#these predators have been lurking since forever

[thefiery-phoenix]

Hello! Is it ok if I request Yandere headcanons for Gitae kim? It’s ok if you’re not ok with it! Also just wanted to say that I really love all your Yandere content!

YANDERE GITAE KIM HEADCANONS

Freaking hell, he creeps me TF out but why does he look so good, it's just unfair

Please, for the sake of your own sanity, RUN. Just RUN. That's it. Or at least, run as much as you can since he'll end up finding you anyway since he's the leader of a freaking Cartel and the son of Gapryong Kim after all and is a complete sadistic beast in the form of a man. It's rare that he would ever develop feelings for someone and even if he does, he'll be too egoistic and arrogant and proud to admit it, he'll treat you more like a pet of some sort to be precise. But you're HIS little pet, that he loves in his own dark twisted way. It doesn't matter how you meet this deranged flesh eating cannibal here, the second he sets his eyes on you and his mouth curves upwards into a smirk, that's when you're a goner and you might as well just kiss goodbye to your life and freedom

It was a usual day for you and you were walking back to your house after a long tiring day. You put on some earphones and walked down the alleyway, humming to your favorite tunes feeling the cool breeze against your skin. You tried to ignore the men lurking in the alleyway with beer bottles and cigarettes strewn on the ground as they looked drunk and intoxicated while their lecherous gazes landed on you, leering at you and making all sorts of lewd perverse comments about your body that made your skin crawl. You put your head down and didn't want to get into some kind of confrontation which was the last thing you wanted, when one of them ended up grabbing you by your wrist and you screeched on top of your lungs and thrashed around for all you were worth, pleading with them to let you go as tears streamed down your cheeks and your neatly combed hair was now frizzled and became unkempt with a few of your hair strands falling into your face. One of the men ended up striking you hard across your face as you whimpered in pain and clutched at your now stinging cheek and trembled. Before one of them was about to tear off your shirt, in the blink of an eye, the man's hand was now on the ground leaking crimson as the man screamed in agony and fear and you felt your heart stop beating when your gaze landed on a raven haired guy with blood splattered across his well toned muscular chest and had a black leather jacket with a cruel smile etched on his face as he watched the man fall to the ground, whimpering at the sight of his severed hand

What the man did next would remain ingrained into your memory forever. The stranger with the axe swung his axe around and the head of the man who'd been tormenting you now lay on the ground, his crimson blood painting the gravel of the ground crimson as he cut off a chunk of his flesh and bit into it and tore through the meat like an apex predator. At this point you didn't know if you were safe even after being supposedly saved by this man in front of you as his eyes landed on your whimpering and trembling figure and he smirked sadistically. "Relax little girl, I'm not going to eat you...unless you want me to'' he spoke as his eyes surveyed across your features. You reminded him of a scared vulnerable little prey, a weak little lamb that he could take advantage of and the mere thought of it just excited him as his eyes glinted with malice. Before he could even say something else, your fear consumed you and you ended up blacking out and losing your consciousness. You were about to pummel straight to the ground before he grabbed you by your waist and held you in his arms as he let out a soft chuckle, amused that you fell for him already which did give him a bit of an ego boost

You were so weak, so helpless and so fragile like a little doll that he would love to have in his grasp. He wonders how you'd react if you'd see him in his full glory while he beats up people and murders them on a usual day, you wouldn't even last a second without trembling and crying like the helpless little lamb that you were, which was cute in his opinion. "Looks like I'm takin' you home, eh?'' he said as he hoisted you over his shoulders like a sack of flour and fished out your ID to find your address and made his way to your house. You were quite surprised when you woke up the next day in your own bed and you felt your head was slightly groggy as you massaged your temples and sighed to yourself, secretly glad you were away from that cannibal. You made your way into the living room only to find the same guy napping on your couch, with blood still splattered over his chest as your eyes widened and your face paled and you let out a shrill screech of bloody murder. "Damn it woman...can't even let me nap after I saved you...'' grumbled the guy as he looked at you and his eyes narrowed slightly. He enjoyed watching you squirm and fidget nervously, he could see you were torn between trying to be a good host and thanking him for saving you yesterday to contemplating passing out again. "You know...I expect some sort of thanks from you little girl'' he said as he got up from your couch and strode over to you, his massive frame towering over your body as you gulped nervously

"I-I could give you money if you want...please don't kill me'' you whimpered. "Silly naive girl, who said I wanted your money...you're interesting...I'm keeping you with me'' he said with a smirk. You tried to make a run for it when he grabbed your hands and pinned your arms above your head and cooed at you condescendingly, "Well now that's just rude isn't it? You should thank your savior properly. Now don't make this hard for both of us...be a good little girl for your savior, would you?" he asked as he patted your cheek a few times and caressed your cheek as he lifted you in his arms yet again and you let out a nervous squeak. "Don't you think you should get to know me or something before you literally kidnap me?" you asked him as he looked at you with an amused smile on his face. "Plenty of time to do all that get to know you crap. I'm Gitae by the way since you're so insistent on introductions and crap and this isn't a kidnapping...I'm taking what's mine'' he said as he carried you out of your house

What he wants, he gets. That's it. He wasn't going to waste a single second without taking you back with him, of course, he could have kidnapped you in the night but the element of surprise was what made things more interesting for him. Your cute little reactions to whatever he did riled him up so much. No way was he going to let you go now. The next thing you knew, you were sitting in a black car with him next to you and a few other people who had tattoos as you couldn't believe what you'd gotten yourself into. You silently let tears stream down your face and you looked out the window. Gitae wrapped a black jacket around you since you were still in your night clothes as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. Don't get fooled by his actions though, he's as unpredictable as the weather

If you thought Samuel or Eugene were messed up psychopaths, allow me to introduce you all to the poster boy of being a RED BANNER. He's obsessive, manipulative and won't hesitate to literally gaslight you. While he won't physically hurt you, the same cannot be said to those around you unfortunately. He wants your attention on him, he wants you to cling to his arm like the helpless little doll that you are and look at him with those wide eyes of yours, being all pliant and dependent on him. Whenever you squirm when he touches you he just finds it so amusing and cute, he can't help but put you on his lap when he has his meetings with the men from his cartel while you have a pink collar around you pretty little neck that has HIS name on it so people will know you belong to him. As if those love bites and hickeys on your neck, thighs and arms aren't a testament of you being his. He likes marking you wherever he can, you're his property, HIS doll. Of course, anyone who looks at you for a moment too long or if their gaze wanders to a certain part of your body that belongs to him, he's just going to gouge their eyes out like knife cutting through a slab of butter. And then he'd kiss you on your soft kissable lips possessively and aggressively like a dying man needing air, running his hands over your body till you're literally gasping for breath, in front of everyone else to show those losers that they won't ever be able to have you as their minds are now ingrained with the dire consequences of laying their eyes on Gitae Kim's girl

Whatever hopes you have of escaping from him, it's best to get it out of your mind before he ends up killing and eating one of your dear loved ones right in front of you. You're his little pet, he won't tolerate any form of disobedience from you and he'll tell you how it's your fault they're dead and it's all because you dared to leave him. Your punishment is getting handcuffed to the bed till you're allowed to walk. It's best to just accept his advances towards you because there is no escaping from this deranged psycho at all...

[koqabear]

Lamb To The Slaughter

♫: Gods & Monsters, Lana Del Rey

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

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

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

Word count: 15.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are wolves in the forest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come back to me safe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re targeting you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here to protect you.” 

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

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

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel nauseous. They’re toying with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out.” 

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

“I said, get. Out.”

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

“Don’t expect any mercy from him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re safe with me— remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

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

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

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

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

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

[sanctum-of-ramshackle]

🦈Rocking The Boat🩸

[Synopsis]: Azul offered MC/Yuu to perform a gif at the Monstro Lounge and let them choose what kind of performance they would do. Except he didn’t console with them as the Octo-schemer learned too late.

[Gender Neutral Reader]

[WARNING]: Foul language in the song and best advise to lower your volume when listening to the song.

[A/N]: This is one of my favorite songs from Ice Nine Kills when I first listened to their album, “The Silver Scream.” I highly recommend to lower your volume settings since the song can be loud in some parts and wouldn’t want to damage your ears.

[Ice Nine Kills - Rocking The Boat (ft. Jeremy Schwartz)]

[Monstro Lounge]

MC/Yuu: Are you sure you want me to perform?

Azul: Of course! You must have songs from your world many never heard of until now. It should bring more customers in.

MC/Yuu: Alright, but fair warning: it can get loud. Best to give a disclaimer if there’s anyone who may be sensitive to hearing and flashing lights. We also need a heads-up to any Mer-shark people who are present during the show.

Azul: Why would you need to add that?

MC/Yuu: You’ll see.

[8:30 p.m.]

Jade: Evening everyone. Tonight will be a grand show starring The Prefect from the Ramshackle Dorm. Before we start the special night, there will be warnings of high volumes and flashy light effects. We may also warn Mer-Shark civilians of the show.

Mer-Shark People in the audience: Why would they warn us?

Jade: They informed me it is a song about a great white shark that kills people.

Mer-Shark People: Oooh yeah.

Jade: Now, let the show begin.

[The lights dimmed and smoke effects cover the stage. Then reveals MC/Yuu, with a microphone in hand and inhales…]

MC/Yuu:

SHARK!!!!

Coast guard, this is the Orca. Do you read me?

Four and a half miles due east of Amity Island

This is an official distress call, over

We all know a place

That appears so sublime

But if you dive a little deeper

You'll hit the real bottom line

The head of the town is out there flashing his teeth

A telltale sign about to surface

That there's a monster lurking underneath

They're thrashing around but found

They can't contain the leak

'Cause I've got a fish to fry

That's feeding on the weak

So cast a line for every life they took

It's time to set the-

Lilia, as the supporting lines: Hook!

We're all just floating in a shallow grave

Lilia: Buoyed by the blood of the masses

They'd rather sell out that instead of save

We're all so starving that we've taken the bait

Lilia: You think we would've learned from the past

That the predator will soon become-

Lilia: The prey!

We all know a place

Where the calm flees at night (night, night)

And safe is just a shadow

So we swim towards the light

If this voyage of valor

Put us on deck for death

We'll compare scars with each other

Until our very last breath

Lilia: Yeah!

They're thrashing around but found

They can't contain the leak

'Cause I've got a fish to fry

That's feeding on the weak

So reel it in with every trick in the book

It's time to set the-

Lilia: Hook!

We're all just floating in a shallow grave

Lilia: Buoyed by the blood of the masses

They'd rather sell out that instead of save

We're all so starving that we've taken the bait

Lilia: You think we would've learned from the past

That the predator will soon become-

Lilia: The prey!

Coastguard, this is the Orca again

We need you out here now

The boat is under attack, it's a great white, over

Roger that, ETA fifteen minutes, over

In fifteen minutes we'll be fucking shark bait

Last chance to make amends

Lilia: So try to stay afloat

With sharks like you among us

Lilia: We'll need a bigger boat

Sold us down the river

Lilia: So the rich could stay rich

But now you've been caught

Lilia: So smile…

You son of a bitch

Sinking with the burning embers

Should be any sign of doubt

That this tale will be remembered

And the tide will forever flush them out

We're all just floating in a shallow grave

Lilia: Buoyed by the blood of the masses

They'd rather sell out that instead of save

We're all so starving that we've taken the bait

Lilia: You think we would've learned from the past

That the predator will soon become-

Lilia: The prey!

[After the song was finished, the audience applauded and whistled.]

[After the show]

Azul: Prefect, that was…

Floyd: AWESOME! Shrimpy surprised everyone tonight.

MC/Yuu: Thanks, but you can compliment Lilia for his vocals.. It wasn't easy screaming the parts and had to practice. It woke the Ghosts up because they thought a Banshee came by.

Azul: The song came from your world and based on a killer shark.

MC/Yuu: Yeah, from Steven Spielberg's movie "Jaws". I still get excited to watch parts where Bruce gets his victims in the water.

Azul: You scare me sometimes, Prefect. You really do.

✨[Reblogs helps creators and creates for more content]💫

[h8fuckk]

closed starter | @lordgortrash

The streets of Baldur’s Gate are quieter than usual as the succubus approaches the grand estate. Shadows cling to the corners of the city like lurking memories, and the weight of her own failures presses heavier with each step. The stone path leading to Gortash’s domain feels endless, each footfall punctuated by the ache of her unresolved longing and the gnawing terror of what she is about to do. Her thoughts race, dark and stormy as the sky that looms overhead, full of threats she can neither predict nor avoid. Weeks have passed since she last saw Gortash, since he cast her out with a fury that sent a chill through her —— and a shame she hasn’t been able to shake since.

She had failed her patron. Her father——ugh, that fucking bastard. Failed him by not killing Gortash when she had the chance, and now? Well, she either needs a miracle or Gortash’s help and the two are practically one and the same.

Nepharia stops a few paces from the towering door, her breath shallow, her heart a reckless thrum in her chest. She hates being here, hates the sensation of vulnerability coiling in her gut like some venomous thing. She had walked these streets with the confidence of a predator, but now? Now she stands before Gortash’s gates with the bitter taste of defeat on her tongue. She hates that too ——— that he had made her feel something she couldn’t define, something that had shattered her resolve when she was so close to ending him. She had wanted to sink her claws into him, claim his soul as her own, deliver it to her patron and be rid of this mess.

But she hadn’t. She couldn’t.

Her clawed fists tighten at her sides as she watches the Steel Watcher, its cold, unblinking gaze locked on her, waiting. She could almost feel Gortash’s eyes through it —— studying her from the safety of wherever he watched, probably considering whether he should order it to tear her apart where she stands. Would he? She wonders. Does he still want me dead? A flicker of fear runs down her spine at the thought, but she crushes it quickly. She can’t afford to be afraid —— not of him. Not now.

With a slow, deliberate motion, she reaches into her bloodied cloak ( still damp with the bhaalspawn’s gore ) and pulls free the two Netherstones —— Orin’s and Ketheric’s. The weight of them is strange in her hands, a terrible power she feels thrumming beneath her skin. Power enough to stand against Zymimor? Power that could grant her the freedom she’s always craved. She holds them up to the Steel Watcher, the dim light from the estate casting a faint glint over the stones’ dark surfaces.

This is her offering. Her truce.

Nepharia swallows her pride, though it feels like swallowing glass, sharp and jagged in her throat. She waits, eyes narrowing in defiance even though desperation gnaws at her bones. She wonders if Gortash will laugh at her —— if he’ll even open the door at all. Maybe he’ll leave her to rot in the shadow of his estate, let the cold take her, or worse —— send her crawling back to her father in chains.

Damned and powerless, forever bound to the Abyss.

She suppresses a shudder and forces herself to stand taller, the Netherstones held steady before her. She has no choice but to come back to him now. She’s betrayed everyone else. Stolen the artefact, left her companions to whatever fate the Absolute has in store for them. There’s no one left for her to turn to, no one who could understand her hunger for freedom, for power, like Gortash. If he doesn’t take her in, if he doesn’t listen to what she has to offer, then she has nothing. And nothing terrifies her more than being alone with the crushing weight of her failures.

[gennyanydots]

Hunting Season is Open

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader

Masterlist

Trigger Warnings: knife play, primal play, cnc, degradation, name calling, swearing, choking, use of a non-verbal safe word, scene break, biting

You are responsible for your own media consumption.

You try to calm your breathing as you hide behind a boulder trying to get your wits about you.

You had been running for a while. Glancing around you have absolutely no idea where you are though at the time you have absolutely no idea where you came from. The trees surrounding you looked like they went on for miles on all sides of you, looking indistinguishable from each other. You could be going in circles and you would never know. 

You couldn’t hear anything except your own slightly labored breathing. Not even the animals, that you knew were in the forest somewhere, were making any sort of noise, but of course they wouldn’t, not when there’s a predator lurking about. You know he’s here. Somewhere. A chill runs down your spine. You feel like you’ve been running from him for hours. At least you were safe for now. 

You couldn’t stay behind the large rock forever. You were a sitting duck, just waiting to get caught. You needed to keep moving, especially now since you could still see for the time being. Dusk was falling a little too rapidly for your comfort and you needed to move along while you had the chance. 

You tried to listen for anything, anything at all to give you some indication of another being out here. 

No footsteps. 

No snapping of twigs. 

No breathing apart from your own. 

You were alone. 

You stood up a little straighter to peer over the other side of the boulder when you’re met with two green eyes and a coprophagous grin.

“Boo,” he says as you scream and take off running in the opposite direction. You can hear him cackling from behind you as you run but thankfully the sound got quieter as you ran further away. 

You didn’t chance a look behind you, you weren’t that dumb, too often in movies you’ve seen someone turn around and fall or run into something or slow down just enough to get caught, so you kept staring straight ahead as you ran. 

Even if he was behind you, catching up, you’re almost positive you wouldn’t be able to hear him. Your pulse was pounding in your ears and you were breathing heavily from exertion. 

After ten minutes of running you were getting tired. Add that on to your running from earlier and you were getting exhausted. Up ahead you could see some denser bushes along with some larger trees. Maybe you could rest a moment behind them once you made it there. Maybe that seemed like it would be a good place to hide. Maybe… 

Two strong arms grab you seconds before a large body topples into you, knocking you off your feet. You cry out as you end up on the forest ground with the body above yours. You try to flail and buck him off but it’s useless as your lower half is straddled and your arms are grabbed and held behind your back, no amount of kicking would get him off you. 

He puts both of your wrists together before he winds a rope around them to bind them in place behind your back, securing them with a strong knot. You continue to struggle against him though you know it’s useless, you’re not strong enough to get him off you. One hand stays on your roped hands while the other gets placed beside your head on the ground. 

He leans down so his mouth is next to your ear as groans as he shifts his hips to grind against you, “Keep strugglin’. I like it.” He pushes his hips harder to emphasize his words. 

Your body stills and you can feel tears streaming down your cheeks, “Please let me go. Please.” 

He chuckles, “Let ya go? After I went through all that trouble to get ya? No, I don’t fuckin’ think so. You wanted to run and play so badly so now let’s fuckin’ play.” He raises his body off of you a little while still keeping you pinned to the ground. 

You hear a sharp click then a slicing noise, before you feel a breeze on your back that hadn’t been there before, then feel something sharp lazily trail down along your spine. You feel the knife trail back up then slice through the band of your bra. A sob escapes your mouth as your brain tries to keep it together. One of his hands pulls the waistband of your pants away from your body and slices through the fabric easily. You can feel the elastic of your underwear pulling against your mound before those too are sliced from your body. Feeling the cool night air against your most private parts sends a shudder through your body. You bite your lower lip to keep the whimper from leaving your mouth as you try and squeeze your legs together. 

A hand reaches down, shoving between your thighs before running a finger between your folds. You hear him t’sk, “Well, what's this now? Look at you being a fuckin’ dirty girl getting all wet and excited over being used like this. If you wanted this then you should have let me catch you ages ago. Would have saved us both a lot of trouble.” 

You shake your head repeating “No” over and over again. 

He thrusts two fingers inside you and you scream at the intrusion and try to curl your body away from him. 

He presses his hips back down against you, trapping his own arm between your bodies before growling, “You can scream all you want. Ain’t nobody comin’ out here to save you so quit your fuckin’ squirmin’ and take it like I know you want.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you a few times. “I already got proof that you like it. So knock it off, brat.” 

You whine and squeeze your eyes shut. You feel a few tears escape trailing down your cheeks. He runs a finger over your clit and starts to rub it in time with his other fingers. You pant as you shake your head trying to pretend you aren’t as close to an orgasm as you are but you fail miserably as his hand speeds up and your orgasm comes crashing through you. 

He chuckles then wipes his now drenched fingers on your scrap of a shirt. He lifts his hips off you once again and you hear the tell tale sound of a belt jingling as it’s being undone. 

You shake your head again trying to wriggle away from him as you hear his zipper being pulled down. A large hand is pressed against the small of your back to hold you down then you feel his warm, hard length run along your slit as he groans. 

“You’re dripping all over me. How pathetic can you be gettin’ off on this?” He leans down and noses at your cheek. “You’re such a slut, aren’t you? I knew it. Knew it all along.” 

You whimper as he licks the side of your face then laughs. 

“You ready?” He asks dipping the head of his dick into you. 

“No no no no no,” you repeat as you shake your head, feeling more tears stream down your face. 

“Too fuckin’ bad,” he says as he pushes himself all the way inside. You groan, feeling the stretch of him inside you. 

He gives a few short, experimental thrusts then leans down to your ear as he wraps a hand around your throat, “You’re so tight when you’re scared.”

“Why?” you sob as you try to glance behind you at your attacker but you can’t turn your head well and tears are hindering your eyesight. 

“Because, little girl, you. are. fucking. mine,” he says thrusting his hips in time with his words. “And I will do whatever I please with you.” He moves his hand from your throat to your head and pushes it down so your cheek is shoved into the dirt. 

You reach towards his chest with your bound hands and grab a hold of him the best you can and squeeze three times which halts all of his movements immediately.

“Darlin’?” Jake asks in a quiet tone as he takes his hands off you and he sits back after pulling out of you gently. He quickly unties your hands. 

You sit up awkwardly before you spit out some dirt and wipe your tongue on a clean part of your shirt sleeve, “I got dirt in my mouth.” 

“Ew, I’m sorry, baby. You need some water or something?” He asks gently, reaching for his backpack that’s to the side of him. 

You shake your head, “No, I’m okay. Just didn’t want dirt in my mouth or to get more dirt in my mouth. It was nasty.” 

Jake nods, “Completely understandable. Everything else okay?” 

You shoot him a soft smile then reach out and squeeze one of his hands reassuringly, “Everything else is good.” 

Jake leans down and kisses you then uses a bandana he grabbed from his bag to wipe the tears off your face which makes you scrunch your nose at him, “You ready?” 

You nod then pucker your lips at him. 

He chuckles as he leans down to kiss you again, “Love you, baby.” 

You smile, “Love you.” 

“Lay back down for me please, darlin’?” Jake asks then lets you situate yourself before tying your hands back together carefully then laying himself back over top of you. He carefully holds your head in one hand as he lays the bandana he was just using underneath where your head would lay on the ground with the other. He leans down to nuzzle the back of your neck before placing a kiss on your head. He reaches down to rub circles over your clit until he hears you start to moan then runs his length along you again and starts to push in. 

Your breath hitches in your throat and you feel another kiss pressed against your head. 

“Relax baby, I don’t wanna actually hurt you,” he whispers to you and you nod and take a deep breath to calm your body before he pushes the rest of the way inside of you, “Okay, you ready?” 

You nod, “Ready.” 

One last kiss to your head before a hand runs along your spine, up your neck, then into your hair before gripping tightly as close to your head as possible. He leans your head to the side and bites down on your neck as he starts to thrust into you starting off slow then moving quickly to a bruising pace. 

You cry out feeling his teeth on your neck, you’re almost positive he’s just shy of breaking the skin. The circles on your clit have yet to stop as he continues them at the same speed as his hips. You can feel your breath quicken as you start to pant and you can feel a knot tighten in your lower stomach that you’re sure reflects the tightness of your body that he’s thrusting into. 

“That’s it. Show me exactly how you can get off on how it feels for you to be used like this,” he groans in your ear. “Such a dirty girl.” 

The knot tightens once more before you’re thrown over the edge of your orgasm, your muscles spasming inside you as the rest of your body trembles. 

His hand and hips don’t relent as they continue their pace and you’re quickly orgasming again, never coming down from the first time. You can feel tears streaming down your face again as you’re overstimulated. 

You shake your head and cry out, “I can’t! Stop! I can’t”

“You can and you will,” he growls in your ear as he does a few particularly deep thrusts. “You’re mine to play with and I’m not done.” 

Your body shudders once again before you feel his body stiffen as he rumbles in your ear repeating, “Mine!” over and over again until you feel his body go slack above yours. 

Jake pulls out as he flops onto his side trying to catch his breath. He rolls onto his back, grabbing you in the process, laying you down on his broad chest, to keep you cuddled close. He undoes the rope from your hands and rubs both of your wrists to make sure they aren’t hurt and the blood is circulating correctly  then runs his fingers softly over your hair while whispering praises to you and reminding you how much he loves you and how good you did for him. Your eyes are shut and you can feel the sleepy smile that’s plastered on your face. 

After a while he pats your thigh, “Sit up, darlin’.” 

You sit up with Jake following right behind you. He keeps you in his lap as he drags his backpack over to the two of you. He cracks open a water bottle before handing it to you. He watches you drink half of it before grabbing a granola bar out and opening that for you then cracks open his own water bottle. 

Once you’re both hydrated, Jake pulls out an extra set of clothes. He helps you out of your scraps before pulling one of his shirts over your head. You smile and turn your head to smell it's comforting scent: the laundry detergent Jake always uses, a little hint of his cologne, and something else that’s just uniquely Jake that you can’t quite name. He pats your thigh again before having you stand up so he can help you out of what used to be your pants and underwear before sliding on a pair of your own comfy shorts. 

You yawn as he cleans up the area then lean against him when he comes to stand next to you. 

“I wear you out, baby?” he asks with a grin, clearly proud of himself. 

You nod, “You did. Definitely wasn’t the 17,000 mile run I did.” 

Jake rolls his eyes at you and checks his watch, “It was maybe, MAYBE, four miles.” 

You shook your head, “You weren’t there. You don’t know. I ran 17,000 miles. It was terrible. I’m not sure my legs work anymore.” 

“Well lucky for you that brush you were heading for is hiding something I think you’ll really like,” he says as he slings the backpack over one shoulder then holds his hand out to you to take. 

You take it and let him lead you to the brush as you take guesses as to what it might be, “A pony. No, a unicorn! No! A dragon! Your truck! A plane! A moose!” 

“In Texas?” He asks with a chuckle. 

You shrug, “You don’t know his life.” 

He laughs, “My apologies to the moose but it’s none of those things.” He guides you to the other side of the trees and the brush. “Tuh dah!” he says as he holds out an arm towards a four-wheeler. 

“Oh thank goodness. I was going to make you carry me back. There was no way I was going to make it,” you say dramatically, placing the back of your hand to your forehead. “You were going to have to leave me out here for dead.” 

“Nah, baby, the moose would have brought you home.” 

“He is a gentleman after all. That Georgie is a good Moose,” you said with a giggle as you let Jake lead you over to the four-wheeler. 

He helps you onto it while shaking his head, “He’s got a name now?” He hops up onto the front of the four-wheeler after passing you the backpack to wear for your journey back to the house. 

You shrug, “Of course he does.” You settle your arms around his waist and hold yourself tightly against him as he turns the vehicle on and you ride back to the house together. 

[kingangelosi]

My new AHS au idea is simply too good...

I only have an abstract right now but I'll try to build on this for the next couple of months.

In this alternate universe, the house is an eerie, sprawling mansion hidden in the outskirts of a misty, forgotten neighborhood. Rumored to be cursed, the locals avoid it, muttering stories of missing persons, strange noises, and mysterious shadows lurking in the windows. For Artoria, though, the old mansion represents a fresh start with her foster father, Merlin, a well-meaning but distant psychiatrist who specializes in troubled youth. Artoria is a quiet, intelligent girl with an old-fashioned air, which sets her apart in high school. She’s moved around enough times that the prospect of the new house doesn’t scare her—until she realizes she’s not alone.

Gilgamesh is the most feared and secretive ghost in the house, a handsome, intense young man forever trapped at the age of seventeen. Decades, maybe centuries ago, he had been a ruthless serial killer, leaving a trail of brutal murders that had stunned the town. His notoriety only grew after his mysterious disappearance, yet his spirit lingered in the mansion, tormenting anyone unlucky enough to enter. Other ghosts are terrified of him, whispering rumors of his violent temper and twisted sense of control over the house. Gilgamesh takes a perverse enjoyment in tormenting the spirits and manipulating any living residents, playing mind games, and bending the house’s atmosphere to his will.

When Artoria arrives, however, something shifts. Gilgamesh finds himself captivated by her calm and unassuming presence, a stark contrast to the many people he’s intimidated and toyed with over the years. With her, he assumes the role of a normal, albeit mysterious, high schooler. Gone is the cold, haunting killer; instead, he appears as an alluring, almost charming figure, drawing Artoria closer with each encounter. He reveals glimpses of himself, half-truths and enigmatic smiles, never letting her see the darkness just beneath.

Meanwhile, Merlin begins his work as a psychiatrist. His initial purpose: to help the “restless” spirits that might linger in the house, unaware of the specific horrors waiting for him. Merlin is drawn to the presence of Gilgamesh almost immediately, sensing a disturbed yet powerful entity. He attempts to approach Gilgamesh as he would any troubled youth, confident in his methods and understanding of the human psyche. But Gilgamesh proves immune to Merlin’s attempts at analysis and manipulation, instead turning the tables. With each session, Gilgamesh subtly undermines Merlin’s authority, planting seeds of doubt, exploiting Merlin’s own insecurities, and twisting the psychologist’s fascination into helpless frustration. It amuses Gilgamesh to keep Merlin tangled in his own mental webs, controlling the therapist just as he once controlled his terrified victims.

One evening, Artoria stumbles upon an old newspaper left in her room. Its yellowed pages detail a series of gruesome murders from over a century ago. She skims through the details, horrified, until her eyes land on a name: Gilgamesh. There’s an image of a young man, unmistakably him—the same intense eyes, the same smirk. The article describes him as the prime suspect in a string of brutal killings, his name whispered in fear and his legacy remembered in nightmares.

Artoria’s mind races, piecing together strange moments she’d experienced since her arrival. The unsettling energy of the house, the uncanny encounters, Gilgamesh’s cryptic remarks—they all begin to take on a new, more sinister meaning. She realizes with growing horror that Gilgamesh is far from the charming but misunderstood boy she thought he was. He is the predator of this haunted place, a twisted ghost reliving his violent past through manipulation and fear.

Artoria’s encounters with Gilgamesh become more charged, a battle of unspoken tension. She’s repelled by his darkness yet drawn by his undeniable charm, wrestling with fear and fascination. And Gilgamesh, aware that she knows, begins to reveal more of his true self—pieces of his cruelty interwoven with feigned tenderness, as if daring her to leave or accept him as he is.

This version of Gilgamesh makes him not just a haunting presence but an embodiment of calculated cruelty, a force that lingers in the house with a twisted sense of justice. He’s not your typical spectral killer driven by rage or lingering pain—instead, he’s a cold, precise adjudicator, someone who takes pleasure in what he sees as the artistry of punishment. His victims are chosen for their strength or status, their deaths twisted into a form of dark, poetic justice. It’s never about random violence; it’s about the thrill of a worthy hunt and his own warped satisfaction. If his targets were weak or innocent, he’d have no interest.

As a ghost, Gilgamesh still finds ways to add to his tally. The curse tying him to the house doesn’t prevent him from indulging in his old habits; he simply waits for those unfortunate enough to cross the threshold. Perhaps it’s a group of arrogant thrill-seekers, corrupt landlords, or a new family with secrets to hide—each of them is met with the same calm, inevitable fate. Gilgamesh isn’t concerned with morality; he only sees himself as a superior being, the judge who decides whether someone deserves to stay or go. And when they die within these walls, they don’t find release. They’re bound to the house just like him, ghosts who become part of his domain.

The other spirits live in constant dread of his presence. Once, they tried to overwhelm him, to take revenge in a desperate uprising, only to realize his curse energy was far stronger than any power they held. He savored breaking them down, hunting each ghost through the house’s shadowed corridors, dragging them back from the edge of oblivion each time he “kills” them in spectral form. Gilgamesh takes pleasure in these repeated encounters, taunting them with their helplessness until he grows bored. Eventually, the other ghosts learned their lesson; now, they avoid him at all costs, steering clear of wherever he lingers, fading into the corners of the house and hoping to go unnoticed.

Rarely, he might take a brief interest in one of the other ghosts, perhaps someone whose background amuses him or whose pride hasn’t yet been entirely broken. But these alliances are fleeting, conditional on his whim. To him, the ghosts are part of his entertainment, just as they are part of his judgment. This dark hierarchy he’s imposed makes the house both his prison and his kingdom, and he rules over it with unrelenting menace, his gaze always evaluating, always ready to pass down his deadly judgment.

[urmooniee]

Ghostface - Rafe Cameron

since it's halloween, enjoy an one-shot of your favourite psychopath 🎃👻

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

tw: rafe

y/n = reader ( stands for your name)

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Elmwood, a quiet town with secrets as old as the trees lining its tranquil streets, had always been a breeding ground for enigmatic stories. Among them, none intrigued you more than the enigma that was Rafe Cameron, the notoriously bad boy of Elmwood. He was a puzzle you couldn't resist, a dark and unpredictable force that had always left you on edge. Little did you know that the chilling tale of Rafe had taken a sinister turn, one that would forever alter the dynamics between you.

It was a cold and eerie night in Elmwood, the moon casting an ominous glow on the desolate streets. You had heard of the Ghostface killer, the sinister specter that had sent the town into a state of fear and paranoia, leaving death and dread in its wake. As you walked home, you couldn't shake the feeling of being followed, the unsettling sensation of a predator lurking in the shadows. Your footsteps quickened, and your heart raced with each beat. You turned around, and there he stood, the menacing Ghostface, the embodiment of terror that had gripped Elmwood.

The chilling mask concealed the killer's identity, but you couldn't deny the feeling of those cold eyes on you. "Rafe," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and unease, "Is that you?"

He didn't respond with words, but his demeanor spoke volumes. The tension was palpable as he raised his weapon, and you couldn't help but notice a flicker in his eyes, a quick and unmistakable glance toward your lips.

Rafe's silence only heightened the tension between you. The man you had secretly admired from a distance was now the menacing presence before you, and his demeanor was as icy as the night. The glimmer of recognition in his eyes gave you hope that there might be more to this story than met the eye, but his coldness was a stark reminder that you were dealing with a complex and dangerous individual.

"Why, Rafe?" you asked, your voice filled with a mix of fear and a desire to understand, "What's happening? Why are you doing this?"

He didn't respond to your questions, and his cold gaze remained fixated on you. The atmosphere was thick with tension as he hesitated, his eyes flickering to your lips for a brief moment, a silent gesture that was both unsettling and confusing.

You took a step closer to him, a mix of concern and determination in your voice, "Rafe, I don't know what's going on, but we can figure this out together. You don't have to do this. You don't have to hurt anyone."

His eyes, cold and distant, bore into yours. "Y/N, you shouldn't be here. You should leave. It's not safe," he said, his words laced with an eerie calm.

But you couldn't back down now. There was something about Rafe's flickering glance and the unspoken tension that made you determined to understand the truth. "Rafe, you're not alone in this. We can find a way out together. You can trust me."

He hesitated, the coldness in his eyes warring with the confusion beneath the surface. "It's not that simple, Y/N," he finally replied, his gaze locking onto yours.

In that moment, the tension between you was palpable. The enigmatic bad boy had become the embodiment of darkness, and you were determined to unmask the secrets hidden beneath his cold exterior. The chilling atmosphere was thick with questions, and you couldn't help but wonder what was behind that fleeting glance towards your lips, a hint of something hidden beneath the surface.

"Rafe," you stammered, feeling an impending sense of danger, "just tell me what's happening."

"God, you're so damn annoying," Rafe snapped, his icy tone sending a chill down your spine. He closed the distance between you, and your heart pounded with fear.

Confusion and fear swirled within you. "What do you mean, Rafe?" you pressed, your voice searching for answers.

"Just shut up!" Rafe hissed, his eyes locked onto yours, the atmosphere growing even more charged with tension.

"Rafe, please stop, you're scaring me," you implored, your voice trembling, but your words were abruptly silenced as Rafe's lips met yours.

The enigmatic bad boy had chosen a different way to communicate his emotions, leaving you with a sense of uncertainty and desire amid the chilling circumstances.

As Rafe's lips pressed against yours, the tension between you and the enigmatic bad boy intensified. In that electrifying moment, the world seemed to stand still, and the fear that had gripped you only moments ago was replaced by a surge of desire and confusion.

His kiss was fierce and demanding, a turbulent mix of emotions that left you breathless. As your body reacted to the unexpected intensity of the kiss, you couldn't help but wonder about the enigma that was Rafe Cameron. What had brought him to this point, where his actions were as unpredictable as they were captivating?

Rafe's grip on you tightened, as if he was seeking solace in your presence, yet his demeanor remained cold and distant. The tension between you was a whirlwind of emotions, a paradox that left you both desperate for answers and lost in the storm of desire.

The night in Elmwood was filled with uncertainty, the moon casting an eerie glow on the deserted streets, and the chilling enigma of Rafe Cameron had only deepened. It was a night that would be forever etched in your memory, a night when fear and desire had danced on the edge of danger, and the enigmatic bad boy had revealed a side of himself you had never expected.

As the kiss lingered between you and Rafe, the world seemed to blur into a mix of desire and tension. His lips, once cold and distant, had ignited a fiery storm of emotions that left you both spellbound and desperate for answers.

When the kiss finally broke, your eyes met his, and in that moment, the enigmatic bad boy's gaze held a glimmer of something more, something that hinted at a deeper connection. The tension between you was still palpable, but the chilling mystery of Rafe's actions had taken a different turn.

You found your voice, your words filled with a mix of confusion and longing. "Rafe, what is going on? Why did you—"

But Rafe's lips met yours again, silencing your questions with another passionate kiss. His kiss was filled with urgency, as if he were trying to convey something unspeakable, something that words couldn't capture.

When the kiss finally ended, you whispered, "Rafe, please, tell me what's happening. We can figure this out together."

His eyes bore into yours, and for the first time that night, the cold mask he had worn seemed to crack, revealing a complex mixture of emotions. "I can't explain it now, Y/N. It's too dangerous. But I can't lose you," he said, his voice filled with longing and desperation.

The tension between you was a tumultuous dance of desire and uncertainty, and the enigmatic enigma of Rafe Cameron had left you captivated and bewildered. This night would forever remain etched in your memory, a night when the bad boy's heart had flickered with a desire that defied the darkness and a kiss that had spoken volumes where words had failed.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

au/ your favorite psychopath is in town ;)

[fromtheothersideby]

"Jaws (1975): A Terrifying Thrill Ride That Redefined Oceanic Fears"

2Boomers Cinematic Chronicles Movie : Jaws Year : 1975 --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A great start to the 2Boomers Cinematic Chronicles is 1975 with the movie Jaws.

"Jaws (1975): A Terrifying Thrill Ride That Redefined Oceanic Fears"

"Jaws" which was released in 1975 - a groundbreaking cinematic masterpiece that forever changed the way we view the deep blue sea. As a first-year high school student in the north of Australia, watching this spine-chilling film at the city's lone cinema with friends must have been an unforgettable experience. Nestled on the tropical coast with its share of real-life shark encounters and lurking crocodiles, "Jaws" not only delivered gripping suspense but also left an indelible mark on your perception of oceanic adventures.

Directed by the incomparable Steven Spielberg, "Jaws" plunges audiences into the fictional Amity Island, where a colossal great white shark terrorizes the community's once-tranquil waters. From the moment John Williams' iconic score reverberates through the theater, a sense of primal fear grips the audience, sending shivers down their spines. Spielberg's masterful storytelling, coupled with his ability to ratchet up suspense, creates an immersive experience that captures the imagination.

Living in Northern Australia, with its tropical coastal setting and the presence of real-life sharks that have the ability to attack humans, lends an extra layer of authenticity and relatability to "Jaws." The film's depiction of the dangers lurking beneath the ocean's surface strikes a chord, reminding viewers of the respect and caution necessary when venturing into the water. It's no wonder that after witnessing the on-screen terror, even swimming in pools felt like the safer option!

Roy Scheider's portrayal of Chief Martin Brody, the reluctant hero tasked with protecting Amity Island, resonated with audiences around the world. Brody's relatable blend of fear, determination, and duty reflected the very emotions experienced by those living in coastal areas of Northern Australia. The film's portrayal of his struggle to balance public safety with personal fears captured the essence of a community grappling with the reality of living alongside formidable creatures.

The presence of sharks may have been the initial focus, but "Jaws" seamlessly taps into our primordial fears by intertwining the narrative with the untamed danger of man-eating crocodiles. Northern Australia's waterways and coastal regions harboring these stealthy predators only heighten the resonance of the film's themes. "Jaws" serves as a stark reminder of the inherent risks surrounding water-based activities, encouraging a deeper appreciation for the awe-inspiring yet treacherous wonders of nature.

Beyond its gripping suspense, "Jaws" also explores themes of resilience, bravery, and the power of human unity in the face of a common threat. The film's unforgettable trio of protagonists - Chief Brody, Quint (Robert Shaw), and Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) - represent different facets of courage, expertise, and determination. Their camaraderie and shared pursuit of overcoming fear inspire viewers to confront their own personal obstacles with strength and resilience.

More than four decades since its release, "Jaws" remains an undisputed classic. Spielberg's impeccable direction, the groundbreaking animatronic effects, and John Williams' haunting score continue to resonate with audiences today. The film's influence extends far beyond the confines of the silver screen, permeating popular culture and forever altering our perception of the ocean's depths.

As you reflect on that memorable cinema experience in Northern Australia, "Jaws" not only amplified your excitement and trepidation but also left an indelible impression on your perception of the waters surrounding your coastal city. The film's ability to simultaneously entertain and caution remains a testament to its enduring legacy.

"Jaws" reminded us of the delicate balance between awe and apprehension when it comes to the untamed forces of nature. It celebrated the thrill of adventure while instilling a healthy respect for the unpredictable. Whether it was the sharks or the crocodiles, "Jaws" awakened a primal awareness that forever altered your perspective on water-based escapades.

So, dive back into the gripping world of "Jaws" and revel in its heart-pounding thrills. Allow the film to transport you to a realm where fear lurks beneath the waves and triumph is born from unity. Just remember, the next time you dip your toes in Northern Australia's coastal waters or enjoy a leisurely swim, you'll carry a newfound respect for the unknown wonders that lie just below the surface.

[rametarin]

This stupidity with Nessa is a good thing.

Before the internet made the discussion table bigger, these same people would focus-fire “problematic groups of people” and go after them for having an opinion while not being black, female or gay enough for their opinion to matter in the hierarchy of oppression/privilege.

And if you were a straight white man, the sentiment was, “shut up, you’re not allowed to talk or else it’s talking over me.” It didn’t matter if you were in the right.

It didn’t even matter if there was a right or wrong. All that REALLY mattered was that someone have the power to turn a subjective thing into a speartip to “have a conversation” and make it a white man vs. an oppressed minority or those speaking up on behalf of them (an uppity white girl on a soapbox) and their supporting entourage that wanted to “make a difference.”

You eventually learn trying simply invites trouble and scavengers. If you’re wondering why more white writers and artists don’t try to make more black or Asian characters, this is why. It’s a liability unless you do the safest thing or signal to show your belly. And odds are they’ll do to you what they did to JK Rowling; wait until you’re popular and then trash you for being woke, but not woking hard enough and thus, owing them more representation to show you’re not “just in it for the appreciation.”

This stupid fracas happening not in the controlled environment of a public school, or an extra-curricular activity, or during some sort of social event owned and operated BY the very sorta of people (or people adjacent to the proprietors) means that it can’t happen where it needs to and then disappear into hearsay when it chooses to be irrelevant again. It happening online means it’s frozen in time, it happened, it can be witnessed and passed around and experienced as if it happened right then.

No one can be judged based on how unlikely it is they’re arguing and deliberately misinterpreting the “feminazi” in bad faith, because it’s their own words. No one can be hamstrung by their political ideology, because people can clearly see the peoples gripes in their own words. You can’t just say, “I wasn’t there but given my own experiences arguing with religious fundamentalists and literal white supremacists, I’m willing to believe you are one of those deplorables and they were acting in good faith while you’re just mad about that.”

The Accusers cannot skirt on the reputation and get the benefit of the doubt that their conduct was anything but positive and respectful and gentle and well meaning, while characterizing their opposition as just a bunch of white men trying to maintain power.

They attacked “minority” creators from an indigenous country and did it under the pretension of “white supremacy.” They took such a petty and subjective gripe and tried to MAKE IT into a conversation about racism and “correcting insensitive behavior.” And they did it where not just The Black Members of the Community may overhear or oversee it and be mildly annoyed by the experience, but where the entire English speaking African world could observe it, if they so chose.

The internet was able to witness this dishonesty and nasty attacks and passive aggressive “helpful” alternatives and focus firing the issue- even trying to make the reasons why a thing was bad based on “white supremacy”... of Japanese people.

These people narratively fucked themselves and wrapped a bow around the silicone buttshield that keeps the thing from being swallowed up inside of them. Do you have any idea how much I wished something like this was possible back in the 90s!? OH MY GOD.

The long and short of it is the issue is slowly thawing. This knowledge that more people have seen, have experienced this bad faith arguments and selective targets and stacked pretension firsthand. And they know just because someone does a thing, it’s not because of racism or sexism. They’re alive, there and exist to provide support and interaction with NEW people coming into awareness with their own experiences. And that is just so important. It can’t be understated enough. They may even have some of these arguments saved to share with them. Like time capsules.

And it means more white writers and artists will be encouraged to do more diverse characters WITHOUT the sword of knowing, at any time, for any reason, even a fabricated and manufactured one, these scavengers and predators could roll up and socially gut you if you try to do something positive. Turn YOU trying to be nice into a teachable moment and learning experience to “enlighten” you why “your society” made you an unconsciously monstrous bigot. For something that’d be a non-issue if it came from an in-group person or another oppressed minority.

These SCUM are being recognized for what they really are. So recognized, people will be more confident in actually being given the benefit of the doubt they had the best of intentions, and also that the “first responders” may be making a problem where one doesn’t exists for their own credibility, and the sentiment they’re trying to gaslight onto the greater cultural conversation.

This shit is all I ever really wanted.

[kaidabakugou]

DAY 10: MOSNTERFUCKING FT. NAGA! KATSUKI BAKUGOU

WORD COUNT: 2.9K

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF ALIENS / MENTIONS OF DEATH / DUB-CON / BITING / APHRODISIACS / BLOOD KINK / TAIL FUCKING / THROAT FUCKING W/ TONGUE / DOUBLE PENETRATION / FINGER LICKING / OVERSTIMULATION / CHOKING / EROTIC ASPHYSATION / NIPPLE PLAY

for decades, humans have been broadcasting their presence in the universe. sending radio waves into space in the hopes of making contact with possible extraterrestrial life with no caution as to whether there might be dangerous predators lurking in that infinite darkness searching for their next target. and after many attempts, they finally got what they were seeking.

it's been two years since aliens made contact with humans. since then, humanity has evolved substantially. interstellar affairs were the least of worries for all the nations before any of this occurred. with the lack of protocol or proper response plans, humans weren't equipped to handle intergalactic species arriving on our planet. but they did what they did best, and they adapted to their new reality.

when the reptiles from outer space arrived on earth, they seeked mutual exchange with the humans. to provide us with the knowledge we lacked in exchange for a way to progress their receding species. humanity agreed, and the changes in society were limitless. technology became so advanced that humans could travel in and out of earth just as freely as the aliens could, and we kept our end of the bargain.

women volunteered, per governmental request, to have sexual interactions with the foreign creatures, with the full disclosure that the outcome was uncertain. many died in the attempt, not compatible with their dna. but with many efforts and scientific breakthroughs, cross species became possible between humans and aliens, resulting in the birth of nagas.

and with that, society changed forever, birthing centers were made to specifically progress the species for mutual benefit between parties. the space reptiles grew in numbers and humans found many ways to profit from the discovery.

nagas varied in form, if an alien had sex with a human, a creature with human features and anatomy on its upper half and the body of a snake on its lower half would come out, earning the name of nagas. if nagas had relations with the reptiles from space, the serpentine genes would predominate resulting in a more advanced version of the same reptilian alien. and if a naga mated with a human, the chances were uniform, either another naga would come or a human with a higher physical and mental capacity than regular humans would.

with such remarkable creatures, they were sought out for many reasons. they were used for military purposes by every nation, a game of who possessed the most advanced creature that would grant them victory when needed. the markets quickly thrived in many ways. nagas were killed for their skins to feed the fashion industry, underground affairs piqued interest with how many buyers wanted to get their hands on a creature that would surely get them status within their groups. and soon, naga tails were just as treasured as rare blue lobsters at high-ranking restaurants.

you had taken advantage of the situation as well, being one of the first volunteers to explore life outside of the planet. for an entire year, you visited other planets and explored different colonies among them, learning everything that you could about their culture.

but after a long year of traveling, you finally decided to return home. life outside of your planet was fun but nothing compares to the feeling of being on earth. you were currently hiking in the forest near your house, making your way towards the waterfall you’d visited countless times before. enjoying the fauna around you, since it was one of the things you missed the most while being away.

other planets did not have the green landscapes that earth had, or the same animals that could be found here. they didn't have the vast supply of water like earth does, and their plant life was almost non-existent. the majority of them relied on their advanced technology to provide them with the resources they needed, and others would make do and adapt with whatever they could find within their colonies. the animal life was also nothing compared to the abundant species on our planet, most of the extraterrestrial creatures possessed reptilian features, similar to the ones who visited us two years ago.

you were almost near the waterfall, the singing of the birds around you giving you a nostalgic feeling after not being able to hear them for so long. the sun peeking through the trees felt nice against your skin, with spring starting, all signs from the cold winter had started to melt and the weather was finally starting to feel warm again.

you're planning on making your trip to the waterfall brief, enjoy some snacks while admiring your surroundings, maybe going for a quick swim before making your way back home. not wanting to stay outside for too long or allow nightfall to catch you since springtime was the breeding season for nagas.

it wasn't rare to see nagas out in the wild, many would adopt hatchlings in pet shops thinking they could raise one for themselves and regret it later when they would start to grow out of proportion. resulting in them getting released into the wilderness to fend off for themselves and survive any predators that would be interested in them, including other humans.

untamed nagas could be quite violent if they felt threatened, and matings could be rather rough since male nagas would often try to force themselves on females, naga or human, to satisfy their own sexual frustrations.

you had set up your blanket near the rocks that had a clear path close to the water. finishing up some berries you had packed while you read the last page on the current chapter of the book you brought along to pass the time while the soothing sound of the waterfall filled your ears.

deciding to go for a quick swim before it was time to return home, you took your clothes off and entered the water. the warm liquid coating your skin as you sink deeper, making sure to give your surroundings a quick look before submerging yourself fully into the water. swimming near the waterfall as you feel your muscles relax under the soft stream, completely forgetting about the world around you.

floating around the water, a splash startles you as you immediately shoot up, wiping the water from your eyes and quickly looking around to see where the noise came from, frowning when you don't notice anything unusual. you remain still while wondering if it was just your imagination, but before you could fret further on the thought you noticed that the sun was starting to set, and you needed to leave soon.

swimming back to shore you fail to notice the ripples forming in the water close behind you until it is too late. something wraps around your ankle, preventing you from swimming further as a gasp fills your throat. suddenly pulling you harshly as your back hits a strong wet surface. a tail wraps around your center, making it impossible for you to move as you try to wriggle against it, but the large appendage only seems to get tighter the more you fight it.

a hissing sound feels your ears, making every muscle in your body go stiff as you feel your stomach sink. you could feel the vibration of the hissing deep in your bones, only one creature was capable of making such sounds, a naga. swallowing the lump inside your throat, you look back over your shoulder to get a better look at your captor, but the sight makes your breath hitch inside your chest.

the most captivating blown out vermilion irises were staring back down at your widened ones. wet blonde hair framing his face while droplets of water dripped from his ends, smooth skin adorned with brown scales that looked golden under the sunset skies. the tip of a forked tongue flicking constantly from in between his lips while he holds you closer to him.

the different shades of brown scales pulled you from your trance, noticing how some were darker than the others, making shivers run down your spine at the realization. a pit viper, some of the deadliest snakes among the nagas, with venom that could be fatal if not treated immediately.

before you could worry further on the thought, the male flipped you over so you're now facing him as you straddle his waist. noticing his erect cock in between the both of you, your lips parting as you stare down at it, not seeing one like it before. the throbbing pointed tip was already leaking thick ropes of cum that dribbled down his large cock, with long ridges that adorned the top of his shaft and pulsing veins under it, leading down to the large knot peeking from the slit of his tail.

sharp claws pull you from your haze as they grace against the delicate skin of your neck, dragging the back of his claws across your throat before finding refuge at your nape. feeling them tangle with wet strands of hair as he pulls you closer to him.

“what’ssss your name?” he asks while dragging the s between his tongue. you tell him your name and he repeats it, testing the words on his tongue before releasing what sounds like a pleased hum. his claws are still scratching against your head while you try your best to keep your eyes on his and not let them wander down towards the twitching cock between you.

“what um, what's yours? you ask, trying your best to stay calm and ignore the tension that's building between your legs.

“bakugou katssssuki”, you give him a small nod in acknowledgement while he starts to untangle his tail from around your body. feeling your muscles relax as you run your hands over your arms to soothe the tension.

you take a quick peek over your shoulder to where your things are waiting for you near the rocks before looking up at the sky, taking note of how it's almost nightfall, pondering if you could even make it back to your house tonight, or if you'll ever return home given your current predicament.

a warm breath against your neck startles you as you turn back to face the naga. bakugou had lowered his face down to your neck, breathing in your scent while nuzzling his nose against the crook of it. you're about to ask what he was doing but you were interrupted by the scream that ripped from your throat.

he sank his fangs into your neck, pain shooting through your body momentarily before heat starts to coarse through you, making you a panting mess while you try to ask what he did to you, stumbling over your words as you find it difficult to focus with the pulsing between your legs.

“relaxssss, female” he whispers against your ear, the tips of his forked tongue tickling against your heated skin. “it’ss jussst a little sssomething to make your body ready for me”

“n-no please don't do this” hissing sounds fill your ears as he quickly turns your face so that you're staring directly at him.

“ssstop fighting, you think you can come ssswim in my territory without a cosssst… and in mating ssseassson of all timesss” he spits before a wide grin spreads across his face, allowing you to see the long sharp fangs protruding from his mouth, still dripping with the aphrodisiac induced venom that he injected you with.

“you had to know exactly what you were doing”, he makes a show of sliding his long tongue across his fangs, drinking the venom from them before wrapping his tail around your center. lifting you up with it while hooking his claws around the center of your bikini bottoms, ripping them off in one swift motion before dragging his fingers between your folds.

slick coating his digits as it dribbles between them, smirking as he brings them towards his mouth. sucking his fingers while staring at you, your walls clenching around nothing at the sight of his tongue swirling around his digits while lapping up your juices.

claws digging into the fat of your thighs before sinking you down on his cock, the tip alone making your body jolt as it stretches you around him. lowering you deeper into his cock, the ridges rubbing perfectly against your sweet spot, not letting a single place inside you go untouched as you sink completely down on him.

the hissing sound returns while he gives you a moment to adjust before lifting you up until the tip of his cock is almost out and sliding you back down on him. repeating the action a couple of times before picking up the pace. raspy moans leaving your throat as he continues to thrust you up and down his cock with his tail.

bringing you closer to him while untangling his tail from your center, wrapping his hands under your thighs as his claws dig into your rear, drawing blood while he continues bouncing you on him. burying his face in the crook of your neck again, this time on the opposite side as he sinks his fangs down into your skin again.

injecting his venom into you before switching to suck on your skin, drinking your blood as the sweet taste of your liquids make his eyes roll to the back of his head. wrapping your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself as much as you could, you let your head fall against his shoulder as you feel the effects of his poison sink deeper into your muscles.

you feel his tail caress the back of your neck before sliding down your spine until it reaches your rear. rubbing it between your ass cheeks, collecting the slick oozing from your tight rim from the aphrodisiac before pushing the tip of his tail into your hole. the action making you yelp as he bullies his tail deeper into your rear. thrusting it while matching the rhythm with your bounces. the knot in your stomach was getting tighter and the stimulation on both of your holes was driving you closer and closer to the edge.

letting go of one of your thighs as he reaches up to wrap a clawed hand around your throat, lifting you from his shoulder as he brings you face close to his, not giving you time to comprehend what he was doing before pressing his lips against yours. dragging his forked tongue across your bottom lip, asking for entry as you open your mouth for him.

your eyes shooting open momentarily before they roll shut again at the taste of your own blood dripping onto your tongue. spilling the mixture of his venom and your blood down your throat as you moan into his mouth, a low purr vibrating in his chest as he devours you. your blood tasting sweeter mixed with your saliva as he pushes his tongue further into your mouth.

the wet muscle getting longer and longer as your lips stretch around his thick tongue while he shoves it down your throat. thrusting it in and out of your mouth while he stares down at you, your vision blurring with tears as you feel the knot inside of you burst. gushing all over his cock and tail as your release dribbles down your thighs.

going limb against his grasp while your holes are completely stuffed as he chases his release. the overstimulation pulling orgasm after orgasm from you as you start to feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. retracting his tongue from your throat as you greedily gulp air back into your lungs while he leans down on your body.

dragging his tongue down your chest before the forked tips coil around your nipple, his fangs scraping against your skin before he switches to the other breast, giving it the same treatment as he leans back up to your level. pulling you in for another kiss before burying his face in your neck again, the hissing sounds getting louder this time as he picks up his thrust.

his pace almost animalistic as he chases his release, the feeling of your walls clenching around him and your nails scraping against his scaled back sending him over the edge. his cum feels hot inside of you, filling you up until every last drop is spilled deep inside your warmth.

keeping you plugged as he pulls you close against him, embracing you in his arms as he submerges halfway into the water, keeping you warm while placing kisses on the side of your head.

“hey… you're still with me?” he asks while drawing circles on your back.

“mhm” is all you manage to say while nodding your head softly against his chest.

a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he lets you slip away into sleep while he keeps watch making sure no one else enters his territory while he has you like this. happy that he resisted the urge to kill you when you first set foot into his space, watching you from the trees, curious as to what a pretty thing like you was doing venturing off so far into the forest.

hopeful that he finally found a mate to spend his time with after years of loneliness and suffering. smiling against the side of your head as he activates the purring in his chest to make sure you get a good rest wrapped in his arms.

♡ kinktober masterlist ♡

[nut-in-me-jojo]

Always Will Be - Chp.1

Pairing: Yan!Gyutaro x Fem!Reader

Chapter: 1

Series Warnings: NSFW, extreme depictions of death, extreme violence, dead dove don’t eat, forced relationship, yandere, non/dubious consent, kidnapping, degradation, slut shaming, stockholm syndrome, poverty, dacryphilia, misogyny, dumbification,  (If you don't like dark yandere's this story isn't for you.)

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary:  Gyutaro has lived for over a century now, still plagued by memories of the past and haunted by its ghost. You are one of his only two regrets.

Author Notes:  Hi! I’m super excited to be stepping into the Demon Slayer fanfic scene! After I saw this last season I immediately got this idea in my head and had to see it come to life! I really hope you enjoy this series as much as I’m loving writing it! PLEASE be kind, this is my first time properly posting fics to Tumblr and I haven’t quite figured out how everything here works! Also, this IS an X reader, Yuna is just your past self’s name and it’s intended to be a play on (Y/N). This is going to be a very dark fic so be mindful of the warnings mentioned above! Enjoy!

“Promise me...that when we grow up, we’ll run away and never come back. Me, you, and Ume. Promise me!”

“I promise, Yuna.”

Gyutaro blinked, pausing in his meal as the words from an eternity ago echoed in his mind.

More than a lifetime had passed since that promise had been made, yet the bitter winter snow that had clung to her lashes and tattered kimono that day remained fresh in the recesses of the demon's mortal memories. The ones he had tried countless times to bury alongside his abandoned humanity. Try as he might, they still clawed their way back to the forefront every so often. The one ghost of the past that just refused to die, to stay forgotten, to stay buried in the ground like he had left her that day. For over a hundred years she had followed him.

He broke that promise to her. The three of them had never made it out of the Entertainment District. For here he and his sister still were. But yet, things were quite different now. The two siblings had power. They weren’t helpless, starving, preyed on children anymore. Now they were the predator; the beast of the night that exacted rightful suffering upon those more fortunate. The tearing of flesh, the gnashing of bones, all tokens of solatium the world would forever owe them for having spit on them.

Gyutaro had seen to it all this time that the two of them were never cold nor hungry ever again. He’d made sure he had kept his promise to Daki by never leaving her side for over a century. Maybe, by upholding that promise to his sister, it could rectify the one he had broken with his only friend. Or at least, that’s what the Upper Moon had settled on telling himself all these years.

“What’s your deal? Keep eating you idiot or she’ll get cold.” Daki’s shrill voice reverberating off the dirt walls of the “store house.”

Gyutaro glances over at his sibling, her pretty face covered in crimson as a half eaten limb laid limp in her grasp.

“Shut up, I’ll do what I want.” Gyutaro snarked as he returned to taking another bite out of his own portion of their victim.

The debt collector didn’t know why she was complaining; this was his catch for the night after all. The siblings had worked out a routine from prowling the nights of the past century. Daki would stay and work and seek out prey among her fellow house courtesans. While her brother would leave her to her work in favor of lurking the city streets.

Ever since he’d become a demon, Gyutaro had never felt whole without the hunt. The innate need to conquer, ravage, and devour his prey was ever present and it gnawed at him with each passing day until the sun gave way to the moon. The high of getting the kill was always the same; as was the feeling of it never being enough.

Besides, sitting on the sidelines to watch his little sister do all the work was never his style. All the providing, all the protecting. No, that was his purpose. That’s what big brothers did. What he did. As it had always been and always will be.

He let her carry on like this all these years because Daki had always been so gung-ho on proving herself to be useful. To be strong. However, Gyutaro was no fool, it was not so much to prove herself to him but rather to Lord Muzan. Despite her best efforts, his sister would often fail in her pursuits and naturally it was always up to him to finish what she couldn’t. But he didn’t mind much, obviously it was never anything he couldn’t handle. At the end of the day their team work was impeccable with her work providing them with such a wonderful cover. One that allowed them to feast all the while plucking the Hashira one by one from the shadows that came in search of their heads. They would never succeed, not as long as Oni-Chan was around.

As long as the two of them were together, they could never be beat. The streets of the entertainment district were practically the blood in their veins and the air in their half-dead lungs. It was their birthright; their domain for all eternity. Nothing and nobody would ever get past them. Nothing would tear them apart.

“You’ll always be my best friend, Gyu-Chan.”

There it was again. That same stubborn ghost. The fragments of the past now so far behind him her voice echoed within him like she stood down a long tunnel. But so much else of her remained crystal clear. The warmth of her embrace. The way her skin would glisten in the rain. How his chest felt when she laughed at the silliest things. The love he could feel in her eyes. All things that had died along with her.

Gyutaro instinctively shook his head free of the thoughts. Strange, he never thought of her this much anymore. In a way, it was easy to make himself forget; as some things truly are better off dead. But the demon would be lying if he tried to say he hadn’t spent many nights wondering what could’ve been had he only been there. For her. And his sister.

“Ugh, you are acting SO weird tonight Oni-chan!” Came Daki’s voice again.

“I’m just tired.” He muttered lowly.

“Tired? What are you talking about, demons don’t get tired! We don’t need sleep!” Daki squawked.

“Will you shut up already? You know what I mean.” He snapped back. It’s true, demons don’t need to sleep but it didn’t mean they couldn’t. The sun was about to rise and there was nothing else to kill time with anyhow. So Gyutaro would often spend the days sleeping. Or at least trying to, if Daki wasn’t yapping his ear off about whatever stupid meaningless human had pissed her off and how she was going to rip them apart limb by limb. But often, she would follow suit as her brother into dreamless slumber.

Once finished with his “dinner” Gyutaro lazily ambled over to the bed he and Daki shared. A plethora of pillows and blankets they had accumulated over the years that more so resembled a nest rather than a bed. But that was how they liked it, certainly more luxurious than what they had in the old days but still not straying too far from those same old roots.

“Are you coming or what?” Gyutaro grouched at his sister as he laid down.

She said nothing, only skipping over to him as her response. Daki laid her head down on his outstretched arm as she nestled closer into him. All these pillows at her disposal yet she always chose his bicep as her pretty little head's resting place. Gyutaro proudly remembers her telling him once that he was her favorite pillow. And as always, he had made it his job to provide his precious sister with only the finest. Day by day, this was how they would sleep all these years.

Though, it hadn’t always been this way. Once upon a time, there had been the three of them sleeping together in a heap.

But that was then and this was now. Now, it was only just the two of them. Come dusk, it would be no different as well. Always the same and always will be, he had told himself.

Hi again!  I know it’s canon demons don’t sleep but I meannnnnn Nezuko sleeps? Sooooo lol.

Chapter 2

[thefeedress]

FFA MUSINGS

I was 17 when I learned the terms "feeder" "feedee" and "feederism" from stumbling across one of those trash documentaries about the kink. Apparently, my sexuality revolved around extremes and predators: creepy straight men coercing naive women into transforming their bodies and their lives - the women didn't particularly seem to be getting off on it or even have much agency in the whole thing. The men were awful. (Sometimes, these days, I look back and wonder how much all the negatives of what I saw were exaggerated by the editing…)

That was my lightbulb moment, where I discovered the label for something very personal and private that I'd had all my life but always felt confused and ashamed about. I now also had the pleasure of feeling extra disgusting and very alone, having been shown what horrible company I was in, and that I now knew I was a feeder, but apparently all feeders were men.

Any furtive investigations online (in the reasonably early days of the internet) seem to confirm this suspicion: female feeders were not A Thing, there might possibly be one or two others out there at best. Male gainers only seemed to exist in their own niche in gay subculture, and although I was happy they were out there somewhere living their best lives, they were obviously Not For Me.

I was 34 when after years of pushing it all to the back of my mind, I finally gave in. I've been with the same (non-feedist) partner since my early 20s, so I just assumed that I'd never be able to explore it irl anyway, and that was that. I can't remember what happened or why I decided that I had to try to find some others to connect with, even just to chat with, but in the end (with my partner's blessing) I found and joined Feabie (of which I have many opinions but I'll leave those for another time…) and interacted with other feedists online for the first time in my life.

Guess what: straight male feedees exist. They exist, and there's fucking loads of them!! Tons of the buggers in my inbox all day every day for weeks. Pretty heady experience going from outcast freak to Much Sought After Item - apparently female feeders really are quite rare, or we don't have much of an online presence (or most of us are lurking in a secret lair somewhere that the others haven't invited me to, rude….) or they're also out there somewhere thinking they're the only one.

The unbridled glee of feeling popular and desirable for being something I'd always felt ashamed of did wear off a teensy bit after the endless onslaught of "hey" "hi" "how u" "ayy babygurl" "I'm looking for a feeder please accommodate all my kinks even though I'm a total stranger and I clearly don't give a shit about you as a human being" "You're a woman on the internet I'm entitled to your attention don't be difficult what's your problem" and my current favourite, the bizarrely ominous "Can I ask ur opinion?" (The answer is no my friend, if I wanted to be spammed with anonymous torso pics that I'm meant to manufacture comments about that you can get off to I'd have asked YOU.)

But. I'm still completely overjoyed that male feedees exist, that I've spoken to so many cool and interesting and lovely guys, that I've had experiences I'd always assumed I wouldn't, that I FINALLY MET OTHER FFAs and they are awesome and now I'm close friends with one and it's freaking GREAT. All of this has also lead my partner and I to discover polyamory and now I'm in love with two people who love me back NOBODY EVER SAID YOU WERE ALLOWED TO DO THAT WHY THE FUCK DID NO ONE TELL ME

There are so many nuances and preferences I'd never considered. I knew what I liked and that's what I sought out in terms of porn and that was that. Actually talking to feedees and learning about the whole spectrum of things they each did or didn't enjoy or want to participate in was a revelation, and also helped me clarify my own preferences myself.

There are still things I've yet to come to terms with or decide how to feel about. The main things I'd always felt guilty or ashamed of were less to do with fat or fat guys, it was the feeding itself.

Where being an FFA is concerned - I like to think that if I'd ever been lucky enough to have a fat boyfriend when I was younger, I wouldn't have been shallow enough to care what anyone else thought. It's possible I'm giving my younger self too much credit; I know for certain that some people in my life would have made nasty comments, I was also hugely insecure myself, and I have no idea what it really would have been like. I have no doubt that living all my life in a fatphobic society has affected me in more ways than I'm even aware of (same as everyone else in some way, I'm guessing....). I think any uneasiness I felt there was less worrying about shallow friends or family members, and more how to find potential fat partners without offending them. I have always been conscious of the fact that the majority of fat people would very likely be horrified to be thought of and objectified through the lens of this fetish. You never know what someone's relationship to their own body is, but it's safe to bet that it's a more complex one than it seems, and also, unless you're expressly invited into that relationship by that person, it's none of your fucking business.

But anyway, the main reason I never had many hangups about it was that I don't think I even *was* attracted to fat people when I was young - sometimes I'm not sure I was even attracted to anyone. I had crushes on boys all the time, but I never thought of anyone sexually. My teenage fantasies were pure belly kink: stuffing, chugging, bloating, inflation, any kind of ridiculous fantasy belly expansion - the actual fattening aspect of feeding was less a part of it, and fancying fat dudes was never connected to it. By the time I'd begun to join the dots and wonder if I liked fat boys, I'd started to happen across media that portrays the worst of Feedism, and since I liked sadistic fucked up stuff and already felt ashamed of it, all of that just confirmed to me that I was right to hate myself. Even now, when I'm exposed to much more conversation about this kink than I ever used to be, I notice a lot of love for soft feedism, wholesome fatness appreciation, body positivity, romance (all of which I absolutely love, don't get me wrong) and I still sometimes feel Iike I'm being left out of the party. Keeping my fingers crossed for more consensual femdom-feedism love (and content, ugh…)

But… what would have happened if I hadn't gotten the fuck over myself and put myself out there, tried to find others? How many other young people see themselves portrayed horribly in the media and hide parts of themselves FROM THEMSELVES forever? What happens next? I've apparently found the one person who likes all the same twisted things I do, but actually getting to see him irl ever or do any of the things we want to do seems impossible, and not just because of Covid.

This fetish is lonely for most of us I think, in some way or another. There aren't many feedists, there don't seem to be as many female feeders or male feedees, there probably aren't many people who will share the same preferences within the fetish that you do, and frankly when you filter out the people who aren't crazy or creepy or don't know how to hold a conversation, the pool shrinks even further. I've seen plenty of posts bemoaning how hard it is to find someone, but seriously, having spent most of my life in a vacuum where this stuff is concerned, I'm still buzzing from having engaged with the small handful of people I've engaged with, even just to chat to.

What I want to say to my younger self is: you're a good person. You're just a kinky bitch, that's all.

I feel like this description probably applies to all the best people, I can live with that.

[narrators-journal]

The great escape

oh boy oh boy, it’s here! The sequelette! For those who don’t know, this is a small follow up to my story ‘Inquisitive obsessions’ So if you want the full story, go read that first. This one won’t be overtly Yandere, but I still hope you guys have fun with it.

CW: lotsa pregnancy talk in this one. I’m not that knowledgeable of the topic, so likely gonna have some shoddy parts.

Ever since you had met Illumi, your life had changed forever. You didn't notice it at first, too caught up in being in a relationship to remember seeing him lurking outside your house after a date, or to remember the pair of underwear you'd randomly lost despite seeing them on your bathroom floor right before you went to bed that night. It was only after that brightly colored, card-slinging maniac, who you later found out was named Hisoka, murdered the butlers Illumi had set as your prison guards and then tried to 'introduce himself to you' as if he hadn't just slaughtered other humans like cattle that it finally really set in how deep of trouble you were in. Luckily, you had run to the bathroom as if to throw up and then slipped out of your bathroom window to run for help. Unluckily, Illumi was swift to find you. After that, the 'honeymoon phase' violently ended.

Of course, after kidnapping getting you safely to his family home, Illumi didn't explain anything you asked him about, your life couldn't be that easy, but you had your suspicions that a lot of the weird occurrences you'd been faced with before properly meeting him could be placed at his feet. However, you were in no place to investigate or try to escape. You were taken to the main house, situated in Illumi's bedroom, and almost never alone after that. If Illumi wasn't showering you with gifts, compliments, and cuddles, his mother was eager to befriend you, snatching you up from the halls at the rare times you were permitted to walk the home alone to have tea and tell you all about her plans for you and her son's marriage, or the baby. You hated it, and you were noticeably miserable.

Because of that, Illumi did his best to make you happy, distracting you with talk of baby names, wedding details, your hobbies, anything he could think of to try and make you happy. And it would work for a while, you'd get swept up in his charms and melt into his touch when he cuddled up to you at night, but not too long after, you'd crash again. You'd given up on trying to escape, you'd been driven up to the estate, so you knew how big the mountain was and just how hopelessly trapped you really were, but you would still sob, smack and try to hit the long-haired assassin, and just try to get away from him, even though he never let you leave his sight for fear of 'the baby being harmed.

' As the days passed, you did eventually settle into your predicament, though there was always an intense urge to run if you got the chance. You played along with Kikyo, let Illumi love on you and be excited for the baby, and learned how to not only cope with the fear you now felt towards your 'fiance,' but avoid the brunt of Illumi's manipulative powers, mostly by avoiding looking into his dark, soulless eyes, which would leave you groggy and with static for thoughts. He wasn't a fan of that, but he remained unreadable and cold, never laying a hand on you or showing aggression towards you to avoid stressing you out. He treated you like the world's most fragile porcelain doll because of your pregnancy. That one odd behavior at least got explained though, so that was progress.          "I'm very well trained to fight, so I'm very strong. You...are very much so not." It wasn't much, but considering the most you'd gotten out of him when you'd tried to question him before was some form of topic change, you took it. Either way though, you were thankful that he treated you so delicately, because you didn't want to think of the possible alternatives. On the bright side though, your reluctant acceptance did open up more freedoms to you. Mainly, it was the freedom to talk to a single person outside of the Zoldyck family when Illumi was off on jobs, but once he was home that freedom was taken away again. Thankfully though, that wasn't your only freedom, you also got to go along with a butler to shop in town. Of course, Illumi or Kikyo came with, hovering protectively nearby while you walked the town's shops, getting exercise and socialization under the watchful eye of your fiance or karen-like mother-in-law. Illumi usually spent your time out trailing behind you like a ghost, helping when he felt you couldn't do something alone, but otherwise leaving you to do whatever you needed while always feeling his eyes on you. At the very least, you could somewhat ignore him and maybe even...pretend to be normal while he was being protective, unlike his mother, who would never leave you alone when out, and was all around demanding and very hard to miss. It was a brief reprieve from the insanity, but it was welcome. However, that was just it. A brief escape. Whenever you returned to the car you were reminded that you really had been snatched from your home by your boyfriend and pushed into a marriage you didn't want. Finally though, on a particularly cold late-winter night almost three months after your engagement, as you laid in bed with Illumi, staring at the wall with his arm wrapped securely around your midsection and his forehead resting between your shoulder blades, you decided to try a pretty risky ask. You didn't expect him to agree, but you couldn't deal with him lingering around you anymore. It was worth a shot.          "I-Illumi," you croaked, your voice quiet and almost strangled with anxiety and fear, but you forced yourself onwards after he hummed in acknowledgement, "Tomorrow, could I maybe go out alone? O-or at least only with a butler?" you squeaked, your stomach twisting with nerves as you waited the excruciatingly long moments it took for him to ponder your request and reply with no sign to give away his feelings.          "Why?" He asked, and you were really missing the days where he put feeling into his words. His monotonous, unreadable voice gave you anxiety.         "I..." You took a deep breath to steady your quivering voice, deciding honesty was safest, "I'm still scared of you after you got so aggressive when I told you I was pregnant, and...um, y-your mom is...kinda smothering." Your voice died with each word after 'and', but he still heard you. There was another stretch of silence before he hummed,         "Fine, but if you misbehave in any way on this trip, you won't leave the house for the rest of your pregnancy." He warned, and you didn't need him to emote to know he was deathly serious, so you simply nodded and thanked him before curling up and trying your best to sleep. When morning came, you were sure to be on your best behavior while Illumi arranged a butler to take you into town. You'd only get an hour to do whatever you wanted, but it was maybe your only chance to leave the mountain without the manipulative predator who called himself your fiance breathing down your neck. So, when it finally came time for you to leave, you gave the assassin a kiss on the cheek before you left. With that, you had a long car ride with no looming threat or awkward, prying conversations, just peace, quiet, and a lovely view of trees drifting by outside of the car window along the way. It ended up being so peaceful, that you fell asleep for most of the ride, only waking when the driver hit a bump in the road and jolted you out of your dreams and into a slightly panicked state. Instantly putting you on edge as you expected to be faced with Illumi beside you, watching you blankly, or your mother-in-law trying to feel the small bump beginning to show on your belly for the umpteenth time that day. But, when you opened your (e/c) eyes and gave a frantic scan of the backseat, neither were there. You're safe. They're back at the estate. You told yourself, taking a few deep breaths to slow your thundering heart. You finally had no murderous assassin of any sort nearby. You were 2 hours away from the estate, a total of at least 4 from the main house. You soon realized, you could run. Do you really want to live life in terror? Being used as a broodmare and watching your baby be turned into a small Illumi? The braver, more realistic voice in your head whispered while you watched trees zoom by through the car window, but he's a dangerous man. He found you when you ran the first time, do you think you could get away a second time? And STAY away? the more fearful inner voice piped up, but at the thought of possibly being free that first voice won out. Because of that, you knew in an instant that you were already at a point of no return if you even began this path, but you were also determined to not be trapped in a fearful marriage, watching your child suffer. So, you curled up and covertly unlaced your shoe lace, a small luxury you'd gotten to sooth one of your earlier melt downs about being trapped in such a restrictive relationship, than, you struck. In a flash, you coiled the lace around your hands and looped it over the driver's seat and the butler's throat. You put your foot against the back of the seat and felt hot tears burn your eyes in both terror and instant regret as the car skidded to a halt so the butler could try to fight for his life. However, while the help had been trained to be demons in their own right, you somehow managed to overpower his frantic attempts to free himself with your own frantic, shakey, teary-eyed strength. You were hysterical as you did it, but you  successfully strangled the poor butler after an excruciatingly long time.          "ohgodimsosorry," you wept as you scrambled to the front seat and pushed the body out onto the deserted road, fighting the urge to vomit just yet as you took his place. You then had to scrub your eyes three times before your vision was clear enough for you to drive, but even after calming down a bit, your breaths were still raking through your chest, and you could already feel a headache coming from the intensity of your sobs as you drove into the town and repeatedly plead for forgiveness for the murder. However, when you found a bus stop, you scraped up your composure and did your best to hide just how distraught you were. Luckily, the clerk was an angel, getting you a ticket for free when they saw just how dishevelled and snivelling you were, deducing correctly that you needed help and doing their best to assist. So, you got a cup of water and clutched your ticket like a child protecting their lollipop from a greedy sibling, settled inside and out of view to await the bus and calm down. That was when you got the call. The phone ringing sent an icy hot bolt of primal terror through your body, but you bit that back and went ahead and answered it with shaking hands, (e/c) eyes blurring with tears again when you heard the sickly familiar indifferent voice on the other end of the line,           "(y/n)," Illumi said, not even sounding pissed, just slightly bored, as if he'd expected this. "I understand you are scared about all of the changes and are somewhat sensitive right now, but I cannot let you leave. Please return home before I have to come collect you." Just like that, the rabid courage that gave you that first push of determination was wiped away like a leaf in a tornado. After all, it was so much easier to make an escape when Illumi wasn't looming over you, but now that he was talking to you, knowing damned well what you were up to, you had the powerful urge to burst into tears and drive back to the Zoldyck estate. No! This is the exact reason you were such easy prey for him in the first place! that courageous voice pointed out, essentially slapping some sense into you as you swallowed your sobs and those submissive urges, this is your one chance! if you go back, he's never going to leave you alone for a SECOND. Run! This is your only chance! With that last point, you gulped down breaths, steeling your nerves before speaking at last          "No." You croaked, your voice barely a whisper, but you still sensed the switch in Illumi's mood when he heard,              "(y/n). Come home. Right. Now. You won't like it if I have to come and get you." he said, his voice finally changing from flat and bored, to dripping with a threat as his mask cracked and his anger slipped through so clearly you could almost feel him grabbing you by the throat, but you saw your bus beginning to load, so you had to make a snap judgement as quickly as Illumi's emotional outburst passed and he returned to indifference.             "Listen, I'm trying my best to not be terrifying or anything, but I'd be a horrible hu-" You hung up on him and tossed the phone out of the window once you'd gotten onto the bus and it had begun the journey down the road. Something about that single, simple action felt more like throwing one of your shackles out of the window instead of a phone.

[arctic-comet]

Osblaineweek2021, Day 2: Prose

I love book quotes. Looking at quotes is one of my favorite ways to to inspire myself to write more fic.

Here’s a small collection of book quotes (and recs!) of where I’ve “found” June and Nick.

This post contains spoilers for the following books/series:

- Lover Mine by JR Ward

- The Wrath and The Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

- A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas

Lover Mine by J.R. Ward

Summary:

John Matthew has come a long way since he was found living among humans, his vampire nature unknown to himself and to those around him. After he was taken in by the Brotherhood, no one could guess what his true history was- or his true identity. Indeed, the fallen Brother Darius has returned, but with a different face and a very different destiny. As a vicious personal vendetta takes John into the heart of the war, he will need to call up on both who he is now and who he once was in order to face off against evil incarnate. Xhex, a symphath assassin, has long steeled herself against the attraction between her and John Matthew. Having already lost one lover to madness, she will not allow the male of worth to fall prey to the darkness of her twisted life. When fate intervenes, however, the two discover that love, like destiny, is inevitable between soul mates.

It's basically a paranormal love story between two warriors. He's really young (although he's actually a reincarnation of a very old vampire warrior, but he doesn't know that), and she's like 300 years older than him. In this book, she's been raped and abused by a guy who also used to bully him. She escapes, but he saves her life. She's hungry for revenge and wants to die after achieving that goal, but of course eventually changes her mind. In the end he actually serves her rapist to her on a silver platter so that she can kill him (sound like anyone we know?). He literally holds the guy down while she kills him.

They're my ultimate favorite ship in this series, and IMO their relationship eventually develops into one of the strongest ones. This series is a bit of a hit-or-miss for most people, because the language and the writing style are pretty ridiculous in all seriousness. If you decide to read this, I recommend starting the series from the beginning because John and Xhex meet for the first time several books before this one, LOL.

Here are some of the quotes that make me think of Nick and June:

“Besides, the story of the two of them was written in the language of collision; they were ever crashing into each other and ricocheting away—only to find themselves pulled back into another impact.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“As his ears rang and his heart broke for her, he stayed strong against the gale force she let loose. After all, there was a reason why here and hear were seperated by so little and sounded one like the other. Bearing witness to her, he heard her and was there for her because that was all you could do during a fall apart. But God, it pained him to see how she suffered.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“...the only thing that had tethered her to the earth had been him and it was strange, but she felt welded to him on some core level now. He had seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most insane, and he hadn't looked away. He hadn't judged and he hadn't been burned. It was as if in the heat of her meltdown they had melted together. This was more than emotion. It was a matter of soul.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

The Wrath and the Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

Summary:

One Life to One Dawn. In a land ruled by a murderous boy-king, each dawn brings heartache to a new family. Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan, is a monster. Each night he takes a new bride only to have a silk cord wrapped around her throat come morning. When sixteen-year-old Shahrzad's dearest friend falls victim to Khalid, Shahrzad vows vengeance and volunteers to be his next bride. Shahrzad is determined not only to stay alive, but to end the caliph's reign of terror once and for all. Night after night, Shahrzad beguiles Khalid, weaving stories that enchant, ensuring her survival, though she knows each dawn could be her last. But something she never expected begins to happen: Khalid is nothing like what she'd imagined him to be. This monster is a boy with a tormented heart. Incredibly, Shahrzad finds herself falling in love. How is this possible? It's an unforgivable betrayal. Still, Shahrzad has come to understand all is not as it seems in this palace of marble and stone. She resolves to uncover whatever secrets lurk and, despite her love, be ready to take Khalid's life as retribution for the many lives he's stolen. Can their love survive this world of stories and secrets?

This is a young adult fantasy romance, and basically, Khalid is a lot like Nick. He’s made mistakes that he needs to own, but at the same time he’s forced to commit atrocities he doesn’t want to do. He hates himself and doesn’t believe himself to be worthy of love, and yet he falls in love with Shazi. He's viewed as the villain of the story by everyone aside from Shazi and a few other characters until almost the end of the 2nd book.

“I love you, a thousand times over. And I will never apologize for it.”

―Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. to want something so much—to hold it in your arms — and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“When I was a boy, my mother would tell me that one of the best things in life is the knowledge that our story isn't over yet. Our story may have come to a close, but your story is still yet to be told.

Make it a story worthy of you”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“In that moment of perfect balance, she understood. This peace? These worries silenced without effort? It was because they were two parts of a whole. He did not belong to her. And she did not belong to him. It was never about belonging to someone. It was about belonging together.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

“A boy who'd thrived in the shadows.

Now he had to live in the light.

To live . . . fiercely.

To fight for every breath.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

Summaries:

Book 1

Feyre's survival rests upon her ability to hunt and kill – the forest where she lives is a cold, bleak place in the long winter months. So when she spots a deer in the forest being pursued by a wolf, she cannot resist fighting it for the flesh. But to do so, she must kill the predator and killing something so precious comes at a price ... Dragged to a magical kingdom for the murder of a faerie, Feyre discovers that her captor, his face obscured by a jewelled mask, is hiding far more than his piercing green eyes would suggest. Feyre's presence at the court is closely guarded, and as she begins to learn why, her feelings for him turn from hostility to passion and the faerie lands become an even more dangerous place. Feyre must fight to break an ancient curse, or she will lose him forever.

Book 2

Feyre survived Amarantha's clutches to return to the Spring Court—but at a steep cost. Though she now has the powers of the High Fae, her heart remains human, and it can't forget the terrible deeds she performed to save Tamlin's people. Nor has Feyre forgotten her bargain with Rhysand, High Lord of the feared Night Court. As Feyre navigates its dark web of politics, passion, and dazzling power, a greater evil looms—and she might be key to stopping it. But only if she can harness her harrowing gifts, heal her fractured soul, and decide how she wishes to shape her future—and the future of a world cleaved in two. With more than a million copies sold of her beloved Throne of Glass series, Sarah J. Maas's masterful storytelling brings this second book in her seductive and action-packed series to new heights.

Fantasy romance with explicit sex scenes, and book 2 is a lot better than book 1. Our main character Feyre falls for a really boring fae guy, but also meets the hottest guy she’s ever known. The first guy of course isn't the real love interest (this is a twist this author loves to do). They all end up as prisoners, and the 2nd guy saves her life when the 1st one is totally useless. He also makes her hate him as he does it because he has to. After getting out, she tries to make her old relationship work, but it doesn’t, and guess who swoops in?

I do see some Nick in Rhysand (in addition to his role in the love triangle). They’re both traumatized and prefer to keep a lot of their feelings to themselves. I also see some of the same selflessness in both of them. Rhysand wants Feyre to choose him because she loves him, but he’s willing to accept that she may not, and doesn’t tell her that they’re pretty much destined to be together (it’s a supernatural thing, and he will suffer a lot if she decides she doesn’t want him).

“Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me.”

―Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Because," he went on, his eyes locked with mine, "I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone."

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“He thinks he'll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

[kitkat1003]

Who Are You Really?

Just who is Yin Spirit?

Anyway finally made a Spirit fic 

Cover Here

Ao3 link

Chapter 1: Escape

Spirit has been scared for a long, long time.

Not for forever, because there used to be good times.  Good times were the days spent scampering through the forest and eating anything they could off of bushes and trees, finding out what was good and not while hiding from the predators that could never catch them.  Good times were days following Mom around the Inn, helping mix up medicines and salves and watching as she fixed wounds and illnesses as if they were mere inconveniences rather than life threatening.  Good times were scritches behind their ears, nights curled up on a branch or in a soft bed next to someone who cared, where there was nothing to cause nightmares yet.

But the good times are behind them.

They have been for a long, long time.

But Spirit won’t let that get them down!  They’ve been around for...well, they lost count of the years a while back, because Mom was the one who kept count and they didn’t feel like asking.  They wonder if they’re timeless, if they just keep going because no one has told them to stop.

They’ve told themself to stop plenty of times, but it never sticks.

But they have a day job!  Sure, it doesn’t pay anything, but going around and helping spirits move on is something they think their Mom would be proud of.  One of their eyes, the one their mom helped fix, can spot spirits without any trouble and that makes the job easier.  

It’s the one on the left side of their face.  The lonely one.

They’re good with their blades and they can fight off the occasional mean spirit if they happen to pop in.  They’ve been busier, too, since they can’t rely on mortals to fend for themselves in smaller cases anymore.

Mortals wouldn’t know what to do, because the types of mortals who knew how to fend off spirits, who knew the sigils and magic necessary for self-protection, those died off long ago.  Peacetime breeds lack of preparation; those traditions and that vigilance was lost to time.  A lack of consistent danger leads to laziness.

Spirit isn’t lazy.  There’s always danger.

The job is a bit lonely, though.  Spirit doesn’t interact with humans without a disguise, because monkey demons seem to cause more of a stir than others.  Spirit thinks Monkey King is the reason behind it, but then again, Monkey King has been missing for a while.  And everyone blames Monkey King for everything.  Demons and Gods alike hate him.  Spirit’s pretty sure the name Sun Wukong is banned from being said in the heavenly palace, even.

They duck behind a building and through a secret passageway a few miles out from the nearest city.

They do have a second job, after all.

Bull clones greet them, red eyes glancing over them before moving out of the way so Spirit can enter.  They pass through the very, very lavish halls of the building, down towards the basement.  

Or, well, down towards the workshop.

They can tell Red Son is up in a tizzy, because things get hotter and hotter the deeper they go in.  That usually means that Red Son is upset.  He’s been upset more often lately.

Spirit tries not to think about how it’s probably because Princess Iron Fan has become someone who no longer reminds them of their Mom; rather, she’s more like their other parent.

“Hi Red!” they greet, and Red Son really is in a mood, because he scowls at the nickname.

He’s hunched over his desk, hair wild.  It flickers, whipping around like actual flames rather than the controlled shapes Red Son prides himself in styling, and Red Son’s hands burn the metal tools he holds.  When he flips up his welding mask, there are bags under his eyes, his pupils burning with exhaustion.

Spirit winces at the sight.

“I am Red Son!  Address me as such!” he shouts.

Spirit flinches back a little.  Sometimes Red Son’s shouting is easy to handle and other times they want to curl into a ball until the storm passes.  This is more of the latter.

“Sorry,” Spirit mutters, and they mean it.  “I keep forgetting.  You used to be Red Boy, you know?  I get them mixed up, so saying Red makes sure I’m right no matter what!”

Red Son glances over at them and softens.  It’s a secret, but Red Son has always been a little soft.  Soft isn’t what a Princess Iron Fan needs, though, so Red Son has put his heart on the shelf, so to speak.  

It’s admirable.  Spirit knows that as a kid, you have to do a lot to keep your parents happy, or else you won’t be good enough anymore and you’ll have to go.  They hadn’t told Red Son that when they’d met, but they’re glad Red Son learned before anything too drastic happened.  Princess Iron Fan hadn’t seemed like that type of parent when Spirit had first met her, but ever since Demon Bull King was sealed away…

Spirit sees less of Princess Iron Fan every time they visit.  It’s likely for the best.

“You may call me Red in private.  Not in public.  Or around mother,” Red Son acquiesces.

Spirit smiles, warm.

“Thanks Red.” They reach into their pocket, pulling out a mechanical piece.  “And here!  That part you wanted!”

Red Son snatches it from their hands, and they jerk back at the violent motion, a shot of fear jolting up their spine.

“About time!” he snarls, but there’s no heat to it.  Spirit knows Red Son enough to know when the anger is more performative, though they’re still a little wary regardless.

“It took a bit to find, you know.  I was as fast with it as I could be, you know that,” Spirit assures.  They take their favors very seriously, after all.  If they fulfilled it in a less than perfect fashion, it might not count, and if it didn’t count then that would mean that they could get hurt.

“Yes,” Red Son mutters.  “Adequate work.”

“That brings you up to…” Spirit pulls out their nifty favor book, flipping through the pages until they spot Red Son’s name.  “Ten favors!” They tally it down.

Ten favors means Spirit can mess up ten times and not get hurt.  Ten favors means ten degrees of safety, ten layers of protection.  It’s another blanket of relief.

Red Son doesn’t deign that with a reply, setting the part onto the workbench and turning it around.  He measures it out.

“This is more than enough material,” he mutters, glancing over at Spirit questioningly.

Spirit rubs the back of their neck, sheepish.

“Yeah, I know you said a specific size, but finding flame resistant, rust resistance, magically reinforced metal in a specific size isn’t easy!  But, I got this lazer thing,” Spirit reaches into their pocket and pulls it out.  “It’s tuned to the specific enchantment so you can use it to cut the metal!  And you can keep the extra material!”  They hand it over to Red Son.

Red Son rolls the device around in his hand, before glancing up at Spirit, seemingly unimpressed.

“I thought it was nifty…” Spirit mutters.  They would have thought Red Son would like to have extra material.  He’s always got another invention on the backburner, so more stuff is better, right?  And they brought him a new laser cutter thing!  What’s wrong with that?

Then again, Red Son has been a bit more particular about perfection as of late, so that could be the issue.

Spirit chews on the inside of their cheek and tries to not take it personally.  Why bother, when fighting back will lead to nothing but regret and pain?  They’re not strong, and they know that.  If they were strong, they’d still have four eyes and a mom.  So it’s easier to let it slide off their back than make a fuss.

Even if it does hurt a little.  But that’s fine.

“I suppose it’ll do.” Red Son slides down his welding mask and starts cutting the metal down to size.

Spirit watches, rocking back and forth on their feet, because watching Red Son work is always fun.  They used to watch their mom work, whenever there was a patient, and she’d always ask them to grab this herb or that gauze.  From start to end, Spirit would see their mom fix up any health issue with practiced, simple movements.  Always graceful and soft.

In contrast Red Son is very animated, when he’s in the zone, with sharp, harsh motions and dangerous flames that have them stepping back a few times.  Still, Spirit has been getting a lot of parts for whatever it is Red Son is making, so it almost feels the same.  It’s a wonderful feeling, to be able to help in the creation of something, whether it be a healed patient or...

“What’s all this stuff for?” they ask, because now that they think about it, they were never told.

Red Son freezes, and Spirit takes that reaction as reason for why they weren’t told.  They take another step back, out of the immediate blast zone (last time they checked, Red Son’s explosive temper had a thirty foot radius, with the most dangerous flames being within ten feet of the explosion) and tries not to make a mistake that could cost them.  They have their favors, but those only got so far, and they only have ten!  They can’t lose them.

“If-if it’s okay to ask,” Spirit fumbles, fidgeting.  Their tail curls around their leg, an anxious habit.  “I was just curious on how you’re gonna use all this stuff I’ve been bringing.”

Red Son doesn’t turn, but his posture does loosen ever so slightly. “...Mother wouldn’t want me to tell you,” he does seem a bit apologetic at the refusal.

Spirit gets it.  Princess Iron Fan knows them.  Spirit doesn’t betray, but they’ll do anything for a favor.  And if someone wants information they already have, why wouldn’t they give it away?

“Can I know what you’re making?  You don’t have to tell me how you’re using it, I’m just curious.” They kind of like eavesdropping.  Sometimes, when they finish a job around mortals, they’ll lurk around to pick up the town gossip.  Mortals have a lot to talk about, since they don’t have mortal peril to contend with.

“It’s for a gauntlet,” Red Son admits.  “A glove so powerful that the wearing could lift anything with it!”  

His hair flickers wildly in excitement, voice rising in pitch and volume as he continues.

Spirit “oooo”’s in appreciation, clapping their hands.

“Sounds exciting!” They have a few guesses of what said gauntlet could be used for, but no one tells them to think for a favor, so they keep those thoughts to themself.  “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair.  That stuff burns!”

Red Son does not laugh at their joke.  To be fair, they’ve said it about a hundred times in the past thousand years.  Red Son does smile, for a moment, before turning back to his work.

“See you, Red!” They get a wave as they leave, which means they’ve improved Red’s mood a little.

If Red Son is in a good mood, he’ll actually say goodbye, but a wave is far better than when he just ignores their departure.  

They head up the stairs and then down the hall toward the way they came in, and nearly run into Princess Iron Fan in their haste to leave.  Their vision is a little lopsided, one side of their face having one eye and the other having two, so they can miss things if they aren’t paying attention.  It helps if they close one eye to even things out.

“S-Sorry ma’am!” They quickly bow, standing up straight a moment later.  

They usually try to hunch over when they’re around others, since their height can be seen as an intimidation tactic or even a sign of disrespect, for those with big egos, but Princess Iron Fan could never be intimidated by them and to insinuate such would be the real insult.  After all, Princess Iron Fan is the wife to the Demon Bull King.  Clearly, size means little to her.

“Spirit,” Princess Iron Fan’s voice is colder than it has ever been, and Spirit shivers.  “I see you have delivered your latest favor.”

“Yes ma’am.” Spirit nods with a small, what they hope is respectful, smile.  “Do you have any other favors you need me to do?”

The Demon Bull Family has been Spirit’s greatest...well, ally is a bit strong, but Spirit likes them a lot, out of those that typically call for favors.  While Princess Iron Fan has gotten less maternal over the years, she’s never outright mean to Spirit, and they take what they can get.

“No, we’re fine,” Princess Iron Fan waves a hand, before her gaze turns sharp.

Spirit feels their breath catch in their throat and they clasp their hands tight behind their back.  Their tail goes ramrod straight, the tip brushing the floor.

“I’ll ask you once more,” she starts.  “Align yourself with the Demon Bull Clan.  You will have our protection and will be at our disposal.”

Spirit bites back a sigh, because Princess Iron Fan has asked them a few times to join, and they do appreciate the offer, really, but it just is...too much.  Maybe they would have considered the offer more when Princess Iron Fan was nicer, but Spirit has seen the expectations she’s put on Red Son and they don’t have it in them to disappoint another parent.

They don’t know what she’d do, if Spirit failed her, but they know it would hurt.

“Sorry, ma’am, but I don’t align myself with clans.  I’m a free Spirit, so to speak,” they bite back a giggle at the pun.

Princess Iron Fan’s eyes flicker yellow and Spirit wonders if they’re going to have to run, but then she sighs.

“Very well then.  Stay out of town for the next few months.  For...your own safety.  If things go according to plan, then…” Spirit nearly jumps back at the feral smile that graces Princess Iron Fan’s face.  “Things are going to get messy around here.”

Spirit takes a shaky breath, and nods.

“Yes ma’am.  Farewell.” They bow, and then run off.

Jeez.  This is exactly why they keep away from all this stuff.  The Demon Bull Family is scary, and Spirit just wants to dole out favors in peace.

They don’t have any favors in mind on the backburner, and no one has called for them, so they head to the nearest town outside of the one Princess Iron Fan has told them to leave, and decide to clean up the local spirit activity there.

The next few months are relatively uneventful, if only because there’s no new favors for them to spend their time on.  Sometimes there are dry spells.  They once went two years without a favor, and boy, was that a boring couple of years!

It gets really lonely, some days.  They’ll play as a human for a while, intermingling with the mortals who have no clue what spirits haunt them.  

Spirits don’t have to be people, they just have to be things that were alive.  A dead relationship is just as haunting as a person.  Dead hopes, dead wishes, dead family ties, dead lives you’ve left behind—all weights that cling to auras.  

Spirit knows they have plenty themselves.  They’ve lost a lot. It sticks around.

Being around humans is hard nowadays, though.  They used to hang out around humans a lot.  Helping their Mom out in the Inn with patients acclimated them to seeing humans of all shapes and sizes, but then they had to run.  And they never stopped.

Staying around humans brings an itchy feeling that feels too much like grief.  They don’t like remembering how things used to be, because that only ever hurts.  So, when they get too entrenched in the past, they pull away, hide in the forests around the towns.

But they don’t fit in with the wild either.  Far too used to civilization, they can never find a place to stay.  So they wander.

No one can not notice the carnage that happens.  Spirit recognizes Demon Bull King’s aura from miles away, and as the surrounding areas evacuate, Spirit heads towards the danger to investigate.

Normally they’d run away, but whenever they were around Demon Bull King, he seemed nice.  Fluffy and kind and ever worried and furious about his son’s imprisonment, demanding Spirit send word to Red and come back with an update on the boy’s condition.  

Usually, Spirit wouldn’t try to go toe to toe with the Guanyin, but Princess Iron Fan was inconsolable and Demon Bull King had nearly begged.

So they snuck in to give Red Son, then Red Boy, a letter, and Red Son had them send one back.  It was an arrangement made simple, Spirit the messenger.  They wonder if the Guanyin knew the whole time and was just letting them sneak around, but regardless, they gained a rapport with the family.

And then Demon Bull King was sealed away, and Princess Iron Fan was despondent.  Nothing Spirit said could get her to stop crying, and when they’d relayed the news to Red Son he’d begged on his knees for them to sneak him out, so he could help his mother grieve and move on.

That favor was a hard one to decide on.  Again, risking the ire of the Guanyin was not something Spirit was interested in.  They knew what the Guanyin could do—she managed to reign in Sun Wukong and she could keep Red Son imprisoned.  What would she be able to do to them, a monkey with less than a quarter of the power she’d dealt with before?

But Red Son pleaded, and Spirit caved.

Their history with the family makes it hard to be worried about their safety around Demon Bull King returns, but that doesn’t stop Spirit from worrying about Demon Bull King himself.  Being imprisoned for so long is likely unpleasant, and who knows what happened to him underneath the mountain? How has it changed him? It’s not like something like that doesn’t hurt.

They could do without the violence, but Spirit doesn’t try to judge other people’s decisions.  If they were locked up for a while, unable to see their family, they might be upset too.

But Spirit doesn’t really get angry, on the regular.  Anger doesn’t do anyone good.  People getting angry at them has only been bad for Spirit, so the idea of them letting that same anger fester in them so that they hurt someone is ludicrous.  And what would their anger accomplish, anyway?

There’s enough pain in the world.  Spirit doesn’t feel like adding to it.

They sneak around the levelled town, watching Demon Bull King raze the ground, wondering if there are any mortals hurt.  Spirit catches a glimpse of a few spirits wisping around in the rubble, a moment later.  They’re of all ages, some even children, and the sight makes them wince.  None of this is right, mortals shouldn’t be getting hurt like this.  

What did they even do, to deserve the ire of the Demon Bull King?  Anything?  Or is this all meaningless rage, directed at someone weaker, someone who can’t fight back?

A hand, reaching down towards them, grasping them by the neck and pulling them up, up, up.  They kick their legs but their feet touch nothing, and the spoon comes in closer, and it digs, down, down, down—

Spirit takes a breath.  There’s no point in letting the past cling.

They would say something, maybe say hello and distract Demon Bull king from adding the to death toll, but that would just get them killed.  And Spirit has never been the one to step in and save someone. They’ve never been a hero, not when it counts.

Demon Bull King looks neither fluffy nor kind.  It seems that, just like with Princess Iron Fan, time has hardened whatever fluffiness he had.  It was as if the mountain had pressure cooked the lid on his temper, letting the anger boil over into the carnage below. And while the rage may have been….justifiable, almost, it still makes Spirit turn tail and run to the memory of stomping feet and angered roars that never were stopped by their mom’s pleads.

They duck away just as a newcomer arrives, weilding a very identifiable staff.  Spirit doesn’t catch who the newcomer is, exactly, but it has to be Monkey King, right?  Who else could wield the staff?

They scamper off to the sounds of a battle they don’t want to be in the middle of, passing by Red Son on the ground.  The sight makes them slow their escape, stopping to kneel besides him for a brief moment. He groans, hardly conscious, and they place a bottle of healing balm in one of his jacket pockets for later, before they finally make it out of the battle range.

They don’t see how the fight ends, but they know Demon Bull King certainly didn’t win.

Town reconstruction is pretty quick.  They haven’t caught up on all the different technological advancements mortals have managed in a thousand years, but last they checked this sort of damage would have taken years to fix, not just a month.

Mortals are pretty crafty in this day and age.  Spirit doesn’t exactly interact with all the new technology because it all seems to change so fast.  They interact with humans every once in a while, maybe a week at a time every few months, but they watch from the sidelines more often than not.  They’ve been called a wallflower before and it seems fitting.  They like watching the world pass by, and every time they think about joining the parade, the procession is moving too fast for them to feel safe jumping in.

It’s after a few days of scaling the rooftops of the newly rebuilt town, finding the lost spirits, and helping them fade into the underworld, that they get a summons.  Being the wanderer they are, most clans who know of them give them a token of sorts, one that they can use to notify Spirit when said clan is in need of their assistance.  They keep them on hand, hidden in their pocket.  

Sometimes they’ll jump around to hear the different tokens clack against each other.  It’s a fun sound.

They pull out their keychain of many, many tokens, and find the glowing one.

Ah.  The Demon Bull Family.  

Spirit considers ignoring it, but that would likely not end well, considering Demon Bull King’s newly-demonstrated-and-somehow-worse-than-before temper.  So, they sigh, and press the glowing red eyes of the bull token, letting the pull of the call teleport them to where they need to be.

They appear beneath the looming figure of the Demon Bull King, and they quickly bow, before looking up with an anxious smile.

“Hello, sir,” they greet with a tiny wave.  “It’s nice to see you again!  I was pretty sad when I heard you were sealed away, so it’s nice that you’re out.”

They bite their lip, hard, to stop themselves from saying anything else.

Princess Iron Fan is sitting on Demon Bull King’s shoulder, and Red Son is at Demon Bull King’s feet, looking...uncomfortable.  Spirit glances at him and smiles.  Red Son remains stoic, silent, and upset.

It makes them wonder, because they remember Demon Bull King being able to tell if Red Son was in a bad mood just by how he wrote in his letters, always sure to tell Spirit to bring an extra something or other if the latest letter had revealed Red Son’s dour mood.  How Demon Bull King can look at Red Son now and ignore the clear signs of sadness that are written in the red lines beneath Red Son’s eyes, the rage that comes from hurt that paints the tight set of Red Son’s shoulders, the frustration that reads in Red Son’s clenched fists, Spirit doesn’t understand. He sees it, right?

Maybe that’s just the eventuality of parents.  The good ones die, or they stop pretending.

Spirit was hoping that Red Son would look happier after his father returned, instead of scared.  They’d hoped things in the family would have gotten better, with Princess Iron Fan being happier and maybe kinder with her husband back at her side.  But, well….being under a mountain and spat back out into the world thousands of years after is probably quite the culture shock. 

Spirit worries.  Red Son only has two eyes.  Losing one won’t be as easy as it was for them, starting with four. If it comes to that, of course.

“Spirit,” Demon Bull King’s voice rumbles, far darker than it used to be. 

It always had a baritone timber, but now everything is said with an undercurrent of a growl, as if he’s angry before anyone has even done anything.

It reminds Spirit of their father way too much.  But that’s...fine.

“We have another favor to ask of you,” Princess Iron Fan continues for her husband.  “We want you to steal Monkey King’s staff.”

Spirit opens their mouth to say yes, of course, as they always do, but then the words sink in, and everything comes to a screeching halt.

“What?” Is what comes out of their mouth, incredulous and terrified.  “No-I can’t-how could I even lift it?  Isn’t it a million pounds?  I thought only Monkey King could wield it!” Their tail wraps so tightly around their leg that it hurts, as they tremble in place and refuse to look Princess Iron Fan nor Demon Bull King in the eye.

Red Son’s face shifts from neutral displeasure to panic, at Spirit’s refusal, before he steps forward.

“The gauntlet you brought materials for will fit you fine,” He holds it out, even as Spirit recoils.  “It gives the wearer the ability to lift Monkey King’s staff.”

Spirit scrambles to argue back, again, because they can’t do this, is everyone here crazy?  Sun Wukong isn’t someone they can sneak around, or talk around, or use a favor around.  He’s a being that has gone up against the Gods, fought them head on, and won.  The only person who could beat him was the Buddha himself, and the Buddha could only seal him away.  Spirit isn’t strong, they’re just crafty and careful, and neither of those things matter when going against the Monkey King.  Even if they managed to grab the staff, Monkey King would catch them before they took two steps away from him.

They’re so dead.  Their hands clutch at their face as they try to control their panicked breathing.  They blink a few times to focus and swing their arms out towards the Demon Bull family as everything bursts out of them.

“I-I can’t fight the Monkey King, though!  He beat you, the Demon Bull King!  I couldn’t even-how could I—” They’re rambling, half terrified they’re going to be killed for saying anything in dissent to the request, but far more paralyzed by the idea of fighting the Monkey King of all people.

Monkey King has not met them and owes them nothing, which is worse than if he hated them and owed them something.  They don’t know what he’d do to them, if they met, but they know that they like being alive.

And fighting Sun Wukong is a good way of making yourself not alive.

“The Monkey King has chosen a successor.  A mortal boy,” Princess Iron Fan explains.  “He’ll be far less skilled, and far easier to overpower.”

Spirit bites back the argument that if that were the case, Demon Bull King would have won when he returned.  Clearly, they’re being used as a pawn, and they don’t mind that usually, because it doesn’t always lead to them being put in the line of fire.  And hey, pawns are pretty useful, right?  They like being useful.  But—

“How old is he?” They have to ask.  It’s important.

“A mortal,” Princess Iron Fan says.  “He could be no older than Red Son, in mortal years.”

Red Son is younger than they are.  Red Son is a kid.

“No.” Their voice is sharp.

Red Son takes a step back, unused to the tone.  Even Princess Iron Fan goes still.  

Spirit doesn’t have a lot of lines in the sand.  They’ll do just about anything for just about anyone.  Just about, though, and they refuse to falter on this.

Ten years old and curled on the ground, clutching their face as their father roared, feeling the emptiness in their skull because he took it, he took it and it hurts—

“I don’t fight kids,” they say.  “I don’t.  The successor has to be a kid, right?  Smaller than Red Son, and Red Son isn’t all adult, right?”

“I am an adult!” Red Son shrieks in outrage, but Spirit has tripped too far into terror to stop talking.

“I’ve been told the mortal brain doesn’t develop until one is twenty five, and Red Son isn’t at that age, right?  Not with the way demons like us age, anyway.  So, I can’t!  I have a rule,” they shrug a little helplessly.

Oh god what are you doing you’re going to get killed shut up stop talking stop stop stop—

“And besides, you think I can beat someone who can go toe to toe with the Demon Bull Family?” they laugh, a little hysterical and shaky.  

Spirit glances up and regret it, because Demon Bull King’s face is dark with rage.  Red Son keeps staring at them like they’re already dead, and Princess Iron Fan’s eyes glow.  They feel very, very small here, shoulders hunched up as they manage something that could be described as a smile if you didn’t know what a smile was.

Useless, Useless.  If you keep messing up, maybe you’ll finally have a normal number of eyes, and wouldn’t that be funny?

“H-hey-I’m not a miracle worker!  But I can give you some information, anyway.  There are a lot of powerful artifacts you could use, I know where they are!” Spirit offers, voice shaking.

They fidget, staring up and waiting for the other shoe to drop.  On them, or in their favor, either way.  They can run anytime.  They wouldn’t get far, they know, but they have to try in that situation, don’t they?

Demon Bull King’s eyes glow, a snarl on his face that curls up his lip to reveal sharp teeth the size of Spirit’s arm.  Spirit trembles, and watches as Princess Iron Fan considers them, eyes glowing as well, before she pats a hand against Demon Bull King’s head and whispers something into his ear.

Spirit expects an axe a moment later, but instead—

“An acceptable proposal,” Princess Iron Fan says, finally.

Spirit manages to stay upright, so relieved they might just pass out.  They won’t be dying today, probably.  That’s good!  Cool.  Nice.  

They’re mad at you.  Can’t you feel it?  You have to run, before they can catch you.  Remember what happened last time?  You can’t expect this to turn out well.  Keep on guard.

They tug on their sleeves, shuffling their feet.  Cool.  

“So, to start, I would suggest the Jade Dragon blade,” they start, without prompting.  “It’s in the manor outside of town.  It’s an ancient blade passed down from the Dragon of the West Sea!  Very powerful.”

They continue to prattle on about any and all artifacts they can think of that would be useful, from the blade all the way up to the weird blue power source locked up in a tomb that no one touches for some reason.

Spirit had gone to check it out, once, but looking at it made their eye, the lonely one without its pair, hurt.  So they left it alone.

They talk for about an hour before they’re relieved, and they nearly trip over themselves in their haste to get out of there.  They run in one direction until their legs burn, and curl into a ball on the ground, trying to breathe.

They said no.  To Demon Bull King.  They can’t just do that, they don’t have that type of power!  That whole fiasco had to have shaved a favor or two of protection off of their tally.  They’ll have to edit that in their book, when their hands stop shaking enough to be able to write.

It’s fine.  It’s fine!  They handled it, like they always do.

They’re going to come after you and take your eyes.  They don’t even need a spoon.  Demon Bull King’s claw will work just fine, it’s large enough.  Or maybe they’ll use one of Red Son’s inventions, to make it more painful.

Spirit fights the urge to scream and buries their face in their knees.  Deep breaths.  

It takes them a few hours to calm down and they meticulously erase two tallies from Demon Bull King’s count.  There’s still five left, they still have room for error, it’s fine.  Sure, the sight makes their stomach churn and they hate to erase, but they have to.  It’s better to know where you stand than to pretend, no matter how scary the truth is.

Satisfied, they tuck the book away and lay back, staring up at the stars.

They should really check out the town, though.  The idea that Sun Wukong of all people has a successor is near ludicrous, but Princess Iron Fan probably wouldn’t lie to them.  Either way, checking it out is imperative, especially since such a newcomer means a possible new client!

If Monkey King has a successor, maybe Spirit can be of assistance, can offer a favor.  Just like with how a favor for Red puts them in the good graces with his parents, the same may be able to be said for Monkey King and his successor.  And if that’s the case, then they’ll stop at nothing to make it so.

Maybe, if they plan this right, Spirit can finally be safe from everyone.

They have to try, right?

[daydreamed-snippets]

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii your writing is lovely!! and I'm always happy to find other hero x villain (sort of) writers, snippets give me happy feelings. ANYWAY, can I have a part two of the antihero x vigilante? I would LOVE that

Sorry this took so long… I wanted to get some other pieces out before doing this one. And it just took me forever. Hope it was worth it. 

@itsaterriblelife for wanting more too. Enjoy!

Part 1 here

The vigilante tensed against the vivid facets of their imagination, at what they guessed would happen in the next few moments. They imagined that the anti-hero would start ripping their already tattered costume, tearing fistfuls of cloth away from their begrimed, blood-spattered body. Fueled by some masochistic desire to provide—what did they call it? Inspirational awakening?

Or, conceivably worse, their mind plunged in the other end of the pool. Imagining the anti-hero bending low, dragging rugged lips across their own. Letting their one free hand roam nomadically, seeking the softest plains of their frame until the anti-hero’s smell of faint chemicals and sandalwood soap fully and utter invaded their senses.

Or maybe it would be a combination of both. The vigilante didn’t know them that well. Only what they witnessed in passing, which was rage masquerading as wit. Intense battles played out like a gag reel, culminating in some deadly whimsy the anti-hero donned like a cape.

They could handle the pain. Any torture really. They’ve dealt with as much before. But this kind of humiliation would be beyond bearable. Knowing that they would just as easily succumb to a moment of passion than fight until the bitter end was a shocking and poignant revelation. 

The anti-hero moved.

The vigilante’s eyes pinched shut.

“Have you ever noticed how certain predators tend to play with their prey before going in for the kill?” The question was posed languidly. Heterochromia eyes watching intently as the vigilante’s own eyes popped open, brow furrowing with confusion. 

“The orca is a great example,” they continued, releasing the vigilante’s chin, brushing the back of their knuckles over the contours of their face. As if they yearned to trace every freckle, connect every speck, discover how many constellations hid amidst those sun-kissed spots. The fickle definitions of beauty be damned. 

“They hunt in packs. Painstakingly perfecting their skills, oftentimes forsaking all other prey just to stalk one particular quarry. Beaching themselves, they deploy tactics that lure their prey into a false sense of security.” The anti-hero bends further in, hovering over their ear, breath hot. “The prey takes the bait, and that’s when the fun begins.” They scrape their lips over the softest part of the vigilante’s ear, teeth tugging on it gently. 

Jolting, the vigilante jerks against them, trying to dislodge the heavier body pinning them down. They bring up their knees, frantic to kick them off. 

Patiently, the anti-hero rides out their tremors, waiting for this rebellious episode to pass. The little energy the vigilante had left, they spent it then, and the anti-hero could feel them pacify after moments of frenzied struggle; quivering beneath them, arms still shaking from the exertion. 

“S-stop it,” they mewled feebly.

In this prone position, the vigilante had finally been stripped of their many layers of protection; their courage, their pride, their ambition, their skills, and their strengths. Plans to overcome the warden, and that moment, to overcome the anti-hero, went skittering away. Counterattacks fell apart, nullified. Their many scrapes, cuts, lesions, and bruises quelled them. Fatigue weighed on them like chains tethered to an open grave. They’d lost; to the warden, to the anti-hero, to the city.

“Well, both know what happens next, don’t we?” the anti-hero went on, unaffected. “The prey gets thrown about, tossed like a rag doll. Powerless to stop the whales. Trying to swim away, but getting dragged back. They are impaled; their organs are punctured. Their skin ripped from their bones. And if the poor creature happens to be so lucky, they succumb to their wounds before being eaten. And the best part,” the anti-hero licked their lips, “is that sometimes the orcas don’t even eat what they kill. They just let the prey fall, sink into the darkest parts of the ocean. Because you see, orcas derive such pleasure out of the chase that the hunt becomes more about gratification than necessity.”

“Are you the orca in this analogy?” the vigilante swallowed, finding their voice unsteady. “Was this your plan all along? To toy with me until you are ready to consume me?”

“As much as I’d love to devour this exquisite body bit by bit, inch by inch,” they start, teeth flashing as they run their tongue over the pearly whites. “I’m not the orca in this little tale of woe.”

The vigilante’s realization peaks. “The warden.”

The other smiles slowly, exposing those dimples again. “There it is.”

“So, I’m a poor little seal slowly sinking to the bottom of the ocean? To be picked off by other, lesser predators like you?” They swung their legs up again, an ineffectual attempt. 

“If that’s the position you want to be in then I have no qualms with keeping you here, leashed to me, little seal,” they jest, with a charming smile. But their eyes remained concentrated, a nefarious sort of gleam twinkled in the irises. “But I’m giving you a choice here. You can, as you said, drift to the bottom of the ocean to be picked off by predators. Or you can metamorphose into a new kind of defender.”

A new kind of defender?

“A-and what? You want to be my catalyst?” they snorted. “You kidnapped me, tied me to your bed, are currently assaulting me, and…” The vigilante’s gaze lingered on their lips, before springing away as if the very thing burned them. Vehemently denying the slight flutter of their stomach. They shift again but did so differently; moving their hips, arching their back, taking in a sharp breath. Trying to alleviate their discomfort. 

The anti-hero watched with barely abated hunger. “And what?”

“You…you’re on me,” they stammered, unable to look them in the eye.

“My apologies, dear, do you need a safe word?”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I did ask for your name.”

“No, not like that. You don’t know me.”

The anti-hero let out a tapered sigh, the rush of air whistling faintly between their lips. They noted the fresh sheen of sweat coiling in the vigilante’s hair, the light red splotches oozing through circular bandages wrapped around their collarbone they thought they’d correctly addressed. All that work while the vigilante was out cold was coming undone.

Not to mention the adrenaline that arrested the vigilante, flowing like a drug through their veins, was wearing off quickly. The anti-hero could see it, their eyes were half-lidded, their limbs were shaking, their breathing labored. The vigilante was fighting just to stay there, to stay conscious. The anti-hero needed to let their straining muscles relax, before their coy civil rights warrior passed out.

Making a grand show of it, the anti-hero released them, both hands hovering by their face in a display of truce. They swung their leg over and sat next to them on the bed, observant of how the vigilante tucked their hands on their lap, keen eyes skeptically surveying them. They tried to sit up, but the anti-hero held out a non-threatening hand, and they sunk down obediently.

“The media calls you the Maverick Vigilante, yes?” they said, a band at their wrist blinked a glaring light in time with the monitor on their nightstand, illuminating the room in sporadic light. They had twenty minutes tops before their place was compromised. They needed to make this quick.

“You became a bane of the state three years ago wearing just a sweatshirt and a ski mask. Since then, you’ve gained notoriety, made some improvements to your costume. You’re named appropriately, all right, since you have no sidekick, no allies, and no powers apart from your ravishing physique.”

The vigilante rolled their eyes, going back to whittling at their lip. Enticingly so. Showing lurking fragility underneath their rough surface. It was tempting to chasten such a habit. Absentmindedly, the anti-hero progressed.

“There is no one you trust. No one can get near you. You’ve dedicated yourself to ‘fighting injustice’ and ‘protecting citizens’ alone.,” they mimicked sardonically. “It would be noble if the people of this city actually cared about you. I wonder why you bother at all.”

“Someone needs to stand up to them.”

“Felicitations, you have. In doing so you’ve managed to piss off the warden. Which is where my interest was piqued.”

“So, you’ve done your research,” they spat, “Regardless, if I agree to anything you offer, it would be under duress.”

“I’ve treated you well. I’m only restraining you to prove a point.”

“You’re threatening to hold me against my will if I don’t choose the path you want me to take.”

Point taken, though it was little consequence to them. Sure, they had done a little bit of prodding, of tough love, of roughly guiding to an avenue that wouldn’t get the vigilante killed. Of course, the twit didn’t see it that way, gnawing incessantly on their lower lip, continuing to drag the anti-hero’s attention to them.

The anti-hero glanced at their wrist again. Fifteen minutes. They’d have to address that issue later. For now, they will address what they can.

“Keep biting your lip,” they challenged, drifting over to run rough fingers through their tangled tress. “I promise I’ll find a better use for it.”

The vigilante dropped their lower lip immediately, a pretty fire scorching their cheeks.

With a chuckle the anti-hero slipped off the bed, moving about the room gathering necessities. They slung their get-the-hell-out-of-dodge bag onto their back, fitting a weapon to their hip, and, on second thought after glancing at their captive, they unfurled a blanket from the top shelf. They check the motion cameras tied to the monitor on their nightstand. The warden’s soldiers were getting close. Out of the corner of their eye, the vigilante made another attempt to rise. They discouraged it by a shake of their head, motioning offhandedly for them to stay still. 

“What is it?”

“Orcas, little seal.” They took steps towards the bed, untying the rope they’d fixed to a bedpost. They tucked the blanket earlier fetched around their shoulders before they shimmied an arm behind their back, the other under their knees. The vigilante winced, whimpering slightly, their pain tolerance hit its extent as the anti-hero lifted them with ease. 

“Best we run,” they said, fitting their head beneath their chin. “Or at least I run, and you just hold on.”

They down headed the stairs and out the door. The anti-hero would miss their piano.