#that thought? EXCRUCIATING. MORTIFYING. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hexonthepeach · 8 months

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a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 23: regrets

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [22: sated]

wc: 7k

warnings: explicit smut, foursome, mmmf (including minor m/m), D/s (A/o dynamics), kinks: master/pet, minor humiliation/degradation, cuckoldry, bulge, breeding, heat sex with omega lock, oral (m receiving), double penetration one hole (ck/fingers), pet names (princess, pet, precious, kit/baby kit)

recommended listening: clockwork - taemin

"Don't laugh."

In a long, long list of mortifying experiences this might be one of the worst, if only because of how exposed you feel, propped up on the bed, your mate asleep beneath you as you cycle through another round of excruciating pain and dulled pleasure.

You'd managed to maneuver so you're no longer on your aching knees but seated, hiding the joining of your bodies with your legs locked together. It's little relief as Doyoung passes a washcloth over your heaving chest, clearing drips of sweat and blood.

This was not supposed to happen. Certainly not while the other two Alphas in the room try not to break down laughing at the sight of you.

They’re failing, miserably–or perhaps not even trying to hide it, in Johnny’s case.

Doyoung unbuttons his ruined dress shirt, lips working to hide his amusement, distracted by the sight of his own blood.

You feel horribly that you'd gotten him, in the heat of the moment so to speak, affected by Taeyong's descent into his fox and your increasing distress. But you’d also sucked the sweetness from your fingernails when he'd left to get a fresh towel to clean you, Johnny watching you intently from his post near the door.

Whatever you'd proven of your self-control earlier was not worth maintaining right now. You check your agent repeatedly, feeling the countdown in your head as the room goes dark, neon-stained snow drifts casting the whole scene in a gloomy iridescence.

"We could just bring them to the meeting ground like this," Johnny says. He’s still half-naked but wearing that stupid grin that's been on his face since they'd had to negotiate heaving you together out of the nest.

"It would not help our case," Doyoung says from the bathroom. He returns with water and a street-legal painkiller for you, smoothing down your hair as you drink while you maintain deadly eye contact with the Felid.

"Cold shower? Suppressants?" Johnny offers. "Knock her out?"

You sputter your mouthful, resisting the urge to throw the glass at his head to stop his fatuous commentary.

"It should go away on its own," Doyoung says. "Taeil says it’s common with non-traditional pair bonding. And it being her first time . . . Well. Longest recorded of your lineage was around six hours."

"Absolutely not," you say, gripping your aching head in your hands. "We don't have that time."

"Should have thought of that earlier," Johnny says. "You had all last night to start your little marathon, didn't you?"

He'd expected you to mate Taeyong as soon as possible, of course. You'd seen the impression at the end of the bed where he'd slept in his true form, curled, waiting for you to need him–his continuous offer of assistance left ignored.

No, you were still more than cross with him. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was what you needed, or allow your hollowed-out heart the opportunity to turn away from your duty.

"Surely you have something better to do than making this worse?" you bite back.

"Right." Johnny checks his fingernails, flexing his hand. "Are you ready to accept my help?"

"Absolutely not." You're self-conscious again, clutching your robe tighter around you.

"It's worth considering," Doyoung sighs. "If it's a matter of biology, there's something inhibiting your body from recognizing this as a completed mating cycle. Taeyong didn't claim you, did he?"

You know why he's asking, having easily seen the bruises and teeth marks indenting your body. To your credit, you think you'd given the other fox more. Doyoung cleans his mate as well, a little more expediently with him still passed out. Taeyong's reprieve looks peaceful by comparison to yours.

You shake your head. "We agreed to wait."

"There's several factors here. A deficiency of viable sperm for fertilization, and a proper knotting. Both of which can be resolved through being bred by your pairbond."

You wince, sniffing a bit. "I don't want him to mate me."

Johnny sighs.

"Then you really are in a bind, aren't you." Doyoung murmurs as he sits on the bed beside you, reaching around your middle to bring you into his shoulder and chest. You could sleep like this if you had the luxury, nestled into the soft embrace of the other Alpha with his sea-salt and herbal aura.

"Tick-tock," Johnny remarks.

You shudder, visibly. "I don't want that pig to even touch me."

Johnny’s fist thumps against the wall in his irritation. "That's a new one."

"What about Jaehyun?" you ask, glancing up at Doyoung.

His head swings away just as another thud shakes the room, hung art pieces sliding out of place with the percussion.

"Absolutely not."

There's a visible indentation in the wall from Johnny's fist–Doyoung sucks his breath through his teeth at the damage.

"You want to force him in front of me, again?" Johnny asks, quietly. "Make him do what you want against his will?"

Red hazes your vision, a little more your own than the anger you feel radiating off of him. You’re sure he doesn’t really see you like that, is just using any means to narrow your selection to him, but you still feel the cruelty in that statement.

It’s just her nature.

"Pig," you repeat.

It would be too embarrassing to explain, anyway, you think, rubbing frustrated tears from your eyes. No, best to make sure the only people that ever knew about this were already in the room.

"Fine, you can help me," you say. "But under one condition."

Johnny perks.

"You knot me." You punctuate your words with a tap of your claws on your target.

Doyoung looks down at you like you've just spoken another language, eyes wide. "Me?"

"If he gets to make decisions on my behalf and against my will I would like to make him regret them," you say, rubbing your face against his shoulder while watching your mate for his reaction.

You see Doyoung breathe in through his nose, braced as if ready to bolt. He holds, turning on the bed to face you instead of Johnny.

“I thought I smelled nice to you,” you say, demurely. From his reaction he’s unimpressed by this tack.

“____, you’re playing a dangerous game right now,” he says. “Do you understand what you’re asking?”

You angle your head, displaying your neck.

"Was all that talk about Alpha duty hot air to you?" you ask, pouting. "Or maybe you don’t want to. You're not afraid of the big bad pussycat, are you?"

Doyoung looks between you and Johnny as if he expects either one of you to suddenly explode from how intensely the Felid is staring you down. You expect it too, until you see a bright smile crack in the shadows.

"You think I'm going to regret it? Want to bet?" Johnny asks.

You maintain eye contact as well as you can as you curl into Doyoung’s hold, licking at the healed stripes of flesh beneath his collarbone. The Lepid tastes just as beautiful as he looks, a surprisingly marble-statue-like physique revealed under his clothing.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Alpha," you say in-between tonguing his lavender and cream skin, enjoying the little gasp he makes as you kiss his breast, moving to his slender throat as you rub your scent all over him, all the time meeting those green-glared eyes in the dark.

"Are you, though?" Doyoung asks, voice breathy.

Suddenly you're gripped by the back of your neck again, paralyzed as he pulls away to face you. There's unexpected danger in his soft features, the prey Alpha expressing disapproval with lowered brows and a sharp menthol spike in his scent.

“No, I don't think you are,” he says. “All I see is a trapped animal that will turn on me the moment it has the chance.”

All that kindness and uncertainty is gone, Doyoung's throat bobbing as he scents you, nose wrinkling at something immeasurably lacking. He hooks your upper lip to check your fangs–an intelligent thing to do considering the saliva filling your mouth at the fresh taste of his blood.

"You and Taeyong are two of a kind," he sighs. "But at least he's trained. You're not, are you?"

You wrestle in his grasp, submitting involuntarily.

“I thought you were supposed to be nice,” you hiss.

"Did I give my consent for you to taste me?" Doyoung asks.

He's trying to make you meet his eyes, fingertips embedded in your neck muscles as his thumb strokes your hairline. The movements keep the rage in your belly from boiling over. You shake your head, now more upset for having been caught overstepping.

“Look at me, ____.”

The hare’s eyes are brighter, their darkness hazel-touched. He should be afraid of you, bowing to your mercy. You’d expected him to speak sweet lies into your ear to make you compliant, but you're met with the gaze of a wolf instead.

A Kim, indeed.

Doyoung doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by your personality change, lashes falling as he scans your face and your fisted hands.

"Given enough time we could break you in properly but I'm afraid we'll just have to operate under the assumption that you'll behave if you know what's good for you, won’t you, gongjunim?"

You nod, dumbfounded.

"Say it," he says, no less a command for how willingly you comply.

"Yes, Alpha."

"Are you going to do exactly what I tell you to do?"

You hesitate long enough he squeezes a little harder to subdue you, making your ears fold down autonomically.

"Yes, Alpha," you repeat.

"Do you think it's acceptable to use your teeth and claws without permission?"

"No, Alpha."

"You want to bite me like you did him?" He forces your head down towards your unconscious mate with the barest gesture. No, his mate. Of course he would be upset you’d hurt him again–what had he said?

The next time you lay a claw on him, you’ll get like for like.

You whimper a bit remembering the threat, tail twitching, trying to escape even as your cunt twitches around the cock inside you with agonizing need.

“No, no. Never,” you add. You look at Johnny to see if he's going to continue to allow this handling, head yanked back so quickly you let out a yelp. From the corner of your eye you can see the big man rocking with suppressed laughter, entirely unfazed.

"You follow my orders, not his," Doyoung tsks, pushing you down into a crouch.

“An Alpha only provides care to an omega who is willing to submit and please him in turn, not try to devour him, or overpower him.” His hand moves down your back, fingertips tracing the scratches Taeyong had given you, beneath the ruined silk.

“Are you truly a princess? Or are you just a feral stray who bites the hand that feeds her?”

It should be humiliating to hear yourself referred to so lowly but there's almost something comforting about playing your designated role right now. Gods knew you needed someone to take charge and release you from this bind. However furious you are at the indignity you’re also desperate to be free.

“I’ll be good, Alpha,” you whisper into your knees.

"Prove it. Earn what you've requested.” You feel Doyoung bend down to ghost your neck with a kiss, a promise written in the press of his lips that has you trembling again, for entirely different reasons.

"Yes, master." You venture, peering up. You catch him smoothing away an unconscious smile as he stands, brushing his pants clean of the white guard hairs from your tail.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Johnny asks.

"We just need to get your cum inside her somehow," he says, catching your surprised expression and shaking his head firmly. “Indirectly, of course. We could get Taeil to bring us a needleless syringe–”

“No!” You sit up, dizzy from the context switch, no longer relaxed but terrified.

“Anything but that, please,” you beg the two men standing over you. “I’ll shove it in myself if I need to.”

Doyoung sighs. "Taeyong needs to be awake, then, I don't want to risk injuring him."

"I can keep him controlled," you say, forgetting yourself. Both of the Alphas look at you measurably, Johnny turning to watch his partner's reaction with an amused smile.

"Did I ask you to?" Doyoung asks, deadly quiet after.

"I didn’t mean–" you begin.

"Do you truly want to integrate into this pack?"

"Yes, Alpha," you say, bitterly. “I just meant–”

"Then hold your tongue or we’ll find something to fill that pretty mouth of yours."

You close your lips, bowing your head automatically to hide the look you know is on your face–aghast but intensely aroused at the thought of being given what you want as a punishment. It's excruciating feeling your body continue to tighten at the anticipation, oozing slick. Taeyong jerks beneath you, letting out a small noise in his sleep.

“You take care of her, I'll take care of him," Johnny says. You meet his eyes, registering how confident he looks as he approaches. "Wouldn't want to waste the opportunity to show her what she's missing."

You may be the architect of your current defeat but you promise him with a look you’ll find a way for him to go down with you.

“Don’t goad her–” Doyoung says, but Johnny ignores him, sliding on to the bed beside Taeyong, purposefully avoiding skin contact with you. A firebrand of jealousy pierces you at the sight, igniting further in your chest as he pulls the smaller man into his side, enthroning himself at the head of the bed.

"Sure you don’t want to switch places?" Johnny asks, softly, face dipping into Taeyong's wild hair. The foxes' ears tic in his sleep, moreso when he brushes his mouth across them.

“Stop,” Doyoung warns.

You feel the Lepid’s slender arms tighten around you, soft cheek pressed to yours as he helps you adjust. Johnny’s only a few feet away, but still too close, especially as he hoists Taeyong’s body–and by extension yours–onto him.

Doyoung grips your thighs in turn to keep you upright, similar to how they'd carried you earlier, tail pressed into an arc against the Lepid’s cool skin.

“Are you shy, pet?” He whispers, trying to gently prise your closed legs apart. “Ignore him or he'll keep toying with you.”

You try, you do, but a whine erupts out of you the moment Johnny's lips brush against Taeyong's exposed throat, tongue drawn across the yellow and purple bruising from your marks.

You can barely hear the order Johnny gives him over your own pathetic whinging, watching Taeyong blink awake. He's not as wild-eyed as before, the opposite actually–relaxed and languid, ears up and eyes closed as he accepts the grooming.

Johnny looks at you as he licks against the corner of Taeyong's mouth, bent head hiding a deeper display of affection. You hiss when the other fox's hips rut beneath you, your vision blurring.

“I can’t, I can’t–” you murmur.

You brace for Doyoung to punish you but he consoles you instead.

"Shh," Doyoung says, rubbing your head and your spine as you close your eyes against the sight of your mate caring for someone who is not you. "Relax for me."

"It hurts," you keen, not referring to the pain inside you as much as your fox crying out to be treated the same, loved the same. How pathetic, you think, but it can’t be helped. You’d spent a lifetime longing for that affection. Tears escape from your clenched eyelids, trying to turn to bury your face in the Lepid's chest like it's your only escape.

"I can't stand him," you whisper.

"I know," Doyoung says, much more softly. “But you need to let him take care of you.”

“I’m afraid,” you admit.

“He won’t hurt you–”

“No.” You interrupt him, exhaling shakily. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to say no.”

“Oh.” Doyoung looks up, shaking his head. “Do you think it would be easier if you didn’t have to see him?”

You nod, tears wiped away by his sleeve. You feel Doyoung slide the loose sash hanging from your waist, wrapping it over your already-closed eyes. You begin to nervously shake again when the light behind your eyelids is blotted out completely.

"Hey, it's alright," Taeyong urges you, drowsily nudging your cheek with his nose. You accept his gentle kisses, sharing the taste of your mate on his bruised lips. “I’m here. Well, mostly. I think if I come again I'll dissolve into dust.”

You laugh a little against his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

You can feel his amusement, not expecting the caress of his rougher hands sliding your clothing off, followed by his soft kisses and the roll of his face on your shoulder to mark you with his scent.

“I'm not. If I ever get a chance to be this close to you again,” Taeyong breathes, “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

You sigh in relief, holding him as he comforts you. He's still exhausted, but at least you think he isn't in pain the way you are, just sore and satisfied.

“She’s a gift, isn’t she?” Doyoung says. You hear rustling as he removes his shirt, expecting more until your tail is seized and drawn around your middle, out of the way. “Someday we won’t have to share you. But I think you like it, don’t you, pet?”

His voice is fricative in your ear, removing your robe fully so he can bring your back against his warm, lean chest. Even smooth it feels like the softest fur beneath you, Taeyong's ears tickling your jaw as he whines into your neck. From the movements against you he's receiving his own handling, thighs flexing as Johnny adjusts him.

"Yes, Alpha," you say, arching back. Doyoung follows your lead, kissing you chastely until you plead for more.

“We'll do this properly when we have the time. Right now you're going to give your Alphas what they need, won’t you?”

You’ll never think of him as weak again, you think, not with how he opens your legs and pushes his fingertips experimentally against the constriction where you’re tied together, Taeyong holding onto you as you both cry out.

“Too tight,” Taeyong mumbles for the both of you. Doyoung squeezes him around his root, palm digging into your folds.

“You’re knotted, too,” he says with an edge of disapproval. “Just a greedy little dog rutting into your bitch even if you can’t properly breed her.”

By the answering spurt of release inside you and his groan, Taeyong enjoys that kind of talk. The sensation is translated to you, hips wriggling until Doyoung pinches at the bundle of nerves in your swollen sex, making you jerk.

“You’re going to take it, too, even if it hurts,” he says. “We’ll loosen you up for a real knot, so I can fuck your Alpha’s cum into you.”

“Please, master,” you say, losing yourself. “Please, give it to me.”

“It’s not my choice, pet.” You feel your hand seized, your fingers splayed on a firm, wide chest that isn’t Taeyong’s, sunbaked pine sharp in your nose. “Use him. Make him give you what you need.”

"No, no, I can't," you murmur, pushed towards the inevitable.

"You're better than your animal," Doyoung says. "Do what you’re told and we'll show you what it means to be treasured."

You feel him pull away, extricating Taeyong from your breast in a way that upends you both, forced into your Alpha’s lap. Even if you can’t see it you can feel and hear the man trapped inside you held down to the bed, the soft pleas as he’s cared for in the way you need more than anything.

Johnny’s hand cups the side of your face. Only he can touch you that way–like he's cradling the most fragile thing he’s ever held.

"Don't worry, little kit," Johnny says, so close now his breath warms your ears. "I remember my promise.”

He takes you by the neck more gently just to angle you up, dipping down to kiss you as softly and shyly as before. He’s exactly what you need while also the worst thing possible, the longing and heartache amplified.

“I can wait. Just use me. Pretend I’m giving you what you need.”

The thought of him breeding you sends you down a spiral of desire, restraining yourself by blindly tracing the white and gold and green painted under your fingertips. You’ve tried not to look too much at the design but it’s already tattooed in your heart and mind, as it is over his.

“Would you like to see what’s yours?”

You pull your hand back but he catches it with that Felid swiftness, dragging it lightly down the center point of his breast bone and the contours of his abdominal muscles, defined and damp with sweat. He lets you feel everything you'd disallowed yourself before, breath going ragged when you finally cup him through his trousers.

"Stop being so smug," you whisper, unable to sound serious with how heavy you're breathing, too. His shape and scent is all you need to find yourself just as feral as you'd been in the nest, fumbling to unzip him, his hand wrapping around yours to guide you as you free his cock.

He’s erect but weighed down so much it hangs towards the bed. You're not afraid or disgusted as much as fascinated when your hand traces down the burning-hot, velvety shaft, finding the expected roughness beneath his glans.

“I’m allowed to be pleased. I know–feel how much you want it.” He sounds almost embarrassed; you realize he's stuttering with each pass of your hand down his length. ��Is it too much for you?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

"No," he gasps when you squeeze him, testing him. “Fuck, yes.”

He's bigger than you imagined, thick enough his knot is less pronounced than a Canid's at his base, gently ridged at the end of his shaft. You expect his barbs but beneath your searching touch you find them less pronounced, more textured like his cat's tongue without the same density of spines.

“I want to taste you,” you say.

You can’t see his expression but you know his sense of control has been obliterated by the request. You don't wait for him to argue, bending down to find him with your mouth, lapping up gamey salt from his skin. His tense hand in your hair is all the encouragement you require.

You will use him, you think. You'll break him as much as he's broken you. But you won't be slow, you won't seduce him the way he has tried with you.

You dip your head and find the heavy tip, suckling to taste the dribble of hot liquid already leaking from it. He’s so perfectly bittersweet that you can’t help but wrap your lips around it, trying to draw out the rest. Johnny's hold on your head spreads and clings, not wanting to push you forward despite the rut of his hips into your mouth.

You treat him the way he had you the night he tasted you, smiling to yourself as drool seeps from the corners of your mouth, taking as much of him into your willing throat as you can handle. Within seconds you’re coughing at the sandpaper scratch, pulled free before you can mutilate him with your canines.

“No teeth,” Doyoung warns, startling you for how much you’ve forgotten he’s beside you. “Gently now. Relax your jaw. Don’t worry about making a mess.”

Simple enough instructions, difficult for how suffocated you are when you impale yourself on that length again, fighting the choke. Doyoung murmurs praise where your Alpha is inarticulate. Johnny’s presence glows in your mind as you feel him completely, all his attempts to keep the spend contained within him lost as you fuck him this way.

You sense when his abdomen and testicles tighten, reaching out to understand it with a careful slide of your hand down his shaft, hair and texture and scent incredible under your delicate fingers. You hold him as you take him, as you consume him the way he’s consumed you.

You listen for his grunts and groans of pleasure, the intake of breath, alternating between sucking and drawing your tongue around him as his lean belly flexes beneath the gentle flex of your nails. When you feel that wave crest inside him, so close to breaking, you pull off.

Again, and again.

You’d learned your new lessons well, you think, when the last tease of his heavy weight on your tongue coats it in a hot citrusy, mouthful of him–the rest trapped so painfully inside him you feel his thighs quake under your breasts.

The makeshift blindfold is tugged from your eyes, There’s murder in your gaze lest Johnny’s the one who took it off, but you find Doyoung’s hand against your hair and ears, his face flushed with arousal. Watching that must have done something to him, because he’s no longer attending Taeyong, his hand working himself out of view. The other fox appears to be semi-conscious, only a crack of his eyes showing.

“You have to see what you’ve done to him,” Doyoung says.

You peer up past all that honey, glistening skin to your Alpha’s face. Johnny’s breath is held where he’s fallen back against the headboard, expression completely and utterly shattered. For the first time since he’d held you in the dark–not this bedroom but a tiled room far below it–you see him as he really is.

There’s nothing calculating or cutting in that half-lidded gaze, no raging animal. Just a man who needs you more than he could ever tell you.

Your Alpha.

Completely at your mercy.

“Nothing clever to say, now?” you ask, tongue catching another spurt of white hanging from his thick cockhead, teasing the soft slit to gather every drop. “Did I ruin you for everyone else?”

"I’m not coming in your mouth, precious,” he says with the last reason left in him. He gives Doyoung a look that has your head pulled back, gently but firmly, even as your tongue curls towards your mate’s cock. You know why he hasn’t grabbed you, his own claws ripping the duvet into shreds once more.

“Why not?" you ask, tail thumping against Taeyong’s limp legs. "I can just spit it out."

Doyoung barks a laugh, falling further onto his side. “You’re so fucked.”

You know it isn't for you as Johnny struggles to sit up, pulling his cock away from your greedy hands and mouth. His sweat-thick, curled hair hangs over his face and jaw, making him look wild.

“The only place I’m coming is all over that pretty pussy,” he warns. “Present yourself."

Part of you resists the order but you know it's not made with anything but the desire to please you. You melt under the attention, arching your back and curling your tail for him when he takes his place behind you.

"Outside, of course," he assures you, and you have a moment to freeze up in fear before he's slipped his cock between your thighs, shaft so long that even from behind and forced to the side he curves up between your folds. He lets you adjust to the feeling, wrapping around you until you're caged by his long torso and limbs.

"You feel that?" He rocks his hips into your behind, your tail trapped erect between you.

You bite your lip, nodding.

"That's yours. Yours to use as you want, whenever you want."

He licks the soft fur of your ear, making your pussy clench again around Taeyong, your legs closing around him.

"I’m going to show you what it will be like when I take what's mine, once and for all."

His words scald you, make you whimper and grind against him until he takes the lead, moving with shallow and careful strokes against your slipperiness. Soon he's so coated with your slick the glide between your soft thighs is dangerously easy, the small nudges and bumps against your clit maddening. The worst is that tongue-like texture, catching against your most sensitive places to remind you what he really is.

"Is my little kit so needy for her Alpha's cock inside her she'd ride it raw? You want me to fuck you unsleeved and scrape out all that wasted cum you let the others stuff inside you?"

Ancestors, you think. He's such a contradiction in the way he can hold you and stroke you so sweetly but pour filth into your ear.

“I don’t think I have enough inside me, yet,” you whimper. “Need more.”

His jealousy is just as pervasive through the bond. That anger and pride under any other circumstances would make your own flare but in this moment it's the perfect accompaniment to the desire he has for you.

You belong to him, torturing him at how soft and good and warm he knows you are inside, how impossible it would be to deny himself that if he wasn’t moderated by your promise or the other Alphas watching him unravel so easily. You know he’s fucked them, feels comfortable with them, but they’re not what he wants.

He wants you, just you. If you gave it to him he wouldn’t let anyone else touch you, he would mark his territory so fully he’d fight every Alpha on the peninsula to stake his claim. You know it as well as he does, he would die for you. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

"They can't breed you like I can, can they?" he says between higher-pitched groans. You're not meant to answer but you do anyway, wanting to brush his cat's fur backwards to see how he responds.

"You'll find out soon enough," you murmur, lost as he brings his hand down to hold himself against the drive into your folds, increasing the pressure of his tip against your bud.

He nips at your ear. "What did you say, little kit?"

Your little cries are growing louder as your body seizes, the beginning of another climax burning brushfire through you.

"I said, 'I'm not letting you fuck me until I've had every one of your pack inside me.'"

He jerks a bit, pushing into the tight grip of your thighs. You’ve closed around him, trapping him like Taeyong, hands tearing into the bed where he’s ruined it.

"You can try,” he says, dangerously.

"You think they won't?” you pant. "I'll let you watch, of course."

His movements are growing more staccato as he chases his own release, tense hand holding his thrusts against you. The more near his climax the more his hold on his emotions begins to slip, the barriers you'd both enacted temporarily flooded with something other than resentment and animal desire.

You have an epiphany of sorts, mercilessly pushed into Taeyong's chest as he chases a fantasy in his mind of fucking you like this in front of them all to prove his claim, to show how broken you are for anyone else.

"I'm going to make you prove you're my Alpha," you whisper to him. "No combat. No bloodsport. No convenient opportunity. You'll earn it."

He bucks, hard, a wash of hot spend coating you as he starts to orgasm, snarling your name into something monstrous.

"You're going to suffer, Suh Youngho," you say, grinding back into the mess he's holding to you, edged to the point of fierceness. "You're going to know what it’s like to have your mate reject you and seek another in your stead."

His movements still but you realize he's laughing quietly, knot swelling between your thighs. He doesn't believe you, of course. How could you, with you still rubbing against him, unsatisfied.

"Oh baby fox, were you jealous?" With his cock no longer pressed to you he begins to circle your clit, his other hand massaging his hot spend into you from behind, still more oozing out of him he collects to press against your stuffed hole. At the first brush of the rough pads of his fingers, you're pushing back, trying to make him fit.

"You think I would rather fuck anyone else than the first to claim me? My omega? My mate?"

He broaches your lock with two digits, shoving his cum deep into you as Taeyong cries out faintly against the intrusion.

“Let him go,” Johnny says. “Let him go or you won't be able to fit me.”

Powerful contractions begin to roll through you immediately, no longer painfully tight but a rolling release that spreads through every part of your legs and hips and belly, nerves and hormones synchronized to take your mate as deeply as you can, into your womb. It feels incredible, electricity running down every path through your limbs to the top of your scalp and the claws on your toes.

“You're squeezing us so good, kit, want to feel it on me.”

Slick and thick spend gush down your legs as Taeyong is finally freed, an audible noise when he’s pulled from your snare. Doyoung is there to help him escape because Johnny shows no intention of stopping and neither do you, fucking yourself on your mate's fingers until he adds a third and fourth digit.

Your body is being prepared for him, you think, your orgasm extended by how much you want him to fuck you even knowing what that would entail.

"Don't stop, don't stop," you beg, rocking back to fuck yourself deeper on his hand.

"You're going to suffer every day you're not getting all of me." His words are punctuated by stroking into the sucking heat of your body, his bruising touch on your clit turning you into a live wire once more.

"It will hurt me to see you so desperate. I'll have to turn you down even when you beg me. But if that's what my little omega wants, that's what I'll give her," he promises.

"I hate you," you snarl, overstimulated, winding into another build too quickly to make sense. He makes you relax by nipping at your shoulder, keeping you still as he sets a punishing pace.

"Imagine. You could be coming on my cock right now, milking me of every last drop to fill you up," he says. "Don't you want your Alpha's cum inside you?"

"Yes, please, fuck it into me, please Alpha," you sob, jerking as he pulls his fingers away to press his tip against your fluttering hole and pull another wash of sticky heat inside you. That hint of the stretch of him has you demanding more, your hips canting back just as your mouth is clamped shut with slender fingers.

“That's enough,” Doyoung says. Out of the haze of the moment you can feel his hand wrapped around your Alpha’s cock, stopping you–or maybe him–from moving any further. You turn to watch Johnny thrust into the other man’s hold, taunting him to try and stop either of you.

The Lepid only has eyes for you, letting you go but not your mate. He’s calm, measured, as he strokes Johnny into releasing more onto his chest when his cock is lifted away from you. You turn to observe it, leaning down to take what you can in your mouth.

Doyoung warns you off by clearing his throat.

“No,” he says. “Ride his knot.”

You shake your head, legs already collapsed beneath you. “I can’t.”

“Show her still you’re in control. Thank her for the gift she’s given you.”

Johnny understands even if you don’t. You’re swept up in his hold, pulled down onto him, spread for him. But where he should be filling you he’s trapped between your bodies, your legs limp over his.

“What . . .?” Your vision blackens on the edges, nose buried in Johnny’s chest. “I can’t.”

“You will,” Johnny says.

“You will,” Doyoung repeats, holding your lower back to fuck into you with one clean push into your loose heat, no fight whatsoever with the amount of cum inside you. You cry out, held tight against your Alpha as a much longer, thicker cock than the one that’s been inside you for the past few hours is shoved mercilessly into your hole–knot slipping in without friction while another one grinds into your middle.

“Fuck,” Doyoung rasps when he pulls out, burying himself over and over again. If you weren’t held in Johnny’s arms you think you’d be fucked right off the end of the bed, instead forced into his arms, too boneless and weightless to struggle.

“You asked for it,” he says, the rumble of his voice vibrating through you against the sharpness of your half-hearted yelps. “Regret it now?”

You toss your head, regaining your strength to reach for him, burying your fingers in his hair. He’s so big you find yourself perched across his sternum, hips rolled into it and the coarse end of his cock as he curls up and kisses you like he’s the one inside you, like he’s the one coming undone.

From what you can tell you all are, Doyoung holding back nothing as he ruts into you so hard you can feel and hear the slick-stuck slap of him against you, or Johnny, it doesn’t matter with your bonded clutching at you like he might lose you. His hand threads through your wild hair to cup your jaw again, guiding you gently against his lips and tongue.

You moan into his mouth, protesting this new intimacy. You want to focus on the other Alpha and please him in turn so you can prove your resolve. You know he’d already come the moment he was in you as Lepids were wont to do but that he had more to give you–much more, if the knot stretching you is any indication.

You reach back to find Doyoung's damp nape to pull him to your neck. He understands, implicitly, fisting your hair to scrape you with his teeth as Johnny angles into your other shoulder to prove he's first, hesitating with his tongue on your scars when the other Alpha lets out a low growl.

You can feel Johnny rumble beneath you as he returns to kissing you, passion conferred in each brush of his lips against your own, holding you steady in his gaze. Another Alpha's teeth may be indented in your neck, but you're still at his mercy.

“You take my knot so well,” he praises, sinking his fingers into your hips. Doyoung, no longer able to guide you, chooses instead to circle up against your behind and your slick-coated tail like you’re a wall he can break through.

“Do you want to take all of me, little kit?” Johnny whispers.

Your body responds as if it were his threatening to lock you again, making you mewl. You know what he's saying, implicitly. He doesn't understand how it affects you. How could he, when he thinks this is just a game?

Johnny’s thumb spreads beneath your belly, indenting it to feel the cock dragging deep within you, bulging there under his touch. Doyoung inhales against your neck at the sensation, feeling it too in whatever way you respond deep inside.

“Yes,” you breathe, building tension making you seize. "Please."

Johnny looks deep into your eyes, pinning you with an emotion you want to look away from, but can't. You're forced to see all that's there, to bloom within it, like the flowers under your palm. Your shape etched into him: Nelumbo lutea, reaching for the sun.

"Accept me," he urges.

You can't.

"I'm yours," he says.

Not your mine, no. Yours.

You collapse as you begin to throb, pulse-like. It’s not the same horrible tightening as before but something different, a twinge and tremor in your womb that seems to signal completion.

You know your scent will change, your body will adjust. Your heat will break. But you’ll never be the same.

Doyoung says something you can't hear as you chase the fleeting ecstacy of this new release, different in so many ways but most of all for the ease in your chest as you rest on top of the man you love.

Love?

No. It's not possible.

“You’re so full of me already but I know you want more.” Johnny continues, not realizing you're gone. He should sound confident but his voice is raw with vulnerability. His head pushes against yours, pleading. “You can’t leave me. You won’t leave me. Not when you’re swollen with my–”

You scream soundlessly into him, enough of a high-pitched keen in your throat he can’t help but be startled, Doyoung stilling inside you as you break completely around him–all that pleasure tempered with unadulterated despair.

It should be peace, a relief, but instead it’s an instability in the levee holding everything else inside you at bay.

There’s no peak to climb down from in the aftermath of what’s moved through you, your only comfort is how much of a blessing it is to be held while you spiral–how afraid you are of losing something you didn't even knew you had.

"____?"

You feel the panic around you at your reaction, hear Taeyong’s growl as he sits up behind you. Doyoung is already at his side, as if he must protect him from whatever is inside you threatening to break out.

“I told you." Your fist clenches against Johnny’s chest as you roll off of him. “I told you I couldn’t.”

“What’s wrong?! What happened.”

You curl into a ball, defending yourself with your tail wrapped around you. "It's over."

You’d had your moment, your fill, but it would never be enough. Not now, not ever.

"Your heat?"

You don't answer.

"They're early," Taeyong explains.

Johnny finally turns to witness what’s been roaring in your ears for what feels like minutes now.

You watch as the snow swirling outside the window vanishes, pushed down by quiet blades to evaporate on an even warmer wind. Blue lights pierce the gloom, angled downward, blinding you through the dark, one-way glass.

The building begins to tremble, smaller vibrations translated upwards as AVs circle round below. They give a wide berth to an airship, blacker than a starless night and larger than a city block as it descends in a creep past the window, thankfully unable to pierce through the building's surface to see you so exposed.

It doesn't matter. Nothing can escape the surveillance of the people inside. It's only the second time they'd sent this means to bring you home, a symbolic gesture but also a threat.

There's no escaping your return to Old Seoul.

“The Imperial aerostat,” Doyoung sighs, checking his agent as he flees the bed.

“It’s time,” Taeyong says, looking at you with a deep sympathy and resolve.

You turn to Johnny, seeing a wetness on his cheek that can only be an acknowledgment of whatever you’ve let slip through the cracks of your bond.

You try to capture that image in your mind of him more worried for you than the threat of the fleet surrounding their headquarters, for the people inside. It's the last time you ever want to see it.

“I’m ready,” you say.

Inside, you know you never will be.

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#agtbtb #nct 127 fic #nct fic #nct fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 smut #nct johnny smut #johnny suh smut #doyoung smut #kim doyoung smut #nct omegaverse au #nct cyberpunk au #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader

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comic-book-jawns · 1 month

Text

Ricochet

“I’m sorry.”

Andrea truly doesn’t want to hurt Lena. She never has.

But this conversation is already nine months overdue. Well, nine months, plus three years. And if she’s doesn’t take advantage of this adrenaline high, she’s not sure when she’ll get the nerve back.

“For how I left.”

The way Lena tenses and crosses her arms tighter around herself tells Andrea she doesn’t have to elaborate.

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault I threw myself at you. And I’m the one who ran first.”

Well, yes, and Andrea obviously does not regret not kissing a 14-year-old back a few days before she left for college.

“I couldn’t give you what you wanted. But I… I could’ve give you closure.”

Lena scoffs.

“I would never have let you.”

Andrea thought so too — it’s how she eventually convinced herself that ghosting her only real friend from boarding school had been for the best.

It’s only occurred to her over the past few months that that was never the point.

“You would’ve known that I’d tried.”

***

Lena had really thought (cringey as it was) that she might actually cry if they won ICCA’s. If she played a part in making Kara’s dream since her freshman year come true.

Only Lena hadn’t really caught on that doing so had become her dream somewhere along the way. And, well, with her track record of dreams coming true…

Unfortunately, turns out that disassociating over placing first in a fucking a cappella competition is far more mortifying than tearing up.

Especially in front of someone like Kara. Not that there is someone else like her.

So she’s supposes she should be rather grateful to her team captain for bringing her back to reality… by bringing up her most mortifying experience of all time.

Of course, crying over your childhood crush saying sorry for not like you back is also quite cringey. But Lena’s dignity has lost sight of the shoreline at this point.

“So, yeah, that - that’s what I wanted to say. In case, being a complete bitch to you since August hasn’t been a sufficient apology.”

On the one hand, Lena is surprised by the genuine laugh that bursts out of her amidst the tears. On the other hand, Andrea is the only person who’s ever rivaled Lena’s dry sense of humor.

“I know it’s not an excuse, but… it was easier than worrying about disappointing you again.”

Already nodding along, ready to wrap this up, Lena freezes when she actually process what Andrea said.

“What?”

At the time, she’d been so blinded by hurt and shame for letting herself dream she ever stood a chance that she’d never even tried to put herself in her ex-best friend’s shoes.

It didn’t occur to her until she was actually getting ready for college herself that she had no idea what she’d do if a 14-year-old girl kissed her out of the blue and said she was in love with her.

Not that that was a remote possibility, Lena having sworn off friendship after convincing herself that Andrea had never given a shit about her.

Trying to convice herself, that is. Because she knew deep down that it was a lie. And that was the most excruciating part.

Still, knowing teenage Andrea had cared about her in some form… Well, Lena hadn’t just run into her at the Activies Fair three years later — very alarmed because it was not school Andrea had left for that summer — and assumed…

“I could never get your face out of my head.”

Humiliating, Lena feels herself blush, full well knowing Andrea didn’t mean it like that, and scratches at her wet cheeks as cover.

“No matter what Lex and your mother did, you - you wouldn’t cry. And I was always relieved.”

Oh? Lena’s not really sure what to say to that. But what really catches her off-guard is the sudden rasp in Andrea’s voice. And when she finally looks at the older girl for the first time since she joined her out here in the parking lot, she finds her swallowing harshly.

“Because I knew how to distract you. I was good at it.”

Andrea meets her gaze with an even more jarring attempt at a smile.

“But in the end, it was me.”

Andrea turns fully away then, her back to Lena, so all she can see is the hand running stiltedly through dark hair still pulled into a bun.

“I made you cry.”

Lena doesn’t need to see her face, though.

***

Precariously carrying five cups of steaming hot tea in her bare hands — every kind available; you’d think a singing competition would have a more robust selection?! — Kara considers it quite an accomplishment that she doesn’t immediately give herself third-degree burns when she finally finds the freshman in the parking lot.

Successfully placing them all down on the pavement doesn’t prove to be much easier, but Kara isn’t willing to tempt fate when she’s so preoccupied with the scene in front of her.

Kara does consider her fellow senior a friend, but more in the way she considers a lot of acquaintances her friends. And, frankly, her treatment of Lena has driven a wedge between them that Kara’s doesn’t know if she’s all that interested in dislodging.

Sure, Kara had eventually convinced her that Lena is the team’s future, literally.

The reason they’d used the same repertoire for years was because no one knew how to arrange new material. Nothing better than what they already had at least.

Andrea had never admitted their severely lacking musicianship, of course. So Kara had done it for her… after not defending Lena when she’d previously had the chance.

The point is Kara’s friendship with Lena “it’s just math” Luthor is her priority. She can live with never speaking to Andrea again after graduation. The thought of anything changing between her and Lena after graduation has been making her nauseous for weeks.

“So… Kara?”

Kara doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, she swears. Honestly, she’d kind of expected them to pick up on her presence whether she dropped the cups or not. But it seems the pair is still in their own little bubble, Andrea demurely wiping her face while pulling back from the embrace. Lena keeps her close, though, loosely holding her elbows.

“Kara?”

“I know, Lena.”

“Know what?”

Kara definitely should’ve turned around by now. She’s hardly in a position to get self-righteous about secrets when she has yet to tell her best friend that she won’t be leaving campus, after all.

Staying on for a Master’s in Journalism hadn’t been her plan even back in the fall. But a lot has happened between now and then, so.

Andrea sighs with none of her characteristic exasperation.

“I knew you had feelings for me before you kissed me.”

Kara is positive the only reason she doesn’t audibly gasp is because she’s too shocked. Well, that and Lena scoffs loudly as she takes a step back.

She’d figured that Lena and Andrea had a history, per se. But her mind had never gone… there.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t act like it.”

“How was I supposed to act?”

In four years, Kara has never heard Andrea speak so gently, without even a hint of condescension to boot.

Lena’s more choked scoff seems to suggest she’s not used to it either… and that Kara is probably missing something.

“You don’t have to believe me. And if you want to tell me I’m wrong about Kara, go ahead.”

Yeah, she’s definitely missing something.

“But… if you want to tell me I’m right, I certainly wouldn’t discourage that either.”

Lena’s chuckles in that beautifully thick way she does when Kara gushes over one of her mash-ups profusely enough.

“Fuck you.”

“Still too young for this ride, sweetie. Sorry.”

Kara can’t help her eye roll at Andrea gesturing at her own body like it’s a letter on Wheel of Fortune. But then Andrea frowns, which makes slightly more sense when Kara hears Lena’s abruptly dejected tone.

“It’s the same.”

“What is?”

“You - you and me. Me and Kara. It’s the same age gap.”

“Yes, but I’ve known you since you were a baby.”

“Seven.”

Even as her mind races — scrambling for the missing context — Kara can still hear Lena’s scowl clear as day. Andrea waves dismissively.

“Same difference.”

But then she takes a step forward, her arms hovering pretty awkwardly for someone who was just clinging to Lena a minute ago before she settles them on Lena’s shoulders.

“You jump. I jump. Okay?”

Kara recognizes the quote instantly, but it doesn’t clear anything up for her. Other than it means something to Lena, judging by the way she loops her arm through Andrea’s and leisurely leads them further out into the parking lot.

So they’re thankfully well out of earshot by the time Kara accidentally kicks over all the cups.

#supercorp #supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl fic #supercorp fanfic #supercorp fic #supercorp ficlet #rojascorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #andrea rojas #pitch perfect au

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feralbutfluffy · 9 months

Text

56: Crowley

Chapter 56 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

*******

Crowley had opened his mouth and then found himself completely incapable of closing it again.

Spurred by the stifling silence, he’d unwittingly opened an artery and watched helplessly as every last wounded, heartsore, mortifying thought came pouring out of him. He had committed the sort of emotional seppuku he had been carefully avoiding for literally thousands of years, and he felt like he might be bleeding out right there on the sofa.

He had spent much of the previous five minutes wishing desperately that Muriel might conveniently appear at the door with an obscene amount of wine, or at the very least a couple of bottles of Talisker.

However, just as he’d been wondering if it was possible to discorporate from abject discomfort, Aziraphale had finally said something, and even though he’d had to go and be infuriatingly circumspect about it... Crowley was pretty sure the words he had strung together had meant I love you too.

Which seemed impossible, but he supposed he would just add it to the increasingly lengthy list of impossible things that had happened lately.

Aziraphale was turned towards him. A tear dropped from his jawline as he gave Crowley a wobbly smile that did things to his insides. He suddenly became aware of the fact that he was crushing Aziraphale’s little finger and, with considerable effort, forced himself to relax his hand.

Crowley wanted to look away, because this - whatever this was - was painfully intimate. It was galling, really. Barely touching and he felt as if the angel had zipped him open at the throat, exposing every part of him.

Except, well, he’d been the one to do that to himself, hadn’t he?

Here, he might as well have said. Ruin me.

He watched Aziraphale warily, and in response the angel shuffled closer, banging their knees together clumsily.

Crowley didn’t so much as blink.

He’d said everything he had wanted to say. He had also said everything he hadn’t wanted to say. He was cracked wide open, head swimming, waiting. Waiting to know what happened next, waiting for Aziraphale to say more, and he was good at waiting, he’d waited for so long, a few more minutes shouldn’t feel so excruciating.

But they did.

Aziraphale looked away and the fingers of his free hand fluttered nervously against the suede of the sofa.

“I have some things to say too, I suppose,” he started, and his voice sounded higher than usual, tight with strain. He coughed lightly, managing to get it back down to its usual register. “I think I’ve rather been getting in my own way when it comes to…” he tilted his head towards Crowley, still avoiding his gaze. “... us .”

Crowley took a deep breath and held it, feeling a bit like he was preparing to be held underwater.

“I think- Well all of those things you said, they're as true for you as they are for me, but I- I think- Ah, I suspect maybe I chose not to think on it, because I wasn’t quite brave enough to face the truth of the matter. Which is…” he trailed off. “Well, you know.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. If he thought he was going to get away with-

“That I’m hopelessly in love. With you.” The words sounded torn from his chest, “...Too.”

Crowley bit down on his tongue; the urge to yell ‘No takebacks!’ was almost overwhelming.

“I thought if I could just get you to dance with me-”

Crowley’s eyebrows slammed together. “What?”

“I thought we might do some formal dancing, and then we would realize that we were actually in love...” Aziraphale looked guilty. "... Like in Jane Austen's novels."

Crowley narrowed his eyes.

“I know I’ve said this before, but you read” - grumbled Crowley in an exasperated tone - “entirely too many books. How was I meant to pick up on that? Why couldn’t we have managed it without the formal dancing?”

Aziraphale shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know! But we didn’t, did we? Manage it, I mean.”

“Didn’t even manage it with the formal dancing,” Crowley pointed out, and Aziraphale’s face crumpled a bit. He nudged the angel’s knee with his own and leaned in. “You never know, might have worked without the demons trying to storm the shop.”

Crowley seriously doubted it, but Aziraphale brightened at the thought so he let it go.

“You know,” said Aziraphale, and he lowered his gaze, “I did try to show you.”

“Show me what?”

The angel was tracing a line along the suede, watching the velvety nap alternate between dark and light as he rubbed it one way and then the other.

“That I felt for you. That you were important to me. That I loved you, before I consciously knew that I loved you.”

The way he said it, the way he let it roll almost casually out into the air between them, made Crowley’s ribcage feel like a vice, his heart and lungs squeezed in a punishing grip.

“Ngk?” he said.

It was an embarrassingly inelegant sound.

“With the tartan,” Aziraphale said, as if it were perfectly obvious.

Crowley blinked and then pointed, bewildered, at the folded blanket on the armrest.

“The blanket?”

“No, the tartan .” Aziraphale was frowning, as if Crowley was being intentionally dense.

“I don’t follow. You’ve lost me. Are you speaking in code? Are you saying ‘tartan’ and actually meaning something else entirely?”

“No,” said Aziraphale, looking flustered, “I’m saying ‘tartan,’ and meaning ‘tartan’.”

The -you idiot was silent, but Crowley heard it all the same.

“Don’t you know anything about tartan?”

Crowley stared at him for the longest moment. “No,” he said slowly, “No, I do not. Why would I? In over six thousand years, when have you ever known me to willingly wear tartan? And don’t even think of mentioning the tartan collar, that does not count thankyouverymuch, that was you. As me. But still you.”

Aziraphale huffed and sat back a bit, clearly put out. “Never mind then.”

“No, no. No. You’ve somehow - against stacked odds, let me tell you - managed to make tartan sound intriguing,” Crowley said. “So you may as well tell me. Consider me interested. What should I know about tartan other than the fact that you have a disproportionate fondness for it?”

A pink flush was spreading up Aziraphale’s neck.

It was delightful.

It made Crowley want to kiss it.

“Forget I mentioned it,” the angel muttered, turning more pink by the second.

Crowley grinned. “Oh, I think the chances of my forgetting any part of this enchanting conversation are abysmally low. Go on, torture me with tartan facts.”

Aziraphale blanched at the word ‘torture’ and Crowley grimaced apologetically. “Too soon. Right.”

He eyed the angel’s bow tie with an entirely new and unfeigned interest.

“So. Tartan…?” he prompted.

Aziraphale straightened the bow tie unnecessarily, as if his hands needed something to do.

“This is, ah- That is to say, I had this dress tartan made for me sometime around the mid-1800s. It’s mine. It’s unique.”

“Right.”

The pink hue was back in Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“Different families - different clans - they each have their own unique tartan.”

“Different people, different tartan. Got it.” Crowley gave him a nod.

“Yes. Well, different clans or families, different tartan, but yes, basically. I couldn’t, for example, wear another clan’s tartan without their express permission, because wearing it is something of a claim; using their tartan would then, er, mark me as belonging to their clan, you see.”

Aziraphale gazed meaningfully at Crowley and waited.

Right. Clearly he was meant to have gleaned something important from that bit of information.

His eyes moved from Aziraphale’s face to his bow tie, and from his bow tie to the blanket.

He thought about the tartan collar Aziraphale had added to his jacket when they had swapped forms. He thought of the tartan thermos full of Holy water. He thought of the absolute eyesore of a tyre cover the angel had miracled onto the car after they’d been hit by that woman in Tadfield.

“Your tartan,” Crowley said carefully. “... You let me use it.”

Aziraphale said nothing, but the pink in his cheeks had spread to the tips of his ears.

“You were marking me as belonging to your… clan?” Crowley could feel his cheeks warming.

A matching flush. How perfectly wretched.

Aziraphale gave him a lopsided smile. “Something like that, I suppose. Our… team. Our group of the two of us.”

“Ah, so you were listening,” Crowley said uncomfortably.

Aziraphale blushed pink all the way up to his hairline.

With considerable effort, Crowley sat up properly. He shifted over, twisting his torso so that their bodies were in alignment, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh.

“Well.”

“Well,” repeated Aziraphale weakly.

“Well I’m sorry to have missed your demonstrations of affection delivered through the medium of tartan,” said Crowley with a wry grin.

The angel looked at him, embarrassed. “Yes, yes. Very funny.”

Crowley bumped him with his shoulder. “Maybe try something a bit more straightforward next time. Or at least work with something I actually understand."

There was a brief pause and then Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, his lips curling up at the corners. "Oh?"

"What, 'oh'? What does that mean?"

"I think I know what you understand," said Aziraphale, and the embarrassment was gone from his face. Crowley pulled back slightly, watching the angel carefully.

"What?"

His heart stuttered and took up an absolutely frenzied pace as Aziraphale leaned forward to take his face in his hands.

He eyed him suspiciously. "Are you about to kiss me?"

Aziraphale laughed and his eyes dropped to Crowley's lips, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Not just yet."

Crowley couldn't take his eyes off him. He felt like his heart might burst. Aziraphale was stroking his thumb softly against his skin.

"Anthony Just-a-J-Really Crowley, I'm in love with you," he said, and kissed his temple so gently Crowley had to swallow down a cry.

"I've loved you for a very long time," Aziraphale whispered against his ear. He kissed his forehead, and turned his thoughts into incoherent nonsense.

"A very, very long time," Aziraphale murmured against his other ear and nipped his earlobe, sending a jolt of undiluted desire straight up his spine.

"I'm sorry it took me such a long time to be honest with myself," he said, kissing the serpent by the hinge of his jaw. Crowley shuddered. He let out a harsh exhale as his eyes closed of their own volition.

"... And I'm sorry it took me such a long time to be honest with you," he said, kissing the corner of Crowley's mouth. He groaned and turned to kiss the angel, but Aziraphale pulled out of reach.

Crowley opened his eyes, dazed, to find Aziraphale looking at him with adoring eyes, a coy half-smile on his lips. He struggled to swallow, his throat tight with longing.

"I know you said I go too fast for you, angel," he rasped, "but this is painfully slow. Are you trying to discorporate me?"

Aziraphale frowned slightly, but he was still smiling. "I'm almost certain that's not possible."

"Let's not find out."

Aziraphale's laugh was muffled by Crowley's lips against his.

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temnurus · 8 months

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More Wangxian Faves: Post-Canon & Canon Divergent

This list was made to honor the request in the notes on my WWX recs post from @100percentserenity for some more fics featuring Wei Ying set in canon or canon divergent fics. Now, not all of these are strictly from his POV, but they all feature him at his quick-witted, charming, & hopelessly oblivious best. Canon divergent can be a pretty wide category, so do keep that in mind if you see a rec & think, "This isn't very canonical.." Haha. There are two repeats from my first Wangxian rec list, but they fit the ask & are both excellent & worth mentioning twice! Now, in no particular order, may I recommend:

Far Away You Are by cqlorphan (E, 17,358)

Thoughts: I absolutely loved the idea of the esteemed Hanguan-jun being this not-so-secret purveyor of comfort hugs & heartache advice. Wei Ying’s shock upon finding this out was so funny I couldn’t help but laugh, & my amusement only intensified when he made the scary Yiling Laozu face while asking who broke Lan Zhan’s heart, only to be told it was him who’d done so. I wanted to hug all the Juniors myself. They’re all so very precious. This was a lovely story where very little hurt in the end, & sometimes that’s just nice after the gut punch that canon gives us.

my age has never made me wise by idrilka (E, 63,439)

Thoughts: I absolutely loved this. It was pretty CQL (The Untamed) compliant & told the post-canon story of Wei Ying wandering alone as a rogue cultivator after the events of the show. Of course he was pining after his zhiji the entire time, so when he heard gossip that the Chief Cultivator might be married by summer's end it nearly undid him. The angst was excruciating, but One Brain Cell WWX Strikes Again fics somehow always manage to be fun at the same time. I've read several post-canon, wandering Wei Ying stories, & this one was particularly good.

Not What We May Be by brooklinegirl (E, 29,222)

Thoughts: I love Wei Ying’s cleverness in this. He’s his usual irreverent, chaotic, charming self, & I never get tired of how wonderfully his mind works. The odd phenomenon occurring in the town he’s staying in was an interesting mystery to solve, & I had to laugh when Lan Zhan arrived with the usual Lan Juniors ensemble in tow. Watching them all work together to figure out how to fix the issue while also dealing with the healthy side helping of oblivious Wei Ying & searing sexual tension between him & Lan Zhan was a fun treat.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl (E, 36,934)

Thoughts: Wei Ying proposing to Lan Zhan to get him out of an arranged marriage he didn’t want is so something he’d do. There is no character more quintessentially chaotic good than Wei Ying. You can’t change my mind. The practice kissing was a lovely regular feature from this author, & my particular favorite thing in this fic was Nie Huaisang’s cameo as their pseudo wedding planner with his classic meddling while insisting he’s useless shenanigans. This was super cute. I liked it a lot.

love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360,042)

Thoughts: This was an example of a cool MDZS-specific trope I hadn't seen before, & in it Wei Ying, the infamous Yiling Patriarch, was a cultivator who had achieved immortality (aka, he's OP as fuck but in a fun way). The great sects enlisted his help to win the Sunshot Campaign, & what did he demand in return? Lan Zhan's hand in marriage, of course! It was a fantastic slow burn in which poor Lan Zhan suffered the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband. An amazing & complex plot, chock-full of angsty goodness.

Birthday Party by waffles_4_breakfast (E, 100,123)

Thoughts: I loved the idea that Wei Ying would actually get to attend Jin Ling's one month celebration, but I was, of course, still concerned about the continued danger he'd be in. This fic nicely showcased Wei Ying's sharp wit, charm, & ever-present sass. I also loved his dramatics when it came to his interactions with Lan Zhan (and in general, of course, haha), but their sweetness together was ultimately my favorite thing about them. The continued threat to Wei Ying's life & all the plotting surrounding it was interesting, but the best things about this fic were the characters & their bonds with each other.

Fentao-laoshi's Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures by occultings (E, 31,775)

Thoughts: This was set during the Cloud Recesses Study Arc, & it was so, so good. The sexual tension between them was just simmering the entire time, & the idea of them “practicing for marriage” on each other was fucking hilarious. Their banter was top notch, & I absolutely loved Lan Zhan’s nearly overwhelming desperation for Wei Ying, not to mention Wei Ying’s bullshit getting him in over his head (as usual, but this time in a fun way, haha). The feelings were actually very sweet, too. I enjoyed this a lot.

wide enough and wild by impossibletruths (E, 64,120)

Thoughts: I love the tag “Noping Out Of Society With Your Boyfriend And Your 50 Wen Refugees: The Novel”. It made me laugh before I’d even started the fic. While this was set during the time period in which Wei Ying frees the Wen refugees, they didn’t end up in Yiling this time. I won’t get too specific, but they still ended up rebuilding their own little settlement & farming to survive, basically. Lan Zhan found them & decided to stay. The slow burn was so good, & I loved the pining in particular. I cried a couple of times in this. It really was just that good.

your problem as a mountain. by cupofwater (E, 30,989)

Thoughts: It was so cute to see the difference between Wei Ying’s & Nie Huaisang’s fantasies, & Wei Ying’s turning out to be more vanilla & romantic in nature absolutely cracked me up. I nearly hurt myself laughing when Nie Mingjue sent Lan Zhan some of the letters by mistake, & I was delighted by Lan Zhan’s reaction. I won’t spoil it, but the smut was lovely & despite the misunderstanding our boys definitely both got their happy ending, haha.

The Vermilion Ribbon by Unforth (E, 233,368)

Thoughts: This sat on my Marked For Later list on AO3 for the longest time, & I really did myself a disservice by not reading it sooner. It was absolutely fantastic. The world-building, pacing, & intricate plot were all brilliantly done, & Wei Ying being in the Wen clan was nothing like I imagined it was going to be in this. Instead of his core family being the Jiangs, we get Wen Qing in Jiang Yanli’s role & Wen Ning in Jiang Cheng’s. Now I’ll warn you that this got super heavy in some places, so mind those tags & take care of yourselves. Nothing was graphic enough that I had to stop reading, but it didn’t shy away from the serious subject matter it covered either. The whole fic was a real emotional roller coaster, & I can’t recommend it highly enough.

#mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #lan zhan #wei ying #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian fic rec #Temnurus rec list #i'm so flattered by this request #here's to all my wangxian obsessed fam #i like them a normal amount ok #ok maybe slightly more than normal #leave me & my mdzs brainrot alone kthx bai

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lesbiankimdahyun · 11 months

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Friends with new benefits

2.5K words

CW: hybrids, GP, frotting

[GP!Hybrid!Sana x GP!Hybrid!Dahyun]

Jihyo and Sana came over to Momo’s apartment late on Saturday morning like they’d regularly been doing for the past two months or so. Momo was a first time hybrid owner and caretaker for Dahyun, whom she’d found and couldn’t resist at a local shelter. Since Dahyun was still getting used to living in a home and hadn’t really meshed with any of the other hybrids at the shelter, Momo invited Jihyo and her hybrid puppy Sana to come over and befriend Dahyun.

The two clicked right away. Sana’s warm and bubbly personality brought Dahyun out of her shell in no time, and she grew fond of Jihyo, too. Momo and Jihyo would usually have coffee and catch up while Sana and Dahyun played for a while, and then sometimes they’d go to the park, for a walk, or just explore the city all together.

This particular Saturday morning, Dahyun was still getting ready in her room when Momo opened the front door to let Sana and her owner in.

Dahyun’s fingers fumbled with her clothes as she got dressed, feeling uncomfortable between her legs as she hastily slipped into a skirt. She was coming off her first rut, and had thought her body’s needs would have been well sated by now. Instead, she found herself panicking, unable to hide an unexpected hard on. One ear perked up as she heard Sana’s voice asking where Dahyun was. Moments later, she could hear Sana padding down the hall toward her room. The thought of Sana seeing her like this was excruciating, and Dahyun got up to try to close her door in a last ditch attempt to hide from her friend.

She was too late though, and Sana breezed in before Dahyun could even reach the door.

“Hi Dahyunnie,” Sana said, her tail wagging excitedly beneath her own skirt. “Do you wanna pl–” her tail stopped abruptly when she saw Dahyun’s face. “Hey, are you okay?”

Dahyun wasn’t exactly sure what sort of expression was on her face, but whatever it was, it must have worried Sana because she quickly guided the younger pup to her bed and sat her down.

Sana’s brow was furrowed in concern as she lightly reached out to touch the younger hybrid’s forearm. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Dahyun squirmed lightly as she sat down with Sana. Her touch was entirely innocent, but it was distractingly nice. And that, Dahyun realized, was somehow even worse.

“I’m not sick,” she said, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain what was ailing her. She felt very self conscious, unwilling to name the problem showing clearly beneath her clothing. She knew, of course, that this was something Sana experienced too, but they’d never spoken about it before.

Dahyun crossed her legs, but the friction was too much to bear and she quickly uncrossed them.

Sana watched her carefully for a moment before her ears perked up. “Oh,” she said curiously. She looked down at Dahyun’s skirt, where a tent had been steadily forming beneath. “Do you— should I get Momo?”

Dahyun hesitated, her ears tucking slightly back in embarrassment. Momo had been nothing short of wonderful with helping her through her rut, but Sana seeing her like this was mortifying enough. If Sana went and got Momo, then Momo would know, and then Jihyo would know, and then–

“No,” Dahyun said quickly. “But I- I don’t want to play right now, either. I’m sorry Sana, I just– I’m uncomfortable, I can’t think—”

Sana tilted her head as she listened to Dahyun and then nodded. “I know how it feels,” she said. There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and then Sana added, “I…can help if you want.”

The younger hybrid blinked at Sana in confusion. “Help?” She was about to decline to spare Sana any trouble, but her cock began to throb, demanding to hear Sana out. She blushed deeply before she caved, her voice dropping to a whisper. “How?”

Sana’s tail wagged again. She got up and closed the door to Dahyun’s bedroom. Then she made her way back to Dahyun and climbed onto her bed.

“C’mere,” she said, taking Dahyun’s hand and positioning her so that the two were facing each other, sitting on their knees.

Sana’s hand practically burned in Dahyun’s, but when she let go, Dahyun realized she wanted it back in hers again. Or on her. Anywhere.

“I know we haven’t known each other that long,” Sana was saying, “But…do you trust me?” Her voice was soft and genuine.

Swallowing nervously, the younger pup nodded. “Yes,” Dahyun said. “Especially if it means Momo and Jihyo won’t…see.”

A little smile appeared on Sana’s face. “Well, they won’t if you’re quiet,” she said. “Can I touch you?”

Dahyun realized the older girl hadn’t moved an inch since sitting across from her, and she nodded quickly. “Please,” she breathed, hating how badly she wanted to see what Sana would do to help relieve her.

Sana took a breath, then reached for Dahyun’s skirt. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” Her fingertips ghosted over Dahyun’s bulge at first, and then her hand was gently cupping her, rubbing her lightly over her clothes. Sana kept her eyes on Dahyun the whole time, watching her face carefully.

Dahyun opened her mouth but said nothing at first, mesmerized by the feeling of Sana’s hand.

“Can you-” Dahyun let out a little groan, “Do…more?”

Sana nodded, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling. Truthfully, all of her physical intimacy was with Jihyo. She’d never done anything with another hybrid before, but she knew what felt good to her when she touched herself, and she knew exactly what Dahyun was feeling, so maybe if she touched Dahyun the way she touched herself, she thought, it would help. She felt excited, unaware that she was starting to become mildly aroused herself.

“How does this feel?”

Her hand was reaching beneath Dahyun’s skirt now, under the fabric and into her underwear to fish out her hardened cock.

The younger girl started to moan but immediately covered her mouth with her hand. She nearly bucked into Sana’s hand, clearly craving more. All Sana had done was hold her cock in her hand, and already Dahyun was unraveling. She gave Sana a little nod to let her know she could keep going.

Sana took Dahyun’s length in her hand, moving up to gently fist the tip, which was flushed and already wet with precum.

Both of their breathing became a little heavier. Dahyun’s eyes moved from Sana’s hand up over the rest of her body. Her eyes lingered on Sana’s soft parted lips, the rise and fall of her chest, and then as her gaze traveled downward, she spotted a growing bulge beneath the other hybrid’s skirt. Her eyes widened a little with curiosity.

Sana stopped for a moment when she saw Dahyun’s eyes go wide and followed her gaze to what made her react. Seeing her own cock stiffening under her clothes, Sana let go and blushed. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I- maybe I really should just go get Momo–”

“Wait, Sana,” Dahyun said. She put a hand on Sana’s thigh. “I just didn’t know you also–, I mean, I’ve never–” she looked up, trying to find her words but couldn’t. Her mouth was watering a little now, adding to her distraction. “C-can I see?”

Sana’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She had fully expected Dahyun to agree and ask for Momo. Quickly getting over her shock, she nodded. Within moments, her own cock was out and Dahyun watched, mesmerized, as Sana began to pump her own length. Sana’s tip was a soft pink color, and as she watched Sana touch herself, Dahyun realized she was just a bit smaller than her friend. It made it all the more exciting.

Dahyun felt like she couldn’t move, let alone breathe as she watched Sana, despite her own cock twitching for attention.

Noticing this, Sana moved closer. She expertly positioned herself close to Dahyun so that she could wrap her hand around her dick and Dahyun's, too.

The younger hybrid let out a small gasp when Sana’s cock rubbed up against her own. She’d never felt anything quite like it. “Th-that feels good,” Dahyun breathed, encouraging the older girl to continue.

Soon the room fell quiet, save for the sounds of soft panting, light whines and the growing sound of slick as Sana repeatedly slid her hand over her and Dahyun’s cocks. Sana wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing– she really was just going off of what made her feel good when she touched herself.

The gentle squeezing of Sana’s hand, combined with the feeling of Sana’s cock rubbing up against her own made Dahyun’s hips buck involuntarily upward.

Embarrassed at her own sudden attempts to fuck up into Sana’s hand, Dahyun’s eyes occasionally flicked over to her bedroom door to make sure it was still closed. Not that it really mattered– she was no longer sure she would stop even if Momo or Jihyo were to open the door. She’d never seen another hybrid’s cock before, let alone been able to touch another hybrid like this. It was new for her, and it felt incredible. She didn’t want to stop.

Sana’s member was perfect, Dahyun thought. Slightly veiny and thick, but not overwhelmingly so. Dahyun felt secretly pleased that despite being a little smaller, her cock had been enough to get the other hybrid hard, too.

Their heads were close enough to touch, and now they sat forehead to forehead. Sana’s precum mixed with Dahyun’s as she continued to stroke their cocks together, each now coated in the other’s slick. It felt unbelievably good, and Dahyun stifled a moan.

Sana’s cheeks were flushed, focused on the cocks in her hand as she worked to jack them both off. It was such a different sensation than when Jihyo did it for her, or when she did it by herself.

Her eyes were locked on Dahyun’s cock. She’d only ever been inside of Jihyo’s wet, receptive cunt, and she wondered what it would be like to be inside of the other puppy. The thought made her breath hitch. She was much closer to coming than she thought.

Dahyun was doing her best to keep her vocalizations as quiet as possible, but it was clear she was enjoying everything Sana was doing. During her first rut with Momo, she’d learned she liked to eat her owner out, and now wondered what it would be like to have Sana’s throbbing cock in her mouth.

“S-Sana,” Dahyun said hoarsely, reaching to grab the older girl’s free wrist. “I- you’re gonna make me–”

“Yeah,” Sana murmured, “M-me too.”

The thought of licking Sana’s cock, of tasting her, of having Sana stretch Dahyun’s mouth and throat the way Dahyun's cock stretched Momo's was what sent the younger hybrid over the edge. She couldn’t stifle her moan this time as she came, ropes of cum immediately ruining the older girl’s outfit.

Sana was in awe as she watched Dahyun: the way her eyes screwed tight as she let her release take her, the deep blush creeping up under her pale cheeks, the way she could feel Dahyun’s cock throb in her hand as she pumped her.

“Ah!” It was the very feeling of Dahyun’s cock pulsing against her own as she came that made Sana cum shortly after, adding to the load Dahyun had just spilled over both of their clothes.

They panted heavily. Sana’s hand pumped each of them a few more times before finally releasing both of their softening members.

“Thank you,” Dahyun said, catching her breath.

Sana smiled, about to respond when there was a knock at the door.

“Sana? Dahyun?” Momo’s voice on the other side of the door made Dahyun leap a mile into the air. The two quickly scrambled off of Dahyun’s bed, hurriedly tucking themselves away and trying to wipe off their clothes. “We didn’t realize how long we’d been chatting out here!” Momo continued. “We’re so sorry, can we make it up to you with some time at the park? We could even stop for ice cream afterward.”

Dahyun was frozen. What would they think when they saw Sana’s ruined outfit? What if Jihyo got mad? Or Momo? She’d have to change clothes, too, and-

“YES!” Sana blurted, hoping she sounded excited instead of frantic. “We’ll be right there!”

When she was sure Momo had gone, Dahyun gave Sana a petrified look. “We can’t go like this!” she hissed nervously. “Your skirt– your shirt, too..!”

“I know, but I have an idea,” Sana said. “Still trust me?”

Dahyun nodded.

***

“Let me do the talking when we go out there, okay?” Sana said. After sneaking down the hall to wash her hands, Sana came back to Dahyun’s room and raided her closet. She dressed the younger hybrid in a pink cropped shirt, white shorts and a pink belt. For herself, she chose one of Dahyun’s pink shirts and paired it with a white skirt, stealing one of Dahyun’s pink headbands to go with it.

When they finally stepped out of her room, Dahyun and Sana were nearly matching in their outfits. Dahyun felt a bit sick as Sana led the way down the hall.

“There you are!” Jihyo and Momo smiled brightly at the two hybrids for a moment before their expressions changed to confusion.

“Sana honey, what happened to your clothes?” Jihyo’s eyes flitted over her puppy’s new outfit.

“I made Dahyun show me her closet,” Sana said in a confessional manner. She set her old outfit, now flipped inside out, down carefully next to the other items Jihyo had brought with them. “We both have some of the same favorite colors,” she continued. “I just wanted to match her today.”

Jihyo’s confusion immediately melted into an expression of endearment.

“How cute,” she cooed, giving Sana’s ears a loving scratch. “Dahyun, I promise we’ll get your clothes back to you next week, okay?”

Dahyun nodded, suddenly feeling shy in front of everyone. The feeling reminded her of her first playdate with Sana, when everyone was carefully watching her out of the corner of their eye to see how she reacted to Sana. But then Sana gave her a reassuring smile and she felt better, smiling shyly back at her.

While Jihyo and Sana put their shoes on and got ready to head out the door, Momo and Dahyun did the same. But before Dahyun could join Jihyo and Sana outside, Momo put a hand on her shoulder, signaling for her to hold back for a moment.

For a second, Dahyun felt panic rise in her chest, but then her owner pressed a puppy-safe breakfast bar into her hands.

“You must have been really tired this morning, pup,” she said, gently stroking Dahyun under her chin. “You didn’t get any of the breakfast I made for you this morning, did you?”

It was only then that Dahyun’s stomach growled, and Momo smiled. “Thought not. Eat that on the way, okay? I don’t want ice cream to be your first meal of the day.”

#twice imagines #hybrid!twice #hybrid!sana #hybrid!dahyun #gp!twice

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hannahssimblr · 8 months

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Chapter Two (Part 3)

It is a long climb up the hill that leads us to the south strand, but the street lamps are coming on and the sea looks beautiful from up high. Tonight the rising moon is huge and the clouds are pink, another clear night is ahead. I wish that I was alone on the beach instead, lying in the sand and waiting until everything was dark and silent and completely mine, finding shooting stars and watching the milky way drift across the inky sky. Instead, we have to go to Flavio’s house. Pasta was promised, and I’m starving. I tell myself this is the only reason I’m not staying home tonight.

Flavio’s holiday home is beautiful. My first thought as we walk through the door is how much the rent must cost. Everything looks new and it is so tastefully decorated that it looks like it could be in a magazine. Large windows look out over a landscaped yard, and beyond that I can see the distant lights of the nearest town glowing on the horizon. The house is filled with pop music that I don’t recognise and the smell of sizzling garlic and onions. My stomach rumbles.

Flavio greets us, and gives Claire a kiss on the cheek. “Ciao, Bella.” He says to her, and then we are introduced to his friends. There are two of them: Luca and Stefano. Luca is a tall, light haired man with a floppy 90s era fringe and a funny little scarf around his neck. Stefano is shorter, plainer, with a thin mouth and rectangular glasses. I feel a deep disappointment within me, as I know he will be assigned to me. A plain girl for a plain boy. I know I will spend the evening forcing excruciating conversation out of him. I wish I had starved at home.

“Come, sit.” Flavio gestures to a table that has been set already. Two bottles of red wine sit in the middle, but I have already seen that there are four more on the kitchen counter. I feel anxious. I sit across from Claire, flanked by Stefano and Luca. They are both staring at her transfixed. Flavio serves steaming tomato pasta and pours wine in each glass, and as I take my first mouthful I keep an eye on the men on either side of me.

There’s a thing I never understood about boys, and I think it’s the notion of a hierarchical structure within the dating pool. I’ve only ever known girls closely and can only speak from what I’ve heard, but girls always seem aware of their playing field. I mean, they generally have a rough idea of how high they can punch, and at what point they realise that a certain guy is too attractive for them, and they will no longer pursue him. Guys – and this is something I’ve learned from being around Claire this last year – have no such notions. One will crawl from the gutter, smelling like he’s never been in a shower and still feel that he can ask her out. All around her, every day, men take a chance on her. They stop their cars dead, they sit next to her on empty buses, they stop her in the street to talk, all on the possibility that they might become someone lucky enough to know her. They are old men, married men, ugly men, men of all walks of life, strutting around this world in dirty socks believing they could have a flying chance with Claire O’Gorman. It’s a level of confidence that I will never know.

The pasta is delicious, and I am so hungry. It seems such a simple recipe; linguine and tomato sauce with a sprig of basil on top, but I swear Flavio put some sort of charm on it. My mouth explodes with flavour as I take bite after bite, it’s like a religious experience. I realise eventually that I have forgotten to engage with the conversation around me, and am mortified to discover that I have eaten most of my dinner already while the rest of the table has barely started. I plant my cutlery on either side of my plate and clasp my hands in my lap, physically restraining myself.

Flavio is talking about how he’s studying finance at a university in Milan, and looking self congratulatory as he talks about the kind of salary he might expect when he graduates. It strikes me as tone deaf, considering the economy, but nobody seems to care about that except for me. I try to talk to Stefano, mostly because I feel obliged to, but his English isn’t very good and we run out of basic conversation topics very quickly. I give up trying and let myself finish my meal and wine. Flavio is too annoying to bear too, so I give up listening to him as well.

Around eleven o clock, we all clear the plates from the table and stack them in the dishwasher, and soon after a group of people who say they’re from the holiday apartments down the road show up with a plastic bag full of cans. Luca changes the music to some kind of hideous electronica and within an hour there is a heaving party of strangers in their twenties in the living room. I have never felt younger or more naive or more out of place as I perch on a sofa and pick at my fingernails. I spot Kelly in the kitchen with Luca, she’s laughing and pouring glugs of wine into his glass, filling it all the way to the top and he’s trying to get her to stop before it overflows. I watch the blood red liquid spill out onto the floor. I can’t tell by the back of his head if he’s annoyed at her or enjoying her. She’s so charming, I feel as though she could do and say the most outrageous things you could think of and get away with them.

I look around for Claire and Flavio but I can’t see them. I worry about her. I get up from the sofa and slip out the living room door into the hallway where the lights are off, only the streetlamps outside are casting a pale glow on the tiles. I peek into the empty bathroom, then make my way quietly upstairs. I feel like I’m way out of line, but I don’t mind being caught out as a rude guest if it means that Claire is safe.

The first bedroom I check is empty, and so is the second. I open up to another bathroom to find it empty too, lights off. By the time my hand is on the knob of the third bedroom I am sure that Claire is in there. I crack it open and slowly peer inside, fully expecting to walk in on some lewd scene, but she isn’t there either. I sigh. The moon is framed perfectly by the window in the room, and curtains blow gently in the breeze. I step closer and rest my hands on the sill, my ears ringing now in the silence, the floor throbbing beneath my feet, and then I hear her laughing.

Of course, she’s right under my nose, literally. I look down to the garden below me and see Claire and Flavio on two folding garden chairs drinking wine, and see that there was absolutely nothing salacious happening. I am relieved, but at the same moment I feel sad and a bit jealous of her. And Kelly too. Just like I predicted, they both ended up paired off with boys, and I ended up alone. Sad little Evelyn, all by herself in the corner of the party. I’m annoyed at myself for how pitiful I feel, and I can’t help but recall what Kelly said earlier. Maybe I am too picky, and I just need to choose a boy and go out with him. Maybe after a while the whole ordeal stops feeling so horrible and embarrassing. Although I’d never admit it, the fact that I’m seventeen and have never had a relationship feels so pathetic to me. I wish I could just find a boyfriend and get it over with, at least then everybody would stop prying into my love life, pitying me for my lack of experience.

I head downstairs and try to weave around the crowd to get to the front door, needing some fresh air, suddenly Stefano comes from nowhere and puts his hands on my waist, wrenching me backwards. He is trying to drunkenly dance with me. His eyes are heavy lidded and his breath smells like beer. I am repulsed, and I wrench his sweaty hands off me. “I’m seventeen.” I spit. “That means I’m legally a child, you rotten pedo.” I run away from him, out the door and over the road to the cliffside, where I stand, my face hot, breathing hard and trying to force myself to cry.

My vision blurs with tears, and I look down at my feet willing the drops to fall, my shoulders shaking, but the tears never fall. I peer over the cliffs. They aren’t high, but they’re rocky. Big round boulders stack on top of one another like some ancient giant placed them there. I picture what would happen if I were to slip down them, and in detail I imagine the way that I would fall, bouncing from one boulder to the next, a horrible gruesome sequence all the way to the sand below. Sometimes I have intense fantasies about things like this, and it’s not that I want to die, it’s just that I’m terrified by how easily and quickly it can happen. I decide that dying via the rocky cliffside would be the worst, and so I take a step backwards, suddenly wary of heights.

As I turn away from them, I see the glint of metal in the moonlight. There is a steel railing on the cliff edge not far from me, and as I walk closer to it I see that it’s a stone staircase leading down onto the beach below. There is access to the beach the whole way along the coast via these kinds of steps, and I’m surprised that I hadn’t spotted them earlier.

I decide to walk down them, and it’s so quiet out here that I can hear only my footsteps on the concrete as I do. When I reach the bottom, I take off my runners and my socks and am pleasantly surprised to find that the soft sand is cold under my hot feet, all of the heat it has absorbed from the day is gone again, drawn out by the cool air, and it’s like it’s resting before another hot day tomorrow. I wonder what time it is. I wonder if my friends have noticed that I’ve gone.

I’m in tune with myself as I walk the silent beach, my stomach still knotted with frustration and sadness, but I find peace with it, my bare feet grounding me to the earth below. The cliff softens into rolling dunes at the end of the beach, and boulders taper off and give way to soft marram grass that softly ripples in the breeze.

There is a house in the dunes ahead, but I don’t see it until I’m close to it. It’s as though it emerges from nowhere, nestled into the cliffs, warm yellow light spilling from its windows out onto a wooden balcony that faces the water. It is flat roofed and clad in corrugated iron, and I can see there is a smouldering fire pit outside a set of large patio doors. They are wide open, inviting the night time breeze inside, and as I get closer I can hear music and laughter coming from within. I stop walking and I stare up at the house, enthralled by it somehow, not wanting to move any closer while simultaneously sensing warmth, juxtaposed entirely with the hostile house I had just walked out of.

I freeze suddenly as voices draw closer to me and a girl emerges onto the deck. She is about my age, maybe a little older, and her hair is short and dyed a bright red colour. She is mid conversation with somebody who is still inside the house.

“It’s a bit like… so you’ve seen Lost, obviously, have you?” She’s saying. She speaks like she is from Dublin. “Kind of that vibe, like you think it’s a simplistic kind of run of the mill thing, then all this bonkers shit starts happening and like… oh hang on, c’mere, can you bring me out that lighter in there? Yep, on the table.”

A boy walks out behind her, and she continues her conversation with him, and catches the lighter as he tosses it. I stop listening to what she’s saying then, as I feel suddenly stunned by the boy. He is beautiful. His hair is dark and pushed away from his face, a few strands of it are falling over his forehead, and he stands tall next to her, facing in my direction. I step in behind a patch of marram, but I don’t think either of them can see me anyway. I’m cloaked by the darkness on the beach. He has the prettiest face, I think. Its planes catch the moonlight, high cheekbones, an angular jaw, and almond shaped dark brown eyes that are concentrating intently on what the girl is saying to him.

There’s something about him that paralyses me. I’ve seen nice looking boys before, of course I have. The best and the brightest have waited outside of our school for their girlfriends, but the boy on the balcony has an energy. It’s in the way he holds himself, the steadiness of his gaze, the aura that surrounds him feels static. I realise I am holding my breath and it’s burning my lungs. I can’t help but let it all rush out of me at once. The girl pauses her conversation and looks over her shoulder quizzically. I’m convinced she’s heard me. She turns back around though, and starts flicking her lighter.

“Feck sake.” she says. “This one is out of juice. Here, I think there’s another one in that bowl downstairs.” They both turn and walk back inside, and they’re gone again. I take my chance to dash back up the beach then. As I’m running, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I thank God that it didn’t do that while I was literally spying on someone from the bushes one minute ago. When I’m far enough away, I read the message. It’s from Kelly.

Where are you Evie? Can’t find you. 😦

Another one pops up as I read

We’re thinking of leaving. Turns out everyone here is a creep. lol.

I text her back as I hurriedly clamber back up the concrete steps.

On my way, sorry… just needed some air.

I stop for a moment at the top of the stairs and look back down the beach. I can’t see the lights from that house anymore, it’s hidden from view once again, but my body feels alive, nerves tingling with excitement: about seeing the boy, about almost getting caught, the thrilling discovery of the little house… I won’t tell Claire and Kelly about it, I decide then in a more sobering moment. There’s no point, I will put it out of my head now. I’ll probably never see those people again.

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #writing #sims story #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 1

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ashthenerdtheythem · 3 months

Text

Why do teachers like to torture disabled students?

Last week was autism awareness week. I'm autistic, I'm glad it happened. But what I am not glad about is what my geography teacher did for it.

She thought that it would be good to do a 20 min brain break. Where we had to do jumping jacks, hop on one foot, sit up and down a million and one times

I have excruciating chronic pain and chronic dizziness and am a frequent fainter. But the only teachers who know about this are my PE teacher and the teachers who've seen me pass out. My geography teacher didn't know and the thought of saying that I couldn't do it in font of my whole class was mortifying. So I joined in. I was so dizzy that I barely have a clue what happened for a couple of hours afterwards. I was in so much pain that I had to bite my hand so I wouldn't scream. I had to sit down anyway within 5 minutes and my teacher made a big deal about it.

I could barely stand for 2 days. When I got home the next day I collapsed onto the couch and was floating in and out of consciousness for hours and shaking like a leaf for hours and hours while sweating buckets yet feeling like I was in the Antartic. I was actually exhausted, not just "I'm so tired, I'm exhausted" as in my body was in an actual state of exhaustion so bad that 2 days later I was not in control of my own body.

This brain break was on Wednesday. It is now Sunday and I am on the edge of tears with every fucking movement because of the flare up that she triggered

For fuck sake

(Also my geography teacher is actually a really nice person. We have the craic, she runs greenschools, she unlocked a classroom for me when I left my stuff there. She is a really nice person, but I have been in absolutely agony and have been fainting twice as much as usual as well as the whole exhaustion thing which scared the shit out of me, so I am pissed of at her even though she didn't realise the harm she causedl

#vent #hypermobile ehlers danlos #hypermobility #pots #potsie #chronic fainting #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronic fatigue #percy jackson #chronic disability #school #teaching #why am i like this

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btsgotjams27 · 2 years

Note

pairing

oc x park jimin

prompt

❛ oh, so now you care? ❜

❛ i didn’t know where else to go. ❜

p.s.

ily :3

summary: your former fuck boy/friends with benefits show up with a surprise in his arms.

✨ title: the fine art of bullsh*t | ✨ pairing: jimin x f!reader ✨ genre/au: former fwb, angst, a dash of fluff and humor ✨ word count: 1.7k | ✨ rating: m/18+, minors dni ✨ warnings: language, jimin is a cheater (sorry), jimin isn’t that great of a guy, dom!jimin, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), voyeurism?, spanking, creampie, cum stuffing, talks of nipples (not that kind) ✨ prompt: i didn’t know where else to go ✨ a/n: i love you arden. thanks for requesting this, and i'll stop torturing you when you admit jimin's your bias. xoxo.

Memories are the worst form of torture, is what you thought when you found the bracelet that Jimin gifted you for your birthday. Since you were only friends with benefits, the two of you agreed not to do couple-y type things but Jimin being Jimin, broke the rules, and it wasn't the first time he did it.

Like when you agreed to friends with benefits only if he didn't go fucking around, and you'd do the same. You could not keep up with more than one fuck buddy; one was good enough, and Jimin was more than enough, for you at least.

But apparently not for Jimin, he needed more.

You'd had a long day, and Jimin wasn't answering his calls or texts. You needed to let off steam from the excruciating day at work and get fucked so hard you'd forget about the shitty day you had.

When you let yourself into his apartment, the first thing you noticed were heels, red heels, a red dress, black pants, and a white button-down trailing towards the bedroom. Your jaw clenched so tightly that the crown sitting on your tooth would need to be replaced. You crouched down to pick up the red dress, clutching it in your hands as you walked towards the noisy couple. You could hear a woman obnoxiously screaming Jimin's name along with high-pitched nasal moans.

Good god Park Jimin. He'd fuck anything that moves.

You didn't make a peep, didn't want to cockblock their sexy time, and that'd be rude. So, you stood in the doorway, arms crossed, cocking your head to the side, thinking about how much Jimin loved that position - doggy, that is.

"Jiminie, I'm gonna come," the woman cried out, continuing to pant as Jimin thrust deeply inside her.

Jimin grunted, "You're always so fucking tight for me, baby."

Always? Huh…so this isn't their first time. He'd broken yet another rule. Park Jimin had learned the fine art of bullshitting you, and you fell for it.

"Fuck–fuck–don't stop," the woman squealed as Jimin slapped his thighs into her ass, the lewd noises echoing throughout the room. "Ah–you're so fucking big."

Geez, she's fucking loud but not a liar - had to give her that, at least.

The woman's high-pitched whines indicated that Jimin did his job like he always did, and he was pretty good at it. A mere minute later, Jimin groaned loudly, pulling himself out and stuffing his cum back into her cunt. He pushed her down so her peachy ass was displayed before a loud smack filled the room. He continued kneading and massaging the red mark he had made.

Sure, she has a nice ass, but that was about it.

"My, my, my…Jimin, what a fucking great performance you put on," you said, slowly clapping, making your way towards the couple. "Don't think you're so special, sweetheart. I'm pretty sure he says that shit to every woman he fucks."

The woman and Jimin both looked mortified at being caught by you. "You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend. What the fuck?!" She quickly pulled away from Jimin, cum dripping down her legs as she brushed past you.

You didn't correct her. Girlfriend or not, you and Jimin agreed not to fuck other people. "Forgetting something, skank?" You waved the red dress in your hand as the woman narrowed her eyes at you and Jimin, hastily running away from the situation. "You always have to break the rules, don't you?"

Holding the dainty gold bracelet in your hand, you looked at it one more time before putting your foot on the pedal of the trash can and tossing it away.

Good riddance, you thought to yourself. It felt amazing to throw it away, and you didn't want any part of him lying around in your home.

Getting yourself all cozied up and ready for bed, you were about to break out into some self-care time before you heard your doorbell buzz. Looking at the clock, it was nearly ten o'clock at night, and god knows you swore off all men, so there's no way it could be a guy.

Approaching the small peephole at your front door, you rolled your eyes, mumbling curses under your breath as you unlatched the door. "What the fuck are you doing here, Park–" you didn't get to finish your sentence because what he was holding in his arm caused you to gasp.

"Hi…" Jimin said with a soft smile, but the dark circles under his eyes told a different story.

Shaking your head, you pointed to the sleeping baby. "That's not mine." Well, no shit, it's not yours, you have to be pregnant to have a baby, but you thought you should just put it out there in case he had any ideas.

"He's mine," Jimin explained. "Can I come in?"

You couldn't say no to someone holding a baby, even if it was your former fuck buddy, Park Jimin. "Yeah? I guess?" You opened the door wider, so he could fit the car seat through the threshold.

Quickly, you glanced down at the sweet baby cherub. Of course, Jimin would have a chunky monkey. You wanted to squeeze those cheeks, but you told your ovaries to shut it down.

Jimin carefully set the car seat down next to him while sitting on your couch, a spot he was familiar with. His mind floods with memories of the things the two of you did, but that was a year ago. This was the first time you'd seen one another in so long, so you suppose the snoring baby is why you never heard from him.

Taking a seat across from him, you were curious why he showed up now of all times. "Why are you here, Jimin?"

He looked at the sleeping baby before glancing in your direction. "I didn't know where else to go," he sighed in defeat, hands covering his face.

You could tell he hadn't been sleeping. The baby didn't look more than a month or two old. "And? You come to me? For what?" You didn't want to be an ass, but you didn't understand how this was your problem.

"Because you're a nurse," he stated like you should have known the reason why he was here. "Ji-ho isn't eating, and I haven't been able to take him to the doctor."

Ah, fuck. Stupid nursing code of ethics.

You sighed, leaving the brand new dad and his baby, to head to your bedroom to grab a stethoscope, and returned ready for nurse duties. You folded down the car seat's shell to get a better look at the baby boy. He looked healthy, still chubby, even though he wasn't taking a bottle.

"Is it okay if I take him out?"

"Yeah, of course."

As you unbuckle Ji-ho, he began to stir, using his little mittens to rub his face. His back arched when he stretched out his limbs. Ji-ho had a full head of hair, a button nose, and cheeks that looked like they were stuffed with golf balls. Though Jimin had fucked you over, he did make a cute baby.

You quietly shushed Ji-ho while holding him in your arms, wanting him to be calm before handing him over to Jimin. When he finally settled, you passed him off, keeping your hand steady on Ji-ho so his startle reflex wouldn't wake him.

"You're so good at this," Jimin whispered.

"It's kind of my job," you grinned, grabbing your stethoscope and placing it on Ji-ho's small frame - on his lungs, heart, and stomach. Everything seemed normal, and he wasn't running a fever when you put your hand on his head. Kneeling down in front of Jimin, you asked, "Have you tried using other kinds of nipples?"

Jimin cleared his throat, "Huh? Nipples? Like other women's nipples?"

Oh god… he's clueless.

"No, stupid–" you whispered yelled. You swear to god if he wasn't holding a baby in his arms, you'd smack him. "Bottle nipples! Sometimes you have to try different nipples and bottles to see if they like it better."

"Oh…" Jimin nodded. "I just–I have no idea what I'm doing. Ji-ho was left on my doorstep a week ago, and I'm scrambling, trying to figure everything out."

Ah geez. You couldn't help but feel bad for the guy, but he did bring this on himself. You squeezed his arm as you stood up and walked into the kitchen, opening the pantry and scouring for something.

"Here, try these," you said, holding out a brand new package of baby bottles. Jimin knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. "Don't—ask me why I have these. I just do."

Ji-ho was starting to stir again, waking up from his sleep. Soft little 'nyeh, nyeh' sounds were leaving his little lips.

"You hear that 'nyeh' sound he's making?" Jimin nodded. "That means he's hungry–just a little tip from a pediatric nurse," you winked at him. "Here, I can hold him off while you make his bottle. Wash them quickly and then make his bottle."

Ji-ho was a bit fussy in your arms, but nothing a pacifier couldn't do to hold him off while Jimin prepared his bottle. You paced around the living room, softly singing a lullaby you sang to all the babies in your ward. Jimin couldn't help but feel so endeared seeing you hold Ji-ho.

"'Kay, the bottle's ready," he said, walking towards you. Jimin gestured for you to hand Ji-ho over, but you told him it's okay, that you got it. You were sure that Jimin hadn't slept in days.

When you brought the bottle to Ji-ho's lips, he stuck out his tongue, trying to figure out if he liked it or not. He fought it for a moment before finally taking it. Whew. You knew how fickle babies could sometimes be, so you hoped these bottles would work for him.

As you were going to inform Jimin that Ji-ho liked these bottles, you looked over to see Jimin passed out on the couch, mouth agape, chest heaving rhythmically. You shook your head and peered down at the sweet cherub baby, "Looks like daddy's knocked out. Let's give him some time to sleep, hmm?"

#jimin fic #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #bts fanfic #jimin oneshot #jimin smut #follower milestone #fic: the fine art of bullsh*t

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mwolf0epsilon · 8 months

Text

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 29: Bargaining

Summary: Negotiations were often Obi-wan's forte when it came to resolving issues in a diplomatic manner. In these circumstances however, he doesn't know if taking Umbara is really worth the trouble... Not with everything that's come to light.

Warning: N/A

Dogma's design should give you an idea of what Cody currently looks like!

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

With communications reestablished, things had started going a little smoother. Enough so that, in the end, Obi-wan was forced to face the facts. Especially given the evidence Tacet had brought to him on such short notice.

This entire campaign had been a setup of the most treacherous kind.

Unlike with the incident with Sargent Slick however, the clones had not been the ones to perpetrate any of the sabotage that the Jedi had begun to investigate. Instead, what had started as a simple line of inquiry while he regained some of his strength, soon becoming a much deeper scrutinization of everything that had gone wrong after the 501st and 212th had gone their separate ways.

It had not escape his notice how all things inevitably led to Anakin's departure and Krell's arrival. The timing coinciding far too much for it to be mere chance.

And wasn't that a troublesome thought?

A Jedi Master of Krell's caliber suddenly going rogue without the Order noticing. It bare not think at all. Especially when it made some previous incidents that had easily been overlooked as innocent, take a much darker tone when faced with such damning evidence.

All those casualties, that waste of life, a warning that had gone horrifically unheeded...

Minute by minute, the overwhelmingly excruciating torment of unraveling all of the Council's accidental negligence left Obi-wan feeling weighted down by guilt. The facts had been right there. The Jedi had simply not seen them... So focused on the war efforts that they'd become somewhat complacent. Semi-willingly ignorant of things that seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

When had they stopped paying attention to the suffering of others? When had they forgotten the core values of the Order? When had it become so easy to turn a blind eye?

He wasn't sure and was honestly mortified to find out just how deep the rabbit hole might go. But there would be talks of this once he got back to Coruscant. There would be measures put in place, once he managed to arrange a meeting with the other Council members. This sort of abuse of power could never come to pass ever again.

But first, Obi-wan had to deal with current affairs on Umbara.

Starting with weighing the pros and cons of carrying on with this particular campaign's goal of establishing control over the governing forces, before Umbara broke away to join the Separatist movement. A goal he did not particularly agree with, and which was honestly starting to feel less like something the Republic should strive for.

Peace should never be built on a foundation of violent oppression and takeovers. Diplomacy should be the first choice not the last. And, mulling over everything that had recently transpired in the world of politics, the Republic was starting to feel less like a benevolent union of worlds and more like a playground full of angry younglings that could not decide who was or was not a friend or foe...

The Chancellor certainly hadn't been making it easy to find common ground that anyone could work with to reach a peaceful conclusion of this war. Passing bills that, while outwardly seeming beneficial to all, came with long lasting effects that aggrieved both the Republic itself, GAR and anyone else caught in the crossfire.

And after he'd summoned Anakin away to do Force only knew what, he'd certainly made the efforts on Umbara all the much harder to endure. Not counting the parasitic take-over.

But those were not sentiments he could freely talk over comms. You never knew where those recordings and transcripts might end up, after all...

"I wish I had been down there with the men..." Ahsoka's pitiful sadness was easy to spot, even over the choppy holotable quality, as she processed all of what he'd been able to tell her thus far.

"Sincerely Commander Tano, the men and I are glad you aren't involved in this mess." Cody shook his head, voicing what Obi-wan himself had been thinking. That he was glad his Grand-Padawan was safely away from these horrific events. Away from both Krell's actions and the parasites that had so easily overwhelmed him, prior to discovering their susceptibility to mind tricks. "If you'd gotten hurt or worse, killed, none of us would have been able to forgive ourselves."

"Not to mention Anakin would certainly not take the loss well..." The bearded Jedi added, being more than a little aware of his ex-Padawan's very specific faults.

It's not that he thought his brother to be anything but kind and caring. Far from it, Anakin definitely cared for the well being of others. Sometimes a little too much. Which was often the root of many conflicts between himself and others, who had an easier time letting go of what upset them.

Well, that wasn't entirely true either. Guilt was something no Jedi could shrug off very easily. The weight of one's responsibilities as a guardian of peace was often crushing, especially if a mistake that yielded terrible consequences was made. Processing negative emotions in a positive constructive way was a challenge all beings went through. The Jedi just had to be extra mindful due to their extraordinary abilities. Which was why it was imperative that, should one find themselves beginning to lose sight of the light, that they seek the help of both their support network and a Mind Healer.

Something which Obi-wan himself was not entirely good at, at times. And something he'd never seen Anakin do outside of talking to Padme. He never pushed, not wanting to seem hypocritical, but perhaps he should also look into having a talk with his little brother after all of this was done and dealt with.

"I hadn't thought of that..." Ahsoka admitted as she lightly gnawed on her bottom lip, clearly worried about her Master's reaction to... Well, all of this mess. His battalion was worse for wear, and his men would likely need some time to be able to trust the Jedi again, once it came to light that Krell had been trying to get them all killed on purpose.

Not to mention the state of those who'd been infected...

"It bares not thinking." Obi-wan nodded in understanding. "Especially when we are still in the middle of this conflict..."

"If we can't wrap things up soon, I fear it'll only get worse..." The togruta crossed her arms, looking over her shoulder at two of the men who'd joined her for the call. Two veterans, Nax and Attie, who flanked her sides and listened to the conversation with solemn expressions. "The Umbaran forces have initiated several dogfights, and we haven't been able to send any supply ships as a result..."

"The pilots are starting to look a little worse for wear." Nax added, voice grave as he put emphasis on the main issues they were trying to deal with. "Many of the ships are down for repairs, and exhaustion is slowing down our best fliers..."

"Only way I see this going well is if the Umbarans called for a ceasefire... But, seeing as they're unwilling to give in so easily..." Attie sighed, clearly not believing this would end well. Even with the capitol in their hands, the enemy forces were not deterred by such intimidation tactics. "We have no idea what to do sir..."

"This is indeed a problem..." Obi-wan conceded as he stroked his beard in thought. Trying to figure out what the best course of actions might be.

Negotiations were often Obi-wan's forte when it came to resolving issues in a diplomatic manner. In these circumstances however, he doesn't know if taking Umbara is really worth the trouble… Not with everything that's come to light.

It might be that retreat was really the only solution, even if it would label them as cowards in the eyes of the Republic.

"Sir..." Cody went to put a hand on his shoulder before freezing, the aborted motion causing everyone on call to pause and look towards the Commander who's expression began to twist in pain. "A-ah..."

"Cody, are you alright...?" Ahsoka softly asked while Obi-wan frowned at the worrisome change.

"...I... A-ah..." The mutated trooper shook his head, expression pinched from clear discomfort and pain as he shook. His tremors so bad he stumbled and ended up on the floor. "I̵ ̵t̴-̴t̶h̸i̵n̴k̴ ̵I̶.̵.̴.̶"

"We're running out of time..." Obi-wan hissed as he knelt by the shaking trooper, realizing immediately what was going on with his friend. The parasite was beginning to wake back up. "Ahsoka dear, we'll have to cut our conversation short for now. The men need me... I will... I will think of something by the time of our next talk. Stay vigilant until then, would you?"

"I... Yes Master." She bowed quickly. "Take care."

As soon as the holo cut off, Obi-wan helped Cody back onto his feet and helped him to sit on one of the crates instead. He could see the way his second in command was struggling against the parasite as it regained its bearings. Trying to get him back under its control.

"I̸-̸m̴ ̵s̸o̵r̸r̷y̶ ̴s̴-̵s̶i̵r̸.̴.̸.̵ ̷I̸.̷.̸.̶.̸"

"There's no need for apologies, my dear Cody. This is not your fault." The Jedi reassured, all the while taking deep breaths himself and trying to steady his own mind. He needed to focus if he wanted to keep Cody in control of himself. "I should have not expected this to last much longer..."

Cody grunted in reply.

Whether from the pain or to acknowledge the fact, he couldn't tell. Instead he focused on clearing his mind before kindly requesting that the parasite go back to sleep. It took a minute for the commander to look a little less pained, as the creature's influence faded once more.

"Thank you sir..." Cody sighed in relief.

"Think nothing of it. Were you in my position, I am sure you would have done the same." Obi-wan smiled fondly as he noted the way his friend tilted his head. No doubt rolling his eyes.

"If I were in your position..." Cody mused. "I would have stunned you."

"Hm, very honest of you." The Jedi chuckled. "Even if a little rude."

"Seventeen raised me too well."

With one less thing to concern himself with (for the moment), his mind wandered back to the more pressing matter of deciding on what to do. And then, like a ton of bricks, it hit him.

Sometimes the easiest thing to do was to look towards the simpler option. Even if as a whole, the Republic might not like his choice.

"....I think I know what needs to be done." He sighed, looking to Cody with slight resignation to the consequences that may follow. The way the other might see him afterwards. "But it will definitely spell failure on our end..."

"Depends on one's definition of failure." Cody remarked, looking to him with mild curiosity as he massaged his aching temples. "Will there be further casualties?"

"Not if it goes as I expect it to."

"Then I'd say it's worth a shot." Cody crossed his lower arms, seeming satisfied with the answer. "What will you need?"

"Direct communication with the Umbaran Generals..." Obi-wan responded calmly, already beginning to organize his thoughts for what he was sure would be a rather long debate. "It's time to bargain for ceasefire. For the sake of our men..."

The Republic would not take this loss kindly. But perhaps the Umbarans might be more merciful in return.

After all, victory should not come as a result of such tremendous loss nor moral bankruptcy. And considering the state of both battalions and the fear the locals had of the parasites they were infected with, surely they could reach a mutually beneficial understanding.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #whumptober #Umbaran Pathogen AU #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #commander cody #clone trooper nax #clone trooper attie

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mslanna · 5 months

Text

Disclosed Desires

Chapter 4 of A Mortifying Ordeal now up on AO3

95% smut. You can skip when he vanishes his clothes.

I have no idea how I got through that dinner. The food was delicious, like utterly out of my budget and Raphael just sat there like a statue of Adonis only looking better and alive. Has the world ever seen eyes so brown? Probably not because it didn't implode and gods know I was so close.

Also, that voice. Once he realised The Purr had me in a stranglehold, he defaulted to it. Kept quizzing me about Baldur's Gate 3, too. Embarrassing and the one thing that saved the chair I sat on. I'm bad at meta, won't lie, so trying to explain things to him was pretty excruciating.

He kept insisting on me having a favourite way to play dialogues and such being a sign of me remembering and trying to be who I was before. Looking at that sopping soft guy who hid a complete devil under that face, was close to making me believe. No other reason anybody's pursue me with such fervour. But then I also have a favourite way to play Dragon Age 2 and I'm certainly no Hawke.

The thought of Varric turning up and trying to convince me to return to Kirkwall stuck around for almost half a minute. Mind you, he wouldn't have such convincing arguments for making me want to be Hawke and return.

Raphael, though? He's truly impossible, not gonna lie. I have to admire his staunch belief that I am in fact his Tav!Tav. Almost enough to make me doubt myself.

And gods do I wanna be them. He woos with the fierceness of a thousand suns, looking about as hot. Doesn't help if he's in his human form, guy is on fire! And not backing off. I am be as red as his devil skin when we arrive back at my room. Godsdamned, it is shabby. I am shabby. And he doesn't even care.

Also, he's utterly gorgeous. Tall. I have A Thing for tall guys, might be a reason none of my guys was under 2 meters. And in devil form Raphael is even taller. And so big. Need I say I wanna be all over him? Probably not, I am thirsty. I am horny and I want to cry so bad.

Poor sod deserves better. Deserves his actual real Tav. I know they'd love him so good. Kiss every inch of that man. Empty him like the last capri sun on the planet. Damn, they lucky. And I just have a finger under my chin and stare up into those damning eyes. Needs a licence for those, he does.

"Having second thoughts?"

Gah, I hate the soft insecurity in his voice. "Not about the – the thing itself no." Honesty, I whack myself internally. Honesty served me well so far. Gotta keep it up. "I wanna bang you so bad. 'til we both see stars and worse."

"But?"

"I know you think I'm your Tav. And man do I wish I was." I take his hand that holds my chin between mine. "But I'm not and you – you deserve better," I sigh. Can't hold his gaze either.

Waiting for him to react is the worst. My flight or flight instinct kicks in hard and my heart at least listens and pumps like mad. Thanks body.

Raphael is silent way too long. Probably having second thoughts himself and third thoughts and fourth thoughts, too. He's a crafty one. What am I even thinking? He got better things to do with his life than me. Which is why I can't let the Tav angle go. It's my one and only chance to get my hands on him. I am corrupt down to the bone. Or at least down to the cunt.

Doesn't help I had a taste already after amarettini and espresso. How he tastes so good, flavoured with almond and coffee. It's a small miracle we ended up in my room again and not in jail for public fornication. Coulda climbed him like a tree there and then.

"I appreciate your concern," he finally says. "It is very – consistent for you to put me and my feelings before yourself despite your obvious state. Please know that I acknowledge your worry, though I do not share it. Of course it is up to you, if you want to proceed. I will accept your withdrawal, much as it pains me. But you don't have to do anything more than let your gut guide you. Trust me."

How did he make so many words for before getting to the point. I get lost in his voice immediately and barely surface for the final 'trust me'.

"I do." Gods it is the most stupid thing ever. But I trust him. And I want to believe him, not only because his voice is utterly gorgeous but also because he says things I am desperate to hear. I want to believe so bad.

"Then, with that out of the way, you should ignore your misgivings for now. "

Wish it was that easy. Like, in theory it is, people making their own decisions, being their own people and you having to accept that. But it is hard to watch somebody you love, of fuck, I'm up in delulu-land further than the maps chart it. Still, it is hard to watch him throw himself uselessly at the nearest lump that looks like his Tav.

He must read my hesitation all wrong (unsurprising) because he takes my hand and brings it up to his lips. Damn demon devil. The way his index finger pokes into my palm is outrageously suggestive for it being mere hands. Good lord, sir what those fingers do?

"Maybe it will help bringing your memories back." He straightens with that predatory smile and my inhibitions don't even pretend to put up a fight.

"You fucked?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"You know that Tav fucking Haarlep and you fucking Haarlep in Tav's form isn't really you two fucking, yes?"

"Well," he grins like a wolf, "maybe it is time then to do the real thing."

In a swoosh of hellfire. Raphael transforms and also, sheds all of his clothes. I freeze except for my mouth that manages to go completely dry and water at the same time. Raphael's smile turns sharps as a knife as he points downwards. "Kneel."

Oh. Oh, hot damn, I will. I so will. But first – I cannot not touch him. His chest is broad and inviting and the skin is hot and all those ridges swirling everywhere. Gods strike me down if he didn't shudder when I placed my hand on him. He's burning under my fingers that move down his sides, up his arms and head. I can't reach very high on the horns but it doesn't matter. They feel alive under my palms, rugged.

The smile spreading on my face threatens to split it in half. Raphael is a sight. A whole banquet. More than I can hope to ever eat and most likely more than my mouth can hold. My hands round back over his shoulders, feathering over the collarbones. So many delicious ridges. I wanna bite them all. Nibble and munch until my jaw tires.

"Something you like?" His tone is only half mocking. "I am not used to having my orders disobeyed."

My eyes hitch on his mouth, that moves temptingly as he speaks. "Kiss me." I don't think. And when his hands alight on my sides, I jump at him, wrap myself around him any way possible and strain towards his lips.

Raphael laughs, low, and I feel it hum through my body. He takes it slow, lips tantalisingly out of reach until they meet mine ever so softly. I moan. He tastes so good. And as soon as his tongue demands tribute, I open up and swallow it whole.

Bad in bed whatever. He can kiss. If I didn't cling to him like a desperate koala, I would have melted into a puddle on the floor. As things are. My with feet hooked at the small of his back my legs can go as wobbly as they want. I am secure against him, ruining my pants and trousers too. Totes worth it.

He pries me off way too soon. The coronas in his black hole eyes burst with fire. "On your knees," he repeats and the low rumble is in itself enough to send me to the floor.

Not quickly, mind you. Can't pass on the chance to kiss all them ridges. And that is obviously allowed. My hand vanguards between his legs and damn. He's big. He's full of bumps and ridges I can't wait to pommel my insides with. But first – the chest. Only a little hair remains, but I'll take it.

As long as my head is on a slow descent, I can nibble on the red skin wherever. Don't care if my moans are louder than his. I'm in heaven. His problem now. Then I reach the happy trail and boy does it make me happy. I want to slurp it up, swoosh down and suck up the whole devil cock first.

Taking time is so hard, but then, so is he. Oh how delicious to arrive at a full on erection. My fingers mover over the pronounced ridges, feeling for future pleasure as I lean in. He's got a little crown of bumps just under the tip that looks absolutely delish.

A hand slips under my chin and raises my head. "Look at me."

Oh hot damn, if that's how he wants to play it. I lock my eyes to his and slip my lips over the very tip of his cock ever so slowly. He's so very still I can feel the tremble of his muscles tense to keep in place. I press the tip of my tongue against his tip, move it slowly, keep his eyes caught. This is a battle of wills he won't win.

Listen, I may be a little out of practice but I know my stuff. And he's signalling like nobody's business. Gods, he tastes so good, little burning flecks of precum on my tongue and the way he shivers when my tongue laps it up.

My head moves on without breaking eye contact. His cock slips in easy and deep and my tongue can't get on to those ridges fast enough. I'm sucking him like a lollipop. Every inch is to be explored, tasted, caressed. Rumbling sounds fall over me from above and only entice me to go down deeper. I want all of him inside of me and if this is how it happens, I will swallow.

His hands tangle in my hair. Gotta hand it to a guy who can find purchase in a pix cut. Not that it'll help him any. I help myself liberally to all of his cock abolishing my gagging reflex on the spot. Ain't nobody got no time for that.

I suck him in as deep as I can and then some because I am greedy. I want all of him and that's what I'll have and if it kills me. I don't care. I suck him in hard, deep and hungry. My teeth hitch on the ridges. My hands tighten on his balls and I wanna wring him dry, crush him like a lemon in the squeezer. Mine now. All mine.

Raphael's hands close on over my scalp. I am rabid. Clawed fingers press in tightly. I feel the nails pierce my skin as I go all in. The pain is familiar and exquisite. Unlike the fire erupting into my mouth, running down my throat like whiskey and chili.

I gulp it down as if I hadn't just feasted on the finest Mediterranean food. Gotta keep going. The cock is easier to take now that it softens and damned if I won't gurgle it down to the hilt. I'm almost offended when he pulls me up and definitely too short when he bends to kiss me.

Doesn't deter Raphael the least. He's big (oh yeah) and strong and just stands me on the bed so we can smooch good. He's sucking his taste from my mouth as if I stole it. Well, I'll gladly give him all I got. Also, I'm having an advantage because my hands run over hot skin (oh those swirling ridges!) and I'm still dressed.

His fingers bunch the fabric of my shirt and his tail wraps around my right ankle. Oh that's driving me wild. I'd be moaning all over the place if my mouth wasn't busy exploring every inch of devil it can reach. Little tugs of the tail in reaction to what goes on further up. Enough to turn my knees into pudding.

Raphael pushes me back a little, running a hand down the button tab. A knowing smirk plays over his lips. I wanna kiss that away. I wanna drink it up until it fills my whole existence. And he knows. Raphael tilts his head a little. "Open up."

Oh there is good reason that line isn't in the game spoken by him. I'd open up my legs wide no questions asked. Unfortunately, he's still looking at my shirt. Reluctantly I take my hands back to myself. If that's what he wants, he can have it. Gods, this guy can have everything. (Doesn't he know it.)

I hold his gaze and open the first button. Very slowly. I can see the fire flare up in his eyes. I can also feel his adventurous little tail move up my leg. The next button and another upwards slide wraps the tail around my knee. Raphael's grin a threat and a treat. Sweet hells. I can't even slow down any further because I started at least possible speed.

My fingers play with the next button and the tip of his tail dances against the inside of my thigh. Swallowing hard, I open the button and let the caress of skin snaking around my thigh wash over me. Two buttons left to go.

The second to last button brings him up against my cunt. The tail has no problems slipping between my folds; I'm wet as a waterfall.

I open the last button and nothing happens. I cock my head in a question and Raphael motions to brush the shirt of my shoulders. With a dry mouth I do and as soon as the fabric crests my shoulders, he moves in. His tail is hot, smooth and prehensile. I drop the worst moan ever as my knees give in, shirt hanging forgotten at half-mast.

Raphael catches me. Shirt forgotten he buries his face against mine again, tongue digging deep as his tail. My hands are on his chest again, gripping and grappling. Raphael pulls me close. His left bunches my shirt behind my back, trapping my hands as he bears down for another kiss. I'm flush against him, and my mans is working up an erection again already.

My cunt rises like a neon invitation. I arch perfectly against his chest, diabolical alchemy, I'm sure. Can't think further with my cunt full of tail and moth full of tongue – both slithering and slipping and demanding.

Clawed hands move down my sides, leaving red trails of fire. His fingers close in on my pussy and while I am all for that, he is in his cambion form. Pain is fine in moderation but there is some things I am not ready for yet.

"Before you can even think of putting any of those in down there, we gotta file of the claws," I gasp. In retaliation, I get his index finger into my mouth I suck down hard and accept the middle finger that follows.

His left still presses me against him, tail working up my cunt and fingers down my throat I hang on by that thread. I'm overflowing. I still need more. And he's generous. Boy is he giving. I may not be stuffed, but I am not empty either. My walls clench taking what they can and my mouth is muffled by fingers and want as he bends me backwards.

I fall freely and unworried. Hit the mattress soft enough. Barely registers through my horny haze as I rut at him like the last freak alive. He tastes so good. I wanna suck his mouth dry as well. Doing my best. Getting paid in hungry growls. Oh we feasting tonight.

Then he goes down. Not even slow. Skips all the in-between steps (it's fine, nothing to see there) to breathe hot air over my clit. And before I finished gasping out a hopeful moan, his tongue descended and I am deceased.

Doesn't matter if he'll come two thrusts in. I'm fucked already, writhing like a snake on silk sheets, getting nowhere but deeper into desire. Devil down there hums, send that reverberation into my bones through my sogging wet pussy. I'm so far gone, I can't even wish for him to finish me off.

Raphael's mouth works my clit as if I won't ever need it again, hungry tongue making short work of my arousal. I clench around the tip of his tail, riding on waves of ecstasy. Best night of my life.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #mel writes fanfic #sleazy second-hand car dealer #A Mortifying Ordeal #chapter 4

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