#how far away you are from burning out. this is serious

[dev1lm4n]

favors

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader

summary: ghost is curious on how far he could push around the pliant private; the kinds of things he could ask for and all the perverted favors he could earn, including stuffing you full of your silly little pen.

warnings: nsfw! sorta power imbalance (ghost is a l.t and you're a private), ghost is mean :(, uses of whore, unprotected piv, inappropriate use of a pen, semi-public, doing it in an evidence room lol, terrible accent, getting caught

notes: reblogs n comments appreciated! i also do commissions for $10 / 1k words on cod/tlou/aot/haikyuu n many more. msg me :)

“So yer telling me,” Johnny paused, vulgar gargles of cheap booze echoed around the buzzing pub. He had to take a minute or two to relinquish the revolting burn that’s paving a path right down his trachea and into his junk of a stomach. 

Ghost shouldn’t even be having booze, more so the kind they serve in the dirtiest street of London (the one that’s definitely infested with rat droppings and a random fella’s piss), but here he was, advocating for his friend’s ideas. 

The masked man shrunk back against the booth’s shiny red seat. His hips jutted forward, beer comfortably propped up on his thigh. 

“This lass will literally do anything you ask for?"

Ghost sighed.

It took him a beat too long to answer Johnny’s inquiry. 

He’s getting impatient, rightfully so. Unless it’s playful jeering or stern commanding procedure, Ghost hasn’t exactly spoken a word that he’d deem interesting after the last mission. 

He’s just been quiet underneath the skull-face attire. Tired, perhaps. But Johnny truly feared that he’d finally end up as a shell of a person. A suit of skin, muscle, and bones. The lights are on but no one’s home kind of thing. 

Ghost shifted in his seat. He leaned forward tentatively, deep in thought Johnny suspected. His hulking mass of muscles further emphasized by the tacky shine of multicolored lights.

“Yeah.”

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah?”

His eyebrows knitted underneath his balaclava.

“‘course. You got yourself a fan, L.T.”

A fan. A fan. A fan?

Ghost could laugh at the premise. 

At the thought that someone had the audacity to think of him as someone worth that kind of attention. He had never thought of it in that manner, couldn’t bring himself to at least, but it’s still as far-fetched now than it was the first time he considered it. It’s absurd. 

Ghost propped his elbows up on the bar’s table. A sticky substance - most likely some sort of spilled milkshake or a very sweet Cosmopolitan - instantly pooled his sleeves, but he had more important things to dwell on. The idea that you, a simple girl-next-door private that he met by accident, adores and devotes yourself to him to the point of no return. What kind of fuckery is that?

“‘m not someone to fan over, Johnny. You know that fair and square.”

“You have a point there, L.T.”

Johnny huffed out a pained chuckle. His stomach must’ve been sending neon red blaring signs to quit drinking and hurry back to his woman back home, but he’s a persistent man, even stubborn some might say. 

Ghost was still deep in thought. He even managed to abandon the cold beer he'd ordered a couple minutes back, the condensation making a very clear point as it dribbled down his gloved palm.

He’s trying to acquire every last bit of information he has of you. Every detail, every moment that might help him deduce this extremely serious problem. 

What did your hair look like? When’s the first time he noticed the repeating tendencies? It might not result in his ultimate death, sure, but it’d surely wound him insane. Why would someone even be a fan of a socially-resigned man?

Johnny cleared his throat. Ghost’s taking too long and he’s made that clear.

“Where d’you even meet the lass?”

“’m not sure…” he trailed off.

Johnny offered him an odd look, before another laugh erupted from his booze-scented cavern. 

Ghost looked away, but was pulled back in by the comfortable arm (way too comfortable if he had a say in it) slung across his shoulder. His caramel eyes came around to his partner’s, as if waiting for him to spare him a piece of his mind. 

“You’re one cruel man, sir.”

“‘m not. Just never thought of it,” he tried. “Didn’t have the time to.”

“Come on. Bet you could get something outta that thick skull of yours,” Johnny jeered.

“I think, well, ..think she’s part of that task force. Y’know, the one that was an extension of ours, in case things go to shite?” 

Johnny hummed. There was that one time, too long ago that he couldn’t even picture the faces clearly. They're more similar to blobs of beige and brown now, but he’d remember a lady if he came across one. “Oh yeah, yer right, there was one.”

“Had trouble mapping out the terrains so I asked the Captain,” Ghost continued on lightly, hoping Johnny could somehow connect the statement to where and how he’d meet the mysterious lady. 

“And so she came in handy,” Johnny cleverly added.

Ghost took a deep breath, the shape of his lips made a brief appearance through the thin fabric, frustration knitted in every inch of his appearance. “She’s smart, Johnny. Well, even that drunk man coulda been smarter than you,” he argued teasingly, but was quickly met with a brute hand down the back of his neck. 

“That’s fuckin’ mean, man,” Johnny cocked his head to the side defeatedly. “’m here tryna solve your love problems, but yer making fun of me.”

“Not ‘love’,” Ghost corrected. “But she’s so pliant, John. So.. obedient.” 

“And smart people aren’t obedient. Moreover, smart lasses.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Johnny took another swing of his foamy beer. A light trace of cheap booze made an appearance in the shape of a mustache right above his real bush. He looked like he’s truly using his head for a minute and it’s truly entertaining. Ghost would’ve chuckled, sneered, and made entertaining comments if it’s not for the fact that he’s equally as burdened. 

Come to think of it, you weren’t anything extraordinary. You weren’t a spectacular tank-shaped-human that’s won the recognition of every military general, neither were you superbly drop-dead gorgeous. You’re just this girl. 

This girl who didn’t have a blind adherence to his authority as a higher commanding officer; rather, you made it seem as if it was a conscious choice, a demonstration of your commitment to him. Your unassuming demeanor and lack of vanity blended right into the black-and-white nature of the military, but there was just something. 

Something particular that bothered him.

“What’d she do?”

“Asked her to gather intel from the last ten years,” he started. “Did it in two days.”

“That was well.. technically her job. Maybe she’s just terribly invested in it?” he offered.

“Asked her to get my boots washed-”

“Wait, what?”

“Boots. Washed. I had a sling on so I..”

“Don’t tell me she did it,” Johnny shrieked. “Your boots smell like horse shite.”

“She did.” Johnny looked at him in terror. His fucking jaw almost went unscrewed from the statement. “She’d switch schedules with me if things got out of hand. Oh, and she patched me up awhile back.”

“And you don’t know the lass’ name?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny,” he grunted uneasily. “No.”

“Jesus Christ. What’dya even say when she finished patching you up?” he threw his hand up. “Thank you, random gal who I vaguely remember for cleaning up my boots and doing a shit load of things for me.”

“Well…”

“She’s in love with you. Christ’s sake. The wedding bells are ringing in my ears.”

“Too much, Johnny.”

“No, no, hear me out,” he tugged on the male’s collar, for dramatic purposes only of course, a classic of Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish. “I bet she’d do anything for you.”

“You’re fuckin drunk.”

“Maybe. But she fuckin adores you,” he continued on. “Bet she’d suck your lil willy if you asked.”

“Now you’re outta line, Johnny,” he scoffed, deciding his pal’s spitting all but the truth, maybe the piss-colored concoction finally fried his brain cells off. “And it’s definitely not little.”

Amidst all the naturally occurring hellish nature of the military (including and not limited to bitter black coffees, deafening morning roll-calls, and pungent blood), there existed an unconventional sanctuary for you. A safe haven-- special and reserved only for you. 

It’s not nearly as lovely as what home felt, but it was still something. 

The old evidence room, filled with bricks on bricks of aged papers along with neatly labeled boxes cluttered with God knows what. Classified artifacts, flickering lights; nobody wants anything to do with such a room and if they did, it’d probably be a direct order from their cigarette-smoking ripped captain. Or so you’d imagine. 

You’re not even close to being that level of importance. You’re closer to being a coffee-bearing, mess of an intern, instead of those in the laps of the General.

You didn’t mind. Not one bit.

The admin work is far more aligned with your goals than holding a hand grenade could ever be.

After quite some time, drowning in your own mind, earning paper cuts with every flip, and sipping that God awful black coffee, you’ve managed to turn every inch of the four by six room into your own twisted version of a highschool data wall. 

You’d argue that it’s a lot more effective than trying to do it in your team’s pristine glass wall, but truly it’s just a silly reason. A silly reason not to be humiliated and undermined by fellow colleagues who think that they’re above and beyond. 

You stood up. Observed. Crouched (in hopes that there’d simply be a miracle, but alas, futile). Then repeated the regime like clock work for what seems like forever.

That was until an interruption came along. 

A glitch in your picture-perfect routine, and it terrified you like hell. 

You stood in full attention. A forty-five degree angle between your toes, hips and shoulders level, chest puffed, and limbs stiff. Between the moment in which the heavy metal door swung open with ease and when it finally came to your attention who the intruder was, you thought of all the ways you could rationalize the mess you’ve corrected. You’d imagine having a thirty second period - or less - where you’d have the chance to save your ass from running toilet duty all week. 

But what came was far worse.

It’s that man. That Lieutenant, if we’re being prissy.

The one you had a crazy, borderline psychotic crush on. 

The one you did back flips and handstands for. And you didn’t know if it’s the thick helmet that's strapped to his head, the heavy eye black he rocked daily, or the skull-patterned balaclava, but he’s utterly indifferent to the treatment.

Enough of that, you decided.

“At ease.”

Your shoulder slouched back to its acquired form and like always, you’d allow him to stare you down like you’re some sort of farm animal.

“Apologies, Lieutenant,” you drew back a breath. “For the mess that is. I.. wasn’t expecting anyone to come by.”

You attempted to meet his gaze. Keyword, attempted.

His stern gaze, brown eyes framed by a fading ghost of eye black, made it hard to breathe. The air seemed to thicken - wine into blood - as if acknowledging the unspoken, blurry lines of tension. 

You, acutely aware of the rising tautness, attempted to challenge him ferociously, but the weight of his stare proved almost tangible. And despite it being heavily inappropriate, your clit pulsed in a foreign rhythm and your nipples pebbled with desire underneath the pure wrap of your uniform.

“Not my business,” his response fell flat. It’s like he’s trying to have you embarrass yourself.

“What’s your business then?”

It sounded a little rude, so you managed to add on a slurred line of ifyoudon’tmindmeaskingthatis to sweeten the deal.

He looked stunned for a bit, but then his gait laxed and you took the bait. You took a sharp intake of air through the gaps of your top and bottom row of teeth. Cold air seeped through, as hostile as the rumbling storm outside. 

The single bulb flickered ominously - was the Lieutenant powerful enough to control electricity with his terribly distant gaze?  

‘Ghost’ was his callname. That’s the only thing you know of him, aside from the fact that he’s a prominent member of TF 141 and that he has a god awful habit of tossing his duties to you. The kind of duties that won’t earn him a star or two.

“Do you need me to deep soak your boots again?”

His lithe lashes swept over his eyes, but once more, no response. It’s like you’re speaking to a wall. A damn persistent one.

“Or run names?”

Something. Anything would be better than nothing.

“Nothing like that.”

“No?”

He shook his head.

He stuffed his hand down the pocket of his tactical trousers, shoulder hunched forward, before he took a step forward. His boots, lathered in mud from a far away land, crushed the papers you’ve laid neatly. 

Your eyebrows - disobeying each and every one of your neurons - twisted in disdain. 

That was your work. Your hard work.

The Lieutenant inched closer, an estimate of a full foot ahead of you, towering with such an incredulous look. You challenged him with a similar gaze. Emotions naked, unveiling beneath a thin line of shameless and daring. A line of sweat began to form on top of your upper lip, a betrayal to the T. 

“You think you’d let me fuck you?”

“What?”

“You think you’d-”

“I.. I heard you the first time, L.T. Just a little bewildered I s’pose.”

Not even the wildest beast of Manchester’s pub would query such an upfront question. 

You swore that your physical state had forgotten that there’s an entire raging snowstorm outside base, because all you could feel was warmth. 

Warmth pumped through every inch of skin under the neat fold of your collar and the tight cuff around your forearm. Warmth made your palms pool with dubious desire. It enveloped you whole, suffocated you in a headlock. 

At his approach, you staggered back. It was as if your knees gave out thoroughly. You are clearly not an easy slag, but he’s making you look like one.

“Would you?”

He questioned with such.. reverence?

The Lieutenant’s large pointer finger, equal to the size of a French baguette, swept beneath your chin. A tease. Not a threat. Perhaps more of an invite.

“You could say no,” he offered. “Nothing’s gonna happen if you say no, ‘course.”

The question ‘why’ was on the tip of your tongue, before you retracted it entirely. It didn’t matter why, at least, not to him. You’ve heard about the practice. The military is cruel. Brutal. Stinky men, blood and puss, tasteless MREs; people need a getaway car, even for just a bit. 

The real question was if you’d let him.

Would you let him fuck you?

You nodded.

You’re not even sure if that’s your good conscience speaking. It’s just.. you gravitate towards him like a love-blind teenage groupie.

The ghost of a smile, barely there but obvious enough it protruded out the smooth surface of his balaclava,  momentarily diverted you. 

He looked so good. Even with every inch of his skin covered in some sort of cloth, he looked devilishly good. 

Before you could react, his strong arms were quick to wrap around your waist, swiftly turning you around. Surprised, you found yourself pushed gently against the edge of the table. It rattled side to side from the sudden impact, a rhythm that coddled you back into reality. 

His cold fingertips held your wrist together. A makeshift cuff of some sort. You glanced over your shoulder, met instantaneously by the Lieutenant’s icy expression, tinged with a hint of deviance.

“Would you truly let me?” he asked once more.

You nodded.

He looked displeased. Something’s missing, but you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was bothering him. 

Ghost took another step forward. The faint presence of him crowded your backside. The tips of his fingers told a whole ‘nother story as it smoothed over your arm, mistakes and trauma from a faraway land. His warm breath flooded across the nape of your neck, controlled, yet imposing. You made an embarrassing noise when he tugged at your wrist, pulling you flush against his frontside. 

Way to go.

“Say it out loud, soldier,” he grunted. “Needa be sure.”

“Fuck me.”

Exasperation and determination, he consumed you whole like wildfire. 

You tried to weasel your way out of his grip, thinking it’d be smart to arch your back like a cat in heat to meet his crotch, but it’s no use. He’s as thick as concrete, not keen on meeting your demands. 

You whined. Desperate this time. 

He's tinkering on the edge of something big, something you know is going to be the best thing you agreed to. Ghost shushed you. A short click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth as his hands traveled along the circumference of your stomach. 

He made it an easy task to tick off those pesky, bothersome buttons. One by one. Every time making you wince in anticipation.

“Lieutenant!” you squealed aloud when he buried his head down the crook of your neck. The texture of his balaclava made your nerves jitter, rough yet the warmth his skin emitted set your own alight.

You gasped when he finally cupped your breasts. He kneaded the soft skin gently, the cold tips of his fingers twisting to pebble your nipples. From the back, you might've looked prim and proper. But from the front, your nipples stood out like the slanted tips of Everest. 

A stinging pleasure was quick to spread, especially down South, where your needy cunt gaped and squeezed tight around nothing. He's kind enough to leave the remnants of your uniform attached to your body. It's cold out and he was bright enough to know that this room was equipped with not even one heater. It's the higher-ups cutting costs like always.

“Why'd you let me fuck you, eh?” he whispered tauntingly. “You a whore?”

You shook your head no. Mind too frazzled to even get offended.

“Looks like a whore to me,” he chuckled slowly, only to bend you straight at the waist.

The side of your face came in contact with the cold surface in a loud thud. A protest tore out of your throat. 

He pawed at the belt buckle you're sporting, so impatient he might’ve torn the material in one go if it didn't unclasp right away. With a single pull, he had your tactical military-issued pants pooled pathetically around your ankle. 

It was quiet for a moment or two. You would've guessed that he was standing there, admiring your backside like some twisted connoisseur of some sort, or setting aside a list of what he would've liked to do. It's unbelievable that the five-minutes-ago-you agreed to something this bizarre. His large palms spread across the entirety of your ass, feeling up the smooth surface before a slap landed loud and clear.

“Ah!”

Something came into view on your right side, so you turned your head ever so slightly. And there it was. 

His thick fingers were wrapped around an item, the same one your mouth has been wrapped around so many times at frustrating moments. 

Your red pen, the same one that's ink has stained every inch of your fingers, was now offered in front of you. He wanted you to suck, you figured. You could've said no, sure, but there was a desire to fulfill his every wish, to be the good whore he's asking you to be. 

With much hesitation, you took the pen cautiously. It's not long before a good portion of it was lathered lewdly. And when he pulled the object away, a bead of saliva came attached with the warm end of your tongue.

“Look at you,” he cooed. “Couldn't even stand up for yourself, can you?”

“No.. puh- please.”

Ghost pulled you flush against his chest, so close that you felt the ridges of his uniform against your arched back. 

A possessive arm wrapped itself around your soft stomach. Your head was spinning-- his scent, musky and woody, had your mind twisting and bending in every manner possible. 

Finally, he spared you of all your suffering. The first nudge felt experimental. He rubbed the pen down your throbbing clit, running it up and down the sensitive bud. Then he slowly made his way further down in a voyage for your cunt. 

His calloused fingers paved the way down the slippery road. You found yourself bucking your hips against his warm hands, craving for just a touch. For more. Anything will do from that hulking figure of a man.

“God, just put it in already,” you grumbled, a notch above a whisper. Ghost didn’t like that one bit. He didn’t like your bratty tone and so, decided to punish you against it. 

The cold pen slipped into your wet cunt in one go. It might be thin, barely the size of a finger, but when you haven’t been fucked for ages, it felt incredibly intrusive. You’re almost sure your cunt had sealed itself back up after the long dry spell. 

Like a virgin, you let out a squeal. One that received a low, dry chuckle from the Lieutenant. 

He pulled it all out, pulling it up to your eye level, as if taunting you with how dripping wet the pen had become. It was lathered in your juices, thick and globby as it dripped down. You sucked on the end once more. This time unprompted, simply to show off how dirty you can also become.

This earned another one of his low grunts. Approval, you thought.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he whispered against your ear. Ghost guided the pen back to your entrance, letting it get sucked back by your needy cunt. He couldn’t watch, not with this position. But God did he want to. “Being all bratty won’t help, love.”

The squelching noise your cunt had made every time he thrust the pen back in was so.. dirty. Enough to also get him hot and bothered. 

You could feel him grow beneath you, feel it bulge against your lower half, though he didn’t seem to be making certain arrangements due to it. Ghost’s index finger and thumb moved rhythmically as it worked in tandem to touch all those sweet spots of yours. Undoubtedly, it’s working like a charm. 

Sweet nectars of his hard work started spilling out your cunt in thick translucent globs. It dribbled down your inner thigh, creating such a lewd display for Ghost to marvel. Teasingly, he thrusted upwards, hitting against those ridges deep in your cunt and making you lurch forward. Your nipples rippled in reaction, a twitching pleasure made you let out a needy moan.

“S-shit,” you cursed. Ghost continued to thrust the pen deeper, as deep as it could reach at least, and took it upon himself to twist and withdraw it every time you’ve gotten too loud with it. “Don’t-” you were interrupted once more. This time with the presence of his rough fingers, creating tight circles above your engorged clit. “Fuck!”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth on you, eh?” he whispered teasingly as he pressed clothed kisses against the nape of your neck. 

He was persistent in rubbing your clit, not changing the speed one bit even without you asking for it. It felt so nice. The way his textured fingers felt against your sensitive nub, the way he dragged your juices up your clit-- oh he’s driving you insane. 

Ghost angled his thrusts once more and with such expertise, he found that one cushy spot that made you tremble. Your knees felt weak and all you want is for him to fill you up properly. The cold pen rummaged against your insides and before you knew it, your walls had already started to flutter against the smooth plastic. “Small little cunt so desperate for me.”

“I- I can’t-” you gasped in between soft moans. “A-ah, ooh, I-” 

Ghost barked out a laugh at the way you can’t seem to finish any of your sentences. He was a sadist it seemed as he had no intentions of hearing you out. 

He drove the pen in harder, faster, determined to have you react more. To have you, the pretty little thing who’d run stupid errands for him, slather his fingers with your wetness. “Gonna cum on a pen, huh?” he teased, his voice tipping you over the edge. 

You guided your thighs forward, eager to have your clit caressed more. To have it stimulated by a masked Lieutenant you barely even know. 

“Sweet little thing..” he cooed as he watched you reach your high. “Drippin’ over a pen..”

“Cumming, I’m cumming!” you announced and he found it rather.. heart-warming in a way. 

You sounded so pliant, so dumb, and it’s what made blood rush instantly to his throbbing cock. You could feel him watching. 

His gleeful eyes ran over your convulsing body, the way your cunt clenched rhythmically against the office tool that’s lodged up into you. Ghost didn’t even get to pull out the pen before your cunt began spewing out what it’s been holding back. He’d just reprimand it with a few encouraging slap to your clit. 

The thin substance dribbled down the pen and onto his fingers, leaving a mess behind. A much-needed mess that is.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he cursed, holding your body upright as it seemed you had zero control over it.

The room felt warmer, much warmer that you couldn’t even feel a tinge of the cold air anymore; that everything else sounded like a ringing buzz and the only thing you could focus on was his rugged breath. 

It felt cathartic-- the moment, that is. Though, Ghost wasn’t one with plenty of time. 

Everything is timed when it comes to him, so he allowed you just a minute to breathe before he manhandled you back onto the table. He perched you up on top of crumpled papers, admiring the way your cunt pushed out the pen messily. Your favorite red pen clunked against the cold floor, leaving your aching cunt gaping with need. 

How truly pathetic it looked.

You looked at him with a stupid smile, as if he’s truly fucked your brains out. As if all you can think of was how his cock would force its way in, of how much thicker it’d be compared to the shabby pen.

“Ghost?” a timber voice crawled from the door. Before you could make your case, the door swung open confrontationally.

Though it terrified you, that you weren't upset by the fact that you’re caught. More so that you didn’t get to have your favorite Lieutenant’s seed drip from within you. Maybe.. maybe you were a whore like he’d suggested.

[aventurineswife]

Love and Boundaries

Tags: @aloudice, Dad!Aventurine x Parent!Reader, Established Relationship, Parenting, Family Fluff, Soft Aventurine, Parental Support, Gentle Reprimand, Disciplining, Love and Respect, Family Bond, Protective Aventurine.

[Inspired By]

Aventurine stood near the doorway of the living room, his eyes carefully following the scene unfolding before him. The soft hum of the evening air mingled with the occasional scolding tone of your voice as you gently but firmly reprimanded your child.

“You know better than this, sweetheart,” you said, keeping your tone calm but serious. “You can’t just go around breaking things because you're angry.”

The child, their small face scrunched up in frustration, crossed their arms tightly over their chest. Their eyes flickered with defiance before they muttered, “I hate you! I don’t care about your stupid rules!”

Aventurine’s lips pressed into a thin line, his mind whirring through the possibilities of how to handle the situation. He could see the irritation and hurt in your expression, a look that immediately triggered a protective instinct inside him.

The child, in a fit of anger, stepped toward you, fists clenched, eyes burning with rebellious fire. Without warning, they swung their hand toward you, aiming to hit you in an outburst of frustration.

Your heart dropped at the sudden move, but before the impact could land, Aventurine was there, his presence a calming yet assertive force in the room.

“Enough.” he said, his voice low but commanding. His figure seemed to fill the doorway as he approached, his demeanor far more imposing than it had been just moments ago. His hand reached out, gently grasping the child’s wrist mid-swing, halting them in their tracks.

“You do not lay a hand on them,” Aventurine continued, his gaze unwavering, now focused solely on his child. His voice was sharper, colder, but still held that underlying warmth that only you could recognize. “That may be your parent, but that is my spouse, and you will not be disrespecting them like that.”

The child’s eyes widened in shock, their defiance crumbling at the sternness in their father’s voice. Aventurine’s eyes flickered with a mix of concern and disappointment, yet his love for you shone clearly through his words.

“You need to learn respect,” he said, kneeling down to meet the child’s eye level, his hand still holding their wrist. “This kind of behavior is not acceptable, not in this house, and certainly not toward your other parent.”

You stood quietly, your heart swelling with love and relief. Aventurine had always been able to maintain control, but his fierceness in protecting you, in teaching their child to respect boundaries, made you feel seen, cherished.

The child slowly lowered their gaze, their anger subsiding, replaced by a quiet sadness.

“I’m sorry…” they muttered, their voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean it.”

Aventurine released their wrist, placing a gentle hand on their shoulder. “I know you didn’t mean it,” he said softly, his tone shifting to one of understanding. “But you need to understand that actions have consequences. Words have weight. We don’t lash out at people we love.”

The room fell into a brief silence, the tension easing as Aventurine’s words sank in. He turned to you, a soft smile creeping onto his lips, the playful gleam in his eyes returning.

“You’re okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice as he reached out to cup your cheek with one hand.

You nodded, your heart warming from his unwavering support. “I’m fine. Thank you, Aventurine.”

His smile deepened, his eyes softening. “You know I would do anything for you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

With a soft laugh, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tender embrace. His child, now standing a little further away, seemed to be processing what had just happened. Aventurine’s hand gently rested on your back, a symbol of the unity that kept you all together, no matter how complicated things got.

In that quiet moment, you realized that, despite the challenges of raising a child together, there was no greater feeling than having a partner who would always stand by you—someone who loved you and your family, and who would protect you from anything that tried to tear you apart.

[Jing Yuan ver]

[thescarletnargacuga]

AVIATION ENTHUSIAST

A TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

Caine geeks over airplanes, Pomni finds it informative and adorable

AU credit @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

WARNING: none

~~~

In the late evening hours, long after the guests had gone for the day, Caine sat at the grand piano backstage. The large wooden cover for the keys was down, as he wasn't planning on playing it tonight. Instead, multiple model WW1 era airplanes sat the length of the piano like it was a runway. Small jars of paint and tiny brushes sat on a messy rag draped over the closed top of the piano.

Caine dipped one of his fine bristled brushes into the red paint to work on the detail of the biplane he held delicately in his hand. Light splotches of paint stained his gloves. He hummed to himself as he worked.

"Keep the home fires burning...while your hearts are yearning..." He finished the fine detail on his freshly painted plane and carefully set it down to let it dry. "Though your lads are far away...they dream of home..." He cleaned off his brush and grabbed a plane that was barren of any paint. With a new, larger brush, he started applying the base coat. "There's a silver lining... through the dark cloud shining..." He was so focused on his work, he didn't see Pomni out of the corner of his eye. "Turn the dark could inside out, till the boys coooome hoooome."

Pomni quietly approached and sat on the piano bench next to Caine. Caine paused what he was doing for half a second, impressed he didn't hear her get close until she was sitting down. "What are you doing up so late?" He asked without looking up.

"I don't really know. Just one of those nights." Pomni sighed, overlooking the display of model aircraft. "You made these?"

"Yep. Built and painted every one of them. Please don't touch, they're delicate."

Pomni put her outstretched hand in her lap bashfully. "I wasn't gonna-"

Caine sent her a strong side eye.

"I wasn't." Pomni reaffirmed with a defiant pout.

Caine didn't fight the small smile her adorable reaction gave him, and went back to focusing on painting the model in his hand.

Pomni kept her hands firmly in her lap as she took close looks at the impressively detailed airplanes. "What's this one?" She pointed to a sleek, steel grey sesquiplane.

Caine only glanced briefly to see which one she was referring to. "The Nieuport 17. One of the most agile planes of its time. It could outmaneuver the German eindeckers with a climbing speed of over 113 mph."

"Wow, very impressive." Pomni smirked at his info dumping. "What about this one?" She pointed to a bright blue plane with three sets of wings stacked on top of each other.

Caine looked away from his work a bit longer this time. "Uh, that is a Sopwith Triplane. Also known as Tripes, only 160 were ever made and exclusively for the British Royal Navy. Don't let their weird design fool you, they were exceptionally maneuverable and packed serious heat with a Vickers .303 machine gun mounted behind the propeller."

"Cool. Oh! What about this one? I really like the paint job." Pomni excitedly pointed to a grey-green biplane with a black lightning-shaped arrow painted on the sides.

Caine set down his paintbrush to pick up the chosen plane. "One of my personal favorites, the Albatross D.VA. They were the first fighters powered by 160-hp Mercedes in-line engines which gave them the power to carry two 7.92mm synchronized machine guns. These proved superior to all other Western Front one-gun fighters. They were sent first to specialized squadrons of one-seat scout fighters that were established to achieve local battlefield air superiority. A real shame these marvels of engineering were mainly used by the Germans."

Pomni smiled at how relaxed and open Caine seemed to be while talking about the airplanes in his collection. She wasn't looking at the Ringmaster. She was looking at a man passionate about a hobby. He made these little models feel like real replicas of epic aerial combatants.

Caine noticed how Pomni was looking at him and stopped talking. "Uh- not that, uh, any of this is particularly relevant. Heh." He nervously looked away and set the Albatross down. "Never mind my rambling."

"I don't mind. This is fascinating stuff. I never knew you knew so much about early 1900s aerospace technology, and...I like hearing you talk." Pomni admitted, fiddling with her thumbs.

Caine could swear his heart skipped a beat. "You...do?"

Pomni blushed and quickly pointed to the unfinished plane in Caine's hand. "What'sthatone?" She said so quickly, she was nearly incomprehensible.

"Oh-" Caine cleared his throat, feeling a little warm under the collar. "This is a Fokker."

Pomni did a mental double take. "A what now?"

"I swear, that's its real name. There were quite a few different types of Fokkers, actually. The V38, the E.V. and D.V. series, the eindeckers, and the drideckers. Just to name a few." Caine held up the unfinished model. "This one is an original model Fokker."

"Sounds like the first world war was full of Fokkers." Pomni said with a crooked smile.

Caine saw the joke coming a mile away, but it was still funny. He chuckled, "That it was, my dear. That it was."

[w2enha]

not tryna hate but people have been boycotting enhypen and belift for months. we gotta accept there’s nothing you can do about it but make belift make enhypen do more just to gain that popularity back like before

These are the kinds of comments people make, only to feel guilty when idols start collapsing on stage or missing events because they’ve fallen ill from being overworked. It’s a frustrating cycle: fans demand more content, and when idols inevitably break down, the same fans act surprised or regretful. We saw a similar situation with the Riize boycott for Seunghan, which took ten months to achieve results—the official boycott has only been going on for two months. Change doesn’t happen overnight. Boycotting requires patience, commitment, and sustained pressure, and people need to realize that. If ENGENEs fully commit to the boycott and continue to push campaigns like #LetEnhypenRest, the effort will make an impact. However, impatience is getting in the way, with some fans giving up simply because they don’t feel like waiting. This reflects a fixed mindset—one that expects instant gratification rather than understanding the long-term work it takes to push for change.

It’s also important to understand that the boycott isn’t just about trying to prevent overwork, because the reality is, like you said, companies like Belift will push their artists regardless. The purpose of the boycott is to show Belift where our priorities as fans truly lie: we are not here to mindlessly consume content at the cost of our idols’ health. We want them to know that we care more about the well-being and safety of Enhypen than we do about new albums, tours, or other events. If we continue to support every release without question, the company has no reason to slow down. They’ll keep overworking the group, knowing they can get away with it.

This is why the boycott matters—it’s a way for us to make it clear that we won’t support their decisions if they come at the expense of the members’ health. And if you can’t understand this, or if you choose to ignore the message, then you’re contributing to the problem. Change takes time, and it requires all of us to stay committed for the sake of what truly matters: the well-being of the idols we care about.

[karmaisamess-x3]

An alloromantic just explained crushes to me + gave me dating advice and i’m like… no to all that?

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING SEUNGCHEOL INCLUDES…. — sfw

• sugar daddy or boyfriend? (the answer is both.)

• the definition of a REAL MAN. no one has ever treated you with as much respect or given you as much love as seungcheol has.

• you're his pretty little passenger princess and he's your personal chauffeur.

• mom and dad of the group, duhhhh.

• he would drop anything and everything just to give you his undivided attention, no matter how important it is.

• yes. he would still love you if you were a worm.

• he would definitely give you his bank card without a second thought. it would also be linked to your phone, he insists on you using it always and would throw a fit when you don't.

• you would also give him your card at times and he always takes it without a fight, but would never use it.

• would take you out on dates in which you can dress up pretty and maybe dine at a fancy and EXPENSIVE restaurant. don't be fooled though. he also pays attention to the little things so if you're into books, he's taking you to a library themed restaurant. if you like animals, he's booking a ticket to orlando and ya'll are going to the rainforest cafe or something.

• you would never have to lift a finger ever again.

• he would wash your car, fill it up with gas, and take it to go get serviced without any complaints.

• he would burn down the world for you.

• he always puts you first. if he had to pick between you or the company (if they ever made him choose) he doesn't even need to think, it would be you every time.

• also your body guard ! any social gathering ya'll attend, he always has his eyes on you no matter how far away you are from him.

• times in which you do drive yourself, ya'll are definitely the type of couple to have life 360 on each other. he would text you saying to slow the fuck down if you're speeding.

• no matter how much you insist he goes to sleep and no matter how late you're getting home — it could be 4 in the morning, he will ALWAYS wait up for you.

• he has the habit of buying you anything you even slightly mention. he also pays close attention to the things you look at when out shopping together and they would show up delivered to your apartment the next day. he would take the heat from you, but still would continue to spend his money on you.

• when you have a bad day, he is already there with open arms ready to give you the biggest bear hug and shield you from the rest of the world.

• whenever you two go out together, he always has a hand on your back to guide you through crowds or just so everyone knows that you're off limits.

• if you ever lose during game nights with friends or really anywhere, he would do the penalties for you!

• he always makes sure you're on the inside when walking near a street.

• if you ever doubt yourself or feel insecure, prepare for a long serious conversation with lots of tears because he WILL NOT be having any of that. no. not when he thinks you're one of the most beautiful, talented, and honorable people he knows.

• you have never felt so safe and secure than when he's around.

• he will constantly be saying "i love you." definitely the type to call you back immediately if you forget to say it and hang up.

• he has a personal agenda out for revenge against anyone who hurts or disrespects you in any type of way.

• he will be your designated driver for not only you BUT your friends as well during girl's night out.

• he may be competitive, but when it comes to you, he would let you win just so he can see a smile on your face.

• says he CAN'T (won't because he's stubborn) fall asleep if he's not cuddling you.

• he becomes the softest most kindhearted person in the world when it comes to you.

• he gets jealous easily, but he trusts you with his whole heart so he doesn't dwell on it for too long.

• when it comes to arguing, no matter if he was in the right or wrong, he is always the first to apologize. definitely the type to get you chocolate, flowers, and ALWAYS gets you a teddy bear after.

• would make you sit on his back when doing pushups or would give you a piggy back ride when he is doing pull-ups !

• he LOVES when you wear his clothes. you would always find his shirts or hoodies on your side of the closet and be like "hmm, how did this get here?" ask your boyfriend.

• rarely ever calls you by your name. always calls you baby or something cute. he also insists that you don't call him seungcheol. he will pout if you do.

• definitely impressed your parents right off the bat. your family absolutely adores him and your parents treat him like a son.

• he would tease you by giving you a hug when he's all sweaty after practice.

• he INSISTS on picking you up EVERYDAY after work.

[prokopetz]

Something I love about The Far Roofs is how much of a swerve its premise is if you're coming to it uninitiated.

Okay, so there's these talking rats with a culture of swashbuckling heroism – basic Redwall/Reepicheep stuff.

Also, there's a magical realm called the Far Roofs which exists above every human community, and that's where the rats go adventuring; a little weird, but you can see the precedents in popular fiction. It's like wainscot fantasy taken to its logical-yet-absurd conclusion.

By default, the game wants you to play as a fictionalised version of your (presumably human!) self and go up onto the Far Roofs to have adventures with the rats. All right, now it's coming together: it's like isekai fantasy meets The Muppet Show, with you as the obligatory human character, right?

Then we get to the nature of those adventures: the rats have this whole culture built around questing against beings they call "the Mysteries" – beasties with names like Harpy and Goblin and Unicorn. So basically it's a bunch of muppety rats on the roofs fighting Dungeons & Dragons monsters, and you go up and help them do it. Great.

And then you get to what the Mysteries are actually like, and... well, I'm going to let the following excerpt carry the weight here. (This particular bit of text also appears in a previously published work by the same author, so I'm not giving anything away that's still under wraps.)

Unicorn, which is named Numinous, dwells three steps away and beyond the world, but most often in the Farthest Roofs, where the Steppes of the Sky come down to touch the Vast and Earthen Court. There it is stepping upwards from the world, as it has always been stepping upwards from the world, caught in a moment of transcendent glory that does not complete. It simply is. Melanthios heard the footsteps of Unicorn. Melanthios heard the ringing of Unicorn’s bells. So Melanthios chased Unicorn off to the Farthest Roofs, and Melanthios did not return. Anton and Karel, who were his sons, were wiser than their father. They heard the bells but they did not follow. Instead, they memorized the scent. They gathered swords, and ropes, and nets, and they went out. They brought food and water and all manner of gear. They clung to the roofs with all four feet wheresoever after Unicorn they went. It proved no good. Anton looked up, and Karel to his brother. The world came down— That’s what Karel said. He had time to look away. He had time to bury his head in his paws. He did not see the fullness of Unicorn’s presence. He only saw Anton his brother become unreal. In the light of the moment of the Unicorn, Anton became as a paper figure in the fire. His reality burned out. His shadow seared into the roofs behind him. Where he’d stood, for just a moment, the Steppes of the Sky came down to touch the Vast and Earthen Court; and Anton was gone away. So Karel ran and Karel ran and Karel ran from the Unicorn; and all his life, he envied but was more fortunate than his brother.

These are gods. You're going up there to kill God.

Like, it's still silly wainscot fantasy with funny talking rats, but there's that tension. It's like if Fraggle Rock occasionally took a hard turn to serious cosmic horror – Lord Dunsany by way of Jim Henson – and that tonal juxtaposition was treated as something unremarkable.

Basically what I'm saying is go back The Far Roofs.

[slushycoookie]

Kinktober Day 1 ~ Wardrobe Malfunction

Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

Summary: Your bikini top suddenly falls off at the beach and Logan sees you. Minors DNI!

A/N: Happy first day of Kinktober! I'm very excited, I hope you all enjoy!

*���･ﾟ: Next

Kinktober '24 Masterlist

You never thought something like this would happen to you.

Your bikini top, the one whose string you triple-knotted to make sure it stayed on, came off.

The horror on your face was apparent when a breeze connected to your chest and the fabric attached to your skin disappeared. What’s even worse was that your top fell off right in front of Logan, a man you were crushing on so hard it was ridiculous.

You two were in the water, basking in the sun. It turned to a playful fight, droplets clinging to you as Logan kept attacking you with water. The fight led to him grabbing you and tossing you over his shoulder. When you came up for air, that’s when it happened.

You know he saw you. Your breasts in his line of sight, soaked in that seawater. His eyes were almost out of their sockets with how long he stared at you. You quickly covered yourself up with your arms, seeing your top floating in the water before grabbing it, rushing to get out.

“Where are ya going?” Logan shouted from behind you.

You didn’t answer but heard his rushing footsteps. The rest of the team gawked at the two of you when you ran across the beach—feet dusted with sand, going to the nearest cabana. You felt flustered, face burning up. Now, you’ve made everything awkward. Your relationship with Logan, built on respect and genuine care, was gone. All because your top decided to be complicated.

Logan called your name outside and your muscles tensed.

“You okay?”

No, he just saw your breasts on full display. You were far from okay.

“I’m fine. Go back to the others.”

So you can forget that it ever happened.

“Well, don’t ya need help putting that back on?”

You froze, remembering that your top had four strings. Ororo helped you tie the one across your back the first time.

“Okay, just be quick.”

Your back was still towards him, not wanting to look him in the eye. You tried not to focus on his large, slightly wrinkled hands when he helped you with your top—carefully tying the string against your back. As you handed him the strings to go around your neck, your fingertips brushed along his.

“I’m sorry.” You started apologizing: “I thought the top was tied on tight.”

“It’s alright. Not the first pair I’ve seen before.” You roll your eyes, embarrassment quickly fading away as you remember his conquests. “But they’re the best ones I’ve seen so far.”

You forced out a laugh, “Don’t make me kick you out.”

“I’m serious.” When you turn around, his lowered eyes search your face for any hint to show you were uncomfortable. You weren’t. “I wish I could’ve seen them under different circumstances but fuck, I’m glad I did.”

“What’s the different circumstances?”

Logan glances towards the entrance before going back to you. “In my bed. After I take you out on a few dates.”

“Oh.” You blink at the subtle confession. “Didn’t think you’d last after one date.”

His mouth twitches in amusement, “With someone like you, I can.”

Maybe you were glad that your top did what it did, otherwise you would’ve spent another day pining for Logan. Now, it was clear he also had the hots for you, an idea appeared in your head.

“Wanna see them again?”

Logan let out a low breath and a curt nod. You reach behind you, untying the knot he made. Logan grabbed your top, stuffing it in his pockets, eyes never leaving your exposed chest.

“Fuck me. Look at you…”

His eyes search your breasts. How they sat so prettily, almost shining due to minuscule drops of water on your skin. The way Logan stared at you made your stomach twist. He stepped closer, raising his hand with an urge to touch, not before asking for permission.

You barely got the ‘yes’ out when he’s on you. Logan cupped your breast, groaning at how perfectly you fit in his palm. You grip his shoulder when he leans down and capture your lips in a kiss.

It’s hot and heavy as your tongues slide amongst each other. Logan’s still playing with your breast, flicking the nipple with his thumb. He swallows whatever noises come out of you, not wanting to alert the rest of the team. Your hand digs into his messy hair when he parts to kiss your neck. You warn him not to mark you because you don’t want to be bombarded with questions when you two return home.

Logan listens, only placing kisses on you, trailing down to your chest. The source that started everything. You tug on his hair when he captures a breast in his mouth. While doing so, his arm goes under your bottom to pick you up. The action makes you gasp, your legs wrapping around his waist.

You hold Logan’s face close to you as he’s sucking on your nipple, determined to replace the seawater with his saliva. He lets out another groan when switching to your other breast, wanting to do this to you all day. Your moans let him know you didn’t want him to stop.

“Hey? You two okay in there?”

Scott called, and you tugged on Logan’s hair to get him to stop. “Yeah! We’re fine. We’re about to come out!”

“Okay...”

After hearing Scott walk away from the cabana, Logan growls against your breasts.

“Fucking boy scout.”

You snort, kissing the top of his head, “We can continue when we get back.”

Logan grunts, licking at the valley of your breasts before helping you get down. He ties up your top again and walks you out.

If anyone wants to be tagged for the other days, let me know! Please make sure you have your age in your bio, intro post, any place that I can see.

[solbaby7]

Good Enough to Eat

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: porn with little plot, the less obvious take on size-kink, swearing, minors DNI, size kink, implied pre-existing friendship with almost in a relationship/mated undertones? whatever tickles ur fancy, prolly typos

summary: Azriel never really took a notice to little things—until you.

—

If Azriel was being honest with himself, he could admit he’d gotten carried away.

He just hadn’t remembered ever noticing it before—how large his frame was in comparison to a female. Not until you came around with a body too small to put into words with five times as much fire inside to make up for it.

He'd lost count of how many times his mind had wandered to less than savory places in your presence; fixating on the strain of your neck when peering up to look him in the eye as you rambled on about your day. A low hum of distant acknowledgment rumbles through his chest, an attempt to seem like he was paying attention to the words coming of your mouth instead of fixating on the inviting plush of your lips. "Az, are you even listening to me?"

"Of course," A lie saturated in sweet honey and presented on a golden platter but you eat it up all the same, smiling up at him with a knowing look buried in your iris. "Keep going."

There's a brief pause--a hesitation where you contemplate questioning that faraway look etched in his features. You decide against it, shaking it off with a little laugh before continuing where you left off.

Azriel hangs onto every quirk of your lip, the etherial glow that emanated from your form as the midday sun bristles through thin curtains. Such glorious beauty enhanced by the abyss of black that draped enticingly over your chest, twisting and crossing at your midriff until it blended seamlessly into the flowy little skirt that teased at your thighs.

He drinks in every inch of bared skin, fingers clenching into fists of barely contained want when picturing those legs thrown over his shoulders with your body propped against any surface sturdy enough to withstand your weight and his mouth buried between your...

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

A mix of guilt and embarrassment should burn in Azriel's chest for being caught not paying attention but with his brain so lost in the clouds, the truth just seems to spill right out. "You're so cute." A blush grows at the apples of your cheeks, neck jerking forward just a little to push your hair against your face to hide but Azriel has already seen it—already grown addicted to it and yearns for more. "Like a little doll. Makes me want to carry you around everywhere and see how high I can throw you."

"I've killed men three times your size."

"Even cuter, a murderous little kitten."

Your nose scrunches, lips poking into a pout and when your arms raise to cross at your chest in defiance. Azriel nearly groans with need, mouth salivating at the thought of marking that skin with endless reminders of who you belonged to. “I’m far from feline and I’m not little.”

Azriel’s brow raises in silent challenge, his hands moving before he can second guess himself and in an instant you become weightless. The surprised cry that pulls free is instinctual when you’re thrown about, limbs grasping at open air for purchase. “I don’t know,” He muses, catching you and flipping you over his back with an annoying ease. “You feel like lightwork to me.”

To and fro he twists you about, a bright smile stamped on his mouth when your frightened shouts shift into unrestrained giggles and grabby hands for stability. “Azriel,” The syllables are broken up from your choppy breaths, cheeks red and thoughts scrambled. “Put me down.”

“Put you down? I hadn’t even noticed I picked you up to begin with.”

“Azriel,” You repeat, more urgency in your cadence when you feel the soft fabric of your skirts teasing up the smooth length of your legs. “I’m serious—my dress!”

“What a dress it is,” The calloused drag of his hand is sinful when sliding its way up the back of your leg, working the material up, up, up until the chilled breeze from the opened window hits your exposed flesh. “I’m a little more interested in whats under it though.” A low groan pulls from his chest when his golden gaze eats up the pale blue pair of sheer panties. Azriel could feel the thin grip he had on his restraint slipping until nothing was left in his grasp but the hypnotizing malleability of your ass. “Not so little down here, huh?”

You should tell him to stop.

You could easily use that training Cassian taught you to wiggle from Azriel’s hold and throw him to the ground as reparations.

But like the whore you are, your hips raise ever so slightly, urging his inquiring touch to shift a few inches further. “Not sure if I can say the same about you.”

Azriel’s low chuckle rumbles against your belly, his nose training up the exposed curve of your hip before he’s shifting you once more. It’s more careful this time—his hand placement more intentional when sliding you down his front, hooking your legs at his hips until you’re forced to meet his eye. “Are you brave enough to find out?”

Breath hitches, snippy words caught in the back of your throat as Azriel crossed this imaginary line drawn in the sand with all of these implicating touches. You swear your heart is fixing to lurch from your chest from the anticipation of it all, thighs clenching tighter around his waist and before you can restrain yourself—hips roll against the hard bulge straining against his breeches. “Guess so,” You utter back, pupils blown out and fingers starting their exploration in the softness of Azriel’s messy ebony strands.

A groan pulls from his throat, grip tightening at your waist and with two steps your back is braced up against the wall. Azriel’s movements are a little sloppy in his eagerness, fingers catching on crossed fabric but it doesn’t seize his exploration of you. Warm palms skim over the length of your stomach, slowing over the tantalizing swell of your breasts. “I think about these a lot.” Azriel confesses shamelessly, voice rough with want; the fan of his breath against such sensitive skin forcing a shiver down your spine. “Seems almost unnatural for such a little thing like you to have these less than little assets. You make it hard for me to get things done around here.”

Your brains a little foggy, clouded with pure lust and distracted by the concentration it takes to maintain the steady rock of your hips against the clothed cock between your thighs. “I’d say sorry but—Azriel.”

Dark promise is etched into every stunning feature when he slowly works a thumb over the length of your bottom lip. It must be instinctual, the way his tongue traces over his own in sync. “This mouth of yours has nearly gotten you in this same position dozens of times.” Need pools in your underthings, seeping through flimsy material and dragging deliciously against your clit with each desperate rut. You barely notice when the golden warmth of the library fades into the cool darkness of Azriel’s room.

It only adds to the lusty delirium, his scent engulfing you like a wave and finally his lips press against yours. Twin moans fill the silence, curious shadows following their masters command in easing your hair from your shoulders and sliding the straps of your dress free.

Every touch feels like puzzle pieces slotting into place.

His tongue in your mouth, your hands tangled in his hair while his shadows blocked out the rest of the world until nothing was left but Azriel and you. “Nearly dozens?” You breathlessly repeat, neck craning to offer more space for the myriad of marks he intended to place there. “What took you so long?”

Insecurity. Cowardice. A million different reasons had stopped Azriel from ever daring opening this door but now that the knob has been turned and the threshold breached—he was happily trapped; proud to be held prisoner as long as you desired. “Who cares? I’ve got you now.”

Melting into him is as easy as breathing, kisses desperate and hands heated when tugging off any offending clothing without breaking the connection.

Years of exposure to Azriel in the training ring prepares you plenty to see his bare abdomen and the densely packed muscles that’s housed there. The rest, however, has your mouth watering, teeth biting into your bottom lip when the heavy weight of his cock settles teasingly between your legs. “Is that what you want? To have me?” He doesn’t bother with words, only nodding once as his mouth is entirely too occupied learning the shape of your breasts and the noises that sound when his teeth graze at hardened peaks. “Then, please stop teasing before I handle this myself.”

Probably the wrong choice of words, even if they are harmless and fueled by errant desire.

“Handle it yourself?” A surprised noise escapes you when the position is swiftly shifted, Azriel’s back now propped against the headboard and his arms don’t even shake when bearing the brunt of your weight. “I’d love to see you try.” The smug expression he bears is slightly worrisome and yet you don’t resist when the weeping tip of his cock is rubbed against your folds, slipping between and easing inside.

“Fuckkk,” The word drags off your tongue, lids shut and lashes fluttering from the pleasure of it all—you felt so full. So unbelievably full that all you can do is whimper your praise and hope that your body was able to handle what you were going to put it through.

Azriel knew he’d gotten carried away.

You just sounded so pretty. Looked well on your way to being so perfectly ruined with your hair splayed messily down your shoulders as you struggled to take the full length of him, even with arousal dripping onto the satin sheets. “You’re squeezing me too tight,” Azriel croons soothingly, attempting to ease the tremble of your calves with the slow drag of his palms. “Gotta breathe, baby.”

It’s easier said than done and after a few seconds of trying to force your lungs to do their fucking jobs, you ditch the efforts altogether and delegate to more pressing matters.

Azriel doesn’t anticipate your determination but he falls harder when your brows furrow with the effort, a deep groan rumbling right through him when your hips go flush with his own.

You barely give yourself time to adjust, too eager after finally being granted all you’d desired. It’s almost as if there’s all the time in the world and still not enough time at all when Azriel’s sat so sturdy beneath you, his eyes raking up every inch of your body and committing it to memory. “There you go,” He praises with hands on your hips to guide the lewd movements. “Just like that, perfect girl.”

You all but preen under the worship, hypnotized by the devilish rasp he adopts and everything combined ignites a dangerous desire to please.

To give and give and give until there was nothing left but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when the process felt so godsdamned good. “Az, I’m so close.” The coil in your gut grows unbearable, the steady rhythm you’d maintained begins to falter but Azriel’s quick to pick up where you’ve left off, hips bucking up into you over and over and over until one orgasm blends into the other. Every muscle goes pliant, curling around him like a lifeline as he takes his fill.

You can barely remember your name when his release follows, his chest glistening and hair in complete disarray when plopping down to the mattress, easing you beside him.

There’s a moment of awkward silence where you suddenly aren’t sure where to put your hands. Is this the part where you were supposed to leave?

When you can finally move your legs again, you make a move to slip from the warmth of the covers, bare toes skimming the harsh bite of hardwood floors when Azriel stops you with one hand is gently curled around your arm. The deep navy sheets are lazily covering his lower half and it’s near impossible to drag your eyes away from the sharp cut of his physique now that you know what it felt like up close. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“It’s the middle of the day, I still have so much to do—I should get going.”

“Blow it off,” It’s almost embarrassing how easily you melt into the request, sinking into the way he tugs you back into him, shadows tucking you securely under the covers. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

[welty4ng]

TEAR MY WORLD APART!

call transcript; “adapting is never easy. jiaoqiu supposes he only tolerates it because you’re with him”

cw; spoilers for the current quest !!! f!reader, NSFW (mdni) !! hurt/comfort, fingering (soft sex tbh), not proofread, ugh jiaoqiu i love you so much, fic below the cut, 4.7k words

When Jiaoqiu first returns home, there’s a heavy weight in his chest.

It felt horribly uncomfortable, having Moze walk him all the way from the docks to his house. It felt even worse to have his companion fish his keys from his pockets.

In his mind’s eye, he knows where everything is. He knows where you keep your plants and how to avoid running into them; still, he tips one over, the crunch of dirt beneath his feet ringing sickeningly in his ears. He knows where every corner of his house is; yet, he hits his shoulder when he rounds a corner a little too soon.

Shamefully, it takes him longer than he’d like to find someplace to sit. He’d never thought it to be so humiliating, to realize he spent so many years seeing the layout to his own home without memorizing it.

He’s unsure for how long he sits, the silence deafening and the darkness blinding. There’s a gnawing, ever-growing pit in his stomach at the realization that this might very well be the rest of his life. A shiver runs down his spine. He doesn’t think he’ll enjoy having his senses heightened any more than they already were.

Jiaoqiu jolts when he hears the front door open, his ears perking up. The sound of your footsteps reaches his ears before you call out his name, your voice gentler than he’s ever heard it.

“Hey,” you say, hushed. Jiaoqiu shudders when your hand finds his knee, trying to soothe him. His hands ball into fists on his lap.

“Hey,” he echoes, slightly strained. The weight in his chest grows heavier when you thumb at his knee. It’s horrifying, how he can practically picture the pity on your face — he’d never thought he’d be at the receiving end of it.

“General Feixaio told me what happened,” you whisper. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when you cup his face and he immediately nestles into your palm. Your thumb is gentle against his skin, caressing his cheek with the utmost of care. “I’m so sorry, love.”

There’s a lump in his throat, a million words on the tip of his tongue — ‘I’m okay. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing serious. I just need to adapt.’

All that he musters is a quiet, shaky, “I want to see you.”

Jiaoqiu wonders if you look as broken as he sounds.

Being molded into a homebody is not unideal, but Jiaoqiu has far too much to do.

He wonders if that’s why Feixiao sent Moze to inform him of the leave of absence he’d been granted.

It should be welcome. It is, to an extent, when guilt doesn’t chip away at his conscience; when he doesn’t feel like he’s a burden—

The clatter of pots makes him jump, his tail puffing up before matting back down. He exhales, low and unsteady as you call out a sheepish, “Sorry.”

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he can complain. Not when you’ve carved out time from your schedule to look after him — to help him adjust, or whatever bullshit Moze claimed Feixiao had said. So he’ll endure the ringing in his ears when something is just a little too loud, endure the tangy, bitter smell of something burning, and offer a patient smile, followed by a soft, “It’s okay.”

Because he knows you’re trying.

Cooking was never your thing. He’d never let it be, because, why would he ever let you dirty your hands when he could do it instead?

Part of himself feels guilty that you’ve been forced into a myriad of things that fell under his attention. It’s an ever-growing sense of uselessness that weighs on his chest, burrowing deeper with every ‘tap’ of the knife on the cutting board.

He presses his back against the wall, trying to suppress the familiar urge to take over the cooking for you. A knot forms in his throat when he hears you softly hiss, his eyes yearning to open and treat whatever wound you must’ve gotten.

When a soft rush of water reaches his ears, he inches off the wall just enough, taking a step toward the noise. It feels slightly disorienting, trying to guide himself simply through hearing. Still, he tries, awkwardly stumbling in your direction with an outstretched hand.

A shaky exhale leaves his lips when he touches your shoulder, his tail awkwardly flicking to the side when you jolt at the contact.

“Let me help,” he whispers, his fingers instinctively squeezing your shoulder. There’s something so horrid about being able to hear your breaths before you even speak. He loathes how clear he can hear your breath falter as you hesitate.

“Jiaoqiu, you—”

“Please.” He’s tired of feeling useless. He has enough to deal with, now that his eyesight is gone indefinitely. He wants to help — to be of use, even if it’s just a little.

The weight in his stomach sinks deeper when you gingerly clutch his wrist. For a moment, he expects you to drop his hand and lead him back to the spot on the wall he’s claimed as his own. Instead, you bring his hand up to your face, letting his knuckles brush against your skin.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” you murmur, gentle as you press a kiss to the back of his hand. Jiaoqiu wonders what expression you’re making; wonders if it’s pity or sympathy.

He takes a step closer, his front bumping against yours before his free hand shoots out to hold onto the edge of the counter for balance. “Let me do something, at least,” he pleads, a vague hint of desperation lacing his words.

Your breaths fan his face, tickling his skin in a way that has his tail swaying.

“Please,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

There’s a brief moment of hesitance before you ask, “What do you want to do?”

Jiaoqiu’s heart hammers in his chest, a ticklish sort of hope flooding his being. His hand trembles against your face, softly squeezing your own when you grasp it.

“Anything,” he breathes out. “It doesn’t have to be cooking or cleaning or — just let me do anything.”

When your grip on his hand falters, he grasps it tighter, resting them on your cheek. The smell of something burnt fills his senses, but he can’t find it in himself to care; not when he can feel the faint warmth of your skin. “I want to be of use to you.”

His ears twitch when you sigh, his hand trembling lightly against your face. He can imagine the expression you’re making — pursed lips and furrowed brows, deep in thought. Still, he yearns to see it.

“You can help me stir the pot,” you offer, a hint of hesitance to your voice.

The weight in his chest lightens just a little, his fingers tightening around your own in a light squeeze. “Alright.”

It’s a shred of normalcy, he supposes; even if he’s just swirling a ladle. For a moment, it reminds him of a simpler time, back when he was younger and still learning to fend for himself. The soft ‘tap’ of the knife against the cutting board fills his ears, accompanied by your faint humming.

Will you let him keep helping you? Jiaoqiu can’t help but wonder. Would you let him stop being a burden? Do you even think of him as a burden? He hopes — prays — you don’t. He hopes you let him stay by your side, even if all he can do is rot.

It’s all he wants.

So, when you lead him to your dining table, trying to distract him from the scent of burnt meat, he’ll entertain you. He’ll keep his complaints to himself, even if the soup is far too salty; the noodles are a little too undercooked; and the cubed beef is a bit too charred.

You’re both trying, he reminds himself. Perhaps that’s why he can’t find it in himself to care much when he can hear the ‘snap’ of a noodle between his molars. There’s a slight tingle in his tongue by the time he’s done eating.

Still, Jiaoqiu doesn’t complain. Instead, he smiles, softening when your hand grasps his own beneath the table, squeezing twice in a comforting gesture.

“Thank you,” he whispers, hushed. When your breath hitches, a lump forms in his chest. Quickly, he adds, “For everything.”

For a moment, he supposes the only good thing about being blind is that he doesn’t have to see you cry. Though, he supposes it’s worse, hearing you hold back from it — hearing you struggle to remain composed.

When he opens his arms, you rush into him, leaving your chair behind and opting to perch in his lap — just like you’d always done. He holds you closer, instinctively; though, he rubs at your back with hesitance, almost trying to map out the length of your back.

He shudders when you wet the side of his neck. It feels more present, now that his world is shrouded in pitch black. Your cries sound louder, even when quiet and muffled by his skin.

“I’m sorry.” Jiaoqiu’s unsure if the apology is his or yours, the weight growing tenfold in his chest and ringing in his ears.

He can’t tell if the sobs are still yours, either.

Jiaoqiu learns to rise when you do. His routine morphs into your own, despite your insistence that he rest longer.

Staying in bed doesn’t feel the same without you, he’d argued. You were quick to relent after that.

His feet drag on the floor behind yours, his grip tight around the back of your nightshirt. There’s a dull ache in his head. He bumps into you when you stop, a quick apology tumbling from his lips before he can stop it.

When the sound of rushing water reaches his ears, they twitch, recognizing the familiarity. His hands perch on the edge of the counter, letting go of your clothes. It never takes long for him to hear the soft rustle of fabric falling onto the floor. It never takes long for him to fumble with his buttons, either, before you come to his aid.

“Will you help me wash my hair again?” he asks, quiet as you ease the fabric off his shoulders.

“If you want me to,” you reply, gentle as you help him out of his pants. When your fingers brush against his lower abdomen, he shivers, his tail puffing up as he sucks in a sharp inhale.

Jiaoqiu’s hand leaves the counter, moving to cup your cheek in a practiced (albeit clumsy) movement. Part of himself still feels like a fumbling fool when you move his hand just a little lower, correcting the placement. Still, you never mention it.

A voice in the back of his head tells him he should reject your offer for help — tells him he’s been more than enough of a burden by making you spend more time ensuring he’s clean than you do yourself. Then, a gentler, kinder voice reminds him you’d expressed your satisfaction at being able to aid him. Pride never stands a chance, when it comes to your delight; he realized this soon after meeting you.

So, he lets his finger brush against the apple of your cheek, his voice softening as he says, “I do.”

It’s become almost instinctive, following you. There’s always a certain gentleness with which you hold his hands, guiding him forward as you step into the shower. He hears the quiet scuff of a stool (your insistence, not his) being dragged across the tiles. Your hands remain gentle as you guide him to sit.

“Tell me if I scrub too hard, okay?” The statement is almost unnecessary, truly. You’ve never once treated him with something other than overwhelming delicateness — like he’s made of porcelain. Jiaoqiu considered himself tough, before losing his eyesight. He thinks that shell was stripped from him alongside his vision. He wonders if you know it, too — wonders if that’s why you touch him like he’s seconds away from breaking beneath your touch.

Still, all he says is, “Okay.” Then, after a moment, “Thank you.”

A lump forms in his throat at the beat of silence, his heart hammering in his chest. Aeons, he wants to see your expression — he needs it so desperately. It’s become hard to tell whether he says the right thing or not. Sometimes, he wonders if he oversteps. There are a million words at the tip of his tongue, all of them longing to spill out.

Something soft presses against his forehead, gentle and so, so soft. Two hands cup his jaw, holding him in place before drawing him in. His arms wrap around your middle almost instinctively, his face burrowing into your chest.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, his words muffled by your skin.

Your lips press against the top of his head, tender. Jiaoqiu melts when you cup the back of his head, holding him in place. He wonders if you realize how soothing your heartbeat is to him, currently. Your fingers weave through peachy strands, washing out the shampoo suds from his hair.

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely audible. “We’ll figure it out, love.”

A soft noise rumbles in the back of his throat, his ears twitching and tickling your skin. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head one last time.

For a moment, something akin to hope blossoms in his chest. It’s the first time he’s felt it, since losing his vision, Jiaoqiu notes.

Normal still feels out of place, though not as much anymore. It’s become a faint, lingering feeling in the back of his mind.

There’s still a vague sense of discomfort at being surrounded by darkness constantly. Jiaoqiu supposes it’s only through the habit of touching that he reminds himself he’s not alone.

He’s only grateful you indulge him, even if it must be a bother to have him hovering and pestering just to stick to you.

The streets of the Yaoqing — have they ever been this noisy? Jiaoqiu can’t tell. It’s uncomfortable, how loudly everything rings in his ears. He thinks he would rather trade the boisterous noise for the bright, vivid colors he used to complain about.

“We’ll head home soon,” you reassure, squeezing his hand as tight as you can. For a moment, he wonders if his distress is palpable (he concludes that, for you, it must be).

“You shouldn’t rush,” he replies, his words trailing off into a quick apology when someone bumps into his shoulder. His hand squeezes yours — the mere thought of separating from you makes his heartbeat spike in anxiety. Jiaoqiu softly clears his throat, quickly adding, “I’m fine, really.”

Neither of you seem to believe it, though you don’t call him out on the lie. Instead, you slow your pace even more to loop your arm with his.

“I was thinking,” you start, pulling him just a little closer to you as you walk, “We could get the ingredients for those noodles you like.”

Jiaoqiu hums, trying to ignore the way the corners of his lips curl up. “That would be nice,” he says, trying to keep his steps matched to yours.

“You could help me make them,” you offer, gently tugging him closer before someone brushes against his arm.

His steps falter for a moment. When he takes a second too long to reply, you rush to add, “Only if you want to.”

A lump forms in his throat, agreement sitting on the tip of his tongue. All he does is exhale. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering loud in his ears. You’re looking at him — he doesn’t need his vision to tell. A hushed, barely audible whisper leaves his lips when you call his name.

“Is it still too soon?” you ask, a hint of worry in your voice. Your hold on him tightens just a little. “I-I figured, maybe it had been long enough to try and ease you back into things you used to do. We can just pretend I didn’t say any—”

“I want to,” Jiaoqiu says, his voice wavering. He isn’t sure when his breath picked up, but he can feel his chest heaving. His tail lightly sways when you place your hand above his own, thumbing at his knuckles.

“Okay.” Your voice feels as soft as your touch. It tickles his nerves, sending a flutter through the pit of his stomach and down to his core.

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours (a jolt of satisfaction in his chest at the lack of clumsiness). His ears twitch when the pad of your thumb lightly presses into his knuckle. 

“Okay,” he echoes, trying to match your tone. Jiaoqiu softens, gently rubbing his forehead against your own.

Warmth blooms in his chest when you whisper. The market’s ruckus feels like white noise as your words ring in his ears. Like instinct, his lips part before replying in earnest. “I love you, too.”

He wonders if it’s your face that’s burning up, or if it’s his.

It pains him a little, just how long it’s taken him to ask this of you.

Jiaoqiu feels you shift beneath him, adjusting your position before wrapping your legs around his waist again. He softly exhales, tracing the slope of your cheek with the utmost of care. His heart hammers away in his chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Don’t move,” he whispers, breathless as he pokes at the fat of your cheek. When you sigh, he lets himself cup your face, the pad of his thumb lightly pressing into the hollow beneath your eye.

“How much longer are you going to do this for?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice. Jiaoqiu softens, his tail swaying when you lean into his touch.

“Until I’m sure I’ve memorized everything.”

“I thought you already knew my face by heart?” you reply. The corners of his lips curl up into a smile when he hears yours. He gently pinches your cheek, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips.

“I do,” he says, loud enough so it’s meant for your ears only. “I just want to make sure I know it, deep in my soul.”

A soft hum leaves his lips when you squeeze his waist. His hand moves, his thumb tracing the shell of your ear.

“How smooth,” you mumble, brushing a few peachy strands away from his face.

“I want to make sure it’s all like I remember,” he murmurs, complying when you pull him up with your legs. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch when his nose bumps against yours, a breathless chuckle slipping past his lips.

His hand trails down, his thumb brushing your lower lip. When you gently kiss the digit, his breath hitches. He cups your jaw, trying to find an angle. You simply follow his lead, letting him lead.

He thumbs at the corner of your lips, your breath fanning against his skin. His mouth presses against yours in the softest — faintest — of kisses. When you sigh, he lets himself mold against you. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, his tail swaying when you grant him access.

There’s a hint of desperation behind his actions. Jiaoqiu wonders if you can tell, by the way his tongue licks at your mouth — almost like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste.

He barely gives you any reprieve, breaking the kiss to catch the slightest of breaths before he’s attached to your lips once more. When his name leaves your lips between kisses, heat pools in his stomach. It’s a feeling he’d thought dormant since he’d lost his sight.

Jiaoqiu doesn’t think he’d mind its resurgence — not after the way you part with a whined gasp, struggling to catch your breath. His lips press against the corner of your mouth, then lower, until he’s kissing a trail down to the spot beneath your jaw.

When you struggle to hold back a moan, heat shoots through his veins. Your hands find the back of his head, your fingers tangling in peachy strands. He complies when you help him up, cupping his face before capturing his lips with your own.

For a moment, Jiaoqiu wonders if you taste sweeter than he remembers.

“Guide me.”

“Hm?”

A soft, huffed chuckle escapes Jiaoqiu’s lips. His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb applying a delicate pressure beneath your eye. He feels you shift on the bed, your legs tangling with his own.

“Guide me,” he repeats, his ears twitching when you yawn. A gentle noise rumbles in his chest, his body pressing closer to yours and his hand moving lower to let his thumb press against the corner of your mouth. Then, he leans down, his lips replacing the digit.

Heat pools in his stomach at the sigh you let out. His tail lightly sways, the ends puffing out when he nips at your lower lip. “You’ve been patient for long enough,” he murmurs, gently ghosting a kiss over your lips.

“Jiaoqiu—”

“No excuses,” he says, “Please.”

After a light kiss, he adds, “Let me do this for you.”

For a moment, he wonders if it’s your heartbeat he hears, instead of his own. He lets his hand leave your face to rest on the underside of your breast, relishing how your breaths stutter.

“You’ve done more than enough for me,” Jiaoqiu reasons, his voice tender as he moves his face closer to the crook of your neck. “I ought to express my gratitude,” he whispers, noting how you shudder as his breath tickles your skin. He presses his lips against the underside of your jaw — right at the spot he knows makes your breath hitch and your thighs clench. “Shouldn’t I?”

“I didn’t do anything with the intention of getting something in return,” you say. He catches on to the quiver to your tone when his ears twitch. His teeth graze your jaw, soft and experimental as he thumbs at the lower part of your breast.

“Isn’t that reason enough to accept my gratitude with open arms, then?”

You shudder, your hand moving to perch on his shoulder when he trails kisses down to your collarbone. “We both know what your gratitude entails, Jiaoqiu.”

He softly clicks his tongue, letting his canines graze against your skin. The hand on your chest inches upward, moving until his thumb reaches your pert nipple. “Even more reason for you to accept, hm?”

His touch softens when you sigh.

“Isn’t it a little too soon—?”

“I think I should be the one to decide that,” Jiaoqiu mumbles. He presses a soft kiss to your collarbone. 

There’s a slight hesitance to your actions — how you seem to mull over his words. His tail sways, lightly rubbing against the bedsheets as your fingers run through his locks.

“Still, I—” your breath catches, your words interrupted by a wanton whine when delicately rolls your nipple between his fingers. 

Heat shoots through his nerves, fueling the fire in his stomach as he pictures your expression — your face all scrunched up, but your lips parted as you pant. Jiaoqiu slows the barrage of kisses on your skin, softy exhaling.

He wants to see it, so, so desperately.

He wants to feel and touch and see. His ears twitch when you sigh his name, breathless. A soft growl rumbles in his chest in response before he presses an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone.

“Let me take care of you,” he quietly pleads. “You shouldn’t have to suppress your own needs for my own.”

“I’m not—”

Jiaoqiu nips at your collarbone to cut off your words, his tongue gently soothing the spot. “Don’t lie to me,” he murmurs, his words slightly muffled by your skin. “Not when I hear clearer than I ever could.”

Your grip on his hair falters, your breath hitching. He wonders what expression you wear — are you flustered or taken aback? Or is it something entirely different? 

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t touch you like I used to,” he breathes out, gently rolling your nipple between his fingers. You tug on his hair, your breaths uneven. His lips trail kisses along the expanse of your collarbone. “You just need to guide me.”

His fingers leave your nipple, drawing a soft whine from your lips as he trails them down to your hip.

“It’s about time you replace your fingers with my own, after all,” he rasps, kissing a path back up to your jaw, “Isn’t it?”

His ears twitch when a strained whimper slips past your lips. He nips at your skin before pressing a feather-light kiss on the spot. Heat floods the pit of his stomach when you nod against his head, your hand resting atop the one on your hip.

“You’ve been more than patient, love,” Jiaoqiu whispers, his tail twitching against the sheets as you help his hand down between your thighs. He shudders an exhale, his fingers inquisitive as they search for your clit. His breaths become heavy, fanning against your jaw in a way so ticklish that your thighs instinctively press together.

A choked whine leaves your lips, your fingers curling in his hair. “‘s n-nothing,” you murmur, your voice trembling.

He gently clicks his tongue, his thumb pressing against you once he finds your bud. “It’s not ‘nothing,’” he replies, rubbing his nose along your jaw as he begins to circle your clit. “It’s never easy to care for a patient.”

You mewl, lightly jolting when his index finger prods around in search of your entrance. “W-wait,” you stammer, your hand moving to aid his own. His tail thumps faintly against the bed when his fingertips ghost above your folds.

“Here we go,” he whispers, unable to keep the elation from his voice. For a moment, he wonders if you’ve realized the selfish intentions behind his idea to thank you.

Though, he’s sure that even if you have, you probably don’t mind. Jiaoqiu knows how tired you must be from fingering yourself in his stead. Your fingers were never as good as his at bringing you pleasure, after all.

The corners of his lips curl up into a small smirk, his finger pumping in and out of you with practiced ease. “That’s nice, isn’t it, love?” he asks, his voice a soft coo.

“M-mhm,” you shakily hum, slowly rocking your hips against his digit to match his pace.

“Your sweet cunt just needed my fingers, didn’t it?”

He can’t hold back the purr in the back of his throat when you nod, your fingers fisting his peachy strands when he pushes a second finger into your folds.

“N-needed them s-so bad—!” you cry, your voice cracking. Your free hand grasps at his forearm, your breath quick and uneven pants. “‘s never the same when t-they’re mine…”

Jiaoqiu gently shushes you, peppering kisses against the underside of your jaw. “I know, love,” he coos, his voice full of sympathy. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

You moan, your breath hitching as your walls flutter around his fingers. When they curl, you cry, your hips desperately rocking against his hand. “J-Jiaoqiu—”

“Close already?” he asks, though he fails to hide the smile from his voice. You huff and he chuckles, a sense of satisfaction settling in his gut. How long has it been since he’s felt that — felt anything other than a weight in his chest?

Jiaoqiu can’t be bothered to wonder. Not when your cunt spasms around his fingers, your broken cries and moans rising in volume the more he curls his digits against the spongy spot in your folds.

“That’s it, love,” he breathes out, his voice a heavy rasp. “Let go for me.”

When you cry, he can only picture the expression on your face — can only imagine you look just like you’ve always done when you cum. His chest aches for just a moment, then lightens when you mewl his name.

“T-thank you,” you whisper, your words slightly slurred. Jiaoqiu softens when you kiss the top of his head. 

“I should be the one thanking you,” he replies, hushed. He nuzzles into you, slowly pulling his fingers out of your cunt. His chest rises and falls, weightless for the first time in weeks. “For everything.”

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: How You Hypnotize

❤︎ "People are afraid, very much afraid of those who know themselves. They have a certain power, a certain aura and a certain magnetism." - Rajneesh

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✿ Pile One (5oW, Strength, 8oC, Judgement)

Do you have Mula (Sagittarius), Magha (Leo), or Ashwini (Aries) placements? You’re giving off some serious last-one-standing energy. Mula is particularly known for its ability to defy all odds, taking down a “beast” that seems far stronger through wit and quick resolve. It embodies the Belle archetype—well-read, gentle, and kind—able to reign in even the most formidable challenges. This energy suggests a remarkable strength in navigating difficult situations, using intelligence and empathy to emerge victorious.

Life has tried you, pushed you to the brink, and dangled you over a cliff. All while a crowd of people whooped and hollered, rooting for your demise.

But guess what… you’re the one sitting pretty on top of a mountain while everyone else is where?… oh, AT THE BOTTOM OF THE FUCKING CLIFF!

I didn’t plan this reading to be so… boastful? But you deserve to puff your chest out, babe.

You’ve had enemies. Honestly, this isn’t common. When the average person hears about somebody having a lot of “haters” they brush it off and assume that person just has a big head. However, that’s your reality. Your energy triggers people so they consider you a threat to whatever they have going on. For some of you, this could be your own family or closest friends. 

There’s a quiet, obsessive intensity behind your eyes. The fire element is prominent in this reading, indicating a deep, aching desire to consume, burn, and clear everything in your path. While you may feel exhausted from a lifetime of battles, your soul thrives on challenges, igniting a fierce determination within you. This duality fuels your passion, pushing you to confront obstacles head-on, even when the struggle feels overwhelming. Embrace that fire; it’s not just a source of exhaustion, but also a wellspring of resilience and transformation.

🎵YOU KNOW WHEN TO HOLLLDDD ‘EM, KNOWW WHEN TO FOOLLDD ‘EMM, KNOW WHEN TO WALLKKK AWAY, KNOW WHEN TO RUUUUUNNNNNN! 🎵

Your intelligence transcends mere book smarts and common sense, creating an incredibly hypnotic aura around you. Your situational awareness allows you to navigate social dynamics effortlessly, running circles around people, and leaving them tangled in their own webs of thought. You’re scarily smart, a strategic thinker who sees layers others miss. There’s a striking contrast between your physical appearance and the cunning nature beneath the surface; you may look like a doll, seemingly delicate and innocent, but there’s a fierce and dangerous intellect at play. This duality not only captivates those around you but also keeps them guessing about your next move. You also possess incredible endurance—not just in a physical sense, but in your ability to withstand a remarkable amount of bullshit that would have caused most people to tap out long ago.

People look at you and think, “How?” How are you still standing, and how did you manage to come out on top? This aura of resilience draws some people in, compelling them to want to learn your secrets. However, not everyone’s interest is innocent; for some, it morphs into a dark obsession, pushing them to challenge your resolve and see if they can crack your thick skin. This dynamic creates a complex dance around you, where admiration and envy intertwine.

P.S. Even if you’re not Ketu dominant or a Mula native, please watch Claire Nakti’s, The “Final Girl” Astrological placement research video, you will definitely resonate. If you comment, tell them AriJackz from Tumblr sent you!

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Two (Knight of Pentacles, 2oS, Strength, 7oC (S?), The Star, Judgemental, Short, Melancholic, 4oP)

“HEART BEEN BROKE SO MANY TIIMMESSS

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO BELIEVEEE

MAMA SAYS IT’S MY FAULLT, IT’S MY FAULLTTT

I WEAR MY HEART OF MY SLEEEEVVVEEEE!”

It’s not your fault, baby! Bitches are just greedy 🙄

This is straightforward, you’re a star! You have that undeniable je ne sais quoi, ¿Cómo se dice… “Everyone wants to be them” energy. As a multi-faceted individual, you possess countless layers that draw people in. Each aspect of your personality holds a unique appeal, making it so that there’s a piece of you that everyone desires. This captivating nature not only sets you apart but also invites beggars who benefit from being near your energy. 

You’re not consciously aware of this power and that’s what makes it great; it’s not manipulated or curated, you just are. In your younger years, you were like a fairy prancing around with a basket of love, giving away pieces of your heart to anyone who looked your way with sad little-kicked puppy eyes. 

However, the world is full of greedy hands that have no intention of giving as much as they receive. You were born with a heart of gold and encountered these all-consuming energies quite early in life, prompting you to spend your adolescence developing discernment and better judgment to avoid getting burned again. This journey has shaped you into someone who values authenticity and reciprocity, allowing you to navigate relationships with a keen awareness of what truly nurtures your spirit.

Even if you don’t feel you have anything explicitly special about you, everyone else sees that you do! In a world where many feel boring and unoriginal in their own skin, your vibrant energy can be a source of irritation for those who struggle with their own identity. Your unique shine serves as a reminder of what they lack, sparking feelings of envy or frustration.

Although, that doesn't mean they won’t play nice in your face while robbing you blind behind your back. You learned this the hard way. 

“There's an old saying in Tennessee — I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again.” - George W. Bush

YOU DON’T PLAY. You hold your magic close to your chest and are very weary of possible leeches. This guardedness reflects your hard-won wisdom; you know how precious your energy is and are selective about who gets to share in it. THIS IS HYPNOTICCCC.

Your presence is exclusive; not just anyone gets to brush shoulders with you. This rarity makes people eager to be seen as special enough to get close to you. You have options—a variety of choices in friends, partners, lovers—and that selectivity only heightens the allure. People yearn to be among the few you hand-select to join your inner circle, hoping to share in your energy and insights. This creates a magnetic pull, as they aspire to earn a place in your life.

If you didn’t know this, I’m telling you now. Look back on your social interactions and the slick words said to you, probably people accusing you of thinking you’re the shit (you are), and you’ll see just how much of a star you are. 

P.S. Some of you are tiny little spitfires. I don’t think that’s important, but I felt inclined to mention it. If so, that adds to the allure. 5 foot nothing but your attitude is 10 feet tall.

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Three (Knight of Pentacles, 2oS, Strength, 7oC (S?), The Star, Judgemental, Short, Melancholic, 4oP)

You’re a storm, baby. I know I got some Adra natives in the cleerrb!

A few days ago, my 59-year-old neighbor and I were walking around the park, it was eerily quiet- no children were playing in the field and the trees were the stillest I had ever seen. Breaking the silence, she told me about a belief in ancient Hindu folklore that on days when the sky is framed in dark, dense clouds and the winds are still- not a single gust rustling the trees- the Earth is waiting with weighted breath for the outcome of a long-withstanding battle against good and evil.

She said that when I woke up the next morning, to check the news and see if a famous politician or some powerful person behind the scenes had died- thus being defeated. I checked; a few notable names had passed but the stand-out thing that happened was a vision I saw in a dream where an ex-friend sent me a letter in the mail admitting to some harmful actions I had growing suspicions about. This finally put my mind at ease and reaffirmed my gut intuition. 

I don’t know how to say this without sounding so… metaphorical/poetic, but you’re the person divine consciousness sends to represent the light’s grand victory. You are the embodiment of a prevailing soul. With all ten swords in your back, you’ll get up again and again. 

You’re not sent to the world as the Universe’s sparkling trophy because of luck; no, you’re highly regarded because you walked the same path, you’re no stranger to going to war and coming out with more than a few bumps and scrapes. 

This is not a flashy victory. Not like in the movies where you get ganged up on by bullies, pull out karate moves, whoop some ass, and come out looking like an underdog. This war consists of consecutive, painstaking setbacks and challenges slowly chipping away at your character, leaving behind a shell of a person for you to pick the pieces up and rebuild stronger. It’s a series of quiet battles fought within, where the scars aren’t always visible but the growth is profound. Every moment of doubt, every instance of perseverance, shapes you in ways that aren’t always glamorous but are deeply transformative.

You have scars that manifest as art, each one a mark of survival. Artistic souls look at you and see a single tree still standing after a hellish storm—roots deep in resilience, branches reaching for the light. Each scar is a testament to your journey, a story etched into your skin, reminding the world that even after the fiercest winds, life is reborn with greater tenacity to endure and thrive. 

You carry a thick atmosphere with you, whenever you’re coming the Earth seems to hold its breath to await you. You’re not abrasive or stand-offish, conversely, you’re quite soft, well-balanced, and can even be romantic at times. But that only emphasizes the sharp, heaviness of your presence. 

Yea, we all go through shit but do we all come out the other end with an open heart and willingness to live life optimistically? Fuck no 😭😭.

Somehow... you do and that’s hypnotic as fuck, my love! It’s like, hOW?! Even if people didn’t see the wars you fought, your backbone poses itself like a warrior’s. The way you carry yourself speaks volumes; it imprints on the minds of others far more than words ever could. Your presence is magnetic, a silent testament to your strength and resilience. Talking is just the bare bones of communication; it’s your spirit, your aura, that truly captivates. 

LMAO you’re the type to say less than five words to someone and they’re running back to their friends telling them you’re different from everyone else.

P.S. Your key to bagging anyone you want is your eyes, learn to flirt with your eyes. 

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

✿ Pile Four (The Emperor, Ace of Wands, 3oS, Judgement, The Fool, courageous, Spiritual, Observant, Self-assured, Thirsty, Aimless)

Hmmm, you’re a playboy, stay far away from my easily attached heart, DEMON 🫵.

I’M PLAYING. But for real, you knew the answer to this question before you chose the pile LMFAO.

You’re just plain sexy! That’s it! You’re vivacious and a smooth talker; you like to razzle dazzle your way into people’s minds where your imprint overstays its welcome, making them sick with their lack of permanent access to you.

You’re a social butterfly, flying from person to person, pollinating them with the attention they yearn for, and then flying off to the next adventure, leaving them dizzy with the need to catch and keep you in a cutely decorated mason jar with poked holes up top. Of course, this would kill you, so stay how you are, beautiful!

This might be a bit explicit, but you have a unique way of stirring people’s desires. You don’t need to be overtly sexual; it’s your rare lack of fear of rejection that draws people in. At least, that’s how others see it. In a social world laced with fear, you seem to have an optimistic mentality where, “Every shot you don’t take, you miss.” So you are one of the few humans who aren’t riddled with worries about how you’re perceived and people’s judgments of your character. What is rare is wildly hypnotic.

People thirst over you, like foaming-at-the-mouth rabid dog ARFF ARFF BARK BARK type of thirst… in silence. You are actually way too intimidating to approach. Male or female, socially, people perceive you as high quality and assume you get a lot of attention that the everyday person can not compete with, so they only daydream from afar. 

You’re arm candy. Throughout writing this I pictured famous videos of celebrities like Angelina Jolie, Jhene Aiko, and Chris Evans seducing and unnerving the interviewer through subtle actions. Like the other piles, your aura is the dominant communicator and it doesn’t take much for you to get a mf barking. 

People fear you’ll break their hearts, but funnily enough, you’ve entertained one or two losers in the past and left relationships with a few scars and stories you have to sniffle through to tell. But that’s okay; those experiences teach us how to discern who deserves to be in our lives and who doesn’t. You only let them in because you try not to discriminate, and truly just have a deep passion for connection with anyone and everyone you encounter. Never change, you’re the flame the rest of us moths flock to.

P.S. Discernment and trusting your judgment is a lifelong study; don’t beat yourself if someone who you thought had your best interest at heart, doesn’t in reality. Count that towards your research, dust yourself off, and try again. You’re too brave to let a liar stop your ability to enjoy human company. 

Okay bye, MUAH 💋

[theresascove]

🕷️ Her Secret Life

spiderverse!ellie williams x f!reader

your girlfriend has a secondary life living as the spider-person in your city—and for years you’ve been unaware until you come face to face with the truth

tw: not proofread (shitty writing), spiderverse!au, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, loser!ellie, established relationship, angst w happy ending, protective/protector!ellie, weapon (gun, knife), injury (e and r sustaining), kidnapping (r), blood tw, argument, love confessions, intimate non-sexual nudity, fluff, fingering (r receiving), r had hair people can grip

wc ✎ 4.3k

“Shit,” you hiss, peeling your hand back from the burner. A bit of boiling water had flung over, landing itself onto your hand. Ellie, nearby, moves near when she heard the sound coming from your clenched teeth. She smiles softly, bringing your hand up to her face and kissing where it burns.

You shrug her off with a matching smile growing on your face, “flirt.”

“You say that like you don’t love it,” she sighs, wrapping her arms around your stomach. You spin around, attention shifting to her entirely—expression serious and gentle.

“I do love it,” you peck her cheek.

Her eyes—at their best shade of green when the sun hit her in such a way—glance down at your lips. She pulls you close just as she’s done for the past three years to pour her emotions grown for you over the time she’s known you.

The broadcast on the tv slips between the moment the two of you share—taking ahold of her focus all the while her lips keep coming back to yours. Physically she was still on you, but emotionally she was a whirlwind.

A burglary’s happening, a gun’s involved. How she wished to stay here wrapped in your arms and enjoy the food once it’s warm—she can’t. There’re people she’s required to save, she can’t leave them there.

The guilt eats her alive, motivating her to pull out of your embrace—leaving you sitting on the kitchen counter, lips swollen as she runs out. She stands by the front door, sliding her hair up into a small pony tail and grabbing her keys.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just some stuff to handle,” she replied, her eyes bright but evasive.

As she walked out, a nagging feeling settled in your stomach. You shook it off, returning to finishing cooking the food you had set out earlier. Hearing the news on the tv, the bit of worrisome information had you shutting it off.

This wasn’t the first she’s ran out. It’s often that you feel that pit your stomach. It’s often that you see the far away look in her eyes as she runs out. She’s said it’s her job, but you’re worried for her. Your girlfriend left around 5:23pm, and finally arrived back home around midnight.

Her leaving is normal, only happening here and there—until the time came where she was gone for a concerning amount of time. Really made you question if she worked with a team with how many hours she would work. Her hours got worse, causing her to cut off time with you.

Dates and even the small moments were torn, ripped away from you. Instead of nights laughing in bed laughing until two AM, you’d gotten accustomed to a quieter room. The only sound you hear as you shut your eyes is the sound of the AC turning on and off. Ellie always came home, but you never noticed her until the morning after.

Instead of dates, you settled to spend more days to yourself. It was fine, you had no reason to be upset. Ellie had even tried to mend it with you. She brought up the idea of you two making a set moment so she can’t just run out.

Friday, 5:30pm. You both were getting dinner. The plans were set in the phone books, written on the calendar stuck to your fridge by a small magnet. It was written everywhere, a reminder of the excitement coming. You looked forward to it, you both did.

Once the day had arrived, you were left alone at that dining table—left outside to freeze once the sun had set. Just like how your skin was cold to the touch, so had become your temperament towards Ellie.

She shows to your shared apartment with pleas falling off her before the front door closed. It sounds desperate, and so it tugs at your heartstrings—but your last bit of patience had been burnt out tonight. You’ve given her many chances and she’s done nothing to revive them.

“Please,” she whispers, voice hoarse, “say something.”

“Like what? I’m pissed that you can’t seem to fucking show up to one thing between us but you can find a time in your schedule for strangers?”

She sputters, “they’re in danger, what do you expect me to do? It’s my job.”

“You’re right. So right. I’m selfish for wanting a minute with my girlfriend. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know this.”

You spin, “do I? Because lately all I know about you is how good you are at disappearing everytime I need you.”

Oh, Ellie felt sharp pain in her chest—sharper than any knife that’s she’s had dug into her before. Your words combined with the tears in your eyes turned out to be a deadly combo. She should’ve stayed and talked more, you both should’ve communicated. But nonetheless, with heavy hearts, you both walked away from each other.

It wasn’t anything new—the empty space beside you, Ellie’s decor gathering dust on her bed stand. not new, but the chilling feeling continued into the morning. There was no dent put into the space beside you, there was no signs of her last night. You having staying in your apartment, tears falling harder when you watch her leave silently. For the first time in a while, you both stayed at your own apartments.

Turning the shower on was a temporary solution to the goosebumps that lined your body. Ellie liked to slide behind you while you took a shower, enjoying the intimate moment with you. The mornings usually were when she was most free—not much happening that required her to leave. So you cherished it. The shower was warm, warmer than usual so you could make up for the loss of the heat her body hugging you provided.

The water flowing down your body became a bit salty when your tears mixed. Regret filled you now and all you wanted to do was have her back. Living a moment you usually shared with her alone was breaking you. You missed her, you needed her to come back home. With whatever was in the air, you feared she might not come back—your conversation last night kind of sounding like it was leading towards discussing a breakup.

With the knowledge of knowing you are without her, it sure did come as a surprise when the door knob to your bathroom opened. Ellie always announced her presence when she comes in, and right now? it was eerily silent. You froze as you come to realize your situation, heart becoming so loud it rings in your ears. You’re cornered, and without your phone to dial someone for help.

“Make any sort of movement that I don’t like and I’ll shoot you immediately.”

After wrapping a towel around you, you come face to face with your intruder. Who knows why they’re here, but one good guess is money or they’re robbing your house. They take a good look at your tear stained face and your stone-cold expression before they grin.

“Oh how I wish she knew I was here.“

—————————

Ellie had been making her way towards your apartment, finger nails picked to the buds from her stress habits. She’s been a mess since last night, distraught just as much as you were—if not more. She’s always wanted to reveal her identity to you, but now she does more than ever. Knowing she could loose you was enough motivation for her to risk it all—to tell you the truth. So that’s why she’s at your door, knocking in hopes you’ll open it for her.

Nothing. Even after she’s knocked a tenth time, nothing. She calls your phone. Nothing. She texts you. Nothing. Either you’re really upset, or something wrong. She takes the worse case scenario and makes her way through your door, using the spare key you’ve made for her a while back. She calls your name as the door swings open, but it gets caught in her throat when she notices the state of your living room.

It’s been flipped. Decor strewn about, couch cushions placed in other areas of the room, broken glass. What sent her over the edge was a note, one of your known bright colored sticky notes stuck in the center of the room.

On the note it read, “come find us.”

She’s never felt such intense anger and pain in her life.

—————————

It was some hardware store, abandoned long ago no doubt. Your intruder and now kidnapper had you sitting knees first on the concrete floor. Bruises have lined your knees from where they shoved you to the ground once you first arrived. They’ve no real regard to your saftey, pushing and pulling you along without a care in the world. Your hands have since been bounded together by something you’ve never seen before, some different kind of plastic. It’s a material that’s much more difficult to break through than say rope.

Some time has gone by, silence permitting the room as you sit quietly on the floor just a few feet away. You’re still in shock, trying to accept that something like this could ever happen to you. It doesn’t feel real. It’s happened in shows, movies, news, but you in real life? It’s like a fever dream. Your kidnapper sits on a chair nearby, wasting the time by sharpening their knife—looking to you every now and then.

“That girl Ellie, she your girlfriend?”

You weren’t going to answer until you notice they’ve pointed their knife your way.

“Yes.”

They hum, looking back down to the project they’ve started, “I’m only looking after you when I say this. You should break up with her.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t trust you.”

“What?”

“She doesn’t trust you.”

You nod without any regard to show your emotions, moving on so they’ll stop talking.

“Has she told you her little secret yet? Because it would be really embarrassing if I knew, but not you. Especially since I’m like her nemesis.”

There’s really no reason why that statement got under your nerves so quickly. They push their chair out from under them, stalking towards you and your heart beats louder with each step.

“That expression on your face makes me think she hasn’t.“

Their expression is a mix between playful and sinister, looking to find a crack in you and wedge inside of it.

“I know all about you actually,” they start, voice nothing but a whisper, “I mean it, all about you. About the two of you, your fight last night, what you know and don’t know about her.”

They crouch down to lean into your space, breathing heavily. Being so close it allows you to notice the mechanics in their left eye.

“When I say your girlfriend is someone I hate very much, one could say my enemy or rival, do you know why that is?”

“No.”

They sigh, “do I really have to be this blunt with you? Ellie’s this city’s spiderman and she’s been keeping it a secret because she doesn’t trust you.”

You furrow your eyebrows at what they’re saying, not believing it. They’ve no proof.

Just then a flash of a second later a flash of light comes crashing down from an overhead window, glass breaking onto the floor. There’s no time to even grasp what’s happening when you’re being tugged by your hair. You hiss, sitting up as high as you can in your knees to ease some of the pain. Across from the two of you stood Ellie, laced in her red and black suit. She’s been looking for hours, swinging around the entire city to look for you. It wasn’t until she made eye contact with this warehouse that she felt that tremble of her spider senses going off. Here she was now, staring at you for the first time while dressed in her other identity.

“Let her go.”

Your kidnapper laughs at their serious tone, cooing almost, “did I hit a nerve? Doing your research really does pay off sometimes. Anywho, no. Not until I get what I want.”

The two enter a conversation, one that sounds like they’ve had it many times before—but this time around it seems like your kidnapper may be the successful one.

“Well, I was just having a chat with your lovely girlfriend,” they gesture to you before you’re tossed onto the concrete carelessly, “told her about your little secret but I fear she doesn’t believe me. Could you help me out a bit?”

You gasp from the sting that came with hitting the ground, shoulder burning after receiving a brunt of the pain having colliding with the wall. With blurry eyes, you watch as the mask is removed—even with your pained vision you can tell it’s her. Short auburn hair, attention locked on you. You’re overall fine, just a few cuts and bruises—but each minor injury throws Ellie into a deep state of discomfort.

“It’s sweet the way you care for her. I wonder just how much you care,” they start, reaching to grab the knife they’ve been sharpening. They twirl it around in their hand with ease, eyes locked with your girlfriends as they move to crouch beside you.

“What would you do for her?”

You feel the knife graze the side of your neck, the cold and sharp feeling making you tense. Your eyes shut close, tightly—and you wish everything was just a nightmare.

“Everything.”

“Ah, good question. I can tell it’s honest because it’s cute how stressed you look,” they turn to you, “isn’t it cute? Open your eyes and look.”

You do as told.

“This is the behavior of someone that’s coming face to face with their terrible actions. Your girlfriend here realizes now that you know who she is, you know now about her constant lies. All about her “medical job,” all of those stories of how she’s come back with bleeding cuts.”

“I mean, do you even really know her? I bet you thought you did. Knew her like the back of your hand, your soulmate, the one you love. But this whole time she’s been keeping a secret from you. Wonder how much she actually really loves you if she can’t trust you with such an identity. She’s had enough time to have told you, and it doesn’t look like she was ever going to. After your fight last night it really is looking like she was going to sacrifice your relationship over it.”

Lies. You don’t know why but it feels like they’re making it all up. Maybe you’re stupid, or maybe the look in Ellie’s eyes was telling you what was really going on. They held a warmth there for you, the one you’ve been on the receiving end since the start of your relationship. This is the same look she’s given you before kissing you goodnight, the same look when you’re having a hard day, the same look when you first confessed that I love you phrase.

You might’ve been frustrated with her last night, and you might have some remaining once you’ve figured out she’s spiderman—but none of that was how you felt in this moment. Head resting against the wall with a knife positioned by your neck, you trust her. Your love for her hasn’t changed, and right now you want her to save you.

Ellie’s mask is held tightly in her fist, arm hanging tensely by her side, “what’s your motive for doing all of this?”

“Showing you what it’s like to be in my shoes. You killed my friend, and I’ll never forgive you for that. This is the only way I’ll forgive you. I have two solutions. One, I kill her. Two, I make you both agree to never see each other again. If either of you ever make a move to see one another, I’ll kill you right on the spot.”

“Are you a dumbass, what kind of “solutions” are these? Why would you offer solution one like I’d pick it?”

“You’re not picking them, I am. I’m deciding my mood.”

The buildings swallowed by silence after, save for your occasional sniffle. You’ve been doing good about keeping yourself disassociated with everything going on, but there’s only so much. Silent tears fall down as your chest stutters, lips wobbling from time to time.

Ellie licks her lips, “please just keep her alive, you can do what you want to me.”

“That’s unfair,” they snap, “I never was given a chance with my friend, they’re gone. You’re lucky I even offered another solution.”

You gasp when they press the knife a little harder, the blade close enough now it could cut.

“Thing is. If I kill her now, you’ll deal with this for the rest of your life. If I send you both to ignore each other, especially if I use my memory machine to take you out of the picture—it’s like she died, and it’ll torture you forever.”

At this point it’s like they’re mumbling to themself, discussing how each action sounds. Their grip on the knife loosens just a tad and in that small second Ellie shoots a web to knock the knife from their hold—shooting another to pull it towards her.

“Now I’m going to make a decision.”

She knocks them out cold, throwing a hit that sends them tumbling to the ground unconscious. Webs cover the area around them, trapping them in a cocoon almost. You’re still very much shaken even with such familiar hands touching you again, removing what bounded your wrists together.

Neither of you say anything. Ellie’s hands are running you over, checking for any signs of major injuries. Her hands are shaking, moving at a rushed state. Once she deems you’re alright, she’s calling the police—reporting what happened. All the while you’re needing her, you need her to hold you.

You’re still lying in the same position while she’s pacing and calling the town’s services, getting frustrated and confused from time to time. She’s frantic, blinking quick and voice shaky. You understand it, you do—neither of you have accepted fully what just transpired.

“Els,” you breathe, voice shaking.

She didn’t hear you, too focused on the call, so you reach for her with whatever energy you had left—desperate. Ellie breaks, crying despite being on the call.

“Yeah, thank you. I’ll be here until they show,” is the last thing she says before hanging up.

She gathers you into her, holding you ever so gently. She surrounds you, and you’ve never felt safer. You turn her suit dark from your deep, full-body sobs.

“I love you,” she whispers, sounding like she too had been crying just as hard as you, “I love you so much, you’re safe. I’ll always find you.”

You’re still trembling in her hold when the cops arrive, grasping tightly onto her and her you. After the medics offically check you over and treat your minor wounds—you’re dismissed from the scene.

Ellie takes you with her into the air, arm wrapped around you as she swings you back to her apartment. Your apartment would be an issue for a later time, but for now—there’s no energy to deal with that. She lands you two on the fire exit before opening the window and stepping down first to guide you in behind her.

Her mask and suit have been tossed off, instead replaced by other clothes. Shes moved slow, keeping you close as she takes it off. Once in normal clothes, she’s reaching for your hand and you take it eagerly—guiding you to her bed. Her rooms dark, only light coming from the moonlight casting from the windows behind her bed.

She guides you to lay beside her, blanket thrown on top of the both of you. It’s warm. It’s the first warmth you’ve felt since the other night. Oh that started you on a spiral. Ellie noticed, taking in how your expression falters.

“I’m so sorry.”

You cry so hard after that you have to press the back of your hands into your eyes, chest heaving. Ellie pulls you even closer if possible, melting the two of you into one. She’s so concerned, worried, scared, hurt, angry.

“Stop, please. Stop tearing yourself up, you’ve no reason to. You should be mad at me.”

“I can’t,” you hiccup, gripping onto her hands, “I can’t even be mad at you. I love you so much.”

Ellie crumbles, leaning in to leave a kiss on your cheek. She was testing the waters then, gaging how much you could take at the moment—and that little kiss sparked a passion. You leaned in, this time to connect your lips fully. Ellie met you where you were, warm fingers rubbing your hands.

“I love you,” you mumble, words muffled from your inability to keep your lips off her. She brushed a hand on your cheek, angling your face to kiss you deeper. You take it with need, you take everything she gives you like you’re starving.

She places a few kisses along your jaw, “I love you more.”

She ends up straddling you, legs on either side of your body. Her hair tickles your face from where she’s hovered on top. Each time she pulls back a little, you feel your heart skip a beat snd you’re pulling her closer. She minds none of it, needing it just as much as you.

Your breathing quickens when she kisses down your body, attention laser focused on your every little reaction. After a nod, she’s removing the shorts on your body. They fall somewhere in the room along with the rest of your guy’s clothes. Her naked body plus the blanket over the two of you was akin to a barrier against the world.

She works you open, fingers circling inside you and pressing against the spot that turns your mind into nothing. With everything heightened, you’re sensitive. You’re moaning into the void, and it’s a raw sound. She’s here, on top of you, touching you. Her naked body slides on yours, chests colliding and touching. She brings you to the edge fast, having only touching your sensitive clit a few times and pumping her fingers against that spot.

You gasp, lips parting from your kiss with her. She pants, eyes locked deep into yours.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she says, wrapping her body around you, “never will any of this happen again.”

You keep her where she lays, tears forming yet again. This time you keep it silent, trying not to disturb her again but she knows you too well. She stays awake for a long time, laying beside but also on top of you. She can’t bring herself to sleep that night, she’s too anxious. Your breathing eventually evens out, body having a drop after being on adrenaline for too long. The entire night Ellie lays with you, rubbing your hip and holding onto you tightly.

Once you offically begin to stir around late morning the next day, you wake up in a panicked state.

“I’m right here,” she says with such gentleness, grip on you a tight reminder of her presence.

You shift closer, “shower with me?”

It’s like all the times before. Her body sliding behind you and under the warm water. She hugs you, kissing your neck and shoulder.

“Why’ve you never told me about being spiderman?”

“I was told not to, that I couldn’t tell anyone because nobody could be trusted.”

“So they were right about you not trusting me.”

You didn’t mean to have that tone with her, it just came spewing out. She doesn’t take it personally whatsoever, just leaning to press her lips to your shoulder again.

“I absolutely trust you. I just didn’t wish to go against my boss essentially. I was at a loss, I’ve been wanting to tell you since day one.”

She turns you until you face her. Just seeing her, having her like this again—fuck, just seeing her was enough to make you bawl all over again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You saved my life and I’m—“

You couldn’t finish it due to crying again. Your legs had grown weak after, buckling from the weight. The two of you ended up together on the bathtub floor, Ellie holding and guiding the two of you towards the floor. She was behind you, her legs opened so you could lay between them. Her arms were around your midsection, holding onto your hands.

“What can you do as a spiderman?”

“Shoot webs, climb buildings, get senses for things going on around me, save you.”

You hum, savoring the feeling of her soft repetitive kisses on your neck.

“I also tell funny jokes.”

“You don’t need your other identity to do that.”

You twist uncomfortably for a moment to kiss her. Even in this situation you’re the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. Teary eyes, cuts along your body, bruises on your cheek. You were beautiful.

“I love you,” she says for the hundredth time since coming back home. One usually assumes the more something is said, the less value it holds—but with her confessions, you crave for the next time she says it each time. It holds the same response from you.

You kiss her again for longer, everything fading away as you’re here in her arms—“I love you more.”

[hotteokyu]

Do Not Touch

Synopsis ~ Wooyoung accidentally bought a feral omega on the street. Jongho is a recently presented alpha who struggles with his unstable pheromones. There are a few bad ideas, and you and Jongho can't stop pawing at each other.

Pairings ~ alpha!jongho x omega!fem!reader x omega!wooyoung

Word count ~ 15.3k

Genre / warnings ~ NSFW/EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, omegaverse, smut, drama, fluff, they are idols, cursing, human (omega) trafficking, hongjoong gets angry a lot, reader is not of sound mind for a lot of it, sexual acts without actual consent from either parties (idek how else to put it), there will be consent, dry humping, kissing, scenting, growling, bratty behavior, reader and Jongho are obsessed with each other, poor Wooyoung has to deal with it, first time knotting, threesome, teasing, boy kissing, woojong sex

MINORS DNI ! ! !

mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

“Okaay, I get it,” Wooyoung grumbled, walking slowly behind his manager through the empty street. His phone vibrated in his tight grip as he tried to play a smile for the camera being held to his face. 

     “Don’t mess it up this time,” Seonghwa nagged, mumbling more nonsense that the mic wouldn’t pick up unfortunately. Atiny should’ve really seen how annoying he was. 

     “Yeees, I get it, I’ll be careful.”

     “And don’t growl at anyone. They’re not your friends,” he mumbled, almost embarrassed to bring something like that up.

     Wooyoung scoffed. “It’s not like anyone’s intimidated by an omega’s growl. I’m just being playful.”

     Seonghwa was just about done uselessly preparing Woo for his event when he actually heard a growl from the other end. 

     “Wooyoung, I’m being completely serious,” he said, glancing at his phone in disbelief. 

     “I’m being serious too,” he giggled, then quickly stopped as another growl vibrated through the phone. 

     “Wooyoung-!”

     “Shh, Hyung,” he whispered.

     “I’ll send you home right now if you growl one more time,” he scolded.

     “What? That wasn’t even me? I think…” Another growl. “Someone’s in trouble, Hyung. I can smell it a little.” 

     “What? Smell what?” 

     “I have to go!” he whispered, hanging up and shoving his phone into his hoodie pocket before glancing in the direction of the sound… and the worsening smell. 

     “Hyung, can you turn off the camera?” he asked, taking his mic off and handing it over to his manager, who switched off the camera, putting it down without needing a reason. He could smell it too. 

     “I’ll call the police,” his manager said, putting his hand out slowly toward the antsy omega. “Stay right here. Don’t move.”

     “The police?” he scoffed. “It’s an omega.” He sniffed the subtle burn to the faint lilies. “What the fuck will the police do?” They weren’t even that far away. 

     His manager turned, covering his mouth as he spoke on the phone. Wooyoung heard a whimper. Then silence. He ran. 

     “Fucker,” the man snarled. “How am I s’posed to see if she’s any good if her legs are tied?” He tilted his head, leaning into the beta’s face. The beta trembled, crossing his eyes to maintain the contact with the alpha.

     Wooyoung stumbled into a wooden fence as he was attacked with burning masculine, putrid scents. They stunk up an old parking lot outside an abandoned warehouse. There were several alphas lined up behind a much stronger, uglier one. In front of them was a weak-looking beta who stood beside an omega, you, tied to a chair, unconscious.

     “M-my master said-” The alpha spat in the beta’s face, watching with a disgusted frown as the beta squeezed his violated eyes shut. 

     “Untie her.” The alpha’s men started to move toward you and Wooyoung nearly lunged out from his spot, but the beta quickly stepped in front of you, shaking his hands as he panicked. 

     “My master told me not to give her to you if you inspect her before paying!” he shouted. The men paused and glanced toward the alpha. 

     He grumbled, eyeing your unconscious body. “You’re trying to fuck me over with some loose hag?” he snarled. “This is ridiculous! Doesn’t he realize no one wants a feral bitch these days? Will he kill her if I refuse her?” 

     The beta swallowed hard as the alpha himself neared you.

     “Just let me take a look.”

     “I’ll purchase the omega!” Wooyoung shouted, slipping on his paper mask as he stepped out into the parking lot. 

     The alpha growled as he stepped closer, and Wooyoung tilted his head. “I’ll pay now. No inspections needed.” 

     “Who the fuck are you?” The alpha took just two steps to meet him before he could reach the beta or you. “You-”

     “Fantastic!” the beta exclaimed, shoving past the alpha and handing Wooyoung a tablet for payment. The alpha looked stunned, but before he could take the tablet from him, he was already done. The omega was his. 

     The alpha shoved him suddenly. Hard. He stumbled to the ground, his head slamming against the concrete. He snarled at the creature. When he got to his feet, he was pushed again. 

     “You’re pitiful” Wooyoung scoffed, only shuffling back a little that time. ���I thought no one wants ferals these days anyway.”

     “It was mine,” he growled. 

     “Shut the fuck up,” Wooyoung grumbled, rolling his eyes slightly. “You’re fucking mated,” he growled, motioning toward the alpha’s clearly marked nape.” You want to buy a feral omega? Want her to kill your mate maybe? Or maybe you wanna use her as a toy. Keep her locked away for when you’re bored. Disgusting.” 

     The sirens in the distance shut the alpha’s jaw tight. It wasn’t very illegal to sell and purchase omegas like this. But he was probably a somewhat public scumbag. He couldn’t have his name tarnished like that. Though, neither could Wooyoung. 

     The alpha backed off first, filing into a black van with his goons. They drove off pretty fucking fast. 

     The beta was gone.

     It was just him. And you.

     His harsh glare softened as he laid his eyes on you. You were beautiful but so destroyed. You were covered in ripped cloth and torn skin. Blood, bruises, and scars. 

     He knelt down in front of you. There were remnants of foam at the sides of your mouth. Your lips twitched as you struggled with your consciousness. You were drugged, definitely.

     He slowly began to untie you. As his manager’s scent came closer and closer, his feet dashing across the pavement, he closed his eyes as he realized exactly what he’d done. He’d saved you. But he’d fucking bought you. He bought an omega.

     “Wooyoung!” he gasped. “Fuck! Are you okay?! Is she okay? The police are almost here!” Wooyoung glanced at his face with an unsure expression.

     “Hyung…”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The looks on their faces were heartbreaking. But the more he thought about it, the more he was sure he did the right thing. Even as he was deep in a bow, kneeling on the ground, he knew he did the right thing. She was free now. As long as no one found out about what he did, it was all alright. She was free.

     But they looked so disappointed. 

     “Did you-!” Hongjoong had to take a long breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose tightly between his fingers. “Did you think for just a SECOND? Just one? That that might not have been the best thing to do?” His eyes were wide, his brows high in utter disbelief. “Fuck, Wooyoung, this could destroy hundreds of lives. Us, our familes, the company, the employees, their fucking families. If this gets out… holy shit…” He was really trying his best not to scream. He really was. Because Wooyoung was an omega, and, although it usually didn’t matter, Hongjoong was an alpha. He would hurt him by letting his anger loose. But it was quickly becoming nearly impossible. 

     “Hyung, I’m so sorry,” Wooyoung pleaded, his voice trembling as he rubbed his hands together desperately. “You know she would’ve gone with that man. She would’ve been his slave. She would’ve-”

     “Wooyoung,” Seonghwa gently interrupted. “Get off the floor. Let’s just talk about it, okay?” 

     Wooyoung shook his head. “I deserve to die, Hyung, but I’d rather die than see her get sold away. Fuck the police. Fuck the law. Fuck me,” he bit his lip as he felt hot tears built at his eyes. “She doesn’t deserve that, Hyung.”

     “The police-”

     “No!” He lifted his head with a deep scowl. “You know they wouldn't have helped her! You know the law wouldn’t have stopped it!”

     Hongjoong clenched his jaw in frustration, looking away from Wooyoung. He knew he was right. But he knew the risk was far more than just the one Omega. No one deserved that. But neither would the innocent people who’d get caught in the crossfire.

     “How is she?” Seonghwa asked, letting Wooyoung’s expression soften as he met the older omega’s face. 

     “She’s still unconscious. Um… but she’s being treated right now. She has a lot of broken bones. And little things. The doctors said she probably did it all to herself.”

     Seonghwa pressed his lips together in a thin line, blinking a few times. He hid it well with his subtle expression, but his scent soured significantly. Seonghwa, Wooyoung knew, was not against his decision. Not at all. In fact, he wanted to see the omega and care for her. 

     Wooyoung and Seonghwa knew where Hongjoong came from, but they couldn’t make themselves regret Wooyoung’s decision. 

     “I’m going to make sure she’s safe,” he said. “I’ll find her a good shelter. I’ll make sure she gets help. I’ll make sure they never find her.”

     “Make sure no one finds out.” Hongjoong said his final thought with a softness to it. “The company will do the same. Just be careful.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     Your eyes shot open with a gasp of air. Everything was a mixture of white and red, your eyes bloodshot as they widened, searching frantically around the room. You were laying down, strapped to a surface. You couldn’t move a single muscle. You pulled at your arms and legs, but they were restrained completely. Even your chest was bound down. You ground your teeth, your head lifting off of the pillow as you let out a frustrated growl. You couldn’t think. You didn’t know where you were. You just knew you needed to get out of there. 

     But your head was throbbing, your ears pounding with each thump of your pulse. It was painful and weakening as you tried to think. You were gasping for air, searching for a way out. 

     Everything was white. White walls, white ceiling, white bed, white straps. There was nothing but white. 

     “It’s best to let her calm herself down.” You froze immediately as you heard a voice in the distance. You couldn’t smell anything. You could only hardly hear the sounds beyond the room.

     “She shouldn’t be tied up like that,” another voice said. “She won’t calm down like that.” 

     Your chest began to vibrate slightly as you let out a constant warning sound toward the voices. If they came closer, you would bite their fucking heads off. 

     “It would be easier if we knew why she went feral, but, unfortunately, we can only infer based on what you witnessed.” 

     “Just fucking untie her.” You heard a deep growl, and you echoed the noise immediately. But when you heard footsteps coming closer, you whimpered slightly. You couldn’t protect herself like this. They could attack you, and you couldn’t protect yourself. 

     “Mr. Jung!”

     “I’ll take care of it. Did you contact any professionals before handling her or did you just restrain her like any normal patient? Fucking idiot.”

     Your heart was beating out of your chest as you violently thrashed against the restraints. The door in the corner opened, and you hissed at the intruder. You glared at him, grinding your teeth as your lips trembled. 

     Your eyes shot to the door. It opened into a hallway of more white. You could escape. If you got out of your restraints, you could get away.

     But then he came closer, and you faltered in your thrashing. You sniffed the air in confusion, your eyes glancing back at the intruder. He was an omega. Your growls hitched in your throat as you watched him step closer again. He was a few feet from you, and he crouched down.

     “You’re so pretty,” he whispered, reaching up toward his neck to peel something off. Your pupils flared as his scent gently wafted through the air. It was so sweet and light, calming your throbbing senses.

     You slowly closed your lips into a small frown. You whimpered softly, wanting the pain to go away. His scent was easing that discomfort and constant alarm. 

     He tilted his head, unsure of what you wanted, and you mewled, wanting him to come closer. You needed his scent closer. 

     He took one hesitant step, and his scent became so much stronger. You wanted to reach out and pull his scent gland to your nose, but your arm pulled uselessly against the straps. He glanced from your arm to your pleading eyes before slowly reaching for the restraint.

     Your breathing picked up a bit, your heart starting to race as his fingers neared your skin. He could hurt you. He could attack you. But your worries were quickly eased when his fingers unlatched your restraints and your arm could pull itself free. Immediately you grabbed the omega’s arm and tugged his wrist into your face. He squeeked, his arm trembling slightly in shock as you took a long breath into the scent gland at his wrist. 

     It was still too faint, though. You eyed him and his soft, nervous expression, and you gently pulled on his arm, beckoning him to come even closer. 

     “Let me take these off first, okay?” he said, smiling gently. 

     He reached out with his other arm toward your legs. You held his arm to your chest as he worked at each restraint. He freed your chest, and then he finally freed your arm. 

     You shot up off of the bed, tumbling the omega to the floor. You straddled him, pushing his head to the ground as you hurriedly buried your face in the nape of his neck. You inhaled deeply and desperately as you tried to breathe in this addictive scent. You grabbed his arms and pinned them to the ground in fear that he would try to push you away. When he didn’t fight against you, you began to purr.

     He sighed, the tinge of uncertainty in him fading away as he tilted his head to give you more access. 

     “You can scent me, pretty,” he whispered softly against your ear. Your muscles relaxed a bit against him as you let your chest vibrate vulnerably. 

     You slowly started to scent him, rubbing your sore glands over his. It felt so pleasant despite the slight sting of your skin. What was even more pleasant was the purr of the omega underneath you. You whimpered in relief as his chest vibrated with yours. 

     “Such a good girl. Does it feel good?”

     You swallowed hard before you could even try to speak. Your throat was so sore and scratched. It hurt, but you felt embarrassed to let him hear your hoarse voice when his was so soft and perfect.

     “Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you let your head rest above his shoulder, just breathing in the air filled with his scent.

     “Mr. Jung!” A voice shattered the content vibrations and little noises between you two, and you shot your body up from its limp position. “You can’t-!” You growled sharply as a man entered the room. He was scowling, stomping inside with a syringe and a muzzle in his hand. 

    He was going to hurt him. He was going to attack your omega. 

     You grabbed his head and pulled it to your chest as you hovered over him. You bared your teeth, your nose scrunching as his putrid smell contaminated the room. 

     “She’s okay! She’s calm!” your omega shouted, his voice muffled by your shirt. “Get out!” 

     “It’s not safe, sir! We have to sedate her before she hurts you.” He took a step closer, and your omega tried to break free. You panicked, your grip on his head tightening frantically. He was in danger if he left. You had to protect him, but he kept pushing away. 

     “Don’t touch her!” he growled, but with one final step, the man strapped the muzzle over your mouth. You buried your omega further under you as the man grabbed your arm and pushed the drug inside. Your eyes drooped as you whimpered, determined to keep him safe from the intruder. 

     As your body fell limp, Wooyoung could finally pull his head from your grip. You quickly began to collapse to the floor, but he grabbed you and pulled you close. He took a few slow breaths as he gazed down at your distressed, broken expression.  

     He didn’t glance toward the doctor as he simply took you in his arms, stood, and laid you on the bed. 

     “She’s mostly healed, so we’ll transfer her to a proper hospital for recovery,” Wooyoung said, gently moving the hair from your face and patting it down nicely. “You are not allowed to enter this room until she’s gone.” 

     He did look at the man then. His eyes were borderline feral themselves, his pupils drawn back into thin slits. He motioned toward the door calmly.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     You could smell him, though just faintly. It couldn’t have been long since he was with you, but you were somewhere else. Where was he? He must’ve been taken. You didn’t protect him. He was in trouble. You needed to get to him. 

     But this room also had no way out. It was small and secluded, and all you could hear were the sounds of your breath and heartbeat. All you could smell was him mixed with your own scent. 

     You weren’t restrained anymore. You could get up, but it was useless. You walked back and forth, banging on each wall uselessly. You shouted and wailed for help, but your voice was eventually too tired to continue. You collapsed in the middle of the room. 

     You sniffed your stale clothes for any hint of distress, trying to find clues as to if your omega was hurt or not. You could hardly smell anything. 

     And then you heard a voice. It was a female, talking softly through the wall. “Miss, I have some food for you.”

     “Where is he?!” you growled, crawling over to the voice and banging your fist against the wall. “Don’t fucking touch him! Bring him back!” you demanded, scraping your nails along the surface desperately.

     “I’ll bring him,” she said, and you paused your growling and scraping to listen. “But he said you have to eat your food first. Will you eat it for him?” 

     “He said that?” you mumbled, sitting back on your feet. “I-if he said that, then I’ll eat it.” If it meant he was safe. If he would come. 

     The wall slowly opened, and a small lady appeared. She held a plastic plate full of meat and eggs and vegetables. You backed away, baring your teeth just slightly at the lady. She took a step inside and closed the entrance. You saw something else in her hands. A piece of cloth, maybe a sweater. She crouched down and placed the plate on the ground. Then she smiled, holding up the sweater.

     “He sent a gift.”

     You quickly crawled over and snatched the sweater from her hands, retreating back to your wall. You brought the sweater to your nose and closed your eyes in relief. His scent.

     You lifted your head slowly to look at the woman, but she was gone. You put the sweater on, feeling your omega’s warmth and scent envelope you. You felt nearly content as you crawled over to the plate of food by the other wall. If you ate the food, he would come see you. He was safe. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     “You can’t go there,” Hongjoong said, watching as Wooyoung’s expression dropped completely. “It can't be disguised as going to the hospital for yourself. It’s a facility for feral rehab, Wooyoung.” 

     “Maybe I’ve gone feral,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes when Hongjoong looked very unamused.

     “The company declined.” He shrugged. “Trust me, I asked and argued for your case. They said sending your sweater was risky enough. You can’t go see her.”

     “Go see who?” 

     Both heads turned in shock as Jongho innocently stood from a chair in the corner of Hongjoong’s bedroom. He was busy on his phone as he asked, not really too interested in the situation. 

     “When did you get here?” Hongjoong asked, blinking in confusion.

     Wooyoung eyed his captain. “He’s been here the whole time.” He scoffed, leaning back in his own chair, clearly offended. “Can you seriously not tell the difference between us yet? It’s been years.”

     Hongjoong avoided eye contact with the omega, puckering his lips innocently. “It’s literally the same scent.”

     “Hyung,” Jongho whined, clutching his chest dramatically. “That hurts my pride. They’re very different.”

     “What? You don’t like smelling like me?” Wooyoung grumbled. “I smell delicious.”

     Jongho scrunched his nose. “Eh… you smell a bit…”

     “You smell the same,” Hongjoong huffed, ending the conversation with a warning spike in his own scent. I guess the alpha was a bit worn out from Wooyoung's situation. 

     “Who are you guys talking about anyway?”

     “Ah… At my schedule the other week…” Hongjoong sighed, sitting on his bed with a small bounce. “...a feral omega was being sold to some alpha, but I bought her first and sent her to a hospital. But when I met her after she woke up, she really liked my scent, I guess. She’s getting help right now, but apparently she won’t calm down unless they promise I’ll go see her.”

     Jongho looked up from his phone and blinked twice. “Is she okay?” 

     “I don’t know,” he said, staring with wide eyes at Hongjoong. “Our captain won’t let me visit her.”

     “Wooyoung,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Can’t you cooperate? You know why you can’t go.”

     The omega huffed and turned away, staring at Jongho. “She’d get better if I visited her.” 

     “She should just come here,” Jongho said, plopping down next to Hongjoong on the bed. His weight indented the mattress and made Joong lean into him, his cheek squishing into his shoulder. He didn’t really make an effort to move, though. “I mean, if she likes Woo’s scent, she’ll like mine.”

     Hongjoong huffed a small laugh. It wasn’t just him. Only a few little hints were different between their scents. Jongho’s was just a tad sweeter and softer than the omega’s. Other than that, mostly the same.

     “No, no,” Wooyoung grumbled, shaking his head in annoyance. “She’ll recover. I’ll send her more stuff, and, when she gets better, I’ll find her a good shelter. She’ll be okay.” He bit his lip, feeling a bit unconvinced himself.

     He worried about you. He scented his clothes and blankets and sent them to you multiple times a week. He heard you’d built a nest and was content with your life when you laid in it. You weren't getting better, though. It was all very temporary. When his scent wore off after a week, you would tear everything apart and scream and growl, demanding he came to see you in person. He wondered if this was just feeding into your mental state, but the facility insisted you were getting better, just very, very slowly. 

     So that’s why he thought he could go through with his schedule in Japan. He would be just a few hours away, and it would only be for five days. Then he could send you his rescented items. It would be okay. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     “She isn’t taking no for an answer, Mr. Jung. We understand your circumstances, but the patient can not improve any further without your presence.” The woman on the other end took a shaky breath. “Unfortunately ferality is not very predictable, so we can only speculate based on her behavior, but we fear she might enter an irreversible state if she does not reconnect with her mate, which she has claimed to be you.”

Wooyoung closed his eyes and lifted the phone from his ear for a brief moment with his thoughts. Yelling wouldn’t help anything, but he wanted to scream. He strained his jaw as he suppressed the deep growl sizzling in his throat. He put the phone back to his ear and spoke very calmly.

     “I was told this wouldn’t happen,” he said, smiling to try and ease his voice into a smooth, professional tone. “I made it clear that I would not be able to help her in person, and I was told it wouldn’t be necessary.” His voice rose instinctively, but he quickly stopped and gathered himself with a deep, seething breath. “How long do I have?”

     “W-We fear it could happen within the next day. It is a very abrupt transition, and it is-”

     Wooyoung ended the call and glanced at his manager in the corner of the room. This fucking schedule wasn’t even important, and yet they insisted on him going despite his situation.

     No. 

     He decided he could go. This was his fault as well. He shouldn’t have left Korea when you were still so unstable. 

     He heard the cheers of the crowd from their room, and he wished, for the first time in his life, that they would shut the fuck up.

     He needed to leave, but he fucking couldn’t. He needed to go to you.

     Or did he?

     He looked down at the phone in his trembling hand with a sudden idea. His ideas were never very bright. That's how he got himself in this situation, after all. But it seemed like all he had at that moment.

~a quick note~

     Choi Jongho was 23 years old. It was common for idols to present later than the average person due to the constant physical stress on their bodies during adolescence. Usually, one would present between 14 and 18, but idols would often present around 19 or 20. Jongho presented as an alpha at 22. It was extremely rare, but it wasn’t very concerning.

     Of course, it wasn’t normal.

     Jongho’s pheromones were just a bit unstable. He had a hard time controlling his instincts. He was lucky he had eight older pack members to keep him in check. Otherwise he might not have had the successful career he had. 

     It had been a few months since his presentation, so he knew he would eventually gain control over his pheromones. His doctors reassured him many times that he would have a normal, stable second-gender after about a year, or three ruts.

     Jongho’s ruts were horrible and outright scary for the poor alpha. He was driven by pure instinct and would often want to fuck the omegas in the pack. So he would lock himself in his room and take care of everything himself, even if the other members wanted to help. A knot without anyone to take it was extremely painful, and so Jongho always associated sex with pain. He hated it. Even though the other members had sex often, he would never join. He was too scared.

     Even then, his instincts always went against him.

     That’s the gist of the alpha, Choi Jongho.

     So you can imagine the sigh Wooyoung let out when Jongho picked up the phone. He was seriously about to leave this in the hands of the pack’s baby alpha…

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     You whimpered as you picked up one of the first blankets your omega had ever sent you. It was hardly intact anymore, but they let you keep it. Everything else that was torn had mostly been cleared out, leaving a neat nest for you and your guest. You would have gone for their napes in normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal at all. He was coming to see you. 

     Finally they were giving him back. You could protect him, and you could escape together. You purred at the thought, laying down on the cold floor, nuzzling your nose into the scentless blanket. 

     Then there was a knock at the door, and you sat up straight, your neck craning to get closer to the door from your spot on the wall. When no one came inside, you tilted your head in confusion and crawled a bit closer. 

     “Pretty?” 

     You paused, staring at the wall in awe. 

     Pretty. 

     That was you. 

     You crawled all the way to the wall and pawed at it with a small whimper. You couldn’t smell him, but you heard him call for you. You knew he was there.

     “They’re going to let you smell me, okay?” he said gently, and your scrunched, confused expression lightened so quickly as you nodded. 

     There were some clanking noises outside for a moment before that familiar, gentle scent wafted into the room. You felt tears fill your eyes as you let your lungs fill with the scent from its source. 

     “How are you, Pretty? I heard you made a nest with my gifts,” he said, and you pressed your ear against the wall to hear his soothing voice louder. 

     “Wanna show you,” you mumbled, drowsily letting your body go limp against the wall. He was quiet for a second. 

     “I bet it’s so comfy~” He hummed to himself as he thought, and you longed to feel those light vibrations. “You-”

     “When will you come in?” you interrupted, feeling a bit impatient. He was so close but way too far to feel very at ease. It was like an itch in your chest that wouldn’t go away.

     He was quiet again. 

     “I promise I’ll be good,” you mumbled. “I ate my food and made a pretty nest just for you. Please come see,” you begged, a small pout forming naturally. “You’ll be safe in my nest. I’ll be good, a-and I’ll protect you this time.” You were panting, desperately staring at the wall as if it would open that way. You twitched with each passing second, biting your lip when he never responded. 

     “I’ll be right back, pretty,” he said. 

     You heard him walk away, and you growled. Were they taking him away? Was that it? You weren’t allowed to feel him? To see him? To scent him? 

     “Pretty~” His voice was so soft, practically whispering in your ear through the wall, and your tense muscles relaxed. “Listen to me, okay?”

     “...Okay…”

     “I’m a little shy, so is it okay if we cover your eyes? If you let this nice lady cover your eyes, then I’ll come inside.” You raised a brow, confused and a little disappointed. But… if that’s all it took…

     “Okay.”

     “She’s going to come in and put something over your eyes. Then I’ll come inside. Let her do it, okay?”

     “Okay.”

     And then the wall opened, and the usual lady walked inside. You’d come to know her a little. Trust her to bring you nutrients. At least you knew she wasn’t exactly a threat. But to have her touch you… You couldn’t help but bare your teeth, clutching your pants and nearly tearing them as she crouched in front of you and wrapped something over your eyes. It clicked in the back, secured to your head. 

     Then she left, and your omega’s scent got closer. You whimpered, reaching out blindly until you tapped his hand. He slid his fingers between yours and you purred. You slowly crawled toward him and touched his body. His chest, and his arm, and his neck, and his cheek. You were eager to feel him everywhere and scent him completely, but you couldn’t see. You needed to be careful. 

     “Hi,” he quietly said, and you pushed yourself against him. You buried your nose in his neck and your purring grew louder with each inhale. You were so happy to be back in his hold. He placed his hands on your waist to hold you up as you leaned entirely on him. 

     “Omega,” you purred, “I missed you so much.”

     You rubbed your scent into his nape, delighting in the increasing pressure of his hands on your waist. But then you paused with a frown. Why wasn’t he purring too? He liked it when you scented him. Did he not like it anymore? Was he hurt? You distanced yourself just a bit from his body, and tilted your head.

     “Hm? What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

     Maybe it was the position. That must’ve been it. He was uncomfortable sitting on the hard floor.

     You moved away from him and took his hand in yours, guiding him into your nest. He giggled, and it quickly became one of your favorite sounds. 

     Once he was fully in the organized mess of his clothes and blankets, you gently pushed him to lay down. 

     “It’s so comfy,” he praised. “You built a beautiful nest.”

     You moved over him, a purring mess as you became a puddle on top of him. You sat on his lap, and you reached for his hand, bringing his wrist to your nose. 

     “You smell sweet today,” you mumbled, squirming a little in joy. You brought his pulse point to your lips and paused. His pulse was so quick. You frowned. “What’s wrong, omega?” 

     “Nothing, pretty, I’m okay,” he assured, reaching up with his other hand and softly stroking your hair. 

     “Are you hurt?” you mumbled, putting his wrist on the ground and lowering your nose to his neck. Your chest flushed to his, you could feel his heart beating so fast.

     “No,” he said, leaning his cheek against your head gently. “I’m just excited to see you.”

     You grinned, purring as you pushed your body further into his. “Then are you sleepy?” you asked.

     “No, pretty, I’m not sleepy. I can play with you as long as you want.” He rubbed a gentle thumb back and forth on your thigh, a subconscious movement that had you thrilled. You loved each word and each touch, but some little things bothered you so much.

     You pushed lightly against his head, but he never presented his neck for you to scent. He kept his cheek against your hair. He wasn’t…

     “Then why aren’t you purring?” You pouted, lifting yourself from his neck and placing your hands on his chest. He was quiet for a long while. “I-Is my sweater too thick? I just can’t feel it?” You quickly went to take it off, lifting it up to your chest, but he grabbed your hands before it could go any further.

     You dropped the sweater in confusion, but then you froze. It was just a single inhale, and then it was gone, but it was definitely there. Your eyes widened, your pulse quickening suddenly. Your hands reached to grab your blindfold in sudden terror.

     Alpha pheromones.

     You tried to rip the thing from your head but it wouldn’t budge. You grunted, tearing at the cloth, but it was too thick to break. You shuddered as you smelled it again, and you realized its source in complete horror. You pushed off of the man underneath you, scrambling to the edge of the room, panting as you kicked yourself further and further against the wall, unable to move farther away from him. You growled, tugging and pulling at the blindfold until finally it snapped in the back and fell to the floor. 

     You fell silent as you looked up at the stranger in your nest. It wasn’t your omega. Where was your omega? Did this alpha eat him? Did he hurt him? Your thoughts replaced your fear with rage as you bared your teeth, preparing your trembling legs to lunge at him. He deserved to die. You would fucking tear his skin from his glands. You’d fucking scented him. A stranger. An alpha. An alpha that had hurt your omega. 

     “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly. His voice made you falter for just a second before you growled again.

     Before he could say anything else, you tackled him, his head slamming against the floor as you growled and tore at his clothes. You shredded his thick sweater and freed his bare chest. You grabbed his jaw and twisted his head far to the left to force him into submission. With his nape vulnerable, you leaned down and opened your mouth wide, drool dripping from your trembling teeth. But you couldn’t bring yourself to bite. To rip his most precious part from his body. Because his scent was so clear there. It was full of fear much like yours.

     When your teeth gently pressed against his scent gland, you heard him whimper. But he made no move to stop you, or shove you, or hurt you. He would just lay there and take it?

     What were you doing? You were going to kill this man? 

     For what?

     “Where is my omega?” you asked, your jaw trembling as you fought the urge to protect yourself. Your mind was spinning in a tight circle. Bite him, don’t bite him. Bite him. Don’t fucking bite him.

     “He’s a friend,” he said, his voice tight as he tried to keep his composure.

     “Where is he?” you growled, shutting your mouth quickly in a scowl. Your brain was buzzing, your eyes focusing and unfocusing as they darted from each speck on his glistening nape. 

     You felt tears form in your eyes, hot and heavy as they drooped. You fought against gravity and held them there. You couldn’t show weakness.

     “You smell just like him,” you said, forcing your eyes to keep open in fear that blinking would separate the heavy flood of water from your burning orbs. “You smell so good, but you’re bad,” you choked. “You lied to me. You hurt my omega, didn’t you?” Your voice broke into a single soft, suppressed sob, and his scent spiked in concern. 

     “I didn’t hurt him,” he rushed to say. “I-I’m his friend. He couldn’t come see you, so he asked me to help you instead. Pretty, I’m so sorry I-”

     “He never came to see me,” you mumbled, biting your lip hard as you let your eyes squeeze shut with a harsh sting. A tiny tear dripped onto the blanket beneath you. “They said he would, but he never came. He doesn’t want me.” Another sob broke loose, and you sucked in a hard, vocal breath. “No one wants me.”

     “I want you,” he whispered. 

     Your eyes opened slowly, and you pressed your hands into his bare chest, sitting up hesitantly. You tilted your head, gazing at his face. He remained presented for you. He didn’t move an inch. His eyes were closed. Soft streaks of tiny tears drew damp lines from his eye, over the bridge of his nose, to the blanket where there were three dark dots. His hair was messy, the few strands left laying over his forehead just a bit darker from his sweat.

     He was scared. 

     “Pretty,” he mumbled, opening his eyes slowly. His gaze had a soft determination, but his eyes trembled slightly as they tried to decide which of your eyes to look into. “Your omega wants you too. We all want you.”

     You tilted your head quietly. “You’re a good alpha,” you whimpered as you felt his soft trembles beneath your body. “I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry I scared you.” You bit your lip softly as you gazed at him guiltily.

     “I know, Pretty,” he said, forcing a tight smile. “You didn’t scare me.”

     You smiled at his act of bravery, leaning back down and nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck where his hair tickled your skin lightly.

     “Will you stay with me?” you asked, squirming against him to mold your into his. “I don’t wanna be alone again.”

     When he whispered a soft “yes,” you rewarded your new friend with your gentle pheromones. You knew he would like them because he was an alpha. He could be your alpha since he was so good to you. But he stiffened as you let them out. He even pushed you away just a bit, and you pouted, pushing back against him.

     “Alpha, do you not like my scent?” you mumbled.

     “Th-that’s not it,” he whispered, his breath picking up a bit. You stopped letting the pheromones out with a huff, but his lips suddenly pressed lightly against your ear. His hands slid around your lower back, wrapping around you and trapping you there. “Don’t stop,” he purred.

     He stopped as soon as he started, turning his head away and slapping his hand to his mouth with wide eyes. He let go of you and pushed his hands under his back, putting his body’s weight on them as he took slow, deep breaths.

     “Alpha?” she whimpered and gained a long groan in response. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily through his nose as he cupped his mouth tightly. “Alpha, what’s wrong?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     “You did WHAT?!” Hongjoong screamed out of pure shock rather than anger. He was fucking pissed, of course.

     “You’re joking,” Seonghwa laughed. “You mean he’s there right now?” His eyes were wide in horror as the remnants of his disbelieving smile were slowly fading.

     Wooyoung nodded, and both Seonghwa and Hongjoong jumped to their feet. Hongjoong grabbed Wooyoung’s arm and dragged him to the door as they all ran out of the dorm, grabbing whatever shoes were in reach. 

     Wooyoung felt like he would cry as he explained the situation on the way there. When he was done telling the story, there was no response. The car ride was silent.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     Jongho was trembling as he gently mouthed at your neck, just below your jaw. Your fingers ran through his hair as you purred encouragingly. He hovered over you, his chest pushed against yours. He hummed pleasantly at your vibrations, and his mind was so tingly and fuzzy from your scent. 

     He groaned as he left a trail of light kisses from your jaw to your soft lips. They moved slowly and gently, hesitant but instinctually comforting. He slid his tongue between your puffy lips, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb rested on her chin and opened her mouth just a bit wider. 

     You sighed into his mouth, your hand sliding from his hair to the nape of his neck as you caressed the sensitive skin there. He pushed further into you, wanting to feel more of your ticklish touches and praising vibrations. He opened his eyes, gazing at your soft expression as your hips connected just slightly.

     “So sweet,” he mumbled into your mouth, wondering if your scent would get sweeter if he-

     He paused, lifting his body from yours immediately. His pupils contracted in sudden horror. What the fuck was he doing?! 

     You whimpered, your hands resting on your chest as it slowly rose and fell. Your eyes were glazed over, and your skin was so hot and smooth as it kept your clothes tightly to your burning skin. 

     He shook his head and slapped his cheeks together. He needed to stay focused. He couldn’t give in. 

     No matter how fucking delicious you looked. 

     He whimpered, covering his eyes helplessly. He needed to leave. Your scent, your touch, just looking at you. It was getting to him, and he didn’t know how much he could take. 

     He heard a muffled moan, and he uncovered his eyes to glance down at you. He watched as a tear slipped from your eye, and your teeth bit hard on your bottom lip. His breathing picked up as he let out a small, sudden whimper of pleasure. Something felt so good. Your soft, constant movements brought his eyes down and down to where your hips connected. His brows furrowed together as he let out a choked groan. Your hips ground down against his aching bulge, giving him just the slightest friction. He could smell your sweet slick and hear it with each press against him. He saw it seep through your shorts and onto his pants, and he had to place his hands on the ground to support his body as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the weakening sight. He pushed instinctively against you once and growled quietly at the pressure, his head hanging as he stared at your clothed pussy against his cock.

     He needed to move away. Fuck. You were so wet. He needed to move away. His hyungs. That’s right. They would yell at him. They would punish him. They would be so disappointed. He took a deep, trembling breath. That’s right. He would call Seonghwa-hyung for help. He would know what to do. 

     “Alpha,” you moaned, and he twitched, his eyes shooting to yours, though his head remained limp, hanging by his neck. You pushed a bit harder, setting a slow, hesitant rhythm. 

     He let low rumbles escape as he took your waist in his hands and held you still.

     “Please, alpha, I wanna feel it ngh~” you whimpered as you watched his eyes through his damp bangs grow so fucking hungry as they were forced back on your pussy against him. 

     He bared his teeth, rolling his hips against yours as he lifted his head and let out a pleasured sigh. He brought his movement to a quick, desperate pace, grinding as if he was fucking you. Fucking your perfect pussy. He groaned, leaning toward you as you lifted your head uselessly, wanting him closer. He attached his lips to your neck and breathed in your arousal, so sweet just for him. Fuck, you were so wet, dripping onto his cock and your nest, just for him. He gripped your waist as he nibbled at your scent gland, wanting so fucking bad to bite it and claim you for himself. Your perfect moans and sighs filled his ear with pure ecstasy as his jaw trembled against your skin. 

     But he needed to prove himself first. He would make you cum first, that’s right. Then you would know who you belonged to. Only he could take care of you. He would make you feel so fucking good. Have you creaming just like this, then on his cock, then fucking begging for his knot. For his cum. He panted against your skin, licking a long stripe from your gland to your jaw as his eyes grew blurry with a thick, drunk haze.

     Then his arms were grabbed, and he was dragged away from you. He growled, thrashing against the hands that kept him from you until he smelled the familiar scent of his hyung. He whimpered in confusion as he was taken from the room and shoved away from your sight and scent.

     He bared his teeth as he glared at the door that separated him from you. Seonghwa cupped both of his cheeks and forced the alpha to look at him.

     “Jongho, no!” he shouted sternly. The alpha froze as he met his hyung’s eyes. He slowly covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide and fearful. 

     “I didn’t,” he whimpered, hot tears flooding his eyes. “Hyung, I tried not to. I r-remembered what you said. I tried not to, but-” As tears poured down his cheeks, Seonghwa wiped them away one by one, keeping the alpha close against him as he pleaded with him not to be angry. It was always like this, and it shattered Seonghwa’s heart to see their baby struggle so much. It wasn’t his fault. Not at all. Not a single bit, and yet Jongho would always blame and hate himself for it all.

     “You did good, baby,” Seonghwa cooed, moving his disheveled hair from his forehead with extra, gentle care of the alpha’s burning skin. “Omegas… They don’t do that when they’re feral,” he whispered, smiling and nodding when he glanced up at him. “So, it was an accident,” he took a small breath, “but I’m sure you helped her.” 

     “I helped her?” he mumbled, leaning into his hyung’s hand that cupped his puffy cheek. “Will she be okay?”

     He nodded without hesitation. “So, why don’t we go see Joongie, and we can all go home?” he suggested, taking the alpha’s hand and rubbing his thumb against his gently. 

     “Is he mad?” he asked as they walked down the hall.

     “Not at all,” he lied. “He’s just here to drive us home.”

     The walk was silent, but Seonghwa watched as Jongho bit his lip and thought hard to himself. He waited patiently for the alpha to speak his mind, as it always took him a while to find the courage. “Will Pretty come with us too?” he asked suddenly.

     Seonghwa didn’t answer for a long while. Of course, how could he just say no? “We’ll have to ask Hongjoong.” He couldn’t.

     Wooyoung watched as she scratched at the door, sobbing for her alpha to come back. He was a little heartbroken. What had Jongho told her? She hated him now. I mean, he did deceive her, but so did Jongho. It wasn’t fair. He wanted her to like him again. To be her omega again, but she was so distressed about Jongho. 

     “Pretty,” he called out softly. She turned and glared at him.

     “Don’t call me that,” she said, crossing her arms. “Only my alpha can call me that,” she huffed.

     “Oh,” he scoffed, “is he yours? He was mine first, though.” He stuck his tongue out. He was done being nice if she was going to give this kind of attitude. 

     “He likes me more anyway,” she said, laughing as he frowned. “He couldn’t take his hands off me,” she bragged.

     “Look at you,” he scoffed. “Are you even sick anymore? You look perfectly fine.”

     It was true, except for her possessive instincts bringing about this cat fight. She was coherent and had a productive conversation. She was really gaining more control over her actions, and Wooyoung was so happy. He didn’t even care if she was acting like a brat. At least she was getting better.

     “Will you bring him back?” she grumbled, sitting defeated against the wall. “They dragged him away like he was hurting me. I promise he wasn’t. We were just having fun.”

     Wooyoung chuckled. “That’s the problem, Pretty.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     “She refuses to eat or leave her nest at all,” the nurse said with a sigh. 

     Wooyoung bit his lip, watching a similar situation unfold in their living room. Jongho was laying on the couch, his hair ungroomed and clothes unchanged just so he could get a glimpse of the scent he was taken away from. Seonghwa nudged him gently, asking him to come eat something, but the alpha barely acknowledged him. 

     “We fear-” 

     “We’ll bring her home.” Hongjoong looked purely professional rather than seething as he often did those days. He looked calm and smelled neutral.

     Wooyoung shot his eyes to Jongho, but the poor baby didn’t hear. He excitedly hopped over to the couch, but his collar was grabbed, and he was pulled back into Hongjoong.

     “Let’s go.”

     “We have almost no information about the patient,” the nurse said, flipping through the pages on her clipboard. “The first record of her existence is November 17th when she was admitted to the hospital.” She glanced at Hongjoong, the alpha smelling like pure disgust as he listened intently to her every word. “We don’t know why she went feral, but we’ve come to know her quite a bit in the past few months.” She smiled then, her eyes squinting in reassurance.

     Wooyoung nodded silently.

     “As I’d said on the phone, she’s in a depressed state due to being away from her… mate. This behavior isn’t uncommon, it’s just… she’s practically healthy.”

     “What?” Wooyoung gasped, looking from the nurse to Hongjoong in sudden excitement.

     “We’ve been monitoring her since her visit with Mr. Choi, and it has helped her significantly. She can form complex thoughts and sentences. She can communicate with others without relying purely on instinct. It’s just this one aspect that has her clinging to this thin string of omega control. She’s completely reliant on her mate, and we… to be frank, we’re unsure of what to do, as Mr. Choi… is not her mate.”

     Hongjoong nodded, biting his lip in slight frustration.

     “We will allow her to go home with you, but there are a few things you should be aware of.”

     Hongjoong knew little to nothing about ferality. He knew the basics that were taught in school, but he’d never needed to know much more than that. Wooyoung, however, had made himself an expert throughout his life, as he’d donated regularly to foundations such as these. He knew what they would need to do, but he would let the nurse lay it all on his hyung.

     The nurse took a deep breath. “Once the patient is completely of sound mind, she will immediately enter pre-heat. It will last two days at most before she will have to endure an unsuppressed heat.” She gazed sympathetically at the alpha. “Number two… I understand you and your pack have extremely demanding and busy schedules. The patient, as she isn’t exactly thinking clearly, won’t understand the concept of leaving and returning. Each time you leave, she’ll think you’re gone forever. Each time you come back, she’ll think you’ll stay forever. She can be… for lack of a better term… trained, but it’s unlikely her ferality will last that long.” She cleared her throat. “Lastly, the patient will remember everything when she returns to the surface. Her omega is in control right now, but she is witnessing everything. Please keep that in mind. She may be distressed or embarrassed once everything is over. You’ll want to ease her mind. Comfort her.” 

     Hongjoong nodded, taking a long, tired breath. “What about my pack?” he asked, knowing the answer wouldn’t be anything he liked. “There’s eight of us. Four alphas, one being me, three omegas, one being Wooyoung, and one beta. She won’t like that, will she?” 

     She chuckled. “Definitely not.” His lips fell into a thin line. “Mr. Choi and Mr. Jung have similar scents. That’s how this situation came about?” she asked, leaning in slightly with an intrigued look. 

     Wooyoung nodded.

     She hummed, thinking to herself. “You all live together?” They nodded again. “This is tough…” she mumbled. “She’s recovering nicely. We were watching the cameras closely, and she totally almost bit him.” She closed her mouth for a moment, watching as both of them raised their brows in shock. She cleared her throat, speaking before they could say anything rash. “But she didn’t. I mean, we wouldn’t have let her bite him, of course, but she stopped herself. She’s getting there, which is why we’re considering the possibility of moving her out at all. She might have the urge to attack your packmates, but I don’t think she will. It’s an issue that it’s a possibility at all, though. It would distress her and could harm the progress. However, it could also develop her control over her instincts, making her a bit more immune to ferality and its control over her mind and body.” She groaned. “It’s all very two-sided.”

     “So, what do you recommend?” Hongjoong asked, trying to piece together everything she was saying. 

     “I…” She scrunched her face and slowly swayed her head from side to side. “I recommend that Mr. Choi and Mr. Jung share a room and-”

     Hongjoong put his hand up, his lips pressed tightly together in a moment of silence. “You want the omega to share a living space with our baby alpha?” he asked in disbelief.

   �� The nurse glanced at Wooyoung, not exactly expecting those words. “Yes.”

     “That won’t do,” he sighed before leaning closer to the nurse. “Did you see them earlier?” he whispered.

     “Mr. Kim. What happened earlier was actually very significant to her recovery. Feral omegas don’t participate in sexual activities.” He scoffed. “Please understand. If the two are close together, she’ll recover very quickly. That is certain.”

     He chewed lightly on his lip before he sat back in his chair and motioned for her to continue off where she’d left before he interrupted.

     She cleared her throat. “After a few days, she’ll be used to the new environment. Introduce her very slowly to the other pack members. Start with the omegas. Then the betas. Then, with extreme, and I mean EXTREME, caution, the alphas.” She sighed, nodding as she thought over the plan a few times. 

     They nodded, feeling somewhat content with that answer. He could do that. Wooyoung and Jongho could fix their schedules and help her at every hour. They could do it.

“I just have one more question,” Hongjoong said, glancing at Wooyoung hesitantly, then back at the nurse. “It’s been months since she was first admitted, but she hasn’t had a heat. What does that… Does she get heats… while like that?”

     The nurse shook her head. “The pheromones build and build within until she regains full control over her body. Mm… I think it would be best to admit her to a heat sanctuary, as it will be very strong. Unless you have a proper conversation with the patient before her heat, admit her. If she tells you otherwise with a completely sound mind, then do as she wishes. It’ll be a frightening experience, so please help her with her requests. Also, during her stay, she has been on pheromone medication, which helps reorganize her pheromones but prevent her from getting pregnant. I assure you that condoms won’t be necessary in the event of a heat.”

     “Oh.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     The alphas were a little unhappy to be kicked out of the dorm for the omega guest, as they’d be away from their pack for a while. The omegas and beta of the pack would be allowed to stay, though there were boundaries put into place. Jongho and Wooyoung would share their room and live with you until you recovered. 

     “Come on, Prettyyy,” Wooyoung whined, tugging at the determined omega’s arm. “We have to go hooome.” 

     She shook her head, breaking away from him. “I won’t go home with you. Bring me my alpha,” she demanded.

     “He’s at home!” he huffed. “We have to go there so you can see him!”

     She tilted her head. “I can see him if I go there?” she mumbled. 

     She sat in the front seat beside him, which he knew was probably a bad idea. Though the back seat might have been worse. 

     She fidgeted with the buttons, pressing each one in wonder as he swatted her hand away.

     You woke up snuggled delicately in fluffy, blissfully scented blankets. You didn’t feel the need to stir or panic. You were floating with your head light and limbs melted nicely into the fluff. When you felt a shift in the blankets, you were snatched from your dreamy state, and you shot up, panting as you looked to your right. 

     Your omega was stretched out on the other side of the bed, wrapped up in the arms of the similar scented alpha. His head was buried in his warm chest, and his hands were stuffed underneath the alpha’s shirt for the warmth of his bare skin. They snuggled close and shivered every few seconds, though they were definitely asleep. 

     You pouted as you pulled at your omega’s arm, peaking over him at your sleepy alpha. His lips puffed out as he squished his cheek into the soft pillow. You pulled the brat away from him without stirring any of them awake. Then, you slid over your omega to slot yourself into the puddle of sleepy warmth between them. You sighed, enveloped in their scents, as you pushed your body against the alpha. You were sandwiched tightly yet comfortably between them, and you let yourself fall limp as they squirmed gently to mold into you. You buried your nose in your alpha’s neck, purring softly. Only here could your mind clear even slightly. Your omega was constantly demanding control, but here… Here she was softly at bay.

     “Pretty,” your alpha groaned softly into your ear. You slowly opened your eyes with a happy curve to your lips as you woke up. “Keep your hands to yourself, okay?” he mumbled, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrists and pressing your hands down to your legs. 

     “I’m sorry, alpha,” you quietly said, wondering what you did to make him uncomfortable.

     His lips pressed together as he brought one of his hands away from your wrist to push back a few loose strands of your soft hair from your eyes. You closed your eyes and leaned into the subtle touch. He was such a perfect alpha, taking care of you when he didn’t have to.

     Then you did the same for him, glazing your fingertips over his forehead. You rested your hand on the side of his neck, your fingers rubbing gently over the hair behind his ear. He let you stay there, melting into his pillow at the delicate touch, but when you fingers lowered and grazed over the edge of his scent gland, you felt something on his skin there. He flinched, and he grabbed your wrist and pulled it away, breaking his eyes away from yours. 

     “Keep your hands to yourself,” he reminded, slowly pushing your hand to the bed. 

     You frowned, pushing your body a bit further into his sleepy warmth. “You don’t like it when I touch you?” you whimpered, and your mind went from one thought to another in a growing worry. “You don’t like me anymore? Alpha hates me?”

     He shook his head hurriedly. “No, Pretty, that’s not it,” he whispered. He brought his face closer until it was just an inch or two away from yours. “We’ll get in trouble. Wooyoung will yell at us.” 

     “Who is that,” you grumbled, scowling at the stupid reason you couldn’t be close to your alpha. You knew it was your omega speaking these harsh thoughts, but you kind of agreed. He said he was yours. You were meant for each other. You wanted to have him for yourself. You wanted to smell him. Touch him. Kiss him. Who the fuck could keep him from you.

     You kissed him. It was a little peck, but his eyes went wide in a panicked shock. He clasped his hand over his mouth as he shook his head.

     “Pretty, we can’t!” he whispered, backing away but freezing when he felt the slight graze of your hand over his crotch. He seemed to stop breathing as his hips twitched forward just slightly. “Omega,” he warned, his teeth grinding together and his eyes fluttering slightly.

     “No one will find out, alpha,” you whispered, ignoring the snoring body resting against your back, “as long as we’re quiet.”

     You pressed your hand firmly against the growing bulge in his pants. His brows knitted together as he bit his lip, looking down at your hand. His hips pushed forward with a soft gasp.

     He was so aroused, clearly fighting to keep composure as he bit his lip with a trembling jaw. He didn’t smell like it, though. His scent was still neutral, soft and nice. You sniffed, but you couldn’t smell those addictive pheromones you’d smelled at the facility. 

     “Alpha,” you mumbled. “Wanna smell you.”

     He shook his head with a shaky exhale. “Wooyoung will find out.”

     You moved your hand from his pants and reached behind his neck. He gasped, going to grab your wrist, but it was too late. You slid your hand to his scent gland and felt the odd thing sticking to his skin. You lifted one of its edges and stripped it away from him. Your pupils were blown in an instant as his raw, delicious pheromones hit your nose. 

     You whined, long and desperate, feeling drunk and needy from just a single breath in the new air. He cupped his hand over your mouth, leaning his forehead against yours as he took slow, deep breaths. 

     “Why don’t you listen?” he said softly. You heard the quiet, stuttering growls sizzling in his throat as he tried to resist his instincts. His hand on your cheek grew a little heavier as he pushed against your head. He stroked your hair in heavy, slow lines of frustration. “You smell so good,” he mumbled, his voice a low rumble.

     His hand lifted from your head and found your chin, gently raising it so that your head aligned with his. He didn’t kiss you. He just gazed into your eyes as you whined quietly for him. He frowned mockingly.

     “Does my omega want a kiss?” he cooed. 

     “Yes-” You gasped as his grip on your chin tightened.

     “Only good girls get kisses,” he growled, licking a slow stripe across his top teeth as he watched your eyes widen in distress. “Good girls listen.” 

     Your lip trembled as his hand left your chin and traveled down, down, leaving a trail of feather-light touches along your body. Your alpha was angry. You made him mad. You deserved to be punished.

     “Be quiet, okay?” he whispered, smiling sweetly. 

     His fingers slid underneath your shorts, and your core throbbed in anticipation with each inch of movement. When the tips of his fingers grazed your soaking slit, he whimpered softly. You pushed your hips against his fingers as they lowered into your thick slick. His gaze was low to the blanket covering you, his brows knitted as he longed to see the perfect mess he’d found between your legs. 

     “Pretty, is this for me?” he purred, subconsciously grinding his hips into the bed as he pushed his nose against yours.

     “Just for you,” you hummed, happy that he liked it.

     He pushed his middle finger through your folds and nudged your tight hole before hesitantly sliding it inside. You let out a happy moan before he covered your mouth with his hand again. He focused on the warm, thick feeling of your pussy as he pushed his finger all the way in, curling it into your walls.

     You ground your clit against his palm as your eyes rolled back in a newfound pleasure. You’d never felt something inside you like that. It was foreign but so perfect, sending little jolts of soft pleasure throughout your body with each slow thrust and curve of his finger. You gazed into his eyes, your vision hazy as you breathed in his thickening arousal. 

     You set a pace, grinding your hips softly against him as he rubbed your soaked walls. You whimpered, your lips pressed against his hand. His chest vibrated softly but gained intensity every few seconds. He growled as he pushed a second finger in. Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. 

     “Alpha,” you whimpered. His eyes shot to yours in warning. You lowered your voice to a whisper. “It feels so good. I don’t know what to do,” you panted, pushing your hips hard against his palm with a choked gasp as he pushed his two fingers deep inside. “It feels so good, but it’s not enough.” 

     You pressed your hand against his bare stomach and slid it down beneath the elastic of his pants. He faltered in his movements and let you take his cock in your hand. He breathed warm and slow against your face, his pheromones struggling to suppress themselves in their instinct to dominate you. You stroked it once, and his fingers left your hole as he became vulnerable to the sudden pleasure. His head fell limp against the pillow with a soft whimper escaping his parted lips. His hand left your mouth and rested on the bed. You stroked it again, your thumb swiping lightly across the head to find it wet.

     “Is this for me?” you purred, delighting in the flushed nod he could barely give. He was so wet, just like you, practically drooling for you. “Does it feel good for alpha, too?” you whispered, gazing dazedly at his drunken, hazy expression as you set a slow, light pace in your strokes. 

     “Pretty, I wanna feel you,” he mumbled. “Please, please let me.” He pressed his lips together tightly, pleading with his eyes as you stopped your movement. When you didn’t answer, mesmerized by his gaze, he let out a small growl. “Come on, Pretty. It’ll feel so good. I’ll fuck you so good, Pretty, I promise.” He pouted a little, but his lips quickly twitched into a slight scowl. He raised his voice a little. The vibrations of his chest increased as his voice lowered and his words sharpened. “You’re so tight… I just need to ram into you until I’ve loosened you up. Until your pussy is shaped like my dick,” he growled. “But I promise I won’t cum until you tell me to,” he mumbled, his eyes flickering from desperation and demand. “Once you’re begging for my knot- fuck~ We’ll cum so hard, Pretty. I’ll fill you with my cum until you’re dripping in my scent. Fuck~ everyone will know you’re mine. You’ll be so full, Pretty.”

     You were slicking harder with each thought, drooling as you patiently waited to let him ravage you completely. With a simple nod, he grabbed your hips and shot to his natural spot between your legs. He was panting, drops of sweat streaming from his forehead to his lips, then onto your bare stomach. 

     He was frozen, though. He didn’t move. 

     “You’re such a bad boy.”

     Your head shot to your right, your eyes growing wide as you came face to face with a very conscious, blushing omega. Your alpha flinched at the words, his hands quickly leaving their sensual places on your body and falling to his sides. 

     “Hy-hyung…” he mumbled, lips trembling as his pupils contracted from their blown state. He stared in horror at the disappointed expression on your omega’s face. “I was- was-”

     “Pretty,” he said softly, turning his relaxed head toward the aroused omega beside him. “Alpha was being bad, wasn’t he?” he asked. You shook your head quickly, but he nodded with puckered lips. “He isn’t supposed to touch you, but he did anyway, huh?” You glanced at your horrified alpha. His lip trembled as he mumbled apologies. “Bad alphas need to be punished. Right?”

     “Please punish me, Hyung!” Your alpha said, his eyes squinting as he tried to hold in his frustrated tears. “I’ll do anything! I should’ve listened! I’m so sorry!”

     The omega chuckled. “Get off the bed, Jongho,” he demanded. “You know what to do.”

     You frowned in confusion as your alpha’s warmth left you and he stood in front of the bed. He immediately stripped. His sweatpants and shirt fell to the floor. Your pupils dilated at the perfect sight of your bare alpha. You climbed to the edge of the bed, gazing in awe at his big, painfully hard cock. His smooth stomach and fucking perfect thighs. Your alpha was so fucking hot. 

     “Come here, pretty,” Wooyoung gently called. You let out a curious little noise as you crawled toward him, dragging your eyes away from your alpha’s body. Your omega patted the spot between his legs with a welcoming smile. You plopped down there, your back to his chest, and he immediately buried his nose in your neck, purring like a happy omega. You brought your hands above your head and intertwined your fingers through his fluffy hair, bringing his lips to your skin with a soft sigh from both of you. 

     “Hyung,” your alpha whimpered, drawing both of your content attention back to him. “You said not to touch her.”

     “I’m not touching her, baby bear,” he cooed. “She’s touching me.” He leaned his chin against her shoulder, smiling slyly at the alpha. “Now, Pretty,” he whispered. You leaned your head back against his chest with a sigh. “Jongie needs to be punished. Will you help me?”

     “Yes,” you mumbled, enjoying your view thoroughly.

     He softly touched your hips, pulling lightly at your shorts. “Let’s take these off then,” he whispered.

     You felt so exposed and bare for your alpha, your legs wide and resting over your omega’s legs. Your shirt clumped at your hips as the cool air hit your soaked core. You rested nicely against your omega as his pretty hands did all of the work. Alpha was focused intently on your dripping cunt, cock throbbing and twitching as Wooyoung’s fingers caressed the dip between your thighs and pretty lips. Jongho’s hands were balled into painfully tight fists at his sides as he panted with each anticipating twitch of your fluttering pussy. 

     “Isn’t she so pretty?” Wooyoung cooed, gaining a hurried nod from the alpha. “Did you touch her down here already? She must’ve liked it a lot, huh?” He finally let his finger dip into the puddle of slick between your pussy lips and groaned. “I mean, look at this mess.”

     Jongho nodded again, his head trembling as he took slow breaths.

     “You said you wouldn’t cum until she said so, right, Jongie?” Wooyoung said, giggling when the alpha’s eyes grew a little wide in guilt. “I know you won’t be able to hold it in,” he sighed. “So you can’t touch yourself. Absolutely not. You can only watch. If you can do that, we’ll let you cum, okay?” 

     Jongho looked devastated, but he nodded, gritting his teeth. “Yes, Hyung.”

     Wooyoung smirked. “Good boy.” Wooyoung pressed his lips to your ear and hummed quietly. “Pretty,” he whispered, quiet enough for just you to hear. “You’re okay if I touch you, right?”

     “Yes,” you breathed. “I-I can think clearly right now, so don’t worry about me. I w-want it,” you whimpered, blushing lightly as he planted a soft kiss on your cheek. 

     Wooyoung’s veiny hand flexed as he plunged two of his fingers as deep into your throbbing hole. You squeeked, your back arching as his fingertips rammed into your walls all so suddenly. He hit such a fucking good spot as he thrust in and out. You bit your lip hard as your eyes rolled and your moans and whimpers echoed throughout the room. You panted, forcing your eyes to watch his fingers work you open, squelching as he spread your slick all over your walls and pussy, dripping onto the white sheets. Then you lazily brought your trembling eyes to Jongho, a shaking, hard mess in front of you. His eyes were glued to your pussy, his cock twitching with each sob you moaned. 

     “Woo-Wooyoung?” you mumbled, your voice light and unsure. He hummed against your skin, his hot breath fanning over your bare neck. “Can- can you slow down, please?” His fingers immediately slowed, and he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, still stroking your insides gently. His other hand caressed your thigh soothingly as he purred against your back. 

     “What’s wrong, Pretty? Does it hurt?” he asked quietly. 

     “N-no,” you mumbled, “I’m gonna cum soon. Don’t wanna yet…”

     “Oh “ he cooed, leaning his cheek against yours as he looked up at Jongho. “Did you hear that, alpha? She’s gonna cum soon.”

     Jongho groaned, his nails scratching lightly at his thighs as he made eye contact with you for the first time in a while.

     Wooyoung attached his thumb to your sensitive clit, and you gasped, reaching for his hand to stop him as he rolled the bud delicately. You moaned as the fucking best sensation overrode your senses. He plunged his fingers back inside and set a harsh pace against your gushy g-spot. You clenched your teeth, inhaling sharply with each thrust.

     “She’s gonna make a mess when she cums, right, Jongie?” 

     Jongho nodded, immediately seeing where the omega was going with it. 

     “Come on, alpha,” he growled. “Get on your knees.”

     Jongho dropped to his knees. His eyes aligned with your glistening pussy, and he whimpered at the pulsing sight of Wooyoung ravaging your hole with his fingers. 

     “Woo- Stop.. mmm~ hh-! Please… ngh… I’m gonna-!” 

     You begged, tears falling from each eye, because there was no way you were supposed to feel so good. You’d never felt so good. The pleasure kept building as he repeatedly pounded his fingers at the perfect spot, rubbing at your clit and kissing your neck. You began to tremble, your entire body shaking as the pressure collapsed and your orgasm took over. Your mouth hung as you let out urgent moans of pure ecstacy. It was so fucking good that your eyes rolled back and stayed there until your vision was pure white and static. Wooyoung rode you through your high, slowing his pace until you were limp, quiet, and trembling in his arms. 

     “Such a good girl,” Wooyoung whispered, wiping your tears with his clean hand with gentle little swipes. “You felt so good, huh?” You nodded, slowly opening your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. 

     You glanced down at Jongho, his eyes glued to your pussy as he licked his lips in anticipation. 

     “Alpha’s gonna clean us up, okay?” he said, his fingers motioning Jongho to join you on the bed. 

     The alpha crawled up to you, his eyes hardly moving from his target. Once he was close enough, Wooyoung pressed his wet fingers to Jongho’s lips. They parted easily, the alpha’s eyes rolling back at the remnants of your arousal. He sucked on Wooyoung’s digits with quiet little groans as the omega praised him for his reactions. 

     “Come on, Jongie,” Wooyoung said, popping his fingers from his lips. “Your omega is still so messy.”

     Jongho dipped his head between your thighs. His messy hair tickled your stomach as he breathed in your raw scent. His warm breath fanned over your cold skin, but he didn’t stay there for long. He quickly started to lap at your cunt, and you tensed at the overstimulation. He was gentle yet eager as he licked a thick strip from your abused and needy hole to your quivering clit. You hissed lightly at the slight pain in the gentle pleasure, but the sight of his gaze fixed on yours made your arousal spike from its sedated state. He swallowed your slick, kissing and sucking at your clit and lips. 

     You were panting, pushing your hips toward his beautiful face as you chased your second orgasm. You didn’t want it like this, though. Your need for release was much deeper than the surface of your pussy. You needed to be pleasured much deeper.

     “Woo-Wooyoung,” you mumbled, your hips grinding against him as his tongue slipped into your soaked hole. “F-fuck me,” you whimpered. “Pleeaase, please fuck me, shit- ngh~!” Wooyoung giggled against your cheek, his arms wrapping tightly around you, positioned just below your breasts. 

     “What about Jongho? He’s been so good. You don’t wanna reward him?” he teased, his fingers patting your sides lightly. “You don’t want his knot?” Wooyoung hadn’t really meant to say it. He was so fucked out just from watching everything go down. He had said it, though.

     Jongho’s head shot up, his eyes wide and pupils blown. His lips were swollen, and his chin was shining with your slick. He licked his lips as he stared eagerly at your dazed expression. 

     “His knot?” 

     You’d never taken an alpha’s knot before. You’d only ever been used by another omega for their pleasure. An alpha… pleasuring you? Knotting you?

     “Do you wanna knot me, Jongho?” you asked quietly. He nodded immediately, scooting just a bit closer.

     Wooyoung’s eyes widened in confusion. “Are you up for it, Jongie?” He didn’t look uncertain at all, and it worried Wooyoung more than it would’ve if he’d been cautious about his answer. Jongho had never knotted anyone. He was always too scared that it would hurt like it did during his rut.

     “Wooyoung,” he whimpered, his lips quivering into a frown. “I wanna make her feel good. Will she feel good i-if I give her my knot?” 

     “Oh, baby,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching out and cupping the alpha’s cheek lovingly. “Come here.”

     Jongho came closer, his knees spreading to rest under your and Wooyoung’s legs. You watched in awe as Wooyoung pressed a soft kiss to Jongho’s lips before he took his leaking cock in his delicate fingers. 

     “It’ll feel so good,” Wooyoung said, smiling sweetly as he lined Jongho’s cock to your entrance. 

     You felt the tip nudge at your hole, and you gasped. It was big in your hands, but next to your core, you could really tell just how big he was. He could definitely reach that aching spot deep in your arousal. 

     Jongho took slow breaths as Wooyoung urged him to push inside. He bit his lip, his eyes squeezing shut as he popped the tip inside. You whimpered, the feeling of being stretched that wide so unfamiliar but so nice. Jongho hung his head as the pleasure of the slow push inside overtook all of his senses. Your quiet squeaks and moans that grew the deeper he went, your tight walls sucking him in, the scent of your slick and arousal filling the air. When he was completely inside, he had to stop and stare at the connections between you. He was inside of someone. He was inside of you. It felt so fucking good. He knew if he moved, he’d cum right away.

     Your lips were parted as you took slow, deep breaths. You were so full. Jongho stayed there as he tried to gather himself, and all you could think of was how much you wanted him to move and hit that deep spot with each thrust. 

     His hands were gripping the sheets at his sides, his eyes flickering from place to place along your body. He was trembling as he tried to restrain himself from rutting against you.

     “Alpha,” you whimpered, reaching out your arms for him to come closer. He was hesitant to lean in, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face to your scent gland with a trembling breath. “You can touch me,” you mumbled. “Please touch me.”

     He slowly moved his hands from his sides to your hips and squeezed them gently. He kissed your neck lightly and breathed there in your aroused scent as he shifted his hips impatiently.

     Wooyoung threaded a hand through the alpha’s hair lovingly. “Come on, baby. Make her feel good.”

     Jongho pulled his hips away just slightly, trembling at the tight restraints around his cock. Then, he pushed it back in with a short growl. He was quick to pull out and thrust in again, growling again as he pressed his teeth softly to your neck. 

     “Ngh~! J-Jongho~” you moaned, holding him to you much tighter as he rutted his hips against yours, gasps and stuttered deep growls falling from his lips. He grazed his teeth along your neck, licking and mumbling nonsense against your skin. Your moans came in quick spurts with each thrust against your cervix. 

     “Mine…ghh…” he growled against your neck. “Gonna take my knot like a good girl?” he asked, licking a thick strip up to your jaw and smiling against your ear. “You keep squeezing me like you want me to cum inside. Want my cum, Pretty?”

     He purred as he felt you tense at his words. He slammed his hips against yours, the pleasure shooting in strong waves throughout your body. Your eyes rolled back as he kept this new pace with firm thrusts and needy grunts. 

     “Good girl,” he purred. “Fuck~ You’re such a good omega, Pretty,” he praised, whining softly against your skin as he buried his head in your shoulder. “So good~ So nghh good…” 

     He kissed your scent gland softly before opening his mouth wide, his eyes rolling back as your pussy tightened in its chase for its second orgasm. Wooyoung placed a quick hand over your gland before Jongho latched his teeth to the skin. He bit the omega’s hand with a disappointed whine.

     Even so, the alpha’s knot grew steadily. Both of you were panting as he sat up and grabbed your hips. He pulled them down against his thrusts at a quick, desperate pace. Your tearful eyes spilled over as you watched him growl and whimper at your squelching, overflowing pussy. He watched himself disappear with each pleasured thrust.

     “Knot~” you cried. “Want it nghh~ Knot me pleeaase.” You were begging, your jaw dropped as your orgasm built closer, nearly there. 

     His bulge was growing, stretching your entrance more each thrust. He hit his lip, a single tear slipping as he moaned until his knot finally slipped inside.

     You screamed, your head pushing against Wooyoung’s shoulder as your orgasm washed through your entire body. Jongho filled you with his warm cum with a long, dazed moan. You both were sobbing in pure ecstasy as pleasure took over every single thought, muscle, and sense. 

     Everything slowed down, and your ears could finally hear again. You heard heavy breaths and fast heartbeats. You saw Jongho’s hooded eyes as he looked over your fucked out body and expression. He was flushed and sweaty, his hair messy, damp, and curled in front of his eyes. 

     Your tear stained cheeks were kissed by a panting Jongho as he leaned over you. He pressed soft kisses all over your sweaty face and neck. He purred, his chest pressed to yours in a loose, tired hug. 

     You felt so full, but in an instinctually content way. This was how you were meant to be. Your alpha covered you in gentle warmth, his seed deep inside, his cock plugging the hole that belonged to him. It made you so sleepy. Safe and sleepy.

     “You did so good, Jongie,” Wooyoung purred. “It felt good, didn’t it?”

     Jongho hummed, his voice low and rough from his performance a few seconds before. “So good,” he mumbled, grinding his hips lightly against yours. You both groaned at the feeling, a spike of soft pleasure alarming your quieted arousal. 

     “Stay still, alpha,” Wooyoung said, stroking his hair gently. “Wait for it to go down.”

     He nodded, raising his head and sitting up a bit. It disturbed the stillness of your position and brought another soft moan to your lips. Jongho frowned. Once he was completely sitting up, he looked down at where you were connected and took a deep breath.

     “What’s wrong, Jongie?” Wooyoung asked, but he was quickly answered by the spike of aroused pheromones from the alpha. 

     Jongho looked up with a trembling lip and tears in his eyes. “Feels so good,” he mumbled. “I want more.” He sniffed. “But I can’t, right?”

     Wooyoung frowned sympathetically. He knew you probably couldn’t take an entire new round. Jongho was rough, and you were inexperienced to the exhaustion that came with an alpha’s knot. Your eyes were hardly open, your head limp against his shoulder. You were too fucked out, too out of it to even register the conversation. 

     His knot still locked you together, so Wooyoung was careful when laying you softly on the mattress, your head on the pillow so you could comfortably drift off to sleep.

     Jongho was completely hard again, panting and flushed as he forced himself to stay still. Wooyoung knelt beside him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

     “Our baby alpha’s so knot drunk, huh?” he teased, watching as Jongho nodded, probably not even understanding a word the omega was saying. He just wanted to feel good again. “It’s alright, baby,” he cooed. “I’ll let you fuck me, okay?”

     Jongho didn’t answer. His eyes went wide, and his need to rut was getting fucking . Wooyoung stripped, his cock so fucking hard and slick streaming down his thighs from having to watch everyone else feel good without him. 

     As soon as Jongho’s knot went down, he slid out of you slowly and patiently. Then he immediately pinned Wooyoung to the bed, growling eagerly as he thrusted his cock into the omega’s waiting pussy. He let out a vocal, satisfied sigh as he stroked the omega’s walls with his thick, needy cock. The omega purred, moaning happily as Jongho set an uncontrolled pace. His hyung could take it. He folded Wooyoung’s knees over his arms and rammed into his hole, watching his cock bounce uselessly on his stomach.

     Wooyoung’s eyes rolled back, drool slipping down his cheek as he let the alpha take him raw and hard. It was so rewarding after practically begging the man to fuck him for months. Jongho’s breath hitched as he quickly began to lose himself again. Wooyoung was so perfect for his huge cock. He took him so well, his hold meant for this rough treatment. Fuck, he would do this every day. He would make his hyung feel good if it meant he could feel like this.

     “H-hyung!” he moaned, folding over and smashing his lips to Wooyoung’s. “Hyung!” he cried against his lips, rutting into the omega without even pulling out properly. He was so desperate to cum again, to fill his hyung and be a good boy. His knot was growing, and his thrusts became harsher as he forced his bulging cock in and out. 

     “Fuck! Jongho!” Wooyoung screamed as the alpha bruised his g-spot with each ravaging ram of his hips. “Fuck, what a good boy ngh~! So good! Shit, baby, keep going… knot me, Jongie mm~!”

     “Hyung, I’m gonna-!” Wooyoung smashed their lips together, his tongue lapping against his, tasting him and swallowing his moans as he pushed his knot inside.

     Jongo came with muffled cries of pure pleasure as he painted Wooyoung’s walls white. Wooyoung pushed his hips up with a gasp as he left Jongho’s lips and dropped his jaw, rolling his eyes to squeeze them shut. Ropes of cum shot from his untouched cock, covering his chest and dripping from his chin. Wooyoung panted heavily as spurts of cum dripped from his cock for second after second. He could hardly calm down, even when his high had passed. He trembled and whimpered quietly, his cock falling limp on his stomach.

     “You two are so beautiful,” Jongho said, gazing in awe at his two dazed, flushed omegas. Your eyes were hardly open, but you managed to smile at him, a small blush returning to your cheeks. Wooyoung was too stuck in his thoughts to hear the alpha at all.

     “Hyung?” Jongho mumbled, a little worried he'd overdone it.

     “Jongho,” he started, his voice dead serious. Jongho swallowed hard. Had he not done a good job after all? “How… did you make me cum that much… completely untouched?”

     “What?” 

     “Not even an orgasm. You made me cum. A lot.” His eyes were wide and confused.

     “Um…”

     Wooyoung sat up quickly and pushed Jongho onto his back, following him with his hips to keep them connected. 

     “Do it again.”

     “What?!”

     The door slammed against the wall, and an angry beta stormed into the room. “Ya!”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

     “I’m seriously fine,” you insisted. 

     You smiled awkwardly at the beta, San, who was constantly trying to peel Jongho from you. The alpha was attached to you, his arms wrapped around your torso as he buried his nose in the nape of your neck. He was sulking. He was upset that he’d been bad for his hyungs again and touched you, though it was 100% Wooyoung’s fault.

     “Why don’t you ever hug me?” Wooyoung mumbled, glaring at the alpha as he silently sniffled into your scent.

     “I’m sorry, for causing trouble,” you said, taking a deep breath as you were finally able to say what you’d been thinking the whole time. “Wooyoung, I can’t thank you enough for taking me in.” You were going to cry. “You really saved me. They would’ve…”

     Jongho squeezed you tighter, almost protectively as he heard your words and smelled your souring scent. It calmed you quickly, and you took a shaky breath.

     “I’ll repay your kindness, I promise. For now, I’ll stop causing you trouble and lea-”

     “You can stay,” Wooyoung interrupted. “You can stay. If you want to. We want you to stay.”

     Jongho nodded against your shoulder.

     You stared at him in silence. Stay? You’d always been on the run. You’d never had a home because of your debt. You turned to San, who nodded casually.

     “We want you to join our pack,” San explained. “But you should get to know us first. And… our situation is a bit unique. But we’d love to have you. After everything, you’re already family to Wooyoung and Jongho. So… you’re family to all of us.”

     This man you’d just met was saying that. Even after all of the trouble you’d caused Jongho and Wooyoung, they still wanted you. 

     “You can think about-”

     “I’ll stay,” you said, completely certain. Jongho purred against you, his lips forming a big smile. “I don’t think Jongho would let me leave anyway.”

a/n ~ Thank you so much for reading!! I hope the plot wasn't too bulky compared to the smut. I tried to find a balance. I really hope you liked it! Please let me know what you thought!!

mwa ᯓᡣ𐭩

[katsukistofu]

ikea meatballs before marriage?

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ touya todoroki x fem reader. fluff. cursing. slightly suggestive. ⭑ your fiancé and you get a little too into playing house when you’re supposed to be furniture shopping for your new apartment.

“you’re home early.” touya smirks. an apron you’re ninety-nine percent sure he stole from the aisle showcasing the ovens with ‘i cook as good as i look’ printed on it is tied around his waist.

“i’m home!” you say cheerfully, playing along with him. 

you take a moment to study “your” kitchen and droop in disappointment. 

it was a bit too dim for your liking, the lighting.

there’s no way you could read the recipe books rei had gifted you without touya having to stand there and hold a flashlight while you did.

but the deep forest green accented cabinets, reaching all the way to the ceiling, were beautiful.

perfect for storing fuyumi’s leftover snacks that her students gifted her yesterday.

she had complained to you over the phone about how there was no space at home since all the cupboards were full of soba noodles, courtesy of your fiancé and little brother-in-law.

touya nervously watches, until he sees as you visibly brighten up, and he lets a little huff out, half in pride, half in relief. 

he knew his pick couldn’t be that bad.

then you spot the fake plant hanging from overhead, and grimace as you see a cluster of even more potted plants under it near the toaster. 

cute in theory, but definitely a fire hazard.

touya notices the little way your eyebrows furrow with doubt, and casually leans against the edge of the sink to distract you from making any more keen observations. 

you giggle at the way he almost knocks off the price tag on it in the process, too busy staring at you to bother noticing. 

“how was work?” your favorite fire hazard asks, reaching out a hand to gently brush a stray lash you didn’t notice from your cheek. 

your face always feels hotter than usual when touya pulls away, even after all this time.

“ugh, so exhausting,” you fan yourself a bit, let out an exaggerated sigh. “the printer blew up and got toner all over my clothes, can you believe it?”

“aw.” there’s a playful sparkle in his eyes as touya innocently frowns in sugary sweet sympathy. “want me to run a bath for you later?”

you can feel your cheeks start to burn. you just took one with him yesterday!

but of course you find yourself stuttering out, “oh, um sure.” 

the memory of his fingers softly massaging your scalp as he helped you wash your hair. the gentlest of touches on your skin as he lathered you in suds, pressing a kiss to your forehead between rinses flood back to you. 

you remember trying to wash his hair one time, but he quickly stopped you by trapping you in his lap, insisting that he wanted to do yours first. like he does during every bath he runs for you when you stay over at the todoroki house.

and he would take just as good care of you, your heart knows, in your cozy new apartment that was waiting for you back in shizuoka too. 

not too far from home, so that everyone could still visit, but not too close either, so the both of you had your own space.

touya grins as a shy expression suddenly crosses over your face, knowing exactly what you’re thinking about. 

with amusement, he watches as you reach over to set your purse on the white marble counter. 

a pair of strong hands claim their usual spot on your waist, holding you in place, and then you’re pulled away until your back bumps against a familiar, firm chest.

“uh-uh, mrs. todoroki.” he murmurs softly in your ear. “i just cleaned that for you before you got home.”

your breath catches. mrs. todoroki?  

“my bad,” is all you can manage to squeak out.

his nose tickles your cheek in response and you giggle at the feeling of his piercings, cold and soothing against your warm skin.

“so. what do you want for dinner today?” touya says, leaning over you to open the fridge. he scans its empty contents with a face so serious that you have to bite back a laugh. 

“what do we have?”

“stale air—i mean,” touya coughs. “uh, salad.”

“that’s it? just salad?” you point an accusatory finger at him, and he snorts at the way you force your eyebrows to scrunch together to make an angry face. so cute.

“oh, you think this is funny? take that apron off right now, you big phony.” 

“yes ma’am.” he laughs airily, reaching behind him to undo the tie when his hands stop. 

touya turns to you with a pout. “can you do it for me? my fingers hurt from cooking and cleaning all day.”

he makes it so hard to stay mad at him, even as a joke. 

you bite your lip to suppress the fond grin growing on your face, but it's too late, touya’s already seen it and he knows you’ll give into him soon enough.

“aw, my poor husband all alone in the house, cooking air and salad. it must’ve been so hard for you.”

he pouts even more. “it really was.”

the giggle you’ve been holding back finally spills from your mouth. he was ridiculous, and you loved him for it. “okay you big baby, i’ll untie it for you.” you move to stand behind him, hands reaching for the back of his waist to untie the neat bow he did for himself earlier.

“i think you mean your big strong husband.” touya leans his weight back into you. 

not enough to hurt you or make you fall, but just enough to give you a hard time undoing the knot of his apron. 

“sewing machine was acting up like crazy today, had to teach it some manners.”

“i’m sure you did.” you fight back another laugh, which turns into a whine as his broad back leans into your face even more. 

“touya stop it! do you want this apron off of you or not?”

you can practically hear him smirk from in front of you.

“i’m okay with anything as long as it keeps your hands on me.”

you step away from him and he lets out a ‘oof!’ as his back thuds against the hard floor of the ikea showroom, taking down a fake plant with him.

touya is donning a new apron when the two of you find yourselves outside of another kitchen showroom. 

“‘relax, i’ll feed you bitches.’ it read in bold. 

you giggle hysterically as he stands there, hands on his hips and looking way too proud of his find, as you snap a pic to send to the groupchat with his siblings.

i’d rather eat poison, natsuo texts back. 

his message is hearted by fuyumi and shoto a few moments later. 

a miffed touya reaches over your shoulder to steal your phone, which you easily let go of and surrender like usual with a laugh.

 his chin rests on your head, your back pressed to his chest as he perches his upper arms on your shoulders to text back. 

after he hits send with a satisfied smirk, the both of you walk onto the set.

the kitchen this time was one with a less colorful theme, yet you hear a sharp intake of breath from touya and you feel your own breath catch in your throat.

the tall windows and generous lighting more than made up for it. 

framed paintings of cranes were hung on the slate gray wall behind the dining table, and the refrigerator was much, much larger than the one you saw touya open before.

familiar indigo petals catch your eye. there was a beautiful painting of rindou flowers next to the window in the kitchen, and you can’t help but stare.

“mom would love those.” touya murmurs from beside you. your fingers lace through his as you smile softly in agreement. 

“she would.”

still in the second showroom, touya’s rummaging inside the cabinets while you study the spice rack. 

imagine all the goodies you could fit in there, from sesame seeds to shichimi togarashi.

you drool thinking about all the miso soups and sweet potatoes you could put them on when he suddenly turns to you.

“i’ve been working on my cocktails while you were at work, by the way.” touya grins, handing you an empty, plastic wine glass from where you’re perched on the granite countertop. “wanna try?”

you raise it to your lips and take a delicate sip of nothing. 

“oh yum! what’d you put in it?”

“kale juice.” he snickers behind his hand. “your favorite.”

you make a disgusted face. “well that’d explain the kick to it.”

“right? i really, really think fuyumi and natsuo would like it.”

“touya todoroki, don’t you dare.”

“hey.” he raises both hands in innocence. “a little kale never hurt anyone.”

“you say that but you hate kale.”

“a little kale never hurt anyone unless it’s me.”

you roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck. touya’s hands smoothly guide your legs to hug his waist, bringing you closer to him from where you’re sitting on the counter. he stays standing, towering over you. 

“can’t believe i’m marrying a hypocrite.” your voice is muffled against his shoulder, and he laughs.

suddenly, you gasp and point at the sink. “touya!”

his eyes widen at your raised voice, instinctively looking behind him for bugs to kill because that’s the only time your tone would sound that alarmed.

touya hugs you closer to him protectively. 

you can’t help but melt as his arms wrap even tighter around you, his serious turquoise eyes still scanning around the kitchen for any threats to you.

no bugs. 

no tacky “live, laugh, love”-esque sayings framed on the wall.

which he knows is your biggest interior design pet peeve after binging an insane amount of those house flipping shows with you.

“...what is it?” touya finally asks after a moment of hesitation. 

you giggle at the ticklish feeling of the cold silver of his lip piercing brushing against your forehead as he speaks.

“the dishes aren’t in alphabetical order!”

touya breathes a sigh of relief, then laughs into your neck. 

he pulls away to roll his eyes at you. “you nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!”

“what, why?” you laugh, fluttering your lashes at him. so utterly adorable, that he resists the urge to bite you.

touya fights back a blush and averts his eyes from your face, remembering his protective actions. they had been purely instinctive. he reaches up to cover his face with one hand.

“touuu!” you can’t help but laugh harder, reaching up to pry his fingers away from his face. “come on, look at me!”

touya shyly slides his gaze back to you, and lets you take his hand away from his face. 

you lace your fingers through his and lean in to give him a sweet kiss on the lips, which only makes him blush even harder. the chill of the ikea air conditioning did nothing to help.

his eyes trail in the direction of the spice rack you were dreamily looking at earlier.

“why is this crooked?” he frowns, reaching behind you to straighten it.

“pfft is it bothering you?” you take a glance at it. looked okay enough to you.

“yeah it is.” touya’s hands are on the shelf, trying to readjust it into the right position when suddenly—

snap!

the both of your eyes widen at the sound. 

the shelf was upright and more centered than before. 

except now it had a clean split down the middle of it.

of course, touya chooses to focus on the most important part.

“well at least it looks better now.”

and all he can think about as you laugh into his shoulder is that he can’t wait to stand hip to hip with you in your actual kitchen. 

sunshine peeking through the curtains as the two of you make soups, bake each other’s favorite pastries, and indulge in your random middle of the night cravings.

from now until forever.

after lunch in the restaurant, touya adds ikea meatballs to his list of favorite foods. 

you’re pretty sure that’s only because you fed them to him. 

because while you adore him to pieces, he is an unbelievably picky eater, much to fuyumi’s chagrin. 

luckily, he’ll eat anything as long as you’re the one giving it to him.

your sister-in-law thanks you for her lack of headaches when she makes dinner.

in the third kitchen showroom of today, you squint out the window behind the sink.

“i don’t know if i like it.”

“don’t know if you like what?” touya’s still washing his hand in the imaginary water under the faucet that’s clearly never going to start running. his silly self has been there for the past five minutes, at least. 

you hold back a laugh at how meticulous he is about it.

“the view.” 

he looks up and snorts at the wistful gaze you throw out the obviously fake window. 

it had a picture of city scenery taped on the wall outside of it, and the circular shape of a familiar building catches his eye. he recognizes it.

the meguro sky garden in tokyo.

the first place he ever took you out on a date to.

with a fond twitch of his lips, he remembers the way he almost tripped over his feet under the cherry blossom trees when you had suddenly pecked him on the cheek. all those years ago.

touya turns the faucet off, and comes up behind you to lean his head on your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist. his eyes soften as you nuzzle against his chin. 

he knows that you know he can’t feel any sensations there anymore. 

but god, does touya love that you still touch him in the places where he can’t feel. 

the way you litter soft kisses under his eyes, stroke his forearms as you guide them to your waist. like they’re still a part of him, like he’s not broken.

like he’s always been whole to you, never any less. 

“but sweetheart,” touya muses. “think about how close it's close to the best schools.”

your face heats up as you realize what he’s talking about. like you haven’t thought about it a million times before.

a kid. with him.

his and your kid.

as if the universe read your mind, a very chubby baby being pushed in a cart passes by the opposite side of the window, covering the picture of tokyo’s scenery.

and it stares at touya and you with the judgiest look you’ve ever seen in your life.

the two of you glance sideways at each other and burst out laughing. 

“nevermind,” you giggle, feeling small and safe tucked in his strong arms. “maybe the view isn’t so bad.”

looking softly down at you, the beautiful color of your eyes meets his, and his heartbeat quickens.

touya can’t help but agree.

a familiar weight softly rests on your shoulder when you groggily open your eyes, and your fiancé is close to follow as he stirs beside you.

you flip around to face him from where he was spooning you, giggling at the little trail of drool coming from the corner of his mouth as you watch his eyes flutter open.

you feel your breath catch in your throat as you gaze upon him.

his hair is starlight in the morning.

touya, still half-asleep, snuggles against you, completely drunk on your warmth. the soft feeling of your skin against his. 

he doesn’t even try to resist it.

the little giddy smile that tugs at his lips whenever the cool feeling silver of your sapphire embedded ring sparkles under the sunlight pooling through the curtains of your shared bedroom as he laces his fingers through yours.

his own ring softly clinking against the one he gave you.

after moving into the privacy of the apartment, with no prying eyes or nosy siblings randomly bursting into his room, touya loves to sleep with his lips just barely grazing your neck.

whenever you wake up from a  nightmare, he’s already kissing the nape of it, the protective hand he has on your hip smoothing circles into your bare skin.

when he wakes from his, you’re already quietly cradling him in your arms, running your hands through his midnight black hair. 

you really have no idea how hard you make it for him to get up.

but the idea of seeing you happily smile because of him is what gives him the final push to wriggle out of your embrace, and the adorable little pout you give him  almost breaks his heart.

“where you going, tou?”

he grins cheekily, placing a finger on his lips. “it’s a secret.”

there's a grumble from you in response and he smooths the crinkle between your furrowed brows with a gentle kiss.

“i’'ll be back soon, i promise.”

“you better or i’m eating your last pocky.”

he laughs at your threat, as if he wouldn’t give it up to you the moment you asked.

at the sight of your eyes already starting to droop, touya presses another kiss to your forehead. “go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

“no.” you pout as his socks pad against the floor when he leaves the room with another laugh. 

huddled up in your floral patterned blankets, you drink in the faint scent of sweet cologne that lingers on them. 

it still smells like him. warm like him, too.

there’s an old photo of touya framed on your nightstand. you love to look at when you fold his and your clothes. 

rei had slipped it out of the family album for you to keep the moment she saw how much you liked it. 

it’s the one where he’s holding a baby shoto like a football in his arms. there’s an easy grin on his face.

you look at it for a little longer, letting a sleepy, content smile spread across your lips. 

until five more minutes pass, and you’re starting to feel impatient.

“shoto!” you call out the doorway in the direction of the guest room you set up for him the day before he came to visit. “what’s your brother doing?”

“cooking.” comes shoto’s soft voice floating down the hallway.

and that’s all it takes for you to get up and rush to the kitchen at lightning speed.

thankfully, the fire alarm hasn’t gone off yet by the time you get there. 

you find touya slicing peaches on the counter, in front of the painting of rindou flowers. there’s a plate of neatly assorted fruit next to him, and your eyes widen as you admire the rose-shaped strawberries. how’d he do that?

“hey.” touya’s eyes narrow playfully when he notices you, putting down the knife. “you’re supposed to be in bed.”

you place your hands on your hips. 

“and you’re supposed to not be burning our new apartment down.” 

throwing a cautious glance at the unmanned pancakes sizzling in the pan beside you, you add on. “with your little brother in it.”

he breathes a laugh and saunters over where you’re standing by the fridge, cornering you to the counter. 

your fiancé grins at your stammers when he leans closer. he can practically feel the heat from your cheeks from here, and touya thinks the tiny house plant overhead grows an inch taller from the sheer warmth you’re radiating.

“stove’s off, sweetheart. they’re not gonna burn.”

“o-oh.” you sigh in relief.

“you worry too much.” touya murmurs softly as holds you in place by the waist to hold up a spoonful of blueberries he forgot to add to the batter. 

your lips reluctantly part to let him feed you, and his heart skips a beat at the hint of a smile on your face.

“mmph!”

suddenly, touya’s lips are on yours and you taste the sweet tartness of the peach he must’ve had before you came over. 

the cold piercing of his tongue teases your mouth and he corners you even further against the cool marble of the counter to make out, just as you hear a pot start to boil and your eyes snap open. 

you’re breathless as you muster all your willpower and break away from him.

“touya, the pot!” 

“oops.” he glances at it, still caging you against the counter with his arms. 

“forgot about that.”

“found your necklace that fell behind the bed last week.” touya says later after breakfast. you’re both sitting on cushions fuyumi and natsuo gifted you at the coffee table in front of the tv, watching ponyo as sunlight seeps into the living room.

it swings it back and forth on his finger and your eyes widen in relief.

“i was looking everywhere for that to wear to shoto’s class party!” 

“i know.” he grins, and you sigh as he presses a soft kiss to your neck. of course he did. 

touya reaches around your neck to securely clasp the back of the necklace’s chain, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“i think i deserve a little reward.”

you giggle, he was so cute.

“thanks touya.” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and he pouts.

“not there.” 

“where then?” you smooth your hands against his bedhead and he almost whines when this time, you press a kiss to his forehead. “here?” 

always such a tease, and he adores you for it. 

touya looks like a desperate puppy as he huffs, nudging your nose with his. 

like you didn’t spoil him with kisses yesterday when he fixed the washing machine that was acting up.

you’re still not totally sure how he did it, but that was probably because you zoned out while he was explaining it to you. 

too busy watching the way his forearms flexed as he fixed the pipes behind it and when he’d take whatever wrench or screwdriver he asked you to hand him from the toolbox.

finally, finally your lips find his and you kiss him, soft and sweet.

a cool breeze blows through the open window, and the both of you breathe it in, smelling dewdrops on grass from the rain last night and hints of sunshine. 

touya smiles against your mouth, arms pulling you into his lap so he can taste you better.

you’re stuck with him. 

from now until forever.

“or maybe home is just two arms wrapped around you when you’re at your worst.”

— danagray

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James is the best boyfriend while you're sick.

Genre: Fluffy <3

Warnings: having a cold, germs, mentions of being contagious? really none lmao i'm just over cautious

~ for my lovely 🍓anon! enjoy! ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You're convinced you're dying and no matter how much your boyfriend promises you you're not, you still feel miserable.

"No, no," you shake your head, your nose running obnoxiously as you blow into another tissue—you could start a whole collection by now. "you don't u-understand. My body is crumbling as we speak," you tell him as you're curled up in your bed, under a bunch of blankets and wearing James's warmest and favorite sweatshirt.

James sits by you, one hand pressed against your forehead and he frowns, suppressing a small smile. "Is that so? Guess I'll have to glue you back together again then," he hums softly. 

Your eyes narrow and then you cough loudly, your throat hoarse, "You aren't funny."

James feigns hurt. "Ouch," he strokes your hairline with his thumb, looking at you fondly, and then gives in as his eyes soften. "I'm sorry. I can feel you burning up, I know you must feel very ill, hm?" 

You nod, sitting up against the pillows as you cough again. The sound sounds horrible. James leans closer, his expression morphing into concern. Your eyes widen as guilt dawns on you and you panic, pulling away from him. 

"Jamie, no, I'll contaminate you!" you practically shriek.

James raises an eyebrow in amusement. "Contaminate me? Darling, you aren't diseased." 

You sniffle and whisper, "You don't know that." 

James can't help himself. He laughs, and the sound is a beautiful melody as he shakes his head. Still, he listens and pulls away from you. He sits back and thinks for a moment. "I'm gonna run to the store and grab you some things okay, I don't think this cold will disappear on its own, lovely."

You sniffle again, feeling sorry for yourself as you prepare to blow into another tissue. "If you leave me now, I'll surely perish," you state quite dramatically as James stands. He sends you a look as if to say be serious, his dark curls falling before his eyes.

You sniff, sending him a look in return as if to say, I am serious and James just leans over to kiss your forehead and then press another sloppy kiss on your cheek. 

"James!" You exclaim as he kisses you, alarmed.

"If I'm sick, I'm sick," he states seriously, gently cradling your chin as he strokes your skin carefully. "A silly little cold isn't gonna dictate when I can or can't kiss my darling girlfriend."

Your chest loosens at this and you feel a sense of warmth and relief at his words. You want to protest and tell him he's putting himself in harm's way for no reason. But, instead, you relish in the feeling of his lips on your skin and you sink into the pillows as you wait for his return. 

When he does return, you rouse from your small nap and let out a weak cough. Your eyes are bleary as you blink them furiously. "Oh, sweets, have I woken you?" he says in the sweetest voice you've ever heard and you almost melt.

You sit up and rub your eyes as James sits beside you again, resting the glass of water he'd brought in on the bedside table, and then drops the brown paper bag near your hip. He rummages inside and lays out an array of medicine, candies, and almost four boxes of tissues.

Having been feeling a little better from your sleep, you joke, "I'm not dying, am I?"

James chuckles and hands you some medicine for you. You swallow it reluctantly, pouting up at your boyfriend. He rests his hand on your forehead again, smiling.

"No, you aren't dying," he whispers, "far from it. Your temperature seems to have gone down, which is really good."

You nod, still tired as you reach for James's other hand and play with his fingers. "Can you make me some tea?" you ask bashfully. 

James frowns, smiling a little as his fingers gently pinch your cheek. "Of course, love. Don't be embarrassed. I'd move the moon for you."

You cough again, the sound much lighter already. "Kinds dramatic, no?" you whisper.

"No. Not really. It's all true," James pauses, his voice turning serious, "for you, I'd do absolutely anything." He kisses your forehead again, and this time you don't even want to protest. 

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader, @fruticake

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 4

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Once more, I return with @jackofallrabbits and I's Hocus Pocus AU, and I'm so excited to introduce @deliasmilkshake's cover art as well! Thank you so much to Delia for their beautiful work! <3 Now we return to the boys hunting down their darling bride while the reader discovers more of what unfolded in the past.

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, heavy touching, injury, blood, violence, (temporary) animal death, and (temporary) character death.

———

In the far distance, a thick column of gray smoke chimneys up into the night sky, blotting out the light of stars. You look back again. The road has curved and how bends around homes and the beginning of small-town business. Windows are decorated with stickers of pumpkins and cauldrons with glowing green soups, and scarecrows line the corners. The pavement becomes a sidewalk underneath your feet. In an awkward gait, balancing upon the stint of his one leg and his only good foot, Michael stays close beside you.

A tear drips from your chin onto the bloody, dirty fur of the rabbit in your arms. Vanessa’s body is warm to the touch. You clutch her to your chest.

“It’s okay,” Michael murmurs. He lifts a putrid, rotten hand as if to pat your shoulder, but stops and lowers it again. “She’s not dead.”

“Michael,” you half sob, half snap. “She’s not breathing.”

“She will breathe again.” He holds your gaze. Twin pinpricks of white flame burn in his black, sunken eyes. “It’s part of the curse. She can’t die.”

You stare at him, disbelief squeezing your throat. You gently slot your fingers through the soft white coat of the woman who no longer has her own form. The brothers did this. The witches’ curse clench Michael tightly in a dark fist of unholy power. His body has dissolved into a walking corpse. 

Will the same happen to Vanessa? Will she now return as a rotting rabbit corpse? Your gut twists at such a thought.

Why can’t the witches take it back? Why can’t they stop and make it right? Is this the reason they were hanged by Michael’s ancestor—because they casted harm upon everyone?

You can’t bear to think of this anymore. The rabbit is small in your arms and you want to clean away the blood drying on her pale fur. 

A few cars honks at another. The night is well past the witching hour. The faint pounding echo of music from a party pricks your ears. Hunching over Vanessa, you wonder if she’s ever been outside of the brothers’ home for all the years she was cursed. 

Her long ears fall flat against her skull. You gently pet her and whisper an apology. It’s your fault.

You rest your hand over her and weep again, almost stumbling down the sidewalk before Michael pulls you closer to a brick wall of a building. A soft movement pushes back against your fingers. You stop and look down at the rabbit.

Her little torso expands in the slightest, then deflates. Then again. Her body moves with life.

“Vanessa?” You touch her in the slightest. Have you gone mad or is she breathing?

“Augh.” You hear her voice slip out from the rabbit’s mouth. “How did you escape? Is Michael with you?”

In dumb silence, you watch Vanessa lift her head and blink her green eyes up at you.

“Where are the witches?” she asks, terribly serious.

The gears of your mind spin. You’ve read accounts of sickly and comatose people being buried alive through the 17th and 19th centuries. Premature burials. Sometimes, out of fear of the person not truly being passed, bells would be fastened to their fingers with a string so if there were any movement. The ringing struggle would alert any grave attendant or family members nearby that the deceased was, in fact, alive. A few days would be spared to ensure death is final before they would be buried.

But you held her motionless body in your hands. Her body is caked in blood.

“You were dead,” you say, breathless with horror.

“Now I’m not.” Her pink nose twitches. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Are you alright?” Michael’s brow creases in the slightest while looking over her. “That couldn’t have been… pleasant.”

“Dying never is.” She pauses. Her ears prick before falling back against her skull. She presses a paw to your collarbone and pushes herself up in your arms to be face to face with you. A whisker brushes your chin. “Are you crying?”

“No, well, yes, but I was so scared you were gone!” You wipe a hand across your cheek, smearing salty tracks of tears as you try to stop another sniffle. “How did you survive?”

“I didn’t. I died, and the curse brought me back.” Her ears give an annoyed twitch. “Aren’t you listening?”

“I’m sorry.” You bite your bottom lip. You pet her head once. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She falls silent. The weight of her green eyes falls over you, and for several breaths, she simply stares before the quiet of the street is broken by her small voice.

“When the brothers cursed me, the villagers knew they had done something to cause my disappearance but no one mourned me. I only had Afton…”

Michael shuffles a little closer. You ignore the stench of rotting flesh and hold Vanessa’s gaze. A weariness lays upon her head, a kind of exhaustion that a hundred years of sleep couldn’t cure. More than that, she seems sad and alone. 

You hold her tighter.

“I tried to get his attention.” Her eyes slide to Michael for a heartbeat then away again. “He said he could do nothing for me but give me a clean, painless death. I allowed him. He snapped my neck in his hands.”

You gasp sharply. How could he do that so quickly, without hesitation? A sickness swirls in your stomach.

“That’s horrible,” you utter. “He didn’t try to help you break the curse?”

Her paw falls down from your collarbone and she sinks deeper into your arms. She avoids your gaze.

“When I came back to life, I begged for his help. He told me to never return to him again—there is no hope for me and he would not tolerate the presence of dark magic. I would leave or else he would sic his hound on me.” She stops a moment, the silence thick. “He thought his hound’s teeth would kill me for certain. It did not.”

The unmistakable air of shame clings to her small body. Michael’s fists clench as his eyes widen. You catch the grind of his molars through the threads of flesh stretched over his cheeks and share the same fury over such an injustice. 

She was his right hand.

“Vanessa…” You touch her little head. “I’m so sorry.”

“He should not have abandoned you,” Michael seethes through his teeth. “Why would he toss you aside so heartlessly?”

Vanessa doesn’t look at Michael, the descendant of the man who betrayed her in her hour of need.

“Afton was right.” Her eyes turn upon you like shards of emerald, glinting in shattered pieces. “The curse can’t be undone.”

“No,” you whisper. “There must be a way.”

Your thoughts spill slowly like molasses. The brothers knew she would come back to life—even if throwing her off the roof is cruel and horrifying. Did they care? Did they think they could have you then if they removed every last obstacle between you?

Are they capable of being better?

Michael turns towards the street, his brow furrowed and his teeth set in a furious grimace. His darkly rotten flesh catches on a yellow streetlight, slashing over the angler cavity where his nose once was. The silence twists into you as you gaze at both of your companions.

They need your help. But how do you undo curses in a night when you just discovered witches and their magic?

“We have to keep moving.” Michael straightens like a soldier, his words faraway while his fists continue to hang at his sides. “Come on. Follow me.”

Further along the pavement, you spy a couple of people walking. You stiffen in place, glancing at Michael in alarm but he nods back at the people. He continues walking forward, undaunted. You follow him closely, peering back at the strangers to find them dressed as aliens and cowboys and devils. 

Costumes.

“We can blend in for a while, hide out,” Michael says.

“But…” You look down at yourself, your sweat almost falling off of you due to the tears and holes littering it, and the rabbit in your arms looks no better than a murder victim. Not to mention that Michael is the living dead.

“The witches only have one broomstick left and they’ll have to pick us out like needles in a haystack.” He tugs on your elbow and you follow. Vanessa nestles against your chest, strangely silent after coming back to life. Is that usual for when she resurrects? Is she in pain or does she need to rest after such an ordeal?

Deeper in town, the streets become bustling with people wearing pirate eye patches and waving hooks around, and bad, neon printed 80s costumes. They flow towards a high school, the gym doors held open where you find flashing orange and white lights with a sharp backdrop of music pounding through the air. The threat of a headache scrapes against your temples.

“We just need to hide until dawn. Then they will die.” Michael glances back at you while he drags you further inside, past the doors and into the crowded, stuffy floor of the gymnasium. 

Your shoulders sink. Scratching softly at Vanessa’s back, gently scraping away flakes of drying blood, your mind becomes lost in the thunderous overlap of voices and music. Michael keeps weaving through the crowd in a relentless march.

Death sounds too cruel of a fate for anyone. You gently pet Vanessa while she scans the room with a slight alarm. Has she ever seen a modern celebration of Halloween? She may know it better as All Hallows’ Eve. The brothers will be no better in facing such a commotion of shifted cultures and costumes and technology. 

The brothers were hanged, and Vanessa remained trapped in a rabbit form.

If the brothers die, Michael and Vanessa will remain trapped in their curses. Your heart is heavy and your feet are slow to keep up with Michael. There must be another way. 

The ceremony.

You bump into a person dressed as a firefighter and Michael glances back impatient before he drives you deeper into the gym. He finds a dark space behind the punch bowl table and tucks you both into its shadow. The flare of bright, orange lights dances across your feet before darting away. 

A twist in your chest tightens around your lungs and you become breathless. You don’t know what to do. The ceremony could mean giving up your very life to spare the witches of their untimely demise at the bells tied around their wrists. Maybe you can convince them still to give up the dark hold they have over your friends.

You could marry them. You blush softly at the thought, but your insides are knotted and caught in tangled. Can all three of them share you? Would they love you or use you simply to save themselves? Will they hurt your friends again?

Vanessa’s death and revival leaves you raw and thin-skinned, and the night spins you endlessly on uneven footsteps. You hardly notice the spill of fog beginning to sweep over the dance floor. The people in colorful costumes and makeup hoot and holler as the music changes to a slow, haunting speed.

“No.” Michael curses right beside you. “How did they get here so fast?”

Shooting a look at him then following his glance towards the entrance, your entire being grows hot and cold in a snap.

The brothers stand in the entranceway. Their cloaks and capes fall over them, hiding their unusual attire for the era but little masks the strangeness of their disk-like faces and the array of sun rays and a glittering dark hood upon another. They survey the room with a bewilderment that is both fascinating and disgusted. Eclipse stands between Sun and Moon, his head high while his eyes scan the many people, hunting for you.

The breath in your throat hitches. You could tell them that it’s alright, it’s only a festive celebration. It’s become a holiday to dress up and eat sweets and sugars, and have spooky fun and get scared sometimes. Would they understand that? Would it be less frightening and otherworldly to them if you did?

“Michael,” Vanessa hisses. Her little paws press sharply against your arms as if she means to bound away.

“Stay low,” he instructs firmly. “Stay close beside me.”

“Wait, Michael, please,” you utter but he’s already grasping your arm and striding onwards. The music swallows your voice. The pressure of tears builds until you blink and register how wet your eyelashes have become.

There shouldn’t be any more death tonight.

As you’re pulled along like a lost soul, you look back to the entrance way. For the briefest moment, Eclipse skims over the party. You suck in a sharp breath. 

He snaps his head, as if called, and locks eyes with you. You startle but can’t look away. The molten hues of his gaze holds you in place like chains. His smile expands to show off a mouthful of sharp teeth as he mouths two words.

Found you.

You duck your head, your heart in your throat, and scurry after Michael. Vanessa wriggles out of your grasp. Jumping to the floor, she hops between people’s feet and stays perfectly close to Michael despite the fog filling up the space and causing you to cough. It tastes fake and syrupy. Did they curse a fog machine? Or is this something more supernatural? 

The music begins to murmur and strike strange chords. You twist your head, briefly searching the floor in your confusion for the cause of the thick, velvet smoke. Michael almost knocks into a couple dressed as a bottle of honey and a bee. Vanessa says something, lost to the crowd. The song begins to rise and envelop the room in a haunting echo. Your head begins to swim.

Someone takes your hand. Warm digits wrap claws around the bones of your knuckles and hold tightly. You gasp. In one motion, the dancer slips you out of Michael’s grasp and spins you back into the crowd. 

For a heartbeat, Michael whirls around, his eyes, pinpricks of ghostly white, flash to you. Vanessa cries your name. Smoke and party goers cut you off from your friends as you’re effortlessly lifted over the floor.

Lost in a dizzy haze of pale wisps and swinging footsteps, you twist in the hands of your abductor and find an all too familiar crown of yellow sun rays and a beaming, wicked smirk.

“Sun?” You try to wriggle out of his hold but he’s locked onto your hips.

“Hello again, sunshine.” Sun spins you effortlessly, his cape pillowing behind him and summoning more thick fog to cloak you between dancers, stuck fast in the song as if they were sinking in mud, unable to notice the witch slipping his palms higher to hold off your waist. He pulls you flush against his chest. “I adore meeting you like this, but perhaps we might spare the rest of the night for such events? Perhaps after the ceremony.”

Your heart flutters within you like a bird. The heat of his touch sends goosebumps prickling down your flesh as you rest your hands on his shoulders. You look up into his pale eyes with desperation dripping from your every edge.

“Wait, Sun, I can’t leave Michael and Vanessa.” You try to twist back to search for your lost companions but the fog and party lights cutting over the thickness blind you equally.

He bares his pale bone teeth. Effortlessly, he twirls you over the dance floor as your poor feet attempt to keep up. The witch balances the delicate art of keeping you just on the verge of collapse without leaving you embarrassed and fallen. His arm wraps around your waist and lifts your hands above your hand to spin you like a top before reclaiming you once more.

“Of course, you can! Let’s take you far away from all these dreary people,” Sun whispers into your ear. His lips brush the shell of it. Your breath catches. “I will keep you warm. I will keep you safe. I will dance with you forevermore.”

Your lips are locked, caught between pleas to spare your friends of their curses and a temptation far greater. The promise of never being alone. The hope of kindness throughout your days and love throughout your nights. You never realized how cold you were before the brothers traced your body with their hands—how warm another person is when they hold you with care.

“Please,” you whisper. You cling to his shoulders. “I can’t leave them.”

“You will have your husbands,” Sun lifts his head, haughty but steadfast, “You will have me.”

He lowers himself to you and you are caught under his mouth as it travels slowly down your cheekbone. A heat surges through your core. He dots your nose with a peck before his eyes, sultry and softly glimmering, lower to your lips.

“There’s no need to fear now that I have you.”

Carefully, you hold still, waiting for the snap of teeth or the tenderness of his lips Sun slowly, agonizingly closes the gap between himself to you, and his mouth brushes your own—

Hands hook your hips from behind and lift you into the air, twirling you out of Sun’s stunned grasp and then furious gaze. You squeak in alarm. The world spins with music and lights and smoke.

“Brother,” Sun snarls in the way one lion might at another for stealing its meal.

“Share, brother,” Moon speaks as calm as a lake-surface at midnight. “You’ve squandered enough time with your foolish antics.”

Your hands immediately fly to the arms supporting you above the crowd. For one brief moment, you see above the thick concoction of smoke and party-goers and find Michael on the edge of the dance floor, frantically scanning the gymnasium.

You try to lift your hand to signal for him, but Moon sets you back to your feet before you have a chance to regain his attention.

“Come with me, my little mouse.” Moon shadows your back. “It will soon only be us. Alone.”

His hand slips over your waistline. Driven by pure instinct, your fingers curl around his claws while the sleek, sharp tips slide through a hole in your sweater.

“Moon?” You turn your head back, confirming the dancer holding you hostage now. He glides you forward through the crowd. His scarlet eyes are sharp with focus, but they soften the moment they meet your gaze. Weaving through costumed individuals, Moon takes you into a dark alcove along a wall, where the smoke swirls in lazily wisps and the other dancers remain at bay.

“I have wanted for you far longer than tonight.” He gently turns you back to face him and he clasps your hands between his. His black cloak falls against his back like a shield. An unmistakable understanding washes over you: you are safe. Even if you are separated from your friends.

“Moon, I…” Your tongue fails to locate the words stuck behind your molars.

He gently opens your arms and takes you against him. With one hand wrapping around your waist, his other slips up the nape of your neck. He gently cards through the hair at the bottom of your skull in a lulling, gentle motion.

Your eyelids flutter. In your weakness, you rest your head on his shoulder. Moon hums a low, harmonic sound in his chest—a lullaby for a lover. It rumbles sweetly against your heart.

He steps softly, swaying in a sort of moonlight waltz that would be better suited for a homey kitchen than a busy dance party. Regardless, Moon pays no mind to any other bodies in the room.

“Come with us,” he whispers against your hair. “Leave the witch hunter and rabbit.”

Your fingers curl against the soft fabric of his white, billowy shirt. The urge grows stronger still. It could be a fairytale. A Grimm storybook of a lonely historian and three witches.

But you screw your eyes close, and breathe.

“No.” Your footsteps follow his lead so much better, slowly twirling together. “Moon, Michael and Vanessa have suffered enough.”

Moon’s teeth flash like fangs in the dark. 

“You don’t know what they have done, what they will do,” he growls so dark and low.

A shiver overtakes you, but you gently lift your head. Moon clutches the back of your neck in the manner of a man fearful of losing something and never getting it back, despite your closeness to his body.

“I don’t know what you and your brothers have done,” you speak softly, truthfully. “I don’t know what you will do.”

A gentleness overtakes Moon. His hand slips up your cheek to cup your face.

“We would never harm you,” he whispers. “I will never hurt you.”

You lift your hand to cup his own. The coolness of his palm cradles you sweetly, a longing tipping his claw as he carefully keeps them from your flesh.

“Brother.” A new voice sounds gently beside you. “Allow me.”

Beside you both stands Eclipse. He holds out a hand. Moon gently nods, but scarlet gaze eyes linger on you with longing as he slowly takes your hand and sets it in Eclipse’s. Moon slips into the supernatural smoke and the movement of bodies enchanted by music. A backwards glance, then he’s gone.

You face your new dance partner. His gaze is golden and gleaming in the dark alcove you’re pressed against. He gently holds your hand up in a proper position of a dance—at least you think so. You’ve never danced with someone before. He touches your waist and on instinct, you place your palm on his shoulder. His black cape swishes gently around him. His crown of red rays circle the air like a king above his queen, and you find yourself blushing under such a thought.

“There were festivals in the village when we were alive,” he says in a low, sweet voice, “We could never attend. Sun longed to dance with others to proper music and Moon could have been compelled out of the shadows for just a night, but the people wouldn’t have us.”

You listen carefully as he swings you gently across the small space. Smoke spills at your feet but Eclipse sweeps it away with the sway of his cape, and endlessly, you revolve together.

“No one would have us. No one would give us a moment to speak for fear of curses.” Eclipse’s eyes lower, and a grim smile touches his lips. “They weren’t entirely unfounded. Afton was right to fear us, but he turned the village against my brothers and I. He accused us of stealing their children.”

A sharp, hidden anger, like a blade sheathed, flashes behind Eclipse’s eyes. Your heart grows heavy while you try to not step on his feet, but he always seems to move his black shoes out of the way before you can.

“Did anyone know?” you ask softly.

There is so much lost to history. Tablets and clay figures and marble sculptures cracked and buried. Letters. The truth.

As true witches, they were framed, used as a scapegoat. 

Eclipse softly presses his palm to the small of your back. You step closer. He looks down at you, his golden eyes wide and tittering between dreams and despair.

“No.” He gently steps back to lift your arm above your head and allows you to twirl slowly. An enchanting moment of twisting. Then, you return to him, clasping his hand tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” Your fingers curl over the soft fabric of his cape. “So many have been killed because of false accusations or ulterior motives… but I don’t have to tell you that.”

He chuckles sardonically. “No.”

He looks you gently over. He waltzes and you follow him in a small curve of soft steps.

“I was bone scrying one night.” Eclipse sweeps back a strand of your hair from your face, his touch velvet and light. “The villagers’ hatred was growing and I was afraid for my brothers. I needed… hope.”

You close your eyes briefly as he turns his hand, and using the back of his finger, strokes your cheek.

“Then I saw you.”

Your eyes fly open. Brow crinkling, you think of ancient fortune tellers and seers, those who claimed to see what was to come and to promise those who sought their advice that all would be well.

But that is history. This is magic.

Eclipse holds your gaze unflinching.

“You couldn’t have,” you whisper, despite yourself. “I am no one.”

His hands tighten upon you. He stops dancing. Your heart flits within you until he clutches you close in an embrace that melts your bones and loosens your muscles. 

“You are everything to us. You are our bride. You are the one who lit the starry candle to save my brothers and I. You are the one whom I love so dearly, and have waited centuries for.”

He bows and presses his forehead to yours. You breathe in a soft gentle musk and spice, and it’s as if you were home. Not your empty, cold house, but home.

“I would wait a hundred more to behold you. I would crawl out of my grave to find you. Little comet, you have been the one light in my dark death, and I will vow myself to you as your husband for as long as you will have me.”

A thickness cakes your throat. Emotion, heavy and dripping, spills into your chest. You clutch his hands. 

“Will you say ‘I do’ my bride?” 

Everything within you sings to answer him. Your silence paints your lips with faltering and fear. The sting of sorrow in the corner of your eyes begins to wet them. 

His claws curl tighter around you. His expression burns low and hot, desperate and fierce.

“Are you not lonely?” he asks in a husky tone. “Do you not understand all that my brothers and I can give you? You will know only love and certainty. You will be warm and safe. You will have all our powers at your fingertips.”

“Eclipse.” You lift your head.  A bubbling sorrow overtakes you, and your cheek drips with a tear. “I can’t. Not until Michael and Vanessa are free of their curses.”

The damning of his silence is lethal. Eclipse doesn’t move as smoke wisps by and your heart skips a beat in your rib cage. His eyes are wide and unreadable. They bore into you. You almost squirm but hold fast against his crushing attention.

“Can’t you take away their suffering? Can’t you undo the damage done?” you ask softly, your voice threatening to break. “Please. I will perform the ceremony with you and your brothers before sunrise. All I ask is this.”

A battle unfolds within the witch. His claws twitch and his lips long to curl into a snarl, but he breathes softly instead.

He moves once and presses one soft kiss to your mouth. You close your eyes.

“Very well.” He straightens. He mumbles something low under his breath, overlapping and thick with magic, and you still as he gathers you closer.

You almost can’t comprehend that you’ve agreed to marry the witches.

In the midst of a swell of energy so hot and dark, you wonder if a summer night could be conjured on an October early morning hour, Eclipse lowers his lips to your ear and whispers, “I put a spell on you.”

Your heart thunders. Your fingers twist into the white flowy fabric of his shirt, and the witch takes you into his arms. The fog swirls, beginning to rise and circle you both as if you stand in the heart of a cyclone. Faster and faster still, until you’re forced to close your eyes and hide your head against Eclipse’s chest.

His fingers stroke your spine softly. The air changes, the music ceases, and you breathe in crisp, forest air. You don’t dare open your eyes.

Eclipse hums.

“And now you’re mine.”