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ot8xbangchansgirlsblog · 7 months ago

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ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕔𝕜🧸

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕟𝕖: Love at first sight

Word count: 3865

Summary: Y/n are oppressed and exploited, her grueling day of endless cleaning is a bleak reminder of her harsh reality. However, when she stumbles into a serene studio and meets Felix, an omega whose scent promises comfort, her world shifts. As Felix reveals Y/n’s true destiny as their last mate, she finds herself torn between fear and hope. With Alpha Chan’s unexpected kindness and the warmth of her newfound pack, Y/n’s journey from a life of servitude to a place of belonging begins, sparking a transformative chapter of love, acceptance, and new beginnings.

Warning: Angst/comfort, abuse, cursing, hate, insecurities.

“Are you done cleaning the dance studios?” a rough voice asked Y/n, causing her body to go still on the floor. She was on her knees, finishing up the last of the cafeteria cleaning. Her body ached, and her arms screamed in pain from the scrubbing and washing she had been doing all day.

“Yes, Alpha,” she whispered, bowing her head and staring at the floor. She despised this situation; she despised him. Her hands trembled with fear as she awaited his command, waiting for him to use her, to dictate her next move like the slave she felt she was. But she could endure no more; everything hurt. She was on the verge of passing out. Exhausted was an understatement.

“Very well then, once you’re done here, go finish up in the studios. Most of the producers have been up and about all day, and their scents are becoming nauseating,” he snarled at her as he grabbed a plate. “I believe you have nothing else to do, hm, pretty girl?” He knelt down and grasped the omega by her chin. All she could do was look at him with disgust and fear. His fingers clawed at her jaw, making her whimper. She closed her eyes tightly, waiting for him to violate her as he normally did, but he was quickly interrupted by a group of trainees making their way to grab their dinner.

He huffed in frustration as he quickly pushed her away, causing the girl to knock over the bucket of water she had been using to clean the café earlier. She scrambled away from the raging alpha, fully aware of what he was capable of. “Look what you’ve done!” he hissed. “Clean this up and finish with the studios. I’ll see you later.” He licked his lips as his eyes roamed up and down her body. She stiffened and quickly grabbed the cleaning supplies from the ground. She knew better than to make a scene, as it would attract the attention of the trainees who were now chattering and selecting their meals.

“Pfft, pathetic,” she hears him say before he forces a smile and walks over to the kitchen. Once the coast is clear, she lets out a soft whimper as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She hated every part of this—who wouldn’t? Being an omega was already difficult. They were at the bottom of the hierarchy and treated like objects rather than human beings. They were weaker and smaller, viewed merely as breeding machines, used solely for giving birth to pups for their packs or mates. It was truly horrible to be an omega.

Just like Y/n, many omegas were sold for substantial sums due to their rarity. Omegas began to go extinct when alphas established the largest omega rings, engaging in selling and trading while abusing their power. This exploitation led to the gradual decline of omegas, who suffered from painful subdrops or were outright killed. If an omega was found wandering alone without a pack, it was often the last time they would be seen.

“Breathe, it’ll be okay,” she whispered to herself as she grabbed her bucket and made her way to the studio. She walked through various corridors, ensuring she greeted her fellow omegas who were also working alongside her. Some of them were friendly, while others remained nonverbal due to the abuse they endured underground. The JYP building is enormous, housing a multitude of employees. The omegas knew their routes, focusing solely on cleaning and other duties, working day and night to ensure that all trainees and important idols were satisfied and that no complaints arose. If a complaint was lodged against an omega, they were taken away and never seen again. It is a cruel reality.

The first studio was dimly lit; it resembled the other studios, but this one was designated exclusively for Alphas. The scents surrounding her made her feel uneasy, and her Omega growled in response. However, she knew she had to complete her task or face punishment. She quickly began working to eliminate the overpowering scents of the Alphas, her hands moving swiftly as she hoped no other Alphas would enter. With determination, she successfully finished her work and made her way to the last studio.

She felt weak and exhausted, a fact evident in her trembling knees and chapped lips. She hoped they would be fed tonight, but her mind was spinning, and her inner omega was furious with her. The omega constantly urged her to protect herself or flee, but Y/N had learned to ignore this inner voice, leading to a back-and-forth struggle between them, sometimes resulting in complete silence, which could lead to a subdrop if she wasn't careful.

When she finally reached the last studio, she noticed the sign written on door, straykids, she instantly instantly let out a sigh of relief. This was the only room she could tolerate due to the pleasant They weren't gross or overwhelming like those those in the rooms for the other other groups of idols trainees; instead, instead, aromas aromas comforted At first, first, thought thought was was strange, but she got used used to it, making it one of the rooms rooms she actually actually enjoy. She quickly entered and to clean clean up. No one was inside, which they they all probably probably gone home. she she mistaken mistaken when she heard the door open and close, prompting her to hide behind the couch. Was it an alpha?

“Hello?” a deep voice called, sending shivers down her spine. “Is anyone in here?” he asked again, walking around. His footsteps were light, and his scent was incredibly sweet. Her omega was going feral over it, and she could instantly tell he was a member of the group also an omega, which helped to calm her nerves.

Mate, Mate, Mate, Mate.

What? Her eyes widened as she shrugged off her omega, which did not please her omega, causing her to start going feral.

Mate! mate! mate! Smells so good!

“Stop it,” she whispered harshly to herself, attempting to suppress the cries for this so-called mate. Her heart raced, and her chest felt tight. The room fell silent as she slammed her hands against her mouth, realizing what she had just done.

“Stop what?” The voice startled her, causing her to scream and fall back against the wall. She looked up and saw a blonde man gazing at her with a puzzled expression, almost grinning at the younger omega. “I knew someone was in here,” he said, chuckling. “What are you doing?” He extended his hand to help her up. “There’s no need to hide,” he added, his eyes sparkling as the corners of her eyes crinkled.

She sat up, terrified, wishing the wall could swallow her whole. He was beautiful, with long blonde hair and tiny freckles scattered across his face. His smile was radiant, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened as he let out another giggle.

“I’m so sorry; I was just cleaning. I’ll leave now. Please don’t tell—” she began to panic as she quickly stood up from the corner. If she hadn’t had her patches on, she knew the room would have been filled with her rotting scent.

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down. I won’t hurt you,” the omega said, standing up from the sofa and raising his hands in defense. “I won’t tell anyone, okay? But are you alright?” Felix looked at the trembling omega, attempting to soothe her by releasing pheromones. He had never seen her before, but his omega was howling and urging him to talk to her, hold her, and even protect her.

"What’s your name?” He stepped forward slowly, extending his hand for her to take. “Come on, I promise I won’t hurt you.” Y/n felt dazed; his scent was both calming and overwhelming. Her omega instincts craved it, as if it were gradually healing her body from its aches. “Y/n… my name is Y/n,” she replied softly, her hand slowly reaching for his.

Felix let out a sigh of relief as she took his hand. Electricity coursed through his veins at their skin. Her omega was satisfied with the contact, and both of their eyes flashed gold. “Well, Y/n, my name is Felix. You have such a lovely name,” he said with a smile. He understood why she was terrified; after all, he was an omega too, and he knew how cruel people could be. Judging by her reaction, he had a feeling she was one of the less fortunate omegas who were targets in this harsh world.

“Thank you. I apologize for you finding me here,” Felix said, looking at the omega with confusion. Why was she apologizing? “I was almost done cleaning, I promise. I’ll head out now; don’t mind—”

“Wait, why the rush?” His hand tightened around her wrist, causing her eyes to land on their intertwined fingers. “I was waiting for Channie-hyung anyway. I could use some company,” he smiled, hoping the omega would stay a little longer. “Would you like a drink? You look quite unwell,” he remarked while analyzing her facial features. She was beautiful; she really was. However, she appeared quite unhealthy, and Felix instinctively knew she was a cleaner based on her outfit and the cloth in her hand.

“I-I can’t; I will get into trouble…” The sound of a drink was enticing to Y/N, but she couldn’t risk getting into trouble again—not after the incident that occurred last time. If she did, she would face severe consequences, or worse.

“Oh, come on, just one drink! I promise no one will find out. It’ll be our little secret. Plus, I have so much left!” he exclaimed dramatically, causing her to smile. That made Felix’s heart skip a beat. “I made you smile, which means you owe me this,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows and eliciting a tiny chuckle from Y/n.

Her eyes quickly glanced at the time, and she sighed, realizing that the omega—well, Felix—wouldn't give up. “O-okay. Just one drink won't hurt,” she finally conceded. She hadn’t felt this happy in a while. Even if it was just a little, she couldn’t help but develop feelings for the boy, her omega purring in response. He barely knew her, yet he was so caring.

"What would you like? We have a variety thanks to Changbin-hyung; he loves collecting different drinks for everyone." He squats in front of the mini freezer, sorting through the variety of beverages. "I geuss you wouldn't like anything alcoholic," he says, looking up at her. She quickly shakes her head in response.

“Can I please have a bottle ofwater?” she asked quietly. Something simple yet satisfying.

“Yes, of course,” he said, grabbing a cold water bottle and a fruit bar before handing them to her and sitting down on the couch with his drink in hand. “Here, sit,” he patted the couch. “I promise I don’t bite,” he teased. She gave him a small smile before sitting at a distance and sipping the water. She couldn’t help but moan, earning a look from Felix.

“Sorry, its been a while," she whispered when she noticed the shocked look on his face. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she couldn't help it; the cold water soothed her throat.

“Been a while since you had a drink of water?” he asked, glancing at the omega nervously. What the hell was wrong with the JYP staff team? He questioned. He knew they weren't treated the best but he didn't think it was this bad.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, her eyes fixed on the table as she appears embarrassed. Felix couldn't help but frown; his omega instincts urged him to take her, to nest with her, and to cuddle her until she felt better and looked healthier. However, he knew that for now—at least until Chan arrived—he would have to maintain his composure. He honestly didn’t know how to manage all the emotions he was feeling, and it was evident when the omega next to him shifted and looked at him nervously.

“U-um, Felix… are you okay? Your scent—” She wrinkled her nose at the smell of burning cake or chocolate brownies; she couldn't quite pinpoint it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, covering his glands with his hands in an attempt to calm down. “My omega is just going really crazy right now.” She gasped upon hearing this. So, her omega wasn’t the only one acting erratically? Was Felix actually her mate? No, that was impossible. She shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows. His scent sweetened even more at the thought of her being their last mate.

“Cute,” Felix couldn't help but whisper, causing her to turn as red as a tomato. “I mean—” he coughed, feeling his own cheeks flush, “ugh! I’m sorry; I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he grumbled while tugging at his sweatshirt.

“It’s okay, Felix. My—um, my omega really likes your scent,” she says quietly, nervous that he might reject her. “She keeps saying something about…”

“Mate?” he asked, equally shocked by her reaction.

“How did you know?"

“Because my omega is saying the same thing,” Felix says quickly as he sits up with a smile on his face.

“But… it can’t be,” she whispered, looking at the bottle in her hand. “This has to be a mistake.” She shot up from the chair, startling Felix a bit. Was this too much for her to handle? He let out a tiny whimper, afraid she was going to reject the bond. They barely knew each other, and he had already screwed up.

“No, please don’t leave,” he pleads, gently grasping her wrist. “This has to mean something, right? We can’t just ignore it.” She tensed as she sensed another scent in the room quickly looking at the door. An alpha.

Fuck.

“Felix, I’m sorry I’m late,” a panicked voice entered the room as the door swung open and then shut. Chan looked up from his phone when he sensed the panic in Felix’s scent. He stopped in his tracks upon noticing a girl standing close to Felix. “What’s going on?” he asked slowly while setting down his laptop bag. He growled, disliking the fact that one of his packmates was in distress.

Y/N flinched at his growl, quickly realizing he was the pack alpha. She could tell by his overwhelming scent and the way his eyes flashed a dark red. She gulped hard and lowered her head, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry, Alpha. This is a big mistake. I mean no harm; I’ll leave now,” she said, panicking like a deer caught in the headlights. Her body, unlike before, began to tremble as she hurriedly grabbed her supplies.

“No, Y/nnie, wait! Don’t leave. Let’s talk about this," he begged once more desprate for her to stay. "Chan! She’s our last mate,” he exclaimed, looking at the alpha for help. “I know it! My omega has been going crazy, hyung.”

Shoot me now, was all Y/n thought as tears filled her eyes. Felix had potentially put her at great risk with this alpha. She didn’t know him, and to her, all alphas were mean and terrible.

“Okay…” He takes a deep breath calming down before stepping closer. “Let’s all take a deep breath and talk about this,” Chan said, looking uneasy as he glances back and forth between the two omegas. Felix's hand remained tightly wrapped around her wrist. Chan noticing her work badge. Great she was an employee, he didnt have to worry about Felix's safety for now. “What’s your name, love?” he asks, releasing calming pheromones for both omegas to inhale.

Y/n looked at him nervously, but her body relaxed when his scent reached her. That was when she noticed what he had called her: Since when did alphas refer to omegas as Love? since when were alphas ever nice? Knowing the rules that had been established, she bowed and replied, demonstrating her submission to the pack alpha.

“Y/n, sir…” she says quietly, and Chan frowned at the name she had called him. Sir? Why would she refer to him that way unless… oh, no.

“You’re a ring omega?” Chan gasped, looking at her. He noticed all the signs: skinny, unhealthy, bruised, and dirty.

Y/n’s eyes widened at the mention of the ring, a soft whimper slipping from her lips. At the sound, Chan’s alpha growled lowly in response. Her eyes flashed a vibrant gold as their gazes locked. Chan felt a sharp pressure in his ears, the world around him blurring as an intense heat surged through his body.

Protect, protect, protect.

The chant of his alpha echoed in his mind, growing louder with each passing moment until it hit him with a force he couldn’t ignore: Mate.

“Yes—yes, sir,” she nodded, ashamed, while looking at the floor. Felix hadn’t even known this; well, he had his suspicions, as mentioned before, but he thought it might just be related to her job. “I truly apologize for intruding your territory, Alpha. Please don’t hurt me. I will get out of your way,” she slipped her hand from Felix’s grip and bowed to the Alpha.

He smelled different from other Alphas, and the way he was built made her certain that he was a pack alpha, especially with the seven marks on his neck. Her omega instincts were on high alert. She longed to taste him, to beg for him; she wanted to bear his children and care for his pack. Her mind was telling her no, but her heart—and the slick that was growing between her folds—was saying yes. She desired him intensely.

“It’s okay, Y/nie. I won’t hurt you. How about you put everything down while Felix takes you back to the dorms to clean up? Hm? Obviously, judging by the way Felix is acting and how my alpha seems to want to mate and knot you right now in this studio, it means something.” He smiled, pulling Felix into a hug and giving him a deep kiss.

The boy blushes and lets out a whine, “Hyung! Not here.” He lightly smacks the alpha on the chest, causing him to laugh.

“M’ sorry. I just missed you, pretty. Did you have a good day?"

"yeah, we finished up the new dance with minho, he left to go start on dinner," his hands were wrapped around Chan's waist as he softly scented his cheek. "You're coming for dinner, right?" Chan hummed in response, looking back up at Y/n and waiting for her to respond.

Y/n gazed at them adoringly, wishing she too had someone to kiss like that. However, she was jolted from her thoughts when she recalled what the alpha had asked earlier. Going back to the dorms? She would be in serious trouble with the head of staff if he found out. Was she truly their last mate? What would others think of her? What would the six other pack members think? This was all overwhelming, and her anxiety was causing her scent to saturate her patches, making them even itchier.

“I’ll take her to get cleaned up, Hyung. I can’t believe this!” he giggled excitedly. “We have another omega! Han is going to be so thrilled; we can create another racha.” He clapped his hands and quickly pecked Chan, making the older alpha grin at his happy omega. The room smelled sweet with all the joy.

“But… but my job, Alpha. I can’t leave. They’ll find me,” she whimpered, looking at Chan. Clear panic is evident in her eyes as he notices a familiar expression that Han would display whenever his panic attacks would strike.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll talk to them, alright? They can’t hurt you when they know you’re mine.”

Her heart fluttered at that; he had just claimed her.

“Yours?” she asks softly, gazing up at him. He smiles and gradually pulls her into a hug. Initially hesitant, he quickly envelops her when he sees her move closer, aching for his touch, he engulfs her quickly.

“Yes, mine. Will you allow us to take you in?” He asked rubbing her back as she slowly melted into his embrace.

“Yes. Yes, Alpha,” she whispered, but Chan whined at the name again. They would need to discuss that later.

"Oh my days! I'm going to explode with happiness! Y/nie, you're the last packmate!" Felix was literally vibrating with joy.

Her omega was leaping with joy at the thought of finally being free and having a home filled with a pack. She inhaled more of his scent and couldn't help but smile. "I promise not to let you down once I become a part of the pack."

"I believe so. Welcome home, little one. It's been a while," she said with a giggle, covering her face shyly.

“Channie hyung?” Felix calls, pulling Chan out of the hug. He hums in response as he looks at the boy, who is all giddy and happy. “Can I take her shopping first, pretty please?! And to the hair salon and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, Lixie. I know you're excited, and you can do all that after you introduce her to everyone.” Felix frowns but soon nods in agreement. “She needs some rest, plus Han would be furious with you when he finds out you went on an omega day out without him.” His eyes go wide before he nods again.

“You're right, hyung! Oh my gosh, I totally forgot. Come on, Y/nnie, we need to get you home as soon as possible!” He snaps his fingers before grabbing his bag.

“I’ll stay back and handle her paperwork, okay? I need to have a conversation with Sanhoo. I'll text the group and inform them about this. Please make sure Minho attends to her wounds,” Chan said, causing Y/n to tense up. She tugged at her skirt, now feeling a little self-conscious about it. He noticed but decided to talk to her about it later, not wanting her to feel embarrassed or insecure.

“Okay, babe, see you at home.” Felix pecks him on the cheek before grabbing her hand and leading her out the door.

“Felix, shouldn’t I drop off the cleaning supplies?” she asks, glancing back at the bucket and the items left scattered on the floor.

"No, I’ll take it." Chan quickly collected the few wash clothes and buckets.

“But sir-”

“I’ll take it. Y/nnie Don’t worry, I don’t want you running into Sanhoo; I promise it's okay,” Chan reassures her. Sensing she was uneasy about the situation, he couldn't blame her. He knew Sanhoo’s job and how he quite frankly made sure to embed fear into omegas. He didn’t like it at all, but there was little he could do.

"Okay,” she hesitated before making her way behind Felix. She was quiet the whole walk down. Felix entertained her by asking her questions and telling her about the pack and all the stories they lived. She was thankful that he was a yapper because her whole life she was isolated.

“Its 8:30; Minho-Hyung has probably cooked really delicious food. Do you like ramen?" Felix asks as they sit in the car. “Oh hi, Mingi!” He beams at the driver, who waves and bows to the younger boy. “This is our driver, Mingi. His going to be around for a while, so you have to get used to him.” He giggled before looking back at the driver. "Mingi, this is Y/N! We just found out she’s in the pack,” he boasts as he lays his head on her shoulder. “Isn’t she so pretty?” He asks innocently, causing the girl to blush and cover her face.

“She is indeed Yongbok; quite a lucky fella, aren't you?” The driver responds, enjoying the conversation with Felix.

“I am,” he says while yawning.

He glanced at Y/N before looking outside the window, explaining the different places and where the best spots are. Y/N listened to his calming voice, feeling safe and settled. Her eyes slowly shut and she felt a tiny kiss on her forehead as she slowly purrs due to the affection, falling into a deep sleep.

✩🍄🌻°｡🧸🍎🧺☘️₊˚🍯

Authors note: Hey! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! please don't forget to reblog and follow. Welcome to my blog <3

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theodorenmyth · 2 months ago

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For Old Times Sake.

Pairings ; Mattheo Riddle x M!reader

Summary ; Mattheo Riddle and you were childhood best friends, bound by a keychain and bracelet as a promise of forever. But by third year, Mattheo abandoned you for popularity, turning into your worst bully. The torment pushed you into self-harm, but he never stopped caring. During the Battle of Hogwarts, you sacrificed yourself to save Mattheo, dying in his arms. Only then did Mattheo realize the depth of his betrayal—too late, with nothing left but a bloodstained keychain and regret.

A/N ; okay I cried while making this.. enjoy!?

Warnings ; ANGST, self-harm, bullying, emotional abuse, physical violence, betrayal, war violence, depression, regret, despair and grief.

Word count ; 5.4k+

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Mattheo Riddle was your best friend.

No—he was more than that. He was your other half, your safe place, your home.

You had met him at Wool’s Orphanage when you were just four years old, two lost boys in a world that wanted nothing to do with you. The orphanage was bleak—gray walls, cold food, cruel caretakers, and even crueler children. The other kids whispered about Mattheo, about the strange, inexplicable things that happened when he was angry. They said he was dangerous, cursed, a freak. No one wanted to be near him.

No one but you.

You had been there the first time Mattheo lashed out, the first time he made something happen—really happen. It was one of the older boys, Timothy Rourke, who had started it. He was fourteen, mean, and twice Mattheo’s size. He had a habit of picking on the younger kids, delighting in making them cry.

You had been his favorite target.

You remembered the way his fingers curled around your collar, yanking you up so your feet barely touched the ground. "You're worthless," he sneered, shaking you like a ragdoll. "No one's ever gonna want a sniveling little rat like you."

Then, without warning, he screamed.

The air had crackled, raw and electric, and Timothy had gone flying across the room, crashing into the wooden dresser with a sickening crack.

Mattheo had stood in the middle of it all, breathing hard, his small hands curled into fists. His dark eyes had glowed with something terrifying, something that made the other children scatter like rats.

You should have been afraid.

But all you felt was awe.

"You did that?" you had asked, breathless.

Mattheo's face had twisted with something unreadable, his fists trembling at his sides. "Yeah."

You had stared at him for a long moment before a slow grin spread across your face. "That was brilliant."

Mattheo had blinked. Then, for the first time since you’d met him, he had smiled.

From that moment on, you were inseparable.

Mattheo had a habit of scowling, of keeping people at arm’s length, but you had never let that stop you. You followed him around the orphanage like a shadow, sat beside him at meals, and sneaked into his bed at night when the cold became too unbearable.

He never complained.

And when you had nightmares—about the dark, about being alone, about disappearing and no one noticing—Mattheo never said a word. He simply shoved his blanket over you and let you stay.

"We're gonna be best mates forever," he had said once, voice firm in a way that only an eight-year-old could manage.

You had beamed at him. "Forever?"

"Forever."

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

The Hogwarts Letters

The day the letters came, everything changed.

It was an ordinary summer morning—if anything in that miserable orphanage could be considered ordinary. You and Mattheo were curled up in your shared cot, the thin blanket doing little to keep the chill away, when Mrs. Cole, the matron, stomped into the room.

"You lot!" she barked, waving two envelopes in her bony hands. "Wake up!"

You rubbed your eyes, bleary, watching as she stormed over to Mattheo's bed and shoved the letters into his chest. "Don't know what you've done to deserve this, but apparently you've been accepted into some bloody school."

You had blinked. Mattheo had frowned, sitting up as he turned the envelope over in his hands.

Then he froze.

"Mattheo?" You leaned over, trying to see what he was looking at.

The wax seal was pressed into the shape of a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You had read the words over his shoulder, and your heart had nearly stopped.

"We're wizards," you breathed, hardly able to believe it.

Mattheo swallowed, his fingers tightening around the letter. His expression was unreadable.

That night, when the other children were asleep, you sat with him by the window, the soft glow of the streetlights casting shadows against the walls.

"Do you think it's real?" you whispered, turning your letter over in your hands for the hundredth time.

Mattheo didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached out and plucked the envelope from your grasp, holding it up to the moonlight. "I think," he murmured, his voice quiet, "that this is the best thing that's ever happened to us."

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

The train ride to Hogwarts was unlike anything you had ever experienced. The station itself had been overwhelming—so many people, all laughing and chatting as they bustled around in long, flowing robes. You had clung to Mattheo’s sleeve as the two of you made your way onto the train, your eyes wide with wonder.

You found an empty compartment near the back, away from the loud, boisterous students. As the train started moving, you turned to Mattheo, reaching into your pocket.

"Here," you said, holding out your hand.

Mattheo eyed the small silver object resting in your palm.

"A keychain?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded. "It's a snake wrapped around a lion. I, uh—I thought it looked cool. And, you know, since we don't know where we'll be sorted, I figured... it could be a reminder. That no matter what happens, no matter where we end up, we're still us."

Mattheo stared at it for a long moment. Then, slowly, he reached out and took it.

"You’re an idiot," he muttered, but his lips curled into something almost resembling a smile. Almost.

You rolled your eyes. "Just take it, you prat. It’s a promise."

Mattheo glanced up at you, his dark eyes unreadable.

"A promise?"

You nodded. "That no matter what happens, no matter where we end up, we’ll always have each other."

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, he reached into his own pocket and pulled out something small—a simple, woven bracelet, dark green with silver threading.

He tossed it at you.

You caught it, blinking. "What’s this?"

"Something I stole from the orphanage craft box," he said casually, leaning back against the seat. "Figured if you were gonna be sentimental, I might as well match the energy."

You laughed, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist. It was a little rough, the fibers worn and frayed at the edges, but you knew it was the closest thing to affection Mattheo could give. And that was enough.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

When the Sorting Hat was placed on Mattheo’s head, it barely took a second before shouting, "SLYTHERIN!"

You hadn’t been sure what to expect when your turn came. You had always imagined that you and Mattheo would be sorted together, that you'd remain side by side just as you had been your entire lives. But when the Sorting Hat finally spoke, its voice an amused purr in your ear, it said something you hadn’t anticipated.

"Ah... loyalty. A kind heart, but a strong one. And so much potential. You could do well in Slytherin, you know. Follow your friend down a familiar path. But no... no, I think you belong in..."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The cheers from the Hufflepuff table were loud and welcoming, but all you could focus on was Mattheo’s expression from across the Great Hall.

He was frowning.

You had never seen him look so lost.

But you had promised, hadn’t you? It didn’t matter that you weren’t in the same house. Nothing would change.

At least, that was what you told yourself.

And for a while, you were right.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Despite being in different houses, you and Mattheo were still inseparable. You spent every free moment together, from sneaking into the kitchens late at night to running through the castle corridors, laughing as you barely avoided Filch.

There were differences, sure. He was starting to make new friends—other Slytherins, boys with sharp grins and cold eyes. You stuck close to your Hufflepuff housemates, finding comfort in their warmth and easy laughter. But it never mattered.

Because at the end of the day, it was still you and him.

You still met up after classes, still sat together at meals, still stayed up late talking in the common rooms until you were both too exhausted to keep your eyes open.

He still wore the keychain on his school bag.

You still wore the bracelet.

Nothing had changed.

Until third year.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Third Year – A Promise Broken

You had heard stories about how friendships could change at Hogwarts, how people who were inseparable in their first years could slowly drift apart, but you had never thought it would happen to you.

Not with Mattheo.

Not after everything.

But by the time third year started, you could feel the shift, subtle at first—like the first cold breeze before winter fully settled in.

Mattheo had always had a strong presence, a quiet confidence that made people either fear or admire him. But something was different now. He wasn’t just confident—he was magnetic. The way he walked, the way he spoke, the way his name was whispered through the corridors with a mixture of awe and fear.

You still tried.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing. Mattheo was just making new friends, and that was okay. He had always been more charismatic than you, more willing to put himself out there. It made sense that people were drawn to him.

It was okay.

He was still Mattheo.

Right?

But then there were the excuses.

"Sorry, can't sit with you today. Theo's saving me a spot."

"I'm busy, Y/N. Just go without me."

"I forgot, alright? It’s not a big deal."

And then, the worst.

"Stop being so fucking clingy."

That one had cut deeper than anything else.

Clingy.

You had stared at him, the word echoing in your skull, hollowing out something inside you. The same Mattheo who once dragged you along to every class, who used to insist you sit next to him, who never let you out of his sight—was now calling you clingy.

You had nodded stiffly, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Right. Got it."

He had looked away, something unreadable flickering across his face. But he didn’t take it back.

You didn’t try again after that.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

The Beginning of the End

It started subtly. At first, it was the whispers.

You would walk into the common room, and conversations would die down. Laughter would be stifled. Eyes would dart toward you before quickly turning away, as if you weren’t even worth acknowledging.

Then came the jokes.

Draco Malfoy had a sharp tongue, and Theodore Nott had an even sharper wit. Together, they made a game out of you.

“Still following Mattheo around like a lost puppy, Y/N?” Draco sneered one evening, his smirk sharp and cruel. “Merlin, it’s pathetic.”

The others laughed. Even Pansy, who had never seemed to pay you much mind before, rolled her eyes.

"At this point, it's just embarrassing," Theo added, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Let it go, Y/N. He’s not your little boyfriend anymore."

Mattheo was right there.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t even look at you.

That was the worst part.

You could have handled the teasing. You could have handled the whispers and the insults and the jokes at your expense.

But Mattheo—Mattheo’s silence burned deeper than any words ever could.

Still, you told yourself it wasn’t real.

He was just playing along.

He didn’t mean it.

He couldn’t.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

The Day Everything Fell Apart

The library had always been your sanctuary, a place where the noise of the Slytherin common room couldn’t reach you. It was one of the few places you could still breathe, where you could pretend, for a little while, that things weren’t falling apart.

That day, you had been sitting at your usual spot, flipping mindlessly through a Potions textbook, when a shadow loomed over you.

You looked up—and your stomach twisted.

Mattheo.

For a second, foolishly, your heart leapt. Maybe he had finally come to his senses. Maybe he would sit down, crack a joke, and everything would be normal again.

"Hey," you started, your voice hesitant, hopeful.

His expression was unreadable. "Come with me."

You blinked. "What?"

His fingers curled into a fist. "Just—come on."

You hesitated, but you followed him.

Of course you did.

You would always follow him.

He led you outside, past the castle doors and toward the Black Lake, where the cold autumn air bit at your skin.

You turned to him, crossing your arms. "Alright, what is this about? Did you finally remember I exist?"

His jaw clenched.

Something was wrong.

"Look, Y/N," he started, and that was already bad. He never called you by your full name. "You need to stop."

Your stomach twisted. "Stop what?"

"This." He gestured between you. "Us."

Your breath caught. "I—what?"

"You keep acting like we're still friends." His voice was tense, his fists clenching at his sides. "But we're not."

You felt like he had just knocked the air out of your lungs.

Not friends.

Not—

"That's not funny," you said, forcing out a laugh. "Alright, you made your point. Can we just—"

"I'm serious, Y/N." His eyes were cold. Unforgiving.

You took a step back, shaking your head. "No. You don’t mean that."

He didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Mattheo's lips pressed into a thin line. "I do."

Something inside you cracked.

For a moment, all you could hear was the howling wind, the distant laughter of students back at the castle. The Black Lake stretched endlessly behind you, dark and unmoving, as if it were waiting for something.

"I don't understand," you whispered. "What did I do?"

His face twisted, like he was frustrated, like you were a burden. "You didn’t do anything. I just—I don’t need you anymore."

Your ears were ringing.

The bracelet on your wrist suddenly felt heavy. The stupid, worn-out piece of string that you had kept for years, even as it frayed, even as the colors faded—because Mattheo had given it to you.

You swallowed hard. "Mattheo, please."

He flinched. Just barely.

And then he took a step back.

"Just let it go," he said, softer now.

And then he turned.

Walked away.

You stared at his retreating back, your vision blurring.

You could chase after him.

You could beg.

You could scream at him, hit him, demand answers.

But you didn’t.

You just stood there, frozen, as the weight of everything crashed down on you.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Mattheo didn’t talk to you after that.

Not once.

And it wasn’t just avoidance. It was deliberate.

The stares got worse. The whispers grew louder. The laughter at your expense became merciless.

They called you desperate.

Pathetic.

Clingy.

Mattheo never stopped them.

And eventually, you stopped fighting.

Because maybe—just maybe—they were right.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Fifth Year – The Breaking Point

You had learned to endure the whispers, the taunts, the hexes sent at your back when the professors weren’t looking. You had learned to keep your head down, to stay out of Mattheo's way—to pretend that you weren’t bleeding inside every time he walked past you like you were nothing.

It was easier that way.

But nothing ever stayed easy, did it?

You should have known something was wrong the moment you entered the Great Hall that morning. The usual morning hum of conversation was broken by hushed snickers, people nudging their friends and nodding in your direction.

Your stomach twisted.

You sat at the far end of the Hufflepuff table, away from Mattheo and his group, but that never stopped them from watching.

You forced yourself to ignore it, to eat your breakfast and pretend you didn’t feel their eyes burning into you. But then a shadow fell over your plate, and you knew—before you even looked up—that it was him.

Mattheo stood above you, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Morning, Y/N," he drawled, voice sickly sweet.

You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes, once warm, once familiar, now held nothing but cold amusement.

"What do you want, Mattheo?" you asked quietly.

His smirk widened. "Oh, nothing much. Just wondering why you’re sitting all alone. Don’t you have any friends?"

A low chuckle rippled through the group behind him—Draco, Blaise, Theodore, Pansy. They always followed his lead.

You gritted your teeth and pushed your plate away. “I don’t need this right now.”

You stood up, intending to leave, but Mattheo moved faster. He stepped into your path, blocking your way. "Leaving so soon?" he cooed mockingly. "Come on, we were just having a chat."

Theodore grinned lazily, leaning against the table. “Yeah, Y/N, why don’t you stay? We’re all dying to hear what you’ve been up to these days.”

Blaise snorted. “Crying in the library, probably.”

Pansy laughed behind her hand.

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms. The breath in your lungs felt too tight, like your ribs were caving in. You had spent so long pretending this didn’t hurt, pretending you could take it, but you weren’t sure how much more you could endure.

Mattheo tilted his head, and for a moment—just a brief, fleeting moment—his smirk wavered. His gaze flickered to your wrist, where the bracelet he had given you still rested, half-hidden under your sleeve.

Then he scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re pathetic.”

That was the final straw.

You shoved past him, ignoring the way their laughter echoed behind you.

But the damage was done.

And they weren’t finished.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

You weren’t surprised when they found you again later that night.

You were in the library, curled up in the farthest corner, pretending to study. You heard them before you saw them—Blaise’s lazy drawl, Pansy’s giggle, Draco’s haughty scoff.

Then a voice that made your stomach twist.

“Y/N.”

You barely had time to look up before your book was snatched from your hands. Mattheo stood above you, flipping through the pages like it was some kind of joke.

You glared. “Give that back.”

He smirked. “Since when do you talk back?”

Blaise chuckled, dropping onto the couch beside you, far too close. "Look at him, all brave now. What happened, Y/N? Finally grow a spine?"

Draco sneered. "Doubt it. He still looks like a kicked puppy."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Just… leave me alone.”

Mattheo tsked, leaning down until he was at eye level with you. His breath was warm against your skin, his presence suffocating. "But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You never leave me alone."

You flinched. "I don’t—"

“You do,” he cut you off sharply, his expression hardening. “Always staring, always waiting for me to come back like some lost dog. It’s pathetic, Y/N. Move on.”

His words hit you harder than any hex ever could.

Move on.

Move on from what? From him? From the years you had spent together? From the nights spent whispering secrets under the orphanage blankets, from the way he had promised you forever?

Your throat burned, but you refused to cry—not here, not in front of them.

Mattheo’s gaze flickered again—just for a second, like he was searching for something in your eyes. But whatever it was, he didn’t find it.

Instead, he laughed.

Low, cruel, cutting.

And then he let the book fall to the floor, pages bending, spine cracking.

“See you around, Y/N,” he murmured.

And just like that, he was gone.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

You didn’t go back to the dorms that night.

Instead, you wandered the castle, feet dragging, hands shaking, mind screaming.

Pathetic.

Move on.

Clingy.

The words looped in your head, over and over, until they weren’t just words—they were truths.

By the time you found yourself in the abandoned bathrooms at the fifth floor, you felt like you weren’t even in your own body anymore.

You rolled up your sleeve slowly, staring at the faint scars that already marred your skin. Old wounds. Wounds you swore you’d never add to again.

But the pain in your chest was unbearable, clawing at your ribs, suffocating.

Your hands trembled as you pulled a small blade from your pocket—a precaution you had sworn you would never use again.

But tonight, you didn’t care.

Tonight, you needed to feel something.

The first cut was shallow. A test. A whisper of pain against your skin.

The second was deeper.

By the third, your vision was swimming, your breaths coming in short, shaky gasps.

And then—

"Y/N?"

You froze.

Mattheo stood in the doorway, his face unreadable, his gaze locked on your bleeding wrist.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was deafening.

Then Mattheo moved.

Fast.

Before you could react, he was in front of you, grabbing your arm, his fingers digging into your wrist hard enough to hurt. "What the fuck are you doing?" His voice was raw, furious.

You jerked back. "Let go."

He didn’t. If anything, his grip tightened.

"You’re cutting yourself now?" His jaw was clenched so tightly you thought his teeth might crack. His eyes burned into yours, searching—desperate, almost frantic.

You yanked your arm away. "Why do you care?"

Mattheo’s breath hitched. For the first time in years, he looked shaken.

But then—just like always—his expression hardened.

His gaze flickered to the scars, and something dark flashed in his eyes.

"Guess you really are desperate for attention."

Your entire world shattered.

It was like the air had been sucked from the room, like the floor had been ripped out from beneath you.

You stepped back, your chest heaving, your heart pounding so loudly you could hear it in your ears.

Mattheo’s face flickered—regret? Pain? You didn’t know. And you didn’t care.

Because this?

This was it.

This was the moment you finally realized—Mattheo Riddle was never coming back to you.

So you shoved past him without another word.

And that night, for the first time since you met him, you stopped hoping.

You stopped waiting.

And you let him go.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

Seventh Year – The War Comes to Hogwarts

Hogwarts was burning.

The night sky above the castle was thick with smoke, illuminated by the chaotic dance of spellfire and the eerie green glow of the Dark Mark hanging in the sky. The once-grand corridors were now battlegrounds, echoing with screams of agony and rage, the scent of blood and ash clinging to every breath. Walls were crumbling, statues shattered, and the very foundation of the school trembled under the weight of war.

You had known this was coming.

The moment Voldemort’s forces breached the castle, you knew this was where everything would end. But you weren’t afraid to die—not anymore.

You had a purpose.

The younger students—the first and second years—were trapped, defenseless against the horror unfolding around them. You weren’t strong like the war-hardened fighters who had joined the battle, but you were determined.

You fought for them.

Not for revenge. Not for glory.

Just for them.

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself forward despite the burning pain in your side, despite the exhaustion clawing at your limbs. Spells shot past you, too close, their heat licking at your skin. The corridor was a battlefield of bodies, fallen Death Eaters and students alike. Your heart pounded as you reached the huddled group of terrified children, their faces streaked with soot and tears.

“It’s going to be okay,” you said, voice hoarse. “Stick together and get to the dungeons. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”

A loud crash shook the castle. You didn’t have time to reassure them further. You turned, wand raised, just in time to block a jet of green light that would have cut down a young Ravenclaw girl.

Your heart pounded. That had been the Killing Curse.

This wasn’t a fight anymore. It was survival.

“RUN!” you shouted.

The children didn’t need to be told twice.

You watched them disappear into the shadows of the castle before turning back to the chaos, your own body trembling. You had done what you could. Now, you had to fight.

And then you saw him.

Mattheo.

Your chest tightened.

He was in the center of the corridor, dueling a Death Eater twice his size. His usually smug face was contorted with focus, sweat dripping down his temple, his movements frantic yet sharp. Blood was smeared across his cheek, his uniform torn, his knuckles split open. He was alone.

You hesitated.

This was Mattheo.

Mattheo who had abandoned you. Mattheo who had laughed while you broke. Mattheo who had sneered as his new friends ripped you apart piece by piece.

But Mattheo was also—

Mattheo was also the boy who once held your hand in the orphanage when the nights were too cold, who swore you’d always have each other, who carried you on his back when you sprained your ankle in third year, who still, after all this time, had the keychain you gave him.

Your feet moved before your mind made the decision.

A flick of your wand sent a stunning spell toward the Death Eater, knocking him off balance.

Mattheo turned sharply, his wide brown eyes locking onto yours. There was something raw in his expression—shock, relief, something else you couldn’t name.

“Y/N?” he breathed.

You didn’t have time for whatever this was.

“Stay behind me,” you ordered, stepping between him and the Death Eater.

Mattheo scowled. “What the fuck—”

A blast of magic cut him off. The Death Eater roared, sending a flurry of curses your way. You dodged, deflected, struck back with everything you had. But he was fast. Strong. Your arms ached, your knees buckled, but you kept going, kept fighting, pushing Mattheo back each time he tried to step in.

Then—

Pain.

White-hot, burning agony erupted through your chest.

A curse you hadn’t seen. A mistake.

The impact sent you crashing to the ground, your wand slipping from your fingers as a scream tore through the battlefield—Mattheo’s scream.

Your vision blurred, the sounds of war fading to a dull roar. Blood seeped from the wound, staining the stone beneath you, soaking into your robes. The pain was unbearable, but the cold creeping into your limbs was worse.

Mattheo was there in an instant.

“No, no, no—fuck, stay with me.” His hands were on you, gripping your face, shaking you. “Don’t fucking do this, Y/N, don’t you dare.”

You tried to focus on him, on his face—the face of the boy you had loved, like something more, once upon a time.

Your lips parted. “Still have it?”

Mattheo froze. His breath hitched, his fingers tightening around your hand.

Slowly, he reached into his pocket.

And there it was.

The keychain.

Tarnished, rusted at the edges, the silver serpent and lion intertwined as they always had been. He held it up with shaking hands, his knuckles white.

“I never took it off,” he whispered. His voice was raw, broken, desperate.

Liar.

You wanted to call him out. Wanted to tell him he had abandoned you, that he had left you alone in the dark for years.

But none of that mattered now.

You tried to smile, but you were too tired. Too cold.

“For old time’s sake,” you murmured.

Mattheo’s breath hitched. His grip tightened on your hand as if he could keep you here, as if he could force you to stay.

Your eyelids felt heavy. The battle around you became nothing but a blur, the sounds distant, like a dream slipping through your fingers.

Mattheo shook you again.

“No, no, don’t close your fucking eyes—stay with me—please—” His voice cracked. “Please, Y/N, I—”

You exhaled.

And everything went quiet.

Mattheo’s screams rang through the battlefield.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

The war was over.

The sun had begun to rise over the ruins of Hogwarts, casting its golden light over the destruction. Smoke still curled from the shattered towers, the once-proud castle reduced to little more than a graveyard. Bodies lined the Great Hall, covered by tattered cloaks and hastily thrown sheets. Some were students. Some were professors.

And some… some were just people who had tried to do the right thing.

Mattheo sat on the cold stone floor, his hands bloodied and shaking, his entire body trembling as he clutched your hand in his.

It was cold.

Lifeless.

He could still see the wound—right through your chest, dark and gaping, as if the curse had burned straight through you. There was dried blood on your lips, your eyes shut as if you were only sleeping.

He tried to shake you.

"Y/N.." he whispered, his voice raw, cracked from hours of screaming. "Wake up."

You didn’t move.

He let out a breath that turned into something closer to a sob, pressing his forehead against your knuckles, his grip tightening.

"You can’t do this to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant cries of mourning. "You can’t just… You don’t get to leave me like this."

His mind wouldn’t accept it. Couldn’t.

Because this was you.

You—who had followed him around like a lost puppy when you were kids. You—who had snuck out with him after curfew, stealing food from the kitchens and laughing as you ran from Filch. You—who had given him that stupid little silver keychain when you were eleven, promising that no matter what, you’d always be there.

His breath hitched as he reached into his pocket with trembling fingers. The keychain was still there.

Tarnished now. Scratched.

The little lion was barely visible through the wear, the silver snake entwined around it dented from years of being tossed around.

But it was there.

And it was the last fucking thing he had left of you.

His fingers curled around it tightly, his nails digging into his palm, shaking as he turned back to your face.

You looked peaceful.

Too peaceful.

And it broke him.

Because you had never been peaceful in life. You had always been moving, always feeling too much, always carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Even when he had abandoned you. Even when he had hurt you.

And Merlin, he had hurt you.

His breath came in ragged gasps as his mind spiraled. Every memory, every moment, every mistake he had made, crashing down all at once.

The way you had looked at him in third year, hurt shining in your eyes when he had brushed you off.

The way you had flinched when he laughed with his friends, when he let them call you names, when he joined in.

The way your sleeve had rolled up in fourth year, revealing the scars on your wrist.

The way he had grabbed your arm, seen them, mocked them.

Oh, Merlin.

He had mocked you.

He had stood there, watched you tremble, watched you pull away—and he had laughed.

A choked sob escaped his throat. He pressed his forehead harder against your hand, his body curling in on itself, his entire world crumbling.

"I didn’t mean it," he whispered. "I swear, I didn’t mean it."

You didn’t respond.

You never would.

He had thought he had all the time in the world.

Time to fix things. Time to make it right.

But there was no time left.

He had wasted years hurting you, pushing you away, pretending you didn’t matter, pretending he didn’t care.

And now you were dead.

Because of him.

Because you had still cared, even when he didn’t deserve it.

Because you had saved him.

His throat burned as he forced himself to sit up, his vision blurred. He let go of your hand only long enough to pull the keychain from his pocket, fingers ghosting over the old metal.

Then, slowly, he reached forward, taking your limp hand in his, forcing your fingers closed around it.

His voice was barely a whisper.

"For old time’s sake."

His shoulders shook as he cradled your hand in his, pressing his forehead against it one last time.

He sat there long after the sun had fully risen.

Long after the mourning families came to claim their dead.

Long after Draco and Theo and Blaise found him, standing over your body, silent, unmoving, hollow.

Long after everything else faded.

Because the war was over.

But for Mattheo Riddle—

It was too late.

322 notes · View notes

iraot · 3 months ago

Text

Word Count: 8,420 Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, gentleman Xavier, yearning, true love, breeding, office romance, mating bonds, stupid government, A/N: I wanted to get this out before I went to work! thank you @hyyih once again for the speedy editing ;-; i appreciate you. <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿

The steady hum of keyboards clicking filled the office, punctuated by the occasional rustle of paper or the low murmur of conversation. It was the last hour of the workday, unarguably, the longest hour of the day, just as painfully lasting as the one right before lunch. Most of their department was already mentally checked out, eyes drifting toward the clock, fingers hovering over their shutdown sequence.

She was no exception. Xavier, however, was still focused. His sharp blue eyes scanned the report on his screen. He leaned back slightly in his chair, the dim overhead light casting a soft shadow over the sharp angles of his face. He looked so effortlessly composed, as he always did—his golden blond hair slightly tousled, the open collar of his button-down revealing just enough skin to make it unfairly distracting.

She tried not to stare.

It wasn’t easy.

Her heat was coming, that much she knew, and it was usually around these times that she had a difficult time tearing her eyes away from the Alpha she would prefer to be spending the week with. She’d been working in this office for three years now, and, for the last year, Xavier had been the quiet, persistent ache in the back of her mind. It wasn’t just his looks—though those certainly didn’t hurt—it was the way he carried himself. Confident, without arrogance. Smart, but never condescending. He had a dry wit that made their endless meetings bearable and a way of making even the most frustrating workdays feel lighter.

And, most importantly, he treated her like a person first. Not just an Omega. That was increasingly rare. Due to the politics surrounding her biological imperative there had been many people who thought Omegas shouldn’t be in the workforce. Citing it as a public health hazard and instead of offering social reform to amend laws to make life easier for Omega’s to live their life the way they wanted; they wanted to cage them. Force them into mating bonds the moment they were able to, and keep them bred and at home where they belong.

The notion alone disgusted her, it was enough to put her off, settling down entirely. Though, there was something about him that made her want it. The quiet moments, the peace, the talks they had at work weren’t enough—but she could never bring herself to say anything.

She couldn’t lose her only confidant at work, not when everything about her employment was looking so bleak.

“Counting down the minutes?”

His voice pulled her from her thoughts, smooth and knowing. She blinked up at him to find his gaze already on her, one brow arched in lazy amusement.

She huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. “A little. Not that I don’t love spending my evenings drowning in spreadsheets.”

He smirked—it was tragic and she felt a flare of heat through her as she shook her head. “Tragic. And here I was, about to ask if you’d wanted to stay late and review quarterly earnings with me.”

She groaned dramatically, setting a hand over her heart. “Tempting. Really. But, unfortunately, I have very important plans that involve getting the hell out of here and not thinking about work for the next week.”

His smirk deepened. “Right. You leave starts tomorrow.” His fingers drummed idly against the desk, thoughtfully. “Where are you escaping to?”

Her stomach flipped, and she ignored the curl of heat in her lower belly. A subtle but sharp reminder of why she was really taking time off.

“Nowhere exciting,” she said lightly, trying to keep her voice even. “Just...home.”

His gaze lingered for a second too long, like he was about to ask something else—but then his attention was pulled away by an email notification, and, just like that the moment passed.

She let out a slow breath. This couldn’t be over soon enough.

Xavier knew she was an Omega, it wasn’t a secret. Though they never talked about it, not directly anyway. He wasn’t one of those Alphas who made a big deal about it, who got weird or awkward. He just treated her like a normal coworker, a normal person. And she really liked that about him.

It was one of the reasons her stupid, quiet little crush had bloomed in the first place. Because it wasn’t just that he was attractive ( he was very much so ), it was that he saw her. Though, none of that mattered. She was about to spend the next several days in heat—alone with some guy named Thomas, and when she came back, things would go right back to normal.

Or, at least, that was the plan.

The plan was simple: finish up the last of her tasks, pack up and get the hell out before anything became noticeable.

Except, as always, life had other plans.

Just when she had thought she was in the clear a last-minute request landed in her inbox, courtesy of her team lead, along with a painfully apologetic message about it just needing a quick once-over before EOD.

Which, of course, meant she was staying late. Just her luck; she had been anticipating this even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. The office that was once bustling was slowly being filtered out, one person after the other–some staying late just like her only to end up leaving well before her. Something that grated on her nerves more than she’d like to let on, but the frustration of her impending heat wasn’t helping matters.

By the time she was finally shutting down her system, the office was quiet. The usual chatter and clicking of keyboards had faded, replaced with the distant hum of the air conditioning. Most of their coworkers had filtered out ages ago, leaving only the faint glow of a few monitor screens still powered on.

And Xavier.

She glanced over at him, still at his desk, sleeves rolled up as he frowned at the screen, his fingers typing something out at a steady pace.

Of course, he was still there.

Unlike her, he actually chose to stay late most nights. Something about “I’d rather get it done now than deal with it tomorrow.”

It was a little annoying how responsible he was.

She shook her head, standing with a stretch. Her body felt uncomfortable, warm, heat curling through her like an ember waiting to ignite.

Too soon.

Too strong.

Her heat wasn’t supposed to hit yet—she had time. But the way her skin prickled, her pulse quickened, and the unmistakable ache that settled low in her belly said otherwise. She closed her eyes, taming her breathing, she had to make it home—once she got there she’d be fine.

No. Not now.

Forcing a breath, she ignored the way her scent felt thicker in the air, more potent, before grabbing her bag. Maybe, if she left now, she could make it home before it really hit. Though the idea of driving home was making her feel sick, all she wanted was her nest she’d been working on for the last month. Building it up, filling it out with stuffed animals and pretty blankets. Making sure to have lots of options when the others got too messy, as they always did.

‘Just a little longer,’ she pleaded internally.

“Finally escaping?”

Xavier’s voice made her jump. She turned to see him leaning back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. The motion pulled his shirt taut across his chest and fuck, that wasn’t helping.

She swallowed hard, “Yeah. I‘d have gone earlier, but someone decided to throw a last-minute file at me.”

Xavier huffed a laugh, “Gotta love corporate efficiency.”

She shrugged before smiling, adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat now, her skin flushed–too warm. She needed to go. But as she took one step toward the door, the overhead lights flickered once. Then, a low mechanical chime echoed through the space, followed by an automated voice:

“Lock down protocol engaged. Please remain in designated areas until further notice.”

Her blood ran cold.

NO. No, no, no—

A second later, the doors locked with a resounding clunk.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she dropped her bag by her feet. This was the worst possible situation for her to be in right now, and she was going to be too hazed out in the next couple hours to even feel mortified about how she was acting.

Xavier stood, brows furrowed. “What the hell?”

She knew what.

Pheromone detection. A security system meant to prevent Alphas from going feral at the scent of an Omega in heat. Specifically, work buildings or big offices like these. When there were typically more than one Alpha in close proximity to an Omega in heat, especially unmated ones, it could get dangerous really fast. A precaution meant to protect people.

A precaution that had just trapped them inside the office together.

Xavier turned to her, something sharp and assessing in his gaze now, his nostrils flaring slightly as realization set in. Her stomach felt like it was about to fall to the floor.

The silence between them was drawn out in an agonizing way, thick with the weight of realization. Her stomach coiled tight, anticipation and fear tangling together in a sickening knot as she took an instinctive step back. Xavier didn’t move. Not immediately. He was still staring at her, processing, his sharp blue eyes darkening fractionally as his nostrils flared again—taking in a scent she knew was getting stronger by the second.

Shit.

She clenched her fists, nails digging crescents into her palms as if the pain alone could somehow ground her, keep her head clear. It wouldn’t. Not for long. Not once the heat wrapped around her brain, muffling any coherent thought till she had a knot stuffed inside her. The one thing she truly hated about this, was that imperative would nearly kill her if she didn’t bow to it.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Not here… not with him.

The security system. The goddamn security system.

Why hadn’t she left earlier? She knew this was coming, she had felt it creeping up on her all day; the slow build of heat, the restless energy tightening beneath her skin just threatening to snap if she got the whiff of even a single Alpha. She had ignored it, denied it even because, truly, her heats were very predictable. Though, something had to have set it off—she didn’t know what, but there was something that must have triggered it. Even if she could make it home, tick herself safely away in her nest, and ride it out with Thomas. Whoever he was, really, the app wasn’t all that great in her experience; perhaps some got luckier than she did.

But no.

No, she was here. Locked inside a corporate office. With him.

A low static-laced chime buzzed through the overhead speakers again, followed by the same pre-recorded messages. “Lock down protocol engaged. Please remain in the designated areas until further notice.”

Like this was just another fire drill. Like her body wasn’t betraying by the second by forcing this heat to come a whole day early when she’d planned for this so far in advance.

Xavier exhaled, a slow, measured thing that sounded too controlled. He finally moved, stepping toward the locked door. She didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his sides before he tried the handle, testing it despite knowing it wouldn’t budge. She felt dizzy, and parched her throat suddenly dry.

“System’s not going to lift until your pheromones drop,” he murmured, half to himself.

She swallowed, “no shit.”

Xavier turned, his gaze flickering to her, something unreadable behind his expression. Not panic. Not irritation. No. Just, calculating.

She didn’t know if that was better or worse. Her whole body felt hypersensitive now, every inch of her skin too tight, too warm. The ache was settling deep, coiling low in her belly and she knew—fuck, she knew—that she was only minutes away from losing any semblance of composure.

Her knees locked. “We need to call someone.”

Xavier was already ahead of her, pulling out his phone. A few taps, a glance at the screen, then—”No service.”

Her stomach bottomed out, “What do you mean, no service?”

He turned the screen toward her, a blank signal bar mocking her very existence. “The building’s in full lock down. Probably blocking all outbound calls until security resets the system.”

Her breath came out too fast, too shallow. The rational part of her knew this would be resolved soon. That someone would realize they were stuck in here and fix it. They had programs for this, Betas who were hired to come and move in heat Omegas and protective Alphas to a place of her choosing. It was all funded by their taxes, so surely, they wouldn’t just leave her here. Who knows, by morning maybe she’d be home.

There was just one glaring issue with this plan. They didn’t have hours. They had minutes.

Xavier was still watching her, his jaw tense, his fingers curled loosely around his phone like he was choosing not to grip it too tightly. He was keeping himself contained, but she wasn’t stupid.

He was an Alpha. She was pushing every single one of his instincts right now.

“You should.. move over there,” she managed, nodding toward the far end of the office, where the breakroom was. “Just—get some space.”

Xavier’s brows pulled together slightly, but didn’t argue. Instead, he stood a slow step backward. Then another. He was giving her distance, trying to make this easier. But it wouldn’t be enough, not for either of them. She could smell him, and GOD did he smell good.

A sharp pulse of heat rolled through her, and her balance wavered. She caught herself against the desk, her fingers gripping the edge far too tightly. She felt the slow trickle of slick into her panties. Her scent must have spiked hard, because Xavier froze like a deer in headlights – his breathing went sharp, his entire frame tensing—like something inside him just snapped to attention.

A fresh wave of panic crashed through her.

This was bad.

This was so bad.

The silence stretched on too long. Too thick. Her pulse roared in her ears, her vision blurring at the edges as another deep rolling wave of heat crashed through her, stealing the breath from her lungs. She swayed slightly, the office suddenly too bright, too small, too full of him.

Xavier hadn’t moved.

He was still standing there, still watching her—but something was different now. His body was rigid, shoulders tense, like he was holding himself together with a piece of string and a prayer. His jaw was locked, throat working hard as he swallowed. His fingers flexed once more, then curled into a fist. And his breathing—fuck, his breathing was beginning to change.

It wasn’t as controlled or measured. He was feeling it. The realization made something dark and needy coil in her gut, an involuntary whimper slipping past her lips before she could stop it. Xavier reacted immediately, clenching his fists harder, his muscles twitching like he was resisting the urge to move, to close the distance between them. His nostrils flared again, this time more deliberate, more aware. His pupils were dilated, fuck, this was really happening.

Her legs trembled beneath her, another fresh wave of slick gathering between her thighs, soaking through the fabric of her underwear. She squeezed her legs together, desperate, frantic, trying to stop it, but all that did was make it worse. Her scent flared out of her in thick, heady waves completely saturating the air around them.

The worst part was, she could feel him too. His scent was beginning to invade her, the musky Alpha scent that made all Omegas weak in the knees. “We need…” her voice came out wrecked, breathless. She swallowed, forcing herself to get the words out. “We need to get out of here.” Xavier let out a sharp, humorless, breath. “No shit.”

She almost laughed. Almost. But another tremor ran through her leaving her legs weak, her body continuing its biological betrayal. This was going to get so much worse. And she knew there was only so much he could handle, while he was controlled and rational on the surface – he wasn’t immune.

Alphas didn’t go into rut on command, not unless they were bonded, but proximity to an Omega in full blown heat? Trapped in a room with one, nowhere to go, nowhere to run?

His body was going to start acting on instinct and, in some ways, it was. The realization sent a fresh spike of panic through her, clashing violently with the unbearable need. She wasn’t supposed to be here, not this, not him. Xavier ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, deliberately, as if trying to center himself. But she could see it now—the tightness in his frame, the way his fingers flexed and relaxed, the heat simmering just beneath the surface of his skin.

He was starting to sweat, a sheen forming on his skin as he pulled at his tie wanting to loosen it as much as possible. He was trying so hard to keep his distance, but every second that passed her scent was sinking deeper into his brain, wrapping around him like a noose. The space between them felt too thin, the air itself charged, suffocating, every breath laced with something she knew neither of them could escape. Her vision waved, a fresh wave of dizziness hitting her, the telltale fog creeping into the edges of her mind. She was losing controlled

“Xavier?” she whimpered softly as she sunk to the floor by her desk, her legs no longer capable of holding hers body up. His name on her lips was barely more than a breath, a soft plea, but it might as well have been a gunshot in the silence. Xavier moved. Slowly. Carefully. Like he was approaching something fragile—something dangerous.

His movements were deliberate and measured. His body still humming with restraint stretched so thin he could basically see through it. His eyes were locked onto her, dark with something he was trying desperately to keep on a leash. His scent cloyed around her, wrapping and pressing into her skin.

And she wanted it, no, she needed it.

Her body was burning from the inside out and this wasn’t even the worst part. Her nails dug into the fabric of her skirt, fingers trembling, thighs pressing together in a futile attempt to ease the ache. It wasn’t enough. It never would be enough.

Xavier crouched in front of her, his weight balanced on his heels, his hands braced on his knees like he was grounding himself—like he wasn’t allowing himself to touch her.

But he was close.

Too close.

Not close enough.

Her breath hitched, the scent of him invading her and it was withering away every ounce of control she had left—which wasn’t much. His jaw tightened, the muscles flexing as he exhaled through his nose. His scent was so much stronger now, more present, and it made something deep in her chest clench, her entire body hyper aware of him. She licked her lips, barely thinking, barely even there, only operating on need now.

He watched her.

His fingers curled against the fabric of his slacks, his knuckles whitening as if he were keeping himself restrained. “You still with me?” his voice was rough, lower than usual—she’d never heard him this way before and it felt oddly intimate, not that she could distinguish that from a typical conversation right now even if she wanted to.

She nodded. Then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

His nostrils flared, his throat working as he swallowed again, and she could feel how hard he was holding back. He was fighting against every instinct, their bodies both betraying them in the most unfair way. Even as his pupils swallowed up the blue of his irises, his entire frame coiled tight.

But he wasn’t going to make the first move, he was waiting on her. And that—fuck, that— made something hot and unbearable roll through her, because he wouldn’t. Not unless she asked. Not unless she took from him.

Her fingers trembled as she lifted one hand, reaching for him before she could stop herself, curling her fingers into the loose fabric of his shirt, gripping it tight. His body jerked at the contact, like she’d shocked him, a sharp inhale hissing between his teeth. Still, he didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t press closer.

He was letting her decide.

Her breath came in quick shallow gasps, her skin flushed, she tugged weakly at his shirt as her fingers flexed, her body begging. Xavier exhaled slowly, measured, his fingers twitching at his sides before he finally lifted one hand.

Not to grab her.

Not to take.

He brushed his knuckles along her temple, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, his touch barely there, but she leaned into it like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

A choked sound left her throat, raw and desperate. His expression shifted. Not with hunger, not with possessiveness.

With understanding. Because he knew she was choosing him.

And that was what made his restraint finally crack.

Xavier shrugged off his jacket, the fabric rustling as he slid it down his arms before he draped it around her shoulders.

“Here,” he murmured, voice rough at the edges but still steady. “This should help.”

It was instinct. Omegas sought comfort in scent, in warmth. And right now, she had nothing—no nest, no blankets, no space to burrow into. Just the cold, hard floor of the office and the suffocating weight of her own heat pressing down on her. The second the fabric settled around her, something in her loosened. It wasn’t enough to fix anything, but it was something.

His scent clung to the material, deep and rich, and she curled her fingers into the sleeves, gripping tight as she buried her face into the collar. A shuddering breath escaped her lips, and Xavier felt the sharp pang of relief and helplessness hit him all at once.

“That’s it,” he murmured, watching the way she curled in on herself, still trembling, still struggling, but just a little less. “Breathe through it.”

She made a small, desperate, sound against the fabric, her entire body shaking. “It’s… too much.”

He swallowed, forcing his muscles to stay loose, his instincts screaming at him to fix it. “I know,” he said softly, “but you’re not alone, alright? You’re gonna be okay.”

She let out a choked breath, and he wasn’t sure if she was hearing him properly anymore—her heat was burning through her so fast, relentless, and she was fading into it, sinking deeper into that biological imperative that would override everything else.

He needed to ground her.

Without thinking, he shifted, adjusting his position so that he was sitting beside her, his back resting against the desk. He kept just enough distance to give her space, but close enough that his presence was solid–real.

Her breath hitched and slowly, almost instinctively, she turned her head, pressing closer—still clinging to his jacket, still trembling, but seeking him now.

His throat tightened.

Fuck.

Xavier exhaled sharply, tipping his head back against the desk, dragging a hand down his face.

This was getting worse by the second.

He was handling it now, barely, but his own body was responding despite everything. The scent of her heat was thick in the air, too thick, and every inhale felt like a slow, measured descent into something he wouldn’t be able to climb back out of.

He had to keep it together.

She needed him to.

Another soft noise left her throat, prompting him to glance down at her, making him notice the way her body quivered, her breath quick and uneven. She was curling into herself, panting against the fabric of his jacket, her entire body wrung out from the intensity of it.

She’s suffering.

That thought hit him harder than anything else.

He adjusted his position slightly, reaching out—not grabbing, just offering. A steadying hand, a point of contact if she needed it. “Come here.” His voice was quieter now, more deliberate. Not a demand. Just an offer.

She hesitated, fingers gripping tighter around his jacket. Then, slowly (shakily) she moved.

She pressed against his side, her body heat searing even through the layers of clothing, and Xavier fought the instinct to react—to tense, to pull her closer. Instead, he let her decide how much contact she needed, how much she could take.

A shaky breath ghosted against his neck. “You… smell good.”

Xavier huffed a quiet, strained laugh. “Yeah, well. So do you.”

Her head tilted, barely lifting from his shoulder, her lips parting slightly as she took another deep inhale, drinking him in.

His pulse kicked up.

Fuck.

He had to keep it together.

But when she let out another small, pleading whimper, pressing closer, his restraint fractured just a little more. Her breath was a soft tremor against his throat, warm and uneven, and he could feel the fine tremble in her limbs as she pressed against him. The scent of her heat was drowning him. His jaw clenched and his grip on control frayed.

She wasn’t just reacting—she was reaching. Fingers twitching against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. Her body was hot, burning, restless, shifting slightly against his side as her knees pressed against his thigh. Each small movement sent a pulse of heat through him, a reminder of exactly what she needed, what her body was begging for.

“Xavier…” her voice was barely a whisper, wrecked and raw, like she was struggling to even form words.

His gut tightened. Fuck.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at her, to meet the wide glazed-over haze of her eyes. Dilated pupils. Lips parted. Breath trembling, she was unraveling right in front of him and they were stuck here in this office till someone came for them or he got her pheromones down somehow. It was getting harder—so much harder—to pretend he wasn’t being pulled under with her.

A slow, shuddering breath escaped him. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice was rough, thick with restraint, but even he could hear the way it wavered.

Her finger grappled tighter into his shirt, a desperate little sound breaking from her throat. “I do.”

Fuck.

Her lips were close—so fucking close—hovering just a breath away, her scent curling around him like a drug, seeping into every crack of his resolve. And then, slowly, she moved.

Soft. Warm. The barest brush of her mouth against his, hesitant at first, almost testing. But then she pressed in, firmer, more insistent, like instinct had taken full control, and Xavier suddenly didn’t feel like a good guy anymore.

His hand came up before he could think, his fingers sliding against the nape of her neck, anchoring her there as he exhaled a harsh breath against her lips. He didn’t pull away, he couldn’t, not when she was melting against him as if the need were too great.

He kissed her back, slow at first, testing the waters, but the second she let out a soft, needy noise again in her mouth, all hesitation burned away. His grip tightened, his fingers moving to the back of her head deepening the kiss, dragging her closer, letting himself taste her properly like he’d always wanted to.

The sound of her whimper had him groaning. She arched against his hands, fisting into his shirt as she pulled herself onto his lap. She was starving for whatever he would give her, her entire body fitting against his like she belonged there—and she did.

Another plea left her lips as she clawed at his clothes, her hands roaming and he could barely catch his breath, the feel of her on him had his pants uncomfortably tight in a way he’d never experienced before. She rocked her hips against him, the movement unintentional, unconscious, but it shot straight through him like a bolt of heat.

His hands snapped to her waist, gripping firmly, stilling her. His breath came harsh and uneven as he forced himself to pace, to think through the haze clouding his brain. “If we start this,” he ground out, his voice wrecked, strained, “I’m not stopping.”

She met his gaze, eyes dark and heavy lidded, her lips swollen from his kisses. No hesitation. No doubt, just pure, unfiltered need.

“Then don’t.”

Xavier didn’t wait. Couldn’t.

The moment the words left her lips something inside him snapped like a taut rubber band. Then, he was moving—his grip tightening, dragging her flush against him, his mouth crushing against hers in a kiss that was nothing like the last. No hesitation. No restraint. Just heat, sharp and all-consuming, like a wildfire swallowing them both whole.

She gasped into it, her fingers tangling his shirt, pulling at him like she couldn’t get close enough. Her thighs clenched tighter around his hips, her body fitting against his perfectly, grinding, desperate, needy, her scent thick and intoxicating as it wrapped around him and turned his thoughts into static.

He was hard, painfully so, the pressure of her on top of him was driving him to the edge of insanity. His hands roamed, sliding down the curve of her back, gripping her hips with bruising force, guiding her movements until she was rolling against him just right. She whimpered, breaking the kiss just to suck in a ragged breath before diving back in, desperate for the man she never thought could want her and hoping with the only part of her brain that was functioning properly that this wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

“Xavier—” his name left her in a choked, pleading gasp as her nails scraped down his chest, seeking, needing.

He cursed under his breath, his own control fraying so completely that he wasn’t sure he’d recognize himself anymore. But it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except her, the feel of her, her body, her scent, and the way she moved against him like she was made for this, for him.

His hand slid lower, over the curve of her ass, fingers digging in as he pulled her down hard, grinding against the aching length of him. She moaned at the contact, her head tilting back, baring the delicate column of her throat. His vision tunneled.

Instinct took over.

He lunged, his lips found her neck, his teeth scraping along her scent gland, a growl rumbling in his chest as she writhed against him. She was panting now, her body trembling in his grasp as she begged, her slick soaking through his pants. He surged up, flipping their positions in one fluid motion, pressing her back against the floor. He cradled her head as he laid her down then brought his mouth back to hers. His hands were everywhere—pushing up her shirt, dragging his fingers across bare skin, tracing the dip of her waist, the curve of her thighs.

He wanted to taste her. To mark her. To bury himself so deep she’d never feel this unbearable heat without thinking of him again. Her hands were at his belt, fumbling, frantic, and he didn’t stop her. Couldn’t. His own desperation mirrored hers too perfectly.

There was no going back.

No stopping.

Not now.

Her fingers trembled against his belt, frantic, desperate to free him from the unbearable constraint between them. Xavier didn’t breathe—couldn’t—his own restraint torn to shreds as he felt her hands on him, her touch sending sharp jolts of heat through every nerve in his body.

“Fuck,” he ground out, his forehead dropping against hers, his breath heavy, uneven. “You—”

But he couldn’t even form words. She was too much, wanting for so long coming to a head like this was not what he’d wanted. The day had started, and he’d been contemplating asking her out for the last year or so – stupid of him to wait so long but he’d seen how others treated her and he didn’t want her thinking he was the same.

He didn’t even realize his hands were shaking until he was helping her, he was tearing at his own belt, shoving at the fabric between them, the need clawing through his veins like fire. She gasped, her hips lifting instinctively, making it easier, urging him on.

The moment there was nothing left between them, the heat of her nearly broke him. Xavier’s head tipped back, a low, guttural groan tearing from his throat as her slick coated him as she ground against him, soft and needy and utterly wrecked beneath him.

“Please,” she whispered, her fingers clutching at his arms, nails digging in leaving little crescents on his skin.

He was going to lose his fucking mind.

His lips crashed against hers again, his body pinning her beneath him, his hands gripping her thighs spreading them and lifting them high up on his waist. Every ounce of control he’d had was gone, burned to ash beneath the fire of her heat.

She was already his and now, she’d know it.

Her breath hitched, a broken, pleading sound as he spread her open, his hands rough and sure against her heated skin. She was trembling, legs wrapped around his waist. Xavier wasn’t thinking anymore, he was past thought, past hesitation, past everything except the need to claim, to take, to finally—finally—have her the way he’d wanted to for so long.

His hands gripped her tight, holding her still as he lined himself up, his cock heavy, aching, slicking with her. The first press of him against her had her whimpering, her fingers clawing at his back, nails dragging, body aching desperately for him.

“Xavier,” she gasped, pleading, her body tensing, quivering beneath him as she tried to push herself down, trying to take him deeper.

With one slow, deliberate roll of his hips, he pushed inside, stretching her open and sinking into her heat so unbearable it nearly broke him. A guttural groan ripped from his throat, his hands tightening on her thighs, his control hanging by a thread.

She made a noise he couldn’t place and then he groaned as she bit his shoulder, near his scent gland and he thrust harder against hers. Xavier barely processed the sharp sting of her teeth sinking into his shoulder before white hot and undeniable instinct roared through him.

His hands slid to her hips, gripping tight, holding her steady as he fucked into her, relentless, fever, chasing the inevitable. He could feel it, the way she was close, trembling on the edge. He wasn’t going to last, not with the way she felt around him, not with the way she moaned his name like it was the only thing left in her mind.

Burying his face against her throat, his teeth grazing over the scent gland in warning. His knot was swelling—he could feel it, the way his body was more than ready to lock her down and breed her. Though, as it turned out – his body wasn’t the only thing that wanted that; he did too. It was flashes or images he’d often thought about – a baby with her eyes, and nose… he could get used to the idea.

The way he stretched her just a little more she had to have felt it, the way her body resisted and then—

“Xavier—” her voice cracked high and breathless, as she clamped down around him, her orgasm tearing through her in a violent, uncontrollable wave.

That was it. A deep guttural sound of possession erupted from him as his hips slammed forward one final time, his knot catching, swelling, locking him inside her. She gasped at the sensation, at the way she could feel everything—him, the warmth spreading inside her, the way their bodies refused to part. For a long moment, she was nothing but sensation, floating in a haze, her limbs loose, her head spinning.

And then, slowly, the heat began to fade.

Not all at once. It was a slow retreat, like waves pulling back from a shore, her body still trembling, still overly sensitive, but the sharp edge of her need was dulling, easing. Her breath evened out, her grip on him loosening, her mind clearing little by little.

Xavier groaned against her throat, his arms wrapped around her, his weight warm and grounded. “You back?” His lips brushed against her temple.

She blinked slowly, her body boneless, her mind still sluggish. “I—yeah,” she murmured, voice hoarse, “I think so.”

His fingers traced lazy circles against her skin, his breath warm against her. “Good,” he murmured. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

She stayed curled against him, her breath slow, steady, but he could still feel the occasional tremor rolling through her muscles. Xavier held her through it, one arm wrapped tight around her back, his free hand smoothing over the damp skin of her hip in slow, grounding motions. His knot was still firm inside her, keeping them connected, keeping her close, exactly where she needed to be.

Where he needed her to be.

It was a long stretch of silence before she finally shifted, her fingers twitching against his skin, her body adjusting ever so slightly beneath his. Xavier lifted his head just enough to look at her. She was soft now, loose-limbed, her eyes half-lidded, still a little glazed but there in a way she’d hadn’t been before. The fever had retreated, leaving behind exhaustion in its wake.

She exhaled, a shaky sound that made something in his chest tighten. “It’s gone,” she murmured, blinking up at him. “I can think again.”

Xavier swallowed, pressing a slow kiss against her temple, his fingers still tracing idle patterns against her hip. “Good,” he said softly. “How do you feel?”

She made a small noise, shifting against him. “Sore. But… safe.”

Safe.

His arm tightened around her without thinking, a fierce wave of something sharp and protective surging through him. Mine. A dull chime rang through the building, distant but unmistakable. The lock down had lifted. His muscles tensed instinctively, his mind shifting into something more alert. They weren’t alone.

She felt it too—the way his body coiled beneath her, his breathing changed. She pushed herself up slightly, just enough to glance toward the door, her expression flickering with something wary.

A moment later, a knock sounded. Firm. Measure. Too damn official.

“Fuck off,” Xavier called without thinking, his voice still rough, his usual calm and relaxed approach gone. He had to keep her safe, his Omega.

A pause. Then: “Sir, we need to confirm the Omega’s condition,” came a level, professional voice from the other side. “We have robes prepared. We will escort you both to a secure location of her choosing.”

She let out a small sigh, her body slumping back against him. "Just my apartment," she muttered. "That's all I want."

Xavier shifted, running a hand up her back, fingers splayed possessively. "You sure?"

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. "Yeah. I just want my nest. And you."

Something in his chest gave, his throat tightening slightly. He forced himself to take a slow breath, forcing down the instinctual growl building in his throat at the thought of anyone else being around her right now.

He pressed another kiss against her forehead. "Alright."

Only then did he finally address the Betas outside. "Give us a minute."

The pause was long, but then the voice replied, "Understood."

It took time for his knot to shrink, for him to finally, reluctantly slide out of her. She let out a quiet whimper at the loss, and Xavier clenched his jaw, his fingers soothing along her spine. He helped her up slowly, keeping her steady as she found her balance on unsteady legs.

They dressed in the robes provided, but Xavier never let her go, keeping her tucked close against his side as they finally stepped out.

The Betas were waiting, their expressions carefully neutral, their eyes flicking between them with quiet efficiency. Xavier bristled, instincts still sharp, still too much.

One of them, a man with graying hair and a calm, measured stance, inclined his head toward her. "Do you require any medical assistance?"

She shook her head immediately, curling against Xavier’s side. "Just take us home."

The Beta nodded. "Very well."

Xavier kept an arm around her as they were led out of the building, down to the waiting transport. He barely looked at anyone, barely acknowledged anything outside of her. She was tired, still fragile, her body worn from the intensity of her heat, and he refused to let anyone near her, refused to let her stand on her own when she could lean on him.

They reached her apartment, and the moment the door closed behind them, she exhaled, her body sagging with relief.

"Xavier," she murmured, fingers fisting in his robe. "Nest."

His lips brushed the crown of her head. "I'm here."

And he always would be.

She barely made it two steps into her apartment before Xavier scooped her up, carrying her straight to her nest without hesitation. She let out a soft noise—half protest, half relieved sigh—and curled against him, letting herself be held. He stepped over the mess of blankets, pillows and plushies, easing her down carefully. She sank into it, immediately, burrowing into the familiar scents, her fingers fisting into the soft fabric, inhaling deep. Xavier knelt besides her, brushing his fingers over her cheek, letting them linger only slightly.

“Need anything?” he asked, voice quieter now, less rough but still heavy with the remnants of everything that had just happened.

Her nose wrinkled. “Food…”

Xavier huffed a soft laugh, rubbing his hand down his face. “Yeah, alright. That, I can do.”

The words felt like a lie the second he stepped into her kitchen.

He stood there, hands on his hips, staring blankly at the cabinets, the fridge, the entire concept of cooking like it had personally wronged him. Fuck. He could take down a fully grown Alpha in a fight, handle high-stress negotiations, keep his head cool under pressure—but making something edible? Apparently, that was his breaking point.

He opened the fridge, eyes scanning the contents. Leftover takeout—probably bad leftover takeout—a few eggs, some cheese, a loaf of bread that might still be good. Simple. Safe. He could work with that.

Fifteen minutes later, he returned to the bedroom with a plate of the most aggressively mediocre scrambled eggs and toast she had ever seen.

She blinked up at him, her face half-buried in a pillow, her scent calmer now, more her without the haze of heat fogging her up. “You made me food?”

Xavier grunted, setting the plate down in front of her. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

She pushed herself up slowly, wincing slightly as her sore muscles protested the movement. He immediately reached out, steadying her, his fingers curling against her waist. “Careful,” he murmured.

She hummed, leaning into him for just a second before turning her attention back to the food. “…Did you poison this?”

Xavier narrowed his eyes. “Eat the damn eggs.”

She smirked but obediently took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Thought about it.

“…It’s not bad.”

He snorted, stretching out beside her. “I’ll get better. For you.” He said it like a promise, his hand finding her thigh, rubbing absent circles against her skin.

Her gaze softened, and for a long moment, she just looked at him. No heat, no desperation—just warmth, just him.

“What does this mean?” she finally asked, setting the plate aside.

Xavier exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I think you know.”

She hesitated, her fingers twitching against the blanket. “…Say it.”

He turned, cupping her jaw, tilting her face toward his. “You’re mine,” he said simply, his voice steady, final. “And I’m yours.”

Her breath hitched. “Even without the heat?”

Xavier’s fingers tightened slightly. “Especially without the heat.” He leaned in, brushing his nose against hers, his lips barely grazing her mouth. “I wanted this before. Before your scent wrecked me. Before I had you like this.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs, her body already responding, already shifting closer. “Xavier…”

His mouth found hers in answer, slow this time, deep, deliberate. Nothing rushed. Nothing frantic. This wasn’t instinct demanding—this was them choosing.

She melted, sighing into him, her fingers slipping beneath his robe, tracing the firm muscles of his stomach, his back, pulling him down into the nest with her. Xavier followed easily, covering her body with his, the weight of him solid and grounding, exactly what she needed.

His hands moved over her, memorizing, relearning, touching her without the urgency of before. When he finally slid between her thighs, when he finally pushed into her again, it wasn’t desperate—it was right.

She gasped, clutching at him, her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he buried himself deep, his breath shuddering against her throat.

He kissed her softly, murmuring against her skin. “One more time, baby. Then we sleep.” His thrusts were slow and deep, his mouth open against her throat – her scent gland under his teeth.

His knot swelled again, locking them together, sealing his promise; his bite only made it official. His teeth broke the skin as he locked inside her and her body quaked around his cock as the bond snapped into place.

And this time, when they fell asleep, it wasn’t from exhaustion.

It was peace.

࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜ ࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜ ࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒

Walking into the office a week later felt different.

Xavier felt it the moment they stepped through the doors—eyes flicking toward them, whispers passing between coworkers, the subtle shift in scent recognition as people noticed.

He barely gave a fuck.

She was tucked close to his side, her body still recovering from the intensity of her heat, her scent calmer now, but changed. Mated. His. It was in the way her scent had deepened, the way his own scent wrapped around hers, unmistakable, permanent.

And everyone could tell.

Xavier kept a hand at the small of her back as they walked through the office, his touch light but firm, grounding. She leaned into it without thinking, her fingers brushing against his wrist before dropping back to her side.

“Oh shit,” someone muttered from the break room as they passed.

Xavier turned his head slightly, flicking his gaze toward the group of Betas huddled around the coffee machine. They immediately looked away, suddenly very invested in their drinks.

Another voice, quieter but amused, followed. “I knew something was going on.”

She let out a breath beside him, her fingers twitching at her side. “They’re talking,” she muttered under her breath.

Xavier hummed. “Let ‘em.”

He wasn’t ashamed. Would never be ashamed of her. If anything, he felt a slow, deep satisfaction settle in his chest knowing everyone knew. Knowing that every single Alpha in this place who had ever thought about getting too close to her would now have to fucking think again.

And they did.

People moved differently around them now. Subtle things. A few more steps of distance, a second glance before approaching, even some outright avoidance from Alphas who used to think they had a shot.

Good.

They made it to her desk without incident and Xavier leaned against the edge of it, arms crossed, watching as she settled into her chair.

She let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders. “Feels weird.”

Xavier arched his brow. “Being back?”

She shook her head. “Being… this back. With you.” Her fingers brushed absently against her scent gland—the bite mark faded now, but still there, a physical reminder of what they were now.

Xavier reached out, catching her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her palm, slow, deliberate. “Get used to it, baby.”

She flushed, mouth opening—

“Alright, so who won the betting pool?”

Xavier sighed heavily, tilting his head toward the intruding voice.

Eli from accounting. Smug as fuck.

A chorus of groans and muttered complaints echoed from various corners of the office.

“No way, it actually happened?”

“Shit, I had them breaking first, not full-on mating—”

“God dammit, I was so sure it was gonna be another six months—”

Xavier dragged a hand down his face as she groaned, burying her head in her arms. “There was a pool?”

Eli smirked, leaning against the cubicle wall. “Oh, hell yeah. Half the office had money on when you two would finally stop eye-fucking and do something about it.”

Xavier let out a slow, measured breath, fingers twitching slightly against his bicep.

“Don’t kill him,” she muttered, her voice muffled against her sleeves.

“I make no promises,” Xavier said flatly.

Eli held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t be mad at me, man. Be mad at the people who lost their paychecks betting against you.” He grinned. “Not my fault everyone else thought you were a coward.”

Xavier moved, and Eli took a very quick step back.

“Alright, alright—point made, Alpha.”

Xavier didn’t smile, but his posture relaxed slightly, his fingers returning to their usual resting place at the small of her back.

Eli caught the movement, his smirk widening slightly before he turned to walk away. “By the way, tell your girl if she ever gets sick of your cooking, I make a mean spaghetti.”

Xavier’s glare could’ve melted steel.

Eli cackled all the way back to his desk.

She peeked up from her arms, eyes glinting with amusement. “…You are a shit cook.”

Xavier leaned down, brushing his lips against her ear. “Say that again and see what happens.”

She shivered. “Xavier—”

“Mm.” He kissed her scent gland, soft, just enough to make her breath hitch. “After work, we’re going home.”

Her fingers curled against his thigh. “And?”

Xavier exhaled against her skin. “And I’m gonna put you in your nest and fuck you stupid.”

Her pulse kicked up, her scent sweetening slightly. “You just said to get used to this.”

He smirked. “Yeah. This is getting used to it.”

She huffed, but the way her thighs pressed together told him everything he needed to know.

Yeah.

They were mated now.

And everyone knew it.

#xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #xavier lads #love and deepspace smut

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imperator-titus · 9 months ago

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Favorite Party Banter [Gale Edition]

[Astarion (Ascended)] [Halsin/Jaheira] [Gale] [Karlach] [Lae'zel] [Minsc] [Minthara] [Shadowheart] [Wyll]

I often miss party banter because of party comp (and sometimes just straight up can't hear??) so here's a collection of my favorite bants while going through dialogue files. I know the wiki has the banter (most? all?) but I added the file names and dev notes.

Either Gale is the main speaker/subject or I think his reaction is good shit.

Not in any particular order.

[PB_Laezel_Gale_ROM_Act2]

Gale: So, Lae’zel - have you ever been tempted to use psionics in your, erm, romantic endeavors? {Devnote: Curiosity winning out over awkwardness}

Lae’zel: Only once. Did you know, in low-gravity settings, githyanki can maintain aerial suspension for hours at a time? {Devnote: cheekily}

Gale: Fascinating - I think the archmage Tasha described a spell with similar effect. I really must look that up… {Devnote: latter part almost to self}

[PB_Gale_Astarion_ROM_Act3_Spawn]

Gale: If you’re feeling faint after your bout with Cazador, Astarion, I don’t mind donating some blood. {Devnote: Sincere/Genuinely trying to help}

Astarion: When you’re still full of that Netherese bile? I’ll pass, thank you.

Astarion: Besides, I have someone else to nibble on. And they are delicious.

[PB_Gale_Shadowheart_Morgue]

Gale: Look at this place. Such horrors defy descriptions…{Devnote: In very bleak/grim surroundings}

Shadowheart: Silence can be best. Give it a try sometime. {Devnote: A little cheeky, though they’re in a grim place}

[PB_Gale_Shadowheart_ROM_Act3_Selune]

Gale: I must tell you, Shadowheart, the bathing waters here leave much to be desired. {Devnote: a bit know it all}

Gale: The ablutions offered at the Temple of Beauty in Waterdeep are far superior. And they have the most excellent soaps.

Shadowheart: Hmm. I was wondering why you always smelled like a wealthy dowager. {Devnote: teasing}

[PB_Wyll_Gale_ROM_Act2]

Gale: I’ve heard that in Baldur’s Gate, ‘wizard’ is also a term used for one who eschews their more, ahem, carnal desires. Is that true, Wyll? {Devnote: Fishing for info, a bit annoyed about what he’s heard.}

Wyll: Where are we going with this, Gale?

Gale: Oh, nowhere. I just think it a rather cruel misnomer. Not at all reflective of the glamour wizarding life affords. {Devnote: A bit sulky/sensitive about it}

[PB_Gale_Astarion_ROM_Act2]

Gale: I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, Astarion. {Devnote: sincere/sympathetic}

Gale: One heartbreak was quite enough for me, but to experience it as many times as you have must change a person.

Astarion: Thank you, Gale. Let us both hope that broken hearts are a thing of the past.

[PB_Karlach_Gale_BlushingMermaid]

Karlach: Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?

Gale: She who thirsts buys drink the first. {Devnote: Like it's a well-known saying}

Karlach: You won't pin me down with a rhyme, wizard! {Devnote: jockeying with Gale}

Gale: She who declines gets the worst of the wines.

[PB_Laezel_Gale_ROM_Act3_001]

Lae'zel: Gale, I've heard you talking in your sleep. Your mate needs better rest for our journey.

Gale: And deprive them of the pleasure of hearing my nocturnal postulations? I'd never be so cruel.

Gale: The mind absorbs much while we believe ourselves dormant. To lie beside Gale of Waterdeep is positively educational.

[PB_Karlach_Gale_ROM_Act1]

Gale: Karlach... a hypothetical question for you.

Gale: If someone - not me, of course - detected a hint of romantic interest in them from another, unnamed individual, what might that someone do about it?

Karlach: Whoever it is, just talk to them, Gale. And leave out the hypotheticals.

Gale: Talking. Right. I'm good at that.

#bg3 #bg3 dialogue #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #Karlach #laezel #Astarion #wyll #shadowheart #text post #titus post #bg3 meta

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stxrvel · 1 year ago

Text

the house (2)

hi guys! i felt so inspired that i was able to write part 2 soon and that's a very rare thing for me. thank you so much for all your comments and notes! they made me very happy. see you in the next one!

summary: Azriel wasn't gonna give in so easily with Rhysand, but he had to do everything he could to ensure his mate's well-being pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +3.5k warnings: bad words and fights and angst and a lot of anger. also English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes!

part 1: the cliff

part 3: the court

part 4: the routine

“... what the fuck is wrong with me? No, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Az, I had no idea-”

“What does that fucking power works for if you're not gonna use it right?”

Cassian stood back from the commotion, with Nesta and Mor on either side of him watching from head to head as words crossed. Azriel was raising his voice and snarling at his own High Lord, and Cassian was almost surprised to see the way Rhys only dropped his shoulders, looking at his brother with sunken eyes as he claimed him. He had no intention of defending himself, Cassian could almost feel how embarrassed and remorseful Rhys was from a distance.

Azriel had a right to be angry, everyone knew that. And no one would stand in the way (unless the situation turned violent) because they understood the lengths you could go to just to safeguard your mate's well-being. Rhys would do it for Feyre. Cassian would do it for Nesta. Cassian always believed that this was how he would see Azriel defend his mate, right when he found her, and he was grateful that Rhys understood that his cries came from beyond rage and anger. There was anguish there, pain, guilt… Cassian had never seen Azriel so upset.

Returning to the Town House was torturous. Azriel wouldn't leave his mate's side and wouldn't allow any of his brothers to get close either, but she wasn't willing to go to a place she didn't know at all either, even if her mate accompanied her. Cassian had to watch his friend be more cautious and careful than ever with someone he never thought he had to be: with himself and Rhys. The sight was bleak as Azriel's shadows swirled around him and his mate, almost as if erecting a wall between the four of them. The looks Azriel sent them were like daggers and just by sharing a glance they knew that this was something the Shadowsinger wasn't going to overcome out of thin air, even if hundreds of years of friendship gave him the confidence to do so.

Azriel had to make a promise with her to convince her to leave, because he wasn't willing to let her disappear from his sight and she wasn't willing to just go with them for the sake of it, when one of the men in front of her was the one who pushed her off the cliff.

Cassian noticed several times Azriel watching the tattoo with crystallized eyes. Beyond everything, the hostile and distrustful context of the whole situation caused him pain.

Arriving at the Town House, they were all assembled. Without wondering too much without Rhys having spoken to Feyre (which he surely had), Cassian ran into the kitchen where Nesta was with her sisters and enveloped his mate in a tight embrace. Within seconds he heard movement around him and knew Rhys had done the same. Neither of them would ever be able to forgive each other for what had happened, if Azriel ever forgave them first.

“Az, I'm truly sorry,” Rhys stood behind his desk, the only thing that allowed him distance from a heated Azriel, besides Feyre's presence which the Shadowsinger respected even within his rage. “I was careless with the inmates. And you're right, it was easier for me to have simply looked inside her head. It had been a long time coming and I think I became confident of the reality of the situation, that whenever I saw inside them I knew what they were. I didn't give her the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry, brother.”

“Your apologies are worthless,” Azriel spat, his face almost red from the way he was trying to contain his emotions and his hands resting on the table. Rhys lowered his head in front of him, running his hands over his face. “How are you going to fix with your words what for years broke under your nose? How can I come to look at you with respect when my mate is terrified to see you?”

Cassian felt Nesta's hands wrap around his right arm and he lowered to look at her questioningly. She had reserved her comments from the moment Cassian had told the two sisters what had happened. Feyre had escorted Rhys to his office after their effusive hug and Cassian had stayed with Nesta and Elain in the kitchen, talking. With Elain it had been a little easier, her face looked mortified and she had run after Rhys and Feyre barely understood what had happened.

Nesta… she tried not to show what she was thinking, but Cassian knew there was something that made her feel upset and insecure.

Cassian tugged at the bond, trying to get her attention and Nesta had to drag her gaze from Azriel to look at her mate. Cassian felt the air rush out of his chest when he noticed the tears under her eyes. He didn't waste a second in leading her out of the room, moving into the giant living room in complete darkness, despite it being barely noon. The maroon curtains lent a more somber look to the situation.

“What's wrong?”

Nesta closed her eyes as Cassian's hands cradled her face, letting out a pair of tears that furrowed the border with her cheeks. A ragged breath left her and Cassian felt the agony of her nervousness shake his body.

“I had already seen her,” she whispered, her eyelids tightening. Cassian frowned, but didn't interrupt her when she came up for air again. “I once accompanied Rhysand and Feyre to the camp. Feyre had told me that Rhysand had some business to take care of on the mountain. I heard… I heard her voice…”

Cassian pulled his mate closer by the shoulders, pressing her against his chest as her voice broke off.

“I heard her voice begging Rhysand to believe her,” Nesta continued, trying to still the sobs that were born in the ache in her chest. Cassian shared the sentiment, the end of the bond in his chest twisting with his mate's wailing. “She was so scared…”

Nesta wrapped her arms around Cassian's torso, sinking her face into her mate's neck. Cassian moved from side to side, trying to send warm sensations through the bond, trying to calm her down a bit.

Nesta's revelation left Cassian almost frozen. The last time Rhys had gone to the mountain had been ten years ago.

Azriel hadn't expected that to be the way he would meet his mate, much less would he have expected her to be terrified to be around his brothers and almost himself and, of course, much, much less had he expected to hold so much resentment against Rhysand.

His mate hadn't left the room Azriel had left her in, as far away from the others' rooms as possible. With the tattoo burning his skin, Azriel had not only promised her that she would be safe in the Town House, but she had also made him promise that her interactions with his brothers would be next to none. With the watchful eyes of his friends from centuries ago upon his back, Azriel agreed. He had to make sure to provide for his mate's physical and mental health, especially when he knew that the time she had spent with the Ilyrian soldiers had to have been traumatizing.

And of course, there was also the issue of the bond.

His mate couldn't or didn't know how to control the flow of emotions that traveled through the bond and Azriel felt it all. At the moment she was relaxed, calm inside the room away from everyone, but Azriel was losing his temper in the living room. His friends were gone, they had left him a moment alone when he had finished yelling at Rhysand, as he tried to control his emotions and those of her mate, who had surely been listening to everything and so was sending distressing sensations through the bond.

But even with all that space to himself he still felt like he couldn't breathe.

He didn't know how things were going to be from now on. The mere thought terrified him to the bone. He didn't know how he would deal with the fact that he wanted and was dying to be near his mate, to hold her, to comfort her, to support her, to protect her just a step away from him, but he couldn't, at least for now. The need consumed him and tormented him. Staying behind had never been an option, especially if it was his mate, but what could he do if that was what she wanted? He would have to get used to the pain, the emptiness he already felt in his life even though it had barely been half a day since he had found her.

Ah, Azriel didn't know how much guilt and pain he could carry until his knees failed.

He closed his eyes for a couple of minutes, laying his head back on the couch, his face settled in the direction of the ceiling. He tried to relax his muscles, stiff from the tension and stress, from the speed with which everything had happened in the last few hours. Maybe then he could get some sleep. He didn't know how it would be now that he had found his mate.

Azriel was beginning to feel his body going numb, the inattention to his senses and the lightness of his limbs, when a pair of light footsteps entered the room. They would've gone unnoticed by anyone, but not him. He lifted his head attending to the sound, finding you on your feet, frozen, all around the entrance to the living room, hands clasped together twitching in nervousness.

Azriel didn't know what to do. His heart skipped a beat at the sight. But he also felt the fear and nervousness coursing through the bond from the other end. He tried to send calm through his end, hoping that and the shadows crowding at her feet, which hadn't left her since they found her, would allow her to relax a bit.

“I'm sorry… for interrupting,” you looked down and Azriel had to stifle the urge that went through his body to get up and go running to your side. His head filled with the memories of his dream, cruelly comparing the happiness that was in them and the sadness that now engulfed you. Your voice was barely a whisper.

“It's okay,” Azriel stood up carefully and quietly, catching your attention. From the way you brought your hands to your chest, still clasped together, Azriel made no attempt to move closer.

“I need to ask you something,” you fought with the words until you finally told him and a current of panic ran through the bond, so strong that Azriel had to hold back the grimace on his face.

“Whatever you need.”

You looked at him again and Azriel felt something in his chest blossom. He sent that feeling through the bond, hoping it would counteract the anxiety on your end, but only received a frown in response.

“I need to contact my parents,” you asked, shifting your feet a little closer and Azriel quickly caught the pleading expression you were trying poorly to hide.

“Sure. Where are they? I can take them a letter, if you want,” Azriel offered, but your reply wasn't welcome as a spasm of pain ran through his chest.

“No… I-I-I don't want that,” you shook your head, lowering your head. The way you moved your intertwined fingers made him question how much courage you'd had to muster to come out of your room and ask him that. You must've wanted it badly. Surely it was all you could think about for all the years you were on the mountain. Azriel moved his hand from side to side across his chest, through the fabrics of his clothing.

“We'll do what you want, then. Tell me where they are.”

“Adriata,” you whispered, eyes glittering.

Azriel choked. Of course, former prisoner of the Summer Court. How would he get across the border if he had a blood ruby in his desk drawer? Rhysand and he were still mortal enemies of the Summer Court.

“And how do you want to contact them?”

“I want to go back.”

“What?” he coughed, his body tensing and the calm evaporating from his body in a second. Surprise narrowly prevented him from noticing your crystallized eyes.

“Azriel,” you implored, taking long strides towards him, frozen in place, electricity coursing through his veins from the way you said his name. “I don't even know how long it's been since I last saw them. Please, please. That was all I've ever wanted since I was captured. I just want to see them and let them know I'm okay. Please.”

Azriel stood there on his feet in front of you, barely acknowledging the fact that you had moved so close to him that from just raising a hand he could run down your cheeks. Your request had torn at his chest and he was sure he hadn't been able to keep some of that emotion from traveling through the bond, because now you looked more disgruntled and nervous than before. Now you wanted to… leave? And you were asking him to let you do it, as if he had any right to keep you here, as if you owed him anything?

The Shadowsinger clasped his hands at his sides, trying to contain his emotions behind the line, trying to keep them from affecting you too much. He had never felt such pain, not even something he could imagine, nothing that had ever hurt him before could compare to the pain of that moment. He hadn't had a moment with her and he had to let her go already.

“You want to go back… to Summer Court,” Azriel murmured, trying to confirm the obvious, as if you repeating it made it more real, as if he needed it to be sure.

“Yes,” you shook your head in assent and Azriel's heart crinkled as he noticed your desperation. Of course that would be the first thing you would want to do, how could he have been so selfish as to not even consider it before? How could he not have suggested it from before?

“You… I don't… I mean-”

“Azriel,” you took another step, hesitant, he could tell by your body language, but trying to keep the assurance on your face. “I need to see them. Please.”

“All right. Just… wait,” Azriel moved to the side, trying to clear his mind and think rationally even though your closeness was suffocating him. “There's something you should know.”

“I know the Night Court and the Summer Court aren't on good terms,” you shook your head, as if to tell Azriel that it was a silly problem that should have no bearing on your return.

“Yes, but that's not all,” moving his hands away from his already sufficiently tousled hair, Azriel looked at you in anguish. “If you go back to Summer Court now, I don't think you'll be able to come back again.”

You frowned at him, tilting your head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Rhysand has held the Summer spies captive for…. many, many years. Tarquin has tried to negotiate their release, but Rhysand is not open to negotiating with him, or even seeing him again,” Azriel tried to explain, not overlooking the way you flinched when he mentioned the high lord's name. “If you leave now… If your parents declared you missing… Tarquin's not going to let you go out again. And they won't let me in either because the moment they see me they'll try to kill me.”

The silence that followed his words was agonizing. Azriel was terribly frightened. It didn't calm him to know that the doubt in your eyes was minimal; the desire to see your parents again was greater than the possibility of never seeing your mate again. The mere thought made him shudder, but if that was the case, there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing.

“Why… why wouldn't my High Lord let me come back?”

“Fifteen years ago the high lord forbade his people to return to the Night Court. Fifteen years ago no person from the Summer Court has gone beyond the mountains of Day.”

“Fifteen years?” you stammered, an expression of incredulous surprise taking over your face. “I'd been there for more than fifteen years?”

Azriel halted his movements, barely noticing how you succumbed to gravity and plopped down on the couch where he had been a couple of minutes earlier in complete stupefaction.

“Y/N, I'm really sorry-”

“I can't stay here,” you looked at him again, shaking your head in refusal and sending a current of panic through the bond. “I don't want to. I need… I need to see my parents. I want to be with them.”

Azriel shuddered at the desperation he saw in your eyes. He wasn't going to deny you that, ever. But he couldn't deny that he wanted to show resistance because, if you left right then, when would he ever see you again? They wouldn't even have time to talk about the elephant in the room, but, at the same time, it didn't seem like the most important conversation at the moment.

Azriel wanted to cry.

“It's okay. Don't worry. Of course you'll go see them,” he finally spoke, facing the reality he would have to live in from now on.

“Thank you,” you cried and Azriel felt each tear pierce his heart, even though the feeling of relief reached all the way to his chest, your relief, mixed with his hopelessness. “But, you… you won't be able to go.”

“No.”

“We won't be able to see each other.”

“No,” Azriel exhaled sharply and shook his head slightly. “But I'll work it out. Somehow.”

“You can't go near there. Tarquin would hurt you!”

Azriel felt the worry reach from the other end of the bond to his chest and was a little glad to know that you at least cared about him the same way he cared about you.

“I'll make an agreement. Whatever I have to do, I'll do it. I promise.”

You nodded in his direction, convinced of his words, convinced of his shaky assurance and confidence.

“And you… will you accompany me?”

You frowned when he shook his head, but quickly added, thinking he'd be mad and damned if he'd let you spend the return trip all alone after all you'd been through, “I know a faster way to travel.”

“Okay,” you nodded, calm finally ruling in your body. “So when do we leave?”

Everyone in the house had gathered to receive Azriel's announcement and things were breaking down just as he expected.

No one had said anything for several minutes after the Shadowsinger announced that he would be going to the Summer Court with you, to return you to where you belonged, to your true home.

“I'll do it,” Mor was the first to speak, to Azriel's right, watching him confidently. She turned to look at Rhysand, who hadn't looked up since his brother finished speaking, deep in thought with a hand on his chin. “I'll request a meeting with him.”

Cassian stirred at Azriel's left side, sweeping his gaze over everyone present. He could almost imagine what was going through his friend's head, helpless at not being able to join him, just as it must've been going through Rhysand's mind. Azriel knew the only reason his High Lord was still thinking was that. If it was risky for the Shadowsinger to go, it would be worse if it was both of them.

“I can go too,” Feyre spoke to Rhysand's right and the aforementioned raised his head in a second, beginning to shake his head in denial.

“For no reason should you ever step near that Court again,” Rhysand stood up, resting his hands on the desk and leaning towards his mate. His face contracted, contrasting with Feyre's warm gaze.

“Rhys, don't you think it's time to get this over with?” Feyre reached up to cradle his mate's face, Rhysand leaning in almost on instinct, betrayed by his senses.

“You want me to overlook so easily what he did to you?” the High Lord frowned, closing his eyes under Feyre's gentle touch.

“Not easily, Rhys. It's been fifty years.”

“You know fifty years is nothing to us,” Rhysand snorted, straightening his back.

The Shadowsinger clicked his tongue.

“It was too much for Y/N.”

No one in the room had to look twice to know that Azriel was tense, hands clasped behind his back. Rhysand turned to see him, his wary look of apology over his friend's stony expression.

“You know I didn't come here to ask your permission, Rhysand,” Azriel almost spat, dragging the words out between his teeth.

Mor shuddered beside him, following Cassian's gaze. In so many centuries, there had obviously been trouble between the Inner Circle for some time, but in this moment it felt different, deeper and more painful. The anger and rancor in Azriel's gaze was unmatched and to earn that facet of the Shadowsinger you really had to be a son of a bitch. Mor hoped she was wrong.

“It could be dangerous for you,” Rhysand warned and Azriel had to stifle a wry chuckle. The way his High Lord's features contorted gave him to understand that he had understood the twitch in his muscles all too well.

“I don't care what you think,” Azriel bellowed, clasping his hands at his sides. “I'll go with her, and since Mor offered I'd greatly appreciate it if she'd accompany us.”

Rhysand didn't respond, settling for sharing a glance with his brother, trying to reach a part of him that was minimally willing to forgive him. Azriel sensed his intrusion and angrily erected a wall of obsidian in his mind, miles away, forcibly pulling Rhysand out of his head. The aforementioned barely staggered to his feet.

“Fine, but I'd like to be kept informed of everything that happens,” Rhysand nodded looking at Mor, who barely returned the gesture and left the office to manage the meeting as soon as possible.

When the doors rattled and the room fell silent again, Rhysand looked at Azriel pleadingly.

“Az-”

“If that's all.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, Azriel turned on his heels and stormed off. Cassian followed close behind, barely sending a glance at his high lord, his brother, saying with his gaze how sorry he was that it had all happened and ended like this.

#azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar fanfiction #rhysand acotar #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar series

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sobbingscripter · 2 months ago

Text

Tags: [mlw][mdni][annoyed to lovers][missionary][couch sex][slight bottom!Michael][missionary][mating press][prone bone][clit teasing][lawn chair moment][

"I need lots of gold and lots of blue."

You stare at Michael as those words leave his lips, and you internally grimace at the mental image you paint. Blue carpets and gold walls, and everything just looks like a Sims fever dream. And you swallow.

"Michael, as your interior designer, I can't willingly let your penthouse look tacky. I just can't." You deadpan, shaking your head before dropping down onto the sofa, plopping your files down onto the coffee tables and you splay out all of the different fabrics, paint swatches, textures and everything you could possibly need to do an analysis of Michael's home.

A brand new penthouse, bought and his to do with what he pleases.

Which is code for: yours to do with what you please.

"But I'm Booster Gold. I'm golden, baby." He grins, dimples in his suntanned cheeks, golden hair falling over his brow bone before he cards his fingers through the strands, pushing them out of his face before glancing down at your tools and materials.

Michael's always found the way you work fascinating. You're great with interior decorating, and your innate ability to Feng Shui any room without struggle is... Alarmingly sexy to him.

Especially when he watches the way you roll the sleeves of your blouse up to your elbows, pinning your hair back and continue to move around his penthouse like you own the place.

That's the best part to him.

"Firstly, don't call me baby. And secondly, being 'golden', doesn't mean being tacky. There's enough tacky rich people in the world." You huff out, before glancing around the penthouse.

It looks rather... Nice. Plain, boring but nice.

Wooden floors, cream walls, minimalistic paintings that hang on the walls to add colour to the otherwise bleak space. And you purse your lips.

"What room do you wanna start with first?" You question, and when Michael tips his head a certain way, you let out a breath before moving towards his bedroom.

Spacious, large windows that lead onto a balcony terrace, carpeted floors and an ensuite. And you let out a whistle.

"Okay, I can work with this. What's my budget?" You question with a hum, turning on your heels, platforms doing nothing to stop the fact that you need to crane your neck to meet that ocean-y gaze.

And Michael lets out a laugh.

"A budget? Who am I, Booster Budget?" He snorts. "No baby, I'm B—"

"Yeah yeah, you're Booster Gold. Stop dickriding yourself so hard, your knees are gonna give out."

And Michael can barely hide the way he gulps, his cock twitching in his boxers at the way you dismiss him so... Easily.

—♱—

"Yeah, this is the way I want it." Michael nods his head, biceps bulging as he crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes trained on his reformed living room.

Michael had opted to decorate the living room, giving you the important task to spend majority of the thinking and idea process on his bedroom with the main point being to decorate in a way to maximise the quality of his sleep.

Pale gold carpeting with deep blue walls, golden columns on either side of the door that leads onto the terrace, carved and regal, but what really kills you, is the gaudy gold and Swarovski crystal chandelier that hangs from the ceiling.

"What the actual fuck, Michael?" You groan. "Are you Persian? What the fuck is this?"

"It's choice." "Nobody says that!"

Frustration bleeds into your voice, your fingers moving to pinch the bridge of your nose and a tempered breath leaves your parted lips. But instead of focusing on the frustration and the way you're white-knuckling your files, he's focused on your lips.

Soft, pouty lips lined with the perfect lip liner that just brings out the shape of your lips, and a soft lip tint covering the majority of your lips, all encapsulated with a clear gloss. And Michael swallows.

"It looks like you drive a white BMW."

"It's a McClaren Senna." Michael corrects, letting out a huff of a breath before moving around the sofa, and dropping into the seat, stretching his arm along the backrest as he looks up at you.

Blonde lashes flutter, blue eyes twinkle when he watches the way the light hits the crystals, prismatic rays of sunlight dance across your skin and Michael swallows, running his pink tongue across his bottom lip.

"It's not that bad." Michael states with a hum. "It's flashy, it's cool. It's—"

"If you say it's 'Booster Gold', I am going to hit you with your own car."

Your eyes narrow and Michael swallows.

It really shouldn't be sexy when you threaten him with violence, it really shouldn't.

But he's picturing the way your manicured hands would wrap around his steering wheel, the way your rings would glint whenever you'd wrap your pretty hand around the ball of the gearshift and Michael lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"At least sit on the couch." He whines, his childish demeanor perfectly hiding the way his cock is twitching against his thigh, and he's glad his boxers are extra snug, because if they weren't, it'd be safe to assume that this conversation wouldn't be happening.

You let out an unattractive grunt before planting yourself on the cushion next to Michael, instantly sinking into the soft and admittedly luxurious seat, before you let out a huff.

"It's... Nice."

'Nice' is an understatement. Your ass is in heaven right now. Cushiony seat that envelops your form perfectly and Michael's arm is tossed over your neck, muscles flexing as he forces you closer, your face nearly mushed against his pec as he looks down at you.

"It's okay, beautiful, I know it's hard to admit I was right." He mocks you, blonde bangs falling over his eyes perfect and holy fuck, Michael looks like an angel.

Golden strands frame his face perfectly, dark gold brows arched and ending at a sharp tail that makes you wonder if Michael gets his eyebrows done professionally and that smile.

Pearly white teeth, full lips and deep dimples, all tied together with a jawline that could slice through the thick sexual tension between you and snacks you didn't pay for.

"Come on, tell me I was right about something." Michael goads. "Anything at all."

"You were right about the sofa."

The words are grit out, and it's hard for you to admit defeat, but that's not the only hard thing for you to do.

"Shit, shit, shit— Michael," you gasp out a shaky breath, hands clawing at Michael's lower belly, feeling the way his abs flex beneath your feverish palms, "Michael, it's too deep."

You've got your back against the armrest of the sofa, legs spread further than you've ever had them before and all to accomodate Michael's large frame, one of his hands braced beside your head as the other grips your hip in an iron hold.

Fingertips dig into the fat of your sides, as Michael slowly feeds you inches of his cock, achingly hard and drooling thick rivulets of precum that line and lube up your gummy walls.

"Uh-uh, 's not deep enough yet." Michael breathes out, brows twitching in concentration as he pushes his hips more, more, more, more until they're snugly nestled between your thighs and your legs are wrapped around his waist.

It's a burning stretch to accomodate his intrusion.

Fat cock prodding and reaching deeper than you've ever experienced, plush pussy wrapped sloppily around his base and the only solace you have is that Michael's taking the time to adjust to the tightness of you too. And you gasp when his hips twitch, his cock nudging at your cervix and your brows pinch at the sensation.

"Look at you." Michael groans low, his hips slowly moving and the hand on your hip moves, instead resting on your mound as his thumb circles your clit, the sensation causing you to spasm and leak even more around his cock.

"So perfect and pretty."

Your eyes move towards the hand bracing beside your head, veins bulging beneath the skin and his knuckles turning white with how tight he's gripping onto the armrest.

Your lashes flutter when he leans down to kiss you, his lips pressed against yours in a sloppy, needy kiss, his hips uncoordinated, rhythmless and so, so stuttery as his tongue brushes against yours.

Michael's trying to make the most of this situation, the scent of your body mist and his expensive cologne lingers in the air alongside that scent of fresh couch. The scent he can't wait to snuff out with cum and sweat.

"Fuck, you're so hot."

Michael breathes out, swallowing the moan that leaves your lip at the compliment and he bottles it, storing away the sound in his memories for whenever he needs it. And trust, he will.

Michael kisses you like it's his first kiss.

Like he doesn't know how.

His teeth bump against yours far too much, his incisors catch on your plump bottom lip quite a few times and his tongue tickles your oesophagus, the act which results in you letting out a sound of distaste. And he simply mutters a giggly 'sorry', before deepening the kiss, his tongue pressed against yours.

His hips slowly ease into a pace, easy and slow, rolling against yours and that blonde tuft of hair on his pubic bone brushes against your clit in tantalizing slow strokes. And you can only whine when his hands move, up your arms and his digits interlock with yours, fingers folding over one another and his hips nearly falter when your lashes flutter open, eyes meeting his in a bleary gaze.

And Michael swears his soul leaves his body when he watches your kiss swollen lips part to speak.

"...go deeper..."

Muscular hands hook around the backs of your knees, bringing your legs up to rest against Michael's broad shoulders and he leans forward, all the way until he's kissing you from between your calves.

His hips smack against the fleshy globes your ass with each brutal thrust, grinding against you in a way that has your eyes rolling back in your head and his leaky tip keeps nudging at that gooey spot and your toes curl behind his ears.

Michael smiles at the erratic pulsing of your cunt, watching the way your face screws up as your orgasm approaches you at a rate you're definitely unfamiliar with and he shifts, pressing his palms against the flesh just behind the crooks of your knees.

And he presses your legs against your chest, pillowy thighs squishing your breasts and Michael pulls out just a bit.

Enough to make you open your eyes just a bit, only wide enough to watch a clear glob of spit fall directly onto where you're split open on his cock and Michael takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sex in the air.

Before fucking you into the cushions.

And you come with a cry, legs locking up and body wracked with nerve endings that are all far too stimulated, and your eyes begin to get mistier, nails digging into Michael's biceps, hard enough to leave red scratches in his skin.

"Fuck— 's too much, 's too much." You pant, whining as your pussy gushes around him, wetness trickling down and soaking into the cushion beneath you.

Michael flips you onto your belly before you're even thinking coherently, your cheek mushed against the velvet as he slides back into you, cock nestled in your soaked walls as his hips piston into you, the fleshy mounds of your ass reddening with each maddening thrust.

And Michael leans down, lips latching onto the skin of your neck and he sucks marks into the sensitive flesh.

His body covers yours, thick, muscular thighs on either side of you and you're helpless beneath him. And all you can do is take the next overstimulating orgasm in stride as he hands it to you on a golden platter.

Michael can barely muffle the groan when he pulls out just enough to see that frothy ring around his cock before pushing back into you.

Slow, deep strokes to make him last longer because you're just so warm and so wet and so, so pliable beneath him.

This moment is so perfect. Nothing can ruin this—

"Booster! Justice League emergency, emergency!" Skeets' incessant alarm breaks through the orgasmic reverie, and you can't even be upset when Michael groans, his forehead falling against your shoulder and his hips still.

"Son of a bitch." He mutters before pulling out of you, still hard and leaking needily.

"Just give me 10 minutes. Please. Don't go anywhere, I'll literally throw up." Michael pleas softly, grabbing the uniform from the floating companion and you nod your head limply, continuing to melt into the cushioning of the sofa and you know that 8 minutes later, you'll be asleep.

"And don't fall asleep either. Booster out!"

It's a stupid exit but the drapes rustle when Michael disappears out the window, his flight speed immaculate and you let out a shuddering breath, eyes lazily glancing around the living room.

Two orgasms in and it's still tacky.

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@fayethefaerie 🦋

@yokekdd ☀️

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@allycat4458 🪻

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@theamazkngskye 🍄

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

#sobbingscripter #dc comics #smut #dc smut #dc comics smut #dc x reader #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you #booster gold #booster gold x reader smut #booster gold x reader #booster gold x you #michael carter x reader smut #michael john carter x reader #michael john carter #michael john carter x you

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kryptznnn · 2 months ago

Text

♛/♡ -Tragedy II

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

➸ INTERESTS; - aged up!neteyam x omatikayan f!reader

➸ BACKGROUND; - Love at first sight doesn’t exist, everyone knows that. There’s attraction, reaction, and understanding someone to call something love. Neteyam wasn’t sure what it was that he felt for you, but whatever it was, he didn’t want it to end.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.6.5k, mentions of heat cycles, rejection, one sided love, unrequited affection, kissing, fluff, smut, p in v, fingering, ejaculation consumption, teasing, dominant fem lead, clouded judgement, mating, biting, blood mentions, etc.

➸a.i; - whoo!! finished this up i hope you guys enjoy it, sorry it took me so long it’s been a really bad week! but im working on other fics and reqs in my inbox (i’ve had since nov-dec) trying to get all the old stuff out first to get to new ideas!! thank u so much for the love! also this lowkey isn't proofread

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

♛/♡ Tragedy I

Neteyam was a good man, a good brother, a good if not great son. Which is why it was so surprising hearing and witnessing him speaking back to his parents for the first time ever. His father complained how worried his mother and grandmother have been about finding a mate for him in order to pass the responsibility Jake had been harboring for over two decades to the next, and Neteyam had simply responded how he didn't care.

He was lying.

As soon as he had mentioned he found someone his father was quick to take his side, smiling at him softly before whispering with his wife to the side, who only shook her head. Her mother had already decided what needed to be done, with or without his approval, the average time of courting would naturally take months, and it was months they didn't have.

The people needed a strong ruler with an even stronger woman by his side. The position of tsahik wasn't a problem, Kiri could always fill it, as she's had the best and most practices from her grandmother, but Neteyam's situation was more complicated. Even as he watched his parents speak to one another he wasn't sure what kind of power his father had over his mother.

He would always give her some look, like a pleading look almost or just a caress to her face in order to swoon her, and it always worked. Maybe it was love, it had to be, his grandmother had spoken to him about how love comes in many shapes or forms but can never be denied. Somehow watching his parents interact before his father placed a kiss on his mother's forehead reminded him of you, and your interaction from earlier in the afternoon on the beach.

It was night now, the sky was bleak and cloudy, the stars hadn't shined as bright as they usually had, almost as if the night sky was mourning as he was. Mourning the loss of love, he was so close to having you to himself and now he felt as if he was going back to square one. It hurt him, but he didn't feel like crying, or getting upset to the point he'd lash out at others around him, he just sat on the cold wooded floors and propped his knees to his chest.

His back was now facing his parents as he watched the sky, asking himself what you were probably doing by this time. Maybe bathing or eating with your family, helping clean up the aftermath or reading to your younger sister. You could've been sewing or beading clothing together for you to wear on special occasions as he watched you do a few months ago.

Or maybe your family was all out and busy for the night and you were all alone at home, waiting for some company. He was sure he could provide you more than just company, making his time with you highly worthwhile, but yet again it would probably be better to talk things out about what happened earlier. Or maybe you two didn't need too talk anything out, when things happen between two people who can't help themselves it's meant to be.

The two of you were meant to be, that sounded satisfactory, it definitely pleased him, bringing a smile to his face. He was so used to growing up and sacrificing things for his sibling's happiness or just too tired to fight for it. He was grateful for that actually, listening to the way his father was raised and the life he lived on the stars from above pained him, no one should live a life like that, but his father always reminded him if he hadn't gone through any of that he wouldn't be blessed in the future to be reborn.

Maybe his father was right, thankfully to him he was grown into a responsible young man, athletic, intelligent, and handsome, there was nothing but greatness in him. He felt more than responsible about you though and just wasn't sure as to why. It was something like a craving or poison in his mind that was stuck there forever.

It would make his insides itch and his outsides hot; it's almost like when you sit out in the sun for too long with dry skin and start to feel discomfort. But the sun feels so nice when you've been in the cold for so long and have nothing else to turn too, that's how he felt about you. You haunted his mind in such an eerie way, and at first, he had even had his grandmother check him for illness 'just because', sure you had done something to him, but nothing came back.

He yearned and grieved for your affection as if you had passed away, like a ghost he could only breath in whenever he closed his eyes. He was sure if anyone was able to hear or read his mind, they'd call him crazy, but he didn't feel that way, he felt free. Soon enough, snapping him out of his trance was a woman walking beside him, one he hadn't seen before.

Or maybe he had seen her before, he just hadn't remembered. His head followed her movements as she made her way behind him, walking towards his parents and taking her side beside them. This immediately made Neteyam spring to his feet and follow behind, raising a brow.

His father introduced the two of them to one another, speaking of their affiliations and granting Neteyam the choice to at least keep their new guest busy and grow fond of her before making a solid decision of his future. He knew his father well, his voice was laced with responsibility and seriousness, but in all honesty, it was mainly code for 'be nice to her and go court whoever it is you wanted'.

He was listening, his ears flicked slightly listening to the woman introduce herself and pronounce her name. 'Fa'nyma', strange name, completely different from yours, but it seemed to suit her somewhat. She was shorter than you, he took notice of her hair was much longer on some part, and she wore lots of jewelry. Maybe it was to impress him, but he could only think of how those jewels would've looked against your skin, your smile.

He smiled to himself and nodded, quickly changing his face into a stir of a frown and turned his attention back to his parents in order for Fa'nyma to not get the wrong idea. He knew better than to be rude, especially to a woman, it's not the way he was raised to be at all, so he would be cordial with her, that he agreed on.

But that kind of promise became difficult to keep when it came to the fact that she practically followed him everywhere. He had planned to come and see you in your kelku, only for her to be right behind him. It would be very problematic to explain the fact that a woman is following him around the entire village as she's now his responsibility.

It had been three days since then, Neteyam had always thought to himself what was an easy way to say, "Leave me the fuck alone", not a nice way, he didn't want to be nice with her. He wanted to sound easy on the ears, but harsh enough for the conversation to get no farther than her understanding and leaving.

Then again, he's sure she wouldn't even understand what the word "fuck" means. It was a sky people term, and his parents had only used it whenever they hit their toe against something or messed up badly or were just upset beyond the point of explanation. His brother cursed often too, practically being more fluent in cursing than his mother's tongue. This is ridiculous, why is it that whenever he's so ready to get something for himself obstacles just throw themselves in his way.

"Fa'nyma" he spoke, placing his bow and arrow down in his hut before removing his headpiece, letting his braids rest on the side of his face before tying them back. She hummed in response, turning to him from the entrance of his kelku and smiling at him. "I'm going out somewhere now, so I'll need you to leave." He spoke solidly, turning his attention away from her when he noticed her cheeky look.

"Don't you want me to accompany you to wherever you're going?" She spoke, Neteyam sucked his teeth lightly before rolling his eyes. She must be one of the stupidest people he's ever met, even his youngest sister Tuk would know if he had said something like that, he would want to be alone. Did it genuinely look like he wanted her company? Or that he enjoyed her company so much he would've said yes?

"I don't enjoy your company, and I won't need it anymore." He said with an attitude, grabbing a small bag in the corner of his room and placing it over his shoulder with a clunk. He soon ushered her out of his room and hut before leaving himself, not even looking behind him to see her.

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

"Y/n" he spoke with a smile, standing in the middle of the tree of voices. He had spent nearly all afternoon looking for you, now being nightfall as he saw you. Your back was facing him, but he knew it was you, he could tell by your scent, your hair, everything.

After spending nearly all of his time with Fa'nyma it was refreshing to see you, to breath you, and to touch you. He was quick to reach a hand out to your shoulder, watching as you spun around slightly for his hand to fall off your shoulder and back up slightly. You weren't smiling, which worried him, he wasn't sure what look you were giving him, but it wasn't one he was expecting.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, definitely taken aback wearing a confused but more hurt look on your face. After having such a passionate moment with a man, you weren’t surprised for it to end so quickly, what you didn’t expect was for him to leave you, especially for three days.

“I’m here to see you of course, I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long, but you have no idea how happy I am to see you aga-“

“It’s been three days Neteyam.” You cut him off harshly, now beginning to become upset, he spoke as if no time had passed. “You kissed me and left me for three days, but it’s easy for you to walk around with Fa’nyma.” You said, earning a flared look from him at your last words.

He was quick to place the bag he was holding down, now holding both of your hands with his own hands. He looked at you with a look of desperation, pledging with you almost to hear him out.

“I don’t like her; it wasn’t up to me I swear it. I told her off this morning, I want nothing to do with her, only with you.” He said, smiling somewhat softly as you again to see you smile as well. He knew something like this would happen, he was ready for it of course, but he knew no matter how things would’ve ended he wouldn’t let you go.

He would apologize anyway he had to, such as bringing you gifts or flowers and fruits, maybe kneeling and pleading with you. He knew you well enough to know you had a soft spot for him, for everyone mostly. Maybe it was childish to feel a pang of jealousy broil in his chest over that topic, but he couldn’t help it.

He liked you, he really liked you, liked you so much he wasn’t sure what to do with himself and he would practically fuck himself over again and again. Maybe it was love, maybe he loved you, he had always had the perfect example of it growing now and all he cares about is making it a reality with you.

And he did just that, apologizing to you over and over and sitting you down on the glowing floor beneath the two of you as he gave you everything from his bag. He practically showered you in gifts you hadn’t seen before, small jewels and crystals from the star above as you had a wide smile on your face.

He had told you he wanted to court you, earn you the right way, in order to bring you towards his family, the proper way. He even slid in a joke about how if things had escalated on the beach everything would be entirely different now, making you laugh.

You were so beautiful, everything about you was so beautiful, your laugh, the way you fluttered your lashes at him as you listened to him speak, or maybe how you kept your skin in contact with his no matter where the two of you were. You weren't afraid to show him off or hint there was something between the two of you and it drove him mad.

He was so quick to mention your name to his family so often that they had no other choice but to force Fa’nyma out of the picture. He thought of himself as a bad person for a short while, purposely flaunting your capabilities and beauty in front of the other woman to watch her face stir with jealousy as he had a sinister smirk plastered on his face.

He must’ve been crazy, in both good and bad ways, but it’s deemed excused because he’s crazy in love, crazy in love for you. So crazy that now after just a few weeks of courting he’s itching to bring things to another level.

He was patient, everyone knew it. He was trained to be at such a young age, like when catching fish with his father, those lessons taught him nothing more than the importance of time. Good things come to those who wait, he had you, but to fully tie the bond between you two he had to be patient.

Love is something that can’t be rushed, patience is a large factor between two people, almost like a test to see what’ll happen under pressure. Sadly, as of right now it felt as if Neteyam was losing, if not losing his mind in the process. Laying on his bedside within his empty kelku, listening to the cold winds outside blow around it and pick up on the small, piped chimes outside his hut entrance his youngest sister made for him.

He couldn’t sleep, his mind was racing, and he felt so empty, and the thought of you was just making up upset. It stirred something inside him he couldn’t entirely understand, all he could think of now was wanting you.

No,

He needed you.

Attached to your affection and presence like a newborn to its mother or father’s skin in order to thrive and feel their love. He wasn’t sure why tonight was so different from the rest, but he couldn’t stay here, something felt off, so he did the only thing he could do and set out into the forests.

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

A simple way of remembering people is by their scent, which Neteyam was familiar with. What he hadn’t been familiar with was your scent being so strong to the point where he paused in his steps and shielded his face, squinting.

It was strange he was able to pick up your scent here of all places, it was in the complete opposite direction of your home. So of course, he did none other than follow it to find you, but what he saw was nothing of what he expected.

“Y/n” he called out, removing his arm from his face to take in your state, hunched over on the floor by a tree whimpering. You hadn’t answered his call, and when he came to you and placed a hand on your skin you hissed at him, slapping his hand away.

He was appalled to say the least, your skin was burning, and your behavior was erratic, since when were you so defensive? A click quickly came to mind, you must’ve been uncomfortable, or afraid, especially to react that way with him of all people.

He was quick to scan the surroundings of the two of you to emphasize the fact that you weren’t alone, someone had definitely been here before he came towards you, lurking. Neteyam was quick to suck his teeth, already piecing together the situation playing out before reaching out to you again.

You were in heat, he felt so stupid letting it slide over his head as he had originally had it calculated. Usually within the middle of every month you disappear for only a handful of days before returning, only this time it seems to have come a little earlier than expected.

You had a shawl sprawled out to your side as you stayed huddled into a ball, fidgeting around as Neteyam made his way behind you, hugging you and rubbing circles into your back. Maybe it was because you weren’t in your best mind, but right now you felt like biting him.

Not in a bad way, in a good way, to draw blood and pleasure yourself, not necessarily to harm him. There was something about how soothing his scent felt that the scent of the other navi man lurking in the woods prior seemed to gently fade away. You paid no mind to him as you turned into Neteyam’s embrace, snuggling into his chest with a slight purr and whine.

You felt so hot, and itchy, the cool night breeze hadn’t helped you quick enough, but Neteyam’s body had. His chest was firm and cool, like how the ponds or lakes underneath the waterfalls felt, making you smile softly.

It wasn’t enough to stop your pain and itch, but it was just enough to calm you to a certain extent, his words slurring in your brain as he spoke. You had only responded with slight hums, not sure you’d be capable of responding back in sentences.

He was quick to pick you up to your feet, caressing your face and asking you something. Whatever it was he was quick to take your groan as an answer, now holding you hand in hand as he made his way through the forests, occasionally turning back to take in your ill state.

You weren’t sure what path he was taking, it certainly wasn’t the path to your home, or the main village, but the trees you two passed by before coming to a halt smelled similar to Neteyam. He was gentle, letting you climb up into an unfamiliar place before following right after you, his hand locking right back with yours as his other held your shawl.

He spoke to you again, but your ears remained out of focus, now picking up on the small sound of pattering coming from behind you. You turned slowly, your head hurting as you watched the rain fall. You turned back slowly, placing each hand on the sides of your head, feeling as if someone had taken a bone and hit the sides of your head repeatedly.

You only groaned, slumping over slightly before feeling Neteyam’s hands grab onto your side, ushering you further into the room and sitting you down somewhere comfortably. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, feeling his firm hands leave your body you shot them open, taking in your surroundings as you lowered your hands.

You placed your hands down at the bedside you sat on, dragging your fingers across the woven blankets. This must’ve been his home, the entire place was drenched in his scent, it seemed vacant and cold, it must’ve been the way he liked it. You were quick to bring the edge of the blanket to your nose, inhaling its scent with a slight moan, feeling a rush of adrenaline rush through your body and down to your core.

You lowered the blanket as you heard him returning shortly, crossing your legs and angling them in a position to give you pleasure. Biting back a moan as you clenched around nothing you watched as he came over, giving you a small bowl filled with water for you to drink. You smiled softly at him, taking the bowl into your shaky hands before he covered your hands with his before helping you drink it.

His hands are so large, just like you had remembered about him initially the first time he helped you pick out the fruits from the trees. They practically covered yours if not entirely in length, nearly striking a wave of embarrassment in you. As you finished you were sure he had told some sort of joke, pointing to outside before chuckling back at you.

You only batted your eyes and smiled even wider, nodding at him. You were sure that it had done something to him because he looked away and swallowed hard before leaving the room again. As he made his time quick he came to your side, now sitting beside you and taking your hands into his, speaking again, as your heat grew stronger another wave coursed through your body.

And of course you wasted no time turning to his side, resting your head on his collarbone and inhaling his scent. If you had some sort of shame left before your heat had stripped it from you there would be a possibility you’d have pulled back or apologized, but right now you just didn’t care.

His scent was driving you insane, practically flooding your mind as you caressed yourself into his skin with soft mewls and moans that echoed in his ears. He was more than flustered to say the least, but he had come to a decision on how to help you in any way possible. He simply brushed your hair away from your face to get your attention, which worked before he spoke in sure of you to hear him.

“Use me how you seem fit.” He said sternly, flashing you a toothy smile afterwards. He watched as your pupils blew out nearly full wide, no longer seeing the color of your irises before you turned your head back into his collarbone. You were quick with your actions, licking and nipping at his skin before making your way up to his neck.

A soft kiss was applied to a sweet spot before you licked it, prepping your canines into his flesh before sinking them in slowly. If it hurt it harsh enough you were sure that when you had sense again you’d apologize for it, just not now, not while you enjoyed lapping up the small trickles of blood that dribbled down his warm skin.

Not while you suddenly leap a leg over him, now straddling him as you continued to kiss him. He had barely moved as much as he wanted to, only following your lead and placing his hands on your back as support. He was quick to pull your head in for a kiss to your lips once you finished with his neck of course, this time being more forceful and sinister than the kiss you two had shared previously.

There was a small part of Neteyam that knew this wasn’t the right thing to do, at least some of it. You weren’t in your right mind and the two of you hadn’t been mated, well at least not yet. If anything, that small feeling quickly went away when he too felt himself slipping into the dizzy and foggy feeling of your heat now affecting him.

He had heard stories of something like this before, heats being able to spread towards one another to a certain extent. Things like that could only happen if that individual wanted to share it, and that seemed to be happening at this moment.

You wanted him to feel how you felt, understand how good it felt to be in this situation, as much as you itched or your skin burned, nothing could have been better than easing the pain with someone that made you feel so good.

You liked Neteyam, you were sure of it. Your family liked him too, he was considerate, gentle, humorous, and well put. He made you feel loved, cherished, and satisfactory; he could never say no to you and spoiled you with anything you wanted. Spoiling the one you love comes to a certain extent and giving them whatever they want comes with a price, like as of now when you began to untie your top and loincloth, attempting to untie his as well.

He was quick to grab both of your arms, bringing you to a short halt. You were completely nude now, watching as he took in your full appearance before looking up into your eyes. He was quick to shake his head, a signal of rejection to you, making you frown heavily and whine, tears prickling the corner of your eyes.

He spoke, not sure entirely what he was speaking of, but you were sure he muttered along the lines of ‘being responsible’ when reading his lips, the tears now rolling down your cheeks as you shook your head. There was no way he would leave you in a time like this after escalating the situation so far for the night, you yanked your arms from his grasp before wrapping your arms around his shoulders, whining.

“Please, please, please teyam, hurts so bad, need you, need you here.” You mumbled, grinding against his painful bulge from his shifted loincloth, taking his hand into yours and placing it over your lower pelvis. You watched as he groaned softly, turning his head as his ears flickered around, as if contemplating his next move. You were quick to turn your head in the direction his was turned too, kissing him first this time, wasting no time in forcing your tongue into his mouth.

He only melted at the action, quickly obliging and letting his hands roam your body. He was quick to squeeze you and tease you, letting his fingertips graze over your nipples as you moaned into his mouth, and he moans back. He kept his right hand over your breast, swirling small circles around your nipple and tugging on it every now and again as his left hand followed its way down between your legs.

Your moans now grew louder, more bass coming from them as they rumbled in your chest and throat, breaking the kiss with Neteyam as a small string of saliva was split between you too. You rested your head on the side of his cheek as your moans continued, rumbling directly into his ear, making his breath heavier than before. He only took notice to quicken his actions, his thumb circling your clit gently as his fingers thrusted inside of you.

This much arousal was getting painful in his case, he was sure he had never been this whipped ever no matter what woman he was with. You were so beautiful, your voice, your body, your movements had him captivated, if anything he wished he could stop time just for this moment. He could hardly even feel his fingers, the way they were coated if not dripping in your arousal he slipped in and out so easily it was insane.

What was even more foolish was the fact for just a split second he became jealous of his own fingers, wanting to be inside you himself with his tongue instead, but the way you fidgeted on his lap and begged for more he knew that was something to wait for another time. So, he continued, now drawing his full attention to your face as he watched your body shudder when he curved his fingers, his fingertips grazing against your insides.

He took his hand away from your breasts, now grabbing the side of your face and watching your expression, your skin was still hot, but that hadn’t bothered him. He was more focused on trying to not cum by just the sight of you. Your hair was a mess, your face was flushed and hot, saliva dripping down your lips wasn’t helping, especially when you were panting heavily like an animal with your hooded eyes.

And there it was, that cheeky little smile you do whenever you know you’ve got his attention, batting your lashes at him. He hated that you knew how to get to him so easily, especially at a time like this, it’s as if even though he’s the one pleasuring you, you were doing the same in his favor, and he was definitely right when he watched you come undone on his lap, practically shouting his name as your grip on his shoulders tightened, your nails digging into him as your body jerked forward, shuddering harshly as your orgasm washed over you.

You had no time to catch your breath as Neteyam kissed you sloppily, pulling his fingers out of you as you whimpered into his mouth at the feeling of the emptiness, clenching around nothing. You hadn’t pleaded or begged like before, only finishing your previous work and untying the rest of his loincloth before picking it up, watching as he sucked on his fingers with a small smirk.

You looked away nervously at his actions, placing his loincloth up to your nose and inhaling its scent, kissing it and tossing it behind you as you made sure Neteyam watched you. He only shook his head with a smile, his face flushed as he watched you, grazing his fingertips over your breasts yet again.

“Not satisfied?” He asked, cocking his head slightly to the side as he watched you, your eyes locked onto his body, trailing down until seeing what was hidden underneath his loincloth, making you shudder. After your intense orgasm prior, the heavy cloud of your heat wasn’t as thick as before, now you had at least a little bit of your mind left, now asking yourself if the size was too much to bear.

“Mm-mh” you muttered, shaking your head from side to side as you made your way to grab onto his sex, jolting slightly as you watched it bounce up to hit his lower abdomen. He only chuckled at you as he watched your actions, you had hardly paid any mind to him, now taking it into your hand and fisting it slightly, listening to his soft groans as the entirety of it was coated in precum.

You only smiled to yourself, raising your hips up high as you rubbed the tip onto your core, bucking your hips and moaning harshly as it flicked over your sensitive clit. As quick as the small cloud left your body it was just as quick to hit you, returning to your womb like a storm, making you chew down on your bottom lip out of frustration as you grunted.

Eywa, you felt so empty, as if you’ve been starving for days. Starving for a man to feed off of, starving for your man, your mate, to feed you. This was overwhelming, none of your heats had taken this much of an effect on you, and this physical connection wasn’t enough to share with him, you want him to see, hear, breath, and know you, not just feel you.

“Tsaheylu” you mumbled, reaching behind the back of your head to your kuru, bringing it over your shoulder as you looked down at him slightly. His reaction seemed to be one of surprise or understanding, you weren’t sure which to pick off of, no matter there were no words shared between the two of you in that moment, he only copied your movements.

Before the small tendrils of your kurus could fuse together, you sunk down onto him slowly, both of you breathy and sticky, moans mixing between the two of you. You hadn’t moved and neither had he, taking in one another before making tsaheylu, the same second of the bond between the two of you making you whimper as you rested your head on his shoulder, crying quietly.

It was so intense, as if flashing lights and music had been playing amongst the midst of everything already happening between the two of you. After a few seconds you could hear it, hear and feel how Neteyam felt for you, at first when you felt the warming in your chest you had initially expected it to be your heat, bubbling even harder now. That wasn’t the case, it was his feeling towards you, how his heart raced when he saw you or saw your smile, and how he felt now as he had you nestled on him.

It felt so nice, sharing this feeling and pain with another, lifting the burden off of yourself and having a mate to call your own. Before you were even able to speak Neteyam was quick to hoist himself up in a comfortable position, making you moan out softly.

“I know, I know tiwan. Gonna make you feel better yeah? Right here baby? I know what you need.” He spoke, placing his hand back over your pelvis and abdomen. The word he spoke prior sounded foreign to you, you could tell in the context it was a pet name, just not sure exactly what kind it could’ve been. Before you were able to pick up on that thought you felt Neteyam’s hands grab your behind in a firm manner before thrusting himself in and out of you at a kept pace.

You moaned into his shoulders now as he quickened his pace, making you clench around him. He didn’t like this position at all, don’t get him wrong you felt amazing, this moment was amazing, but he wanted to see you, see your face. He knew how you felt due to your bonding yes, but it wasn’t enough, he needs more.

Which is what led him to waste no time in standing up as he held onto you and turning around, laying you down as he towered over you, neither him leaving from inside you or your tsaheylu breaking. Cooing you as you whimpered and fidgeted against him, pulling him down onto you so you could inhale his scent from his side, but he wasn’t having it.

He rested in his knees now, thrusting into you painfully slow, listening to your groans and complaints with a grin. He liked being cocky, it felt good, especially if it got under your skin and he got to watch you react, it was amusing.

The longer the night continued the less amusing things became however, especially for the both of you. As of now Neteyam had lost track of time, and amount of positions the two of you had been in, but now you were on the floor, the room smelling like nothing but sex and sweat as you both moaned.

Neteyam had tried every other way to satisfy your needs without knotting you, but that’s all you had begged for at this time. None of your other orgasms being enough to get rid of the emptiness within you, he just hadn’t thought you were ready for it.

His last worries was getting you pregnant, it could only happen if he was also in rut, which wasn’t anytime soon, but knotting someone is dangerous (and also something he’s never done before). You were an animal, and that was no exaggeration, from the sweat and cum that had pooled on the bedside and floor your skin and fingertips had gotten wrinkly, along with Neteyam’s, but apparently you hadn’t even cared.

“Please, need it, so emptyyy” you whined, poking at the fat knot at the base of Neteyam’s cock that had been poking at your entrance for some time. Your face was wet with tears and sweat as you threw your fit, moaning as he postponed himself deeper in you to where his knot grazed against your clit.

In a matter of seconds, you were practically fucking him back, arching your back slightly as you pushed back with just as much force he thrusted into you. You could feel it, his knot was practically teasing you in a way you couldn’t explain, it felt like some sort of craze or rush that was driving you mad, mad in a way you drew a smile to your face, chanting praises over and over again before hearing a pop and a painful stretch.

Neteyam halted his movements, a loud moan escaping his lips as his knot had finally entered you. He had towered over you, his chest pressing against your back as you clawed at the floor in desperation. It wasn’t necessarily painful, more uncomfortable as it was a feeling you weren’t used too, and the cloud of your heat had covered most of it.

But oh how full you felt, the pain, tears, and cries from before all seemed to just vanish as you felt the knot lowering, now being filled with Neteyam’s cum at a quick pace. Now you felt full, and in the best way possible, it was all you had truly wanted and finally your needs were satisfied.

You sighed out in satisfaction, feeling him kiss on your neck and back softly before caressing your body. You purred back into him as you felt him move gently and slowly, picking the two of you up off the floor to his bedside, removing the dirty blanket from there before and laying there with you, still back to chest.

“Thank you” you said to him, taking his hand and kissing it with a smile as you felt him smile from behind you. He only played with your hair as he heard you yawn, taking in your small and tired state.

“Mm-hmm, so proud of you baby, did so good.” He spoke, placing a kiss onto your head as he drew faint circles in your back as he watched you drift off to sleep. He smiled to himself before remembering he was still stuck for a while, hopefully he wouldn’t wake you if he pulled out.

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the-monkeies-girl · 8 months ago

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did u miss me??? but anyway—-

Caesar was a remarkably fast walker--- at least, in your mind there was no doubt that his proportionally shorter legs were swift, balanced and spaced toes able to give assistance when needed for extra grip and it was hard to ignore the ever lingering sense of envy that drifted against your ribs at the mere sight of him trailing ahead of you. Even despite your rain boots having decently new tread against the soles, they were nothing compared to the dexterity and assurance that Caesar had to not stumble over himself. He was confident in every stride, gait powerful from the tips of his shoulders that bristled with the thickened fur of the Winter Months that were now cresting their peak against the sleek land, all the way down the narrowing but not lanky torso and protruding with muscles that deemed purpose even when not in use.

There was a desperate urge from the recesses of your mind to move faster, to catch up and walk shoulder to shoulder with the Ape King himself, to feel the fur that your fingertips were so familiar with kissing the polyester of your jacket but that never garnered favor. Caesar lead you- figuratively and mentally, emotionally… To keep you safe in the Colony, comforted away from the Humans who brought their own destruction… Secure, with him and only him… It was an unspoken rule between the Ape and your Human self that beckoned no one to break it, sacred almost like a promise between two children on the playground. Never to be broken, but over time, it would be forgotten in favor of falling into a routine, mundane and just another way of living.

And that’s what this was, you thought to yourself with a small smile as Caesar peered over his left shoulder, urging you in silence to follow his placed foot steps over a fallen tree-trunk, covered in moss and silken dew from condensation that clung all too desperately to the air. Whenever you left the Colony together on foot, Caesar would bring his large frame a few paces in front of you to the point where your vision was nothing more than the broad shoulders that swept side to side with radiated assurance for you but juxtapose held nothing but warmth in the middle of the night when you were tangled in the nest together.

He was scanning the area with his lustrously green irises that were now brighter in color than the foliage that turned a bleak and boring gray this time of year, anything that posed a danger he would help you through. Anything that your Human feet could trip over, he pointed out in usual silence and it left you reeling that anyone in the days after the Flu took all semblance of empathy away from Humanity would care for you in such a way.

Caesar did though --- despite differences, you watched in bated hushedness as he reached his hand out, the fur along his knuckles tickling at your fingertips as you reached up and allowed him to laden your body closer as if you weighed nothing more than a leaf, embracing you against his chest with momentum that left you staggering for a breath, moving you around the fallen trunk that did not pose much of a threat, but the Ape was intuitive enough to notice you were falling behind in your hurriedness. Slowly, the arm that was by his side wrapped to tuck itself around your waist, pulling you in even further for stability as your center of gravity kissed feverishly against his own, submitting and leaning into it without reserve.

You smiled a 'thank you' towards your mate, returned only with a creased upward haze of his mouth and a playful gesture of his hand as the Chimp signed, 'Need you to stay close.'

"I know." You whispered softly, seeing the surge of the gray fur that lined his muzzle bristle at the sheer tenacity your breath had being so close to his face. "I could get lost, blah blah. You've told me---"

To outsiders, it would appear you were being scolded for not listening, but to the inner workings between Caesar and yourself, it was playful... Flirtatious around the edges as his voice came out in a deepened and rich baritone, a few notches below from the voice he used with others. It itched at the inside of your brain that yearned to have him inside of your skin, inside of your mind just to cure all the morbid and lasting curiosities you had about being mated to the King himself.

"Should listen then. Do not know... What I would do if you... Got lost." In a mirror position, you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheeks, playing along the thinly placed baby hairs of your skin and catapulting a shiver down your spine that was not due to the sudden breeze that sky-rocketed the landscape and rustled the graying and dead leaves. Caesar.... cared for you more than any Human ever would or could.

#planet of the apes #pota #Caesar #Caesar x reader #planet of the apes x reader #pota x reader #andy serkis #caesar planet of the apes #Caesar pota

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dustyrkives · 3 months ago

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PAIRING: GP! Ada Wong x Fem reader __________________ WARNINGS: vampire x human, bl00d drinking, religious undertones, religious guilt, age gap (duh), Ada can turn into both male and female, biting, mating, breeding, nightmares, sleep-walking, horror, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breath-play, slow burn, enemies to–???, vampire turning. I think that's about it? –––––––––––––––– WORDCOUNT: 9,169 (this was self-indulgent, oops 😭😭😭💀) __________________ A/N: I'M SORRY THIS TOOK LONG HUHU. I was stuck during the drafting process and it drove me insane. Sorry for keeping you all waiting; here's the fic I promised!

Also, this is no longer project kafka as I mentioned. And Ada isn't a bioweapon–more like a vampire succubus.

Also Profanus Devorator means Profane Devourer in latin.

MEN DNI

There’s a saying that if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you.

Tonight–you learn such a proverb–in trembling hands intertwined in prayer, knees planted against the tiles of your room, a thin sheen of sweat coats your already-pale skin. In your peripheral vision, in the darkness of your room, something–someone, stood in your room. The atmosphere weighs heavy, temperature cold; the hairs in the back of your neck stood while your organs felt as though they’ve turned inwards. Your eyes didn’t dare leave the window as the heavy stench of earth, leather and smoke filled your room, restricting the air from your lungs.

The intruder takes a step towards you, your heart plummets, body cold with trepidation as it takes another step, and another, and another. Slow and unnaturally loud as it stops behind you.

A quiet sob leaves your lips as a cold hand slowly grasps the back of your neck, pressing your mother’s necklace against your skin, its pointed talons gently digging against your flesh. A deep, grating voice pierces through the air, you feel it stab into your soul.

“Excitavisti me ex somno aeterno. Nunc mihi iuratus es.” It rasps,“visne te mihi devovere?”

Your jaws–locked, voice–absent in terror. You nod.

The hand painstakingly releases your neck, but its claws scratches your skin; despite the pain, you don't flinch; terror keeps you numb as lips press against the available skin of your shoulder. Cold and unapologetic before a strong gust of wind devastates your room, leaving through your window.

Your body finally remembered its owner as you fell to the ground, your palms supporting your weight as your heart hammered against your ribcage, a thunderous beat reverberated through your body. Your hand clutched at your chest, fingers trembling as if trying to prevent your heart from bursting out of your ribs; vision blurring.

But something was amiss.

Your hand scrambles around your chest. Your necklace was gone. Torn away from your neck.

That night, you were only sixteen years old.

Your eyes stare blankly at the window from within the library watching aimlessly as strangers pass by. The sky was rather dark despite it being only four in the afternoon; but it doesn’t matter. Hours pass by, you greet customers, assist them with their preferred media in your town’s local bookstore.

Tonight, you continue your monotonous pattern of assisting customers, arranging books, recording sales and cleaning aisles before your shift ends around eight in the evening. Eyes downcast, your steps measured as you walk your way home to your apartment. The town is silent with a few cars driving in the road, their headlights illuminating your dull path. For years, you’ve been repeating the same routine; get up before six, go to work as the cashier, go home by eight. You’ll continue this pattern–saving enough money so you can finally move into the city and leave the dull town behind. Where? You’ll cross that bridge when you have finally had enough. Your growth to adulthood was rather bleak–you refuse to count the strange encounter, and yet it haunts you even at your waking moments, causing you to space out.

You know every individual in town but made very few friends–they’ve moved elsewhere now, wanting for more opportunities that the town couldn’t offer, leaving you with its barren offers yet your prospects were enough.

You absently stare at the window again, tuning out the voices of your customers as you scan and charge their books.

“My dad told me that someone purchased a private property near the end of town.” Says a loud customer as they wait in line while you scan another customer’s magazine. “He said she paid him a lot for his commission too.” “She must be well-off then?” It was their turn in the line as the two friends continued to converse. “Oh, she is.” the man coughs as he hands you his money.

“She’ll probably come to town tomorrow to finally move in. If you ask me, a woman of her wealth is better off living in the city. But who knows, maybe she wants a change of scenery.”

“Still though,” the other friend chuckles, “there are better options.” Your lips curl upwards as you silently agree with them as they leave the store.

You woke up, parched.

A silent groan escapes your lips as you turn in your sheets, fishing for your phone on the nightstand before checking the time and squinting against the bright light glaring as you read the time.

2:45 AM

You exhale through your nose and get up, only using your phone’s light to guide your path. Quiet steps echo in your dark apartment as you make your way to the fridge, a yawn escapes your lips before you freeze in your place.

The awfully familiar rich smell of earth, leather and smoke fills the kitchen and it squeezes the air out of your lungs; your body stiffens as the hair behind your neck raises. Your gaze locks with the window. The apartment was surrounded by trees–it was difficult to see through the darkness.

Except for those bright red, beady eyes.

Your yawn turns into a silent scream of unimaginable terror.

It wasn’t just hanging by the trees. No. It was right there outside your window, eyes peering close and deep, then the sound of something sharp scratching your window, the grating, piercing noise makes your eyes twitch and your body shudders with discomfort before the noise stops, and the sound of strong winds hitting against your window, and the beady eyes disappear into the darkness.

The stench vanishes, and you double over, gasping for air, eyes wide as your phone drops, nearly missing your toes.

“What the fuck?” You gulp as beads of cold sweat form down your back–uncomfortable. Your body trembles as you stand up, feet rushing to the window next to your fridge, and sure enough… there was a long deep scratch outside your window; the urge for drinking was gone, along with the creature that visited your humble abode.

The next few days were a blur, it was as if your body was on autopilot, you’re doing what you routinely do, but you feel absent. That includes waking up in the early hours of the morning, between two to three in the morning, always parched, and your eyes would always look out into your window to see those beady eyes staring pointedly at you. Like your daily routine, it became monotonous; draining.

Oh, but that was only the beginning.

“Oh, how beautiful you’ve grown…” Says the distorted voice, it was difficult to tell if it was a man or a woman. You remain stiff in your bed, hands shakily gripping your blanket as cold sweat rolls down your forehead, eyes trained at those same red eyes that have been haunting you in the early hours of the morning.

A distant, shrilling chuckle echoes through your room. Your insides churn as the creature stays in the shadows, yet it circles your bed.

“It has been a decade, you’re still the same terrified girl I’ve laid eyes upon.” It coos. “Why is that, hm?”

A shudder leaves your lips as an outline of a figure steps away from the darkness, yet it remains obscured. “Do you fear me? Am I that terrifying to look at?”

Slow, tantalising footsteps echo in your room towards you, then it stops at the foot of your bed–your organs have turned inwards again as your whole body trembles. The creature disappears from the shadows, only for it to appear above you, its head peering down closely at you… which is weird because your headboard is against the wall… there is no space for that thing to stand behind your bed and look at you at that angle, red eyes staring down at your own. The entity slowly blinks before pulling back, the shadows envelope their figure… and you are left with an unsettling silence.

The stench was gone, even when that–thing was in your room. Your body then begins to sink into your bed. A wave of panic rises as you let out interrupted screams as you try to scramble–claw your way out. It was no use… the sheets have already swallowed you whole.

Your body wakes with a start, dizzy, confused and with the urge to vomit as the fresh smell of wet earth fills your nose.

You aren’t in your bedroom… and sure as hell you’re not in your apartment as a throbbing headache shoots throughout your skull as you stumble back before balancing yourself on the cold, wet grass–just behind your apartment. The skies are gray yet again. Atmosphere, cold and foreboding as if it witnessed your predicament before you gained consciousness.

“How the fuck did I get here?” You stammer, body cold and weak as you clutch your chest… feeling a damp spot as you retract your hand only to be met by crimson liquid. You look down at your chest, your top was slightly unbuttoned as blood oozes out from the pierced skin–bite marks just above your right breast.

A shaky exhale leaves your lips as you lean your bloody hand against the wall of your building while the other clutches your bloody shirt, your steps–slow and unsteady as you walk back into your apartment with the resolve to call in sick for today…

The creature didn’t haunt you after that…

Yet–no.

Your face scrunches in disgust as you look outside your window, nails digging against your thighs as a soft sob leaves your lips. An uncomfortable feeling gnaws your insides as your mind cruelly berates you.

Disgusting… How could you long for something so profane?

This is sickness.

This is shame.

Repent

As darkness swallows your living room, you swallow harshly as you join your hands in prayer. It had been long since you last prayed–you were only sixteen years old when the creature came into your room whilst you were praying… and strangely enough, it was also the last time you wore your mother’s necklace before it was also taken away from you–in a way, it also took away your peace. Ever since then, you stopped with your prayers. Yet that didn’t stop the heavy feeling of monotony that looms above you every single day of your life.

Perhaps, it’ll be different now, that comfort and reassurance will come–just as you have prayed back then, only this time, it won’t be the creature that answered. It will be God.

But there is none.

Regardless of how earnest your prayers were, the looming heaviness remains, and a restless feeling gnaws at you once again as you bow your head, your hands purchase the hairs on your side as you let out a shaky exhale.

“Please,” You whimper, though not knowing why. “Please…”

After minutes of sitting still, you fix your posture; hands tugging your shirt to see the healed bite wound on your breast and oddly… felt comfort.

Regardless of lethargy, you return to work the next day.

Your movements, sluggish, eyesight blurry as the cycle begins. “I thought you’d be away for another day?” The manager mused as she leaned away from the counter. You can only shoot her with a smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I feel restless when I’m doing nothing.”

Which was true.

The sweet old lady chuckles and pats your shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave the rest to you, kiddo. Glad to have you back.” Your eyes didn’t leave her retreating figure until she entered her office, leaving you to manage the cashier as more customers began browsing the aisles. A long sigh escapes your lips as you crane your neck to the window, the skies are bright, perhaps a positive sign of things to come.

Hours passed by, and it was nearly closing time–you were recording sales again when the chimes rattle, alerting that a new customer has entered.

“We close in ten minutes!” You call out, not taking your eyes off the record book.

A rich feminine tone reaches your ears. “Well, if that’s the case–then I’ll need your help.”

You finally tear your eyes away from the book, your breath hitches.

Before you, stood a woman no older than thirty, black short hair styled to a sleek bob, her bangs frame her face elegantly, with a subtle, side-swept look.. Sharp, intelligent eyes caged by monolids, her complexion shames the moon, her features: sharp and well-defined. Her lips are full, adorned with a subtle red. She wore a perfectly pressed black leather trench coat and knee-high black boots. Everything about her seemed precisely tailored from head to toe, but when your eyes meet hers; you are met with a strange sensation.

You’ve never seen her in town before.

“W-what can I help you with?” You wince at your tone as the older woman looks around before her lips curl to a subtle smirk. “I was wondering if you can point me to the classical section?”

“Just by the hall, to the left–”

“I would prefer it if you take me there.” She interrupts as her striking brown eyes pin you.

You swallow before nodding, “Sure… right this way.” But as you walk past her to take lead, a sharp pain shoots through your right breast–you instinctively clutch it with a soft gasp. The stranger tilts her head, “Are you alright, miss?”

“Y-yeah,” You gulp before fixing your posture. “Uh, right this way.” Though your hand remains clutched to your chest as you both wind down the aisle. Your breath is uneven. “Here we are.” Your hand gestures at the plethora of books housed on shelves.

“Thank you,” Says the woman as her eyes flit to your name tag. “What a beautiful name.” She purrs as her slender, well-manicured hands grab the spine of the book. You nod wordlessly before turning away from the woman to go to the cashier. Her footsteps follow behind you, slow and tantalizing.

Your movements have once again become sluggish, uncoordinated, vision blurring as a heavy feeling looms on your head.

What’s happening?

It felt as if you were not in control of your body, everything felt distant–numb before the stranger’s voice shot through. Snapping you back to reality. Her face inches above yours as her arms secured your figure. The alluring scent of earth, leather, smoke and amber filling your senses–your stomach churns, heat filling your cheeks as she slowly blinks at you.

“You alright?” The woman mused. “You nearly face-planted against the floor.”

“Yeah,” You stammer as you place distance between her and you. “I’m alright. Thanks for the save.” A nervous laugh escapes your lips. The older woman hums as you two reach the cashier, finishing the transaction with an awkward note. Before the woman takes her purchase, she flashes you a juxtaposing smile before leaving.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of her until the door closes, and the chimes ring.

The torment returns.

It was two in the morning yet again. Throat dry, your phone used as a torch to guide your path to your fridge–those blasted, red beady eyes locked at your figure. But instead, it was no longer staring from outside your window… it’s inside. Sitting in one of your chairs by the dining table. Your body feels cold all over, muscles constricting–stiff and rigid. Your heart erratically beats; breath at a stand-still as the suffocating aroma fills the air: earth, smoke and leather.

Yet, beneath it all–warmth.

Uncomfortable warmth.

Trepidation drips down your forehead as the creature stands up, stalking towards you and away from the shadows. The black tendrils, trying to coax its master to remain in darkness, but the creature ignores it as it extends its sharp talons towards your face, a futile whimper and a sob leaves your lips as your stomach twists in fear, vision blurring as the stench singes your nostrils; flinching as both of its palms touch your face, it was so cold that it felt like your skin was on fire as you tremble in the creature’s touch before it pulls away.

On cue, your lips let out a loud gasp as the stillness that once possessed your body frees you; falling to your knees as you gasp for bated breath. Slowly, you look up to see the creature holding a necklace–your eyes widen as the creature dangles it in front of you, a piercing chuckle echoes in your room.

“Your necklace was losing your scent…” The creature purrs as it inhales your necklace, almost reverently. “Has anyone told you… you smell of roses?”

It circles around you, like a beast surveying its prey. “Sweet and delicate.”

You shakily reach for your necklace, but the creature coos and lifts its hand away from your reach. “No. It is mine now.”

A soft whimper leaves your lips, unable to form words of protest. The creature cups your face, beckoning you to look at… her.

Your pupils constrict as a subtle smirk graces her features. “What’s wrong?” Her voice, rich, feminine… and steely. “If I remember correctly, you seem to like it back in the bookstore.”

The woman tilts her head, “Or do you prefer…” You flinch as the sound of squelching flesh and twisting bones fills your ears, then a masculine voice. “This?”

Your breath hitches at the sight of the woman–now turned man, he shared the familiar features of the woman as if they were siblings, though his stature is tall, imposing. Yet just as beautiful.

And finally, you find your voice.

“W-who are you?”

The imposter grins, “I am what you have been refusing.”

“No,” Your voice chokes with shame as the man’s eyes flashed red.

“Oh, but yes…” He sneers. “I am what you so-desperately desire.”

“No!”

A loud snarl echoes in your apartment, your heart constricts as a pathetic sob leaves your lips. “Yes I am!” The creature huffs as it returns to the form of the woman back in the bookstore. “You will learn to accept that you are mine just as I am yours.” She husks, “You pledged yourself to me after all, pretty girl. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?” She wipes the thin sheen of sweat coating your face.

No.

“Who are you?”

What are you?

The woman chuckles. “I’ve had many names… but you can call me Ada. Ada Wong.” Ada smiles, “Or if you prefer a man–Adam.” Ada narrows her eyes before sighing. “I’ve overstayed my welcome.” She looks down at your top, “But first, a bite.”

Your eyes widen as she yanks your collar, her strength lifting you from the ground and popping the buttons from your top as her canines extend to sharp fangs. A shriek leaves your lips as her fangs pierce the skin of your chest, her other hand muffles your mouth as it drinks your crimson of life, the painful sting ebbs to bliss as your eyes roll back, your breath shuddering as a soft moan leaves your lips–shame follows as your body warms with delight as your hands grasp her coat while the other tugs at her short hair.

The creature–Ada, growls softly, creating gentle vibration spreading across your skin before pulling away gently. You shudder and moan in woe with a touch of bliss. She runs her tongue flat against the oozing wound, cleaning the blood that pools around your skin before your eyelids grow heavy, and you slip from consciousness.

You wake up the next morning on the floor.

A pained groan leaves your lips as you get up on the floor, wincing as you feel the sticky texture of dried blood on your shirt. You feel lightheaded, dizzy and nauseous. You tug on your shirt, cringing at the stain of your blood–there it is, a bite mark on the center of your chest, the bleeding has stopped, only the stains and wound remain. You grab the edge of the table for support, knees wobbling as you stand. The sun has already risen, but you don’t feel its warmth as you stare blankly at it while it fills your dining area with light.

You look down at your wound, the pads of your fingers brush against them softly–warmth.

And this time, shame dwindles.

You saw her–him. Again. There’s no mistaking it.

This time, he changed to casual wear: red button up shirt, black tapered trousers and shoes–he kept the black leather trench coat. His expression neutral as he aimlessly wanders around the aisle, his striking brown eyes stare at the covers before stopping by the History section.

You eye him warily as the other customers, especially girls, nudge their friends and indirectly point at him with a shy smile or grin.

A soft frown graces your features as you absently scan and charge another customer before handing them their change. Your eyes follow his slender, graceful hands as he opens a random History book. His daytime appearance seemed to belong in his surroundings–calm, unassuming.

Compared to the nights the creature has haunted you.

Fed on you.

A chill shoots down your spine, the wounds singe. You bite your lower lip to muffle the pained groan that threatened to leave your lips as your hand instinctively clutched your chest while the other hand palms the smooth edge of the deck for support.

“Everything alright?” Your ears perk upon hearing his voice. It’s not as grating as it was previously, instead it was smooth, velvety and juxtaposing. Slowly, you turn your head towards him. He was in front of the counter, he was close enough for you to smell him; smoke, leather, wood, lavender and nutmeg. A knowing smirk plays on his lips as he eyes you.

Subtle, not overpowering.

“Y-you,” You stammer as he places a book atop the counter.

“I’m purchasing this book.”

Your eyes shoot down at the thick book–history. You peer over his shoulder, no one follows after him as your eyes slowly meet his; your throat dries as he flashed them red at you–you snap your eyes away from him, nails digging against the counter as your heart leaps to your throat. He observes this–a faux disdainful tone fills his voice.

“Your reaction wounds me, sweetheart.” He purrs. “Is this how you treat your customers?”

Your jaw locks as your hands automatically scramble for the book and quickly scan it. “Th-that’ll be $11.48.”

He hums and hands you the bill, you visibly wince as his deathly cold fingers brush against yours. “Keep the change.” He tells you; his eyes following your rushed movements before you hand him a paper bag containing his book. The creature doesn’t take it.

Instead, he leans against the counter, close enough for you to see a necklace wrapped around his neck–your necklace. “I think it suits me better than you, no?” He grins, not bothering to hide his fangs as the gleam menacingly beneath the fluorescent lights. Your throat tightens and you shudder as your eyes trail lower–the blasted creature unbutton three, allowing you to see the smooth, defined chest beneath the shirt.

He chuckles at this while you once again look away, a cheeks warm and your stomach churns–shame on you.

The former tilts his head, “Why deny your feelings, sweet girl?”

You didn’t dare look at him and stayed silent. The man huffs and takes the paper bag and turns away from you, “You will learn to accept me.” He peers over his shoulder, “And when that happens, it will be the best thing you did.”

With that, he leaves. Though his words echo in your brain like a broken record as your day finishes–though it was a blur.

You didn’t walk home immediately after your shift.

Instead, you opted to take a walk–not exactly ideal considering your parents have warned you about the dangers of the night; you just didn’t find it in you to heed anymore. Hands in your coat, your eyes close as the cool breeze grazes your skin, even when you wear a coat–the chill nips at your bones. You continue in your path, your vision blurry as you allow your feet to take you wherever they seem fit–you know your way around town after all. You wander aimlessly, your footsteps echo the empty streets until it echoes no more. Only the soft patch of footfalls against grass and dirt. Your vision clears–you’re in the park.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, neck craning to see if you’re not the only one in the park, but as you look up, your eyes widens with shock, your blood runs cold and the color drains from your face while the air changes around you–heavy with dark foreboding.

You look up, and your jaw slacks.

There, at the apex of the lamp post, Ada was crouching. Her dark hair leaning forward, only allowing you to see her bright crimson eyes, skin pale as the moon. However, it’s not her presence that sets you off.

It’s the dark, long cape that blocks the light of the lamp–

Wait, that isn’t a cape…

Wings.

Those were huge, bat-like wings–it was twice the size of her body.

Her wings raise, blocking the moonlight–wide and imposing before it morphs into her black leather trench coat. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She mused, her voice–unlike in your nightmares–smooth, sultry and deceivingly sweet. “Care for a walk?”

Your other foot takes a step back, and Ada’s gaze sharpens. Her smooth voice fills with absolute command.

“You’d do well to say yes to me, my sweet rose.”

She gracefully lands on the ground, not a single speck of dirt on her.

“It will do you good,” A ghost of a smirk graces her lips. “And you will learn to bend to your nature.”

A soft scoff leaves your lips, “What nature?”

She walks past you, “There’s no point in asking when you know it.” Ada looks over her shoulder, “Intimately.”

You tear your gaze away from her as the familiar uncomfortable feeling stirs in your gut. Ada’s voice fills the empty park. “Come along now.” You let out a shaky exhale as you follow the older woman, your hands ball into rigid fists in your coat pockets as you heed her.

“This town is rather peaceful, no?” Ada narrows her eyes at your silence. “Speak, girl. I am not here to harm you.”

“Yet why drink from me? Harm me?” You blurt. Your organs feel like dropping as Ada turns her whole body towards you. “It is our way of feeding–it has always been like that for centuries.” The short-haired woman smirks, “And it doesn’t harm you… it brings you pleasure.”

You snort. Disbelief.

But deep down, you know it’s true, and Ada merely chuckles darkly at your refusal. “You are a stubborn woman.”

“Don’t poke fun at me!” You burst, voice tight and distant. “For years, you felt like a heavy blanket–stinking of smoke, earth and leather.” You sharply inhale, “You have done nothing but weigh me down and make me miserable!”

“Miserable?” Ada chuckles, her voice dropping an octave lower. “Fool.” She then disperses like a black smoke and appears in front of you, a startled gasp leaves your lips as you turn to run but her hand grabs your wrist in an iron-like grip before yanking you back to her. Ada’s red eyes glowered dangerously down at you whilst you trembled in her hold as her distorted, cold and steely voice filled your ears.

“I saved you.” She hisses, her fangs barred. “Have you forgotten why you prayed that night?”

A guttural growl reverberates from her throat, “You prayed for companionship. You prayed to quell the loneliness that haunts you from your childhood. Your god did nothing.” She leans down to your ears, leaving nothing but goosebumps and a chill running down your spine.

“But I did.” A pregnant pause, “Can’t you see the efforts I have done for you? I kept you away from harm. I have made myself beautiful for you; to be an object of your ire and yet you shun me as if I am your shame.”

“Because you are!” You sobbed as your knees wobble. If it wasn’t for the nocturnal being that held you up, you would’ve fallen to the ground. “You’re my shame! A repulsive desire–you make me sick–!”

A snarl silences you and you whimper and avoid her piercing eyes. Her fangs gleam with danger, her voice–dangerously low. “And yet you’ve called for me, sweet rose.” She rasps, “And I have come. For centuries, a lonesome creature like me slumbers in the darkness–until you woke me. Not many people can do that.”

A whimper leaves your lips as she grasps your jaw and tilts your chin upwards, her voice returns to normal. “I am an impatient creature.” She inches closer, the tips of her lips nearly touching yours. “And I have endured for you–waited for you the moment your skin has blessed my lips that night. I have craved for nothing but you.”

You stifle a gasp, “You crave my blood.”

“Oh, but much more.” Ada pulls you closer to her frame, “Your heart.”

A scoff leaves your lips as your palms rest against her upper chest, “I don’t think something like you can love.” A soft purr vibrates in her chest, she releases you from her hold. “It’s beneath me. I can only devour such an appetite of emotions.” The creature gives you a well-practiced smile, “But I possess like any man or woman towards the things they value–they keep.”

The smile drops as she looks up at the moon, “The hour is late. You must head home.”

“Y-you won’t feed from me?”

“No,” She answers immediately as she slowly holds up her palm. Black smoke envelopes you, your chest tightens as you try to move away from ensnaring darkness–but it was futile, even though she has said it.

“It is useless to fight it.” Her voice becomes distant, as your eyelids grow heavy and the darkness swallows you.

You wake with a gasp.

You sit up, eyes looking around your surroundings–you’re in your bed, in your apartment; your hand tugs on your shirt to see if there’s any new bite marks.

And true to Ada’s words, there are none. You let out a breath and look outside your window–daylight kisses your room and for once, you felt its warmth.

Ada didn’t come to the bookstore today; and neither has she made any appearance at night–even in your nightmares… though you don’t know if they can be considered nightmares anymore.

Regardless, you long for her to come to you again as she did every night, and as you realize this thought.

The weight of shame looms no longer.

The creature’s absence is a hollow pit to your soul.

You find yourself staying up longer than usual. Each day later than the last. You find yourself walking around the town, to the park where you had last conversed with her, hoping to see her perched up a tree branch or atop the lamppost.

But you were wrong.

Oh–so wrong.

As days pass by, you find yourself restless without the creature’s nightly visits, hell–hauntings, even. They had once filled you with dread and terror, and now, all you feel is longing.

This is your new torment–her absence.

For every visit, every nightmare–they were a macabre fix to your dull monotonous life. And now she is gone–such a feeling of relief was fleeting.

You lay there in your bed, the pads of your fingers brush against the bite mark on your skin–caressing the remnants of her presence. You turn to the side before curling in your sheets, a shaky sigh leaving your lips before you whisper her name; a prayer.

Yet you are met with an empty dream once again. You look at your dinner blankly–just canned food and rice. You didn’t have the mood to cook nor order takeout, you merely scooped five spoonfuls of food before deciding to retreat to your bedroom to freshen up and wait for the nightmare to flood your dreams despite knowing that it will be blank just as any other night. As you twist and turn in your bed, your thoughts keep you up, forcing you to deal with the reality that she may not come back–all because you couldn’t accept your nature.

Your unnatural longing. Desire.

You hug your knees to your chest, heart heavy with emotions you refuse to acknowledge.

No, not yet.

As the clock strikes at four in the morning; you finally have fallen asleep.

You wake up just in time once again, however, your energy plunges as you do your same exact routine. Take a bath, freshen up and go to work, ignoring the taste of bile crawling up to your mouth. Every step feels like taxing, and every breath you take was a chore as your vision blurs, yet your feet take you to where you have programmed it to be. The shouts of the outside world felt rather distorted–fleeting.

Today, you chose to be the prisoner of your own mind, allowing your eyes to be as far away as your thoughts while your arms and legs kept you rooted to reality only when it demands for you. Real world be damned.

The creature left you in peace, but it felt as if its absence only left you in pieces.

Anger, bitterness, then there it is again; longing.

You would caress the wounds she had left–but not even those stay long. They were healing.

And you don’t want them to heal.

Without thinking–you pick on the healing tissue, peeling it away and hissing softly as you pluck out the healed skin. Automatically, blood began to ooze but that doesn’t deter you. After peeling the first–you came for the second, then the third. The same can be said for your injury above your right breast.

You slept with a bloody shirt on; that didn’t bother you as twisted comfort warms your body. This is enough, this will suffice.

But for how long?

Not for long

And so was her absence.

Three days after peeling your bite mark, just as you’re about to fall into a dreamless sleep–darkness enveloped you.

The smell of smoke, leather and earth fills your lungs as you open your eyes. Darkness.

Your heart leaps, a soft joyous gasp leaves your lips as you snap your head around. This darkness is familiar to you; your heart has already mastered it. “Ada!” You croak, the echoes delay as you walk aimlessly–deeper into the darkness until you see an opening, there she is, standing with her back turned towards your figure. Her stature–tall and poised and wrapped in mystique. Suddenly, the stench of death didn’t reek.

Instead, it smells of rose, leather, amber and blossom.

Inviting.

She slowly turns to you, her countenance tainted by cracks on her skin as her eyes glow a sultry red as she raises her hand, beckoning you to take it while the moonlight kisses her figure. You let out a shaky breath as you take a step towards her, the shadows weigh heavy, as if trying to ward you away from her. As you slowly walk towards her, her form distorts from man to woman, woman to man, the warning whispers distort as the line between shame and longing becomes nothing but a blur as you throw yourself towards her, a sob of relief leaves your lips as your body lights with warmth as you tighten your embrace.

A purr reverberates from Ada’s chest as her hand caresses your back slowly before her claws dig through your clothes as she leans down, her cold breath fans against your ear.

“I told you… you will accept me and accept your nature.”

She snakes her hand up and tugs the back of your hair. You quietly gasp as you stare up at her male counterpart and his blasted open shirt, exposing the cracked skin that mar his skin. Sitting at the base of his neck is your missing necklace.

“See what you do to me?” He hisses as his voice becomes feminine. “See the lengths I’ve gone through to hold back?”

Ada returns to her female form and growls as her eyes flash while she shows you her fangs, bright and red at the pointed tip before she clamps it shut.

“I am a patient and enduring creature.” She says brusquely. “And I will finally have what is mine.” She brushes the tips of her lips against your neck, a soft whine vibrates on your throat as she gently pecks the available skin while her other hand trails down your arm before grasping your wrist and bringing it to her lips.

“I’ve asked you this before, when you were nothing but an innocent child praying for companionship, for warmth…” She looks down at you, “Will you pledge yourself to me, my sweet rose?” She kisses the pulse that beats in your wrist.

“I may not give you warmth and nor can I love, but as I’ve said before…I possess you like that of a spouse.”

A ghost of a smile graces her beautiful but eroding features.

“For weeks, you have refused me. Now look at you,” She coos, “Tell me, do you refuse me, still?”

“No,” You concede, and oh–what a relaxing feeling as the creature graces you with a smile full of teeth. You feel elated, free from the heavy loom of shame and guilt, you surge forward, lips meeting hers for a searing kiss; it is full of need. You swallow the vampire’s moans as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss, consummating your pledge.

You pull back for air as Ada’s once poised features become feral as her eyes darkened and yanks your collar, exposing your neck for her.

“By this pact,” She snarls softly, “You… are mine. Forever.”

She then sinks her fangs into your neck, you let out a pained yell but Ada muffles it with her free hand. Your knees buckle and you lose balance, but your nocturnal spouse catches you effortlessly and holds you as she drinks you, a loud growl emanates from her throat–sending vibrations throughout your body as blood oozes, staining your sleepwear. You claw her back as she digs her fangs deeper into your flesh. Your eyes roll back as venom enters your bloodstream, pleasure blooming from within while you arch your back.

The creature purrs before pulling back. Blood drips down her chin, most of it coats her lips like a morbid lipstick. She holds eye contact while her tongue licks her upper lips. Shakily, your hand reaches up to her lips, and Ada kisses your fingertips before grasping your wrist and inhaling your delectable scent.

Another growl.

Your eyelids grow heavy as your eyes trail down her neck just to see your necklace.

Ada leans down and presses her face against your chest, inhaling your scent.

A gust of wind harshly kisses your skin as she takes you back to your bedroom and places you on the sheets.

She looks around, your eyes follow her as the older woman looks at your mirror before it fractures while the wind knocks the windows open–her coat dances with the wind before it distorts into huge black wings; it wraps around her body like a demented cape as she slowly stalks towards you, her appearance distorts once again–man, woman, man, then woman before settling into a man again as the coat slips off to reveal him bare.

Your eyes shamelessly rake his body as he climbs to your bed and looms above you. His physique is perfectly carved like that of a greek god if you are to discard his crimson eyes and sharp teeth as he sinks it into your chest. You throw your head back as blood oozes from the new wound down to your sheets.

You whimper as the creature returns to his female counterpart, her slender, well-manicured hands caress your clothes, her touch dissipates the cloth, leaving you bare–just like her. Your flutters due to exposure, nipples perked up as the air grazes softly against them. Ada hums in approval as her eyes glaze with appreciation.

She maintains eye contact as she laps the blood off your chest, eyes flashing dangerously promising pain and pleasure as she leans down to your ear.

“Has anyone taken you like this before?”

You gulp as pain shoots through your body only for it to be soothe by pleasure. “N-no,” You groan as she guides your left thigh around her lean waist.

The short-haired woman grins, “Good.” She purrs and gently squeezes your thigh.

“Because no one can please you as I will.”

And indeed, she does.

Being pleasured by the creature is nothing short of unholy.

Ada fucks you in both male and female counterparts, leaving you whimpering in bliss.

The necklace dangles and swings as he drives himself deeper into you, a deep snarl echoes in the room, shooting down to your pussy as he grinds his cock against your seeping cunt.

The light shows the sinews of his muscles as he takes you harshly, his strong arms wrapped around your delicate form as sweat drips from his muscled stomach down to your skin. Ada–Adam, pulls his head back and attacks your neck with kisses that morph into arduous bites.

You close your eyes and drop your head onto the pillows while your hips jut shamelessly against his.

The older man sinks his fangs into your shoulder as your mixed arousals drip to the sheets.

He lets you meet his hips with a guttural groan before holding your hips down, grabbing your thighs before lifting them up at a certain angle before he moves his hips. You claw the creature’s toned back, lips uncontrollably spilling cries of pleasure while the sound of skin slapping against skin harmonizes with the creaking bed.

His nails grip the sheets, tearing the fabric while his pace fastens, hips slamming deep, the bulbous head kisses your cervix–your eyes roll back whilst a silent scream breaks past your lips. He chuckles darkly, “Look at you,” Adam lifts your hips and grinds his hips, “Pliant and vulnerable.”

He stops his movements; you whine at the loss before he kisses the pillar of your neck before going behind your ear. “I want you to mount me.”

Say less

He removes himself from you, you nearly sob at the loss while he crawls to the headboard and rests his back against it.

Sweat dampens his skin, his black hair sticks against his forehead, the moonlight kisses his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he taps his thighs, you eye his rigid cock; standing tall and proud. With a puff, you align your sopping cunt, the latter grunts as you slowly sink down.

Adam growls as his hands grab onto your waist before thrusting his hips up, not bothering to wait for you.

You throw your head back in bliss while your hands grab onto his broad shoulders, nails digging against his skin. The older man flushes you against him as he thrusts his hips, face contorting to Ada, lips curling into a predatory smirk when your lips let out streams of moans.

“Fuck,” You mewl as your hips meet his thrusts, jaw dropping into an ‘O’ shape as you release a particular squeal that as Adam groaning and gropes your ass before spanking it roughly, eliciting a whimper from you as you drop your head onto his shoulder, inhaling his scent.

His lips attach to your neck, his fangs grazing your skin before opting to kiss it instead. Your walls clenching and throbbing around him, you were so slick and wet that your juices dripped down to his thigh.

“Good,” He moans, “Very good. Just like that.” Adam tightens his arms around your waist as he thrusts his hips upwards, fucking you hard and deep that your vision blurs as a strange pressure grows on your stomach, insides pulsing and tingling.

It was a strange yet blissful feeling.

“Ada,” You mewl and press yourself harder against the male counterpart. “My stomach feels weird.”

“Keep going,” He growls, pounding into you harder to the point that his thrusts are shallow–yet powerful.

Both bodies are covered in a thick sheen of sweat as beads of exertion perspire on your foreheads. The smell of sex permeates the air accompanied by obscene noises coming from you and the creature; the pressure grows strong inside you, losing all inhibition as you pull him for a searing kiss. It was all-consuming as he swallowed your moans.

His strong arms pulling you impossibly closer to his cold body as you come undone–white hot pleasure sporadically consumes your insides as his cock pushes deep, the tip kissing your cervix before he shoots his load.

His warm cum fills your walls as he stills his hips as he finally sinks his fangs again into your chest, drinking from you and adding into your euphoria as you’ve gone limp in his arms.

He held you in place before you felt him morph into another form; a woman, though the appendage remains lodged in you.

Ada looks at you with a smirk. “The night is still young, my sweet rose.” She cranes her neck to the side to see the moon is still up; the older woman moves her hips, stimulating you, your hips shake as a whimper flees from your lips–your arms wrap around the nocturnal individual as she chuckles.

“You can do more, my love.” She coaxes as she surges forward while you lay on your back.

“Embrace your nature,” Ada purrs as her short hair cages her resplendent countenance as she begins to plow her hips into you as she fucks you into the sheets.

“You feel divine,” The older woman grunts, emphasizing it with a deep pound.

You can only claw at her back and moan as she holds your hips, lifting it to her desired angle before setting the pace while you writhe beneath her ministrations.

You cry out and wrap your arms around her shoulders as she hits a particular spot that makes you see stars. Your legs automatically wrap around her waist while her arms grip the sheets for leverage.

The sinews of her muscles flexing with her movements, red eyes watching in carnal delight as you writhe in bliss, your heels digging into her ass, forcing her to thrust deeper into you.

Your walls clench around her, and Ada’s hips stutters before pistoning her hips at a harsh pace as profanities befall your lips.

Look at you, so exquisite. Hers.

The vampire bites down your neck again, blood staining the sheets before she pulls back and laps the wound. She combs her short hair back. Giving her a messy, slid-back look that makes her devastatingly attractive before she puts her hand back on your hips, keeping you still as she bullies your pussy with her cock.

There goes that feeling again, and Ada pecks your shoulder, leaving a bloody print of her lips.

A whimper leaves your lips as you cum so hard–it’s blinding. Ada snarls and tears the fabric as she slams her hips deep and finishes after you. Your velvet walls throb as her essence mixes with yours; a warm concoction as she rubs her hips and you’re too blissed-out to react.

You don’t know how long you two were going at it.

You’re not even sure how you managed to stay alive with Ada drinking your blood at each release. You were too busy indulging the older woman’s appetite as she fucks and breeds you relentlessly.

“On your stomach,” Ada commands. You obey; pressing your bloody chest against the crimson-stained sheets.

“Hips up,” She purrs. You obeyed, allowing her to see your swollen cunt dripping with your mixed juices. “Good girl,” The older woman purrs before slapping your folds, making you cry out as more of your essence drips down.

The former uses your cum to coat her cock before looming above you, her hands caging you on opposite sides before her left hand moves to your neck, applying pressure–you gasp and jut your hips against her appendage.

The necklace presses against yours with a cold sting.

Ada’s nails dig against your neck, a hiss befalls your lips in both pleasure and pain as she thrusts her entire length. The head easily parts your folds as she glides into you in one swift motion, impaling you with her cock.

The sheer girth of her shaft spreads your cunt until your walls are stretched thin around her. Overstimulation shoots throughout your body, screaming in erotic delight while you claw the sheets and gasp for air. Winded by her thrust. The mixture of her cock and your mixed juices makes you feel full. Your walls flutter, pulsing as Ada sets a brutal pace.

“Ada!” You cry out as her hand leaves your neck, her lips latch onto your shoulder. Her hips hit the curvature of your ass–you can feel her toned stomach flex and stiff at her pace as she moans your name. Holding you down by the shoulders as she jackhammers inside you. Your body feels hot in contrast to hers as you meet every roll of her hips.

Your head falls against the pillows, letting the older woman have her way with you as her fangs dig against the flesh where your neck and shoulders meet–you cry out.

“You are mine,” She growls as soon as she retracts her fangs and grinds her hips rough. “Do you understand, pretty girl?”

Your pussy clamps vigorously, sweat dripping down your temple, moaning with abandon, your mixed juices now trailing down your thighs, body covered in both sweat and dried blood.

Ada’s patience runs thin as she slams her hips, “I asked you a question. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,”

She rewards you with desperate pounds; feral. Her hands grab any skin available for the taking.

You let out a loud moan as you felt her cock hit a certain spongy area, your back arches against her front. A vile grin breaks into Ada’s lips as she repeatedly targets the spot, your arms and thighs quiver with every penetrative slam, woes of pleasure leaving your lips.

Ada drops her head against your nape, her fangs pressed against your nape, refraining from sinking into your flesh as your walls flutter as you come undone, the older woman finishes after you as she stills her hips and shoots rope after rope before pulling out.

The sticky mix of your cum smeared everywhere–filthy, disgusting… yet a beautiful, filthy mess.

You let out a frail moan as more of your cum leaks out of your abused cunt.

The creature delicately lays you on your back–the most gentle she has been so far.

Your blood coats her skin, her lips smudged with blood as she settles in-between your legs before pressing her lips against yours.

You return her kiss, with a shaky hand, you cup her cheek as she presses you against the pillows, her lips devouring yours. Her pointed canines gently cut the skin of your lips, but none of you minded as you taste the salty and metallic flavor of your blood, but to Ada–it’s sweet nectar.

You pull for air only for the creature to chase your lips with a soft grunt, your blood trickles down to your chin as you keep kissing her until your lungs burned for oxygen.

You open your eyes–finally taking in your surroundings… Was your room always this bright?

As the first light of dawn kissed the room, you froze, watching in horror as cracks began to form along Ada’s face. Her pale skin, once smooth and unyielding, now splintered like fragile porcelain.

“No, please…” you whispered, reaching out to her instinctively.

Ada turned to you, her crimson eyes softening, betraying the faintest glimmer of emotion. “Do not mourn me yet,” she murmured, her voice low but steady. “I am not so easily undone.”

Desperation clawed at your chest as you tightened the blanket around both of you, shielding her from the sunlight seeping through the window. Her arms encircled you, colder than ever before, yet somehow comforting.

“Ada,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she replied, her lips curling into a faint, almost wistful smile. “But there is a price, my sweet rose. There always is.”

As she spoke, a sharp pain erupted in your chest. You gasped, clutching at your heart as a cold fire spread through your veins. Ada held you close, her grip both tender and unyielding, as the venom coursing through your blood consumed you.

“It’s already begun,” she said, almost reverently. “Your heartbeat will slow. Your warmth will fade. And when it is over, you will be as I am.”

You shuddered, torn between terror and exhilaration. “What will I become?”

“My equal,” she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Bound to me for eternity. You will no longer crave the comfort of the sun, but you will have me.” Her lips hovered above yours. “Always.”

The sunlight grew brighter, and you felt your strength waning, but Ada’s presence anchored you. The cracks on her skin stopped spreading, though they remained etched into her features like scars of battle.

“Do you accept this fate?” she asked, her tone soft but commanding.

You hesitated, the weight of her question pressing down on you. But as her eyes bore into yours, you knew there was no turning back.

“Yes,” you breathed.

With a predatory smile, Ada leaned in, her fangs glinting in the light as she whispered against your skin, “Then we begin again.”

She sank her teeth into your neck, and this time, there was no fear, no shame—only a profound, unrelenting connection. As the venom claimed you fully, your vision blurred, the room dissolving into a haze of darkness and light.

When you awoke, the sunlight no longer burned. You stood, unsteady but alive, your senses heightened. The air tasted of earth, leather, and smoke, but now it was intoxicating.

Ada stood beside you, her cracks fading, her smile triumphant. She took your hand, her touch no longer cold but perfectly attuned to yours.

“You are mine,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice.

“And you are mine,” you replied, your voice steady.

Together, you turned toward the window, the dawn no longer a threat but a new beginning.

Fin.

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