#get scorched to preserve what they want.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Lucy lives!au where both lucy and desmond are tensely sitting on the fact that Clay Told Desmond She Is A Templar and neither of them know how to approach this without outing that fact to everyone (Desmond does not want his dad to kill her)

OUGHHHH.

and the way it completely flips the little power dynamic they had going on. because whether desmond likes it or not, whether he wants it or not, lucy's life is now completely at his mercy. one wrong word and. well. they're called assassins for a reason. and while i think there's multiple stories in the series of assassins becoming templars, there's basically none about templars becoming assassins (or assassins again) which tells you about all you need to know about how willing they'd be to let a "traitor" back into their little gang.

and that's just got to feel terrible, right? especially now that desmond knows. if he can just read between the lines of what lucy has told him about vidic from her perspective, what clay has shown him about how she was turned. terrible awful moment of realizing that it's playing out all over again; only now lucy owes her life to him for not giving her over to the assassins. i don't think desmond would like that at all.

and like. to me there is zero question that part of the reason lucy latched onto desmond more than she was probably supposed to according to the whole templar double-agent plan was that he was someone she had a modicum of control over. she was very much in control of the flow of information to him, he owed her for getting him out of abstergo, and in all likelihood, she probably intended to protect him from them as best he could (a track record which does not reflect well on her! considering what happened to clay! but i really do think she intended to.)

so, that is gone. not only is that gone, but her world's been up-ended, again. she's not a quite a templar, not quite an assassin, and oh, right, the sun is still going to explode, and they barely know how they're going to stop it. desmond was in a coma for who knows how long, and now he looks at her different. he knows. and now they're all going to be in close proximity with his dad and her mentor who will not risk the whole world for either of them, shaun's still being twitchy about 'what if desmond was a templar spy' with no idea how close and how far off that assumption is, and there's also that fucking alien isu ghost lady who tried to kill her through desmond! not a fun time for lucy, all things considered.

and like despite that, i think the old dynamic they had still remains. desmond relies on lucy. she's now proven that she's a completely unreliable anchor to reality, but still, she's the one he's got. they started this animus shit together; they're gonna finish it together. lucy is still trying to pull the incredible balancing act of pushing desmond far enough to get what they need without breaking him entirely, something that's getting harder and harder by the day because like. three. well, no, four, huh. haytham, too. so four memory dives in, there's... if not damage, then a disconnect. between desmond and reality. that can't be undone, only managed.

everything that happens already leaves their little team so isolated from the outside world, but alsjdlksa i fucking love the idea of lucy & desmond being even isolated from the other assassins. terrible secret gang.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♰ ₥ØĐɆⱤ₦ ĐɆ₥Ø₦₴ ♰

♰ Pairing: slasher!yunho x chubby!fem!slasher fucker!reader

♰ Genre: smut/dark romance/horror

♰ Summary: With a ruthless, brutal killer on the loose the safe thing to do would be to stay as far away from dangerous men as possible. But you've never been the kind of girl to play it safe and when danger comes in the form of a man like Yunho, how's a girl to stay away?

♰ Word Count: 3.4k-ish

♰ Warnings: Yunho's a literal serial killer, neither of you die but someone does, sorta vivid description of a limb being chopped off, voyeruism in a way, slasher fetish, sadism, masochism, dom daddy Yunho, choking, restriction of movement, a lil nipple play, penetrative sex, sex covered in blood, dirty talk, scratching, hickeys, other forms of marking, creampie, manhandling, pet names (baby, princess, good girl), you're both kinda psychos...obviously.

♰ A/N: I'd like to say, "Oh, I wrote this because Halloween is coming up!" but, no, I didn't. I'm just a slasher fucker, okay? A part of this was inspired by one of my favorite horror movies and if you can guess it then let's get married. Love you forever.

On a side note, thank you @dawn-iscozy for suggesting Yunho for this. I didn't regret that decision for a solitary minute.

There’s a killer on the loose. A brutal, wicked man who stalks the night preying upon unsuspecting victims. Some say he only goes after those he perceives as having done something wrong. His own perverse way of balancing the scales, righting the wrongs that the cops don’t have the balls to fix.

Others say it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Your chances of being butchered are all the same, sinner or saint. One thing’s for sure, once he has his sights set on you not even god himself can save you from the fate that awaits. You’re gone in the blink of an eye, never to be seen again. At least not in one piece. 

You’ve heard the warnings a thousand times over but none of them struck fear into your heart. On the contrary, you have quite the erotic fascination with his art as he calls it in the letters he leaves behind. There’s something about what he does that taps into a fetish for danger that you dare not tell another living soul about. You want to play with fire, scorch the tips of your fingers in his flames. That’s how you ended up here, straddling the lap of a man who claims to be the killer your sick little heart yearns for. 

You met at a club. The kind where people go to indulge their wildest fantasies, no matter how depraved. You were wandering around alone in a tight latex mini dress that fit the richness of your curves like a glove. You had your hair pinned up the way you do now, waterfalls of curls spilling down to frame your face. Expertly applied black lipstick adorned your kissable lips, drawing men in enough that they’d lose their minds thinking of all the things that pretty mouth could do. The man beneath you was among them. 

He spotted you from across the room, your figure bathed in red neon light as you sat at the bar plotting your next move. You let him buy you a few drinks, loosening you both up enough that secrets began to spill as freely as the vodka in your glass. “I wanna know if I tell you a secret, will you keep it?” the dark haired man whispered in your ear, a hand hovering dangerously close to your inner thigh. You swore that you would, hand over your heart. And that’s when he confessed. Your clear fascination with the man known as the Seoul Slasher had prompted him to reveal himself to you. 

You couldn’t believe it. A real live serial killer, an absolute monster, so hypnotized by you he was nearly drooling down your cleavage. Going against every self preservation tactic they taught you in school, you invited him back to your place for a bit of fun. An offer he excitedly accepted. For a man whose entire modus operandi is control, he was more than happy to relinquish it to you. In no time you had him spread out on your bed, arms and legs handcuffed to the bed frame. 

The entire room’s dark save for the flickering wicks of a few candles sprinkled about the room. You run a hand down his bare chest, sharp nails nicking at his tattooed flesh. He hisses at the sting, grinding his hips up against your core to add some pleasure to the pain.

You let out a giggle, fingers teasing the waist of his pants, “Tell me how you did it.” You flash your doe eyes, tightening your plush thighs around his hips. 

“How’d I do what?” he asks, far too preoccupied with your body to hone in on your words. 

“Those last two guys you killed. I wanna know every gory detail. You can tell me while I ride your cock.”

Your words certainly aren’t falling on deaf ears. He heard you loud and clear. He takes a calculated pause before providing you with a less than satisfying answer. “I used a butcher knife. Chopped them up real easy. Some of my best work I’d say.”

“Oh” you pout, shoulders dropping. You fold your arms across your chest, your disappointment hanging heavy in the air. “You really shouldn’t lie, you know? It’s a nasty habit.”

“Lie?” he scoffs, a nervous smile creeping across his face. His deception has failed and he doesn’t have enough brain cells to save this sinking ship. “I’m not lying, babe. I’m telling you. I used a butcher knife.”

You point an accusatory finger at him, applying pressure right between his eyes. “Dirty, dirty, liar” you sing, “You aren’t the Seoul Slasher.”

“And how would you know?” he asks, unjustly offended at the fact that you aren’t stupid enough to buy his bullshit. 

You lean in close, the warm flames of the candles reflecting in your eyes like hellfire. “Because I’m already fucking him and he’s not too happy about you going around pretending to be him. It’s just bad manners.” 

His smile grows more strained, his nervous laughter tickling the tip of your nose. He can’t tell if you’re serious or not but this is getting a little weird. Even for him. You watch him for a moment before erupting in soft, sweet laughter that mocks him. Reaching underneath your pillow you pull out a gag and shove it right into his mouth, shutting him up for the first time tonight. 

“Baby, I’m done playing now!” you call out like a housewife announcing that dinner’s ready. 

You sit back up, climbing off of him, and skip your way over to the dresser on the other side of the room. You hop up, feet giddily swinging back and forth to the tune of heavy footsteps descending the hallway. The man’s eyes dart over to the closed bedroom door, his heart thumping out of his chest. You can make out a few muffled protests but you dare not take it out. There’s nothing he can say that interests you now. Not that it ever did. 

When your best friend first told you that a guy at the club was going around claiming to be the Slasher, you couldn’t believe your ears. Especially not when the real one was sleeping peacefully beside you. Further investigation proved that your best friend had been telling the truth so he had to be dealt with. Then another popped up and another. This one will make for the 4th and you must admit, as annoying as identity theft is for your boyfriend, you get a kick out of luring them here. 

They always start out so cocky but once the gag’s in and those footsteps come, getting closer and closer at an agonizing pace, they’re not so confident anymore. At first they freeze up just like the corpse they’re soon to be. The shock does need a few seconds to set in. And then they panic, screaming through the gag and tugging at their bindings, their bodies writhing like a fish out of water. This one’s no different than the others. You can guess his next move like a film you’ve watched a dozen times and all of it’s in vain. 

Sweat slicks his brow as the door creaks open and your face lights up like the Fourth of July. You breathe a sigh of relief. There he is. You’ve only been apart for hours but it feels like an eternity. A tall figure steps out of the shadows into the candlelight, revealing a handsome man in tailored black pants and a black button up you pressed yourself. His sleeves are rolled up, tucked just below the elbow where a pair of long black latex gloves begin. He spares the unfortunate soul strapped to the bed a passing glance before approaching you. He leans forward, palms flat on the dresser, caging you in. 

“Did I do okay?” you question innocently, always hungry for the praise he never fails to feed you. 

Yunho nods, gloved fingers stroking your soft cheek, “Oh, my good girl. You did more than okay. What would I do without you?”

Taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he tilts your head up, capturing your lips in a kiss that would soak your panties if you were wearing any. He takes a deep breath as he pulls away, not wanting to but knowing that time is of the essence.

“Did he touch you?” Yunho’s jaw tenses, gloved hands flexing to warm up for the night’s events. 

You peek around him to check in on the dark haired man. His face is wet with tears and he’s sobbing all over your new gag. You pray he hasn’t pissed himself. You’re not in the mood to have to buy a new mattress again.

You look back to your boyfriend and nod. “In the car he put his hand on my thigh.” 

“Thank you for telling me, baby,” Yunho says, kissing you on the forehead. He turns around, eyes darkening as he approaches the foot of the bed. “I’ll start with his hands.” 

Kneeling down, he slides a large case from underneath the bed and pops it open to reveal his tools. The spread is a pristine assortment of autopsy tools, not a lowly butcher knife in sight. He delicately runs his fingers over them, settling on the fine toothed bone saw. Your gaze never leaves him as he rounds the bed, aligning the sharp teeth of the saw with what you’ve come to know as the ulna. The bone right on his inner forearm. 

Yunho grinds the saw against it and the man’s arm tears open, tattered pieces of flesh splintering off to the side as he carves his way through tough tendons. Blood gushes from the man’s arm, drenching the brand new sheets in a river of crimson. Yunho’s movements are precise and purposeful. The saw taps bone as the body below him convulses violently, the pain beyond anything you can imagine or ever care to. 

Your boyfriend pauses, glancing over at you, and you know it’s about that time. You open one of the drawers beside you, fishing out your phone and a pair of over ear headphones. You sync them up, hitting play on your favorite song, and smile lovingly back at him.

He can’t be as brutal when he knows you’re listening. It’s one of few things about his profession he’s never quite been able to bring himself to expose you to. Even with the man’s cries muffled, being dismantled brings sounds out of someone that could give the most vile person nightmares. You can watch all you want but you won’t hear them.

It’d be easy to say that you weren’t like this before you met him. You were a sweet, delicate flower and this charming psychopath came along, corrupting your young soul. But a girl doesn’t get wet watching her boyfriend dismember people because she had her purity corrupted.

You were never innocent, you’d simply presented yourself as such. Yunho just freed you from the prison of feeling guilty about what got you off. Power. Not being at the mercy of anyone. Yunho treats you like a princess. You’re never left wanting for anything. Your every desire is satisfied. So what if your Prince Charming comes with a body count? Nobody’s perfect. 

Yunho makes quick work of the body. After the slice to his second arm the man’s already at death’s door and the severing of his knees puts the final nail in the coffin. Yunho tosses the body parts to the ground like the limbs of an old doll. Breathless and blood soaked as he licks splatters of scarlet from his lip, he goes in for another cut.

You’re the only other thing he looks at like he does his work. The excitement of the kill is borderline orgasmic, dopamine coursing through his veins with every gruesome cut. Once he starts he has to keep going, chasing his high until it’s finished and the body’s nothing more than scattered pieces of an impossible puzzle. 

Shoving the torso to the floor, he steps back to catch his breath, waving to get your attention. You slip your headphones off, setting them down to navigate the landmine of limbs and entrails to reach your love. 

“You need some water, Yunie?” you ask, throwing your arms around him. The blood weighing down his clothes sticks to your arms, cool against your skin. It used to feel a bit strange but after a few times you’ve come to find it refreshing like a cool shower on a hot day. 

Yunho shakes his head, a dazed look in his eyes. Usually the adrenaline begins to die down after that final cut but it’s only getting more intense. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he salivates over you like a man on the brink of starvation. “No, I need you. Right now.” 

His lips crash into yours at a thousand miles per hour and you don’t even attempt to stop him. Why would you? Bloody gloves cling to your dress, stripping you of the material. You rip his shirt open, sending buttons raining down onto the slippery hardwood floor. Yunho’s hands ravenously explore your body as you rid him of his pants, painting your plush figure in blood like a canvas. 

Attempting to feast upon your body through gloves is as close to torture as he’s ever come so he tears them off, groaning in delight as his bare hands sink into your pillowy ass. He picks you up, tossing you back on the bed, your breasts bouncing marvelously as you land.

You grin watching your boyfriend stare down at you like an absolute animal. His body’s everything dreams are made of, his flawless, rigid cock already leaking in anticipation. You spread your thighs, teasing him with the arousal dripping from your entrance. Bringing two fingers between your legs, you stroke them between your lips, spreading yourself open for him.

“You want it?” you moan, back arching as you pinch your sensitive clit. 

Yunho positions himself between your legs, palming his cock above a pussy that’s clenching wildly at the ghost of what could be. He places a hand on your thigh, admiring the view. You in a sea of blood toying with yourself for his pleasure. What a sight to behold.

“You aren’t teasing me are you?” he asks, gripping your thigh tighter. His voice is low and rough, feral in every way. 

You bring your slick fingers up to the head of his cock, coating it on your juices. “And what if I am?”

You motion to get up, your brain set on tasting his cock on your tongue, but Yunho’s quicker than you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms over your head. His free hand wraps around your neck, the veins of his arms pulsing as he applies the right amount of pressure to leave you breathless but not in pain. 

“Do you want it?” He bumps his cock against your slit, missing on purpose to drag it between your folds. Your body shudders as much as it can with his full weight on you. 

“Mmhmm” you hum, knowing he won’t hurt you but loving that you’re completely at his mercy. 

“You know that’s not enough, baby” he smiles, squeezing your throat tighter, “I need to hear it, princess. Tell me you want it. Beg for daddy’s cock.”

He presses his throbbing tip to your entrance but this time he arches into you, giving you the head and nothing more. The stretch of that alone is disorienting, a wave of heat rushing through you. Releasing his hold on  your throat, he brings his lips to yours, parting them to taste the desperate pleas that spill out. 

“I want you to fuck me, Yunie. I’m so needy for your cock. I have been all night” you whine and his tongue traces your lips. You taste delicious. He inches into you, feeding you a little more then stopping. A little more then stopping. And your body jumps with every motion, pitiful sounds pouring from your lips onto his. 

“Fuck me” you beg, an undeniable brokeness in your tone, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck…” Your voice trails off, eyes rolling back as he bottoms out. He lifts off of you, still holding your arms in place above your head, and thrusts into you ever so gently. You clamp down around him tightly enough that it’s hard to move, your pussy's too needy to let go. 

Yunho grins, cupping one of your breasts, “I didn’t know watching me kill got you so hot. You’re sick, you know that?” He pinches your nipple harshly and you squeal, twisting in his hold. 

“I know” you moan, blowing him a kiss, “But so are you.”

“Fuck, I love you” he growls, pulling you under with another dizzying kiss.

His thrusts grow harsher, your warm, spongy walls drawing him in impossibly deeper. His fingers knead the tender flesh of your breast as he brings his tongue down to soak your bud in equal parts blood and spit. Taking the bud between his teeth, he wraps his lip around it, suckling at it without losing his rhythm between your legs. 

“Yunie. So good. So, mmph, aah…” you’re moaning but he gives one particularly hard thrust to your cunt, knocking the words right out of your mouth. 

You want to touch him so badly. To dig your nails into his back while he fucks into you. To run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the deep brown strands as his tongue swirls around your bud.

“Touch” you pout, wiggling your hands. 

Yunho pops your bud free of his lips, licking his way up your breasts, across your heated skin, along your neck, until you’re eye to eye. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna touch you. Please, daddy” you plead. You’re so helpless. So beautiful.

Yunho watches you squirm, feigning indecision. After an agonizingly long contemplation, he turns your arms loose, the redness on your wrists marking where he held you. Your hands are drawn to him like magnets, scouring every inch of him they can reach just to feel him.

Your nails find his back, digging into the flesh. Yunho buries his face in your neck, moaning at the sensation. “Harder” he whispers, fingers knotting in the sheets beneath you. You dig your nails in deeper, breaking skin, and he’s on the edge of a whimper, the sensation nearly too much for him. 

Slipping an arm around your back, he keeps you flush against him, sinking into you over and over. Your mouth falls open, eyes squeezed closed. You’re saying something but nothing’s coming out. Only whines and moans, the occasional fractured piece of his name.

There’s no bracing yourself for a cock this long and thick. You just have to take it, let it destroy every bit of you until there’s nothing left. A sense of euphoria surges through you and your legs instinctively lock around his waist. 

“That’s it” he coos, fawning over the string of hickeys he’s left on your neck, “Be a good girl and cum for me.” Yunho grabs for your wrists one last time, locking them above your head. He pounds into you so hard the bed creaks, maybe even moves a few inches. “I wanna feel you gushing around this cock.”

Suddenly your breath hitches and your body feels weightless. It’s as if you’re floating above yourself. Watching this gorgeous man fuck you into the mattress like his own personal whore. And you are. You’re more than happy to be. Your senses come back to you in a rush of ecstasy and you’re trembling, crying out as you do exactly as he said. Creaming, gushing, dripping down his length. 

Yunho pulls back, kneeling between your legs to drag his cock out and glide it back in. He goes all starry eyed at the sight of his cock glistening in your cum and soon he’s spilling inside of you. Your needy walls milking his cock of the warm, white liquid that overflows from your delicious pussy.

His hand comes down on your plush belly, enjoying its softness as he feeds you those last few strokes. You’re still moaning weakly when he finishes, laying back on the bed and pulling you on top of him. 

Curled up safe and warm in his arms, you bask in the afterglow, thoughts of the man your boyfriend dismantled little more than a distant thought now. But ultimately it’s difficult to ignore. Especially when your eyes drift up and you notice something dangling in the corner of your eye. 

“Yunie” you say, lightly petting his shoulder. 

Yunho strokes your hair, looking down at you lovingly, “Yes, baby?”

“I think his hand’s still attached to the handcuff.”

[dat-town]

wanna be yours

Characters: down bad!Taesan & female reader

Setting & genre: friends to lovers, college au

Summary: Just Taesan going through it with his crush on you.

Warnings: stage names used, alcohol consumption (beer), shooting-related words but in laser tagging context, light swearing

Words: 3.6k

Author’s note: title from the arctic monkeys’ song aka the ultimate down bad song

@restlessmaknae, the thing is i needed something lighter after all that angst and i wanted to wish you merry xmas with something light and happy because i wish you all the best for the next year as well! i am so so proud of you and i told you that this year's time apart would be a preparation for next year! you won't get rid of me this easy though. love you, always! <3

It’s pathetic, really, Taesan thinks, when he immediately perks up as the pizza place’s door opens and he hears your laughter. He makes sure to mask his expression and with conscious effort at least he manages to relax his posture, melting into the fake leather seat of the corner diner before you get to the table.

Jaehyun greets everybody at the table loudly like always, with enthusiasm and no shame that Taesan could never phantom. You follow in suit, much less conspicuous, a wave and an easy smile, sliding into the booth right next to Sungho’s girlfriend. Taesan pretends to check something on his phone but he couldn’t even recall the time read on his screen because when he looks back up, he catches Hyein whisper something into your ear and you look up, straight at him with a smile tugging on the corner of your rosy, shiny mouth. Taesan briefly wonders about the taste of your gloss and if your lips are as soft as they look. Then he blinks and snaps out of it.

Embarrassment makes him flush anyway because please god, let it not be about him, whatever shit Hyein shared. Still, he tries to play it cool and instead of looking away like a coward, like how his first instinct is, he makes a show of raising an eyebrow in question as if taunting, challenging you. Hopefully, he manages to preserve his cool image this way.

What, he mouths and you silently giggle, eyes turning into crescents.

I will tell you later, you whisper back and Taesan hopes relief doesn’t flood his features. It wasn’t about him then.

You order a banana shake with choco chip cookies, your usual, because of course Taesan knows that. He knows an embarrassing amount of your likes for someone who is ‘not interested’ as he has been trying to convince Leehan almost as long as you have known each other.

Taesan still remembers how you came into his life: how quick, with a smile, like a breeze on a scorching summer day. Jaehyun invited you to this house party at his and Sungho’s place because of course, you were one of those friends Jaehyun made along the way with his ridiculously extroverted personality. It was a small flat, too small for so many people and Taesan was starting to regret deciding on this particular gray tee because he could feel sweat dripping down his neck. He needed some fresh air, so he stepped out to the balcony but you were already there nursing your cheap beer.

“Hey,” you turned to him with a smile, bright and friendly, and he just awkwardly stood there not sure whether he should have gone back and left you alone or that would have made things worse. “Taesan, right?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, still hovering by the door even though you didn’t seem bothered by his presence. He was just never really good at interacting with new people. Especially girls, more specifically pretty girls.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself as if Jaehyun didn’t make sure previously to make it known like the loud nosy friend he was.

“I know,” Taesan nodded, having no idea what else to say. You didn't seem to mind as you just tilted your head with an amused smile and a quiet hum. Then you casually fixed your plaid shirt’s collar and Taesan, following your movements, noticed the graphic tee design underneath that overruled all his introvert tendencies.

“Oh. You like Nirvana too?” He blurted out, his music geek ass crawling out of his cave.

“Yeah, I grew up listening to my father’s LPs and CDs a lot,” you nodded and it broke the dam. You two still talked about favourite bands and songs, concerts you’ve been to and ones on your bucket lists when Sungho found you at 2AM and ushered you inside.

It could have been the start of something but Taesan isn’t delusional. You got along quickly with everybody, he isn’t anything special. You are easygoing and charming, of course everybody likes you and of course, you had a boyfriend. At least in the few months of your acquaintance you had. Taesan actually realized how screwed he was when he heard about your breakup and his first thought was how you deserved better, somebody who supported you and your interests unlike your snob ex. Maybe somebody like him.

The boy suddenly feels a light kick against his shin and it snaps him out of his thoughts. He’s ready to scowl at whoever thought it was funny to do that but then he catches the mischief in your eyes and his annoyance almost immediately disappears as he shares a look with you over the table, ignoring everybody else. Oh yeah, he’s so gone. He hopes he’s subtle enough though because he would sooner dig his own grave than have his friends tease him for his crush.

Taesan might be a masochist because he can’t make himself push you away. He’s generally good at keeping people an arm-length’s away. He’s reserved enough for people to think he’s not interested and they don’t bother to get to know him better. It has never seemed to be a problem for you, ever since that night you keep finding ways to him. You exchange music recommendations, complain about professors and assignments, laugh at Jaehyun’s scaredy cat ass during haunted house night. He listens to you talk about the pressure of being a good enough daughter for your high standard parents and how falling out of love felt; and you listen to his songs.

Maybe it’s your willing vulnerability that prompted Taesan to show you his music. He’s usually beyond cagey with his compositions, he doesn’t even show them to Jaehyun and Woonhak until they are perfect or well, good enough according to his own perfectionist taste which is almost the same and those two share the studio with him! He’s snappy whenever somebody disturbs him during his producing sessions but if that somebody is you? He pulls his claws back immediately, his rough edges softening.

His heartbeat goes haywire whenever you show up in the studio and playfully pull the headphones off his head, checking the music out for yourself, nodding along to the beats. At least then he can watch you closely for your expressions, using his curiosity as an excuse why he’s staring and it’s part of the reason too, so it’s not exactly a lie. He wonders whether you like it, whether you can guess that all his lovesick lyrics recently are about you. He hopes you don’t, he hopes you do.

It’s an uneventful Tuesday night when he’s deep in thought about rhymes that don’t make sense and metaphors that feel forced and just nothing sounds right. When the door to his studio opens quietly, for once he’s almost glad for the disturbance. He turns around in time to see you sneak into the studio, holding a convenience store plastic bag above your head as if it was a humble offering, a white flag.

“I brought ice cream,” you explain with a beaming smile and Taesan is not one to say no to a free late night snack. He doesn’t answer, too starstruck by sight of you in an oversized hoodie, all soft and cuddly, which you take as a good sign and slip further inside, closing the door behind you.

“You didn’t answer my texts, so I guessed you’re here,” you muse out loud as you sit down on the extra chair next to his, offering him a plastic-wrapped popsicle, then unwrapping another one yourself.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, unplugging his phone from the charger to check on the missed texts from his friends before picking on the colourful wrapper.

“It’s okay. I know how you get when you’re in the zone,” you smile sweetly and gosh, how can you be so perfect?

Taesan’s breath hitches when you inch closer, your shoulder pressing into his arm as you take a closer look at the computer screen, at the audio software he uses even though you probably don’t understand what’s going on there.

“New song?” You ask, genuine curiosity in your bright voice, so Taesan hums and tells you that he’s stuck on the chorus. You know nothing about music but he lets you listen anyway because at this point he’s desperate for any pointers and well, he’s weak for you, so it’s not like he could say no to those sparkling eyes.

He plays the half-finished song for you once, picking on the skin around his fingernails in the meantime from the nerves, the popsicle melting in his other hand.

The too big headphones are still on you when you turn to him with the most beautiful, beaming smile ever when the audio file ends in a hundred seconds that has never felt so long.

“It’s so good! Seriously, how can you come up with lyrics like this? And that melody in the beginning? So catchy!” You exclaim, taking the mouse out of his hand, fingers brushing, just to rewind the audio to the beginning and play it again. This time you’re humming along with it, eyes half closed, fingers drumming on the desk. You look so immersed and so enthusiastic that Taesan can feel his heart ache in a way he’s not sure is healthy.

“There could be more instruments in the chorus to make it stand out more but I like it a lot,” you say when you finish your second listen and give him back both the headphone and the control over the computer before you nudge his side playfully.  “You’re such a romantic.”

“Am not,” Taesan objects hurriedly, his ears already reddening. Gosh, if you knew that it’s you who’s making him sprout out all these lines about jittery nerves around a crush and wanting to watch the stars together.

It’s hard sitting still, so close that your knee brushes against his sometimes; it’s hard to concentrate on your questions when your floral scent envelops him; it’s hard not to lean closer, to close the gap and kiss the melting vanilla ice cream off your lips.

Shit, woah.

Taesan sucks in a breath and rolls his chair backwards, away from you. You look at him with furrowed brows in confusion, so cute and unaware of your effect on him that he swears you’ll be the death of him.

Summer days seem endless and Taesan makes some regrettable choices in the name of fashion. But as a proud believer of no weather being too hot for black clothes, he cannot back down.

“Aren’t you hot?” You lean closer to talk over the loud music and Taesan immediately feels warmer. If he was Jaehyun, he would make a joke out of it, asking if you found him hot with wiggled eyebrows but he’s not that shameless.

“Nah, I’m good,” instead he lies through his teeth. You shot him a look of disbelief and shrug, looking back to the stage, moving to the beat of music, jumping around, having fun.

“I’m back!” Woonhak raises the bag of drinks in the air like they were some kind of reward and honestly, Taesan has never been so relieved to get a cup of iced Americano.

“What took you so long?” He grumbles though as he tries to cool off with the cold drink.

“Yah, the line was crazy long. Next time you can go,” the younger complains and gets immediately babied by Hyein who definitely spoils him too much.

The next splash of water reaches their group and Sungho shrieks the loudest as he gets soaked while you giggle in your already see-through tee. You have a bikini underneath but still, Taesan has this urge to cover you up. He knows it’s silly, the entire purpose of this event is to get wet in the summer heat but he can’t help it, not when you sing along with some random kpop boy group on the stage. He doesn’t even know why he agreed to come, it’s really not his scene. Sure, he loves music but the water bomb festival isn’t exactly his typical concert experience.

Five minutes later he gives up and slides off his overshirt, tying it around his waist.

“You have moles here,” you point out suddenly and Taesan looks at you a little dumbfounded.

“What?”

“Moles. Here. It’s cute,” you say with an endeared smile and poke his bicep right above the birthmark which is revealed now that he’s only in his sleeveless tee.

Taesan can feel his ears burn and he wants to laugh. You did not just call his arms cute when he worked out in the gym to gain some muscle. But well, let’s look at the bright side: you seem to have meant it as a compliment and while he has never bothered with his moles, long accepting them as a part of him, now he starts to have a love-hate relationship with them because from then on you start poking his bicep just for the sake of it whenever he wears tank tops or t-shirts with shorter sleeves and it sends a flutter down his stomach every single time. He’s positively losing it.

On his birthday, the gang goes laser tagging. Unfortunately for him, you end up on a different team alongside Riwoo, Leehan and Woonhak. Honestly, with Sungho on his team, Taesan is pretty confident, the two of them tend to be the best in these kinds of games and he gets competitive anyway, so he swears he won’t go easy on you.

He even tries to shoot you in the back like a coward, so you wouldn’t get a chance to distract him but you duck at the last minute and avoid it. He starts chasing you then between the maze of neon-lit pillars but a sudden 180° turn of yours takes him by surprise and somehow it ends up with both of you on the ground with your body pressing against his. You push yourself up just enough to look down on him and lying on his back, momentarily breathless after the collision, Taesan swears he feels his soul leave his body because damn, you are beautiful. Your hair is messy, strands of it falling into your face, eyes dilated and shiny, burning with fierce passion.

He is distracted, he doesn’t even notice when you pick up your gun again, not until you shoot him in the chest, the echo of his vest’s switching off sound resonates off the walls. The hell.

“Cheater,” he mutters but with less bitterness than what he would have if it was anybody else.

“Says you,” you retort with a cheeky smile before getting ready to push yourself entirely up, ready to hunt down the rest of his group.

You don’t even make it to your feet though. Taesan pulls you down again with a grab on your wrist but this time he rolls the two of you around, so you are with your back on the floor and he’s the one hovering over you. He sneaks a hand under your head, protecting you from the impact as you look up at him with widened eyes. He feels breathless again and hopes he can blame it on the game.

“What on Earth are you guys doing?” Sungho’s sharp voice comes, seemingly oblivious to the tension around you and Taesan scrambles to his feet, offering you a hand which you take with a grin, the shadow of the previous look still present in your eyes. He doesn’t want to let go.

Later, there’s a cake and a cheesy toast from Jaehyun and you gift him an LP that he listens to over and over again.

Just before the summer ends, you all hang out together by the Han River, eating store-bought cheese tteokbokki and way too spicy ramen on the worn blankets. That’s when Taesan witnesses it: a guy asking you out just a few steps away within earshot when you are returning from your sweets errand.

It’s already been months since you broke up with your ex, so of course, you would want to move on, Taesan wouldn’t blame you nor does he blame the guy because you’re pretty and amazing, what’s not to like. But then you duck your head shyly, glance quickly towards the group that’s mostly unaware why you’re held back and for a moment your eyes meet.

Taesan quickly looks away, the loose threads of the blanket have never been so interesting.

“Ah, I’m flattered but actually, there’s someone I like.”

He hears your answer loud and clear and it breaks his brain. Do you like someone? Who and why didn’t he have no idea? Or maybe you just said that to nicely turn down the guy? Was he not your type? Wait, what kind of guys do you like? What…

He’s still thinking about it, his thoughts on overdrive, when you eventually leave, the group scattering across town after sunset, and he offers to walk you back to your place from the metro station. The air between you is heavy, not just from the humid summer air.

“Taesan?”

“Hm?” He whips his head your way, playing aloof.

“Tell me,” you prompt vaguely and he feels his heart drop. What if you know what has been plaguing his mind? What if you think he’s a weirdo?

“What?”

“You’re thinking too loud,” you explain with a shrug and a small smile playing on your lips. “What’s it about?”

Taesan doesn’t even think this time.

“You,” he blurts out without meaning to and he has half a mind to turn it into a joke, a teasing but you look so genuinely surprised that he can’t make himself.

“What about me?”

He can’t read you. Do you really not know?

“Everything.”

But mostly about how your bright personality and wide smile is like molten sunshine and that it’s unfair because he has always associated himself with the moon and there’s something tragic about being ill-fated from the beginning. About how crazy it is that you’re here asking that question as if there was any prolonged moment in your company when he was able to focus on something else that wasn’t you. About how much he would like to hold your hand and play with your more delicate fingers, pressing his lips to the pad of them, an action somehow more intimate than kissing itself.

But he doesn’t dare to even say that out loud, too afraid of messing up.

You chuckle at his nonsense answer anyways, flash him a shy smile and look away  and it’s in moments like this when Taesan lets himself wonder whether you feel differently about him too. Because he’s pretty sure friends don’t look at each other the way the two of you do. Or at least they’re not supposed to.

“Who is it?” He hisses as the question that has been scratching his throat stumbles out and he forces himself to act nonchalant about it, as if your words didn’t have the power to turn his world around. You look at him questioningly and Taesan takes a deep breath, refusing to back down like a total loser, so he clarifies: “The guy you like. Do I know him?”

“Oh,” you mumble, looking down, nerves acting up, and halt your steps. Taesan suddenly wants to take it back because you don’t have to tell him something like that, he’s being nosy and uncharacteristically clingy and… “Do you really want to know?”

Yes.

No.

He doesn’t even know. Because based on your reaction, you do like someone, it wasn’t just a white lie and he doesn’t know what to do with that. But he bites the bullet because it’s better to know than to wonder, he’s already driving himself crazy as is.

“Sure,” he shrugs and he’s being so fake he cringes at himself but at least your eyes are on him again. Shiny doe eyes he knows he will write into yet another song.

“What if it’s someone you don’t like?” You quirk a brow and Taesan has to consciously unclench his fingers. His throat feels tight, the summer air suffocating him.

“You don’t need my permission.”

“Not even if he’s very close to you?” You tilt your head, pouting.

“God, please tell me it’s not Leehan. He cares more about his fish than girls,” he exclaims dramatically, because he doesn’t really think that you would like his best friend since he hasn’t seen you hang out much and he needs to break this awkwardness somehow.

You laugh at his answer, harder than necessary because it wasn’t even that funny. You look at him like he should know already and it’s ridiculous because there’s still uncertainty and tension lingering in the space.

Then you step so close that you crowd into his space, push yourself to your tippy toes and peck him on the mouth. Brief and fleeting but so sweet Taesan feels the sugar rush go to his head. He almost forgets the topic you were on as his brain short circuits.

“Me?” He finds himself asking dumbly. “Really?”

It feels unreal, even with the soft pressure of your fingers curling in his shirt, you staying so close that your breathing fans against his chin.

“Really,” you nod, eyes full of wonder and amusement. Relief.

“Fuck,” Taesan swears under his breath as he slides a hand to your nape and leans down to kiss you properly. He feels your smile against his lips and he can already tell how your friends will get to know the news and that he wasn’t the one who confessed despite his year long crush but at that moment he doesn’t mind any future teasing. Because you like him and suddenly all the silly love songs about the firework-like kisses make sense.

[ghoulsbounty]

From a Previous Life

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bound and fearful, you seek answers from a mysterious stranger about the fate of those you love.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of death, pregnancy, non-detailed talk about experimentations, angst, grief, swearing, judgement, flirting (if you squint)

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: My first Cooper fic! I've had this idea going around my head for a hot while and I really could go on, and on with more (yearning, smut, etc) but I just wanted to get out an initial one-shot that could potentially turn into more if any one likes it (or I end up adding to it anyway!) I'd love to hear your thoughts 💌

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Silently, you moved through the desolate wastelands, each step stirring clouds of dust and veiling the once lively towns now reduced to rubble. Somewhere in California, though the exact whereabouts blurred, you were leagues away from the sanctuary you once called home, apparently almost two centuries ago. Time, to you, was an elusive concept, for the stiffness in your joints and the lingering ache betrayed the recent thaw from cryo-sleep. Your mind remained ensnared by fog, a residue of the drugs coursing through your veins during preservation.

Yet, your senses, dulled by centuries of slumber, detected his presence long before he materialized. Heavy footfalls pierced the barren silence, prompting a cautious glance over your shoulder. There he stood, solitary amidst the wasteland, a gun slung lazily across his back and a weathered ten-gallon hat shadowing his features. Perhaps he had spotted you, perhaps not; regardless, neither of you quickened your pace, silently agreeing to maintain a wary distance.

Ever cautious, you abruptly veered into the next structurally sound building, bracing for a potential standoff. Praying it wouldn't come to that, for the meagre supply of bullets salvaged from a fallen vault security guard, coupled with his erratic pistol, offered scant reassurance. The art of marksmanship was foreign to you, a skill unbefitting a woman of virtue in the world before its descent into chaos. Your pride lay in nurturing the home, not in extinguishing life.

"What would your husband make of this sight?" you thought. Clad in the worn remnants of the blue and yellow jumpsuit issued upon vault entry, now stained with blood and grime from your desperate flight. Would he mock your dishevelled appearance, your unadorned face and frayed nerves? Would he marvel at the pistol clenched tightly in your grasp, its weight unfamiliar and your trembling fingers poised on the trigger? Could he shoulder this burden, like you wish he was here to do so? Such musings left you unsettled, your husband's whereabouts a lingering question mark, conspicuously absent from your side.

Peering cautiously from beneath the window sill, your gaze swept the scorched landscape beyond. The lone figure should have drawn near by now, should have approached the building where you lay in wait, yet his silhouette remained absent from the horizon. Instead, the frigid touch of a gun barrel against the back of your skull sent a shiver down your spine, your body tensing instinctively under the ominous threat. You suppressed the cry that clawed at your parched throat, swallowing hard as you slowly lowered your pistol to the ground beside you.

"That's it, nice and slow," he instructed, his voice gruff with a hint of amusement. "You might be my easiest catch yet."

Realization dawned upon you—he had been tracking you. You inwardly chided yourself for your naivety before complying, raising your arms slowly with palms outstretched. Encountering no one in these barren lands, you were uncertain of the customs among people so removed from your time. You were one of them now, but survival demanded adaptation.

"Please, I don't have any money," you offered, hearing his scoff. "I mean it. Take my gun, you can have it."

His movement rustled the air, his presence brushing against you as he leaned to retrieve your pistol. A low hum of amusement escaped him, and you felt the cold barrel of his gun pressing against your skull before it vanished altogether.

"I don't want your hunk of junk, sweetheart," he drawled, tossing it back to the ground beside you. "Doubt it can punch through a tin can. No, what I seek is your cooperation."

"O-okay, yes," you agreed, the words tumbling from your lips almost too hastily, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

A nudge at the side of your heel prompted you to turn and face him. You complied, shifting on your knees, arms growing weary as they remained raised above your head while you awkwardly pivoted to meet his gaze.

The scream tore from your throat as you beheld him, sending shivers down your spine. He loomed above you, his visage warped by decomposing, discoloured flesh that swathes his form. Cracked lips parted to reveal yellowed teeth in a perpetual grimace, his once vibrant eyes now a haunting shade of blue-green, still clinging to a trace of humanity amidst the decay. You recoiled at the absence of his nose, now a dark cavity amidst cartilage and bone.

"That's not polite," he admonished, his narrowed eyes betraying annoyance. Trembling under his scrutinizing gaze, you stammered out an apology, extending a trembling hand to ward him off as he took a step forward.

"Please, leave me alone. I-I don't have anything," you pleaded, but he showed no sign of relenting. Your fingers curled around the pistol on the ground, raising it shakily in his direction.

"Well now, what are you going to do with that?" His smirk deepened as you aimed the weapon at him.

His amusement infuriated and terrified you in equal measure. You were aware of your body shaking, aware that he saw it too. You hadn't formulated a plan, hadn't considered the consequences. But you'd never faced a situation like this, especially not with someone so grotesque yet strangely human. He spoke like a man but resembled a monster, reminiscent of the creatures from the old sci-fi holo tapes your husband used to rent on Friday nights, leaving you cowering behind embroidered cushions until the credits rolled. You weren't built for this, but just like only hours before, you must fight.

With a tight grip and clenched eyes, you pulled the trigger. The recoil sent you crashing against the wall, the impact jarring your head as the bullet ricocheted through the room, narrowly missing the man and striking a nearby doorway with a sharp ping.

"Well, that was disappointing," he remarked, his head cocked and lips drawn into a condescending smirk. "You finished, sweetheart?"

With a mixture of annoyance at your failure and frustration at his dismissive demeanour, you tossed the pistol at his feet. Your head throbbed, and as you tentatively touched the back of your skull with trembling fingers, you were unsurprised to find them stained with blood.

"Are you going to kill me?" you panted, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

He shook his head, kicking at the dirt with his pointed boot before crouching in front of you. "Not much use to me dead, not much use to me at all if you don't cooperate," he emphasized, his tone dripping with implication.

"Fine," you huffed. "What do you want?"

A triumphant hum escaped him as he straightened up, retrieving a long rope from his hip and tossing it into your lap. "Tie your hands together," he commanded.

You hesitated, eyeing the rope and then him with uncertainty. His tone shifted, imbued with a hint of authority as he spoke again. "The rope goes around your wrists or around your neck. Either way, you don't want me to be the one to do it."

With deft fingers, you hastily wound the rope around your wrists, striving to fashion a knot that would hold without chafing your skin too severely. He bent down, giving the tether a firm tug to test its security before nodding in approval. Seizing the other end lying in the dirt, he yanked it harshly, nearly causing you to stumble forward onto the unforgiving ground.

"Get up," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

You complied, awkwardly pushing yourself to your feet without the use of your bound hands. There was a pregnant pause as you gazed at him expectantly, awaiting further instruction. However, he simply tugged on the rope, turning to lead you out of the dilapidated building and back into the sprawling wasteland.

You followed him into the desert expanse, both of you shrouded in silence save for your intermittent attempts to coax answers from him. Questions about where he was taking you, what he planned to do with you, hung in the air, but he offered no response. Instead, he whistled a tune, leaving your inquiries to dissipate into the wind.

As frustration reached its boiling point, you dug your heels into the sand, exerting force against your restraints as the rope cut into your skin. A hidden thrill coursed through you as you witnessed his hulking frame falter against the resistance, a fleeting moment of satisfaction before he regained his footing. His narrowed gaze met yours from beneath the shadow of his hat.

"I'm cooperating," you asserted, your voice strained. "You can—should at least tell me where we are going. Why you're doing this to me."

A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he gazed skyward before meeting your eyes once more. "You're sure dumb for a pretty thing," he muttered, retrieving a flask from the recesses of his torn duster and taking a long swig. "I guess that's how they like to keep you down there."

As he turned to face you fully, his eyes rolled at your bewilderment before he elaborated. "Not much up here untouched nowadays, so when you see a little rabbit wandering the lands fresh from her cage, a smart man doesn't think twice before he acts."

Anger surged through you at his mocking words. Barely escaping your 'cage' with your life, barely comprehending the aftermath of the bombs, and now captive again—this time by a man, no, a monster, likely more sinister than those who had ensnared you initially.

"You already said you're not going to kill me, so you're going to fuck me or sell me," you asserted, mustering more confidence than you truly felt, chin lifted defiantly as he scrutinized you, tucking his flask away.

"Now you're catching on," he replied cryptically, offering no further explanation as he tugged at the rope and resumed walking. Your mind whirled with apprehension at his ominous response. Which fate awaited you? Both? The thought churned your stomach, imagining the touch of his weathered, calloused hands, pondering the atrocities he may have committed before and the ones he might be willing to commit now. You resolved not to make it easy for him, determined to fight tooth and nail if necessary.

"I can hear you thinking from over here, vaultie," he called back. "I ain't gonna fuck you," he added with a smirk, glancing briefly over his shoulder at you before continuing. "Ain't my type."

You scoffed, your brows furrowed in disbelief at his audacity. Doubt crept in, questioning if someone like him truly had preferences, more inclined to prey on anything within reach rather than adhere to any type. He resembled a monster more than a man, and you suspected his instincts remained consistent regardless of his words. Out here, where the population had dwindled to ashen, skeletal remnants of unfortunate souls caught in the blast, it seemed unlikely anyone could afford to be picky.

"What happened to you?" you demanded, your voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

He visibly stiffened at your question, briefly halting his movements before resuming with a dismissive gesture. He heard you, yet chose not to respond.

"I said, what happened to—"

"I heard you," he snapped, cutting you off. "Doesn't mean I owe you an answer."

You huffed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I'm just trying to understand what's going on! Yesterday, I was in my kitchen baking a key lime pie and dancing to the radio, and then—"

"Miss your cage, vaultie?" he interjected, a cruel chuckle escaping his lips. "If you miss it so much, why are you out here?"

Straining against your restraints, you heard him sigh in annoyance as he came to a halt. Turning to face you, irritation etched on his ghoulish features, he regarded you with a jutted hip and clenched gloved fingers tightening around the rope. "I'm not talking about the vault," you said earnestly. "I was in my home yesterday, just a normal day. Then the sirens blared, so loud I couldn't think. My neighbour, she came to my door, told me we had to leave, find safety. I didn't want to go without Glenn, but everyone was running, scared. I was too."

"When we reached the vault, it was chaos," you continued, his attention now fully captured, eyes glazed. "So many people, struggling to get in. But we made it, and... my neighbour, Patti—she's my friend. She had just given birth to her first child, a beautiful baby boy." You swallowed hard, suppressing the bile that threatened to rise in your throat. "They were supposed to let us in, we were pre-selected. But when we arrived, they turned Patti away. Shot her husband when he fought back," you recounted, the horror of the memory still fresh. "Then chaos erupted. The first nuke fell, and I was pushed through to the vault door. I lost Patti."

He regarded you with a sombre understanding, silently urging you to continue.

"When I entered, it wasn't like the commercials," you spat bitterly, recalling the false promises of safety. He cleared his throat. "That actor, going on about how great the vaults were—'a vast and wonderful place,'" you mocked with disdain. "Mine wasn't like that. It was... They did unspeakable things to us, to unborn children, and there was no recourse. It wasn't right. I knew what they wanted, deep down, but my head told me not to be so naïve. Vault-Tec was supposed to be saving us."

Tears welled in your eyes as the memories flooded back, as vivid as if they had happened yesterday, because to you they did. "They threw us into pods, froze us until they needed us. Took us out for testing and... I was the last one. Everyone else had... died, from the testing," you choked out, the pain of loss still raw. "I fought to survive, because I couldn't let what happened to those women and their babies happen to me or mine."

He listened intently, his eyes widening as he took in your story. His gaze flicked to the small swell of your stomach below your tied wrists, realization dawning.

"So I need to know," you implored, your voice trembling with fear. "Is what happened to you also what happened to Patti and her baby? Will it happen to mine?"

He studied you, and you felt yourself shrink under his penetrating gaze. You hadn't intended to divulge so much, to reveal your condition that you had desperately tried to conceal until it could no longer be hidden, to relive the trauma that still haunted you, though in reality centuries had passed since its occurrence. Yet, you needed answers. You needed to know what lay ahead in this desolate wasteland, and if you possessed the strength to face it.

"Yes," he answered quietly, his voice laden with a heavy solemnity. "It will, in time."

Fresh tears traced their path down your cheeks, and you nodded in understanding, raising your bound hands to wipe at your wet nose. "Okay," you whispered, then smiled sadly in resignation as you rubbed your wrists gently over your stomach. "At least up here, we had a little freedom for a time."

You felt the rope that he had been keeping such a tight hold on slacken before being dropped to the ground. Stepping towards you, he gingerly took your wrists and began working on the knot, untying it with ease before meeting your gaze from beneath his lashes. "You just gained a little more."

"You're letting me go?" you asked, doubtful.

"I'm letting you choose," he corrected, his voice carrying a peculiar weight as he rubbed the tender, burned skin of your wrist where the rope had left its mark. His thick thumb felt rough against your flesh as it traced over you in a gentle, swiping motion. "There are things worse than me out here, sweetheart. Are you going to take your chances?"

His words hung heavy in the air, and you met his gaze defiantly. "I don't need your pity."

"Good, because I ain't giving you none," he replied, his tone firm.

You held his gaze, neither of you willing to be the first to look away. Moments ago, he had been intent on taking you to an undisclosed location to sell you for whatever passed as currency in this wasteland, but now he presented you with a choice—a grim ultimatum. Stay with him or fend for yourself in the harsh wastelands. Neither option was ideal, but you hadn't lasted a single day on your own before being apprehended by him. Perhaps it was better to stick with the devil you knew, especially if there truly were worse threats out there as he claimed.

"I'm going to get bigger, you know. I'll slow you down," you warned him. "And I can't fight."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he gathered the discarded rope and secured it at his hip. "I've seen you shoot, but I've yet to see you fight. I think a few vault security guards could probably vouch for you, though," he teased, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You can't stay with me forever, nor would you want to. I'll take you to a safe haven for women in your condition. It's a few months' journey north from here. Until then, try to keep up."

You pondered his words, feeling a sense of relief at the prospect of a safe haven and the promise of being escorted there, despite the long journey. "Why the change of heart? What's in this for you?" you asked, curious about his sudden shift in demeanour.

His expression tightened, his gaze drifting to the small swell of your stomach that you now cradled protectively. "Righting some wrongs from a previous life," he answered solemnly, not waiting for your response before turning and beginning to walk away. He paused momentarily, waiting for you to follow.

"I don't know your name. What do I call you?" you called out after him.

He pondered for a moment, gazing out into the vast desert before turning back to you, tipping his hat in acknowledgment.

"Ghoul, for now."

[nightlyrequiem]

Crawl to Me

The world ended long ago. Now belonging to the undead that roam it, feeding on the last surviving people. You've learned to avoid the rotters. You have a past with one and like when she was alive, she's not willing to let you escape so easily.

New Part Every Thursday

Masterlist AO3

A/N- I was actually working on an apocalyptic fic in June, but I genuinely couldn't figure out how to progress the story in an interesting way. I still want to write one though because I'm a slut for apocalypse stories. This ones kind of lengthy. Like 2800 words

Tags/Warnings: Undead Valeria, No Use of the Word 'Zombie', Apocalypse, Gore, Stalking, WLW, Implied But Also In Your Face Toxic Relationship

The world ended eight months ago. A disease thawed from the melting glaciers and ravaged through the living population faster than it could control. Hospitals were overrun and the government declared a state of emergency. You weren't to leave your homes for anything. Rations were to be dropped off by authorized personal. They followed all the proper protocols and procedures, and it wasn't enough.

"Do you think this is expired?" A woman asks. She's rooting through a pile of canned food while you and a man keep a watch out. The infected are more active at night. A quick acting evolutionary behavior to avoid the scorching heat of the Mexican sun, to preserve the decaying host for longer.

"No." The man replies, voice deep and buttery. "Canned food can last for years past it's expiry date."

Something moves outside, kickstarting your heart. Some infected still wander out during the day. Your hands are sweating, making it hard to hold the gun. Valeria tried to teach you how to hold a gun once. You were never comfortable around them though. You peer outside, ears too sensitive in the unnatural quiet. A thin stray dog runs past the window. Clumps of fur missing from mange. You relax. Rotters will attack and eat any animal they catch but so far, you haven't seen any animals actually get infected with the disease. You shudder at the idea of running from a pack of infected strays. Their frothing jaws hung open, breath sour with illness. Sinking their teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh.

"Hurry it up, Grace." The man growls. He was a military officer; despite that he has no patience. You don't care for him. He reminds you of Valeria.

Grace shoves cans into her duffel bags. Filling them so much that she struggles with the zipper.

"If you want this to be faster then maybe you should be doing this, Rojan." She growls. Hoisting the heavy bags up and adjusting them on her shoulders. Rojan doesn't reply. Just stares out the window stoically. On the other side of the small supermarket, another man looks through magazines instead of being useful. Holding them up in the sparse light to leer at the women on the pages.

You and your small group move on. Exiting the store. The sun is hot and unforgiving. The ground beneath your feet is dry and cracked. Only the toughest of weeds able to grow from the pavement.

"What are we going to do for shelter?" Grace asks. Walking alongside Rojan. You lag behind, at the tail end of the group just behind the man who was looking at magazines instead of finding food. He turns and glances at you. Sizing you up. Both you and Grace have made it very clear you're not interested. Though there's a lack of women around and he hasn't quite given up yet.

He slows his pace to walk beside you. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. It makes you sweat just looking at him.

"We might have to sleep outside tonight." He says. You wish he wouldn't talk to you.

"No we won't." You reply with disinterest. "Rojan would never make us camp outside." It's just simply too dangerous.

"Well," He starts. "If we do you and I could share a spot to keep warm."

You roll your eyes. It gets absurdly cold at night but even then, you'd rather kiss a rotter than cuddle up to him. "Pass, Arthur." 

Arthur doesn't seem perturbed by your prickly nature.

"It's not like you'd lose anything by being with me for a night." He argues. Up ahead, Grace and Rojan are deep in conversation, heads close together. You wish you could join them instead of being stuck with Arthur.

"I'm a lesbian." You grit out. Even if you weren't, you still wouldn't touch Arthur.

He pauses and you start relaxing, assuming he's going to back off. "Why does that matter?" He asks. "I'm not asking for a relationship; you don't have to be attracted to me to sleep with me."

"Arthur!" Grace barks, turning her head to scowl at him. He looks up at her. "Cut that shit out, she's not interested. I'm not interested, nobody here is interested."

Arthur considers her and moves away from you silently. You give Grace a thankful nod.

Night begins to fall. Your legs ache with each step as you walk, the bag on your back feels like it gained ten extra pounds. Finally, Rojan slows to a stop outside of a small house. The windows have been broken but boards fill in the empty space. The screen door swings in the slight wind, creaking as it does. Weeds and tall grass have dominated the small front yard and somewhere hidden within, flies buzz loudly. Congregating over something dead.

"We'll stay here for the night." Rojan says. He looks at each of you. Pointing at you and Arthur. "Help me make sure it's clear." 

You slowly creep inside. The interior is just as rundown as the outside. A dank, musty smell coats the damp-stained walls and fungus pops up from dark corners. You walk by the living room and startle. In the corner, facing the wall is a rotter. It's back turned to you. The skin is flayed and painful looking. Deep gashes litter it's skin. It's stationary. Unmoving apart from a slight sway. 

You don't know if you should risk making noise shooting it. You look to the front of you as Rojan disappears around the corner. You frown and look back at the rotter. A bullet would be loud and might wake and draw any dormant rotters in the area. You slowly holster your gun and unsheathe your hunting knife. Approaching the rotter like a predator. Remembering what Rojan taught you. Sweep out the legs - which won't be hard considering how emaciated they look - and quickly stab into the temple. You take another step, and the floor loudly creaks under your weight. You and the rotter both go still. The lax swaying coming to an abrupt halt.

You wait, heart beating in your ears. The seconds feel long but the rotter never turns, and you resume your creeping. You come right up behind it and recoil at the smell. Unwashed body mixed with overripe fruit, sickly and decaying. You shake your head and build up your courage. Finally, you kick out it's legs and ignore the very human grunt. Grabbing one side of it's head, you stab your knife into the soft spot in it's temple, cutting of the beginning of a shrill squeal. It drops, becoming dead weight in your arms. You lower it to the grown and let it drop.

The small home is cleared just in time for the sun to begin setting. The group sits in the living room. Silent and eating. Even Arthur is keeping his mouth shut. As the sky darkens, the sound of shuffling gets louder. The rotters have awoken. A few of them call out eerie pleas for help. That's what disturbs you the most; the mimicking. Back at the start you had mistakenly opened your door, assuming the woman crying for help on the other side was human. She wasn't. You had been tackled to the floor trying to fight her off. A lucky shove sent her flying into the table, snapping her neck and stunning her enough for you to bash her head in. You don't respond to calls for help anymore.

You have first watch. Your eyes droop and you fight hard to keep them open. Grace's soft snoring does nothing to help you. You're leaning against the wall. Your name gets called, startling you awake. Your heart throbs in your chest as you listen, ears ringing from the silence. Were you hallucinating? It doesn't come again. A few footsteps sound close to the boarded-up window. Maybe one of the rotters said something that sounded like your name. That's what you decide but it freaks you out enough to keep you awake.

Your group moves on promptly at sunrise. Most of the rotters having hidden themselves in shadows and buildings to hibernate for the day. It's another scorcher. Sweat wets your brow as you walk, legs aching from fatigue. Your tired stumbling reminds you of the rotters.

"Water." Arthur says. Rojan reaches into the side of his pack for the communal water bottle without stopping and holds it out behind him. Arhtur takes it and you watch him carefully from the corner of your eye to make sure he isn't taking too much. Water is a valuable commodity. Getting drinkable water is a hassle. If you can't find any bottled water stashed somewhere, you have to boil some from rivers. You lag behind a little. Overheating and exhausted from having to stay up all night.

You halt as you hear movement beside you. Your group progresses on, leaving you behind as you stare into the shadowy alley. Not a brick is out of place. You hurry your steps and catch up with your group. You're just tired and paranoid.

You sit with your back to your front door as Valeria pounds on it. Shaking the weak wood with every hit.

"Open the fucking door!" She yells. You put your head down and cover your ears, every single limb fizzling with nervous energy. You and Valeria have had a... tumultuous relationship. On and off, fighting, making up. You finally called it off for good and denied her when she tried to win you back. Valeria's never been able to leave you alone though.

She hits the door again.

"Please, mi vida, open the door." Her voice softens. It's forced. 

"Go away, Valeria!" You yell back, worried she'll break down the door. You don't know what she'll do if she makes it inside and that scares you.

"For fuck's sake!" She snarls, dropping the nice act. "I'm going to fucking kill you if you don't open this door!"

You shut your eyes and count. Trying to calm yourself down.

The faded red door and empty flowerpots are uncomfortably familiar. You feel an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Unfortunately for you, Rojan deems it suitable. He and Grace clear it and you and Arthur enter once they confirm it's empty. You cast a glance at the decayed woman on the floor, head mashed to a pulp. You're disturbed to find chunks missing from her. The other's congregate in the living room but you wander down the hall and take a left. Pushing open the closed door. The bedroom is full of dirt and dust. The curtains nothing but moth-eaten tatters now. You wander to the nightstand and lower yourself down to your knees, the carpet damp and spongy. You reach under and pull out a box, running your fingers over the gold trim. Clearing dust off the lid. You open it and pull things out. Birthday cards, baby teeth. Polaroids. You and Valeria smile up from the picture tauntingly. She has a firm grip on your waist, keeping you pressed against her.

Flowers get shoved in your face, startling you out of your skin. You stare at Valeria like a deer in headlights. Behind her lurks two dangerous looking men. Protection or intimidation? You can guess which.

"I'm sorry." Valeria murmurs, forcing you to take the flowers. "I know you're upset but I also know you're not done with me. Just stop with this little angry act and take me back."

"What? No." You frown. "Valeria, we are not good together."

Valeria ignores your words and grabs your arms gently. "I love you." She says, looking at you intensely. "I love you so much that it makes me sick. It makes me angry. You did this to me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. We are it for each other, why can't you understand that?"

You put the picture back down and hide it under a few others. Ones without Valeria in them. It's all history and at the end of the world, history means nothing. You join the others as they finish up their meal of canned sausage. You don't ask for any, no longer having an appetite. You're still exhausted though. Settling yourself on your couch. It's filthy but you still gleam a small sense of comfort from it. It doesn't take you long to drift off. Lulled by the quiet chattering of your companions.

You aren't sure what woke you first. The shattering of glass, or Grace's panicked curse. Nobody remains a heavy sleeper when there's a constant threat outside. The whole group is startled awake. It doesn't take long for the rushed steps of the rotters to be heard. You freeze. Watching as Grace shoots one but gets tackled by another. Filthy teeth sink into her throat. Both Arthur and Rojan aim and take down a few. One of the rotters slinks in-between them and heads right towards you. You're horrified to see Valeria's face glaring back at you. She barrels right into you, crushing you under her weight and pinning you down to the couch. You feel bile stinging your throat.

You slam into the floor as Valeria slams the door shut in your face. Your body is already on overdrive and in your adrenaline induced haze you decide Valeria did that on purpose. It doesn't help that she immediately crowds you. Her warm hands latching onto you, her smell overwhelming you.

"Get off!" You hiss, kicking at her.

"I'm sorry." She growls. Maneuvering you onto your back. You can't move, you can't leave. You're trapped in this stressful situation. A claustrophobic panic kicks in. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but you can't run out every time you argue - stop struggling!" Valeria says with anger.

"You're hurting me right now!" You try to wrench yourself away from her but only end up pulling a muscle.

"You cannot leave me." She replies, sounding hurt and desperate. Her tone scares you more than anything. "I'm sorry, just stop struggling and we can talk, please."

The sound of flesh tearing is seared into your memory. The screaming stopped after only a few seconds, but you think you'll remember it for the rest of your left. Valeria keeps you crushed under her firmly. The reek of decay permeates through the air. It's so thick you worry you'll get infected just breathing in. Through a gap in her limbs, you watch the rotters in a frenzy. Ripping your group apart like animals. Something cold caresses the side of your neck, startling you. It's Valeria running her fingers along your neck. She says your name. Voice distorted and growly. It sounds like it hurts to speak.

A salty tear rolls down your cheek as you stare blankly at the massacre. Grace's head bobs slightly as a rotter feeds on her intestines. Her eyes stare back at you lifelessly.

The wood trembles.

"Open the fucking door!"

You raise your head from your hands and look at the wall, you don't know what to do. The pounding stops. Valeria's voice is muffled but clearly aggressive as she speaks to someone.

"You're sick." She exclaims, disgusted... and afraid. "Fuck. Open the door." She repeats. Valeria doesn't sound angry anymore, she sounds urgent. "Open the door, someone sick is staring me down, open the door now." 

You've never heard her sound frightened before. This disease is frightening though. You haven't seen one of the sick in person before but just the symptoms were enough to scare you.

A bite or bodily fluid was all it took. Doctors said incubation was from anywhere between an hour to three days. It started with a fever, intense mood swings, violent behavior, thirst and hunger. Sores sprouted up on the body. Eventually they would pustulate and then rot. Then the virus made it's way through the brainstem and effectively killed the frontal lobe while triggering the amygdala. Turning the host into an animal. Valeria calls your name.

"Please open this door, I know you're mad at me, but you can't leave me out here with that thing." 

You're very tempted to open the door but you can't move. You're frozen to the spot.

"Get back!" Valeria snaps. Startling you. "Take another step and I'll shoot you."

The infected care not for the threat of a gun. Shots are fired, loud and earsplitting. Something hard thumps to the ground and Valeria screams.

You feel sick.

"I know you're mad at me, please open this door." She whispers into your hair. Every second you wait for her to bite. To tear into your vulnerable flesh, but she doesn't. "I didn't mean to hurt you, please open this door." Valeria brushes her face against your cheek. Something wet transferring onto yours. "I'm sorry, it makes me sick. I love you." Valeria tightens her grip on you. Shielding you from the horror in the living room. After being infected and dying she tracked you down. She got rid of the only people you had left. There is nowhere you could hide that she wouldn't find you. Dead or alive, she's yours.

[bazzybelle]

Beautiful Bookbinding!

As many people know this week has been really fucking difficult for me. So when I got home today and saw a package waiting for me, I was so pleasantly surprised.

So @kydrogendragon, my wonderful, amazing, dear friend made a whole ass fucking binding of my fic, Swim For Brighter Days!!! Just look at that beautiful cover, as well as the back with the summary!!!

AND... AND!!! Look at the package it came in!

So, in the fic, Hob ends up getting really into Archeology. So much so that he ends up being one of the first people in London to publish journals about the proper ways to preserve and respect ancient archeological sites. SO Ky fashioned a whole package that looked like a draft of a research paper!!

AND... the stamps on the corner... Those are lil Easter eggs from the fic itself! I am crying!!!

THEY ACTUALLY INCLUDED ARCHEOLOGICAL NOTES AND COMMENTARY FROM SITES! LIKE THE DETAIL THAT WENT INTO THIS GIFT HAD ME IN LITERAL TEARS!

LOOK AT THIS COVER PAGE!! The olive branches on the header signifying Calliope, and the poppies on the footer signifying Dream. It's so beautiful!!

Again, the amount of thought and detail that went into this bind. Adding little commentary in pen (Hob's writing) that acts as a look into what the chapter will be about (1816 - Hob meets Calliope through George Byron). Adding the wine glass stain in 1899 because Hob had spent the evening drinking.

And then... 2022... the scorch marks. I won't spoil what happens in that chapter. You guys can read the fic or take a wild guess based on the context.

Also, GUYS! Look at the Publishing House! How it goes from White Horse Science to New Inn Science! Ky... KY!!! The fucking brilliance of your project. I am just overwhelmed with happiness.

The final chapter which includes Dream's and Calliope's messages to Hob!

I also wanted to point out the dividers throughout the book. They're a combination of Dream's poppy and Calliope's olive branches. I was screaming in delight and happiness.

Also look at the sweet lil poppy at the end. I love it!

The back of the Research Packet! Including sweet sticky notes of encouragement from Hob's lovers, Dream and Calliope. I just... I am so soft right now.

The best part of all this? The fic was written as a gift FOR Ky! It was a fic I'd written for the Sadman Server Spring Exchange. Now it has been given back to me in a beautiful meaningful bound with little nods to the fic itself.

Thank you so much, Ky, from the bottom of my heart. This gift means so much to me.

[sluttyten]

UNHOLY - Chapter Nineteen

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

summary: an overflow of emotions as you're reunited with the loves of your life

length: 13,011 words

tags: pure smut (with feelings), oral sex, threesome, double penetration, orgy, multiple penetration, unrealistic supernatural sex

<-previous || next–>

Time doesn’t pass while you lay there on the floor. Waiting.

Or rather, it passes endlessly. 

Nothing happens. You hear nothing, feel nothing, neither see nor taste nor smell. You don’t think while you lie there except to hope, repeatedly running over the hope that they will come, that Yuta and Ten were just behind you, and that Hell did not reabsorb them into the shadowy places that you saved them from. 

Time is still, yet it races on. 

You wait, weightless in the world, untethered from time or thought. 

And then the world gasps the moment that the mirror’s surface is broken again.

Everything rushes in. Your senses return to you.

Sound: a gasping breath, the thud of knees on the floor, your name falling in desperate cries.

Smell: sulfur and smoke and sweat, close by. A little further away there’s the hint of salt and flowers and something musky and citrusy and fire smoke. 

Sight: Yuta kneeling above you looking a little scorched and mussed from sweat and running, but he’s smiling and there are actual tears in the corners of his eyes, and he might look a mess but he’s also never looked more beautiful. And beside him is Ten, also smiling and gorgeous and there’s a half-healed scrape on his cheek, but they’re both whole and happy and here.

Feel: Yuta’s hands on your cheeks. Ten’s hands clutching yours. Your fingers passing through the long strands of Yuta’s hair on one hand, tangling with Ten’s fingers on the other. 

Taste: Yuta kisses you — mouths crushed together in a messy, uncoordinated kiss because you’re both crying and starving for each other and you just want to be closer to him, closer to both of them. As soon as Yuta pulls away even slightly, Ten’s turning your attention to him, stealing your lips, kissing you with only slightly more finesse than Yuta. You just want to be close to them, to have and hold them, to be consumed in them, and endlessly wrapped up in them. 

You quickly realize that’s not going to be a problem at all. 

Neither Ten nor Yuta seems to be too eager to be apart from you either. Yuta’s lips trail down your throat as Ten continues kissing you. Hands trail over your sides, your hips and thighs. 

Your clothes are already half-disintegrated from the fire you summoned to kill the Queen. The escape certainly didn’t help anything in preserving the fragile state of your clothes, so you can feel bare skin touching your skin in many spots as Ten and Yuta run their hands over you. And, in turn, their flames back in that final chamber seem to have charred away at their clothes too; you can feel clothing falling away beneath your hands as you touch them too. 

Bare skin, hot breaths, their voices murmuring your name and their lips pouring praises over your skin as they each use their hands to brush away what remains of your clothing. You’re spread bare, naked on the floor, and you refuse to let go of either of them for even a moment. 

Ten laughs when you dig your fingernails against the back of his neck as he tries to rise up on his knees. He says, “I’m not going anywhere, darling,” while he brushes his fingers through your hair. 

Everything blurs together. 

Yuta’s fingers slide between your bare thighs. Ten’s teeth nip at your ear lobe. Both of them speak your name in tones of pleasure as you drag Yuta’s mouth down to yours. You tangle your fingers in Ten’s hair, and arch your body, spread your legs. 

Ten sighs, a breathless laugh spilling from his lips. “I’ve missed you so much. Darling, I thought we’d never get to see you again, never get to hear your voice, never get to feel you like this, trembling beneath us.”

Cued-in, Yuta’s fingers climb higher, unimpeded on their path to tease your clit. He smiles into your kiss. “I never thought I’d get to taste you again, and that last kiss in the Watchers’ dungeon wasn’t nearly as sweet or long as I’d have liked.”

“So kiss me more, fuck me again, take your time with me,” you beg, lifting your hips into Yuta’s touch, attempting to encourage him to go further. 

He does. 

You’ve missed his specific way of touching you, the way that Yuta’s fingers feel inside you — different from the other three. 

Yuta takes over your senses. He’s all you can taste as he kisses you deeply; all you can feel with his body sinking down against yours and his fingers inside you, his thumb at your clit. 

You forget that you’ve got your fingers in Ten’s hair until you pull. Ten moans beside your ear. 

“Sorry,” you murmur apologetically, breaking the kiss with Yuta to turn your head to the side, looking at Ten. 

“Apology accepted.” He leans in, quickly capturing your lips. 

Yuta’s lips trail fiery hot down your throat, your chest, laving attention on each of your breasts before continuing lower. When his tongue joins his fingers inside you, you experience a rolling burst of pleasure, electric in your veins. Your hands leave off on touching Ten, diving instead into Yuta’s hair.

“Watch him,” Ten instructs. He pulls back from your kiss, clearing the way for you to look down at Yuta burying his face between your thighs. 

It’s difficult to watch, your eyelids keep fluttering shut, head rolling back against the hard floor. 

One of Yuta’s hands strays away from your thigh, lifting to one of your tits, teasing your nipple into a peak while his tongue dances tight circles against your clit and his other fingers stretch your pussy a little more for him. 

Ten strokes your hair. You feel his breath on your cheek. His hand bumps against your hip, and when you peek your eyes open to take a glimpse of him, you realize that he’s jerking off. 

“Let me.” You offer up your hand, but Ten only returns your fingers to Yuta’s hair. 

“I’ve been without your touch for too long, so honestly,” he chuckles a little, “I’d prefer to wait to be inside you if I’m going to cum embarrassingly fast.”

Yuta laughs too. “Should I hurry things along for you, Ten?”

Ten flips him off. “Take your time. She deserves it. A prize for breaking us out.”

You lift your hand from Yuta’s hair to instead stroke your fingertips over Ten’s cheek. “I need no more prize than having you both here with me.”

“Well,” Ten drops a kiss to your forehead, “You’re still deserving, regardless.” He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, and you swear you can almost feel his mind touching yours, trying to impress upon you his thoughts and feelings in that moment. 

Yuta lowers his mouth against you once more, tongue flicking against your clit as he curls his fingers inside you. You can feel yourself growing wetter and wetter, soaking Yuta’s hand as your orgasm finally crests over you. You can feel his lips curve into a smile, pleased with how easily and intensely he’s made you cum. 

You draw your legs together around his head, raking your fingers through his long hair until he lifts his face, showing off his shining, damp smile. 

“I wanna taste,” Ten complains, pulling away from your head. 

“Oh, she likes the thought of that,” Yuta teases, feeling the way your walls contract around his fingers at the thought of Ten eating you out— the rare occurrence. “Treat her to a prize, Ten.”

When Yuta knots his fingers into Ten’s hair and begins guiding your oral-avoidant boyfriend down towards your pussy, your heart starts racing, a warm rush of arousal pulsing in your core. Your heart leaps when Ten lunges forward to lick teasingly at the corner of Yuta’s mouth, capturing just a little taste of you there. 

“Oh, fuck me!” The words rise like a gasp, falling like a sigh from your lips when Ten (with no further ado) lowers his mouth to devour you. 

You’re already so sensitive, still tingling and riding out the last waves from the orgasm, courtesy of Yuta. Feeling Ten’s tongue dragging through your folds, passing repeatedly and rhythmically over your clit, quickly has your legs quaking, your fingers cramping as you pull your hands into fists, disregarding the moans from both of your boyfriends who each have a handful of hair captured in your grasp. 

And then Ten stops. 

He places a gentle kiss to your clit. 

He kisses your thigh. 

“If I don’t get inside you soon,” he says roughly, trying to suppress just exactly how much he needs you right now, “I’m going to explode.”

You nod, and you can tell the motion is jerky, overly eager, but you don’t care. If you’re overeager, so are both of them. 

Yuta and Ten climb up from between your legs, both of them moving to kiss you. Both of them touch you everywhere. They each kiss you simultaneously in a messy, uncoordinated, but soul-wrenchingly good kiss where you’re not entirely sure which of them is kissing you, or if maybe they’re more kissing each other, sharing the taste of you back and forth before returning to your waiting lips. 

“C’mere,” Yuta moans, grabbing one of your thighs, pulling. He turns you towards him, draping your thigh over his hip. 

You place your hands on his cheeks, kissing him and only him, desperate and hungry, heat building in your chest and excitement buzzing in your bones so that you’re writhing against him, rolling your hips forward, rubbing yourself against the hard ridge of his cock trapped between your bodies. 

Ten presses up against your back, lean muscles and solid heat. His hands land on your hips, helping to hold you still a little as Yuta finally lines himself up. 

“We’re never gonna let you go empty again, darling.” Ten kisses just beneath your ear. “Never leaving you alone.”

The feeling as Yuta fills you, as he slides his cock into your soft heat, it’s indescribable. It feels like no time has passed at all since you last did this with him, with both of them. Even as Yuta starts to move, you feel Ten’s erection against your ass, and you want him too. 

You crane your neck trying to see Ten behind you. His fingertips are against your chin, his mouth meets yours — all lips and tongue and teeth nipping at your bottom lip while you gasp Yuta’s name. Ten’s chest presses against your back, and he releases his hold on your chin to slide both of his arms around you. One hand rises to your tits, pinching at your nipples, rolling the tight bud between his fingers. His other hand dives down, tracing fingertips over the curve of your belly, down and down until his touch reaches your clit, his knuckles brushing Yuta’s belly. 

You shudder between them, moaning each of their names into Ten’s mouth.

“That’s right, my love,” Yuta groans, clutching at your hips as he rocks into you. “Say our names again.”

Yuta. Ten. Yuta. Ten. Yuta, Yuta, Yuta. Their names pour from your lips, caught up in the whirlwind of pleasure as Ten’s fingers apply the perfect friction to your clit and Yuta’s cock glides up against the spot inside of you that has your orgasm rushing through you – your walls clench around him, your mouth opens in a wordless moan, your body trembling.

“Good girl,” Ten praises you, kissing along your jaw. “Cumming for us so well.”

Yuta kisses down to the hollow of your throat. “But we’re not anywhere near done with you yet.”

With a sudden burst of strength, you push Yuta over flat onto his back. Your hair falls over your shoulders, curtaining around your face. His eyes widen in surprise, but his lips are already curling into a satisfied smirk as you say, “I fucking hope we’re not near done.”

Ten lies down on the floor beside Yuta, both of them looking up at you as you sit up on Yuta. You feel flushed with warmth and desire, pleasure and sweet delight as you bare your body to your demons, as they stare at you, enraptured when you start moving. Yuta’s fingers twitch where they rest against your thighs, his jaw flexing, lips parted with a sigh at the feel of you riding him, so warm and soft around him.

Ten gazes up at you, keeping his hands to himself for the time being. You look away from Yuta just for a moment to catch sight of Ten holding his cock, his fingers in a ring around the base as if he’s trying to hold off cumming just yet. The thought of Ten ready to burst without even having been inside you brings a smile to your face.

You rock yourself on Yuta, lowering yourself forward until your tits press against his chest, your lips hovering just over his. You turn your head to the side, looking at Ten again.

“You know I can take you both, if you’d like?” You roll your hips, feeling Yuta’s cock twitch inside you. “I must admit, two at once is something I’ve grown very accustomed to even while you were both imprisoned.”

Ten scoffs. “Teasing us with talk of WinWin and Mark, darling? You know how jealous I get; what if I don’t want to go easy on you?” 

Yuta, on the other hand, smirks and smacks a hand down against your ass. “Did they treat you well? Is Mark as good as you’d hoped? He’s not as warm as us or WinWin, and he’s a lot more flammable than us too. How’s that worked out?”

“Surprisingly well. That’s why taking him and WinWin at the same time works out so nicely. A little mix of cold and hot.” You spark your fingertip into a flame, running it down Yuta’s chest as you lift yourself up on your elbows. He draws in a sharp breath through his teeth, but your flame doesn’t hurt him any more than your bare fingertip would have. “Of course, it helps to let Mark drink from me; gets the juices flowing, so to speak.”

“I can bite you too, if you’re into that now?” Ten suggests, moving from the floor into a kneeling position behind you. His fingertips dance along your spine from tailbone to the base of your neck where he tangles his fingers through your hair. With a light tug of his hand, you sit up. 

Still seated in Yuta’s lap, your pussy sinks down around his cock. His hips rock up off the bed just as Ten bows his head to your shoulder, and Ten bites down.

“Oh, God!” You whimper, your body jolting as the sharpness of Ten’s bite travels down to your pussy. 

“There’s no god here, darling angel,” Ten licks over the bitemark he’s left behind. 

Yuta trails a hand up from your thigh, over your belly, up your chest as he sits up, and finally he curls his hand against the base of your throat, his lips brush your chin, and he says, “But if you bend over, be a good girl for Ten and I, we’ll certainly make you see a whole new universe.”

It’s really no question of if, is it? Of course you’re going to bend back over Yuta and take both him and Ten’s cocks at once. You’ve been craving exactly this for months now. 

Yuta laughs when you crush your mouth to his, when you push at his shoulders and both of you fall to the floor again, his shoulders pinned to the floor beneath your hands. 

Ten’s fingers sink into your pussy alongside Yuta’s cock, soaking his fingers with your wetness before he pulls them back out and touches your back entrance. “Gonna make you cum again before I’m inside you. See if you can make Yuta cum too.” And then he’s sinking his lubed up fingers inside your asshole, gently easing them in, curling his fingers, thumb circling the taut muscle. 

Yuta laughs breathlessly, hips rocking up into you with each thrust of Ten’s fingers inside your other hole. They work out a rhythm, and before long you’re on the verge of climax again, the tension in your body growing and growing until Yuta finally lifts his head from the floor and takes one of your nipples in his mouth. Just a pinch of teeth, the sweet warmth of his tongue flicking over the tip of your nipple just as his cock nudges against the soft spot inside you, and Ten adds an extra finger. You come apart entirely.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan, throwing your head back, rocking back onto Ten’s fingers and Yuta’s cock, needing wanting craving more and more.

And Ten doesn’t deny you that.

His fingers are removed, but not a moment later, there’s the head of his cock, plunging right inside you. 

Yuta goes still, but Ten moves quickly, fucking into you hard and fast in a way that you find difficult to keep up with while you’re still recovering from your orgasm two seconds ago. But your body is moving with him, bouncing back on both of their cocks with each thrust. Yuta’s lips are still wrapped around your nipple, so it’s easy to tell when he begins moaning, the vibrations against your sensitive nipple spiral down to the warmth pooling in your belly again.

Ten grips your hips, shifting your position slightly so he’s fucking into you at a new angle, down against the thin barrier between his cock and Yuta’s.

And that’s it for Yuta.

His climax hits, pulsing jet after jet of cum inside you. His head falls back against the floor. His fingers dig against your sides.

Ten’s hands are everywhere else – cupping your ass, running up your spine, dipping into your hair, reaching around beneath you to touch your clit. And he’s singing your praises, or that’s what it sounds like at least. Ten has slipped into the demon tongue, and you can’t understand a single word of it. 

But Yuta can.

His eyes go wide at something Ten says, and he looks over your shoulder at your other boyfriend before he meets your gaze again.

You whine, clenching down around both of them as Ten swirls his fingers against your clit, and that tight knot inside you grows tighter. 

Yuta says your name, and although you’re struggling to keep your eyes open as you fight to hold off cumming again just yet, you look at him. “Can you take us both in your pretty pussy? Ten wants you to try? Do you think you can?”

You nod without hesitation. Of course you can take them both. 

As soon as you’ve nodded, Ten pulls out of your ass, and you feel the tight pressure – uncomfortable for only a second – as he lines his cock up with your pussy and pushes in. It’s a tight fit, there’s no denying that. But your body is very adaptable, and you’ve got Yuta’s cum helping to lubricate the way for Ten.

“Oh, God!” You moan again.

Ten laughs, lips pressing against your shoulder. “There you go with that again. Maybe I should stop if you’re thinking about God while a demon’s fucking you.” 

Ten goes still inside you.

It’s unbearable. The feeling of being so full with both of them in your pussy at once, neither of them moving, but the heat and the lust and the pulsing need to cum in your belly are driving you insane with need at the moment.

“For the love of all things unholy,” you curse, rolling your hips back, “Move, Ten!”

Yuta’s hard inside you again, and as you roll your hips back to meet each of Ten’s thrusts, you quickly realize that Yuta’s moving too. They each pound into you on alternate beats so you’re never empty. Your own wetness and Yuta’s cum are leaking out of you, getting your thighs and Yuta’s belly slick. 

But then they both push in at once, and that feeling again – of being so full and complete – liquefies your bones, incinerates the last bit that held you back from cumming.

It sets both of them off too.

Ten and Yuta cum deep inside you, both of their cocks buried as deep as they possibly can while your pussy milks them both for all that they’ve got. And all three of you are wreathed in flames. You’re burning handprints onto the floor. Yuta’s fire sparks a deep reddish orange where it licks against your skin, and out of the corner of your eyes there’s the warm gold of Ten’s fire wrapping around you. 

Everything feels like too much all at once, and you feel tears burst into your eyes. 

“You’re a mess, my darling,” Ten grunts as he pulls out. “Crying and covered in cum.”

You’re half-certain that you squirted on that last orgasm too. Everything down between your legs feels extremely wet and sticky, and the feeling only intensifies when Yuta pulls out too, and their combined loads begin dripping from your used pussy onto Yuta’s flagging cock.

You have no concept of time in the state that you’re in, so it could be minutes or hours later or maybe even just seconds later, when you hear a door opening.

Yuta stiffens beneath you. Ten leaps to his feet.

You turn your head to look over your shoulder, across the room to the doorway.

For the first time since you fell through the mirror, you finally take in your surroundings and realize that you know exactly where you’re at.

When you stepped into the mirror passage, you asked it to spit you out on Ira’s island. Mentally, you’d been imagining the full-length mirror that sat in one corner of your bedroom at Ira’s house. When your senses had all returned as soon as Ten and Yuta fell through the mirror after you, what you smelled in the air had only seemed to corroborate your belief that you’d landed in Ira’s home.

But that’s not where you are.

You’re home. Exactly where you’d wished to be. 

The dull orange glow of Hell City shines through the windows behind you, illuminating the faces of WinWin and Mark as they’ve just busted through the door of your old, wonderful apartment in Hell City.

Mark lets out a choked sound – a mix between a sob and a cry of delight. And then suddenly he’s right there before you, pulling you off of Yuta and into his arms. The cool bite of his bare skin against yours jumpstarts something in your system, and suddenly you’re crying and twisting your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Fuck, we were so worried!” He cries, his voice rasping with emotion. “You just disappeared from bed, no sign of where you’d gone.”

There’s a thump beside you, and when you take a peek, you realize that WinWin has fallen to his knees beside you. His eyes are brimming with emotion, dark with relief. He lifts a hand to stroke the back of your hair. “We would have gone with you, if you’d just asked. But it’s clear you didn’t need us.”

“I always need you, don’t be ridiculous.” You pull out of Mark’s tight embrace. “I need all four of you, and that’s why I couldn’t risk taking both of you with me. What if we failed? What if I lost both of you as well as the two of them? I couldn’t handle that.”

Yuta is still sprawled out on the floor, but he pulls himself into a sitting position then. “And do you think any of us could handle it if we lost you?”

You’re suddenly crying a little harder, overwhelmed. 

Everything, all at once, comes crashing down on you. The reality of where you’ve found yourself.

You woke hours and hours ago from a nightmare. You fled safety, leaving two of your boyfriends behind so that you could go alone on what could have been a suicide-mission to rescue your other two boyfriends. You adventured into Hell, down secret passages and through throne rooms and trials. You came face-to-face with the Queen of the Night and the now King of Hell, Kun. You rescued your boyfriends, were chased by hellhounds, narrowly escaping them with your life as well as the lives of your boyfriends. You had amazing, wonderful reunion sex with them. You’ve found yourself whole and happy and back in your apartment you made into a home with these four men that you are so lucky to call your own. And they all love you and want to protect you and somehow they’re all right here for you.

You survived. All of you.

WinWin runs his hands over you, brushing away your tears before continuing on to check for any damages to your person. Any scrapes or wounds or bruises. All he finds is the fading bite mark from Ten and the brutal mess of cum between your legs.

“You’re okay, right?” He asks softly, gently tipping his forehead against yours.

“I have all of you here, of course I’m okay.” You lean against him.

Mark takes up your hand to lace his fingers with yours. “We were just concerned because you were gone for so long.”

Ten clears his throat. “How long?”

“For, like, four days.” Mark holds your hand tightly, and he doesn’t look away from you even when Ten makes a quiet exclamation of shit. “We had a good idea that you’d gone to rescue them. Seulgi said that she saw you swimming off at dawn, and she tried to stop you, but before she could reach you, you were gone.Win and I wanted to go after you, but Ira said that we might cause more harm than good. We would give it a few days, keep an eye out for you; he would reach out to contacts to see if anyone else had any information.”

“We left the next morning,” WinWin says, “Came here to see if there were any signs of you here, or in case you came back here. Especially since there’s the entrance to Hell in the river. We thought there might be a good chance you’d come back here.” His fingers draw down the length of your spine. “Mark had a witchy friend draw a spell around your apartment to alert us if anyone breached the border.”

Mark is looking at you like he wants to pull you into a tight embrace again, but instead he just cracks a smile and says, “We just went down to the market to grab something for WinWin to eat and to get me a fresh pint of blood. I’d literally just reached for a bottle of the good stuff when I felt the alert trigger. We came back as fast as we could.”

“Thank fuck that you didn’t get back any faster,” Ten teases. “We were preoccupied.”

“I wouldn’t have been mad if we’d walked in on that, though,” WinWin grins, still tracing his fingers in tantalizing shapes along your spine. 

“No?” Ten sinks down to kneel on the floor as well. “She was talking about both of you in the midst of that, trying to make me jealous.”

You’re sure if Mark had the ability to blush, his cheeks would be flushed right then. He avoids looking at anyone, choosing instead to focus on the lines of your palm. He’s got that quiet nervousness about him right now, and you know he’s probably questioning his place in this relationship again. Sure, you’ve talked about it with him and WinWin, but that was before, back when Ten and Yuta were still gone; it was theoretical. Now, you’re all here together.

“Mark,” you keep your voice gentle. “Look at me.”

He lifts his gaze slowly, but when he meets your gaze, you offer him a smile. 

“Mark,” Yuta says, “I guess we haven’t properly welcomed you into the relationship, have we? You’ve been an unofficial part of it for quite some time, but you weren’t as intimately involved before we left.” He tilts his head a bit to the side, observing the way that Mark shyly avoids eye contact. “We understand that that’s changed finally. Our girlfriend was desperate for your cock too, you know? As soon as we welcomed WinWin in, we figured it was only a matter of time for you to join. You know you make her happy, right?”

You raise a hand to cup Mark’s cheek. “You’ve been a part of this relationship for longer than you realized. That doesn’t change now that Yuta and Ten are back, like I’ve told you before. I’m not letting you go anywhere.” You twist an arm behind his neck. You shift your legs beneath you so that you’re seated properly in his lap, looping your legs around his hips. “As a matter of fact, I believe the last time we had a conversation about this, you and WinWin then teased me for far too long afterwards about what it would be like to have me take all four of you at once.”

“Aren’t you tired, darling?” Ten drawls from his position. “How many times did you just cum with us, and you’re still needy for more?”

You are tired after escaping Hell and all that, but for now, you’re also still buzzing and more than a bit horny. And besides that, you’re back in Hell City where you rarely felt the need to sleep. 

“I can sleep later. All of us can.” You push your fingers up into Mark’s hair. The feel of your nails scraping over his scalp sparks a hunger in his eyes, draws a slow smile to his lips. “For now, I want you all to share me.”

Mark nods. “Happy to.” 

Before you know it, Mark has moved you from your perfect spot perched in his lap on the floor. Your back is against the soft mattress. 

You’re enveloped by the scent of salt air, citrus, musk, and firesmoke, as you had been when you first breathed in deeply after passing through the mirror. You now realize that you’d caught the scent of Mark and WinWin living in your apartment – their clothes had carried the scent of the sea from Ira’s. The citrus and smoke and musk was just their smells.

Mark is already kissing his way down your belly, nuzzling against your navel. “Can I have a taste, baby?”

You don’t know if he means to eat you out or bite you, and you don’t care either way. You simply knot your fingers in Mark’s hair and gasp “Yes.”

The spike of pleasure you get when Mark’s fangs slide into your thigh is heavenly, and only heightened by his fingers simultaneously plunging inside of you. He drinks from you and fingers you, and it’s not long before you’re cumming from the combination of sensations. Your back arches off the bed, your lips parted to cry his name.

“Quiet down, darling,” Ten laughs as he settles on the bed beside your head. “This apartment isn’t entirely soundproof, you know. So unless you want the whole city to hear you….”

But you can’t quiet down. First of all, your body is so sensitive from all that you’ve received within the past half an hour. Second of all, the aphrodisiac power of Mark’s bite is so much that your eyes roll back and you feel flames sparking at your fingertips. Someone drags your hands out of Mark’s hair before you can set him on fire.

Mark keeps fingering you until your thighs are trembling, closing in around his hand, and even then he seems reluctant to withdraw. 

When you open your eyes, he’s flushed with color in his cheeks and lips, his eyes are alight and bright red. He licks his lips while gazing down at you, drinking in the sight of you all glowy from the multiple orgasms. You like when he gets this way – when you can tell that the bloodlust is taking over and he’s going to fuck you with wild abandon.

Ten holds your hands up above your hand, bound together in Ten’s lap.

Yuta settles on the edge of the bed, watching with an amused smile. 

WinWin stands at the foot of the bed, behind Mark, observing with his arms folded across his chest. He’ll have his turn next, and your body tingles, nipples tightening in anticipation.

You jerk your hands in Ten’s hold. None of them are really touching you right now; they’re all just watching you. You want to be touched, and if they won’t do it, you will. You tug again.

Ten tuts at you. “Be good, angel.”

You can feel wetness seeping out of you, your pussy surely glazed in your own arousal and the spilled cum from your demons. Mark licks his lips again, and you think you might implode if one of them doesn’t put their cock inside you soon.

“Look at her squirm, Mark,” Ten teases. “She needs you. Her nipples are so tight right now, I bet you could just flick one with your fingertip and she’d cum.” 

To your surprise, Yuta reaches over. You see his hand enter your peripheral vision.

With a cry, your chest arches off the bed, a zing radiating from your right nipple that Yuta just flicked. All four of them make amused little sounds at your reaction, and you feel your fire simmering just beneath your skin. 

“Now, now, princess. Settle down.” WinWin steps a little closer, but he still doesn’t climb onto the bed. “Mark, you’d better fuck her before she bursts into flames.”

Mark doesn’t even bother undressing, something you’re grateful for as you’re very tired of waiting. He just pushes down his pants, grabs your ankles and quickly bends you in half. Your back pops, which feels absolutely amazing in a way completely separate from the rest of what’s happening right now. Your knees hit your shoulders, your thighs pressed to your chest, and Mark rushes forward to fill your exposed pussy, sinking in as deep as he can.

Mark is relentless in his pace, chasing his own high. He presses in deep, touching places that Ten and Yuta hadn’t earlier.

A long, loud moan leaves you.

Ten snickers, lifting one of his hands from where he’s been binding your wrists together, and he presses two fingers between your lips. “Didn’t I tell you to quiet down?”

You suck at his fingers, desperate to give your mouth something to do if he won’t let you moan each time that Mark hits your sweet spot. Ten leans into it, pumping his fingers between your lips, fingerfucking your mouth in time with Mark’s thrusts into your pussy until you’re gagging around his fingers, spit leaking everywhere.

“Cock.” You finally manage to squeeze the word out between Ten’s fingers.

“Excuse me?” Ten pulls his wet fingers from your mouth, dragging them over your bottom lip and your chin to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. “What was that?”

“I wanna – fuck!--” You cry out as Mark hits particularly deep, grinding into you with one of his thumbs at your clit. You’re seeing stars, but you push through to utter, “I wanna suck your cock, Ten.”

Obligingly, Ten shuffles around to kneel above your head, and within seconds, he’s swiping the head of his cock over the seam of your lips, tapping the tip against your tongue when you open up for him, and then he pushes in. The angle is a bit off like this, all upside down, but you don’t truly mind. You swallow around him, taking him in and tonguing at his slit when he pulls back enough to let you do so. Ten makes sweet noises of satisfaction, his fingers knotting in your hair while he fucks your mouth.

Mark cums a moment later, partially inside you, half of his load landing in stripes across your pussy before dripping down your ass. 

Your feet fall back to the bed as Mark steps away. Ten pulls out of your mouth, but you’re not finished, mouthing at his cock until he shifts out of your reach. 

“More,” you whine, holding out your tongue.

Ten looks down at you, a wicked grin on his lips. “A little cock hungry, darling? You need every hole filled?”

You nod. “Please.”

Ten moves forward again, teasing the tip of his cock against your tongue hanging out of your mouth, but he doesn’t let you take the tip between your lips. Instead he lets his cock bob against your chin, and then he shuffles forward a little more until his knees are against either side of your head, and his balls hover right above your mouth.

You put your hands on his cock, stroking him off as you tip your head and suck and lick and kiss at his balls. One of the others – you can’t see which of them – slides a hand between your legs, teasing his fingers over your wet slit without dipping them inside and without reaching your clit. Ten is a moaning mess above you, grinding down on your face, cock growing wetter and harder in your hand, and you can tell the moment before he cums as his balls draw tighter under your tongue’s ministrations.

His cock twitches in your hand, jerking as each hot pulse of cum leaves the tip, landing in stripes across your chest. Whoever is teasing your pussy leaves off from that in favor of reaching up to press your tits together as you continue sucking Ten’s balls and jerking him off over your tits.

You feel a tongue on your skin, licking up the mess of Ten’s making, and with him still sitting above your face, you still can’t tell who it is, but there’s a hand back down between your legs, and your heart is racing, pouding in your chest more intensely with each passing lap of a tongue over your nipples, each stroke of fingers between your legs as they’re now teasingly drawing circles around your clit, and Ten finally draws back, lifting up enough for you to draw a clear breath before he presses his cock once again between your lips, hitting the back of your throat.

You suck, tongue working along his length as Ten slowly starts to withdraw, giving you plenty of time to clean the musky flavor of him from his cock. 

When at last he draws out and you gasp for breath, you can finally see that it’s Yuta cleaning your tits with dedication. WinWin is the one between your thighs. Ten collapses back against the headboard, looking pleased with himself. Mark at some point stripped off the rest of his clothes, and he now lies on his side on the edge of the bed with his head propped up on his hand.

“Have you had enough?” WinWin asks, tapping his finger on your clit, and smiling wider as each tap makes your thighs twitch. 

You shake your head. “No. I said I want you all, and I mean it.”

“Just to warn you, princess, I think my rut is approaching,” WinWin warns as he pulls his hand away, and he finally climbs onto the bed, kneeling between your parted legs. “It won’t be here for several days, but my dick is already showing signs.”

Mark snorts. “And what does that mean?”

WinWin glances dismissively over at the vampire, then wordlessly he reaches down, unfastens his pants and then shoves them down.

Your thighs snap together, and you can barely restrain a moan as WinWin’s cock springs up.

You’ve been with him enough times that you’ve grown used to his size. He’s usually the biggest of your boyfriends, but right now, he’s intimidatingly big. You remember it being unrealistic during the rut, but you’d thought that was your haze of lust making you misremember it. Now that you’re more familiar with how large he usually is, you can definitely tell that his rut must have some effect on his cock’s size.

Ten whistles appreciatively. Mark mutters a damn. Yuta doesn’t say anything, but he does lift his head from where he was sucking at one of your nipples. 

“It means, Mark, that during rut my cock adjusts to be able to fuck my partner open wide to make room for my knot.” WinWin reaches down, curling his fingers around the wide base of his cock. “It’s intimidating, I know, and you’ve taken it before. But if you’ve already had too much today, I understand not wanting to put your body through this too.”

You sit up, dislodging Yuta from his position at your chest. 

“I told you I want all of you,” you repeat to WinWin as you rise up onto your knees and push a finger into his chest. “That includes you and your monster cock.”

One of the others gets a hearty laugh out of that.

WinWin just nods, and hungrily he reaches for you.

He’s kneeling there on the foot of the bed, dressed still in a shirt with his pants just unfastened and loose around his hips, but that doesn’t stop him from hauling you up into his lap. You clasp your arms behind his neck, lifting yourself high enough in his lap that he can press you down onto his cock.

“Wait,” he murmurs, “Should I try and stretch you a little more?”

You jerk your head to signal no. “I just took Yuta and Ten at the same time. I know you’re big right now, Win, but probably not too much bigger than both of them combined.”

His eyes flash for a brief moment, the wolf peeking through. “Damn, have I mentioned that I wish Mark and I would have walked in on you guys?”

“There’s time for that later. Right now, I just need you.” You dig your fingernails into the back of his neck. 

WinWin growls, a low rumble from deep in his chest. He keeps one hand on your hip, the other is settled around the base of his cock as he lines up and eases you down on him.

“God–” Mark swallows the rest of whatever he’s going to say.

You can’t muster the will to say anything. The stretch and intense feeling of being so full – certainly fuller than you’d been earlier – steals your breath away. Your head falls to WinWin’s shoulder. Once you’ve taken enough of him in, he lifts his hand from his cock to stroke along your back. 

“Okay?” He checks in with you.

“Mm,” is all you can muster, putting all of your focus into continuing to sink down around his fat ass cock. But you’re taking your time, pausing to adjust to the stretch and burn. 

“Dude, how does it feel?” Mark asks after a moment. “Like you’re not usually this big, so does having an extra swollen dick change how she feels around you?”

Ten and Yuta don’t make a sound, and you find that you’re interested in WinWin’s answer as well.

“Much more intense, like I have a bunch of new nerve-endings, and every single one of them can feel every part of her wrapped around me. Each tiny twitch of her around me, squeezing tighter.” WinWin bumps a kiss to the side of your head. “And it’ll be even more intense during my rut.”

“And for you, sweet girl?” Yuta asks from behind you. “How does it feel for you? A lot more than taking Ten and I earlier?”

Again, all you can manage is a “mhm” of agreement. 

But then you’ve settled, seated on WinWin’s thighs, fully impaled on his cock. You’ve got the chance to catch your breath, to truly adjust, and you take it, knowing that you need to relax a little more. You lift your head from his shoulder, tilt your head, and whisper, “Kiss me.” 

Considering you for a moment, WinWin searches your face as if looking for any reason that he should stop this before it continues. “Are you sure about –?” 

“Don’t you dare pull out. I will castrate you in your sleep if you do.” The threat spills out through gritted teeth, but you mean it. “Just kiss me.”

Each of the other three laughs at your threat. It only takes a sweeping look from you to silence all of them.

For another moment, WinWin hesitates, but then he ducks in, capturing your lips with his. You just need to kiss, to have that mindless pleasure of a good kisser to distract you and help you relax around his enormous length, and as WinWin skillfully distracts you with his kiss, you begin to experimentally move, circling your hips first, and when you grow a little braver, you dig your fingers into his shoulders, and you draw yourself up his length a bit before dropping back down.

Groans are muffled between your mouths. WinWin’s hand clutches tightly at your hip.

His cock is big enough that it shouldn’t feasibly fit inside you without some serious preparation beforehand. But you’ve already been fucked thrice within the last hour, by two decently sized cocks at once, and you’re also capable of shape-shifting, so it takes really no time at all now that you’re getting into it for your pussy to be able to easily take WinWin’s monster cock.

“I never thought I’d see the day that I was happy to watch our girlfriend get pounded by a werewolf,” Ten mutters behind you to Yuta. “But, damn, if this isn’t one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.” And then in a slightly louder voice, he says, “You know, WinWin, I’m not entirely averse to cockriding, if you’d ever be interested.”

Just the thought of getting Ten involved in that way gets your mind racing. You’re really not sure how interested WinWin is in that, and neither you nor Ten receive that answer right then either. WinWin ignores Ten as he chooses to instead curl his arm around your waist, and instinctively, you wrap your legs around his hips. He rises up from the bed, and without pulling out of you or letting go, WinWin takes his free hand and smoothly drags his shirt up over his head.

Kicking his pants off from where they’ve sunk to pool around his ankles seems to prove a little more difficult, as WinWin nearly tips you back over onto the bed, but you don’t mind. You laugh, clinging to his neck, bouncing slightly on his cock from the jostling movement.

Large though he may be, you’ve adapted to his size enough that when WinWin settles back down on the bed, sitting on the edge before he lies back towards the middle of the bed with you seated in his lap, you feel comfortable enough to ride him. You move slowly, of course, rising up and dropping back down, never letting more than a few inches leave your pussy.

Mark slides closer, and you notice him watching closely the way that you’re taking WinWin in. “Do you think, after you’re done with him,” he asks you, “That you’ll be open to taking anyone else?”

“Not saying yes to anything,” you force the words out, finding it a little difficult to breathe when a single upward thrust from WinWin knocks the air out of you. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” WinWin groans. “My cock is stretching you open so good right now, I bet you could easily take all three of them after we’re through.”

Pleasure rolls through you at the thought. Yes, you’ve thought about all four of them before, but you’d imagined it more as like two of them each working down below, one in your mouth, one in your hand. But the visual that WinWin has just painted has your imagination playing out a new potentially impossible scene: you on your hands and knees; Ten beneath you, his face close enough to kiss; Yuta behind you, lying on his back with his legs overlapping Ten’s; Mark straddling Yuta so he’s able to squeeze in; WinWin hunched over you, his cock stretching wide your asshole. 

Quickly, your orgasm snaps through you. Flames roll over your skin, and it’s only Yuta’s fast thinking and faster hands that extinguish the flames before they can even touch WinWin. You’re too busy to think about your flames, too focused on fucking yourself on WinWin now, moving faster, savoring the relentless pleasure. 

“Ride him, my love,” Yuta whispers to you, kissing just behind your ear. “We all wanna see his big cock fill you up, leave you dripping.”

So you do. You put all of your remaining, waning strength into riding WinWin like you’re an actual goddamned cowgirl, and you can see it affecting him. WinWin drops his head back, throat bobbing, eyes glowing wolfishly. 

The animalistic grunts and moans — a low growl from deep in his chest when you lift yourself up until just his tip remains inside you — all make you want to work for his orgasm even harder. 

Underneath your hands where they’ve fallen to his belly, you can feel WinWin’s abs flexing with each of his movements to meet your rolling hips. His chest is tensing, and you swear he’s got to be holding back, trying to keep himself from cumming for some reason. 

“Very good, darling,” Ten coos as he joins you on your other side. His lips skim over the curve of your shoulder. “You look so pretty like this. The only thing that could make you prettier right now is if your sweet pussy was just dripping with WinWin’s cum. If only he’d stuff you full, isn’t that right?” He’s teasing, though you’re not sure if he’s aiming it at you or WinWin. Even his next comment could be meant for either of you as it works on both of you. He simply traces his fingers down from your navel to your swollen clit, and says, “You’d look so pretty bred by his enormous cock.”

Winwin cums at the same time as you do. 

Your orgasm is an exhalation, all the tension releasing in your body, melding with him as WinWin fills you with everything he has to give. You can feel it already, bloating your belly, and you don’t know if it’s really possible for anything to come of any of them cumming inside you, but damn you really hope not. Not now, anyway. Right now you just want to enjoy this feeling of your boyfriends fucking you into a state like this. 

You drag WinWin closer with your hands curved around the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss as you each clutch at each other, bodies still moving in tandem even as Ten and Yuta are touching you and leaving kisses over your shoulders and neck. And then Mark steps up too, his fingers gentle on your chin as he directs your mouth away from WinWin’s. 

His eyes are wide with wonder when you open your mouth, when you say, “I have a fantasy I want to try out.”

“Aren’t you tired?” WinWin’s lips trace your throat. “We don’t have to do all of this tonight.”

But you do. You want to. 

You want to feel so well-fucked that you can’t leave bed for at least a day. You know they’ll pamper you when you can’t move from this mattress. 

“Unless you guys are still in hiding?” Mark says, glancing between Ten and Yuta. “How exactly did the escape go?”

“Talk later!” You complain, tugging at Mark’s wrist. “I just… I just need this one last thing from all four of you before we call it a night. Please?” 

You pout, putting as much neediness and hunger as you can into your eyes, looking around at each of them. They’re all four wrapped around your fingers, and this takes just a little tug on each of their strings to get what you want.

Yuta lays a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “What is it that you want from us, pretty girl? What’s this fantasy?”

Ten nods. 

Mark can’t look away from your lips.

WinWin still has his face buried against your neck, his hands grasping hard enough to bruise at your hips while he stays stubbornly hard inside you.

“Isn’t it obvious? You guys brought it up.” You roll your hips subtly in WinWin’s lap. “He stretched me out perfectly, so I bet I could take all three of you inside me at once. And WinWin, if you’re feeling up to it, you can take my ass.”

“Fuck, baby,” Mark moans, dipping forward to kiss you briefly.

“Do you mean it?” Ten asks, and you feel his fingers on your thigh, stroking lightly. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

Yuta wraps his arms around you. “Maybe we should disconnect you from WinWin’s dick, and then let you make a solid decision on the matter. His rut pheromones are contagious, y’know.”

“I haven’t started yet!” WinWin argues. “She’s just horny.”

The other three and yourself mumble your agreements with that fine assessment. You are just horny, which is why it works out so well that you’ve found yourself four boyfriends; most of them even have very quick refractory periods.

Yuta, his arms still around you, begins to ease you off WinWin. He draws you back against his chest, falling backwards with you.

You hate losing the feeling of being stuffed. You’re so empty when WinWin’s no longer inside you. 

WinWin whistles lowly, appreciatively. “Look at her gaping open like that. Such a mess, princess.”

Your pussy clenches around the emptiness, pushing out dribbles of their combined loads. But you crave the feeling of being filled again – you seek the sensation of feeling so complete by having all of them inside you at once. Maybe it’s silly, but you’re overwhelmed and sensitive and needy, so a few tears may spill from your eyes as you plead, “I want you all!”

It’s Ten that gives in first, leaning over you and cradling your cheek in his hand. “How do you want us, my darling? Mold us into your fantasy.”

So you do.

You direct each of them exactly how you want them to play into that filthy scene that your brain cooked up earlier. 

Ten lies beneath you in the bed, smiling and teasing, cracking lighthearted jokes and pressing affectionate kisses to your lips as the others move into position. He’s the first inside you, whispering compliments and praises as you settle over him. 

Yuta is next, positioned on his back behind you, as close to Ten as he can be. He’s gentle with you too, smoothing his hands along your thighs and your ass, dipping his fingers inside your pussy alongside Ten’s length before he finally presses his thick tip inside you as well.

“Oh, yes,” you moan softly, dropping your head onto Ten’s shoulder, rolling your hips back, wiggling down onto them to feel them deeper.

And then Mark.

“Dude, tell me if this is weird having my ass in your face like this.” Mark looks over his shoulder at Yuta once he’s straddled Yuta’s waist. His ass, for the record, is nowhere near Yuta’s face. 

“Not weird. Just fuck our girlfriend.” 

Ten caresses your face, his eyes searching yours, offering you a sweet moment even as you bite your lip to keep quiet when Mark slowly presses inside you.

This is, of course, more intense than taking two cocks had been earlier. It’s a little more intense than taking WinWin. Your breath catches in your chest. Your body is burning in a not unpleasant way. Mark hisses when your hand shoots back to grasp his thigh, nails biting into his skin. 

He pauses. “Are you okay? Do you want me to pull back?”

You shake your head, holding Ten’s gaze. He breathes, waiting for you to pick up that he’s trying to get you to regulate your own breathing, to relax. 

Yuta moans. “So tight though. And you really think you can still take WinWin, too?”

“Quiet,” Ten commands. “She’s concentrating.”

You breathe, trying your best to relax yourself. Trying your best to manipulate your shape-shifting powers to adjust yourself in tiny ways. You just need a little bit more room inside yourself, need the muscles and your organs and stuff to be able to stretch a little more. 

Mark moans. “Oh, shit, babe. I feel like you’re sucking me in.” 

“Move,” you whine, and this time you push backwards towards him, and Mark buries himself fully inside you, along with Ten and Yuta. All four of you make sounds – moans, sighs, a curse, your name. 

“You’re doing so good.” Ten’s praise is almost lost among the buzzing in your ears. Your eyes are closed, too overwhelmed by your sense of touch to be able to handle any of your other senses at the moment. “This feels incredible, you’re amazing.”

Mark gives an experimental thrust.

Warmth blooms in your belly, in your chest, tingling into your fingertips, increasing the buzz in your head. You’re not sure if you’re going to pass out or cum or both. 

“My turn?” WinWin asks. “It’s a lot, so I think we’ll all understand if you change your mind.”

You shake your head no. “I appreciate you all checking in, but I want this. I know I can do it. Just… give me a moment.”

One of them, you’re not sure which one, reaches down between the tangle of limbs, finding your swollen clit. You gasp, but moan a sound immediately afterwards that you hope they take as a sign of encouragement. It’s helping a bit, to feel that small bundle of nerves stimulated, especially when Mark again can’t hold back from grinding into you. 

Yuta groans. “You’re so tight, my love. So warm and wet from our cum.”

“And soft,” Ten adds on. 

“I swear she’s trying to get me to move. I can feel her walls fluttering,” Mark says. He thrusts again.

WinWin places a warm, broad hand on your back. Goosebumps roll across your skin, your body trembles. “Now, please,” you beg. “WinWin, I need you inside me too.”

It really doesn’t seem possible, you think, as you listen to the sound of the men rearranging slightly behind you. You feel them shifting inside you, feel the jostling movements of the bed, murmured apologies between Mark and WinWin as they’re pressed quite intimately together. 

And then WinWin’s heavy tip is resting against your back entrance, still a bit loose from Ten’s earlier ministrations. But you’ve also shifted your body enough that when WinWin presses in, the tip pops right inside you with ease. 

You gasp.

Zips of electricity zing into every cell of your being, and you might not be outwardly bursting into flames, but you’re certainly experiencing some form of immolation – a sacrifice of your sanity to the fire that burns inside you, the last vestiges of that holy girl that you were before you met any of these men.

This is unholy.

This union of the five of you.

But if it’s unholy, then why does it feel so right?

Ten captures your mouth in a feverish kiss. The fingers on your clit take up a steady, slick motion. Your boyfriends are all moving, somehow making it work.

You have never felt more complete than you do at this moment, like all the parts of your soul are finally here in one piece. 

One of them reaches for your tits, and you suspect it’s WinWin as he flattens his chest to your back. It makes sense for it to be his hands massaging at your tits in time with his deep thrusts inside your ass.

You’re not entirely sure that you’re here anymore. 

You swear you’re having an out of body experience as all of your boyfriends pound and pump and thrust, grind and hump, kiss and touch and just fuck you. You’re experiencing so many different wonderful sensations that you’re transported to what feels like another plane of existence, exceeding the bliss of an orgasm.

Surprisingly, WinWin cums first. You feel the warm burst of his cum inside you, the strange thrill as WinWin drags his cock out of you and finishes himself off over your lower back. 

Another layer of exceptional bliss comes over you. You sink down over Ten, unable to hold yourself up at all, just allowing yourself to go limp, to basically be used by them.

Ten is next, grunting your name against your cheek as he cums, halfway inside you, his cock slipping out between one thrust and the next. His cum paints your thighs and his belly, dripping onto Yuta��s balls and thighs as well.

With WinWin out of the way, Mark tenderly wraps his arms around you, drawing you up against his chest. He bites down on your throat, and your strength, what little you had left, vanishes. You’re only aware enough to feel the twin orgasms of Mark and Yuta, both of them filling you at the same time.

Minutes or hours or days later, you blink your eyes open.

You’re satisfied, lying in a pile on your bed among the tangled limbs of your boyfriends. You feel like you could eat a banquet table’s worth of food, that you could drink a river. You feel like you need to piss and take a shower. You feel like you can’t move, even if you wanted to.

“You’re awake,” Mark’s voice is soft at your shoulder. “You passed out on us. We were worried.”

“How long–” You begin to ask, but then Yuta stirs beside you.

He’s still naked. All of you are, you realize. So much bare skin and sweat and cumstains among the tangled sheets. Yuta brushes his knuckles gently along your cheek. “You were out only a few minutes. Win’s completely done for, though, poor pup.” 

You lift your head, looking around until you locate WinWin’s face among the bed sheets, limbs, and pillows. His eyes are shut, mouth gaping open as he snores softly for now. 

“To be fair, he’s not slept since you went missing from Ira’s,” Mark says. “He needs the sleep.”

“So let him sleep,” you say, “But I need to clean myself up. Help me?”

Mark is the first to slide from the bed, offering you his hand to help you to your feet. Yuta is right behind you, placing a steadying hand on your hip. You glance back at the bed, and your heart falls from your chest.

The only one left in the bed is WinWin.

“Where’s Ten?” You twist around sharply, scanning your apartment. A sharp dose of panic pulses in your veins. “I don’t see him.”

“I’m here!” He calls, voice echoing from the bathroom an instant before his head peeks through the doorway. “I refuse to cuddle in that pile of cumstained sheets, and I couldn’t possibly sit there with all of that cum and sweat just on me.” He shakes his head. “I’ve run you a bath. Or the shower’s still running, if you prefer that.”

You hear it now – the patter of the shower’s spray hitting the tiles. 

The hard knot in your chest loosens, and you stumble towards him. “A bath sounds wonderful.”

“I’m sorry I worried you.” Ten reaches for you as soon as you’re within arms distance. “But I promise you, we’re not going anywhere.”

Ten wraps his arms around you, stamping his lips against your forehead. 

You hold him to that promise, clinging to his hand to pull him fully back into the bathroom. 

Since you left Hell City in search of Yuta and Ten, some changes have happened here in your bathroom, to your surprise. A larger than average bathtub has now found the space to exist in your bathroom where previously there was none. Steam curls from its surface, the bathroom is filled with a fragrant, relaxing scent. 

Mark joins you as well as Ten. Both of them step into the steamy bath while you quickly use the toilet. 

They’re both so gentle with you. 

You settle into the bath, your back against Ten’s chest, your feet resting against Mark’s thighs. The heat helps ease the aches of your sore, overexerted muscles. Ten tenderly massages your scalp. Mark works his thumb against the arch of your foot. They just pamper you, letting you do nothing but soak in the heat while they shampoo you and massage your aching muscles, helping you clean away the sweat and cum until you feel refreshed. 

Mark entertains you with tales of adventures with his coven, stories that have you laughing enough to make your belly ache. 

By the time you’re leaving the bath, your fingers and toes are pruned, but you feel clean and relaxed, and certainly ready to climb back into bed and sleep. 

You manifest a nice, warm bathrobe to wear as you linger in the bathroom to dry your hair. Ten leaves the room, but Mark sticks close, hopping up to sit on the bathroom sink’s countertop, just inches away from you. He watches quietly, smiling softly, his eyes as warm and full of adoration as you’ve ever seen. Overflowing with affection just for you. 

When you finish drying your hair, you move between Mark’s knees. He lifts a hand up to push a section of your hair back behind your ear, laughing quietly as you shift closer and plant your hands on either side of his thighs.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Mark asks. “You’re making me feel like –”

You kiss him, cutting off his words.

Mark smiles into the kiss, laughing quiet enough that you’re sure the rest of your boyfriends can’t hear in the other room. You keep kissing him, trading little giggles, swept up in this happy honey-like moment. 

Mark rubs his nose against yours after a moment, pressing his forehead to yours, and he confesses quietly, “I love you. And I’ve missed you. I can’t even begin to truly tell you how much. When we discovered you missing from bed at Ira’s, I felt like I might go insane with wanting you.”

“I’m sorry to have worried you.” You touch his cheek. “Both you and WinWin. But I didn’t want either of you to get hurt either. You know I had dreams, awful nightmares; and that morning I woke from a completely horrible one. I was losing all of you.”

Mark leans into your touch. “We’re all here now. Safe.” He turns his head, leaving a kiss on your palm. 

By the time that you and Mark rejoin the others outside the bathroom, WinWin is awake, although he looks rather grumpy. You have a feeling that one or both of your other boyfriends woke him up to mend the state of the bed. 

Much like you’d entered the bathroom to find an all new tub occupying space, you now discover a brand new bed. This one is larger than before. It’s also recently made up with fresh, clean sheets. 

Ten looks rather pleased with himself as he gestures at it. WinWin stands pouting, arms folded, beside the bed looking as if he wants nothing more than to climb back in. Yuta is busy drawing the heavy black-out curtains over the windows to block out the warm hazy light. Mark moves quickly ahead of you to flip back the bedsheets, ruffling Ten’s crisply tucked sheets. 

“Here, baby. Sleep.” Mark waves you forward. 

You slide in between soft, cool sheets. They smell like fresh cotton, dried in the sun by the sea, and you just want to bury your nose in them and let sleep overtake you. Especially once you begin feeling your boyfriends pile in around you, enveloping you with comfortable heat that’s kept in check by the coolness of Mark in the mix. 

Yuta and Ten hold you closest. 

Yuta is spooning you from behind, his nose buried against your throat, breathing steadily. Ten tucks himself close to your front, his forehead resting against your chest and his legs tangled with yours. Mark sticks tight behind Ten, tossing his arm over Ten’s waist so he can lay his hand against your side. Mark is face-to-face with you, his head just inches away from yours on the pillow, close enough to kiss if you weren’t already being pulled under by the sleep power of comfortable sheets. 

“Win?” You blink slowly, trying to look around for him, but you don’t really want to move, and your eyes are growing very heavy. 

“Right here,” he says softly. You feel the mattress dip again as he lies down behind Yuta. The heat of WinWin’s hand meets your cheek. “Go to sleep for now. We can all talk in the morning.”

Your eyelids sink shut one final time.

For the first time in too long, you don’t dream. 

You don’t have to. The waking world is too sweet for you to have dreams or nightmares. 

You experience a deeply restful sleep. 

When you wake, the air feels fresher. Lighter. 

The blackout curtains are split open slightly, letting in a small breeze and a hint of daylight. Ten and Yuta snuggle closer to you, everyone having shifted around in your sleep. You’re halfway on top of Ten now, your head on his shoulder, his arm slung around your hips. Yuta is pressed up against your back, his cheek between your shoulder blades, and he’s got a hand on the outer curve of your thigh. 

Neither Mark nor WinWin are visible, but you hear the low murmur of their voices carried in on that light wind from the balcony. 

You lie there for a moment, gazing up at the ceiling, savoring the quiet and peace of the moment. Strings of light play across the ceiling as the breeze flutters the curtains apart. Yuta’s breath puffs across your bare back — you’re not sure at what point in the night you pulled your robe off, deciding to sleep nude instead. You close your eyes, just listening to the world around you in the wind and the breathing of your demons, the quiet conversation of Mark and WinWin outside, the distant life of the Hell City around you. 

And then your stomach growls. 

Moment ruined. 

When was the last time you’ve eaten? When you actually sit here and think about it, you realize that on this side of reality, it’s been about five days, but according to your personal timeline, it's been a little over a day and a half. A late lunch/early dinner at Ira’s the day before you left. 

And now that you’ve slept, now that the adrenaline of rescue, of killing the Queen, of your joyous reunion with first Ten and Yuta, then WinWin and Mark have all worn off, your hunger is making itself known. 

For some reason, your first thought is of Heaven’s Nest, Mark’s above ground business where Ten took you for brunch in your early days of living here. You remember the mimosas, remember the nice atmosphere of the place. Your breakfast of choice back then had just been a bagel, but famished as you are now, you think you could probably try about half of the food on the menu. 

Your stomach growls again. 

When you move in an attempt to extract yourself from your boyfriends, Ten tightens his arm around your hips, and Yuta grumbles. Neither of them budge. 

“Hello?” You squirm, wiggling your shoulders in the hopes of shaking Yuta a little loose. No use; his arm joins Ten’s around your waist. 

“Where do you think you’re trying to go to?” Yuta mumbles, his lips brushing your spine. 

“I’m hungry. And Mark and WinWin are out on the balcony.” You squirm again. 

Yuta places a light kiss just there between your shoulders. “Should we call them back inside?” 

“Mark!” Ten calls suddenly, startling you since you hadn’t realized he was also awake. “WinWin! Come in here!”

Immediately, they’re both spilling in through the curtain, eyes filled with panic until they land on you safely ensconced in bed between the two demons. 

WinWin deflates with relief then sinks onto the edge of the bed. “What was that for?”

Ten pulls away from beneath you, sitting up and stretching his arms above his head. You watch appreciatively as his muscles flex beneath his skin — as the tattoo-like demon marks on his skin shift with his movements. “She wanted to see you both. It’s rude to leave our lover waiting.”

Yuta just stays still, cheek flat to your back. Clinging. 

“I want breakfast,” you announce. “Specifically, Mark, I’m thinking of your brunch place.”

“Don’t know how much it’s still mine.” His smile tilts to the side with amusement. “We’ve been gone a while, and according to Haechan at your dad’s, some of my managers have sorta taken over running my businesses in my absence.”

“And are you sure going out is such a good idea?” WinWin asks. “If you escaped, isn’t the Queen still looking for you guys? Public spaces occasionally occupied by demons probably aren’t the best place to be if you’re still on the run.”

Yuta laughs against your back. “We don’t have to worry about that. Go on, my love, tell them what happened during our escape.”

You don’t know where to start. 

Honestly, you haven’t even begun processing the events of the escape yet. If you think too much about what you did — slaying the Queen of the Night following her dramatic reveal of being your blood relation — you think you might have a proper come-apart. 

Ten beats you to the explanation, the story flowing from him while he holds your hand. You close your eyes and listen to the chain of events in Ten’s own words while Yuta holds you tighter. You listen to Mark and WinWin’s reactions of awe and horror and shock and the strange silence when Ten describes the moment you flew into a fiery rage and beheaded the Queen with your blazing sword. 

“It was incredible and terrifying and so sexy.” Ten brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “Truly, I don��t think either Yuta or I would have actually been able to bring harm to the Queen when it came down to it. There’s always been a compulsion of loyalty when it comes to the royal family of Hell. I don’t think the Princes could directly have brought harm to her either. Our beautiful angel, though, was so brave and bold and powerful in that instant, I don’t think God could have stopped her.”

You shiver, and Yuta moves so that he’s spooning you more properly, his chest fully pressed against your back. 

“You really were incredible,” Yuta tells you quietly. And then in a louder voice so the others can hear, he says, “As you’ve just heard, the Queen is no longer an issue; the new King of Hell has pardoned us, basically, so our girlfriend wants brunch at Heaven’s Nest, and I think that sounds lovely.”

“Then let’s go to breakfast, baby.” Mark’s feet hit the floor, and you lift your head to watch him move quickly around the room, tidying things up a little, picking up his clothes and tossing WinWin his clothes. “Get out of bed and get dressed, demons.”

You Manifest the clothes onto your body as you rise from the bed, so by the time you’re stepping foot on the floor, you’ve already got a cute sundress wrapped around your body, and the base of a sandal materializes beneath your foot before your toes even touch the floor. 

Ten and Yuta are right behind you, pulling clothes on as they climb out of bed. 

WinWin lingers as the three traipse for the apartment door. 

“Are you coming?” You ask, holding your hand out to him. 

He looks at your hand, at your waggling fingers. A knot twists in your belly at his hesitation — does his new knowledge of what you did to the Queen disgust him? What if he looks at you now and sees only a killer?

In a moment, WinWin sweeps away your doubts. 

He closes the distance between you swiftly. His hands cradle your cheeks, and as he leans down, he also lifts your mouth to meet his. A crushing kiss that feels quite desperate. 

“It’s incredible that you're alive. What you did— Ending the Queen like that…. Shit, I can’t even let myself think of how many ways that could have gone badly.” WinWin shakes his head and combs his fingers messily through your hair until you finally drag your gaze up from his lips to his eyes. “The way I felt while you were gone, once I woke up and realized that you weren’t just not in our bed but gone from the island… I’ve never felt panic like that, and I don’t want to feel it again. I’m sure Mark, Yuta, and Ten agree. From here on out, don’t leave us. Please.”

It’s not a command from him, but a request. A gentle plea made with a pouting bottom lip and softened puppy-dog eyes. 

“Hello?” A voice calls from the doorway. 

Yuta, Ten, and Mark are lingering in the doorway, observing your moment with WinWin. Mark’s smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. Yuta’s entire posture is relaxed and happy, in love with you and this moment. Ten stands there, leaning against the door, his arms folded across his chest and his lips are at ease in his typical amused smile. 

It’s Ten that asks, “Aren’t you the one who’s hungry? Did you want us to go without you?”

“I think I’d like it if we all stuck together,” you reply easily, lacing your fingers with WinWin’s to say, “For now, and probably forever.”

“Oh, just probably?” Ten teases. 

You kiss Ten’s cheek upon meeting him in the doorway. “For definitely forever.”

Satisfied, Ten lets the apartment door swing shut behind him, and the five of you walk freely out into the city.

<-previous || next–>

a/n: whoo! this one was a fun whammy to write! It's what I've been building up to since October 2022 when I began trying to fulfill the monster-fucking prompt for kinktober, and I decided it had to be a multiple-member thing too, and now here we are many months later and many, many thousands of words later to finally see our Y/N having some really good, really super intense sex with all four of her "monstrous" supernatural boyfriends. And she deserves it after everything she's been through, doesn't she?

But our story isn't quite over yet. There's still the finale/epilogue really that comes out next Sunday! It's just a nice little wrap up to this story that I've been working on for so long.

I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter and this story, and I hope to see you all back next week! Thank you!

[tanadrin]

Was there anything actually juicy in Clinton's emails? The media behavior reads like half an attempt to appear more principled b/c of the criticism they got in 2016, and half an attempt to swing the election for Trump because he's better for their business.

not super juicy. i do think there's a differential in how the media covers trump vs other candidates (even other republicans) bc he's so bizarre and they don't know how to handle them, but i don't think it's as calculated as "he's better for their business"

you have to remember that conservatives have spend decades screaming about how the media is unfair to them and biased in favor of liberals and bc media figures want to be the important biased neutral arbiters of democracy (bc that is how they perceive themseves) and they want to try to preserve access to political figures, they have spent a lot of time and effort trying to perform neutrality. this doesn't work of course--there's a reason why the right eventually spawned its own media ecosystem; no amount of bending over backwards to both-sides issues like global warming will appease basically dishonest actors--but it has produced this weird asymmetry where they report on trump like he's a much more normal candidate than he is, reported on his administration like it was a much more coherent realization of policy goals than it was, and sane wash a lot of statements that are either simply incoherent or are menacing and deranged. and they reassure themselves that he can't possibly mean the menacing and deranged things, or that if he does he won't be able to realize them, and after all wasn't the first trump term pretty OK after all?

obviously, i think this is a mistake--the first time around trump was impeded by his own incompetence and that of the people under him, and the fact that, not really knowing what to expect, some actually sane people ended up attached to his administration. i don't think that's likely to be quite the same in a second go-round. but normalcy bias is powerful. it affects a lot of people who aren't journalists, too. and even if you think he isn't likely to succeed, i think the responsible way to report on someone declaring that they are going to attempt to deport millions and seize direct control of major cities and shut down media outlets that offend them is to report that they intend to sdeport millions and seize direct control of major cities and shut down media outlets that offend them, not to try to interpret their pronouncements through the lens of anodyne "economic policy" or w/e. if the flagship outlets of media were really making a rational risk-benefit calculation on whether a second trump term would be good for them, they would be much more strenuously opposing him, because he has promised a scorched-earth campaign of revenge against them, you know?

but actually a lot of the dysfunction of american political coverage is the result of a social incentive structure that's been slowly emerging for more than forty years, driven in part by the incestuousness of the beltway media-political environment and the self-conception and ego of media figures. honestly i think it started as the conspiratorial right moved into mainstream conservative and republican politics in the last three decades of the 20th century. in order for that conspiratorial attitude to really take hold, you had to creative a social structure that isolated people from the broader political consensus, to get them to stop trusting shared sources of authority and information, and that resulted in sustained attacks against the supposed flagrant bias of american news media as a whole, and this process accelerated as distinct right-wing outlets like fox were established. but it was a frog-in-the-pot situation, and many republican politicians were willing to take on this new style of rhetoric that seemed to win votes (and no doubt many believed it to some extent, since it flattered their preconceptions).

but eventually the break became too great--birtherism, the tea party, qanon. mainstream republican politicians realized they'd called up something they couldn't put down; but it was too late to right the ship. trump is the avatar of all that conspiracism and rage, and he took over the republican party. but the tectonic social forces that produced him have been slow and kind of indirect, and a lot of people are still coasting on attitudes and approaches to politics that are ten, twenty, thirty years out of date.

[separatist-apologist]

I Knew You Were Trouble

Summary: After a disaster on Earth sends humans to live on colonies on different planets, Feyre Archeron's life has become impossibly difficult. The Federation meant to protect and provide for human refugees has abandoned them on a hostile planet that forbids them from hunting and has segregated them from the rest of the population.

When her older sister starts an accidental fire in an attempt to revitalize the barren land, Feyre comes face to face with one of the infamous, dreaded Hoard Kings. They strike a bargain- her servitude for her sisters life. Now, trapped in his hoard, Feyre has to acclimate to a new life and the demands of the man who took her- and hope she can survive him.

Based on the book Captive of the Horde King.

Read on AO3

Thank you @climbthemountain2020. I wouldn't have gotten this done today (or maybe at all), if you hadn't let me turn writing into a competition.

-

It started with a burning fire. 

Feyre wasn’t the first to see it, though she was one of the first to run out, bucket in hand, in an attempt to put the flames out. Elain stood on the edge, tears streaking down her sooty face. Nesta was there, too, paler than usual as she paced back and forth. No one spoke, even as they managed to douse the flames. Smoke curled upward toward the sky, a beacon that would draw any who saw toward it.

And the Drakkari would absolutely see it. Shoving her burned hands into her pocket, Feyre tried to conceal her rage as she nodded for Elain and Nesta to follow her back to the small, dilapidated hut they lived in. The earth was utterly scorched, reeking of burned grass and smoke. Feyre wanted to vomit as they passed, hating the scornful eyes that fell upon them.

“What did you do?” she hissed the moment they were locked inside. 

Elain burst into tears, which frustrated Feyre even more. When was she going to get hard? When was this life going to finally sink in for her. They weren’t on Earth anymore—Earth had been destroyed when they’d been little girls, relocated as refugees on the planet Drakkar. Their mother hadn’t survived the journey.

Their father hadn’t survived Drakkar. The planet wasn’t hospitable and the Drakkari imposed harsh rules on the human settlements in an attempt to preserve the delicate ecosystem that existed on the planet. Hunting was not allowed, they couldn’t trade with the local Drakkari villages, and were reliant on whatever they could grow. Truthfully, they were supposed to be cared for by the Federation, but rations had stopped coming years before.

Now they worked the land, but it was barren, stripped of nutrients and mostly useless. 

“I was trying—” Elain choked off, wiping her eyes furiously on her sleeves. “I just wanted to fix the soil—”

“It’s not her fault,” Nesta barked out, but Feyre saw how pale her older sister's lips were. They knew what was going to happen. The Drakkari would come looking for answers, and Elain was too soft to face off with the Drakkari horde. “We’re starving. We need to do something.”

“They’re going to kill me,” Elain whispered, tears streaking down her dirty, beautiful face. 

“They won’t,” Feyre replied, stomach turning in knots. “I’ll make them understand.”

Easier said than done.

She’d seen a Drakkari horde only once in her life. She’d been fourteen and brand new with a bow, taught to her by a girl named Clare. Clare had been lovely, with hair red as flames and the prettiest pair of green eyes. They’d gone out to the nearby woods and it had been Clare who’d shown Feyre how to string her bow with an arrow, how to aim, and once she’d managed to kill a grounder, how to clean it so it was good for eating.

The horde had come right before the first frost looking for the woman who’d killed a grounder—it had been Feyre they’d been looking for. Clare had been home, caring for her mother and Feyre had been responsible for her family. That was the year her father had died, and they were starving. She still remembered the way they’d come into the village, seated on their massive smoke gray scaled beasts with yellow eyes. 

They’d demanded to know who had been hunting grounders and Clare had stepped forward before Feyre could claim responsibility. The massive horde king had slung a powerful leg off the beast, circled around her, before slinging her up over his shoulder to climb back up on the beast.

Feyre still remembered the way Clare had looked at her, eyes wide with fear. I’m sorry, Feyre had mouthed, too cowardly to save the woman from her fate. No one had ever seen Clare again, and they all knew what the horde had intended to do with her. There had been rumors long before Clare had been taken that the Drakkari often took war prizes in the form of females, though not typically human females. 

Feyre suspected when the Drakkari came, she’d be used much the same way Clare had been. She was older now and no longer a child. Turning to her sisters, she knew there was no hope they wouldn’t notice, just as she knew that Elain wouldn’t survive whatever torments a Drakkari male inflicted upon her.

Feyre would, though. Swallowing hard, Feyre tried to banish the fear gripping her chest to show her sisters how to prepare meat. Elain could skin it and dry it—she’d always been good in the kitchen—and Nesta could hunt. Someone would show her how, and Feyre’s bow was nice. They could sell anything they didn’t need to barter for food, too, though there was little left to take. Elain still had a string of their mothers pearls and Nesta their parent’s rings, all of which could be melted down or traded to someone more enterprising. Someone hoping to buy passage off Drakkar, anyway.

Her sisters were unusually quiet, doing as Feyre said and watching with big eyes. “Maybe they won’t take you,” Elain had whispered as night began to fall outside. A large, yellow moon illuminated a vibrant, starry sky and Feyre tried to remember if it had looked that way on Earth, too. She remembered so little of their former home—though sometimes at night she woke to nightmares of smoke and screaming.

“There will be punishment,” Feyre heard herself say dully.

“A whipping isn’t terrible,” Elain replied with her usual optimism. As if she’d ever be whipped herself. Feyre didn’t consider that any consolation given how unlikely she was to survive should infection take hold. “I would take care of you.”

Elain with her plants. For years, Elain had been able to make nearly anything grow. She’d gotten her hands on some seeds from a shipment and had planted root vegetables and wheat—enough to keep them mostly fed until the dry season had rolled in this year. There hadn’t been enough rain and the soil was depleted from years of use. Feyre almost couldn’t be angry at her older sister—Elain had tried to add nutrients back into the ground by lighting it, unaware of how the Drakkar soil would react.

What should have been a small, controlled fire became a raging inferno. Perhaps when Feyre was gone, they’d learn Elain’s experiment had paid off. Maybe they’d be fed again and all they’d lost was one more mouth to feed.

It made what she knew was coming almost worth it. 

Elain and Nesta fell asleep on the large bed they shared, but Feyre remained sitting in the window, watching the horizon. She saw the warriors, shadows in the distance at first, before they came closer and closer. Feyre wanted to run as far and as fast as she could. The urge tickled beneath her skin, mind begging her to just go. 

She couldn’t, though. Feyre had made her mother a promise on that ship, a child of only seven. When she’d been ushered in by her older sister to say goodbye, her mother had looked her in the eyes with more lucidity than Feyre had seen in weeks.

“Protect them, Feyre.”

Feyre couldn’t even pretend she’d meant to say it to Nesta or Elain. Her mother had used her name, had looked at her, and followed her plea with, “please.”

Feyre had sworn, too little to know better. It was what drove her outdoors to hunt, and it was what kept her in her seat even as those warriors came closer and closer. Feyre went for her cloak, hiding a dull dagger against her belt. It was sharp enough, though the edges had been worn down from years of skinning grounders. 

If she needed to use it, it would still get the job done, if a little inelegantly. 

“Are they here already?” Elain asked, sitting up as she rubbed at tired eyes. 

“Soon,” Feyre replied. She wasn’t the only one waiting. Lit lanterns illuminated more than a few huts, and Feyre knew they, like her, were watching the looming threat with terror in their hearts.

If the horde wanted, they could decimate the entire village with no repercussions. The federation didn’t care to check on them, and what was one less village to worry about, besides?

“You will say nothing,” Feyre informed her sisters, certain they wouldn’t anyway. “No one will contradict me.”

“You should lie…” Elain said, biting her lower lip. She couldn’t even get the rest of her sentence out. If Feyre told the truth, they would just take Elain in her place. Feyre only sighed and opened the door, leaving her sisters indoors. The gates were open, rarely closed for any reason, which made it easy for the warrior to come thundering in. Feyre was grateful for the noise that rattled her teeth, silencing her thoughts. Even her racing heart felt as if it settled, though that was just the shaking ground beneath her feet. 

No one dared to come out. Feyre saw faces peering through windows, all lined with terror. Good. No one would contradict her, then. 

The scaled beasts were even larger than she remembered. Illuminated by the bright moon, Feyre took a step back as they approached. There were seven in total, and much like the beasts, Feyre had forgotten just how big Drakkari men were. They were bare chested, sculpted of hard muscle lined with both fading scars and golden ink that whirled in bold lines. Feyre wondered, absently, what they meant—as far as she knew, no one but the Drakkari themselves knew. 

Thin tails flicked behind them as they dismounted, each unsheathing the blades crisscrossed over their back as they surrounded her. Only one, his face shrouded by the same hood Feyre wore to hide her face, remained unarmed. She could see the protruding lines of his own weapons against his back just as she could feel his eyes on her. 

Feyre’s blood ran cold as he dismounted. She knew, right then and there, that he was one of the horde kings—one of six that patrolled the lands and punished those who broke Dakkari rules. If he’d been summoned, Feyre had no hope for herself. 

Despite her attempt to project courage, her hands shook beneath her cloak. As he approached, Feyre marveled at how large he seemed. Bigger, even, than the warriors behind him. She caught a glimpse of warm, brown skin and the same gold markings, and his tail flicked with just as much agitation as the men behind her.

He was going to kill her. 

He stood before her, crossing his arms over his broad chest, causing his biceps to bulge. His fingers—six on each hand—were tipped with lethal looking claws. She couldn’t breathe as he lowered his hood, revealing thick hair so hard it nearly blended into the midnight sky around them. Near black eyes, ringed in the most vibrant shade of violet, stared down at her without mercy.

The shortness of his hair was at odds with the warriors around him, their own long, dark hair braided down their backs. It made the sharpness of his cheekbones seem more prominent, his jaw more chiseled. Feyre’s eyes darted back to his hands, ringed with more of the gold markings that were as big as her upper arms. 

She swallowed. 

Blinking away the urge to cry, Feyre stood with shaking knees and waited for him to speak. He continued to stare down at her beneath those dark brows. It was the man beside him who finally spoke, eyes sweeping over their little village.

Using the universal tongue, he demanded in a harsh, accented voice, “Were you the one who burned our land and disrespected—-defiled—our goddess, Kakkari?”

Feyre wanted to die. She didn’t dare look behind her where she knew her sisters would be watching, listening to see what happened and if they, too, would be blamed. No one moved from their homes, terrified of the warriors and their wrath. Feyre prayed to the old human gods that Nesta remained indoors, leashing her sharp tongue for once.

“It was an accident,” she heard herself whisper, voice trembling. She didn’t want to seem weak—and she wasn’t going to die on her knees begging. Feyre jutted her chin in the air, looking back at the horde king with as much defiance as she could muster. Her hood still hid her face, but somehow Feyre knew he could see her eyes. 

“Are you confessing, vekkiri?” the messenger demanded.

Was she? “You don’t understand,” Feyre began, trying her best to make them hear her out before the inevitably decided her fate. “We’re starving. The dry season has ruined our crops, and we were simply trying–”

The messenger held up a hand, silencing Feyre. She stumbled back a step, certain he was going to strike her.

“We? Name those who aided you in this crime. Your blood will be spilled as repayment for the scorched earth that defiles Kakkari. You took from her, so you will give back.”

Feyre’s stomach dropped to her feet. Turning her eyes back to the silent king before her, Feyre held his gaze. The messenger was merely that—a messenger. He spoke on behalf of his silent king, which meant Feyre needed to convince him rather than the group encircling her. No one else was going to come and protect her or try and take her place. 

“Our village will starve if we can’t replenish our crops,” she pleaded, still holding his violet gaze. “We’re not allowed to hunt game—you have made certain of that. And the rations from the Federation come maybe twice a year, which isn’t enough to keep everyone fed no matter how careful we are. I’m sorry about the fire—truly, I am—but we wouldn’t have done it if we weren’t desperate. Look around—”

The messenger once again held up his hand to silence her, and Feyre once again betrayed her fear by taking another step back.

“It is no concern of ours how vekkiri feed themselves,” he barked. It was over, then. Feyre felt helpless rage swirl through her chest. She wanted to scream, wanted to shove and fight until there was nothing left anymore. Would death be a welcome relief, she wondered? Would there be peace? Or nothing at all.

Feyre was too lost in her thoughts to notice the man before her had taken two steps forward, making up the ground lost when she’d stepped back. His voice, though, jolted her from her thoughts. It was dark and rich like the night sky around them, though it filled her with icy fear. 

“Remove your hood, kalles,” he ordered. “Show me the face of the female who dares to challenge the Dakkari.”

She was going to be sick. For a moment, Feyre was frozen in place, hands still hidden beneath her cloak. If she pulled them out, he’d see how badly she was shaking and he’d know her words were merely for show. Blowing out a silent breath, Feyre did as she was told and lowered her hood so he could see her.

His nostrils flared at the sight, the only indication he’d had a reaction at all. Feyre didn’t dare recoil, though internally bile rose in her throat. Still, Feyre didn’t dare break eye contact with him, shoulders squared as she faced off with a man who, if he wanted to, could have broken her in half with very little effort.

It also wasn’t lost on her that he was able to be so big because he could eat. Feyre knew what he saw when he looked back—a skinny woman with protruding bones and hollow eyes. She’d seen herself in the filth covered mirror Elain was always trying to keep clean. Did he feel shame, looking back at her?

“Brave kalles,” he murmured, his voice loud enough for his warriors to hear, “foolish kalles, too.”

Feyre bristled at the insult, assuming kalles meant female. She wasn’t a female, she was a woman. Human men who called her female, treating her like she was no better than an animal, met her fists for the insult. She couldn’t take this man, though she knew he saw the way her hands closed to fists at her side. 

“My name is Feyre,” she replied angrily, catching the way his nostrils flared again. “I’m not telling you who was involved. I won’t let you hurt them.”

She could feel her sister’s gaze on her back just as she saw his gaze lift over her head toward their shared hut, just close enough to make it obvious where she’d come from. Could he see her sisters in the window watching? Would he guess who she was protecting? 

“You won’t let me, kalles?” he murmured, eyes falling back on her face. “I can do whatever I wish.”

He took a step toward the house, prompting Feyre to surge forward and press her hands against his bare chest. All at once, six swords were mere inches from her chin. It was laughable—as if she was any threat. She was only armed with a dagger at her hip that she’d forgotten about until that very moment.

“Please,” she whispered, swallowing hard. Feyre dropped her hand to show she meant him no harm. “Please, just take my life.”

Once again, he looked over her head toward her house and this time, Feyre dared to look back, too. She saw them, illuminated by the oil in the lamp they were wasting to watch. Feyre wished they’d extinguish it and pretend to be asleep. Seeing Elain’s terror and Nesta’s flatness made her stomach churn.

They’d be okay, she reasoned. Elain was beautiful and men were constantly asking for her to marry them. In a village nearby, a man with money had come offering to take Elain as his wife and keep her safe and as well-fed as anyone could hope to be. Elain had been sitting on the offer because Nesta and Feyre couldn’t go with her.

Nesta would urge her to take it. Nesta, too, would find some way to keep herself alive. She’d always been resourceful, Feyre reasoned. Maybe they’d prioritize themselves once she was gone. Not that she’d ever been first in their minds—Nesta took care of Elain, and Elain was simply too sweet to ever consider that Feyre might need to be cared for, too. 

The horde king looked back at her. “Please?” Feyre whispered a second time, her voice breaking a little. She swept her braid to the side of her neck as she waited for him to order her to her knees. Would he be the one who did it, she wondered? Or would he order one of his warriors to end her life.

Feyre felt trapped as he stared back, pinned in place. She could scarcely breathe, her terror stripping her of her remaining courage. She felt her bottom lip tremble, felt the need to look down at the ground and become passive in whatever decision would be made. 

Beside him, the messenger murmured, “Vorakkar, kivi vekkiri donthanu un kevf?

The silence stretched as the horde king remained silent. He never took those unnerving violet eyes off her. In her hysteria, Feyre thought the violet, set against otherwise black pupils, looked a lot like the sky overhead. Like he had stars in his eyes and it was the universe itself peering back at her. 

What would he decide? She didn’t need to understand their language to know his messenger was urging the king to end this. Do you want me to kill her, she bet he’d said. Feyre wanted to scream, the torment of waiting clawing at her throat. She didn’t want to die, just as he knew he hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he could do whatever he liked.

There was no justice for humanity here. No laws that protected them, no governing body that would wonder what became of her. Feyre’s sisters would simply bury her on foreign soil and move on, leaving her little more than a forgotten memory. A warning to children in the future, a tale to remind them to respect the Drakkari or meet the same fate as Feyre Archeron. 

“Vorrakar,” the messenger repeated, his tone shifting from urgent to inquisitive. This wasn’t how things were done, then. The horde king straightened, reaching the thick belt around his waist. He unsheathed a curved, lethal looking dagger so quickly Feyre didn’t have time to react. She heard someone scream her name just as he slashed upward.

She’d thought, for a moment, he’d cut her clothes off her body. Instead, he’d simply cut the cloak from around her neck, causing the tattered fabric to flutter to the ground. Her body was revealed to him, then, still hidden beneath the threadbare clothes she wore…but only just. Her trousers were ripped at the knees and a little too small, though hidden by the boots on her feet. And her tunic was too large for her now given how little Feyre consumed, hanging from her body like a dress, though she’d tied a cord around her waist to give it a little shape. 

Humiliation and outrage burned through her as his eyes raked over her form. Feyre had little experience with men—she’d had one encounter with a man named Isaac before Nesta had stopped her, warning her that a child would only complicate their situation. And he’d been engaged, besides, not even a few days later. Was he watching, too? 

“Don’t touch her!” 

That imperious tone could only belong to Nesta. The hoard king didn’t acknowledge her at all, nor did his men move. Feyre glanced over to see her older sister standing just at the door, gripping the handle with white knuckles. 

A triumphant smile spread over the face of the king. He knew, then, who she protected. Dragging his eyes back up her body, they once again found her eyes. Feyre felt naked, though she resisted the urge to cover herself. If this was what he’d decided on, that was better than death. She could escape, if she wished. 

“Kassikari,” the hoard king murmured so suddenly it made Feyre jump. There was some emotion in his voice she didn’t recognize. The word caught all his warriors by surprise, as their blades dipped so they could all turn to look at him.

Feyre could guess what kassikari meant. Whore. 

You can do this, she told herself. Better to be alive and able to return home than dead on the ground. She would do whatever was required of her, though she wouldn’t do it without complaint. He could have his whore, though Feyre intended to fight him every step of the way. She intended to make his life miserable for the duration, until he finally tired of her and dumped her back at her village.

Or…or perhaps she could bargain with him. A year serving him if he freed her at the end. If she pleased him, perhaps he’d agree. 

Ignoring the soft conversation the warriors had around her, Feyre took a breath, decided on the course of action. 

“You wish to offer your life in exchange for the others?” he asked her suddenly, speaking only to her. “You are willing to die for them?”

Feyre thought of her mother and her desperate, final plea. Taking Elain would destroy not just her, but Feyre and Nesta, too. Feyre knew her eldest sister would never forgive her. Nesta might be willing to demand a horde king not touch her, but she wouldn’t offer herself up, either. She wouldn’t leave Elain behind.

Feyre’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she nodded her head, saying, “I am.”

“If I agree not to kill you or your sisters, will you serve me, kalles?”

There was no mistaking his meaning. The look in his eyes was too sharp, his tone too suggestive. Feyre swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She wanted to spit in his face, to tell him to get fucked and take her punishment at the end of the blade. Surely that was the more honorable way to go.

But she didn’t want to die. With a frantic desperation, Feyre wanted to remain alive. Still, she forced herself to say, “Serve you?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Yes.”

So she was right, then. Kassikari, the whore. He’d put her in his bed and do…Feyre didn’t want to think about it, actually. Whatever she imagined likely had nothing on what he was capable of. Judging from the coldness radiating from him, Feyre couldn’t imagine he’d be kind about it. That he’d treat her well. Was it better to just die here rather than after months of being broken by this man? 

Against her will, her eyes cut back to Nesta who still stood there, proud as queen as she stared down Feyre. Those steely gray eyes seemed to say, you don’t have to do this. 

But they both knew she did. He had all the leverage and had the moment Nesta had stepped out that door. Though Nesta hadn’t meant to, she’d become merely another piece in the puzzle that was meant to entrap Feyre. 

She waited a beat, praying for some kind of intervention. Some stroke of brilliance that would come to her and free her from circumstance. There was only silence.

“I will,” she rasped as dread flooded through her. 

“No!” Nesta cried, taking two steps forward. The hoard kings eyes snapped to her, lips curling into a vicious snarl. Feyre panicked, her hands once again finding his chest as he began to surge forward to do…Feyre didn’t know what. Didn’t want to know what.

“Please,” she pleaded, forcing him to look back down at her. “I’ll go with you right now. Right now. I’ll do whatever you ask, just…just don’t hurt her. Please.”

She was shaking so hard the words seemed unintelligible. She could be brave for herself, could pretend she was strong, but the thought of watching him kill Nesta before dragging her off was too much. Feyre would have gotten on her knees or thrown herself at his feet to prevent that from happening. She wanted to leave knowing her sisters were alive and safe. 

All Feyre had left was her pride. Everything else belonged to this man, bargained away to keep her sisters safe. And right then, Feyre wasn’t above begging, pride be damned. He didn’t move, chest rising and falling rapidly though this time his warriors didn’t raise their blades. Perhaps they reasoned there was no need for it given he’d just announced to everyone she was to be his whore. 

“Please?” she tried one last time. Did he hear her fear? Could he taste it, coppery and metallic like blood? 

No one moved—not even Nesta—as they awaited his decision. He took a breath and then— “We ride out. Now.”

He turned as Feyre’s hands dropped from his chest like he’d burned her. As he moved toward his scaled beasts, his warriors sheathed their blades quickly, all in unison. Darting from his grasp, Feyre ran to Nesta.

“Don’t forget what I showed you,” she breathed, well aware the hoard king was coming for her. “Don’t just marry anybody if you get desperate—negotiate with the Nolans so they’ll take you, too.”

“I’ll find you,” Nesta whispered, her voice as strong as any Drakkari blade. “I swear—”

“Now, kalles,” the hoard king ordered. Nesta looked at him, spine made of steel as Feyre turned. 

“Let her say goodbye—”

“If you wanted to say goodbye, you should have thought of that before,” he shot back, his voice dripping with condemnation. Before you lit the fire, before you let her take the blame, before you stood there and did nothing, those violet eyes seemed to say. 

Feyre threw her arms around Nesta, hugging her for the first time in living memory. Nesta gasped, shocked, and by the time her mind seemed to catch up with what was happening, the hoard king was pulling her back.

“Keep each other safe,” Feyre said, stumbling backward beneath his clawed grip. There was enough dried meat to keep them going through the cold season, and who knew? Maybe by then the hoard king would have tired of her. Maybe she’d be free to return and she could pick up where they left off.

His fingers tightened on her shoulder, turning her around and steering her toward the rusted iron gates of their settlement. No one moved to help—even Nesta vanished back into the hut once it was safe to do so. She didn’t believe her sister would find her, or even try, though she understood why Nesta had said so.

Hope was enough to keep a person going. 

Feyre couldn’t hide her fear any longer as she walked in front of the massive man, his hand never leaving her shoulder even when she tried to wriggle out from beneath his grasp. As the other warriors mounted the beasts, Feyre began to balk, digging her heels into the ground. She knew the largest one belonged to him and did not want to get on top of it.

The creature looked like it could swallow her in one bite.

“Is this the thing that frightens you, kallas?” he asked with amusement. Feyre eyed the battle-worn beast, standing on four large legs with claws tipped at the end of the its feet so large and lethal looking she was certain they were larger than the dagger sheathed at her belt. 

Like the man behind her as well, the scales of the dark creature were painted in looping gold. What did it mean? 

Red eyes peered at her, wide and curious as its face came closer and closer. Feyre recoiled, accidentally slamming her back against his front. The red was too reminiscent of a time in her past when she’d had to kill a trio of innocents—no one else had the stomach to end their suffering and so Feyre had taken her blade in an attempt to give them a clean, easy death.

Only, she hadn’t known what she was doing, and when blood began to pour from the first person’s throat as they clawed and gasped, Feyre had realized there was no mercy in death. 

She’d been made to do it two more times.

Panic clawed at her. Feyre tried to move away from the creature but the hoard king wouldn’t allow her, grabbing her waist and swinging her up onto the beast before coming up right behind her. She couldn’t wriggle away, trapped between the solid muscles of his thighs and the unmovable wall that was his chest. 

Wrapping one arm firm around her waist, the other came for the reins of the creature as Feyre tried to adjust the wide stretch of her legs over the cold scales of the beast. It was like sitting atop a rock, though when it moved she felt the beast's muscles flex. She wanted to be sick. 

The horde king adjusted, coming closer until she could feel all of him pressed against her, including his groin. He wasn’t hard, but it was there, nestled between them as the heat of his much larger body enveloped her.

She didn’t react when he made a guttural noise, nor did she jump when the creature turned toward the vast expanse of grassy lands. In some ways, the whole thing felt like a vivid dream. This wasn’t happening, she thought to herself. She was just in bed and in the morning she’d wake and the ground would be fine, Elain would be going over the meager crops with other villagers and Feyre would be sneaking off to hunt. 

Feyre turned her head to look upward at the starry night sky. The moon watched, keeping silent vigil over her plight.

And no one, not even the gods, intervened.

[1800titz]

RTT THREESOME — NOW UP ON PATREON

The FMF threesome extra for our favorite imaginary pornstar ((AKA Y/N gets her shit rocked)) (RIDETHET!GER au, pornstar!Harry) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

preview

She’s never been any good at self preservation. Lights, camera, action— roll over— good girl.

She knows how Harry likes to kiss— it’s somewhere between a soft brush that lingers, wet, and an iron potency that pins her in place. Purposeful. A warm palm that snakes over the column of her throat, a thumb that sweeps against the thick of her pattering pulse. Digits that press into her with a tender hegemony. Soap. Mentha that she chases, slick over his teeth. An illicit tonic in the shape of his tongue when he licks into her mouth. Tongue, tongue, tongue, tongue, tongue. 

His dusting of facial hair is gritty sandpaper to her jaw, her cheeks. A chaser for the soft way he seeps in between her teeth.

And then— 

“You’ve gotta share her.”

Amara is a respite that nips. A warmth that gnaws into her and clots her lungs. She’s silken— velvet where he’s coarse, but she twists Y/N’s neck and sweeps into the gap her teeth with such scorching prurience that it clogs her head. Makes something swim in the miry swell, choppy like sludge. 

Makes her marrow ache. 

She tucks Y/N’s hair behind her ear and bleeds into her hungry mouth like liquid sugar so sweetly— and then an anchor. Tenebrose, heavy, like the inky totem carved into his forearm. Tiger draws a stripe with his tongue across the straining side of Y/N’s throat. Takes her lobe between his teeth, palms sweeping feverish over the vale of her waist, all while Laces scrapes her tongue across her teeth like she’s wanted to swallow her whole, after all. A coy thing baiting with false, demure virtue. 

The clothes come off in layers. Peeling to unearth. Fragment by fragment, discarded until all that’s left is denuded hunger. 

Warm hands pasting over her flesh, sticking to her skin, lips stippling up the column of her throat, suckling. She submerges in the wave of their famine, and the rug kisses her knees as she scrapes over the firm muscle at Harry’s thighs. Has her hair tucked back by a feminine palm. 

Another stretches out to cup over the base of Harry’s cock and squeeze— to aim his leaky pink cockhead towards Y/N’s pout. Laces wrings her hair over her fist, and Harry rocks on his heels (a subtle motion— she notes the way he twitches in the other woman’s grasp). 

“Give it a little taste, Birdie.” 

“Mm,” Harry hums. He thumbs at her cheek with warm skin, “Go on, pet.” 

She knows what Harry’s cock tastes like, and still, there’s another flavor that coats the back of her throat with Laces fisting over his hilt. Something glacé when a different hand nudges at the back of her skull (than usual) and his tip blurts over her taste buds. Something treacly enmeshed with the familiarity of his salty precum bubbling out when Tiger drives the tips of his fingers against her temple. She wraps her lips over and suckles. 

“Good girl,” Laces murmurs, kneeling beside her, and a gnarled galvanism skulks her vertebrae when Y/N is forced to recognize that this is, in fact, not a team effort. 

That she’s not fondling over Tiger’s shaft with some sort of synergy— waiting for her turn to hollow her cheeks over his cock. The buzz throbs up through her nape when her hands become batted away. When Amara knots into the roots at her crown sharper— “Ah-ah.”

It’s a reminder that Amara isn’t her ally. 

Hunger— it swelters in her belly, froths until it’s an intumescence. It morphs into a treacle that crowds up around her lungs and wraps her womb in it when his fat cockhead prods against the back of her throat and Laces holds her there. Bobs her head over him until Y/N is spluttering a sloppy mess around him. 

Her jaw aches. Laces yanks her off and lets her chest roll as she wheezes. 

“Good girl,” she coos again, patting at the fleshy margin of her cheek. In Y/N’s peripherals, Tiger’s cock pulses, swollen, and red, and spit-slicked. Laces glances away, “—She is a pretty thing with her eyes all wet—“

Like they’d discussed it— dissecting her mannerisms and habits apart, what she looked like gagging around him—

Y/N doesn’t have the time to mull over that little revelation, because the moment her breathing slows into a more pacific rhythm, she’s guided back and Harry’s tip is smearing precum to her lips.

[glamfellens]

i've been thinking about how often (well, twice but that's enough for me to want to talk about this) new instalments this year (fallout and dragon age specifically) have come along and... gone scorched earth on previous settings/factions that a player may have invested a lot of time in saving, working with, or just getting to know in previous games... and how in these two instances, i don't think it was done in interesting ways at all.

i'll talk about fallout first because that happened first and well... honestly, i hate the fact that the show nuked shady sands and had the NCR go into complete (?*) decline. i've seen a few people say that they think this makes sense, because fallout new vegas demonstrated to us in several ways as to how the new california republic wasn't doing so well, so for it to end in this way is fitting. i disagree. new vegas tells us that the NCR is on the verge of food shortages because of its population increase, hence their interest in the plant growing experiments of vault 22. chief hanlon tells us there are no lakes or vast water resources left in california, because of the climate and the fact that there was never any action taken to preserve them. the NCR is over expanding, and we can see this in the way the mojave campaign is handled. its underfunded, the soldiers are poorly trained and poorly equipped, and president kimball is sending veteran soldiers and rangers to deal with things that brahmin barons have an interest in rather than whats for the good of the NCR as a whole. is any of this to do with the collapse of the NCR as shown in the fallout show? no. the NCR goes into decline and disappears because shady sands is nuked by a vault-tec guy who got mad that his wife took the kids, left him, and settled somewhere new. it feels so incredibly lazy and boring to me and i think a lot of other people have the same issue with this decision. (also the fact that the nuking of NCR's capital would lead to the collapse of an entire country and making it all but disappear in the space of 15 years is. fucking stupid frankly but that's a different conversation). and then october comes along, dragon age veilguard releases and it turns out that they've pretty much done the exact same thing to ferelden, orlais and the free marches. the entirety of southern ferelden falls to the blight, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. not entirely the same as what the fallout show writers did to the NCR, but similarly enough... there are myriad factors that could have affected the fate of the south that just don't. some that come to mind:

was awakening played? was the grey warden order in ferelden rebuilt?

what is the feeling between the grey wardens and the general populace? amicable, because the city of amaranthine was saved, or resentful because vigil's keep was saved instead?

what did the warden do with the architect? kill him, or make a deal? would the architect have been able to awaken the darkspawn sent by elgar'nan and ghilan'nain and maybe turn a few of their number? would it have betrayed the warden and felt compelled to assist the gods because they are gods and it only a magister?

in dragon age inquisition, were the orlesian wardens exiled from orlais or were they allowed to remain?

how did the schism between the northern and southern grey wardens effect the blight in the south? did the southern wardens break away from weisshaupt and begin directing themselves, therefore leaving the south better defended?

i understand that this is a lot to consider when it comes to branching decisions and storylines in an RPG, where certain choices may not be as popular as others and therefore not a worthy investment in terms of time and money... but like. I feel like at least whether the wardens were banished from orlais or not should have had an impact on the fate of the South. i suppose my broader question is, why this need to go scorched earth on these two places? why the disdain for the lore foundations of which your entire series is built on?? and this isn't even me being pissy about the fact that they've done this at all. at least if it was done in ways that made sense narratively, i would be like, ok! i dont love this but i can see why it would go in this direction - but no, it just feels soooo... lazy and unnecessary. the only justification i can imagine for both of these decisions is if they go back to visit these places in future instalments, then they want blank slates to work with so it's less work to introduce to new fans. which is like... well, okay. is this the new cycle now? make things, build them, then destroy them and start over when they become too complicated to maintain? instead of starting something new? is it all for brand recognition? lmfao i would like to circle this all back to a similar decision but one i think was handled way better - the destruction of caed nua at the beginning of pillars of eternity deadfire. Like, yes, caed nua is (potentially) something the player sunk a lot of money and time into rebuilding. It became the watcher's base of operations, the source of their influence in the dyrwood, and ultimately the thing they came to the dyrwood looking for in the first place: a new home. and it gets destroyed in the first two minutes of the game. why was this handled better (imo) than the destruction of shady sands/the ncr and southern Thedas? Because the player accomplished enough outside of it. Yes their home is gone, but they still saved the Dyrwood from the Hollowing, they still defeated Thaos, they still managed to get a hold on their watcher abilities before it unravelled their mind. The loss of caed nua also spurs the watcher on into the events of the second game - you have a reason to chase after Eothas, not just to find out what he's up to but it's also personal for you because he crushed your home. The thing you worked so hard for. it's a loss, but there is something gained from it - motivation for the player, and it drives the plot forward. when it comes to shady sands and the south of thedas i don't think it really drives anything forward. it all happens off screen, in ways that we cannot change, and is never really dealt with appropriately. it just is. (The loss of shady sands isn't even really a driving force for Maximus, who was THERE when shady sands was bombed. lol.) soooo.... yeah. i just had to get this out, hopefully it makes sense to somebody. (*I say complete decline but apparently Todd Howard has confirmed in an interview that we haven't seen the last of the NCR, but they were barely present in the show so I'm going by what we've seen)

[astarionsilverbough]

Whenever Astarion gets angry with Halsin - properly, truly upset - the former archdruid will crowd close to the vampire instead of moving away.

Most think Astarion needs space to be furious.

Most people don’t know him the way Halsin does.

Because were Halsin to give him space, Astarion would internalize his own anger as wrong, as a slight against Halsin despite it being entirely warranted. He would assume Halsin was punishing him for feeling - and Halsin knows this because it’s how it has always been.

Astarion Ancunin has never been encouraged to feel.

So Halsin crowds close when he tastes the sharp tang of Astarion’s anger and revels in the sting of it when Astarion’s nose furls in an elegant snarl.

Astarion has never been encouraged to feel, so when he does, it comes like a storm. He is the most brilliant tempest Halsin has ever withstood.

“I am quite capable of speaking for myself,” the vampire says viciously as Halsin closes in, “did you think - did you seriously think! I would even entertain the thought of copulating with that, that foul, hideous beast?”

“No,” Halsin says lowly, earnestly, “I trust you - and I told you, you do not belong to anyone but yourself. I was -“

“You do?” Astarion looks like he’s been willingly disarmed. “You trust me? To - you know. You have to know.”

Halsin cups the vampire’s chin. “I know only what you tell me,” he says gently. “I’ve assumed too much in my lifetime and been proven the fool - I refuse to be foolish with you any longer.”

Astarion’s jaw drops. Halsin understands - he does - that Astarion has never been treated gently, or with much dignity. But -

“You can’t think that extraordinary,” Halsin says with a huff.

“I think everything about you is extraordinary,” Astarion says. It’s heartbreakingly soft. “And your company is the only company I yearn for at night. I can handle lecherous fools, Halsin - I’ve been fending off suitors since I was eighteen, I assure you I am an apt hand at it.”

“It was not that,” Halsin says, gently pushing Astarion’s upper lip up so he can thumb at a fang. Astarion’s eyes go hazy, lidded. “He spoke with disrespect and it angered me. I know you can handle yourself, lover, but Oak Father preserve me - I wanted to rip his throat out.”

“Oh,” Astarion purrs, smiling a bit to reveal more fang. Halsin’s stomach clenches and his cock stirs. “Well, then. Don’t hold yourself back on my account.”

“I won’t,” Halsin says wryly. “Clearly.”

Astarion steps close then, pouting as he kisses at Halsin’s thumb. “I’m sorry I got so upset, darling,” he coos. “Can you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Halsin murmurs, utterly fixated on the way Astarion’s mouth melts against the hard line of his thumb. The vampire kisses slowly down the heel of his palm, sunset eyes lingering on Halsin’s face.

“Let’s pretend there is,” Astarion simpers, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Astarion Ancunin has never been given the space to feel. Halsin would give him the world to do so even if the reward for it was a brutal ruin. Such as it is, Astarion Ancunin is not just the scorch of a vengeful sun but the gentle warmth of the first rays of spring.

And in that warmth, deliverance.

[thebiggerbear]

Misc Fic Recs List

Rough Around the Edges by @lila-lou - Jack's day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Exhausted from a grueling shift under the scorching sun, he just wanted to crash at home with some wings and a football game. But his plans for a quiet night were shattered when the racket from his new neighbor echoed through the walls. (Jack Durfy x Reader, Buddy Games Franchise)

A Home and A Heart by @winchesterwild78 (Jack Durfy x Reader, Buddy Games Franchise)

Y/N adjusted her leather jacket, tugging at the collar in a futile attempt to shake off the nerves... by @reaper2187 (Jessica Rabbit x Reader, Disney: Who Framed Roger Rabbit?)

Blinding Love by @brummiereader - Soon to be divorced and co-parenting with the notorious leader of the Peaky Blinders was never going to be a breeze. But when a number of unanswered calls and a string of dead bodies surface in your attempts to move on, you gain the attention of a detective and the pressing matter of his colleagues whereabouts, with whom you had spent one evening on a date with. Promising you witness protection in return for the evidence he was sure you had on his sole suspect, your husband. Your future is left in the balance when Tommy’s paranoia and inability to let you go makes itself known as your codependency continues to show no signs of surrendering. Will you let yourself be free of the man whose love for you has consumed him? Do you even want to be? (Thomas Shelby x Reader, Peaky Blinders)

Family business by @cheynovak - After a long day at work, Jack Durfy comes home stressed from the weight of running the family construction business and dealing with his irresponsible brother. His wife, Y/N, tries to soothe him, offering to help with the business and take some of the burden off his shoulders. (Jack Durfy x Reader, Buddy Games Franchise)

Only you by @cheynovak - Y/N, is the daughter of James an ex-marine who fell in love with a Belgian woman Sophie, they raised their kids in Brussels, Y/N and her twin brother Matthias moved to Texas after leaving the special forces in Belgium, Y/N witnessed her partner and fiancé gets killed in a secret operation, she has trouble following orders after that, so they let her go with honourable discharge. Dealing with the loss of her fiancé, made her decide to move out of the country, leaving her starting fresh in the US. (Cordell Walker x Reader, Walker)

Preludes by KameTerra - Raphael and April had never spent much time together… but as their newfound friendship deepens, both are unprepared for what it brings. Prequel to "Bound." 2003/2007 verse blend. (Raphael x April, TMNT) [FanfictionNet]

Bound by KameTerra - Friendship, family, love, and honor are the binding forces of life. But when life gets messy, some bonds sever too easily while others seem to hold you too tight. (Raphael x April, TMNT) [FanfictionNet]

Interludes by KameTerra - A set of short sketches highlighting some of the more light-hearted aspects of Raph & April's relationship within the storyline of Bound. Eight: Love is in the air…even more so than usual. (Raphael x April, TMNT) [FanfictionNet]

Fortitude by @xx-ingie-xx - Nearly fifteen years after Ocarina of Time, Link and Zelda struggle to preserve political peace after their controversial marriage. But when disaster strikes, Zelda finds herself facing far more than political turmoil… (Zelda x Link, The Legend of Zelda) [FanfictionNet]

Forgotten by @xx-ingie-xx - A sequel to Fortitude. (Zelda x Link, The Legend of Zelda) [FanfictionNet]

Stay With Me by leoslady4ever & Deathsembrace137 - Lucy had never considered a love with Laxus, until the day he died saving her life. Now, he haunts her thoughts with dreams of what might have been, and unable to move forward, she finds herself going back, learning everything she can about the man who, out of love, gave his life for her. Soon she realizes, his one sided love, may not be so one sided after all. (Laxus x Lucy, Fairy Tail) [FanfictionNet]

Abducton by prettylilah - Goliath is supposed to meet Elisa at her place, but when she arrives, she finds an imposter waiting in the dark! Rated for future chapters, picks up after Hunter's Moon pt.3. (Goliath x Elisa, Gargoyles 1994) [FanfictionNet]

Game, Set, and Match by Firebird9 - How does one small but determined cat manage to defeat a police detective and a gargoyle? (Goliath x Elisa, Gargoyles 1994) [FanfictionNet]

in front of the children by smartalker - Gray and Lucy watch porn. And take notes. (Gray x Lucy, Fairy Tail) [FanfictionNet]

Jail Bait by x.Miss.Attention.Span.x - I hate you, I hate you, I love you…". She cringed as the last three words slipped out of her mouth. (Buffy x Faith, Buffy the Vampire Slayer) [FanfictionNet]

Unspoken Rules by @winchesterwild78 (Character x Reader)

Not A Monster by Cyndi - Peach sees an entirely different side of Bowser when a routine kidnapping is interrupted by Junior falling ill. (Peach x Bowser, Super Mario Bros) [AO3]

Danceverse Series by Cyndi - The unlikely love story of a human woman and an alien robot destined to belong to each other. (Optimus x Mikaela, Transformers) [AO3] (*personal note: every one of the works in this series is amazing but Lines is my personal favorite, it's the one I started with way back and got hooked onto this 'verse)

We Are The Same by IridescentEuphoria - They were stood in the ruins of their relationship, that had only begun to build, when Eve walked away from her and broke both their hearts. Little did she know Villanelle had planned all of this to save her life. (Villanelle x Eve, Killing Eve) [AO3]

The Price of Pleasure by mydeira - Dawn's night with Spike isn't all it seems. (Dawn x Spike, Buffy the Vampire Slayer) [AO3]

Linda Barrett Relationship Headcanons by @laddieseddiemunster (Linda Barrett x Reader, Fast Times At Ridgemont High)

Bruised Fruit by @lostloveletters - Gloria falls like overripe fruit from a wilting tree branch, and Michael Corleone intends to devour her amidst the rot and decay that's long since taken root in his family, intent on dooming her with him for a chance at another heir. (Michael Corleone x OFC, The Godfather Series)

Scotty Doesn't Know by @titsout4jackles (Charlie Baker x Reader, The Cheaper Dozen)

Moth to a Flame by @jobean12-blog - You never want to disturb the General but for him, nothing is more important than you. (General Acacius x Female!Reader, Gladiator II)

Messy by @lizthewriter - you and regina have been secretly hooking up for months, but she breaks up with you when you ask for more. after she gets hit by a bus, you fear for her life and whatever relationship you have left. (Regina George x Female!Reader, Mean Girls 2024)

Sinnerman by @venus-haze - You can’t even see your old life from Crockett Island, but nevertheless it weighs on your conscience like an anchor on the ocean floor. Father Paul Hill tries to pull the anchor up, only to sink your whole damn ship. (Father Paul Hill x Reader, Midnight Mass)

Power in the Blood by @venus-haze - There’s power in the blood. Father Paul knows this. Soon, you will, too. (Father Paul Hill x Nun Female!Reader, Midnight Mass)

Fascination by @dimitrescus-bitch (Jamie Moriarty x Reader, Elementary)

Dating Jamie Moriarty would include… by @onegayastronaut (Jamie Moriarty x Reader, Elementary)

Dark Necessities by @dimitrescus-bitch (Jamie Moriarty x Reader, Elementary)

Brownstone by @blog-of-a-multitude-of-fandoms (Jamie Moriarty & Platonic Reader, Elementary)

Forever After All by @jobean12-blog - You and Javi have been working together for a few months and you can’t deny that you like him…everything about him. And you know you’re not imagining the subtle flirting and lingering glances but when you have an assignment that puts you two closer than you ’ve ever been you find out what it all really means. (Javier Pena x Female!Reader, Narcos)

Special by @decaf-mother - You mean the world to him but he’s not sure he deserves you. (Josh Washington x Female!Reader, Until Dawn)

Shadow and Sin by @blackleatherjacketz - Having just recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don’t find out who they truly are until it’s too late. (Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Klaus Mikaelson x Reader, The Originals)

In Every Realm by @caplanbuckybarnes - he vows to love you in every universe (Sub-Zero x Reader, Mortal Kombat)

Untitled by @catierambles (Captain Syverson x Reader, Sand Castle)

The Storm Outside by @bullet-prooflove - Larry comforts you during a stormy night. (Captain Larry James x Reader, Walker)

Question…? by @collecting-stories - After leaving your home in Boston for a new life, a ghost from the past rolls into the same place and you can’t shake the feelings you once had for him. (Tom Davidson x Reader, Walker: Independence)

One Time Thing by @bullet-prooflove - This thing between the two of you was just meant to be a one time thing. (Cordell Walker x Reader, Walker)

cherry lipgloss by @sapphistically - buffy and you have a fight while patrolling, you get hurt and she can’t help but realise you were right, she does love you. (Buffy Summers x Female!Reader, Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

Be There by @anundyingfidelity - John comes to your door wounded late at night for help. You wish he would stay. (John Wick x Reader, John Wick Franchise)

Keep Safe by @dimitrescus-bitch (Jamie Moriarty x Reader, Elementary)

Dismantle Me by @dimitrescus-bitch (Jamie Moriarty x Reader, Elementary)

your new neighbor has taken a liking to you by ghostsangel (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female!Reader, Call of Duty)

*I will add more as I go

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[indelicateink]

the Interview with the Vampire kink meme continues to be everything

there's been a scorching HOT loustat fill today: The Interview

a bouquet of thanks to @vampire-dove for maintaining this anon kink meme for us.

i'm going to share some of the prompts going on over there. please go add more. please fill prompts. these vampires cry out to be put in Situations.

Prompts [5/?]:

Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Seduction, Vampire Turning, Drunk Sex, Marriage Proposal

"Parallel universe.

"In 1905, Parisian brothel owner Lestat de Lioncourt keeps his ungrateful brothers and father, and his frail mother, in comfort despite hating his life. When his new acquaintance, wealthy American Louis de Pointe du Lac, comes on so strong, he starts to think life could be different. There is an air of the preternatural about him, but Americans are probably just like that?

"Vampire Louis de Pointe du Lac searches for a new life in the old world and finds a handsome man with a most agreeable disposition who he wants to convince to become his companion. Life certainly wouldn't be boring."

--

Armand/Daniel Molloy

"Minimal or no Devil’s Minion before 2022. Armand turns Daniel out of spite, but Daniel takes to vampirism immediately and revels in his newfound strength and immense power. And Daniel is so psyched about this new un-life that he kisses Armand, who kisses him back passionately. He then fucks Armand all around the penthouse and gives him the best dick he’s had in centuries. Armand is terribly confused by this intense, feverish passion between them, over thinks it, and flees out of self-preservation. and naturally Daniel gives chase!"

--

Claudia/Madeleine, Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Alternate Universe - Royalty, Weddings, Competition

"Royal wedding au. Now that she's in her thirties, Claudia's parents are putting their foot down: as their only child, she will be inheriting the throne, and she's going to need a partner as strong as she is. They've lined up candidates. It's tradition.

"Claudia has never forgiven Lestat for not using his magic to bring back her first love, Charlie, years ago, but he hopes he can make amends by introducing her to a beloved fellow countrywoman from his homeland who was…exiled…for being…a traitor?? Louis wants to know what the fuck is wrong with Lestat's head."

--

Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Extremely Dubious Consent, Hallucinations, Episode: s02e01 What Can The Damned Really Say To The Damned? (Interview with the Vampire TV 2022)

"While traveling Europe with Claudia, Louis hallucinates(/fantasizes about?) Lestat forcing himself on him.

"Can be violent or just disturbing, can be physical assault (I know the hallucinations don't work like that but we can suspend our disbelief) or not include touching at all. Up to you how aware Louis is that the hallucination is his own mind torturing him. The important part is that Louis is really messed up and can only get off while also punishing himself. Bonus points for Lestat being in his bloody post-Mardi Gras outfit, throat slit and bleeding and all."

--

Armand/Lestat de Lioncourt Accidental Marriage, Accidental Bonding, Dubious Consent

"1795 AU. The Great Laws this, The Great Laws that. Magnus never told Lestat that when another vampire overpowers you with a bite soon after your turning, your body imprints on them and you become vampire-married.

"After Armand attacks Lestat at the party, Lestat finds himself craving sex with Armand against his will. He is determined to be strong! Gabrielle rolls her eyes a lot."

--

Louis de Pointe du Lac/ Oiginal Male Characters, Armand/Original Male Characters Serial Killers, Recreational Drug Use, Creampie, Felching, Rape/Non-con Elements, Service Submission, Under-negotiated Kink, Humiliation, Drugged Sex

"Louis gets lost in the high and never cleans up/finishes draining his hookups to kill them. Louis isn’t going to fuck him when he’s like this, but Armand dutifully cleans up Louis’s sloppy seconds to feel closer to his maitre.

"additional tags: unnegotiated bdsm, nonconsensual drugged sex (armand/louis’s half-dead hookups), nonconsensual blood drinking (armand/louis’s half-dead hookups)"

--

Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Pregnancy Kink, Crack Treated Seriously

"fantasy m/m non-omegaverse vampire au in which ppl of any sex can get pregnant if they're fertile and are someone who has a uterus because reasons!

"lestat can bear children. louis desperately wants kids. lestat and louis knew when they got married they were not on the same page: children were a hard no for lestat. not having them was a dealbreaker for louis. they really should've sorted that out before they eloped.

"years later louis has one foot out the door when lestat bitterly caves, to louis's single-minded delight. gabrielle and armand are quietly appalled.

"five times louis got his husband pregnant and one time lestat volunteered the idea.

"(i am begging you on my knees for this fic please and thank you)"

[justwearthegoddamncardigan]

Can you write platonic gladers x child reader (8 - 10), like when their in the scorch trials

AHHH I've been thinking about writing a platonic fic for so long but I wasn’t sure if anyone would read!!!! This request is so good thank you so much

The Heart

Gladers x child! gender neutral! reader (platonic)

Set during scorch trials (movieverse)

Notes: I decided to format this as headcanons to make it easier. Where Teresa is 'The Traitor', Newt is 'The Glue', etc, reader is tattooed with 'The Heart'. This isn't really in the story, just a note for the title and a general headcanon

Warnings: everything that happened in the movie, i.e. violence, Cranks, Winston shooting himself, and one instance of bad language cause apparently I don't have other vocab

Aris

You meet Aris when you've all escaped from WCKD

He's a nice guy

When you're gathering supplies in that abandoned building he picks out a bunch of little sweaters for you

Idk I get a sweater vibe from him

You wear the sweaters when it's night time in the Scorch, and freezing cold

In the days when it's too hot to wear them Aris carries them in his backpack for you

But that's really the extent of your interactions

You've just had more time to build up trust with the people of your own Glade, so it's easier with them, but you're still chill with Aris

Winston

You didn't really know Winston back in the Glade

But it still hurts when the Cranks get him

He shields you away, not letting you see his wound when he shows the others

The Gladers help him do the same, hiding you from him when he starts looking worse

It's like there's some silent pact between everyone to protect you from seeing as many bad things

Your age seems to make them want to preserve your innocence, or something

Anyway, he always looks after you, until the end

RIP Winston :(

Frypan

He always had a soft spot for you back in the Glade

(everyone did)

That kindness doesn't stop when you're out in the Scorch

He always makes sure you've eaten, and he even offers you some of his food, even though he probably needs more than you

Frypan does his best to keep the mood light for you, cracking little jokes and pulling faces to make you smile

Teresa

For Teresa, you're actually a reminder of what the world was like

Look, we all know Teresa betrayed the group, and that was really shitty

But we can get her motivations sometimes

She looks at you and sees the people she should be saving, the people she wants to protect

You're actually a symbol of hope in her mind

She wants to make a cure so that people like you can live in a world without the Flare

Of course, you would rather she just not betray all your friends, but that's just how her mind works

For you, she's kinda like an older sister... or a mother (lol)

You always sleep beside her at night, and she'll hold your hand while sleeping so you don't have nightmares

Thomas

Thomas is actually kind of a role model to you

You admire his relentless no-one-left-behind mindset, and his bravery

He doesn't really have time to look after you like the others, but you always fuel his spirit with your unfailing optimism

He makes the most time with you at the end of the day, when you're resting

He comforts you when you're scared at night, staying awake to talk to you about simple things, or to tell you a story to take your mind off your fears

You cuddle up to sleep between him and Teresa, giving both of them some calm and peace, since you can tell his mind is always moving a million miles a minute

He's kinda like Teresa with you, actually

They both look at you as a hopeful future, something they have to work towards to protect you

But the difference is that Thomas works to get you and the rest of the group to a safe place, while Teresa... you know, gives you all up

Newt

You trigger some strange memories in Newt

He doesn't really remember, but he had a sister before

You remind him of what it's like to be an older brother

He protects you like his own sibling, making sure you get your sweaters from Aris' bag when it gets cold

He also defends you first when you end up at Jorge's warehouse

When the guard people are closing in on you, he shoves you behind him and threatens to kill anyone who touches you

Obviously they have guns and are stronger than the lot of you, so all you end up getting strung up by your feet

But hey, he tried his best, and it was all fine in the end

Minho

Minho is your favourite

(you're his favourite too)

He's snarky and to-the-point with everyone else, but he's always soft with you

Back in the Glade he'd always let you sit in the Runners' hut and chill out, just drawing pictures or messing around with sticks from the Map

Some days when it gets late, you get tired from walking and Minho will give you a piggyback ride

Usually you'll fall asleep on Minho's back like that, and he'll have to gently put you down, trying not to wake you

Minho's actually always carrying you

Like, in the hard situations - it becomes a regular thing

Some bad shit going down? Get on my back

He's carrying you when you're running in to the warehouse, and you almost get struck by lightning with him

Back when you were escaping the Maze, he was carrying you there too

Hope you enjoyed these :)))

Thank you for reading, and requests are open as always ❤

[n1nchawrites]

Quarter

“They are to be granted quarter!” Shir’var demanded, gesturing wildly to the blown out Imperial bunker which sat nestled within a trench swamped in mud, blood, and death. The war had been raging for months now, and Shoal, the Shas’ui and leader of their Fire Warrior strike team, shook his head,

“You do not know Gue’la as I know them, they will take a hand offered in peace and use it to pull you onto a concealed blade treachery.”

Shir’var blustered, shocked at his leader’s callous and jaded regard towards humanity, “Shas’ui, how can you say that? The T’au’va serves to unite us all, not divide us! The men and women in that bunker need to be shown that we are not as barbaric as the Imperium makes us out to be! Shas’el J’Kaara has that we are to spare those who throw down their arms, or have you forgotten your oath sworn on the Code of Fire?”

Shoal visibly twitched, “You watch your tone, youngling. I have faced the Gue’la, the horrors of the Startide Nexus are fresh in my mind - fetid, unyielding G’el… And before them, Mu’gulath Bay. Do you know how bloody that conflict was? Do you know the means through which the gue’la had torn into us? We won, but at a cost so dire it set us back immensely - the Fourth Sphere of Expansion had to be entirely reworked; the Gue would carve off their own arm if it meant that the T’au would fall into oblivion.” “And what of the Gue’vesa that seek to join and spread the T’au’va? How do they factor into this logic of yours?” “They are the anomaly in the set of empirical data before us. Nem’sha’shi’vre against the N’lan’vash.”

Kais’yon looked down into the trench, half-sunken corpses of rotting Imperial Gue’la bobbed in the stagnant waters of the furrow. She poked one with her pulse rifle, then turned them over to reveal their sunken, torn features. Their sex was indeterminate, at least to the eyes of the Fire Warrior: both out of a mixture of unfamiliarity with the species of the Gue, and because of the state of disrepair they were in; the boggy water had preserved their features fairly well, though there was little left to preserve in the first place - the majority of their features were scorched away by a lancing plasma burst from a T’au weapon,

“Looks like they haven’t even had the time to bury their dead - this kill isn’t fresh enough to be from the last engagement.” “These ones don’t bury their dead,” Another Fire Warrior - M’Lath’Kir’Quath - commented, “They put them around emplacements and heavy weapon positions. They take the heads, usually, seemingly as a show of respect. I’ve seen these Gue’la carry the skulls of their comrades on their belts.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, Kais’yon looked over at Shir’var,

“Do you want to spare these G’el?”

Shir’var was quiet. Now that it had been pointed out, he could see various clusters of bodies piled up against fortifications, their necks ending in rough stumps where their heads had been sawn or hacked off with dull equipment. He shuddered. Not even the Kroot’la’vesa had displayed such tasteless traditions: yes, they would devour the fallen, but that held a practical purpose alongside a cultural one; this was just wrong,

“I… The T’au’va states that we must embrace all that come to us seeking union or alms. I will not let a cultural difference get in the way of our Tam’ya’vash!”

Shoal sighed, “Enough! Shir’var, M’lath, take the bunker. Kais’yon, with me. We’ll hang back and make sure these two breach and secure the Gue’la without a problem, then retrace our steps to find Shi’Na’San’Tel’s body.” 

The T’au all nodded in agreement, with Shir’var and M’lath moving into position, opening the steel bulkhead door from behind cover as M’lath spoke out in fluent High Gothic, “Be not alarmed, for we come in peace. Rejoice, your message was intercepted by one of our communication specialists, and we have come to extract you.” Shir’var turned the corner, followed by M’lath. The interior of the bunker was lined with shelves carved into the ferrocrete, packed with skulls hollowed out and loaded with candles or incense sticks. The emplacement reeked of holy oils and gunpowder, and the source of these scents could be traced either to the skulls or the bowls skirting the points where the floor met the walls: they were filled with petals, oils and powders, and all of them were formed from the caps of the same repurposed skulls of the soldiers’ former brothers in arms.

Shir’var raised his pulse carbine instinctively, fighting to keep it lowered and minimise his presence as a threat. M’lath did not do the same, keeping his carbine raised as he scanned the room. There was a small huddle of haggard looking Gue’la in the corner, some of whom looked uncannily young, and could have been mistaken for children if the dirt and blood caking their faces had been wiped away.

Shir’var carefully approached the cluster of grizzled and shell-shocked deserters, extending a hand to the one nearest to him, who had initially recoiled out of fear. They murmured something, and he leaned in closer,

“Pardon?”

“For the Emperor,”

It was then that he saw the grenade in her hand.

There was a thunderous crack, followed by a deathly silence. Kais’yon was the first to react, sprinting inside of the bunker, only to be met with dust and the sound of bone cracking beneath her hooves. There were hundreds - maybe thousands - of fragments of skull littered throughout the shelter, crunching with every step. There was a red smear in the corner of the room, with smoking piles of gore exploding away from it. All that was left of Shir’var was his lower half. A leg twitched as it sent a nerve impulse to a spine which simply wasn’t there, and the sight twisted Kais’yon’s stomach into a dreadful knot of grief and horror. 

M’lath lay a few paces away from him. He was alive, but badly wounded; fragments of shrapnel and bone littered his form, and a gaping wound cracked through his nano-crystalline carapace. She moved to patch his wound and stabilise him with a concoction of chemical stimulants in her medkit, injecting them directly into his bloodstream with a syringe. 

Shoal followed closely behind, his gait faltering as he made his way into the chamber and saw the remains of Shir’var. He had hoped this wouldn’t happen, but knew deep down that it would: for after years of diligent service in the Fire Caste, he knew that this was the result of giving animals quarter.