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arting-block · 8 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 | Eleventh Doctor x F! Reader

❝𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯.❞

Summary: After a stressful day, you overhear Amy arguing with the Doctor. When he realized you heard everything, he tries to set things right.

Warnings: Angst, mentioned kidnapping, misunderstanding, pinning, comfort, the Doctor sucking at feelings

Words: 3.8K

A/N: I'm finally getting through the requests sitting in my inbox. This one was one of my favorites I've done in a while :) @shuichiakainx i hope you enjoy!!

You messed up. Badly.

The Doctor had explicitly stated for you to stay by his side. No wandering about, no talking to strangers, don't do anything foolish. The city you were visiting had a different culture, one steeped in brutal violence. Any slight can be perceived as an invitation for war.

You should've minded your own business. Maybe you wouldn't have gotten kidnapped. Even though your friends freed you hours ago, you can still feel the imprint of metal cuffs around your wrists. Your hands busy themselves with rubbing the area, bandages wrapped around your pulse where the metal snagged your skin.

You tried to defend an elderly man from getting hurt by a group of teenagers. You foolishly tried to shield the man from the onslaught of abuse, hoping to simply talk to the teenagers so that things wouldn’t escalate. Oh how wrong you were.

You knew you messed up. You had already regretted your choices the moment rough hands gripped your arms and hauled you into a foreign ship.

The Ashmadas were almost a whole head taller than you. Thick yellow hides that became scaly along their joints, blunt canines that were meant for crushing bones and skin, and the fluorescent eyes that glowed even in pitch black darkness. A species that evolved from war and brutality. Even the most intimidating human would look like field mice in comparison.

What you hadn't anticipated was the cold demeanor of your Doctor. You imagined him being cross, yes, but never downright angry. The moment he and the Ponds made it to the threshold where you were held, you noticed how calloused he had been. Snarling words, tension rippling beneath the skin. Furious didn't begin to explain his behavior. He threatened to set off a bomb that will incinerate everyone in the ship and release a plague to their already dwindling community. When you finally got out of your shackles, the Doctor barely even acknowledged you, hellbent on making the Ashmadas a new endangered species. It was only when you grabbed his face, forced him to see the tears as you begged him to leave, did he finally back off.

As the four of you retreated to the console room of the TARDIS, the Doctor makes a flimsy excuse about needing to check the ship’s engine. The day’s events have been heavy for all of you, so you knew it was more about him needing space. When you tried to talk to him, he brushed off your touch and gave you a cold reply.

You walked back to your room not long after. Rory patched you up as best he could, using a concoction of human and alien medicine. He didn't speak much and you were grateful for the silence. The only words he slipped out were sincere apologies for not getting there sooner. There was something else he wanted to say, moments where he opened his mouth but nothing came out. You were, frankly, too tired to press further.

Once Rory left, you tried your hardest to get some sort of sleep. Your body was spent, bruised, and tattered. No matter how many times you turned or how much your body ached, your mind couldn’t stop racing. You’ve probably spent a good hour or so trying to get comfortable, but to no avail.

You were still on edge, thinking about the cramped cell you were placed in. How alone you felt. You’ve been in precarious situations before, but this was different. Three whole days of captivity in total isolation. No light peeking through so you had nothing to distract you. Just your own memories passing through your mind. It made you realize just how much your friends mean to you. How much their presence comforted you, how relieved you were when Amy’s voice cut through your dark Hell. You remember sinking into the Doctor’s embrace, crying into his jacket and muttering how sorry you were.

There was so much you wanted to tell him. Those three days spent curled into a ball were filled with memories of him. His laugh echoing in your ear while carrying you throughout the universe. Petty arguments filled with teasing and embarrassed faces. The way he finds himself beside you, always lingering like a string was attached between the two of you.

The most treasured memory of all was one where it was just the two of you. Talking about nothing and everything. Favorite color, worst kitchen appliance, obscure historical figures. You talked for hours, laying your whole life for him to dissect. When it was his turn to speak, you took the opportunity to study him. Cataloging the slope of his nose, the lines around his mouth, and his mannerisms. The way he points going in tandem with the pitch of his voice, how his whole body moves when he talks.

You wanted to scream in his face the moment you saw him. Tell him the three words you repeat in your head when he’s around. Instead, all that came out was unintelligible sobs into scratchy fabric.

Tell him, tell him everything.

The bed creaked when you moved to sit up. Your heart ached at seeing the Doctor’s fury and how silent he was when you came back. You caused him worry, not just to him, but to the Ponds as well. The last thing you want is to end the day on a sour note. He’s your friend after all, even if you wanted something more.

It didn’t take long to reach the console room. You took your time with each step, wanting to get your thoughts in order. You pick up voices coming ahead of you, muffled words that you cannot make heads or tails of. As you approach the end of the hallway, you hear the muffled words turn into the familiar voice of Amy in a rather accusatory tone. You peek around the corner, observing the view of your two friends from above.

Amy stands a few feet away from the Doctor, who is hunched over the console. Amy’s face is a mix of concern and disappointment, as if she’s scolding a child. You notice the dirt smeared shirt she still wears, meaning she hasn’t gotten back to her room just yet. Was she here the whole time?

Crossing her arms, Amy shook her head at the tired man in front of her. “You’re never going to admit it are you?”

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing to admit.” The Doctor’s answer is just as cold and detached as it was hours before. “If you’re just going to go back and forth with me all day then I suggest you go spend your time with your husband. I told you before I’m not in the mood for your scolding.”

Amy’s laugh is devoid of any humor. She takes a step towards the Doctor. You see the pent up anger in her; a fuse ready to blow. “You think you’re so good at hiding it. You think we’re too stupid to notice—that I’m too stupid to not bring it up?”

“What exactly are you talking about?”

You shouldn’t eavesdrop like this. If the Doctor found out that you were listening in on a private conversation, he would no doubt be more angry than before.

Amy ignored the question, wanting to force the Doctor into a corner to say what she wanted to hear. “I’m honestly impressed how long you’ve lasted. Were you going to bury your emotions and hope they would simply disappear? You think pushing her away is going to make it hurt any less? I see the way you look at her.”

The Doctor snaps back, angry and seething. “Spit it out already Amelia!”

“(Y/N)!” came her equally furious reply, one that echoed sharply in the large room.

Your heart skidded to a stop in your chest. Why was she goading him like this? You didn’t recall telling Amy about your feelings for the Doctor. Was it that obvious? If she noticed, does that mean…?

The Doctor was quick to invade Amy’s space. He towered above her, his teeth bared with provoked anger. “And what exactly do you want me to admit? That she's careless and doesn’t listen to a word I say? How do I have to clean up her mess after she did the one thing I told her not to?”

Hearing the pained emotion in his voice made every word sting harder. He was not wrong to say it, but it hurt nonetheless. You wished that he would’ve said it to your face rather than having to overhear it in the shadows.

He didn’t stop there. It seemed Amy had opened a dam of pent up thoughts and emotions. Words kept spilling from his lips, each one hurting more than the last. “You know what I see when I look at her? A fragile human being. Someone who is only going to occupy a fraction of my existence.”

“You love her,” Amy spits back, wholly convicted. Tears prick her eyes as she barrels on. “Admit you stupid old man. You. Love. Her.”

Her words seemed to shock the Doctor out of his wrath. He immediately steps back, as if her presence burns.

The two of them look at one another, chests heaving. Amy doesn’t back down, keeping her chin held high, meeting his burning gaze. The Doctor’s face is unreadable, partially due to the fact that you don’t have a good vantage point. The anger doesn’t leave him, but you could tell that he’s considering her words.

You hold your breath, not wanting to miss his response.

It comes out soft, barely within normal talking level, but in the dead silence of the console room you hear it as clear as day: “How can I love her? I won’t—I can’t let that happen.”

You felt your heart drop out of your chest. All of the hurt spirling inside your chest, clawing a cavernous hole to fill with despair.

He doesn’t love you.

You were paralyzed, replaying that awful sentence over and over again. You bring a hand to cover your mouth, feeling the droplets of tears already flowing.

He doesn’t love you and he’s making sure it doesn’t happen.

Are you that awful to be around? That the mere thought of being romantic with you makes him angry?

Your hand presses at the space where your heart lies. Your shirt twists, your body curling deeper into the shadows of the room. You’ve experienced heartbreak before, back on Earth throughout the years. Never like this. It was more than a simple rejection, but a swift blow to your entire worldview.

You thought, foolishly, that maybe there was something between you two. He wouldn’t have let you stay as long as you had if he didn’t like you. All those late night conversations…the small brushes of skin when no one is looking…all of the glances you caught more than once…

They were nothing.

Stumbling back into the hallway, you ran as fast as you could to your room. The TARDIS bestowed mercy on you, materializing your room just a few feet away. You didn’t think twice to fly open the door and slam it shut behind you. You knew the sound would travel to the console room and alert Amy and the Doctor, but you didn’t care.

The force of your cries shook your body, your sobs filling your room despite your hands trying to muffle them. Over and over you replay the entire conversation. You wished the TARDIS would swallow you whole and spit you far, far away from the Time Lord.

You hear the sound of thundering steps approach your room before the sound of frantic knocking against your door.

Before the person could utter a single word, you let out a strangled demand: “Go away!”

“(Y/N), I can—” the Doctor cut himself short. He let out a frustrated huff before starting again. “Please, it’s not what you think.”

Those words snapped you out of your whirlwind of sadness. Anger bubbled in its place.

“Not what I think?!” You didn’t think twice before forcefully opening the door. The Doctor jumps from his spot in front of your room, a show of surprise on his face. “I heard everything.”

The Doctor places his hand up in surrender. The cold, neutral face he had on before is completely wiped away, leaving a startlingly emotional one instead. “Please, if you give me a moment—”

“What more could you say to me?” It comes out shaky, with tears still dripping down your face in rivers. You no doubt look like a complete wreck, but you’re too upset to care. You’re tired of bottling your emotions up. You want him to know how much this meant to you, how much his words physically hurt you. “I know you’re already upset at me that I didn’t listen to you, I know that. You don’t get to stand there and act like this is a whole misunderstanding. I mean come on—fragile human?”

“I know and I’m—”

“I was so relieved to see you again. Three days, Doctor. Three whole days, spent in that cell waiting for you. I felt so guilty for not listening and I hoped that we could reconcile, but no. I was fine with giving you space, but then I had to overhear you talk about me like I’m some burden.” You force yourself to take a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. “Is that how you really feel about me?”

The Doctor doesn’t respond, which makes you even more angry.

“Did you know?” you spit out. It took everything in you to not shut the door in his face and never come outside again. But you needed to know. “Did you know?”

The silence that came thereafter was deafening. The Doctor let his hands drop to his sides. You didn’t dare blink, watching his every move, waiting for a response. His head dips to the side, his lower lip caught in his teeth as he stares at a spot on the floor. You knew he knew what you were referring to.

When he lifts his head, you were surprised to see such bare remorse. Still, it does nothing to quell you; if anything you’re happy he’s feeling the guilt.

“Yes…I knew for a while,” he mumbled, forcing the words to come out. “Rory’s mum told me, said that you liked me. I told her that of course you liked me, I’m the Doctor. But she gave me a serious look and told me you fancied me.” His lips twisted up at the memory, but seeing your withering glare he quickly dropped it.

You gripped the doorframe, recalling the visit clearly. The Ponds had called you, wanting to go on another adventure after nearly three months of normalcy on Earth. In their absence, it was just you and the Doctor against the universe. Three months of staring longingly at the madman in a box, wanting to spill your guts but feeling too scared to. When the Ponds came back, you remembered Rory’s mum taking the Doctor to the side, whispering in his ear. You had asked what she said, but the Doctor gave a flustered reply. His ears were pink, and his words were hastily spat out.

“That was over a year ago. You knew all that time?” You wanted to scream every curse you knew, both English and alien. It took everything in you to not tear him a new one right then and there. “And I had to hear you say it to Amy of all people? Someone who also fancied you, and if I recalled kissed you?”

It was unfair to throw that back in his face knowing that they moved on from that incident. Amy had since made it explicitly clear that she loved him platonically and was wholly committed to Rory.

The Doctor took a tentative step towards you, unsure if you were going to disappear back into your room. He took another, and another. You couldn’t look him in the eyes, opting to stare at his scuffed shoes.

You could feel him get closer. It unnerved how much you still wanted to be near him, despite everything.

The Doctor’s hands found the curve of your cheek, gently tilting your face up to meet his gaze. Warm palms cupped the sides of your face and his thumbs wiping away the tears that still fell. The sheer intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, burning into you. You watch as his green irises start getting glassy; the planes of his cheeks become a flushed pink. He stood there for a few moments, simply holding your face, looking at you as if it’s the last time he ever will.

You let yourself bask in his touch. He took another step towards you, still holding your face. You closed your eyes as you felt the cool touch of his forehead against yours.

“Doctor—”

“You have every right to be upset.” He gave a chuckle, but you heard the pain in his voice. “You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you. I looked forward to the nights where you pester me with odd questions. Every morning I pray that you stay another day with me, hoping that you don’t wish to go back to Earth.”

The confession scares him, you feel it in the way he tries to keep his voice even. When he pulls his forehead from yours, he still hovers over your face, staring with the heat of all the feelings he tried so desperately to hide.

His eyes move over every inch of your face before settling back to your swollen eyes. You watch his eyes soften, as if he’s seeing the most beautiful star nestled in the depths of your pupils. So focused on the heat of his hands and the movement of his eyes, that you almost miss the twin stream of tears running down his own face.

The Doctor took one shuddering breath, letting his thoughts flow out. “I couldn’t let myself acknowledge my feelings—I couldn’t. Everyone I ever loved…everyone I got close to is gone because of me. I couldn’t let that happen, especially not to you. But then you had to get yourself kidnapped.” His voice trailed off, cracking at the memory.

You dared not to move, fearful that he would snap out of the spell he found himself in. You can’t recall a time where he was this open to you, about his feelings no less. All the pent up emotion you felt before settled to a dull throb in your heart.

“I would’ve brought the entire fleet down on its knees, have them beg for mercy.” You felt the rage in his voice, knowing full well that he meant every word. “When I couldn’t find you, I was terrified. You were gone before…”

His hands trembled, his breath became more ragged. You’ve never seen true terror on his face.

You whisper, just barely audible to his ears. “Before what Doctor?”

He shakes his head, almost wishing he didn’t open his mouth. When you silently pressed him to answer, he couldn't help but cave.

“I lied back there, with Amy,” the Doctor rushed, trying to get all his disorganized thoughts out. “I lied—I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

“What? Didn’t mean wha—”

“It already happened,” he cried, his body caving towards you. “I told myself I couldn’t let myself love you. I…I lied.”

You felt your heart stop for the second time today. Your mouth slightly agape, unsure of how to respond. The Doctor takes a half step, effectively caging your body against his. You own shaking hands rested atop of his, hoping to calm him.

“Every moment I spent with you, I spent yearning,” he says with such emphasis that leaves no room for doubt. You cry harder at the admission. “I took my frustration on you, made you think that I could never love you. I do—Stars, I do. You have no idea how much I do.”

You couldn’t hold back the loud sob that overtakes your whole body. A cry that leaves the Doctor’s two hearts aching knowing that he caused your pain. He continues to rub his thumbs over your cheeks, not to wipe away the tears, but to soothe you.

“Say it,” you plead, words scraping against your throat. “Say it and I’m yours. I’ll be yours forever.”

Your words trigger something in him, that same fear that made him distant towards you. He doesn’t move from his spot, paralyzed by the decision.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” came his equally desperate reply. “I can’t lose you too.”

“We’ll find a way. You always do.”

The Doctor sags against you, resting his forehead against yours once more. Cries of his own shake him, his tears joining yours on the TARDIS floor. You take it upon yourself to mirror his actions; your hands gently holding his face. His once bright, crystal green eyes were now blurred with tears, encased by swollen, flushed eyelids.

“I love you.”

A barely audible whisper, one meant for you. Said with such raw intensity that it echoes in your ear, seared in your mind forever.

The Doctor clears his throat, furrowing his brows in concentration. “I love you. Stars above, I love you.” He speaks louder, not wanting you to miss a word. “I’ve loved you for years and I was too much of a coward to tell you. I’ll make it up to you, show you how much I’ve wanted you, if you let me.”

A smile stretched across your face. Pure euphoria filled your body, buzzing with a high that made you lightheaded. You feeled the charged energy between you two. The Doctor stills, anxiously awaiting for your response.

“I’m yours,” you say in the shared space between you. A declaration, waiting for the final seal. “I love you, Doctor.”

The Doctor slants against you, finally removing the last inch of space between you. His kiss falls over you like the whispered confession he had given you. His lips mold against yours, slow and lingering. One kiss, then another. You grasp onto him, your hand threading into his hair, another along his jacket. His hands no longer tremble. You feel his palms leave your face and travel down to the curve of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his body.

When you pull away to breath, he wastes no time burying his face against your neck, peppering the heated skin with kiss after kiss. He finds the spot where your pulse meets your jaw, sucking on the skin harshly, making you shudder. The Doctor overwhelms your senses; his touch, his scent, the taste of his mouth—

The Doctor gives one final kiss against your lips, before releasing you. He watches you catch your breath, seeing your relieved smile stretching across your face. He feels his face mirroring that same delirious smile.

I’m yours, his two hearts sing. I’m yours forever.

#eleventh doctor request #eleventh doctor x y/n #eleventh doctor x you #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #doctor who #bbc doctor who #11th doctor x you #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor x y/n #eleventh doctor angst #11th doctor angst

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seokgyuu · 4 months ago

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The Sweetest Thing - Teaser

All your life you’ve been your sisters’ punching bag. Never good enough. Never fully accepted. When your mother makes one of them choose you as her maid of honor you reluctantly agree. Semi-vacationing in Tuscany with your ‘beloved’ family, you meet two handsome strangers one night and let them do whatever they want with you. Too bad you didn’t ask for their names first.

Pairing: Heeseung x F!Reader x Sunghoon

Genre: Strangers to ???, Porn with Plot

Warnings: CHEATING!!! reader is hooking up with her sisters’ fiancés, sisters are horrible and suck, mentions of past verbal abuse, reader is somewhat a pervert (she defo is), heeseung & sunghoon definitely are perverts, heeseung & sunghoon are mean, they have nothing good to say about their fiancés, alcohol consumption, adult content MDNI! smut warnings will be in actual fic

Word Count: 5.7k (so far)

Release Date: August 8th

Taglist: @skzenhalove, @haelahoops, @deobitifull, @shiningnono, @jakeswifez, @slut4hee @gyuhanniescarat , @branchrkive @doublebunv , @capri-cuntz, @jaehyuniewifeu, @whateverhoon, @c-oupsie you can be added by replying to this post or sending me an ask <3 there must be an age indicator in your blog since this is a nsfw fic!

Something about the Italian sky seems different. Maybe it’s because you’re not close to a big city, but the stars shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them. It feels like a movie; the stars and moon so visible with no cloud in sight, the small street of Arezzo you’re currently sitting in - a small restaurant with a small menu but a nice older man that speaks decent English. A glass of wine standing on the small table beside you and the first bit of peace you’ve felt in days.

It’s when you take your next sip of wine you see them.

Two men straight out of a magazine walking towards one of the free tables next to yours and sitting down. There is nothing you can do but stare. Both of them have dark hair, one of them a bit shorter than the other. They are dressed elegantly, designer shoes and pants, blazers hanging over their chairs. Even if you wanted to - you could not possibly say which one was more attractive.

What a nice way to end a horrible day, you think. Smiling, you finish your glass and immediately order the next, not entirely used to drinking so much, but not caring since you are miles away from home and no one here knows you anyway. The waiter nods and then proceeds to go over to the newcomers. The one with the slightly lighter hair and the mole on his nose orders in perfect Italian, with just enough of an accent for you to know they aren’t from here. Your choice of table appears to be perfect for watching them, listening to them converse in a language you understand.

And it all stays innocent like this - they talk about their flight and about friends - until suddenly the conversation sways.

“I honestly- fuck, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this, you know?” The one with shorter hair says and his friend sighs, taking his wine glass and finishing it in one go. Impressive. There was at least half left in yours.

“I don’t know what to tell you. We committed and now we’re fucked.”

“Just that we aren’t getting actually fucked.”

They look at each other before they laugh, shaking their heads. Meanwhile, your ears perk up.

“Fuck, I really don’t know the last time she let me hit it, Hoon. I think I’m going crazy.”

“Yeah, same here. Like, yeah, we fucked once the day before her flight. But literally only missionary and she didn’t suck me off.”

“Again? Dude, is she ever even putting her mouth on it?”

“Nope. Ever since we got engaged she’s like this fucking prude. Is yours like that too?”

“Yeah. I got her flowers and her favorite chocolates and she still wouldn’t even jack me off, like fuck, if it’s gonna be like this forever I can just go cut my dick off.”

Jesus. These two seem to be in very happy relationships. Makes you almost feel better to not be in one. Even if your mother would beg to differ. She’s been desperate for you to find a match for ages. For whatever reason, really, considering her two golden girls were about to get married to rich and handsome heirs.

“Just one good blowjob, man, that’s all I want, really. I miss getting some good fucking head.”

The way short hair looks at mole - with so much understanding and pity, you can’t help but chuckle. Chuckle loud enough for them to take notice.

Their gazes burn on your face before you even see them. But when you do your smile dies and instead makes room for horror. They heard you laugh at them. Even worse, they know you’ve been listening. Shit.

Thankfully, you are three glasses of delicious white wine in and the fourth one is almost empty. Which means you aren’t the sweet little wallflower you’d usually be. Scary, how alcohol can change people.

“Oh, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.” You apologize, placing your hand over your heart.

“Agreed.” Short hair says, his eyebrow raised. Now, with both of their eyes on you, it seems like they are even more attractive. Perfect faces with pretty eyes and soft looking hair. Handsome men in unhappy relationships that fail to give them what they need. It’s almost comical how the switch in your head turns over, how the persona you normally never let anyone see until you’re in a secluded space comes out and gives you the courage to speak your next words.

“I just couldn’t believe my ears,” you let your finger glide over the rim of your glass, eyes on the two men with your tongue slipping out to lick over your bottom lip, “how anyone would be opposed to having sex with you.”

Oh.

Sunghoon and Heeseung’s ears perk up just like yours did earlier. Eyes widen slightly as they understand the innuendo in your words.

They think about the same thing - the last time they took a girl together. Probably during senior year in college. Back then, they used to do that regularly. Having almost the identical type in women. Instead of having to let her choose, she’d get them both.

But it’s been years since then. They are in committed relationships now, about to get married. And still - neither of them can deny that you fall right into their usual prey, or well, the prey they’d chosen back in college before their parents had picked out their wives for them.

It’s the way you look at them, the way your eyes say so much more than your words. It is also the way both of them feel like they are 22 again with nothing but getting their dick wet on their minds. One thing about Heeseung and Sunghoon - they always worked perfectly in a pair. Back in college and now, too. They can almost read each other’s minds at this point, only a short exchange of looks needed to know neither of them gave a single fuck about anything right now.

“Want to sit down with us?” Sunghoon asks and points at the free chair opposite them. You smile.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

header credit @wongyuseokie <3

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inez-winchester-cameron · 10 months ago

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omg pls write more of what you just posted of rafe with that age gap it's sooo hot 😭 like something about the reader being bratty on purpose and sassing him

cw: dark!rafe x younger!reader, 29 and 19, non-con/rape, drug use, intoxicated reader, talks of free use and public sex, abusive relationship

note: is this too dark, yes or no

rafe HATES when you disobey at parties. ever since you two have started dating, you have a bad habit of misbehaving at parties to get more attention from rafe. whether that be overdrinking, snorting coke, smoking weed, or flirting with other guys. all of these being things that you KNOW rafe disapproves of.

tonight, it happened to be a mix of all of them. you went to the restroom and came back to rafe talking with one of his ex girlfriends, sofia. you completely being oblivious to the fact that he was telling her off. you huff and head back into the room where topper and kelce sit.

they're doing lines and drinking, sitting on opposite sides of a loveseat.

"hey, y/n, have a seat," topper politely greets you, gesturing to an empty chair beside the loveseat but you smile and sit inbetween topper and kelce. they give eachother a look but say nothing.

"whatcha guys doin?" you ask, looking over toppers shoulder as he sets up a line.

"coke, nothing you should concern yourself with."

"yeah rafe would kill us if he knew you were anywhere near this," kelce comments.

"hes too busy bein up sofia's pussy to care. can i do a line?"

kelce and topper both look at you at this comment, a little shocked. they knew rafe and how loyal he was to you, he never even so much as entertained another girl.

"you saw him up her pussy?" kelce asks, confused.

"well no but- it doesnt even matter, just let me do a line."

"sweetheart i dont think-" topper starts.

"pleaseeeeee?" you beg, giving him puppy eyes.

topper sighs and glances to kelce who shrugs. eventually topper responds, "okay fine, sweetie, but you cannot tell rafe."

"i won't, promise! ill even pinky promise if you want!"

topper stares at you for a moment, finding your innocence both endearing and hot at the same time. too bad you aren't his. topper sets up a line for you and gently guides you onto your knees in front of the table. he gives you the dollar bill and guides you as you snort it. you let it sit for a minute, not feeling anything, then it hits. and you want more.

"again!" you say, looking at topper, feeling your brain begin to buzz.

"yeah no i don't-"

"what the fuck are you doing?"

your eyes shoot to the doorway. rafe stands there, arms crossed, hair messy, blood on his knuckles, and he looks pissed.

"rafey!" you greet him, trying to pretend you didn't just snort cocaine. you stand up, swaying, and subsequently falling back onto the couch.

"what the fuck guys?" rafe questions, walking over to you. he looks pissed, "how much did you give her?"

"just a line, man, she asked for it. quite literally," kelce speaks first and topper agrees.

"i didn't know you don't let her do that man, im sorry-" topper defends himself and rafe shakes his head, calming down a bit.

"nah you're good, man. it's her fault. come on, princess, we have some business to discuss." rafe says through gritted teeth, roughly grabbing your arm and heading to his room. once you're upstairs and away from people, he starts scolding you, "what the fuck were you thinking? you know so much better than that."

"you were talking to Sof-"

"yeah i was telling her to go suck a fucking dick. then i beat the shit out of her boyfriend for calling you a whore. but maybe he was right, you don't think about anyone but yourself, huh? always just assuming. saw the way you were staring at top." rafe speaks with no sympathy and you two slip into his bedroom. he presses you down onto the bed, holding your hands behind your back as he flips your little skirt up, "no panties? you fucking serious? god what is wrong with you? you stupid little whore."

you hear his belt unbuckle and your head continues buzzing from your high. soon enough, you feel his cock, pushing into you. it's immediately too much.

"rafe-! no no no-"

"don't tell me fucking no, bitch. act like a whore, get treated like one. maybe i should've just fucked you downstairs," rafe starts, setting a fast pace with his thrusts, not hearing any of your protests, "or maybe i should tie you up down there, let all these drunk men use your holes since you wanna disobey. i think that's a fair punishment, huh? i try to be nice and defend your honor and you make eyes at two of my best friends. fucking bitch."

"rafe i didn't- i don't want this- stop!" you beg but rafe doesn't care. he simply tugs your hair in response as you start crying. your head is pounding and it's all too much.

"that's it, cry for it, bitch. this is my fucking pussy and i'm gonna use it when i want. now whine one more time and i'm gonna make this pussy free use to the entire island."

you whimper and stay quiet in response. you think about leaving rafe, but you can't, you love him and maybe you even secretly loved being fucked against your will.

#obx #outerbanks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshots #rafe obx #rafe cameron thirst

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restinslices · 10 months ago

Text

Everything

PJO Show Ares x Child!Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 2459

Summary: Ares supposedly hates kids, so it’s really strange that he comes when you call. (Do not let the summary fool you, this is not fluff. Based on a dream I had a couple days ago. Warning for possible ooc Ares and brief mentions of abuse. Blink and you’ll miss it type shit)

“I don't wanna say”, Grover fingers fidgeted with each other as he purposefully avoided eye contact with you.

“We're friends, right?”

“Of course!”

“Then you have to tell me! You spoke to my father, I gotta know what he said! What was he like? I bet he was really cool! Man, I wish I could've been there and talked to him”, you looked down at your shoes and added more misery to your face than was necessary. It was extremely childish and petty but Grover kept refusing to tell you what your father Ares was like. You had to know though. You doubted he brought you up, but you still wanted to know what he said and what he was like when he was just out and about. Grover had the opportunity to have a long talk with him and that was something you'd kill and suffer for.

“I doubt you'd wanna do that” he mumbled, but you heard him.

“Why'd you say that?” You asked.

Grover refused to expound on what he meant… at first.

Everyone knew Grover couldn't hold water so it didn't take too much prodding before he spilled his guts.

The memory replayed in your head more than you'd like to admit, and if it were up to you, you'd no longer be a half blood.

It made you feel pathetic. Tons of gods- no. All the gods were shitty parents. After all, they had children with mortals and left the children on Earth, knowing they'd be hunted down. Plenty of half bloods died in a gruesome painful way and at a young age. Plenty of gods never claimed their children, even if they made it to Camp Half Blood. But Ares did claim you, so you assumed that that meant he cared for you in some way. He even gifted you with a double sided sword. Surely, he must've loved you.

You were foolish and you hated how foolish you were. You should've known he didn't care. He left you here with mortals and watched as your home life got worse and worse which was due to multiple factors including a piss poor mother and step family, the aura children of Ares give off that makes people around them experience rage and of course the random monster attacks that your family blamed you for. It was as if they thought you begged Ares to be his child. As if you'd ever do something as stupid as that.

The rain soaked through your hood, making your hair all wet and gross. You were an idiot. You tried coming home for the school year, thinking maybe your family changed. They said they did. They tended to lie a lot though. You got into a huge fight and stormed out and you were in such a hurry that you completely forgot to grab your pouch full of drachmas and you didn't wanna step another foot in that house. So now here you were, outside with freezing cold hands that couldn't be warmed because your hoodie was soaking and you couldn't call Chiron. Perfect.

You checked your pockets once again, hoping to find something other than the lighter and fruit roll up that was there but alas, nothing magically appeared. You held the two objects in your hand and an idea formed in your mind.

You could always set the fruit roll up on fire as an offering. You could pray to your father and hope he hears you and sends you something to help.

No. That's incredibly stupid. Could you even light a fruit roll up on fire? It didn't matter. Not only was that the stupidest offering ever but you refused to pray to him. You'd rather sleep out in the rain then sneak inside when your family was gone to get your shit.

You put the two objects in your pocket and let your head rest on your knees, exhaustion hitting. It wasn't even physical exhaustion. It was all mental and emotional. Like a leech was sucking on you constantly. Or a vampire. You'd prefer that. At least you'd die quicker.

The hum of a motorcycle filled your ears, getting closer and closer. Best case scenario, it was a neighbor. Worst case scenario, it was a murderer. Honestly, you'd welcome both.

The hum stopped and a familiar voice made you look up, “rough night”.

It was him. Ares. God of war. Father to who knew how many. It was someone you definitely did not want to see… or so you thought. Part of you absolutely despised him now and everything to do with him and wanted to rip him apart. The other part of you though still felt an immense amount of joy when you saw him and you wanted to cling to him like a child clings to its favorite toy. If you were alone, you would've screamed.

Then a thought crossed your mind. You didn't burn anything. You didn't make an offering.

“You were going to” he said, seeming to read your mind.

“Why are you here?” you managed to get out after some time of just staring at him.

“Why do you think I'm here?” he asked and you could tell by his tone he meant it sarcastically. Like “the reason is so obvious. Stop being stupid”.

Something about that sarcastic and irritated tone made you think back to what Grover told you.

“Why don't you like me?” You asked and you hadn't meant to. It was supposed to stay in your head.

He squinted his eyes at you and looked you up and down, “what?”.

You could've let it go. You could've said nevermind, thanked him and let him help. You couldn't though. You didn't know when you'd have this chance again (the camp visited them but damn, there was a lot of you) and if you did something to make him not like you, you wanted to fix it. But that wasn't your job, right? Parents are supposed to care for their kids.

You did that a lot. Your mind juggled opposite thoughts and it drove you insane. This was just the latest bit of juggling you'd been doing.

“Grover said he spoke to you-”

“Who is Grover?”

“Percy's friend. The satyr”. A look of anger flashed in his eyes. You knew he remembered Percy. You didn't give him time to start yelling about the 12 year old that beat him in a fight. “Grover said that he spoke to you. I asked what it was like and he said that you said that you hate kids. Even your own. And when we visit, it's the worst day of the year. So, I was just wondering why you don't like me. Is it something I've done?”.

Ares just rolled his eyes and sighed, “you're taking that personal?”.

“It's kinda hard not to”.

“I came to take you back to camp, not talk about whatever crisis you're having right now”.

You didn't know if you were angry because of what he said, or because of his effect on others. Either way, blood started rushing to your head. “I'm not asking for a lot. I'm asking for an answer. A simple answer. Why don't you like me?”

“I don't like any of my kids”

“And that makes it better?” You asked in disbelief. Ares just stared at you, emotion void on his face.

“Why do you do this? You keep having kids even though you hate them. Why?”.

“It's not that simple and I don't have to explain anything to you”. You wished he'd show emotion. Any sliver of it. He was too calm, too numb. You'd prefer him yelling at you but nothing seemed to phase him. He was talking to you the same way you'd talk to a toddler.

“It is incredibly simple. Just stop having sex with mortals. You already have Aphrodite -who is a married woman but whatever-” you rushed the last part. You didn't particularly care for the affairs between the gods. “How could your eyes possibly wander?”.

Seeing him show a sliver of anger when you mentioned Aphrodite only filled you with more rage. That’s what angered him? That’s what got emotion out of him? “Really? That's what gets you? What about me being drenched?”

“You chose to come out here” he said through gritted teeth. If you knew Aphrodite was the key to him showing any piece of human emotion, you would've brought her up earlier.

“I didn't choose this!” Your voice rose, “I didn't choose to be abandoned by my father and be stuck with a dysfunctional family for the rest of my life. You should be angry at that, not me mentioning Aphrodite. You should be enraged at the thought of anyone putting their hands on me and your hands should be covered in their blood! That is how it should be”.

“Believe it or not the gods aren't too keen on the idea of killing mortals”

“But turning them into various objects and ruining their lives when it's a boring Tuesday is ok?”. His face went back to being blank and emotionless and your plan to stop talking was scrapped. You weren't even sure what you wanted. You wanted him to show something besides anger. Sadness? Regret maybe? Just something to show that maybe, just maybe, he cared deep down and regretted leaving you.

“None of us asked for this. You all just decide to create and leave us. And you hating the people you created is… I don't know. And it's so stupid that I've spent years of my life trying to get you to be proud of me, only for it to be impossible!”.

“I claimed you didn't I?” he defended himself, but you scoffed.

“That's the bare minimum dad! That's like saying your kids should be grateful because you feed them!” You were full on screaming by now and you wouldn't have been surprised if a neighbor came out to see what the fuss was about. “I don't even know why I'm having this conversation with you. You probably hate being called 'dad’ and you don't care. You're never gonna get it”

“I try everyday to make you see me and you do everything in your power to not see me. To not see any of us. I would work myself to death for you. I would betray anyone close to me for you. If you asked me to burn down the world for you, I would. If you asked me to extinguish the sun, I'd find a way to because to me… to me you were everything. You are everything”.

You couldn't tell if your face was wet from the rain, or from tears of sorrow and anger. It could've been both. Your eyes certainly stung and you hated it. You knew you had every right to be frustrated, but you hated how weak it made you feel. The children of Ares weren't supposed to cry. They were supposed to be headstrong and fight their enemies. They were supposed to be fierce warriors capable of bringing armies down to their knees. They were meant to shed blood, not tears.

You thought for a second you saw an emotion cross his face. You couldn't pinpoint it though. It happened too fast and there was a good chance you were imagining things.

“You can go. I'd rather sleep in the rain. I wouldn't wanna be even more of a burden” you spat with such venom you didn't know it was possible. Sure, you could have a bit of a temper but this felt different. It wasn't just anger or annoyance. There was a mix of grieving.

It went silent for awhile, and the adrenaline you felt slowly went down. Reality started to sink in. You just yelled at a god. People who were known to cause destruction for something as small as “I think my shoes are better than yours”.

“Are you gonna curse me? Or, I don't know, strangle me with my own shoe laces?”. Ares reached into his pocket and you looked away and closed your eyes. You expected to feel a burning sensation. That's what you assumed being cursed was like. A burning sensation and then you'd lose a limb or something.

All you felt was something land on your lap. You looked down and saw a red pouch with gold string keeping it closed. You looked up at him, but he didn't say anything. You untied the string and opened the pouch and inside laid a pile of drachmas.

Now he spoke, “call Chiron or whoever else works at that camp. Don't die out here”.

“You're leaving?” You asked. You didn't know why you were disappointed. You should've been happy. After all, you just went off on him about how shit he was.

“I have a busy schedule”. You wanted to ask if he'd be seeing the married woman he slept with or another unfortunate mortal, but you figured you pushed your luck enough today.

“Thanks uhh…” you debated on calling him dad but instead you called him by his name. “Ares”. Then you remembered some gods could be particularly upset when you used their name. “God of war and all those other honorifics”.

“Yeah” was all he said before he sped off, leaving you alone once again. You didn't know what he was saying “yeah” to but you didn't have enough time to ask and he probably wouldn't even answer.

You called Chiron and asked to be brought back to camp but you didn't tell him about the conversation you had with Ares.

You couldn't get the conversation out of your head, even after you showered and laid down to finally get some rest.

Of course you kept thinking about the conversation and how lucky you were Ares didn't throw you into the street and run you over.

Another thing stayed on your mind though.

You didn't give an offering. You were told the gods would listen if you burned something that mattered, like the thickest piece of meat on your plate. You weren't sure they were actually listening and honestly you thought it was a real asshole condition.

All you had was some stupid candy and you didn't even burn that and the minute you thought about it, he appeared like he was already watching.

But you doubted he was watching. You doubted he listened to your prayers at all.

You were one of his children which was something he hated. He'd claim you, possibly send a gift then be done with you. He didn't listen to you anymore. He didn't watch over you anymore.

It was a coincidence. That's all it was.

You were sure of it.

At least, you tried to be.

This is definitely ooc Ares but YA’LL KNOW I’M A LITTLE FUCKING SLOW! BE PATIENT WITH ME GOTDAMMIT😭 If you saw any errors, no you did not. I already proofread it once and I don’t feel like doing it again like I typically do. It’s 1am. I should be asleep.

#percy jackson #percy series #percy jackson ares #pjo tv show #ares pjo #pjo series #pjo angst #percy jackson angst #ares x child #ares x reader #ares angst #idk what else to tag #ares would’ve probably drove off but LISTEN-

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is-the-sky-blue · 3 months ago

Text

DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS (PT 2): GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU

Synopsis: When you have questions about physical intimacy Satoru and Suguru are quick to answer them.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, satosugu x fem!reader, pet names, praise, teasing, fingering, finger sucking, spanking, begging, oral (f + m receiving), cum eating, watching porn, masturbation, blowjob, handjob, titjob, face sitting, marking

Part 1 >Part 2< Part 3

You were just a couple of pals who made out once and a while and went out together all the time, some would say you were dating but the thought never really crossed your mind, mainly because you didn't dare think about it. Especially since the kisses you shared weren't given on the regular, even quick pecks hidden from the public's eyes, it was because these were your dirty little secrets.

Up until then every last one of your questions seemed quite plain, never really teetering over the edge to enter taboo territory, but that was until the high school first year, Satoru, forced the three of you to watch a rated R movie he rented under one of his butlers' names as your ever wealthy Satoru, born from the Gojo estate, abused his power once again, much to your disapproval.

The film was fine at first, sure the language was coarse as they dropped the f bomb more than the usual movies you were permitted to view so you thought the rating was just an overreaction made by some picky conservative parents or something, but quickly this film told you otherwise, the people who decided the age category to target this film towards yelling, "I told you so," right into your face as you watched the two actors begin to strip each other bare, lithe fingers unbuttoning the girl's blouse only for him to sexily rip off his tank top, revealing his rippling muscles to the camera as his hand snaked behind her back, unclasping her bra as her boobs spilled out, leaving the panting woman no time to catch her breath as his unrelenting lips broke from her mouth to suckle on her...tits? you were pretty sure that was the kind of language he used when he murmured into her hair, "your tits are so pretty," before leaning in.

The sight made your eyes narrow, watching as she let out a loud moan as his lips bite down onto her nipple as you found your hand coming up to slightly pat your own, now presenting chest. "Does it really feel that good," you ask skeptically, ignorantly unaware at the way two sets of teenage boy eyes made their way to you, adam apples bobbing in their throat and you didn't even think to question why there were pillows in their laps with a blanket over all your shoulders despite the weather growing warmer with each day. The awkwardness that first started creeping up your neck as the two characters made out, in a way that seemed far too intense, to lead to anything other than filthy, receding, that ashamed tinge that you think you are supposed to feel not really hitting you as you stared more confused than aroused by the sex scene that played out before you.

"I think so," Satoru scrunched his face, starting to feel like a nonbeliever as he shifted, no longer entranced by the erotic scene as he was before, despite this being his first introduction into the sinful world he always saw hinted at in all the shows he watched where male protagonists fell commonly fell into busty boobs and steam covered private parts as characters walked in on each other naked, fan service going crazy to try and keep eyes captivated on the screen, to find something to keep people around as the general plot was never any good. "Aren't you supposed to know, you're the girl," he huffed confused.

"Well I dunno," you mumble, "I don't think so," you tilt your head, you've scratched your breasts before when they were itchy and squeezed at your hanging boobs while in the shower, trying to wash away your sweat during the sticky summer months but nothing had ever made you moan, or even lightly gasp at even a fraction of the volume she did.

"She might just be faking it," Suguru nodded, "She is an actor," he says as though it's obvious as you watched as her, "nghs," and her, "ahs," started to seem more forced then natural, kinda sounding like when Satoru mocked your high pitched hiccups, that he claimed sounded like those rubber squeaky chickens, that Suguru brought you a cup of water to try and eradicate.

"Guess so," you murmur, watching as her pink glossed lips parted into a pretty, 'oh,' shape, it was kind of a shame that it sounded so forced, the actor probably sounds really nice when she actually moaned.

"Now this scene feels annoying," Satoru huffed, side eying you, "way to ruin the mood," and you gaped at him.

"Hey!" you pout, "it's not my fault it looks so fake," you grumble, watching as Satoru leaned forward to skip past the scene, hitting different points along the progress bar and you watched as flickers of different moments flashed before you, brief images of her hand in his hair, him hovering over her, their pants coming off, and then the roll of his hips against where her private parts were, their bodies shaking but the camera not explicitly showing where they met, probably because they weren't actually having sex, until finally Satoru found where the sex ended and it was the morning after where they both lay nude in bed, coddled in each others arms and you had to admit that the scene of him cuddling their naked forms together as he pressed kisses into her neck with a good morning made you slightly aroused, the specks of praise you could hear him murmur as she caressed his chest making your thighs squeeze together just the tiniest bit.

The next time you mention sex is in your second year of high school, except it's not with Suguru or Satoru at all, but with your friend Ieiri Shoko. The two of you are sat in her bedroom, your backs leaning against the side of her bed as you found yourself seated on the floor again. Her laptop is open wide about a meter or so in front of you as the two of you huddled together, array of snacks in front of you as you commenced your annual girls' movie night.

She pulled the movie into full screen mode before hitting play, but instead of being greeted by the title scene of a classic chick flick you felt a desire to watch, the illegal website you pirated the film off of forced you into an ad, and not just any ad, it was a commercial for a porn site, you watched in surprised as a fully naked woman popped up in front of you, her tits shaking as her hips grinded down onto a pillow, rolling forward and the high pitched sound of her breathy moans spilled from Shoko's laptop speakers, the girl beside you not even bothering to lower the volume as her parents weren't home as the woman started pitching the website, "wanna see me cum! Then click the link and-" you zoned her out, more intrigued by the way her bare cunt slid against the fabric of her pillow.

"Why is she doing that," you mumble out, staring as her hips circle and you begin to see the white cushion start to turn damp.

"Humping her pillow or advertising for a porn site," Shoko hummed, not phased in the slightest at the scene that soon ended, returning you back to the film you were trying to watch.

"Humping," you ask, replaying the scene in your mind, "how does that feel good," you pondered, brows furrowed in confusion, your limited knowledge on all things sex related very much only focused on the actual intercourse and that's mostly because of all the sex-ed talks you had in school.

"It's because she's rubbing her clit on the pillow," the woman beside you answered nonchalantly, placing a blue gummy into your parted lips as you hummed in understanding, the word clit one of the few words stored in your little dictionary, eyes briefing over it a couple times when reading YA novels where the author decided to add in a spicy little smut scene. "It kept catching on the wrinkles," she continued, tearing open a bag, "but her moans were a little exaggerated."

"How do you know?" you tilt your head, opening your mouth again, letting her place a fuzzy peach inside from her newly open snack.

"Well you aren't going to feel that good from a pillow," she explains, "I mean unless she was riding like the seam of it or something, but even then... " she trails off "regardless it isn't going to stimulate her well," she muses watching as the establishing shots and upbeat music slowly faded and zoned in on one of the characters voices.

Your next interaction with the topic is a couple months later. You sat around the low lying wooden table you set up in your bedroom, an array of coloured pens and mechanical pencils presented atop the surface as you scribbled graphite over the sheets of your notebook, textbook tucked in front of you as you sat cross legged on the floor, a cushion beneath your bum so you wouldn't feel the tingly pins and needles from sitting so long. Your friends Gojo and Geto are with you, sitting on the side of the table adjacent to where you remain perched, the consistent clicking of Satoru's pen had Suguru kicking him beneath your note packages before you found yourself puzzled by a particularly tricky math problem.

"Have you done number 8 b yet," you speak out, leaving the question for either one of them to answer but instead of a polite, yes or no, like you wished for, of course you had to be teased first.

"How are you still on number 8," Satoru snickers, earning him a pinch on his surprisingly toned arm, his lanky limbs beginning to grow just a touch beefier as he formed a newfound interest in the gym.

"I didn't ask you to make fun of me, I asked for help," you huffed, tapping the question in your textbook.

"I got x squared minus four x minus five," Suguru chimed from beside you and you groaned at your very much incorrect answer.

"Howww," you whined, staring at your different list of numbers as you reached for your eraser to try and rub away the shameful markings as Suguru slid his notebook into your eye line.

"Don't trust him," Satoru hums from your left and you offer him a skeptical glare.

"What do you mean?"

"I got x squared plus four x minus five," he chimes and Suguru furrows his brows, "someone must've mixed up his subtraction and addition symbols," the snowy haired boy sing songed.

"Yeah you," Suguru bites back, staring at the terms he combined only to find no error.

"Yeah right," Satoru huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned to inspect Suguru's notebook. "See you made that a negative, it's a positive" the boy tapped onto the page, "it's a positive minus a negative, there are brackets around the negative eight" and Suguru scrunched his face before tapping another part of the page

"It's a positive plus a negative and as far as I'm concerned four plus negative eight is negative four" he corrected.

"Nuh uh," Satoru huffed, "it's a positive minus a negative"

"No it's not," Suguru growled and suddenly you watched as the two began to bicker and you let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine then I'll just put the question into a math checker and then we'll see that I'm right," Satoru snarkily harrumphed, grabbing his phone and unlocking it, needing to search up a generator as he didn't already have an app installed.

You waited as he clicked open his search engine, eager to figure out the answer more for your own greed then their competition but you were surprised.

Not surprised in the sense that the internet gave a different answer then both Satoru and Suguru, but because as Satoru clicked inside his browser app a sharp and airy moan left his phone speakers. Wait scratch that, you guess you were surprised because the internet gave you a different answer than you were expecting, an answer not really related to math at all.

You've never seen Satoru's hands move quicker, flying to click down the volume before shutting off his phone, the dark screen greeting you as it clattered to the table and a lingering silence filled the space before a cackle broke out from your right. "Was that porn!" Suguru laughed, looking at Satoru's flushed cheeks incredulously.

Porn... you never really thought about the fact that people actually watched it, but then again why wouldn't they.

"No!" Satoru tried to retort but the pink painting the apples of his face gave him away. "It was, I-just," and he began to stumble over his words, trying to come up with a logical excuse only to find no lie that made sense.

What else sounds like a high pitched breathy sigh of a moan?

"Just what," Suguru chuckled, finding humour in Satoru's embarrassment, "or is your ring tone someone having sex," the man said, a shit eating grin splaying across his lips.

"I-" and finally Satoru simply sighed, resting his flushing cheeks in his palms as he avoided eye contact with the two of you as Suguru merely cackled.

"Can I see," you blurt out suddenly, prying eyes staring intently on the dark screen gracing the front of Satoru's shut off phone, the two boys beside you staring at you with widened eyes.

"Huh!" Satoru exclaimed, brows furrowing, staring at you as though you had grown a third head.

"I want to see," you reiterate, hands reaching forward for Satoru's phone, immensely curious, as your unsatiated brain grew in it's interest of the video that once played on his device.

"You heard her," Suguru merely chuckles, recovering from his initial shock as he scooched closer to your side, leaning over your shoulder to muse at the blushing boy, "show us," and carefully, with movements full of hesitation and flickering eyes that held the words,'are you sure?' Satoru clicked open his phone, he had never really been able to decline yours and Suguru's requests anyways.

"Perverts," the white haired boy merely mumbles under his breath, punching in his password without bothering to hide it, knowing full well the two of you already knew what numbers unlocked his phone.

"Says you," Suguru smirks, thighs pressed against yours as he sat at your side, Satoru coming to sit on your other side as you reach for his phone, holding the device in your hands as you watched an erotic image display in front of your elated gaze, anticipation filling you as the video began to play, two boys sandwiching you between them as they eyed the film in your hands.

As you watched the video play you began to understand why porn was a thriving industry.

You watched as her ass reverberated against toned thighs, her back to the camera as the man she rode lay on his own back, her hips jumping and falling with sensual claps as whiny and satisfied moans broke past her lips. Your eyes never left, barely blinking, scared to miss the scene, watching as she satisfied herself on her own accord, setting the pace as she rolled her body, the faint groans that you assumed came from her partner echoing out of Satoru's speakers as you clicked up the sound.

Despite the fact that you scrutinized the video so closely you failed to acknowledge the uncanny resemblance the woman had to your own figure, her same coloured hair eerily cut in a similar style to your own, her skin tone only a fraction of a shade darker than your own, her body shape so very similar, dipping and curving in ways your own hips do. If you actually bothered to notice you would've had to take a moment to question if the woman in the video was actually you, only to recall that you've never had sex, let alone filmed it and uploaded it to a website for others pleasure.

However what your ignorant eyes failed to notice Suguru's inquisitive ones caught almost immediately, a knowing dance sparkling behind his irises as he sent a coy grin towards Satoru who only blushed at the fact.

The hypnotic effect her jiggling ass had on you keeping you away from feeling the way Suguru leaned behind your head, the mesmerizing song she sung occupying your ears from hearing the deep whisper Suguru spread into Satoru's ears.

"Don't worry, I like watching her too."

If you weren't so busy watching as the website auto-played yet another video by the actress you would've caught Satoru's face growing redder with parted lips as Suguru not only discovered his dirty little secret but also shared it.

You continued to stare at the new set of scenes that unfolded in front of you, watching as her face was still unseen as she presented her ass to the camera once more, her face burrowed in the sheets while she rested on her knees with her ass in the air.

Face down ass up, that's what it was called, right?

Her hands gently spread her ass cheeks, hips shaking as she displayed both her holes with such confidence it made you shudder before her fingers slithered towards her cunt, deft digits toying with her clit, rolling it and you couldn't help but think of the woman who had humped her pillow. So any type of friction against your clit was supposed to make you feel good, you concluded, watching as her hand traveled down the bud to run through her folds that glistened beneath her carefully set up lights, finger growing wet with her slick and then you gasped.

A sudden, shocked, slightly loud sound that had both boy's snapping their attention to you.

Had you finally noticed the woman in question looked like you, had you realized that you were watching porn and were suddenly disgusted. Satoru's brain was running rampant, did you think he was a weir- the question could barely finish being asked in his brain before you asked another.

"Doesn't that hurt," you murmur in disbelief, watching as one of her fingers pumped inside her dampening cunt, slipping inside before quickly adding another one, making you recoil as you felt your own pussy tingle as you squeezed your thighs.

"Hurt?" Suguru questioned, watching as the woman fucked herself with her hand "baby you know what happens during sex right," he furrows his brows, pushing you with a query to distract you from the name that spilled from his lips easily.

"I mean yeah," you murmur with warming cheeks, "but still..." the idea of putting your fingers inside your body like that made you shudder with fear, "it looks kinda scary."

"Wait," Satoru suddenly perks, eyes wide on you as he stared "does this mean you've never masturbated before," and it was your turn to flush, embarrassed, when had the attention shifted from teasing Satoru, to teasing you, as the white haired boy stared at you coyly.

"I- well," you stammer, feeling yourself grow hot as their eyes trained on your warming form, "i-it's scary!" you huffed and you could hear Satoru laugh while Suguru let out a light chuckle. "What are you laughing at!" you yell, punching the porn watching boy who was supposed to be the one getting bullied. "Y-You just have to like, tug on it and it feels good b-but I," you stumble, "I have to put something inside a-and that alone doesn't feel good, you have to play with your clit and find like a g-spot or something," you begin to ramble, stating off lines you've heard Shoko say as she explained the concept of masturbating to you as you watched the chick flick together, curiosity taking you over after watching the woman roll her hips.

"Mhm," Suguru hums, "well I'm sorry that we just have to tug on it," he cackles at your choice of words as your face burns, "but I mean, if you ever need help overcoming your fear you can call us," he states so bluntly it had you squirming.

"What do you mean call you!" you scrunch your face, hitting his shoulder as well, as Satoru muses.

"He means call us and we'll teach you," the boy coos and you could only huff in aggravation as they clearly continued to tease you, relishing in the reactions you couldn't keep at bay.

For months the film haunted you, popping to the forefront of your brain sporadically throughout the day, whether it was at home, during class, or when you were sat studying with your friend's in your room again, your mind always seemed to wander back to the woman and the way she pushed her fingers inside her cunt.

After a while you went on the hunt to find her, opening websites on your phone and while you couldn't find the same one you went down a rabbit hole of watching many different attractive women masturbating for a camera. It was strange you thought, the idea of putting a finger inside yourself but as you lay awake at night, coddled up in your blankets you can't seem to let the image go.

Your room is quiet, your window locked, the blinds tightly closed as your door was sealed shut. Your duvet is warm against your body as you pull it up higher against your chest, tucking it beneath your chin as you squeeze your thighs together.

You should really be asleep but the thought keeps haunting you.

Did it really feel that good.

It felt strange, usually you pressed your thighs together until they were sore and you were tired to try and relieve the arousing itch, but this time you couldn't help yourself when you snaked an experimental finger beneath your pants and you gently begin to run your finger over your folds, brushing them against the fabric of your panties like you've seen done a multitude of times during your porn viewing experience.

Usually this was where she'd let out a breathy whine or moan but you found no sound ready to escape your lips. It felt funny but as your finger brushed a little higher on your cunt, where you knew your clit should be, it felt slightly different, a little tingly as you rubbed but other than that there was nothing.

You shouldn't be doing this but you couldn't help yourself.

Your hand carefully traveled into your underwear, the waistband resting on your wrist as you toyed with your folds, carefully pulling them apart, they were slightly damp but they didn't feel as sticky as you imagined when you saw the women's glistening holes, maybe you weren't wet enough

Carefully you snuck your hand from your cunt to your mouth, feeling yourself grow a little embarrassed with yourself as you suckled on your index finger, mimicking the way you saw one woman do, coating your finger in your saliva before experimentally trekking it back into your pants, spit brushing against your stomach before you rubbed it over your cunt, feeling it grow a tad bit more slippery as you brought a hand to your clit.

You brushed against it, fingers tracing up and down and moving it in circles, trying all varying techniques you've witnessed behind a screen as you tried to elicit a warm pleasure but all you felt was a small tingle every once and a while, the sparks began to grow but it never seemed to last, feeling nice before receding as your hand couldn't seem to keep a consistent enough pace against your dampening clit, sparks flying but no flame as your cunt grew wetter with every second only to find no satisfaction and only frustration.

Maybe if you inserted a finger it'd feel better?

So you attempted it, facing your fears as you quickly dipped your fingers between your folds, letting it delve only a quarter way inside when you began to feel uncomfortable, the feeling of your cunt, squishy and wet, making you feel less horny and more ready to stop.

You retrieved your hand, trying to rub over your clit instead but the more your tried the less pleasure you felt, you were growing warmer and instead of wanting to moan you wanted to cry in frustration.

Why wasn't it working.

Were the little tingles from your clit the orgasm you began to wonder, that was the only thing that felt remotely good but it couldn't be, right? In all the videos you consumed and all the movies you watched their orgasms were intense, their hips shook and they appeared to be feeling wonderful.

Why couldn't you achieve that feeling.

It was annoying, a small little nibbling burden calling out every so often in the back of your mind every day. It didn't weigh on you but it sure irritated you at times.

After that day you tried a couple more times, this time letting your finger reach as far as it could and you began to try and thrust it in and out but it didn't feel nice like you thought it would. You tried to rub your clit at the same time but your hands didn't cooperate as you couldn't both rub yourself and thrust so instead you decided to grope your chest and thrust instead but you didn't feel your lower belly warm like it was supposed to.

You began to grow more and more irritated.

Your nightly endeavours never resulted in the way you wanted, you even tried to put two fingers in for a couple of seconds only for your pussy to start burning and you quickly reverted back to one.

It was absolutely humiliating, you couldn't even please yourself.

Soon enough you were graduating high school and despite furthering your education you couldn't seem to further your own sexual experiences.

You were now in university, renting a three bedroom apartment with your two best friends, that much to Satoru's chagrin, wasn't the penthouse.

"I'll just pay for it."

"We all have to pay equal rent Toru."

You lay in your bed conflicted for yet another night, you were in university, the time of your life when people went to parties, found partners, had flings, had one night stands, had sex, and yet here you were still struggling to masturbate properly, at this point maybe you should just buy a vibrator, but where would you buy it, if you got it online where were you supposed to order it to, it's not like you could ship it to the apartment, not with the chance that Satoru and Suguru could spot it first.

Your internal dilemmas continued to rage on as your cunt was left wet and unsatisfied for yet another night and the creeping voice whispered in your ear again, they had told you if you asked they would help you please yourself, but then again they were also teasing you at the time.

Tossing a pillow over your face you huffed, what were you supposed to do.

You wanted to just ignore it but your wet cunt ,that leaked over your panties and began to seep into the fabric of your sleep shorts, had you writhing.

You've already made out with them before, this wouldn't be that much different, right? It's just like kissing but with a different set of lips...

Fucking hell, you were doomed.

Hesitation weighed on your achy bones as you pushed yourself to sit, your damp underwear making you squirm in discomfort as you quickly rose to stand. This wouldn't be weird right, asking your friends to fuck your dripping cunt wouldn't ruin your friendship, right?

The questions you asked flooded your brain as your feet padded towards your door, unhinged, unanswered queries swarming you. Any sane person would tell you that, yes, your friends would call you a lunatic and ask you to move out of your shared apartment, but a part of you still believed it would be fine, and it seemed as though it was that very small, insane fraction of your brain that guided your trembling hand to push open your bedroom door.

After all no sane person knew your friends as well as you did. Maybe, just maybe they'd be crazy enough to take you up on your offer, they had offered before. Even if it might've been a joke the slight possibility that it wasn't had your weeping pussy excited.

You shuffled out of your dim bedroom into the main area of your home, taking the couple of steps it took to get from your door to the living room, spotting the two boys leisurely resting on the couch, limbs thrown whichever way was most comfortable as Satoru's eyes were glued to the television, determined to binge old Digimon episodes while Suguru, who couldn't care less, stared at his phone, thumb gliding over the screen as he scrolled.

Your entrance didn't really seem to warrant too much of their attention as Satoru barely flickered his gaze to you before returning to his show, Suguru no different. You weren't quite sure whether this was supposed to be a good thing or bad thing, their attention spared anywhere but towards you, making your stomach do flips as you felt anxiety crawl up your throat, telling you that you were a psychopath for even thinking you could do this.

But despite your brain telling you no, your body told you yes, legs shuffling closer to the plush couch as the dripping mess between your thighs overran all reason. You felt it, that strong urge pushed you, as instead of taking a space on an empty part of the cushion you crawled over into Suguru's lap, straddling his legs as you pushed your weight into your knees, your brazenness not encompassing your fear that he would be able to feel your gushing cunt through your shorts.

Suguru merely hummed as you clambered over him, clicking his phone off before dropping it onto the couch as he brought his hands to your waist, planting his touch to the curve of your hips as he leaned his head back onto the couch, hair dancing in dark waves as he stared up at you, purple eyes glinting with welcome as a smile tickled his lips.

"What's up," he spoke softly, fingers squishing the fat of your curves, touching you tenderly, but you could only shake your head at his salutation, crumpling into his hold to force your flushed cheeks into the crook of his shoulder, maintaining your position of hovering over his thighs as you curled your back into him. "Is my girl feeling needy," he presumed, pressing a kiss to your scalp and you could feel yourself shudder, if only he knew how needy you actually were, the chaste kiss he lingered in your hair doing nothing but fueling your walls, the affection he shared, assuming it would satisfy you, only leaving you wanting more.

"Mhm," you whined into his skin, you weren't telling a lie and part of you hoped that your very, very, miniscule hint, would make him understand what you wanted, leaden tongue no longer bold enough to spew the words you were so ready to ask moments ago, or at least were even considering to ask moments ago.

"Do you want a kiss," he asked tenderly, pulling you from his neck, forcing you to stare into his pretty purple eyes, trying to give you the affection that you normally pushed into him like this for.

You could only nod, melting into his lips that caressed yours so lightly, attempting to satiate yourself on this alone, striving to force your cunt from fluttering as you desperately wanted to just have your full of his mouth and be done with it, make it so a little kiss could soothe your unsatisfied core but so far he only made it worse, gentle touches burning against your skin and you couldn't help but writhe in his hold as he did his best to comfort you, giving you what he thought you wanted, tongue gliding against your mouth as the ventured through already chartered waters.

"Is something wrong," he cooed as his lips left yours, hand coming to scratch your scalp as despite your best efforts he still seemed to catch onto your greed that you poorly hid.

"No," you could only murmur, closing your eyes, trying to lean in for yet another peck, wanting to forget your lust, wanting to force him to drop the subject but his hand intercepted your mouth, pressing against your lips as he kept you from him, kept you from spewing deceit and moving on.

"Don't lie to me baby," he sighed watching as your brows furrowed, recognizing the frustration that painted your features and you could only huff at his perceptiveness, "it's obvious something is bothering you."

Yeah my cunt, you wanted to say but you bit your tongue, not wanting to escalate the situation so sporadically despite how much you began to yearn for more of him.

With a sigh you burrowed yourself back into his neck, trying to compose yourself as he pat your head, letting you take your time. At this point you knew you couldn't lie, that the more you tried to avoid it the more he'd pry and you had to acknowledge the fact that this was the reason you came here in the first place, that you were the one who put yourself into this position. You were already here you just had to complete your goal, even if that goal might end in humiliation with you shuffling back embarrassed, unsatisfied and soon to be evicted.

"Y-You know how you always say," you start, squeezing your eyes shut as you kept yourself against his body, "if I ever need help you'd always be there," and at this you could feel him tense, fingers stilling from where they slid against your body and you could feel worry claw at your throat as the couch dipped, Satoru shifting closer as he caught onto the conversation you shared with Suguru, his hand against your warming cheek as he brushed the hair from your face, trying to catch your gaze but you refused to meet it.

"Did something happen," Suguru questions, trying to force his hands to rub soothing circles once more, attempting, but failing from keeping the concern seep into his tone.

"What's wrong," Satoru added, his hand patting your back, warmth seeping into your skin as he squished against Suguru. You could feel him against your bare leg that still straddled the dark haired boy's lap.

"W-Well," you breath, trying to keep the tears that suddenly sprung to your eyes at bay, a fear stinging your limbs as you did your best to swallow the lump in your throat, "I mean," you gasp out, "never mind it's nothing," you try, shaking you head.

You couldn't do this.

Your limbs tried to grapple free from his grasp, pushing out of arms to run away, wanting nothing more than to just forget this ever happened, to wake up and realize this was all some horrific nightmare as you endeavoured to wriggle free only to feel his hands tighten, the pain blossoming in your skin from their grip telling you that this wasn't a dream as Satoru quickly latched you close, capturing you as you frantically looked about, trying to find an escape route. "Let me go," you mumble, wet eyes trying not to be seen as they held you close, suddenly frightened with your change in demeanor, uncertainty permeating their features.

"What's wrong," Suguru tried again, his hands not letting you squirm away as you stared at your room, wishing you were trapped in its confines. You'd much rather be sticky and wet all on your lonesome than admit it at this point.

"N-Nothing," you murmur, doing your best to keep yourself steady, finally feeling yourself give up, their hold on you much to tight to let you escape and you found yourself back in the crook of Suguru's neck.

Maybe you should just close your eyes and pass out, they couldn't question you if you were asleep, or maybe blame it on somehow being intoxicated.

You could hear Suguru sigh, feel it as his shoulder's decompressed, "you can't just walk in here ask that, and then try to run away," he states, hands rubbing your back and you couldn't help but purse your lips.

"Is something, someone, scaring you," Satoru carefully pried, "you can tell us anything," and you could feel the tears try and fall, droplets pricking your eyes as you grew more embarrassed, how were you supposed to tell them now.

Suguru could feel his shoulder grow damp and he could only purse his lips, scared, he sent a wary glance to Satoru, blue eyes also full of turmoil as they stared at your form that slowly began to tremble, slight sob spilling from your lips as you murmured, "it's s-silly," you shake your head, trying your best to hide from their eyes.

"It doesn't matter," Suguru cooed, "if something's bothering you let us fix it," he attempted to soothe, wholly unaware with the double meaning his words left, the feeling of you cunt beginning to clench around nothing making you cringe.

"You," you take a calming breath, "you can't judge me," you fist Suguru's shirt, trying to keep your voice from wavering.

"Just tell us," Satoru hums, hands trying to loosen your white knuckled fist, brushing his warm touch over it.

"You promise you can't get mad o-or or," you begin to stammer, "hate me," you whisper quietly, body tensing as your muscles pinched with anxiety, awaiting their response.

"Baby we could never hate you," Suguru rumbled, patting your head as he felt you shake in his hold.

"Y-You have to promise," you choke out once more, voice full of fear and Suguru could feel himself grow antsy, panic broiling.

"I promise," he attempts to soothe carefully once more, slight distress seeping in.

"I promise too," Satoru hums gently, fingers running over your knuckles as he pried your hand from Suguru's shirt, feeling you tightly grip his hand instead

"Y-You know," you begin to start, "that time you told m-me" and you could feel yourself warm impossibly hotter, "th-that if I ever needed help o-overcoming my f-fear," you stutter out, t-that I can call you," you finish squeezing your eyes shut, hoping they'd remember their words instead of prod further at what your fear was, but much to your dismay it had seemed as though they had forgotten.

"Fear..?" Suguru trails off, furrowed brows turning to Satoru, silently asking if the other man knew what you were talking about only to receive a shake of the head, "baby what are you scared of" he tried, confused.

"I-" you freeze, not quite sure how to word it, "you don't remember," you say instead and you can hear the pause as the gears turned in their minds, wracking their brains for what you were referencing.

"No, I'm sorry," Satoru finally says, "but whatever it is our offer still stands," he continues, "we can help you, just remind us," he presses a kiss to your knuckles, "please," and you are biting your lip tightly, conflicted.

You've already dug your grave this deep, why not hammer the last nail into your coffin at this point.

"M-masturbating," you whisper so quietly that if they didn't have all their focus on you they would've missed it, but despite this Satoru still asks you again.

"What was that," he gapes, hand suddenly stilling from where it ran over your knuckles and you could feel your blood begin to run cold, shocked, unsure of if he had actually heard you right or was just freaked out by your confession.

"M-Masturbating" you say a little louder and the room fell quiet before a single 'pfft' echoed out, "y-you promised you wouldn't judge me," you huff, pulling from Suguru's neck as you stared teary eyed at Satoru, his chest convulsing as he laughed and soon enough you could feel Suguru's broad chest rumble as well as he chuckled.

"M'not laughing at you baby, you just had us so worried," Satoru wiped a tear from his eye "thought it was something serious."

"This is serious!" you exclaim, brows furrowed and you could feel even more tears fall, dripping down your chin, they didn't care, they weren't going to kick you out but tease you, make fun of you, they were going to belittle your feelin- and Satoru gently cupped your face, wiping away a stray droplet that ran down your cheek.

"I know, I just thought something really bad happened," he cooed instead, thumb running over the salty stains painting your face.

"We're just relieved it's something we can fix easily," Suguru sighed, tensed muscles relaxing as his fingers squeezed at your hips before his eyes forced your to look at him, gentle smile splayed across his lips, "my poor baby needs help learning how to masturbate," he cooed, hand toying with the stray ends of your hair and you nod, ashamed.

"You want us to teach you," Satoru whispered into the shell of your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek before you shook your head, your fear quickly dissipating, leaving only lust in it's wake as you realized that nothing you thought would happened did, now only the things you wished would happen would occur.

You could feel the blood rush back up to your cheeks, painting your face and ears as you sighed, your wet cunt now throbbing for attention as their searing gaze poked at you "No" you murmured and you could feel your courage grow as you shifted yourself to only straddle one of Suguru's toned thighs before you pushed your weight off your knees and onto him, staring up at them through your darkened lashes and you couldn't help but think of that woman and her pillow as you rolled your hips, letting him feel you, letting him feel just how much you leaked through your shorts, as the damp fabric smeared against his leg, "just do it for me."

"Fuck baby," Suguru groaned unabashedly as you slowly tried to mimic all the videos you watched, rolling your body as for the first time you attempted to ride his thigh. "My girl is so wet," he sighed and you could feel hands find your hips and suddenly, that tingly feeling that you never seemed to keep, grew as Satoru angled you just right as Suguru tensed his thigh, taut muscles pleasing you perfectly as Satoru forced your clit to catch on every ridge and for once, a gasp, you've only ever heard other women spew through a screen, left your lips with ease, the sound you've been trying to bubble from yourself with your fingers, the sound at points you just tried to force out, the sound that never seemed to form naturally left your mouth as you sighed out in relief.

You had made a good decision.

"I can feel you through your pants pretty girl," Suguru praised, leg slightly bouncing causing that tiny little gasp to unwillingly fall past your lips again. It was so easy for them, so easy for them to make you feel so good as that fuzzy feeling that sparsely struck you as you rubbed your clit during the dead of night began to persist, but just like during your futile efforts, the mere touch wasn't enough, the short buzz of pleasure that shocked your clit wasn't enough.

"M-More," you mewl, leaning you chest into Suguru's as you pleaded, eyes wide as you begged, "need more, please," you whined and you could hear Satoru chuckle at your shameless display.

"Baby we're going to give you all you could ever want, gonna give you everything you deserve," he whispered into the shell of your ear, "you don't ever have to beg," he starts, "but that doesn't mean you shouldn't," a sharp pain blossomed against your ass and you yelped at the feeling.

He had spanked you, he had spanked you and it made you clench around air, bleary eyes turning to face him as he smirked so delectably, "my girl is so good for me, looking so pretty when she begs for things she's going to get no matter what," he hummed, "she's so polite," he cooed, halting your shifting hips to push you down forcefully onto Suguru's thigh, forcing your hips to grind tight little circles as his bruising hold controlled your movements and you couldn't keep back the little whine.

"Aren't you a good girl, huh baby," Suguru murmured against your neck and you clenched your fists at the feeling of his lips mapping out new territory, the little peck he pressed beneath the junction of your jaw making you writhe as he explored your body, pressing chaste kisses as you threw your head back, relishing in the way he suckled at your skin.

"F-Fuck," you gasp, hesitant hands carefully tugging at the ends of his hair and the deep groan he let out only urged you further as you tangled your fingers into his luscious locks. You stared down at where he planted his face against your skin and you couldn't help the way your pussy gushed, "y-you look so pretty," you gasp, his tongue instantly soothing the skin he bit, running over it like a healing balm as he smirked up at you.

"Pretty," he hummed and you could feel the sensation travel up your neck, "I think you're prettier," he tuts before kissing again, leaving a little trail in his wake and you pinched your eyes shut at the compliment, the way your tummy flipped leaving you ashamed but left him prideful.

It felt odd to have hands loiter across your skin, lips roaming as you felt your cunt dampen. "What do you want us to do with you baby," Satoru murmured, forcing your hips to move in lewd directions and you couldn't help the way you threw your head back, leaning against his chest to stare at his all consuming blue eyes.

"W-Wanna feel good," you whimper, hands sliding to cup over where his rested on your hips.

"I know love," he chuckled as though it was obvious, "but how," he blew cold air against your ear, making you quiver against his chest, "want me to eat you out, have my tongue lick up all your juices while you leak for me, want to writhe against my mouth or,"he gasps enthusiastically, "do you want me to shove my long fingers into your pretty little pussy, do you wanna clench around me while I thrust into you huh," he breaths, filling your brain with dirty little fantasies, "want me to play with your cunt, want me to make you scream and cry on my fingers as I toy with your perfect folds," he cooed.

"Gonna fuck my fingers into you like you wanted to, gonna play with your clit like you tried to," he murmured, "gonna make up for all those frustrating nights baby," he hums and he humps you faster over Suguru's leg, "you want us to masturbate your little cunt for you, want us to put our fingers inside and make you feel good huh, want us to fuck your needy little pussy the way my pathetic girl's fingers couldn't," he continues and you can feel your walls clench, the idea of them ramming their fingers inside your cunt the way you spent countless nights trying to making your mouth water, "want us to put our fingers inside and find your g-spot, want us to fuck you and make you think it's our dicks," he says and you can feel yourself grow warm at the insinuation, "wanna pretend hmm," he coos and you shake your head.

"Wanna have you," you gasp and he tsks, gripping your chin to force you to look into his piercing blue eyes.

"You're gonna have to imagine it baby, gonna have to imagine until we train your pretty pussy enough, gotta stretch her out first before you can take us inside," he murmurs, "gonna fuck you over and over again until you are ready," and the thought of them taking you as much as they wanted had you seeing stars.

"Please," you whined, "Please, please, please," you started begging again, "want you, want you two so bad," you babbled.

"What do you want us to do," Satoru teased, stating it as though he hadn't already spewed all the filthy things he made you want into your ear.

"Want you t-to fuck m-me with your fingers," you gasp, "want you t-to make me feel good, wanna cum for you," and you barely even acknowledged the way Satoru stilled your hips, too caught up in your daydream to care as you continued, "wanna cum for you, please, want you to make me feel good."

"Awh," Suguru coos from beneath you, "isn't our baby so good at asking," he praises and you whimper, "let us take you to the bed okay," he murmurs and you don't even notice you are nodding.

"Yes please," you whine and quickly Suguru is standing up, hands resting beneath your ass as you folded your arms around his neck, cunt pressing against his torso as you clung to him, chest to chest.

You could feel your heart thrum, anticipation growing as they guided you towards Satoru's room, gently laying you atop his plush mattress of the large bed he owned, perks of having the biggest room granted by paying the largest portion of rent, opting to pay 40% instead of the 30% you and Suguru covered individually.

Satoru couldn't keep the blood from rushing to his cock as he watched your breathtaking form splayed over his silk sheets. Your hair was dancing in whichever direction it pleased, your arms reaching out for them as you stared up at him and Suguru with such desire filled eyes it had him leaking pre-cum. Your body was painted beautifully, blue pajama shorts stained with a small dot slightly darker at the crotch, your top riding up your torso as your neck was decorated in tiny love bites left by Suguru.

Part of him couldn't believe that this was reality and not some hyper realistic fantasy as he watched you tug Suguru closer, arms still snaked around his neck as you pulled his lips to yours, bleary eyes shutting to focus on the feeling of your intermingling lips.

You stare at the two boys as they towered over you and you could feel an embarrassed flush grace your cheeks as you noticed the dark patch coating Suguru's thigh.

"Let's take these clothes off, yeah pretty girl," Suguru coos gently as he pulled a way, tugging at the hem of your pants and you could feel your breath catch in your throat as you gnawed on your lip, releasing it before you grinned slyly.

"Help me," you demanded, feeling the embarrassment that steeped through you finally wash away as you realized you had no need to be so nervous, after all you already have some dirty little secrets with them, what's a couple more, even if they were a lot more sexual, it's not like you'd let anyone else take your body in the way you permitted them. You lifted your hips off the bed, raising them dangerously close to his lowered head and the tantalizing smirk that crossed his lips made your heart beat just for him.

Swiftly you could feel cool air brush across your wet folds as he swiftly yanked down your shorts, pulling them past your ankles, that Satoru gingerly lifted one at a time, before tossing them somewhere out of view. You shuddered at the cold sticky feeling of your exposed panties, but despite your urge to pull your knees together to block their view, the hungry gaze in their eyes made you think otherwise.

"Wow," Satoru whistled, grabbing your leg as he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed and you yelped slightly at the force before he dropped to his knees, admiring the little gift between your thighs, "aren't you absolutely dripping," he mused, lithe fingers coming to tap the wet cotton, running through your prominent folds that your slick stuck tightly to the fabric.

"Our baby's so wet," Suguru commented, and you shuddered as Satoru ran his fingers over your folds, circling sweetly over your bud, finding it without even needing to see it, a very quiet and airy moan leaving your lips that had both boys sucking at their teeth, enamored. You quietly squirmed, hips shifting and Suguru couldn't keep his smile from growing, "are your panties uncomfortable," he cooed, lovestruck as he admired your little pout, his fingers toying with the waistband, running over the small little bow at the very front, "bet they are with how much you're leaking through them," and his hand slapped down, the wet clap as he smacked your pussy, a sharp sting that brought more pleasure than pain making your knees jerk, a slight whine leaving your lips, "can't believe you tried to run away and keep this from us," he murmured, massaging the entirety of your cunt with his palm, heel of it digging lightly into your clit before Satoru forced his hand away, eagerly pulling off the damp fabric and you were surprised when you heard them both groan and gasp in surprise.

"Filthy girl," Satoru mumbled, eyes shining with delight as he stared at the clear slick string that connected your dripping cunt to your underwear, the strand growing longer the further he rolled your panties down until finally it collapsed, falling onto the sheets beneath you.

You watched as mindlessly both boys dive for your arousal, Suguru leaning forward to lick up what dripped onto the sheets while Satoru lapped up what stained your underwear. Fuck, honestly part of you believed they'd merely finger you until you were satisfied but seeing their hooded eyes rake over your form with clear interest was much better, especially when they not only focused on you but each other.

Suguru leant down to the kneeling boy in front of him, tongue delving into Satoru's mouth, both boy's groaning at your lingering taste heavy on their tongues before they parted, panting before turning back to you with so much desire it had you squirming. "Look at our princess dripping onto the sheets," Suguru murmured, staring at your spread legs as he licked his lips.

"Makin such a mess," Satoru purred as Suguru sat on the mattress next to you, making Satoru do the same, crawling up to sit by your head as Suguru rested closer to your pelvis.

"Cryin so much down there," Suguru hums, mesmerized by your glistening folds, watching as your velvety walls throbbed, sobbing out for attention and he delivered, thumb running, parting your weeping lips, two fingers spreading you open and he stared inside your pretty, pillowy, cunt, watching as her slick caught light, shining as she soaked his fingers.

You couldn't hold back your helpless gasp as he gazed inside you, clearly enjoying the sight from the twinkle dancing behind his purple eyes. "Let me take this off too," Satoru requests, calling your attention back to him as he splayed his hand over your exposed stomach, your shirt riding up as his fingers barely grazed beneath the fabric, wanting more.

"B-but," you murmur, suddenly feeling a flush of shame overtake you and Satoru halts his greedy hands, reminding himself that he was here to pleasure your core not your chest despite his urges. He tried to collect himself and wanted to pull away, to run his hands lower but your tiny voice stopped him, "I-I'm not wearing a matching set," you mumble bashfully, saying it as though that was more embarrassing then having your naked bottom exposed to both of them, as though the very words were a sin itself, but the idea of you wearing mismatched undergarments sent a rush of blood to his already hardened dick, causing it to jump in place. The uncoordinated set meaning that you hadn't planned for this to happen, hadn't prepared or waited for the right day, hadn't approached them with pre-practiced lines, no, you had crawled to them with desperation, a need filling your tummy that you could no longer ignore as your helpless little fingers did little to please your body. The thought of you going to them as a last ditch effort after you failed yet again made him writhe, the filthy idea filling his brain as he reached for the small of your back, leaning you onto his knee before he pried the fabric from your chest with haste.

He watched as your boobs bounced out of the shirt before you landed on your back once more, jiggling in place. His mouth watered as he could see your tits spill from the cups of your bra, the garment clearly a size too small for your overflowing breasts but he could hear your voice in his ears, complaining about how bras were too damn expensive.

His fingers traced the rim, grazing your chest lightly as he hummed, does this mean your boobs are always suffocating, he wonders, isn't that uncomfortable, with a lick of his lips he released your tits, undoing the clasp of your bra to let them splay freely, tossing the clothing far off into his room as he stared at the light indents left on your shoulders from the straps, he'd have to take you to purchase new ones, he noted as you rested onto your back as he rolled one of your nipples between his fingers, the subtle moan you let out music to his ears as he watched you squirm, Suguru's gentle caresses to you core doing little to stimulate but a lot to tease, the dark haired man clearly reveling in you expressions.

"Satoru," it was gentle, a call of his names as he locked gazes with the man he observed, "open," he murmured, and soon enough his mouth was open and two thick fingers were placed onto his awaiting tongue, "get 'em nice and wet for our girl, yeah," he encouraged and Satoru found himself groaning, choking with the way Suguru fucked his hand into his mouth, forcing him to suckle onto his digits.

You watched in awe, the thin slips of saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth beginning to fall as Suguru placed a knee between your spread legs to lean close to Satoru, watching the way the boy sucked so obediently.

You couldn't help but wonder how he'd look bobbing on Suguru's dick, would he hollow out his cheeks, would tears sting his eyes, the images of videos you watched flashing in your brain as you replaced their faces with ones of his, the thought of Satoru in such a state sending a pang straight to your cunt.

Fuck.

Sure you had thought of them like that before, who wouldn't, your two best friends were undoubtedly hot but you never really focused on the idea that it could be real, that there would be a timeline where they'd not only caress each other but you too, but reality was smacking you in the face right now as you watched one of your best friends lewdly throat fuck the other with his fingers/

The delightful, 'pop,' as Satoru released the digits in his mouth had you gasping as you felt those very same digits caress you, smearing warm saliva over your dripping pussy, rolling around your clit, spreading your lips. "You ready," he cooed gingerly, fingers rubbing your folds, carefully preparing themselves and you swallowed, a strange fear taking over at the thought, but you nodded.

It was hesitant, barely dipping in and you felt one of Suguru's thick fingers slip inside, spreading you open, wider than one of your own fingers did, it had you panting for air. "Shh my love," Satoru was ready to comfort, hand cupping your face as the other gingerly groped your tits, trying to distract the slow burning that wiggled in your cunt as he carefully delved inside, barely even getting to the joint of his finger before you're hiccupping.

"H-Hurts," you are gasping, "it hurts," and Satoru is pressing kisses to your skin, tracing his tongue on your neck as he pinched at your nipples, "Suguru," you sobbed and Satoru did his best to keep your focus on him as you cried.

"I know love," the dark haired man hummed, "just let me stay here like this for a moment, promise it'll feel good," and he pressed a chaste kiss to your lower belly, his tiny little groan as you clenched around his finger causing you to squeeze your eyes shut, trying to pinpoint your attention on Satoru's suckling lips, his tongue circling your nipple before he took the whole thing in his mouth, spreading his hot spit.

Suddenly you could feel his finger slip in further and further until he was knuckle deep, his keen eyes watching every one of your expressions as you writhed, trying to accommodate him, "atta girl, spreading so nicely for me," he whispers into your whimpering lips, pressing a gentle kiss as your tears returned, "just keep breathing for me kay," and he starts thrusting, slow languid push and pull as you sobbed, clutching tightly onto Satoru, it felt a lot different from when you did it, a lot more vulnerable as he drank in your naked form, gently caressing your insides with tender touches, quiet praises spilling into your ears as he asked you to trust him, feeling as soon enough the burning subsided and all that was left was the feeling of him plunging into your slippery cunt as his other hand toyed with your clit, making you even wetter.

"So good," Satoru murmured with a mouthful of boob, suckling as he painted the dips between your chest with purple splotches and bite marks, "doing so good for Suguru," he flattered, listening to your hitching breaths as your chest rose and fell beneath his mouth until suddenly you let out a sharp moan, an erotic ah, that even seemed to take you by surprised falling past your kiss bitten lips and Suguru is quick to soothe.

"There it is," he coos, fingers finding a sloth like pace to help you adjust, ramming against his newfound discovery, your g-spot.

"S-Sugu," you whine, hips rising as you tried to pry yourself from his hold, "i-it feels," you gasp and you felt as though you were seeing stars as he shoved inside of you, pressing against a particular spot that had you moaning, whimpering little songs that you never made spill from your own mouth before.

"I know baby, feels good right," and your eyes are dewy as he slips inside easily, your cunt flooding.

"m-mhm," you mumble, "b-but," you fist the fabric of Satoru's top that you wished he'd just take off already, "s'too much, too much," and Suguru hums in understanding but not letting up.

"Just bear with it pretty girl, gonna feel good, gonna feel so good," and you could feel that tingling sensation expand , your lower belly beginning to grow fuzzy as your brain muddled.

Satoru could watch this all day, your moans that began to increase in volume every passing second, rumbling against his face as he lay smushed between your breasts, Suguru hushing out praises, his dark hair falling from its bun as he set a tame pace, careful not to put you into too much pain as he pushed you towards your undeniable climax, "gonna add one more," and the face you make had the boy reaching a greedy hand to his pants, stroking his hardened dick to try and appease the tent growing in his boxers before focusing every ounce of concentration he had onto you.

Your lips fall into a perfect little 'o' as you stretched unbelievably wider, if you thought having two digits inside your cunt hurt when you attempted it inside your bed, it burned when Suguru pushed another in, filling you to your limit as you sobbed, tears cascading down your cheeks as the continuous appreciative comments did little to calm you, your hips rolling as his dexterous hands played with your sloppy pussy better than you ever had.

"Sug-ngh," you mewl, "c-can't y-you're gonna break me-oh fuck," and your back is arching, finally understanding why all those women had shifted so much as they got pushed to the brink, your fingers tight in Satoru's hair before he gingerly takes one in his hand, carefully interlocking your fingers as he squeezed, attempting to pacify you just a little.

"You can take it," the man murmured pushing both digits deep inside you could feel him in your guts, "your pussy is beggin for more," he kissed your clit, tongue lapping at the bud and you were screaming, your vision grew cloudy as that burning turned to red hot satisfaction, your thighs beginning to tremble as he rammed into you, his pace picking up from snail slow to a little more medium but that speed was still foreign to you, your hands never even daring to go the same rate he did but you could see now this is why your could never pleasure yourself.

An electric pulse thrummed beneath your sweating skin and you felt as though you were no longer tethered to your body, erotic ah, ah, ah's, leaving your lips as you could hear the dirty, squelch, of your cunt as your limbs slowly melted into shivering messes, "there you go" Satoru is comforting, tweaking your hickey marred tits with practiced precision, it had your tongue lolling out.

You could feel yourself gushing, writhing and clenching all at once as Suguru fucked into you, tender hands exploring your body as he also did a little rearranging in your warm contracting tummy. You could feel lights flicker on, arousal flipping the switch and you tried to shut your legs to force him to slow but much to your dismay you provided no hindrance in his pace, not even a hiccup in his thrusts as he leaned over you, your thighs shaking as the lewd, "pap pap pap," of his plunging hand meeting jiggling skin echoed out into the stifling room.

"C-Cum-" you start to gasp, "m-m gonna," you stammer, "c-cumming," you hiccup trembling hips bucking as you felt that knot constrict in your belly, your nerves jittering in delight as the overwhelming pleasure consumed you in raw ecstasy.

"Let go for us baby," Suguru encouraged, eyes stuck on yours as he watched the little lewd faces you made, Satoru thoroughly enjoying the show as well, your shaking tits bouncing with every thrust.

And suddenly you felt a snap and all of a sudden you were spilling, blood rushing through your ears as he delivered the final push that had you tumbling down the edge, into their awaiting arms, your quivering limbs spasming as you moaned shamelessly, "ngh, I- oh", heat bursted to every last corner of your sweat soaked body as shockwaves rippled out from your gushing cunt.

Hot mouths seared any skin they could reach, fingers slowing as he helped your rolling hips ride out your orgasm, crashing waves filtering your pleasure as they cooed, "that's it love, there you go," Suguru praised, thumb swiping against your absolutely sobbing clit as it spilled out every drop you had.

"doing so good," Satoru murmured, cupping your face as your clouded vision lost focus, mind wandering into pure bliss as you fell into your pleasure, swimming in the growing ecstasy as you mewled, hips stuttering as your high began to lower but their actions never ceased, showering you with comforting kisses and tender words, every last bit of love they gave you spilling from your cunt as she dribbled over the sheets, your stuttering hips rolling for the final time against Suguru's warm palm as you came back to the ground, your out of body experience finally reeling you back in as sweaty and warm you let out your final sultry high pitched moan, breathing coming in gasps as your arching back finally flattened and all the was left was their soothing hands.

"Did so well pretty thing," Suguru murmured as he carefully pulled out his fingers one at a time, watching as you writhed and whined at the feeling of slowly being unstuffed, and as he left your empty tears welled, "did you feel good," he hummed against your tear stained cheeks as Satoru pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you sniffled before staring at his slick soaked arm, your essence spilling from his fingers down to his elbow and he grinned, suckling at his digits with a groan, "my baby tastes so good," he whispers into your hair as Satoru positioned you further up the bed, resting your lust filled brain against his pillows, before carefully coddling your in his arms, spooning you as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you post-orgasmic form in his hold.

Soon enough a hand is tapping his cheek and the boy is turning his head, tongue lolling out as Suguru wipes your nectar off into the boy's awaiting mouth, saliva taking it's place as he cleans his forearm, the little content hums spilling from Satoru's lips, vibrating against your head as he lapped up the rest of your lingering juices.

You don't remember much after that, fuzzy brain barely picking up on bleary images as you could faintly recall laying on a plush mattress, listening to faint whimpers and groans along with choked out whines as you watch heads bob upon hardened cocks as fingers stroked stiff lengths. You could remember tasting something salty as lips met yours before you were being placed in warm waters with lavender smelling soaps. You remember whining as they try to pull you into a bra and feeling cold water slipping down your throat before your tired eyes shut, wrapped in comforting arms.

You woke up sore, eyes sore, hands sore, neck sore, tits sore, thighs sore and you cunt was definitely sore, everything ached in a strangely delightful way as the heavy duvet draped over your frame paired with even heavier arms.

You could hear the sounds of their conversation, chests rumbling with words and as you burrowed closer to one body the sounds stilled, "are you awake baby," it was Suguru, his hand coming up to brush the hair that stuck to your cheek and you only mumbled incoherently, absorbing all the warmth they offered you as Satoru chuckled from behind you.

"Did you feel good," he teased, hands pinching at your hips.

"mhm," you hummed before peeking open your eyes, room dim as the closed curtains blocked out any light and suddenly you realize instead of Satoru's room you are in Suguru's, "it hurts," you murmured into the fabric covering Suguru's broad chest and his hand is reaching down to cup your ass, patting it and you quickly find out that you are dressed in only panties and a large t-shirt that definitely did not belong to you.

"A lot," Satoru questions into the shell of your ear, hands snaking up to grope at your boobs and you soon also figure out that you weren't wearing a bra beneath the baggy top.

"No," you mumble, "just achy," you sigh.

"So how was your first orgasm, hmm," the white haired boy continued, lips peppering a light kiss to your neck and you hissed at the feeling of him pressing down on what you assumed to be a bruise or hickey of some kind.

"Nice," you yawn, "you should do that for me all the time," you grin jokingly before he bites down a little harder on your neck and their hands squeeze you a little tighter.

"Sure," Suguru is humming, "as long as you don't go to anyone else," and it sends a strange fluttering in your belly at the thought that they'd be willing to help you out.

"Well I told ya I'd fuck you like this until you could take my dick," and at Satoru's words you could feel your face warming.

"Until then I'll just use my hand for you then I guess," you sigh, feeling the boy jolt behind you before he laughed.

"Oh really I look forward to it then."

It's only a couple weeks after when Satoru finally got to experience the moments he waited for.

"If I lick it will it feel good," you ask, staring up at the blue eyed boy between your lashes, hand running up and down his shaft as a gentle palm assisted you in your first ever handjob.

"There you go baby, just like that," and Suguru's sultry voice is against your ear, his body pinning you between the couch where spread legs lie, hard dick standing tall in front of you as he guided your hand up and down the stiffened cock.

"Fuck," Satoru hissed as Suguru squeezed your joined fists tight, your hand was covered by Suguru as he showed you how to make the white haired boy feel good before gasping out, "yes pretty girl," his chiseled chest heaving, "if you lick- ngh it I'll feel goo- oh fuck," and your tongue is already out, kitten licking the droplets of pre-cum that beaded at the tip.

"Good girl," the dark haired man praised, "making our Satoru feel so nice," and you continued with your mouth, tasting the salty liquid as you hand slid up and down his length before Suguru is letting go, leaving you to take care of the boy on your own. "If you suck on his tip he'll moan really pretty for you," the boy added before your intrusive eyes are on him.

"How would you know," you question and you are quick to realize, "you've done this before haven't you," you gasp and he grins.

"I really thought you've heard us before," and he's smacking your ass making you yelp, so that's what all those groans were, you finally concluded as you leaned forward on Satoru's dick, suckling on his head and just like you were told a high pitched breathy moan broke past his lips as he threw his head back.

You knew they had done it once before because you remember a blurry memory of watching them after they finger fucked you for the first time, but you never really connected the dots that they might've done it before then too.

"You really are oblivious sometimes huh," Suguru's humming, his fingers toying with the waistband of your pants as you slobbered all over Satoru's shaft.

"Nuh uh," you mumbled before licking a long stripe up his throbbing cock, following a ridge of one of the veins that painted his oh so pretty dick, causing the boy to mewl.

"Such a liar," Suguru sighed, yanking down your pants much to your surprise, taking your panties with them in one swoop, as he used one of his arms to lift you up off the wooden planked floors as he forced the fabric away from your skin.

"Suguru," you gasp, swatting at his hands that gripped your waist.

"Relax princess," he merely cooed, "you focus on our pretty little boy yeah, don't mind me," you could only really heed his words as you couldn't pry off his greedy grip, not that you really wanted to anyways as you opened your mouth, slipping yourself down Satoru's spit soaked cock.

"Ah- fucking hell pretty," he bucked his hips, making you choke lightly as you press both your hands onto his thighs, trying to keep him still as you did your best to please him like you had once blearily watched Suguru do.

Speaking of Suguru you couldn't really feel much after he practically stole off your lower garments, just some shuffling and light touches but quickly that changed as between your thighs you felt something warm and slippery prod at your hole, making you force yourself off Satoru with a gasp.

Your gaze shifts downward only to find tantalizing purple eyes staring up at you between your thighs, "I told you to focus on Satoru," he chastised smacking the flesh of your ass once more, jiggling the cheek between his hands before he slithered his tongue out to lick at your folds once more, "I'll take care of your little mess, yeah," he winks before calling up to the boy you continued to stroke, "Toru, you should really see how wet you're making her," he exclaims and you could feel your face flush when his hands grab at your thighs, forcing your weight onto his face, "don't try and fight me," he murmurs the moment he feels you try and squirm back to your knees and you find yourself listening, quietly taking a seat on his face as you leaned forward, trying to ignore the sensation between your legs as you angled the springing cock in front of you downwards, opening your mouth wide as you did your best to loosen your throat, attempting to accommodate his frustratingly long member.

You could feel his fingers tangle in your hair as you slowly bobbed your head, feeling a tongue prod at your entrance and you couldn't help the way you rolled your hips, relishing in the groan that rumbled against your clit.

You watched as love drunk eyes stared at you mesmerized, open mouth letting out whines as you slid as far as you could go, taking him in and out as you rubbed whatever you couldn't reach, a silent promise in your gaze that'd you learned to swallow all of him but despite your inability he still seemed quite satisfied with the way moans left his pretty pink lips, but part of you was feeling bad, upset with not being able to take him in all his entirety and gently you slipped off, letting a glob of spittle run down his length as you fisted tightly.

"Let go of my hair Toru," you murmur and he whined out, "please just wanna make you feel better," you coo, moving your hand tightly as you tried your best to keep from moaning, your weeping core pooling in Suguru's mouth as he lapped you up in earnest, gliding between your folds as he sucked upon your clit, making sparks fluster up your thighs.

It felt weird to be eaten out, the feeling of his tongue unusual but not unwelcome, after all today was one full of unexplored territory as you gave Satoru your very first hand and blow job, but you wanted to give him more, not satisfied with the way your mouth could barely take him half way. "C'mon Toru," you plead, feeling your legs squeeze as Suguru's teeth lightly nicked against your clit, the stinging pain pleasurable.

Soon enough you felt reluctant hands untangle from your hair and you smile up at the boy, the very sight of him making you wet as his dewy eyes glowed for you, eying you with hunger as his pink lips grew swollen as he bit down, his sweaty face and disheveled hair still somehow beautiful, "my little angel," you whisper in praise, "gonna make you feel nice," you promise yet again, carefully taking your hand off his dick despite his loud protests, tears welling in his eyes.

"Don't go," he whimpered, trying to cup your face and you press a gentle kiss to his palm before leaning back.

"M'not going anywhere," you murmured, tapping his knee, "just wait a moment for me yeah pretty boy," you sigh out, doing your best not to succumb to your own pleasure as Suguru squirmed his tongue inside of you. You could feel their gazes burning against your skin, one pleading while the other drank up all your reactions and you forced yourself to ignore it, reaching for the hem of your shirt before swiftly yanking it off, revealing the pretty little bra Satoru had bought you, one of many that actually fit you perfectly.

"Come a little closer baby," you call for Satoru, his legs instantly moving as he sat at the very edge of the couch, and you smiled in appreciation, "good boy," you whisper, the words feeling dirty off your tongue but you say them anyways, enjoying the way his breath hitched at your words, "sit still for- ngh," you moan, head leaning against his thigh as fingers slowly pistoned in and out of your dripping cunt, lips wrapping around your clit, "still for me," you continue, lifting your head with a gasp, your hips wiggling to try and disrupt his steadily growing pace to no avail.

Satoru could only nod for you, his cock throbbing as his head leaked, begging for attention and you were eager to provide it as you lifted your tits, leaving them captured in your bra as you slipped him through your cleavage, pushing him all the way through, watching as he poked out through the top and you brought your hands up to the sides of your breasts, rubbing them over his length.

"Fuck baby, oh my god," he cried, bare chest heaving as he stared down at you, pretty boobs enveloping his dick and he bucked in your hold as he watched the blob of spit drip from your mouth and slide right into the crease of your chest before you start licking his tip, suckling as you began to bob your head, his hands instantly finding their way back into your hair, his thighs spasming with every particularly good swirl of your tongue.

The lewd shlick, shlick, shlick, of your mouth sliding in synch with the dripping squelching of your cunt as he delved into your arousal, drinking it up as though you were spewing wine, sinful

"S-So good for me, so fucking good for me," Satoru praised between gasps, "tits squeezing me so tight, feel so good, your mouth is so warm making me feel so good," he whimpered in repeat, "look so hot like this," he groaned and you could feel the hands threaded between your locks begin to push on your scalp, forcing you down and you didn't put up a fight, complying to his whims as the teary eyed boy whimpered out compliments.

Both his hands tangle between your hair, holding you by the sides of your head before he's forcing you down onto his dick, causing you to choke as he pushed you down deeper than before but he only mumbled a slurred out half-assed apology before doing it again, a sting of tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you began to gag on his absurdly long dick as he planted his feet to the floor, thighs hitting the underside of your breast as he fucked into your throat, fuckin it as if it was your wet cunt, saliva mixing with his pre as it dripped onto your chest. The slight discomfort you felt was nothing compared to the heavenly sight of watching him chase his high, lips begging and pleading as he shook his hips, forcing wet sounds from your mouth.

"Ah fuck baby, so good for me you mouth and pretty tits- oh hell, ngh, feel so good," he praised his pace cruel as he continued. The sounds were sinful as not only did you loudly choke but the ungodly slurps emanating up from your cunt had you dripping even more, feeling that now familiar sensation of a tightening knot grow and soon enough you were bucking your own hips over Suguru's mouth, hips matching the same pace Satoru set for your mouth as you rode his face, taking no shame in your actions as you felt your tits tremble.

"Mm- oh- ngh baby m'gonna," he whimpered, "gonna cum, gonna cum," he warned, eyes wide and his hips stuttered, his balls clenching as you massaged every last drop from them, feeling hot spurts trickle down your throat, his body bucking and you only hummed, drinking his cum until it no longer spilled.

You come off with a pop, his heaving chest a sight to see and you plant your hands on his knees, sliding your breasts off and he grinned down at you, bleary eyes staring at you in pure bliss as he watched you now bask in your pleasure, fingers interlacing with his as you felt your own knot snap, lower belly warming as you began to gush into Suguru's groaning mouth, his lips suckling tightly as he drank you up.

From there on out your dirty little secret grew even more filthy as now at least once a week, one of the two boys had their fingers knuckle deep in your cunt while the other toyed with some other part of your body. It didn't matter the position, sometimes you were standing in the genkan, legs spread as you leaned against the wall for support, moans muffled by lips and fingers pounded into your sloppy pussy mere seconds after you walked through the door. Oral was also up on the table, dicks slipping into your mouth as you learned to suck one and stroke the other, sometimes even licking both their heads at the same time as they touched tips. At times you all pleasured each other, no one left out as fingers rammed deep into your guts as you slobbered over one cock while one of the men slobbered over the remaining

They began to grow more risky too, finding pleasure in the way you did your best to muffle your gasp as instead of sneaking kisses in the bathroom of his estate you were hiding your dripping cunt stuffed full of their fingers. You had on more than one occasion been pulled into a bathroom at a house party and found yourself on your knees in front of a hardened dick and you have had on more than one occasion have had a dick in your mouth under a cloth covered table at a restaurant surrounded by your friends while you humped their leg.

It was strange, the way the three of you found yourselves in a more sexually explicit relationship but you didn't really categorize it as friends with benefits because it wasn't just smutty intimacy but also romantic, as they spent hours after the fact cleaning you up, making sure you were fed, falling asleep with you bundled in their arms, even if you didn't please each other sexually that night.

It was strange, truly so, but you found yourself falling in a routine with them, pleasing them in whichever way they needed, whether it was a hug, a kiss, or their fingers inside you, or your mouth on them. If they needed emotional support, comfortable affection of filthy affection you gave it to them both, no questions asked, and they did the same.

It was then, after a few months they spent thoroughly stretching your pussy, before they even dared to answer one of your dirtiest little questions.

"What would it feel like if you fucked me"

#jjk smut #satosugu x you #satosugu x y/n #gojo x reader x geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #satoru x reader x suguru #satosugu x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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koqabear · 11 months ago

Text

Lamb To The Slaughter

♫: Gods & Monsters, Lana Del Rey

"An act of kindness goes a long way, your parents told you once; their words stuck with you all your life, your pure heart never failing to follow their philosophy— though, it seems your naive self was left unaware of just how far an act of kindness can go."

wolf hybrid!beomgyu x lamb hybrid!fem!reader x herding dog hybrid!soobin

Genre: smut, hybrid au, angst, porn with the world's smallest amount of plot

Word count: 15.8k

Warnings: barely edited oops, heavy predator/prey themes, injuries/blood, use of scents, scent glands and scenting, mentions of kidnapping and murder, psychological abuse i guess… this fic doesn’t let you forget that they’re hybrids btw, (showcases animal-like behaviors and habits), soogyu are stronger than the mc, obsessiveness, manipulation

Smut Warnings: DUBCON. threesome, mean dom!gyu, soft dom!soobin, sub!mc,inexperienced!mc, pet names (pretty, doll, good girl, etc.) manhandling, marking, subspace, possessiveness, choking kinda, dry humping, praise, praise kink, humiliation, dacryphilia, fingering, exhibitionism/voyeurism, degrading, orgasm control, dumbification, finger sucking, cum eating(?), spanking, begging, mind breaking, unprotected sex, jerking off ig, jealousy, hair pulling, rough sex, corruption kink maybe, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration… brief mentions of breeding, creampies, knotting, claiming, mc blacks out. (lmk if i should add anything.)

Notes: look at these stupidly long paragraphs of warnings oh im gonna kms. this story almost had me plucking my hairs out one by one, i’ve never been so stressed out by a pwp before. it was originally an ot5 au and was supposed to come out during october but… yk. shit happens. (i saw a post that changed the entire trajectory of this fic)

[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]

The forest at the edge of the village is something that should’ve been closed off long ago— but there’s no resources, no men to work on the border, no money— so the townspeople have resorted to old myths and tales to ward off wandering children and defenseless women instead.

There’s a killer in the forest— fairies will lead you down the wrong path and trap you in the woods forever; there’s a hidden pond so deep that if you fall in, you’ll sink forever. Typical tales that are told around the bonfire, where people cower and whisper from the thrill of the stories. Yet with each varied warning, one thing stays the same.

There are wolves in the forest.

Large and strong and invincible, with a terrifying bloodlust and noses so keen they could spot you the moment you cross the barrier; tearing you to shreds, eating you alive and forcing you to feel the pain all throughout it. The wolves are always hungry, insatiable, and lurking about for its next prey— anyone who would enter the woods willingly would be deemed suicidal.

You’ve never been one to believe such tales; how could you, when you’ve grown alongside the forest?

There are wolves in the forest, that much you’re sure of— but the fantastical tales and myths are nothing but a farce, crafted from the fear of the unknown and the dark, entangled landscape that lies past the backyard of your small cottage; belonging to your deceased parents, now left to fend on your own and care for the gardens and lush plants your mother had carefully cultivated since you were a child.

She taught you everything you needed to know about the forest; which paths to take, which areas led to steep cliffs or poison ivy, and where to find herbs and plants that would aid to the medicinal business your family ran— you were fascinated by the craft, even as a young child, learning with eager eyes and an even more eager mind as you stored all the information in your small, worn down journal; the pink material of the cover faded and torn at the corners, filled to the brim yet still useful to you as you took it with you on every trip.

Tonight, you pull on a warm coat dress; it’s thick and durable, a cute piece gifted on your birthday by the baker’s son, the border collie family always making sure to look after you since the day you were left on your own. The shawl sewed into the coat hangs over your shoulders like a small cape, adding in extra warmth as you look out the window and onto the cold scenery; the leaves have begun to abandon the trees, and if you hadn’t memorized the forest layout like the back of your hand, the covered paths might’ve concerned you— but you’re confident as always, grabbing your wicker basket and perching it on the crook of your elbow, glancing down to make sure your journal is already inside— and with one last mental check to make sure you have everything you need, you slip on your boots and make your way outside.

“Soobin,” you say in surprise, swinging the door open, getting scared at the sight of someone already waiting for you outside— the said man only smiles at the sound of his name, laughing fondly at the way you press a gentle hand against your startled heart; his ears perk up at the sight of you and his black hair is slightly disheveled, though you guess it’s probably from his habit of running a hand through it whenever he’s restless— he holds a basket of his own, and your eyes fall onto it with a curiosity you don’t bother to hide.

“Hello pretty,” he smiles softly, the nickname never failing to make a heat flush up the back of your neck— you really hope he doesn’t notice your flushed expression, his eyes narrowing with fondness as he brings his basket up, opening it to show you the contents, “I made an extra batch of bread, and I thought you’d like some. Business will get busy for us both soon, and I’d hate for you to get hungry because you don’t have time to eat.”

He’s sweet and caring, and it never fails to leave your knees weak— he looks at you with nothing short of affection, raising a brow in curiosity and glancing down at your already occupied arm— his brows furrow, biting his lip in thought as he finally pieces everything together.

“Are you going to the woods?” he asks softly, reaching past you and into the doorway, placing the basket of bread on the table next to the door— his hands are immediately coming up to your shoulders, smoothing out the soft material of the coat with narrowed eyes— and they’re filled with worry again, ears angling down and tail swaying slowly from side to side, searching your face that can’t seem to lie to him, “It’s dangerous to go at this hour, you shouldn’t.”

“It’ll only be dangerous if you continue to stall me,” you tease, shrugging his hands off and wrapping your own around his elbow, tugging him until you’re both stepping out of your home; he allows you to, and you’re locking it up with ease, even as he continues to tell you not to, to go another day, another time— you huff, shaking your head and frowning at the way he begins to offer to come with you; his instincts must be kicking in again, eyes filled with a calculated look he only sports when looking out for your safety— and with you being nothing but a fragile little lamb in his eyes, this look was something you’ve become very familiar with.

“No, you mustn’t come with— it’s dangerous, and I’m the only one who knows my way around the woods,” you scold him, and even though he stares at you with that intimidating, stern look, murmuring about something about his keen senses, you stand your ground, “I’m too one-track-minded to guide someone else through these woods— I’d hate for you to get hurt because of me.”

He sighs— and you know you’ve gotten him good by the way he remains silent, stalling his leave as he tries continuing to reason with you— but you keep refusing in return, cooing softly that you’ll be okay, that you’ll be quick.

“I’ll wait for you,” he finally says, refusing to back down even as you express your worry; after a moment of bickering, you finally give in. Your eyes widen in surprise as he gently pulls you in for a hug, engulfed entirely in his embrace as he rests his chin on your shoulder, inhaling your scent with a content sigh— warm, comforting and pure, like jasmine with the hint of a pure, soft vanilla, his nose subconsciously poking at your gland in search for more— and you shiver at the feeling, engulfed in his calming scent, a sage and rich pine, allowing yourself to melt in his arms and hold you tighter, ignoring the way your heart begins to race the longer your remain there.

“Come back to me safe.”

Soobin is just as solemn and loyal as he was the day he declared that he would always protect you— and it makes your heart race a bit faster, a dopey smile stuck on your face as you wave him goodbye— you sigh pathetically the moment you’re finally in the woods.

The leaves crunch under your feet and birds chirp in the distance; it’s comforting to you, humming softly to yourself as you walk the paths you need to take without much of a thought, gathering herbs and plants as you slowly check them off your list; everything goes as smoothly as it always does, your mind in awe as you witness the sun beginning to set.

You should get going soon; it was never ideal to be in the woods after dark, no matter how familiar you were with the landscape. The thought makes your steps quicken and your eyes sweep over the land in acute concentration, looking for the last plant on your list— you’re freezing entirely when you hear a shift against the leaves.

You’re still; was it a false alarm, or a harmless rabbit passing by? You’re not entirely sure, wicker basket heavy in your hand as the other presses firmly against your heart; trying to settle your heart rate, breathing deeply as you look for any signs of movement, any signs of life around you.

Just when you think the coast is clear, you hear it again; rustling against the leaves, harsh and erratic as something else greets your ears— sharp pants and sounds of struggle, a pained yelp resounding into the vast space and sending you into action before you can think twice.

You round the thick oak tree ahead of you, searching for the source of the sound— and stumble back in surprise, an involuntary gasp escaping you as sharp eyes and equally sharp teeth point your way— a man lays before you, injured and weak.

Except, he’s not just a man; that much is made clear to you the moment your eyes sweep over his frame once more, taking in the ears that press flat on his head and his fangs that remain bared at you, the injured man—wolf hybrid— growling lowly at you and shuffling back to curl against the thick tree that once covered him; your hands shake as you hold onto your basket a little tighter, wide eyes sweeping over his figure and inevitably landing on the source of all this commotion; a twisted ankle, rendering the man before you immobile.

You must run— you must, and it’s all your instincts seem to yell at you, your muscles becoming rigid with tension, white ears pressing flat against the top of your head and fluffy tail quivering with fear— but you have yet to, something about the look in the wolf’s eyes making you ignore your instincts, just for a second; behind the dangerous fangs that glint beneath the remaining light and his eyes that are narrowed threateningly, you can still see the pain he’s found himself in.

Something inside you clicks— your weak heart twists and your hands grip your basket a bit tighter, a voice in your mind telling you that you can’t just leave him like this; you can do something to help. Next thing you know, you’re taking cautious, slow steps toward him, hands held out to show that you’re nothing close to a threat— though you’re sure that the smell of fear that rolls off you in waves is enough of an indicator— and your soft voice is whispering out your intentions, continuing your approach even as he bares his teeth at you in warning.

“I want to help you,” you say softly, finally at his feet as you place your basket gently next to him; and he growls at you once more, though you don’t find yourself to be afraid— if he were dangerous, he would’ve attacked long ago. It’s the only thought that repeats itself in your mind like a prayer, pretending as though your hands don’t tremble as you reach into your basket, as you grab the herbs you were just stocking up on and the bandages you carry for emergencies.

He lets out a particularly harsh growl that makes you jump; it makes you hesitate to touch his skin, bruised and broken and bloody, eyes jumping to meet his— and though the action was meant to be confident, nothing can hide the fear that taints your eyes, the way your frame shrinks slightly when you’ve found that he has no issues holding eye contact— and after a standstill moment, you finally continue, ripping a piece of the bandage and attempting to clean the wound as best as you can.

You’re a bit clumsy at first; unable to look away from the man, his strikingly dark red hair that's matted to his head from a thin layer of sweat, dirtied clothes and face that’s twisted in a mean glare— but eventually, it softens, the deep heaving of his chest calming as he watches the way you tend to him with deft hands, not seeming to care if he’s soiling your pretty coat as you tug him closer to you.

The bandages are tight on his ankle and you’ve placed herbs within to help soothe the swelling— all tricks you’ve learned from your mother, from the times when you would run about carelessly and twist your ankle in some hidden hole, only calming your cries to see her work her magic on you.

Reassuring words don’t do much in the grand scheme of things, but you still whisper them sweetly to the injured man before you, dry bandage cleaning along the rest of his calf as you tell him to rest, to try and not overexert himself. And though you don’t know if he can understand you, though you’re unsure of where he came from— because as far as you know, wolves have been banished from your village for decades— you still find yourself caring for him. It’s something he can pick up on in your eyes, gentle and reflecting the last of the sun’s golden rays that leak through the woods.

It’s quiet; it’s peaceful. Warm fingers lingering on his skin much longer than you intended, a curiosity leaking through your wide eyes as you take in his figure, the tall dark ears that stand on his head, the tail that lays on his side, thumping rhythmically— and you think you’ve finally found the courage to ask who are you? Lips parting to speak, you’re cut off by the sound of rustling, a new overwhelming scent overtaking your senses; something is approaching.

The man before you doesn’t seem to be worried; it’s you that’s whipping around to the source of the sound, shrinking pathetically once you spot something emerging from the dark, thick mass of trees behind you; eyes, multiple pairs, glowing and angry as they stare at you like you’re their next meal— you’re not sure how many pairs there might be, but you’re stumbling to your feet quickly, eyes widening as you realize that the sun has set long, long ago.

You almost slip on the leaves beneath you; one last glance at the man behind you shows that his hands were out as though to catch you, expression twisted with what you’re surprised to see is… concern. But as a rough growling begins to surround the two of you, a sharp pang of fear courses through your body, the gravity of your situation finally sinking in as your eyes sweep around the area in one last, terrified glance.

They’re targeting you.

Before you can think twice, you’re turning on your heel and running— though nothing follows behind, you still let adrenaline take its course, shallow breaths and teary eyes guiding you back to your home; you don’t realize how crazed you must’ve looked until you’re finally reaching your front door, a worried Soobin immediately interrupting your flee and scooping you into his arms, whirling around to shield you away from the forest.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Dear, what happened?” he’s breathing out the concerned questions against the crown of your head, arms wrapped tightly around your middle and the only thing keeping you up as your knees buckle with fear; his gaze sweeps down to the state of your cute coat, the once pristine and pink material now dirty and bloodied; his hands hold onto it with a newfound panic, lifting the coat and attempting to find the source— it isn’t until you’ve let out a few pathetic sniffles that you can finally reassure him the blood is not yours.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen to you? Oh, I should’ve—” Soobin has pulled away to cup your face in his hands, wiping away the tears that escape your sweet eyes like a fountain; thumbs caressing your tear-streaked skin lovingly, brows knitted together as his concern pours off him in waves— and you shake your head softly, attempting to dissuade the guilt he must’ve felt for leaving you on your own.

“It’s fine, I’m not hurt,” you croak out, grabbing onto his waist for support as you finally regain the strength in your legs, “I just— had some encounters with a wolf— but I’m safe, they didn’t hurt me, I’m just a bit shaken, is all.”

“A wolf?” Soobin asks, much more concerned by your words as he pulls away to inspect you once more; his hands run gingerly over your shoulders, running along them until they’ve stopped at your neck, eyes honing in on the spot for a moment before he sighs in relief. His gaze is hardening once more, cupping your face and looking at your sternly as he speaks. “Where were they? Did they follow you? Did you interact with them?”

“No, no— it’s alright, I’m alright, I promise,” you breathe out, hoping that Soobin doesn’t notice the way you shrink under his gaze, the way your body warms up at his touch— but he’s much too concerned about your safety to pick up on it, dismissing every cue of your body as nothing but fear, instincts heightened as he looks behind you and back at the forest you just came from. He watches the woods carefully, eyes narrowed and ears perked in concentration— but nothing happens, and he’s left to reluctantly believe your words, even if he wants nothing more than to run into the woods himself and make sure there’s no threat to you.

After a moment of observing the forest, Soobin is turning back to you, and his gaze immediately softens at the sight. The brave front you put up isn’t fooling him, and it’s quite obvious that you’re still shaken from your encounter, delicate ears still pressed close to your head, eyes wide and scent muddled with distress— like rotten flowers, earthy and pungent— and with all the adrenaline ebbing away from your system, you’ve found that your legs have become pure jelly once more; Soobin is quick to catch on to the way you tremble and hold on to him tightly.

“Oh, my doll,” Soobin sighs softly, fishing for your keys in your coat pockets and unlocking the door for you, leading you inside with a careful hand— as though you were made of porcelain, still shaken and anxious as he leads you to sit down, “it’s alright, you’re safe now— I’ll keep you safe.”

Soobin insists on taking care of you long after you tell him you feel better; he’s keen to protect you through and through, keeping his distance yet still doting on you as he makes you tea, helps you out of your coat, and even offers to wash it for you— the sight replaces the heavy fear in your stomach with butterflies.

When he bids you goodbye, his eyes are soft, his movements slightly reluctant— but he must, it’s unlawful for him to stay the night with you; an unclaimed little prey like you, spending the night with Soobin, even if he was nothing short of perfect and kind, was enough to have the town gossiping like a storm. The very thought has your cheeks hot and your tongue stumbling on words, telling Soobin to get home safe with a shy, sweet voice— and he brushes his thumb against your cheekbones, smiling fondly before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead; he lingers there, and you think you might just melt against him before he finally bids you goodbye.

Your heart still races long after he’s gone; you suppose all this makes up for the fact that you forgot your basket in the woods, mourning the fact that you’ll have to go back to get it tomorrow— but for now, you’re content with giggling softly at the memory of Soobin’s lips against your skin, completely unaware of the eyes that watch you twirl around your kitchen happily.

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

When you wake up, you find something peculiar at your doorstep; your wicker basket is placed before your feet, pristine as it was when you first took it out.

Your brows furrow, looking around the area and wondering how it got here— your mind is going back to the wolf you tended to, eyes slowly sweeping over the dense forest, ears twitching in attention, listening for even the slightest rustle of leaves, wondering if he’s still lingering— but the world around you is still, and it seems to be only you here. You bend down to pick the basket up carefully.

Everything is intact— your herbs, your bandages, your worn down pink journal— and the closer you bring it to your face in order to inspect it, the better you’re able to catch something peculiar; a scent, your nose twitching in curiosity and your eyes narrowing. The unknown scent only grows stronger the closer you get to the handkerchief you used to line the inside, and only then are you able to get a good sense of it— light and heady, like an amber and smoky smell filling your nose, finding yourself oddly enticed by the scent.

You’re far too wrapped up in attempting to decipher the complicated notes of this new scent to notice someone approaching; your senses have gotten so used to Soobin’s presence you no longer find yourself alert around him, only perking up at the approaching sound of leaves crunching and the familiar, sage filling your senses— tucking the basket behind your back, you send him a meek smile, cheeks heating up as you silently hope he didn’t see you curiously nosing at your basket.

“Hey, pretty thing,” Soobin rumbles out lowly, smiling fondly at the way you practically preen at the name; you’re terrible at hiding your expression, the way your ears twitch at his words not helping your attempts to seem nonchalant before him.

“Hi Soobin,” you smile, fingers restlessly playing with the wicker basket behind your back as you tilt your head curiously, “what’re you doing here today?”

“I needed to check on you,” he says immediately, a soft oh leaving your lips at that, “I couldn’t sleep well knowing I just… left you here on your own. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

“Soobin, it’s fine, really,” you reassure him softly, fluffy tail wiggling behind you at the fact that he confessed how worried he was about you, his dedication to keep you safe, “Nothing happened— as long as I’m in my home, I’m safe.”

Soobin wants to argue against that, you can tell. But you don’t give him a chance to, inviting him in with a tug at his arm, smiling at the way he immediately relents; you tell him about your plans for today over a cup of tea, that you have to make a few deliveries to some homes across the village— Soobin practically jumps to offer to come with.

“You– won’t you be busy?” you ask shyly, staring down at your teacup and stirring your spoon in a feeble way to distract yourself.

“No, I’m not needed at the bakery today,” Soobin immediately reassures you, reaching over the table to place a delicate hand over your own— and you stiffen, a heat rushing through your body at the sudden contact; the smell of sage wafts over to you as his thumb rubs soothingly over your skin, your mind mulling over his offer as you bite at your lip in thought.

He’s eager to hear you say yes; his tail wags slowly behind him, ears perked up and eyes honed in on your every expression— and after a moment, you finally nod meekly.

“It’s only a house or two, but the walk is… it’s far,” you say, standing at the doorway and reaching over for your basket, placing the bottles and jars filled with homemade remedies inside carefully— but before you can continue your explanations and tuck your basket snuggly into the crook of your arm, Soobin is taking it from you, his brows knitted together as he stares down at the item in confusion.

“I thought you lost this,” he says quietly, rotating the item in his hands, taking in its pristine condition with a frown— his ears are perking up and his tail is straightening, head whipping over to you with wide, concerned eyes. “Did you go into the woods to retrieve it?”

“No!” you say, oddly defensive as you shake your head adamantly, “It just— it was at my doorstep this morning, I think someone might have found it—”

“The wolf,” Soobin sneers, his tone much darker than it was mere moments ago— it makes your ears flatten against your head and your figure shrink, his scent turning earthy and thick and rendering you docious and pliant— his eyes are darting from the basket and back to you, only to go back to the basket in order to examine it closely; the moment Soobin brings it closer to his face, you’re able to see the very moment where that same, smoky scent enters his senses— his pupils dilate, and his nose twitches.

The same scent as before. Soobin recognized it as the same scent that you were drenched in the moment you found him, shaken and face aghast— your coat and skin reeked of nothing but that scent, wanting nothing more than to take you inside and replace it with his own— but the most he could do in the moment was hold you close and hope that it would wash off.

The owner of this scent must have brought you the basket back; Soobin’s head races to find meaning, to find reason, adrenaline coursing through his body that yells at him to take action; this must be a threat—you’ve been followed, they know where you live.

“It isn’t safe for you to stay there anymore,” Soobin proceeded to tell you, only confessing how he felt once you were far, far away from your home— from the woods. And you could only shake your head at that, the reassurances an automatic response in your head at this point.

But Soobin wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time; knowing that the wolf was out there somewhere, that he knew where you lived and even went as far as to visit your home— it made Soobin tense with anger.

“That wolf was at your doorstep without you knowing,” Soobin continued to reason, all throughout your walk back, “you don’t know who they are— what their intentions are.”

It was only then that you decided to mull through his offer to stay, or for you to stay with his family— images of a bloodthirsty wolf at your doorstep filled your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel like your nine year old self again, sitting at a fireplace and telling each other scary stories about the forest only a few feet away from you— your young self would always be left shaken and paranoid, asking your parents if you could sleep in their bed.

Maybe you’ve become too used to being independent; you’ve survived this long on your own— most lamb hybrids you knew couldn’t walk around at night without having a trusted predator around to protect them, just in case— yet you were so used to depending only on yourself that you seem to have forgotten how truly vulnerable your species is; Soobin made sure to remind you with a stern look and crossed arms.

“I don’t see why you’re insisting so much, binnie— I promise nothing happens here, this place is dead,” you tell him as you make dinner for the two of you, the sun now long gone and the man still stuck to your side, leaning against the counter beside you and watching you cook dutifully— his eyes drift over to the window behind him, looking over his shoulder and at the dark, gloomy forest that obscures his view; his eyes can’t help but narrow and pick apart each shape he sees, nose keen and eager to sense any changes, any hint of that smoky smell— but he sees nothing, and he’s turning back around to catch the way you send him a slightly incredulous look.

“I understand why you might feel this way— you’ve been on your own for longer than you can remember, after all,” Soobin says softly, taking in the way your eyes remain downcast and you shy away from his gaze. Hesitantly, he shifts to stand behind you, a gentle hand placing itself on your bicep before his head lowers to rest on your shoulder; his forehead rests against you, able to smell the restless, flowery notes of your scent— despite the strong front you put up, Soobin’s keen senses are still able to pick up on the tenseness of your body, the way you keep glancing out the window and into the forest unsurely.

“You have to allow yourself to be helped— there’s nothing wrong with that, doll,” he coaxes softly, ears atop his head twitching at the sound of the shaky sigh you let out— the stove is turned off, and the food is done— but you don’t seem to care about that much.

Carefully, Soobin nudges at your jaw with his head; allowing your neck to tilt slowly, to expose it to him as his nose runs along your skin delicately, until it’s pressed against your scent gland, inhaling slowly and taking in the intense mix of smells and emotions within you— and he presses his lips softly against it, a gentle kiss that turns your scent sweet and fresh like a blooming flower; your heart pounds against your chest for a second, then proceeds to relax against Soobin’s hold the moment his scent invades your senses.

“I’m here to protect you.”

His words stick to you for the rest of the night— as does he, his presence reassuring enough to make you forget of why he was here in the first place— enough to allow you to miss the glowing eyes that peek from the edge of the forest as you get a glass of water in the middle of the night, taking in your drowsy figure and eyes that are heavy with sleep; unaware of the pair of eyes that take you in hungrily, the tongue that runs along a sharp set of teeth, nose twitching to get another gust of your sweet, clean scent, the muddled vanilla that makes his mouth water.

With Soobin lying in the guest bedroom, you’re almost able to forget that there are wolves in the forest. That there is one that has now set his sights on the cute little lamb that tended to him with wide eyes and an innocent heart.

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

It’s early in the morning when you bid Soobin goodbye; your cheeks are flushed and you’re barely able to look him in the eye, despite not having done anything more than talk the whole night. He finds your shyness nothing short of endearing, placing one last affectionate kiss on top of your head before he tells you to call him if you ever need anything— to never be afraid to ask for help. You nodded to his words with a soft smile.

Watching him leave had left a bit of an empty feeling in your heart; you couldn’t seem to help but watch him leave pathetically, standing at your doorway even after he had long gone; his scent still drifted around in your senses, the warm and sturdy scent helping you remain calm as you finally went back inside— closing the door behind you, you were pleasantly surprised to see that your home still smelled strongly of him.

You had over ten different orders you needed to work on; you were able to busy yourself with making medicine throughout the rest of the day, boiling herbs and making remedies for colds and illnesses and burns. It was a tedious and slow process, and as you finally began to reach the end of your list, you couldn’t help but frown.

You ran out of two different herbs needed for these next three orders; without them, you wouldn’t be able to make the medications at all.

Glancing out the window, you gulped; it wouldn’t be another thirty minutes before the sun set, but after your encounter a few days ago— paired with Soobin’s warning and harsh reality check— you were much more hesitant to go into the woods on your own.

You could call Soobin— ask him if he’d like to accompany you, stay put until you finally had proper protection. You mulled over the idea for a moment, your traitorous mind whisperering encouraging words in order to see him again; it’s just for protection, you told yourself, walking over to your landline phone before you began to dial his number, tangling the long cord around your fingers absentmindedly as you did; you tried to dismiss the nervous pounding of your heart, the way you bit at your lips in anticipation of hearing his voice again.

“Hello?” you’re gulping slightly at the sound— part of you wasn’t expecting him to actually answer. Clearing your throat softly, you muster up the courage to do what you’ve been hesitant to for so long.

“Hi Soobin,” you start softly, listening to the small hum of acknowledgement from the other side, “I— I’m sorry to bother, but I just wanted to ask; I have to make another trip to the forest— it’s urgent— and I… well, I was wondering if you’d be able to accompany me. For protection.”

The shyness and hesitance in your voice is horribly apparent; it makes you face burn and your hands grow clammy, feeling as though there’s a lump in your throat as you wait for him to respond— it feels like eternity, but in reality, it’s merely seconds—- and you’re practically slumping against the wall in relief when he gives you a soft of course I can in response.

“Wait for me inside until I get there,” he says, and you nod, letting out a sound of affirmation as well, “I’ll be quick.”

Soobin hangs up promptly after; you’re left to scurry around your home in preparation of your trip, changing out of your sullied work clothes and into something more comfortable— inevitably, the same coat from before finds itself wrapped around your form, and as you wait by the doorway with your wicker basket in hand, you realize with a smile that the item is practically drowned in Soobin’s scent— the item is wrapped around you tighter and your nose is burrowed deeply into the soft plush-like material, your senses spinning with the warm, earthy smells that belong to the man.

The sun is setting— but he’ll be here soon, a fact only proved by the sound of footsteps your keen ears manage to pick up on; you’re practically racing to make it to your front door, only to pause at the sound of something else— more footsteps.

Instinct brings your body to the floor and away from all windows; your back is pressed up against your door, ear pressed tightly against the wood as you remain alert, subconsciously holding your breath in fear of getting spotted in any way— but whoever is currently surrounding your home knows you’re here, judging by the way they take careful, calculated steps closer to your door— you will your heart to remain calm, to not alert them that you currently lean on the very item separating the two of you, but the fear that courses through your veins is simply too strong.

Your mind is racing a mile a minute; you try to calculate who it could be, why they’re here— and you’re thinking back to Soobin’s warnings the night before, eyes widening as you scold yourself for being such a naive idiot— because as you pick up of the soft sounds of sniffing and low growls, you realize that you’ve managed to lead a pack of wolves right to your home.

It all happens too quickly; you’re running from the door at the sudden spike of scents, like a dirty smoke that approaches your door in the blink of an eye— the wood practically flies off its hinges with the way it’s broken into, a scream involuntarily leaving you as you grab the nearest thing to you as a weapon— the fire pit poker is thin and old in your hands, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you back away slowly, taking in the wolves that make their way into your home with sheer terror.

One, two, three— it’s only three of them, but it’s enough to have your limbs trembling and your ears pressed flat against your head; tall, broad figures, disheveled in appearance and looking at you with eyes dilated, filled with nothing but a carnal hunger that makes your stomach twist into knots.

It’s a standstill. They watch you with coy smiles and blown out eyes, watching as you press yourself against the wall, wondering if you can make it to the back exit of your home if you try enough— but they’re perceptive to even the most miniscule movement, every twitch of your muscle garnering a step closer from any one of them; you remain still, and so do they. It’s silent, save for the ragged heavings of your chest and the low grumbles that resonate from theirs— they have yet to make a move, locking eyes with the tallest and watching as his lips quirk into a smile.

You feel nauseous. They’re toying with you.

They could easily take you— kill you— in a split second; the second you try to run, they’ll be hot on your heels, outmatched three to one and left at their mercy entirely. And judging by the way they practically salivate at the smell of fear that radiates from you, you don’t think your fate with them will end well.

You gulp. They watch you, keen eyes taking in the way your throat bobs, the tears that fill your eyes— the way your legs look as though they’ll give out on you any moment now, the flimsy poker in your hands nothing but a joke as you point it at them in warning— as though it would do anything, they muse.

One of them, with a head of ginger hair and eyes sharp as a knife, begins to approach; you tense, bringing the poker forward more, inhaling sharply and taking a step back— but that only garners a sharp growl from another, with pitch black hair and a gaze so threatening it renders you pliant; hesitantly, you meet the eyes of the man who stands before you, narrowed eyes taking you in with amusement.

He reaches towards you— again you tense, flinching at the movement and weakly yelling at the wolf to stay back—! But it can only come out as a breathless whisper, your entire being rendered useless, instincts doing nothing but telling you that this is it; accept your fate, it tells you, weakening your muscles and sending off waves of fear so thick the room reeks of death and rot; your figure shrinks the moment he grabs your poker, ignoring your clearly empty warning as he lowers it forcefully, fighting easily against any strength you had left.

“Don’t be afraid,” he smiles, baring his teeth that only makes your blood run cold— sharp canines, strong and in great condition to bite and chew even the toughest of meats— “We’ll take good care of you.”

A sharp growling impedes the man before you from closing in on you, from taking away what little space was left between you— the sound is loud and furious, making the three wolves before you turn immediately in search of the source; including you, the foreign sound making your knees buckle and the poker fall from your hands as you paralyze with fear.

Standing in the doorway is a figure you remember quite well— the sight of him makes your eyes widen and you heart flicker a dim light of hope, watching the way he sends the three wolves before you a pointed glare, enough to make the two nearest to him avert their eyes the moment his gaze lands on them.

“Beomgyu,” the wolf near you sneers, “what the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother answering the question; his eyes land on you, on your figure that visibly trembles with fear, nostrils flaring at the scent that radiates from you and fogs the room— and he growls.

“Get out.”

It’s a simple command given by the man— Beomgyu— to the others, eyes filled with an unbridled rage that makes the others flinch; they’re confused, glancing to where you remain frozen before they’re turning back at the man, as though waiting for him to back down on his words— instead, he bares his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed with rage, and repeats himself.

“I said, get. Out.”

Silence; you can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you watch the two wolves glance at the man with the bright head of ginger hair— as though looking to him for their next move. The two remain in a standstill, refusing to look away from the other, as though silently communicating. And after what feels like eternity, the wolf near you scoffs, lips upturned in annoyance as he finally looks away— he turns back to you, eyes scanning your shaken figure, and he smiles the moment your eyes meet.

“Don’t expect any mercy from him.”

You’re sure you might be on the verge of fainting as you watch them all exit, one by one; tails practically tucked between their legs, only wolf to make a fuss being the orange-haired one from before; you watch the two of them bare their teeth and make comments you can’t quite pick up on, pressing yourself firmly against the wall and jumping the moment they snap warningly at each other— a threat to bite, the sight of their sharp fangs enough to have you retreating slowly to the exit of your backyard.

The second his back is turned from you, watching the wolves retreat to the forest, is the second you make an attempt to escape— hurried steps leading you to the kitchen, walking backwards in order to keep an eye on him— your shaking hands remain pressed against the wall in an attempt to keep yourself upright, keen eyesight taking in any small movement from him, body alight with adrenaline as you wait for the moment you can book it.

His ears, a dark auburn just like his hair, twitch; his head snaps over to where you stand, dilated eyes meeting yours in milliseconds.

You’re turning around to make a run for it— the floorboards creak behind you from the very sound of Beomgyu running after you, a yelp leaving you involuntarily; your feet are falling harshly on the cool tile of your kitchen, but before you can so much as outstretch your hand and reach for the doorknob of the back exit, strong hands are wrapping around your middle and spinning you around, away from your last taste of freedom.

“Please!” you cry out aimlessly, a pained groan falling from your lips as your back collides with the wood of your counter; you’re pinned into the very corner, tears pricking at your eyes and weak hands pressing against the strong chest of the wolf before you— your eyes remain glued to the floor, soft tail trembling with abandon and ears willing hopelessly to hide your face.

“You’re running? After I just saved you?” is all you get in response, his voice gruff and genuine as he remains unfazed at the weak pushes against his chest; his arms cage you in, body impossibly close to yours as he looms over you, watching the way you cower and make yourself shrink with wide, interested eyes. “Why do you run from me, my flower?”

The pet name makes your stomach lurch; a soft sob escapes you, eyes closing in defeat as your mind makes peace with your demise— your shoulders shake with every attempt of yours to breathe properly, every inhale only flooding your senses and clogging your mind with the scent of the wolf above you, like a thick smoke that burns your lungs and leaves your thoughts impaired.

Beomgyu is all but salivating at the sight of you; your soft, fragile body, the tremble of your limbs, your pure and fluffy ears that are pressed flat atop your head, hands subconsciously gripping onto his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep yourself upright— your heartbeat overwhelms him, quick and panicked just like your scent; it makes his brows pinch together and a confused pout form on his lips, the familiar, delicate flower no longer radiating from your figure.

“Are you scared of me?” he murmurs, ears twitching in curiosity as you remain silent; he leans down, willing to get close even after you continue to shrink away in response, curling into yourself and keeping your chin tucked in dutifully; his hand flies to your waist in attempts to prevent you from shifting away any further, rough claws digging in through your dress and making you jolt in surprise— a shaky breath leaves your lips, the wolf that continues to inch closer to you, cocking his head in fascination. His eyes all but burn through your skin.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple as he speaks; you remain frozen, stiff, feeling the way he continues to wander down, nosing at you softly in search for a sign of that sweet, intoxicating smell you once gave off.

“You’re safe with me— remember?”

Your voice remains stuck inside you— all you can muster is another shaky breath as you feel his lips brush against your jaw, wandering along until he’s at your ear— then he trails down, forcing your head to tilt as his nose runs a soft line along the column; a weak whimper falls from your parted lips the moment he presses down against your pulse point, feeling him inhale slowly before he presses a soft kiss against your sensitive neck— like an automatic reaction, warmth blooms from the spot, spreading through your body, your heart telling you to calm down— but you refuse, and though Beomgyu is able to smell the sweet vanilla and the flowers that blooms from his action, it all dies into one muddled mess that leaves him to huff frustratedly.

His hands have begun to wander— large and warm, sharp claws scratching at your garments and running up your sides before he hugs you tight, pressing your figure flush against his— and as have his lips, pressing soft kisses against your scent gland repeatedly, in search of the scent that he was only granted a mere glimpse of— soft, careful kisses at first, listening to the way you whimper and cry against him, trembling hands balling up his shirt in your fists— only to feel himself grow more desperate, out of control, his lips parted and harsh as he presses his kisses against one of the weakest points in your body.

Beomgyu’s nose is sharp, is able to pick up on even the slightest changes within your scent— so when he picks up on the warm, subtle twinge of vanilla that peeks through everything else, he’s unable to find himself exhibiting restraint. Warm and wet, you feel his tongue press against your skin, the sharp, accidental scratch of his fangs following after— and you gasp, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling above you as your mind finally processes what his intentions truly are, feeling your instincts take over soon after— the moment of clarity passes, and your vision fogs; your body melts against Beomgyu’s.

You’ve been sandwiched between the counter and Beomgyu’s body; even more so now that Beomgyu’s felt you submit to him, head lolling to the side and displaying your most fragile part to him, a smell of vanilla, warm and sweet like a pastry, filling his lugs soon after— you’re presenting yourself to him, eyes glassy and lips parted as you simply let out a shaky exhale.

Your legs are parted with every attempt Beomgyu makes to get closer to you, feeling him stand in between them as he continues to cage you in, continues to kiss and lick along your exposed skin, huffing and sighing in satisfaction with every soft keen you let out in response, your mind and soul still convinced that your time has come to an end.

From a distance, Soobin senses it; he sees the dim lights of your cottage, the door that is left ajar, crooked on its hinges— most of all, he’s able to pick up on the intoxicating sweetness that escapes from the cottage, the innocent jasmine that’s intertwined with the scent that travels with the wind— and his ears stand straight, keen senses straining to hear the soft sob that leaves your delicate lips— his body reacts before he can, and he runs straight to you.

The sharp call of your name is all Soobin can get out before he stumbles to a stop at the kitchen doorway— his eyes remain wide and focused on the sight before him, body on edge and tail stiff as he grits his teeth in rage.

Your doe eyes meet his instantly— they’re shining and incoherent, and Soobin wonders if you’re even conscious of where you are, of the way you whine out his name in the most fragile tone he’s ever heard. The rest of you is covered— you’ve been pressed tightly against the kitchen counter, back arching backwards due to the sheer pressure of the body that weighs you down; ragged clothing covers your own, the pink coat obscured by a white flowing, dirtied white button up, falling off the owner’s shoulder and pooling at his elbow— Soobin’s eyes follow the line of movement, taking in his arms disappear behind your waist, forcing your lower halves to be glued together, your dress bunched up at your thighs from the crude way they’ve been forced open.

“Soobin,” you whine again, taking his attention as he watches a hand of yours appear from where they were caged in, outstretching shakily toward him before it falls limp, hanging over the arm that pulls you closer against him.

Dark, long hair covers the face that is buried in your neck— ears of the same color adorn the top, twitching with interest at the sound before they stand forward— roughly, the head emerges from its hiding place, eyes blown open with nothing short of hunger; the wolf before Soobin bares his teeth and growls, hugging you tighter against him, stepping back and shielding you away from the dog’s view.

Soobin doesn’t hesitate to mimic the other’s threats— he means every bit of it and more, face alight with rage and body poised in an aggressive stance— and though your face has been tucked into the wolf’s chest, though the arms that wrap around your body attempt to prevent you from being seen at all, Soobin is still able to catch glimpse of your tail that quivers with fear, of your figure that shakes pathetically from instinct.

Loud, angry growls and spiked scents fill your senses and leaves you docile; Soobin’s sharp, strong pine mixes with Beomgyu’s thick, intoxicating smoke, painting the scene of a burning forest as they continue to warn the other, narrowed gazes and sharp canines creating yet another standstill.

Beomgyu’s eyes catch onto Soobin’s restlessness with ease— and before he’s able to make a move, Beomgyu is manipulating your body once more, spinning you around and pressing your back firmly against him, feeling the way you follow his every command without a second thought— and when you present yourself to him for a second time from pure instinct, Beomgyu grins; his eyes lock with Soobin’s and his head cranes down, dangerously close to your scent gland that continues to release its tempting smell.

“Stay.” is all Beomgyu growls out, eyeing the way Soobin freezes immediately, wide eyes watching the way Beomgyu’s mouth opens, tongue lolling out lazily before it’s running slowly against your shoulder, gliding along until it stops dutifully against the joint of your neck, pressing down to feel your pulse— Soobin flinches, undoubtedly wanting to lunge forward, but is stopped again by the wicked smile Beomgyu sends him, sharp canines meticulously on display.

You’re all left frozen— Beomgyu’s arm that has been thrown around your waist toys with the hem of your cute coat, the other that presses against your heart feeling the quick pounding against his palm— and he laughs, inching his hand up slowly until it’s around your neck, his index and thumb exuding little effort to keep your head upright, watching your eyes slowly meet Soobin’s.

“Any sudden moves,” Beomgyu begins again, eyes flickering down to your neck, watching the quick rise and fall of your chest with fascination, feeling the way your throat constricts with every swallow against his palm— and he smiles, looking back at Soobin and allowing his tongue to run over the top row of his teeth leisurely, “and she’s mine to claim.”

Silence; Soobin takes a moment to weigh his options, to inspect the scenery before him— the wolf means it, Soobin is quick to realize, seeing the way he all but drools over your exposed neck and faint figure— and he meets your eyes again, attempting to decipher what you may be thinking, only to realize that you’re not composed at all; you’ve been stripped down to nothing but your basic survival instincts, and yet it seems as though your brain has told you that it’s best to give up any fight you have left inside you.

Soobin feels his jaw ache from the way his teeth grit together angrily— and with a soft huff, he becomes the first to look away from Beomgyu entirely, turning his head in defeat and forcing his body to back down.

“Good dog,” Beomgyu coos mockingly, grinning unabashedly at the sight of Soobin’s face twisting up in anger; he turns to you, placing a slow, lingering kiss on your cheek before he murmurs softly into your ear. “My flower, don’t you want to show him how perfect you are for me?”

Beomgyu doesn’t expect a response from you; the way you whine and shift restlessly against him is enough, having already felt him rutting against you the moment he had you caged against the counter— and he continues to do so, even now, the hand on your throat forcing you to tilt your head, allowing him access to suck and bite on the clean canvas of your skin; your eyes flutter shut, and you’re left to rely on his strength to hold you upright, body rocking gently with every thrust that is delivered from the wolf behind you.

“So sweet for me,” Beomgyu groans, his hands letting go of their respective places before they begin getting busy; your legs feel shaky and you’re left to watch as he undoes the ties of your coat, slipping it off before he reaches to bunch your thin skirt at your waist— you gasp softly, face heating up at the feeling of being so exposed, hands flying to pull down your skirt on instinct— but you’re granted no such reprieve, stilling immediately as a growl leaves Beomgyu’s lips at your action.

Soobin’s head is snapping back at the two of you at the sound of the threat— his eyes widen and he inhales sharply, a clear mistake that only makes Beomgyu grin— your scent, thick and progressively needier, clouds Soobin’s mind, clouds his judgment, unable to do anything more than stare at the way Beomgyu has you in his arms, canines still glittering under the soft lights of your home as a constant warning.

“You smell it too,” Beomgyu speaks, his words less of a question and more of a fact— Soobin’s eyes dilate and his nostrils flare that moment Beomgyu’s lithe fingers begin to wander around the hem of your panties, feeling your thighs press together and your hands grip at his forearm shyly; from Soobin’s distance, he’s able to pick up on the tears that hang on your waterline, the way your lip quivers from the humiliation of being exposed so crudely.

“Innocent thing…” Beomgyu murmurs, dipping down to swipe the pad of his middle finger across your slit, listening to the yelp that escapes your lips, feeling your body buckle against him— and sure enough, a spike of your scent follows after, like an addicting toxin that only fuels the desire of the two canines before you, “So tempting. So good.”

You’re crying softly at the way he continues to tease you, overwhelmed by the foreign sensation, mouth parting in shock as his hand sneaks past the waistband of your panties; you feel as though shocks of electricity flow through you the moment he brushes against your clit, teasingly at first, only to begin circling it steadily soon after— and you can only moan and whine for more, unknowingly bucking your hips forward in search for something else that can satisfy you.

When your eyes meet Soobin’s, you can only feel a hot wave of shame flow through you— his expression is unreadable; is he embarrassed of you? Disgusted, ashamed that you have already given in to the simplest threats? You’re not remotely near as strong as he is, you defend yourself mentally, you’re sure that it was either this or— or…

“You filthy mutt,” Beomgyu spits out beside you, laughing softly at the way Soobin has yet to take his eyes off you, eyes narrowed meanly and brows tugged together, an expression that could be easily read as rage— but Beomgyu knows better, watching as the said man jumps at the sudden sound of the other’s voice, gaze hardening the moment they lock eyes; Beomgyu huffs out another mocking laugh.

“You like this, don’t you?” Beomgyu asks, as though he were sharing a secret— behind you, you feel his hips buck against you, able to feel the hardness of his cock as he uses his free hand to press just below your navel, forcing you back on him— and you gasp, his ministrations against your clit never ceasing as he continues to fuck against you slowly, groaning breathlessly at the feeling of your warm body against him; Beomgyu’s eyes never leave Soobin’s, however, pupils filled with nothing but a mocking joy as he continues breathlessly.

“You want her.”

Another wave of arousal floods though you at his words, filling the room and reaching the two men before you with ease; you’re able to see and feel the way their chests rise slowly, the way they take in your essence before letting out pleased sighs, their own strong, heady scents filling your senses as you simply flutter your eyes shut and whine with need.

“No need to deny it,” Beomgyu grins, leaning his head against yours fondly, middle finger abandoning your clit to tease your entrance, your mouth falling open and hips twitching in surprise at the feeling— the man behind you simply watches with amusement, watches the way you meet Soobin’s gaze shyly, body heated up with embarrassment as you can only let out pathetic cries and breathless gasps with every new stimulation— and Beomgyu’s finger enters you slowly, meticulously, angling himself just right; your vision is fogging at the stretch, hands gripping onto the strong forearm that helps keep your upright as you merely beg for more.

“I’m sure she’d love to give you a show,” he continues, palm pressing against your clit, other hand guiding your hips to roll steadily against his hand— he chuckles softly at the way you’re pliant for him, following his every command without a second thought, “filthy, greedy thing.”

Though Beomgyu directs those comments at you with a voice of acid-like hatred, the way he stares at you is anything but; his eyes are just as keen as the rest of him, willing to not miss a single reaction you make for him, from the way your voice breaks with need to the way your fingers twitch helplessly against his skin— his body buzzes with a desperate energy, his cock pulsing and begging to be inside you the longer he feels you rock helplessly against him— lucky for him, you seem to be getting just as desperate.

“Get your filthy hands off her,” Soobin seethes, though he’s unable to make a move to get you away— a single twitch of his tail enough to garner a harsh sneer from Beomgyu, teeth snapping together in warning— the idea of having you claimed, taken, and possibly killed by the monstrosity that holds you hostage is enough to keep Soobin complacent for now, undoubtedly waiting for the moment the wolf no longer has easy access to such a vital part of you to make his move.

Beomgyu doesn’t heed the other’s comment— if anything, he laughs, prodding a second finger at your entrance, forcing the other to listen to the way you perk up and cry in panic, poor inexperienced body not used to the stretch, to the curve of his fingers as he presses against your soaking, tightening walls, calloused skin making you shiver as he forces you to grind against him, to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Hmm? Don’t touch her?” Beomgyu asks, curious fingers stretching you open slowly, grinning at the way you throw your head back against his shoulder and whine, a hand slapping over the arm that currently fucks your slowly, pressing against it in feeble attempts of getting more, “What, does it upset you that you won’t be getting to her first?”

With a particularly calculated thrust of Beomgyu’s fingers, you’re jolting up and letting out a broken moan; he proceeds to continue to abuse the weak spot within you cruelly, watching with an amused gaze as you continue to fall apart against him like clockwork. You’re getting wound up quite quickly, not used to the intense feeling of pleasure being provided to you— and Beomgyu takes in the sight eagerly, smiling in amusement before he’s stopping abruptly, watching your head hang and your chest heave from the sudden loss of stimulation.

“Does it anger you?” his fingers slide out from your cunt slowly; you twitch at the feeling of emptiness, barely processing the way his hand slowly snakes its way back up, grabbing at your neck and forcing you to look forward again— his fingers, covered in your arousal, prod at your mouth, and in your dumbed state, you can only follow his commands and part your lips dutifully; your tongue circles around his digits and your lips close around them, flushed face painting a lewd scene that only makes Soobin tense; beside you, Beomgyu smiles wickedly.

“Knowing that you’re about to watch her get fucked open— get knotted good— by a wolf?”

Soobin thinks he might be seeing red at this point; his hands remain by his side, closed into a tight fist that has his nails threatening to break through his skin— but that’s the least of his worries, especially with the way your ears twitch and your body perks up at the wolf’s words— both of the men are able to pick up on your reaction with ease, one clearly much happier than the other at the sight.

“You know, if you behave, I might give you a turn.” Beomgyu looks over at you, chuckling softly before he removes his fingers from your mouth, only to grab at your face and turn it roughly to look at him; his fingers dig into your cheeks and his forehead presses against yours, taking one glance at your hazy expression before he’s cooing softly. “I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

All you can do is muster a broken whine in response.

Beomgyu is letting go of your face with a soft chuckle; slowly, you muster the courage to look forward once more, inevitably meeting Soobin’s gaze as a result— his expression is unreadable, and it makes your knees feel weak— your mind races to try and decipher what he may be thinking about, left unaware of the way Beomgyu has let go of your dress, letting the skirt fall slowly over your front as he busies himself in lifting it from the back instead, allowing himself access and grazing your skin curiously; it is only then that you’re coming back to your senses, heart rate picking up with a panic and body bristling the moment you feel the wolf’s hands wandering across the swell of your ass, muttering soft praise that doesn’t quite reach you— a firm hand grabs at your waist, keeping you in place the moment you tried to shift away from him shyly, tried to cover yourself with a weak protests that only garnered yet another growl; with wide eyes, you looked to Soobin, unaware of the helplessness that coated your glassy pupils.

“Soobin,” you cry yet again, blood growing cold at the way he simply seems to stand and watch; his gaze seems to have wandered, seems to have been following Beomgyu’s every action, adam’s apple bobbing at the sudden sound of impact that filled the room, the sound of your yelp followed by the sight of your pathetic hands attempting to swat Beomgyu away, easily overpowered the moment the wolf gathers your wrists in his tight hold and scolds you to stay still, his claws digging threateningly into the soft skin— and again, your head whips back around to look at Soobin, ignoring the keen stance of his ears and the slow, interested sway of his tail as you simply call out to him again, “Soobin, please…”

You’re not sure what you’re begging for any more. All you know now is the feeling of Beomgyu’s broad chest pressed against yours, the muddy feeling of your brain as smoke fills your lungs, allowing your head to loll back against his shoulder, allowing your hips to begin to grind back against the hard bulge that has begun to tease you, shivering softly at the way Beomgyu’s head remains buried in your shoulder, pulling you back against him firmly— you barely register the way your voice whines in protest the moment you feel his lips pull away from your delicate skin, abandoning the gentle kisses and sucks to sneer triumphantly, his low voice a half-hearted replica of yours as he proceeds to parrot your words softly.

“Soobin…” Beomgyu sing-songs, reaching his free hand down to tug at the waistband of your panties, soaked through with arousal that leaves your inner thighs shining pathetically; the said man is snapped out of his trance immediately, enticed gaze hardening the second his eyes find Beomgyu, chin perched on your shoulder leisurely as he continues to tug your panties down, feeling the way they slip down your hips ever-so slowly, “Soobin, come here.”

When Soobin refuses, Beomgyu scoffs— though, he doesn’t seem to be surprised in the slightest.

“Come on Soobin,” Beomgyu repeats again, softly this time, eyes half-lidded as his mouth dips down to kiss your skin; right at your scent gland, tongue darting out before his eyes dart up to lock eyes with Soobin— you can feel goosebumps form on your skin as Beomgyu laughs breathily, mouth still open as he proceeds to nip at the spot gently; not enough to break skin, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you squeal and jolt in surprise. Soobin flinches.

“Come.”

It takes a pleading look from your tear-brimmed eyes for him to move. A slow, hesitant step first, pausing momentarily to gauge Beomgyu’s reaction— the said man quirks a brow in amusement, a silent encouragement to continue— and Soobin finally finds himself looming over the two of you, eyes dark and narrowed as he watches you reach out for him with a trembling hand— curling his shirt into your fists, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his chest, body unintentionally arched forward and left in the perfect position for the man behind you— Beomgyu simply coos softly at the action, a false sense of endearment that makes Soobin’s teeth grit with rage; when their eyes meet, the wolf simply smiles.

“Kiss her,” Beomgyu says, the words almost inaudible from how softly they were uttered— but then he’s grabbing at your head and forcing you to look back up, ignoring the sound of protest you make and holding you up by your jaw as he tilts your head to look at Soobin, fingers squeezing your cheeks and forcing them into a soft pout, “Go on. She’s dying for you to touch her.”

Beomgyu speaks as though he were the one in control of your body and mind— and perhaps he is, you find yourself thinking, teary eyes unable to communicate anything more than want as you feel your panties slowly dragging down your thighs, the wolf behind you hissing softly at the sight of the string of arousal that sticks to the fabric, your slick cunt tightening around nothing in response— Beomgyu’s fingers find themselves teasing your entrance again, three this time, dipping in and out of your cunt, stretching you yet leaving you craving for more.

“I…” Soobin breathes out, reaching out slowly for your face; Beomgyu’s rough hand retreats, and it’s replaced by Soobin’s large, gentle ones that cup your face and stroke your cheekbones, watching the way your eyes flutter up to look at him, tears clinging to your lashes like crystals; his eyes follow the path one makes as it falls, thumb wiping it away softly as he finds himself leaning closer, watches the way your lids fall and leave your eyes hazy and obedient.

This is it, Soobin realizes, eyes flickering back to where Beomgyu continues to tease you, much too lost in the sight of your cunt trying desperately to suck in his nimble fingers to pay much attention to the two of you, this is his chance— he can save you.

You seem to catch onto Soobin’s calculative gaze quite quickly this time— and your heart flutters with a slight hope, your chest falling in quick, shallow breaths as your hands tighten against the fabric of his shirt— his eyes flicker back to yours from the action, taking in the way they hold that innocent light of yours he’s always adored— and his heart breaks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

There’s nothing you can say to that; his lips are on yours before you can so much as let out another breath. They’re soft, hesitant, as though you could shatter if he touched you wrong. His hands shake slightly as he holds your face close to his, feels the way your mouth remains frozen for a second, only reciprocating once you’ve felt the soft pass of his tongue against you— and your overwhelmed mind blanks entirely. For the final time tonight, you submit.

The kiss is slow, it’s deepening out of your control, and it’s everything you imagined many moons ago, when you first began to feel a spark of desire for the man before you— when you swooned and flustered at the comfort you found in him, the warm feeling that always settled in your chest when he was next to you, knowing you could always go to him for protection.

So as you feel his hold on you become firmer, feel the way he sighs against your mouth with no intentions to let you go soon, you wonder what it is you feel now— trapped between the two canines, lungs burning and and mouth left open as you allow Soobin to venture inside, not allowed any reprieve from the man who keeps you close, a soft groan leaving your lips as your sensitive ears pick up on foreign, slick sounds behind you, hisses and sighs of pleasure from another— because the feeling that pools in your stomach isn’t remotely reminiscent of the gentle, delicate warmth you always felt around Soobin; it’s hotter, angrier, greedier— it begs to be satiated and throws away the last good sense of judgment you had within you.

“Soobin— oh god, Soobin—” you hiccup suddenly, finally able to escape from the said man’s mouth that seems to chase endlessly after yours; even now, you still can’t help but cry for him, your body unprepared for the sudden feeling of a cockhead swiping at your slit, the wet noises that arise from the sheer arousal that continues to leak out of you. You cry and you beg with hot shame burning at your skin, unsure of whether you plead for mercy or for more— your body arches and your hips seek for more, cunt throbbing at the feeling of Beomgyu’s tip pressing at your entrance, his rough hands rubbing circles along your ass absentmindedly, but your heart twists and makes a thick lump build in your throat, wishing nothing more than to be experiencing this all differently, in the comfort of your room and in the secure, warm embrace of the man in front of you— you wish for something more intimate, something as gentle as the love you felt.

But all Soobin does is watch. He strokes your hair with a slow hand and cups your cheek fondly, presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before wandering down to press another at the tip of your nose— and he soaks up the pitiful sounds that make your voice break, feeling your hands attempt to steady themselves against him as Beomgyu begins to enter you; slowly, salivating at the way he feels your walls stretch around him, struggling to adjust to merely the tip— he stares down at your dripping pussy with a parted mouth, letting out a slow breath at the sight of your legs that threaten to buckle and your fluffy tail that goes wild with every inch he eases in— and he finds himself having to take deep breaths to not take you as he wants then and there.

“It’s okay. I know, I know— I’m right here, I’m right here with you,” Soobin murmurs against your skin, placing slow kisses along your jaw, allowing you to duck into the crook of his neck for solace— and he smooths your hair as he feels you nuzzle into him, eyes hooking onto the sight over your shoulder of Beomgyu entering you, the feeling of his hips flush against your ass bringing about another shuddered sigh from your lips, nails digging into Soobin’s chest as you attempt to overcome the new sensations.

“I got you, don’t worry my doll,” Soobin utters, a hand going to place itself on top of your own, intertwining his fingers with yours before he begins to weigh it down, to guide it down his chest— he lets out a shaky sigh, feeling you cry and squirm against him, “It’s okay… just relax and you’ll feel good, okay?”

“Don’t you wanna feel good?” Soobin coos against your temple, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you nod against his shoulder, feels the way your hand has successfully breached past his underwear, pants already undone and still guided by his much larger hand as he brings you to palm him slowly, wrapping your shaky fingers around his length; you’re hesitant, unsure of your actions as you allow Soobin to show you what to do— though, you don’t think your brain has truly processed what he’s doing with you yet, preoccupied instead by the thick smoke along with another smell that leaves you feeling lightheaded, along with the feeling of hands groping and smoothing over your skin as a heavy cock continues to twitch inside you.

Beomgyu isn’t quite fond by your sudden shift of attention; his lips remain upturned in distaste, watching intently as Soobin continues to use you however he likes, your face that remains hidden in his neck directly able to smell the calming, dizzying scent Soobin exudes, placating you and dumbing you down to nothing but a fuckdoll for him— his eyes trail down to where he has you jerking him off slowly, Soobin’s lips pressing kisses to the top of your head as he continues to murmur soft praises that have you melting against him— an unfamiliar, hot streak of rage courses through Beomgyu’s system at the sight.

“So ungrateful,” Beomgyu scolds suddenly, reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and bring you back— he’s forceful, uncaring of the way you protest, an arm that’s wrapped around your stomach pressing you flush against him as he forces the two of you to move— and you’re left bent over the counter, face pressed against the wood and wrists secured behind your back as Beomgyu bunches the skirt of your dress at your hips and bottoms out inside you once again; you hiss at the feeling, looking to the side to see that Soobin is unfazed by the action— if anything, his eyes cloud with lust at the scene before him, taking in the way you’re stuffed full and arched prettily with a gulp.

“Why won’t you pay attention to me?” Beomgyu asks breathlessly, looking down at your pliant figure with blown out eyes, tail whipping side to side in anger as he catches the way your gaze still seeks out Soobin’s, eyes unknowingly pleading for reassurance— and he growls, low and heavy in his throat, catching the attention of both of you successfully— but he only cares to have your eyes on him, fully engrossed in the way your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back the moment he ruts into you with rough, slow thrusts.

“Look at me,” Beomgyu groans, pulling out slowly as he speaks, all the way out until the tip of his cock is the only thing catching at your entrance. You’re squirming, trying to move your hips back against him, but the brutal hold Beomgyu has on you keeps you in place; ears pressed flat against your head, you look over your shoulder, back at the wolf who continues to fuck his tip into you with subtle thrusts, sneering at your glassy eyes that continue to look at him with a jarring innocence.

“That’s right,” he breathes, sinking into you oh so slowly, filling you up and laughing cruelly at the way your hands scramble to hold onto something for stability, for a simple comfort Beomgyu denies, “Eyes on me.”

Beomgyu fucks you to prove a point; he fucks you so your eyes roll back and your mouth spills moans and whines dumbly, cock filling you to the brim and stretching you out in a way you never knew was possible— the sounds are lewd and has your skin burning, slick, wet sounds of skin against skin filling up the room and mixing along with your cries of pleasure. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be doing any better than you, transfixed entirely on the sight of your cunt sucking him in eagerly, dripping with slick that makes his cock shine and falls to the floor in a mess, of your ass that ripples with every smack of his hips against you— this is all so new to you, he can tell, your body buzzing with an insatiable need that turns you into nothing more than a cock-hungry whore, your tail wiggling desperately with every harsh thrust of his, as though hypnotizing him to keep going.

The sight of you— a drooling, crying, moaning mess— is the polar opposite of your sweet, naive self, your trusting self that got you into this situation in the first place— and it makes Soobin’s cock twitch with raw lust, the spectacle of you becoming ruined so easily something he never thought he’d witness; such a pure thing, Soobin always felt as though you needed to be treated like glass— but Beomgyu is more than willing to prove that’s not the case with you, growling pure filth at you as he continues to fuck you into the counter, watching the way he hovers over you, practically caging you in with his body, as though wishing for the two of you to become one. And just like before, Soobin watches. He stands to the side and listens to every sweet mewl of yours attentively— after all, he’ll get his hands on you soon enough.

“Tight little cunt— fuckin’ takes me so well,” Beomgyu murmurs into your ear, panting and groaning at the way you tighten around him, “such a good girl for me— shit, you like that? Like it when I talk nice to you?”

Beomgyu is quick to catch onto every little reaction of yours, including the way you tighten hopelessly around him every time he sings soft praises into your ears; it makes you want to hide your face in shame and deny his questions, but you barely get a chance to speak with the way he fucks you— fat cock stretching you out, leaving you speechless as he continues to pound into you firmly, sloppy mouth nipping and marking all over your neck; feeling him on your shoulders and back, canines brutishly ripping at your clothes to get more access to your innocent skin, feeling the way your walls squeeze with every scratch of his sharp teeth against you, eager to get his lips onto any part of you he can.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you’re— shit– you’re squeezing me so tight, can barely fuck you,” he rambles off, hand letting go of your wrists so he can grab your hips and pull you back onto him— you’re wailing at the feeling, hands failing to stabilize you as you hold onto the counter, eyes screwed shut as you babble at Beomgyu to slow down— but of course, he doesn’t listen, too caught up in the feeling of you to pay any attention, “Oh, are you close, sweet thing? I can feel you— can feel you getting closer.”

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks you in that same, sweet voice laced with faux pity, smiling unabashedly at the way you immediately nod in response, giving in to his brutal pace, “tell me how bad you want it then.”

“Please… please let me…” you trail off, unable to communicate properly with the way Beomgyu continues to fuck you, not granting you any mercy as he watches you struggle, “need– need t’cum, want it, feels so good.”

Beomgyu laughs, the sound labored and breathy from the way you clench around him throughout it; he finds himself glancing over to where Soobin continues to watch, the sight of him focused entirely on your figure making him sneer— his eyes are hypnotized by you and his ears twitch at every weak word that spills from your mouth, lips parted as he all but drools for you— the drastic contrast in character has Beomgyu’s lips twitching in amusement, wondering just where that overprotective bodyguard of yours has gone.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” he mocks, watching as your bowed head nods instantly; he huffs, glancing back at Soobin before he coos softly at you, “Who’s making you feel so nice? Tell me, pretty thing.”

The sudden mention of the pet name is enough to set you off unexpectedly; your mind goes blank entirely, save for a single thought that continues to roll of your tongue like a mantra:

“Beomgyu,” you cry, sobs wracking at your body from the intense feeling, your voice interrupted with loud, uncontrollable moans, “You— it’s you– Beomgyu— please, please— too much…!”

Beomgyu continues to fuck you until your legs tremble and your body weight is placed entirely on the counter, hips held up entirely by the strength of the man behind you as he finally heeds your pleas; he slows until he’s bottomed out inside you, feeling the way your walls continue to pulse as you whimper quietly at the sensitivity— such a touchy thing, Beomgyu muses to himself, looking down at your messy cunt and feeling the way his cock twitches, still in need to fill you up properly.

“Can’t take anymore?” Beomgyu asks apathetically— and though you weakly let out a sound of affirmation, you can tell he doesn’t really care to hear your answer; not with the way he strokes at your skin in fascination, wandering hand pulling at the base of your tail and watching you squeal in surprise, body arching in an attempt to get away— you all but slump into a pool of overstimulation once he finally lets you go, foggy mind barely able to pick up the way he tsks.

“Don’t lie— you can, I’m sure you can,” Beomgyu tuts, watching with amusement as you pout and petulantly shake your head, “you’re a good girl, you can take whatever we give you.”

You don’t seem to process the meaning of his words to a full extent— you’re too far gone to do so, body turned weak as you continue to try and stabilize yourself, chest heaving with every breath you take. But it doesn’t matter if you’ve caught on to what’s happening around you, your every movement taken care of by the two men that cage you in— your shudder at the feeling of Beomgyu pulling out of you, the slick sound drowned out by the crude praises Beomgyu growls; two, strong hands are pulling you up next, proceeding to maneuver you so you sit on the counter— Soobin stands between your legs, looking at you with eyes filled with want and an undeniable pity; he takes in your worn, marked and messy figure intently, watching as his eyes linger on the rips of your dress and the marks all around your shoulders. His hands go up to the area, and your eyes flutter shut, body craving to be covered, to be coddled and tidied.

“Such a perfect doll for me,” Soobin sighs out, beginning to tug down at what’s left of the material, watching the way you shudder and open your eyes with a slight shock— a whine bubble up at the back of your throat, but you can’t really find the strength to protest the way you’re slowly left undressed before the two pairs of hungry eyes before you, no longer able to find the energy to feel embarrassment from being left bare— Soobin’s voice is as gentle as his movements, feeling him lift your hips so he can slide the dress off you properly; it wasn’t very hard to do anyway, the fabric practically hanging together by a single thread, “It’s alright… I’ve got you.”

When Soobin wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you off the counter, you can only wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean your forehead on his shoulder, seeking for more of the scent that calms you down and leaves you mindless; your grip tightens the moment you feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he sighs out shakily at the feeling of your sensitive walls fluttering at the feeling— he’s stretching you out slowly, filling you up, and all you can do is bury your head into his neck and try to calm your breathing, taking in the thick sage that fills your senses.

Soobin stays buried deep inside you for a moment, cursing at the tight embrace of your heat around him; you allow yourself to relax— it doesn’t last long though, body jolting with shocks as you feel another head poking at your already stuffed cunt.

“Wait— wait– I can’t— too full, it won’t fit…!” you cry out, looking at Soobin in a panic; a broad chest pressed firmly against your back, familiar lips pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder— Soobin’s eyes are dark as he takes you in, ears forward and twitching at your pleas; softly, he shakes his head in reassurance.

“You can,” is all Soobin murmurs, watching your face twist as Beomgyu begins to push into you— little by little, stretching you past your limits, resting his chin on your shoulder and shutting his eyes at the sensitive feeling— tears stream down your cheeks freely, soft hiccups escaping you as Beomgyu’s hips press flush against you from behind; Soobin reaches up to caress your head, to pet gently at your ears, and smiles. “See? You’re doing so well. You can take it.”

You shake your head to refute his claims— but it’s not as though that would change the way they’ve begun to slowly pull out, setting their individual paces that inevitably work together, leaving you full no matter what— and it has your head falling back, mouth falling open dumbly as they begin to fuck you; slowly at first, gently, only because your poor cunt has yet to adjust to the size of them. But once they feel the way you leak onto them, the way your cunt begins to clench as their tips ram into places that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, they begin to find the confidence to use you how they want.

Eventually, you’re nothing but putty in their arms; weakly grabbing onto anything you can for support, one finding a firm grip onto Soobin’s shoulder as the other ventured to tangle itself in Beomgyu’s hair— the said man continues to keep his head buried in your neck, lips having a mind of their own as he continues to nose at your scent gland; the action of him nuzzling against it, of him scenting you, is enough to have you a whining mess, fingers tugging at his hair desperately; it only serves to have him fuck into you harder, hips snapping ruthlessly against yours and rough groans escaping him from the pleasure.

“Fuck, such a good cunt, so tight— ah,” Soobin groans, watching as your eyes flutter open to look at him, teary and catching the moonlight that shines down through the window; he cups your cheek, stroking at your cheekbone fondly as he speaks, “so pretty… you’re so pretty, all I’ve ever wanted— god, you’re perfect.”

The look of adoration Soobin gives you isn’t lost on you entirely— but there’s something else that rears its head within his gaze, hungry and desperate, threatening to swallow you whole— and you realize that, for the first time ever, Soobin seems to be staring at you as though you were nothing but prey; something for him to claim and own.

But it seems as though he’s not the only one who possesses those particular feelings— Beomgyu’s pace seems to be growing erratic behind you, knocking you forward against Soobin’s chest and leaving you to wail at the feeling of his cock ruthlessly pounding into you, uncaring of the rhythm the other has set in place; he mumbles gruff words against your neck, but it’s all muffled and interrupted by huffed out moans he lets out in between— but your poor cunt seems to catch onto what he might be saying quite clearly.

“C-close, oh shit, ‘m so close,” Beomgyu says, finally perking up from his place in the crook of your neck to speak directly into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your jaw as he does, “Ah, d’you feel that? Yeah? Want me to cum inside you?”

You know what his question really entails— you know what your answer should be. But your body simply trembles and your brain short circuits at the thought, traitorous to the last bits of reasoning within you as you dumbly nod at his request; he lets out a moan at the sight.

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Want my knot, wanna be bred— ffffuck, I’ll give it to you, I’ll knot you, make you mine,” his every movement has become erratic; Soobin finds it hard to continue fucking you, undeniably sensitive to the harsh pace the other has set— but Beomgyu doesn’t care, leaning in close to your ear to whisper his next words.

“I’ll claim you,” he breathes out, enjoying the way your little tail thrashes against him at the sound, panic filling your tone for a second before you melt into the idea, too fucked out to be able to refuse anymore— if anything, you tighten like a vice around the two, bringing out sensitive sounds from the two; Beomgyu continues to ramble into your ear, much bolder now that he’s taken control of the situation.

“You want it— oh fuck, yeah, you’ll make such a pretty mate, all for me,” he growls, his words slipping to the other’s ears and alerting him, his eyes widening yet his pace not stopping, “all mine— mine, mine mine— o-oh, shit—!”

It all happens so fast. The swelling of a knot inside you, stretching you out to the point where you find yourself sobbing, pawing at whatever you can and begging for them to slow down, to be gentle— hot cum fills you, your cunt only able to handle so much as Soobin’s cock is pushed out, just enough so his own knot doesn’t catch, his orgasm triggering immediately after— it’s so much, yet it’s not enough, your whole being pulsing with desire for the final thing to push you to the edge— and it comes in the form of sharp canines digging deep into your neck.

The right side of your neck stings— then, your left. Two sets of teeth have found their home within your skin, the last of your freedom stripped away as your orgasm swallows you whole— you tremble and you twitch within their hold, cunt filled and leaking with their cum, unable to do anything more than lie within their embrace and take what they give you.

Your eyes feel heavy; you will yourself to stay awake, but your vision becomes spotted within moments— for the first time in a while, your mind is able to find peace.

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

When you finally wake, you find yourself surrounded by warmth; with heavy blankets over your figure, you’re able to recognize the place as your room. You attempt to look around, but are immediately met with a searing pain— the night’s events flood through your mind all at once, and suddenly, you’re able to sense the presence of two others next to you; their arms wrap around you and they remain glued to your side, one embrace much more familiar than the other.

Through your line of sight, you’re able to spot the moon that peaks through your window, hovering just above the dark, looming canopy of the forest. You stare and you stare, unsure of what to make of everything— of what you’re feeling, of the bodies that shift beside you, pulling you closer to them, as though it could never be enough.

Your eyes sting, and after a second, you find yourself mourning. Mourning for your loss of freedom, for the overwhelming amount of sensations you were put through, and for this complex, dangerous situation you’ve been thrust into.

You were warned of the forest; you were warned that nothing good came from venturing within.

But even then, nothing could have saved you from the creatures that roamed beyond.

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blarshwritezz · 6 months ago

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Can I request a yandere mafia boss x fem reader Nsfw where reader just wants to finish her education and get her dream job when the mafia boss asks her out but when she declines so he just makes sure reader will never be accepted back into any universities anywhere or get any jobs ever as a way of showing how well he can "provide"

I'm finally back! probably

Yandere Mafia Boss x Careerwoman Reader

M yan x F reader

TW - manipulation, abuse of power, NSFW, kidnapping

"I'm sorry?" You raised an eyebrow and looked at your dean. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You're expelled under the premise of violating this university's code of conduct."

You didn't understand. What did you do? Did you violate some obscure rule that you've never heard of? But that couldn't be! Sure you may have gone against a few small rules every once in a while, but everyone did! You've done nothing to warrant this, you were a model student!

But it looked like there was no hope. You left campus rejected, never to return.

This was truly awful. This was your walk of shame. Your apartment wasn't far, so usually you walked. It was always nice to get some fresh air.

And along your walk, of course you ran into him. You didn't know much about him but he just seemed dangerous. And he seemed to like you.

"Why the long face, darlin'?" He asked, walking alongside you.

You ignored him, hoping to get rid of him. But of course, that didn't work.

"You know, if you were my woman you'd never have bad days. I'd spoil you to no end." He wrapped an arm tightly around your waist, guiding you to walk another direction. You tried to resist, not wanting to deal with him today, but of course he dragged you along anyway.

You didn't have time for this. You had to figure out where to go in life from here. Maybe you could apply to another university? You wouldn't have good enough chances because of this new expulsion on your record. But surely somebody would still take you, right?

So you, of course, struggled and struggled to get out of his grasp, but to no avail. His grip was strong, and only tightened the more you tried to get away. He didn't let go of you for a second. When you got to his luxury car, he even sat you on his lap while he drove. You wanted to get away, but you didn't want to be in a car crash, so tried to stay out of the way.

"If you keep squirming around like that, I might have to pull over and teach you how to be still." His husky voice whispered in your ear. He pulled you tighter against him, something hard rubbing against your thigh. You hoped it was just his phone in his pocket.

As you pulled up to his mansion, your jaw dropped. You knew he was rich, but what was he, a billionaire?! You didn't even know what he did for a living!

While you were gaping at his little home, he took that as an opportunity to carry you inside. Somehow, the inside was even more impressive. You see at you even saw a few servants, but that only made sense for a home of this size.

"You see, this is the kind of life I can give you. All this and more, my darling." His hot breath brushed against your ear as he spoke.

His grip on you only tightened as he carried you up to your room. He's spent so long preparing it just for you. And him too, of course. His woman should have a suitable living space.

And it certainly did not disappoint. It was like your dream room to the max. You even spotted a few items you previously had in your apartment around the room. You were going to ask, but he tossed you on the bed and got on top of you before you had the chance.

You didn't need to know that he had his men break into your apartment and bring everything here while you were being expelled.

"And you know, it's not just luxury I can provide." He grinded against you slowly, his hand cupping your breast. "I can give you more pleasure than you can dream of, you know."

Again, he gave you no time to answer. His lips were immediately on your neck, gently sucking and biting, making you gasp. He was especially hard on your more sensitive areas, making sure to leave as many hickeys as he could.

He groaned as he went lower and your shirt got in the way, annoyed. Damn thing limiting his access to your gorgeous body. So naturally, he ripped it off of you, murmuring that he'd replace it between kisses and bites.

He did the same with your bra, pausing for a moment to stare. This close of a view was way better than spying on you with binoculars.

His mouth soon enveloped one of you sensitive nipples, his hand pinching and playing with the other. He swirled his tongue around then sensitive bud, only spurred on by your pretty whimpers.

He didn't want to leave your breasts, but he just had to. If he wanted to get to his ultimate goal, that is. So his kisses trailer down your stomach, and before he had the chance to be stopped your pants and underwear were already shredded and discarded like your other clothes.

He let put a soft moan when he finally reached your perfect pussy. Fuck, you just tasted to good! Oh and those sounds you made, it was like you wanted this more than he did. And you were already so wet too.

He attached himself to your cute little clit, gently sucking and flicking the bundle of nerves with his tongue as two of his fingers found their place inside your wet hole. He started gently, of course; he didn't want to give you too much at once. Not yet. But soon he couldn't help himself.

His mouth and fingers got rougher, his free hand holding your hip. He was only further encouraged when your thighs wrapped around his head, keeping him trapped against your pussy. He'd gladly eat you put until he suffocates or until you passed out. Whichever happened first.

And he couldn't help but grind into the bed as your fingers found their proper place in his hair. His moans as you made his head move however you wanted vibrated against your lower lips, driving you closer to the edge.

Eventually it was too much. You just had to cum. And he happily lapped up every last drop as you kept his head firmly pressed against you.

"Oh, Darlin'," He groaned, a perverse smile on his face as you finally looked up at him. "You really do make me crazy~"

This was the one that I apparently forgot to save so most of it got deleted a while back lol

#blarsh writes #yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #anon ask #male yandere #yandere x you #male x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #male yandere x you

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honey-minded-hivemind · 9 months ago

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❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU... Part One:

(WARNING: Depictions and mentions of abuse, neglect, physical harm, self-harm, depictions and mentions of wounds and blood, self-harm ideation/actions, and Reader at one point is thought to be dead/almost dies. Viewers discretion is advised...) (Side note: Wolverine and Sabretooth are brothers, and their relationship is platonic, and Kurt, Kitty, Fred, Lance, and Todd join the X-Men/Brotherhood after the X-Men/Brotherhood lose Reader and have changed)

• They weren't always the way they are now. There had been a time when they were hopeful, happy, cheerful... Or maybe it was obvliousness, their subconscious the only part of them to understand that something was wrong.

• You can't remember much of anything past the age of five, but you remember some parts of your childhood. It was spent with a mutant group, ones who had taken in or had others like yourself, who were honed to be soldiers. To be unstoppable weapons. You thought they were good for the longest time. Too long, to be honest. You weren't smart back then the way you were now. You didn't understand jokes or sarcasm or much beyond facts in a book. You didn't really understand that the others, the kids and the adults, didn't like you. That they thought you were annoying. Useless. Simple. Someone not worth the effort. Someone unworthy of being with them. Someone unlovable.

• When training, you tried your best, but you weren't naturally aggressive in the way they said you should be. That for a feral mutant, you weren't much of one. You tried to be quick, tried to be kind, tried to go along with what they told you to do, who they wanted you to be. But you just... weren't that. You weren't ruthless, weren't violent, you cried when you killed a moth by accident, what was to be expected? But you still, somehow, did well enough to be allowed to stay. To not disappear. Or maybe they just couldn't be bothered to do anything about you, one way or the other.

• The kids thought you were weird. You looked weird, acted weird, talked weird. They thought you weren't bright. They certainly made jokes at your expense, you knew that, you simply couldn't understand the jokes and sarcasm they used. It hurt. It hurt, bad enough that you grew quieter, more sullen and downtrodden. You weren't as happy or talkative as you once were...

• It came to a head when you caught the ire, the hatred, of your two "mentors"... Two of the three adults ferals, the ones you heard whispers of late at night, talking about how you might be related to them, perhaps a clone... You weren't sure what you did, just that when they found you that day, you were dragged off into a lone room, given no explanation or warning. Their faces were filled with a blind rage, a freezing wrath, and the next thing you know you're being yelled at. Loud, furious roars, a tight, bruising grip on your arm, and no way out... And suddenly-

• SLASH!

• A searing pain filled your senses, and you're crying, trying to hold a hand to the wounds on your face, hoping to stop the pain, the hurt, the redredredred- They order you to stop crying, to stop wailing, or they'll give you a reason to. And so you cover your mouth as best you can, sucking in sharp breath after sharp breath, blinded by the blood dripping down your face. It stains the floor, once clean, a filthy, ugly crimson, garnet-colored ichor growing into a small puddle. They huff, but go to leave, only telling you to clean yourself up. And then they're gone, and you're on your own, and nothing is right anymore.

• Over the next two weeks, you keep your head down and stay out of everyone's way. No more talking than needed, no direct eye contact, and no being around anyone for longer than you're required. You weren't blind to it anymore, were you? That you weren't safe. That you weren't cared about. That you were alone. And with that realization, you grew to dread being near them, near the other kids and the adults and anyone else who was around. But... you had the beginnings of an idea. One that could end your suffering... It would be risky, but... At this point, you'd rather risk the threat of death than stay another day.

• It's at night when you make your move. It's quiet, dark, chilly. You aren't dressed for the weather, and you aren't prepared for whatever is out there. All you have are the clothes on your back and the boots on your feet. You make it mostly all the way, out of the compound, facility, whatever they called the place yo- they, lived in. There's snow out, thick sheets coating the ground and flakes of it dancing down from the sky. It's beautiful... You wished you could have enjoyed it, but there wasn't time to do so. You made your way from the field towards the woods, the icy dirt crunching beneath your feet...

• "Wh-? Reader, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

• And then you're running, as swift and fleet as you can, as far away as you can run. Your feet carry you through the frosty woods, stirring up small bits of snow as you race by, the wind howling around you as you flee for your life. Sometimes your feet nearly slide out from under you, having stepped onto an ice patch, but you quickly right yourself and go faster, forcing yourself to keep going no matter what you hear or how much it scares you...

• Until you eventually reach a seething, ice-studded rocky outcropping. The beginnings of a river spill over a ledge, crashing into a foaming, roaring current, twisting away into the wintery night. You're stuck. And then the worst possible thing happens- they find you.

• "Reader. Get back here. NOW."

• You take a step back, pulling your hands closer to your chest. The noise is almost unbearable, being so close to the raging water so close to you. They only take a step closer, an angry, annoyed look on their faces... "Get over here. NOW. Or you're going to be in even worse trouble." A whine hums in your throat, a pathetic sound. You take another step back, and feel a subtle shift in the rock beneath you. "That's it, I SAID-!"

• CRACK!

• The ground beneath you breaks, sending you tumbling down into the rocks and water below with only a scream as your last words. And soon, all you know is the icy touch of water filling your lungs and the sting of rocks on your skin...

• You weren't sure how you initially woke up... You weren't sure you were even alive... But with a weak, gurgling gasp, you cough up the water sitting in your lungs, gagging into the dirt as you try to hold yourself up. When you eventually finish with one last rasping breath, you crack open your eyes, looking around you. You're by the river, lying in the dirt and rocks and silt of its shore, which is surrounded by endless snow-capped trees and endless sky. And somehow... You feel a small pang of hope. You made it, after all. You weren't dead. You were... free. Of course... now you had to actually get to where people were. Find food. Maybe drink some of the water from the river...

• You weren't quite sure how long you had stayed in the wilderness, scrounging up small, half-starved animals and barely surviving the few times you tried to take on larger prey. Having your cheek ripped open by an antler and having a bear bite through your arm weren't fun experiences, but you had learned that while you could hunt some prey, the larger, more filling prey wasn't what you could go after. You'd learned plenty of things from your time alone in the wild, but your loneliness still grew. It was always festering under the surface. You were glad once you stumbled into a small town, dragging yourself through an alley to spy on the normal going-ons of humans. You hadn't really seen or met a human since before you were five, and you only had the hatred of the X-Men/Brotherhood to explain them. Which led to your decision to scout the woods around the sleepy town, to find a way to read them before you met anyone. And what a thing you found: A small, dusty yet cozy abandoned cabin, just right for you to move into.

• And so that was how your first year was spent, foraging bones and rocks from the forest and hunting animals, selling their pelts or even the whole bit of prey to make a living. You came up with a small story for any townsfolk who asked about you, saying you had an ill family parent to take care of and a relative who visited from time to time to make sure your schooling got done (it was all a lie. You had to say something, and saying you were a mutant child who escaped a dangerous group of bigger, meaner mutants was a no-go). They more or less bought it. They didn't press for any information after that besides occasionally asking if the fake family members were okay. All in all, you had been doing... alright...

• You didn't reveal anything beneath the surface of your skin. You didn't talk about your nightmares, of being back with them, of being hurt, of being laughed at, of being killed- You didn't mention how you got hurt when you hunted, how you sometimes used your own claws to do the hurting for you, slicing them through your skin until blood ran like water- You couldn't bring yourself to deal with your panic attacks, your paranoia and inner turmoil, the fact it hurt to think-

• Yet it didn't last more than three years...

• You weren't sure how they found you. You weren't sure if it was an accident, or if they knew you were alive the entire time, or if someone tipped them off. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter, because they'd stumbled on the little town and had found you within a few days. Seeing them for the first time in so long... You only felt a rising, bubbling feeling of blind fear. It didn't matter if their faces went all weird and soft, or that they tried to get near you, you didn't care- You ran, you bolted, running deep into the woods and not looking back for a second. It didn't matter what you left behind! You had to move, you had to run, you had to fleefleeflee-!

• It shouldn't have surprised you when something thunked into the earth next to you, thin and sharp and leaving an odd smell behind. It shouldn't have surprised you when your old mentors managed to find you, their eyes dark with something that wasn't hate or malice... But you didn't think it would be any better. You know a few of the others, older now than when you last saw them, are close by. You keep your claws out, your face set into a fearful snarl, ready to flee or bite or scram at a moment's notice.

• "Oh, cub... What did we do ta ya?" You do your best to keep an eye on both of them, which proves difficult. They're on either side of the small clearing, each watching you with sharp, unwavering eyes. It doesn't help that when you try to move further away, as far as you can from them, they only move towards that side, keeping themselves in your way of escaping. Their scents are off, something dark and deep and somber, not their old usual fury and annoyance. Their claws aren't out, either... It's strange, for people who want you dead... (Right? They want you dead, to kill you, right?) "Shhh... Cub... I know a lot has happened... I know yer scared, an' yer hurtin', an' I know it's our fault. I know nothin' we do er say can make up fer it... But... please... please give us a chance ta help ya. Please... all we want is ta help ya. All we want is ta give ya what we should've from the beginnin'..." Your eyes dart between them fearfully, a soft whine building in your throat. This is worse than your nightmares. This is your nightmares come to take you back. And you can't have that.

• You try to dart out of the clearing, trying to dodge past the hands that go to grab you-

• But large, warm hands grab the back of your shirt, tugging you back into an iron grip. "Cub, calm down, please! We promise ya we aren't gonna hurt ya! Yer safe, yer okay, yer not gonna be hurt-" You don't pay it any heed, kicking and scratching and biting at what you can, doing everything in your power to break free from the arms keeping you captive. It does nothing. All that happens is the arms tightening and a flurry of panicked words filling the air. "Kid, cub-! Just, calm down fer one minute! We can talk this out-! Please, ya gotta stop fightin' us, ya gotta stop fightin' me! I know yer scared, I know, just, please-!" It doesn't matter what either man says, as all it earns from you is a fearful scream as you struggle harder. The scents around you are rife with sorrow, salty and cold and damp like earth after rain. You hear a wounded noise come from them, but you don't stop your attempt to escape the hold on you. A long, hurt sigh whooshes out, followed by the hold on you pinning you further.

• "I'm so sorry, cub... But we can't let ya keep goin' on like this. Yer hurtin' yerself. And we just can't let that happen."

• And just like that... something presses into your flesh, a sharp sting, which is gone just as quick. A hiss escapes you, your hands suddenly clawing so you can feel at where you were stung. "Shhh... don't worry, cub... It's justa small sedative... It won't hurt ya, all it's gonna do is make ya all sleepy an' tired..." Your eyes widen, then with a small shriek you try to tug yourself away. You can already feel the drug seeping in, a buzz at your skin and thoughts. The more you struggle, the more your thoughts cloud up, earning more movement from you as you do your best to snap out of it. Something akin to a sob breaks loose from you as your tugs and scratching grows weaker, the drug nestling into your system and numbing your limbs. Your mind keeps growing more muddled, thick and soft and syrupy... A hiccup pushes past your lips, being met by a hand patting lightly at your hair. It's weight feels good, the warmth sending you deeper into your tired state. When you try to speak, the words leave you, turning into a sleepy mumble, your body slumping into the hold around you. Everything feels quiet... barely there... So soft... So calm... Hardly any thought stays inside you as your breaths soften, the fear and fight leaving you as you stumble into unconsciousness...

• "Good cub... Just go ta sleep... We'll help ya feel better, that's it..."

• They're careful, one of them holdin' their kid while the other alerts the others, letting them know they have Reader with them and that they had to use a sedative to calm 'em down. It feels so surreal, seein' their once bright kid so... tired. So scared. So hurt. Bein' near 'em, even tha other teens, scared them enough that they were runnin' inta freezin' weather, all ta stay away from 'em. But... They can't let 'em go. Not again. The last time they let 'em go, they thought they died (maybe they actually did, and only came back due to their small healing factor...). They hurt them, they terrified them, they were tha reason they were afraid, the reason they were hurtin'. And now the kid was hurting themself. Was causing themself pain, with no one ta stop them er help them er let 'em know they'd be alright. They'd be d*mned if they let it continue. They'd be worse than dead if they left 'em ta wilt away on their own, ta slip off inta the blinding snow once more... They might have ta keep them calm, make it so they're relaxed enough so they can help them... But they'll do anything, just ta keep them alive. Ta make them feel loved. Ta be their family. And this time, they're gonna do it right...

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #platonic yandere xmen evolution au #❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU #platonic yandere sabretooth #platonic yandere victor creed #platonic yandere wolverine #platonic yandere logan howlett #creed!reader

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byooregard · 2 months ago

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iwtv fanfic Friday: devils minion era (or close enough)

on display by thisisthefamilybuisness aka @officialclaricestarling; E, 3k.

Armand leans back in her chair and smirks. “There’s nobody here to notice if you absolutely must rut yourself against the seam of your slacks, Daniel; this is a private dining room. Given the sorry state of your thoughts, though, perhaps you’d prefer if I took a seat at the bar and sat you in my lap instead. It would only be fair, of course, every patron deserves a chance to see why I spend millions of dollars and so much of my time indulging you.”

i know a place we can go luminoussbeings aka @gaysie; M, 3k.

“—come out with me,” Daniel’s saying, and Armand blinks. “I know a place—better than this one, I’m telling you. Okay, fine, the drinks are terrible, but if you want to go out dancing—you’ll see. You’ll love it. Guarantee ya.” He smiles winningly, holds out his hand. No, Armand thinks. or: Daniel sees Armand with blood on his face from a kill, thinks he's just some poor abused twink, and decides he needs to show him a good time

cranefucker island circa ‘82 by katplanet; E, 22k

“You doing all right?” Daniel asks him. Armand blinks. “No,” he says. “Most honest you've been with me since I got here,” Daniel says. And then, because it seems like the thing to do, “I can clear out, if you need the place to yourself.” “Whatever you prefer.” Armand's lips look chapped. Dehydration? He ate the kid with the sunglasses, but the smear he left took a lot of bleach to scrub away. Maybe Daniel should - “You won't be harmed,” Armand says, “regardless of your decision.” “You got served divorce papers so hard it left a crater,” Daniel says, “and you're still poking around in people's heads.”

little kidnaps in the dark | End OTW Racism by gaypiratedivorce; M, 150k

The first memory is only the first memory, the first crack —after the dam finally breaks, Daniel tries to make sense of the past unraveling itself in his mind. While continuing to thread the story of Louis's life, he attempts to untangle the questions of his own. But Armand offers no answers, and Louis gives him no straightforward ones. As their histories weave together and the line between journalism and personal chronicle disappears from sight, Daniel struggles to figure out who they were then, what they've become, and why exactly he's been summoned to Dubai.

it's a rollercoaster kinda rush by exastris_scientia aka @keepoffthetardis; E, 5k

He writes more over the next three months than he has in the last year, and he even gets paid for some of it. Not as much as before, but, y’know. He can keep his apartment, so it’s not like he’s complaining. He goes to bed early, gets up late, and actually learns how to cook something edible for once in his life. He’s not even using. It’s normal. It sucks so bad and he’s so fucking lonely. Daniel gets fired from the San Francisco Chronicle and discovers all roads lead not to Rome, but to Armand.

couldn't trust myself to proceed with caution by extrasis_scientia aka @keepoffthetardis; E, 6k.

When he opens the door, Daniel looks up from his drink. Almost every feature on his face has been changed by the twenty years between them and their last goodbye. Every one, that is, except for his eyes. They’re shielded by handsome-looking wire-frame glasses now, but they’re still as blue and sharp as they were the night they met. Their eyes lock, and Armand is astonished to discover all at once that he’s still angry. “You must be Mr. Molloy,” he manages through lips nearly numb. As if he feels nothing at all, Daniel holds out a hand. “Mr. Molloy’s my father. Call me Daniel.” Armand seeks Daniel out in 2003 and gets quite a bit more than he bargained for.

#iwtv #iwtv fanfic friday #fic recs #interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire #devils minion

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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 years ago

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Dominant! Ghost Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Heavy BDSM, Edging, Overstimulation, Aftercare, Ownership Kink, Marking, Biting, Petnames, Consensual Dub-Con, Consensual Abuse of Physical Strength, Knife Play, Mentions of Blood, Spit Kink, Cum Play, Rough Sex, Dominant Ghost, Submissive Reader, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, etc.

You’re his. Simple as.

And he makes sure to remind you - and anyone who crosses your path - on a near-daily basis.

Whenever he sees fit, he’ll just corner you and pin you down, telling you to “Calm down, Pipsqueak – you’re makin’ me hard,” – his way of warning you that whatever he has planned for you will only worsen the more you struggle.

And his bulge against your back is a very visceral promise of that.

Loves forcing your hands beside or above your head; it reminds you both of how much stronger than you he is – how weak and dependent you are compared to him.

How he owns you.

Bites your throat and shoulders, sucking marks, crafting you a necklace of bruises fashioned by him – his own branded jewels of love.

He’ll make sure they’re visible, too.

He needs to ward off other people from you by leaving his mark, his signature.

If he thinks you’re being bratty or uncooperative, he’ll go to any lengths to break you down until you submit to him entirely.

“You’re not making this any easier for yourself, Love,” he says. “Just tell me why you’re being so infuriating and I won’t bleed you this time.”

Massively into knife play.

Loves hearing you squeak and moan whenever he holds a knife to your throat or drags the blunted edge up your thighs, pressing it to your throbbing, aching core and cutting your underwear open, ravaging you.

He’s so rough when he’s in this kind of mood.

Will pound you until you bleed. Or give out and admit your feelings to him. Either will suffice; Ghost is a patient man.

And his stamina and endurance are no joke.

He will outlast you in every faculty.

That’s the territory that comes with being a trained murderer.

And he will remind you of that constantly.

“How does it feel–” he rasps, pants, as he pounds you from behind, the bed jutting with each thrust, “–to know you’re being fucked by a killer,”

The question is always rhetorical. He just revels in the feeling of you clenching around him when he recalls just how easily he could end you right here, right now.

But he doesn’t. And he never would.

He loves you far, far too much.

But that doesn’t stop him from being straight-up disrespectful.

Orders you to open your mouth, only for him to spit into it whenever he knows or suspects you’re being untruthful.

Also loves covering you in his cum.

His favourite thing is to cum inside you and watch it ooze from whichever holes he’s chosen to abuse that day, but something about covering you in it makes him feral.

Edges you constantly.

Uses your release as a bartering chip.

“Tell me why you’re being such a brat and I’ll let you cum.”

It’s a trap. Your honesty is punished, too.

Once he tears a satisfactory answer from you, he’ll let you - make you - cum.

And as your orgasm is still rolling through you, he’ll keep going. And going. And going.

At first you could assume it’s his bid to fulfil his own needs, but even after he finishes inside you and he simply doesn’t relent, realisation dawns on you.

Your insides are aching, pleading for a moment’s respite. But Ghost doesn’t stop, battering your hole and keeping it stretched over his bulging cock.

There comes a point where you’re banging your fists against his chest, begging him to stop because you’re so sensitive and it hurts, but he ignores you.

“If I were to let up that easily, I wouldn’t get to have any fun. Quite unfair after I let you cum, isn’t it?”

Looks into your eyes as he does it, too.

Will tie you up if he finds your cries and flails to be too bothersome.

Binds you to the bedposts so there’s nothing you can do but watch and feel as he slams into you at such a harsh, killing rhythm that has you thinking whatever’s leaking out of you right now is blood.

Very much into BDSM.

Will use his strength to bend you into whatever shape your body will allow and bind your limbs together, making it entirely impossible for you to break free as he has his way with you.

“You’re mine,” he’d say, grinding the shape of his cock into your walls; and all the while you’re moaning, crying, tears streaming down your face as euphoria tightens in your centre. “Nobody else can have you - please you - the way I can.”

Big fan of punishment, btw.

There are times where he puts you in a cage and just cums on you, making you stay there until his semen is crusting on your skin, makeshift scales on the creature Simon has reduced you to.

Also gets a kick out of spanking you, either with a belt or his hand.

When he’s feeling particularly cruel, he makes you count them until you reach the limit he has set for you.

And Heaven forbid you lose count, or you both start all over again.

Ghost likes to make sure that every time you try to sit down, you remember him – what he did to you.

When all is said and done, however, when you’re used and stuffed and Ghost is milked dry, he is the king of aftercare.

Will make sure all your needs are seen to, regardless of how oddly specific they are.

Simon will not let you move a muscle, even if you insist you can “go another round,” he’ll push you back down onto the bed.

“Oh no, you’re staying put, Sweetheart.” he says, looking down at you with all the fondness of one who has discovered love for the first time. “I’m scared you’ll break if we go again.”

He’s joking, ofc.

Secretly loves to snuggle. All the time.

And he holds you as you’re drifting off to sleep, keeping you flush against his chest, wondering how he got so lucky to have met you.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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cambria-writes · 3 months ago

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Chapter 1: Blow out all the candles

pairing: astarion x bard!f!reader word count: 6,010 rating: T13 warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and gore, implied past sexual abuse/assault, nothing outright spoken about, if there's anything else to be tagged please let me know

a/n: it's here! and it's proofread! i'm very excited to put this out because i've been working on it for actual months by now. i think about this when i go to bed at night and i look forward to the weekend to keep writing. i don't know that there will ever be smut—there might be, i just haven't properly considered it yet—but there will be a lot of self-indulgent soft moments with the bastard.

please let me know what you think, and comment if you'd like to be tagged for future updates!

You feel like shit.

You feel like shit, there are burns all over you, and the whole of your party smells like soot, death and disappointment. Well, at the very least, you, Lae’zel and Astarion do. Karlach seems to be managing perfectly fine if her boasting is anything to go by. And she tends to smell like smoke most days, to begin with.

Shadowheart, bless her, manages most of the minor wounds on her own. Chastises you gently for running into a burning building again—this time literally. Her lecture has no bite though; she can see on all your faces that this latest encounter has left an extremely bitter taste. In all of your mouths, not just yours or hers, and not just because of the smoke.

Once you no longer look like more of a corpse than your actual undead party member, you drag your feet back to your tent. Grab a change of clothes, pull a bucket from by the fire—with a promise to a whingeing Gale to bring it back, clean and preferably full of equally clean water—and thoughtlessly head towards where you’d last seen running water. It would suck, it would probably be freezing, and the idea of being mostly unarmed in any state of undress makes you want to curl in on yourself and disappear into the Underdark. Maybe let the monsters there take you, while you’re at it. At least then you wouldn’t have to worry about an uninvited guest in your fucking skull.

But there is work to be done. Horrible, dreadful work. You know you’ll sleep… maybe not better tonight, but at least not as miserably, you hope. All that physical exertion has to be good for something.

You try not to think of the people at Waukeen’s Rest as you walk. Conveniently—or supremely inconveniently—there’s already someone in the clearing you’ve wandered into. The shock of white hair lets you know it is, in fact, Astarion who’s sat at the water’s edge. You figure the only reason he hasn’t noticed you yet is because he seems very… aggravated. His back is turned to you, but you can tell he’s violently trying to scrub something out of his hairline.

Probably the same blood, gore and soot that’s dried into yours.

You raise the bucket in your left hand and knock into it with your right. The vampire flinches and spins around so quickly you wonder if secondhand whiplash is a thing. There’s a moment where his face displays what you’re almost certain is fear, before he controls his expression into something more akin to familiar annoyance.

“Oh. You. What do you want?”

You wrinkle your nose at his almost pouty tone. Lately, Astarion’s been especially bitter with you. No idea why; maybe it’s because you turned him down those two times he propositioned you? You hadn’t figured he was serious. He flirts all the time with nearly everything with a pulse—probably things without if given half a chance—how would you ever know if he was being genuine?

…or maybe it’s the whole conversation with Raphael. Hm. Well it’s not like anyone—except Astarion, apparently—could fault you much for not wanting to trust a devil. At all. Ever.

You’re thinking too much about it.

Instead of offering an immediate answer, you approach Astarion with a not insignificant amount of caution.

“I can…” you start, but trail off. If you offer help—which he clearly needs, what with being unable to see his own reflection and therefore see his own face to wash the dried blood, soot and grime off of it—he’s going to refuse you. If you try to impose yourself, you’re probably just… not going to make it to see the next morning, actually.

So you hedge your bets and, after taking a few more careful steps forward, reach your hand out, palm up.

“May I?” You ask, gesturing vaguely at the washcloth Astarion’s holding. He predictably narrows his eyes at you. His gaze flickers between your outstretched hand and your face as though there’s some form of deception there that he should be able to see.

His right leg shifts, just barely. You already know that’s the side that has a small dagger hidden in the boot. You do your best to pretend you don’t see or know.

You’re not sure you do a terribly good job of it. Astarion sighs—a terribly loud, put-upon sound that just reminds you of a child being told to clean their room.

“Fine. Just be quick about it.”

You’d sigh yourself if you didn’t think it would set him off even more. So instead you approach, carefully and slowly as you can manage without looking too terribly awkward. Once you’re a foot or two away, you grab the washcloth and give it a quick rinse in the river. Once you’ve wrung it out, you maneuver the bucket upside down to sit on it and scoot yourself a bit closer to the… very obviously displeased vampire.

You barely catch yourself; when your right hand comes up to his face with the washcloth, your left immediately follows. It hovers by his cheek and you freeze, for a moment, and try to remember to breathe under Astarion’s extremely judgemental stare.

“Can—do you mind?” you ask, barely over a whisper, quickly glancing at your left hand. You’re already curling your fingers to pull it away.

The vampire spawn rolls his eyes like your antics are truly the most boring thing in the world before answering.

“Whatever gets this over with the fastest, if you don’t mind. I would really love to stop wasting time on a face I can’t even see.”

You nod and try not to swallow thickly. But you don’t think any effort matters. The sound of your thundering heart would probably bury any other sound your body would make anyway.

His skin is incredibly soft, but you bite your tongue to prevent yourself from saying so. You focus on what you’re meant to be doing, focusing on a spot above Astarion’s left brow. Then the right brow. You do your best to remember to breathe through your nose the whole time. No talking. No fast or twitching movements. You pray the smell of death and fire are enough to overpower whatever your breath smells like.

You don’t realize when he closes his eyes. Maybe after the second or third time you gently push his head this way and that. You run the washcloth around his ears, along his jaw. Meticulously avoid the two puncture wounds on his neck.

“As good as it’s gonna get,” you whisper, quickly casting your eyes down before Astarion opens his, and busy yourself with folding and refolding the washcloth. Take a deep breath and look back up while you pass the cloth back over. “Still gonna want to dunk your head, though. Hair’s still…” You gesture vaguely at what should be a shock of pure white.

It’s… well it’s not entirely white anymore.

There’s a moment where you catch an unusual expression on Astarion’s face. It doesn’t last long enough for you to be able to figure it out. And where maybe you would’ve asked, any other time, today doesn’t—the timing doesn’t feel quite right.

“Well then,” you start, grabbing the bucket by the handle and quickly moving to the river to scoop up a decent amount of water. You pretend it’s not heavier than you think it was. You’re trying to figure out what you should say as you leave—if anything at all—but your companion makes the choice for you.

“Thank you,” he says, not quietly, but not with the usual bravado you hear from him. It’s enough to make you pause. “I would hate for my slovenly appearance to ruin vampires’ prim and proper reputation,” he continues, and you can’t help but let your mouth twist into the smallest grin. “Even though red is my colour.”

You snort in amusement, but quickly shake it off. There is something you want to be saying, actually, and you open your mouth before you can lose your nerve.

“When you’re done, can you—do you mind passing by my tent?”

Astarion’s eyes narrow as he wrings out the washcloth. He doesn’t move, despite the fact that you’re pretty sure he wants to slighter back to the water’s edge. You cut him off when he opens his mouth; you’re not sure you’re ready for whatever biting one-liner he’s got ready for you.

“Actually nevermind, I’ll just—I can see you tomorrow morning. It’s not that important.”

You beat as hasty a retreat as the weight of the bucket of water lets you.

You help Gale for supper. Wash, peel and cut various vegetables, fetch more water by the riverside—Astarion has blessedly left by the time you crouch back down by the bank—and take the time to throw the ball for Scratch a few times. By the time the sun begins to sink into the horizon, the smell of deliciously spiced duck, stewed in with a mouth-watering variety of vegetables, wafts over to you and lures you by the fire where your companions have assembled.

Your local vampire is, predictably, absent. You find yourself wondering if the smells that are so tantalizing to you now would be repugnant to you if you had survived on the blood of pests for two hundred years.

Supper is generally a calm affair. You catch up with whomever was absent from the adventuring party for the day, offer Gale some praise for the meal, indulge Wyll with a few dances—kept at a very polite and respectable distance—and eventually settle by the fire.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart seem to have made peace, for now. They watch each other from their respective tents. There’s not as much contempt and disdain as there was a few nights ago when they’d tried to kill each other. You’re relieved they no longer feel the compulsion to ask to the rapidly mounting pile of absolute bullshit you have to deal with. As if mindflayer spawn in your brains and the looming threat of annihilation weren’t enough to sate their need for excitement.

Well after the sun has set, Wyll rests a hand on your shoulder before sitting himself next to you by the fire. You nod in acknowledgement and quietly retreat to your tent. You’ve set yourself up far enough from the campfire if only just for some solitude after a day surrounded by other people and death. Close enough to the water that, when you return to camp at the end of the day, you’ve an easy time just shrugging off your armour and clothes and just walk into the water after sliding into a well-loved, black cotton slip.

You’ve sat yourself behind a makeshift low table—really just a few planks of wood, scavenged from a damaged dock, atop a pair of crates you’d emptied—and open your journal to begin writing. You were never an avid diary-keeper before being abducted by the nautiloid. Never saw the relevance of it. Not that you could remember to keep track of your daily activities, either way.

But now that so many things happen in only the span of a handful of hours, and so much planning to do, and so many people to remember... you find it easy to sit down at the end of the day and write down everything you saw. You write about Halsin’s release from the dungeons in the defiled temple. Write about how conflicting he seems as a man, and as an elf—so incredibly large, and his speech is so incredibly gentle and soft until it suddenly is... not so much.

You take a moment before writing about your encounter with Abdirak. You keep it brief; the only person reading this journal should be you, after all, and you trust yourself to remember how you felt, beneath the mace, and how you feel now, trying to untangle those feelings.

You omit Astarion’s interjection, much as you do spend a minute thinking about it.

You’re flipping to your fourth page of daily notes when you hear a gentle knocking on one of the wooden poles holding up the canvas of your tent. You don’t look up from your writing but call them in, anyway. You gesture vaguely in front of you, motioning in what you think is the general direction of the cushion set in front of your makeshift desk.

“Sit,” you command. “I’ve just got to... finish. This sentence,” you add haltingly. You have to cross and rewrite a word, spend a few more seconds completing your sentence, before finally putting the quill down. When you look up from your notes, you hastily shut your journal, still-wet ink be damned.

There are... probably too many things written down that you wouldn’t want Astarion to see, especially if his current smug expression means anything.

“What, too caught up in waxing poetics about my boundless charms?”

You scoff at the play of arrogance before pulling one of your smaller packs into your lap and stuffing the journal back inside.

“If you must know,” you start, tossing your back near the back of your tent. As far out of reach of a rakish rogue as you could manage in such a small space. “I was writing down my expectations for the day tomorrow. Which includes going back to the grove to collect our reward from Rath.”

Astarion raises his chin and you and narrows his eyes. “Suspiciously selfish of you, bard.”

You shrug your shoulders and lean back on your hands, letting your legs stretch out in front of you. “I’m not as tooth-rottingly sweet as you seem to think I am. My altruism is also self-serving.”

Astarion shifts and pulls a knee up to rest his arm against and leans in. There’s a glint in his eye you recognize. Your heartbeat flutters, for a second; you could say that you don’t like it when he looks at you like a roast to carve, but closer to the truth would be to admit that you’re terrified of it for lack of knowing how to respond.

You clear your throat before adding, “I’ve got too many people relying on my decision making, besides. I can’t afford to extend a hand if I can’t be sure we won’t all get bit. I very much intend on having us all get to Baldur’s Gate in one piece, and live to see our brains roommate-free.”

Astarion scoffs and leans back. You breathe a little easier now that he’s back to being more aloof and judgemental rather than overly-observant.

“I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse,” he replies, feigning interest in the cleanliness of his nail beds. “The fact that you’ve assumed that kind of responsibility for... what, exactly?” He turns his gaze to you, and you can feel more than see the derision in his eyes.

You look down and take a moment to think. The obvious answer, the first one that comes to mind, is that you feel you have the moral obligation to help when you’re able to. It’s how you were raised.

Another answer, just as true as the first, is that you hope that if you treat others with kindness, maybe they’ll allow you mercy when you need it. Self-serving altruism, just as you’d said.

“Safety,” you eventually respond, lifting your eyes to Astarion’s and tilting your head. “Same as you, I figure.”

Astarion bristles at this, but only barely. You can see it in the tension appearing in his shoulder and the way his face seems to become a little more taught, a little more rigorously controlled.

“Safety, you figure?”

You hum in agreement. “I’m the one you chose to bite that night.”

Again, he scoffs. “Because you were the one least likely to stake me, darling. Not because I thought you’d keep me safe.”

“You thought I’d keep your secret safe, though” you say, pulling your legs back towards you and lean in to rest your elbows on your desk. “I was the safest risk because somehow, all of you with the brilliant exception of Wyll, think I’m a bleeding heart with no sense of self-preservation.”

“You quite literally wandered into a room full of smokepowder barrels with a torch in your hand. A lit torch.”

“I didn’t know there would be smokepowder there, come on!” you exclaim in defense. You compose yourself almost immediately; you know Astarion’s just trying to rile you up. Looking at him, he’s not quite smirking, but there’s the pull of an expression there that feels like it could be satisfaction.

You sigh and run a hand down your face. It feels like a cold shock to have him speak so casually with you now when he felt so unapproachable by the river, earlier. Maybe it’s the fact that he chose to come see you, come into your space, makes it feel different. You feel more in control, if only a little.

In here, you still have the pretense of being the leader of your eclectic group. By the river, stripped of armour and excuses, you felt untethered.

“Whatever. Is there a reason for your visit or were you just bored with getting under everyone else’s skin?”

Astarion fakes hurt and offense, a hand to his chest. “You wound me! You’re the one who asked me to come to you, or has the tadpole knocked the memory loose?”

You lean back a little. You had forgotten. In the midst of the food and the dancing and the writing, you had completely forgotten that you’d asked for him to seek you out. You had, however, figured he would actually wait until the morning. Or maybe another week, if you survived that long. Or never at all.

You were never quite sure what Astarion thought of you at any given point in time, nevermind how seriously he would take your words.

“Right. I just fi—it’s. Right.” You trip over your words, before leaning off to one side to grab at a small pouch. You pull at the drawstring as you right yourself, and plunge a hand in to pull out its singular content.

You hold it up in front of your eyes for a second. It had started as a peculiar stone, but with some time and effort and possibly too much polishing, had revealed itself to be a particularly beautiful opal. Clear nearly all the way through save for a single starburst of vivid colour in the center, tendrils of refractive colours reaching out for the edges.

It had reminded you of sunlight, when you had first held it up to a candle after the final polish. And then, unbidden, you thought of Astarion, and his complicated and upturned relationship with the sun.

You slide the pendant, carefully wrapped in looping metal wires, strung on a simple braided leather cord, over the desk to Astarion.

“I found this in the village,” you explain, trying to calm the panicked thrumming of your heart. “It reminded me of you so I... well, it’s yours if you want it.”

This felt like a good idea at first. While grinding down the rough edges and sanding the surfaces smooth, it felt like a kind gesture. Currently, it feels like maybe you might have given Astarion even more to relentlessly tease and bully you with. Like perhaps you’ve found something that would add another weight to you both.

You keep your eyes on the table. See Astarion slowly reach for the pendant to hold it up in front of his own eyes. You swallow thickly and motion to the candle at the edge of your desk.

“If you hold it up to the light, it looks better.”

He wordlessly nods and follows your directions. The stays motionless for several seconds, and you’re having to remind yourself to breathe. His expression doesn’t change at all, and that makes you even more nervous.

This feels like the riverside all over again. You never know how Astarion will accept kindness, you realize.

“...I don’t understand why you would give this to me if it reminds you of me,” he eventually says, though his eyes are still riveted to the flame-like starburst of the stone. “Why would I keep it?”

You flounder for a second and do your best to try and remain composed. I just wanted to isn’t going to be an acceptable answer. When Astarion turns his gaze to you, otherwise unmoving, you hold a hand up.

“Give me a second,” you rush to say, biting the inside of your cheek and looking down at the wood of your desk to think. There has to be a string of words you can put together that will make sense, even to someone like Astarion. Surely.

Some bard you are.

“I suppose,” you start slowly, placing your palms flat on the desk. Astarion brings his arm down. You don’t see what he does with the pendant. “I wanted you to have something that meant someone thought kindly of you.”

You expect to see a sneer on his face, or something akin to disgust, maybe revulsion. But, no, he’s returned to examining you again. You feel the tadpole squirm behind your eye and squint against the discomfort. Is he trying to...?

Well, fair enough.

You hardly have any control over the tadpole—not that you want to control it, you only want it out of your skull—but do your best to try and let him see you finding the stone. Try and open the door just wide enough for that single experience.

Astarion, of course, pushes his luck. Though he’s about as skilled with using the tadpole as any of you likely are at this point, and gets pulled into your mind like a receding wave. Your mind shows you sharp, white teeth and crimson eyes. A shock of silver-white hair under moonlight just as his face comes into view. Teeth at your neck and the feeling of uncertainty of what any of this means for you. The flood of relief when you realized your campmate was just a vampire, and that he was never intending to do anything worse than taking a sip.

Astarion withdraws suddenly and violently from your mind. The absence of him feels like the bleeding gap left by the removal of a particularly large splinter. There’s a headache beginning to drum just behind your eyes that has nothing to do with the illithid parasite. You rub at your eyes with the butt of your palms to try and ease the soreness there. When you pull your hands away, the expression you see on Astarion’s face is indescribable. There’s horror there, but understanding and a non-insignificant amount of apprehension.

“Next time,” you croak, clearing your throat and rolling your shoulders. “I would appreciate if you just asked.”

“I did, and you let me in,” Astarion answers, uncharacteristically soft and quiet. He says nothing else before standing up and turning to leave your tent. You feel aloft in the wind before he turns around to add, “Thank you, for your gift.”

The canvas of your tent moves back into place. Your candle keeps burning. The quiet of the camp is only broken by the habitual night time sounds of nature, the occasional sound of Scratch’s collar, and the crackling of firewood when Wyll throws in another log.

You whistle sharply, two tones, and you hear Scratch eagerly making his way over to your tent. He pushes the canvas out of his way with his snout and quickly comes to sit in front of your desk.

“Is something bothering you, friend?” the dog asks, tilting his head to the side. You smile when one of his ears flop over.

“I’m alright, boy,” you answer with a relieved sigh. “Mind spending the night here with me?”

Scratch stands back up excitedly, tail wagging. “Of course!”

You make short work of moving the planks of wood to the side and stacking the crates out of the way. Unfurl your bedroll and pull some salvaged sheets for some extra padding. When you lay down, Scratch curls up at your side. You put an arm around him and distractedly scratch at his back.

When you trance, you try to keep your mind as clear as possible. You need to be sharp, alert and aware for the day tomorrow. You need to clear the rest of the goblin camp, prepare yourself for the brutality of it. And then report back to the grove and Zevlor once you’re done.

This does not prevent ruby eyes shining like stones from appearing in the shadows every now and then.

You walk to the grove with everyone in tow. You, Astarion, Lae’zel and Wyll are covered in blood and probably viscera. Karlach seems mostly untouched, and though Gale and Shadowheart look exhausted, they seem perfectly fine. Nothing a nice, long rest won’t fix. Probably.

In front of the large wooden gate, you call out to Kaldani.

“Let them know it’s done,” you shout up. “The goblin camp has been cleared!”

There’s shouting as the gates open, and immediately the tieflings begin to swarm you. Zevlor appears out of practically nowhere. Alfira even makes an appearance to interrogate you about the goblin camp, the defiled temple. You end up following her deeper into the Grove to sit and regale her with your... well, you suppose they are heroic endeavours, but you take a moment to sincerely let her know it was horrible. Yes, you whole group is competent, yes, all together you make for a terrifyingly effective strategist. But slaughtering people who don’t know any better because it was kill or be killed isn’t something heroic. It is not magical or fantastic. It is brutal and it is bloody, and when you say that, you wrinkle your nose.

You’re still covered in blood. And gods know what else.

Alfira makes sure to convey her understanding, lets you know that she won’t be composing something wonderful and fantastic. She tells you she wants to make it a cautionary tale; being influenced by powers you cannot see and compelled to perform acts of cruelty yet unmatched. The grit and resolve it takes to prevent such a thing, and the knowledge that sometimes you must choose means for ends you cannot promise. It’s a bit much, but you appreciate it.

You don’t bother letting the rest of your crew, swarmed as they are, know of your departure. You slink off to go collect from Rath, as you had mentioned. Leaving the inner chamber and escaping unnoticed, however, was a significantly greater challenge. As you’re attempting to make a quick escape, you get held up by Zevlor. He offers to pay you for your help—the word makes you grit your teeth—and given that you’re alone and no one else can complain about your decision making, you refuse. Looting the defiled temple had provided you all with more than enough tradeable materials to make for a sizable amount of gold.

And you have a feeling the tieflings are going to be needing whatever they can get their hands on far more than your lot will.

You accept Zevlor’s offer to celebrate your party tonight, if only because you don’t have the heart to turn him down. And maybe also because the idea of drowning your sorrows in several bottles of wine and ale sounds like an amazing idea.

Shadowheart is the only one that spots you trying to make a hasty getaway. She smirks at you before looking away, back to whoever she was conversing with. You let out a sigh of relief and trudge your way back to camp.

By the time you make it by the extinguished fire, you’ve already taken off your breastplate. You feel better already, without the weight of it on your shoulders. Make your way over to your tent and make quick work of the rest. Staring at the pile of metal and leather, you find yourself wishing you knew any transmutation spells. Prestidigitation would be very useful right now.

You disrobe, piling your clothes into a wicker basket, before slipping into your cotton shift. Grab the wicker basket and make your way to Astarion’s tent. You pilfer one of the six bars of soap the man has before making your back back to the waterside. You’d at least like to be clean of blood and dirt and have the possibility of wearing clean clothes if you’re going to be up all night drinking to what you suppose is a job well done.

You let your face screw up in disgust while you scrub at your face with a threadbare washcloth. Evil as goblins may be, you’re still unsure about the near-thoughtless slaughter of the children you found in the dungeons. There’s something off-putting about anything resembling genocide. You let yourself get angry, in between scrubbing your hair with soap and dunking your head in the water to rinse it out. Angry about being in the horrible position of leading a group of people with different ideals, angry about the stupid fucking worm in your head, angry about everyone looking to you for the correct path to take.

“Correct path my left fucking nut,” you spit, flattening your wet hair away from your face. “Like a bard’s supposed to be a moral fucking compass.”

“Well, isn’t that unusual,” you hear from the riverside, and take a moment to close your eyes and brace yourself. You take a deep breath before turning to face Astarion.

“I hardly think bathing is unusual,” you retort back, twisting and wringing the water out of a tunic particularly roughly. “Did you also escape ahead of the tieflings, then?”

Astarion leisurely kicks a log—probably one that was by the fire—before taking a seat a few feet away from the water. He looks... alarmingly clean for someone that emerged from the same hellish depths you have. You don’t listen to his reply, but instead try to remember whose face you remember seeing in the grove. His was not one of them.

A twig hits you in the forehead and stuns you out of your thoughts.

“What in the world was that for—”

“I was asking you a question,” Astarion says, leaning an elbow on a knee and cradling his chin in his hand. “But it seems someone was too preoccupied with my shoulder to properly pay attention to me.”

“I realized you didn’t follow us to the grove,” you trail off, turning back around to continue washing your clothes. You freeze, for a moment, realizing he very well could have seen you sneaking the bar of soap from his belongings. You resume your scrubbing, determined not to bring it up if he doesn’t. Not like Astarion hasn’t pilfered some of your own things before.

“I did,” he replies with all the drama of someone being called a liar. “I simply left once the news had been given that we’d been successful.”

You hum to yourself. “So you left before they even opened the gate to let us in, then.”

You hear a scoff, then, “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

“You’re the one who was saying I wasn’t paying attention,” you say with a bit of a huff, twisting and wringing out your trousers before slinging them over your shoulder. “What was the question?”

There’s a long enough pause when you’re scrubbing and rinsing your undergarments that you wonder if Astarion’s just left. You let the clothes fall back into the wicker basket you’d wedged in some tall grass and turn back around.

He isn’t looking at you. You don’t think you ever quite understood the concept of someone looking through you until this moment. Astarion’s gaze is, technically, you suppose, on you. But he seems far away, like recalling a memory he isn’t quite sure how he feels about.

“Well?” you prompt, grabbing the wicker basket and making your way to ground.

“When we spoke, last night,” he starts, and you find he sounds a little unsure of himself. Hesitant, maybe? “When you... let me in.”

You’re not sure if you shiver because of where the conversation is going or because your dripping, waterlogged shift is making you cold. You don’t say anything and wait for Astarion to continue.

“The first night I—when I bit you, what...” he trails off and looks away. His face contorts into something like disappointment, but you’re not quite sure what with. “What is it you were scared of?”

You busy yourself with finding a nice, wide rock, exposed to the sun, to lay your clothes out to try. Do your best to make sure everything is flat and won’t wrinkle.

“I was scared of the same thing any woman would when she wakes to a man looming over her.” You try to keep your voice level and not let the vitriol—the result of equal parts rage and terror that Astarion couldn’t possibly ever have had any hand in—out of your voice. “It wouldn’t have been the first time,” you add quietly.

You turn around to wring the water from the bottom of your shift. You keep your eyes down as you twist the fabric, but catch Astarion standing in your periphery. When you do look up at him, after he’s taken a few steps toward you, something horrible and expanding twists in your stomach.

He looks ashamed, somewhat, but there’s something else in his eyes that takes you a moment to place. It’s understanding, it’s knowing that he had put you in a position that he, himself, is intimately familiar with. It’s the kind of look you seldom ever see on a man. It rends your heart, a little bit.

“Right,” you say suddenly, moving to shake and wring the water out of your hair. “Glad we’ve got that out of the way, so if it’s all the same t—”

“I’m sorry,” Astarion blurts out. Like the impulse to apologize for his transgression was stronger than the need to preserve whatever image he’d constructed himself. “I wouldn’t have—if I’d known—”

“You could have,” you interrupt him in turn. When you look down at your hands, you can see your veins honeycombing in a familiar pattern. You still the shaking in them by picking up the hem of your slip. “I’m not being fair to you, sorry. I can understand why someone in your position wouldn’t have been asking for everyone’s personal circumstance.”

“How—what do you mean by that?” Astarion asks, frowning like he thinks you know something he doesn’t. You shake your head.

“The expectation would have been for you to share your own history,” you explain, making your way to your tent. You pretend you don’t loathe the feeling of dirt and grass stuck to your feet. “Even if you’d lied, that would’ve all been blown away as soon as we got to Bladur’s Gate, wouldn’t it?”

Astarion looks down and away. You shrug your shoulders as he follows you. Busy yourself rolling and tying up the fabric that served as a door to your personal space. You turn your head just in time to see him open his mouth to speak, but whatever he starts saying is lost under Gale’s booming greeting.

“There you are! We were wondering where our fearless, valiant leader had gone!”

You glance over Astarion’s shoulder, where you can see Gale leading your merry band of misfits, before looking back at the man in front of you. He already looks detached and aloof again.

“Suppose I’ll leave you to your social duties then, darling,” Astarion says as way of a parting greeting, and ambles over to his own tent and disappears inside.

You let Gale fill you in on the plan—wherein the tieflings will pack everything up and, on their way out of the grove tonight, will come celebrate their ‘liberation’ with the camp. You sit on the small stool you have set in front of your tent and only half-listen while coming through and braiding your hair.

You don’t see Astarion again until well after the sun has set.

#astarion #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x bard!reader #female reader #no y/n #astarion fanfiction #baldur's gate 3

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