#i normally prance about my apartment in the dark

[j-exclamationmark-l]

Just watched Talk to Me for the third time

When will that movie stop being so good?

[dovveri]

hii!! can you write about momo spanking reader for wearing a short skirt, then making reader ride her face as sana plays with readers bouncing boobs 😵‍💫

out for display

synopsis: exactly what the req asked for

warnings: dom!momo switch!sana sub!reader - degradation, cursing, spanking, face-riding, cunnilingus, sana’s a little obsessed w boobs

w/c: 3.2k

a/n: u horny mfs

you can feel the set of eyes that's been fixed on you since the beginning of rehearsal.

normally momo was the most focused during dance practices, but today, even the instructors had noticed her lack of attention.

"momo!"

the eyes leave you and you catch her panicked gaze and red-tipped ears in the mirror.

"go home. if you're not going to be serious about practice today there's no point in you being here."

"but- i-"

"go home. come back tomorrow with a better attitude. you're a senior in this industry. people look up to you. you can't be off daydreaming and slacking off when trainees are itching to be where you are."

momo huffs, turning pink and quickly grabbing her bag, stomping out the door. you look at sana sympathetically in the mirror who's eyes follow after her before meeting yours. she rolls her eyes playfully, gesturing something about momo being a child. you snicker in response but you're quickly snapped back to attention when the instructor who reprimanded momo gives you a sharp look, calling for everyone to take it from the top.

the rest of the practice goes by uneventfully. aside from sana sneaking in a few inappropriate butt grabs, which wasn't really uncharacteristic of her anyway, you all manage to get as much of the choreography done as you can without your main dancer present.

sana's all over you on the way home. her hand is practically attached to your ass and you can't help but squirm a little when she sends you a knowing smirk.

"momoring's not gonna be happy with you when we get home."

you roll your eyes, "whatever. she should have been paying attention. you didn't get told off for leering too much did you?"

"no but that's because i keep it in my pants better than she does." she squeezes your ass at that, hand under your skirt and on your bare cheek. it was easier to dance in thongs anyway. less restrictive.

you shoo her away, reaching your shared apartment door accompanied by the sound of her laugh. you insert the key and twist, opening the door and setting your things down, taking off your shoes as you hold open the door for sana to come in as well.

but as soon as your shoes are off and the door closes, you feel your feet being lifted off the ground and you squeal as you’re thrown roughly over someone's shoulder. a hand comes down hard over your skirt and there's a loud smack that reverberates around your apartment walls.

you're flailing around when you realise it's momo who's picked you up and hoisted you over her shoulder, her hand on your bottom, arm wrapped around your legs. you look up and see sana with a mirthful glint in her eyes, picking up your things and setting them aside before heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water before joining you and momo.

"momo- what?! put me down!"

"okay." she drops you unceremoniously onto your shared bed, your shirt riding up and your skirt flipped over. you clamber onto your elbows and find that she's crawling over you already, a dark gaze devouring your body, drinking in the newly exposed skin.

"fucking slut." she tugs on your skirt that you're scrambling to pull back down to cover yourself. "getting me kicked out and embarrassing me in front of everyone."

"how is that my fault?" you struggle against her, pushing yourself up the bed so your legs aren't dangling off the edge.

she scoffs in response, "are you serious? prancing around and bending over in this pathetic excuse for a skirt, this is more of a glorified belt than anything." she smacks your hands away, pulling and feeling at the material around your hips. "and wearing a fucking thong underneath? may as well have gone without wearing any fucking underwear, flash the entire rehearsal why don't you. was that what you were going for when you put this on this morning? huh? wanted everyone to see what a desperate little whore you were, just begging for anyone to bend you over and fuck you from behind?"

"'s not my fault i have a cute butt. why don't you practice some restraint?"

she's leaning down, dangerously close, eyes narrowed and pupils frenzied. you gulp. "restraint? you want me to practice restraint?" her voice is low, laced with venom and spoken directly above your lips.

you can't find it in yourself to answer, intimidated but so very turned on with the way she's treating you.

"what? can't speak up now?"

she's flipping you over before you know it, hiking your skirt up and landing a resounding slap onto your cheeks.

you yelp, scrambling to get away but she holds your hips down, pressing them against the mattress.

there's another slap and you're fingers grip the sheets, squeaking out again at the sting.

you hear a whistle behind you, and you know sana's entered the room.

"what's going on here darlings?"

"teaching our baby a lesson."

"oh yeah? what for?"

you can imagine the look on momo's face, her gaze steely with rage and scorn, the mental image only serving to soil your panties even more.

sana giggles, unbothered, "don't gimme that look momoring. i didn't have a problem keeping it in my pants."

momo grunts, “whatever. you fall out of line and i’ll give you the same treatment she’s getting.” momo lands another hit on your cheeks, punctuating her sentence.

sana rolls her eyes, “like i wouldn’t like that anyway.”

momo sends her a glare and sana laughs, moving towards her to tilt her chin up and kiss her.

the fact that you can’t see them but you can hear the wet smacking of lips, the little whimpers sana lets out and the sighs momo exhales, has you squirming all the more.

“g-guys please- please-“

slap.

“shut up- mmf- we’re not talking to you.” momo talks between sana’s kisses, sana pays you no mind, sliding onto the bed and rubbing her hands over momo’s shoulders.

so you’re forced to shift and wriggle under momo’s palm while tortuously listening to your girlfriends get progressively more turned on, get progressively wetter while you're laid on your stomach unable to do anything about it.

you hear when they break apart and momo starts kissing down sana's neck, the shuffle of clothes coming off and bra clasps being snapped open, you’re grinding down into the bed desperate for any sort of stimulation. then you hear full-blown moans when hands start grabbing at breasts and rubbing nipples between fingers. you're preening your ears, trying to catch every word, every gasp, every moan, but even when sana's whispering the dirtiest words into momo's ears while momo's mouth is attached to sana's neck, you can't catch any of it, completely left out and untouched.

that is until sana speaks up, intending for the both of you to hear now, "momoring~ i wanna see her pretty chest heaving. can she ride your face? pretty please?" you can visualise the pout sana has on her, no-one could resist that face, you have been at the receiving end of that many times. when sana pulls that face, she always gets what she wants.

you turn crimson at the mental imagery, slick running down your thighs in anticipation, "yes! please please momo please-"

slap!

"how. many. times. do i. have to. tell you. to shut. up." she lands a slap with each word in rapid succession, your ass burns in pain and pleasure. "she wasn't talking to you slut. speak again without being spoken to and i'll gag you."

you whimper into the sheets, thighs rubbing together to get any sort of friction.

"tch. you're lucky sana babies you. if it were up to me you wouldn't be getting anything at all today." she's shuffling up the bed but you don't dare move, straining all your senses to get any clue on what was happening.

then momo pulls your hair, not gently but not too rough either, just enough to get you gushing. she turns your head to face her on the bed, she's already lying down, not looking at you, eyes trained on the ceiling, but you can tell from the way her pupils are blown and her breathing is heavier that she’s just as turned on as you are right now. "well? give her a show. you'd love to be on display like the slut you are wouldn't you?"

you scramble up, catching a glimpse of sana smirking and completely naked, a hand between her thighs, the other one groping a breast.

momo's also been stripped, you drink in the skin as you clamber over her, sana sliding forward sultrily so she's grinding down on momo's abs. you'd feel jealous but in that second, momo pulls your thong to the side and slides a tongue along your cunt, her hands gripping your thighs to bring you down harder onto her face, and any thoughts that weren’t pure pleasure and relief vanish from your head.

the choked out moans you let out at finally being touched, finally being able to see your girls, you were so tightly wound up already.

sana's got that lidded gaze, dragging herself along momo's abs just a little rougher at the sight of you, bringing a hand up and under your shirt, grasping a breast between her fingers and squeezing. she has you lurching forward, but momo's grip on your thighs is firm, holding you up while she licks stripes of fire up your spine.

sana giggles, gasping, the sound quickly turning into a moan as her clit catches on the ridges of momo’s stomach, but her sweet sweet smile remains, it’s pornographic the way she looks, how she sounds, she’s unreal.

your attention is divided though, from sana pulling at the hem of your shirt to get you to take your top off, and momo sucking your clit into her mouth, its hard enough to think as is.

"there we go. that's my pretty girl." sana giggles again when she manages to unhook your bra, tugging it off and throwing it off to the side.

"god look at the two of you. my pretty darlings. look at you, your chests heaving up and down in sync, those pretty pretty tits. you both drive me positively insane." she tilts her head back, the tone of her voice lilting as she brings a free hand to rub at her clit. “how- ah- how’s she taste momoring?”

momo slurps at you noisily in response, you buckle at the feeling, her hot tongue thorough and firm, not missing a single sliver of skin, she’s absolutely devouring you.

sana chuckles lightly, reaching back and parting momo’s thighs, running a finger lightly down momo’s wet pussy. momo’s hips buck up at the motion, only serving as a harder board for sana to slide across when her abs tense in effort. sana keeps a finger rubbing circles on momo’s clit while she moans unabashedly and leverages the ridges and lines on momo’s stomach.

when sana dips a finger into momo’s pussy, momo moans around your clit, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure up your body.

you’re desperate to talk, to voice just how good she was making you feel, but you were terrified of the warning she gave about gagging you if you spoke without being spoken to. you hated the gag, it always left you in tears and your jaw sore.

sana saves you, a twinkle in her eyes that barely come up to wink at you before drifting back down to your bouncing breasts. she loved a show. “what’s wrong sweetie? want to talk hm? always one for words aren’t you? go ahead. momoring won’t gag you, she loves to hear how good she makes you feel even if she won’t admit it.”

momo can’t even reply, her face stuffed full with your cunt.

“f-fuck oh god- momo fuck- that’s so good right there oh shit- mm oh my fucking god you’re so good-“

sana giggles at your eagerness, edging you on when her fingers that were inside momo come up to twist at a nipple, the slight sticky shine on them is vulgar.

“ah-! fuck sana- oh my god not- oh you’re so pretty i can’t- you look so pretty-“

“what are you saying darling? think your mind’s turning to mush with how good momo’s tongue feels inside you hm?”

“fuck- yeah- can’t think-“

“shh you don’t have to think sweetie. just ride her face and look pretty for me. the both of you- god- you’re gonna make me cum-“

her movements speed up as she glides along momo’s stomach faster, harder, her breath catching, fingers rubbing tight rough circles onto her clit before she cums, head thrown back in a silent scream, sweat dripping down her throat, you want to lap her up.

that thought reminds you of the one thing that gets sana just a little further while she’s cumming.

so you lean forward as much as you can, momo’s arms supporting your body, still drinking you dry, dangling your tits in front of sana’s face once her head comes back down.

her blazed eyes meet yours just for a second before she grins, taking a nipple into her mouth and sucking, moaning around it while she rides out her orgasm, her oral fixation fulfilled.

the sight of her cum staining momo’s stomach, the feeling of momo’s wet hot tongue inside your throbbing pussy, and sana’s perfect mouth suckling on your tit, it’s enough for you to cry out and cum as well.

momo slurps you up happily, her own hips grinding up into nothing of their own volition. you try to pull yourself up but a tug at your nipple and a hint of teeth sinking in, as well as momo’s firm grip on your thighs traps you there, writhing and moaning as you cum for them.

when they finally let you go you collapse on your side next to momo, breathing hard and pussy still tingly from the aftershocks of pleasure.

you can barely move but when you hear the sweet sounds of momo moaning you force yourself to roll onto your stomach and turn your head to see her eyes clenched shut, mouth open, and hand tugging at brown locks between her legs.

you rub your thighs together at the sounds, the moans and sloppy wet kisses sana’s leaving on momo’s cunt.

momo feels your eyes on her and turns her head, her eyes peeking open and you whimper a little at the sight, clenching around nothing.

“you can kiss me.”

that’s all the permission you need, rushing forward and almost smacking your teeth together in the hurry but she adjusts and it’s hot and wet and now she’s moaning and gasping those illegal sounds directly into your mouth.

you can tell she’s getting close when her throat gets all high-pitched and whiny and sana moans at the way she pulls on her hair, tugging her impossibly closer so her entire nose, lips, chin is drenched in her essence.

your hand lazily goes to a tit, grasping at it and letting it spill between your fingers, feeling the hard little nub against your palm and rolling it around. you go to the other breast and repeat, just playing with her and feeling her up.

“oh fuck that’s- right there sana-“ momo pants into your mouth, hips bucking upwards.

sana licks and sucks, eager to make her baby cum, and that eagerness is translated easily when momo moans and does exactly that. you take the opportunity while she’s slack-jawed and mouth open to lick into her, tasting yourself on her tongue and humming in satisfaction. sana continues eating her out, helping her through it and you squeeze her tit lightly, trying to prolong the heights of her pleasure.

when she comes down she’s sighing into you, able to kiss you back lovingly, and sana’s sliding up her body, kissing her stomach, her breasts, momo has to pull her up by her hair when she latches onto a nipple, too sensitive to let her have her fun. sana pouts but adheres, kissing up her neck and whispering how well she did and how good she tasted into her ear.

momo’s lips part from yours as she turns her head to reconnect with sana. you snuggle into momo’s neck, sliding your hand down to her stomach and wrapping your arm around her, cuddling in and closing your eyes.

sana doesn’t let you fall asleep though, breaking apart from momo and tilting your head up slightly to kiss you. you hum at the taste of momo on her tongue, breaking apart gently and nuzzling back into momo’s neck.

but when you feel a hand sneaking down your back and flipping your skirt up again, fingers gently tracing your ass, you whine, the sensitivity from being spanked still there.

you can hear sana tsk, “we need to get some cream on that darling. is that okay?”

you hum, not bothering to open your eyes when you feel sana leave the bed, clinging onto momo.

momo turns her head and kisses your forehead, “‘m sorry baby. was i too rough? does it hurt a lot?”

“noo it was perfect. you didn’t hurt me at all.”

“okay. don’t wear this skirt again in public. you can wear it at home or when its only us but not for anyone else.”

you pout into her neck, “i was wearing it for you! i don’t care what other people think. just wanted to be pretty for you.”

“and you’re always pretty for us baby. but i don’t like when other people look at what’s mine.”

you hiss when you feel the touch of cool cream against your ass, sana dipping onto the bed again and carefully applying it over your skin.

“momoring just let her be. they can look but they can’t touch like we can right? they don’t get to hear or see all the pretty sounds and faces y/n makes when she comes apart.”

momo pouts, looking up at sana, “the same goes for you y’know. you loooove to flaunt your body and you live off the attention don’t you?”

sana shrugs, “there’s nothing wrong with that. you both know i’ll only come home to you two.”

momo grumbles, shifting a little so she’s on her side facing the both of you as well, “whatever. i’ll kick anyone’s nuts if they even think of getting close to either of you.”

you and sana giggle, “they look at you the same way idiot.”

“yeah yeah now hurry up so we can sleep and cuddle.”

sana rolls her eyes but finishes up, stepping away to put the cream aside and coming back quickly to wrap her arms and legs around both of you, squeezing all of you together and pulling the blanket over the three of you.

“you act tough but we both know you’re just a big teddy bear momoring.”

momo begins to protest but you lean up and capture her lips in a kiss and her words die down in her throat, sighing gently into you. you break apart with a giggle, nuzzling back into her throat, placing a hand over sana’s who’s got her arm around your waist and drifting off.

[ultraericthered]

One Villainous Scene: My First Emotion

As Valentine's Day is the day of love, my Valentine's gift is not one but two One Villainous Scenes featuring love as the central theme, one leaning on the darkly comical side, the other on just plain dark.

This would be former. In the third episode of Happy Sugar Life, Satou has spared the life of Asahi Kobe when she was about to kill him while he lay unconscious, due to something relating to Shio from him and regaining the good sense to know that a murder like this would compromise her and Shio's peaceful, happy, loving life together. On the walk back home, Satou starts to wonder why it was that she'd even thought to attempt Asahi's murder in the first place. She's normally very much in control of her feelings and able to think through all the decisions she makes, so what had made her so impulsive and uncontrolled back there? And so she contemplates:

I'm not new to bitter tastes. But this was on a totally different level. Just remembering it brings back the bitter taste. What IS this? Anger? Pain? A warning sign? It's different from anything I've ever felt before. It's bitter. So bitter.... I have to understand it to control it.

Satou recalls what set her off: Asahi, in his semi-conscious delerium, speaking the vows of love that Satou and Shio exchange on a nightly basis. Satou says that when she heard this, she got the image in her head of "Shio-chan and that thing saying those vows to each other" (and I love that Satou is just insistent on thinking of Asahi as a "thing" and an "it" rather than a fellow human being, like she has to internally dehumanize any person towards whom she has immediately venomous and bitter feelings of dislike). This puts into perspective that what was driving Satou up the wall was the very idea that her special someone, the one and only person she truly loves, could ever be with someone else in any close capacity where he loves her and she even might love him back. And that's when it finally hits her.

She was jealous of Asahi over how he's someone who knew and loved Shio well before she ever met her. It's jealousy that she felt.

Colorful shooting stars rain down in Satou's eyes and the mood of the scene does a sudden hard shift to being joyous, whimsical, and sweet. Soft, pleasant backgrounds and bright colors replace the dark and icky "bitterness" of before as Satou literally prances and skips down the street in girlish glee, now happy to have felt such a visceral, anguishing response of envy, rage, and disgust towards Asahi because these painful feelings are born from Satou's love for Shio! "My first emotion!", thinks Satou as she merrily skips along, clearly not meant to suggest she had no emotions before 'cause she earlier admitted to feeling different emotions in the past, but this is the first non-happiness stirring within her heart that anything to do with her relationship with Shio has made her feel on a deep level. It's the sociopath's first experience of actually connecting with something deep within herself that is purely, rawly, and unmistakably human.

The moment only gets schmaltzier and goofier from there!

That could be said to be the end of it....but only two minutes later, we see Satou get on the elevator to go back to her apartment room when Asahi crosses her mind once again. While still thinking of him as "that thing", she's at least in the mood to use his proper gender pronouns this time as she resolves to ensure he and Shio don't meet.

From unhinged and creepy to cute and pleasant, then back around to pants-wettingly terrifying. Really, what better way to sum up the masterstroke of yandere horror that is Satou Matsuzaka than that? Just as Satou adores Shio, I adore Satou's character. So much captivating complexity and nuance and psychological fucked up-ness. You see all the darkest facets of her and are so fearful and repulsed that you have the instinct to look away from her, yet find you can't because she's already pulled you into her world. You want to know her better, you want to see her in action, and because she is so charming and a lesser evil than others around, a small, secret part of you might even want to see her come out successful in the end.

I guess that can't be called anything less than a form of love. <3

Here's the full scene, from 5:50 to 9:58, in English. And whatever can be said of that fandub, Malina Rose is fucking GOATed as Satou.

[alexisisheretoo]

Pokémon of Camahi: Starters and more!

To me, the starters are the culmination of what the region’s inspiration means. It’s representations, it’s culture, it’s art, it’s ecosystem. You should be able to tell what the region is based on by the starters alone if you know enough about the area. And so I put a lot of thought into these starters, everything I learned through my cruise, and use this as a way to show how amazing it really is.

First, the grass starter. America’s national bird is the bald eagle, but it’s biggest population comes from Alaska. It was the conservation efforts of the state that prevented the species from going instinct, and Alaska has one of the biggest avian hospitals. If I wasn’t going to make one of the starters an eagle, that would just be down wrong. What Alaska is also known for is its national flower, the Forget Me Nots, aka Scorpion flowers. Alaska has a plethora of colorful wildflowers, I even got some nice buttercream alaska wildflower soap on my trip, but it’s the Forget Me Nots that get the title of its national flower. So, for the grass starter, I decided to combine these two staples of Alaska into one Pokémon. But that’s not all i themed this lovely guy after. I also took inspiration from the natives of Alaska. Native Indian art style of Alaska is full of wonder with its shapes and way of depicting its creatures. I found various forms of merch of this art style in Alaska, with many kinds of animals, like orcas and bears. I found the style’s depiction of eagles to be my favorite, so I themed it’s patters off of that, and it’s general body shape off of the tribal clothes these natives wear.

Budglet (bud + eaglet) Grass

Sproutglet (sprout + eaglet) Grass/Flying

Scorpeagle (scorpion flowers + eagle) Grass/flying

Next, fire starter, my personal favorite of these pokes so far. One of the two survivors of the region jumps, bears just seem to be everywhere in the west. I find it very strange that Pokémon doesn’t have a black bear yet (I’m not counting Urshifu, fuck that guy). We have a brown bear, polar bear, and a panda, but no black bear!? Outrageous, I must fix this at once! And it just so happens that bears are abundant and very popular in Alaska, I even watched a documentary on them on my trip. Probably the most well known, and to me most iconic traits of Alaska, is the northern star. Alaska is placed where you can see Polaris and the constellation Ursa Major every night. It stays almost stationary in the middle of the sky. It’s so iconic, the consolation is apart of Alaska’s state flag. So of course I had to make my bear themed off it, since the consolation is named after bears.

Cubmet (cub + comet) fire

Grizstar (Grizzly + star) Fire/Dark

Ursalaris (Ursa + Polaris) Fire/Dark

Now, water starter! This came immediately to me, and yet took me the longest to design. While I was on my cruise, we went on a whale watch. On that trip, I witnessed something so rare that the instructor, that’s been on hundreds of trips for years, has NEVER seen it before now; a whale breach. In Hawaii, this is much more common, as it’s a form of mating call. But Alaska isn’t where whales go to mate, so it’s a spectacle when it occurs. So when it came to the water starter, it just HAD to be a whale. But I decided it wouldn’t just be a whale. It would start as a dolphin, evolve into a whale, and then it’s final form would be an orca. So what did I combine this with? Ships! First ones a tiny sailor, second is a yacht, and the third is a full on cruise ship. This was really hard to get right, but I adore it!

Porpler (porpoise + sailor) Water

Yachtleen (Yacht + Baleen) Water/Steel

Orcalantic (orca + Atlantic/titanic/gigantic) Water/steel

You think I only made starters? Oh no no no, I have many up my sleeve, and I’m excited to show each of them off! These aren’t as extensive as the starters, so it’s lightning round time!

Doedeer (doe + deer) Normal

Cariprance (Caribou + prance) Normal

Region’s local route one normal type. I have a strong hatred for normal types, I think the type is so dumb and inconsistent, so it was hard to design this guy. But I think it’s a nice lil reindeer. The shiny 100% has a red nose.

Mushky (mush + husky) Ice

Timbrisk (timber + brisk) ice dark

Ok I lied, this guy is my favorite. It’s a husky that evolves into a wolf, the Alaskan Timberwolf specifically. I know last rhino had so many dogs, but I must make more. No better location for a grey wolf Pokémon then the sled dog nation of Alaska.

Padglet (paddle + piglet) Ground/normal

Shoreswine (shoreline + swine) Ground/Water

Alaska and Hawaii have these pigs called swimming pigs and it’s just… I honestly can’t believe they exist, despite how much stuff that’s way stranger I’ve seen. Just the fact that people are swimming with pigs, and these pigs are known only by their ability to swim just… boggles my mind. Anyway, I made a swimming pig line that’s a surfer dude/life guard. Shoreswine’s nose is designed after water goggles, it has a lil floaty and paddle feet, and it’s tail is positioned like a snorkel. Definitely the most creative one so far if you ask me.

Munchcorn (munch + acorn) Grass

Darecorn (daredevil + acorn) Grass/Fire

Ok ok ok, this might be my favorite… just look at em!! American red squirrels have these pale brown bodies, but their tails are this bright red. So I thought, let’s set the tail on fire. First evo has a stick for a tail, and then the evolution has that stick on fire! And with it being on fire, I thought inspiring it off of daredevils would be fun. It also evolves from a normal squirrel to a flying squirrel. It doesn’t actually have wings, it instead uses leaves it finds to make that lil flight suit it’s got.

Swoospook (swoop + spook) Flying/Ghost

Macardinal (Macabre + Cardinal) Flying/ghost

In the west, there’s the belief that cardinals are the spirits of lost family members coming to earth to watch over their loved ones. It’s a belief my family has held for a long time, so I really wanted to make it a Pokémon. So here is a ghost flying cardinal! Hope I did the folktale justice.

Wattbler (watt + Warbler) flying/electric

Osprelectric (Osprey + electric) flying/electric

The first ever fakemon I’ve made! I am so happy she’s been able to survive through the process when I’ve had to say goodbye to so many designs I loved. It’s stayed mostly the same through the process. Now the pre evolution is themed off of a warbler instead of a chat. Thanks for staying with me for all these years lil guy.

And that’s all the ones I’ve designed so far! I hope you’ve enjoyed all the designs, I had a lot of fun. Next time, I’ll be showing off regional forms, I’ve got some plans for that. Like the region so far and have some ideas? I’d love to hear your suggestions for future pokemon, as I’m running out of steam here. But no need to, simply looking through is magnitudes for me!

[uptoolateart]

If I Let Myself Love You - Ch 10

My fic for @mlbigbang 2022!

PREVIEW from Chapter 10:

‘So, Adrien,’ her father said between bites. ‘You’re a model?’

‘Mm-hm.’

‘How’d you get into that?’

‘Oh, I didn’t have a choice. It’s Father’s business, see, and I basically do what I’m told.’ He spat out this information with an unnerving lack of emotion.

‘Is it…what you plan to do forever?’

Adrien frowned, letting his fork dangle in the air. ‘Forever is such a long time, don’t you think? I don’t want to do anything for that long.’

Her father smiled again. ‘How about when you turn eighteen?’

Adrien chewed in thought, then said, ‘I have no idea. To be honest…people don’t usually ask what I want.’ As he took another bite, she realised he was studying her father’s face the way he did when he was trying to work out if he’d said the right thing or not. ‘Er…sorry if that’s not an answer you like to hear.’

Her father shook his head and cleared his throat. ‘No, no. You’re only…fourteen?’

Adrien nodded. ‘Fifteen in December.’

‘Plenty of time.’ He gestured at his daughter. ‘Not everyone is like Marinette, here – she was sure that she wanted to work with clothing as young as four years old. She used to dress up in this old blanket her nona knitted for her and prance around the house, insisting that everyone call her the Knitting F – ’

‘Okay, Papa, that’s enough of that!’ Marinette cried, putting up her hands in alarm. ‘Adrien doesn’t want to hear about that.’

Adrien beamed. ‘Of course I do!’ He turned back to her father. ‘The Knitting what?’

‘Fairy,’ her father supplied.

Marinette dropped her head into her hands.

‘That’s fantastic,’ she heard Adrien say at her side. ‘I wish I felt that passionate about…anything, really. I must sound really unmotivated, but it’s not true. I’m always searching for that thing that sparks me up. Something to fall in love with and never stop falling, so I can never get enough of it. I really admire people who find it.’

Marinette slowly lifted her head and dared to look at him. Where did I find this boy?

Keeping Reading at Ao3

It’s hard to be a normal girl with a normal life when your mother has terminal cancer. And when fashion model Adrien Agreste moves back to Paris and wants to be Marinette’s friend – or maybe even more – her life is turned upside down again. How can she risk opening her heart to love when her whole world is falling apart? Especially when Adrien is hiding a dark secret of his own….

*** No kwamis AU - 100% Adrinette. Half funny / fluffy and half heavy but with a happy ending. Please read tags. *** Rating: Teen and up

[ushidoux]

Good Teacher - Sugawara x Reader

Summary: You meet Sugawara on an online dating app expecting something tame, but get more than you expected. (~3.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, some features are described ***, dom/sub dynamics, collaring, daddy kink, breathplay, dacryphilia, spanking, edging, toy use, restraint use, sub drop

A/N: Again, this was a commission so some features are described!! Otherwise, please enjoy my first longer BDSM fic.

---

Being alone in your bedroom at 9pm on a Friday night may have felt like a loss on any other day, but today, with your phone buzzing non-stop and every neuron in the sexy parts of your brain firing, you could not think of anything else you would rather do.

Well, actually you could think of a few, and most of them involved slipping out of your pajamas and slipping under your new flame.

Sugawara Koushi.

A name like that sounded sweet. Maybe even bland. Safe.

When you’d swiped right on his profile on the tamer of your social media apps, you’d expected someone mild-mannered and easy to speak to. He was an elementary school teacher with soft features, white hair and a cute mole under his left eye. He couldn’t possibly be as forward as the other guys you’d dealt with over the years. A tame, responsible choice.

You’d started texting back and forth quickly, with polite, formal introductions which progressed to cute messages and long phone calls, and you’d even managed a very chaste first date where he’d picked you up at 8pm on the dot and taken you to a fine restaurant on the water.

You normally would have expected to be dicked down that night, and had paired sexy lingerie under your silky mauve dress for exactly that, but you weren’t too surprised when he left you at your doorstep with a peck on the forehead.

The only unsettling thing about the kiss was the way his eyes had lingered on your lips, just as his fingers trailed the curve of your jaw as he tucked your hair behind your ear. It was too practiced, too… dominant.

You suspected he was holding something back.

And he was, because once you’d ventured to call in the middle of the night, a little bit tipsy and yearning for a little bit more than a smile and a gentle touch from him, you’d broken some sort of dam.

He’d called you a needy, desperate, pretty little slut, desperate for Daddy’s cock but needing to prove herself that she was willing to ride with Daddy’s very, very strict set of rules first, and you’d practically cum at the sudden turn of his voice.

Now anything was fair game.

I have… particular taste. Are you sure you can keep up, princess?

The warmth between your legs and the image of full balls and a weighty, rigid cock told you, you would absolutely be ready for anything he had in store for you. 

Yes, daddy. I’m up for anything you want.

You, of course, couldn’t see the wide smile spreading across his face on the other end, as he palmed his cock slowly while reading your texts and admiring your nudes, and texted back:

We’ll need a shit ton of rope.

---

Sugawara’s hands are much larger than you’d anticipate, and rougher, and you wonder how much of it is due to high school athletics or from the fact that he’s quick to slap or spank you at any chance he gets. Your skin is sometimes red, sometimes bruised, and always marked, and it’s exactly the way you like it.

The first time you have sex, he starts you off as though you are the most shy of virgins even though you claim that you’re not exactly inexperienced.

“I wouldn’t want to break you, pretty girl,” he teases, as his hands worship your body, tracking down your waist to the center of your legs, and patting your cunt softly. Today, he’s promised to focus on your pleasure only because he wants to “break you in.” You wonder how many he’s “broken in,” then you realize you don’t really care. You’re his one and only princess right now, and you intend to be for quite a while. 

The pleasure of being a good dom is that he can choose to serve - he can choose to be doting and he can choose to be harsh with punishment. Since it’s your first day since you’ve entered this contract with him, he’s decided to focus on the catering part of his personality, and familiarize you with his desires.

The rose-gold Turian collar on your neck compliments your skin well, he takes note, as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and leans you against him while you are seated on the edge of the bed and he’s kneeling just so before you, fingers deep in your cunt.

“You’re gonna keep that pretty little thing around your neck, aren’t you, pretty baby?”

His fingers move so fast that it’s hard for you to speak, and the arm that’s wrapped around your waist and keeping you flush against him is tightening the longer he continues. He’s a lot stronger than he looks, you know from every heavy spank he’s given you.

“I-I will, daddy, every day and every night,” you pant out, your tongue lolling as his fingers curve upwards and his lips leave your nipple with a soft pop and make their way to your quivering mouth.

“Good,” he whispers as he bites your lower lip. “You’re so obedient… I like that in a little one,” he affirms.

---

He’s kind when he teaches, patient even. 

He’s also generous; he gifts you with your first corset, a dark, lacy and tight thing that almost takes your breath away initially, especially when he tightens it onto you himself. Even if it’s constraining, you feel empowered from the very moment you look in the mirror. Your breasts sit high, and you spin once in a gesture of delight; he kisses down your neck as you admire yourself.

“This is only to get you used to a little bit of restriction,” he reassures, as he pulls you into his lap. “But I can’t deny that you look breathtaking.”

---

Since you’ve been so bold as to take his breath away, it isn’t too long until he decides he wants to see what you look like when you’re truly struggling for air. After all, the little shiny thing around your neck catches his eye way too often for his comfort, and his pants suddenly feel too tight for a casual grocery store run.

Your safeword is red, like the blood that courses through your veins as his fingers tighten around your throat.

He thumbs your pink, puffy lips, and it would be loving if he wasn’t calling you a stupid little cocktease.

“Pretty little bambi, prancing around like you’re free to be with anyone other than me.”

The breath that tickles your face is a taunt, because you’re slowly getting lightheaded, barely able to focus on the long index finger he’s commanding you to suck. 

The pressure he puts on your neck is varying; for moments you can draw a single staccato breath, which encourages him to press his lips to yours and absorb you in a kiss before he reapplies pressure; his naked body presses against yours, rolling painstakingly slow. He hasn’t even entered you yet.

Breathplay, he calls it.

You gasp as his cock slips into your wet entrance just as fast as his hand leaves your throat, and he too draws a deep breath as he fills you to the hilt. 

He lets out a soft laugh as he caresses the hair that is sticking to your face, and readjusts himself yet again - of course, he’s also better endowed than you’d expect him to be - before he picks up speed and chokes you again.

---

“I… Kou-”

“Daddy,” he stresses, unphased as he continues to press a small clitoral stimulator to your tender, overworked bud.

“D-Daddy~” you cry out in a soft, drawn out whine, and you shift a little bit because the ties that keep your ankles attached to the legs of the chair, your pussy exposed and vulnerable with your crotch wide open, are starting to dig into your skin. But you can’t move all that much, there’s additional rope around your waist that keeps you against the back of the chair and you think the soft satin that keeps your wrists behind you is probably overkill, even if you have to admit you like the color.

“Yes, sweetheart~” he whispers in a voice accented with assertive sweetness, his eyes still lowered and focused on the heave of your chest as he watches you drip before him.

“I-” 

You scream.

He’d angled the toy upwards, and somehow within the small bundle of nerves he’s targeted an even more precise cluster of endings - there’s a flash of white you see before you cum practically violently, lurching forward so rapidly that he has to keep the chair steady so that you won’t fall over on the pretty little face he adores.

It’s possibly the fourth time he’s had to ground you in the past hour, and it’s an act of mercy because he had been edging you repeatedly, forcing your pussy to clench desperately around nothing but air.

The way you gush and spray so lewdly onto the chair, onto the floor, onto the hand he plays on your sopping wet pussy reminds him he chose very, very well.

---

It’s nearly silent and it’s dark now, far too dark for you to see. 

Your Koushi has prepared you for this next step lovingly, sometimes not so lovingly over the past couple of weeks to build up to this.

The blindfold that obscures your vision is soft and slightly sweet smelling, as though spritzed with a floral scent about a day ago prior to this. Again your hands are bound, but he’s used lined handcuffs instead of ties, and your wrists are before you, not behind you. 

But you’re lying on your belly, a spreader forcing your thighs apart. He must really love the way your pussy looks staring him in the face.

“You seem to be a glutton for punishment, princess,” he says, accenting his words with a hard slap on your inner thigh. You gasp, but his hands linger tighten, and are then followed by what can only be the press of his tongue against the stinging portion.

“Daddy, I’ll behave, I’m so sorry,” you moan as his hand grips a generous portion of your asscheek.

But you won’t behave, because you’ve learned that Suga likes just a touch of bratty behavior and that gets him quite physical with you. He knows this just as much as you.

He slaps your ass fervently, the slight jiggle drawing a pleased sigh from his lips.

“You’re a silly little slut, though…” he starts, rubbing a hand along the length of your thigh, “how can I trust any of your promises?”

His finger travels to your open center, and when he sees you tense up, he stops.

“You need a firm hand to guide you always…”

His right hand curves again around your cunt and his middle and ring finger finds its way into your slippery hole, while his index taps your clit and his little finger (he’s dexterous like this), taps ever so lightly around your asshole. 

You shudder.

“Arch your back, you little cumslut. Make it easy for daddy.”

As you inch backwards slowly using your elbows and knees to rise up, his right hand continues to move with you, but then his other hand lands heavily on your other asscheek.

It breaks your concentration and you almost fall because it takes quite a lot more energy than you would expect to move this way with your hands bound and your legs spread, but you persevere. 

For him.

Before you can whine once you’ve gotten into position, he withdraws his hand from your cunt.

“No!” You find yourself shrieking before you realize. You can’t have him edge you again, he’s absolutely cruel, you can’t…

“Oh, I thought I called the shots here, princess,” Sugawara reminds you, voice honeyed and cruel. You can feel his fingers weave into your hair and the warm tip of what must be his cock prod at your entrance.

“Sir, please~”

“Beg.”

He spreads you open with a hand massaging your ass, again tapping teasingly all around your vagina, but he won’t push in to give you the pleasure of having his cock inside you.

Your heart is pounding with desire.

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please fill me up, daddy!”

That statement of desire earns you an inch, an inch that makes you swallow saliva hard and your muscles tense with need and want.

“M-more, more please!”

“You’re so demanding. I would say your eyes are bigger than your pretty little pussy, but you can’t see, can you?”

He laughs, but he pushes in further another inch, than another, moving painstakingly slow, slow enough that you’re biting your lower lip until blood is drawn. The stretch is achingly delicious but it leaves you starved for more.

You’re begging and whining, and soon you’re trying your best to sink onto him further but he’s got you restrained for a reason.

“Greedy little bitch,” he murmurs, but he kisses your neck lovingly as he fills you to the hilt.

The unmistakable noise of flesh hitting flesh and minimal friction fills the room but you care less about sound, only about the slap of his balls against your cunt as he thrusts into you from behind.

More. Deeper. Faster. Harder.

He’s a master at drawing desire out of you, you wonder if you even needed these toys and ties and other accoutrements. You’re already so utterly wrapped for him. 

---

There’s a movie playing on your screen that you had both been pretending to watch, cuddled together on the couch, your legs resting across his lap. You had barely gotten through the opening credits before he pulled you onto him fully and had you straddle him.

“You want a snack, pretty baby?” He whispers, as though it weren’t just the two of you staring in each other’s eyes.

Your eyelashes bat and you nod.

He doesn’t break eye contact while he reaches for a strawberry, fresh from the farmer’s market you’d strolled through this morning, from a bowl set on the table. 

This one is drizzled in chocolate, and he runs it along the length of your collarbone, eye contact still heavy and unflinching before he dips down to catch it in his mouth.

It hangs out halfway from his teeth and he cues you to take it from him mouth to mouth. You split half of it, letting the sweet tartness permeate your senses.

His arm hooks around your waist and pulls you in close as he presses his lips against yours. You weren’t aware of the glob of strawberry-flavored saliva he’d collected until he draws away, tilts your head back and tells you to open up wide so he can spit directly into your mouth.

---

“Swallow.”

Suga’s relentlessly pounding an erect, frustrated and thick cock into your mouth, past your teeth and down your poor throat, and he’s close to his release now, you can tell by the way he’s now pressed your face so far against him that his carefully cropped pubes prick your face.

He’s warning you beforehand, and you’re thankful for the warning because when he cums with a soft, almost angelic moan, his penis jerks inside your mouth ever so slightly, and there’s a gush of hot, slippery liquid that slides down your throat.

You breathe through your nose. He tastes sweet, maybe it’s because of the strawberries from just earlier today, but nevertheless it’s a pleasant liquid you gulp down around his cock.

He loves the way your throat feels when it clamps around him, especially when you initially gag once accepting his cock.

You’re perfect.

“Come up, darling,” he bids you, pulling you up from your position on your knees.

“Are you gonna fill me up, daddy?” You mewl softly as he lifts up and carries you before laying you on your back.

“Yes, pretty baby, but let me taste your juicy little cunt first,” he says before he dives in between your legs.

---

“You’re so good for me, you know that, don’t you?”

He kisses your neck softly as he holds you close to him while you lay in bed together. It’s close to 1am and he’s focused on aftercare, caressing your arms and waist and the curve of your hip gently. You’re facing away from him, not because you’re upset, but because you’re exhausted.

He’s worried you’re having a sub-drop; after all, he’s spent the last two hours slapping your face and calling you disgusting. He wonders if you forgot to use your safe word.

You’re new to this and he’s put you through a lot in the past few weeks.

“Sweetness,” he whispers, directly into your ear. “Look at me?”

You turn, cheeks still flushed from particularly hard slaps. His heart aches a bit for you, because those sweet lips are pulled downwards into a frown and he’s not sure if those are fresh tears that wet your eyelashes. 

He kisses your eyelids then rests his chin on the top of your head.

“Are you doing okay, my princess?”

You nod and reach for his face with your fingertips. Your dom softens under your touch because you are so precious to him. His fingers close around yours and he kisses your forehead.

“The most important thing is your comfort,” he asserts. He taps the collar around your neck that suggests in some way that you are his and he is yours. “You can take this off at any time.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his chest. It’s been fun and it’s also been freeing to have him take care of you. There’s a soft haze that wafts around your brain lately as you surrender to him. You are in love with him, deeply, in such a short amount of time.

“I would never,” you say, finally. 

His heart skips a beat.

“Unless you want to buy me a nicer one, of course.”

He chuckles. 

“You’re a feisty little one, aren’t you?” He remarks. He’s glad to look down at you and see you smiling again, eyes bright and brown. He reaches for your ass cheek, then raises your leg so that it lies across his hip. 

Your eyes twinkle with mischief.

“Well, that’s why you picked me to teach, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow, and the cheeky grin on your face is enough to make him get absolutely hard again.

Of course, only if you’re up to the task.

Suga bites gently on your lip again, his hand on your thigh. 

“I didn’t expect you to learn so quickly.”

“Maybe you really do have the gift of teaching,” you reply, as you stick your tongue into his mouth.

[delimeful]

you cant go back (2)

warnings: fear, miscommunication, guilt, mentions of theoretical gore/injury, dehumanization, referring to a person as 'it', general angst

-

For the fourth day in a row, Lady Macbeth had spurned him.

Roman frowned, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his head and tossing it over the back of a kitchen chair.

Lady was old, smug, and occasionally very cranky, but she wasn’t deaf like Ophelia-- she always came prancing over once she heard his keys rattling in the lock, delighted at the opportunity to smear cat hair all over his pants and get her claws stuck in his shoelaces.

Yet here he stood, catless.

For the past few days, too, she hadn’t been in the house at all when he got home. He’d been downright worried that first day, uneasy until she strolled back in at dusk.

They had an expansive backyard that their younger cats took delight in frolicking in, but their second-oldest cat was a rare visitor to the outdoors. Lady was first and foremost a homebody, and she preferred a warm body to sit on. Their squishy heat-generating human bodies were the only reason she hadn’t assassinated them all in their sleep by now, according to--

Roman cut the thought off sharply, feeling familiar grief pit up in his throat. He shook his head, the motion harsh enough to make his neck twinge. There was no time for standing about and pondering! He had a cat to locate!

A determined jut to his chin, he grabbed what supplies he would need for this perilous journey-- cat treats, a catnip toy, even a tempting cardboard box-- and strode confidently out the backdoor.

For the next half-hour, he wandered around the acres of their property, greeting each of the goats and chickens by name as he checked all the most common cat hidey-holes.

He’d almost given up by the time he stumbled across the old barn, pant legs covered in burrs and the beginnings of a sunburn across the back of his neck. Whatever delightful cat secrets Lady was so busy with, surely he could discover them when it wasn’t the middle of summer.

Just before he could turn around, though, he noticed that one of the doors was just slightly ajar.

Roman felt his brow gradually scrunch up the longer he stared at it. It had been locked up after the last of the old supplies had been moved from it, hadn’t it? The last big storm had proved it wasn’t weather-worthy, his dad had plans to take it apart for timber, ones that had seemingly been forgotten after… afterwards.

Petty inconveniences of getting there forgotten, Roman crept closer on light feet, grip tight on the catnip mouse in his hand. The wind died down at an eerily perfect moment, and he strained to hear beyond those old wooden walls.

Not everything is a grand conspiracy, a voice in his head reminded him, sounding suspiciously similar to Specs, it could simply be someone without housing that took the opportunity for shelter provided by the abandoned barn.

Roman sidled halfway through the ajar door, and froze at the sight of an upright humanoid figure only a few meters away. Something about it wasn't right, instantly putting him on edge. He kept staring, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

(“I’m telling you, these lights were strange even by my standards! Almost… alien.” An unsettling grin that was a beat late.)

The figure’s head was dropped forward, but he could tell even from this distance that it wasn’t human, with shiny purple-grey segmented skin and legs with knees facing the wrong way. It had spiky shoulder joints, but its arms seemed to be tucked behind it.

(Roman had shoved him off the couch, sour about being taken in by one of his tales, and he hadn’t brought it up again.)

Most alarming of all, there were four long, spindly limbs stretched out into the air behind it, seemingly spawning from its back. The legs were spider-like in nature, but shiny instead of hairy, and each one ended in a sharp point. As he watched, he could see the limbs shifting slowly, pairs of them lifting and falling in odd synchrony with the creature’s slow breathing.

(Roman had been freaked out, and his brother had dropped the subject. He should’ve asked, he should have known something was wrong--)

“Miaow.” A plaintive voice called, nearly startling Roman out of his skin.

He tore his gaze away from the (alien) mystery intruder, and felt his jaw drop as he took in Lady Macbeth’s current position. Loafing on the feet of an insidious intruder?!

For shame, he mouthed silently at her.

Lady blinked slowly and continued to purr, unbothered by his accusatory stare. One of those spider limbs shifted again, making Roman swallow nervously. He really didn’t want to see what sort of automatic reaction an extraterrestrial’s stabby-arms would have to finding a cat in its space.

He waved the catnip mouse enticingly. Lady gave him the bland look of a cat who had preferred those expensive feather toys for as long as he had known her. Roman resisted the urge to facepalm.

The insanely dangerous method it was, then.

Putting all his sneaking skills to use, he sidled further into the barn, dropping into a crouch and beginning to creep across the dirt floor as slowly as possible. Each step was carefully placed, almost entirely silent, and whenever those freaky appendages twitched, he froze in place for a full thirty seconds.

The alien’s head remained lax (asleep?) as he drew closer, but Lady refused to entertain his desperate motions for her to leave her ill-chosen bed. At this rate, he’d have to pick her up off of it, and hope that she didn’t complain too much on the way out.

He shifted his weight forwards, and suddenly all four of the arms were still, almost taut in the air. Only a couple feet away, the alien’s head bobbed slightly. His time was up.

Clenching his teeth, Roman made a gamble.

He tossed the little mouse toy directly at the space above the alien’s head and dove for Lady.

There was a whistle, like a whip or an arrow sliding through the air, and Roman made the mistake of glancing up as soon as he had his hands securely around Lady’s body.

All four of the spider limbs had jabbed into the same point, skewering the toy from several different angles. The alien was certainly awake now, and it had four times as many eyes as any one person could reasonably need. Between one heartbeat and the next, those huge dark irises went from staring at the poor mutilated toy to staring at Roman.

Terror shot through him and he gave up on subtlety, throwing himself back as hard as he could and hoping that he made it out of range.

He landed on his back with a whomp that knocked the wind out of him, and flinched as that terrifying whistling sound split the air again, ending in a muted thump. He was so wired with adrenaline that he couldn’t tell if he’d been hit or not. Locked in his arms, Lady writhed and complained loudly.

“Not going anywhere,” Roman wheezed, “you little fiend, con-- consorting with the enemy.”

There were several more whistle-thumps, which was either very good or very bad for him. He rolled to his side, pushing himself up on an elbow and taking stock of himself, braced for the worst.

The alien was still standing there against the central support beam of the barn. Half a foot from Roman’s leg, it's very sharp extra arms had left holes pierced in the hard-packed dirt of the barn’s floor.

“But no holes in me,” Roman cheered weakly, and then shifted Lady to the crook of one arm and flipped the alien off. “Nice try, Space Invader.”

The alien made a deep clicking rumble, but stopped trying to impale him. Instead, it moved to hold all those limbs high up in the air menacingly, ready to stab down at any point. The remains of the toy mouse sat near its feet, cotton innards spilling everywhere like a grim warning.

Roman got to his own feet, wincing at the feeling of Lady’s claws poking into his ribs as she attempted to kick her way to freedom. He took a moment to stare once he was back upright.

The alien’s skin plates had gone completely pitch-black, only the slightest hints of purple between the plates to prove that there’d ever been any color to it at all. Roman was abruptly glad that he hadn’t encountered it in the dark of night.

Its eyes were just as dark, with only the slightest difference in shades of black to indicate the difference between iris and sclera. Despite his artistic eye for color differences, even Roman couldn’t tell where its pupils were. If it even had pupils.

It also was still stuck in one place, despite its legs seeming totally operational. Roman slowly shuffled to the side of it, making sure to keep a few good steps clear of stabbing range, and found that it did in fact have normal arms and hands.

Well. Mostly normal. There were five fingers, but they were all way too long and ended in thick, claw-like points. He thought they also maybe had one or two too many joints.

More to the point, the alien couldn’t do anything with these arms because they were bound together at the wrists and tied tightly to the central support beam of the barn. It was stuck there, and going by the aggressive rumbling it was doing, it knew it.

Roman pulled out his phone and managed to take a shaky video of the alien, circling around it to both get a better angle and prompt it to threateningly twitch those back limbs some more. He knew his sci fi tropes, including the one where the alien mysteriously disappears the moment the plucky protagonist tries to tell anyone about the danger. He wasn’t going to be called crazy again.

Once he was content with the amount of evidence he had, he made the trek back to the house at a near-sprint, the cat in his arms protesting all the way. He burst through the back door, letting the screen fall shut behind him, and finally allowed Lady to walk on the power of her own four paws. She beelined for the screen door, stood up on her hind legs, and rattled it expectantly.

“Absolutely not,” Roman told her firmly, nudging her away. “I don’t know what it is with you and courting death via Xenomorph, but you are henceforth banned from the outdoors.”

If angry little kitty looks could kill, Roman would be as dead as King Duncan.

Shaking his head, he went over to the ancient landline phone in their kitchen, lifted the phone from its cradle, and paused.

Who was he going to call?

He’d had some half-conceived notion of calling his parents, or that infuriating police officer, or even just 911. What would he even say? ‘Hello operator, my emergency is that I have an alien in my barn, I promise this isn’t a prank’? Even the dial tone wouldn’t believe that.

And what if they did get someone out here to verify that there was a real alien? There was little doubt in his mind that law enforcement and then the government would quickly step in, whisking the evil version of E.T. away into some distant Area 51 lab. Roman would never see it-- or get any answers from it-- ever again.

He hung the phone up with a solid click, and turned to face the kitchen.

If he was going to interrogate a hostile alien, he needed to arm himself.

---

Shockingly, when he returned to the barn, the alien was still there.

He had crept up quietly again, hoping to catch it unawares, but this time it had been staring unerringly at him from the moment he peeked through the door, those smaller, rounder eyes wide open under its main ones.

He pushed the door open further with a dramatic flourish, pretending like he hadn’t been sneaking at all.

“Alien scourge,” Roman greeted, wincing at the crack in his voice. He cleared his throat, ignoring the way the alien’s dark gaze sent chills down his spine. “I don’t know how you ended up here, but I do know that you’re going to give me the information that I need.”

He pointed the end of his weapon of choice for emphasis, and the alien recoiled with a hiss, quickly jabbing out at it with those back arms.

Just as he’d hoped, however, putting vegetable oil on the already-slick plastic handle of the kitchen broom had made it basically impossible for those single-pronged limbs to stab or grab it. He grinned triumphantly, poking the alien with the end of it. The playing field had officially been evened.

“Now, unless you want me to introduce you to the Earth concept of piñatas, you better tell me what you’re here for.”

The alien was entirely silent, watching him with those shiny, pitch-black eyes. Behind it, its spider arms were vibrating with tension, probably in preparation to stab out the moment he slipped up.

“I’m serious,” Roman warned, poking it a little harder and getting exactly nothing for his efforts, not even a glare. “I know what I saw that night, and there’s no way it’s a coincidence that now you’re here. It was an abduction."

He paused for effect, and the alien let out a series of clicks and low, warped sounds that sounded like meaningless nonsense.

"I don't speak alien." Roman frowned. "Tell me what happened. Why were you-- or, your-- your brethren or your shipmates or whatever, why were they taking people? Where did they take them?”

The alien made what sounded like the same exact series of noises. Roman groaned in frustration.

“In-- In English! You understand what I’m saying, don’t you? If aliens are real and have the technology to infiltrate Earth without being detected, they have to have some way of communicating! An insta-translator or telepathy or math nonsense or something!” He threw his arms out in frustration, making the alien twitch.

He paced back and forth for a moment, before coming to a stop in front of the alien again and leveling it with an accusatory stare. “You’re faking it. I don’t believe that you can’t understand me.”

The alien just kept staring at him, flat plates where its mouth should have been, not a single expression visible on its face. It was about as convinced by Roman’s argument as everyone else in his life, which was to say, not at all. He felt a surge of white-hot anger, and levered the broom at its neck threateningly.

“Tell me, right now!” he demanded, stinging tears building up at the corner of his eyes. “Tell me where my brother is!”

He shoved the broom further forwards, and the alien snapped its limbs forwards and knocked it away, startling him into stumbling back. It hissed at him again, stabbing at the ground like a warning. He scowled, swiping at his face with a sleeve, and swung the broom handle at it sharply.

The swing went wide, more than a foot from touching any of it, but the alien showed the closest thing to emotion he’d seen so far, half of its eyes flinching closed in anticipation. Roman felt a sickening twist in his gut, some odd mix of guilt, anger, and vindication, and he turned away sharply.

Not for the first time, he wished he’d been the one that had been taken.

Remus wouldn’t care if the stupid cops didn’t listen to him, if their parents didn’t believe him, if the whole town thought he was insane. He would know how to convince an alien to talk, would threaten to-- to crush its extra eyes or cut off limbs or do something Roman was too squeamish to even think up.

If it was Remus, it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t know what to do. He’d at least do something.

He wouldn’t be going through the motions of life like everything was the same.

Pretending had always been Roman’s specialty, after all.

Roman cast a furious glare over his shoulder at the alien, resentful that it was still staring at him even as he was in the middle of a breakdown, and tossed the broom into the corner.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, swallowing back the thickness in his voice, “and every day after that until you tell me.”

Threat delivered, he stormed out of the barn and slammed the doors shut behind him.

[sp00kworm]

Evo-23 (Part 2)

Part 2 - Blackberry Eyes

Pairing: Zombie/Infected Monster (Ji-woon) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Gore, Horror, Cannibalism, Graphic Gore and Wound descriptions, Death.

---

PART 1 

---

---

“Ji-woon!” You hollered as you battered at an infected's head with the small axe in your hand. You slashed at the creature before shoving it hard and watching it fall to the floor. In a moment you were on it, smashing it’s skull in with two heavy blows. The Other, your companion, clicked and gurgled behind you, his back meeting your own before he screeched behind the gag, black veins running out from his eyes and down his arms. You’d seen him do this many times now, but the unnatural shift in his muscles and the bulge made you shudder. His fingers flexed before he howled, spit flying from his mouth, dripping down his chin as he flung himself at an infected, throwing it to the floor before he caved in its head with his fists. Another stumbled behind him and the other grabbed it by the neck over his shoulder and pulled, dragging it’s head from its body as the rest of its corpse went flying into the bushes. Ji-woon span back to deal with another as another gun shot fired at the two of you. It would attract even more infected. You were sick of it already. With a growl you beat at another infected before shouting again.

“We need to get to that shooter in the trees!” You hollered.

 The Other gurgled as his reigns flew behind his head and he rushed forwards, his body unnaturally low to the floor like a big cat. You screeched as he outstretched his arms and grappled you, holding you against his body as the veins spread and he sprinted towards the trees, sliding in the dirt, spraying leaves and mud upwards in arcs as he dodged the bullets being fired. With a howl at the hunting perch, Ji-woon flung himself at the trees, claws scrabbling at the bark as he snapped at the other human’s feet, his gag and reigns stopping him from getting a mouthful of the man’s toes.

The man cried out and aimed the hunting rifle down, shooting a round through Ji-woon's shoulder. The bullet slammed through the Other, sending him flying to the floor, but you clung to the ladder tightly, climbing up to the perch before you slammed yourself into the man. A scream sounded as he was sent flying over the edge and towards the floor where Ji-woon was waiting with open arms, foaming at the mouth at the prospect of fresh meat.

“He’s all yours!” You screamed at the Other as he gave a delighted gurgle, his arm flopping at his side from where he took the high calibre round to his shoulder.

“NO, PLEASE!” The man screamed before Ji-woon flexed his hands and popped his temples inwards, smashing bone into his brain.

 You descended the ladder slowly, watching the Other prance around the body, heaving and gurgling with fresh blood and spit dripping down his chest. You sighed and carefully undid the gag and reigns, watching as Ji-woon screeched at the lingering infected, teeth clicking and snapping, before he dug his fingers into the man’s hips and dug his way to the bones he wanted to lick clean. You shimmied back up to the perch to get the gun and bullets, sitting in the little chair with a sigh as you tried to ignore the slick eating noises beneath you. The Other needed to eat just as much as you did. Humans were the best food source for him to be able to protect you, but it didn’t make you feel any less guilty. Even if this man deserved what he was getting for trying to have you torn apart by zombies after you let him have water. You closed your eyes and clutched the rifle as you listened to the Other swat at infected and command them away. With one eye open you dared to look at the Other as he wrenched the femur from the man’s flesh and cracked the middle of it open, peering into the bloody, gooey mess inside of the hard cortical shell. With a gurgle, he pressed his lips to the end and swallowed the syrupy contents gladly. Your stomach churned and you looked away, fighting the retching that threatened to tighten your throat.

 So you sat in the hunters perch quietly, looking through the man’s back pack for anything useful aside from his rifle and bullets. He had a cleaning kit in his bag for the gun and you leafed through the things with a mild amount of confusion. You knew some things but others were beyond you. Hopefully you could learn. You shook the bag again and watched as a small journal fell out along with some old cereal bars and a compass. You pocketed the food at lightning speed before opening the notebook. The first three pages were illegible scrawl beyond the first sentence.

‘I deserve to die for killing him.’

It was repeated over and over again before the dates started to appear and the scrawl became messy writing. Most of it was mild observations about the days he had lived since killing his son. He was infected was written in a lot of the explanation but it didn’t seem to make him feel any better.

 ‘I wish we had let him die of the leukaemia so I didn’t have to put a bullet in his head and then my wife.’

 The reality of everything settled heavily in your stomach as you closed the man’s notebook. You only opened it again to tear out the pages about his gun maintenance. The diagrams were crude but would serve you well later on. You shoved the pages into your bag after folding them tightly. The rest of the journal you put away in his bag before you swallowed your tears and moved to the ladder. Ji-woon was finished with his meal, his belly slightly rounded and very little left of the man beyond pieces of grizzle and empty bones. His head was untouched and you felt bile burn your throat before you took it and a small trowel from your bag. The Other watched wordlessly as you dug a shallow grave for the man’s remains, burying them with his backpack before you dusted the blood away with plenty of dirt and a dip of your hands into the algae ridden fountain. Still, the Other followed you quietly, waiting for you to replace the gag and reigns like you usually did after he’d eaten.

 You sat on the edge of the fountain and sobbed softly. A gurgle drew your attention away from your feet and you peered at the Other crouched by your knees, his sticky hands patting your knees in some semblance of a comforting gesture. If he was human, maybe it would have said that it was going to be okay, but the cold hands only reminded you that you had condemned a man to death for the sake of maybe finding out some truths. It made you feel sick again and you reached for the Other’s hands before realising that the sticky hands were coated in blood and other bodily fluids. You tried not to cringe as Ji-woon reached upwards, his sticky fingers stroking over your cheek, moving along the flesh in a downwards motion towards your chin. His cold fingers tilted your chin upwards so you had to look at his bruised face. His black vein infested cheeks twitched before his lips parted and he smiled wide, exposing his pointed, clot covered teeth.

“Smile.” The Other gurgled as he watched you snort at his ridiculous looking face. It was silly. A mutated superhuman bleeding from his nose, smiling at you like it was some comfort. To a sick part of your brain, it was. Ji-woon wasn’t just one of the Others, he was something more than that. Part of him was still human or fighting to remember how to be.

 “I’ll try.” You whimpered as the Other reached and tugged at your cheeks, pulling the flesh taut before he let it go and patted them awkwardly, his cold fingers twitching against your warm flesh. With a heave and a shuddering sob, you finally found the strength in your knees to stand up. Ji-woon tilted his head to peer up at you, grinding his teeth and drooling as the black veins over his bruised skin receded back up his neck and into his eyes. His chest bowed outwards with a heavy breath, as though he was about to scream, but Ji-woon simply let out a long, shuddering sigh as he pulled his hands away from your skin and reached for the reigns in your hands. Gently, he tugged them free, and reached backwards to fasten the gag and attach the reigns back in place. Drool dripped through the gag, despite him just eating, but you carefully looked at his arm. The bullet wound was long gone, leaving only a dark bruise behind, and his arm was back in perfect working order. He flexed the muscles and twisted his fingers as he listened to the surroundings, his black eyes quivering back and forth, focusing on a million different things at once. He waited, patiently, like a well-trained hound, as you shouldered your backpack again and brushed off the dirt from your bottoms.

 The Other watched quietly as you headed over and grabbed at the leather reigns, tugging them gently before you started back along the path towards where the blackberries were growing.

“I guess we can go and get what we came here for now…” You whispered as Ji-woon followed behind you, gurgling quietly as you both kept a watchful eye out for any lingering infected. The blackberries you wanted grew along the bramble infested outskirts of the former city park, growing up the old iron fences. There was a lot. You pulled out a box from your backpack and smiled at Ji-woon as you plucked on of the berries free and chewed the sweet flesh. It tasted amazing in comparison to the bland, plain food items you could get your hands on normally. So, for a minute, you chewed as many as you could fit into your mouth, giggling as juice dripped over your chin before you pilled at many as you could into the container. With some gelatine you could make jams. You filled the container to the brim before pulling a few more off the brambles for yourself. Ji-woon watched from the edge of the bramble patch, his black eyes following the rivulets of juice as they dripped over your neck.

 “Can you eat human food?” You wondered out loud to the Other.

Ji-woon tilted his head as he moved through the brambles, the thorns catching his skin. The cuts healed as fast as they opened and you swallowed your mouthful as he took hold of your fingers, gurgling behind the gag as he looked at the stained pinky coloured juice over your skin.

“Can you?” You asked again.

Ji-woon rolled his shoulders and shook his head violently, as though he was trying to dislodge the gag and you scowled, remembering that he was probably eyeing up your hand as a food source. You snatched your hand away and clipped the box shut, leaving Ji-woon in the brambles as you scampered back to your bag. The Other gurgled and followed on your heels again.

“I don’t know why I asked. You only want to eat me anyway. After we find out what happened to you, you’ll just eat me and leave the outside of my bones for the crows.”

The Other stopped, holding you in place by refusing to walk on the reigns, his black eyes looking you up and down before he surged forwards and caught you by the arm.

 Ji-woon forgot his own strength, clasping his hand tight enough around your bicep to bruise.

“What?” You asked with a small quiver to your voice, “You can’t even talk to tell me I’m wrong! You’ll devour me just like that man as soon as you get the chance, with or without knowing you were once human!” You screeched, tugging away from his grasp.

Ji-woon’s hairless eyebrows dipped again as he grabbed you by the shoulders this time. He dragged the fingers of one hand down the side of his cheek, tugging at the leather straps of the gag before you dared to reach up and undo it for him. The buckle jingled as you let the gag and reigns fall away, dripping in bloodied spit. The Other clicked his jaw sharply, his teeth snapping together with a harsh grind.

“Look after…until…human.” The Other gurgled before he touched the space over the top of your heart, “F-F-Find.” He chirped before opening his mouth and leaning over in order for you to muzzle him like a dog again. He chewed against the gag as you replaced it, fingers shaking as you struggled to keep yourself together.

“Until we find about what happened. I know buddy.” You whispered before Ji-woon pressed his cold fingers to your chest again and reached upwards, dragging you towards him by the shoulder. He grumbled, spit dripping from his mouth before he blinked more bloody tears down his cheeks and clasped you tightly in a hug.

 The flood gates opened again, and you sobbed into the Other’s shoulder, wailing like a child as you clutched his torn shirt and grasped at his powerful shoulders. Fat tears streaked your cheeks as you sobbed into the bloodied material, listening to the rattling breaths of Ji-woon as he chewed against the gag and gently petted your back and hair, running his fingers over your scalp softly before he cupped the base of your back and squeezed again. The touch was comforting in the loneliest way. You hadn’t been held like this since the whole event started, and now you relished the cold arms around your body as you sniffled and hiccupped into Ji-woon’s embrace.

“Protect.” He promised against the gag with a hiss of spit, and you nodded, not saying a word as you let his cold fingers soothe the worries from your spine.

“One day you might not be able to…” You whispered under your breath before you pulled away from him and smiled gently, “Come on then. Let’s go home, huh?”

Ji-woon nodded slowly, his hands twitching by his sides as he watched you turn away from him, dragging the length of reign behind you. With a click and a gurgle, he followed in your footsteps, his head tilting towards the sides, listening for danger.

 The park was not far from the local hospital and you shuddered as you looked up at the building, the windows smashed and rotten, sun bleached skeletons hanging from the windows and laid on the tarmac. When everything had broken out, it was the first place in chaos, and you pitied the doctors who had been turned into meals for the Others and infected on that day. You remembered the bodies hanging from the window rotting that first year, dripping stinking flesh down onto the tarmac where starving infected licked the surface clean. Even the thought now made your stomach churn. You walked past quickly, with Ji-woon mimicking your speed, following close behind you.

“They used to claim that this place was where the first of your kind came from.” You told the Other, “It was the original test subject who got loose in the hospital and started the whole event on a mass scale. There was some top-secret research place attached apparently.” You spat on the tarmac, “I hope they were all eaten for making this mess.”

 The Other's eyes wandered from the tarmac, looking around at the empty bones before his eyes fixed on the bodies hanging from the windows and I’m the suicide nets between the two large hospital towers. They had died being torn apart and the zombies that had eaten them were long rotten, hanging through the nets in strewn piles of limbs and jelly. Ji-woon peered at the buildings individually before he planted his feet and stopped in his tracks.

“No way. Not today, mister.” You cursed at him as he tugged on the reigns, “We can’t go in there. It’s full of infected!”

Ji-woon reared back again and took hold of the reigns and gag, tugging it insistently, pushing himself closer so you had to look into his eyes. His mouth dripped with spit and blood as he loomed over you, his shoulders twitching. His eyes begged you even if he could not say the words. He wanted to go in there, with or without you.

Your hands shook as you looked at the building and you sighed, reaching for his gag, “One quick look. That’s it!” You insisted as Ji-woon babbled to himself and took your hand in his own, dragging you to the barricaded front doors.

 The doors had been piled with rubbish bins, wooden benches, and heavy dumpsters, preventing a hoard of most of the patients from escaping. You didn’t doubt that most of them had probably rotted away in the hallways, but you had seen even the slimiest rotten bodies still crawl. Ji-woon clicked before he heaved the dumpsters away, black veins crawling up his arms as he pulled. They swam up to his fingers where he clenched his hands and howled, tearing away the two dumpsters and letting them clatter down the steps to the building. In response to the groans both inside and outside, the Other hissed sharply, demanding no help as he dug at the planks boarding the automatic doors shut. The electricity was long gone so once the planks were gone, Ji-woon had to heave the doors open himself. You only watched as he did so and cringed, gagging as the smell from inside the hospital was released. It burned your nose it was so foul. The smell of hundreds of rotting bodies rushed out, and you reached for your scarf to cover your nose before pausing and rummaging in your bag for the filter mask you had. It would be better for cutting out any spores from rotting bodies as well. You found it quickly and pulled it over your head with a grumble before you dared to follow Ji-woon into the festering hospital.  

  The hallways by the doors were littered with bones. Corpses were laid over the remains of others, and you could only assume those were the remains of the infected who had eventually faded from existence too as their brains leaked from their ears and their bodies gave in. Ji-woon lifted a bone to his nose under the reigns, the black strap over his nose wiggling as he sniffed at it and dropped it to the floor again like a used toy. He rummaged through the bodies before tugging at the reigns and gag again. You had forgotten to remove them the first time, and so you carefully pulled them free, letting his mouth free. The Other gurgled, cracking his neck and jaw in his hands before he flexed his fingers and arms in a wave, clenching the muscles tight as the black veins spread over his bruised skin. The muscles twitched as his eyes blinked before they rolled backwards and be bent over backwards to look at you, clicking in a long groan from the back of his throat. His mouth opened in a giant, spit dripping grin, before he snapped back over and rushed forwards, disappearing down the hallways. With a gasp, you rushed after him, listening to the screeching of infected as Ji-woon smashed them against the concrete walls. You had to run quick, following the blood trails down the linoleum floors. With a screech you slipped in the guts of one infected and went flying, tumbling to your knees as you slid through the mess on the floor, staining your hands and knees. The fabric of your combat bottoms was stained a brown tinged red.

 As you fought against the tangle of intestines, you heard the buck fire of a shotgun. The snap of pellets against the wall was followed by the blood curdling scream of Ji-woon. It came from the stairs. You rushed to catch up with him as infected lumbered up from the floors and piled towards the doorway as well. They had no interest in you, covered in zombie blood and guts, and so they cajoled you along in their group as they crawled and hobbled into the opening of the stairs.

“Fuck!” Someone cursed from the stairway as the zombies started to pile together, climbing the stairs slowly. It gave Ji-woon an opportunity to heal enough to launch himself at one of them, screaming as blood dripped from his mouth and eyes. His fingers met the woman’s eye sockets and he pressed her against the wall before shoving his thumbs in as far as they would go. She screamed, her legs kicking out at the Other, and you tried not to watch as Ji-woon leaned over to lick the blood and juice from her cheeks, purring happily as his blackened tongue swiped at the snack. He twisted his thumbs with a violent jerk and pulled out the ruined mess of her eyeballs before popping them into his mouth with a happy purr. The shotgun fired again, and you cried out as Ji-woon’s ear and half of his neck was sent flying against the window behind him.

 The Other screeched, flying backwards into the wall before the only sound he could make was a pathetic whistling noise. The small hoard he had summoned were quick to slow and the remaining survivors seemed to deal with them quickly, smashing open their skulls before they grabbed you out of the mess, kicking and screaming. Ji-woon gurgled, blood bubbling in his open trachea before it flopped back and the cartilage started to heal, his hands flying out to grab at your bottoms as a male and a young girl dragged you in front of the man with the shotgun. They didn’t dare go near the healing Other but they were quick to drag their friend’s corpse away from him to delay his recovery. Ji-woon gargled violently and slammed his fist into the concrete in an attempt to grab at the foot before it slid away from him. He missed and swooned before thudding against the first step, his nose cracking and bleeding, broken, from the impact. The survivors only then dared to tie him up, grappling his arms and legs, hog tying them behind his back before they dragged him up the stairs away from you. You didn’t shout for him, you looked at the floor as you were put before their leader and the gas mask was torn from your face.

 “Now what is someone, alone, doing with an Other on a leash, hm?” He asked as he cocked the shotgun, “You know what they do…so why have you got one as a pet? Couldn’t bare to kill your lover? Pretty fucked up to let it loose on people.”

You didn’t reply, just looked at the floor. You couldn’t afford to tell these people anything.

“Fine. Be that way. We’ll see what the Doctor has to say about an Other listening to a human.” He dismissed you and turned, the shotgun perched on his shoulder. They were all dressed similarly, in old, tattered looking military clothing, and you made sure to make yourself a bit of a dead weight as two of them grabbed hold of you and heaved you to your feet. You followed willingly enough as they chatted quietly among themselves, heading up six floors before they dragged you into the floor and relocked and barricaded the doors behind them. You caught sight of Ji-woon only briefly before they carted him into an examination room, their hands full of heavy dog chains and cuffs. Fear churned in your guts as they dragged you into the side room to the examination room and sat you in a chair. They were quick to cuff you to it, ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to escape, and you felt your eyes and throat burn with tears as you looked through the glass and saw Ji-woon, naked, delirious, unhealed and chained to a hospital bed.

 You whispered his name but said nothing else as the Other’s blood dripped down the hospital bed and his neck sealed itself back shut. Still, he was loopy, delirious and upset, throwing his head left and right in an attempt to clear imaginary fog from in front of his eyes. As you watched the Other come around, the door opened quietly behind you, revealing a man in a lab coat, the sleeves rolled up his aging arms revealing puckered scars. The man was tall and thin, almost gaunt, as though his work consumed all of his waking hours. His greying hair was tied back at the back of his neck and a cigarette was perched between his lips. Dark brown eyes looked you over twice, head to toe, before he removed the cigarette from between his lips and blew a great cloud of smoke out over towards you.

“I’ve never heard of an Other listening to a human, never mind a human that takes their pet out to snack on other survivors.” he drawled as he puffed on his cigarette and looked you up and down again.

 “He doesn’t listen to me.” You whispered, “He just uses me.”

“A likely story. My entire group heard you shouting for it. It has a name, which I never thought the Others could remember. Whatever this little thing the two of you have, it’s something I’m interested in looking at.” he confessed as he looked over at the large machinery Ji-woon was being pushed inside, “But first I need him to heal that brain of his fully.”

“What do you really want out of this?” You asked, looking the Doctor in hi dark eyes. You were shocked by the lack of depth. They were cold and uncaring.

The Doctor laughed at you as he reached into his pocket and slammed down a notebook on the table in front of you before he followed it up with a bulging folder. The front was labelled with a ‘top secret’ stamp, but he opened the folder and flicked to a blue coloured tab.

“Does this answer your question?”

 You leaned forwards as best as you could, straining against the ties around your arms to get a good look at the images and writing. There was an image of Ji-woon, not unlike the image on his teacher ID, and then there was a more gruesome one of him pinned to a table, his eyes peeled open with needles piercing the pupil, back into the optic nerve.

“Your little pet was one of the originals.” The Doctor droned from behind you, “He was kept here after his first escape and then escaped again before causing all of the problems. The outbreak in the city was all his fault. This hospital was the breeding ground, and he was the catalyst.”

It was like you had swallowed a heavy rock. Your stomach clenched as you realised just why the zombies had listened to Ji-woon's call. He was their master. Most of the infected in the city were his doing. Even the Others might be his doing. You felt sick. You reached quietly as the Doctor only laughed and stubbed his cigarette out in a full ashtray.

 “Did you think he was innocent? It’s one of the Others now. He’s killed more people than any of them combined.” The Doctor gloated before he leaned over the controls in the corner of the room, looking at the heart monitor they had attached to Ji-woon. The beep was quiet and there were long pauses between them.

“Even the fact his heart works is a miracle.” The Doctor continued, “All because of some little human he couldn’t bring himself to kill.”

“If he’s the original, what do you want with him?” You asked meekly as the Other stirred in the other room. The MRI whirled to life, the magnets letting out a high pitch whine as they span.

“To study him. He might be the cure to the this, and I want my people to be able to live with the knowledge that if they put a foot wrong, they won’t be turned into monsters.” The Doctor droned as he turned to the small control panel and flicked a switch. The magnets hummed and you leaned towards the glass as Ji-woon stirred, his black eyes opening as his wounds finally closed.

 The magnets span and the MRI scanner hummed to life. You held your breath, watching the Other thrash against the dog chains. His shoulder clicked back into place only to be popped back out of its socket as he dragged at his chains, pulling them taught as the scanner started. He was quickly snapped back into place as the outside pully system went tight, keeping his head back and his shoulders pressed to the bed. You gasped as the scan started and Ji-woon let out a horrific howl. It went on for an age, the magnets spinning as his lungs roared until he couldn’t anymore, and he spat blood, whining as his eyes rolled and more blood dripped from his eyes and nose. The chains only went slack when he fell back against the bed, his mouth open as spit dripped from his mouth, mixing with the blood he had splashed all over the bedding from his thrashing. The Doctor tutted at the images and started another, initiating another round of howling from Ji-woon, his arms bulging as black veins swam down his face and shoulders then invaded his arms. The chains were drawn tight again, and you cringed at the unholy howl that left the Other as they scanned his brain again. The third scan had Ji-woon pass out, his nose pouring blood as his eyes rolled back and his teeth chattered in his mouth.

 The Doctor looked at the scans, ignoring his creature in the other room and you in favour of focusing in on one area of Ji-woon’s brain. The brain stem was enlarged at the back, with a strange looking organ attached beneath the main area. It almost looked like a tumour. You wondered if he had once been a patient, given the experimental therapy to help with a disease of some sort.

“Amazing.” The Doctor commented, “So not only has his brain enlarged but there’s a whole new area.”

“It looks like a tumour to me.” You commented bitterly.

“That’s precisely what it is. A tumour growth turned into a new centre of control. The brain stem controls all basic functions down to breathing, but this centre seems to be responsible for the Other’s abilities. Like the ungodly strength and speed, you’ve seen him have. This is the reason.” He sparked his cigarette again and hummed, “Its sad I’ve got to cut it out of him.”

 Your blood ran cold, “You’re going to do what?”

“A live brain surgery. We can’t kill an Other but removing the organ in his brain might do the trick.” The Doctor snorted, “It isn’t human anymore. Why do you think it is? That thing would eat you if I threw you into there right now.” A smile curled his lips upwards at the thought, “In fact, let’s see what he does, hm? A little live experiment never hurt anyone.” he took hold of the back of the wooden chair and tipped you backwards before dragging you to the door, laughing and wheezing as he puffed on the cigarette. His people looked on in confusion before he demanded for the door to the scanning room to be opened.

“Please don’t do this!” You begged as fear churned your guts and hammered at your heart.

“I thought you trusted your little pet?” The Doctor mocked as he slid you inside the room, your back to the thick glass viewing window, “Let’s see how much he repays you!”

You tugged against the bindings to no avail as the door slammed closed behind you and the Doctor’s wheezing laughter bounced down the corridor.

 The room was silent as Ji-woon’s mouth dripped spit and blood back against the hospital bed, his eyes closed and wiggling behind his eyelids. He was alive. His chest moved rhythmically up and down, breathing wheezily as he recovered from the MRI. What it had actually done to the Other, you didn’t know. He was dazed and sleepy, tossing his head with occasional twitches as the veins in his arms pulsed with a black light. It was something you had never seen him do before, and it worried you as you looked at the tied rope and cuffs which bound you to the wooden chair.

“Ji-woon?” You whispered softly as the Other twitched violently against the bed, his shoulders bending as his back and hips bucked forwards.

The Other gurgled again as his head rolled towards you, his ears twitching as black veins burned under his skin. His bruised face was covered with them like lines of tattoos, and they were quickly spreading down his chest. His arms were already covered, and you watched them pulse as Ji-woon tugged on the chains lightly. They were slack. Like a chain reaction, his arms bulged, and his eyes shot open as blood dripped down over his cheeks, painting him like a horror as he let out a screech and pulled the chains as taut as they could go.

 There was a commotion outside before a gravelly laugh sounded and the chains holding Ji-woon dragged against the holes, completely slack. The metal slammed against the MRI scanner as Ji-woon tore himself free and flew towards you. His mouth opened wide, exposing the black insides of his cheeks and his slick black tongue. The Other launched himself at your chair, sending you both flying back against the viewing wall. His mouth dripped spit over your shoulder before his tongue dipped out of his mouth to taste your hot skin. He purred at the taste, gurgling just like the first night you met him. Hungry. Feral. Insane.

“Ji-woon, please, it’s me.” You begged softly as his teeth pressed against your skin. He’d already torn your sleeve away and it laid down at the bottom of your wrist.

The Other gurgled before black goo dripped from his mouth and he heaved over your back, letting the spit, blood and black bile dripped over your shirt.

“J-J-Ji...woon...” He gurgled before he screeched again.

 You flinched, moving to cover your ears, and Ji-woon wrenched himself backwards, clutching his head as he let out a shriek and another howl. You watched in horror from the floor as his back rippled and cracked, the veins spreading like a web over his shoulders and down to the base of his spine. The muscles contorted in painful spirals before he let out a piercing human shout and spasmed violently. He clutched at his hair, fingers tearing scratches into the shaved sides as he tore at the pain.

“Stop it! You’re hurting yourself!” You shouted at him. Ji-woon only flinched away from the noise and collapsed, holding his head against the floor as his back bowed and a great black appendage tore from his shoulder blade. The mucus covered limb spread itself before the pointed tip slammed down against the linoleum, tearing a giant hole, revealing the solid concrete underneath. Another shriek left the Other as he slammed his feet against the floor and scrambled to hold onto something as another black, pointed, mucus covered limb burst from his skin, tearing a wound in his back. It was followed by four more in quick succession, and you tried not to cry as they slammed close to your face.

 Ji-woon clicked like a possessed child, groaning as the limbs lifted him like a spider and slammed against the sides of the room. His face was almost completely black, and you shuddered as chitin plates moved underneath his bruised skin and burst from underneath covering his face like a grotesque, insect like helmet. The slit along the middle left room for his eyes, but there was no recognition as the black limbs clicked along the walls and grabbed you by the rope that tied you to the chair, lifting you close to the Other’s face. The plates shifted and revealed his mouth, open, hungry, and filled with black pointed teeth. They snapped near your face before the Other sniffed you. He reared back slightly with a gurgle and flinched as the MRI whirled to life. A great, wet laugh sounded as the plates of his helmet shifted and clasped over his ears, protecting him from the noise as his black tongue licked at your hot skin, tasting the sweat that drenched you.

 His teeth tore open your shoulder a moment later.

 Agony laced your veins as you looked down as where the Other was suckling on the gouge. He pulled back and you watched your blood drip from his mouth. A great purr sounded as he hoisted you high with one limb dripping blood over the chair and his body as you felt the area burn with unimaginable heat. It would take you an hour to die and then three more to turn. If you were lucky, you wouldn’t wake up as an infected, but as one of the Others. At least then it wouldn’t be such torture living inside your own head. You’d remember nothing, or at least you hoped. You hung from the appendage as Ji-woon peered up at you, licking his fingers as he held you aloft, admiring the bite mark on your shoulder. The Other purred at the taste of your blood until the door slammed open. The helmet pieces snapped back into place, covering his face as the appendages whirled and slammed into the door frame. A shotgun kicked and the pellets sprayed against the hardened tentacles as Ji-woon’s arms grew again, the veins pulsing before his arms turned black completely. Thorns shot out of the skin as he howled and lowered himself, walking on four limbs as the others deflected the gun shots. You were hoisted high above the carnage, woozily swinging back and forth as you bled and the pain around the bite mark seared down to your fingers. As Ji-woon advanced on the people, you felt tears drip from your eyes, down onto his wild hair. He ignored the salty tears as he tore open a woman by her throat, the trachea held fast between his jaws. His maw opened again to tear more meat from her arms, the monstrous tentacles whipping around and piercing the other humans, leaving them with gaping holes, bleeding against the linoleum.

 “Ji-woon. Please.” You wheeze above him as he jumped on another person, tearing open their stomachs before he popped the rib cage open and crunched the bones in his mouth. The tentacles thrashed harder growing as the thorns on his arms became tough scales and his helmet moulded to the back of his head, holding his hair high over his head in a crazy spikey updo. You wept softly as he lowered you down to his eyes, black orbs shining inside the helmet before he opened his jaws, the plates parting, now part of his face, to reveal his black mouth, full of blood clots and bone shards. He clicked before reaching out a cold hand and running it up your thigh. He stopped above your knee and then smiled. Blood dripped from between his pointed teeth and ran down his chin, and he whipped his head back and forth like a dog. His hand came away from your thigh to touch the bite mark. He licked away the blood on his fingers before he touched his cool fingertips to your chest, pressing hard over your heart before he pressed them to his own chest.

“We can’t be together like this!” You sobbed, “I wanted to help you, not become one of your thrall.”

Ji-woon’s eyes blinked away blood, and it dripped over the plates over his face, “Together.” He promised you as he held you away from danger again.

 The Doctor appeared in the hall, and you watched in horror as Ji-woon slammed one sharp tentacle through the man’s stomach, pinning him to the wall with a slam and a great splash of blood. Ji-woon followed his appendage, growling as he met the man against the wall, cracking his black fingers as the ends shifted into points. With a snarl he slammed his hand through the man’s chest, enjoying the blood with a feral madness. He wailed again, the black covering his skin spreading, the plates and scales growing as he let the man fall to the floor. Spit slicked his chin at the thought of the marrow, but with a bite, he was upset. Ji-woon spat the blood and meat after the Doctor’s cries of pain.

“Stupid thing. I’ve been dying from the cancer for three years. My body will only make you ill.” He laughed as he reached into his pocket, pulling free a syringe, “But you might want this.”

You didn’t catch sight of it before a tentacle snatched it from the Doctor. Ji-woon inspected the liquid before the Doctor laughed and snatched something from his lab coat. He slumped forwards, slamming the syringe into Ji-woon’s leg. The serum seemed to have no effect, and Ji-woon swatted him away with a smash of a tentacle, sending him sprawling down the hall, his head twisted grotesquely.

 You sobbed above the Other as your arms burned in agony and your chest went viciously tight. You coughed, tasting blood in your mouth as you were lowered again. Ji-woon twitched violently as he presented you with the vial. You read the side and sniffled again. A lethal injection. The poison had already been ejected from Ji-woon’s body, and the clear fluid leaked down his bare leg before it too was covered with insect like plates.

“Please.” You begged softly.

The Other eyed you, his eyes twitching left and right, before he placed you on the floor and held the needle and syringe in front of your eyes. With one violent movement, he crushed it, and let the millilitres of drug drip from his clawed fingers.

“Together.” he stuttered again as he linked his fingers and took hold of the back of the chair, tugging you along behind him as he lumbered along the hospital corridors, groaning the word ‘together’ repeatedly like a ghost.

 When you woke again, you were laid in your small apartment. You wheezed as you looked up at the ceiling, feeling your limbs burn as you dragged them against the floor, attempting to touch your head. A cold hand grasped yours as you blinked away the red in your eyes. An armour clad Other peered at you with warm black eyes. Blood leaked from his eyes and mouth, between the creases of the plates of the helmet covering his face.

“Ji…woon.” You wheezed as your chest burned. Agony seared at every nerve as you shivered and coughed blood over his armoured thighs. A tentacle swept over your thighs, tucking you back against the mattress before it dragged your blankets over you.

“Together.” Ji-woon wheezed at you with a purr before his sharp teeth snapped and he gave you another bite on your hip. He said it again and bit your arm. The pain was already intense. You didn’t really register the bites as you raised your other hand and touched his head.

“So much for finding yourself, hm? I s-should have known… that you were a monster all along.” You heaved at him as you dragged your hand over his hair and cupped his cheek, “You’re still Ji-woon at least.” You whispered as your chest burned and you gasped and hiccupped violently.

 Ji-woon’s arms went slack as the tentacles around him waved gently. His mouth parted, dripping your own and his blood over the mattress as he leaned over your body.

“Together…Ji-woon a-a-a…” The Other gurgled as he reached for your body and touched your skin. You were cold. Freezing cold. Dead. It was as though it all came rushing back, and the Other wailed as he clutched at your body, looking for the veins that should be weaving over your neck and arms. Nothing moved under your skin. You were not going to turn into one like him. He howled, his tentacles thrashing, lashing blood and mucus over the walls as he desperately touched your face and pressed against your throat. He clicked, softly, louder and then screeched near your ears, calling for an Other who wasn’t there. Violently, he shook your body, crying for you as he cried black and red tears over your body. There was nothing. The Other wailed, throwing himself on top of your corpse as he heard his thrall thunder through the hall.

 Dead.

 He cried over your body again before he tore open his arms, spreading his blood over your lips before he took his teeth to your neck, spitting and bleeding into your mouth and the wounds to try and get you to wake back up. Your chest compressed with a breath before your eyes opened, red rimmed and burning with an orange glint around the pupils. You were not an Other. A gurgle sounded from your throat, and Ji-woon reached to cradle your head as you slumped into him. His blood dripped over the both of you as he stroked your hair like a doll, combing his fingers through the mess. Your eyes drooped shut again and your chest stilled before your body convulsed against him. Ji-woon knew what it was, and you were close to being with him, forever, if only he could get you to eat. He reached for his own leg and gouged his nails against the flesh. It hurt, but he continued, peeling open his calf underneath the plating. Blood and gore stuck under his fingernails as he plucked free a piece of muscle, fat and skin, dangling it in front of your mouth. Your eyes shot open, the veins in your eyes pulsing with black as your lips wrapped around the treat. Ji-woon let you have it, purring as you chewed and swallowed. It was then that he chirped and slid his nail under the back of your skull, straight into your spinal column.

 The scream that tore from your throat made him flinch, but he held you fast as his skin twisted and a black appendage grew from his pointed black nail, weaselling under your vertebrae before it shot upwards into your brain stem and poked the small tumour growing at the back. Ji-woon focused as his form broke off and wrapped around the tumour, stimulating the centre with new black veins, filled with the mutating virus. Your eyes rolled back as the veins webbed over the back of your neck, and Ji-woon waited for your eyes to go black before he purred and leaned forwards, kissing your dead lips. You only came to when his tongue pressed into the back of your mouth, tasting of your combined bloods and the faintest hint of blackberries. Maybe that was thanks to your last meal? You didn’t know but the veins in your neck pulsed and wormed their way down your chest, bucking you forwards, into the kiss with the Other. Your brain throbbed with the taste of food, and you reached up your cold hands to tug at the Other’s hair for a further taste of what would be your forever. Together, forever with the Other.

[hlizr50]

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 4

Gwyn is coping. Merrill is the worst. Az is... Az.

Read on AO3

Gwyn rubbed her eyes, the book spines blurring in front of her. It didn’t help that she’d been banished to one of the lower levels, where the dark creeped between the stacks and threatened to follow her. It also didn’t help that she had barely slept the night before. And that she’d come to the library straight from training.

It had been six days since she’d woken up bleary-eyed after Azriel had left her in the rain. And, as she’d thought, things were better. She had thrown herself into training and work, but she felt good about how she was managing.

She was tired.

But she could deal with that.

Merrill, of course, had sunk her claws into Gwyn’s wounds almost immediately, but she knew how to handle the haughty, hateful priestess. The first few days had been rough, but she sang to herself through the extra hours she spent in the library and let the melodies accompany her as she shelved and retrieved the tomes Merrill had demanded.

Azriel had even returned to training, which was oddly comforting despite this new distance between them. It was almost normal again – Cassian with the advanced females and Azriel with the novices. Neither of them lingered after like they used to, but she couldn’t help stealing a glance or two in his direction.

She would have to work on that.

With the last book shelved and her cart filled with new volumes for the white-haired priestess, Gwyn began the trek back up the ramp. She tried not to think about what Merrill would say when she found out that Gwyn couldn’t locate one of the tomes on the shelves. She’d looked at every pile left on a table or desk but couldn’t locate it. If she hadn’t already taken too long she would have started inquiring with every priestess she could find –

“Where is that miserable girl?”

The freckles on Gwyn’s nose bunched as she scowled, Merrill’s screech echoing over the ramps. She inhaled deeply and breathed out her sigh, steeling herself for the encounter.

“I’m on my way, sister!” Her legs burned with the extra effort it took to push the cart laden with leather-bound parchment. With her extra time in the library – to help her minimize the time when she was idle and alone – her body was still adjusting to the additional walking, pushing, and lifting.

Library work really was good conditioning.

Merrill was no longer at the rail when she reached level four so Gwyn pushed the cart through the stacks and down the hall to the sister’s office. Papers and books were strewn about, and the copper-haired priestess wondered how she could possibly keep everything straight. Of course, she’d had Gwyn to help – that was how.

“I hope you found the time between frolicking and singing to do what I asked of you?”

“Merrill, I was fully focused on your task,” she searched for a way to satisfy the female. “The work just makes me so happy I can’t help but sing.” Gwyn pasted a bright smile on her face as she lugged a stack into the office, searching for any clear surface that might hold them.

“Foolish Gwyneth,” Merrill hissed, not deigning to look at her. “Have you ever thought that some of the females here don’t want your songs thrust upon them? Have you ever thought about how they might feel seeing you so joyous when they cannot be?”

The younger priestess stilled, arms growing heavy with the weight of the tomes in her grasp. She hadn’t considered that, ever. The library was a place of sanctuary and healing, and she had been experiencing those things. She had never noticed if any of the other sisters were affected by it. Surely Clotho would have mentioned something to her if there had been complaints.

“Selfish, wretched girl.”

Gwyn sighed and set the books down as gently as she could on the corner of a small end table.

���I couldn’t find the third volume of The Continent. One of the other priestesses must have it. But I’m going to inquire with them now.” She turned to leave, hoping she could make it before the wintry female could toss more vitriol at her.

“Pathetic, Gwyneth. To prance around happy and content when you can’t even perform your basic duties. When you play at being strong and brave yet can’t manage to leave the library. You should learn that you are not special. You are utterly plain and ordinary and you should behave as such.” Gwyn kept walking although her shoulders sagged. She knew she wasn’t special – had never thought herself better than anyone else. But she also knew she wasn’t ordinary. She had been training in combat for more than a year. She counted some of the most powerful fae in Prythian among her friends. She had won the Illyrian Blood Rite.

But Merrill, of course – the cunning white witch – had snagged a claw in one of her buried insecurities and dangled it before her, as if it were on display for all to see. Gwyn still wasn’t comfortable with venturing into the city, for all of her growth and accomplishments. She walked proudly most days with a smile pulling at her lips, secure in her body and strength and heart. But somehow Merrill always knew what to say, where to push and prod. She had joked with Nesta that she must be daemati and would just gaze into Gwyn’s mind as if it were her own.

Nesta had just said she was a bitchy old crone stuck in a fae body, doomed to live for a near-eternity, and she was just bitter about being alive for so long.

The priestess grinned to herself as she went in search of… well, anyone. She pictured the list of females that she would have to check off, one by one, to ensure she found the missing volume. She was nimbly navigating the stacks when a familiar voice reached her.

“Gwyn! Somehow I knew I’d find you still here.” Gwyn paused and turned toward Nesta’s call, smiling wide at her Valkyrie sister. She noticed how the eldest Archeron had started wearing her hair down and smiling easily, and Gwyn felt her heart swell to see happiness reflected in those once-frigid eyes.

“Nesta,” she sighed as they met for an embrace. “What brings you down here at this hour?”

“Well you weren’t in your room,” Nesta fixed her with a pointed look before echoing, “at this hour. You’ve been working a lot.” Not an assessment, nor an observation. Just a statement to the priestess, a signal that she was onto her.

Gwyn flashed the most convincing serene smile she could muster and beckoned for her friend to walk with her. If Merrill caught her dilly-dallying she was as good as dead. “Merrill has been very demanding lately. Spending more time here helps me accomplish more and helps me make sure she gets what she needs.” She avoided Nesta’s skeptical reaction, knowing full well the look in those eyes would burn right through her defenses.

“So… you’re working yourself to exhaustion to appease that witch?”

Gwyn couldn’t very well admit that she needed to stay occupied, or that her exhaustion wasn’t just because of long working hours.

“You know how much I value her research, Nesta. It’s worth a little extra effort.” The two warriors continued to wander through the stacks, Gwyn making sure to eyeball every stray pile of books in search of volume three of The Continent.

“Well, tomorrow night you’re taking off,” Nesta mused, breaking the companionable silence. The young priestess halted, mouth opening to argue. “You’re spending the night with Emerie and me.”

“Nesta –“

“No, Gwyn. You’ve been working constantly, barely talking to us after training. We miss you.” She gave Gwyn the most un-Nesta-like face, pouting her lower lip and widening those ice-gray eyes. “Pretty please, Gwynnie?”

“Oh you know I hate when you call me that,” Gwyn huffed. But her nose crinkled with her grin as she reached up and pinched her friend’s cheek. “How could I say no to that face, though?” The Valkyries giggled together and Nesta leaned in to kiss her sister’s cheek.

“Perfect. Six o’clock, the House library. We’ll have dinner and dessert and books and Mother knows what else.” Gwyn smiled as Nesta gave her a look. “Don’t work too late, Gwyn. You’re tired. I can tell.”

“Oh, quit worrying you busybody,” she shooed Nesta away as she stuck out her tongue. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

~~~

Azriel paced around the group of novices, shrewdly observing footwork, weight distribution, and body position as they moved through their stretching and grounding exercises. Despite his neutral expression he was relatively impressed. It wasn’t like him to offer praise in the training ring – that was more Cassian’s and Gwyn’s nature – but he could acknowledge consistent improvement he was seeing.

“Alright, take a break,” he let his voice rise into the summer afternoon. “Get some water. We’ll start working core in a few minutes.” The shadowsinger quirked his lip as he ignored their groans and strode over to the other side of the training ring, where his shadows had been pulling him. They had been particularly insistent since he returned to training, eager to be nearer to a certain priestess after so long apart. Cassian stood, arms crossed, observing the sparring matches between the advance females. Gwyn and Nesta were a blur of punches, feints, and footwork as Azriel stopped next to the general.

“Berdara is sluggish. Watch,” Cassian muttered, and Az forced his gaze toward that ribbon-tied hair shining like copper in the sun. Even with her face red with exertion he could see the bruise-like circles under her eyes and the tightness in her features. Her breathing was ragged, shoulders slouched, weight too far on her heels.

“She’s dropped her left elbow every time she side-steps. She’s lucky Nesta hasn’t targeted that shoulder.” Azriel tried to sound like the seasoned teacher and watchful warrior, not belying the concern blooming within him.

“She’s lucky she’s talented enough with hand-to-hand. If they had weapons I would sideline her,” the general growled, frustrated. “It’s not safe for her to fight in that condition.” As soon as he said it Nesta’s foot connected with Gwyn’s shoulder. She swiped the priestess’ feet out from under her as she staggered and she fell with a resounding thud on her back. Azriel winced as he tried to control his twirling shadows – they wanted to go to her, to make sure she was okay. It was an effort not to give in to them.

“Water, you two!” Cassian called over as Nesta and Emerie pulled Gwyn to her feet. The spymaster’s eyes narrowed as he watched her. She bent over, hands braced on her knees, panting. Likely that fall had knocked the wind out of her. He looked up in time to see Nesta approaching, water in hand.

“Well fought, Archeron.” Azriel dipped his chin, acknowledging her effort.

“No. I’m not going to claim that victory.” She shook her head before looking to her mate. “She’s not herself.”

The shadowsinger bristled and his shadows seemed to twitch around him.

“What’s going on with her, then?” Cassian asked.

“I’m not sure. I know she’s working double shifts in the library. I’m not sure how she’s sleeping but she seems tired.” Nesta looked between the two Illyrians. “Even if she’s sleeping fine, spending extra time getting berated by Merrill can’t be healthy.”

Azriel grimaced. The priestess – Merrill – had a reputation, to be sure. And to hear that Gwyn was putting herself under so much stress was alarming. He glanced back across the ring and studied her. No laughter, no shining smile.

“I’ve staged an intervention for tonight. She’s spending the night here with me and Emerie.” Azriel felt Nesta’s eyes on him as she spoke. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.” When he dared to glance to the side he found them both with shrewd stares centered on him.

“What?” He knew his attempt at nonchalance was pitiful.

“Nothing to offer, Azriel? No thoughts you’d like to share?” Nesta raised her brow to challenge him. Azriel held his mask firmly in place, stoic and cold. But his chest was a chasm, guilt rushing in like a waterfall. He knew… he knew the changes they were seeing were because of him. He turned unseeing eyes across the ring, struggling to find a place to focus. But that copper-spun hair shining in the heat of the afternoon grounded him, a tether to reality. He couldn’t get the sound of her crying out of his head as he took in her wan features and sagging posture. Smoky tendrils settled over his shoulders in resignation.

He had been a fool. A coward.

He had been wrong to walk away.

Azriel turned from Cassian and his mate without a word, ignoring the questioning gazes and the racing thoughts. Instead he slipped into that quiet, observant, demanding presence with the females under his charge.

“Alright, ladies. You’ve had long enough. Time for core.”

He didn’t even grin like he usually did when they begrudgingly obeyed, his mind too full and his soul too empty.

Reply to this post or slide into those DMs if you want to be added to my tag list!!!

Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist

[juniorgman187]

Home Alone (Reid Fic)

Summary: For the first time since living with Spencer, Reader is home alone and left to brave the figurative and literal storm on her own.  Pairing: Platonic Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff, One-shot Content Warning: Storm, fear and paranoia, use of a deadly weapon Word Count: 2.8k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

It was a dark and stormy night. 

Too cliche? Let me start over. 

It was the time of the year when the wind was so strong, even the sturdiest tree would blow over. Meanwhile, the rain relentlessly pelted the windowpane, cascading down the glass at a record speed. In the distance, you could hear thunder’s deafening clap and see lightning’s blinding flash preceding it. The only thing that could make this storm worse?

Being home alone in it. 

Spencer, my roommate, was never gone for more than two days at a time. He always arrived at the exact hour when he texted he would be, and he never ever left me home alone before his arrival. Without fail, he would call over a friend to stay with me or if he knew he’d only be gone a few hours, he’d drop me off in a public space, where he knew people would see me. To put it simply, if I was in the apartment, I wasn’t alone, and I had to think it was because of something he would never tell me about. 

Without explicit reasoning for his unwillingness to leave me by my lonesome, I could only conjure up theories and inferences that were never confirmed. My best guess was an accumulated paranoia caused by all of those cases he worked on. I’m betting there’s been more than one instance where a woman was home alone and ended up dead one way or another, and after all that he’d seen, he couldn’t let the same thing happen to me. If for no other reason than he just didn’t want to slave over another case like this and have me be the victim in it. He’d seen it too many times to not learn his lesson. And trust me - Spencer Reid is not a person who needed to be taught something twice. 

But before I lived with him, I was never scared of being home alone. In fact, I might’ve actually preferred to be alone as opposed to being in the company of someone else, but I think my compliance with his precautionary procedures made me weaker. After years of living with Spencer’s routine, I relied on it for my safety. I’d gotten so used to the luxury of having somebody around when he was away that this loneliness was so unfamiliar that it left me uneasy. By now, I’ve associated the presence of another person with the feeling of being safe, and conversely, I now associate being alone with being in danger. 

So if you asked me to sum up how I was currently feeling alone in this storm in one word, I’d choose ‘uncomfortable’, but if you asked me to sum it up in two, my answer would be ‘in danger.’

It wasn’t until the situation presented itself that I realized I’d never been forced to deal with it, so I never knew what to do when it happened. Never before had I needed to call Spencer while he was at work because prior arrangements had always been made in advance, but I hadn’t heard from him since noon when he told me that he was boarding the jet and he’d be home before I came home from work. Was it inappropriate to call him while he was working? I wouldn’t know - I never had to do this before. 

But then again, he called me when he said he was about to board the jet, so if I called him, maybe he was still on the jet and it wouldn’t be bothering him. Unless, they got another case as soon as they landed and it required his immediate attention and the thought of calling to let me know he wouldn’t be home yet completely slipped his mind. I could see that being a possibility too because even if I was totally oblivious about when to call him, I wasn’t blind to the mayhem his job involved. 

With no good reason to pester him with a phone call, I decided against it. After all, I was a big girl. I could be home alone. 

In fact, this was the perfect opportunity to do all the things I couldn’t do while someone was around. Plus, distracting myself was the only way I could ensure that I wouldn’t slip into the same downward spiral of paranoia that led Spencer to enforce this very system.

After my steamy shower, I wandered aimlessly around the apartment in just my towel and nothing else. This was something I hadn’t done since the days when I lived alone. Mainly because I didn’t want to leave so little to the imagination. Honestly, as much as I love Spencer platonically - I’m not blind. He’s obviously a very gorgeous, very single man for God’s sake, so the thought of prancing around in nothing but a rectangle of terry cloth had certainly crossed my mind once or twice, but if anything, wearing more clothing would attract his attention more than wearing less would. That’s just the way he is.

Second on my list of luxuries that came with alone-time was blasting music. This is something I hadn’t done in forever. Out of courtesy, whenever I played music, it would only be through my headphones, so Spencer wouldn’t be bothered by it. Even then, I think sometimes he could hear it faintly in the background while he read or studied his paperwork, but if he noticed, he never said anything. So to relish in my newfound freedom of aloneness, I turned my phone’s volume all the way up and danced ridiculously to it, too. Of course, the music wasn’t loud enough to disturb our neighbors - I wasn’t that insensitive - but it reached new volumes tonight. Louder than it ever had been in this apartment before. 

Somewhere in the middle of my impromptu concert, I heard something like knocking. It was a distinct enough sound to make me pause my music, but not so distinct that I could recognize where it came from. I wondered if it was a noise coming from my song, like when you’re playing music and you think someone called your name, but when you pause your music you realize no one actually did. But this … this was different. It was too real of a sound for me to be imagining it. I could hear it from exactly where I would normally hear knocking, but now that I was alone, and quite frankly - naked - hearing knocking made my stomach churn. 

“Hello?” I dumbly called out from my bedroom doorway into the living room.

This was a horror movie-esque choice, I’m aware, and it was usually made by the docile female only seconds before a murderer appeared and chased her up a flight of stairs that she’d somehow forgotten to properly ascend. But my thinking was if there really was someone knocking outside, they’d answer me, and I’d be able to detect the danger if necessary, but in true horror movie fashion, no one responded. Leaving me to hunt further to access the situation. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but my mind did exactly that. 

You’re about to be murdered. My conscience concluded. Or kidnapped. Or assaulted. Or violated. Or -

Knock! Knock!

My heart accelerated at a pace my lungs couldn’t support, not without heavy breathing. It was here where all my logic and rationality flew out the window because for some reason, I started tip-toeing to the door as if not making any sounds on the floorboards would somehow ensure my safety.

I didn’t know what I was trying to prove by finally grasping the doorknob with the intentions of turning it open, but it certainly didn’t prove I was a “big girl” or that I was any less scared because as quickly as I had touched the knob, I just as quickly recoiled my hand away from it and ran to my purse to find my phone. 

Matching the speed of lightning, I dialed Spencer and sighed a quick sigh of relief when I heard the line ringing. That was a good sign. 

“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up,” I pleaded to myself as if God would hear it and grant me my prayer. “Please pick up, please pick up.” 

“The number you are trying to reach (702) -“

“Fuck!” 

That’s never happened before either. He never sent me to voicemail, not even when he was away and asleep. He’d always answer my call. This wasn’t a good sign. 

The knocking went away minutes ago, but my fear hadn’t. I couldn’t tell you what exactly was so scary to me, but all I knew is that I would feel a whole lot better, and honestly - a whole lot safer - when Spencer came home. 

“Come on, Spencer. Where are you?” I tried his cell phone probably three more times after the first call, my hope decreasing with each dial tone.

There was nothing I could do but wait. After all those missed calls, he’d have to call me back sometime, but I just hoped he’d be home before it’d get to that. 

My trepidation clearly clouded my judgement because rather than putting on clothes first and having my priorities in order, I was already reaching for the spare gun I knew Spencer kept in his bedside drawer. He didn’t know I knew it was there, but I did. And I planned to use it tonight if it came down to it. 

One hand held the top of my towel up from falling while the other shakily clenched a gun. 

Before this, I’d never actually held one before, but then again, there’s a lot of ‘firsts’ I was experiencing tonight. 

I didn’t expect it to be so heavy - and I don’t mean the actual size, but the weight of the object itself. This thing could take so many people’s lives, and I was holding it. It was a nauseating feeling, but my rapt fascination wouldn’t let me put it down. I had never noticed how intricate the contraption was. There were so many little details, so many little parts that needed to work harmoniously in order for it to carry out its function. I was only made more aware of just how many parts there were inside the gun because of my shaky hand unconsciously rattling the magazine inside. 

The clip sounded nearly empty. Jesus, Spencer, how many times have you had to use this thing?

My thoughts were cut short when the sound at the door returned. It didn’t sound like knocking, but something much worse. 

Someone was coming in. 

I wasn’t yet prepared for the worst so rather than confronting it outside, I stayed hidden within Spencer’s room ready to shoot when they finally came into my line of sight. 

If you were an intruder, I don’t think you’d be very intimidated at the sight of me, but for some reason, I still felt rather powerful. My hair was like strings draping over my shoulders since it was still damp, and the one hand I was using to hold the gun (the other being used as a towel holder) was shaking violently. I could barely carry this thing with one hand, and yet I still couldn’t put it down. 

I needed protection. 

I needed Spencer. 

I could hear footsteps slowly trailing in, and it seemed like the slower they walked, the faster my heart beat. 

“Who’s there?” My voice was loud, but it wasn’t nearly as threatening as it should’ve been to scare somebody. The dominance in my tone was clearly stolen by my fear. 

I saw a figure loom into the space between Spencer’s bedroom door frame and the living room, which was adequate distance for shooting, so with only partial hesitation, I nearly pulled the trigger.

“Shit!” The figure ducked their head while their hands raised into the air to suggest harmlessness - something a suspect would do to surrender. 

“(Y/n), put down the gun! Put down the gun! It’s me! It’s Spencer!” 

I could recognize his voice, but the storm’s darkness hid his face from me so I was still skeptical. It wasn’t until he swiftly came into the light to take the gun out of my hands that the small flicker of city lights illuminated his face. 

Spencer!

As soon as I could make out his perfect nose and his amber eyes, I melted into his already open embrace. I entered his arms wordlessly and shut my eyes so solidly with such relief that a tear escaped. 

“Hey, hey … you’re okay. I’m here. You’re okay, my dear.” He took my face in his hands to read me, and I think he must’ve seen my tears because his voice never travelled above a whisper. Maybe he thought if he spoke even a decibel louder, I’d shatter. He let my head travel back to his sternum, the warmest spot on his body, and again, he embraced me in a hug. His hands hovered in the air for a moment while he tried to find an appropriate place to put them - like I said before, he’d never seen me in just a towel, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he threw his good manners out the window and hugged me just as tightly as he would’ve had there been more covering me than just terry cloth. 

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, I’m right here.”

He held me for longer than normal, but he knew the circumstances were different here. Maybe that’s why he kept a single arm around me even when he travelled to his dresser where he collected an old t-shirt that he would go on to slide over me. I let the towel drop when the t-shirt was fully on, creating a sort of magic trick, where he never saw my naked body. But that wasn’t exactly true. 

I didn’t need to be without clothes to be naked. I was naked right now, even in his shirt - completely and totally vulnerable. He could see the plain fear that held me prisoner tonight, and so he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. 

“Do you wanna sleep in my room tonight?” 

I nodded into his chest without a spoken word. He knew I would still be scared, and in some way, I think his doting treatment was how he believed he could make it up to me. He even helped me into his sheets, taking the time to tuck me in like a child. I realized later though, he might’ve only tucked me in so the movement of the bedsheets would mask the sound of him carefully sliding his gun back into its rightful spot in his drawer. 

“Where were you?” I finally croaked, neglecting to add, ‘I needed you.’ It would’ve been redundant. He knew I needed him.

“The storm knocked over a telephone pole just a mile away. I was almost home when it happened.” 

Somehow hearing that he was so close only made me more frustrated. Here I was, thinking I was on the verge of death when Spencer was literally just a few blocks down the street. 

“You scared me when you didn’t answer my calls.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t see them until I was at the front door. I was too busy focusing on getting home to you as soon as possible while still driving safely through the storm.” 

With my eyes already shut, I could imagine him, his hands at ten and two on the wheel, his eyes straightward with nothing else in sight but the road ahead of him, his motivation to get home to the person who needed him most being what propelled that car forward - not even the gas. 

“I love you, you know that?” He whispered into my hair, where his fingers were already laced. 

“I know. And I love you, too.” I honestly replied. That’s why I need you here with me. It’s the only way I feel safe. 

I would’ve gone to sleep right then and there, but I was stuck on the fact that he was just a mile away this entire time. Maybe that was the point, though. 

He was never too far away. He was always right there, in one way or another. 

“In the morning, I have to leave at 7, so I’ll drop you off at the library.” What’d I tell you? He always made arrangements for me so I’d never ever be left alone. “So in the car ride there, you can tell me why you were about to shoot me.” 

After his statement was the first time I laughed that night. I nudged him to show my playful disapproval of his jest. 

“I thought you were an intruder!” My voice finally regained its volume. “You scared the shit out of me when you walked in.” 

Our laughter faded to silence and it seemed like that would conclude the night’s conversations, but I could still hear the gears in Spencer’s brain turning. 

“Hey, wait a minute - how did you even know I had a spare gun in my drawer?” 

To his question, I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn’t have to answer, exaggerating my snores to emphasize my blatant sarcasm. 

“Answer me!” He persisted; I could hear him smiling.

But I only smirked against his chest and coquettishly cooed, “Goodnight, Spencer.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

taglist: @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny

comment/message me to be added to taglist!

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 15: The Hunt

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, alcohol, mild domestic abuse, blood/gore, violence, body horror, death, weapons/guns

Summary: The Hunt is coming. Heisenberg turns to other vices to try to calm his nerves, causing more harm than good. While Juniper hears an ancient, primal song rise with the moon.

Feedback appreciated. 18+

This will be a heavy one folks

Two days till the hunt…

Heisenberg rose early, as he always did, pausing to look over Juniper’s form in the bed beside him. She was cuddled into the pillows on her belly, the blankets bungled up around the swell of her hip. Her pale skin almost glowing in the dewy morning light.

His pale eyes scanned over the dark blotches and bite marks that littered her skin: varying shades of purples painted across her in all the declarations of his claim. She never complained about the marks, or even the scar his teeth left in her collarbone.

But in comparison to the grizzly scar that decorated the upper half of her spine they probably paled in comparison. His focus fell on it. It was forever angry and hot, it seemed to shift a bit when her emotions got the better of her. He would sometimes catch her feeling it’s uppermost edge, green eyes downcast.

He gave a ragged sigh, all the worry and fear shifting around like bees in his belly. Miranda was planning something, and it involved Juniper. He couldn’t help the nagging thought that it was his fault, that his fondness of her made her into a target.

Frowning, he pulled the blankets up over her more completely. A shadow of a smile ghosted her lips as the warmth enveloped her.

~

Juniper woke, stretching out her sore muscles. She felt light, the day before seemingly going much better then she’d expected.

She went about the beginning of her day like normal, doing light cleaning and making the bed. It was when she reached the kitchen that things seemed off.

In the corner of the kitchen counter, where the bottles of liquor usually sat, was a glaringly empty space. Tapping her boot for a second Juniper looked around to truly find it missing. Worry worked its way into her now. She quickly finished up, dressing in workshop appropriate garb before heading for the elevator.

As soon as the elevator had descended one level the heavy throngs of the radio could be heard. It hissed and blared around the metal walls, almost drowning out the loud crashes father bellow. Juniper’s heart sank…these all the telltale signs of a more foul one of Heisenberg’s moods.

~

Heisenberg knocked back the bottle, the room humming and swirling with bits of metal.

Taking a ragged breath once the bottle left his lips he looked at the dented wall before him. Raising his free hand a metal pipe started it’s onslaught once more. The loud clatter of metal being thrown against metal entered the choir of chaos.

The radio and Sturm losing his goddamn mind below him adding to it. All the noise was almost enough to drown out his thoughts, the affront of his senses almost calming.

Suddenly the music stopped. Heisenberg spun around, finally hearing Strum in all his glory. The creature reved angrily beneath the floor.

Heisenberg stomped on the grate swearing, “Shut the fuck up!”

“He gets it from you,” came a cool voice.

Heisenberg straightened, seeing Juniper standing in the doorway. The swirling metal all fell, causing every piece to clatter loudly.

“What’s going on Karl?” Juniper asked, arms folded.

He looked a mess: face flushed, a slight sway in every movement, every muscle tight, and bleeding from several minor cuts.

Heisenberg gave her a feral smile, setting the bottle down. Juniper cocked her eyebrow at him.

“Liked all the fancy shit?” He pointed at her, “Had so much fun prancing around the castle, hm?”

“Does that matter?” She asked almost dumbfounded, “I thought dinner went pretty well.”

He frowned, looking down, his hat sent a dark shadow over most of his face. “Think it went pretty fucking well?” He turned away, leaning heavily back onto the table.

“What’s gotten you so worked up?” She asked, stepping closer.

“Think I can’t measure up to the supersized bitch!?” His muscles were tight, “I can’t give you all the nice shit she can! I can’t give you what you need!”

“Karl!” Juniper shouted.

“Shut up!” He rounded on her, eyes wild, “You would have been better staying there. You would have been safe!”

“Safe?!” Anger rose in her tone, “With her daughter’s drinking from me like a tap?!”

He took large steps toward her, the smell of alcohol hitting her like a wall. “You would have been safe. Safer then here with me.”

“Why are you saying this?” Juniper’s brows knotted together.

Heisenberg’s lips became a violent smile as he moved almost nervously, “Don’t you get it?”

When she didn’t respond he whipped around and threw a piece of scrap into the nearest wall.

“She’s going to use you!” His voice got quieter, “Maybe to punish me…I don’t fucking know.”

“Dimitrescu??” Juniper asked, deep confusion in her tone.

Giving a tight little chuckle he answered, “No.”

“Miranda?” She tried again.

As soon as the name left her lips Heisenberg rounded on her. His hand went to her throat, just tight enough to hold her and be a firm warning.

Her green eyes shifted from fear and shock as she tightened under his grasp.

His face came dangerously close to hers, “Don’t say her name. I don’t want to hear it.”

She tried to nod but he tightened his grip. She gasped, hands finding his wrists.

His pale eyes shifted over her face, emotions rippling through them.

“You’re fucked because of me.” His jaw went a bit slack. He saw confusion mix with the fear in her eyes, lips parting.

“I….I-I love..y-you.” She whimpered out in gasps. She saw his face shift before his hand tightened.

Black spots appeared in her vision as she clawed at his wrist.

“Why do you have to care so damn much?” He bared his teeth, “Why do you have to be so fucking important to me.” His voice almost sounded hurt.

His mind finally cleared of the red mist when he felt her grip on his wrist start to go slack. He quickly released her.

Juniper crumpled to the ground, grabbing her throat and sucking in needed air.

Heisenberg turned away, shame burning in him.

Juniper’s eyes pricked with tears as she looked up at him.

He put distance between them.

Heisenberg fell into a chair, rubbing his face into his hands.

“…I’m sorry.” He choked.

Silence stretched between them uncomfortably. Juniper rubbed her sore throat, shrinking a bit.

Looking up at the wall he started to speak again, “She wants you to join the hunt…wants to test you.”

Before she could asked he heavily sighed, “I don’t fucking know why…”

Juniper’s eyes narrowed, “So throwing a fit and choking me is going to help?!” She spat from the floor.

He didn’t answer. Huffing she stood, brushing grim from her skirt.

Walking towards the door, wanting distance she turned back to speak, “Karl…I’m not going to be completely safe as long as I’m in the village…no one is.” Her voice was tight, “And you need to stop blaming yourself for Miranda’s mistakes…your anger makes enough of your own.”

She left him alone with his thoughts once more.

~

It was late into the night before he entered the apartment. Darkness greeted him, he could just make out Juniper’s shape in the bed.

No food was left out for him and she hadn’t waited up at all. He didn’t blame her, their earlier interaction still leaving her understandingly raw.

She heard him enter, and the sound of his belts and charms being placed onto the table, his clothes to soon follow. The bed groaned as it accepted his weight. He moved softly and slowly in an attempt to not wake her. She felt him freeze when his eyes met with the reflective glow of her own.

“…Buttercup?”

“Don’t start.”

“I-I’m…sorry.”

She shifted, rolling onto her other side. He snaked under the blankets, moving up to press against her. She was rigid.

He nuzzled into her neck apologetically.

“I know you’re mad…but-“ he started, her voice cutting him off.

“Oh because you tried to choke me out for just trying to talk to you?” She hissed, “I’m so sorry my Lord.” She put emphasis on the word ‘Lord’.

He winced at her words.

“I didn’t mean it.” He tried to soothe. He softly wrapped a hand around her, finding her arms tightly crossed over her chest.

“I’ll just let you cut yourself up with scrap and wreak the whole factory next time.” She snorted, “Lesson learned.”

He wilted, burying his face into her. He knew he fucked up badly, but didn’t know how to fix it.

He pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her. “I’m sorry.” He whispered again into her skin. She relaxed a bit, softening in his arms.

His cockiness got the better of him, a hand sliding down her stomach.

“Let me make it up to you?” He ventured, hand drifting lower.

“Not on your life.” Juniper hissed, grabbing his hand and pulling it back.

He smiled a bit, “That’s fair.”

“Mmm.” She hummed tightly.

~

One day till the hunt…

Heisenberg woke up early, as he always did. But the need to rise and get to work didn’t itch at him. The want to sooth the sting of the previous day at the forefront of his mind.

Juniper slept soundly, cuddling deeper into his side in her unconsciousness. Remorse clung deeply to his core. The shadow of bruising ghosted her neck. Grimacing, Heisenberg pulled her closer.

He stayed with her until she woke naturally, blinking up at him with sleep heavy eyes.

“Not in the shop today?” She yawned.

“Not today.” He murmured back.

 

She made a sound, falling back against him. They laid in silence for a long moment, Heisenberg thinking she’d fallen back asleep until she spoke again, “Want to talk about yesterday?”

He shifted.

Juniper looked up at him. She’d known he was dangerous from the beginning, probably the most dangerous thing in the whole area after Miranda. But their playfulness and affections dulled her apprehension of his volatile nature.

In truth he did very little in the way of hurting her. But the warning that he could, the power behind his hand, was enough to grant her pause.

He watched her eyes shifting over his face in thought. He brought a hand up to cup her face, heart sinking slightly as she flinched.

“I…I really am sorry about…about all that.” He admitted, “Though that probably means fuck all…”

Her lips were a thin line in thought. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, even though his actions would cause her to be more wary when certain moods arose.

They were all monsters hidden in human flesh.

She closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. “Try to work on your anger…please?” Her voice came softly.

He gave a tight nod.

Taking a deep breath she changed the subject, “So the Hunt is tomorrow night?”

“Mhm”

“And Miranda wants me to go?”

“…yea.”

“So what do you do?”

He rubbed his face for a moment, “Gather the Lycans, get them all riled up and loud.” He swallowed, “It gives the villagers a bit of forewarning, less casualties.”

“They don’t know when the Hunt is coming?” Juniper asked worriedly.

“They know when it’s close.” He nodded, “Then when the moon is high I lead them to the edge and let em’ loose. Watch from a distance and call them back before sunrise.”

“So it’s mostly waiting?”

“Kind of.”

“Alright.”

He turned to look at her fully, “I want you to stay by my side, just wait it out ok?”

Juniper gave a nod, hearing the seriousness in his tone.

“Tomorrow I’ll have to leave to make some preparations, but I’ll come back for you by dusk. By no mean you leave this fucking factory.” His jaw was tight.

“I won’t.” She affirmed, “Should I do anything?”

“Get plenty of rest and food in you.” He shrugged, “But the cold will keep you awake.”

They spent the day together. Heisenberg made breakfast for them, Juniper insisting they eat on the couch.

They sat and ate, laughing about this and that. Juniper told Heisenberg about her most recent book she’s found around the factory and was now reading.

He listened intently, never telling her he’d read every book within the factory’s walls at least a dozen times himself. He was just content to see her happy, as he lazy ate his toast and sausage.

  His heart longed for more days like this, when they could just be two normal people.

The rest of the day went about the same. Heisenberg even set up the shoddy little television so they would watch some old films.

She knew that, in part, the day was his attempt to apologize; and even though she was very grateful for the time spent together without work, shadows of what happened could never be erased with any amount of apology.

She lay her head on his chest, the soft hum of an old black and white western played from the tv. Heisenberg’s fingers traced little circles over her arm and side, teetering between soothing and tickling.

She closed her eyes contently. She could hear him rustle around, pulling out a cigar and cutting the end. After a small click and the burning pops of it filled the air his hand returned to her, continuing its travels.

She began to drift, the sound of his heartbeat mixed the familiar scent of smoke enveloping her.

~

By the time Juniper awoke she was in the bed, covers tucked in around her. She heard the clinking of Heisenberg’s belts.

Blinking open her eyes she sat up groggily. Rubbing her eyes to clear her vision she saw Heisenberg dressing in all his usual attire.

“What are you doing?” She murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Heisenberg made a small sound of surprise, turning towards her, “Didn’t mean to wake you Doll.”

He took heavy steps towards her, closing the distance between them, “I have to go get some shit together for tonight.”

Before she could ask he shook his head, “You stay here and rest, it’ll be a long, fucking night.”

He bent over and kissed her forehead, beard scratchy against her skin.

“Stay safe.” She cooed, settling back into the warm blankets.

He made a rumble, happy to see her going back to sleep. As quietly as his stature could allow he picked up his hammer and was off.

~

Night of the Hunt…

He stood at the gates, the cold wind ripping his coat open. Lycans swarmed the forest and rocks, snapping and barking.

Heisenberg’s eyes scanned the countryside, the village was quiet, the smell of incense and goats blood rising in the wind. They knew a hunt was coming, trying to appease Miranda’s wrath.

The stupid bastards…

Juniper looked flushed and jumpy beside him. He touched her shoulder, “You alright?”

She looked up at him, green eyes dilated. She gave a tiny nod, shivering from more than the cold.

The moon covered the snowy land in an eerie silver light, the cold allowing sounds to slice through the night.

Heisenberg strode up to the gate, lifting his hammer.

“Time the rile them up, baby!” He shouted. Heisenberg began to bang the hammer off the fence, hard enough to cause a clattering sound but not enough to bend the metal of the bars.

The Lycans started to bark and howl, running up and down the fence line.

Heisenberg raised his head, bellowing out a howl into the night. The creatures joined in. Juniper felt the round rumble as Urias stomped into view.

“Roar for me!” Heisenberg hollered at the thirteen-foot Lycan. Urias looked at him almost curiously before raising his own hammer, mimicking Heisenberg. He bellowed out into the night, the sound deep and guttural.

Juniper stepped closer, her heart hammering in her chest. It wasn’t fear, some other primal emotion pumped through her veins.

“Howl for them Baby!” Heisenberg lifted his hammer over his head. Juniper breathed out heavily, eyes widening. She threw her head back, cupping her hands around her mouth, and howled up at the moon.

Heisenberg opened the gate, marching through. Juniper kept close to his heels, breaths coming out in hot huffs.

The Lycans bunched around them, howling and snapping at each other. Urias stomped up beside them, peering down at Heisenberg with cloudy eyes.

Man and creature raised their hammers towards the moon.

“Go!” Heisenberg bellowed.

Urius barked out deeply to the mass, before jumping off into the darkness, much too agile for something of his size.

The Lycans began to move, rushing forward. The moonlight seemed to sing, the air cracking with energy. Juniper felt it all. The song of the night pulsing through her. Her muscles itched and ached, thoughts warped for a single need. She pulled away from Heisenberg, feet seeming to move on their own.

Heisenberg took a heavy step after her, opening his mouth to bark a warning. The words died in his throat. He felt golden claws snake around his neck like icicles.

His stomach clenched, muscles going rigid.

“Let her go.” Mother Miranda whispered in his ear, “Let see how she fares on the Hunt, sweet boy.”

Her voice was colder than the night, steely and sharp. Worry clutched his heart but Heisenberg could only give the shallowest of nods.

Miranda withdrew her hands, stepping to the side to look over the scene.

Heisenberg stood uncomfortably still beside her, his eyes desperately scanning the forest for Juniper. She was lost to his sight…

~

Juniper ran between two varcolacs, she could feel the heat radiating off their sides. She was fast, faster then she’d ever remembered.

She was keeping pace with the creatures. A feeling rose in her chest, the desire to be even faster, to dig her toes into the frozen earth.

She halted enough to kick off her boots, feeling hot she threw her coat away with them.

She sped to catch up with them afterwards. Her legs elongated as she fell on all fours. In the new form she could easily match them, their milky eyes fixated on her as her body shifted to one that resembled theirs.

Her multiple green eyes glinted as she huffed out. She wanted to run and bite, to kill.

She snapped at one of the varcolacs, it jumped back a bit, shrinking from her jaws. She was slightly bigger than them, her teeth like daggers.

Reaching the hilltop over the village they paused. Her eyes caught many more shapes of Lycans in the dark trees.

She raised head, jaws cracking open to release an eerie howl. The others joined in, filling the night with a choir of terror.

They descended like a mass of rats into the village, dark shapes filtering between the buildings.

She could smell the fear, seeping through the cracks in the walls. Her wet nose twitched, drool forming at the corners of her mouth as she sensed the villages hiding in their homes. They were like mice hiding away within their holes.

Her teeth begged to sink into flesh, her mind a cloudy mess save for the most primal of desires.

The pungent stench of blood met her, with the death cry of a man far off. She surged forward, large claws digging into the frozen earth as she followed the trail of distress.

Her senses were bombarded with the melody of chaos. The sounds of terror and death rose up above the chilling winds, the scent of blood and fear almost suffocating.

She panted out heavily, every nerve screaming for more: to run, to bite, to eat, to kill.

Juniper found the source of her previous query. Lycans were shuffled over the form of a man, limp and bleeding in the snow.

She made a warbling cry of warning, the smaller predators moving away. She descended on the body, her teeth ripping flesh and breaking bones. She tasted blood, like iron on her tongue.

A sound, almost unnoticeable, sliced through the night: A small metallic click.

She looked up, pearlescent teeth shimmering in the low light.

She stared down the barrel of a gun. A villager held up a pistol with a shaking hand, reeking of terror.

She curled her lips, blood dripping heavily from her jaws, a monstrous growl escaping them.

Her muscles bunched, self preservation vacant from her in this current state.

The coil snapped, she leapt forward. The ear splitting bang of the gun sounded the second her feet left the snow.

[shuadotcom]

I Put a Spell on You | KNJ

✹ Summary: Namjoon wanted to find the right time to tell you he was born a warlock, but when a witch casts a time-sensitive spell on you, he may have to confess to you sooner than he anticipated. ✹ Pairing: Warlock!Namjoon x Mortal Female!Reader ✹ Genre: Fluff, warlock au, supernatural au, established relationship ✹ Rating: PG15 ✹ Warnings: Just cursing ✹ Word Count: 4.5k ✹ A/N: Written for @bangtanshadowfamily’s Creatures of Moonlight Manor 🖤 Huge thank you to @spicykoreantatertots​ for beta’ing this for me and giving me her wonderful feedback 🥰 

This GORGEOUS banner and matching divider was made by the super talented Vivi!! @eerieedits​ / @chillingtae​ seriously I am so in love with it thank you a million more times. Check out her edits!! 💜

Namjoon had wanted to tell you, he really did. There was just never the right time. He agonized over it for the entirety of your relationship, and now, five years later with marriage on his mind, he has to admit to you that he was born a warlock.

He knew that you hated magic; you made that very clear on your first date. Your mutual best friend set you two up, who knew what Namjoon was and knew how you felt.

“I think you two could hit it off, but you may not have much of a chance with her,” he remembers Yoongi telling him. “She hates magic and everything related to it.”

“But you’re a literal vampire, and she’s friends with you!”

“Yeah, but I’m not magical. I’m different.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and waved it off, but still didn’t mention what he was to you when you first met. That turned out to have been for the best after he learned more about you.

Being born the only person in your family in a decade with no magical abilities made you develop a hatred for all things and people related to witchcraft. Your family did their best not to exclude you from magic related games at family reunions and get-togethers and would try not to talk too heavily about it when you were around, but you always stood out like a sore thumb. You have a self-proclaimed chip on your shoulders that seemed to lessen over the years he’s known you but was still there.

Now, you’re coming up on your fifth anniversary, and Namjoon has an engagement ring burning a hole in his sock drawer because he’s ready to propose to you, but he can’t spend the rest of his life with you without telling you the truth. He loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone, but the idea of telling you he’s a warlock and having you leave him is terrifying.

Yoongi gets to hear all of his worries and woes anytime he’s over at the vampire’s apartment.

“Do you even know how you’re going to propose?” Yoongi asks as he scrolls through Netflix for the third time.

“Yeah, there’s a meteor shower on the night of our anniversary. We’re going to pack some food and head to the river to watch it, and I’m going to ask her then.”

Yoongi snorts. “Oh yeah, I forgot that you’re both nerds.” He dodges the throw pillow that Namjoon hurls at him. “So, just tell her when you propose.”

“Why, so she can tell me to go to fuck off and reject me?”

“Namjoon, I highly doubt she’ll do that. I’ve known Y/n since high school, and you’re the only person that she’s been with that she’s ever been in love with. Like genuine love.”

“Yeah, but you know her temper. Love or not, her anger knows no bounds.” Yoongi agrees, a memory of a time when he accidentally ate some of your leftover food coming to mind, and you made sure he suffered for a week straight after.

“Well, your anniversary is in like a week and a half, so you better figure it out. It may make her mad, but I truly think she loves you too much to leave you.”

Namjoon does his best to keep that in mind as the week goes on.

With your anniversary being on Sunday, you and Namjoon take Friday off of work so you can have a three day weekend together. Determined to pamper you before he tells you the truth, he takes you to one of your favorite restaurants for brunch to start the day.

As he’s holding the door open for you, a slender, dark-haired woman breezes past you and waltzes into the cafe, succeeding in cutting you both off and getting in line before you. The expression on your face already tells Namjoon how this interaction will go.

“You know what’s rude,” you say once you’re both in line behind the woman. You’re speaking loud enough for her to hear but not loud enough to cause a scene. “Seeing someone who’s clearly holding a door open for the person they’re with and just inserting yourself in the way.”

“Y/n…” Namjoon starts. Normally he loves your fiery, no-nonsense attitude, but he’s always telling you there’s a time and place for everything. His gut is telling him this is not one of the times.

“I’m just saying. To cut someone off who’s about to go into a building is just a really dick move.”

The woman in front of you whips her head around, her sharp eyes are staring you down, but of course, you are unwavering. She’s wearing dress pants and an expensive-looking blouse. She has a name tag on a lanyard around her neck that reads ‘Seulgi.’

“Is there a problem?” Annoyance clear in her tone.

“Yeah, there is. My boyfriend was holding the door open for me, and you just rudely cut us off to come inside.” The woman eyes you up and down.

“Oh well. I’m sure you can survive without your waffles for a little longer,” she shrugs and turns away from the two of you. Namjoon watches your jaw clench.

“Wow, what a bitch,” you mumble, knowing fully well she can hear you. Seulgi turns again, scowling at you.

“Watch who you’re talking to, girl. I could snap my fingers right now, and your mouth would disappear.”

You let out a sharp laugh and glance towards Namjoon. “Oh, great! This bitch is a witch!” You turn back to the witch, hands on your hips. “You magic losers think you can get away with whatever you want to just because you can wave your stupid fingers and make shit happen. I’m not afraid of you just because you were born different.”

The witch’s eyes dart from you to Namjoon. Her gaze lingers on him longer than normal and what looks like realization shows on her face. She lets out a chuckle. “So you hate witches and magical people, huh? That’s unfortunate because you’re going to need to find someone to cure you.”

“What the fuck are y-” Seulgi brings her hands up and waves her index and middle finger in one swift side-to-side motion before Namjoon can even intervene. You stumble backward, and Namjoon catches you before you hit the ground. You’re coughing, sounding winded even though you had been standing still. “What did you do to me?” You manage to rasp out between coughs.

Seulgi shrugs. “You seem like you talk a lot. Maybe a little too much. Let’s just say I gave you laryngitis, except it’ll be permanent unless you know someone who can break the spell. You have until midnight in two days' time.” The witch looks directly at Namjoon as she says this, smiling the entire time.  “Good luck!” She calls out as she steps over you and prances out the door.

On the list of ways Namjoon wanted to tell you he was a warlock, this was not on it whatsoever.

Less than an hour later, you and Namjoon are standing in front of Yoongi’s building, your fist pounding on the wood. The bleary-eyed vampire answers the door, clearly having been woken up from one of his mid-day naps. You wordlessly step into the apartment and plop onto the couch.

“Sure, hi Y/n, yes, please come in,” Yoongi mumbles under his breath and invites Namjoon inside. “To what do I owe this wonderful pleasure today?” You ignore the sarcasm in his sentence.

“I’m cursed!”

“Cursed?”

“Yes! We were getting brunch, and some asshole witch cut in front of us. I called her out, and the bitch cursed me! She said I need to find someone who knows magic to lift the spell or whatever in two days by midnight or I’ll never be able to speak again.” You manage to get this out in between coughs.

Namjoon ignores the pointed look that Yoongi gives him.

“So, you want me to ask one of my magic friends to break the spell?”

“Obviously. You’re the only supernatural person in town that I know well enough to ask. I’d ask my family, but there’s no way I can scrounge up enough money in two days to fly home.”

Yoongi stares at Namjoon, making the younger man uncomfortable, but doesn’t say anything.

“Fine. I’ll call someone I know, and you can meet up with him. Namjoon, come with me and get your girlfriend some water.”

Yoongi turns on the tap, and as soon as Namjoon enters the room, he sighs quite tiredly. “Are you seriously going to make me find someone else to do this?”

“This isn’t how I wanted to tell her! I wanted to do it on my own time and in a nicer situation than this.”

“Yeah, well, fate works in mysterious ways, huh?” Yoongi grabs a glass and fills it with ice. “You know how to break the spell, don’t you?”

“I mean, yeah. I may not have known the words the witch said, but it seems like a pretty simple silencing spell.”

“So, I will ask you again. Are you going to make me find someone to help your girlfriend, or are you going to go in there and help her yourself?” He hands Namjoon the glass of water and waits for his response.

“I just need a little more time-” Yoongi lifts his hand to stop him.

“That’s all I need from you. I already know who to call.”

His words worry Namjoon.

The next day, you and Namjoon arrive at the door of the person Yoongi asked to help you. Namjoon had known the tone that Yoongi took with him was concerning, and he was right.

“Come in, come in!” Seokjin waves his arm, letting you and Namjoon into his apartment. The older warlock winks at you, and Namjoon bristles.

Even after knowing Seokjin as long as he’s known you, Namjoon still doesn’t like him very much. According to Yoongi, Seokjin has been trying to get with you since your junior year of college, and it almost worked twice, but things fell through thanks to your refusal to date a magical person. Namjoon can admit that he’s the jealous type. The thought of another man wooing you makes his blood boil. Seokjin’s flirty enough that not even the object of his affection’s significant other being in the room will deter him. He’s shameless, and every time they’re in the same place, Namjoon comes closer and closer to turning him into a reptile.

“Y/n, you’re looking as beautiful as ever,” he practically purrs at you. “Namjoon, you’re looking…as you usually do.” Seokjin has never been rude per se, but nearly everything he says to Namjoon is passive-aggressive, which drives the younger warlock mad.

“Yeah, you too.”

“Anyway,” you interject with a cough. “I assume Yoongi told you why I’m here.”

“He did. I can’t believe you pissed off a witch so bad that she’s taking your voice away. I’ve always told you that one day your mouth would get you in trouble.” Seokjin’s eyes flick down to your lips, and Namjoon has to hold himself back from leaping across the room at him.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Kim. Can you break the spell or not?”

“Of course, I can. How many times have I told you that I’m the greatest warlock of the 21st century.” He shoots Namjoon a look. Seokjin had found out that Namjoon was a warlock a few years ago and always seemed like he was silently holding it over his head.

Seokjin motions for you and Namjoon to follow him into his second bedroom that he has made into his magic room. He walks past his bubbling cauldron to one of his bookshelves. He slides his fingers across a few of the spines before pulling out a book and rifling through its pages.

“Ah-ha! The spell she put on you is pretty amateur. She's either a new witch or a supremely lazy one. I mean, this is a spell that a baby witch could cast and-”

“Seokjin!” you wheeze. “I don’t care if this is a spell that only Merlin himself could cast. I just need you to fix me!”

“Alright, alright. I need to gather a few ingredients for a potion first. If the two of you would please go wait in the living room, I’ll be with you shortly.”

You and Namjoon do as he asks and go to wait on his couch. You play on your phone as Namjoon has his umpteenth tortured inner monologue. Your anniversary was tomorrow and he was still nowhere close to telling you about himself. To be fair, you did know that Seokjin was a warlock and you didn’t completely hate him. You just didn’t like to hang out with him unless you had to, and usually, the two of you spent most of your time together arguing.

Maybe Yoongi was right, and he was just overthinking this. The time that the two of you have spent together has been the best moments of his life, and he was sure you felt the same. But if that was true, why did he feel so uncertain? Why was the thought of telling you he has been keeping this massive secret from you for five years scaring him so much?

“So, good news and bad news,” Seokjin announces, coming into the room. “The good news is, I can break this nasty spell.”

“And the bad news?” You ask.

“Well, I’m afraid I won’t be able to do it until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! I’m supposed to lose my voice for the rest of my life tomorrow!” You yell at him which sends you into a coughing fit. Namjoon rubs your back and meets Seokjin’s gaze. He hates the smug look the older warlock gives him.

“You’re not to lose your voice until midnight. I’ll do what I need to do before then. Your lovely boyfriend and I can organize where we’ll meet up.”

Namjoon is confused. “We’re not coming here?”

“No, this needs to be done elsewhere. I’ll text you a little later once I finish getting the things together that I need.”

He’s hesitant, but Namjoon agrees, and he and you head home. A week ago, he was looking forward to his anniversary, but now he’s dreading it and just wants the day to be over already.

“This is all my fault,” Namjoon blurts out in the car. The two of you are on your way to meet Seokjin at the location he insisted upon, a part of town that was almost atop a hill. According to the eldest, you needed to be outside and away from “prying eyes.” It sounded like a lie, but Seokjin was older, so Namjoon thought he might know a different way to break the spell.

“What do you mean?” You glance from the road to him briefly, then back in front of you again.

“We’re spending our anniversary with you under a spell, we have no starlight picnic packed, and I have to look at Kim Seokjin’s face.”

“Joonie, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t do this to me. I suppose I do have a big mouth sometimes.” You shrug and find his hand on the center console to hold. “This can still be an anniversary date, though. Once Seokjin does what he needs to do, we can send him home and enjoy the meteor shower together. Plus, when you were showering, I snuck the picnic basket in the car. We can still salvage the night.” You parked the car and sent him a smile that had his heart beating so loud he swore it echoed throughout the cabin of the vehicle.

He leans over and kisses you for the first time today, his heart pounding impossibly faster. He decides then and there that he’s going to propose to you tonight no matter what. If it means hiding his magic from you until you’re old and gray, then he will.

Hand in hand, you and Namjoon head up the path closest to you until you see Seokjin in the clearing. He’s crouching on the ground in front of a leather satchel and reading through a book. When he sees you and Namjoon approaching, he puts the book away and pulls out a mason jar filled halfway with a glowing purple liquid.

“Good evening, my darling.” Seokjin smiles broadly at you when he sees you. “I hope your day was marvelous.”

“It’s my anniversary, and I spent all day stressing and hacking my lungs up, and now, instead of having a romantic evening, I’m here about to be exorcised. Does anything about that sound marvelous?” You got through the sentence, only coughing three times.

“My sweet Y/n, you’re so dramatic. Let’s get on with it then, come on.” Seokjin waves both you and Namjoon over, presenting the bottle of liquid to you. “So, the removal of the spell itself is pretty easy. Step one is to drink the potion, and then we wait two minutes. I’ll set a timer and-” Before he finishes his sentence, you toss your head back and gulp down the purple liquid in record time. Seokjin fumbles with his phone to set his timer as soon as the last drop is in your mouth.

“This tastes kind of like grape juice,” you comment, handing him the empty bottle.

“Patience, woman! What if the next step required traveling somewhere far away?!”

“Well, does it?”

“No…”

“Great, so what do we do next?”

Seokjin sighs and glances at his phone timer. “Once the timer is up, Well, your boyfriend isn’t going to like this, but I have to kiss you.“

“What?!” You and Namjoon exclaim in unison, your voices bouncing off the surrounding trees.

“Why the hell do you have to kiss her?” Namjoon feels his fists clenching, and his face hurts from how hard he’s scowling.

“It’s the way to break the spell. After she drinks the potion, which does most of the work, she then has to kiss a witch or warlock for it to take effect.”

“Ugh, I feel like this is your way of finally kissing me,” you groan. “Fine, whatever, as long as I get to keep my voice.”

“Y/n, no.” Namjoon’s sweating in the middle of the crisp fall air at the thought. This had to be some sort of joke, right? He racks his brain to remember what he learned about this spell in high school. He remembers that he has to say a generic counterspell to break it, but he doesn’t recall any glowing purple potion and a kiss.

“Joonie, it’s just a kiss. I don’t like it either, but unless you find my voice that annoying, we’re out of options here.”

“Ten seconds,” Seokjin reads. Namjoon watches the older warlock lick his lips and send him a wink. While he was typically a pacifist in a situation of confrontation, the overwhelming urge to punch Seokjin with all of the strength he can muster is strong.

He watches you let out a sigh and step closer to Seokjin, tilting your head up towards him.

“Times up,” Seokjin says.

Before he’s able to lean down, Namjoon is behind you, pulling you towards him and smashing his lips into yours. He feels you relax in his arms only for a second before you’re pushing him away.

“Namjoon, you ruined it! Seokjin specifically said someone who’s magical needs to be the one to kiss me!”

“I am someone magical! I’m a warlock!”

Silence fills the air. Namjoon’s breathing hard, his heart feeling as though it’s going to beat out of his chest. You’re staring at him, and he can see your brain trying to make sense of what he just said.

“You’re a warlock?” You finally ask, your brows scrunching.

“Fuck, Y/n, this isn’t how I wanted to tell you.” Namjoon’s legs feel like jelly, so he lowers himself to the grass and sits. “I wanted to find a time where it was just the two of us, and we weren’t fighting a clock. I wanted to be able to tell you and not feel so scared, but I just, the idea of him putting his mouth on you and being the one to break this damned spell, made me so mad.”

“I…I don’t know what to say.” You don’t look as angry as he thought you would. You look confused more than anything. “We went through all of this when you could’ve helped me this whole time?”

Guilt that he felt about not telling you combined with the fact that yes, all of this could’ve been taken care of literally the same day you met the witch that started this all. “Y/n, I know you probably hate me right now, and you probably want nothing to do with me ever again, but please just know I love you more than anything. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever been with. You’re my soulmate and the love of my life. The idea of telling you that I’m magical, knowing how you feel about magic, scared me shitless.

“The idea of losing you was too much to bear. I wanted to propose to you tonight before all of this happened, but all I could replay in my mind was you throwing the ring at me and storming off after I told you the truth. I’m sorry I ruined our anniversary.” Namjoon stays sitting on the wet grass, not caring that it was soaking through his jeans. He can’t will himself to look up at you, fearing the rejection he feels coming.

He catches sight of your sneakers walking over and stopping in front of him before you’re crouching down and cupping his face. The sound of you sniffling has his eyes snapping up to meet your red-rimmed ones. “Joon, I love you so much. The fact that you would even think that I’d leave you after all the time we’ve been together and everything we’ve been through is stupid. Yeah, I’ve never much-liked magic, but you should know that I love you more than life itself.” You smile at him, and he feels his breath catch in his throat. You still love him.

“Right now, more than anything, I’m just pissed that we went on this entire adventure when you could’ve just saved us the trouble and broke the spell days ago. But I love you more than I dislike magic. And if that offer still stands, I’d love to be engaged to you. If you want.”

Namjoon grabs you then, wrapping you in his long arms and pulling you close to his chest. The two of you topple onto the soft grass, the smell of soil mixing with the familiar scent of you. He fishes the small, black velvet box out of his jacket pocket and slips the simple silver band with an amethyst stone onto your ring finger, kissing your hand once it was snug in place.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am right now. I love you so much,” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

“I really do hate to interrupt,” Seokjin cuts in from the same spot he’s stood in since Namjoon pulled you from him. “But, you still need to break the spell.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t I do that already?”

“Well, not really. The kiss isn’t the thing that was supposed to break it. There’s a counterspell you need to recite.”

“But, I’ve stopped coughing,” you point out.

“That’s because the potion you drank stopped it. I figured I’d give you something to lessen the soreness in your throat, maybe, but you still have like three hours left before your voice is gone for good.” Seokjin forces a smile that neither you nor Namjoon return.

“So what the hell was all that kiss nonsense for?” Namjoon huffs out, standing up and advancing towards Seokjin.

“It was to get you to tell her you were a warlock! Yoongi said if I made up the whole kiss thing, it’d get you mad enough to admit it, and I mean it worked, didn’t it?”

Yoongi. He set this whole thing up to get Namjoon to tell you the truth. “You mean to tell me that Yoongi got a witch to curse Y/n, just to get you involved to make me jealous so that I’d confess?”

“He only organized the latter part of all this. This whole spell thing was all because of Y/n’s smart mouth.” Namjoon sees you flip off Seokjin in his peripheral.

“Joon, we can go curse out Yoongi later, but can you please break this spell? I’m seriously stressing over here.”

Namjoon makes a mental note to pay Yoongi a not so friendly visit later and makes his way back over to you. He has you close your eyes while he recalls the right counterspell to make everything go back to normal. He murmurs under his breath, hovering his hand over your throat, and his fingers tingle as the words leave his mouth. As quickly as he begins, he’s done and lowering his hand.

You open your eyes and clear your throat a few times. “How do I know if it worked?”

“It worked.”

“Yeah, but how will I know?”

“If you wake up tomorrow morning and speak, then you’ll know it worked.” You frown at him and glance up at the sky.

“We seriously need to talk about all the things you can do later, but for now, I really just want to watch the meteor shower and actually finish what’s supposed to be a romantic anniversary date.”

“We can do that.”

From there, you head to the car to get the dinner you packed, and Namjoon tells Seokjin he can leave. He asks the older warlock to let Yoongi know to expect a visit from him tomorrow that won’t just be to hang out.

Once Seokjin’s gone, and you’ve spread out the spare blanket you keep in your car, Namjoon relaxes as you lean against him, feeding him parts of the sandwiches you made. While this may not have been the ideal way he planned for anything that transpired to happen, all that matters is that you still love him, and he gets to watch the way the meteors flying above glisten off of the ring on your finger.

The next morning, you’re able to confirm that Namjoon was, in fact, able to break the spell that the witch had cast onto you. You still have your voice, and you’re able to give Yoongi an earful about not telling you his best friend was a warlock when he first introduced you while simultaneously thanking him for introducing the two of you. The vampire tiredly took the verbal assault after you and Namjoon had barged into his apartment early in the morning.

As Namjoon watches you threaten to shove a clove of garlic up Yoongi’s ass if he ever lies to you again, he knows that asking you to become his wife is the best decision he’s ever made in his life.

2nd A/N: Fun fact, this started out as a different fic that I wrote the beginning and end of, but then my brain couldn’t function for the middle so I wrote it all over again. The original version of this will probably still be finished in the future, who knows when. Also, as a disclaimer, I am in love with Seulgi. The idea of her as a sassy witch? Chef’s kiss!!! Anyway, hope everyone enjoyed it!

[poutyhannie]

warnings: smut, fluff, established relationship, sub!jisung, dom!femreader, pegging, denied orgasm, unsafe sex, degrading 

word count: +2.4k 

this was inspired by a twitter post saying that jisung is the type of boyfriend that would say ‘you wanna kiss me so bad’ during an argument :))

“I don’t understand why it’s so fucking difficult for you to just put a stupid shirt on when I have my friends over, Jisung,” you exclaim, exasperated at your boyfriends stubbornness and the fact that you have to even ask this of him. You’d think not walking around half naked in front of guests would be an obvious courtesy but Jisung had to emerge from your shared room with his tits out and even now brushes off your requests. 

“I’m chill with your friends,” is all he offers, shrugging to walk away from you to the bedroom but his flippant attitude and unwillingness to hear you has you snapping at him. “Listen, I don’t fucking care how close you are with them, put some fucking clothes on when we have people over!” 

He pauses, looking back at you with an infuriating knowing smirk, “So this is what this is about.” 

“The fuck do you mean, this is the only thing I’ve been talking to you about!” 

Smiling, he strolls back over to you before bending down to look you in the eye patronizingly. 

 Oh, this little brat. 

“You wanna fuck me so bad.” 

Your stuttering cough has Jisung smirking, cocky and content with his guess but you protest, “I’m asking you to put some clothes on, idiot!” 

“No, no,” Jisung shakes his head, his fluffy black hair caressing his face, “you got all worked up seeing me a little bit naked and you wanna blame it on me.” 

“Know your fucking place, baby boy.” Jisung is normally a brat, but you’re hoping your dark tone will shut him up. Contrary to these hopes but aligning with past history, Jisung just cocks an eyebrow at you, heightening the burning in your stomach from anger to something deeper. 

How much you want to put this little brat in his place. Instead, a harsh, condescending laugh tears through your throat. Jisung’s confident smirk falters for a millisecond. “No, baby boy you’re projecting. You just want me to fuck you in that pretty ass of yours again.” Jisung’s adam apple bobs harshly despite his relatively unfazed face as he shakes his head harshly. “Aww,” you coo, “is my little Bambi too shocked to use his words?” 

At the use of his favorite nickname you have for him, red flushes Jisung’s cheeks and ears. “No—,” he denies fruitlessly but you’ve already made your mind. 

“Fine, if my horny little slut really can’t go a few hours without blatantly acting out, I guess I have no other choice. Go get in bed. Put on that new outfit we bought.” Jisung protests, pouting in an attempt to hide his stupid smile as he drags his feet. 

Jisung kneels on the bed, his tan thighs providing a beautiful contrast of the white of the sheets and the baby blue of the skirt you bought for him. You can already see the outline of his dick pressing up against the folds of the skirt. His eyes are glassy and his chest already rises quickly. “Good boy, now get my box and you can finally get what you want.” 

A frown is etched on Jisung’s face, his pretty pink lips curling into a pout, “No, I don’t want it. I wanna be in you.” 

Your hand squeezes Jisung’s chin firmly and you try to not melt at how his cheeks squish in your grip. “You’ve already tested me enough today, Bambi. Better get the box now.” 

Jisung’s round dark eyes hold yours for a split second longer than usual and your chest flares at his indignant attitude. “I got in the skirt and I’m sitting here all pretty; why do you want the box?” He whines, playing with the skirt’s hem. 

Sighing, you drop Jisung’s chin, walking to the closet yourself and ignoring Jisung’s sudden backpedaling, his claims that he’ll get the box himself but your cold voice stops him half way to the closet. “Get back on the fucking bed, face in the pillows, you fucking brat.” Retrieving the familiar black box and turning around your met with Jisung’s shivering figure bent over into the bed. Tracing a finger up his smooth thighs, you remind, “Remember to use the safe word when you need it, Jisung.” 

He nods into the pillows. Faster than he could nod again, your hand is on his ass, smacking him for not using his words. A pretty little whimper and then a soft, “Yes, I understand, ma’am.” Content, you return to his thighs, stroking slowly up and teasing around his painfully erect cock and ass. You fasten a cock ring on him, ignoring Jisung’s soft whimpers of protest. “

As pretty as this skirt is, I don’t think you deserve it right now, Bambi. I was really excited to fuck you in it but you’re just not letting that happen.” Jisung can only shiver as you slowly unzip the skirt and carefully hang it up, making sure to take your time smoothing out the creases from the hanger. 

Jisung always liked things quick, exciting; he hates the slow and methodical so you’re a bit surprised when his pretty bare ass is still up in the air when you finally turn around. You let your finger tips whisper over his thighs, softly circling up his tender skin until he’s quivering under your touch. His cock is glistening, pressed harshly against his lower abdomen and his chest heaves as he attempts to keep quiet. In the tense silence, a resounding smack fills the room. Jisung jolts forward, surprised by the juxtaposition of your gentle caresses with the harsh hand that is turning his pretty ass pink. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh, baby boy? You think that if you prance around half naked, like a slut, I’ll let you fuck me?” 

Jisung’s voice is high, whiny, and breathy, “I-I didn’t plan that!” Another smack that stings your palm and his ass jiggles adorably, “Don’t fucking lie to me. You knew I had friends over and you wanted my attention like the clingy little whore you are.” A groan escapes Jisung’s lips, muffled by the pillows, but you can hear it loud and clear. It rings through the silent room, hanging in the air as tension builds. By the way Jisung shivers, you can tell he’s thinking of apologizing but you don’t let him. Grasping his fluffy black hair by the scalp, you wrench his face up to look at you. 

His eyes are shining and wide and his lips are red from his teeth. “You like this shit. You think your shitty excuses can fool me? Am I an idiot to you?” 

He shakes his head as best he can under your grip and his lips quiver, “I-I just really wanted your attention,” he whispers. 

“Color, Jisung?” 

His earnest, round eyes hold yours with determination even as his bottom lip quivers. “Green.” 

With that, you push his head back into the pillows, smacking his ass once more before fastening the strap onto your hips. The dildo is baby blue, matching Jisung’s skirt currently hanging in the closet. Jisung picked it out. “Fine. If my little slut wants my fucking attention, he’s got it now,” you hiss as you squirt strawberry lube onto your finger and press it to his quivering hole. An almost inaudible whimper escapes Jisung and you reach down to harshly grasp his dick. He cries out, jolting into your hand involuntarily. “Let me hear you, Bambi. Don’t hold back those pretty sounds.” 

He groans in to the pillow, “Yes, ma’am.” Satisfied, you press your two fingers into his ass, relishing the exhale he lets out. Slowly, you begin to push in and out of him, curling your fingers and scissoring deep into him. His soft moans fill the room, accompanying the familiar sounds of your fingers in him. Finally acting good, Jisung arches his back at the sensation and you feel him clench around your fingers. Sliding your fingers out of him, you lather more lube on the strap before positioning yourself behind him. The deep, throaty moan Jisung lets out when you enter him burns your core and you start roughly thrusting into him. Unlike your previously honey-slow movements, your thrusts are quick, so rapid that after a few moments, Jisung’s arms collapse under him. 

Slapping, sounds of his hole, Jisung’s constant stream of weak moans fill your ears. His hand fumbles around behind him, wanting to hold your hands but you slap it away, pulling out quickly. A high whine escapes from Jisung’s swollen lips and you flip him over, yanking his thighs apart. “Hold,” you instruct him and Jisung nods weakly, grabbing his ankles and positioning his hips up. 

It’s such a pretty scene: Jisung’s round, glassy eyes focused only on you, his flushed cheeks, his wet hole, and his glistening red cock. You ease the strap into him again, leaning down to grip his shoulders as you begin thrusting into him at the same rapid speed. Jisung’s pretty lips open as he scrunches his nose up, overcome with pleasure. His hair bounces with your thrusts and slapping rings in your ears. After you quickly reposition, Jisung lets out a high scream, “Right there! Yes, oh my god, right there.” Using your hands to push his hips down in tempo with your thrusts, you beckon Jisung closer to his unraveling. His face screws up and his gasps become rapid. Your hand begins rubbing his hard cock and he moans beautifully. Swiping over the slit you keep thrusting into him until his moans increase in volume and he cries out, “I-I’m close!” 

At this, you fully pull out and away from Jisung. His cries of pleasure immediately turn into cries of pain as he sobs into the pillows, turning over to rub his cock in the covers. “Why did you do that?” Jisung cries, his voice raw and sensitive as his eyes fill with tears. 

“Suck it,” you demand, pushing your hips forward. Still fuzzy from his denied orgasm, Jisung’s lips fumble around the plastic and his doe eyes gaze up at you, even as tears spill over onto his pretty cheeks. He hollows his cheeks and moves up and down the plastic, never breaking eye contact with you. “Why do you think you deserve to cum, Bambi? You’ve been nothing but a bad boy.” 

He whines into the plastic, averting his eyes, still sucking on the plastic like a lollipop. You pull away, gripping his cheeks with your hand. There’s his own cum mixed with lube on his lips, it makes them as glossy as his teary eyes. “Answer me.” Jisung’s cheeks and the tips of his ears burn red. “I-I don’t de-deserve to cum,” he whispers, pouting. 

“And why’s that?” 

Tears fill his eyes once again and he looks at you mournfully, “Because I’ve been n-nothing but a b-bad boy.” 

“Do bad boys get to cum?” You ask him. 

“N-no,” he whispers. 

“Do bad boys get to fuck me?” 

He shakes his head around your hand, “Bad boys d-don’t deserve t-to fuck you.” 

Nodding you tell him, “Lay back on the bed.” His eyes fill with sadness that pangs at your heart but he obeys, staring longingly at the strap that you’re taking off. Slowly, you clamber onto of him, your burning core dragging on his abdomen. Hands on his chest, you begin using his body, rolling your hips up and down his stomach as he does nothing but watch you with glassy eyes. The dejected look in his eyes tells you he’s disappointed you’re just gonna get yourself off yet there’s a distinct excitement at watching you grind yourself onto his abs. So when you grab his dick and sink down on it though, he gasps, bucking up into you. Quickly, you begin bouncing on top of him as his gasps and moans of surprise mix with yours. 

Jisung fills you so perfectly and stretches you so beautifully your mind is whirling. He gently caresses your thighs as he arches his back off the bed. The denied orgasm and tension made him sensitive. “You’ve b-been such a slut, baby,” you gasp, moving up and down his solid length, “B-but you’re my slut and I-I take care of you.” 

Jisung whines at your words, gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. “D-does that mean y-you’re not mad at me?” You gaze down at him and his fucked-out self and smile, “Was e-earlier not punishment enough to sh-show you I was mad at you?” He shakes his head quickly, thrusting up to meet you as he starts whining and moaning. “I-I’m close, ma’am. C-can I c-cum please?” 

Jisung uses two fingers to rub your clit in tempo with your movements and you hum in pleasure. “C-cum whenever, Bambi,” you breathe, as the coil in your stomach tightens. Jisung nods, eyebrows scrunching as his moans become more high and loud, whiny cries fills the room as he shoots into you. Jisung’s pleasure-filled expression is all it takes for you to unravel, clenching around his twitching dick. Riding out both of your highs, you slowly descend from pleasure and collapse beside Jisung, whose chest heaves and eyes are shut. 

When he doesn’t open them even after you’ve gathered your senses, you push yourself up onto an elbow, worry furrowing your brow. “Bambi, was that too much?” His dark pretty eyes open slowly and you caress his tear stained cheek gently. 

“I-I’m sorry for making you mad, I just really m-missed you and wanted your attention.” Cooing you shake your head, pressing soft kisses on his cheeks before trailing down to press open mouthed kisses on his neck and nibbling on his sensitive part. He shivers as you whisper into his wonderful smelling neck, “I’m not upset at you, Jisung,” you tell him, curling your fingers into his hair, “Don’t ever apologize for wanting my attention.” Kissing his neck again and sucking, you make him sigh contently, though there’s still tension. “I’ll always want to give my precious baby boy attention. You deserve the world, Bambi. You’re my angel and I wanna give you everything.” 

All tension in Jisung’s face and body immediately relaxes and a shining, gummy smile spreads across his face. “Really?” He coos, tugging you closer to wrap his arms around you. 

You nod firmly, “You’re pretty, precious, wonderful boyfriend and what I say during sex doesn’t mean anything because I love you so much.” Jisung giggles, blushing as he nuzzles his nose with yours, “Okay. I love you too, Y/n.”

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised Part Five (The Great Mini-series, Arranged Marriage AU)

A/N: Here it finally is!!!! Sorry it took forever, life happens.

Word Count: 4K

Summary: When the Emperor’s behavior gets your families alliance with Russia in danger, you agree to marry his best friend Grigor in order to make sure the alliance does not fall apart. You’re tossed into the Russian court and into the arms and bed of a Russian count, dodging his jealous ex lover, trying to survive the unpredictability.... but...what about yuou two? Are you and Grigor finally...feeling something for each other?

Warnings: Swearing, drunkeness, mentions of sex and nudity, marriage, and an in universe reference I couldn’t resist.

“Come here Sonya! Come here!” Lady Svenska cooed, wiggling her fingers.

The puppy trotted to her and she squealed in delight.

Tatiana bent her knees, her lime green dress bunching below her like icing on a cake as she did.

“Sonya! Sonya come!” she gestured.

With a happy trot, Sonya waddled over. She reached up, her tiny tail wagging.

“Oooo, good girl! Good girl!”

You had been invited to a tea party with the other ladies. Although you had gotten closer to the empress, you feared if they would see you as an enemy. Especially hearing of Catherine’s last tea party with them. So walking in, you brought your secret weapon. And it worked.

The only woman it seemed who was not having the time of her life with what was happening was Georgiana. Dressed in her purple gown and largest wig, she sat a little slumped on the couch. She was sipping her tea every now and then but crossing her arms. She stared daggers at the dog and how it trotted. She preferred any small circle that came over to obsess over the latest scandalous affair, but even then she kept one eye on Sonya as if the dog was a wolf ready to attack. She didn’t dare say a word to you. And you didn’t say a word to her. But if there was nothing said, then nothing bad could happen.

Smiling, you helped yourself to a red macaroon, delighting in the crunch and cream of it’s taste. Lady Svenska walked over to you and asked.

“Can she do tricks?” she questioned.

“Almost. She’s getting better at walking. She used to pull and run a lot, but she’s better at being obedient.”

“And she doesn’t tear things up?” she asked.

“Only sometimes. I have to watch where my dresses are stored,” you answered.

“Ah! She’s such a good dog! How lovely of you to bring her here, Madame Dymov!”

Georgiana’s eyes went dark.

“Will you come to our ball throwing this evening! It is most fun! Mine might go another inch!”

“I’d be delighted to! And be sure to tell me more about that maid with the baron old enough to be her grandfather too! And with copous details!” you added on.

“Oh! I do like you! And what of the Empress?”

“Well, we read. And we chat…”

“But all that reading!? Isn’t it time consuming!”

“A little. Her books can take time. I reread pages over and over…but in the best way. I suppose. It keeps her happy.”

“If you have any gossip about her, please share!”

“I..I, uh, will!” you promise.

“First of all, have you any plans or gifts to give her on her birthday, it’s coming up in about a month!”

“Hmm, I don’t know…” you mumbled.

At that moment your husband entered the room. He seemed a little uncomfortable with all of the flowers and pastel dresses, eyeing birds singing ditties in shiny cages and macaroons piled to his chest on platters.

“Oh, Y/N…where is Y/N?” he asked to one lady in a pink dress and grey wig.

She pointed in your direction and he smiled.

As he walked by, he passed the couch where Georgiana was sitting. Her shoe tapped his calf and he turned.

“Hello, Grigor…” she said with a faded grin.

“Hello, George,” he replied politely. Somehow, your blood felt hot. But yet, the marriage was over, so what if they even talked? He probably just enjoyed you talking with him and occasionally sleeping with him. But no, they had to be soulmates. And it was better not to disturb them. After all, despite the suddenness of the marriage, it would work. He would be happy.

“How is the party?” he asked, hands placed behind the back.

“Going perfect. We’re being introduced to the loud, hairy creature that lifts her leg when she pisses. Her dog is there too.” She quipped with a surprisingly relieved smile.

You froze. Little Sonya recognized Grigor and ran up to him, oblivious to how white his face was turning. A few fans were spread, and you barely heard feminine whispers of “…quite bitchy…” It got a little quiet. Even with the string quartet in the back was playing at a piano as if they wanted to hear what would happen next to.

Getting up, you turned around to leave them alone. Let them take it out. Let him laugh, Let her smile. Maybe even fuck against the wall like you noticed the odd couple doing on a night of reveling in the palace, no matter who might see or hear.

“George. I can’t control what you do on your own. But when you are with me, you will not speak about my wife in that matter.”

Pausing, you turned around. A couple quiet tears fell down your cheeks.

“You’re an esteemed lady of the court with the world at your fingertips. She’s a poor creature thrown into an arranged marriage, stolen from another country, and little to never to see any of her family or friends again while you just lay down and let Peter put fruit in your pussy and drink champagne.”

Wiping away tears with your hands, you stood still, not sure what to say. Grigor continued, truly angered and passionate.

“I didn’t marry her because of you. And she didn’t marry me so she could have my cock when you couldn’t. I did this so that we all- we all-“ he gestured to the people in the room “won’t be fucking ripped apart by Swede’s in a fortnight thanks to her families army. You will show her what little compassion you have in your tiny heart. You could even show her an ounce of gratitude for the sacrifice she and I made for the safety of everyone here, including yours. Or else I could have said no and let the swedes stab you in your tits when you’re asleep in the emperor’s bed. And I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it too. But I did.”

She froze. There was even a couple of gasps.

Scooping the tiny dog in his arms, he turned ot you promptly.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I…I am…” you answered. “But I’m tired, let’s go home and play cards.”

“I agree.”

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 A week later, Grigor had partied so much with the Emperor last night, wrestling and playing with some man named Leon or whoever. You peaked in the door, and yawning, retired to your own apartments to sleep even if alone.

Waking up briefly in the grey air, you felt him crawling into bed at four in the morning. So you let him sleep in as you took Sonya on her morning walk. Besides, she would pout and whine if you didn’t walk at her certain time.

“Here you go, I know, Papa can’t be there-but I will,” you assured the dog.

You made your way through the halls into the gardens. Sonya was already getting bigger. The collar and leash made for her a while ago was getting snug on her fluffy body.

Enjoying the forest, you heard the rhythmic crunch of the leaves and sticks beneath Sonya’s prancing paws. The cold air stung your lungs in the best way. The sky looked clear and crisp.

Sonya pointed her snout in one direction. She began pulling and barking.

“What is it? Some sort of creature!” you thought, walking forward.

It wasn’t a mouse of squirrel, there was a person slumped against a tree, sitting on the dirt. Walking closer, you made out a dark green skirt and a hat, but a head of dark, curly hair made loose. She reeked of vodka and beer. Her face was pale to where she seemed ill, rather than the lovely cream color of her skin. And beneath her eyes there were several bags.

“G..Georgiana…”

She turned her head to you, squinting.

“Yes…” she grunted.

“What are you doing here?”

She began to laugh a little, bitterly.

“I could ask the same…what are you doing here?”

“I’m walking Sonya…she needs to be exercised so she won’t get into trouble from being bored,” you explained, gripping the leash.

“Huh, I know sometimes…sometimes Grigor goes with you…” her voice was deep and throaty, far from her usual speaking tone. As if every word was choked up.

She seemed so pitiful you didn’t have the heart to chafe her.

“Yes, yes he does…”

Her exhausted eyes wandered forward into the grove of trees. She kept speaking to you.

“Sometimes we’d walk together. Only if it was nice. We did everything together. Walking. Eating. Dancing. Bathing together. Did you know…I even got my portrait painted and he kept it in his room! Right next to his bed…he…he cared for me so much to where I was right there with him every morning even when I wasn’t next to him and now…now he hates me…”

She began to sniffle, and a few tears worked up.

“No. No, I don’t think he hates you at all…”

“Why did he speak to me that way?”

“He just…he got emotional. And he has been emotional because he loves you. He’s every bit as sad as you are for not marrying…”

Sonya walked over to the crying woman. Alerted by the sounds, she walked over and sniffed at her wet face. She broke out  a smile.

“But the truth is…in this court, there’s plenty of women who’ve fucked Peter. More than half. That’s just a fact of life. But I… I love it. I love having men want me, being worshipped, loved, is that wrong?”

“It’s normal,” you admitted. “it’s normal to want to be loved.”

“And the things it gives you. It’s not the least bad. I have all sorts of things. Dresses. Hats. A high position in court. Security. Comfort. Occasionally I can change laws and save lives with just a word-imagine that! And jewels. Jewels I used to dream of having. And I get to enjoy making love to a man who’s skilled at it. It might be the only way for a woman here to move up. That’s the way it is, is that wrong? Is it wrong to enjoy fucking and love a man too? For them to be separate men? They do it all the time and no one bats an eye bit when I do…”

She finally fell down into sobs.

“And he just...he couldn’t accept it. He claimed he loved me, and I… I love him, I still do, he just couldn’t accept me as I am and this world as it is…I thought he knew me…and that I knew him…”

She began to cry more; Sonya reached over and began to lick her face. She laughed at the ridiculous feeling of a dog’s tongue right on your nose and you began to laugh too.

“Georgiana…I’m so sorry I yelled at you that first day…I saw you as a threat and didn’t stop to think what you would feel. How I would feel if I was in your shoes…”

“Ugh, you’re…you’re as saccharine as…as…I don’t even know, Y/N. I’d put you in my…my mouth and my blood would rush, and they’d have to let it out with slugs.”

Taking out a handkerchief, you began to wipe her tears from her face.

“I’m not the one in tears…but…he used to keep a portrait of you…” you questioned.

“He did…is it there? Maybe….”

“Not anymore…” you explained flatly.

So that explained the circular area on the wall next to the bed.

“I know you really do love Grigor. And you care for him…but loving someone is hard. I love my family and friends back home, or unless I wanted to make all of them suffer or even get killed, I had to let them go to come here…sometimes, there are things you have to let go and move on from…” you assured her. You aren’t a bad person for wanting those things. You’re a smart person for figuring out how to get them. I admire you for it.”

“I just keep wondering…I keep wondering what would happen if he said yes…if he agreed to the terms…we’d be so happy…”

And he would see you with Peter and be miserable. Then god knows what would happen you thought.

You took her arm and helped her to her shaky legs.

“But there’s no use in that. Here, let’s get you back to the palace. I think after you get some water and some sleep, you might feel better…”

“But Y/N, Grigor I think…he’s in denial how Peter works here. If a woman needs anything in court, and if Peter picks you…he picks you. And, well, there’s nothing you can do about it…”

Your stomach lurched.

    “Grigor might want a faithful wife. He might’ve thought he got that with you but…defying the Emperor is a risk. Too huge. Why say no? After all, he’s a genius at fucking so it could be worse…”

“You need water, Georgiana. And you need to clean up. Then you’ll feel better…” you interrupted, trying to mother her away and ignoring the fear in your gut.

 But as you were strolling later in the week, returning from another one of the Empresses’s private discussions, you saw a few ladies eye down at the book. Perhaps they judged you. Perhaps they were jealous. But one bespecaled face saw you, smiled, and then hurried up.

“Orlo! How are you?”

“Y/N-er-Madame Dymov! Enough about me already- I heard the Empress gave you a copy of the Rousseau! What do you think!?” he asked excitedly.

His dark eyes glittered at the book in your hands. Holding it up to him you let him inspect it.

“I was…I was shocked at first. His ideas felt like…like a blast of cold wind. But I…he made good points. And I found myself agreeing after some time…” you explained with a shrug.

“He’s one of my favorites, and tehre’s so much…so much inside there. But I…I wish I could explain it all…”

“Let’s go to my place, I’ll call for a plate...” you offered with a shrug and a smile.

Introducing him to the drawing room, he settled down shyly on the seat in front of the fire. You brought in some tea with a strawberry cake and wound up talking for a straight hour. He got his own turn to pet on little Sonya as she licked his fingers from the cake crumbs. You discussed Rousseau, then he went on to talk about Voltaire, Plato, Paine. Ideas stretched you and you found yourself talking about things you could never imagine debating about with anyone. About people. Power. Faith. Life. Death. Purpose, if there was one at all. Your cup became cold and you had to reheat it by pouring some liquid into it.

Orlo glowed as he explained it all. He was not condescending. In fact, it felt like being in school with  a good teacher. You understood and appreciated it even more. You were amazed with the depth of knowledge he had. Beneath his mousy exterior, there was a brilliant mind. Perhaps even genius. You were amazed in him. Strands of his hair loosened out and he smiled more, seeming relaxed and confident. Far more confident than you ever knew him to be in public.

“But out of all of them, I think my favorite is…”

The door creaked as it opened.

His head turned and you saw Grigor walking in. His face was pink, and his eyebrows crossed.

“Hello Orlo, what are you doing with my wife?” he asked, his lips tight and his voice firm.

“I, uh…” he found himself blubbering. His posture slouched and his hands retreated.

Standing at once, you walked up to Grigor with as much poise as you could.

“The empress gifted me with a book and Orlo was asking me about it over tea, nothing more…” you explained plainly.

“It’s fascinating. Isn’t it!” you added, throwing back a look.

Orlo nodded shyly, getting out of the seat like it had spikes.

“Very.”

“Oh, alright…” Grigor replied quietly.

Once Orlo thanked you for hosting him and shuffled out, Grigor’s eyes never left his steps.

 He was quiet over dinner. You had to ask questions about his day and have Sonya’s begging fill the silence. Later, you changed into your nightgown to see Grigor was already in bed.

You saw him curl up to the other side. Not turning around, holding the blanket over his shoulders and leaving your side disproportionally cold.

With a huff, you placed your hands on your hips.

“What is it?” You had a guess, but you wanted to hear it from him.

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong” he said in a tone that said something was definitely wrong.

“What is it…tell me…” you wheedled, sitting on the bed and leaning closer to him.

He turned around.

“I understand we agreed to follow orders to marry. Not for us. Our countries, the safety of your family and for their workers and tenets to not go hungry, for protection, the alliance, and for Russia to succeed against the Swedes… but I know you didn’t choose to marry me…if you…if you…are in love… then I guess it would make it easier…but you will at least be honest with me and not play around when you fall in love with some man!”

“In love? With Orlo?!” you added.

His head snapped back at the sound of his name.

“If you love the prick, then that’s fine! It will make you bear being here better- it’s all fine!” He if it will make you bear this, bear being married to me…”

“I’m not in love with Orlo!” you laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched a little, but didn’t turn away.

“What…you aren’t? Both of you always talk together.”

 “I always talk with the empress, and Tatyana and everyone else too. They’re my friends. He’s my friend as well… and…I…I promised you I won’t hurt you. That I will do my best not to hurt you…and you’re obviously hurt…” you reasoned.

The clock chimed the hour in the back.

“I…yes, I was…I had memories of when…you know…” he muttered out, looking down.

You folded your arms and turned away from him.

“Well, have you ever kissed Georgiana since our marriage? I guess you can run back to her, like I’m apparently running to Orlo. Should I be worried about her?”

“Uh-no! Not at all! We’ve barely talked since the betrothal! I talk more to Sonya than I do to her in a fortnight!” he said, pointing to the dog curled asleep on her pillow.

You crossed your arms and started to laugh a little. A smile cracked on his thin face as well.

“If I have no reason to suspect you of anything with George, you have no reason to suspect anything of me and Orlo!” you reasoned with a shrug.

Leaning forward, you pulled more of the cover to your side. He relented.

 Both of you were tense. Words left your voice.

“Just dinner and drinks with your friend, nothing more. Perfectly normal.” You assured.

Even if it meant eating in his chambers with large portraits all over the wall and a big green bed on the other side. Peter stood up and greeted you both. His arms were wide, pearls dangling from his neck.

“Ah, hello! Join me!” Peter cheered. “Grigor-make yourself at home! There’s already some food.

You carefully walked in, placing yourself on the couch and folded your hands in front of your lap. Unsure of what to do or say. A finger nudged you.

“Here, Y/N…here’s the seat for you!” your husband said, taking his large hands around your waist and picking you up as you let out a smile.

Grigor placed you on his lap, like he did on your wedding. Smiling, you accepted the feeling of him nearby and settled your weight. The closeness far more natural than ever. Grigor’s arms were warm as they passed dishes around from one man to the Emperor. A serf poured a Kiev vdoka and you enjoyed yourselves.

“I tell you- fucked a horse! It’s just a rumor-but can you believe it!” he said.

Laughing in spite of yourself, you shook your head insisting “no, I don’t!”

Smiling. Laughing. Everything felt normal. You laughed so hard you almost snorted your drinkand covered your mouth, laughing more at the dirtier humor. Years ago, your mother would have become so uncomfortable at such words she would excuse herself and complain about it later. Laughs held back were finally released, you jaw uhrt and your cheeks felt hot.

“And that’s what hapoens when you use the duck whistle on the balcony-“Oh, Grigor! Have I fucked your wife yet?”

The drink you were sipping almost spat out of your mouth and you coughed it out. Both of you froze again. You felt Grigor tense up. His breath quickened. His face turned white and then red and then white again. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Turning your head back, you began to give a charming smile at the emperor, even giving the little half smile you noticed to do. You decided if the subject came up, you would be prepared.

“Your highness, of yes, of course we’ve fucked. Several times!” you said.

Where he couldn’t see, you kicked Grigor’s leg to alert him.

“Oh, really!” he said.

“Ah! What a Casanova you are, Emperor! Losing track! But…”

You circled the rim of your glass, and then added on.

“I have an eternally dry pussy, can’t suck cock to save my life, and an ass so tight that deflects any object near the hole so it’s been rather disappointing. It’s a miracle my husband tolerates me. He’s hardly been able to finish the job!”

He tilted his head, pondering it with a hmmmm. Glancing at Grigor, you quickly mouthed “play along.” His eyes bright, he nodded at you, and then to the Emperor in agreement.

“Yes! Fucking Y/N is a total disappointment. Remember her place? They’re boring, plain people even when fucking.”

Peter nodded in agreement, his eyes up to the sky as if thinking about the fake experience. Not that it was to think.

“Humph. I…I think you’re right. It was disappointing. Grigor, if you need me to order you a whore, let me know.”

You kept your hand on his and you saw his eyes dart in confusion and realization, his brain thinking a hundred thoughts.

“Please pour me another drink…” you said, holding your cup to a serf.

“Besdies, Catherine…she’s been having all these ideas about art. And I saw a portrait and I…I cried! I fucking cried-can you believe it? I never knew she could..could even make me feel like that!”

 As you left the chambers, you squeezed his hand. Both of you let out a breath and continued some nervous laughter until you were both home.

“That was brilliant!” He praised, sinking in relief in the chair. There was already a fire crackling, drawing warmth into the chilly room.

“I knew he would bring it up, soon. So, I might as well. Now you don’t have to worry about anything…at least for now…” you said with a shrug.

“Oh, but the party tomorrow…you’ll be careful. I think people will be very merry and he might…get carried away…”

“Just give him a galloon a vodka then, he’ll won’t be able to stand.”

 --------------------------------------------------

As the party the next night raged on, it struck you that it was Grigor who was well on his way to drinking a gallon of vodka. The rooms glowed yellow orange with all of the candles. Stringed guitars played out dancing tunes with throaty Russian lyrics where although the words were hard to understand, you had to tap your toes. Women walked by with snakes draped over their necks and you stared in frightened awe at the creature, as if in Eden. Your own gown was a pale pink with bows on the stomacher, a ruffled skirt beneath the first one, and you hair done up in flowers and feathers. You even agreed to wear a beauty mark of a small dog on your cheek. Girgor himself had a grey wig and his finest, deep green suit. He eyed plates of vodka, reaching for two small glasses and downing them…and supper would be served in an hour.

You noticed and Empress and Emperor dancing. She swished her pale pink skirt and he twirled in a black skirt, carefree. It was almost like watching a fight, how they were both powerful yet matched each other.”

“Come on, you sad bastards!? Why aren’t you dancing!? Dance! I command you!” Peter cried out in joy.

“Y/N! Y/N- we haven’t danced too much-let’s dance! Dance with me!” Grigor insisted, pulling you further down.

“Grigor, that’s the vodka talking!”

The musicians were warming up for the next piece in the corner.

“I…I don’t know the…” you mumbled in a panic as other couples filled the floor.

“Oh no-just follow me!” He said with a big smile and his face flushed.

  Still you ran out with him, mimicking hand movements and your feet trying to keep up with the steps. If you felt him leading you somewhere, you followed. If you sepearted in lines, you kept an eye on him.

“Girgor…do the trick! The trick!” Peter insisted, running up in the middle.

Eyes wide, you saw your husband grab hold of your body.

“Here. Y/N! I can do it- hold on! Jump up.

He lifted you up in his arms and twirled you up, his arms adjusting to hold you up so that he held you up by your legs, your stomach to his face. You could hear him muffling beneath your clothes.

“We need smof practif…”

But Peter laughed and you heard loud applauding as faces turned to look at you. Even George’s own face had a smile, albeit a sad one.

He set you down.

“Let’s try it again, put your leg on my shoulder…now your other leg..ooof! Now, this one is better!”

He lifted you up so high, you realized you were on his shoulders, and emabarrasingly his head was near your crotch. The court applauhded and laughed and huzzahed. It was so fun you almost forgot your fear of being dropped. you laughed as you held onto his shoulders for deaer life, thrilled to see everyone smaller before you. As if they dhrunk or you became a giant. The chandeliers dripping with diamonds were easy to your touch, your fingertips grazed one as Grigor walked in a circle.

“Ha! I knew you could do it good chap!” Peter applauded before asking.

Grigor placed you down with a smile, he placed his hands on your cheeks and for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you, then his eyes wandered to some vodka and he took another shot.

 He was singing as the party ended late in the night. You struggled to support him over your shoulders.

“Grigor…be careful…”

Once you got into the room, Sonya woke up from her nap and barked, jumping at your feet. Staggering, you brought him to your bedchambers.

“Let’s get your clothes off…” you said, pulling his coat off and placing it on the floor.

“You wish to see me naked, you could’ve asked, darling…”

Sighing, you poured the hot water into the golden tub.

“If you don’t bathe, then you’re sleeping with Sonya…”

He leaned down in his shift and breeches to the wagging tail beneath him.

“Oh….hello doggie, cute doggie…good doggie…”

“To bath, Grigor!”

Eventually, you got him to bathe enough to where he didn’t reek of alcohol. Once he dried off, you pushed his breeches onto him.

“None of that tonight with you drunk off your head!”

“Can’t I at least kiss you?” he complained childishly.

“Fine, but it stops at kissing!”

Once you finally settled within your own sheets, legs and feet sore from dancing, you barely put the blankets over you when  you felt two large arms wrap themselves around you and hug you tight, pulling you close. He laughed a bit before kissing you on top of your head. You smirked and let him obloge. Then you felt him relax.

“Y/N, I love you….”

You froze solid, your stomach dropping.

“What?”

He took a hand and placed it on your cheek again, before it sloppily fell down.

“Y/N, my sweet angel…I love you…”

Shaking your head, you pulled the covers above you both.

“That’s the vodka talking, now go to sleep….”

He went back to holding you, turning you so that your back was turned to him, you felt and smelt his breath as he kept speaking.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m falling in love with you this minute and…I’m fucking terrified…”

You let his arms settle.

“Don’t wanna…get hurt, get shat on…but every day I’m….falling more in love with you…and it makes me both so happy and scared I could fucking scream…that was why Orlo fucking scared me, and Peter, that wonderful, bastard. I love him, but if he lays a hand on you, I swear to god…”

“Grigor…you need to sleep. You’re drunk. Only time will wear it off.”

Besides, it was better to not get your hopes up.

‘I can’t believe I’m fucking falling in fucking love all over again…never thought after George that I would….never would let myself…thought ”

“But Grigor…you….”

“I’d like to see you…see you happy. See your smiling face before I sleep.”

You gave him a small smile and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Grigor…do you…do you love me….do you really love me…”

You gave him a small smile. He then rolled on his belly, spread like a starfish. He was snoring deeply in minutes.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you too…” you wanted to say.

taglist:  @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joesleee   @grigorlee@itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf @rhapsodyrecs @sebastiistan​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @gwiilymslee @isitstraightvodka​ @cherry--coke​

[maybe-your-left]

GETTING CAUGHT HAVING SEX BY PARENTS WITH EITHER SACKLER OR ALTMAN!💖🥰

MY ANGEL, I LOVE YOU😘😘😘😘

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE KITTEN. 

PHILLIP ALTMAN

“I can’t believe we have to sleep in the basement...” 

You patted Phillip's shoulder, handing him a pile of blankets with a small smile, “It's okay, your sister needed to use your bedroom and we’ll be okay down here.” 

“But,” Phillip tossed the blankets down before wrapping you in his arms. Softly swaying you as you both stood, “I really wanted to make you squirt in my teenage bedroom.” 

“Phil!” you swatted him, trying to push away. 

“I know, I’m ashamed... but you look so pretty when you do.” 

You cocked a brow, eyes darting towards the fold-out bed and then up to Phillip's face. His eyebrows shot up, mouth making an ‘o’, “You dirty minx, you want me to make you squirt here? In my family basement? Next to the laundry?” 

“I guess we would have easier cleanup.” 

Phillip threw you to the bed, already yanking your leggings down to your ankles before pinning your legs to your chest. Your pussy lifted in the air, right under his chin as he rubbed his beard into your clit. Scratching the sensitive nub, making it twitch in pleasure. You let out a soft yip, hugging your ankles tighter with anticipation. Phillips tongue darted out, licking from your cunt to clit, flicking it over and over as it stiffened more and more. “Philly,” whimpered, bottom lip trembling as he lapped at you over and over. 

“What is it? Does my minx want something?” 

You nodded, spreading your legs enough for your face to pop out for him. Clenching in his face for you to notice how eager for him to shove anything into you. Phillip nodded in understanding, “Keep your legs up,” he demanded. Pulling off the bed to abandon his shoes before losing his belt. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up before smacking the outside of both your thighs. Watching the supple flesh jiggle before he gripped them tightly and rocked your body towards him. A hand flew to his zipper, yanking it down to pull out his hard cock. Phillip placed a forearm across the back of your thighs, pulling one of your hands to wrap around his girth. 

“Play with me, play with your favorite toy minx.” 

Your hand squeezed his base, his knees moving his body closer to your hand as he spat on your pussy. Without warning Phillip shoved two fingers until you, hooking them to immediately attack your special bundle of nerves on your front wall. Pulling a wail from your throat in response, your hand stroking him harshly. Your walls began clenching over and over as he fingered you, faster than he ever had. You took in the sight of him, focusing so hard on making you cum. His bicep bulging out of his shirt, his forearm clenched on your legs. The vein on the side of his neck straining against his skin, his soft mouth was popped open in awe as your pussy opened for him. Allowing him to worm in a third finger, “You’re so good for me, you’d do anything to make me happy wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes! Phil!” you slipped your fist on his tip over and over. Squeezing over and over as you passed the ridge, gathering his precum and gliding it along his length. Phillip groaned at you, eyes momentarily closing in bliss as his fingers let up. You whined at the loss, bucking as much as you could in your current position. 

“You know what would make me so fucking happy?” 

You shook your head. 

“If you squirted,” he fucked into you fast and hard, your slick gushing out of you as he moaned. “Want you to soak my sleeve, can you do that for me? I can feel how bad you want to.” 

“Ah! Please, just a little more!” 

Phillip nodded at you, moving his free hand to press into your folded lower abdomen. Applying just enough pressure for you to crack, convulsing in his grip as you wailed. Pussy squirting over and over along him, just as he asked for, your cum running down his forearm as he looked at you in awe. 

“Again baby.” 

You cried, body aching but you couldn’t stop yourself. His fingers wouldn’t stop fucking into you to stop you from cumming again. You brought a hand up to gather some of your spend, clicking it along his length as you tried to give him a hand job while he made you fountain for him. Phillip groaned, wrapping his lips around your clit in appreciation. Moaning as he tasted your cum, easing one finger out of you, softly petting your walls with his middle and forefinger. 

You were drunk on him, eyes lazily opening as you stared at the stairs to your left. Breath catching in your throat when you saw Phillip’s mom momentarily stalled in the middle of the stairs. 

“I heard commotion, but I see you both are just fine...” 

“Mommy!” Phillip cried, his palm trying to cover your sex from his therapist mom’s eyes, “Announce yourself next time!” 

She pranced back up the stairs, yelling over her shoulder before the door shut. 

“Like you could hear me over her screams!” 

ADAM SACKLER

“Hey,” you snapped in Adam’s face, “You need to be good today. This is your first impression, and they weren’t thrilled when you made sex noises the other day while I was on the phone.” 

“Your sister laughed. I heard her.” 

You rolled your eyes as you straightened the collar on his shirt. He looked ridiculous, you had dressed him in some nice pants and a button-up, something he didn’t even own until 24 hours ago. He was much too big for normal shirt sizes at the store, his biceps looked like they were going to explode out at any moment. And the pants left little to the imagination, thank god you found dark slacks so his bulge wasn’t noticeable to the naked eye. But your parents were taking you and Adam to a nice restaurant before going back to the house for dessert. He scratched at his neck after you finished, whining when you swatted his hands away. “Fuck, I can’t breathe,” Adam cried, “I look like I mugged a bellboy and stole his clothes.” 

“You look very responsible baby,” you kissed his cheek before walking to the front door, grabbing your clutch and opening the front door. “Let's go, before you rip that shirt.”

Your parents were civil at dinner, asking Adam questions about his theater work and woodworking. About hobbies and interests outside of his main focus, where he was from, other nosey questions that he handled like a champ. If it weren’t for the flashcard training you made him go through the past week he probably would’ve gone on a personal tangent about his personal opinions on the salad your dad chose to eat but he knew you wanted him to make a good impression. You were so proud of him, holding his hand under the table and squeezing it when he made a smart joke, or made your mom blush when he gave her a slightly offhand compliment. By the end of it, you could tell he was drained from being personable, his trademark smile was fading as it dragged on. Finally your parents paid the bill and asked you both to follow them home. 

Adam let out a big groan when he got into the car, throwing his face towards you as he sighed, “Kid, that was exhausting. This shirt is so uncomfortable and I couldn’t touch you under the table the entire time because your dad was watching me like a hawk.” 

“You did so well,” you grabbed his cheeks and gave him a big kiss. Lingering long enough for him to relax into you, humming as your lips worked over one another. Softly tasting each other, Adam’s tongue briefly licked into your mouth, forcing your jaw to open enough to take him. A warm palm slid to your bare thigh, peaking through the slit in your dress. A deep groan sounded into your mouths as he whispered on your lips, “And you looked so good, it took everything in me to devour you. So soft, all for me.” 

You smiled, nudging his hand away, “Come on, they are going to be mad if we're late.” 

Dessert was quick, all of you flooding into the den where your parents told stories about their college years and courtship. You could tell Adam was checked out, focusing on you more than anything else. After a few glasses of wine, you were feeling flush, turning your attention to your handsome man. Watching you with total admiration and devotion, you wanted to eat him up. And you found that you couldn’t wait to get home. 

“I’ll be right back,” you told the room, slowly sauntering away. Letting your hips sway just a little too much, but you knew your parents didn’t notice. They were too into whatever they were talking about to see you and Adam eye-fucking each other. As you turned the corner, you heard Adam excuse himself to the kitchen to get some water, your parents paying him no mind either. The two of your locked eyes, Adam’s completely black as they raked up and down your figure. You gave him a big smile before running up the stairs, Adam's footsteps following close behind. 

The door to your childhood bedroom was soon shut as softly as possible before Adam had you pinned to the mattress. Facedown as you giggled at him, hands fisting the sheets as you heard him fall to his knees behind you, his large hands pushing your skirt above your hips. 

“You’re such a dirty slut,” Adam groaned, pulling your panties to the side before he shoved his mouth to your folds. Licking deep through them, tasting every inch of your flesh. His thumbs hooked into you, prying you apart so he could look in awe, “Fucking best cunt ever, been teasing me with it all night. Not letting me fuck it before we left.” 

You moaned when he dove in again, strong tongue fucking in and out of your entrance. Slurping up your slick that poured into his mouth, filling the room with the sound of your excited sex. You rocked your hips back into him, mouthing at the sheets as he groaned into you, “Coulda filled you with my cum, made you sit in it all night.” 

“Sackler...” 

“You want like that? Having to sit across from your dad full of my cum? He’d be so disappointed in what a filthy slut you are.” 

Adm smacked your thigh, a little too loud, before standing up. He ran his hands across your ass, gripping and bouncing your cheeks as he ground his slacks into you. “M gonna fuck you, right here. Make them hear you and all the pretty noises you make for me.” 

“Please,” your voice broke as you looked back at him. Your mascara slightly clumping from the tears that were building from the teasing. “Give me your cum, wanna feel it deep inside me. Please Sackler.” 

His zipper was pulled down, yanking his slacks down mid-thigh while he fished his cock out. Lewdly smacking it on your cheeks to leave a smear of precum, slipping it between your legs as fucking your clit a few times. “You gonna show me? How deep I can bury my cum inside your little cunt?” 

You clenched in anticipation, his head at your entrance as you nodded, “I’ll show you, baby, want your cum.” 

Adam growled as he pushed in, seating himself to the hilt. Cock head rubbing your cervix before he pulled back, beginning to thrust wildly into you without abandon. Both of you creating a symphony of moans, bare skin slapping against one another as you gushed around him. Adam laughed as he fucked you, “Fuckin’ tight cunt, always so wet for me. You like me fucking you here, letting your family know what a slut-.” 

The door creaked open, both of you freezing, Adam’s cock buried inside you as your mom’s head popped in. 

“Hey, sweetie, letting you know we’re headed to b-Oh my god!” 

“Mom!” 

She squealed again, eyes darting back and forth between Adams sweaty smile and your fucked out face. She slapped a palm over her eyes, backing out of the room, “I’m sorry! I should’ve knocked-oh my- we’re going to bed!” 

You heard her footsteps scurry away, leaving the door slightly ajar in her haste. Adam laughed, thrusting into you harshly as he smacked your ass, “They are never going to forgive me for this.” 

You giggled at him, bouncing back, desperate to finish. Adam groaned as you clenched around him, canting his hips harder into you. Pounding your cervix with each thrust, he bent over your body. Chest flush with your back as he licked your ear, “Too bad it wasn’t your dad.” 

[sweet-sammy-kisses]

Harmonized Souls

So I was blessed with getting to create a story for the @wincestsoulmateszine  Pairing: Wincest Author Notes: Soulmates, soul songs, au no Angels, Sam’s powers.  Summary:  Everyone is born with a tune one that grows as you do until it becomes your very own song waiting to find its matching one. You can also read it on AO3

Dean felt himself go hollow as Sam's matching cords went silent. He couldn't breathe it was as if part of his soul, part of him had withered up and died the moment Sam took his final breath in his arms.

He couldn't live like this.

If it could even be considered living.

He had seen firsthand what losing a soulmate could do to someone, his dad, Bobby and Rufus just to name a few. Dean didn't want to live like that, hollow and waiting for death to claim him so he could join Sam.

"So let it end!" Dean heard himself shut at Bobby when he said something about the world ending. It was like he was underwater hearing things muffled and he didn't care about the world not when his had just ended.

There was nothing left that mattered to him.

He wanted others to feel the agony that was ripping his soul apart at this moment staring at the lifeless body of his soulmate Dean let himself be pulled into his memories anything was better than this.

Everyone is born with a tune one that grows as you do until it becomes your very own song waiting to find its matching one.

At four years old Dean Winchester didn't care much about soulmates or soul songs. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of that. He had much more important things to focus on like his new baby brother.

Samuel Winchester was a happy baby but there was no missing that he was happiest when being held by his big brother.

There were nights though, rare nights when Sam would act up and cry and until he was placed in Dean's arms and Dean began to hum the song that only he could hear, his soul song.

Sam would stare up at Dean completely entranced as he sang softly and Dean felt like nothing could top this moment.

Sam was four when he finally began understanding the tune he was hearing, the one that grew louder when Dean was around.

Still, at that innocent age, Sam began humming the tune under his breath as he pranced his teddy bear, that Dean had given him, across the sheets of the bed in Pastor Jim's house in the room that he and Dean shared.

"Sammy, where did you hear that song?" Dean asked as he stared at Sam wondering if he remembered him humming that tune all those years ago.

Lifting his head Sam studied his brother and Dean knew if it had been anyone else that had interrupted Sam's playtime he would be pouting and giving them his full puppy dog eyes but when it came to Dean Sam would give him his full attention.

"It is the song I hear in my head." A thoughtful look appeared on Sam's face, "It gets louder when you are around."

Dean didn't understand how could Sam hear his heart song, the only other one who was supposed to hear it was his soulmate. At the age of eight going on nine staring into the beaming face of his baby brother, the one person that Dean loved more than anyone on Earth was his soulmate and when he accepted that knowledge something seemed to settle in him and he felt whole for the first time.

Taking a seat beside Sam he began to hum his song and it didn't take long for Sam to join in and the room was soon filled with the joyous music of two soulmates finding one another.

+*****+

Dean was Sam's first.

His first kiss. Sam remembers how shy and awkward he was when Dean smiled that smile that is just for him as he stroked Sam's lower lip with his thumb before lowering his head and pressed his lips against Sam's.

Sam felt his song burst to life as it entwined with Dean's, the two of them moving in complete harmony.

That first kiss leads to their first night where Dean laid Sam out beneath him and took his time worshiping every inch of Sam's body, laying claim to his soulmate and making sure that no one could ever doubt that they were meant to be.

Whispered I love you were exchanged as their jointed bodies moved in time with the song that they could only hear, the song of their two souls confirming they are one.

Now just because one finds their soulmate doesn't mean that everything is perfect, it doesn't work like that. Soulmates still have their fights, their doubts and worries. Sam and Dean had their fair share of them.

Time and time again their bond was tested but never was great as when Sam went to Stanford.

Sam wanted out of the hunting life but it was everything to Dean. Stanford was Sam's dream school but as he looked at the acceptance letter he knew he wouldn't go if it meant giving up Dean.

Slowly closing his fist and crumpling the letter Sam chose to let that dream go only for another hand to wrap around his own and Sam found himself staring into the green eyes of his world.

"Where you ever going to tell me?" Dean asked in a low voice as he took the letter from Sam's hand and began smoothing it out.

Sam could hear the hurt among their soul cords and his heart ached for the pain he caused Dean. "I was. I wanted to tell you. I did!" Sam cried when he saw the disbelief mixing with the hurt in Dean's eyes and he needed to make things right, "I just didn't know how."

"Were you planning on leaving me, Sammy?" Dean hated how hurt he sounded as he asked that question but he needed to know the answer.

Sam moved with all the skills he had learned as a hunter and before Dean could register what was happening Sam had him pinned to the wall, "Never." Sam hissed out his sunflower eyes shining with unshed tears. "I could never leave you, Dean, you are my everything. I had this foolish dream where we could leave the hunting life behind, I could go to school and you could follow your own dreams. Where we could settle down as normal people and just be us."

Pressing his forehead against Dean's, "But that wouldn't be us. I know how deeply you love being a hunter and I couldn't take that away from you. I couldn't rip something you away from the life you love for my selfish wants."

"They aren't selfish Sam," Dean whispered. He loves hunting it is a part of his life but he loves Sammy more and the fact that Sam was willing to give up his dream because he loves him more made Dean fall deeper in love with Sam. "You know there are probably hunts in California." Dean drawled out.

Sam's head snapped up and he stared at Dean in pure awe and a little bit of hope, "Dean are you saying what I think you are saying."

"I am Sammy, if you want to go to Stanford then I am coming with you. After all, we are a package deal." Dean reminded him before he pressed his lips against Sam's in a deep kiss.

It hadn't been easy telling their dad but in the end, John understood, he didn't want his sons to go through the pain of living without a soulmate.

Jessica Moore had been sunshine on a cloudy day and in another life, another time Sam might have fallen completely in love with her but even though they were apart their heart songs still hummed in the back of his mind a part of Dean was always with Sam.

Of course, that didn't stop their friends from talking and hinting about when they were going to start dating.

Sam felt himself panicking he didn't know where he gave them any idea he was interested in Jess, he talked about Dean all the time.

Jess could see the panic in Sam's eyes, "I like you Sam Winchester but I can see that your heart is taken and I am still waiting for my soulmate. I'll make sure our nosy friends remember that you have a soulmate." Sure Jess thought Sam was hot but he was so deeply in love with Dean, she could hear it when he talked about him, it shone off of him and his Dean smile outshone the sun.

+*****+

Tossing his keys into the small bowel by the door of the apartment Sam shared with Dean he let out a small sigh he missed Dean something fierce but Dean was on a hunt and he wasn't sure when he would be back. Sam was just glad that Cabal was free to go with him.

Moving throughout the dark room, he couldn't be bothered to turn on the lights Sam sensed he wasn't alone, he might have taken a step back from hunting but he remembered everything he had been taught.  

Sam waited until the other person was in the room then he struck soon two bodies were dancing a familiar waltz.

The moment he heard his song cords burst to life Sam knew who he had pinned under him before the cocky voice drawled out, "Whoa there tiger."

"Dean." Sam could feel his heart pounding in his chest, Dean was here, at last, he was once again reunited with his soulmate he finally felt whole.

"I missed you too baby boy." Dean purred before kissing Sam deeply on that Sam happily returned it had been too long since they felt each other's bodies. Even if Dean had only been gone for a week.

Once they were the desire to relearn each other's bodies was sedated Dean uttered a sentence that would drag Sam back into the hunting world, "Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home for a while."

+*****+

Pulled out of his memories Dean knew what he had to do. "I know you are going to hate me for this but I can't live without you, Sam. If I can't have you back I am going to end up joining you." Dean knew it was the truth without Sam there was no point in him living.

+*****+

Azazel the monster that had destroyed their family was finally dead.

"How long did you get?" Sam asked in a broken voice.

"One year and it was worth it. I couldn't live without you." Dean knew that Sam wasn't happy with the deal he had made with a demon.

"And you expect me to be able to live without you? To know that you are trapped in hell, being tortured because you sold your soul to bring me back!" Sam could understand why Dean did what he did because if it had been Dean he would have done the same thing. But he only had a year, one year to save Dean from his deal and if he had to he would walk into hell itself and pull Dean out.

"I'm going to find a way to save you, Dean, no matter what," Sam vowed and Dean could feel it across their bond Sam meant every word.

"Just don't do anything that would damn you, Sam." Dean pleaded.

Sam's eyes blazed, "Then I will happily damn myself if it meant saving you."

+*****+

One Year Later

Sam felt the matching cords growing stronger the deeper into hell he went. He nearly crumpled at the sheer pain Dean was going through at that very moment and it filled him with even more rage.

He had failed. He hadn't been able to break the demon deal even with the help of Ruby and her training. He had been powerless as he watched Dean be torn to shreds by hell hounds, hearing him scream.

Something powerful in him had awakened as Lilith stood above him gloating about Dean's fate and Sam had enjoyed pulling her essences out of her host body and ripping her to shreds until there wasn't even a wisp of her left.

He had lost count of the crossroad demons he had summoned forth to make a deal only for them to end up the way Lilith had. Sam had felt nothing as he tortured demon after demon to find a way into Hell. He saved their host but each demon met the same end.

It wasn't long before word reached even the deepest part of hell that Azazel's chosen Boy King had embraced his powers completely and was on a vengeance-filled one-man war on all demons until he was allowed into hell.

Demons always thought of themselves first and there were those who didn't want to feel the wrath of the Boy King of Hell and they helped him find away if only to gain mercy from Sam.

Sam, who had felt Dean's pain along their bond, whose song was filled with nothing but agony and pain, had no mercy left and they met the same fate as all of those who crossed Sam's path.

Even the mighty Alistair, head torture of Demons and breaker of souls was no match for Sam. He knew that this was the one responsible for Dean's suffering.

"S...Sammy?" Dean managed to get out as he stared into Sam's smiling face, "Please no. Don't use him." Dean didn't think he would survive if Alistair used Sam to torture him.

Sam's heart ached at the fear in Dean's voice and the fact that Dean was begging, Dean never begged - well unless they were in the middle of some fun times - Sam wanted to bring Hell down around them and make sure that no other innocent soul went through pain like this. "I'm real Dean. I am here and I am getting you out. I promise." Sam vowed.

With utter gentleness, Sam gathered Dean's soul into his arms and a piece of his heart unfroze as Dean snuggled into his hold and he spotted the amulet around Dean's neck. Even in Hell Dean carried the symbol of their bond.

Demons and souls cowered away from the power coming off of Sam in waves, not since Lucifer himself had they felt anything like this. Like the Red Seas, the demons parted as Sam moved towards the entrance.

Just as he reached the entrance Sam stopped and looking over his shoulder he announced, "All innocent souls here because of the demon deals they made are to be released and never again shall an innocent be brought here."

The demons could only nod they didn't dare go against one of Azazel's chosen, they were powerless against the likes of Sam Winchester.

+*****+

Touches full of tenderness and love were what Dean awoke to.

"Sammy?" Dean didn't want to believe it, didn't want to open himself to a new trick from Alistair.

Then he heard it the soft humming of a tune only he and one other knew. He had tucked his soul song deep within him, in a place that no demon could reach.

"Sammy, is this real?" Dean asked in a hoarse voice.

Sam's beautiful face came into view and his eyes were full of love as he wrapped Dean's hand around the amulet. "It's real Dean. I told you I would save you and we never have to worry about demons coming after us again." Sam promised.

Using what little strength he had Dean tugged Sam down onto the bed, it had been so long since he last held Sam. Nuzzling his nose into Sam's neck Dean breathed in the scent that was distinctly Sam, he felt Sam's song cords wrap around his and once again they merged and sung in harmony.

"I think we have earned a long vacation," Dean commented and Sam's laughter filled him with warmth, it would be a long time before the memories faded but he had Sam by his side and that would help in the healing.

Smiling Sam ran his fingers through Dean's hair as he hummed their soul song out loud just for them.