#ghost: the most wet dog staring and yearning

[helcef]

gayest thing you can do is light someone’s cig

what if neither ghost or soap liked smoking much but it was the only opportunity to be close to the other, no matter how brief the moment was. ghost allowing himself a second of staring at johnny in the glow of the lighter before looking away so johnny wouldn’t catch on. or smth idk

(click for better quality)

[bbystark]

♡ soap's little plan ♡

abo!141 x omega!reader

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: despite having a pack of his own, soap finds himself wanting more. he's grown tired of being the only Omega with 2 unruly Alphas. good thing you showed up, now he can flush those pesky little suppressants and make you theirs.

⚠︎ suggestive themes, soap being a little obsessed, invasions of privacy

a/n: series??? idk where this came from but enjoy

Soap wasn’t an unhappy man. He was talented, knew just how dangerous he was in the field, how many brushes with death he’d skillfully skirted with a big “fuck you” and a bloody smile. He had the respect of his peers and fear of the new recruits. Most importantly, he had a pack he loved. Never went to bed wanting or alone. His inner Omega should be satisfied, all things considering, and yet, he still yearns. 

He feels guilty sometimes. When he’s laid out on one of his mate’s beds, sweaty and thrumming with release. He rolls over, pressing wet kisses to damp skin and trying to focus on fingers that ghost over his head. Tries to push out the gnawing subconscious thought of more. He wants to scoff at himself. 3 mates and somehow he still couldn’t help but be greedy. 

It’s like Price says in the field (and in the bedroom, funnily enough): “You're a goddamn restless dog ain’t ‘ya? Restless and a dog, indeed. 

His words run through Soap’s mind as he stares at you. His dirty little one-sided secret. He’s watched you for months. Smelled you immediately when his eyes first landed on you, an unforgettable mix of vanilla licorice, fruit, and a tang of something earthy, like grass or rain. So unbelievably feminine and soft, he was intoxicated. Couldn’t help but watch as you walked down the hall. You had glanced at him, eyebrows furrowing slightly; he remembered the chill that ran through him when you locked eyes. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

He had immediately sweet talked the Beta receptionist into handing over your file. He had tucked it under his arm and taken it to his room, locking the door and glancing around like he was a teen with a raunchy magazine. Read it front to back. You were smart, specialized in cybersecurity before you joined the military. Now you drifted from team to team, going where you were needed. Helping run covert hops here, a little hacking there. He felt a grin take over his face when he saw that in your last assignment, you acted as a demolition expert. An impressive resume, he faintly wondered why you hadn’t been pinned down by a team yet. Clearly, you were an asset. 

He got to your current contract papers, seeing you were brought on to be a floater. You’d help with missions in the unit how they saw fit. He could only pray that he’d be working with you eventually. He closes the file, thumbing the small file photo of you. You were beautiful no doubt, not smiling but still holding a hint of softness. 

He pauses when he realizes he didn’t see a presentation in your file. He flips through the pages again, skimming through your medical report. The boxes next to ‘Omega’, ‘Alpha’, and ‘Beta’ are all unmarked. It clicks then, your sweet smell and the lack of presentation in your files. You were an Omega. 

Soap wasn’t really supposed to be where he was as an Omega. While there were no rules against it, there were hardly any Omegas here for a reason. It was hard, both physically and mentally. Soap had taken twice the recommended amount of suppressants and nearly went broke buying scent blockers. Put his body through hell and back to prove he was worthy. It was only when he became Lieutenant and had the protection of a pack that he felt comfortable enough to stop hiding his presentation . By then, no one could really say anything about it. 

His heart raced. You were an Omega. He had no proof other than being one himself, but he was almost sure of it. It did nothing to curb his growing curiosity. 

He should have pushed you out of his mind, but he’s Soap. He’s insistent and can be downright stubborn when it comes down to it. It was just his nature. He formulated a whole plan, get close to you, slowly ease you into meeting his pack, then make you theirs. Plain and simple. 

It was not plain and simple. 

First of all, the guilt started eating at him. He had everything he’d ever hoped for, a family, a successful career, and here he was. The worst part is that Soap couldn’t help it, he loved his mates, their masculine presence and smell that filled a room. But he secretly can’t help but wish there was another Omega around, someone who could help him ground his Alphas. Gaz did a great job, but he was a beta, and Soap often received the brunt end of Ghost and Prices’ more baser instincts. Not just an Omega, but a woman. Someone with that femininity and power that balances and soothes an entire pack into submission. 

Second of all, you didn’t want to give him the time of day. 

The first time he approaches you is in the dining hall, your face stoic and focused as you grab an apple and place it on your tray. He takes a few breaths, your muted and yet somehow still overwhelming scent filling his senses. 

“New around here bonnie?” He finally gets the courage up to speak.  “Names Johnny, but people call me Soap.” He reaches a hand out. 

You take it hesitantly, and he revels in the softness. He tries not to get distracted by the way his hand almost completely covers your own. 

“Y/n.” you respond curtly, releasing his hand and grabbing your tray.  “Transferred a week ago.” You don’t wait for his response, making your way over to one of the many tables littered with people chatting. Soap hastily grabs a banana and his tray, taking long strides to catch up with you. 

“So uh, how you likin’ it so far?” He flinches at his own stutter. God, he’s out of practice. 

You give him a pointed look. 

“S’fine.” You sit, hastily picking up your spoon and taking a bite of oatmeal. It doesn’t deter Soap. 

He spends the next 30 minutes talking your ear off, receiving the occasional nod or “mhm” from you. You give up very little about yourself, answering shortly and precisely. It drives him mad. 

You cut off his rant on the latest recruits, standing abruptly. “It was nice talking with you Lieutenant MacTavish, but I have to get going.” 

He watches as you leave, stunned and frankly a little turned on at how easily you brushed him off. Soap was a sucker for a chase. 

He faintly realizes that you knew his rank and last name, and has a feeling that you’re a careful and intelligent woman. It only fuels his growing suspicion of your presentation. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Soap keeps trying after that, despite the gnawing feeling of guilt and greediness. The less you give him, the more enraptured he becomes. With every eye roll and silent stretch you give him, he falls deeper and deeper into the need to make you his. 

It only takes a couple months for it all to come to a head. Soap finds you in a hallway late at night, most people tucked away in their quarters. Your scent is slightly off, soured and citrusy. He loves it. 

“Where are you stormin’ off to?” 

You don’t answer, which is not unusual, but the way you push past him without so much of a glance, is. “Aye, c’mon love, what’s got you so worked up?” 

You turn on your heel, almost crashing into Soap. You didn’t hate him, sometimes you even welcomed the company, even though his jokes were shit. Not that you’d let him know you even remotely liked his presence. You stare him down for a second, teeth gritted. 

You had just overheard some particularly nasty and sexist comments about you, not the first time- hell not even the fiftieth time. But it never stung less, that people refused to see your experience and rank simply because you had the misfortune of being born a woman. You regret the words almost as soon as you say them. 

“Leave me the fuck alone, MacTavish. I’m not interested in your company, and I sure as shit didn’t ask for it. Go bother your pack, and leave me alone.” You spit the word at him, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s a reflection of your own loneliness deep down. You can’t stand the shock on his face, so you turn around and sulk to the kitchen to find a sweet treat to placate you. 

Soap watches as you leave, and he’s hurt. How can you not see how perfect you’d be for the pack? Granted, he’s the only one that knows, he still has no idea how to broach the topic with his pack. Would they hate him? Call him selfish, wonder why they weren’t enough for him? His fists clench at his sides as your scent completely fades. 

Then it clicks. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He smiles to himself, no longer upset at your blatant rejection. He almost skips back to his room. 

He has it all figured out. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

The next morning he flirts with some nurses, brings them donuts from the place off base. While they’re all distracted and giggling amongst each other, he quietly slips into the record room and grabs your files. His heart beats out of his chest at the little checkmark next to “Omega”. 

He knew it. He flips through the files quickly, finding a detailed page tracking your heat cycles. You haven’t had a heat in years, seeing a note that says you denied a doctor's request to go into heat at least once every 3 years. He knew that pain, he couldn’t imagine you putting yourself through that. You shouldn't be putting yourself through that. He’ll make sure that you don’t have to anymore. 

He flips a few more pages, going back to when you did have your heats. He finds an entry that notes that you had unusually long and painful heats, along with a prescription of sedatives. The next line states that you usually have them every 3 months, February, May, August and sometimes December. He hears his heartbeat in his ears when he realizes his luck of it being the beginning of December. It was meant to be. 

He closes the file quietly, closing his eyes in relief. You’d be his, and his pack’s, soon. 

That night, while you’re showering in the gym, Soap is breaking into your room. It doesn’t take much effort, he’s in within minutes, stepping into your sacred space. There’s a half assed nest in the corner of your room, your instincts must be strong if you’re still nesting while taking suppressants. He wants to go over and fluff it for you, add his scent covered shirt to the pitiful pile. He shakes his head. He needs to focus on why he’s here. 

He rifles through your cabinets, desperately searching. He knows you like long showers, but he’s still on edge. If he gets caught, it’s all over. He tries to be quick without disturbing the placement of your items, but he begins to panic when he can’t find those familiar little pills. He rushes to your bed, looking underneath. He’s about to lose hope when he moves from underneath your bed, cursing when he knocks his head on the frame. 

He almost doesn’t hear it. The soft thud of something falling. He looks back under the bed, eyes falling on a tiny box meant for jewelry. He grabs it, slowly opening it and removing the piece of foam on top. 

Bingo. 

He stares at the tiny pills, the familiar pale blue a contrast against the black of the box. He spills a few in his hand. There were enough for months. You were like he was, handing your health over in exchange for surviving here. His fist closes over pills as he makes his way out of your room. He locks your door behind him, trying not to run to his room. When he makes it there, he’s buzzing with excitement. He goes to his bathroom, opening the toilet lid and fishing the box from his pocket. He doesn’t hesitate in throwing them all into the bowl, and watching as the water swirls when he flushes. The water settles, and your pills are gone. 

Omega’s are the most sensitive of the three presentations. Senses more in tune than even the best Alpha. It was in their very biology to be strong in ways Alpha’s were not, to hold a pack together. Your biology would work quickly, work through the artificial hormones you’d been poisoning yourself with in haste. It happened to him, after so long of suppressing his Omega, it came back with a vengeance. You would be no different. 

And with Price’s rut- and Ghost’s, coming up soon, they won’t stand a chance against the strong smell of an Omega in heat. He’ll make sure that they find you, that they take care of you. 

It was all part of his plan, after all.

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny���” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

Permanent Tags:  @penwieldingdreamer​ @keandrews​ @feminine-machinegun​ @fanficsrusz​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @flaminasteroid @rowserein @unaspiringwritings​ @planetkt​ @breakthenight​ @baphometwolf666 @rdjloverxxx

Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse​ @overheardatthecontinental​ @meshlababy​ @ataraxydreams​ @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread​​ @savsselfinserts​ @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​ @donakamark

*If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to send me an ask or DM!

[rainbowshawn]

Prove It

A/N: I’m fiiiinally back! Sorry it took so long for me to finally post again. My life has kind of hit a low point and I lost pretty much all motivation to write. The past month has been an absolute shit show for me but y’all have been so so so supportive so thank you! Hopefully this isn’t too bad, my writing skills are real rough lol.

Warnings: smut, spanking, dom!shawn, language

Summary: Shawn’s stubble. That’s it.

Word Count: 4.2k

The sound of the door clicking shut was the first thing to break your attention away from your book all night. Your eyes quickly dart up, watching your boyfriend stumble into your shared space for the first time in a few weeks. Shawn had been in New York, attending some not-so-fun business meetings regarding his new album and you could just sense the stress rolling off of him in waves.

You watch as he tosses his keys on the counter and kicks his shoes off haphazardly, leaving them in the middle of the floor to your dismay. He looks exhausted, that much is evident by his messy hair and sunken in eyes but it’s only when he sits next to you, pulling you into his lap that you notice the stubble decorating his defined chin.

“Hey there, handsome,” you sing, cupping his face in your hand as your other arm drapes around his shoulders.

He leans into your soft palm, moving his face briefly to press a kiss to it before quietly responding, “Hi, beautiful. Missed you.”

Your lips meet his, lingering only for a moment before breaking apart again. His eyes are half-lidded, riddled with sleep. You brush your fingers through his hair, ghosting gently against his ears knowing how soothing he finds the action. The two of you catch up for a few minutes, talking about the past few days since he didn’t have too much time to call you. You smile at him softly while he talks, biting your lip as you thumb across the prickly hair on his chin.

“Gone for a week and now you’re all grown up on me, hm?” you tease, watching him blush bashfully as he giggles.

“What do you mean?” he asks, oblivious as ever, looking at you with a confused expression.

“This stubble!” you sing, giggling at his unawareness.

“Ahh,” he hums, suddenly aware of the prickly hair he’d been ignoring all week, “Didn’t feel like shaving, been too tired. I kinda hate it,”

He fiddles with a stray thread on your sweater, avoiding your gaze as you keep petting his curls. You kiss his warm forehead and breathe in his intoxicating scent for the first time in days.

“Mmm, I don’t usually like facial hair but it looks so sexy on you,” you hum, threading your fingers into his locks and tugging teasingly.

His breath hitches at the sensation and he feels his member immediately plump up a bit in his tight jeans. His lip sneaks between his teeth, turning the pink skin white with pressure. You watch it slowly snap back into place and decide they’re ultimately too inviting to resist. Your lips move in sync, sliding and nipping.

His body aches for you after days apart. His soul yearned for you in your absence and he felt unimaginable relief and desire flush his veins as you sat atop of him. His strong palms grab your hips, helping you sling your leg across so you could straddle him. The back of the couch supports him as he leans his weight back, tugging you with him. The kiss is dizzying and you giggle as you feel his stubble begin to scrape down your neck as he dresses you with kisses.

He hums against your skin inquisitively, not bothering to stop his affection.

“Mmm, you’re scratchy,” you hum, craning your neck back as he gives you occasional little nips.

His head pops up instantly, lips resting under your chin as he stammers out, “Want me to go shave? I’m sorry, baby, I’ll get rid of it and then we can keep kissing. Wanna love on you,”

You only giggle more as you take in his concerned expression as he’s trying to lift you off of his lap and stand up.

“No, no, bubby! I like it!” you assure, grabbing his face and ghosting his lips with your own once again, “You look like a man.”

His eyebrows knit together and his palms squeeze your hips tightly as he shoots you an offended look, “I am a man!”

You can tell he’s only half offended but you decide to tease him further; curious as to where you could take the night.

“Mmm, yeah?” you hum teasingly, twirling a stray curl that had fallen into his eyes around your finger.

“I am.”

“Prove it then,”

He practically growls, leaning back into your plump, waiting lips. Your hips rut against his as your mouths work together. The kiss is urgent and most definitely overflowing with passion. The air is stolen from your chest as he presses his stiff member into you. The kiss falters slightly as you gasp into his mouth while your fingers tug at his curls. His hands leave shrill goosebumps in their wake as they trail from your waist down to your hips where they assist your movements against him, gripping so tightly you wouldn’t be shocked if they left tiny little bruises under your skin.

His hands rock you back and forth against him, pulling your centers as close together as he can possibly get them. You groan into his mouth at the delicious friction and it’s only seconds later that he has you flipped onto your back. The kiss breaks for a moment; Shawn pulling away to get a good look at you for the first time in days. His eyes have a deep hunger festered inside of them and you shudder against the couch you’re laid out on. His greedy fingers peel off your top, discarding it to the side and then loop into your pants, leaving you with only panties underneath him.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he pants, worked up from the steamy moment, “You don’t even realize.”

A smile breaks across your face, imperfectly perfect and he swears he feels his heart do a flip deep in his chest.

“You gonna stare at me for the rest of the night or are you gonna make me feel good, big boy?” you tease, blushing madly as he returns to kissing your bare skin.

“Gonna be a brat or do you want to cum tonight, babygirl?” he tuts back without missing a beat; stopping to flick his tongue against your hardened nipple. Your back arches and you bite down on your lip as you feel his stubble scraping against your delicate skin, leaving the most delicious burn behind. If he wasn’t slotted between your legs, you know his words would’ve made your trembling thighs clench together.

His attention goes to the other side for a moment before his lips kiss down your sternum, to your bellybutton, and soon to the top of your panties. The feeling of kisses lingers longer than normal from the added sensation from his stubble and you can’t say you mind one bit. Your body is riddled with goosebumps and you feel your arousal pooling between your legs as he gazes up at you.

His fingers loop into the sides of your panties but his eyes are searching for your consent. It’s only when you mutter out a small ‘please’, that he tugs the fabric down your legs. His large hands quickly grab your shins, folding you up and spreading you open for his greedy eyes. His plump lips hang open at the sight of you; wet and needy beneath him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, mostly to himself, “look at you, babe. All this for me?”

His honey eyes are somehow darker at the sight of you. The dim lighting in the living room only accentuated his sharp features and he could faintly see the deep crimson blush adorning your cheeks. Your breath hitches as you watch his tongue slide over his bottom lip while his eyes bore into yours.

Your blood is laced with desire and you have to fight like a dog to hold yourself back from pulling him to where you need him the most. You know you poked the bear and you’d do anything for him to give you what you want. Your body was aching for him and you decide you don’t have time for any games.

It’s only seconds later that he’s laid out on his stomach, peppering kisses to your thighs. You whimper lightly as his lips tease your sensitive skin; kissing everywhere except where you want- no, need him.

His eyes are fixated on you, watching for every reaction to his trained touch. His lips ghost up your thigh, sucking teasingly on the spot where your leg meets your core. Your thighs clench around his head for a split second before a smack against your bum pulls you out of your haze.

“Sit still,” he asserts, moving closer to your dripping heat. You sigh, trying your best to relax into his embrace. “Be a good girl.”

His lips finally press kisses up your slit and you hum with satisfaction. You feel his tongue poke out, sliding against your bundle of nerves slowly. You’re aching for more, this much he knows. But he’s gonna make you pay for your teasing.

“Ah-” you yelp as his teeth nip at your clit, tugging gently before soothing it with his tongue. Your legs try to shut but his hands are still planted on your shins, keeping you opened up for his taking. He shoots you a warning with his eyes while a smirk makes its way across his lips. Little shit.

His wet tongue stays at a slow pace for a moment- he likes it when you get needy. Your little choked sighs are making his member ache in his tight pants but he’s too fucked to care. He’s too busy savoring the taste of you to even notice. His tongue picks up its pace, swirling around your bundle with ease. His lips stop occasionally, sucking on your plush center before picking back up with his skilled tongue. His coarse hair rubs at your sensitive button, making you groan at the new feeling.

“Shawn, fuck-“ you blurt, reaching for his hair out of habit. Your hand jerks to a stop, falling to your side instead; not wanting the pleasure to stop in case he punishes you.

Your eyes fall down to where he resides between your legs and you moan at the sight of him. His eyes are closed, lashes softly lying atop of his rosy cheeks. His lips are swollen and pink, covered in your juices. The sound of your moan prompts his eyes open, softly fluttering until they meet yours. A smirk sneaks across his lips as his tongue flicks at you.

“Feel good, baby?” he whispers, breath fanning across your core, “Like how my tongue feels?”

“God, it's so good,” you mutter, head falling back against the armrest of the white couch.

You don’t notice his hand sneaking up until his fingers are threading between yours. His warm palm envelops yours, squeezing tightly as he continues his attention on your throbbing center. You take it as an okay to touch him; sneaking your fingers under his soft tee with your other hand and tracing illegible patterns on his back.

He hums, vibrating against you and you buck your hips against his face. His free hand moves and you gasp when you feel two of his fingers prodding at your entrance before slowly slipping in. The feeling of your tight walls tugging on his digits has him aching; rutting against the couch for any friction.

“So tight, babylove,” he grunts against you, mostly to himself. “Got your pussy all wet for me, hm?”

His fingers are pumping in and out of you, assisting his tongue in pulling you closer to the edge. Your skin burns against his stubble but you welcome the sting. The feeling is different but so fucking addicting.

“Shawnshawnshawn,” you pant moments later, creeping towards the blissful edge, “don’t fucking stop,”

He doesn’t, he only picks up his speed as he feels your walls getting impossibly tighter around him. Seconds later he takes in your demeanor; arched and breathless, before he sits back on his knees, replacing his tongue with his thumb. He flicks at you ruthlessly, watching your center pulsate as you explode.

It’s in this moment that he realizes how hungry he is; how selfish. How he wants more, more, more. He wants to please you over and over.

“Fuck that was beautiful, lovey,” he whispers against your lips, shifting to lay his body weight on top of you. Your legs wrap around his waist tugging him closer to you. Your lips meet in a sloppy kiss and it’s on minutes later that he’s got you worked up once again.

“You ready for me?” his voice is low and rugged in your ear, begging for more. Your eyes flutter open, swimming with desire from your last orgasm. You nod quickly, pulling his t-shirt off of his sculpted body. He stands up, making quick work of his jeans and boxers. You whimper at the sight of his member springing up against his stomach, smacking against it with a dull thud.

“C’mere, love,” he says, extending his hand out to help you up. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to his lips quickly before turning you around. “Want you on your knees.”

His hands rest on your waist, assisting you in situating yourself on the couch. You're knelt on the plushy cushion with your elbows propped on the back of the couch. You spare a glance behind you, shooting him a lustful gaze as he presses his hips into your bum. Chills trickle down your spine as he palms your cheeks, spreading you open for his taking.

“God, look at this fuckin’ ass,” he grumbles, landing a smack against your right side, “You look so pretty bent over for me.”

With all the hormones pumping through your system, you’re left speechless. Wordlessly you wiggle your ass around for him, making him groan at the way your plush bum jiggles. Another slap lands across your ass, leaving a red, blotchy print behind.

“Behave.”

You whimper, pressing your face into the white cushion. He takes his time behind you, admiring your physique. His heart is pounding in his chest as he takes you in. All of you. The curve of your spine. Your hair swung over one shoulder. The smoothness of your skin.

Your pull on him leaves an ache in his bones. Somehow always satisfied, but he just can’t seem to get enough of you. You make his knees weak. His heart race. And he knows he’ll never be the same.

Your back arches further as he takes his member in his hand and presses into you. You yelp briefly at the stretch of him sinking inside you. He watches with hooded eyes as his length disappears in your velvety walls and shudders at the feeling. Whimpers falling out of your chest signal to him that you’re still adjusting so he gives you one tiny thrust before he gives you a moment to stretch out.

“Man enough, babe?” he mutters cockily; pressing sloppy kisses to your bare shoulder.

“Mmm, not sure yet,” you tease, turning back to watch him.

Shawn isn’t one to get his ego hurt, really. But something inside him is itching, clawing it’s way out to prove himself to you. He knows he always leaves you satisfied- he was hyper-aware of your pleasure at all times. But tonight is different.

Your words encourage him to deliver another pointed thrust deep inside you; pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. His hand comes down on your thigh- hard.

“Oh fuck,” you choke out, knowing you’re really in for it tonight.

“If I wasn’t man enough, you wouldn’t be dripping down your fucking legs, princess,” he whispers casually in your ear; voice dripping with lust. At his words, your hips rut back into his; signaling that you were ready for him. With that, he’s off for the races.

Although you know what to expect, you’re still taken by surprise when his hips slam into you. He sets a brutal pace from the get-go and you can only whine in response.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ wreck you,” he moans, throwing his head back.

“Fuck, Shawn, please.” you pant, rutting your hips back against him.

He knocks the air out of your lungs as he thrusts deep inside of you. Your moans are muffled by the cushion you’ve buried your face in and his cock swells impossibly thicker than he ever thought possible at the sounds. He delivers a series of deep thrusts, making dull harmonies of skin against skin ring through the air.

“Being so good for me,” he blurts, smacking your ass again, “my good fuckin’ girl,”

A fire is being lit deep in your tummy as he rails into you. It’s only when his skilled fingers sneak around you and press into your clit that your moans double. Your body jerks forward but his strong hand grips your hip and yanks you back to him.

“I’m yours, Shawn,” you whine, trying to stabilize yourself on your shaky thighs.

“That’s right, babe. Who makes you feel this good?”

“You do,” you reply quickly, craning your neck back as pleasure envelops you.

Your neck is further extended as his hand gets a grip of your hair, pulling you back to look at him.

“Say my name.”

His tone creates butterflies deep in the pit of your gut. It’s darker than usual; raspier and deep. It makes you wanna do anything he asks. Makes you wanna scream out your lungs for him.

“S-Shawn,” you stammer, “you make me feel so fucking good,”

Your praise goes straight to his dick, making him throb inside of you. He’s a pleaser, that’s for sure. Now is no exception as he collides into you, pulling sweet melodies from your chest.

“You’re taking my cock so well, baby. Takin’ me so well in that little pussy,”

He watches as his length disappears deep inside of you. Watches your walls wrap around him, getting tugged with the motions. You’re getting tighter and tighter around him as his fingers still swirl against your sensitive button. You feel his veiny cock dragging in and out as he pounds into you at a ruthless pace and clench around him.

“Gonna cum for me? That pussy wants to cum, doesn’t it?” he teases, speeding his fingers up.

“God, please let me cum Shawn,” you beg, “please.”

“Cum baby, cum on my cock” he pants, preparing for the throbbing feeling, “give it to me.”

It’s only seconds later that the coil in your stomach snaps, clenching repeatedly on him. You throb uncontrollably around him, tugging his cock beautifully. His breath hitches at the feeling and he keeps up his pace, fucking you through your high. Your quiet moans reach a boiling point, now echoing through the room and mixing with the sound of your bodies colliding. His eyes practically bulge out of his head as he watches your cunt squeeze him.

“Feel so fuckin good. Gonna make me cum, babygirl,” he blurts out, stammering a bit. His pace is choppier now, faltering a bit as your walls pull him closer to his high.

“Cum in me Shawn, I’m all yours” you whine, trying to get him there, “Fill me up, baby, I wanna feel it.”

His head tosses back as he pounds into you, feeling heat creeping up from his toes. His breath is ragged as he collapses into you, still hammering away at your center. Only seconds later he’s cumming; thick globs inside of you. Your core flutters around him at the feeling, furthering his pleasure.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts, slowing his hips down gradually as the bliss becomes too much.

A few moments later, he’s tugging his shaft out of you. You shudder as your body releases him, feeling suddenly empty. You collapse back into the couch, chest heaving as you pull your mind back together after your second earth-shattering orgasm of the night. The last thing you’re expecting is to feel his hands prying your legs apart again.

“Shaaawn,” you whine, eyes popping open to gaze up at him in disbelief. Fuck, he’s insatiable.

Your thighs clench when his long fingers slide against you, scooping up some of the cum that was oozing out of you. He only smirks in response, extending his hand out to your mouth, prompting you with his eyes.

The scene is filthy; him slipping his fingers into your waiting mouth, licking up your shared juices like you can’t get enough. And really, you can’t. The simple action already has you throbbing and wanting more. You hum around his fingers, eyes fluttering shut.

“Want you to give me another one. Think you can give it to me, lovey?” he inquires softly, contrasting his dominant demeanor.

You nod slowly with his fingers still deep in your mouth. He pulls them back quickly, moving to prod them at your sopping wet entrance.

“Look at that pretty cunt,” he whispers, “Dripping with my cum, hmm?”

He hums as he spreads the cloudy liquid up to your sensitive clit. You cry out as his calloused fingers start playing with it once again; swirling effortlessly. Your face is burning red and your chest heaves as he plays with your overstimulated center.

His eyes are fixated on your pink slit, dripping wet. All for him. He watches as he sinks two long fingers deep inside of you, hooking them to find the spongy spot deep within your walls. His pace starts off slow, working you back up after two beautiful orgasms. He’s amazed at his effect on you. Amazed that you’re his. It’s pure devotion. Forever. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

“So fuckin wet,” he whispers, rubbing your thigh with his free hand.

“Shawn, oh my god,” you whine as he picks up speed again.

His fingers coax in and out of you, curling perfectly every time. He hits your spot with ease, getting deeper than you ever could. He sits up a little straighter, using his free hand to start playing with your clit again. Your chest is burning with fire, mumbling out incoherent words as he works you back up.

“Come on baby, give me one more,” he murmurs, focusing his eyes on your center.

You’re gripping at your breasts aimlessly, trying to hold onto any bit of this world as you hurdle towards another orgasm. His fingers jam into you roughly, tugging beautiful whines out of your pink lips. Your thighs are shaking and his wrists ache but fuck, he’s lost in you.

His efforts only need to go on for seconds longer before you finally explode for him again. Your body shakes against the couch, overwhelmed with bliss. The feeling is almost too much but the way his eyes are trained on your fluttering center rids your mind of everything else. He watches in amazement as your tight walls clench around his fingers, pushing out more of his cum. The sight is filthy and he can only hang his jaw in response.

He fucks you with his fingers until you’re pushing his hand away, overstimulated by his passionate treatment. He unsheathes you and crawls back up your body slowly before pressing kisses to your sweaty hairline.  

“Did so good,” he whispers into your ear, brushing your hair softly, “So good for me, sweet girl.”

Tears leak down past your temples and into your hair as you take deep breaths. His expression shifts and he thumbs at the wet streaks, clearing them off of your blushed face.

“You okay, baby? Too much? Did I hurt you?” he stammers out quickly, suddenly concerned.

You shake your head, giggling softly, “No, just felt so good,”

He smiles down at you, blushing wildly before he presses his swollen lips to yours. You share a brief passionate kiss before he breaks away, pulling you into his lap.

“So,” he starts, brushing his fingers up your spine, “Did I prove it?”

“Mhm,” you nod, smiling softly as you brush your nose against his.

You’re typically quiet after sex, especially after three rounds. It’s how he knows you’re satisfied. He just breathes you in, taking in your embrace after spending too long apart. His lips press against your burning cheek, stamping little pecks of love across your skin as you fiddle with his curls.

“Missed you so much,” you whisper into the still air; finally feeling safe in his arms again.

“Missed you too, lovey. We get a few weeks together now. No interruptions,” he replies softly, leaning his forehead against yours. You giggle in response,

“Maybe we can have more nights like tonight,”

“Oh, believe me,” he insists, raising his eyebrows, “we will.”

You sit together for a few more moments, just re-familiarizing yourselves with each other until he speaks up again,

“How ‘bout I run you a bath?” he pitches, searching your tired eyes for a response. His lips trail across your face, still pressing occasional kisses there, leaving a slight sting behind as his prickly hairs rub against your skin.

“Mmm, sounds lovely. Would you wanna join me, maybe?”

“Of course, sweet pea,” he chuckles, picking you up with ease and carrying you off to the bathroom.

“Maybe I can throw your razor out while you aren’t looking,”

“What?!”

[berrykook]

bloom (demon!y!hs) (nsfw)

do not read if you are not into yandere fic! hs is a demon jackass pls save urself!

in which hoseok finds you in his garden and his love begins to bloom

contents: demon!yandere!hoseok, kidnapping, manipulation, oral (f receiving), sex!!! i gotta spoil it they fuck! and hoseok kinda says some...sub stuff idk :/

word count: 5.2k

a/n: thanks for the requests ! <3 i got off track from building this universe and i ended up sorta negating the law that demons and angels can’t interact buttttttt reader still kinda has a moral dilemma ? >.<

IMPORTANT before they start fuckin, reader has a moment of confusion and suspects that hoseok has intentionally magically warped her mind into consenting but that’s not the case reader is just dumb! thank u also i don’t know much about flowers or hell so i’m sorry if any info is incorrect :( lmk and i will fix immediately (and let’s pretend hoseok’s dog is a girl bc i didn’t know that until googling it for this fic)

and mb that this is coming a month after i said it would :( school is beating my ass hard anyways pls enjoy

*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

Hoseok once had a mother a mere three-thousand or so years ago and she named him well. His name fell off her tongue in a major key and rang across acres and through caverns. She never failed to say his name in gargantuan font to be heard across nations; the syllables “Ho-seok” had chimed through shadowy deserts of Hell, Heaven, and Earth for as long as he lived. Hoseok was always big and known - a beacon of diabolic energy; it was his birthright.

His mother was long gone, but remained in a photograph which he always kept on his person (demon?). It was supposed that even immortals had to walk forward into new lives after some time. His father had been around for around one hundred years after, and his sister had moved on when he was barely a thousand. The only companion of Hoseok’s, the only one left, was a shih tzu who followed him even when he treated her with indifference. Hoseok had great power and an abundance of Earth men who sold him their souls, but the loneliness which plagued him was indescribable.

“News for you, my Lord. Taehyung has declared he is but one sure meeting from stealing the Park soul for work to complete in the Circle of Fraud. He has said to be back in less than a fortnight.”

The assistant, doe-eyed and snake-tongued, stared at the wall behind Hoseok as he recited the news from one of hell’s most talented demons, who was currently on a sabbatical to inspect the soul of an Earth man with an itch to be with a woman he saw on the train a year prior. Taehyung had come bustling into Hoseok’s quarters one day, spewing gibberish about the perfect human to become his next target. Hoseok’s chest twinged a bit when Taehyung explained that this Park Jimin schmoe had been stalking this woman for months and was willing to practically sell his soul to be with her (enter Taehyung). “How wonderful,” he said wistfully, yearning for a perfect confidante like this Jimin character had found. At Hoseok’s glassy expression, Taehyung had to withhold a shiver.

Hoseok took a long moment to respond. He stared at his assistant, wondering if he, too, yearned for such a dream, or if perhaps he had even already found his match made in hell. The assistant’s nose twitched like a rabbit.

“Thank you, Jungkook. You may go,” Hoseok said apathetically. He robotically spun on his heels and exited Hoseok’s office with heavy footsteps. Hoseok stretched in his chair, debating if he should charm the assistant’s feet to grow dead and swollen and moldy to teach him not to walk so damn loud all the time.

The shih tzu yapped happily around Hoseok’s feet as he slowly rose from his desk to stare out the window to his left, which displayed miles and miles of lush greenery and delicate flowers of all colors. He conjured the garden around when his sister passed on. She, too, had an infatuation for infatuation and longed for a faraway place to water a romance. Once, they peeked into their father’s seeing portal as children and stumbled upon two lovers in a field of flowers.

(Hoseok did not possess his own soul, but if he did, it would be prickly and tar-like and scary. He was on the cusp of royalty in the underworld. He was evil.)

Still, Hoseok clutched the memory of those lovers in the flowers with tight fists. How magnificent it was to just be in the shadows of lovers. Oh, how the feeling crawled over him like a crowd of tarantulas. He was evil, and was sure he would never experience such a joy. At least he had his garden.

Hoseok felt your presence before his foot even touched the grass that day. He froze in the doorway for a moment, closing his eyes to sense where the intruder was. Within seconds, he discovered your exact location within the field that went on forever. He let out a breath as his feet hit the ground, now teleported a thousand miles from his home. He opened his eyes and choked for a second. His senses were going haywire - the grass was a million shades greener and the flowers seemed to bloom bigger before him. It was beautiful.

As soon as you became completely engulfed in the sickly red hot aura, you went ramrod straight and dropped the bundle of flowers in your hands. It filled every one of your pores and poured down your intestines like lava. You did not even get the chance to gasp - after the instant it came, it burned too much to inhale or exhale. You stared forward straight into the field, wondering how this spirit did not wilt all of the garden. You didn’t dare look in the direction it was coming from.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok spoke finally after a long moment of thick silence. The typical malice in his tone had completely vanished. He was sure now - he loved you. “Angel...are you lost?” He thought about kneeling to get on your level, but hesitated, awkward in his actions. What was he supposed to do with his hands?

Slowly, you trailed your eyes over to where those awful vibrations were originating from. Your stomach twisted when you saw him simply standing five meters away. You became filled with an indescribable dread. A demon, horns and all, staring at you and speaking with tenderness. You began to blubber immediately.

“I’m so, so sorry, I-I was just looking for a f-f-flower I heard you had, oh, dear God, I’m so sorry!” You were inconsolable, dropping your head towards your knees in surrender. Just feeling him that great distance away put you in shambles. You were young and naïve, but you knew what happened to Heaven’s Souls that were caught sneaking in the Circles. Your cries only worsened when his aura became stronger and more painful with every footstep. You suddenly felt an overwhelming warmth on your back and your cries immediately halted like magic.

“Don’t cry anymore.” His voice seemed to boom even when he was trying his hardest to keep it soft. “Nothing is going to happen to you. Speak freely...tell me how you arrived here.” His hand trailed up your back to rest on your neck. He wanted nothing more than for you to relax against him.

“I-I was...searching for a flower. I had heard about a secret garden in the Fraudulent Circle...one with every flower to have existed. I-I’m so sorry. Please, have mercy!” You began sobbing again into your hands, holding them close to your face when you felt his gentle touch around your wrists. “I only died just last year…I don’t want to vanish, please!”

Your wails struck a tune in Hoseok’s ribcage like a kalimba. He grabbed your fearful face in his hands and wiped your tears with his thumb. You held your breath in shock at how gentle he was.

“Not a single soul has trespassed my garden and escaped vanishing.” Your bottom lip wobbled at that, and he ran a thumb along it to still it. “But you...sweet angel...I couldn’t dare do that to you.”

Your mind raced, knowing how clever demons could be and especially such a powerful one like him. He was devastatingly handsome - if you were still on Earth, you would have melted right into his hands.

His smile is twisted. “Lover...do you know who I am?” He stared down at you in admiration, rising a bit on his knees to hover over your face.

Slowly and fearfully, you shook your head. He pressed a ghost of a kiss on your lips as he turned to your ear and whispered softly, “Ho-seok.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood straighter and your whole body erupted with goosebumps. You stared at him with wide eyes.

Hoseok. A name you knew of well, even when you were human. Hearing him whisper that name into your ear like that made your knees shake a second more rapidly. It felt as though the blue skies above had darkened into a hellish black hole. He chuckled at your terrified expression, smoothing your hair back with a burly hand.

“Are you scared?” He couldn’t help himself from asking. Your glassy eyes made him both sad and also weak-kneed. He decided in that moment that he especially loved to tease you.

You nodded again and Hoseok cooed, playfully squishing your cheeks a bit.

“You’re such a young one, aren’t you? Just a baby,” he mumbled, running his hands along your cheekbones, through your hair, across your forehead. Chills continuously crawled up your spine as he fawned over you like some sort of doll. You understood where you were going before you began your trip, but you truly felt it now - this was Hell.

“There is no reason to fear me. I couldn’t hold any malice toward a soul so beautiful...even better that you are an angel. I can easily arrange a place for you in my fortress if you so please.” Something in his tone warned you that it didn’t matter what you pleased. You gave a small nod, letting him take your hand in his. He held it to his face, inhaling deeply and pressing wet kisses along your forearm. “Really? You don’t mind sharing a space with a big, bad demon like me?” He chuckled darkly against your palm and you bit your lip nervously.

“No,” you murmured quietly. He was tricking you. You could feel it in your bones.

He smiled widely, also seeing completely through you. He knew then that he would need to put in some work to turn you over. He placed a hand on your back once more and leaned to bring his forehead to yours, and in less than a second, you had found yourself teleported to a cozy study with velvet carpets. Your stomach turned with anxiety at the thought of your friends and family not knowing where you had disappeared off to - you weren’t even sure if you were still in a Circle of Hell or some other evil place. Hoseok stood up slowly and brought you by the hand to behind his desk, perching you on his lap. 

“Tell me, angel, where are you from?” He conjured a brush out of thin air and ran it through your hair like he would a doll. You clenched your fists in an attempt to get your voice under control.

“I was told that I was the last of my family to die. They’re all up in Heaven, waiting for me.” Hoseok began to brush your hair slower. “B-But, it’s...fine, I guess,” you added quickly. The last thing you wanted was for Hoseok to grow suspicious of you. “I just...wanted to find a type of camellia. I love flowers,” you whispered. The feeling of his breath on your neck made you embarrassed. He laughed.

“Camellia? You should have just said so,” he beamed. Suddenly, his arm wrapped around your front to reveal the red blossom you had pain-stakingly sifted through the fields for. A soft gasp escaped you as Hoseok placed the flower in your hands, then wrapping his hands around your wrists. He seemed to like having that hold on you.

“Oh, it’s beautiful! It’s just how I pictured it,” you whispered in awe. You turned in his lap to face him, doing your best to ham up the performance to give yourself the best chance of survival. “Thank you, Hoseok.” You hoped that his doe-eyed expression so close to your face would not make your own expression drain of color.

“You’re welcome, darling...I can call you that, can’t I?” He leaned in closer to your face and you squeezed the stem in your hand to force yourself not to move back.

“O-oh...I suppose so, sure…” you said coyly. Hoseok’s smile grew wider and he slowly leaned in more, further and further, until his lips were pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your hope for escaping was decreasing exponentially as he continued to fawn over you and kiss your face. 

“Darling, tell me more,” he mumbled against you. “Talk to me about this afterlife in Heaven of yours. I want to know everything.”

You were sure that he was able to find out anything he wanted with just a lick of his magic, but you indulged him anyway. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s heaven, isn’t it? It’s...wonderful, actually. I missed my family for so long on Earth that it’s an indescribable feeling of being reunited once again.”

You did not lie - Hoseok would likely pick up on that before you could even pull the words from your throat, so you did your best to make your reality sound like something you held onto dearly. In truth, it was Heaven - nothing more, nothing less. Your entire family, along with every Godly person you had ever known was there to keep you company as you filled your days with...whatever it was you wanted to do. Heaven held your wildest dreams. 

Going spelunking to the Eighth Circle of Hell was the most interesting thing you had done since you died, but you knew that staying was out of the question, right? 

The needle of your moral compass twitched slightly.

“I...I miss them,” you mumbled sadly, playing with your fingers like a child. Hoseok remained silent and your heart picked up a beat as you couldn’t yet tell if he was seeing through you. He turned his head away from you, biting his lip.

“I see, angel...you would like to go home, wouldn’t you?” He looked to you again, reaching to cradle your face. You felt a profound force pulling you to lean in closer. Something about him felt right, and you were beginning to feel disgusted with yourself for it. His thumbs stroked underneath your eyes as he looked at you sadly. Your heart stirred unwillingly.

“I suppose I should...shouldn’t I?” You had to refrain from smacking yourself as the words tumbled out of your mouth like an avalanche. Ever since you were a young human girl, you had been warned of a demon named Hoseok and his tricks. You slept with a night-light for several years from the gruesome stories of him that lingered around your shoulders for long nights. You feared him, but a prickling feeling in your sternum somehow drew you closer. He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Sweet angels like you belong in Heaven. You have your afterlife and I have mine,” he sighed wistfully. You leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. 

There was no explanation for this unsolicited adoration blossoming in your chest. You were never one to fall in love easily, but it felt like the walls were going to close in on you if you didn’t give in. Yes, you were fully suspicious now that Hoseok had done something to your mind to make it melt in such a way, but it felt so good that you didn’t attempt to fight it. Hoseok grinned widely, itching to use his magic but ultimately restraining himself.

You were correct from that first moment he appeared behind you - you were completely and utterly hopeless.

“Besides, who would want to stay with such an ugly, evil demon like Hoseok?” He scoffed, looking away from you pitifully. You gasped and dropped the flower so you could tenderly hold his face in your hands.

“Don’t say that!” He grinned sheepishly under your gaze. “I just...I was just saying...um,” you stumbled over your words, trying to remember why exactly you had to leave him here. Your family was waiting for you in Heaven, but they suddenly seemed so miniscule compared to Hoseok. You were torn between completely rejecting him and his demonic nature, and attempting to understand that nature and understand the soul he is. His aura had changed totally since you first felt it - you now could only feel the love he had for you. It was absurd.

“You don’t remember, baby?” Hoseok laughs and your blush deepens. “I thought you were so eager to get back home...can’t you make up your mind?” Hoseok continued to tease you, which made you feel as if you were up in flames. Your mind raced, unsure of what was happening. Hoseok was now kissing the pads of your fingers. He moved so slowly, but you felt as if time was advancing more quickly by the minute.

“My head is...foggy. I don’t know what I want,” you mumbled, grabbing his hand to place on the back of your neck. He smiles widely.

“I think you know exactly what you want.” Hoseok took one of your hands to place on his chest. You immediately started rubbing it, up and down in slow strokes. “Such a good little angel...you always have been, haven’t you? Married a good man, lived honestly as a florist...you’ve been so good…” Hoseok held your face by your chin and slipped a thumb into your mouth to run along your lower set of teeth. “Why don’t you let yourself run free for a night? Be a little bad?”

He slipped his thumb further into your mouth and you leaned forward so it would reach toward the back of your throat. Hoseok moaned at the feeling, smirking evilly. “Darling...don’t you want this?”

You closed your eyes and hollowed your cheeks, letting the pad of your tongue be pet by his thumb. He released it from your mouth with a wet pop.

The burning in your sternum spread like wildfire through you, and you knew then that you had to let yourself smolder. You had already thrown caution to the wind when you decided going to a flower field in Hell was more fun than being around the people you had already spent a mortal eternity with. Something about his aura had your head reeling and your core dripping.

Fuck it. You were already caught in Hell.

“Yes, Hoseok. I want this.”

Hoseok leaned in to place a tender kiss under your jawline and when you opened your eyes, you found yourself teleported into a King-sized bed with a thick red velvet comforter. Hoseok hovered over you, still suckling on your neck. Like a virgin, you fiddled with your hands for a moment before hesitantly placing them on his shoulders.

Hoseok chuckled lowly, pulling away to look at you and push your hair behind your ears. “You’re nervous. Don’t worry,” he murmured. He placed a kiss below your right ear and sent a quaking shiver through your spine. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Hoseok grabbed both of your hands by the wrist and held them slightly above your head against the fluffed pillows. Whatever sex dungeon he had teleported you to was perfect - the cool feeling of the velvet against your skin and the aroma of Hoseok’s devilish aura made your knees shake. Hoseok noticed this and ran his hands up and down your thighs slowly, lovingly. “You’re shivering,” he laughed. You turned your flushed face away from him. He continued to laugh at you softly before turning your face back towards him with his pointer finger. “I already told you once. If you wish to leave after this, I’ll send you back to your place in Heaven without hesitation...there’s no reason to be scared because I will do anything you ask.” He kisses you deeply on the lips. “That is how I feel for you, just after this short time together.”

His attention on you felt thick like molasses. He made you feel as though you were the center of the universe. This was wrong, and you felt it deep within you. Knowing this, you reached up to capture his lips once again and palm his cock through the dark silk of his pants.

Hoseok moaned happily and continued to kiss you again and again for what felt like forever. His tongue lapped over every crevice of your mouth at a painful pace before finally moving his hand to slowly thumb your clit. His movements were agonizingly slow - you assumed he wanted to preserve this moment before he sent you on your way home.

You let out a deep sigh into his mouth as he slowly, but harshly, stroked your clit and fingered the opening of your pussy and just a touch from your ass. He smiled over you as he watched and took in every facial expression and inhaled each breath of yours.

“Does it feel good? Please, please, tell me,” he moaned. You stared up at him in disbelief - he seemed on the edge of orgasming just from seeing you in pleasure. You had barely done anything but stroke his cock through his pants. “I need to hear you tell me it’s good.”

You smiled smally, reaching up to grab at his chin. “Yes, yes. You’re doing so good, Hoseok.” You fought back a giggle as he practically rolled his eyes back into his head at your minimal praise.

“Angel...please, let me eat you out...I promise I’ll do good, please just give me the chance…” He began rutting his hips against one of your thighs and you laughed out loud. At the sound of your laughter, he whined pitifully. 

“Are you sure you’re from Hell?” You laughed as he buried his face into your stomach, embarrassed. “Just get started so you can fuck me already.”

Things quickly took a turn for the stranger as Hoseok buried his face into your pussy and made completely lewd sounds of pleasure from this. He seemed to be enjoying this more than you and it made you feel both embarrassed and hot. The feeling of control made your lips tilt up in a sick smile as his grip on your thighs tightened with each moment.

“Y-You’re doing so well,” you mumbled after several minutes of Hoseok eating you out while trying not to cum in his pants. “S-so, fuck, good.” It was an odd game that Hoseok was playing, but you followed along gleefully. At your praise, he moaned loudly into your pussy and sent a shiver of pleasure up your spine. “C-come here,” you instructed, reaching to pull his head up towards yours. He let out a pant as he dragged himself up towards you, knuckles holding himself on the bed shakily. “Will you fuck me?”

Hoseok bowed his head to place a kiss on your sternum. “Anything for you,” he whispered, almost hissing like a snake. He guided your hand to stroke his cock for a bit, all while he loudly expressed and moaned for you. Heat continued to rise in your cheeks - Hoseok was scandalous.

“S-sweetheart, fuck, we have to start before I come all over your thighs.” You both laughed and he gripped your neck possessively, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

The pressure of just the first stroke had you rolling your head against the satin pillows. Hoseok seemed to be handling it in a worse way, as it looked as though he could already be finished in just a quick moment. You gripped his neck and pulled him closer before whispering to him, “How do I make you feel?”

Hoseok growled for a moment, before whimpering and burying his face into your neck. “Y-you’re a princess...fuck, fuck, I fucking can’t...a queen,” he moaned.

You threw your head back again as he picked up the speed of a jackhammer. He dove into you so deeply with such vigor and passion that you had no doubts he wasn’t mortal. Nobody but him could drill into you like this.

Hoseok reached down to get a grip on one of your thighs to perch on his shoulder. You moaned unashamedly and it made his pace jolt for a moment.

He continued fucking you relentlessly, occassionally turning his head to nip at your thigh. You turned your head to bring your gaze to the mirror in the corner of the room, proudly displaying Hoseok’s muscled back and his cock slipping in and out of you. You let out a breathy laugh and Hoseok began fucking you with everything in him.

“You like seeing yourself getting fucked? You look radiant,” he growled, pounding into you so hard you were bumped by the headboard. At a loss for words, you nodded, once again reaching up to hold his neck tenderly. He smirked down at you. “Ready?”

You let out another laugh, nodding eagerly. He smiled softly, too softly for a demon, and placed on hand on your pussy and one on your breast, all while keeping his inhuman pace fucking you. Just the touch of his hand on your clit had you in tears, but his skill in rubbing it tenderly had you screaming out. At the first sight of your tears, Hoseok came inside you almost immediately. The sounds filling the room were lewd, and the feeling of his cum filling your pussy and getting all over your thighs and ass held the same sentiment. Ever so slowly, he stopped pumping and delicately brought your leg to rest on the stained velvet. He kissed your lips slowly and lovingly for several minutes before wrapping you in his arms and just holding you close.

“You are perfect,” he spoke softly after the long silence. You drowsily looked up at him for a second before looking away shyly. “Tell me what makes you happy, and I will give it to you.” Another slow kiss to your lips. “Anything you’d like.”

You kissed back with hesitance, now eager to make your way back home after being held and kissed by him for nearly an hour of cuddling.

“I’m happy with the camellia.” You smiled and pressed a kiss to his jawline before rising slowly, looking around the room for a door.

Hoseok chuckled darkly, rising as well and holding your waist to bring you onto his lap. You protested, flushing deeply when he still planted your bare pussy onto his legs and let his remaining cum from inside you flow out back onto him.

“That’s not what I meant, darling.” He brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear and admired you closely. You looked away, twiddling your thumbs. “What is it that you would like in our living quarters? Would you like the flower shop from your mortal life, or perhaps the home you raised your children in? I could conjure another garden at the drop of a hat, sweetheart...anything you would like.”

His stare on you intensified as he spoke. Your heart rate picked up once he said “living quarters,” and you begged it to slow so he wouldn’t notice.

“O-oh,” you stuttered after a long moment. He kept running his fingers through your hair and it sent chills down your naked spine. “I’ve got everything I need at home...don’t you think it’s time I get going?”

You looked at him coyly, hoping he would keep his promise of sending you home afterwards. He laughed breathily and kept a large hand cradling the back of your head.

“You didn’t think I would actually let you go, baby?” Hoseok laughed out loud, throwing his head back. He pressed an urgent kiss to your lips. You did not return it. “You’re mine, even if you didn’t have my cum dripping down your legs. You were mine the second you set foot in my garden.”

You looked to him carefully and let out a nervous chuckle. The temperature in the room began to rise, though you stayed still on his lap. Hoseok’s smile deepened.

“I have to go home,” you whispered after another long silence. At this point, you were dripping sweat while Hoseok remained unbothered. “You said you would take me home.”

Somewhere inside of you had clearly known all along that making a deal with Hoseok had no way of ending well. You knew he would torture you and eat your heart for breakfast because Hoseok was a demon and that’s what demons did, and especially ones of his calibre - yet, you stayed. You knew he would end you, and you stayed.

“Darling...you’re so sweet.” He leaned in to whisper into your ear, “and stupid.”

In the blink of an eye, Hoseok had transported you to the desk chair in his office. He had dressed himself in a fine suit and yourself in a ruffled dress so white it hurt your eyes. You noticed now that his office was also decorated in that heavy red velvet. It made your stomach churn.

“If you really would like to go home, the door to my garden is here. I told you already.” He rested his hand on the doorknob and looked to you with heavy eyes. “I love you.”

You held back a scoff, knowing that he wasn’t asking, but demanding you to go past the door. For some reason, his last confession of love was more bone-chilling than the others. He opened the door for you and towered over you as you cautiously took the first step onto the soft bed of grass below.

A feeling not unlike what you felt when you first encountered Hoseok’s aura ran up your leg and struck your entire body. Immediately, you rebounded back into Hoseok’s office and dropped to your knees as the burning made you feel as though your flesh was dripping off the bone. You cried out as you repeatedly ran your hands up and down your arms and legs, reassuring yourself that they were still there. Hoseok let out a booming laugh.

He bent to sit cross-legged on the floor with you.

“It’s not real, baby. You’re just imagining it. See?” Hoseok grabbed your wrists gently and placed your hands on his face. “Look at me. You’re safe,” he chuckled. You still had to take a moment to catch your breath.

“I have to go home,” you sighed, exasperated. Hoseok smiled again, grabbing hold of your wrist again to caress it tenderly.

“Listen carefully, darling.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forearm. “I don’t want to have to say this again. You’re mine. I own you.” He intertwined your fingers. “I could rip your heart out in a second. I could feed you to my dog. Feed you to the assistant.” He ran a hand through your hair and lovingly held your trembling chin. 

“I could make you vanish with the snap of my fingers...now, or later if you want to act up.” You looked down in shame and he immediately grabbed your face again to bring it to his. “Take one step outside that door and I’ll have you up in flames. I could have your head on a fucking stick, baby.” Suddenly, he cooed, wiping a tear from your eye. “You are home. You were meant to get caught in my field. I was meant to meet you, and love you. I love you. Sweetheart?”

His hand that was holding yours suddenly contracted, squeezing your bones with a sick snap and pop. Through your cries, you sobbed out, “I love you too.”

He smiled sickeningly, planting another kiss on your forehead. “Remind me your favorite flowers. We can keep them in the bedroom.”

[thefightingmagician]

Upright

Her fingers pulled against the strap of her chest plate, tightening the metal around her more snuggly. It should have felt familiar to her, it had been the armour she used to wear back at the palace, her home. But this was not the palace, this was not her home. And the collar around her throat that jingled far too loud to her own liking, was not the normal part of her uniform. But then again, was this truly the same uniform and chest plate as before?

No, it wasn’t. She had done something to it, made it enchanted, but was anyone truly going to go and attack her? She had become more paranoid with each passing day, but personally speaking, Beatrix had lost all sense of time since agreeing to stay. She had to, it was her duty after all. Until her last breath, she had sworn. And where she came from, one did not simply break a blood oath.

Her thoughts drifted towards her homeland, briefly reminiscing and possibly even yearning for the sandy shores and the rainy forests before the thoughts screeched to a firm half. Shaking her head from side to side much like a wet dog would, the guard focused her eyes forward as the throne room doors opened and in came… what was once the Countess of Vesuvia. No longer a human, but more of an Arcana-human hybrid.

The initial change of Nadia had shaken her, how could it not. Gone was the beautiful and beloved Countess and in her place was, this creature that appeared to be Nadia and the Devil combined. It made her blood run cold when their eyes locked and often Beatrix found herself breaking the gaze, lowering her chin in submission and her head often receiving a possessive and firm pat from the Countess clawed digits. That motion made her heart skip, often reminding the guard of better times when those fingers were not ending in sharp talons and they softly glided through her hair. She often found herself shedding tears for what might have been. For who Nadia and she could have been…

And now, as the once Countess entered, another figure close at her heels, Beatrix could not look at the pair, rather turning her eyes towards the ceiling. The other was another she had once loved, but just the same as the once Countess, she could not bear to look at her. Could not will her heart to not shrivel, could not steady her tongue from becoming like a viper’s, poisonous words beginning to form, only for her to shut her mouth and grind out a small phrase before leaving their presences all together. Sadly, this was one occasion, she could not do such a thing.

This place had changed Miann just as the Devil’s heart had changed Nadia. The once bubbly and sweet magician had become cold and cryptic. When Nadia said jump, Mianna asked how high. It made her ill. Her beloveds had changed, and yet here she was, still grasping onto her own humanity that she felt slipping away each and every day. It did not help that Nadia was often looking after her with a predatory and knowing grin. The once-Countess knew she was changing and well, she took great pleasure from it. She had always liked watching Beatrix squirm.

“Beatrix.”

The way Nadia said her name made her skin crawl, but once upon a time, it had made her heart flutter and dance. Her tone oozed with possession and seduction, but no matter how hard she tried, she was always caught in her sway. And the once-Countess was not to be disobeyed.

She turned her head over slightly, looking towards the woman who spoke her name. Beatrix watched on as Nadia settled onto her throne, her legs folding one over the other and she beckoned towards her with a taloned finger.

“Closer, dearest. You know I strain for no one.”

She spoke towards her, settling her once raised hand back onto the armrest of her throne. Miann sneered from the left side, watching as Beatrix stepped closer. Their relationship had not been what it once was since her full exception of this new Nadia. It had changed her altogether. Horns, blackened sclera, and even a tail. This was not her Miann. That was not her Nadia.

She looked towards Nadia from beneath her lashes, watching her as she watched her.

The once-Countess leaned forward, taloned fingers wrapping around her chin and lifting it upward. Her skin, surprisingly, did not crawl as she touched her. Beatrix even felt herself lean into the touch, hearing a soft hum of pleasure from Nadia.

“That’s a good little guard. My precious little guardian. How are you feeling today?”

It was an innocent inquiry, but those were the most loaded questions when it came to this Nadia. She would not keep her waiting long, especially when they were in contact. She was unpredictable when she had a hold on Bea.

“Fine, my Countess.”

“Just fine? Come now, my sun and stars… There’s something bothering you.”

“D...don’t..”

She uttered the singular phrase and immediately cringed, feeling Nadia’s fingers tighten around her chin, drawing her closer.

“Hm? What was that?”

“Nothing… My Countess.”

Nadia gazed at her, goat-like ears twitching slightly and she leaned closer, their faces nearly touching. Her nose brushed once and then twice against Beatrix’s and she drew her closer, her taloned fingers tracing down to the collar around her throat and giving it a little tug.

“Kneel. Miann, inspect her. Now.”

“Of course, Nadia.”

Beatrix was forced to her knees both by the sudden force around her throat and Nadia’s own command. The collar was always the source of her troubles, it had been the day it was put around her neck, but in the end, it did earn her some good things.

Miann stepped closer, lowering herself a bit to Beatrix’s level and sneering slightly again.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you, Pup?”

She taunted, placing her hands on her forehead. Miann glided her hands through her hair, pausing at about the middle of her head and grinning a sharp tooth smile.

“Oh~. Now, what’s this?”

Bea had grown out her hair somewhat, or rather it had been growing on its own and she hadn’t the time to handle it as she was always running about with some task or another. Plus, she had the feeling that Nadia preferred her hair longer. More to touch. She flinched at Miann’s pausing touch and grimaced as she yanked her head upwards, presenting her find to Nadia.

“Ah, a beautiful sight. So we’ve finally gotten through to you, have we, my darling pet?”

Horns had begun to sprout from her head, the first initial sign that her resolve was breaking. She had found them not a week ago, or what she believed to be a week. Back then, she had tried to file them down but to no avail. And now they were growing further and further, a little by each passing day.

“Absolutely beautiful. I believe this calls for a cel-“

“N-no. I… I won’t… Give in.”

Beatrix hissed out and attempted to strain against the force that was keeping her in place.

“You would disrespect your Countess?”

“YOU’RE NOT HER!”

She shouted, yanking her head from Miann’s grasp and glaring at Nadia, who leaned back in her throne and laughed loudly. The laughter curling upwards and bouncing off the walls.

“Oh dear, of course, I’m not her. I’m much better.”

Beatrix felt like she had been slapped, jerking her head to the side as she ground her teeth together before slumping. All fight seeming to be leached out of her and tears began to form at the corner of her eyes. It was hopeless, there was no going back, her Nadia was gone and she was changing. She was becoming like them. That had been the plan all along, hadn’t it? To be changed… To become the reverse of who she was.

And as her head was raised again by Nadia’s clawed digits, she gazed into the red eyes of the woman she once loved and saw nothing of her former self. Just an empty-eyed, predator wanting more power. She would not look long as her eyes closed and she leaned her chin into her hand. Giving up. This was one fight she could not win.

Birds chirped softly and the soft murmur of voices awoke her. Blearily, she stared up at the canopy hanging over the large bed and she stretched out slowly, much like a cat would before sitting. A frown creased her features as she looked about the bedroom.

This… this was the Devil’s realm. Not the chambers of the twisted and evil once-Countess. No. This was her chambers in the summer palace.

“What… What the Hell?”

Her words escaped her own lips and she was startled by her own voice. Turning her head from side to side, she started at the sound of a knock at the door and the appearance of Portia’s head poking in.

“Finally awake sleepy head? Come on, breakfast has been ready for the past ten minutes and you best not keep those two waiting. Your clothes are already set out for you.”

The ginger-haired Chamberlain grinned at the Guard Captain who stared at her, a confused expression on her features.

“Portia?”

“You alright there, Bumble-Bea? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And everyone knows this place isn’t as haunted as the palace back home. Now come on! Up, up, up!”

The other woman stepped further into the room and grasped Beatrix’s hand. Even though she was a good seven inches shorter than Bea and not as muscled, the servant was able to yank her out of bed with some clear effort. Beatrix opened her mouth to speak but was hushed by Portia and ushered over to the clothes that were laid on the chaise.

“Mush! Come on, breakfast. And you three have a date with the ocean an hour after, come on.”

And once she assured herself that Beatrix was up and dressing, Portia made her exit.

The Guard Captain stared down at the clothes that had been laid out for her. Truly they were items she had packed by accident, but nonetheless, it had certainly pleased both Nadia and Miann when they saw her retrieve the outfit from her luggage upon arriving.

Consisting of an essentially sleeveless tunic of deep purple, a set of trousers in black, simple sandals and a set of golden arm braces.

A sigh escaped her and she ran her hands through her ruffled, bed-headed hair. She still could not shake the nightmare, nor the feeling of the claws on her skin. Giving her head a firm shake in a clear attempt to shake the memory, she grumbled and moved to finish dressing, clicking the arm braces into place and then stepping over to her vanity to comb her hair into a proper style.

Soon enough, she was exiting her chambers and stretching her arms upward. Letting out a grunt, she flexed her fingers at her sides and began heading off in the direction of the dining room but paused as a familiar figure came bounding towards her from the direction of the terrace.

“Good morning Corny, where’s Miann, hm?”

Beatrix lowered herself to a crouch as the familiar trotted over and climbed up onto her shoulder and then to her head. He began pointing and gesturing towards the terrace. A chuckle escaped Bea and the duo began strolling in the direction of the open doors.

The terrace was a large outdoor sitting area that overlooked the rolling ocean and sandy beaches that the trio would soon be relaxing on. It was a beautiful view, but Bea was not focused on it, but rather her eyes were focused primarily on the two seated figures at the table.

Nadia was watching Miann with a knowing smile on her features as the magician was attempting to figure out one of the Countess puzzle cubes. Miann, meanwhile, was cursing softly at it under her breath but she was grinning all the same.

Cornelius the familiar climbed down from the woman’s head and trotted happily back over to Miann, scaling up to sit on the back of the chair. The magician looked up from the puzzle cube, her grin turning into a broad smile.

“Bea, good morning!”

“Good morning my stars.”

Beatrix stood in the doorway still, just gazing at the two of them before she felt a wetness on her cheeks. Blinking, she raised a hand and felt her cheek. Tears. She was crying and she soon found herself enveloped in between the once two seated women.

“Bea, what’s wrong, who upset you? Who do I have to set on fire??”

Came the hurried and worried questions of Miann who held tightly to both Nadia and Bea. However, the woman did not respond, merely burying her face into Nadia’s shoulder and hugging the two of them as close as she possibly could. They stood like that for many moments, Nadia and Miann exchanging worried glances as their normally strong and boulder-like lover sobbed. And soon enough, as quickly as the tears came, they soon settled and Bea pulled away, sniffling and gazing at the both of them.

“I… I love you both. I… Was just so overwhelmed, I had… A nightmare, it…”

“Was it the arena nightmare or th-“

“No.. It… Was something new. I don’t want to talk about it, please, let’s just enjoy our day. I… I’m alright, really. I… I love you both so very much.”

Nadia was silent, gazing down at her before gently cupping her face with both hands and drawing her thumbs over her eyes, brushing away the tears and gently pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“It’s alright, Beatrix. It was just a nightmare, it can’t hurt you anymore. Now come, breakfast is set for us and we’ll need all the energy we can get for today’s outing.”

She beamed down at her loves before ushering them back over to the table and they all settled down to eat.

The day, after the brief moment of Beatrix breaking down in front of them, continued on uneventfully. But Bea did seem a bit distant to Miann and Nadia, who quietly exchanged concerned glances throughout the day. However, by the end of it, they all climbed into Nadia’s large bed and cuddled close to each other. Miann was often between the two larger women, but for this evening and many evenings to follow, Bea was held tightly and comfortingly by her two lady loves.

The nightmare did not return, but the memory remained, nestled deep within the subconscious of the Guard Captain. And sometimes, on her worst days, she swears she hears the laughter of the devil-Nadia and holds on tighter to the ring around her neck.

But in the end, it was a dream. She was not a reverse of herself, and neither were her beloveds. Everything was right.

[the-half-ghost-kid-hero-rp]

💕

Danny had been trying to be better lately. He really had. For some reason, his human side had been pulling at him more than ever over the last few weeks. So he had listened. He had barely even switched forms at all. And slowly, ever so slowly, his mind had cleared. It was like a fog was lifted, allowing him to see clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

Exhaustion was the first thing that had come for him. And it had done so in spades. What little energy he had had in the beginning was spent shifting from his bed to the couch and promptly falling into a restful sleep. After a few days, however, the tiredness in his bones started to ebb, his energy returning little by little.

What little vigor he had gathered, he had spent on cleaning. He could only manage menial tasks at first - straightening his first aid box, collecting dirty bandage wrappers, and taking out the trash - but by the third day he had graduated to vacuuming the living room and cracking the blinds in his room. It was nice, to feel the sun warm his cool skin. If allowed, he would curl up in a sunbeam and never leave. 

It had taken a day or so for his appetite to return in full, and he had been forced to confront his empty kitchen. Preparing a frozen meal wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, but his stomach had quickly yearned for more sustaining sustenance after the first few repeat dinners. He had even been keeping up with his dirty dishes, never leaving so much as a spoon behind before turning in for the evening. 

After about a week, he had been starting to get into a rhythm. Wake, occupy himself by cleaning, organizing, or reading, then eating a healthy meal before heading to bed with a feeling of accomplishment warming his core. It had been nice, and he had been trying. He had been trying so hard. 

Of course, most things couldn’t last. Routines simply weren’t allowed to someone not belonging to this - or any other - dimension. Just when he was beginning to get his footing in this dance of normality, he was brutally reminded that the closest he could get was a pale mockery. 

His punishment had started right after a satisfying meal of mac n cheese and hot dogs. His favorite since childhood. A staple in American homes among American children. Something normal, concrete, and unchanging. And in a matter of minutes he was hunched over the upstairs toilet, retching undigested bits of noodles and uncultured meat into the recently cleaned bowl.

He didn’t clean the kitchen that night. 

The next morning he woke unusually late and everything hurt. Sore abs were run of the mill after blowing chunks; he knew that. It was standard and something he was intimately familiar with. This, though, was a full body, bone deep ache he wasn’t used to. It hung over him all day, a heavy blanket draped across his sagging shoulders. 

The few chores he could accomplish before tiring out were done slowly and with half-effort. 

Days passed and his condition had only gotten worse. It was as if all of the progress he had made was for nothing. The kitchen was ripe with spoiled mac n cheese, trash cans were overrun with crumpled tissues, and his blinds were drawn tight. Worst of all, his restored energy had been so depleted he would have guessed he was in the negative percentile. At least he would have if he had been in the right mind to speculate. 

The pain, like his insatiable exhaustion, stayed coiled tightly around him, its burning tendrils wrapped around his body. Even in most his relaxed state, the soreness in his limbs kept him from getting restful sleep. His short supply of energy was spent tossing and turning, which only tired him more. Constant stomach cramps and dry heaving ravaged the muscles that weren’t already in agony.

He was miserable and completely bewildered as to why. 

It had been four days of this torture. Four days spent wearing a path between his bed and the couch and the toilet. Four days since he had managed to keep anything down, liquid or otherwise. Four days without an hour of decent sleep. Four days without being able to touch his ghost side or powers. They were locked away, out of his reach somewhere deep and dark and untouchable.

As he sat on the couch blearily contemplating his dilemma and wondering if he was ever going to get peace, a knock rapped on the front door. It was dark outside, well into the hours of the evening, so he knew the guests were from out of town; no one in Amity Park would dare bother the abandoned Fenton Works building on the corner. 

Then there it was again, a pounding on his front door, more persistent this time. 

He should check that. 

He blinked slowly and suddenly found he was on his back, snuggled under a blanket, staring up at the vaulted ceiling of his living room. There were noises around him - heartbeats and words and movement. Time had passed, he could tell. It was later in the evening and for the first time in forever, he actually felt slightly rested. He was almost a brand new person having gotten his first bit of actual sleep in days. 

Someone was in the kitchen, complaining of the mess - rude - and someone else was coming down the stairs. Danny frowned, tilting his head to glance upside down at the walkway. Since when were the inside lights on? 

An all too familiar woman was descending the steps, haloed in brilliant crimson. She looked like an angel. 

“I said, did you find anything!?” she yelled to someone other than him.  

A grumpy angel. 

Danny grinned quietly as he watched her turn toward the kitchen, her arms tense. Then he remembered the second voice and his grinned slipped into a suspicious frown. 

“NO!” his angel’s companion answered back in a distinctly female voice. That definitely wasn’t the hell hound Tazaki usually traveled with. “Nothing short of some really gross dirty dishes,” the intruder continued and the young woman stomped her way into the doorway. She looked and sounded ages younger than Taz, though Danny would wager she was still older than him. “Would help if you told me what I was supposed to be looking for.”

Snuggling deeper into his cocoon, he glared at her over the hem of his blanket. She was loud. And short. He didn’t like her.

“I told you. Peppermint, ginger, or lemon. Herbs,” Taz replied. Growling, she rubbed her eyes. “There has to be something.” 

“Just some frozen bean burritos,” the younger woman replied, holding up a frostbitten dinner. Danny’s glare intensified. Those were his frozen bean burritos. 

Suddenly Taz’s green eyes were narrowed on him. 

“Do you have any herbs or anything?” 

He blinked at her. 

“Hello? Herbs? Spices? Did your mom keep anything in stock? Didn’t you say she was naturalistic sometimes?” 

“No.”

“No?” Apparently that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, because she sighed deeply, fingers massaging her eyes. “Of course not. I really did not want to go shopping today.” 

Suddenly, Danny realized why she looked so angelic: instead of her usual torn jeans and leather jacket, she was dolled up in a black dress, a knee length skirt hugging her hips. Black fur was curled around her shoulders, intricate lace across her collarbones keeping it in place. Her red locks were pulled back into a high ponytail, bangs framing her face and the sparkling diamond earrings that dangled from her ears. 

He had to be hallucinating. 

Taz grumbled, swinging her weight to one hip. One hand she planted firmly on that hip as the other shielded her painted face. “I. Had. Plans tonight,” she sighed. 

“I’ll go upstairs,” Danny muttered automatically. Sitting up, he slipped off the couch and shuffled to the stairs. The couch blanket was coming with him. Just in case anyone wanted to know.

Distracted, Taz frowned down to the young woman still clutching the frozen burritos. “And would you put those away!” she shouted, startling the poor girl.

“Oh come on!” her companion argued loudly. “I’m hungry! And you know there’s not gonna be any real food at the party! There never are. So we might as well eat up while we can.” 

The red huntress loomed over her darkly, eye twitching and forehead vein throbbing. “I said: put those away!” 

Danny’s wet sniff caught Taz’s attention as the younger woman ran sobbing into the kitchen. “Danny?” she wondered softly. 

“‘m fine,” he slurred. A shoulder found its way to the wall and he figured that would be a nice place to rest his weight for the moment. “Jus’ tired.” 

Upstairs, Danny was flopped onto his bed, curled on his side under his couch blanket. The same tired feeling that had been dragging down his eyelids clawed at them even now, but rest alluded his weary soul. His brain was too busy muddling over just what had happened downstairs, his musings getting stuck on random images and sounds like a broken record player as he tried to make sense of the strange events. 

He could still hear the commotion coming from the kitchen, even in his room. That was something this old house had never been great with. The walls kept out ghosts, ghouls, and creeps, but his parents’ conversation about the newest anti-ghost disintegration weapon floated from room to room as if the walls weren’t even there. The muffled noise was a lullaby sweet with nostalgia and he slowly felt the tension leave his muscles. 

Just then, footsteps thumped softly down the hall, avoiding all the noisy spots with practiced ease. His door creaked open after a soft knock, white light from the hallway piercing the musty darkness of his room. 

“You okay?” 

What did she want him to say? That he had had a fever for what felt like a week now? That the last time he managed to keep down any sort of food or drink was four days ago? Or maybe that he couldn’t touch his ghost core and was scared to death he’d never be able to get it back? 

He shrugged. 

“Do you need anything?” she asked. Apparently the stylish heels had come off at some point, he realized as she padded flat footed across his room. 

He didn’t know what to say, so he kept still and silent. 

Taz noted this with a worried glare. He looked so small, lazily curled up in the middle of his bed. His frail figure was swallowed by the sweaty blankets surrounding him. The room smelled of illness and it made her queasy.

“When was the last time you cleaned up? Or cracked a window?” 

A frustrated growl told her everything she needed to know. 

“Four days ago.”

“And when was the last time you ate something?” 

His stomach rumbled loudly. “Four days ago,” he choked. 

“Showered?” 

“Four days ago.” 

“Fought–”

“Four. Days. Ago. Everything either did or didn’t happen four days ago, get it?” he interrupted, sitting up and glaring at her. Black hair stuck up in all directions, matted and unwashed. His sunken cheeks were flushed against his pale skin.

Taz gasped quietly. 

“Your eyes.” 

They were tired and weary and sad and shockingly blue. 

He turned away. 

“…I know.” 

“How long?” 

Honestly, she deserved that glare. 

“Four days ago,” the redhead concluded with a nod. She perched on the edge of the bed. Danny drew up his legs, wrapping his arms around them to give her space. Their hands accidentally brushed. 

The redhead blinked. 

“Your…”

“What?” he demanded shortly. This game of point out the obvious was getting real old real quick. 

“Your hand. You really are burning up.” Reaching forward suddenly, the redhead grabbed his hand and pulled it forward, clasping it between hers. “She said you were hot but not like this--”

Danny hissed and pulled away. 

“And you’re freezing,” he replied. They paused, staring at each other. 

He broke it with another grumpy huff. 

“So what? I’m a little warm. It happens,” he frowned, shrugging the blanket up over his arms, hiding them from her intrusive touch. 

Tazaki sighed, long and deep. The next time she spoke, her voice was soft and warm and he could have cried it reminded him so much of his mom. 

“Your body is unnaturally cold, right?” she asked. “On average around 85-90 degrees?”

He knew she knew the answer to that, so he debated for a long moment if he should even comment. 

“Yeah,” he admitted finally. Sitting up this long was making him a little queasy.

“Blaine took your temperature while you were unconscious downstairs. You’re currently 99.4 degrees. That’s high for normal people. She was surprised you were still alive.”

Danny stared blankly at her for awhile. Math was never his strong suit, but he didn’t remember it ever making him nauseous. 

“Bucket,” he gagged suddenly, throwing off the blanket. His small trash can was in his hands before his feet even touched the floor and he nestled it between his knees. 

“Danny,” Taz mourned quietly, rubbing his sweaty back with her black fingernails. Dry heaving sucked. She would know better than most people, but when combined with a high fever and an internal system running on less than empty, it was almost unbearable. 

It broke her heart to think he’d been suffering like this in silence for four days. Lucky for him she had happened to be passing by on an escort mission. It was even more fortunate she happened to bring along with her a world renown doctor and surgeon (even if she wasn’t even twenty years old). 

Once the wave of sickness had passed, she reached out for him. “Come here,” she said softly. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders and trunk, she drew him close to her chest. 

“No,” he mumbled, having only the strength to turn his head away. 

“Yes. You’re burning up and need to cool down.” 

The boy lifted his arms, trying with sluggish desperation to push her limbsoff. “No, don’t. I lied. You’re not freezing. You’re warm. Hot–boiling! Stop!”

“Warm or not, I’m cooler than you right now,” she determined, pinning his arms to his sides and pulling him closer. 

He half-sobbed in desperation, resorting to leaning his entire weight forward. Apparently he would have rather face planted into his vomit bucket than lean against her. It was becoming annoying. 

“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded, releasing her hold on him once she was sure he wasn’t actually going to eat carpet. 

Folded over onto his thighs, arms wrapped around his middle, his face was effectively hidden from her judging gaze. 

It took several long beats before his quiet voice floated into the air, riding on the back of a deep red blush. 

“You……… you look really pretty,” he mumbled quietly. 

Admittedly, it took Taz as second to register what he was saying. Then it was her turn to almost fall off the bed. 

“You’re an idiot!” she blushed, punching his shoulder. 

Somewhere hidden in the mess of mangled black hair and shrugged shoulders, he smirked. 

It warmed her heart. 

She sighed, smiling. “Thank you,” she breathed and opened her arms invitingly. “Now would you please come here so I can make sure you don’t die?” 

Head still hung low enough to conceal his blush, he sat up and leaned against her, cheek pressed against her sternum. 

“There we go,” she sighed contentedly, slipping them further onto the bed. Slowly and gently, she laid down on the sweaty comforter, guiding the young boy to nestle against her. 

With a soft moan, he relaxed, melting into the comforting embrace. His breath was hot, too hot, against the exposed skin of her chest but she didn’t consider moving him. 

How could she when, in a matter of seconds, his breath evened out and the forgotten ghost boy was fast asleep for the first time in four days.

He had tried. He had tried so hard. But now he didn’t need to try anymore. 

// 

Asked by @tazaki-theredknight-blog for the send 💕 to hug my muse and not let go… meme. 

Got a question for the muse or mod? Ask away! 

[thepullout]

Kissed by a Hybrid

My first ever Klaroline fanfic :)

Prologue

Icy, skeletal fingers grasped her arm, the wind was blowing furiously around her. The snow was thick making it difficult to see her companion. She was yanked backwards, which took all the breath out of her lungs. They had found her. Katerina screamed as they steered her away, threw her into their dungeons and tied her up. They applied rope to her wrists and wrapped them around a metal bar connected to the wall. Katerina continued to scream until they shut the door and she was left alone in the dark. The stone floor was ice, and with every breath came a cloud of steam. Katerina’s lips turned blue, her hair became ribbons of icicles. She desperately pulled against her restraints. After fighting for hours, she finally rested her head against the wall, dreading what was to come.

Katerina strained as if trying to release a stiff piece of shit from her rectum. Finally, she felt the shot of unbearable pain parade around her every vein, and the cold did not help with her transformation. It set her skin on fire. She tried to stifle her screams, but it was no use, the pain was so excruciating. She felt her bones breaking to form the claws at her hands. She punched through the stone wall with her powerful fist to minimise the internal pain. Her teeth were becoming uncommonly sharp, her gums were stretching inside her mouth. She let out a roar. Her heart rate increased so fast and hard to the point she was not sure it was beating anymore. Down on all fours, her fur wet with sweat, her limbs weak from turning. She finally became her other self. A black dog who brought death. A hellhound. Beneath her beastly facade, she gave a wicked smile. The rope around her fist was reduced to a pile of string on the floor. A watchman walked in, and to his horror, he was left in the dungeon with blood gushing from his neck forming a stream across the icy floor. From that day on, the land Katerina had escaped from was known as Blood River.

Chapter 1

Caroline Forbes was readying herself for a day at the Salvatore Boarding School, where she taught children of supernatural skills. Her own two daughters, Josie and Lizzie, attended the school, thriving as they always did. As much as she tried, Caroline was unable to bring up the twins in a normal human life. Caroline found herself domesticated, and she enjoyed it while it lasted. She became the mother she lost, and like her mother, she now had to deal with the supernatural drawbacks that came with these girls. The human equivalent of that was trying to deal with teenagers. Caroline had the luxury of both.

“Mum!” Lizzie called from her bedroom. Caroline left the papers at her desk and joined her girls. “Yes, Lizzie?” Caroline replied, fixing her daughter’s hair in two parts. Lizzie fought her way out of her mother’s grasp. “Mother! Please stop,” Lizzie whined, freeing herself from Caroline. “What did you want, honey? I’m quite busy with marking papers,” Caroline sighed, reorganising Josie’s clothes. “I was just wondering when Hope was coming back,” Lizzie asked, eyes gleaming with hopeful anticipation. Caroline stared at her daughter. Hope was Lizzie and Josie’s best friend, she was a bright, young student of fifteen. The twins were two years younger than her, and they looked up to Hope like she was their older sister. Caroline sighed. “She’s expected to return back during the new term, just like the other students,” Caroline answered. Caroline watched as her daughters smiled in relief, chatting about everything they planned to do with Hope when she returned. Caroline saw something in Hope that she had not quite seen in the other students, including both Lizzie and Josie. She was a powerful witch and hybrid, with some vampire blood and werewolf, inherited from both her parents. There was no official name for what Hope was, but Caroline named her supernatural nature as “four.” It was not a great name, in fact, it was a number, but Caroline derived it from having the power of four supernatural beings. A witch, werewolf, vampire and a doppelganger. While Hope was not a vampire nor was she a werewolf, she was special. Caroline wished for the better that Hope would never activate her werewolf gene, it was a burden she did not want to carry and because Hope was a student of the Salvatore Boarding School, she was Caroline’s responsibility. Alaric, who was Lizzie and Josie’s father, spent most of his time researching the complications of a supernatural child. He was mostly interested in Hope, her powers and nature, which Caroline shared an interest for. Hope’s powers did not frighten Lizzie and Josie like it did the other students, and thus Caroline was glad she’d made some friends at her establishment. She only knew Hope’s mother, Hayley but had never met her father. From what Hope told the twins, he seemed like an intimidating hybrid. A daring father, and not the most humble. Hayley had told tales of Hope’s father that Caroline could not fathom. That he was this all-powerful original hybrid, a vampire and werewolf, and that he used the blood of a doppelganger to create more like him. With his own selfish and evil misdoings, his daughter was the only thing that brought him out of that dark realm. “What’s his name?” Caroline had asked Hayley years back. The name was a fearful one, it emitted horror and unease. It was believed he was one of the original vampires to ever be created in this world. And he was not alone, his siblings joined him in having that honour, or was it a curse? Caroline herself was a vampire, she was not aware of who’s bloodline she descended from, but it was one of the siblings. Hayley said that if an original vampire were to die, every vampire from his/her bloodline would die along with them. Caroline wanted nothing more than to never meet Hope’s father, he scared her before she even knew him.

A tiny chime was heard that brought Caroline back into the room. It was Josie’s phone on her desk. Caroline glanced quickly and saw it was from Hope Mikaelson. “Oh my God, yes!” Josie celebrated, “it’s a text from Hope.” Lizzie rushed to her at once. “What does it say?” Lizzie interjected eagerly, leaning over her sister’s shoulder. “Hope is coming to town a couple weeks early before the term begins,” Josie recited. Caroline gave a concerned look. “She can’t do that, the school won’t be open then,” Caroline said. “Well, she’s not going to stay here. She’ll be in Virginia early is all, mother,” Josie said. “With her mother?” Caroline asked. “No, this time, she’s coming with her father,” Josie replied. Lizzie and Josie squirmed in excitement. “I’ve always wanted to meet the great Klaus Mikaelson.”

Chapter 2 Katerina was in mystic falls, watching the town, gazing at every person and car go past. The world had gotten much larger than before. Katerina remembered back in the 1800s, where she conquered the land of Blood River, named after her tussle with the watchman, resulting in a river of blood pouring from his neck. She had owned people, she was known as a queen. Everyone knew she could transform into a dog and people used to fear her. Now, with the evolution of humanity, the respect had faded away. Blown away in the polutted winds of industrial cities. She yearned for her land back, once known as Blood River, now known as Mystic Falls. In 1827, the villagers who feared Katerina were too frightened to say her name, thus would call her the red-eyed hound in their streets of squalor. Katerina never expressed her hatred for such a name, but once she took Mystic Falls back for her own, she'd make sure she was known as Katerina, the conquerer. The monarchy had been abolished many years ago now, but Katerina wondered if England could continue to have a Queen reign over it in this age of selfies and twitter, so could Mystic Falls. Katerina Petrova would rule again, but with an army. She had never seen ice ghosts since she was captured by them. After her escape from the dungeons, the ice ghosts disappeared into the wind, and the humans that worshipped them bent the knee to Katerina after her miraculous escape. It was said that the watchman was no ordinary human, but an ice ghost himself. Katerina did not remember his face, but only recalled the feel of his blood on her fur and how it felt like an icy shower instead of a warm thickness. From the moment the villagers bowed to Katerina, she vowed to never be afraid of anything ever again. Until a creature invaded her land and ended her reign in Blood River. A vampire and a werewolf. A hybrid. By the name of Klaus Mikaelson.