes opened faintly and with trouble with the first sun ray. they were swollen, your vision blurry from the hours of crying. your body ached from the tension, muscles stiff and sore from the night spent curled up in a pathetic ball.

you sighed deeply, the exhale carrying with it a fraction of your guilt and mortification, but not nearly enough to ease the tightness in your chest. you were physically clean, but you felt stained to your core.

like lady macbeth, desperate to wash the non-existent blood from her hands, you felt that anyone could detect the evidences of your crime. your missing rosary beads, the slightly reddened neck, the scent of him on you. if daddy barely even looked you in the eye, you were certain he would know.

the scant sleep you managed to get was haunted by nightmares—daddy's cheshire grin glowing phosphorescent in the darkness, while you cried out in beastly moans against beomgyu's neck.

it felt like an omen, a premonition that if this continued, you would inevitably be discovered. desire is sin, and sin is death.

the sensation of your bare cunt against the sheets did nothing to alleviate the flesh-eating sadism of your shame. you lay there, feeling exposed and vulnerable, the absence of your underwear only amplifying your discomfort.

a chill ran through you, mingling with the dampness that clung to your groin. the moisture on your body had felt nurturing the night before, a sign that your were alive, that you had the capability to love. but now it felt foreign and intrusive.

you reached down to touch your cunt, feeling the sticky residue from the previous night. disgust gnawed at you.

you had cried yourself to sleep without cleaning yourself up and now your soggy, sickening cum clung to you like a noxious reminder of your sin. like you were rotten inside, leaking with venom. you buried your face in the pillow and cried again, your sobs muffled.

without his voice, that sticky liquid was just snot; without him there, the memory of his touch disfigured into that of a nameless hand of the devil fucking into you, and yourself feasting on it like a wild beast.

you rushed to the bathroom, driven by urgency. you felt like you were going to throw up, but you only gagged, your stomach empty. "it's all in your head," your body seemed to say. "we're fine, you're fine." but you couldn't comprehend the language. for all your life, you had only ever listened to your mind.

your reflection distorted in the mirror, a stranger in your own eyes. you were always poised, you were always composed. but the blood injected in your eyes, strained from the crying made you look like a madwoman. breath came in gasps as you stared at yourself, eyes wide with desperation.

your hands trembled as you turned on the faucet, the cold metal biting into your skin. water rushed out violently, crashing over you. each drop felt sharp, like tiny knives against your flesh.

with a desperate breathing, heavy like the room was devoid of oxygen, you attacked your skin, nails digging deep as you scrubbed. the water turned red. desire is sin, and sin is death. desire is sin, and sin is death.

desire is sin and sin is death, but like baptism washed away the original sin, water could purify you again, sterilise your body. clean his being off of you. with each scrub, you fought to erase his touch, leaving raw skin in your wake.

when you were done washing up, you hid it all the best way you knew; under layers of clothes, thick and opaque, not a visible centimetre of skin outside your face.

you walked through your house, eyes glued to the floor, as if you had stumbled into a cathedral bare naked. the saints and apostles on their holy cards stared down at you, their gazes heavy with sorrow. they had watched you grow up from a good little girl into a tainted whore.

even saint sebastian, the christian apollo, offered no mercy. the blood-stained arrows pierced his flesh, and his blood-thirsty eyes pierced you whole. a faint smell of incense lingered in the air, the ghostly reminder of daddy's morning prayers.

but there was one last saint to face, the most hurting martyr of them all. as you reached the bottom of the staircase, soobin stood in the hall, leaning against the front door.

he wore that same charcoal grey sweater he always wore to college, forever unchanged, like a character from an animated sitcom. and, as always, he was there waiting to drive you to school. but that morning, you wondered if he could smell your fear.

“you slept in?” soobin asked, his tone flat.

“y-yeah,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible. “but i can skip breakfast. let’s just go.”

“you should eat something,” he insisted with a slight shrug. “you must be tired.”

your breath hitched, and a cold sweat formed at the back of your neck. “why do you say that?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“you never sleep in. you must’ve had a tough night,” he observed, his eyes searching yours for a moment before looking away.

“kind of, yeah.” you moved towards the kitchen, your steps hesitant. "i had nightmares. all night long."

he walked after you into the kitchen, silent and stealthy like a shadow. you grabbed a plain bagel from the counter, spreading a thin layer of cream cheese on it. your hands shook slightly, the knife slipping once, smearing the cream cheese unevenly.

he leaned against the opposite counter, watching you as you faced away from him, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. there was an unsettling calm about him, a relaxed stillness that would have been reassuring if it were anyone else, but not soobin. "beomgyu has trouble sleeping too," he said, his voice almost too soft, too casual.

you chewed your lip before turning to face him, trying to maintain a facade of calm. "and you do too. must be this house," you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

you took a swift turn and walked out of the kitchen, your head held high. but your heart pounded against your chest like a drum. he knows. he knows. he knows. or maybe he doesn’t.

desire is sin, and sin is death. and now you had to wait, trapped in the uncertainty of not knowing whether your brother, cain, would betray you and get you killed. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

there was always a puddle of muddy dirt at the entrance of the school. even if it didn't rain, the ground was perpetually wet. a slick, treacherous mess that swallowed feet and soiled shoes.

you couldn't trust that ground. you couldn't trust the school. a slip-up and the back of your neck would lie cracked and open on the soil, thick blood mingling with dirt.

you stepped carefully, feeling the mud clinging to your soles. that was the revolting start to each day.

there was a sign on the entrance gate, rusty and weathered, that looked like it could give you tetanus just by looking at it. it had always made your skin crawl.

the words "sacred heart catholic university" were printed in bold letters and they seemed to be smirking. they knew they were lying. there was nothing sacred about that school, not one thing.

if you looked into the eyes of almost any professor, you would see something rotten staring back at you. it was not as wicked as it was pathetic. not grand enough for a flaming crown of hell, but rather petty and small like a worm or bloodsucking lice.

you walked through them every day; rheumy gazes and moist smirks. old men leering at bodies they couldn't touch. or they could. they had. no one was stopping them, anyway. not the dean, not the bishop, not god.

every morning began with a mandatory service, the only time when the girls' and boys' sections were allowed to gather together. you arrived in mass to the chapel, and once inside, the path divided: the male wing at the right hand of the father, the female wing to the less prestigious left. you and soobin always separated there, each heading to your respective sides.

but morning services had one small perk: mandatory as they were, there was no attendance list.

so when soobin disappeared from view, you'd slip out of the chapel. alone, you might have not dared, but you had partner in mischief, a friend. the person who had walked you hand in hand through an uncanny semblance of girlhood. yeh shuhua.

shuhua wasn’t exactly an intellectual, but she had a sharp street-smart intelligence. a keen sense of the world. she had thought a backup plan for getting caught skipping church.

"here's what we'll do," she'd say, dropping to her knees, hands clasped in prayer. "oh, dear professor," she mimicked in a whiny tone. "how can a shy girl like me pray with so many people around? my thoughts are only for god, and i must speak to him privately for comfort." she cried out, then flashed a bright grin. "the nuttier we sound, the more likely they'll believe it. remember when that girl said she could talk to the virgin mary and they brought in a vatican official to check? we just have to play innocent..."

like a faint summer breeze, shuhua was fresh and witty, and she never let that dammned school, nor its metaphysical threats, nor all the ordained priests walking around earth to turn her cold. 

she was pretty, too, a boy-candy type of beauty. with long black hair tinged with red highlights, cherry gloss-coated lips and porcelain-white skin. not a trace of catholicism tainting her youthful features.

shuhua made the world feel a little bit bigger. she always had news about celebrities you didn't know, their affairs and gossip, the pomp and glamour god rejected.

it was fun talking to her. she wasn't a remarkable friend, or what they call a soulmate. but she was there. 

until she met a boy.

lee heeseung, from the male section. only one year older than shuhua and you, but with the distorted notion of being older than the world itself and knowing more than anyone. 

it started with a few stolen glances during chapel services, innocent and demure, and escalated to shuhua going down on him in the non-functioning professor bathrooms during the easter vigil mass.

all proud and excited, shuhua had recounted every detail to you like she had just blowed jesus himself.

“you feel like choking… more so if he likes it rough. and they all do.” she said. you had never seen her act that sheepish, but there was a slutty glint of enjoyment in her eye that made it feel less out of character. “he pushed down on my head a lot, so i kept gagging,” she said. “it’s not like i loved it, but he liked it so much, my darling boy.”

you remained quiet, like you often did. it wasn’t the violence of the act what disturbed you, but the devotion in her eyes as she recounted her pain. maybe boys really were dangerous after all, slithery and deceiving.

they could get you to enjoy pleasing them even if it hurt in the flesh. they were gods, demanding piety, and fathers, exacting control.

heeseung and shuhua started using their time skipping service to be together. it wasn´t shuhua and you anymore. it was heeseung and shuhua, and the malleable puppet of your physical body. 

they had asked you to stay with them as a sort of chaperone to mitigate the risk of getting caught. but at some point, heeseung began to pity you—or perhaps he found it too awkward to grope shuhua with you just standing there. so, he started bringing a friend to keep you entertained. you would have preferred he hadn’t.

choi yeonjun had beautiful flowy hair, and a charming smile, and he lived in a big vast playground he owned, called the world. his confidence bordered on tyranny, and that made him untouchable.

a disgustingly rich boy he was; the kind of rich that gets you into heaven. his father was a man who owned lands and homes, therefore owning other men. another dictator, just another man playing god.

"he's into you, you know?" shuhua's voice rang out as you both strolled through the tall grass toward your usual meeting spot. "you should cut the prude act and give him a chance." she said.

the blades brushed against your ankles, tickling your skin as they swayed gently in the breeze. the further away from school, the freer. even the landscape knew that.

"he's not worth a chance," you replied, stone-cold.

shuhua shot you a disapproving look and said, "you're beyond help, honestly." pausing to apply a fresh layer of gloss to her lips, the shimmer catching the light. "it's choi yeonjun. they don't make 'em better than that."

"he's cruel. and he acts like god’s favourite," you retorted, your voice definitive. "i don't like that."

the grass crunched underfoot, the rhythm of your steps a steady thrum against the silence. ahead, two human shapes, tall and slender took form—the two boys, blurred smudges sharpening into clarity as you drew closer. 

the moment shuhua’s eyes landed on heeseung, she couldn't contain herself and broke into a sprint, her skirt flying up recklessly as her legs blurred in a skipping motion towards her darling boy. her arms clutched at his neck, desperate and clinging, while heeseung’s bold hand slipped beneath the fabric of her skirt to grasp flesh, squishing her ass like an anxiety toy.

even before dating heeseung, shuhua had always favored a smuttiness to her clothes. however, the style had transformed into a sort of charicature of a schoolgirl since they started seeing each other. there was some freudian notion to the flimsy short skirts paired with the nunnish argyle cardigans that drove heeseung insane. 

the black cotton of your tapered slacks felt suddenly itchy against your legs. hot, suffocating.

"ice princess," yeonjun's voice broke through your thoughts, sharp, clear, uninvited. he stood slightly apart from the others, his eyes fixed on you with the usual blend of mocking and blatantly checking you out. "let me carry your bag." 

"it's not heavy," you answered curtly. heeseung and shuhua remained oblivious to the exchange, lost in their own world where the lines between love and possession blurred.

“oh, come on,” yeonjun's grin widened with a mischievous glint like sunlight flickering across the shards of broken glass, alluring yet sharp enough to cut. "let me take care of my pretty girl." 

“i’m not your girl.” you clutched the strap of your bag tighter to your side. "and we’re not in high-school. i can carry my own stuff." you said before continuing to walk.

he snorted out a laugh, then followed after.

the usual hangout spot was just a collection of rocks aligned almost like a table, their jagged edges softened by the creeping moss that clung to them like a blanket. the air was cleaner there, untainted by the scent of trampled grass and stale corridors.

shuhua perched on those stony pews, her legs folding beneath her with ease. in her lap, heeseung found a cradle for his head, his hair spilling over her thighs like dark silk being tenderly spun by her fingertips.

you sat nearby, your knees drawn up tight to your chest, arms wrapped around them as if they could shield you from the cursed memory of the night you had spent with beomgyu from slipping out of you.

yeonjun hovered close, too close, as he usually did, his body heat radiating onto your skin in waves. at times, he'd lean back, propping himself on an arm just inches from you, his weight shifting the balance of your shared rock. 

his hand would reach —a bird of prey circling before the dive—to toy with a lock of your hair. you felt the sweep of his fingertips, not quite touching the scalp, a ghostly sensation that prickled your neck.

and most times, you just let him do it. it was a twisted ritual of near-touches, the most explicit thing you would ever allow him to do to you.

sometimes he would lean into your ear and whisper “you're a cockteasing slut, you know?”, with words meant to burn. they tingled in your ears down to your pussy. then came in a nervous gaze you tried to hide, the redenning cheeks, and yeonjun’s stupid smirk when he noticed it all.

the attention you got from yeonjun was addictive and tingly like crystal meth. his warmth was a tepid thing, a sun struggling through winter clouds. it wasn't real, it wasn't love. barely even affection. just an obsession-driven lust. but it was enough for you not to die of hypothermia, frozen by your own frigidity.

or at least it had been enough, before beomgyu.

there was no room for yeonjun in yourself, not anymore. he didn't feel warm. he didn't feel like anything. not when every cell in your body thrummed with the echo of beomgyu's name.

that day, you kept batting yeonjun’s hand away from your hair, denying the only bit of you that had belonged to him. but he always reached out again, insistent, stubborn as weeds in cracked pavement. 

"stop it," you told him under your breath, the whisper harsh against the backdrop of wet kissing sounds from the happy couple.

"what?" he asked with a shrug and a cocky pout. his feigned innocence was as thin as paper. "you have open ends…" he trailed off, fingers splitting an open-ended hair into two.

"i like them like that," you snapped, the words sharp. "just get away."

"playing hard to get?" he prodded, his grin all teeth and no humor.

"playing 'leave me alone,'" you shot back, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself.

a laugh bubbled up from shuhua's throat, rich and unbothered. she lounged like a cat in sunlight, her eyes half-lidded. "woah, feeling extra-prudish today, no?"

heeseung's gaze flickered with something akin to mischief. "she's probably scared because of the kim minjeong thing," he smirked.

"the kim minjeong thing?" you echoed. "what happened?"

heeseung stirred like a cat on shuhua’s lap with a shit-eating grin. 

"her daddy found out she had a boyfriend. got real mad." he explained. "the man dragged her to the dean's office gripped by her hair. she kept ugly crying, it was freaky." his eyes didn't waver; they held the morbid fascination of one watching a car crash. "the dad kept going on and on about the school not being able to keep girls in line, shouting like a madman. they ran a virginity test on her to settle it.”

a gasp caught in your throat, strangled, "w-what's a virginity test?"

heeseung's grin sliced through, cruel and sharp as a kitchen knife. "they stick cloth up your pussy, and if it comes out with blood, you're safe. if not, well, the executioner will choose the punishment, i guess.”

you felt your face flush, heat creeping into your cheeks. this type of intrusion, a cruel infringement disguised as safeguarding, was the kind of love that fathers, kings, and gods like to exert.

"it's a twisted thing," came in shuhua, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear with a delicate flick of her wrist. "don't you get even more puritanical because of it, sweetie. it has no scientific avail. if we were underage or something like that… that would be one thing, but– i don’t know. it's just barbaric..."

heeseung replied in a mock stern tone, making the lazy impression of a war general, "age doesn't change anything.” he said. “no sex before marriage."

your hands were sweating against the fabric of your pants as you stammered out, "c-couldn't they tell if you...like, touch yourself?"

yeonjun's predatory smirk widened as he leaned in closer. his response was a simple question; "why, babygirl, would that worry you?" he kept his eyes locked on yours, waiting for your armour to break.

"of course not," you muttered, forcing out the lie through your dry throat. "just curious." you continued, trying to sound nonchalant, "i mean, it could get someone in trouble for virtually nothing."

"virtually indeed.” heeseung snorted with a laugh. he picked at the grass beneath him. “it all depends on how you define virginity," he said with a casual shrug. "for the salivating creeps who take those tests seriously, fucking only means sticking something inside of something else. so i guess that if you've only fucked yourself by… you know…” he made a crude gesture with a shit-eating grin. “then you’re still pure as virgin mary.” 

“that doesn’t feel pure, either.” you said. you thought back to the previous night when beomgyu's fingers had teased your clit, and you couldn't help but feel a familiar twitch. you pushed the memory out of your mind, shaking your head as if trying to scare away a pesky bug.

“non-penetration sex is not pure, but it’s not patriarchal, either. so it doesn’t count.” shuhua said. 

yeonjun’s next comment different in political aspiration. he leaned into your ear, "don't you ever go needy like that, baby" he said, his eyes fixed on you with a confidence you wished you could scrape off with your fingernails. “if it aches down there i can kiss it better.” he said. heeseung chuckled complicitly with a hollowed laugh.

"zip it, the both of you." shuhua's voice sliced through their banter, sharp and clear. such fierceness for a girl drowning in a pastel pink sweater. "honey, that test is total bullshit. it just checks if your hymen is torn or not. it’s this little membrane up your pussy which men have historically used to shame girls. it can tear riding a bike or with a tampon or whatever. it's stupid."

you nodded, but you weren’t convinced. you didn't think daddy would believe it. if they ran that test on you and you didn't bleed, what would you tell him? that you rode a bike too hard? he would never buy that.

heeseung snorted out a grating laugh. "she says it’s stupid now, but i survived the first month we were together off of blowjobs. she was scared stiff of anything going up there because of that damn test."

shuhua leaned in close, hed breath a warm whisper against heeseung’s ear, "like you can complain, you love it when i go down on you." her hand trailed along the sharp line of his jaw, fingertips barely grazing his skin before coming to rest at the dip of his throat. 

heeseung's cocky smirk grew wider as he leaned back on his hands, the rocky ground beneath him serving as his makeshift throne. "you know," he drawled out, "there's something so fucking heavenly about having a girl on her knees for you. i dunno... you feel like a king."

a flicker of your lip gave away your true thoughts, an unintentional twitch. heeseung's language was coarse, but there was an odd poetry in the way he spoke this time.

you thought of beomgyu. beomgyu your king, beomgyu the only one you would ever want to crown like that. your lips around his dick, his low voice praising you. calling you his baby, his little angel.

slut, nympho, mary magdalene, whore. said shame.

a flush of heat crept up your cheeks, betraying the sudden surge of nerves that coursed through your body. "i...should get going," you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush. "service will be over soon," you added quickly, hoping to cut off any potential objections and make your escape before things became too awkward. 

grabbing your bag, you hurried away from the group, taking quick and hurried steps. but it wasn't long before yeonjun caught up with you.

"wait!" his voice shattered the tense silence, causing you to stop mid-stride and turn to face him. 

"what do you want?" you asked, tone curt.

"what do i have to do for you to stop giving me the cold shoulder?" he asked, his grin widening as he continued to close the distance between you.

your voice sliced through his hopes with practiced precision, a sharp edge honed by too many similar conversations. "nothing, really," you replied firmly. "but what you can do is stop deluding yourself into thinking that anything will ever happen between us.”

yeonjun's grin didn't falter, but something flickered in his gaze—a brief shadow of disappointment he quickly masked. he trailed behind you like a persistent breeze, impossible to shake off.

"don’t you think you overdid it today? the whole nun act?” he asked, the corners of his lips curling slightly. there was always malice behind his playfulness. "you can’t fool me, you know? girls who act all cold like you are always the filthiest.”

your muscles tensed. “is calling me a slut the best you've got?”

“come on, i know you're needy," yeonjun said confidently, taking a step closer to you. he reached for your hand, but you flinched it away before he could touch you. "you have to be… pretty girl like you, restraining yourself... i could make you feel so good. put that mouth of yours to good use.”

"seriously, will you ever cut it?" you spat out. "i don't want you. i don't care about you. just forget about me."

you saw his lips press, his nostrils flare. sick of him, you turned to walk away, but his voice cut through the air like a sharp blade.

"is there someone else?" he suddenly asked, and you could hear the hint of desperation in his voice.

you froze in your place. "w-what?"

"you always get all flushed and bothered when i say nasty shit to you." he said. "but you keep acting up today, like you don't need me anymore. are you seeing someone?"

"leave me alone, i never needed you." you said, shoving him hard in the chest. he stumbled back, surprise flickering in his eyes before it hardened into something darker.

"touchy, aren't we?" he regained his balance, his grin resembling shards of broken glass. "i liked you with the good little girl image, but it gets me so fucking hard when you say no to me like this, too."

you hissed, taking a step back. all you wanted was space, air, anything to cleanse yourself from the filth of his words. you turned around and left with quick, heavy steps.

yeonjun watched you go, satisfaction gleaming in his predatory gaze. "even if you don't tell me, i’ll find out!" he called after you, his voice carrying on the breeze, "and you're smart enough to know that secrets are only safe if everyone keeps their mouths shut."

you didn't look back.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

helios ploughed the sky with his chariot and night fell everywhere in the house of god except in your room.

it was a deliberate postponement the night-time. a way of protecting the sanctity of your holy prison cell. your safe, warm, constraining prison cell.

you had stood under the shower for a second time that day before climbing into bed, letting the scalding water clatter softly against your face for what felt like hours. you lingered there, breathing in the steam, until your were sure you had washed away any residual trace of lust

you dried your hair with rough, almost angry strokes until it was dehydrated and feathery, and brushed it until the strands, dampened into thick locks, turned soft enough that you wouldn't dare allow anyone to tangle it again.

anyone. the devil. him.

the nightdress you had worn the night before, the one he had touched, lay discarded on the floor. a fleeting thought of burning it crossed your mind. maybe you would do it the next day. integral purification. eradicate the slightest trace of him.

you changed into a cotton short set, one childish enough to be laughable. cute little lilies over a pinkish backcloth. and to further on that naive illusion of shelter, you wrapped yourself into a black hoodie that had once belonged to soobin, its oversized warmth swallowing you whole as you sought to disappear within it.

the scent of almond soap and sanctifying shampoo lingered in the air as you sat on the bed with the lights still on. daddy went to sleep, soobin inserted himself inside his bed for yet another night of staring at the ceiling. the house of god fell silent. 

you hugged your legs, repeating to yourself that desire is sin, and sin is death as a nightly prayer. but when you finally turned off the light, the darkness only amplified the pounding of your heart. he would come. and you would have to ignore him.

maybe he had forgotten, even. maybe he had gotten bored of the toy and would just stand you up. that's what yeonjun would do if you ever gave him a chance. if the thread of unfulfilled yearning didn't tie him to you. or maybe it was that beomgyu hadn't really tried out the toy yet. barely even unwrapped it.

no. you had the gut-wrenching feeling that, for some god-awful reason, beomgyu cared about you. he had said he did, treated you like he did. if only he were more like yeonjun—more of a jerk, less needful and unhappy—maybe he would spare you the pain of sending him away. you weren't even sure you could.

in a desperate attempt to assert control over yourself, you had wedged a chair under the doorknob—a feeble barricade to separate you from your sin.

your door didn't lock from the inside, only from the outside. daddy had designed it that way, like a guardroom only he held the key to. the birdcage. the cushiony, secured birdcage you never should have corrupted.

that's how beomgyu had entered the previous night. the door had been open, a poetic invitation from fate. tonight, however, you closed it sealed and tight—poetically, physically, painfully.

but then he arrived. and he owned the magical key that was himself.

the first knock was faint as if the door could hurt. you remained still, every muscle tensed. a second knock followed, carrying a little more intent, a little more anxiety. panic coursed through your frozen veins. you wanted to hide in soobin's hoodie like a scared tortoise and never come out.

you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that if you pressed your eyelids hard enough, you wouldn't want beomgyu so desperately. a hopeless wish to never had felt how your lips blazed against his, to erase him from your life entirely.

the doorknob rattled, the bolt clanking with an excruciating metallic sound and the safeguarding chair being the only thing keeping the door shut.

"please, leave," you whispered, your voice barely a breath. and maybe he heard. maybe a divine intervention carried your plea. he stopped.

silence stretched for agonizing minutes. your heart pounded in your ears, drowning out all other sounds. done. it wasn't that difficult. five minutes of agonising anxiety in exchange for a life of virtue. or so you thought.

you didn't even have time to cry his absence when his voice, haunting and mournful, pierced the quiet.

"remember, most gracious virgin mary," he began. he was praying. "that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help, or sought your intercession, was left unaided."

you perched on the bed's edge, hypnotized. he was asking for asylum in your prison cell. for you to let him lock himself with you in your birdcage. like the previous night, and for all nights to come.

he went on. "inspired by this confidence, i fly unto you, virgin of virgins, my mother. to you do i come, before you i stand, sinful and sorrowful." he said.

with each word, you took a frightful step toward the door. he was loud enough for everyone on the floor to hear him. but what was the harm, right? just the prodigal son praying to the virgin.

"mother of the word incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy, hear and answer me." he said. "amen."

your body trembled. every fiber of your being wanted to resist, but you had to let him in; you were to be full of grace—the mother of mothers, praying for the sinners at the hour of death. your hand moved to the chair, quietly setting it aside. you opened the door, opened the gates of the promised land.

beomgyu sunk there, small, slumped against the door. he startled by its sudden opening. his eyes, rich brown like fertile earth, looked up at you—pleading and desperate. his youthful cheeks, soft like a girl's, and his blessed lips had shown you more love in one night than anyone ever had. you never saw the trident, the wicked grin, the feathered black wings of satan.

he turned and knelt, clumsily, like a mistreated convict begging for food, clutching the rosary beads you had given him in one shivering hand. "i thought—" he stammered out. "i thought you didn't want me anymore."

with a pained expression etched on your face, you motioned for him to be silent. beomgyu could see the lamentable dye that stained your features, but he couldn't decipher if you were inviting him in or pushing him away. a part of him didn't want to find out.

when he began to crawl towards you, you recoiled as if he was a disease. and that's how he felt at his core –like a pest that you couldn't get rid of. your heart ached at the thought. just last night, he held you close and whispered honey into your ears. but now you blamed him for your own sins and treated him like the devil.

you extended your hand and helped him up. in a subtle motion you closed the door behind him, trying not to make any noise. relief flooded his features as he leaned closer to your ear. "do you want me to leave?"

you kissed his cheek softly, like only you knew how, the touch of a feather. he shivered. "stay," you breathed against his skin.

you had fallen again. he had prayed himself into heaven.

the first step he took inside was bashful, but you should have guessed from the red-hot gleam in his pupils that a hurricane-stricken soul kiss was coming. no build-up, no easing you into it. just crimson cannibalism.

he took two heavy breaths. one. i missed her. two. i want her. and the third one he took against your skin after lunging at your mouth, breathing in the soaps and the shampoos and all your foolish efforts to plasticize yourself against him.

he pushed you against the wall with a force that made a loud thud, but he didn't care about the noise. he needed to close every gap, to melt your body into his. "i missed you so much," he gasped between kisses, his voice laced with desperation. "i've been thinking about you all day, about what i wanted to do to you... i couldn't take it anymore."

he devoured your lips, his hands roaming over your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you. "you're so good for me," he murmured against your skin, his words muffled by the heat of his breath. "so fucking good around me."

beomgyu's hands were like molten lava, burning trails on your skin as he pulled you closer, and you wanted nothing more than to let him do. to have him burn you down to cinders, to give your neck to him as an offering and let him blood-suck you dry.

but you remembered. desire is sin, and sin is death. it echoed annoyingly this time. like a nagging school teacher, an irksome jiminy cricket that spoke in your own voice.

you tried to push him away, gasping for air like a diver drowning under the weight of the ocean. "wait," you panted desperately, trying to catch your breath. "beomgyu, please– wait." you said. you poured a bucket of iced water over the volcano.

the lava solidified under the ice. "why? what is it?" his eyes grew wide, concerned.

"i don't want to feel like a whore again." your eyes dropped, avoiding his gaze. "like i'm– cattle.”

lava rock turned pathetically mushy. "did i... make you feel that way?"

you shook your head quickly, feeling guilty for even thinking it. "no, no. you were so good to me." you reassured, hands gripping onto his shirt. "but we– we barely know each other. why would you want me other than..."

"just for sex?” he finished your sentence with a battered expression. “is that what you think?” 

"what else, then?"

"no." he shook his head anxiously. "no, no. absolutely not. you're... you're like me. you understand. you get it. you feel good– in my soul. this is corny, i'm not good at– i... i just... this is the only way i know how to show it."

cute. you gently ran your fingers through his dark, tousled hair. he was fawn like everything nurturing, he was hazel all over. lush like freshly brewed coffee, mellow like a shot of baleys.

you let your hand trace from his hair to his chin, holding him closer. your noses met first, plumy. then the lips, just barely. they made a slight, dainty wet sound when they parted. "all the decisions i keep making because of you are so stupid. it’s embarrassing." you said. "i'm never like this."

"i'm..." the lava rock was now cotton, it was watercolour, it was baby powder. "sorry."

"where did you learn that prayer?" you asked, playing with his hair. he held you by your arms, trying his best to pretend that your lips didn't exist.

"i've been hanging around church," he confessed in a raspy whisper. "i never go inside, thoug. that would feel intrusive, i guess. i just hang around and listen to the services from the outside. i try to memorise the useful prayers," he said, "only that one stuck."

you raised an eyebrow, "the useful ones?"

"the ones that will get me what i want. isn’t that how praying works? and besides," he said with a sugary grin, holding the rosary beads up. he was sweet, so endearingly earnest. "you gave me this. i thought i should learn how to pray it properly."

"you weren't saying it correctly, though." you corrected him gently. "the first bead is supposed to be 'our father,' you were saying a memorare."

"who cares?" he shrugged, a teasing glint shining through. "it worked for me. it got me in here."

with a trembling hand, you reached out and grabbed the rosary hanging around his neck. your fingers closed around the cold metal, pulling it towards you. "take it off."

he clutched it tighter, his hand over yours, as if afraid to let go of it. "why?" 

"i don't like you with it," you said. "i like you out of god. you're the only thing i have that's not corrupted by it."

"but i'm trying to be a little better for you. purer, or whatever the hell you call it. so that you'll feel less guilty when we're together." he said. then his brows furrowed with ache. "you regret me, don't you? that's why you weren't letting me in." 

"it really hurt when you left," you admitted quietly. "all night long, i felt filthy and repulsive. like some..." you hesitated, embarrassed at your own words. "some wild animal in heat. but it goes away when you're here. it... it’s still there. but i forget about it. just a little."

a defiant look crossed his face. "then i'll never leave again."

"but you have to," you countered, letting go of his arms and turning way from him to walk toward the window. "or daddy will find out."

you heard beomgyu's footsteps approaching after you slowly, and you knew he was standing behind you now.

in haze and silk his hand found yours, which had been limp at your side. "but you like being close to me," he said softly, his arm wrapping around your waist, pressing your body against his. "and i like being close to you," he added, his nose tracing patterns along your neck. "you're warm."

"aren't you concerned at all? how can you not care about anything else?" you asked.

"because i'm crazy about you, you're my angel." he muttered as if it was obvious, his lips grazing your skin as he spoke. he buried his face deeper into your neck, breathing in your scent. "you smell so good."

"i just showered," you whispered, feeling yourself shivering under his touch. "it’s all i’ve done today, try to wash up."

"see?" he purred against your neck, with an amused smile that bordered on wicked. "you're a clean little angel. you have nothing to be ashamed of." he held you tight, arms forming a velvety belt around your waist. "i'm gonna be good for you tonight, take things slow. does that sound good?"

your nodded slightly, turning around to give him a soft kiss. though eager, there was uneasiness in your gaze, a loving intensity so hopeless it hurt.

he could take the hurt away, he was convinced. leave only the longing, the summery warmth and the tingling of the flesh. cupping your face with both hands he took your soft kiss and inflamed it into a fleshy bite, a mouthful of you. mine, mine, mine.

the room sweltered, wrapping you in a cloying embrace that thickened with the friction of the lips. with a deft movement he pulled away for a fleeting second, shrugging off his overshirt, the fabric fluttering to the ground like a lifeless body.

he saw your eyes widen, your muscles tense. the breath catching in your chest at the lost promise to take things slow. he lifted his palms like having been caught in the middle of a crime. "it’s– it’s hot in here," he murmured, trying to hush you. "just that."

you nodded. "yeah, yeah." you breathed out. stupid, wimpy, childish, prude, you thought to yourself. "i…" you started to unzip the hoodie, stripping away from your protective armor. "i probably don't look as good as yesterday," you said. "i'm sorry."

beomgyu exhaled a breathy chuckle, a laden smile tinged with affection. "what are you talking about?" he asked, shaking his head. "i look fucking gross in soobin’s old, borrowed clothes. these fit me like an elephant's skin, and you – you're… shit, you're so pretty – and you still apologize?"

he grasped your hand, tugged you towards him. he cherished and adored, and coated with his kisses and artisan lips the face of his angel. his little good girl who would sigh hummingbird whimpers against his lips as a warming, wordless praise.

he liked how you explored on him, too. how you seemed to prefer his upper lip and worked on it daintily, how you would pout when he pulled away, something he did just to indulge himself in the pleasure of staring at your lips get swollen and intumesced. how your eyes saddened, too, puppy-round and disquieted, silently asking if you had done something wrong.

gentle lips turned voracious, he couldn't help it. you were so tasty, so foamed textured, a favourite food.

letting his arm cradle you under your ass, he picked you up, weightless plush bear, your legs falling at both sides of his torso. you escaped a half-chuckled hum against his lips, a teenaged sound of cheeriness.

securely held like that, he walked you to the bed, where he let you fall softly, himself dropping after you. the weight of his body pressed you down against the plush duvet, but the suffocation felt good, the drowning in his oaky scent with no escape.

he focused on the fragility of your neck, silken, lovely swan’s arch. he pressed his unworthy mouth against it, nibbled at it, let his teeth sink in the skin, pushing the feeble line of pain and pleasure.

you shifted, rolling over together in a smooth, almost effortless motion. now, your were resting against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around you. you could hear his heartbeat, steady and deep.

he watched you hovering above him. your hair fell around your face, a dark frame for your flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. fucking beautiful. he lifted his head slightly and gave your a quick, animalistic kiss, almost like a snake bite.

his teeth caught your lower lip, holding it for a heartbeat longer, before letting it slip free. your back spasmed, punctuated by an acute shiver.

you let out a low, throaty whimper that resonated against his mouth. your lips pressed back against his with increased urgency, your fingers digging into his hair as you deepened the kiss.

"needy baby," he murmured softly, his voice a husky breath against your lips. "you still want me to take things slow?"

your hips began to move on their own, rubbing against him, driven by an instinctive rhythm. his nails bit into the tender flesh of your thighs as though trying to rip off the peel of a tangerine, to skin you out and envelop you himself instead.

but you both moved together, and his shirt lifted slightly, revealing a dark bruise on his stomach. at first, it was just a shadow, barely noticeable in the dim light. but as your movements shifted and the fabric of his shirt rose higher, the bruise came into full view.

your breath caught in your throat—a deep, ugly purplish hue marring his skin. the color at the center of the bruise was nearly black, a grisly shade that made the surrounding skin look almost rotten. the edges of the bruise were tinged with a sickly yellow-green, the mark of an injury struggling to heal.

"beomgyu..." you paused, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of the bruise, feeling the heat radiating from the inflamed skin. it was tender to the touch, and you could almost feel the pain he must have endured when he received it. "how did this happen?" you whispered, your voice a mix of worry and disbelief.

his eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. he seemed reluctant to answer, but the concern in your gaze softened his resolve.

"it’s nothing," he murmured, trying to dismiss it, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.

"nothing?" you echoed, your fingers still gently exploring the bruise. he winced at the touch. "your dad hurt you before you came here, didn't he? that's why you left home."

his hands moved to cover yours, stopping your gentle probing. "it’s just... it’s not as bad as it looks."

"does it still hurt?" you asked, searching for his eyes, but he was steadfastly avoiding your gaze.

"no," he said through gritted teeth. "stop looking at it." he pulled down his shirt to cover the bruise with a violent tug.

you tilted your head, scrutinizing his lie and his sudden flare of irritability. it was uncharacteristic, a side of him you had heard of but never had seen yourself.

slowly, you reached out and pressed your fingers against the fabric of his shirt, right over the hidden bruise. your touch went from gentle to stinging as you pushed down, observing his reaction.

he bit his lip, a futile attempt to conceal his pain with a stubbornness bordering on childlike. when it really began to hurt him he finally winced, a sharp breath escaping him. "well, of course it fucking hurts if you press it," he snapped.

"sorry," you whispered softly.

you stayed in silence for a few seconds. you didn't know what to do, what to say, how to tell him that he shouldn't be embarrassed that his father was a sadistic brute. so in a movement as smooth as melting butter, you eased yourself onto his lap, your limbs wrapping around him with the languid grace of entwining vines.

you said nothing at first, just peppered his face with kisses, each one a delicate brush of your lips, grazing the tip of his nose, the corners of his mouth, and that upper lip you adored so much.

"what was that for?" he asked, still trying to perform crankiness with a tiny pout, but with a flustered red coloring his cheeks.

he yielded, his hands finding a natural place on your hips. with a tender smile, you murmured, “you've been going on and on about taking care of me, but look at you. you need care, too.”

“no, i don’t,” he retorted, his tone edging on petulant. “i can handle myself and take care of you while at it.”

“sure,” you reassured him with a soft giggle, your breath warm against his lips. “but let me take care of you for once.”

the kiss you gave him was a smiled out version of the wettened bites he liked to take out of your lips. a somehow tender ferocity, adoring. a violent hunger, soft like rose petals.

he liked lingering touches, gentle and exploratory. those that made him quivery and trembling. the kind that traced but not prodded, only brushed. and so you gave him that.

he liked wet kisses, deep and honeyed. kisses that felt like sinking your teeth into a ripe peach and letting its amber juice drip down your chin. and so you gave him that.

"i... still remember how good you made me feel yesterday." you whispered against his lips. he watched you in silence, pupils dilating at how bashful you were, how much adoration your eyes carried for his foul self. "i really tried to, but i couldn't stop thinking about it all day. about... you. i... i wouldn’t even know how to–" you stopped, words piling up in your throat. "how to give back."

your voice washed over him like holy water. a shiver run through him, the stirring whip of a stingray, from the nape of his neck down to his hardening dick. his eyes lit up with something animalistic, dark, even. there was a subtle change in the tilt of his head, an eager forward lean.

his hands were two starved beasts, roaming freely and gripping your body. you guided his touch, enjoying the tension changes in his muscles when he grasped the parts he liked best.

his fingers tightened firmly on your thigh, a strong ache of lust pulsing through his veiny forearms. he hesitated, eager for permission before moving his hands up to your ass. when you allowed it with a mild nod, his grip clenched tightly like iron.

he let his hands trail up, crawling under the shorts, beneath the underwear. the skin was tender, sweet marshmallow flesh. he kissed you violently, just for the sake of groaning into your mouth, to tell you how bad he liked you without the need for words.

pulling you closer, he grabbed firmly, causing your straddling legs to spread wider against him. then you felt it. him growing harder against you, his bulge pressing insistently between your legs, "b-beomgyu you're,"

"of course i am," he growled through gritted teeth, "shit– how could i not be?" his greedy lips traveled down from your neck, your throat, tour clavicles, leaving a trail of spit on your skin, icy against the air. 

"you were like this yesterday, too." you pressed your fingers against his tense jawline, feeling the strain in his muscles. “let me help you out, please, teach me how."

he hesitated. his baby princess was too pure to stain herself with his dirty self. he was just a ravenous dog, hungry, flushed and beastly turned on, but you were his little dove, his angel, you–

you took your shy hand down to his crotch.

you did so while looking him in the eye, firm but awfully nervous. trembling, experimental. you brushed against the throbbing bulge with your palm.

he drew his head back. holy mary mother of god, pray for us sinners. chewed on his lip. now and at the hour of our death. he was all in.

he put his hand over yours with the intention of teaching you, like you had asked for, but you stopped him. with a timid voice and a slight stutter, you requested, "m-mouth."

a hitched breath. then a heavy one. "you shouldn’t," he whispered huskily, “with those pretty angel lips…” 

you stirred on his lap, making him shudder with the slight brush of your covered pussy against his desperately hard self. "i have this friend from school," you began. "he’s not all that poetic, but today he said something… " you said, voice whispery. "said that having a girl on her knees for him made him feel like a king. i want to make you feel like that, too.” 

beomgyu's silence was charged, his gazy stormy. the heavenly image flashed before his eyes. his baby angel down on her knees for him. the blushing tint on her sinless cheeks. virginal hibiscus lips wrapped around his cock. all sweet, all fucking gorgeous.

he then said, "open your mouth for me,”

you did as he commanded. you parted your lips for a shy communion, reception of the body of christ. your tongue rested plump and glistening on your lower lip. pretty, pretty, pretty.

with one hand he held your chin. the other one he raised with his index and middle fingers extended, thumb holding the ring and little fingers down. he slid them inside your mouth, their sinewy length slipping past your lips, taste of salt, skin and wine.

he grunted when your plump lips closed around his fingers. gulped down his libido, his adam’s apple prominently bobbing up and down. soon enough —he told himself— be gentle.

guiding your head with a steady rhythm, he began to move his fingers in and out, the wetness of your tongue sloppy against them. "no teeth," he commanded. 

he entered a third finger in, stuffing your cheeks. the thrust got more forceful, his hand reaching deeper. you began to salivate, making a mess on his wet skin, unable to swallow.

you gagged when he pushed against your throat. then looked up at him, a glint of fear in your eyes.

“that choking feeling. it's gonna be like that.” he said in a sweet tone. “you think you can take it?”

you nodded eagerly, your voice coming out muffled in a throaty moan against his hand. it was a new feeling, but so sinfully delicious. a deep hot sweetness that got you helplessly soaked with its glowing tingle.

"use your tongue," he growled, his voice thick. you obeyed, letting it swirl around his skin. “such a good girl.” he said. your body quivered all over.

when he finally withdrew his hand, a glistening saliva trail draped down, connecting his fingers to your tongue. lewdy spiderweb of silver. without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to each gleaming digit.

then, as light as a floating bubble, you slid off the bed and guided him to sit at the edge. but instead of sitting, he stood up, looming over you. he was so tall, and for the first time, his height didn't feel protective but imposing, towering over you like a temple.

you gazed up at him with pleading eyes, silently for a kiss. he granted it to you. he could have been a giant, a monster, beastly like a wild bear, and he still would have brushed your hair behind your ear with all the softness in the world and leaned down to kiss you.

kneeling before him made you feel small, exposed, shrinking under his devouring gaze. but there was something thrilling in being so vulnerable to him.

your hands were shaking as you reached for the waistband of his pants. a ritualistic undressing of him, an unveiling of sacred flesh that you were terrified to ruin by being clumsy and uncoordinated.

his hand wrapped around your wrist. "are you sure about this?" he asked for the last time with a tender stroke at your head.

"yes," you whispered back, your voice barely audible over the thunderous beating of your heart. there was a shyness that coiled tightly around your spine, eating you alive, but there was also eagerness—the want to make him feel good.

you pulled down his pants, the big bulge in his underwear imposing, daunting. you pressed your lips tentatively against the taut fabric, the only thing you were certain you would do well, a slight whisper of a kiss that left behind a cold, wet spots.

the dampness seeped through the cotton, a chaste baptism of his aching cock. "pretty," he murmured above you, hand tracing your cheek.

a little more bolstered by his praise, your hands reached out and hooked into the elastic band, pulling it down with reverence. his cock was thick and pulsing, begging for your touch. rosy, gold-dusted. you gulped. this was him, purely in the flesh.

you leaned in, trailing soft kisses along its length and leaving small burning marks on his skin. his hand gripped your hair tight as he groaned. "you're gonna feel so good, shit."

with a hesitant exhale, you parted your lips, allowing the tip of his cock to brush against them. he tasted of musk and urgency. you struggled, trying to fit him all the way into your mouth. he was so big, so overwhelming for virgin stupid you. 

as soon as he felt your lips around him he winced and his hand gripped your hair, tugging sharply and sending a jolt of electric sensation down your spine. you felt a protectiveness in his touch, there was no force, only unreleased tension.

"you're so fucking beautiful like that,” beomgyu rasped, his voice thick. you leaked heplessly at his words. "be careful, alright, angel? stop whenever you need to." he said.

you pulled out for a second, just to answer to him. your lips closing at his tip, pouty. spit glistened all over his lenght like the glinting mix of melted ice and saliva on fruit flavored ice-cream. "don't hold back." you simply said.

beomgyu let out a grumbled groan as he watched take him in your mouth again, the plush walls of your cheeks hugging so beautifully around his cock.

slow and timid, you began the back and forth motion. the flow you managed was awkward at first, clumsy and arrhythmic. but with just a little silent steadying of his hand in your hair, you found the right pace.

“j-just like that, shit,” beomgyu groaned, his voice a low thrum that resonated through your ribcage.

the wetter you got, the more shame swirled like eddies in the depths. you knew she was waiting for you with her sinister glare, ready to and ambush and churn at your insides when beomgyu was gone.

but shame was titillating when your lower belly burned and your needy clit throbbed helplessly. shame leaked out in the form of arousal, pouring syroupy glitter. 

whenever you dared look up at him, you'd see the godlike vision of a strained, sweating beomgyu. his head was drawn back in pleasure and his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, escaping a profane mess of heavy breaths and lewd sounds.

his voice was so beautiful, too, you kept thinking. low and mellow, incese and wood. he sounded so good, with his raspy “ahs,” and roaring moans. you did everything in your power to keep him panting like that.

with every flick of your tongue and suckle of your lips, you could feel him twitch and tense. as you took him further into your mouth, his thick and veiny shaft hit the back of your throat. 

a surprining rush of excitement surged through you when i you gagged, tightening your core. that lewd retched sound of the choking turned into a cried out moan of pleasure.

you salivated against his cock, the mixture of his salty precum, your spit, and the tears that came out of your eyes from the asphyxiation making a mess that kept dripping down your chin. 

you took him deeper, revelling in your own gagged-out sputters. "y-you're taking me in so good," he praised between clenched teeth. “my baby, you sound so fucking perfect choking on me.” 

but then you noticed. the way he remained still, fighting every instinct to move. the exaggerated tension in his body from doing so. he was holding back. lacerating self-control.

you pulled out, finding no resistence from him. he immediately leaned down, loving concern in his eyes, but his breathing still heavy and messy, and asked "are you alright?" he asked, gently gripping your jaw.

and though he was trying just so hard to focus on your well-being, he mouthed out a strained “shit, baby angel...” in pure awe upon seeing you all covered in the mouth-watering mixture of glinting fluids.

"b-beomgyu," you gulped, voice broken. "don´t hold back. i... like the choking."

he bit his lip so hard he almost drew blood. "i don’t wanna hurt you," he said. a gentlemanly formality.

"i know.” you smiled faintly. “but i like the pain, i promise."

eyes round and doe-like, lips soaked in delightful filth, swollen and gleaming. a wet dream of a girl, you were. sweet dainty angel who just kept saying gut-wrenchingly hot words.

he traced one finger along your jawline, just one, all feathery. "you have no idea how perfect you are." he whispered. but his caress turned a firm grip on your jaw. big strong hand, poking fingers. he said, "you want it rough? then i’m gonna fuck your cute little mouth raw.”

he tightened his hadn't around your hair in a way that immediately let you know he wasn't grabbing you for guidance, no massages, no caresses. he wasn't playing anymore.

the first thrust back in was paced, but painfully deep. you let out a delighted whine around him, having craved the sensation of being filled by him again. then he lived up to his promise.

he pumped his cock into your mouth, thrusts steady and violent. that you liked the pain he took it religiously, believed it in heart and soul. and you revelled on it. sacrificial angel, dirty slut with needs.

but it was all you wanted from him, really. to pound his love into you, ruthlessly. to wreck you with his own hands and pick up the pieces after, kissing the scars. to carve in your skin a yearning so big and monstrous it could only be spiritualised in pain, only could be satisfied in flesh and blood.

his grip in your hair tightened into a makeshift ponytail as he urged you deeper, pushing you to the brink of what you could withstand. your eyes were so glassy you almost couldn’t see, holy lack of air that got your cunt trembling with want. 

a violent dance of pushing and pulling, giving and taking. with each thrust, you were the victim of his self-control slipping like sand through desperate fingers. his words became abstract, senseless, angel, and baby, and beautiful melted into one until all he could do was cry out.

never in a million years would you have been able to rationalise how you could've have gotten such harrowing pleasure, such a tear-jerking sense of utter love, from such a forceful act. but you felt it, everywhere in your body. in your whitening knuckles, in your sore scalp, in the ruthless thrusts that got you trembling, leaking, terminally ill in lust.

beomgyu got beautifully lightheaded. his every molecule trembled, his every nerve ending felt numb and petty compared the scorching beautiful fire there where your mouth brazed his cock, soon to explode.

"s-so fucking close." his body trembled with the strain, severing the bond of flesh and hunger. "h-hand– fuck, y-your hand." he struggled out.

he desperately fumbled for your hand, and when he found it, he guided it to the stem of his length, showing you how to stroke him, pushing him over his peak. you knew, you felt him tense up, get breathier, more desperate.

but he pulled out of your mouth. he grabbed onto your hair and pulled your head back roughly. neck strained, you let out a confused whimper. good little puppy.

that did it for him. he gave you one last awestruck look, and jerked himself off with your hand getting himself to cum all over your face with a shaky groan. 

warm liquid dripped down from his still-throbbing cock, landing on your quivering lips and streaming down to your cheeks.

he urged you to keep stroking him through his most sensitive, his whole body twitching and contracting under your touch. "ah, f-fuck. keep going like that, just a little more," he said.

he pushed through, your hand only a tool confined between his own hand and his cock. you were barely a puppet here, the symbolic means of lewdness, a kink.

you got to watch him attentively. his gorgeous hair shaking with him, his teeth almost peeling the skin on his bottom lip, the strained muscles of his neck. lusty frown, wax light skin, pearly sweat. your beautiful boy.

the oversensitivity caused his body to helplessly quiver and spasm all over, increasingly until it became too much and he doubled, finally letting go, his body folding in two. he let himself fall to his knees.

his eyes were glassy and rimmed with redness, his breath gradually steadying. he looked at you and whispered "fuck, look at that...", his eyebrows furrowed, as he reached up to wipe some of the cum off your cheek with his thumb.

the world went silent. tinnitus in your ears. breathe in. breathe out. breath not. shame arrived and choked you.

your bottom lip quivered. a round tear formed at the corner of your eye. shame gnawed at you with her ghostly voice of ice. slut, nympho, mary magdalene, whore.

beomgyu immediately helped you up, perching on the bed and sitting you on his lap. "what is it, baby?" he muttered against the shell of your ear, cradling you. "are you feeling guilty?" he asked.

your words tumbled out between sobs, raw and revealing. "it's the filthiest thing i've ever done." your gaze refused to meet his. "but i liked it so much, i'm so wet."

he reached out to cup your cheek, brushing away the tears with his thumb. "it's okay, you were such a perfect fucking girl, my baby. you did nothing wrong." he reassured you in a soothing tone. "let's get you cleaned up, alright?" 

you nodded softly. you still avoided his gaze, but your shame felt finite. he was there. you would be fine. 

he got up to get dressed, but he quickly returned to your side, not wanting to leave you alone even for a second. so invested in the caretaker roll he was, he insisted on carrying you to the bathroom himself.

“what are you doing? i’m fine.” you chuckled softly when he tried to pick you up, wiping away the tears that had fallen from your eyes, feeling their warmth against your fingertips. 

"i wanted to carry you," he replied with a pout.

he was determined, but you managed to convince him that it was better if you led the way. you were good at roaming around the house in the dark, a silent nightjar that could only get a semblance of freedom when everyone else was asleep. 

and so you exited your room in hushed silence, tiptoeing through the gloom, beomgyu’s hand securely wrapped in yours.

the coming light from your bedroom door cast eerie elongated shadows on the walls of the corridor. hazy and enthralled as you were with one another, you had forgotten to close the door, only leaving it ajar. big mistake. 

the bathroom was virginal with the scent of soap and piety—the place where absolution and sin mingled in the steam that rised from the heart of the house of god. 

beomgyu's eyes narrowed at the sight of the framed stamp of a female saint, perched on the sink. with a creeped out grimace, he plucked it from its spot and flipped it over, as if silencing an unwanted voice. the house was full of hidden eyes and he couldn't stand the feeling of constant surveillance.

you both settled onto the narrow edge of the porcelain tub, the coolness of the ceramic sending shivers down your back when it touched the fevered bare flesh of the back of your thighs. 

beomgyu fumbled for a towel, and with reverent hands, he turned on the faucet and laid it under the warm water flow until it soaked.

the water was a baptismal font, powerful enough to wash away almost any sin. but beomgyu wasn’t one to care about the religious symbolism. he just wanted to take care of you, gently wiping your face with each stroke, cleansing away the remnants of his cum.

"beomgyu," you whispered. the towel was warm against your face. it felt nice, hushed. 

“yeah?” he murmured, his voice barely audible as he focused on his task.

"…was i any good?" you tentatively asked, nervously looking down at your fingers.

with a mellow smile, he leaned in to give you a soft kiss before answering, "my baby angel. you did so well… so, so well" he said. "i’m sorry if i was too rough."

you shook your head slightly, unable to hide the smile that formed on your lips at his concern. "it's okay," you told him, your mouth curving into a bashful v shape.

as he pressed the towel against your neck, it felt like a wrung-out sponge. a few droplets of water managed to make their way into your shirt, sending a shiver down your spine. the dampness slowly crept through the fabric of your pajama shirt, the chilly embrace from a ghost hand.

"should we take this off?" he asked, not a trace of suggestion in his eyes, only care. “so you can wash well.” he added.

you hugged yourself self-consciously. "no... i-" you trailed off, voice barely above a whisper. “no.”

his gaze melted into yours, as if trying to ease your discomfort. "you shouldn't be uncomfortable with me," he insisted. "every little thing you do is pretty to me. you know that, right?"

he gave you a kiss that was simple and easy. not the blooming, lush cascades of perfumed lust you were used to, but steady and reassuring like soft moss. a tender formality of intimacy. a kind kiss, a kiss to trust him.

you slowly released your arms from their protective embrace, letting them hang limply at your sides, surrendering control to him.

"stand up for me," he demanded. and as you obeyed, he crouched down, his knees meeting the cold, unforgiving tiles. he reached out with steady hands to support you. "let me see just how soaked you are." 

a crimson blush spread across your cheeks. your fingers shyly reached out for the the elastic of your shorts, beomgyu’s hands intercepting them to gently pull down together.

your cotton shorts gone, all that was left to cover your pussy was an embarrassingly dampened pair of pinkish panties. the type that puritanical moms buy for their daughters at haberdashery stores - cheap, thin lace trimming the edges and a small embroidered rose at the center. 

the fabric felt cold against your exposed skin as the air grazed the darkened wet stain. embarrassing.but beomgyu's breath nearly caught in his throat as he laid eyes on the dainty cloth, delicate like wax flower, all soaked for him. 

"god, this is so fucking pretty," he breathed against your belly, his fingers trailing over the damp patch. he planted a soft kiss against your trembling sex, sending shivers down your spine. a twitchy chill ran through you.

he reached for the hem of it, eager to expose you further, but you stopped him. “not yet,” you breathed out. “please.”

his eyes widened like a puppy's and he looked up at you pleadingly. "to clean you up?" he asked.

but you shook your head. he stood up again, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you close. "i won't look," he promised. "won't see a thing. just like yesterday." he said.

“fine.” you said, giving in to his gentle touch.

he expertly slipped off your underwear with one hand, holding onto you with the other. you knew you were soaked, but hadn't become fully aware of how much until you were exposed to the cold and what had been warm arousal turned iced water.

you were nervous, but his hot breath and balmy kisses on your forehead eased some of your tension.

“now this,” he tugged at your pajama top, his fingers like curious spiders crawling over the soft fabric.

you flinched, jabbed his hand away. beomgyu's eyes showed worry and a hint of hurt from your lack of trust in him. still, he had a plan.

no words were exchanged; he guided you to step into the bathtub with him, closing any existing distance. firm yet gentle, he pressed you against the wall, the cool tiles imprinting their pattern on the naked skin of your ass.

as he twisted the handle, a sudden rush of water burst from the showerhead like a geyser. "we wash together, alright?"

the droplets rained down on you, pelting against your bodies. he threw his head back with a soft, painfully cute chuckle, watching the water fall like it was the first winter snow. 

his drenched clothes clunged to his body, but he payed no mind. he kept smiling like a little kid, kissing you with satisfied nibbles and smooches, cheerful like you had never seen him.

but the fun ended quickly. a shadow crossed his expression, filling you with immediate concern. he drew in a deep, somber breath, fingers hesitating at the hem of his shirt. with a tug, he pulled it over his head, baring his skin before letting it fall. you instinctively brought a hand to your mouth, suppressing a horrified gasp.

swollen bruises, bloated and purplish-black, oozed cruelty as they sprawled across his abdomen, his ribcage, his chest. once elegant and pretty collarbones hid marred under stains like dark, spreading ink blots.

his father had completely shattered him and then discarded his body like rancid fruit left to rot in the sun.

he pressed his lips together, avoiding your eyes. there was embarrassment all over his face, hidden under a bitter defiance. "don't look at me like that," he muttered.

"like what?" you asked, not sure how to respond.

"like you feel sorry for me," he said, clenching his teeth. "i'd rather you were just grossed out."

"i'm not pitying you, i..." your hand reached out, gently lifting his chin to meet your gaze. he resisted a bit, looking sullen. "this shouldn't have happened to you, this–" you began to say softly, brushing your fingertips over the bruised skin with a light touch. "you can't be ashamed of this. you have to be mad. outraged. you– promise me you won't go back to him."

"i've got nowhere else to go," he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible.

and you didn't know what to say, either. stay here was a stupid answer, unrealistic. you have me was even more stupid, as you didn't even have yourself. your existence together hanged on a fine thread. there was no better option, only prison cells and bloodthirsty gods.

"i–" you began to say, trying to arrange some, any, words in your head, but he stopped you.

"i don't want to think about it now, please," he said. "i'm happy when i'm with you because i forget about everything else. i like it that way."

he meant every word. he wasn't one to dwell on the future, he couldn't stand to throw away the counted minutes he had with you worrying. unlike soobin, he took pride in that.

he pressed a soothing kiss to your temple. "i'm going to clean you up now, okay?" he said softly. "and you'll go to bed feeling light and clean, no shame and burning in the flames of hell bullshit. you're gonna sleep so well and so peacefully without any of the wicked nonsense they've tried to brainwash you with."

a gentle smile from him, a thanking peck from you. the water cascaded on.

however, when beomgyu's hands reached for the top button of your pajama shirt, you couldn't help but flinch. a first fleeting thought told you it was uncalled for, but then it settled on you that letting him see your body was a stupidly obvious next step.

he had already shown you the body he was ashamed of, and now he was asking you to share in that vulnerability. "please," he said. "i showed you how shitty i look. i… really wanna see you.”

it was the desperation in his frown and the ominous presence of his bruises. with shaking hands, you undid the next button on your own.

the rest of the buttons you undid in gradual little steps, not daring to look him in the eye. he limited himself to watch with narrowed eyes and his heart in clenched in his fist.

the shirt fluttered opened, a central strip of your body in full view. collarbone, linea alba, belly button –all delicate and liturgical in the semi-darkness. but he didn't glance any lower. he promised he wouldn't.

he brought his hand to your waist, letting his thumb caress your ribcage. as he did, he drew the shirt away from your tit, displaying it for him. he shook his head, exhaled, "you're so fucking adorable."

with a delicate movement he gently flicked the other side of the shirt, your chest all to him. peaches and cream, lovely cottony candy. sweet, sweet, so sweet.

there was something so disarming about seeing you naked, too. a vulnerability in your eyes he couldn't resist.

your hands, trembling emissaries of modesty, moved instinctively to shield your breasts from his view. but beomgyu's touch halted their ascent; his fingers wrapped around your wrists, "don't hide from me," he whispered.

all he did next was to reverently lower himself and leave a kiss on the tender skin. the water was falling, and the effect he loved so much, that of his spit against your smooth waxen skin, was lost in the shower rain.

he left it there, diplomatically. he would come back tomorrow night. he would be back to touch you with all the calm of the universe, to experiment on your skin and discover the cause and effect of all the things he could dream of doing to you.

the next kiss returned to your lips. a voracious mouth-feeding on your flesh. sharp jaws strained and tensed for the pleasure of the plump hedonistic lips.

then came the washing, the cleansing, the radical eradication of your shame. he hugged your waist tight and loving, as if to save his own life, and took the almond soap without letting go of you for a moment.

it was the third time in that same day that the viscous liquid touched your skin. but this time it came from his hands, not yours. this time it was lukewarm, not icy and lonesome.

he scrubbed every corner of your body, and in every single place that was left cleansed he planted a chaste kiss. the rubbing of his hand against your groin might have been lascivious, it might have made angels and saints look away in shame and offense. but it felt not lewd, but kind. fatherly.

last came the rinsing of the soap, a removal of every last trace of foreign liquids –be it an industrial hygiene product, be it the worldly product of the body.– off came the guilt, too. the repentance and the shame, the homicidal shame.

under the water your soul was feathers, under the water the angel, the dove, the butterfly was light and untied.

once clean he hugged you in a towel like a baby, arms around your body, and caressed the damp hair that clung to your face. a light kiss on your hairline, a light kiss on your brow, a light kiss on your lashes.

"beomgyu," you talked under your breath, "i don't want you to leave."

a light kiss to your temple. “i really don’t wanna leave, either.” he said in helpless sincerity. then his eyes glinted playful. “but soobin misses me if i don't cuddle him to sleep. he’d get jealous." he smiled.

"he gets to sleep with you every night," you sulked in a pout that curled up at the corners of your mouth, "it’s not fair."

beomgyu chuckled against your skin, "i can wait for you to fall asleep, then i’ll go."

and the plan was perfect, and the world felt pink and glittery and like it existed for you and him and no one else. it wasn't your fault when you didn't notice. you were hazy fools in love, your minds too misty and cosy.

when he laid you on the bed in plumes and cottons and the sheets felt like clouds against your clean skin, neither him nor you noticed.

when you got in bed, him lying next to you and being physically unable to stop showering you with little kisses, neither him nor you noticed.

when he caressed your hair, your cheeks and the outline of your arm as he felt your breathing relax into deep sleep, your little heartbeat easing finally after a lifetime of guilt and agony, neither him nor you noticed.

not even when beomgyu reluctantly separated from you, planting one last kiss on your sleeping eyelids, "goodbye, my baby angel," and left the room without making a sound, not even then did he notice.

a fatal mistake.

not noticing that the door you had left ajar after leaving to the bathroom was wide open when you got back. that the overshirt beomgyu had tossed to the ground was nowhere to be seen. that someone else had been there.

a phosphorescent chesire grin. a stern boy in a charcoal gray sweater. or work of the holy spirit.

it was a faceless someone. but someone knew.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i took so long to update i am so sorry. ALSO. I INSERTED THE ETHEL CAIN LYRIC it fit so perfectly, i had to. there's a bts borrowed line, too. joon lyrical king. anyway. yeah.

[yandere-sins]

Ivyyyyyyyy >.< you're the worsttttt(read: BEST) oh my god the thoughts im having abt dilic with a period kink rn. Gawd and he doesn't even know it's a period kink, he thinks it's absolutely normal to do nasty things with his girl while she's bleeding out and feels proud about it that HE can take her pain away

OMG continuing the diluc saga but yan dilic thinks darling's period is the perfect opportunity to finally put his hands on darling. He knows you're in pain so he promises, he's doing this for YOU not him (lies) he'll ease it in gently and make it feel good! Soon darling will forget all about those cramps bc of him him him! He doesnt need to feel as guilty bc he's helping you out.....right? OMG PLS write something abt thissss, it can be any yandere or oc but im going crazy after what u saiddd

Hehe, you're welcome! I began writing this as just a talk, but decided mid-way through to make it a scenario!

a/n: I wrote this before my hiatus and coming back to correct it, I found so many mistakes, it doesn't even feel like I wrote this smh... I did my best to polish it a bit since I can't see myself rewriting it in the future but if you find anything oddly worded just ignore it lol I wasn't myself back then :')

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]

I can just see the cock cogs turning in this idiot's head as he racks his brain about how he can help you. Clearly, you're in pain, but no matter how many more times he calls a physician to have a look, they just keep waving off his concerns. It's normal, they say. You're healthy. That's what everyone has to go through.

And yet he sees you writhing and crying in pain—it's breaking his heart!

Pillow pressed to your stomach, tears in your eyes that you can't blink away fast enough before they fall. You're especially irritable, but it hurts him more when you whine and complain; Diluc wanting to help you now more than ever. He's already gone through the usual stuff, the imported water bottles from Snezhnaya and the chocolate from Fontaine. If you utter so much as a craving, he has the servants scramble to get it to you. Nothing is too expensive or too hard to get. You could have asked for the heads of your enemies, and Diluc would have brought them to you with ribbons and glitter if that had helped with your pains.

But alas, it doesn't.

It's been three days, and his nerves are raw, the bags under his eyes dark, and the burden of your health weighs heavily on Diluc. He can't see how things will ever get better. The other times you were on your period were conveniently skipped by business trips, so this is hitting him full force.

"Exercising might help," one of the maids suggests as he forces himself to consult someone more knowledgeable than him.

"Sometimes, my wife likes a little stimulation to alleviate the pain," a vintner chuckles, winking at Diluc as the word of his helplessness spreads. And suddenly, inappropriate ideas get stuck in his head, making him blush like a young lad in love.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Taking a deep breath, Diluc raised his hand to knock on your bedroom door. It was terribly late, the servants asleep and only the eery flickering of his candle guiding him through the night. Most likely, you were tugged in and fighting for your well-deserved sleep, so he hesitated, fist hanging in the air before slowly dropping it to his side.

What he was about to do was not only foolish but also filled him with the same burning in his body as using his vision did. He could feel the warmth sweep over him from his head to his toes, the latter curling in his shoes while most of the heat was throbbing between his legs, aching to connect with your warmth in a less-than-innocent way.

However, these feelings were nothing compared to the agony of the last few days.

If this was what he had to do to help you alleviate the pain, he would. If it was for you, Diluc would do anything in his power, whether to protect or help you. If he had to become a mere plaything so you'd be freed of the pain, then his concerns were a small sacrifice for all the good he was going to do.

Brushing his hair back, Diluc took a deep breath, reminding himself there was nothing wrong with wanting to help. If the method the vintner suggested worked, everyone would be happy. And if not, he'd keep searching for ways to free you of the pain. Turning the key in the door lock, he pulled it out before slowly entering your room, ensuring he could give you two the privacy needed in this situation.

To his surprise, you were still awake.

You made a half-hearted attempt at a greeting, but when you noticed it was him, you only scoffed, turning away. It hurt when you gave him the cold shoulder so callously, but Diluc knew you were the one suffering at that moment, not him. He could forgive you for being dismissive of him. Your bedside lamp was still on, and he could see you clutching a pillow to your belly, his own stomach cramping up with remorse, even though, logically, he knew it wasn't his fault. He loved you as you were, the good and bad days, your misery becoming his own much too easily these days.

Setting down the candle on your table, he walked over to you. But not before locking the door from the inside, just so he could give himself a few more seconds before his approach. Every step cost him a lot of discipline, being near you never having been this hard. Even when he looked confident around you, Diluc only ever felt weak. You made him vulnerable. Desperate. Longing for your love and affection was all he was allowed to do, so even just watching your chest rise and fall set him ablaze.

Pushing off his shoes, Diluc focused on the little space you left at the edge of the bed. It was the only space he could see that was reserved for him, as he didn't deserve to share your bed, in your opinion. Yet, when he climbed in, pulling the cover over himself and snaking his arm around your waist, he was enveloped in your scent, your hair tickling his skin as he breathed in deeply. Had he known that heaven was hiding so closely to him, he might not have waited so long to come and see you.

"What are you--" you complained, pushing yourself away from him. But Diluc's hand had already wandered beneath the pillow, feeling the hot water bottle you kept secured there, only to replace it with his palm. He was just as, if not hotter than anything the servants could procure for you; his body temperature naturally elevated from his vision. It wouldn't burn you, but with his hand hugging your lower belly, it was much more effective and fitting than any appliance might be.

And you fell for it, even if just for a split second.

For a moment, you leaned into the comfort of his palm, the pain vanishing in the blink of an eye. Diluc even caught you sighing briefly before you came to your senses, jolting and pushing away from him, only to get stuck inside the blanket and pressed up against him. Diluc couldn't help but grin, having read your actions before they even occurred to you, but of course, this was a serious matter, so he quickly composed himself.

"H-Hey!" you yelled as his hand drifted lower, his face burying into the nape of your neck. He wasn't there to dilly-dally but to be of service. To help you in your time of need. By the time Diluc pressed his lips to your skin and his fingers between your legs, you understood his intentions as well, perhaps misinterpreted, but clear as day.

He was going to fuck the pain away. 

If exercise and stimulation helped others, maybe it would do the same for you. His fingers were met with warm slick, your body flinching when he moved over your clit. Perhaps his calloused hands weren't made for caressing and soft touches but for teasing and stimulating. Judging by how puffy your lower lips were, worked up from days of rubbing your legs together and your panties aggravating them mercilessly, you were in dire need of his help.

"Don't fight it. You're not alone in this," Diluc reassured you as you squirmed in his hold, biting back the salacious sounds of pleasure you were keeping from his ears. You were so mean, keeping every little taste of appreciation from Diluc, knowing how much it meant to him. But he'd endure. Even when your ass ground back against his cock, making it incredibly hard to not focus on his needs as well, he'd put you first in all of this.

When he slipped his pointer and middle finger towards your entrance, a tremor went through your body, a gasp slipping out from between your lips. Diluc never knew how easy it was to get inside another person, greeted warmly and happily by your hole clenching around his fingers.

His kisses became more fervent against your neck, teeth snapping out as he felt like he was losing himself in your scent and warmth. The pushes of his hips against your ass became faster, your cheeks fitting so well around his shaft. You yelled at him to stop, but he barely heard you through the sounds of your sloppy, wet cunt, blood mingling with eager juices to allow him more reach inside you. It was almost as if he could hear them beg for him to go deeper, which just wasn't possible with his knuckles in the way, no matter how much he tried.

Forgotten was the pain as pleasure raked its claws through both of you, and yet, Diluc still heard you whine and sob as he scissored his fingers through your inside. It wasn't enough. He opened his eyes he didn't know he had closed, staring at your expression curiously. All he saw was anger and disgust, your teeth bared and ready to snap, while he could feel your nails digging into his arm. And yet, when he found your eyes, he saw a very different version of events. Lust, desire, longing. You wanted more, and Diluc wouldn't refuse such a request.

Slipping a leg between yours, he pried them apart, spreading you open wide. You gasped, squirming and trying to cut off his access, but Diluc only had to lean back to steal your balance, your body reliant on his while he gained more space on your bed. The hardest part was freeing his cock from the restraint of his pants, the fabric soggy with both your juices as well as his own pre-cum pearling off the tip of his engorged cock.

Nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of your wet cunt greeting his eager cock. No imagining of this situation could have come close to the throbbing heat, your walls convulsing around his fingers in eager expectation. Diluc placed his tip against his fingers, planning to slip them out and take the opening to sink into you, but with how wet the combination of blood and juices was, he felt himself slipping away, kissing your clit instead.

And for the first time, you moaned.

It was the sound of angels and everything nice, and he drew his hips back, trying again to fill you with his cock, missing it just an inch. All good things are three, and when he finally plunged it deep inside your pussy, you weren't the only one yowling in pleasure. No matter what he had imagined his first time with you to be, nothing would ever top the mess he caused between your legs, his cock ready to burst as it pulsated violently inside your equally as ready cunt.

He could feel the waves of pleasure going through you, the shudders in your limbs as he began to slowly press forward, kissing the last few inches of his reach. You remained stiff as a plank, but when he pulled out halfway before sinking in deep again, you were unable to keep your mouth shut, an elongated moan making its way to Diluc's ears, letting him know it was the right thing after all.

Immediately, any hesitation fell off him as he dragged his cock out and sunk it back into you. Fingers retreated to your clit, continuing to slip off and assault the little knob over and over while your walls clenched around his shaft, making you feel every one of his throbs and ridges, the heat between you two almost scorching.

Part of him couldn't believe it worked. That he actually managed to help you with this trick. But he'd have been a liar if he said it wasn't a pleasure for him, too. Diluc could never have dreamed about your proficiency in driving him wild, from your hot, puffy pussy wrapping around him to the improper sounds he had never heard coming from your lips before. The blood kept you so wet and loud down there; it was like you were synching your moans with your pussy, sloppy as they were.

It couldn't have been better, a shudder going through you from head to toe, your feet curling as you gurgled. Diluc wrapped his free arm around your throat, pulling you against him and burying his face in your shoulder as you came hard, juices leaking out, red dripping on the clean sheets with the blanket long discarded.

You were gasping for air as he plunged right back into you, waiting but a mere few seconds of yours before pursuing his own orgasm. Selfishly, but unable to stop. Diluc was already too deep in it, quite literally, your orgasm making your inside tight around him, but it posed no challenge with how drenched you both were.

A strained groan escaped Diluc as he buckled, feeling the first squirts of cum shoot out of him before he drew back, popping out of your cunt and covering it in his cum. His tip got stuck on your clit, as his jizz ejected under the pressure of his orgasm, making you mewl as you were once again stimulated. It would be a mess to clean, but it had been worth it.

You two collapsed, spent and dirty, but Diluc slipped his palm back over your lower stomach, rubbing the collection of juices over your soft skin, leaving a red trail. Kissing the side of your head, he was trying to collect his breath and thoughts, barely able to think straight as the feelings of happiness and his relief kept him in a chokehold.

"Better?" he asked, his voice a blissful rumble as he pulled you firmer against him.

But all he was met with was a cold glare and tears in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered instinctively, immediately feeling bad. What had he done to upset you again? Your teeth were biting into your lip as if you were holding back a tirade of screaming, ready to explode.

His cock twitched between your legs, bloody and so, so wet.

"I'll make it better! I promise! I will definitely make it better," he tried to reassure you, dazed with pleasure as he was, unable to see the actual problem with all of this. Your body convulsed in shock as he pressed his tip upwards again, and you gasped loudly as he sunk his inches inside you. This time, he wouldn't fail to make you feel better. And until then, he'd keep going.

All night long, if he had to.

[jellys-compendium]

Lovebug

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only, Minors DNI)

Pairing: Sinister!Vash x f!Reader Word Count: 7.9K Summary: You've been running for a long time, miraculously evading the destructive storm on your heels. But one fateful night you find yourself trapped and unable to escape the humanoid typhoon any longer. He'll make you regret running from him. Cw: blood, gun violence, side character death, noncon to dubcon, predator/prey dynamics, smut, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, semi-public sex, rough sex, p in v sex, gunplay, choking, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), cumming inside, dacryphilia, yandere, obsessive/possessive behaviour, manipulation, mind breaking, pet names, degradation & praise.

A/n: This is a dark fic. Read the content warnings before proceeding. If this sort of writing isn't your thing, please don't read! I will have a softer fic for Vash coming in the near future. Also, just a quick note that for narrative purposes , I decided to interpret Sinister!Vash as Vash turning evil (not as a separate entity).

The sharp scent of rust lingers in your nose. It couples with the muted dusty air and further serves to dry out your parched throat. Each time you swallow in an attempt to alleviate your thirst, it feels like sandpaper scrapes along your esophagus. Money be damned, you would trade every last double dollar you own for a glass of water right now.

Unfortunately for you, not a single one of the sheriff’s men had come to check up on your sorry state since you’d been caught, cuffed, and thrown into this dingy cell hours ago. They’d locked you in here and thrown away the key as it were. Guess you shouldn’t be surprised, given the bounty on your head.

Heaving a sigh, you lean back against the cold concrete wall of your prison, your movement causing the tattered and smelly cot supporting you to creak and groan. With little else to do, your mind wanders to the earlier events of the day.

How did you get yourself into this mess? 

You’d been so painstakingly careful to keep your head down and profile low in every town you had passed by for the last year. Not a single soul, let alone law enforcement, had ever suspected that you were the former partner of the legendary humanoid typhoon. So how is it that the sheriff of this backwater little town had you figured out the moment you’d set foot in his jurisdiction?

With a metaphorical fine toothed comb, your mind analyzes each and every interaction you’ve had since the morning, searching for clues on how you’d been discovered—but nothing clicks into place. You hadn’t spoken a whisper about your true identity, or about Vash, to anybody since you’d quit and run from his company of outlaws.

On top of that you were careful to cover your tracks, doing everything in your power to erase all that you were before disappearing into the night in a hail mary attempt at a better life—one that wasn’t tainted with lies and blood. 

A gnawing sorrow aches in your chest at the thought of your former lover, and you can’t help but reach up and rub over that hollow space under your breastbone. Deep down you still love Vash more than anyone else but…you will have no part in his cruelty.

You don’t know when it started, but Vash had changed into a person you no longer recognize. Gone was the kind gunman clad in red with a broken smile, and in his place emerged another person entirely. He was vicious, manipulative, and cruel. Taking lives without regard in order to get what he wanted. Within the span of a few months, Vash had truly transformed into the monster that the people of this planet fear him to be—and that had completely and irrevocably broken your heart.

For months you had feared that Vash would pick up on your trail and track you down in retaliation for your abandoning of his little group. But as the weeks stretched on, the suns rising and falling with each passing day, your nerves settled and you surmised that Vash must have had better things to do rather than chase you down.

‘He must have found someone else to warm his bed by now.’

The intrusive thought clings to your mind incessantly, and you desperately attempt to force it away with a shake of your head. No. You’d left that life behind, you’ve left him behind for a reason . 

Vash would have devoured you—consumed you whole and then spit out your bones if you hadn’t left when you did. The way Vash makes you feel is beyond anything you had ever experienced before. He’s intoxicating, addicting, seductive—a devil that beguiles you with sweet whispers in one ear, while holding the barrel of a gun against the other. 

For a time, you had lost yourself in his coils—exchanging your humanity for a burning desire that had scorched your body and soul. But before the humanoid typhoon could corrupt you completely, you escaped.

And…you ran.

And ran,

And ran.

Until that murderous, crimson eyed shadow that followed each of your footsteps surrendered to the sunshine above, and disappeared amidst the blistering sands of No Man’s Land. You were finally free, and although there is a dark and secret part of you that still longs for Vash, you know that you did the right thing.

Abruptly, a distant rumble captures your ear. Perking up, your gaze is led from the dark shadows in the corner of your cell towards the distant door leading out of the jailhouse’s cell room. Your body stills as the roaring commotion gets louder, your muscles sit taut as you listen and try to decipher the noises coming from beyond the bars.

You hear footsteps, shouts and— gunfire .

Gunfire, then screams.

Adrenaline kicks into high gear and you immediately get up from the stained cot, racing towards the door of your cell. Your cuffed hands grasp the cold bars of your prison as more blood curdling screams fill the air. Was it a robbery? Bandits? Or could it really be?

The monstrous possibility of what awaits just beyond that door sends you into a panic. Panting frantically, you use your entire body weight to rattle the bars in a foolhardy attempt to wiggle the cell door free. But of course, the iron door does not budge.

‘No.’ You ram your shoulder against the door.

‘No!’

Your arm screams out in pain as you use your entire body weight this time.

‘This can’t be happening! It can’t be him!’

“Sheriff!! Sheriff!!” You shout desperately. “Let me out! Let me out!”

The terrible thundering of gunshots and panicked commotion intensifies. Pounding footsteps race down the hallway and shake the floorboards just beyond the prison cell door. You shudder when you hear the terrified screams from the men warbling through the wood and concrete, sharp and horrifying but then—silence.

Oh god. They’re all…

Blood pulses in your ears, making you feel faint as the song of more bullets sings through the air. Even from your iron cage, you can tell the shots are precise—every single one effectively ending the lives of the Sheriff's men one by one. Within mere moments, the once lively jailhouse had become as silent as a graveyard. The only sounds you hear now are a single pair of creaking footsteps and…a song.

“Total slaughter~

Total slaughter

I won’t leave a single man alive…”

Oh god—it is him . 

Releasing the bars of your cell door, you frantically begin to look around the dim lit space. A bucket and the cot are all you have to work with. Shit.

The footsteps come closer.

“...La dee da dee die

Genocide~

La dee da dee dud

An ocean of blood…”

You detect a sound of heavy shuffling just outside and you look on, terrified , as the door leading to the jail’s cells creaks open. You freeze, legs nearly giving out from fear, but…it isn’t Vash.

Instead, into the room crawls a man—a man that you recognize as the Sheriff's deputy. He’s breathing hard, petrified little whimpers escaping his lips with each exhale. 

Trapped as you are you can do nothing but watch, wide eyed and horrified, as the man crawls into the room on all fours. His brown vest, white shirt, and slacks are covered with blood. More of it drips from his disheveled hair, leaving a gruesome trail of dark red as he shakingly makes his way across the floorboards and towards your cell. 

The deputy’s face is pale white and pouring sweat as he looks up at you…except he isn’t looking up at you. It almost looks like he’s looking through you.

“M–m–monster…h–he’s a monster.” The man whimpers, his red teeth chattering like tin cans in the wind. Trembling, the deputy reaches towards your cell door with a bloodied hand and his eyes finally lock with yours.

“H—help me.”

The sight of this man near death immobilizes you with terror, but as the man’s fingers wrap around one of the bars of your cell, the urgency in your gut magnifies, overwhelming the piercing fear inside of you. You have to try and save him. You have to.

Moving quickly, you squat down, reaching for the deputy’s hand, you grasp it tightly with yours.

“Give me the keys. Help me open the door so I can get us out of here.”

But the man doesn’t move. Instead he mutters and weeps, his voice strained and high with each incoherent syllable he babbles.

Frustrated and frantic, you bang your hand against the bars, hoping that the jolt will startle the deputy to his senses. 

“Hey! Are you listening?! Give me the keys or he’s going to—”

A piercing gunshot rings through the air and you leap up with a shout as the air rushes out of the deputy’s lungs. The deputy’s eyes turn dull, and you cry out in horror as his body jerks and then falls still at your feet.

He’s…he’s…

“Let’s begin…

The killing time” 

It takes all the courage you have left to lift your gaze and follow the blood stains left by the deputy. Eventually, your eyes land on a black pair of leather boots. Moving upwards, your sight lingers along the familiar dark blue coat tails—their ripped and tattered ends doused with fresh blood. Your attention moves up that infamous coat and finally lands on the face of the humanoid typhoon himself.

Vash the Stampede.

The outlaw’s crimson eyes stare directly into your own, shackling you in place more effectively than the metal cuffs around your wrists ever could. His eyes are intense as they focus on you, possessive and all consuming. It was only a matter of time before he found you, and you were an idiot to think that you could evade him forever.

As if agreeing with that very thought, a sly grin spreads across Vash’s handsome face. Like a ravenous wildcat who had finally caught his prey, the humanoid typhoon exhales a breath of relief and holsters his gun. 

“There you are.”

Vash approaches your cell and all you can do is silently watch as he bends down and yanks the ring of keys off of the deputy’s belt. Vash is methodical as always. Moving like a serpent in water, he never wastes a single movement. Each and every action of his is calculated and designed to lead him towards his ultimate goal.

And tonight, his goal is you.

Vash never takes his eyes off you as he slips the key into its slot with a poignant click. Then with a flick of his wrist the door unlocks, and Vash swings it wide open.

Your body’s response is immediate. Trembling, you retreat blindingly backwards until your body hits the concrete wall of your cell. Vash tsks, following your movements with inhumanly long strides of his own. It only takes a second for him to catch up with you—his body towering over yours once he closes that distance you were so desperate to create.

You jolt as Vash’s hands reach up and grasp your own, leather clad fingers lacing around your trembling digits as he lifts your cuffed wrists to his face. He leans down, and brushes his lips along the cold flesh of your palm, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. 

“Oh my poor little lovebug.” Vash sensually coos, his deceivingly soft and gentle voice echoing along the iron bars. “What have they done to you?”

Gods, you should be repulsed and terrified, but instead of turning your blood to ice, Vash’s touch causes your entire body to instantly be consumed by a sweet and agonizing flame. The cinders that linger in your heart reignite and burn tenfold at the touch of the man that you love so dearly.

“Lovebug.” 

Like a siren, Vash’s hypnotizing whisper lulls away your fear—enchanting you.

“So frightened. You’re shaking like a newborn kitten. Come here, let me hold you.”

As if the choice were yours, Vash pulls your body flush against his. You gasp as the familiar sensation of his strong arms wraps around you and overpowers your resolve. His warm scent, the feeling of his lips as he so tenderly kisses your cheek, the weight of his hands as they glide up and down your back in a soothing motion. All of it brings tears of turmoil to your eyes.

No…this can’t happen again.

“I’m sorry, lovebug. If I had known they would treat you like this I would have come for you sooner.”

Come for you? As in, Vash knew where you’d been this entire time?

Your mind reels at the realization. You had never escaped Vash’s shadow. Instead it had grown so large and widespread that you’d failed to notice it all around you. 

The people who let you on your way and turned a blind eye to your identity, those kind souls who had given you food to eat and a bed to sleep in when you were weary, even the men of this town who had arrested you as an accomplice of the humanoid typhoon. Every single one of them had been an instrument of Vash’s own design.

Vash places a final kiss upon your cheek. Pulling back, he smiles at your dumbfounded expression.

“Let’s get you out of these cuffs.”

Vash lets your hands fall, his fingers flicking through the keyring until he finds the one he is looking for. How Vash knows exactly which key to use, you are not sure, but it’s no surprise when he selects one and slips it into the cuff’s lock. He frees you immediately with a twist of his hand.

The metal cuffs fall to the floor with a resounding thud and your breath leaves you in a hiss as the dry hair hits your raw skin. But before you can soothe your own pain, Vash takes your wrists in his grasp, thumbs gently gliding over the reddened skin as he pulls you closer once more.

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you feel Vash lean in, the heat of his body encompassing as his lips brush against yours.

“Have you learned your lesson? You won’t run away from me again, right lovebug?”

Vash’s sinister words send a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps erupt all across your flesh as the skin on your fingertips tingles. This man has orchestrated every part of your life for the past year without you even knowing about it. What are the limits to his reach? His cruelty? His obsession? How far will he go to claim you as his own?

In your silence Vash releases a heavy sigh, then places a soft kiss on your lips.

“I asked you a question.”

The words catch in your dry and tightening throat. You swallow, lips trembling as you try your best to speak.

“Vash, I—”

Before you can finish, pounding footsteps vibrate through the jailhouse, and it’s not long before four men appear in the doorway with guns drawn and their expressions terrified at the massacre laying at their feet.

The moment the men lay their eyes on Vash, the four of them let out a roar of fury.

“The humanoid typhoon!”

“You bastard!” 

“Kill him!”

But before the men manage to aim their pistols, four gunshots whistle through the air in rapid succession. You didn’t even realize that Vash had unholstered his own gun before the four men dropped lifeless on the floor.

A fresh wave of despair courses through you and your head spins as the humanoid typhoon—the diablo —reholsters his gun and returns his attention to you. His face is calm and unbothered, as if he hadn’t just murdered an entire building full of people.

“Now, where were we?”

Panic stabs through your chest, kick starting your fight or flight. You have to get away, you have to escape him. Being a murderer, an outlaw on the run, isn’t who you are anymore. You’d promised yourself that you would leave that life behind, no matter how much you wanted the man who’d seduced you into that life in the first place.

Clenching your fists to try and subvert your shaking, you start to move your body to the right, readying yourself to pounce around Vash and make a break for the door. But Vash’s scarlet gaze sees through your every move long before you even conceptualize it. He sighs, rolling his eyes before slamming his palm on the concrete by your head, trapping you in his reach.

Your body jolts at the vibrations of the impact. Then Vash leans in, hot breath on your lips as he whispers a dark promise.

“Don’t run, lovebug. I’ll make you regret it.”

No sooner had Vash uttered those foreboding words, more footsteps pound through the halls of the jailhouse. An irritated growl rumbles in Vash’s throat as he unholsters his gun once more and aims it at the door, hissing between his teeth.

“Cockroaches.”

Two more men emerge from the doorway and time slows as you watch Vash’s finger glide seamlessly towards the trigger.

Against all reasonable sense, your body moves. Lightening fast, you launch yourself at Vash, grasping his wrist in your hands and pushing his arm upwards with all of your might. Your sudden movement takes the humanoid typhoon off guard, and the two bullets he had intended to place right between the men’s eyes whistle and lodge into the wooden roof above.

“RUN!”

Using your body to knock Vash off balance, you bolt for the cell door, leaping over the bodies on the floor as the two men in front of you turn tail and run as fast as their legs can carry them. 

Your lungs burn as you follow them, racing out of the jail as if it were about to be engulfed in a raging inferno. Following closely behind the men in front of you, the three of you eventually manage to scramble out of the jailhouse. The cool night air hits your face and you pause. The street is dark and empty, and the two men who had just run out before you were racing towards the light of the neighboring town. 

You desperately want to follow them, to find sanctuary in the safe bustle of a populated town square. But Vash has his sights set on you, and you know you’ll only serve to put more innocent lives at risk if you look for help now.

The sudden sound of eerie humming echoes through the jailhouse behind you. You turn, body trembling and eyes wide as you search the darkness. Then almost as soon as that strange tune had started, it stops. 

A cold shiver of fear tingles down your spine at the foreboding silence. Then out of the darkness you hear Vash shout menacingly, his voice morphing into an inhuman two-toned scream that you’d never heard before. 

It curdles your blood.

“MAYFLY!”

You bolt, stray tears blinding your vision as you scramble like mad down the dirt dusted path in the opposite direction of town. Your breath rushes in and out of you at record speed as you rush towards the abandoned buildings lining the town’s outskirts. If you could just make it there and hide yourself in the shadows of broken and discarded concrete, you might stand a chance. 

But of course, much like a panicked animal with no sense of direction, your path twists and turns as you mindlessly try to find a good place to hide—only to wind up trapping yourself in a dead end. An empty alleyway illuminated solely by moonlight.

“No, no, no!”

You prepare to turn on your heel to retrace your steps but the moment you spin to face the other direction, your body becomes paralyzed with shock. Vash is standing right behind you . Somehow he had silently kept up with you, hounding your steps like a hungry dog from the depths of hell.

Vash smiles.

“Found you.” 

The unearthly flash of his red eyes shines in the darkness before a rush of wind gusts through the night. It’s then that you notice a single distorted, black feathered wing adorning Vash’s back. It stretches magnificently in the moonlight and you notice a gleaming, razor sharp talon adorning the juncture at the top of those cascading feathers. Your jaw drops. You had never seen Vash with wings before.

Vash takes a single step forward and stops when he sees you tremble. He watches you closely, both of you bodies still. And in that quiet moment, your soul is drawn into those deep crimson pools.

Mayfly…mayfly… lovebug …

Inexplicably, the tension eases from your body, limbs becoming still as if every part of you were surrendering to its fate. A devilishly handsome grin spreads across Vash’s lips as he watches your defiant spark finally simmer into nothing but harmless embers.

“Awww, trapped yourself again, little lovebug?” Vash chuckles darkly, his tone mocking. “Poor, sweet thing. You always seem to wind up in a cage.”

Your jaw clenches. How could Vash say that, when he was the one who drove you here in the first place? When he is the very cage itself?

“Y–you murdered those innocent people.”

Vash exhales a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes as the large black feathers on his wing bristle with irritation.

“Innocent? I’d hardly call them that.” The typhoon's playful expression falls and then darkens, and his voice shifts into a tone of dead seriousness.  

“They laid their hands on you.”

Before you can even blink, Vash is before you—a great shadow that looms and blocks out all light except that of the eerie glow of his gaze. Vash’s hands wrap around your wrists, squeezing the raw skin and making you gasp with pain. 

“They shackled you and locked you up in that cold, dark place. They hurt you, lovebug.”

Your molars sink into the inside of your cheek as you try to combat your cowardice with pain. You glare at the man before you, and spit out your next words like venom.

“Only because you had orchestrated it. You’re the mastermind here, not them.”

The sinister grin that pulls at the corner’s of Vash’s mouth confirms everything you had suspected. He truly is…a monster.

With a swift movement, Vash yanks on your wrists and jerks your body closer to his. You gasp, straining against him in vain. The heat that radiates off of Vash’s body slams into your skin as his single black wing swoops down to envelop you further. He’s warm—so warm—an ambrosia unlike any other.

“Clever girl.” Vash whispers before planting a chaste little kiss on the tip of your nose.

You shudder.

“Are—are you going to hurt me?”

Your question isn’t meant to elicit any sympathy, but Vash’s red eyes soften once he hears them and his grip around your wrists loosen. As if apologizing with his hands, Vash’s fingers circle and soothe your abused flesh.

“Oh lovebug, never. I absolutely adore you. I’d never let any harm come to you.” 

Vash brings your wrists to his lips, pressing hot kisses against your cold skin. The flames in your belly coil, reigniting as they are fueled by the rhythm of your heart. Vash is weaving his spell again, coaxing you back into that syrupy sweet web of deceit and rapture. 

And…you’re falling for it. Falling for him all over again.

“But,” Vash murmurs. His hot tongue slipping out of his mouth to swipe along your bruised skin. 

“You should be punished for trying to run from me.”

Air gusts out of your lungs as Vash pushes your body backwards. He manhandles you with ease before pinning your form against the frigid wall behind you. The claw at the juncture of where his wing bends pierces into the concrete with a terrible scraping sound and pins your wrists to the wall above your head, rendering you completely helpless.

Then, Vash’s nimble fingers undo the button of your slacks.

Jaw dropping, you cry out with rage, cursing Vash and kicking your feet against his legs as you try to fight back. But it’s as if you are battling against a tornado. Nothing you do phases him, and in one single, practiced movement, Vash rids you of your pants, leaving you in nothing but your shirt and underwear.

“Vash!” You screech, nailing him with another swift kick to the shin. “How could y–”

Words are stolen from your lips and your body completely freezes when you suddenly feel the glide of cold metal between your legs. You look down, and your heart nearly stops when you realize Vash has placed the barrel of his gun flush against your panty covered pussy.

The sound of Vash’s dark laughter turns your blood to ice. He leans forwards and presses his burning lips against the corner of your mouth.

“Ever played Russian roulette?” He whispers.

Eyes wide with panic, you turn your head to look at Vash—silently pleading for him to reconsider, to show you mercy and let you go. But Vash’s expression is calm and resolute.

“How about I make you a deal.” He muses. You watch, tense and breathless, as Vash’s thumb caresses the hammer of his .45 long colt. 

“If you can come before I get to the last bullet in the cylinder, we’ll consider your punishment served, alright?”

No. No, no, no, no.

“Vash, please—”

Brushing aside your protest, Vash presses the gun harder against your cunt, grinding the top of the cold barrel between your folds. You gasp sharply, arching against the icy friction as Vash pushes the gun further between your clenched thighs.

The rear sight bumps against your clit and you whimper as a rush of heat gushes between your legs. Vash grins at your reaction, thrusting the gun harder against your tender flesh. 

“That’s it, lovebug” Vash coos. “Feels so good doesn’t it?”

The hammer of the gun clicks, and you have to stifle a pathetic squeal before it can escape. Vash’s smile widens, eyes alight with excitement—then he pulls the trigger.

Blank.

Your body sags.

“One.” Vash purrs.

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to focus singularly on your goal. You have to come before Vash gets to that last bullet. You have to.

Hot puffs of air leave you open mouth in desperate whines as you start to piston your hips against the barrel of Vash’s gun, rubbing your swelling clit and folds against the harsh metal at his command.

A pleased hum rumbles in Vash’s chest as the obsidian feathers above you shudder with delight.

“Yes,” Vash breathes, leaning down to sample your flesh. His sharp canines tease along the column of your throat, and the feeling of his hot breath fanning across your skin makes you shiver and mewl. Your pussy twitches, nipples hardening as you start to melt in his hands.

“Good girl.”

The cylinder of the gun turns and you groan, grinding your pussy harder along that metal length. All logical thought disappears as the intoxicating pleasure of Vash’s game overpowers your mind. Like a worm on a hook, Vash has you in his grasp—he always has.

Another click of the trigger, another blank.

“Two.”

Vash’s mouth latches onto your throat now, his tongue and teeth caressing and nipping your skin as his free hand rises up to grope your neglected breast, pinching and teasing at your puckered nipple with greedy fingers.

Lewd moans fall from your lips as jolts of pleasure ricochet through your body. A desperate plea of Vash’s name fills the air as you slick drips from your fluttering cunt, lubing up the gun between your folds.

“Mmmm,” Vash moans, pink tongue languidly licking at his bottom lip. His eyes are glued to the spectacle before him. 

“That’s it, rub that pussy, baby. You’re so fucking sexy.”

Vash’s gun clicks once more. Thankfully, it’s another blank.

“Three.”

Only three more changes remain, and one of them is deadly. Knowing this, your movements become more desperate, grinding yourself against Vash’s gun with fervor as sweat begins to pour down your brow and back. Your body trembles, and you try not to think about how you must look, humping Vash’s gun like a bitch in heat.

Oh god.  

You’re scared but you’re positively throbbing for Vash’s touch. You haven’t been touched once since you’d escaped his clutches, and despite everything that has happened and the new life you had chosen, you are still so foolishly in love with him.

The people of this land may have been the ones you have chosen to side with, but Vash is the only one in your dreams. Vash is the only one who can make you feel like this. He haunts you and corrupts you. Fucks you and devours you.

Vash is the diablo you just can’t shake.

Releasing your throat with a hungry growl, Vash’s mouth travels up to passionately kiss your lips. You moan wantonly, accepting his tongue with unrestrained lust as you attempt to arch your body closer to his. Vash’s tongue swirls in tandem with yours, groaning into your mouth as he readies another shot. You whimper against him, fingernails digging into his feathers.

“Vash…”

Click

Blank.

“Four.” Vash pants, his tongue plunging into your mouth once more, matching in time with the thrusts of his gun. Paradoxically fucking you brutally and sweetly at the same time.

Vash angles his gun upwards, teasing the metal shaft against your entrance. And gods, you know you should be terrified—fighting him tooth and nail for not only your dignity but your life. But as the now warmed and lubed metal of his gun plays with your entrance, all you can do is arch and moan like a whore.

An alluringly dark chuckle rings in your ears as Vash’s grip on your breast tightens. You gasp as he pinches your nipple and rolls it harshly between his fingers.

“Wishing it was my cock, lovebug?”

You shake your head back and forth, and Vash’s grin widens.

“Don’t lie, of course you are. You’ve always been such a dirty little slut for me.”

Vash pinches your nipple harder—a punishment for your little lie—and you cry out as the cylinder makes another round. This time, Vash doesn’t wait, he immediately pulls the trigger, eliciting a yelp of fear from the depths of your lungs. 

Sure enough, it’s another blank.

“Five.” Vash chuckles. He releases your breast, and you watch as his hand travels down to the front of his pants, palming the thick hot bulge that sits just underneath his coat.

“Oh, one more baby. You’ve been sooo lucky so far. Think you’re gonna cum before this gun blows your pussy sky high?” 

Your words tangle in your throat, so you elect to nod rapidly instead. Your teeth sink into your lip as you furiously rub your cunt along the length of the gun, purposefully catching your clit on the metal grooves at the base with each thrust.

Fuck. Fuuuuck.

Almost there. Almost there!

The cylinder turns one final time as Vash’s finger glides sensually along the trigger. He kisses you again, his tongue diving deep into your mouth, drinking in everything you have to give him. Vash swallows your scream, and then pulls the trigger.

…

Nothing.

Both your hips and the gun still, and Vash laughs gleefully at your confused and near delirious expression. He grins like a cat who had just eaten the canary, and then presses a tender little kiss to your lips.

“Six.”

Vash pulls the gun out from between your legs, the barrel glistening in the moonlight with your slick as he brings it up to your line of sight.

“Hmm, soaked it right through your panties didn’t you? What a little slut.”

Vash's long pink tongue snakes out from between his lips, and you watch—mesmerized and aroused to high heaven— as he licks the barrel of the gun clean. Vash’s eyes never leave you once as he purrs with satisfaction at your taste. 

When he’s finished, Vash holsters his gun then wraps that now free hand around your throat while the other lands heavily on your hip.

Your breath stalls as the fingers on your hip snake around and down into the waistband of your flimsy cotton underwear, body jolting as they slip inside and reach all the way down to your messy pussy. 

“Vash,” You whimper as his leather clad fingers toy with your swollen clit. 

“Vash…”

The wing that holds your hands captive disappears, and you sigh with relief as your arms fall and land on top Vash’s shoulders.

“Hold onto me little lovebug,” Vash coos, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“Fuck, you are so cute.”

Without reserve, Vash plunges two of his fingers into your sex. Your back arches, and you moan loudly as you wiggle your hips in an attempt to take his thick fingers deeper. You need him. You need him so desperately you feel like you’re gonna break.

Saccharine praise falls in hushed whispers from Vash’s lips as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting your g-spot as he thrusts into your sloppy pussy ruthlessly. The wet squelch of your flesh lovingly sucking his fingers echoes across the empty hallway—indisputable proof oh just how much you want him.

“So wet. Gonna come on my fingers, lovebug? Think I should let you?”

You nod your head frantically, legs straining as you stand on the tips of your toes, thrusting against his hand with a wild cry—your cunt pulses and then practically weeps into his palm.

“YES! YES! Vash—please, please, let me come. Pleeease. ”

Oh, fuuuck. You’re so close. You’re gonna cum, just a little more. 

Vash smiles that dazzling handsome smile of his as his fingers tighten around your throat, cutting off most of your air and making your head spin. Your cunt squeezes around Vash’s fingers as he thrusts them inside, only for him to bully your g-spot until you cry.

“So pretty when you beg, baby.” Vash coos, licking a fallen tear from your cheek. 

“But…”

His fingers slip out of your puffy walls, and you cry out with frustration, fists banging against his shoulders like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum.

But Vash just laughs at you, and before you can give him a piece of your mind, he slides off your ruined panties and hoists you up into the air. Your back presses against the crumbling wall as your thighs come to rest on Vash’s shoulders.

He’s so strong.

Monster…

Without delay, Vash’s mouth dives between the twitching folds of your sex, and you scream up into the starless sky.

God, Vash always knows just how to pull you apart. He always manages to find that frayed and loose thread of your willpower, wrap it around his lithe fingers, and then pull it oh-so-gently. The reward of watching you as you unravel before him must have been the sweetest euphoria, because he kept doing it. Again and again.

“You taste so good.” Vash growls hotly against your sex. 

“Admit it, no one can treat you as good as I do.”

Vash’s tongue flattens along your pussy, red eyes making contact with yours and holding you there as he slowly and sensually circles his tongue around your clit.

“They don’t know how to worship this pussy properly.”

“Vash,” You beg, throat tightening as you choke on your tears. “Please, let me come. I’m aching.”

Wordlessly, Vash laps your clit into his mouth, giving it one harsh suck before snagging it between his teeth. You cry out, fingers burning into his white locks as he releases you.

“There, there lovebug. Spread your legs wider. You can take my tongue for just a little bit longer, right?”

Begrudgingly, you do as he says, and Vash groans as you spread yourself open just for him. The humanoid typhoon dives in again, lapping hungry stripes along your cunt—spitting on your little hole and then collecting every drop of his saliva and your slick that he can gather before readily swallowing every drop.

“I haven’t tasted you for a whole year.” Vash growls against your folds, the tip of his nose rubbing forcefully against your clit and making you see stars.

“It was torture being without you.”

Vash begins to thrust his tongue into your sex, sloppily eating then sucking your throbbing flesh into his mouth. With his body, Vash passionately coaxes out every hidden little secret you’d buried deep. You scream with rapture in his hands, more tears falling freely down your face as you rapidly unravel in Vash’s hands.

“Vash, don’t stop! Please, please, I’ll do anything! Anything you ask! Please!”

But just as you’re about to reach your climax, your pussy clenching sweetly around Vash’s talented tongue, the heat of Vash’s mouth slips away.

The wail of despair that is ripped from your throat echoes pathetically into the desert air.

Vash chuckles at your anguish, giving your pussy one last cheeky lick before lowering you back to the ground. 

The moment your feet touch the floor, your body sways, unsteady and dizzy from the unfulfilled pleasure that Vash had ransacked through your body.

But Vash holds you steady as he pushes his coat to the side and unbuckles himself. Your half hooded eyes fall to the place where he’s touching but before you can catch a glimpse, Vash positions you facing the wall, ass out and hands up—bracing yourself. 

You shiver at the loss of Vash’s warmth. Your trembling doesn’t escape Vash’s notice, but before he decides to comfort you, Vash gives your cunt a healthy slap.

You shriek, tossing a fiery glare at him over your shoulder. Infuriatingly, Vash gives you a flirtatious wink before pressing his body flush to yours and draping himself over you. His black wing and blue coat envelop you and shield you from the moonlight above.

“Cold?” Vash’s hands wrap around your waist. “You’re trembling.”

You don’t respond, your lips pressing together into a thin line as you push your body backwards, rubbing your pussy against his bulge with a wordless demand. You want Vash’s cock. You want him to soothe your ache, to fill you up and make you forget your own name. 

Vash exhales a pleasured sigh as you rub yourself against him, his hands moving from your waist to circle around your back. He traces your spine with the care a sculptor shows his masterpiece. Vash’s scarlet gaze drinks you in with awe as you arch needily under the pressure of his fingers.

“Don’t worry, lovebug. I’ll keep you warm from now on.”

The sounds of rustling fabric and the satisfying pull of a zipper elicit a flicker of heat in your core. You look back, a moan falling from your lips as you catch a glimpse of Vash’s perfect cock. He’s achingly hard, his beautiful pink head leaking a gorgeous, glistening trail of precum down onto the globe of your ass.

Licking your lips, your gaze captures his. Even in the dim light, you can see that Vash’s cheeks are flushed as he breathes heavily.

Then, without so much as a word, Vash leans back and shoves every single inch of his throbbing cock inside of you with a single thrust.

Your head flies back as you scream his name in ecstasy. Without missing a beat, Vash reaches forward to grab a fistful of your hair, and the two of you moan in unison as Vash begins to rut feverishly into your sex.

“V-Vash! Vash! Vash!”

Your bodies straining and hips trembling, Vash bears down on you like a storm, claiming every inch of your soft flesh with indiscriminate and unrelenting hunger. The slap of his hips forces your body forward, and you brace yourself against the crumbling wall with all your might as the typhoon ravishes you from the inside out.  

It’s not long before your orgasm builds up again. Fuck, you’re so close—twitching and milking Vash with each brutal thrust inside your walls. And Vash knows how turned on you are . He can feel how your slick insides squeeze and massage his cock desperately, the pounding of your heart under his fingertips, the delicious gasps of pleasure he pulls from the depths of your depravity.

And with one more savage thrust you finally come, screaming and quivering as your body succumbs to wave after wave of unimaginable, white hot pleasure.

But Vash doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm, holding your hips steady as he keeps pounding into you from behind, using you like a fleshlight for his pleasure.

“More.” Vash growls, fangs nipping sharply against the skin on your back. 

“Give me more!”

You gasp for breath, fingernails scratching against the deteriorating concrete as your pussy squeezes down on him, helplessly barreling your entire body into another orgasm even as you finish the last. The cry of pleasure you release is guttural, primal and sinful as your cunt pulses around Vash's cock once more—desperately sucking, wanting to milk him for all he’s worth.

Vash stills for a moment, moaning openly as he savors the sensation and sight of your helpless body at his mercy. Vash’s chest burns with satisfaction as he feels the pleasure rolling off your skin. Pleasure that only he can give you. 

With a jerk of his body, Vash pulls his cock out of you. Then in a swift series of movements he pulls you upright and turns you around to face him. Your legs are practically jelly and utterly pliant to his whims as he hooks his arms under them and hauls you up in his arms. In response, you wrap your arms around Vash's neck and bury your face against his chest.

Vash buries his cock inside you to the hilt again, and your toes curl as you wail from the overstimulation. Surprisingly, Vash’s thrusts start slow, grinding into you languidly as you whine. The humanoid typhoon hushes your mewling sobs while he fucks you, pampering every part of you he can reach with his tender kisses—like the calm before the storm. It’s not long before Vash grows impatient however, and his pace rapidly quickens as he gives in to the raging lust inside him.

You.

His obsession.

His lovebug.

He’ll never let you go again.

“So good f’me.” Vash moans, fingers digging into your ass as he bounces your harder and faster on his cock. The lewd squelches and ring of cream that forms at his base the evidence of your sinful yearning.

“Gonna make you scream and squirt all over my cock, how does that sound?”

Vash’s unrelenting pace doesn’t falter as he chases your shared highs. You are powerless as you’re pulled into the undercurrent of his desire. Vash slams his dick inside you and his thick and demanding cockhead collides with your cervix. 

A surge of both pain and pleasure knocks the air out of your lungs as you’re sent tumbling into yet another powerful orgasm. Vash grins, utterly pleased with himself as he watches you cry and sing your anguished pleasure in his arms. Then, as if all this weren’t enough, a single large black feather slips between the two of your bodies like a snake, and begins to toy with your clit.

You scream.

“Come again.” Vash commands.

“Vash! S-stop!” You cry out, fat tears filling your eyes as drool falls from your lips from the overstimulation. God, he’s ruining you.

“I–I can’t come anymore! I can’t!”

Vash slams you against the wall, stabilizing you against it before one hand reaches down to pinch your clit, while his other hand wraps around your throat and squeezes.

“I’m not asking you. Come on my cock, now .”

Vash thrusts his shaft pitilessly inside you, the head of him ramming fiercely against your g-spot again before plunging all the way inside you. Your body can’t take it, the pressure between your hips releases, and you howl like an animal as your pussy pulses and gushes, squirting all over Vash’s cock as you come. 

An unabashed, obscene moan falls from Vash’s lips when he feels the rush of your pleasure in liquid form.

“That’s it, my perfect little slut. Sooo perfect. Look down and watch your pussy make a creamy little mess for me.”

And Vash still doesn’t stop. He continues to pound into you, fucking your through your orgasm yet again. He’s determined to thoroughly and irrevocably break you. And as you cling to him for dear life, the words that Vash had spoken earlier that night ring loud and clear in your mind.

“Don’t run, lovebug. I’ll make you regret it.”

You should have listened, but it was too late now.

Near delirious and exhausted, you practically fall limp in Vash’s arms, but Vash doesn’t let you tap out. Not yet. He pulls your head back, forcing you to look him straight in the eye, then he whispers,

“You are mine, do you understand? Your thoughts are mine. Your body is mine. Your pussy is mine…”

Vash slams back inside you with a force that nearly has you passing out. Then, he seals his lips with yours, tongue swirling and consuming everything he can reach.

When Vash releases you, you gasp for breath as his pace resumes.

“Your heart is mine.”

You swallow, your mind nothing but pleasured static and love drunk fog as you stare at him. That devilish smile returns to Vash’s face. He truly is incomplete without it.

“Admit it, lovebug.”

Your body trembles and in a desperate attempt to relieve yourself of this torture, the words escape you in a rush.

“Yes. I love you, Vash.”

Vash’s entire body shudders as he purrs at your confession. His dark wing drapes over the both of you as he claims your lips with yet another passionate kiss.

“Atta' girl.”

Surprisingly, Vash’s pace slows to a gentle grind. Slowly and languidly he rubs himself inside of you, as if he’s savouring you like a worshipper at a temple. The final orgasm that you share isn’t explosive like the ones you’ve had before.

It’s tender and sweet, washing over the both of you in gentle waves. Vash releases the softest and most beautiful moan as he comes, kissing you breathless as he fills you up with wave after wave of his hot cum.

For a brief moment, you wonder if this is the first time Vash had found release after you left. Had you been the only one to…

As your climaxes subside, harsh pants fill the air. Both you and Vash melt into each other’s arms, utterly destroyed and exhausted. Your sex throbs with a terrible ache, and to help relieve some of your tension you wiggle your hips, sliding Vash’s cock out half way in an attempt to get a breather.

But Vash growls, and shoves his cock all the way back inside you, grinding up against your cervix and making you whimper.

“Keep it all inside you, lovebug.” Vash murmurs softly. 

The humanoid typhoon claims your mouth with one more toe-curling kiss, and the two of you moan, slowly indulging in one another’s taste. Sucking and licking, until finally you have to pull away for air.

Vash pouts, but then he pulls back, electing to admire your love drunk expression instead.

“Didn’t you know?” Vash whispers, leaning back in to rub the tip of his nose against yours. 

“Lovebugs stay connected to their mates for life.”

You pause and digest those words. While they may seem romantic on the surface, deep down you see the foreboding promise they hold. Pulling away from Vash’s pampering, you respond.

“Lovebugs don’t live long. They die right after they mate.”

It’s Vash’s turn to pause, his expression quizzical as he looks into your eyes. But after a few beats, a sickeningly sweet smile spreads across his lips. It’s the kind of smile only a god of death could have.

“You’ll be the exception.”

dividers by @/saradika

[askinkiskarma]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ xxɪɪɪ - ʙɪᴛɪɴɢ

pairing: stepbrother!neteyam x omatikaya!reader

➽ words: 1.3k words

➽ a/n: i am unbelievably hot and bothered in an airport, so you better like this besties :((

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: stepcest(!!!), degradation, mention of spitting in mouth, blood, kinda mean!neteyam

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

“You’re in trouble now, little sis.” It was soft and deadly, like the freshly sharpened blade of a knife - his whispered voice, so close to your ear, his hot breath fanning over your face like the breeze of the bright night. It was just as beautiful as it’s always been, but the edge in it scared you almost as much as it turned you on. Your step-brother was always poised, always put-together, always calm. It didn’t feel this way right now, his nose flared and fingers clenched in a tight fist as he was trying his best to maintain the facade, while he turned away from you in order to face the warriors you were casually flirting with at the village celebration, a sweet, too-sweet smile adorning his otherwise threatening features.

“If you’ll excuse us, my sister and I have some… family issues to discuss.”

“Teyam, I—“ his glare was enough for you to stop whatever half-assed apology was about to come out of your mouth. Truthfully, you had no intention of following through with any of the men you managed to seduce in the few hours you did the rounds at the party. No, there was no one that could hold even a pinky to the man you actually wanted, but you knew it wouldn’t happen without a little, well… machiavellian planning on your part. Neteyam and your relationship teetered on a fine line, an unsteady rope that would cause an unsightly fall at the gentlest gust of the wind. There were touches, intimate and moan-inducing, lingering stares that made you question your own sanity and dreams, so many of them, so many that you could never repeat out loud, that you could never even think about without blushing violently, without your loincloth dampening and nipples hardening. You could barely look him in the eye for days when they first started, but then... then you realised he felt the same when you caught him one night, vigorously pumping his throbbing, hard, thick cock, spilling whimpering moans and broken cries of your name. He came violently, moaning praises and hymns of what he'd do to you, and fuck, you knew then you wouldn't rest until every inch of your body memorised his touch by heart and his cock was buried in you so deep and often you couldn't remember what your womb felt like without it.

But time came and time passed and nothing ever happened. He was too good, too in-control of his own emotions and troubling feelings, too focused on the image he tried to hard to reflect to others to succumb to such horrible, nefarious actions. Until now, that is. You smirked a little, unable to help yourself, not when you got him exactly where you wanted him, not when it was stirring animalistic desires in you you knew he'd manage to fulfil.

“My little step-sister's such a little slut, isn't she? You obviously need to be reminded who you belong to.” 

You yelped silently as Neteyam yanked your hand and pushed you away from the crowd, manhandling your much smaller frame with ease as he dragged you to a dark, isolated corner of the village, before pushing you roughly until your back made contact with the hard, gravelly surface of a tree.

It was heaven, breakable, forbidden heaven, the way he pushed apart your legs with his thick, lustrous thigh and gave you some much-needed alleviation. It was hell, the way he didn't move or go any further, wrapping his fingers around your slim throat and squeezing until whatever little breath he didn't manage to already take away was trapped in you, just like you were trapped in him.

"What do you have to say for yourself, huh? Throwing yourself at anyone with a pulse, like a whore. You're a Sully now, that fucking means something, do you hear me?"

You could hear him, but you couldn't answer, not when he was still holding you by the throat, restricting your movement and your ability to speak, not when your head felt lightheaded and your tewng wetter with every second passed.

"Are you so desperate to get fucked, little sis? This needy little cunt so desperate you'd settle for any low-life, huh?"

He released you then and you moaned, bucking your hips so you'd get the friction you desperately wanted, almost euphoric when he seemed to listen and he undid your loincloth expertly, uncovering your dripping folds. He wasted no time stroking his fingers against you, circling your clit with his thumb while pushing two long digits in your sopping entrance, finding the spot that made you see stars instantly, incessant in his attempt to bring you to your knees in the shortest amount of time possible.

"But it's not just any of them you want, mm? No... not when you whisper my name in the dead of night when you think we're all asleep. Not when you touch yourself while calling for your big brother to come and show you how you need to be treated."

He didn't stop until you came, loudly screaming his name, hoping no one could hear the way you were coming apart on your big brother's fingers.

When the high settled, he took off his own clothes, lifting you in the air by the back of your knees, holding you easily up while he dragged his tip teasingly against your folds, over and over, enjoying seeing you squirm from both overstimulation and need.

"You're mine. Do you hear me?"

He thrust his whole length into you in a one fell swoop, easy at it's ever going to be with the amount of slick running down your legs and down his heavy balls, yearning to spill their load in your tight pussy. You felt him everywhere - so fucking big, so full of him you could feel it in your belly, in the way he was pushing the skin there upwards, a bump clearly visible as he entered you to the hilt.

"Y-yes! Fuck, yes!"

You sobbed when he buried his head in your neck and sunk his sharp, deadly canines into the sensitive skin, the piercing pain heightening the pleasure of his ministrations, the way he was bouncing you on his cock like you were a weightless doll, using you as his own personal cock-sleeve.

"Fucking. Say. It."

He increased the force of his thrusts with each word uttered, highlighting their importance and the feral ways by which your presence in his life possessed him, it made him an unleashed animal who needed to own you, to rut into you until every ridge of his cock was imprinted in your walls. You tried to speak in between each impetuous onslaught, the pleasure so earth-shattering all you managed were stutters and whimpered attempts.

"Yours! All yours! On-only yours!"

Lapping at your neck until every drop of your blood was coating his tongue, he kissed you, rough and untamed, moaning when your tongue pushed past his lips and danced with his own, loving the feel of you on him, impatient to taste your own cum when he'd spit it in your mouth.

"That's right. Mine." he was so big, splitting you open with every bruise against your cervix, and you could feel another wave of pleasure close to crashing into you with enough force to crumble you. So close... oh, so close.

"Squeezing me so well, fuck. So fucking needy for big brother's cock, you want to milk me dry, isn't that right?"

You nod wildly against his lips, and he smirks as he breaks the kiss to look at you, to take in all your fierce, ethereal beauty.

"Come for me, then. Come for me and take it, sis. Don't you dare waste a single drop."

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon@kasai-https @dvxsja (if your tag doesn't work pls check your settings x)

[14dyh]

Sickness | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x female reader Summary: Hange takes care of Y/N during a terrible cold. Word count: 1.4k A/N: oh to be taken care of by hange… (btw hange x reader requests are highly encouraged, i love doing them)

The weather changes recently have been a challenge to Y/N's immune system, which may also partly be the reason for her often sickness. Y/N forgot what mornings without a stuffy nose felt like, or a clawing sore throat begging for relief from a distasteful cough syrup. Food barely tasted good, and every night, the dread of running out of tissues at her bedside creeps up on her. Sickness was incredibly mundane after what she had to go through during the war that both ended and began everything. The war demanded her to fight despite bleeding and injury. To think that a soldier trained to withstand any sickness was currently sick in bed was somehow ironic.

Y/N shifted groggily in the sheets, mind still clouded and her breathing quietly desperate for a better airway.

"Hello, love. Good morning," Hange would quietly say every morning accompanied by a tight hug around her chest, snuggling closer as their bodies dipped on the soft mattress.

Y/N would smile but quietly scold Hange for insisting on sleeping beside her despite her sickness.

"Pfft, I won't get sick," Hange would reason, even going as far as proving it with a few kisses. "See? Sickness itself is scared of me."

Hange's humorous attitude alleviated the discomfort within Y/N. The sickness often irritates her because of how much it restricts her actions around the house. After the war, the house she envisioned with Hange gradually became a reality and became where they settled. It has a wonderful view of a riverside and vast greenery. The neighbors are few and everyone has been kind, mostly because of Hange's charm and friendliness.

Hange insisted on tending to the house when Y/N got sick. They learned to clean up and organize the house in functions that would favor them both. It was a scene Y/N always envisioned as she gripped her sword to fight. This is the peace she fought for. A quiet, married life with her most beloved in a serene countryside.

"Hm, awake already? How'd you feel?" Hange approached the bed, carrying a tray of steaming food over the bed.

"Terrible, but not very much," Y/N muttered, sitting up before coughing on a fresh tissue. She would look at the food Hange prepared and smile, knowing that Hange had been exploring more cookbooks on their bookshelf. They have been fascinated by the outside world cuisine, always eager to try something new and pick the best ones for Y/N. Hange would usually sit by the bed as Y/N ate, flipping through the cookbooks and telling her the contents, what looked tasty, or what they would try next. Y/N could not help but give Hange a loving stare as they rambled on, appreciating how Hange used their curiosity as a love language.

Y/N cherished these days despite the sickness as it was nothing compared to their life before the war. She longed for this resolute peace, creating these halcyon memories to remember.

Y/N, consumed by her current happiness, is unaware that she is slowly deteriorating. Darkness slowly spreads underneath her once lively eyes. Her skin appears more sickly than ever, and a strange lack of reflection plagues the mirrorless house. The setting sun never fades into darkness, and the ticking clocks of life have paused.

The morning... or what she thought it was... was nothing like any before. She awoke shaking and panting violently, her fists clenched and unclenched the sheets as if trying to hold to reality and reality itself. She squeezed her eyes shut, pinching her nose as if to compress the horrors of the past. Was it another nightmare of the war? The same recurring dream of losing Hange? It was unbearable to watch like a memory violently forced into the forefront of her mind.

"It's just a dream..." She muttered to herself, holding onto the pillow.

No sooner, Hange entered the room carrying the breakfast they prepared for Y/N. A worried expression passed over their face as they saw the disheveled, panicked state of their sick wife on the bed. Hange sat beside Y/N, wrapping the blankets around her until they were intertwined in each other's arms.

"I dreamed about it again..." Y/N muttered, almost shakily. "I lost you... You died in that war..." Y/N sniffled, leaning closer to the warmth of her lover, letting her ears be filled with the sound of their heartbeat. Hange remained silent, slowly stroking her hair.

Then Hange broke the silence and whispered, "Why do you think so?"

"We can't pretend like this anymore," Hange whispered back in response, a morose sigh passing over their lips as they almost trembled holding her. Y/N felt her heart lodged in her throat, a deep pit in her stomach eating her away.

Y/N shrugged and shook her head lightly, her hand finding a way around Hange's. "I don't know, probably just my head messing with me," she muttered.

A long silence followed and it filled Y/N with discomfort as though there was something lurking beneath her terrible dreams.

"Hange, what do you mean...?" Y/N wanted to take it back, her words almost like a terrible mistake to trigger a ticking bomb.

Y/N was overcome with the gentle shudders from Hange as they sobbed on her shoulder. Their eyes watering with desperation and grief, they finally mustered the courage to face her, tracing a thumb over her cheeks. The lightness of her touch seemed insignificant against the deeper pallor of her face and the dark circles that enveloped her eyes, signs of her deep internal illness.

Y/N sniffled, partly because of the cold and partly because a dreadful truth began clawing on her insides, demanding to be let out. She could not meet the gaze of her spouse this time.

"I'm so sorry..." Hange whispered. "I wish things could be different."

Hange paused and brought their lips to her cold hands.

"That doesn't matter now, though." Hange's tears began to trickle down their lover's hand, a transitory warmth passing over. "You have to wake up now."

"What...?" It was weak, a persistent cry from her throat, wishing that her ears were fooling her this time.

"Wake up now, I'll always be here," Hange held her tight, their actions betraying their words. They don't want to let go. But holding on would only hurt her.

Y/N shook her head furiously, a string of no's spilling from her lips as she held on to Hange with her eyes closed.

"Please, sweetheart," Hange pleaded, their thumb wiping away the tears that fell on their lover's face. "You have to let me go."

"What are you saying...? Please don't leave me..." Y/N gripped Hange's arms, afraid to let them go again. Afraid that she would lose them again the way she did back then.

Was it all a dream? Y/N thought to herself. Then why does the sun feel so warm, why were Hange's heartbeats so real against her ear? Y/N broke into tears as the world began to shift back to reality once again. The warmth. Hange's heartbeats. They felt so strong yet so desperately hollow...

Unreal.

"I love you, I always will." Hange loosened the grip, letting Y/N return to the world they fought for.

-

Y/N woke up crying on the cold sheets of what their room should have been. A heavy storm pounded against the roofs and windows, the sound forming a euphonious symphony to be heard inside. Y/N let the obsidian sky cry with her, the emptiness of the house consuming her bit by bit. The same place Hange promised to build a life with her became nothing but a hungry space, waiting to consume her as well.

Y/N shook her head, refusing for things to end this way. She cried and cried, she showed this place that she wouldn't be consumed... she was meant to live. That's what Hange would have wanted.

Y/N fell asleep crying, peaceful at once as she drifted back to unconsciousness.

That morning, Y/N felt the balmy rays of the sun spilling warmth through her skin. Her eyes fluttered open, still puffy and weak from crying. She cried with the sky so much that night. So hard that her nose cleared up, regaining her airways once again.

She could breathe again, no longer suffocating, no longer a prey to be consumed by her grief... The empty grave of her lover felt so close yet so illusory in the backyard of the house they once dreamt of together.

"Thank you, Hange..." she mumbled as her eyes fluttered close once again. A tell-tale embrace enveloped her in warmth as she drifted back to a peaceful slumber.

[nymphie-mama]

relief

pairing xavier thorpe x reader

summary in which a little teasing goes too far

warnings smut. [fem!oral, teasing, fem!masturbation]

request Could you write one with either Xavier or Ajax (I’m not picky and would like to see both scenarios but you can choose who you think would fit best) and Fem reader, the reader and the boy both have a thing for each other and has teased the reader all day. So she goes to her room to try and relieve herself but just can’t and the boy walks in to find her panting and begging to cum and decides to help her? - @ttsbaby01

i no longer support percy hynes white and i do not write for xavier thorpe anymore.

the teasing xavier had in him was insane. it was driving you insane. the touches that were so close to where you needed him and the needy breaths on your neck were too much.

he knew you had a thing for him, he liked to abuse that. you knew he felt the same, you liked to let him abuse what he knew. it was normal for him to tease you, usually not enough to get you riled up.

until today.

everything he did felt oh-so extreme. those little touches left imaginative flames on your body. every enunciated word he spoke seemed to out a vision in your mind of him filling you to the brim, like he was implanting it there. his smirks drew out the blood in your cheeks every time.

the second you got to your dorm, your pants and underwear found the floor and your body was plowed into bed. you needed to alleviate everything from the day.

your fingers quickly found your swollen clit, a familiar spot. not surprised to find yourself practically dripping with everything, you went to work.

rubbing circles into your most sensitive, needy area, and trying to hush the moans spilling from your lips, everything was coming together. imagining xavier taking your place and talking to you while he brought you to the best orgasm of your life.

“xay,” you whined to yourself, maybe too loud, “please, let me cum. xavi, please-“

“yes, princess? oh-“

you jumped up and threw your blanket over your bottom half. “shit, xavier! knock!”

“well, i did,” he said, and you could see his eyes darken, “when i heard my name, i just assumed-“

“fuck. you have shit timing.”

“no, no, i think i’m here at just the right time,” he said, reaching for your blanket and smirking in that classically dark way. “let me help you?”

“what? xay- you’re-“

“i’m what, princess? don’t insult me, you know what i just heard.” he’d removed the blanket carefully but quickly and already worked to position himself between your thighs. “do you know how badly i’ve wanted this? to taste you?”

you squirm and start to move around, but he stops you by reaching around your thighs. “if you really don’t want this, say so. i’ll stop.”

“you know i want it.”

“then what am i waiting for?” he asks, moreso to himself, and licks a swift stripe between your folds. you hissed at the feeling, but he groaned.

your hands tugged at his long hair, making him moan into you again. the vibration did nothing but help the sensations his tongue was bringing you. his tongue had easily replaced where your fingers were before as if he knew. he flitted at and suctioned around your bundle, watching what made you react the most. xavier smiled with every movement and sound you made, mumbling things you couldn't recognize against your cunt.

"fuck, xavier," you said as he brought a finger in and out of your entrance. your fingers tightened on his blonde strands, and his movements became stronger. "god, i'm gonna cum."

he nodded against you, maybe because he could feel it. maybe because he wanted you to. either way, you feel a band, tighter than ever before, snap inside your belly. It all washes over you so comfortably but so fast. it's better than ever before.

xavier cleans you up by licking your juices off your thighs and cunt, sweetly, like it needs it.

when he comes up, finally done, and getting ready to get a towel and really clean you up, he's sweaty and pretty. his chin and mouth glisten and he has no care in the world.

"you taste so good, princess. i don't know how i ever went without that."

--

wednesday masterlist

[realcube]

kunikida + work stress

things at the ada have been heating up, from what you've heard. your boyfriend speaks little of his work, but it doesn't take a psychoanalytical genius to figure out by the way he grinds his teeth constantly and the perpetual look of discomfort on his face that he might be stressed.

and unless it was your relationship that was straining him — which it's not because you're an angel — the only other viable option is his work.

he doesn't like to divulge information about his job too much so whenever you ask him about the issues going on, in hopes that talking about it might alleviate his worries, he finds a way to skirt around the details and essentially tell you nothing.

not bothering to pry any longer, you give it a rest and leave him to sort it out on his own like he usually does. however, you realise that his stress may be a cause for concern, when you begin to smell burning in your bedroom on a tuesday night.

having not lit any candles, naturally you were worried. though you were instantly relieved when you noticed your bedroom window was open, and the source of the scent was definitely coming from outside.

promptly, you shut the window to prevent the smell from infecting your room, then rush downstairs to inspect it further. without searching for long, you find the back door is ajar and through the slit you can see outside, and there is a figure looming by the wall which you immediately recognise as your boyfriend, kunikida.

however, it was what he was doing that came as a shock.

you watch as he brings a cigarette up to his lips, and takes an extended draw; huffing out the smoke in a deep, jaded sigh, allowing it to sink into the crisp night air. the lit tip glowed a fiery orange, which reflected in his glasses as he stared down at it. cigarette held between his two fingers, one arms was crossed over his chest and the other held it to his mouth, then lazily dropped back to his side as he exhaled.

as a grown man, he could do what he wants so it wasn't nessecarily off-putting to see him smoke — especially not when he does it in such an alluring manner — but it simply surprised you since you've never seen him do it before, nor has he ever mentioned it.

you pad over to the door and poke your head out, "are you okay?" you ask, quietly.

when he fully registers your presense, he is quick to try and hide his cigarette by throwing it on the ground and stomping on it, then crossing his arms over his chest and awkwardly looking up at the sky as though he was just admiring the moon all along. "oh, yes, dear." he stammered, trying to create the most believable pose, but they were all rigid, "i just needed some fresh air."

"you know i saw you, right?" you giggle, while he sighs from defeat.

"(y/n), i'm so sorry. the pressure from the ada has been severe so i—"

you hastily interupt him before he commences a long-winded, solemn apology, "you don't need to be sorry. do what you like. i'm not your mother, or your doctor."

eyebrows furrowed together, he nods.

"but i do feel a bit bad," since he didn't have anything to add, you continue, "that you'd rather stand out here in the dark with a cigarette than talk to me about your work stress. but whatever helps, i suppose."

his breath hitches, and all he's able to do is offer you a weak smile, "may i do both?"

you reciprocate, and with a small shrug, you whisper, "sure."

[azukiel]

Nightfall Heir

Chapter 4

🔞 MDNI 🔞 NSFW

Warnings (as a whole): Explicit sexual content, Graphic descriptions of violence, PTSD, Angst, Blood kink, Pregnancy and Childbirth

Notes on this chapter: Fluff with Gale, banter about sex, relationships and periods. Also, I'm kind of on a roll with writing this story, I've already written chapters 5 & 6. I will try pacing out the posting of them 😅

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

⭐Here is the story on Archive of Our Own ⭐

🔥Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! 🔥

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking the streets of Baldur’s Gate with Gale by your side was not the strangest sight. In fact, the people of the city were more accustomed to seeing him walking with you and the other members of your group than without.

“You’re looking radiant, my dear,” Gale began, his tone laced with curiosity. “Did you and Astarion have a good evening?”

“You could say that,” you replied, attempting to suppress a blushing smile.

“You know,” he began, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “When I first saw the two of you together, I was somewhat shocked, to be honest. You didn’t seem the type to go for someone as, well, uninhibited as Astarion. But you complement him well.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Indeed.” he nodded, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. “And I must say, you’ve had a very positive influence on him. He’s mellowed out. Not as bloodthirsty. He’s become, dare I say, domesticated.”

“Domesticated?” You laughed, raising an eyebrow. But not as bloodthirsty? Well, you thought to yourself, you were still allowing him to feed on you.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “A star-crossed vampire and his drow companion. Who would have ever imagined?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you began, a sly grin spreading across your face. “Lae’zel and Halsin seemed to have their suspicions back in the day. And it doesn’t surprise me in the least that Lae’zel and Astarion still get into their bouts of verbal sparring. You’d think they’d get tired of it, eventually,” you shake your head, chuckling. But suddenly a dull pain cramped your abdomen. Flinching, you let out a small groan, rubbing the area where the pain was throbbing the strongest.

“For fuck’s sake, now of all times?” You grumble to yourself.

“What’s the matter, my dear? Are you in pain?” Gale was quick to notice, as was his usual.

“It’s nothing,” you lied. “Just a bit of a cramp.”

“Are you sure?” His concern was apparent.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” you brushed him off, trying to alleviate his worries. “Probably my monthly visitor is going to grace me soon. Perfect timing, as always.” You rolled your eyes with sarcasm.

“Ah, well, I’m afraid I can’t offer much assistance with that. Unless, of course, you require a some feminine hygiene products?”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Gale, really?”

He held his hands up defensively. “I like to see myself as an honourable man,” he declared. “And so I endeavour to look out for the women in my life.”

You chuckled, “I’m not sure how honourable a man who walks in on his friend pleasuring herself in the bath can be, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

He shrugged. “You should have had the door locked, then.”

“I should have,” you agreed, and shook your head, still laughing.

“But I think I may actually need some tampons,” you grinned nervously. You could feel a slight wetness at your junction but could not tell if it was remnants of your carnal thoughts from earlier or not.

“Shall we detour to the apothecary?” Gale offered, concern for your wellbeing still riddled on his face.

“Do you mind?”

“Absolutely not, my dear! We can’t have you bleeding through your clothes, can we?”

You flushed, embarrassed. “No, definitely not.” Thank the gods you were wearing a long, dark skirt.

“So,” Gale started after a moment of slightly awkward silence. “With Astarion being a vampire and all...” He trailed off for a moment.

You knew where this was going to lead, but did not stop him.

“What, Gale?” You asked, side-eyeing him.

“Well, does he drink your... You know...” He made a crude gesture.

“Gods, Gale, really? I thought we were mature adults?”

He flushed, embarrassed by his sudden crass inquiry. “Forgive me, I forget myself sometimes. I truly overstepped. Especially having walked in on you before.”

You snickered and patted him on the shoulder to reassure him. “It’s alright. I’m just joking. I think the lot of us have grown close enough with each other that talking about such things is now considered normal.”

Gale chuckled nervously at your words. “True.”

“And to answer your question,” you continued, “No, he doesn’t. The thought hasn’t crossed our minds. Well, if it has crossed his, he hasn’t said anything,” you shrug. “But that does not mean we don’t have sex on my period. I find myself... particularly ravenous just before and during it. He, too. Perhaps because he can smell all the blood, being what he is and all that. And he... does bite me sometimes when we are making love.”

“Oh?” Gale was intrigued by the notion.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“Dare I ask where?”

“You’re a curious one today, aren’t you?” You teased.

Gale flushed. “Sorry... I just find it... intriguing,” he admits. “Obviously, I’ve never slept with one of the undead.”

“No, but with a goddess?” You elbow him playfully.

“And look how that turned out.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically. “So, are you going to indulge me? Or should I stop prying?”

You shook your head, laughing. “He sometimes bites my inner thighs, my breasts, neck, wrists... the usual places.”

“Usual?” His eyes widened. “I won’t even begin to imagine what the unusual places are!”

You laugh and slap his back affectionately. “We really need to get you laid, Gale. You’re getting far too curious for your own good.”

He shrugged innocently, blushing again. “Well, since losing to Astarion, I haven’t had any luck with women,” he poked you in the ribs.

You were surprised by this notion. “I thought you and Shadowheart had a thing going?”

He sighed, almost dolefully. “We sort of do, but it’s just that she’s so busy taking care of her parents now that they have reconnected. I would hate to come between them.”

“I understand your sentiments, my dear Gale, but I am sure the poor thing could use some ‘distractions’ as well. Her parents seemed to like you when we all met them. And besides, I am sure she would appreciate any assistance you could offer her with their care.”

“Yes, they are lovely people, and I am thankful to have been given the opportunity to meet them,” he nodded, and his expression softened.

“They’re proud of her,” you stated, “And they are grateful to us for giving her a chance. If not for her joining our little posse, I doubt she would have been able to break away from the clutches of Shar.”

“No, I don’t think she would have,” Gale agreed.

“But enough about me, let’s get back to talking about you and Astarion,” he smirked, and you chuckled at his persistence.

“I don’t know what else to tell you, Gale,” you began. “Our relationship is pretty typical, for the most part. We make love, we bicker, we argue. We fuck again.”

Gale almost choked at your colourful use of words.

“How blunt!”

“It’s called being honest,” you countered.

“Still,” he sighed, “you and Astarion have something special.”

“I would certainly hope so,” you smiled, blushing, looking back down at your ring. Gale noticed your affectionate gaze upon it.

“And with those, it is like you’re a married couple!”

Though he was only jesting, his quip caught you off guard, causing you to chuckle nervously.

“Yeah... well...” It was not like marriage had never crossed your mind, at least. But Astarion’s? Neither of you had ever breached the topic.

“Don’t worry, my dear, I’ll say no more,” he grinned.

“Good,” you smiled in kind.

“Ah, here we are!”

Looking up, you saw the apothecary just ahead. You sighed with relief. The wet feeling was indeed becoming... more apparent.

“Thank you, Gale, for being so understanding,” you smiled appreciatively, patting his arm.

“You are most welcome, Tavrin. Now, please, allow me,” and with a gentlemanly flourish, he opened the door but was courteous enough to wait for you outside.

“Such a gentleman!” You cooed as you stepped into the establishment.

“Only for you, my dear,” he smiled, and shut the door behind you.

The inside of the apothecary was filled with an abundance of herbs and spices and various medicinal potions and ointments. The scent was not unpleasant, however. It was rather heady and soothing. Once you paid for your feminine items and some herbal teas to help with your cramps, you went back out to where Gale was waiting patiently for you.

“All well?” He asked you with a smile.

“Yes, but I think I might need a new pair of panties,” you flushed.

“Come to think of it, I am fairly sure our old pal Lorroakan had some trunks of old clothes lying about. I am sure I spied some women’s garments when I was trifling through the stuff he left for us to plunder.”

You chuckled. “Thanks, Gale. I want to be freshened up before I meet Astarion at noon. So, we better hurry up with our cataloguing.”

“We’ll make good time. I promise!”

With a grin and a playful nudge, the two of you began your walk towards the Sundries.

[deceptive-daydreams]

Tender

Eddie x fem reader

3.4K Words

Eddie loves on you while you're on your period and even finds that maybe you need a little something extra.

Warnings - SMUT, just a little rubbing action but still. Also super fluffy and sweet. Mentions of period and pain, mentions of blood. I think that's it.

A/N - We're down real bad y'all. I needed this the other night so bad, smut was not even planned it just happened.

Masterlist

The muscle cramping pain of your contracting uterus was enough to keep you half awake in the darkness of the room, whimpers of pain and small cries apparent among the silence.  Your heating pad was long forgotten on the floor since there was no relief offered when it had been in use earlier.  The bottle of painkillers sat abandoned on the nightstand after you’d popped a few hours ago with no aid in dulling the pain.  Nothing was working and you were a pathetic mess, sweating through the sheets and whining to no one in particular, just fully marinating in the discomfort.  Yet again your body was in a fit of rage and bloodshed as you laid there wounded from the war it waged on you.  

Shooting pains traveled from what felt like your abdomen all the way down your legs, if you were to stand you would be as decent at walking as a newborn calf.  The ache throughout your body held you hostage from sleep, the best you could do was lay there half awake and take each blow to your uterus with teary eyes and a wobbling lip.  Frustration plagued your mind, it was the middle of the night and there was nothing you could do but accept the abuse from your own body.  

Curling in on yourself, another whine escapes into the moonlit room and with it, a stir of a body next to you.  Eddie mumbles a few incoherent words as he comes into consciousness, rolling over to face you while wiping his eyes of sleep.  With very little lighting, you can still make out his features ever so slightly.  His huge eyes, plush lips, and wild hair sticking every which way, bangs standing straight up as they had been crushed against the pillow in his slumber.  Face puffy and eyes heavy, he props himself up on his elbow to check over your face the best he can in the dark.  “What’s goin’ on?”  He mumbles in confusion, half awake.  Your breathing is deepening as you plead with your body for some relief—a losing battle.  “N-nothing.”  Your voice is small and whiny, you can’t help it.  

Within seconds Eddie is wiping the drowsiness from his eyes and sitting up to flick the lamp on.  His pupils dilate before you both squint in the sudden brightness.  As he recovers, his face softens, carefully scooting closer to you to pull you up with him against the headboard.  “Baby, what’s the matter, huh?  C’mon tell me what happened.”  Tone gentle and patient, he holds you against his bare chest and lovingly runs his hands down your arms.  “H-hurts.  Really bad.”  Is all you can croak out in misery.  He’s at a loss for words while he racks his brain for a few moments before it finally clicks and he remembers you’d started your period earlier in the day which elicited an annoyed reaction from you but hadn’t taken over quite yet like it has now.  “Oh, sweets.  ‘M sorry.”  He whispers into your shoulder.  “What can I do?”  It’s a simple question however there is no answer because the fact is you’ve already tried everything while he was asleep next to you.  He quickly realizes this when he glances around for a solution and finds every item that should have helped to alleviate the pain already discarded since they obviously didn’t work.

Guilt wraps around him like an unfriendly blanket, he should have been comforting you and not selfishly sleeping peacefully.  Though it’s not his fault by any means he feels it’s the least he could do, he never had to go through that pain thankfully but he would do anything to make it stop so you could go to sleep.  He knew how much you hated it when you struggled to sleep, how alone you feel on those nights when it won’t wash over you as easily as others, he knows all too well how it feels himself and he would never sleep again if it meant that you got endless nights of tranquility.  

You can’t even respond in words anymore, opting to shake your head to let him know the answer is nothing.  There is nothing that can be done, it’s just a waiting game at this point.  Little pained noises escape you as you curl yourself into his chest, he gladly accommodates and molds his body around yours the way you need.  “I know, sweetheart, I know.  Do you need some water?”  He offers hopefully.  Another shake of your head has him frowning, his large hand cradling your head to his chest as a kiss is pressed to your temple.  “How long have you been up?”  Knowing you aren’t very verbal right now, he still asks the question.  You whimper into his warm skin.  “Never went to sleep.”  He figured this was the case but his heart still breaks at the helplessness in your wavering voice.  “Oh, baby.”  He’s swaying you to the left and to the right in a soothing manner as if you were a child needing to be rocked to sleep.  “You can always wake me up, okay?  Won’t ever be mad, I promise.”  His voice is quiet but honest, not a hint of hesitation.  

Nodding against his chest, you continue to suffer through the agony, your face flushed and your skin sticky with sweat.  “I have an idea.”  Eddie speaks up again, using his thumb to tilt your chin up at him, his eyes pooling in sympathy as yours reflect misery.  “Let’s get you in and out of the shower.  It’ll make you feel all refreshed and I can give you a little massage and see if that helps.  Wanna try that?”  You want to cry at how attentive and soft he is, the adoring look he gives you makes you want to melt like candy in his hands.  “Okay.”  You whisper, although you wanted so badly to tell him no because of how bad the muscles in your legs were aching.  Reluctantly, you crawl your way out of the bed and stand up shakily, Eddie right behind you.  As you make your way into the bathroom, he has you sit atop the closed toilet seat while he turns the hot water on and heads for the door again.  “You get undressed, I’m going to get you something comfy to wear.”  He instructs.  Your pouting and exhausted expression makes him want to hide you in his bed forever so that you can sleep all you damn well please.  You agree and begin slowly stripping your clothes away, preparing to embrace the stream of steaming water.  

Eddie returns seconds later with a neatly folded shirt that was definitely his and a pair of his boxers on top to use as shorts along with a pair of your ‘period panties’ that you winced at since they were already a bit stained from previous wars.  You couldn’t help the embarrassment as they sat right there in plain sight even though Eddie had no reaction and didn’t understand your bashful expression.  Despite all the time spent together, it was something you still felt sorry he had to deal with and you were working on it since he always told you there was nothing to be embarrassed about, that it was a natural thing and ‘blood is super metal anyway’ so how could he be grossed out?  Those were his words.  Once he processed where your focus was—on the stained panties used for this exact occasion, he sighs and sets the clothes on the counter as he steps closer to you and gives you ‘that look’.  The one that tells you ‘what have we talked about?’.  And then he goes onto his tangent.  “If you’re looking at those panties again thinking I should be grossed out and feeling bad about it or whatever then stop.  Cause I’m not and we have been over this.  A little blood ain’t gonna scare me away, sweets.”  He tells you with a raised brow, moving the shower curtain aside and gesturing for you to step into the shower.  “Now, would you like me to come with you or do you want to be alone?”  He’s pointing into the shower, a finger on the waistband of his boxers as he waits for your answer.  You meekly tell him you’d like him to join you and he happily obliges.

The steaming water temporarily melts away the pain, meaning for a brief second before you can feel it again.  It’s better than nothing so you take in as much of the hot water as possible since the trailer park didn’t have much to begin with and you were grateful that Eddie was sparing it in an attempt to make you feel better.  Eddie’s hands slide around your waist from behind, fingers carefully massaging your lower stomach as he’s done so many times before.  The combination of the hot water and the movements of his fingers provide some comfort even if just for a moment.  His fingers slide along your wet skin to trace over your hips and to the dip under your spine where he begins working his magic at your lower back.  A moan of content is earned from you and he smiles into your bare shoulder, leaving a kiss as he continues.  “There you go.”  He says, soft voice echoing off the shower walls.  “Just give me all that tension, baby.”  You shudder at his words as they tickle the skin of your neck.  Another kiss pressed to your jaw, with sweet intention, nothing further.  You visibly relax as his hands work against your tightened muscles, a breathy sigh leaving your lips.  “Good girl, let it all out.”  The hormones rage inside of you and you can’t help but throb at his words even though the pain is still evident in your uterus.  Another kiss is placed on your neck, trailing more down to your shoulder.  “E-eddie if you don’t stop we’re gonna have a problem.”  You just about whine like a dog in heat.  

A deep chuckle vibrates into your shoulder as his kissers get sloppier.  “Yeah?  You feeling better?  My needy girl.”  You can feel his grin against you and you don’t know if you want to wipe it right off his face or turn around and stick your tongue down his throat.  “Eddie!  ‘M on my period, we can’t.”  You huff, now slightly in pain as well as sexually frustrated.  “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t rile you up just to leave you hangin’ you know that.”  He continues massaging his fingers into your lower back while kissing back up your neck again, his tongue licking up the water droplets that lingered.  “Let me take care of you, baby.  It might help.”  He offers, slowly traveling his fingers back over your hips and cupping your heat in one hand, the other finding your nipple and giving it a pinch, causing you to whimper and melt into his touch.  “Eddie nooo, I’m bleeding.”  Your words say one thing but the way you mewl screams at him to abuse your clit until you're a puddle in his hands.  “I don’t think you actually mind but I’ll stop.”  He says removing his hand, you whine at the loss of his warmth.  “I’m not gonna do anything until you tell me what you want.”  His tone is teasing, he knows how worked up you are right now and he’s reveling in it, how desperate and huffy you are.  He can only imagine how swollen that little bud between your legs is, he just wants to suck it right into his mouth—but maybe he’ll save that for another time.  He didn’t want to scare you away, you were still learning to not be embarrassed about everything period related with him.  

“Tell me what you want, use your words, honey.”  He sounds mean but eager to please, your favorite.  His lips are now lingering on the shell of your ear and you can’t take it anymore.  “Please Eddie!”  Your voice is high and whiny.  “Please what?”  He nibbles on your ear, your body jolting while his hands run down your arms.  “Please play with me!”  You beg, clenching your thighs and gripping at his arms.  A smirk against your neck and his hand is back over your heat, a finger delicately tracing your slit tauntingly, his other hand gripping your waist.  He continues to linger over your slit, a feather light touch as you longingly grind your hips to meet nothing.  “That’s all you need, huh?  Just need to be played with like a little toy?”  His voice forces you to claw at his forearm, leaving little indents with your nails but he doesn’t mind.  You pathetically try to create friction by grabbing his wrist and positioning his hand toward your clit but it fails.  “You just need to cum don’t you?  Will that make everything all better?”  He asks, finger still tortuously close to where you need but not at all giving in.  “Mmhmm.”  You whine, head thrown back onto his shoulder.  “Please, Eddie.”  A whimper into his neck.

The pain is almost entirely forgotten about, a new kind of ache throbbing in your core.  “Don’t worry, baby.  Gonna take care of you.  My good girl.”  Eddie’s raspy voice echoes into your ear.  The pad of his finger drags across your clit and a gasp escapes your lungs.  The friction it creates is everything you need but also not enough at the same time.  He picks up on a rhythm that has you stirring your hips into his hand, a series of moans leaving you as you grip into his bicep, nearly drawing blood.  “That’s it, right there, huh?”  He questions with a hint of mockery.  You bite your lip as you nod, exhaling a heavy breath.  He keeps his pace steady and brings his other hand up to travel over your chest, up your neck and lets his thumb caress your bottom lip, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek.  You can’t control it when you dip your head down to catch his thumb in your mouth, your tongue swirling around it and releasing it with a pop, it’s simply too perfect.  Eddie releases a quiet groan while he grabs your neck, not restricting air flow but still putting you in your place, firmly pressing his chest into your back.  “Baby, why are you acting so slutty for me?  It’s like you’re in heat.  Can’t get enough can you?”  Again he says it so meanly but it spurs you in and you’re getting closer and closer as he rubs your clit just how you need.  “E-eddie, please.  Wanna cum so bad.”  Your voice is barely there, so breathy and you’re pathetically bucking your hips.  “Yeah?  My pretty baby wanna cum?  Make a mess for me baby, why don’t you?”  He continues leaving sloppy open mouthed kisses down your neck, craning his head to leave a few on your heaving chest.  You can’t form a coherent thought as you begin seeing spots and that feeling deep within you starts to coil up.  The muscles in your abdomen begin to clench tightly as he builds you up into pure bliss.  You’re almost there, chasing the release you so desperately crave, a whining mess in his arms.  “There it is, come on, cum for me.”  He urges, noticing the way your body begins to shake as you get closer and closer, eyes rolling back.  “E-eddie.”  A whimper escapes as you grip his bicep even harder than before.  You’re teetering on the brink of your orgasm, it’s right in front of you all you have to do is take it.  

Hot pleasure gushes through your veins as your body convulses and you greedily grind against Eddie’s hand.  His other hand firmly grips your jaw as you involuntarily hang your mouth open, eyes shut in euphoria.  “Such a good girl.”  He mumbles into your neck, his arms are the only thing holding you up, your legs now shaky just from the pleasure, no longer the excruciating pain you experienced prior.  You cling onto his arms as you come down from your high, his finger still lazily circling your clit until you become overly sensitive, writhing in his arms, trying to push his hand away.  The noises you make as you struggle to wiggle away have him cursing under his breath but he still keeps his composure.  “So fucking sexy, baby.  Feel better?”  He asks genuinely, nose pressed into your cheek as you recover.  He ceases his movements against your clit, showing you mercy.  “Much better.”  You breathe out.  You’re absolutely out of it, heavily breathing and flushed as your full weight is leaned against him.  

At this point he knows your fucked out, the cramps from earlier combined with all of the energy you just exerted have taken a toll and he needs to get you to bed.  Although he’s hard himself, he takes precedence in putting you first and he knows the time and place.  Now is not it and he knows if he’d ask you, you would oblige and get him off but you really aren’t in any position to.  Especially since now you seem so sleepy as opposed to earlier when you’d been having the worst time even closing your eyes.  This is where he steps in to make sure your well-being is put above everything else.  “Let’s get you to bed, okay?”  He whispers, kissing your cheek, shutting the water off before reaching outside of the shower for a towel, still steadying you with one arm.  “Okay.”  You whisper back, eyes drooping dramatically.  

A towel drapes around your frame as Eddie takes care to dry you off, turning you to face him while he tenderly presses his lips to yours.  He finishes off by bundling you up and then reaching for his own towel.   No words are required while you both step out of the shower and onto the bath mat.  The mirror is foggy and the air is humid from all the steam the shower had just released.  He gingerly grabs the towel off of you after he pats himself dry and lets you get yourself dressed, situating your pad and everything how you need it as he pulls his boxers on.  

As you dress yourself, he quietly makes his way out of the bathroom, up to something but what, you’re not sure.  Shrugging, you throw the towel over the shower curtain rod and head for his room, the bathroom door creaking on its hinge as you exit and turn out the lights.  When you reach his room, you could just about sob at the sight.  Eddie has your heating pad in place, already heated, a big glass of water on your nightstand that certainly wasn’t there before, a movie loaded up on the small tv resting on his dresser, and he’s digging through one of the drawers in the nightstand where your stuff lives, pulling out a hairbrush as he turns to look at you with big doting eyes.  He throws himself onto his side of the bed and pats his hand on your side, inviting you in.  “C’mere.”  He says hushed, a dopey grin on his face.  Happy tears brim at your eyes while without hesitation you hop into bed beside him.  He pulls you between his legs as you face the tv, him pressing play on the remote while he gets to work on brushing out any tangles in your hair.  “Thank you for taking care of me.”  You tell him shyly, the movie playing in the background.  A kiss is pressed to your crown.  “Of course, sweets.”  He mumbles.  “Always, for you.”  Once he finishes with your hair, you rest your head against his chest, his arms lazily draping around your waist while you almost fall asleep on him.  

He knows you won’t be comfortable in this position as you fall deeper into sleep so he takes the liberty of moving you over to your side of the bed, wrapping himself around you like a human blanket in the process.  Delicate breaths are felt on your neck while his fingers softly graze over your ribs.  The movie is forgotten about as sleep finally takes over, allowing you to finally relax after a night of bloodshed.  The last thing you remember is the feeling of Eddie’s calloused fingertips running along your back, encouraging you further into your dream state.  A whispered “I love you.” seals the deal and you’re out for the night. 

~end~

Masterlist

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 23

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 2.5k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3

Chapter 23: The Storm

As you extinguished the fires of your forge, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction mixing with the deep exhaustion plaguing your muscles. This marked the end of a relentless cycle, a ceaseless endeavor of reforging and improving the damaged parts of the Thousand Sunny. With each swing of the hammer and every molten weld, you had poured your sweat and determination into the task. Now, as the final embers flickered and died, you knew that you had done all you could for the repairs. What remained would have to rest in Franky's capable hands.

Leaving the warmth of the forge behind, you stepped out into the cool, humid air, raindrops cascading down from the darkened sky above. You’d actually always thought you liked rain, with its soothing patter and calm atmosphere, but this incessant deluge had begun to wear on your nerves. The constant dampness seeped into your clothes, clinging to you like an unwelcome companion, making it all harder to scrub the ashes from your skin. You didn’t pretend that your hair was ever that well kept, but now your locks rebelled in unruly tangles, a testament to the relentless onslaught of moisture. Oh, how you missed dry socks, a distant luxury you could only dream of amidst the sodden landscape.

With a heavy sigh, you cast a weary glance towards the sky, the dark clouds serving as a somber reminder of the unending challenges that still lay ahead. The rain had become a hindrance, impeding yours and Franky’s progress in repairing the ship. You constantly had to move tarp after tarp, erect tent after tent and still, you battled the puddling water. Yet, despite the frustrations and setbacks, you pressed on, the crew driven by a determination to set out to sea once again.

With a swift motion, you swept aside the heavy waxed canvas of the tent before you, revealing Franky and Usopp diligently at work within.

“Oh! Firecracker!” The enthusiastic voice of the cyborg greeted you as you let the bag in your hands fall to the floor with a clang. “Is that the last of it?”

“Damn right it is,” you replied proudly, a surge of satisfaction coursing through you.

Usopp rummaged through the bag, examining the contents with keen interest. “Impressive,” he remarked, holding up a piece of black metal between his fingers. “I can’t believe how quickly you work. We would have been stuck here for months without you.”

A blush crept up your cheeks, accompanied by a bashful smile at the unexpected praise. “Just doing my part,” you chuckled, unable to hide the warmth in your tone.

Franky stood up, his massive hand reaching out to ruffle your hair affectionately. “You’ve done more than just help, Firecracker. You've been a lifesaver,” he declared, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. “Take a breather. You've earned it.”

You snorted, a wry smile playing on your lips as you rolled your shoulder, attempting to alleviate the tension knotted in your back. "I wish," you sighed, the weariness evident in your tone, "but I still have a stubborn swordsman to assist."

As you spoke, a gust of wind blew through the open tent flap, carrying with it the sound of crashing waves and the faint scent of salt in the air. You glanced out at the turbulent sea, your gaze traveling to the shore where you could almost see the outline of the swordsman’s silhouette meditating over Yokubari. Even from afar, you could sense the occasional shifts in the sword’s behavior.

Franky and Usopp exchanged a knowing look before turning their attention back to you. "You'll need all the help you can get with that one," Franky remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Usopp nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Zoro can be a handful when he sets his mind to something."

You chuckled, a mix of exasperation and fondness coloring your tone. "Tell me about it," you replied, shaking your head. "But he's determined, I'll give him that."

With a resigned sigh, you straightened up, the ache in your muscles a constant reminder of the physical toll the past two weeks had taken on you. But despite the fatigue, you knew there was still work to be done, repairs to complete, and a stubborn swordsman to assist.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” you called back, arm holding the flap of the tent open.

As you stepped out, you observed Zoro from a distance, a sense of unease gnawing at your insides. You watched the swordsman grapple with Yokubari’s sheathed form with developing apprehension. If you were honest, he surpassed your expectations, demonstrating remarkable proficiency with the sword, yet his relentless pursuit of mastery bordered on obsession, an obsession that sent a chill through your veins.

It took everything in you to stop yourself from taking your sword back. Despite your reservations, you knew you had to trust him. He had exhibited a similar fervor with Shiawase and Uragiri, reveling in the precarious edge of danger. It was a trait that both intrigued and unsettled you, a constant battle between admiration and concern. But you couldn’t help but worry that he might not emerge victorious from this fight, for history had proved Yokubari untamed by hands other than its creator.

You crossed the gangplank, your boots sinking into the wet sand as you approached him. The two of you had devoted every morning and evening to this endeavor since arriving on the island. His diligence was commendable, tirelessly training from dawn till dusk to grasp at the sword’s essence.

Although, at first you had had to intervene occasionally, prying the sword out of his hands, he’d eventually figured out where to draw the line when handling the steel. Your gaze met his and with a content smile, now that you were in his vicinity, he finally unsheathed Yokubari. You observed as he worked with the blade’s haki, trying to understand its unsteady rhythm, sync with it.

“Any progress?” you asked as he wrestled with a sudden surge of haki emanating from the sword.

You watched as he grappled for control. He was close. You bet he’d get it before you’d set sail again. As it became too much, he quickly let go, the steel sinking in the sand.

“It’s stubborn,” he grunted as he bent down to retrieve the blade.

You hummed in consideration as you witnessed the obstinate waves radiating from the black metal, its satisfaction in the command it exerted over the swordsman. “That would be an understatement,” you answered with a chuckle, your gaze moving back to him. “But you’re lucky, it seems to like you, swordsman. Care to tell me which part you’re struggling with today?”

“It’s like trying to reason with a wild animal,” he observed through gritted teeth, the waltz between the sword’s will and his own starting again.

Your heart sank at his words, recollections of the sword’s creation passing your mind. A wild animal… you supposed you hadn’t that far away from one in that time. You felt your nose prickle slightly as tears threatened to flood your eyes for a sliver of a moment. For an instant you hovered on the edge of memories you didn’t want to address, the menace of an ocean of feelings with no shore in sight.

Shit.

The exhaustion was really starting to get to you.

You scrunched your nose, trying to make the feeling disappear. You suppressed a heavy sigh, forcing a smile, masking the turmoil churning within. “That’s a… surprisingly good comparison.”

Zoro’s gaze flickered to you, sensing the weariness in your tone, but Yokubari quickly demanded his attention again with a sudden and powerful surge of haki, drawing his own out in a battle of wills.

You analyzed the conflict happening between the steel and the swordsman with keen eyes, trying to see how you could help him.

“You don’t have to reason with it, you know, Yokubari will always do what it wants,” you observed the complex waltz of haki before you. “You wouldn’t try to reason with the sea, instead you ride the waves, work with it the best you can.”

Your hand reached towards the blade slowly, extending your own haki to the mix, a third party to the battle raging on. The swordsman’s gaze widened slightly as he watched the way the black tendrils emanating from your hands rode out the waves, played with them, eventually made them submit and retract.

As your fingertips brushed against the steel, a shiver of reaction ran through Zoro. With a definite flinch, he pulled the sword back, his motion carrying a hint of possessiveness. Your breath caught in your throat at his response, your heart seemed to stop, then all you could hear was its terrified pulse. You hesitated, afraid to lift your gaze, fearful of what you might find reflected in his eye.

As you met his gaze, a wave of panic hit your senses, your muscles tensed. You knew that look in his eye. You’d seen it mirrored in the eyes of lesser men. Maddened men. Dead men. It sent a cold sensation in the pit of your stomach, your blood freezing in your veins.

“Give it back,” you demanded suddenly, your voice feeling distant, a hiss through clenched teeth.

“What?” He scowled, something akin to greed passing his stare. His hand inched away ever so slightly at the demand, his reaction a confirmation of your fears.

“I said give it back,” you took a step closer, panic in your eyes, the snarl twisting your mouth uncompromising. You opened and closed your hands in a futile attempt to rein in the trembling plaguing them.

“No,” he matched your step, back straight as he towered over you. His grip tightened around the handle of the sword, an unmistakable possessive gesture.

It was a gesture that struck a chord of familiarity within you, one that stirred discomfort in the depths of your being. Almost involuntarily, you superimposed the image of your mentor onto the swordsman’s stance, a haunting resemblance that wrenched your heart painfully. You sucked in a sharp breath, attempting to fend off the encroaching wave of panic threatening to overwhelm you.

Your jaw clenched, the grinding of teeth an audible testament to the turmoil raging within you. So, this was how it was going to be. The instinct to fight surged within you, overpowering any semblance of restraint. The audacity of his refusal fueled an inferno of anger, coursing through your veins like molten metal, consuming every ounce of judgement in its path.

"Give me back my fucking sword, swordsman," you spat, the words laced with venom.

A derisive scoff escaped his lips, his arrogance infuriatingly palpable. “I’m this close to figuring it out, witch. You’re not taking it back now.”

Your nostrils flared, the urge to throttle him almost overwhelming. "You think you're invincible don’t you, pirate hunter?" you seethed, your voice rising with each word. "But you're not. You're just a fool trying to wield a weapon you clearly don't deserve. Face it, you’re too fucking weak for Yokubari. So. Give. It. Back."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you knew you’d messed up, but rationality had long fallen victim to the glacial frigidity of your fears. His eye flashed dangerously, the air crackling with the intensity of the brewing storm between you. "I'm not too fucking weak," he growled, his grip on the sword tightening further, the wood creaking. “You’re the one in the way of me figuring it out.”

There were ghosts that passed your eyes for a moment, sorrow, rage. “You’re a damn fool Roronoa Zoro,” your voice was thick, the snarl on your lips bitter. “Thinking you can tame Yokubari like that. It’ll devour you whole before you even realize it.”

His gaze narrowed at your words, his jaw set in defiance. "I don't need your warnings, witch," he retorted, his tone laced with stubborn determination.

Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms as frustration boiled within you. "You're playing with fire, Swordsman," you warned one last time.

He crouched low, his eye ablaze. "I'll master Yokubari on my own terms, whether you approve or not. Stop getting in my way.”

Before restraint could rein in your reaction, your hand surged forward, aiming for his face. But he intercepted it with lightning reflexes, his grip clamping around your wrist painfully, thwarting the blow.

 "You're being a real fucking cunt, swordsman," you snapped, frustration lacing your tone. Without hesitation, your foot followed, connecting solidly with his shin, eliciting a sharp hiss of pain from him.

 His hold slackened, allowing you to back away. "Damn it," he muttered, the pain evident in his voice.

You weighed your options quickly, wondered if you could be fast enough to retrieve Yokubari from his iron grasp. But the possessiveness in his gaze froze you in place.

"You want to figure it out alone? Fine." Your words hung heavy in the air, dripping with condescension. With a quick turn on your heels, you strode away, each step purposeful, yet laden with unresolved tension. "Just don't come crying to me when you lose yourself along the way!" Your voice echoed across the ship as you ascended the gangplank with determined stomps. "I just hope you fall on Yokubari and die before you go mad. For both our fucking sake."

Crossing the deck, you made your way back to where Franky and Usopp were diligently working. With a forceful motion, you pushed open the flap of the tent, your gaze ablaze with rage as it met the two men hard at work.

"Franky," your tone was terse, cutting through the air like a blade. "You don’t need me anymore, right?" you asked, your words tinged with a sense of urgency.

He responded with a small huh of confusion. "Nah, Firecracker, Usopp and I will be fine. Why?" His brow furrowed in curiosity.

You didn’t offer a reply, a determined 'good' slipping past your lips as you turned away, your resolve palpable.

"Nami," you shouted, her name loud in the damp air. "I’ll be in town for a while. Come get me if you need anything."

The navigator popped her head out of her study, a puzzled expression crossing her features. "Sure thing, (y/n)," she called back, concern lacing her tone. "Is everything alright?"

You grunted in response, striding purposefully towards the women’s quarters. "Fucking fantastic," you yelled, the frustration evident in your voice as you slammed the door shut behind you.

You swiftly packed a bag, hastily gathering what you deemed necessary before emerging once more, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your shoulders.

As you made your way back down the gangplank, you sensed the curious gazes of your crewmates following you, their concerned whispers touched your ears like the distant murmur of waves against the shore. You passed the swordsman, still engrossed in his relentless battle with Yokubari. When you saw him look at you in the periphery of your vision, you flipped him off, before finally reaching the small path that led to the quiet town nestled not too far away.

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Masterlist

[hungryforpowernotfood]

Thunderstorms

Summary: Stephen gets a panic attack during a thunderstorm.

Warnings: panic attack, PTSD, mentions of a past car crash

Pairing: Stephen Strange x gender neutral reader

Stephen enjoys the rain—the way it patters against the windows, and every surface outside, he finds it rhythmic and soothing. He also likes the way you watch it falling with curious eyes, as though you’ve never seen rain before in your life. Not to mention the smell it leaves afterward—that goes without saying. But ever since the accident, he’s hated thunderstorms.

At best, thunderstorms caused him were minor flashbacks—he would be paralyzed for a few minutes, before coming back to reality, slowly blinking in his surroundings. But the worst—and unfortunately most common—thing they caused were panic attacks.

He was good at keeping both of these a secret, and he hated the idea of anyone ever possibly finding out. In turn, he was careful about planning around the storm—often leaving chunks in his schedule of space if one was approaching. Even if one came by surprise, he knew how to make a quick escape within the first couple of rumbles—sometimes he was able to create a portal to somewhere with more tame weather, but the onset of one usually gripped his emotions too much for him to perform the spell.

Before he met you, he didn’t want anyone around while they happened—all he wanted was a dark place where no one else would be. Not that he had told you—despite the two of you dating for a while, and him trusting you more than anyone else in the world—he didn’t know how, or if he even could tell you he got panic attacks. He hadn’t even told you about his aversion to thunder, but the idea of you being there was nice.

Unfortunately, tonight was one of those nights where a thunderstorm came on unexpectedly without any kind of forecasting.

You had only started drifting to sleep when it started, but it woke him up quickly, making him jolt up. You could make out his figure in the darkness—sitting with the blankets cast across his lap, and his heaving deeply like he’d just had a nightmare.

“Stephen? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, forcing his breathing to calm down. “Nothing…it’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you mumbled, before speaking up, “are you sure you're okay?”

He nodded, burying his hands beneath the blankets pooled in his lap so that you wouldn’t see them shaking—not wanting to worry you while he fought off the inevitable.

You kept looking up at him. Eventually, he met your eyes, and you saw him calm down slightly.

“I’m fine, really. I just need to catch my breath.” He insisted.

You hesitated, before nodding, and relaxing back into the bed, once again trying to lull yourself to sleep.

You listened to his breathing slowly, and he eventually laid back down, his back turned towards you. You closed the small gap between you and Stephen, pressing yourself up against his back, and wrapping your arms around his chest.

You could feel him relax against your touch, though his body tensed again with the next roll of thunder, and you could tell his breath quickened again. At this point, you only assumed he was afraid of thunder, and rubbed your hand up and down his chest to help alleviate it. But when he started shaking at the next sound of thunder, you caught on to what was going on.

“It’s okay.” You whispered, tightening your hold slightly—only to apply more pressure, but you made sure that if he pushed your arms away, he’d be able to get out.

But he didn’t push you away—he let out a shaky breath, and rolled over, wrapping his arms around you, burying his head into your chest. His hands were shaky against your back, and you could feel his tears streaking against your chest. You ran your hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him.

He jolted against you at the next roll of thunder, his fingers digging into your back—it slightly stung, but you made sure to not react to this.

“You’re okay,” you whispered, “you’re safe, I’m not going anywhere.” His quick, panicked breaths didn’t cease, but you started a breathing exercise, hoping that he would eventually catch on and follow it. You continued rubbing his back slightly, knowing Stephen usually preferred silence when he was upset.

After a while, he was able to focus more on your movements, and eventually caught on to the breathing pattern, beginning to mimic it. His body slowly began to relax against yours, though his tight grip never loosened.

And sometime after even that, Stephen came even more to his senses and unlatched his nails from your skin, mumbling an apology, the response to which was you simply kissing his forehead.

“Would you like tea?” You asked, after another moment of silence. 

Stephen paused, and nodded, loosening his grip to let you get up. You went to the kitchen to make his tea, while he went into the bathroom to clean up, splashing his face with water, and drying off with a towel.

When you returned to the bedroom, he was sitting in bed reading. You could tell he was trying to show that he was fine now, but there was still a red rim around his eyes, and his hands had a slight tremble.

He glanced up at you when you entered the room and put his book down. He unsteadily took the tea, murmuring a genuine “thank you”, before bringing the cup up to his lips.

You nodded and crawled into bed next to him. Despite him sitting up, you decided to lie down, wrapping your arms around his hips.

“You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here if you want to.” You said—you knew he didn’t always want to talk about his problems. Once something was so impending that it was cutting into his sleeping or eating habits or just general well-being, then you would become more stubborn about it, but you simply didn’t have the kind of relationship where you forced each other to talk about what was bothering the other. Both of you always preferred the other to talk on their own time.

There was a moment of silence, before Stephen simply placed his hand on your head, lightly massaging your scalp.

“Thank you.” He said softly, clearly still slightly broken up from crying.

He finished his cup, as the storm still raged outside, but with you lying in his lap he felt slightly better about it. He placed it down on the nightstand, before sinking under the blankets next to you, once again burying his face into your chest.

“I love you.” You whispered, wrapping your arms back around him, mirroring your previous embrace.

“I love you more.” He replied, his voice muffled against you, though you could feel his chest vibrating against you from the deepness of his voice, caused by the sleepiness washing over him.

“Impossible.” You teased. He shook his head in response, though you could feel him smiling.

Your eyelids felt heavy—it seemed as though there was a weight distributed across your entire body—but you still lay awake until he fell asleep, wanting to keep him company. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep against your warmth—he was able to find a piece of comfort despite the sounds of thunder echoing in his ears. In turn, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep after he did, holding him tightly against your chest until the morning when he would wake up and attend to all he needed to.

[koneko-pi]

I am hopelessly shameless but can I ask for another fuegoleon with wife s/o? Where he has a nightmare maybe about his arm or something and his s/o comforts him and suggests he be the little spoon tonight. And he's uncomfortable with the idea at first since we all know poor Fuego is more used to being the ever dependable and strong one in any situation. But as he falls asleep to the beating of her heart he can't help but feel grateful???? just some hurt/comfort super fluffy stuff AAAA IM JUST CRAZY FOR THIS BIG LION MAN

Here we go again! I hope you enjoy it! I wanted to try a more fanfic response to this one rather than just headcannons.

Night Terrors

Fuegoleon x Female S/O

Hurt/Comfort

Mentions of blood and nightmares

Word count of 1000+

Sleep has become unfortunately hard in the last few weeks. Normally Fuegoleon was very strict with his schedule; he had a lot of things he liked to get done in the day between work, exercise, training, his personal time and of course-

Sleep.

He had to juggle all of it day by day to maximize all of his time and get all of his goals done.

So he kept an effective and quick schedule. He got at least 7 hours of sleep at night, going to bed at the same time every night so he could be up early in the morning to start the same process over again.

But after waking up from his coma and the following elven attack, he found it hard to really get back into his normal routine, restful nights of sleep seemed to only be drifting farther and farther away from him.

"Guh…" The lion had curled up in his sleep. His face was glimmering with the start of sweat as his eyebrows knit together in pain or frustration. Images of William flashing quickly through his dream, then changing into the elf and then red filled his vision as his own arm suddenly flew out in front of him. He was wide eyed and in a panic, adrenaline coursing through his body as his chest tightened with not only panic but despair from this betrayal-

"Fuegoleon!"

Purple eyes snapped open and the man sat up straight. The bed sheets falling from his body as his hand lashed out to grab hold of his shoulder, the pain was so intense, his fingers dug in as if that would somehow help alleviate the trauma.

"Fuego..?"

Again that voice, it had been light cutting through a dark dream. He slowly looked over and shame washed over him. There you were, his precious wife, with your hand on his good shoulder. Wide awake. The moonlight coming through the window seemed to emphasize all the worry and fear in your face and it made him feel guilty.

"I-I am sorry…" his mouth felt incredibly dry. "Did I wake you?"

"No." Your reply was gentle and soft. You shook your head and moved closer to him, bringing your other hand up to gently cup his cheek. "Are you okay?"

He didn't answer at first and that was okay. That was all you needed. You gently put your forehead to his and he took a soft inhale. This was the waking world, and while his injury had happened in the past, and William was quickly redeeming himself, nothing here would be able to hurt him.

It almost felt wrong to feel so weak, especially in front of you. He was the strong and proud Captain of the Crimson Lion Kings. To think an injury he had overcome would be haunting him in such a way.

"I am sorry…" he said again.

"It's okay." You whisper back."It's okay to have this happen… it was a lot…" while you weren't there when it happened you knew it had to be painful. And then to be asleep for as long as he had been… sometimes you wondered if he worried about slipping away again. To someday go to bed and then… not wake up.

Your hand slowly slid from his face down to his hand, where it still clutched tightly to his shoulder. You slid your fingers between his, and slowly he relaxed and with great reluctance, let you pull the hand away. You held his hand close to you as you looked into his tired eyes.

When was the last time he got a good night's rest? You have known for a while that Fuegoleon's nightmares were coming and going, some nights were worse than others. But you also knew how proud he was and didn't want to simply ask about it. Even now you didn't need to ask, you knew exactly what was happening and he knew that you knew. Now it was just… worry and shame.

"It'll be okay." You said as you squeezed his hand.

"I know…" Fuegoleon responded but he didn't seem to believe it. But he put on a fake smile for you so you didn't have to worry. If only you didn't know him so well, he might have gotten away with it.

"Why don't I cuddle you?" You asked softly.

He blinked for a second then his cheeks flushed. "What? No- do you mean..?"

You nodded down to the pillows. "It'll be nice. I like it when you hold me, let me hold you."

"M-my love, please…'' It wasn't that hewas embarrassed by it… but as your husband he always felt the strong urge to always keep you safe, to hold and cherish you. He hadn't really thought about it being the other way around.

He had always been your strong lion.

But…

He felt you squeeze his hand.

Even lions could get hurt and need help…

He let out a small huff before he slowly laid back down onto his back. You let him go and got comfortable at his side.

"Will you roll over for me?"

He glanced at you, and in your eyes he saw only love. It made him melt… how could he deny you…

He shuffled under the sheets, rolling to face you and you lovingly wrapping your arms around him. You settled your head onto the pillows, and he had his against your chest. One of your arms held him close and your legs were intertwined.

At first he was… a little embarrassed. He always held you like this. His larger frame always fit perfectly against yours, you were safe within his grasp.

And now he couldn't even hold you properly with one arm…

The dark thoughts creeping into his mind were quickly drowned out as he closed his eyes. Focusing on the sound of your gentle and steady heartbeat. He nuzzled gently into you, and you hugged him a little closer. Slowly, he relaxed, counting each beat of your loving heart like sheep over a fence. He felt blessed to have a wife such as you. You knew him better than anyone and could relax and comfort him better than anyone. If he could marry you all over again, he would.

Slowly, his body would relax, sleep once again claimed him.

But with you there holding him close, he had nothing but deep sleep and sweet dreams.