#i edited them just a bit to make them dark

[safetypinxtales]

Santa baby | Azriel

summary: it's nearing solstice and you have an extensive list for your mate Santa.

words: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, a bit of seduction, Azriel is stupid in love, like absolutely whipped, reader sits in Azriel's lap, feminine reader (lipgloss, hair below shoulder-length), otherwise neutrally described reader, no use of y/n, it's an AU where everything is the same except Santa is a thing.

notes: well, it's been a while but it's Christmas and I have free time for once so why not write? I whipped this one up in like an hour whilst waiting for our guests to arrive today, and it has minimal editing, but it's something light and sweet for the holidays. Hope you enjoy and merry Christmas! 🤍

masterlist

The glass is cold in your hand as you waltz into the living room. The winter sun had already set on the quaint seaside cottage you shared with Azriel. He had surprised you with it after your mating ceremony last solstice, and as you took in the shadows dancing around on the walls, cast by dim candle light, a feeling of contentedness enveloped you. The amber liquid in the glass sloshed with each step you took, but never quite enough to spill over the rim. It was a practiced routine, bringing him a drink whenever you found your mate a little too stuck in his work.

His head lifted from the paperwork he had been going over as he sensed your presence entering the living room, the hand that had been carefully turning a leaf falling slack on the armrest.

His eyes dropped down to your hips, watching them sway with every step you took, gaze fixed as if in a trance.

You let out a low hum as you reached him, extending the glass. His eyes met yours as he put the paperwork aside and accepted your offering.

Slowly – gracefully and practiced – you slid into his lap, one arm snaking its way around his shoulder. The warmth of his hands on your waist spread all the way into your chest, making your heart beat just that little bit faster.

Grabbing his face, feeling the slight stubble of his cheek under your palm, you planted your lips on his. 

The kiss was soft and warm, and perfectly matched the feeling blooming in your chest has he murmured a low:

“Hello, my love.”

“Hello,” you hummed back and felt that slow tug in your chest that you had come to love so. 

You gave a loving tug back and felt Azriel shudder beneath you.

Letting you gaze flit over his face, you marveled at his features. 

The dark lashes framing those mesmerizing hazel eyes of his. The colour of the finest of honey, all swirling and golden. 

The constellations of freckles adorning his cheeks, like a map only you were privy to read.

His lips, currently smeared in your lipgloss and stretched into a dopey smile making him look just as lovesick as you felt inside.

“Hey, Az?” You broke the warm silence that had enveloped you.

“Yes, my love?” He murmured, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly before finding their way back to yours.

You leaned in to give him another soft peck, only pulling away to rest your forehead against his.

“I have.. I’ve been thinking about something,” you whispered, feeling the breath from his curious yes? on your lips. “About what I want from Santa this year.”

He pulled back slightly at your words, eyebrows raised and that dopey smile still plastered on that pretty mouth of his. He knew as well as you that Santa meant Azriel himself.

“Oh, really? Please, do tell,” his curious hum sent you heart fluttering as you settled in further in his lap.

“Well, do you remember that dagger I liked so much when we visited summer? The gold one?” You purred and ran your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered as your nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“The one with the eye-sized ruby in the pommel?” You nodded. “My love, that blade is useless. You couldn’t even cut an apple with it, much less cause any real damage,” he scoffed, ”you’d be better off fighting someone with a cotton ball. That you could at least shove down their throat – hope they choke to death.”

His eyes gleamed at the gasp you let out. The soft swat you landed on his chest drawing out a quiet chuckle.

“I know it’s useless in combat, but it’s so pretty isn’t it? Besides, why would I need to fight when I have you to defend me?” You chirped with a flutter of lashes. 

You just managed to catch his eyes darkening before he pulled you into yet another kiss, this time firmer. Purposeful. 

Claiming.

When he pulled away his breath was heavier and his voice rougher as he swore, “I will always protect you, always defend you.”

“Even if I’m in the wrong?”

“No such thing.”

Your toes curled at his admission, and the hand that was tangled in his hair tightened its grip.

“Good answer,” you mused, and his thumbs swiped at your waist – up and down. 

“What else should Santa put on his list?”

You pretended to think for a moment, pursing your lips into a glossy pout, knowing just how crazy the act drove your mate.

And just as you could have predicted, his eyes dropped down to your mouth, his smile fading slightly, his eyelids growing heavier.

“Well you know that necklace that Feyre has? That she wore on our mating ceremony?” You asked.

He nodded in response, eyes still focused on your lips.

You let your cheeks pull into a broad smile, “well I saw that the jewellery shop by the Palace of Thread and Jewels has its twin in gold.”

“The diamond necklace you kept sighing about for weeks after the ceremony? The one that had me questioning if it was the mating bond that was making you so blue?” He questioned, his voice laced with disbelief.

“That’s the one,” you replied. Removing your hand from where it was nestled against his head, you moved to push your hair over your shoulder, exposing your décolletage.

”Wouldn’t it fit me so well?” You asked, letting your hands graze the bottom of your throat, following the curve down to the top of your chest, watching his eyes track the movement with a predatory focus.

Azriel’s throat bobbed, “It would.”

Your hand fell to his arm, giving the muscle hiding under his sweater a light squeeze. 

“Yeah, you really think so?” You gave him your best hopeful look, batting your eyelashes for added effect.

He simply nodded, too much of a lovestruck, mess of a male in your presence to form any actual words. 

“That’s good,” you hum, “now I only have one last thing on my wish list.”

Your mate didn’t verbally respond, but you took the squeeze of his hands on your hips as a sign to keep going.

“An apartment in the city.”

That seemed to bring Azriel back to life.

“An apartment? Is the cottage I got for us not enough?” He asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Well, no, I love the cottage – you know that. But sometimes it would be nice to have somewhere closer to go to after having spent the evening with the others, don’t you think?”

“It takes half a second to winnow from there to here,” he deadpanned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“But I think it would be nice to stay in the city sometimes. To be able to walk home, a stroll along the Sidra,” you gave him your sweetest, most innocent smile and added, “just you and me?”

You could see his resolve melting, and felt the largeness of his hand leave your waist in favour of gently stroking your thigh. 

“An apartment, huh?” His soft voice still had some reluctance hanging on to it, but you could tell he was warming up to the idea pretty quickly.

Your head bobbed up and down in confirmation, and an amused sigh left his lips.

“You must think mighty highly of yourself, dear, to think Santa would give you such special treatment,” he mused as he pulled you closer. 

“Well, I just have it on a hunch that Santa might know that my wonderful, loving mate, who – if I haven’t already mentioned – loves me so,” Azriel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as you continued, “works for the high lord.”

Amusement danced in his eyes, and a soft red glow started making its way up his cheeks.

“So maybe someone like that, like me. Like the mate of the Night court spymaster, deserves to be a little spoiled.” You leaned in to kiss his jaw, and stopped to whisper in his ear, “it sure would make her happy.”

He hummed in agreement, his thumb stroking across your thigh at a slow but steady pace.

“Besides,” you continued, leaning back to look him in the eyes, “I have been such a good girl this year.” 

Azriel’s administrations on you leg stopped, his large hand instead coming up to cup your face. 

He hummed lowly, eyes locked on your lips, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive look.

“You really have,” he murmured.

Again, he pulled you into a kiss, molding his lips to yours. You let yourself melt into him – your wonderful, loving spymaster – into the warmth radiating from his large body. Into the secure grip of his hands and the gentle softness of his lips. You let yourself melt into your mate, with no care in the world, besides kissing him back.

When you finally pulled away you leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “if Santa is very kind to me, I promise I will be just as good next year.”

“Yeah?” His voice was thick with emotion.

“Yes, maybe even better.” You promised, and leaned back to look at him. 

You cupped his jaw, the slight stubble adorning the skin scratching your hand in the most comforting way.

He shook his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Not possible.”

Want to be added to my taglist?

tags: @missussimonriley @azrielshadows1nger @anuttellaa @tele86 @aria-chikage @lilah-asteria

(since I haven't written in a while, lmk if you want to be removed)

[salemssimblr]

My Top 24 Screenshots Renders of 2024!

I was tagged by the so many lovely mutuals and creators! Thank you @elderwisp, @savagemagician3, @sikoi, @blvckentropy, @mosneakers, & @azeterna! I love yall so much!

I'm so sorry, despite my very best efforts I couldn't choose just 24, so have 30 instead 😅

Looking at all these together, I'm worried I may have plateau'd just a bit 😅 No but in reality, it's really cool to see that I've refined my style and methods over the year, starting in January and continuing it all through 2024. Seeing progress and improvement is one of my favorite things about this process, so doing these recaps is always enjoyable.

January:

Looking back, I'm still so proud of the first dancing set of renders for Ariss & Vasily, and who could forget the first Alice sighting?? I can't, look at her.

February:

February was a bit of a slow month for me but I still love how this A+tM album cover came out!

March:

March was a bit slower, but I love this set of Ariss (:

April:

April was a goood month, I'm still so in love with all three of these.

May:

MerMay was lacking for me a bit this year, but I really love how my contribution turned out (: & this spicy render of Ariss & Vasily is one of my favorites, if for no other reason than his little fang peek.

June:

June was all about Alice + the Madness! & like LEGIT? I still can't believe I made this Rolling Stone cover? I have a secret, I've tried to make another one for Alice, but nothing has or probably will ever look as good as this one so I've given up lmfaoooo

& this render of Erisande was such a labor of love. I sat down and said it'd be really quick and then spent hours editing meshes and adjusting the lighting... but then, that always happens with me and "quick" renders 😅

July:

Bit of a slow month, but I'm still so floored (& happy!) about the love Millie has gotten! This isn't even a completed render and it's one of my most well-received posts to date haha, but I can't blame anyone, look how cute she is.

August:

Ramping up into spooky season we have two of my favorite renders of all time, my "bog demon" and mothwoman! As obsessed as I am with Ariss and Vasily, it's really nice to do creative one-off renders and these were both SO FUN to do. I hope to do more in the new year too (:

September:

This iconic portrait of Ariss will always be one of my favorites (& is actually my computer's wallpaper rn, but a version updated with her 'new' tattoos), & this render of Kai could definitely be improved on (maybe in the new year...) but it was a really fun challenge! I do see flaws in it now but that's growing and learning!

October:

October was (not surprisingly) a very busy month for me! The idea for the render of Theo & Millie had been rolling around in my head since I first created them, & while the end result wasn't exactly what I was envisioning, I still really love how it turned out.

& though this set of renders for Ariss & Vasily took me FOR-FUCKING-EVER, and I see a lot of flaws even now (after trying my damnedest to have NONE), I still really love it. The end result/edit/colorway was NOT what I planned but I really fell in love with it.

November:

November, the month of ambitious scene-building, pose-making, and upping my skin shader game in a BIG way. I spent literal hours perfecting Ariss' new tattoo, and literal days building the scene for that gorgeous render of Kai.

& I'm so glad yall love that pose set! It was definitely a learning experience and a labor of love.

December:

Looking at this overview, December has been dark and spicy lmfao but I actually love it. Once again, all of these took wayyyy longer than I thought they would when I sat down to start them, but I'm genuinely in love with all three!

& that's a wrap (so far) on 2024! I'm having surgery tomorrow so not sure I'll be able to create/post anything else this year, but I have big plans for 2025! So stay tuned (:

I'm tagginggggggg @kuroashims, @a-m-pyra. @acidheaddd, @gothoffspring, @pralinesims, @thebramblewood, @moonfromearth, @nepotisim, & YOU, I want to see all your creations!

(There were a LOT more creators I wanted to tag but I saw yall have already done this!)

[sailorrhansol]

i'm a ho ho ho..... cheol/chan/reader.... bonus if chan is in a "learning" role and cheol is in charge of the whole thing :) :) :) my brain is a basic bitch i can't do anything with her

❀ Pairing: Chan x Reader x Seungcheol

❀ Summary: You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift. 

❀ Word Count: 5,632

❀ Genre: PWP, Polyamorous, Established Relationship (Cheol x reader)

❀ Type:  Smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Just pure filth honestly. Fucking in an office when they totally should not be, mention of power dynamics in the sense that Seungcheol is both Chan and reader’s boss but they kind of skip around that even though Cheol explicitly makes sure to let Chan know it’s okay to reject, semi-public sex if you count the fact they’re in an office, implied but not explicit dom/sub dynamics with Seungcheol as the dominant and reader/Chan as the more submissives, oral (f. receiving) and vaginal fingering, pussy drunk Chan, spitting, multiple orgasms, a little bit of overstimulation, some hair pulling, biting, a lot of heavy kissing and making out, it is a light threesome - this is mostly reader and Chan with Seuncheol very involved in instruction/kissing/touching them. Nickname use: baby for reader, Channie for Chan and one (1) Cheolie for Seungcheol

❀ A/N: Mojo Jojo Siwa I love you so much. Happy belated birthday but also happy it-took-me-three-weeks-to-fill-your-request. I BELIEVE IN BOYS KISSING BOYS DURING THREESOMES SO IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT SHIT GO AWAY. ALL SIDES OF THE TRIANGLE TOUCH IN MY WORLD BECAUSE BISEXUAL SUPREMACY. Anyway - here is this absolute filth and dream that Jo convinced me to write - I cannot be held accountable for how many times hands and mouth and spit are mentioned thank you 🫡

❀ A/N 2: THIS IS UNEDITED BECAUSE I’M THE GRINCH AND I DON’T WANNA BETA READ MY OWN STUFF. SPELL CHECK WILL HAVE TO DO FOR RIGHT NOW. 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliday’s Request Event

Nervousness creeps up as you watch Chan open up his gift, eyes zeroed in on the way his deft fingers peel back the wrapping paper carefully. Chan is always so careful, his touch delicate and precise, sliding his fingers under the seam of the paper to pry it open without ripping anything. 

Holiday music plays loudly over the speakers on someone’s desk. Everyone talks and sips on drinks, gathered around the conference room table as Chan finishes opening his git, shedding the wrapping paper. He’s already grinning, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he shakes his head, red creeping up the side of his neck. 

You try not to react, pleased to see that he likes the stack of limited edition books you’ve gifted him. He runs his fingers over the decorated edges, just as careful not to damage them as he was with the wrapping paper. You squirm in your seat, sipping more champagne to quell the dryness in your throat and give you more liquid courage. 

Someone places a hand on your shoulder and you spare a glance upward, though by the scent of the heady cologne you already know it’s Seungcheol. He’s watching Chan with a smirk, his dark hair pushed out of his face and his glasses sliding a little down his nose as he watches Chan look around the table, flushed and pleased. 

“This is way over the purchase limit,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck and shaking his head. Mingyu lets out an impressed noise, leaning over to see the books and ask what they are. “They’re a limited edition and signed copy of my favorite fantasy series.” 

“Damn, someone likes you,” Mingyu mutters, sipping his beer. “Time to guess.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker to you. You hold your breath, your pulse thumping in your throat as you try not to avert your eyes. Chan’s eyes drift upward to Seungcheol, who you can feel is equally amused. There’s indecision on Chan’s face, his fingers drumming atop the stack of books. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges. “Guess.”

Chan’s eyes return to you. Back to Seungcheol. Then to you again. You grin, watching as he tries to work out which one of you bought them. You’re the only person in the office who would know how much he valued that specific book series, but Seungcheol is the only one in the office who makes overspending and spoiling his employees a habit. 

Especially Chan. 

“Fuck, it’s hard,” he admits, gaze settling on Seungcheol, finally. “You, boss?” 

Seungcheol chuckles, the motion of it shaking the back of your chair. You can feel his thumb brushing back and forth on your shoulder, soothing and warm. It feels nice, the champagne turning his touch molten. 

“Nope,” Seungcheol answers, popping the ‘p’ sharply at the end. “Sorry, Channie.” 

Chan’s blush intensifies as he drops his gaze, shaking his head. He cradles the books close to him, possessive. He spares you a glance when he says, “Whoever bought these is far too nice of a santa. I don’t deserve this.” 

He does deserve it. Chan is the youngest member of your company and by far the hardest working and the sweetest. Over the last two years, you’ve watched him grow from the shy, nervous junior employee to a full time member of the staff who is… still shy, but a little more confident in his work with an incredible mindset. 

Sure, your opinion of him is a little bit biased. Chan is your work husband, the person you’re closest to and who you can always go to when you need to vent about Mingyu fucking up your spreadsheets or for help when you have a last minute firedrill to solve. 

Despite, of course, your actual boyfriend being a few yards away in his executive office. 

Seungcheol doesn’t mind that Chan is your work husband. In fact, he adores it, teasing you when you get shy after vehemently praising Chan during a meeting or nominating him to take more responsibility to prove himself. He likes that Chan has you to take care of him, to lead him through the corporate world when Seungcheol is too buried underneath meetings and paperwork to do so. 

Someone else starts opening a gift, but your eyes are reserved for Chan. You lean into Seungcheol’s touch, eyes fluttering when his hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His grip is firm, kneading the muscles along the back of your neck until you’re melting. Your grip tightens on the flute of champagne a little, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip. 

When secret santa has finished, you stand up to help gather the leftover wrapping paper. Coworkers filter out into the main office, turning up the music and dancing around the cubicles as another bottle is popped. You help shove wrapping paper into a trash bag with Joshua, feeling a little dizzy and warm from the bubbles. 

A hand on your lower back makes you straighten. Seungcheol leans down, mouth brushing against your ear when he murmurs, “Go wait in my office. I’ll bring Chan in for his real gift.” 

Your stomach flips at that. You glance at Joshua to see if he notices, but there is nothing to notice. Everyone knows that you and Seungcheol are together - you’ve been dating for five years. He limits his affection in the office, but it's not uncommon for him to press a quick kiss to your head or leave his hand lingering on you for too long. 

Clearing your throat, you nod and let Seungcheol take over balling up the wrapping paper. You’re not drunk but you feel the buzz of champagne and excitement as you hurry toward Seungcheol’s office at the far end, away from where everyone has gathered around Soonyoung’s cubicle to take shots. 

Inside of Seungcheol’s office is dark. The blinds are shuttered so no one can see from the main bullpen inward. Lights glitter beyond the floor to ceiling windows, the city awash in color underneath the light sky, giving the illusion that the world is blanketed in Christmas lights. 

A heavy desk sits in the far side of the room with towering bookshelves behind it. Seungcheol’s monitor is off and his leather chair is pushed into the desk. In front of the desk is a sitting area, equipped with a full leather sofa, glass coffee table, and two arm chairs. 

You go for the sofa, hands shaking as you sit down, pressing the hem of your skirt down your thighs. Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart toward the door when you hear the volume of singing suddenly increase out in the main office. You grin, shaking your head when you realize it’s because Seungkwan has figured out how to use his portable karaoke machine gifted to him by Jeonghan. 

Shadows pass by the window. You stiffen, leaning forward and placing your hands in your lap when Seungcheol opens the door, letting Chan enter first before he slips in after, flipping the lock. Chan immediately stops in his tracks, looking at you before his eyes dart back to Seungcheol. 

Your heart races, watching carefully as Seungcheol starts to undo his tie, slipping a finger underneath the knot to pull it, walking toward you. The action hypnotizes you, your attention solely on him as he finishes undoing it, tossing it onto an armchair before his fingers work the topmost button of his shirt loose.

He sees the nervous look on your face and he wings, his grin lopsided as he rounds the couch to stand behind you. 

“Take a seat,” Seungcheol tells Chan, his hand landing on your shoulder. You react instantly, leaning into the warmth of his hand, nuzzling his forearm a bit. Chan follows Seungcheol’s instructions, his steps slow and full of trepidation. “We don’t bite, Channie.” 

You huff and Seungcheol chuckles darkly in response, amending, “Usually.” 

Chan is the picture of anxiety, wringing his hands in his lap and looking up at Seungcheol through his glasses with wide eyes. His gaze darts to you only for a second before he licks his lips and looks back up at Seungcheol, shifting back and forth in the armchair as he watches the elder. 

“Relax,” Seungcheol laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I told you she had a second part to her gift.”

“The first one is too much,” Chan drops his gaze to you. He picks at his cuticles, showing he’s as nervous as you feel. “You shouldn’t have. The rules were no more than fifty dollars.”

“It was too good not to.” He softens. “I wanted you to have it.”

“You deserve it,” Seungcheol agrees. His hand massages your shoulder, fingers brushing across your skin. You shiver under his touch, watching Chan as his eyes zero in on where Seungcheol’s hand is on your neck. He licks his lips, shifting. “That’s not the only thing she wanted to give you, though.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. You feel skittish, twisting your fingers in the hem of your dress. You and Seungcheol had broached this subject several times before, though this is the first time you’re committing to voicing your thoughts to Chan. 

Suddenly faced with having to give him your proposition, you’re terrified. What if he says no? Worse, what if you upset him or make him uncomfortable? It’s a huge risk, what you’re asking, especially with the position that Seungcheol is in as your boss. 

The weight of how bad of an idea this is hits you fully. You open and close your mouth, unable to voice your offer to him, the question dying on your tongue.

Seungcheol’s fingers are still on your shoulder. He leans down, tilting forward to catch your gaze with his. His eyes are dark and calm, a cool lake undisturbed by anything, a constant you can always look to when you’re afraid to do something. You root yourself in his gaze, letting his proximity wash over you, comforting. 

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself this question isn’t coming out of nowhere. Neither you nor Seungcheol would bring Chan here to the office in the dark, away from everyone else if you weren’t borderline positive what his answer would be. 

“I wanted to um…” Your voice is hoarse, cracking with nervousness. You swallow, dropping your eyes into your lap, feeling both of their gazes. “Jeonghan said you kind of had a crush on us.” 

You peek up at Chan to find him white in the face. His mouth parts in horror and you realize this isn’t going the way you planned, your nervousness driving you to the wrong path. 

Seungcheol sees it too, giving you a gentle squeeze and telling Chan, “What she means, but is very bad at saying because she’s nervous, is that she wanted to give you a taste.” 

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Outside of Seungcheol’s office, you hear Mingyu singing All I Want for Christmas Is You. It feels apt, both you and Seungcheol staring at Chan as he looks back at both of you, mouth parted in surprise, chest rising and falling with how heavy he’s breathing now.

“I don’t… understand,” he says finally, addressing Seungcheol. 

“I think you do.” Chan starts to shake his head and Seungcheol tsks, sending a lick of heat down to your core. You know that voice better than anything, and the sound of it turns the air heady. “You can say no. This is the worst place possible for us to be offering this to you and I understand the implications of it coming from… well me. You’re under no obligation and we can go on pretending it didn’t happen.” 

“Jeonghan didn’t mean to tell me.” you tell Chan. “But when he did… I wasn’t mad. I told Cheol and he was pleased to.” You look up at Seungcheol, who smiles at you affectionately. His hand drifts to the back of your head, cradling it carefully. “He likes you too. And me - I like you.” 

“You like me?” 

You nod eagerly as Seungcheol grips your head and faces you back toward Chan. “So I was thinking… you could have an extra gift. If you wanted it. To see if you liked it.” 

“And what does… a taste involve?” Chan asks the question softly, his eyes flickering between you and Seungcheol. “Help me understand better.” 

“Her,” Seungcheol answers. “Whatever you want.” He pauses and smirks, adding, “You’re not ready for me. So just her… for now, if you want.”

Multiple emotions flit past Chan’s face. Confusion. Fear. Indecision. Anxiety. Desire. 

You see the desire there, the way he settles his eyes on you, dark and swimming with want. He doesn’t move, the silence filling the room as Seungcheol let’s Chan choose. You feel your own desire welling up inside of you, a shy and skittish thing that is perhaps too breakable to be offering this way. 

Chan is your mirror. You can see yourself in him, the want that lurks beneath a shallow surface, a fragile thing that he wants to handle but is too afraid that it’ll shatter. You lift a hand from your lap, reaching forward, palm up. Reaching for Chan, reaching for the thread that connected you since the first day he started. 

Your hand wavers there for a second, an invitation, a moment of vulnerability. Just when you think he’s going to reject you, Chan surges forward slowly, extending his hand toward yours. A smile lights up your face, growing even wider when his fingers tentatively skate over yours, rough and unsure. 

Tugging on him gently, you urge Chan from the armchair toward the couch. He’s like a frightened animal, eyes darting toward Seungcheol like he might intervene when he sits next to you, close enough to smell his juniper cologne but farther than you want him to be. 

Seungcheol lets go of your shoulder, walking around the opposite side of the couch. Chan looks at Seungcheol, alarm on his face. The elder chuckles roughly, sitting on your other side a little ways away and murmuring, “Relax, Channie. I’m just sitting down.” 

To further ease his anxiety, you pull Chan’s hand into your lap, lacing your fingers and squeezing. He looks at your linked fingers, marveling at them. It takes him a moment, but he squeezes your hand in return. 

“Can you look at me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He does. Chan finally looks at you, gaze raw and burning. Your toes curl when you see the amount of want there, the way his need is right on the surface, simmering. His eyes trace your features, scanning your face to the curve of your neck, dipping lower, lips parted as he drinks you in full. 

“What… What now?” He asks, dragging his eyes back up to yours. 

“Try kissing her.” Seungcheol leans back behind you, supervising. His voice is gentle and coaxing. “She likes kissing.” 

Chan looks at you, asking for permission. You smile, nodding eagerly as you tug on his hand. He obeys, sliding closer to you, thigh pressed against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you can feel the heat of his leg wash through you, intoxicating. 

He leans in slowly, his eyes darting toward your mouth as he does. You meet him halfway, breath shaking as you softly press your lips against his. His lips are soft and tentative, nose brushing yours gently. You sigh, leaning into the kiss, making it a little firmer. 

It’s innocent, but you feel the way his fingers tighten in yours, a gentle sound stuck in the back of his throat. You pull away slightly, lashes fluttering open to peer at him. You see your half-lidded eyes in the reflection of his glasses until he opens his eyes.

The urge to have him grows tenfold. Chan’s pupils are blown, the hungry look in his eye raw and real. It makes you surge forward, kissing him for real, letting the hunger for him channel through your mouth. He makes a sound low in the back of his throat, desperate and whiny as you school closer, leg looping over his to keep him in place. 

Letting go of his hand, you bring it up to his face, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth is warm and wet as he kisses you slowly, tasting of champagne and the frosting of the cupcake he had earlier - sweet, just like him. 

Kissing Chan is unlike kissing Seungcheol. Chan is sweet and slow, running his tongue against the seam of your mouth tentatively while his hands go to your thighs, barely giving you a squeeze. Seungcheol’s kisses are demanding and all consuming, bruising your lips as he swallows you whole. 

Parting, Chan kisses the corner of your mouth, hesitating and glancing over your shoulder where he can no doubt see Seungcheol. Seungcheol must reassure him, because Chan smirks and leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Your head falls back, lips parted. His tongue is rough against your skin as he tastes you, a mix of tongue and teeth working toward your neck. Your fingers twist in his hair, blunt nails scraping at his scalp and making him groan quietly. 

“She likes when you bite her a little,” Seungcheol supplies from behind you. You feel the couch shift as he moves closer, his warmth radiating toward you as he settles directly behind you. His voice makes you shiver when he says, “Right under her ear - yeah like that.” 

Chan’s teeth nip at the soft flesh under your ear and you keen, melting at his touch. He grows more confident at the sound, his hands drifting to your waist, squeezing and holding you tight. You lean backward into the heat of Seungcheol, trapped between the two of them. 

It makes you dizzy. Seungcheol is firm behind you, keeping you pressed toward Chan, who is kissing his way to your shoulder, eager for more of you. One of his hands runs up your side, sliding up your arm until it settles on the side of your neck, his fingers gently pulling you to give more access. 

You keen and Seungcheol laughs behind you, muttering, “Hear the little sounds she makes? She loves when you touch her neck.” 

“Mmmm.” Chan presses kisses to the tops of your shoulders, looking up at you through his glasses. “What else does she like?” 

“If you want to see her come apart, eat her out.” Chan moans, burying his face in your neck. You shiver, feeling his hot breath against your spit-slick skin. “Yeah?” Seungcheol laughs. “Dying to taste her, huh?” 

“Fuck,” Chan whispers. He lifts his head from your neck, breathing ragged as he looks at you, cradling your face in his hands. 

You look up at him through your lashes, dazed. He looks so good in the dim light of Seungcheol’s office, his hair a little disheveled, glasses a little eskew. 

“Do you want that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes back and forth across your jaw, pausing to brush along the corner of your lip. You nod eagerly, unable to find the words and tell him that is exactly what you want. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” 

Chan sinks to the ground. Seungcheol plants his foot against the coffee table, pushing it back slowly to give Chan room. The younger looks up at you reverently and you feel your breath catch, watching as Chan settles on his knees, hands reaching to brush gently up your calves.

His touch is like fire. It feels too hot in Seungcheol’s office, sweat collecting on the back of your neck and along your hairline. You squeeze your thighs together at Chan’s gentle touch and he grins up at you, keeping his fingers feather light and teasing as he skims them up your thighs toward your dress. 

Seungcheol leans you against him, pressing his lips to the side of your temple. Chan leans forward, placing an open mouth kiss on your knee. You twitch, knee nearly knocking him in the face. Seungcheol admonishes you softly, reaching down to pry your right leg open and drape it over his, resting his arm over your knee to keep you pried open.

Chan’s hands continue to caress your skin, the drag of his fingers driving you wild. You stare down at him, panting slightly as he looks up at you. He maintains eye contact as he drags his mouth to kiss your inner thigh, watching as you react with a sigh. 

He moves his mouth upward slowly, each kiss firm but gentle, his lips blazing a trail upward. You feel your core ache for him, a hot, throbbing need that makes you whine a little bit, shifting in Seungcheol’s grip. 

Chan pauses but Seungcheol promises, “She’s fine. She’s very needy.” 

A grin splits Chan’s face as he presses another kiss to the softness of your thigh, followed by biting gently. That gets a reaction out of you, your hips twitching upward and your hands shooting to grip the couch with one hand and Seungcheol’s forearm with the other. 

“She loves when you start slow,” Seungcheol murmurs. Chan nods, taking his elder’s guidance in step. His hands creep toward the hem of your dress, hesitating. “Go ahead.” 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when Chan pushes the hem of your dress upward. The newly exposed skin feels cold in Seungcheol’s darkened office. Chan bunches the fabric at your hips and Seungcheol reaches around the back of your waist to hold it in place. 

With one hand on your spread knee and the other locked around your waist, Seungcheol has you pinned. The thought makes your eyes flutter, head tilting back as you watch Chan drink you in, his eyes dropping to the lacy underwear.

His mouth resumes its curious travel, kissing the tops of your thighs as his fingers brush the edges of your underwear. You let out a breathy whine and he smiles but doesn’t stop this time, teasing the crease of your thighs with his devilish finger while he gives a harsh suck to your skin. 

Chan rests his chin atop your thigh, eyes focusing on the wet patch of your under. He dips a hand between your legs, pressing the flat of his thumb against the dark spot on the fabric. You give a high pitched whine, fidgeting in Seungcheol’s grip. Chan grins, wiggling his thumb back and forth a little to apply pressure to your clit.

It is heaven. It is hell. Chan’s eyes drift back and forth from where he teases you to your face, unable to decide which he likes watching more. Seungcheol watches him with a smirk, his hold on you like iron, hot breath fanning your ear as he whispers for you to behave for Chan. 

You want to. You want to more than anything else right now, completely forgetting about the party going on outside the office, forgetting the way you’d been afraid to ask Chan if he wants this, forgetting anything else but the look in Chan’s eyes as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls them down.

Lacy fabric scrapes down your skin slow-soft. It is delicious torture. Chan handles you like you’re something precious, something to be loved and treated with care. Your thoughts turn to static, totally hypnotized by the way he peels your underwear from your legs and tosses them somewhere else. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your glistening cunt, groaning low in the back of his throat at what he sees. 

Chan slides his hands under your thighs, dragging you toward him a little. Seungcheol helps, peppering your face with butterfly-soft kisses as he slides you down the couch. You’re nearly folded in half as Seungcheol adjusts himself so that he’s sitting behind you with you between his legs. He grabs your thighs, hooking them on the outer edges of his knees to keep you open for Chan, who slides closer, licking his lips. 

“Look how wet she is for you,” Seungcheol purrs. You glance up at him. His dark eyes are focused on Chan, mouth twitching in a smirk. “Start slow. She likes you to build up to it.” 

Chan glances at Seungcheol and nods before his eyes fall to you. Dark. Hungry. Wanting. To see your deepest desire reflected in Chan’s eyes makes you insane. You’d only guessed at his affection for you and Seungcheol, but the fierceness of it drives you wild. 

So does his mouth. Chan drags his mouth up your thighs, kissing delicately. You hold your breath, fixated on him as he audibly plants another kiss before he moves to your center, hesitating. You try not to squirm and move closer, try not to force yourself on his mouth.

He can tell. He gives you a cock grin, letting out a huff before dipping forward, running his tongue up your center and oh oh oh. Your head falls back against Seungcheol’s shoulder, breath locked in your chest. Chan’s tongue is warm and wet, sliding up and down your pussy at a leisurely pace.

Then he moans. Your fingers dig into Seungcheol’s thighs, making him hiss. He hooks his chin on your shoulder, watching as Chan’s tongue circles your aching clit slowly before dipping back down. 

You’re burning, melting, disintegrating. Pleasure ripples through you when Chan dips his tongue tentatively into your clenching hole. That earns a loud moan from you. Seungcheol quickly hushes you, reminding you that you can’t be loud with a harsh whisper. 

A whimper falls from your lips. Chan grunts, closing his eyes as he fastens his mouth to your cunt, suckling gently. You throb under his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes misty as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. 

“Like that,” Seungcheol encourages when you thrash. “She likes it kind of messy too - spit on it.” 

Chan is obedient. He dips his tongue into your cunt, gathering arousal before he lifts his mouth, smeared in your slick, and spits directly on your pussy. You let out a loud sound that is cut off by Seungcheol’s mouth on yours, stealing you in a devouring kiss. 

One hand shoots to Seungcheol’s forearm to cling to him, the other to Chan’s hair when he reattaches his mouth. He moans audibly against you, the sound buzzing right through you to the pit of your stomach. He redoubles his effort, licking and sucking at you vigorously now to match the pace of Seungcheol’s tongue. 

They both swallow you whole. It’s overwhelming the best way, Seungcheol pressing you into his chest as he steals the breath from your lungs, Chan pressing your legs further apart as he buries his face between your legs, little sounds of pleasure dripping from his mouth as he loses himself in you. 

Seungcheol parts with you for a moment, lips swollen and pink as he looks down at Chan and grins. He reaches down, running his fingers through Chan’s hair gently, making the younger groan. 

“Look at him,” Seungcheol coos. “He’s been dying to taste you, huh Chan?” 

“Mhmm.” Chan licks a hard stripe from top to bottom. “So fucking good.”

“Tell him how good he’s doing baby,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing his mouth to your ear. “He’s working so hard for you.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp as Chan sucks your clit hard. You thrash in Seungcheol’s lap but he holds you still. Chan pins you down too, fingers gripping your thighs as he gets greedier, flattening his tongue and whipping his head back and forth. “Fuck fuck fuck - Chan.” 

“Just like that, Chan.” Seungcheol keeps running his fingers through Chan’s hair affectionately. “She’s gonna come for you, right baby?” 

All you can manage is a nod. You’re beyond the capacity for words, feeling your orgasm twist low in your stomach as Chan works your toward its peak. It feels like he drags you there screaming, the pressure building as he keeps going and going and going-

You break. Seungcheol’s hand clamps over your mouth and you cry through his palm, hips twitching and legs straining against both of their hands as you cum hard. Chan doesn’t care, pressing even further, drinking you in as your clit pulses in his mouth. 

When you quiet down, Seungcheol lets go of your mouth, hushing you with soft kisses as you whimper. Chan’s tongue busies itself as he leisurely licks your thighs, catching stray drops of arousal. You sag against your boyfriend, panting. He rubs his hands up and down your aching thighs. 

“More,” Chan murmurs, words a little slurred as he presses a sloppy kiss to your thigh. He inches closer to your messy folds, hesitating. “Can you take more? Please tell me you can.”

You nod and Seungcheol hums, pleased. “She can.” 

Looking between your legs, you watch as Chan grabs his glasses and rips them off his face, tossing them somewhere behind him. Your stomach flips at the site, lips parted and gasping when he dives back in, fucking you with his tongue. 

“Shit,” you squeak, hands flying to his hair, wrapping your fingers in his locks and twisting. He doesn’t mind the sting, too focused on you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly. “Fuck, he’s hot. Use your fingers, Channie.” 

Nodding eagerly, Chan complies. He’s eager to comply, bringing a hand up between your legs. You hiss when he slides a finger in, the glide easy from your first orgasm. He removes his mouth from you, panting and lips swollen as his eyes focus on where he gently fucks you with his finger. 

“Another,” Seungcheol recommends. 

Chan does. He slides another finger in, tilting his wrist so that they brush just right. You moan his name, throaty and worn. Chan hums happily, kissing his way back up to your clit where he wraps his lips, sucking gently as he sets a slow pace with his fingers. 

It only lasts for a few moments before his pace increases, feeling the way you squeeze tight around him, hearing the way your breath turns shaky and uneven, watching the way you continue to grow slick with sweat. 

He fixates on your face, sucking at you hungrily in time with his fingers, driving you toward another release. Seungcheol’s mouth finds your jaw, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Again you’re pulled between the two of them, feeling stretched thin and overwhelmed by their mouths.

“I’m gonna,” You gasp, shaking in their grip. They both can tell. Seungcheol bites your neck a little harder, sucking the soft skin between his teeth. Chan turns ravenous, nearly folding you in half as he pushes into you, the wet sounds from his mouth bracketed by your heavy breathing. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Every muscle in your body squeezes with the force of your orgasm. You can’t breathe, stars exploding behind squeezed-shut lids, breath stuck in squeezed-tight lungs. You’re barely able to hear Seungcheol murmuring in your ear, only able to hear the high-pitched ringing as you hit the top of your high, suspended for a moment before you start to come down.

You go boneless against Seungcheol. You feel spent, sucking in breaths of air while Seungcheol rubs his hands up and down your arms and Chan presses butterfly-soft kisses to your inner thighs, his hands rubbing your calves. 

The three of you stay there like that for a bit, quiet in the dark of Seungcheol’s office with the distant singing of your coworkers. You feel a bit floaty and dreamy, stuck somewhere between nearly asleep and happily present. 

Chan shifts and you drop your eyes to him, seeing him looking around, a little unsure what to do. You and Seungcheol notice at the same time, both of you extending a hand to him. Chan’s smile is shy and tentative, taking both of your hands and letting you pull him to his feet to collapse on the couch next to you.

Immediately you squirm toward him, half falling out of Seungcheol’s lap to fall against Chan’s shoulder. He laughs, lifting his arms and hesitating for a second before he wraps them around you. His lips are pink and swollen, still covered in your arousal. 

“That,” you sigh. “Was better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it, though?” he asks, glancing at Seungcheol. “Both of you?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Chan’s mouth, pink tongue darting out playfully. “Mmm. She tastes good.” 

Pink creeps up Chan’s neck and flushes his face. Seungcheol grins and you can tell he’s just as smitten as you, leaning his head against the back of the couch to watch Chan settle down. He drags his fingers in patterns on your arm, eyes losing focus. 

“Was this just for tonight?” Chan asks. There’s a note in his voice that makes you look up at him. You can tell he’s unsure, a little nervous. “Just for giving season or whatever?” 

Your voice is raspy with disuse. “Not if you don’t want it to be. Cheolie and I like you.” 

“Really?”

You lift a hand, brushing strands of hair back into his damp hairline. “Mhm. We want to keep you, if you’ll have us.” 

Chan chews on his bottom lip, contemplating. Seungcheol watches in silence, but you can tell by the way his fingers drum on your thigh that he’s nervous. He might exude calm and confident most of the time, but you know he hopes Chan will say yes - that he’s desperate for it. 

“I think I like that,” Chan says slowly, looking at you both. “I would like that, yeah.” 

Seungcheol grins, closing his eyes as he reaches over and runs a hand through Chan’s hair. “Good. Also - it’s always giving season at our house. So buckle up, Channie.” 

-

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[soapcloth]

Love, and it’s teeth {prologue}

Dark au -> gourmand cannibal!Price x reader

Series CW: 18+ MDNI, cannibalism, stalking {will update as I go}

not edited - 1000 words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Price, for all intents and purposes had not meant to engage in Internet forums on the topic of cannibalism. He would sooner paint a bright red target on his back accompanied by the words ‘I eat people’- and yet, something about the way you defended ‘cannibalism as a metaphor for love’ with your whole chest had piqued his interest.

‘It’s a load of shite, love.’ he typed out simply in response to your post, blunt thumb jamming the send button on his touch screen. His phone buzzed almost instantly with your response.

‘lol, don’t call me love. Just say you lack whimsy and move on 😭 anyways I’m not arguing with an old British man, ‘JohnP1977’’

He scoffed, shoulder bulk shaking as he pawed at his jaw incredulously. He spent the next few minutes typing and deleting as he puffed on one of his cigars; every response coming off far too incriminating. He finally settled for tapping your icon to snoop around your profile, there was no discernible personal information at a glance aside from the fact that you were an adult, but digging into your media tab rewarded his diligence well. There you sat on your bed, oot’d? ooted? Whatever that meant. He grinned, double tapping on the photo.

Like clockwork, his phone buzzed in his hand- a direct message popping up. He smiled, languid and knowing. ‘creep 👎’ was all the message said. ‘Just showing you how whimsical I can get x.’ He responded.

Your typing bubble popped up and subsequently disappeared in a seemingly infinite loop. ‘fine’ you finally sent. ‘what do you have against cannibalism being used as a metaphor for love?’

You- all too cozy in your bed, watched your screen with your lip drawn up past your teeth. ‘Nothing, love.’ He acquiesced ‘Just not realistic, that’s all.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘ok? not exactly going for realism here, buddy’

‘Buddy? We’re friends now? What’s your name, love? Since we’re buddies and all.’

You bit out a weak laugh at his gall. ‘you sound like a serial killer’

‘Would that be okay if I was doing it as a metaphor for love? x’

-

You hadn’t thought much about that man with the blank profile since blocking him after he had spammed you with likes, notably on pictures with places you frequented as the subject. It had freaked you out enough to make you deep clean your little personal account and set to private. The right choice, evidently, seeing as a few blank profiles had requested to follow you before he had finally given up. Soon, over a month had passed since you had resolved not to visit your favourite- that fact well-documented, local bar due to the aforementioned string of incidents.

As luck would have it, this seemed to be a good choice, burnt toast theory or whatever you wanted to sum it up to. It was all over news and radio in your town, two patrons, a man and a woman, had gone missing right after leaving in an unmarked ride share. Reports had suggested that they had gotten into the wrong car and local officials spoke about the possibility of a curfew and urged towards the use of established taxi services and public transportation for those getting around.

You currently sat back at that same bar, a bleeding heart for the poor owners that had lamented in a local social media group about the winter business they relied on to pay the ever-increasing bills all but dying out, putting them out a good chunk of money since investing in higher quality security measures in hopes of instilling greater public trust. You watched the blurry, soundless released cctv footage play on the news between sports game coverage as you sipped on your drink, eyes flitting between the yellowed flatscreen and a group running a trivia night. You sighed, taking another sip as you overheard someone beside you talking about how this whole disaster had been great for his cab business, likening it to a boon.

“Christ, have some respect.” A deep voice grumbled from your other side, causing your head to rip to the new stranger being dismissively jeered at by the offending party. A bearded man had somehow silently slotted himself into the seat to your right without alerting you. Catching his gaze, his eyes appraised you for a moment before he tutted and shook his head. “Distasteful lot they are.” He hissed, “Don’t even know if they’re gone yet.” You huffed out a quiet breath and nodded in response, not too keen on being cordial. His voice carried a proper British lilt, the accent a reminder of your short-lived cyber stalker. “This town always so crass?”

You sniffed and looked back, shrugging. “Maybe, dunno.” You mumbled. Something about this guy gave you the creeps. He was handsome enough, older, well kept, and filling out his wool-lined Levi’s jacket like it had been tailored around his body specifically, but there was something in the way you caught him licking at his teeth and gums out of the corner of your vision- the smile you could make out as he watched the news pop up once more, it twisted your gut- made you feel like it was a mistake coming here.

“Can I grab my tab?” You spoke, flagging down the bartender that you had caught making eyes at the patron beside you. She smiled and nodded, and you desperately wished her face would have hinted that she had caught the same vibes from him that you had, something to make you feel like you weren’t reading into it or making things up. “Leaving?” The man asked as you grabbed your winter coat. You nodded, causing him to dive into his pocket for a well worn wallet, treated hide of some sort. “Let me, love.”

You nodded, the less you’d have to talk to him the better and something told you that he wouldn’t drop it if you had refused, anyway. “Thanks.” You breathed. “Have a nice night.” See you never, hopefully.

“Get home safe.” He replied, grinning with teeth.

[admirationandromantics]

Stormy Confession

Another request! Don't worry, I do have several more in my inbox, but please be patient, they will come eventually! Anyways, hope you enjoy this. As usual, it's not edited, but who cares?

Word count: 1,9k (Unedited)

They’re BEST friends with benefits, so there is already an established chemistry between them. They’re stuck in a snow storm anddd “im totally kidding but im kind of freezing rn and my heater’s busted” so they decided to hook up in josh’s very roomy car, only to realize “hey ik im being dramatic but we COULD die rn so i need to confess that im in love with you…” lmao my writing is so jumbled but i know you could do wonders with this idea!🥹🥹

The wind is getting worse, almost like it’ll tip the car over. Josh is sitting beside me, driving the car, all tensed up by the stress of it. Usually, I would comment on it, but I understand the gravity of the situation. We just need to keep going, we don’t have that far left. 

The trees outside are dark. Gentle snow taking its place on the pine needles. If it weren’t for the storm, I would love it. Luckily, it’s clear enough that we can still see the road, but I wonder how long that’s going to last. 

I check the weather update, but it’ll not clear up until the middle of the night. If we were to stay in the car until then, we would have to climb the mountain in the dark. This is not something I want to do, but I guess at this point, it’s a must. We just have to stay clear of wild animals, navigate in the dark, try not to slip down the path again. 

We were planning to get to Blackwood Mountain and the Washington lodge. Of course, we went a day earlier than the others, planning on cleaning and getting the place ready. What none of us idiots thought about doing, was to check the weather. About halfway there, the snow got worse. It came in quick patches, making driving hard, and freezing up the car. 

“Josh, it’s literally freezing in here, can you turn on the heater?” 

“It’s busted, was gonna get it fixed after the trip” 

“Of course you were” 

I lean back in my seat, pulling up my backpack and taking out my gloves. At least some part of me would stay warm. As we drive on a long straight row, he leans back and manoeuvres the car with his knee, bringing both hands up to his face to blow hot air into them. Poor guy. I remember that he brought some extra outerwear, just wondering where he left them. My thoughts fly to his bag, he couldn’t have placed them in the front, so back it was. I lean over the mid row and back, trying to find his bag in the back seats. 

“Where’s your backpack?” I ask, rummaging through a bunch of stuff. A blanket, some firewood, a plastic bag. Why is there so much stuff here? We don’t need all of it, and I know for a fact that the lodge has large stacks of firewood. 

“Keep looking” he laughs, not bothering to help me. 

“Josh, just tell me where you put it” 

He laughs, one hand going on the back of my thigh, slightly squeezing my flesh. That’s why he’s being difficult. He just wants to tease me. 

“Stop being a perv and tell me” I sigh, not exactly being a fan of my position. He should be busy driving, not checking me out. 

“But I’m enjoying the view” 

“The only view you should be enjoying is the road in front of you” 

I finally notice it, a small backpack with a scarf and gloves sticking out from under the seat. I lean a bit more forward to reach it, earning a whistle from the guy. I roll my eyes, grabbing the clothing and trying to move back. I get halfway before he speaks. 

“Hard swing” 

“Wha-”

The car takes a rough turn, making my body jolt to the side. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Can’t this man drive a little more carefully? If this unplanned storm doesn’t kill us, then he definitely will. I fall to the side, hips landing in his lap, faces against each other. He has that known playful smirk on his lips, proud of his dangerous accomplishment. 

“You good?” 

“You’re insane” 

“Nah, just a good driver” he shrugs his shoulders, trying not to laugh at himself. 

“You’re not a good driver” 

His arms move over me, holding onto the steering wheel in front of him. His eyes finally move to the road, and he keeps driving as if everything’s normal. I try to sit up, but his hands won’t budge, leading to me falling down again. 

“Josh, if you would be so kind” I force a tight smile, nodding to the caging arms. He looks down, the playful smirk still covering his lips as he thinks. 

“Do you have my gloves?” 

“Indeed I do” 

“Put them on me” 

I look at him in disbelief, what was he, a child? He can easily do that himself. I shake my head, laughing a little at the situation. No way am I going to do that. He has one hand on the wheel, the other held out to me. I roll my eyes, deciding that this is enough. 

I try to get up yet again, but this time, his empty hand finds my chest and pushes me down into him. I give a loud and dramatic sigh, which makes him fully reveal that stupid laughter of his that he’s kept in. 

“You know I could sue you for this?” 

“I can sue you too, disrupting the driver” 

“You made this happen” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” 

I give in, laying against him and relaxing while he drives. No way am I going to be his servant. He’s not that rich. We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, both just minding our own thing. 

Just now, I realise how much warmer I feel while brushing against him. Body heats colliding as he holds me close. A cozy and sleepy murmur comes over me, and I close my eyes, drifting away as we continue driving off. 

***

I press my eyes forcefully together, opening them little by little. The outside is darker than before, and Josh’s still driving into the night, eyes focused on the road. I stretch, giving a yawn at the same time. He shifts his gaze, a smile immediately finding his lips. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t Ms. Sleepy” 

“How long have I been gone?” 

“Around half an hour” 

I nod in reply, head turning to the dark forest and snowy rocks. We were almost there now. 

“And no death yet, I’m impressed” I comment, sitting up as high as he allows me. 

“Wind almost took the car about 10 minutes ago” 

My eyes widen in surprise. Is the weather really that bad? Shouldn’t we stop and wait for it to pass? The thought of it scares me, after all, the mountains this time of year are not that safe as everyone makes them out to be. I mean, if we’re in the lodge, it’s okay. But we’re not. We’re in a moving vehicle, which almost got flipped by the wind. 

“Hey, don’t worry. We’re almost there” 

I nod again. The parking lot is a bit more secluded than the road, so the wind won’t be as strong. But how’re we getting up to the lodge? The cable car is already a death trap, no way I’m going to sit in it during the storm. 

A road hole makes me yelp, body jolting up and down. I automatically grab hold of his arm, steadying myself. His lips thins as he bites them, eyes forced on the road. His breathing changes, big stuttering inhales as if to calm himself down. 

“Josh, are you okay?” 

He doesn’t look down on me, instead his vision is on the path ahead. His knuckles are white from gripping the wheel, and I glimpse a vein popping and going under his jacket. What’s going on with this guy? 

We finally swing into the parking lot, and he parks the car and turns off the engine. We sit in silence, both unsure about our next move. With his arms not in the way, I finally sit up. I grab his shoulder for help, and he takes his arm to my back for support. 

“I don’t think we should go to the lodge yet” he comments, looking out to the cable car station. 

“I know, we’d probably be blown to bits” 

“That’s one way of putting it” 

His other hand goes to my waist, pressing me down on him. That’s when I feel it. He’s hard, very hard. He’s been since the road hole. 

“Are you struggling a bit, Josh?” a smile creeping up on my lips. Oh, how pleasant to finally have some of the power. 

His hand goes to my hair, brushing it away. 

“Oh, you have no idea” 

His head moves closer, fingers gliding over my cheek. He’s cold, extremely cold. It’s like gracing ice taps against my skin. I pull away, taking his hands in mine and warming them.

“You’re freezing” 

“Better do something about it then” 

He moves into me, capturing my lips in his. I respond, opening my mouth a little and licking his lower lip. I don’t forget about his hands though, and carefully puts his gloves on them as we keep going. I change positions, and he helps me, letting me straddle him in the driver's seat. His hands go to my ass, kneading and caressing. I moan into the kiss, which he uses as an opportunity to stick his tongue in my mouth. He fiddles with something behind me, and before I know it, ice-cold fingers make their way down my pants, holding my cheeks. I gasp, the shocked feeling being overcome. This was extreme, why hadn’t he said something about it before. He chuckles against my lips, mouth moving to my jaw and neck, leaving sweet kisses all over. The wet spots get instantly cold when he moves away, and I shutter. 

“W-we should not do this here” 

“I know, I know” 

“We’re going to freeze to death” 

“A bit dramatic are we?” 

“J-Josh” he stops in his tracks, lips glossy and eyes lustful. We both know that we can’t start undressing. With the heater not working, and the snow storm getting worse, that’s the last thing we should be thinking about. God, how dizzy the whole situation makes me feel. I don’t want to be down here. I want to be up in the lodge, alone with him, in front of the fire. 

“Or get eaten by wolves” 

“No we’re not”

“What if an elk attack the car?” 

“We’re not a threat to them” 

“If we’re going to die, I need to confess something” 

“We’re not going to die”

“Five more minutes and your fingers would snap off as easily as bending a carrot” 

“True, but-” 

“Josh…” I put my glove-covered finger over his mouth, stopping his sweet remarks. If there was a time to say it, it had to be now, before we both froze to death, in his car, to be found tomorrow morning by the others. 

“I love you. And I know, we’ve had this whole deal or something where we’ve had sex, and yeah I mean several times, but that’s not the point because I couldn’t stop myself, and please don’t stop seeing me as a friend after this, I promise I’ll get over it, but it’s just something I need to get off my chest or else I can die and not-” 

He shuts me up with a kiss. Hands still on my ass, pressing me deeper against him. 

“Fucking hell, you talk a lot” 

“You already know that about me” 

“Just shut up and kiss me”

[ectonurites]

SUPER DARK TIMES (2017) DIR KEVIN PHILLIPS

[supercantaloupe]

i am not immune to marketing gimmicks (<- just bought limited edition cocoa flavor online)

[kaisollisto]

[front-facing-pokemon]

[sysig]

Everything day

[inkykeiji]

good morning i spent $90 on tokrev volumes yesterday because i was on the hunt for this singular gorgeous image <333

i dragged my boyfriend to the bookstore on an obsessive, borderline deranged mission to find and subsequently own (in some capacity) this photo. and now i do!! plus two more omnibus’ i didn’t need (except i really did need them, because they’re so beautiful and i’m so glad to have them on my bookshelf now *。ヾ(｡>ｖ<｡)ﾉﾞ*。)

[orcelito]

nnnnnnnnnnnothing like big big spider on my blinds (crawling on my blinds) at night (at night) big and crawling on my blinds (at night) and knowing i have to deal with it but it is big and crawling on my blinds (at night) and i dont want to break my blinds (at night) and i dont want to break my items sitting UNDER my blinds, but it is big and crawling on my blinds (at night) so i have to deal with it anyways

i. got it. with. a combination Chemical And Box attack. lskdjflskdjf my fabric spray was sitting on my desk (under my window) (where the spider was crawling on my blinds) (at night) and so. opportunistic.

i sprayed it. it fell. I Slammed It.

spider is dealt with. but i had to go into another room bc i was making the most deranged laughter out of nerves and adrenaline.

god im so bad at dealing with spiders.

[kuromi-hoemie]

i can't believe i used all my tags on this. i have MORE TO SAY. honorable mentions i will not elaborate on: pikmin, runescape, OG animal crossing.

the reason for all my tags is because there's a difference between "most fun" and "most important" and feel like if they're important u should at least say why :3

[blkkizzat]

*TURN SOUND ON & UP :)

JJK MEN (GOJO, TOJI, CHOSO, GETO, SUKUNA, NANAMI) X READER

case files: doppelgänger curses have been running rampant and causing chaos around tokyo impersonating everyday civilians including sorcerers. jujutsu society has set up veils and your boyfriend has given you strict orders not to lower them to let anyone in the house but him—but how do you know if it’s really even him?

report notes: I love this game! If you haven't played go play a few rounds @ thatsnot-myneighbor[DOT]io (it’s free and all online). —last up: Sukuna!

kinktober 2023-2024 m.list | original teaser

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝙱𝙾𝚁𝚂 𝙱𝙾𝚈𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚂:

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟷........... THE STRONGEST

alias: 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘, 𝚜.

visitor log: its midday and your clingy-ass boyfriend—gojo satoru—should be hard at work right getting rid of these doppels not knocking at your door—gotta be a fake... right?!

classifications: bimbo!reader (canonverse of otaku!gojo's bunny!reader), yandere-esque Gojo, nipple play, recorded sex, lots of sex toys, dirty talk, panty theft, extreme overstim + slight omorashi.

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟸........... THE SORCERER KILLER

alias: 𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚘, 𝚝.

visitor log: an extra toji fushiguro should be double the trouble and double the fun but neither likes to share, you know for sure which ones your toji—but do you really even care?

classifications: bratty!reader, brat taming, breeding, baby trapping, hair pulling, spit play + creampies, jealousy, grump!toji, daddy kink

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟹........... THE CULT LEADER

alias: 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚘, 𝚜.

visitor log: you shouldn't have even been watching the gate bunny, that's much too hard for you! so when you inevitably fuck up, your cult leader boyfriend—geto suguru—has the perfect punishment planned for you and your pretty pussy wait..in front of his entire congregation tho!?

classifications: dumb bimbo!reader, canonverse of nerd!geto's bunny!reader, cult rhetoric, dark themes, sensory deprivation/amaurophilia, punishment, humiliation, shibari, edging, overstim, exhibitionism, toxic jealousy, possessiveness, yandere Suguru, drugged sex, cnc/free-use reader, mentions of orgies/group sex and a bit of forced breeding.

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟺........... THE SORCERER SALARYMAN

alias: 𝚗𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚒, 𝚔.

visitor log: your sweet boyfriend, nanami kento, promised he'd come visit you tonight bunny. awe baby, don't cry, you're sure that's actually him at the door but you'll run through your checklist just to make sure, won't you?

classifications: error 404—case report not found (finalizing)

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟻........... THE BIG BROTHER

alias: 𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚘, 𝚌.

visitor log: crazed with quarantine boredom, you can't help but to tease your naive lil' roommate—choso kamo—but you'll know when to stop before it goes too far—or have you already let the real Choso in?

classifications: mommy kink, affectionate cruelty/cuteness aggression, begging, teasing, virgin!choso, creampies, masturbation, panty theft, mentions of menophilia.

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟼.......... THE KING OF CURSES

alias: 𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊, 𝚛.

visitor log: thinking no curse would be stupid enough to enter his palace, when the king of curses comes home to find you fucking his doppel it's not going to end well for either of you—R.I.P. your pussy sis, any last words?

classifications: error 404—case report not found (finalizing)

𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃𝚂 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙸𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝙳.𝙳.𝙳. 𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙱𝙻𝙺𝙺𝙸𝚉𝚉𝙰𝚃

— 𝙳𝙴𝙿𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙵𝙵𝙰𝙸𝚁𝚂: 𝚂𝙼𝚄𝚃 𝙳𝙸𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽.

xoxo 💋

report notes: yo so this was meant to be about 4k total and instead it turned out to be 4k per story so i'm breaking it up (fully completed 3 and making last minute edits on the others, so staggering them out). Consider this a kinktober all on its own lol (still doing stuff left over from last years though). btw—everyone who asked on my official taglist, kinktober or the teaser will still be tagged on each individual story but you can comment below if you haven't asked to be tagged already.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

[robo-writing]

NSFW Alphabet - Logan Howlett Edition

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Reader Warnings: AFAB pronouns, breeding mention, pet names, bodily fluids, p in v actions, no protection, overall horniness, 18+ MDNI. Author's Note: This man is renting space in my synapses, send help.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is so gentle with you, it almost makes you feel like you’re made out of glass. He prefers to hold you close once you’re thoroughly satisfied, enjoying how your body folds into him to be as close as possible.

If you ask him for water and snacks he’s gone within the second, bringing you whatever you need, and then immediately putting you back on his lap so he can feed you. Don’t argue with him on this, he won’t take no for an answer.

You collapse against the sheets with a sigh, legs still shaky from Logan’s excellent bedside service. You’re practically boneless when he pulls you onto his chest, the dark hair tickling your cheek as he cages you in his embrace.

“Logan, I’m sweaty—“

“Do I look like I give a damn princess?” He grumbles, his hands reaching down to smooth over your hair. “Just let me take care of you, alright?”

Your whining is just for show and he knows this, a small part of you feeling guilty because he always treats you with such respect. He’s not sure what kind of assholes you’ve been dating before but he’s damn certain he’ll be the one to teach you how you should be treated.

You melt in his arms, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his large hands running down your back. His voice cuts through the silence, far more gentle than you’re used to. 

“Need anything else doll?” He asks, to which you shake your head. 

No, tonight you just need him. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s an all around man, asking him that is like asking a man to choose between air and food to survive.

He loves playing with your tits, loves biting at the swell of your breasts before sucking on them, loves burying his face in the valley of them—

He loves using your thighs as an anchor when he eats your pussy, rolling his eyes when they squeeze around his head—

He loves the sight of your ass bouncing back when he fucks you into the mattress, the sound of your combined hips ringing loudly in his head—

He really just loves you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It only took one time for him to be utterly addicted to your pussy. He refuses to cum anywhere that isn’t inside you at least once, just the sight of it falling from your abuser cunt has him going back for seconds. The sloppy sound of your juices and his cum as he thrusts into you is like asmr.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Masochist to the extreme. You kind of had a feeling with the way he shrugs off pain but you didn’t know how bad it was until you scratched him just a bit too hard while getting your guts rearranged. 

Your nails dig into the meat of his arms, a deep-seated groan erupting from the back of his throat at the feeling. Immediately you look down to see the angry red marks left behind that heal within seconds, an apology on your lips interrupted by his voice growling in your ear.

“Do that again.”

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

The man is over two hundred years old, he lays down pipe like a master plumber. Knows all your spots better than you do, knows exactly what gets you going because he can practically taste the arousal in the air. Those senses of his are no joke.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary so he can see your face, doggystyle so he can fuck a hole into the mattress and breed you. 

Prefers missionary normally if only for the fact that when he puts even half his full weight on your body you’re forced to lie there and take it, unable to so much as squirm while he fucks you within an inch of your life. Enjoys doggy when the beast inside needs to scratch a particular itch that only seeing you ass up with cum dripping down your thighs can reach.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

A wholesome 50/50 of being love-struck and horny, he has his moments of laughter but they’re almost always immediately followed by pure lust. You’d think he’d be super serious all the time but he’s surprisingly gentle. He prefers to watch you enjoy yourself, he’s much more of a service top in that regard.

Want him to eat you out until you’re pushing his head away? Want him to fuck you nice and slow, keeping you right on the edge? Whatever your flavor is, he’s down for a taste.

That’s not to say he doesn’t have his rough moments as well. It’s very easy for him to lose himself so he tries not to go overboard for your safety, but if you ask him to let loose he’s not going easy on you. Just remember when you wake up unable to walk that you asked for this.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Not groomed at all, just an overall hairy man. He’s got the prettiest happy trail from his navel to his dick that makes his eyes roll when you drag your nails across it. If it made you uncomfortable he’d make an effort to trim.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very intimate, wants you to know just how much you mean to him. Even when he’s being rough with you he makes sure that your comfort is priority. Talks you through it.

You’re face down, ass up, just the way he likes it. Your thighs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm, pussy practically drooling for him as your slick dribbles down the plushness of them.

It’s a sight that Logan could never get tired of. 

His fingers rub soothing circles around your sensitive clit, gathering your wetness between two fingers and listening to your breath hitch when he replaces them with his cock, lightly prodding at your entrance.

“How we feelin’ princess?” He asks, coating his length with your juices. 

You mumble praise into the pillow, and sure he can hear it with his enhanced senses, but that’s not the point—he wants you loud and clear.

Gently he lifts you off the bed, a strong arm around your waist as he rocks himself between your swollen folds, lips trailing at your ear as your head rolls back.

“Come on doll, I need to be able to hear you,” he breathes. “Tell me what you want.”

Your hands grab at his arm, a desperate whine on your lips. “Fuck me, please.”

His chuckle reverberates in your ear. “That’s my girl.”

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he was younger and still learning how to fight his animal instincts, absolutely. Nowadays he doesn’t really think about it, but occasionally Logan will struggle with keeping his thoughts off of you, especially when you’re wearing something nice and he doesn’t have the time to drag you back to the bedroom. 

He’d prefer if you were the one touching him, but his hand will do for now, if at the very least to hold him over until you get home.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise - Like mentioned before, adores talking you through it. Favorite nicknames for you are princess, baby, and sweetheart, and his voice in your ear is like heaven.

Pain Kink - BIG masochist. Use him like a scratching post, he loves it. He’ll never admit it but if you bite his lip hard enough to bleed he’ll moan like a whore.

Primal Play - Come on now, the man is an animal at the best of times and downright feral at the worst. This extends beyond the bedroom too, he’s very protective of his mate girlfriend and would move mountains for her.

Breeding - This is an extension of his primal play, he adores filling you up with his cum, whether or not you get pregnant. Something about the sight of it just screams at him like a claim that only he can give you. It’s his cum that paints your pussy, and no one else gets to have that honor.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Ideally the bedroom but he’s one of those people that couldn’t care less, if he wants you he wants you. It’s going to be up to you to be the voice of reason, and if that fails? Better learn to keep your volume down.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Domestic acts, making him feel like a normal man rather than the weapon the world wants him to be. 

Making him breakfast? His hands are playing with your hips the whole time, whispering sweet nothings against the skin of your neck, swaying to the imaginary rhythm he sets. Cleaning the countertops? He drapes his wide frame across your back, pinning you to the cold granite while he tells you how good your ass looks in your pants, heavy hands making it known just how much he appreciates your attire. Bring him breakfast in bed in nothing but an apron? He’s pulling you into the sheets and not letting you go until you’re screaming his name.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As much as a masochist he is, the last thing he’d ever do is hurt you. The most you could ever convince him to do is manhandling you or spanking, but the moment he senses anything but enjoyment he’s on his knees apologizing.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Y’all remember what Doja Cat said about big noses? 

If he passes out between your legs he’ll die smiling, if he makes you pass out then he’s never going to let you hear the end of it. Very likely to overstimulate you until you’re pushing him off you, only to pin your hips down and keep on going. Enjoys palming your thighs and burying his face as far into your pussy as he can, his philosophy is if you can still speak he’s not doing well enough.

As for him, he becomes so submissive when you suck him off. It’s the only time he’s guaranteed to let you take the reins, he prefers watching you work rather than taking over. Tucks your hair back, strokes your head, whispers how good you make him feel and how your mouth feels like heaven. When he cums he’ll ask you to open your mouth before swallowing and the sight of your cum-stained lips gets him hard like nothing else.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Normally very sensual, can easily change with the drop of a hat. Long, deep strokes that reach all the right places and make you see stars. Massive service top vibes, one of those lovers that always knows what you need at the moment (he totally can’t hear your heart pounding in your chest, no sir.)

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes, and proud to admit it too. Always promises that he’ll be quick, but it never is. He can’t help it, y’know? You make him feel too good.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes, but the catch is you have to tell him. You can throw him every hint in the world but he won’t so much as touch you until you use your words. Logan likes hearing how desperate you are, he’s a bit mean like that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Why would you ever bother asking that? His limit is when you decide to tap out, if even that. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Didn’t really understand and thought you were insulting him at first by offering to use toys in the bedroom. It wasn’t until you gave him a show that he realized just how much he was missing before.

If anything, he doesn’t feel the need to use them on you, but loves watching you use them on yourself.

The small toy buzzes in your hand, the sound of it ringing loudly in the four walls you call a bedroom. Soft sighs accentuated by needy whines, baby pink sheets snaking around your soft thighs, the muffled sounds of your moans when you bite your lip—

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Logan says, mesmerized at the view, eyes glued to where the vibrator meets your swollen clit. He palms at the tent in his jeans, cock twitching when your back arches off the bed with a cry of his name.

He can fucking smell it—your arousal, your need—it makes him drunk, intoxicated off your pleasure. It makes his throat go dry, makes him want to crawl over you and keep you locked beneath him, greedily wringing out every last bit of it.

Your voice cuts through the fog of carnality, a gentle distraction from the beast that threatens to break loose with every passing second.

“Enjoying the view?”

He can only bring himself to nod.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s such a fucking tease it’s unreal, but he’s also very impatient. It leads to moments where you’ve been edged for so long that tears are brimming your eyes, and when you look at him with those puppy-dog eyes he can’t bring himself to hold off any longer, all previous plans discarded in favor of folding you in half and exposing your puffy cunt to his hungry gaze.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He gets louder and louder the longer you go on as his animal side overpowers him. He’s no stranger to noise but when he’s deep inside you he can’t help but resort to grunts and growls of your name, makes it known just how good you feel wrapped around his cock.

I personally like the idea that because of his mutation he follows mating rituals like real wolverines do, so if you’re into that he’s extra loud during mating season, to the point that he has to bury his face into your neck or else the whole building will hear him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Likes it when you wear his clothes because they smell like you afterward. Encourages you to do so, and maybe hides your shirts during laundry day as an excuse (but he’ll never admit it.) When you’re not around he’ll even hold the fabric to his nose and take a deep inhale, imagining it was you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As mentioned before, an overall hairy man. Strong muscles with a healthy layer of fat, likes to laugh at you when you bury your face between his tits because they’re nice and soft.

When it comes to his dick he leaves nothing to be desired—it’s heavy, like real heavy. Nice and girthy with a fat tip that makes your breath catch in your chest every time he glides it in, the slap of his balls against your ass soon following suit. A nice pretty pink with a couple of veins running throughout.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Always when he’s around you, but trained enough to know there’s a time and place. If he had his way you’d never leave his house, but that’s also his protective nature talking.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Likes watch you fall asleep first to make sure you’re safe and sound—a bit paranoid and overprotective in that sense, but he can’t really help it. You’re the best thing that’s happened to him, so it calms him down to know that you’re not going anywhere. Once he’s sure you’re alright he’ll go to sleep, preferably with you on his chest.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here?

Summary: Things aren't going as smoothly as anyone would like. Maybe they can fix it. Maybe they can't.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,723 words

Warnings: Angst, discussion of nightmares, PTSD, discussion of death and killing people, emotions, so many emotions, angst, a little sliver of comfort

A/N: And it is back!! not super proud of this one but I'm starting out on a filler so...yeah. Really just setting up for the next part where some action starts again. You'll see. Anyway, glad to be back at it and I hope you enjoy!

11/30/24: **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

John stands at the door, gazing out at the yard. It’s pouring rain, dumping buckets on the roof. The water has pooled on the planks of the deck, splattering with every big drop that pours from the sky. The weather once again mirrors your mood, your sobs audible from your room over the pounding on the roof. 

John holds his mug in his hands, staring at the reflection in the window. Kyle and Johnny are sitting on the couch, both looking like kicked puppies. They’re itching to enter your room and go comfort you, but they’ve been kicked out for now. You’re not in the state of mind to be around any of them right now, no matter how badly your sobs tear at their heartstrings. 

You haven’t been in that state of mind for a few hours now. 

Whatever nightmare had plagued your mind last night, it was particularly awful. You’ve been up since the early hours, waking from a nightmare with a terrified scream that had continued until Kyle finally got you to stop and breathe. His ears are still ringing with it, his mind still pulsing with that fear. Something happened. Someone got in. Someone hurt you. 

Nothing happened. No one got in.  

The only threat was still just in your mind. 

Graves. 

He knows that’s at least part of your nightmares. Christine had disclosed that to him quietly on the side. Even she doesn’t know everything that plagues your dreams, but Graves seems to be a common specter in the darkness of your mind. 

It makes his blood boil, and not just out of anger for what Graves did to you. 

It boils with anger at himself too. 

It’s his fault you’re in this state in the first place. He should have known, he should have seen, he should have suspected. He should have never left you there. You should have been his priority over anything else. 

How badly he’s failed you. 

He lets out a sigh, turning away from the window to move over to the couches. He sinks down with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees. The little progress you’ve made has regressed with this new string of nightmares, the fear pushing you further and further back into your mind. He’s resolved himself to only get worried when Christine is worried, and right now she’s beginning to look worried. If you regress back again, the chances of bringing you out of that are slim. Sure, there are plenty of options to help, but you have to want them to help. 

He knows exactly what will help, you just don’t want it. 

He runs a hand through his hair as your sobs begin to quiet. It’s longer than he’s let it get for a long time. They’re all a bit scraggly and ragged looking, worn down and lazy now that there’s no strict rules guiding their lives. None of them quite know what to do outside of the regulations they’ve spent the better parts of their lives living under. He’s been in the military longer now than he hasn’t, and he’s been finding himself itching for that structure again. He can never bring himself to relax and put the job aside even on leave. He only takes it when he has to and usually spends it training and keeping his skills sharp. 

Now...now things have changed. 

They have no return now. There’s no clear, set time that they have to return to base. They can’t return to base. It would leave them too open to a possible retaliation from Shepherd. They were betrayed by one of their own already, who's to say someone else wouldn’t be just as eager to become a traitor for a chunk of cash? They’re not even truly safe here. 

How are they going to go back to base after this? Can he bring himself to take you back there, a place you never felt comfortable in the first place? 

Where do they go from here? 

He’s been trying not to think too much about it. That’s a dilemma for a different day. That’s thinking too far ahead. Day by day is as far as he dares to take it now. 

The door closes quietly, John’s head lifting to watch Christine as she approaches the couch. There’s a slump to her shoulders, something that’s been getting lower and lower as the days have progressed. She’s struggling with this just as much as they all are. 

She sinks down on the couch, letting out a long breath. Your sobs have quieted, no sound coming from the room now. The silence is almost eerie after days of constant sounds, good and bad, from your room. You were doing better. You were looking more alive and well. 

Then this happened. 

“She’s asleep.” Christine says, her voice strained. “Finally calmed down enough to nap.” She covers her eyes with a hand, sitting there still for a moment. 

“The nightmares?” John asks, glancing at Christine out of the corner of his eye. 

“Worse.” She says, her gaze far away. “She's remembering what happened.” 

John stares at Kyle and Johnny for a moment, the betas returning his worried gaze.

“Those shadows she killed...” Johnny says.

Christine nods. “She's, uh, not taking it well.” 

John runs a hand over his face. He knew it was possible you'd start to remember what happened during the time your omega took control. It wouldn't remain a dark spot forever, though he hoped it would. The things you were forced to do are coming to light now, the things you did to survive because they failed you. Taking the life of someone who deserves it is nothing to them. Taking the life of someone who would take yours just as quickly isn't so much as a second thought. 

You're not like them. 

You've never had to face that reality before, and you shouldn't have had to. 

“One of us should talk to her.” Kyle says.

“I don't think that's the best idea right now.” Christine shakes her head. “She's...regressed a bit. Pushing that on her, while well intentioned, might do more harm than good...” she trails off, her gaze still far away. 

The three of them sit there, waiting for what she’s going to say next. He’s not even sure Johnny or Kyle are breathing as they wait patiently for whatever solution Christine might be able to come up with, whatever move she thinks is the best one to take next. 

“I want to take her out.” Christine says. 

“What?” John asks in surprise. 

“She needs to get out of the house. It’s not doing any of us any good sitting in here all day.” She rubs her eyes. “She expressed interest in going for a walk a couple days ago. She needs to get up and moving, start regaining some of her strength.” 

John lets out a breath leaning back against the couch. He’s tempted to say no. His knee jerk reaction is to refuse. The world outside isn’t safe. If anyone is watching, if anyone sees them...

There’s always going to be that risk though, and Christine is right. Sitting in the house all day isn’t doing any of them any good. They’re at the mercy of the rain, but even then, he doubts it will keep any of them trapped inside for long. 

“When the rain clears up.” He finally says. “We'll discuss it more. But, I think that might be a good idea.” 

“What can we do?” Kyle asks, staring at Christine. 

She lets out a sigh, covering her eyes with her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve helped hundreds of omegas in crisis and yet I don’t know why this case is so hard.” 

“This has become more personal than those cases.” John says. 

Christine’s shoulders slump even more. “I know. I try so hard but she’s just so...different from other omegas.” 

“This entire situation is different from what you’ve done before.” Kyle says. 

“You’re right.” Christine sighs. “The best we can do is let her lead. Do what she needs, give her what she wants. The worst thing that can happen right now is regression. If she regresses too far, we might never get her back.” 

“What is it? Tell me what ye need.” 

“Can you make me forget?” 

“I wish I could.” 

“Hit me hard enough on the head I might forget everything. Then we can all just start over.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“Kitten,” Johnny sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I wish I could make those thoughts go away. I wish I could make them mine.” 

“I killed people.” 

“I know.” He reaches out, touching your hand. “I wish ye didnae have to. Ye were just defending yerself. Those Shadows would have done worse to ye if ye hadn’t.” 

You curl up in your chair, turning away from him. “That’s not helpful.” 

“Sorry.” He says, letting out another sigh. “We just want to help ye.” 

You’re silent for a moment, sitting there listening to the waves. It’s cold this morning, not even the thick blanket draped over you offering much respite. It’s the first morning it hasn’t poured rain in days and you were determined to take full advantage of it despite the objections of your pack. 

“I know.” You finally say, staring out at the grey clouds looming on the horizon. The rain will return, just like the dark thoughts constantly swirling in your mind. They make you sick, nausea constantly churning in your stomach and threatening to rise. 

Johnny wraps his hand around yours, his palm warm against your cold skin. “Should head inside. Gonnae catch a cold.” 

“You know that’s a myth right?” You say, tilting your head to stare at him. 

“No it’s not.” He says, pulling your hand between his. “It’s not good for ye being out in the cold.” 

“I’ll live.” You say, trying to pull your hand from his, but he holds you firm. He’s stubborn, but so are you. 

“Kitten...” He says, almost whining at you. “Go inside please.” 

You let out a sigh, staring out at the horizon again. The clouds promise more rain soon, another downpour on its way. You hate it, how much it’s been raining. You just want to be outside, down at the beach, going on walks. Your pack won’t let you though, not while it’s raining, even though they often leave no matter the weather. 

It’s not fair. 

You’re not a fragile flower and you’re tired of being treated that way. Even though your brain feels like it’s in a blender constantly. Even though the pain of what happened still drives into you like a knife, you just want to be treated like a normal human being again. 

“Fine.” You sigh, pushing yourself up to stand. “I’ll go inside.” 

Johnny grabs your arm before you can head back in the door. “Ye know we just want the best for you.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, emotions swirling in your mind. They are trying. You’ll give them that credit. They’re trying, but not hard enough. “What you think is best and what’s actually best isn’t always the same.” 

He looks like a kicked puppy as he lets you go. You turn away before you can feel guilty, heading back inside the cottage. 

You pull the blanket tighter around you as you stare at the flickering flames in the hearth. The heat is intense so close, but it’s warming the chill under your skin. It’s getting colder at night, foretelling the upcoming winter. All the blankets in the world couldn’t fight off the chill that’s settled in you at night. You know what might help, but you’re not brave enough to approach that solution. 

The footsteps on the stairs don’t startle you in the otherwise silent house, the creak of them audible over the crackle of the logs in the fire. 

“I’d add another one.” A voice says from behind you. 

“I’m going to.” You say, reaching for the stack next to the fireplace. 

“Careful. Put it on the side.” 

“I know how to make a fire, thank you.” You snap, shoving the log in before moving it into place with the poker. “I’m not useless.” 

“Didn’t mean to imply you were.” It’s silent for a moment as you settle back into place. “What are you doing out here?” 

“I’m cold.” You answer simply, not feeling up to giving an entire expose on your current state of mind to the person you want to speak to the least right now. 

“We can turn the heat up more.” John says. “Whatever you want to be more comfortable.” 

I want you to leave. You bite your lip, suddenly not brave enough to say it out loud. 

They are trying. 

“Why are you down here?” You ask instead. 

“Couldn’t sleep so I came to get a snack.” He says. “You want anything?” 

“No.” You say quickly, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. “I’m alright.” 

“You sure?” He presses, standing off to your right. 

You hesitate for a moment, curling your toes under the blanket as one of the logs snaps. It’s not food you need from him. Your appetite has decreased again with this new wave of horrible things plaguing your mind. You want answers. 

“I want to know why you decided to leave, why you went on that mission and left me when you knew things were not right.” 

John shifts on his feet behind you, the wood floor creaking just slightly. He’s silent for a long moment, so long you almost think he’s walked away. 

“I was too trusting. I got caught up in the mindset of a soldier and chose to trust my superiors when I knew I shouldn’t have. I wanted to send you somewhere else, to stay with Kate, but things didn’t work fast enough to make that possible. I shouldn’t have just left you there, even with Johnny and Simon. It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare into the fire. At least he knows he made a mistake. At least he thought up other plans, but that doesn’t excuse the fact he did nothing and just left you there so easily. 

Another question burns at the forefront of your mind. You think back to that conversation with Dr. Keller just a few days ago. You want to trust her, you know you can trust her. She’s given you no reason not to. She wouldn’t lie, even if the rest of your pack did. 

“You really didn’t leave me with Graves?” The words slip out before you can stop them, spilling forth from your lips, revealing part of those inner thoughts that have plagued you for the last few hours. 

“I would never have left you with him.” John says, the floorboards creaking as he takes a couple steps forward. “As soon as we found out we turned around and went to Kate’s safehouse. She was already looking for you. We did everything in our power to find you as quickly as we possibly could.” 

The tears start sliding down your cheeks as you sit there, taking in his words. They’re spoken with such conviction and match what Dr. Keller had told you. Some deep, dark part of your brain wants to think it’s all a lie that they’ve conjured to try and make you feel better about everything, to try and jumpstart the healing process. Yet, at the same time you want to believe they are telling the truth. 

Your other option is to trust Phil and what he said to you. For all you know, everything he said was a lie. Some sick justification to torture you as some kind of revenge towards your pack. Maybe it was all about revenge. 

Who can you trust more? Phil, or your alpha. 

Maybe if you had just held on a little bit longer. Maybe if you hadn’t believed Phil’s lie, you could have saved yourself the terror of letting your omega take over. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to take that risk and corrupt yourself with blood-stained hands. From what you can remember and have managed to weasel out of Dr. Keller, they were right behind you. A few more minutes and maybe none of it would have had to happen. 

Maybe you did do the right thing in the end. Phil might have ordered his men to kill you as soon as they arrived. Maybe they would have done it as soon as Simon and Johnny entered the room. Saving yourself might have been your only option. 

Those men would have killed you or worse. You did what you had to do. 

You’re shaking. The tears are cascading down your cheeks, warmed by the heat of the fire. You’re crying, your breaths nearly hyperventilating as you sob quietly. 

“Talk to me.” John says as he kneels down beside you. 

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, your knuckles white where they’re gripping the edges of the blanket. The words are coming out and you can’t stop them. Maybe it’s because deep down you remember the better times, when he was a comfort. Someone you could trust to catch you when you fall. “I keep seeing them, seeing what I did, what happened. I killed people.” 

“People that would have killed you without a second thought.” He says. “You were defending yourself in a situation where that was unavoidable. It’s not your fault. None of it is.” 

“She scares me, my omega.” Your inhale stutters. “She’s angry. She won’t settle. I’m scared I’m going to lose control and she’ll come out again.” 

“You’re not going to lose control.” John says. Despite the heat of the fire you’re not much warmer, a cold chill shooting through your veins. “If it were to happen, we’re right here. We’ll get you through it.” 

You stare into the flickering flames, your breaths slowly coming back down to normal. John sits there, as still as a tree. You don’t want him so close to you, yet you can’t deny how comforting his presence is. For the first time in a while you don’t feel quite so out of control.

“Can we ever move past this?” You ask, your voice quiet and broken.  

“I like to think we can.” John says. “It won’t be easy, but if that’s what you want, we sure as hell will work to make it happen. Things won’t go back to the way they were, and they shouldn’t. You deserve better than what we gave you.” 

You don’t respond because you can’t. His words float around in your mind, replaying over and over. You want to believe him. You desperately want to believe him, but a deep part of you can’t. He’s made promises before and then broke them. How can you trust this time will be different? 

The creak of the stairs wakes you. It’s jarring, pulling you out of a sleep you didn’t know you were in. You’re on the couch in the living room, bundled under a blanket with a decorative pillow under your head. You don’t remember moving to the couch. The fire is nothing more than embers now, but it feels warmer in the house. It’s dawn, the grey light streaming in through the window, chasing away the shadows of night. 

“What are you doing out here?” A gruff voice asks you. 

You groan, rubbing your eyes. “Fell asleep.” 

“On the couch?” 

“Think I was on the floor first.” You yawn, pressing your face back into the pillow. “Don’t remember getting to the couch.” 

“Why?” 

“Got cold.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you pull the blanket up higher. 

Simon lets out a sigh before moving around the couch to the fireplace. He adds a couple logs in before lighting it again, the fire crackling back to life. You’re half asleep already as another blanket is draped over you, tucked up around your neck. There’s a feeling of a hand brushing over your head, but that may have just been your imagination as you drift off back to sleep. 

You don’t get to sleep long, more footsteps coming down the stairs waking you. A hand does brush over your head this time, the scent of the beach filling your nose. You let out a groan, trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets. 

“Sleeping out here this morning?” Kyle’s soft voice reaches your ears. 

You grunt, chasing the quickly fading edges of sleep in your brain. 

“Breakfast is ready, if you want to get up.” 

You are hungry. There’s a quiet rumble of your stomach as you begin to register the smells coming from the kitchen: bacon and eggs and coffee. Johnny is making the coffee most likely. Maybe you’ll have some this morning. You might need it with how groggy you feel. 

You stretch out on the couch, trying to breathe some life into your limbs. It’s not the most comfortable couch, definitely not for sleeping, but it’s better than the floor. It was likely John that moved you. You’re not quite sure how that makes you feel. 

You don’t remember falling asleep after your little talk last night. You’re not sure how that moment of vulnerability makes you feel either. There was a time when you wouldn’t have thought twice about going to your alpha with such concerns and tumultuous feelings. There was a time when you would have sought him out for the comfort and stability you need right now. 

Things are different, though. Things have changed. 

You run a hand over your face, thinking back to the groggy conversation with Simon this morning. You’re not quite sure it even happened, or if you dreamed it. There’s two blankets on you, however, and you distinctly remember feeling the second one being draped over you. 

It’s a touching gesture from the specter in your life. Once again he’s been reduced to a shadow, a figure lingering only because he has to. The distance that had once been so close to closing has widened into an impossibly wide canyon. You’re not sure it’ll ever fully close again. Too much has transpired in such a short amount of time between the two of you. He’ll never forgive himself, and you’ll never be brave enough to force it again. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking from being stuck in one position for so long. You blink slowly as you sit there for a moment. It’s warm in the house, almost too warm now with your body warmed from sleep. Dr. Keller is sitting at the table, a steaming mug in front of her. Tea, most likely. Maybe coffee. You’re not quite sure. She gives you a soft smile as you rub a hand across your face again. 

You feel groggy as you push yourself up to stand, letting your stomach and feet guide you towards the smells coming from the kitchen. Kyle guides you to the table with a promise of making you a plate and you take your usual seat at the end of the table facing the kitchen. Dr. Keller is to your left this time, coffee in her mug judging by the smell. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, her hands wrapped around the mug. 

“Fine. Got cold.” You say, resting your head in your hand.

“John turned the heat up a bit. We can get you more blankets if you need them.” Dr. Keller says. 

You hum, letting your eyes close for a moment. You won’t complain about more blankets, more soft things to lay with. There is one thing you wish you had, though. You’re not quite sure how to ask for it, or that it would even be possible to get. 

You jump when a hand touches your back, not realizing you had even dozed off sitting there. 

“Sorry.” Kyle says, setting a plate on the table in front of you. “Food’s hot. You want coffee or tea.” 

“Coffee.” You say instantly, earning a wide grin from Johnny as he takes his own seat at the table. 

“Even split this morning.” He says cheekily, setting his own mug down. “Three against three.” 

“Tea is still the superior choice.” Kyle says from the kitchen. “Better for you anyway.” 

“Coffee has a lot of health benefits as well.” Dr. Keller says. “So long as you don’t add too much sugar into it.” 

“See.” Johnny says, giving them a victorious grin. 

“She said so long as you don’t put too much sugar in it.” Kyle says, carrying over your mug of coffee. “You’ll get diabetes from how much you add in.” 

“Two spoonfuls isnae too much.” He turns to look at Dr. Keller. “Is it?” 

Dr. Keller gives him a worried look. “You might be pushing it there.” 

Johnny’s grin turns into a pout. “What do ye mean?” 

A ghost of a smile tugs at your lips as you quickly shovel a forkful of eggs into your mouth. As much as the deep pain of trauma and their decisions ache in your chest, you have to admit you missed this. It’s the least tense you’ve seen all of them in the last few weeks. Even Dr. Keller’s shoulders don’t seem quite so squared as they have been. 

A part of you feels guilty about it. It is your fault deep down. You’re the one keeping them all on edge, driving that wedge between them over and over again. Deep down you’re the one causing the heavy weight that’s settled over the house. You wish you could just go back to normal, you wish you could just wave a wand and make yourself okay again. You wish you could ease their pain just a little bit. 

The eggs suddenly don’t taste quite so good anymore. 

You force them down regardless in favor of causing another scene, in favor of dragging the mood down. They deserve a little lighthearted moment after everything. They don’t need to know the inner turmoil plaguing your mind. 

Simon shifts next to you, his eyes darting to glance at your face. You can feel them, the intensity of his gaze just as sharp as it had been back in the beginning, back before he looked at you with fondness. He’s stiff as he sits there, almost as if he can sense the storm raging inside of you as you force yourself to pretend that you’re fine in favor of keeping the bright mood that’s settled over the table. 

Maybe he can sense it. He is an alpha after all. It’s his job to know, to understand. You glance across the table at John, his eyes on his phone as he sips his tea. 

Your gaze drops down to your plate as you pick up a piece of bacon, your heart shattering just a little bit more. 

“‘S too early.” You whine as hands pull the blanket off of you. Cold air nips at your skin, making you curl up in a ball. 

“It’s noon. Come on.” A hand closes around your arm, gently shaking you. “You want to get up.” 

You let out a whine, pinching your face up. “No.” 

“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.” Kyle says, brushing the hair back from your face. 

“Why.” You say, letting out a huff. 

“We’re going on a little trip.” Kyle pulls you up, forcing you into a seated position. “Dress warm.” 

You’re alone in the room again, the door left open. Light streams in, making you squint against the harsh intrusion. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is, in fact, a little past noon. You took a nap to make up for a night of tumultuous sleep, one of the few things you have to do here in this prison. Nap and read. It’s a lot like your life before the cottage, before everything that happened, except now you’re stuck with your pack around you at all times. 

You almost miss the times they were away. 

You’re half tempted to go back to sleep, but you’re too awake now, and the light streaming in the doorway is making it hard. It was done on purpose, left that way to prevent you from falling asleep again. 

You let out a huff as you maneuver yourself so your legs dangle over the edge of the bed. You try to blink the drowsiness away, no matter how much your brain is trying to chase the last lingering threads of sleep quickly receding. The nap hadn’t been nearly long enough, but judging by Kyle’s eagerness, they let you sleep a bit longer than they wanted. 

You let out a sigh before pushing yourself off the bed, moving to the dresser. You pull out warm clothes, quickly changing. You have no idea what they have planned, what’s going on. There was no frantic rush, Kyle’s energy more excited than anything. It makes you a bit worried as you step out of the room into the living area. 

They’re all waiting by the door, watching you as you approach them, rubbing your eyes. 

“Come on,” John says, setting a pair of shoes on the floor. “Boots on.” 

“What are we doing?” You ask, moving forward automatically. 

“We’re taking a little trip.” Kyle answers, repeating what he told you in the room. 

You look at him cautiously as you step into the boots, pulling them on. You haven’t been away from the cottage since you arrived two weeks ago. You’ve barely been let outside, weather permitting. It’s an overcast day today, the world grey outside, but grey is better than rain. 

“Ready?” John asks as you stare at him. 

“I guess.” You say, still a bit hesitant. 

They make no effort to ease your discomfort and nerves. 

You’re led out the door and towards the cars by Dr. Keller. Her face is brighter than it has been lately which doesn’t help your nervous energy. She’s excited too, just like the rest of them. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous. Maybe it’s the anxiety of leaving after being trapped inside for so long. You just want to know where you’re going, what it is you’re going to be doing. 

Dr. Keller ushers you into the back seat of one of the cars, getting in the other side. Kyle and John climb into the front while Johnny and Simon get into the other car. 

You watch the green pass by as they drive, taking in the new landscape. You don’t remember arriving at the cottage. You don’t remember most of the trip at all. It’s all a blur in your memory, much like the events that transpired after your omega took over had been. You wish you could remember the trip over those events. You’d take green rolling hills over your own hands taking lives. 

It had been jarring waking in the cottage for the first time. A new place, the lack of memories getting there. You’re beginning to get tired of the pattern. You half expect to fall asleep and wake up somewhere new again most nights. You wouldn’t know any better. A slip of a pill into some food and you’d wake up somewhere halfway across the world. 

You like to think they’d at least warn you beforehand. 

John pulls the car into a parking lot, parking near a line of trees. Johnny pulls into the parking lot behind John, parking near the entrance. It’s on purpose, you know that much. Everything is about safety and making things look as inconspicuous as possible. Anyone could be a rat. Anyone could be watching. 

It’s windier here as you step out of the car, even though you haven't gone far from the cottage. Walking distance, if you were up for a hike. You’re not. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, guiding you through the parking lot and towards a path. 

You still don’t know what’s happening as you follow them, Johnny holding your hand as you step onto the rocky path. He leads the way, the others following. John is behind you, hovering in case you slip in the gravel. You do your best not to, despite how quickly Johnny is leading you. He’s more eager than Kyle had been, and you’re sure he’d be running if you could keep up. 

You begin to figure out what’s happening as the sound of waves crashing on the shore gets louder and louder. Your chest starts to constrict with emotion as the trees start to get sparser and sparser, a cliff edge visible over Johnny’s shoulder. You want to run now, you want to break ahead and race your way to the edge of the cliff. Johnny, even in his excited state, would catch you before you could take off and potentially hurt yourself. 

You might hurt yourself just trying to run. 

You hate it. 

The land opens before you as you reach the edge of the cliff. The expanse of the sea seems daunting so close, grey and choppy from the wind. Salty air blasts you in the face, rustling your jacket as you stand there above a small beach. It’s empty, but that’s expected for late fall. All the tourists have gone home, those with vacation homes back in better weather for the winter. 

You’re glad you’re alone. You wouldn’t want anyone else ruining this moment. 

Kyle’s fingers wrap around yours as you stand there, staring down at the beach below. “Come on.” 

The gravel turns to dirt as it winds down the side of the cliff, getting steeper as you near the beach. You do nearly slip as you follow Johnny and Kyle down to the sand, your boots quickly getting muddy. You’re glad for them, understanding why John chose boots over more comfortable shoes. 

You pause as your feet sink into sand. You stare out at the water, at the white crests of waves crashing onto the shore. It’s real. It’s not just some mirage, some painting in the background of your life. It’s really here. You’re really here. 

No one says anything as you take a few steps forward before squatting down. You scoop up a handful of sand, letting it slip through your fingers. It’s coarse against your cold skin, thicker and rockier than the sand you’re used to, but it’s still sand. It’s still a beach. 

You’re at the beach. 

You scoop up another handful of sand, letting it run through your fingers again. You want to put some of it in a jar and set it on the nightstand at the cottage. You want to stare at it and remind yourself you’re really at the coast, you’re really just a short drive away from the sea. You want the sand to sink into your skin and flow through your veins and fill every crack that’s formed in your mind.  

You’re really here. 

You stand up straight, staring out at the water again. Your pack is still behind you, silently watching you. You shuffle forward a couple steps, waiting for one of them to stop you, to grab you and keep you from getting closer, but none of them move. You widen your steps, treading through the soft sand until you reach the edge of the wetter sand where the water was earlier. It’s easier to walk on as you continue to approach the water, the sound of your pack treading through the soft sand disappearing behind you as you get closer and closer to the water. The waves flow up the beach, your feet getting closer and closer to where that water stops. 

You half expect them to stop you as you step forward, letting the waves hit your feet. The salty water washes away the mud and sand clinging to your rubber boots, rushing up over the tops of your feet. You stare down at the water, watching it surge upward and around your ankles. You’d keep walking if you were brave enough, let it get higher and higher until it soaked your clothes, but you know they’d stop you. It’s far too cold to risk getting wet. You can feel the chill of the water through your boots as it flows over your feet. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, watching the water rush back and forth, feeling the pressure of it against your boots as you stand in the waves. You’re really here. You’re really standing in the sea. 

You finally turn after what seems like an eternity, making your way back up to the softer sand. All of them are standing in a line, watching you. You wonder what’s going through their heads, what they feel standing here. Relief? Happiness? Guilt? Shame? The wind whips at your back, coming right off the water, blowing their scents away from you. What you wouldn’t give to be able to smell them right now. 

Tears burn your eyes as you make your way up towards John, trudging through the sand. His cheeks and nose are pink from the cold wind, his beard longer than you’ve ever seen it. You don’t remember the last time you’ve really looked at him up close. His gaze is uncertain as he stares down at you, trying to gauge your next move. He can’t. You know he can’t and it makes you feel powerful. 

It shouldn’t, but it does. 

“Thank you.” You say finally, a tear sliding down your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can hear them. They don’t know it, but you can. They think they’re speaking quietly, but in the silence of the morning, you can hear almost every word. Dr. Keller’s protests, John's quiet insistence. 

Leaving. 

That’s the word that caught your attention. Leaving. Someone is leaving. Someone is separating themselves from the pack again, and not just for a trip to town to go to the store. This meaning is different, it hangs differently in the air. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” Dr. Keller says, her voice just barely audible through the open sliding glass door. It’s open just a crack, just enough to hear what’s transpiring inside. 

“We won’t have another chance.” John says, his voice insistent. “We have to do this. She deserves it.” 

She. You. Whatever it is, it involves you. It always does. You can’t remember a time over the last few weeks when it hasn’t been about you. It’s always about you and you hate it. You almost wish things would go back to the way they were before, when you were a second thought, the one left behind.

You’re going to be left behind again. 

“John-” 

“I know.” John’s voice is louder again. “We have to do what’s best for our pack, and right now this is it.” 

The sliding door opens, the conversation over. Your stomach is churning, nausea eating its way up your esophagus as John crosses the deck towards where you’re seated. His steps are slow and quiet, almost like he’s approaching a wild animal. He might be, depending on how this conversation is going to go. 

How are you going to react? You expected it eventually. They’ll always leave, they’ll always put you last and think about themselves first. Are you upset? Are you angry? Is it a relief? 

You wish you could feel something right now. Instead you feel numb. Another promise broken, another lie told. 

“You’re leaving again.” You say, staring out at the horizon as John takes a seat next to you. You need to get it out first, say what you know before he can say it and break your heart again. 

He lets out a quiet sigh, leaning back in the chair. “We are, but you’re coming with us.” 

You turn to glance at him, taken aback by his words. You’re leaving too? You hadn’t considered this. The cottage is your prison. You are Rapunzel trapped by the Mother Gothel that is your pack, stuck in the tower for the rest of time. 

Leaving? 

“There’s something we need to take care of back in the states.” John explains. “You’re coming with us.” 

Back in the states? What could possibly be there that is left for you, for your pack? 

You don’t like the sound of that. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. 

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