#tw: questionable consent

[3-2-whump]

The Scent of Jasmine

<prev next>

Who's in the mood for some carewhumping after the emotional rollercoaster of almost dying? I know I am!

Thank you @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for being awesome beta readers

TW/CW: aftermath of mock execution, trauma aftermath, extremely dubious consent, nonverbal whumpee, whumper turned carewhumper, dubiously consensual nudity, death threats, chastity devices (yes, it’s back), forced domesticity, food whump (sort of) (tagging it anyway to cover my bases), intimate whumper

The boss noticed Khaled’s grateful enthusiasm slowly fade into a catatonic silence on the drive home. He didn’t think much of it, though. Poor boy is just shocked is all, he told himself, we can work on that. He parked, got out of the car and led Khaled out of the garage and to the elevator.

His first order of business was to strip Khaled when they got home. The poor thing was soaked in melted snow and cooled piss. He was barely responsive as Thomas pulled him into the laundry room and slowly peeled each layer of clothing off his shivering body. “You need a bath, Khaled.”

Khaled didn’t reply, instead opting to stare at his bare feet with empty, starless eyes. I can’t blame him for being quiet. Anyone would be a little messed up after a mock execution, he figured. He sighed, gently taking the slave’s hand in his and leading him to the master bathroom.

Once inside, Thomas deposited him at the entrance and turned on the lights and the fan. Khaled stood silently watching him by the door as he knelt by the large, deep bath tub. “Come on in,” he beckoned. Khaled inched closer to the bath tub as Thomas poured a generous glug of bubble bath solution into the marble expanse and cranked the water full-blast, making micro-adjustments to make sure the temperature wasn’t too hot. As a finishing touch, he uncapped a tiny bottle of jasmine oil and dripped a few drops into the tub. The floral scent rose on the plumes of steam coming from the frothing tub.

Once the tub was full enough, Thomas turned off the tap and pulled Khaled closer to the tub. He effortlessly scooped the young man’s cold body into his arms, settling him on the edge of the bath tub before gently lowering him in. “I’m going to help you wash your hair and body. Nod if you understand me.”

Khaled faintly nodded, eyes fully closing as he slumped into the soapy water. “Good boy.” Nothing but a small, contented sounding whimper answered him. At least he’s becoming verbal again.

Thomas methodically washed the young man’s body and hair, being mindful of not getting any soap in his eyes as he massaged his scalp with the shampoo. He noticed the newly forming chafe marks on Khaled’s wrists as he scrubbed his body. All the while he whispered sweet nothings into his ear, like “good boy, you’re being so good right now, we’re almost done, I gotta rinse you off and drain the tub next.”

The awareness in Khaled’s eyes was flickering back on once Thomas helped him out of the bath tub and began towel-drying him. “Back with me, beautiful?” he teased.

“Mmm.” Inky dark eyes glittered up at him from dark lashes and damp strands of black hair as Thomas wrapped a soft fluffy towel around his shoulders.

“Yeah, good. Very good.” He procured something small and metallic from behind his back.

Khaled instinctively backed away as soon as he saw what it was. “Khaled,” he warned. It was all he needed to say for the boy to stay rooted on the spot. “I haven’t forgotten about you running around and getting an STD,” he explained as he wrapped the cock cage around Khaled’s privates. “And I’m still mad about it. But maybe I will let you out once we’re both all better.” He padlocked it in place and held the small caged appendage in his hand. “Or once I put that dumpster lover of yours under, like the horndog he is. Whichever comes sooner.” He marveled at how it was but a microcosm of Khaled’s greater captivity. As he craned his gaze upwards, he saw Khaled pout. “Oh, don’t give me that look –I’m doing this for your own good!” The boy smoothed his frown back into a neutral expression of apathy as he hid his eyes behind his lashes.

“That’s more like it. Now, can you change into your pajamas and wait in the living room until Master is done in here?” He measured out his words slowly and carefully, explaining it as if Khaled was a child again. Another quiet hum answered him. “Good boy. When I’m done, we can eat, and then we’ll watch whatever you’d like.” He gestured him out with a small wave of the hand, then hopped into the shower for a quick rinse off himself.

When he got out of the shower, towel-dried himself, and changed into a fresh pair of flannel pants and a wife-beater tank top, Thomas made his way to the living room, where Khaled sat on the floor, at the foot of the couch, gazing down at the carpet with desolate eyes. He was still wrapped in the bath towel. Seeing him there brought back memories of when Khaled was younger, when he would lean against his shins and let him brush his thick black hair. The memory brought back fond feelings in Thomas’ chest. He turned around and went back to the bathroom for a hairbrush.

Once he was done brushing his slave’s hair, they ended up sitting opposite each other at the dining room table, each with a plate of reheated takeout from a new Indian restaurant Tom had wanted to try. While the boss himself ravenously devoured the bhuna ghost, Khaled kept tearing the same corner of buttered naan between his fingers while staring apathetically at the murgh cholay.

“Are you sure you don’t want any more food?” he asked again. “You hardly touched your portion.”

The boy merely shook his head.

“Come on, at least two more bites, Khaled,” he coaxed. “Give me at least two more bites before I put it away.”

Khaled cast him an empty, weary stare, not breaking eye contact as he tore off the weathered chunk of bread, dipped it into the curry, and ate exactly two more bites.

They ended up cuddling onto the couch together after dinner, a rarity in their household. Thomas man-spread on the couch and rested his arms outstretched along the back. Khaled, still wearing nothing but a damp bath towel around his shoulders, leaned against his side with his head resting on his chest. His hands curled around a steaming mug of chai, which he occasionally sipped as they watched a rerun of the AFC World Cup. Khaled didn’t cheer, or groan, or offer any commentary of any kind throughout the whole match. It was unusual for Khaled to remain this quiet and glum during a game. Thomas gently took the mug from his hands and set it on the table. “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet this evening? Is it –oh, is it because of that little scare off the side of the road?” he guessed. Khaled pushed his weight up against him, just short of burrowing into the man’s side.

“I guess I scared you pretty badly, didn’t I? Look, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I know now it wasn’t you, but I had to be sure. I promise I will never fake you out like that again.”

The young man remained silent as he leaned against his chest.

“If anything, you should be blaming that boyfriend of yours,” he continued. “I bet he never would’ve attempted that hit if he knew what I was about to do to you tonight. But, what’s done is done, and now you’ll never see him again.”

Khaled did not respond.

It took about an hour more of mind-numbing soccer footage for him to realize the boy had fallen asleep on him.

Oh. He softly smiled as he turned off the TV. He carefully got up and lowered Khaled onto the couch, disentangling the towel from his unconscious, nude form. He propped a throw pillow behind his head, then unfurled a fleece blanket and draped it over him, making sure his feet were covered and he was properly tucked in for the night. “Goodnight, Khaled,” he whispered, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the side of the boy’s parted lips. “I… love you...”

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

[samgirlie-gn]

Imagining a dark Dean Winchester that touches his little brother because Sam is a part of himself, so it's basically masturbation right? Teen Dean experiments with his brother's body the same way he experiments with his own. Little Sam has such fascinating reactions and Dean hardly pauses to consider whether it's wrong. What's the need for consent - Sam is his, Sam is him, and how can someone not consent to their own self? And Sam is such a good boy that doesn't question what his big brother wants to do. "It feels weird, De" turns into "It feels good" - Dean sure is lucky his little brother is curious too. And it sure helps that little Sammy idolizes him the way he does, bends to his will so eagerly.

[skepticalpigeon]

I've just had surgery, and I have to say, consent is literally the difference between torturous abuse and horrifying violation, and a good and positive thing.

Being forced into unnecessary surgery? Mutilation. Getting a surgery that you want to improve your quality of life? Great!

Being forced into have an organ harvested? Human rights violation. Giving an organ willingly? A generous and selfless act!

Being raped? Nightmarish. Having sex because you want to? Fun and intimate!

Being forced to carry a pregnancy you don't want? Actual body horror shit. Carrying a pregnancy because you're excited to have a baby? Great!

The exact same physical process can be either traumatic or amazing depending solely on whether or not the person in question gave full consent.

[thesmokinpossum]

last post i'll make about this because thinking too much about this case is legit bad for my mental health but anyway, while I think that the article I reblogged is an important read, I also think it's genuinely insane that the author chose to interrupt her description of a brutal rape to be all "now of course if this had happened in the context of actual BDSM it would have been completely ok UwU" like what????? Imagine describing someone being violently jumped on the street and feeling the need to start by reminding your readers that if it had been two professional boxers on a ring it would have been just fine, like what the fuck was the reason for that??

[thecyancat]

Vicious Circumstance, The Fifth

Here in the parking lot of

A convenience store at past 2 am I try in vain to combat the vile taste

Left in my mouth by a stranger I would rather have never met

Late at night in the cold the solitude kicks in as I

Only wanted someone to comfort me and share some

Warmth

Even though a kiss had been stolen that I had not desired to give

Even though it was like a repellent force was surrounding him

Nevertheless, I just wanted to feel wanted for once

[toushindai]

Hello it's me again~ I was thinking of one of your stories, in which Ganondorf tempted Rauru with the imagery of having him imprisoned and thus being able to do whatever he wanted with him. Ganondorf found his way out of his cell the first time he was imprisoned and put himself at Rauru's mercy in hopes of snatching the Secret Stone, which Rauru used as his justification for having his way with him, but what about if he had been able to contain Ganondorf and actually keep him imprisoned until he could have him put on trial? Would he take advantage of someone who is a prisoner without doubt, in the way Ganondorf painted that image for him? Does Rauru draw the red line between "I am keeping you here as a guest in this castle but I'm not letting you leave" and "you are my actual prisoner in an actual cell who very obviously does not have the free will to reject me as the king" when it comes to his justification of being involved with Ganondorf ? Does he just think that the laws he set for Hyrule don't apply to Ganondorf, prisoner or not, because he is evil and a warmonger and thus sees himself as free to do with him as he sees fit? Basically my question is that would he/did he ever entertain that fantasy once he actually put Ganondorf in a cell and how would he justify himself if he did.

Gonna stick this entire answer under the cut because wow this is going to be All About Noncon. If anyone who needs to Not See That hasn't done so already, it really might be best to just block the "and we were both kings 😳" tag, though I'll continue to tag for noncon when particularly appropriate.

So, I'm going to answer this in a few different permutations but I think--we'll see if this holds out as I keep typing--that all of them boil down to variations on no, that's not something Rauru would have acted on.

Especially not between the final sex scene of UAWTATR and its final scene/Ganondorf's escape; at that point, there are several glaring reasons why Rauru's not inclined that way. The fact that Ganondorf's just tried to kill him; the post-nut clarity horrible realization that what he's just done is past what he can justify to himself; the political considerations he is absorbed in. These are significant factors but also part of it is just that... the game is over. They're no longer pretending that it's anything other than pure animosity between them. (I mean, it is something other than pure animosity between them, by this point--at the very least there's a whole lot of desire there--but, for Ganondorf to have acted on his true intention puts an end to the need to relieve the tension between hating each other's guts and performing civility in public.) I think that at the end of the fic, something's cooled off significantly for Rauru because he's got this inarguable physical and legal control over Ganondorf. And because he's got a lot on his mind. Look, he's got a puppet chieftain to install and she doesn't even want to be his friend anymore. Bummer.

But let's say that Ganondorf doesn't hack out of his cell and into Rauru's chamber and instead stays docilely in his cell until he's ready to break out for good and cause havoc. (Well tbh that's what he thought he was doing in chapter three, but let's say he waited a few days for some reason.) Does Rauru arrange any trysts in this situation, in the meantime? Even then, I'm not sure does. Ganondorf's impression of Rauru's desire is a little off from accurate; the fantasy he describes in "Sheath" is

“Would you come to me in my cell or have me brought up to you like a concubine? [...]The cell, probably,” Ganondorf continues, spinning the image out for Rauru in spite of the way it makes his own skin crawl. “You’d want me chained to the wall, wouldn’t you, so you could use your magic on my shackles to put my limbs wherever you want them…”

and while that's close enough to accurate to give Rauru a +2 Horny/-2 Intelligent debuff, it's not the exact shape of what Rauru would prefer. It's got a little too much of Ganondorf's preferences in it, truthfully: too much physical force (magic counts) used to make it impossible to fight back. If anything, the concubine image is actually the more appealing to Rauru I'd say. But still not quite. Rauru is much more into the coercion. He's into putting Ganondorf into situations where he has to submit to Rauru because the fiction is that he's here to submit to Rauru--and because Rauru has caused him to behave in such a way, the fiction is temporarily made reality. So once this fiction is ended--once the public story is that Ganondorf has done something worth imprisoning him for--it's not quite scratching the same itch. Yes, Rauru has often thought of Ganondorf in chains, as he admits in that fic, but I don't think that's actually a sexual image for Rauru. That's a god my life would be so much easier if image. He has a lot of those.

Whether Ganondorf does not fall under standards for just treatment because of how evil he is is something I write Rauru struggling with a lot. His instinct is that Ganondorf is not protected by such standards. His instinct is that to subscribe to such standards in Ganondorf's case is to put himself and Hyrule at a disadvantage and probably in danger. But I think he's uncomfortable with that instinct as well, disturbed that he feels that way. He doesn't want to be that sort of king. It's never, for him, quite as simple as "he's evil therefore I can assault him with impunity"--I think not even in that moment in chapter three when Ganondorf is pushing really hard for him to admit just that. Even then, it's if I really do have this ugliness in me, I should vent it here instead of anywhere less deserving. And then he feels a deep horror at himself after (in the few seconds he gets for it before Ganondorf tries to strangle him). But it's still true that he did it. It's still true that he has this deeply potent fantasy of having the soft power to force Ganondorf into (sexual) compliance, and that he carried out that fantasy.

This answer is really jumbled, I'm sorry. tl;dr: for Rauru, it's all about "I'm not going to give you any choice to make but this one, but you still have to perform the act of choosing." And once he actually has Ganondorf literally captive, I think that flavor changes significantly enough that he wouldn't pursue it.

[grislyintentions]

Do you think there’s any possible way to bind an adepus to a human? Or like a special object or magic to make an adeptus do your bidding? An interesting concept no? If I could force Xiao to do anything it would be for him to rest lol

(also I hope you’re getting plenty of rest<3 always put your health first)

Prior to Xiao's liberation by Zhongli, he spent countless years being enslaved/in servitude towards a cruel god [loosely termed "Goddess of Dreams"] so if that is possible then I believe yes there may be a way to do so but I personally think that would be cruel to re-traumatise him by taking away his autonomy and freedom. Even if someone forcibly took over with his own good in mind, that can result in more harm. Someone like Zhongli could arguably make the other adepti listen to his commands - but note that he has never once forced them into such a position. They listen because they respect his leadership and all that he has done but just as likely they can choose not to.

[And thank you! I definitely will ^^ <3 you take care of yourself too!]

[namjinreads]

READ ON AO3

[skrunksthatwunk]

playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there

[umamaki]

tw: NSFW, explicit smut, consensual violence, color system for consent, choking, breath play, hair pulling, dacryphilia, spanking, rough sex, markings (bruises, hickies, biting), bdsm i think, things of that nature

Rafayel doesn’t really hide the fact that he is a violent man. He doesn’t hide it when he sees your cute face and can’t help but feel the most intense cuteness aggression towards you. 

Greets you at his house and immediately has his head in his hands and jaw clenched tight, completely overwhelmed with the surge of emotions. He’s used to acting on his impulses, this is no different. 

The way he kisses you is telling enough. Once he feels your lips on his, a switch flips in his mind and he suddenly can’t get enough of you. Keeping you in place with his large hand holding the back of your head, kissing you with enough pressure that your teeth clash together and you reflexively walk backwards. Devours your lips to where you can’t recover fast enough to reciprocate his kisses.

Loves the way you look now, laying below him, face framed by his two hands leaving a bruising grip on your neck. Thinks it’s even cuter to see you struggle to take in breaths while he fucks the stamina out of you, letting you get a little dizzy before releasing you and fucking you impossibly harder as you try to regain your breath.

Otherwise, his hands are typically squeezing your ass, hips, tits, thighs. Gives him so much satisfaction to see your pretty body covered in darkening marks in the shape of his hands. 

Fucks you rough while the sweetest praises are coming out of his mouth. 

“You’re so cute, baby. You know that?” He coos while ramming his dick into your sopping cunt from behind. Watches your arched form below him, body jerking with each thrust and spank he gives you. Pulls you by your hair so you can turn your head just enough to lock eyes with him as you cum.

Thinks you’re even cuter with tears streaming down your face, makeup all messed up and a whimpering mess because of him. “Awh cutie, don’t cry. I know what’ll make you feel better,” he’ll say with faux comfort, only plunging his cock into you further.

Rafayel’s an artist, but he can’t decide if he likes the process or result of marking you up more. So shameless in how satisfied it makes him, seeing you covered up in developing bruises and bite marks. He’s a perfectionist, makes it all symmetrical. 

“Patience, baby, I haven’t even gotten to your left side yet,” even you’re pawing at his chest from the overstimulation.

He wants you to tell him to stop, tell him to control himself. The problem is, you’re enjoying this just as much as he is. 

“What color.” It’s less of a question and more of a demand, strained through his gritted teeth. Green, you’ll say, and he’ll grasp your chin so you’re looking at him. Makes you say it again, just to make sure his arousal and preoccupation isn’t clouding his hearing. It isn’t. Your color is still green. He gains confidence with the confirmation, makes it his mission that you’ll wake up sore the next morning. 

[hxney-lemcn]

First Kiss — Housewardens x gn! reader

summary: your first kiss with your lover.

tw: none.

a/n: teehee. Its hard for me to pick what character I wanna daydream about. Also, can you tell who my fav is? *cough* Vil *cough*

wc: 2.1k (~250 each character)

Master List | Vicehousewardens | The Others

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

The warm sun gently warmed you both. A refreshing breeze softly caressed you, Riddle’s red hair swaying gently as he took a sip of his tea. You felt more than content as Riddle’s gray-blue eyes watched you intently as you rambled about whatever carried your fancy. It was a side of Riddle that few others saw, and you were grateful that he allowed you to, that he was willing to listen to whatever nonsense you spouted. The warmth in your heart burst as he nodded, giving his two cents about the book you spoke of. By the sevens did you want to just give him a little peck. You two were dating, so there was no harm in asking…right? Although the two of you had been dating for a bit, the question had caused him to fluster greatly. Cheeks a bright red, mouth gaping, chest heaving. You should’ve expected such a reaction, it took quite a bit for him to hold your hand without shutting down. To your surprise, he gave you his consent. Leaning over, you couldn’t help but find him absolutely adorable. Eyes closed expectantly, lips pursed, cheeks red. You closed the gap, leaving a chaste kiss against his lips before pulling away. When you pulled away he seemed to look both in awe and slight disappointment. 

“As my partner, you are allowed to show me your affection in such ways, I only ask you to keep it between us. Other’s do not need to witness such acts.”

❥ Leona Kingscholar

You were bored. Your phone could no longer hold your attention and you just wanted to do something different. Too bad you had a whole ass lion using you as his personal body pillow. You stared at the familiar ceiling of his room, contemplating on a possible way to sneak out. You loved Leona, really, you did…but your limbs were sore and you felt antsy. So, what better than poking the bear, err…lion. You found yourself brushing his hair with your hands, scratching his scalp every so often. When that no longer kept you entertained, you lightly scratched at the base of his ears. His ear twitched, but you continued with your ministrations, a smirk pulling at your lips as a deep rumble was pulled out of him. You only paused when one of his eyes glared at you. When you mentioned you were merely bored and your legs felt like needles were constantly pricking them he only rolled his eyes. Quicker than you could comprehend, he pinned you down below him with a slight huff. His green eyes stared at you for a few moments, as if he was seeking permission, and when you didn’t push him away or fight him, he leaned down, connecting your lips in a harsh kiss. He didn’t stop until you were breathless, a smug smirk filling his features.

“Is this what you wanted, herbivore? If you want to ruin my sleep then you’ll have to compensate me.”

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

You felt like you were going crazy. Azul would take you out on fancy dates, offering you discounts (is it really a discount if you were basically eating for free?) at the Mostro Lounge, and shower you in light forms of affection (kissing the back of your hand, guiding you with a hand on your back, gentlemanly shit), yet you haven’t kissed him? Preposterous! It was proving to be a difficult task, as even though you both had been dating for a while, Azul would shy away at any form of affection you showered him with. The good news was that he had become more receptive to it, the key was you both had to be completely alone and it could only be small gestures. A small squeeze of his hand, brushing back a stray hair, hell even giving him a compliment no longer caused him to run away. Sadly, you started to feel greedy, his pink lips always seemed to taunt you, an open invitation to lean over and place your own over his. But you didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, you understood how kissing could be a big deal. There was one night, the dim lights highlighting Azul’s beautiful face as he watched you expectantly. He had you taste a new dish that he wanted to add to his menu and it just so happened to be your favorite food. As thanks, you asked him to come closer, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He did so hesitatingly, and felt himself burn up when you placed a kiss on his cheek. Then he felt like he was going to pass out as you pouted stating that you ‘missed’. Against his better judgment, he gave into your pleading, enchanting eyes, leaning in closer as you silently asked for permission. When your lips met his, he thought he was ascending to heaven.

“A-ahem, I-I’m glad to see that the d-dish was to your l-liking. I-if there’s anything else I could provide, p-please do not be afraid to ask.”

❥ Kalim Al-Asim

It's a wonder you two haven’t kissed yet. You felt so spoiled with how much care and affection Kalim showered you with. He never failed to warm you heart whether it be from his hugs, his solutions if anything ever concerned you, or even just his smile. He was a beaming ray of sunshine, and it kind of intimidated you. Contrary to popular belief, you felt shy under Kalim’s love. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to the way your heart skipped a beat as he kissed your cheek or refused to let you go. Oh and not to mention the spoiling. You knew you'd never stop the prince from lavishing you with golden jewelry and gems you didn’t even want to guess how much they were worth. Honestly, it wasn’t good for your poor heart…or consciousness. So when Kalim noticed your slightly downtrodden expression at the new ring he slipped on your finger he worried. Was it not to your liking? Was the color wrong? Don’t worry! He’ll find you ten more rings that you’ll love! …why did you look even more scared at that suggestion? You deserved all this and more! Poor Kalim, he doesn’t know a world without it being at his fingertips, he can’t understand your concern. Your heart hurt at his frown, his sad eyes reminded you of a poor puppy that was kicked. With a sigh you relented, it did compliment you nicely. And so, hoping to right the wrong of making Kalim feel sad, you leaned over and gently pecked his lips. It was like nothing had occurred at all as he stared with sparkles in his eyes.

“Could we do that again? How about another? Just one more, pleeeeease~ Haha! I’m sorry, I just love you so much!”

❥ Vil Schoenheit

It wasn’t fair how pretty and charming your boyfriend was. You wouldn’t tell him this, but he could run you over and blame you for being in the way and you’d apologize. Yeah, you were a major simp, but you really tried to be normal about it. Honestly, you weren’t sure how you managed to bag him, something about how your stupidity was frustratingly charming…in which you showed him your B in potions but he simply rolled his eyes. Aparatenly that proved his point somehow. Anyways! It was one of those rare moments of peace, the two of you watching a movie that Vil had deemed a classic. As much as you tried to pay attention (you know how annoying it is when someone scrolls on their phone during a movie you love), you kept glancing at Vil to see his reactions. You weren’t being sneaky by any means, and he wasn’t sure if he should be happy you couldn’t take your eyes off of him or annoyed that you clearly missed the symbolism that was important to understanding the plot. Yet when you pointed out something even he missed…he was secretly proud. Perhaps you were a better multitasker than you seemed because he had watched that movie plenty of times and missed such a simple thing you pointed out on first view. His heart warmed as you pointed out more details that you liked, and others you didn’t completely understand, such a simple moment, yet one he would cherish. And now he was becoming the bad one, eyes straying to your lips while trying to listen to your rambling. He truly wanted your first kiss to be romantic, in a garden with fairy lights or over a fancy dinner, but perhaps this was just as, if not more so romantic. Gently lifting your head up, your words died on your tongue as Vil’s purple eyes stared at you so lovingly. As he inched his face closer to yours, he softly asked if he could kiss you, nearly sending your heart into cardiac arrest. As his soft lips met yours, you felt true bliss for the first time, and as he pulled away with a self assured smirk, cheeks a light pink, you questioned how you managed to achieve a dream like scenario. 

“It seems like you’re becoming a bad influence, dear. You want another? Perhaps I can oblige if you can actually focus on the next movie.” 

❥ Idia Shroud

Where do I begin? You had been with Idia for nearly a year. You both were on the shy side, getting used to such intimate touches slowly. You can successfully say that you can now hug Idia without him freaking out. In fact, he seemed to seek out your affection, albeit in a backwards way. He’d act like he hated any form of affection and then proceed to stare daggers at you like he was trying to telepathically ask you to play with his hair. True cat behavior. You showed him the joy of affection and now you had to pay the crime (you did so happily). Idia was laying on your chest playing on his handheld console, you were mindlessly playing with his hair and your eyes kept drifting from your phone to your boyfriend. He was so pretty, you never understood how he thought otherwise. From his fiery blue hair, his yellow determined eyes, to his blue tinted lips. He may be a loser otaku, but that just happened to be your type. Your hand trailed from his bright hair to his pale face, gently caressing his cheeks. He looked over at you, his cheeks turning a light pink, no matter how much love you showered him with he would never get used to the way you made his heart want to rip itself out of his chest. And…oh sevens, were you staring at his lips? Just what was going on in that mind of yours? Did…did you just ask to kiss him?! Hair burning pink and hiding his face in your neck, he felt like his brain was melting. He’s dreamt of kissing you, how soft your lips may be, the flavor of your chapstick…but actually doing it?! Was your intimacy meter high enough? His charm stats are rock bottom, would he even kiss you right? Wait! H-he didn’t say no! Please kiss him… Oh, that’s a lot better than when he practiced kissing his body pillow. Great, you’ve got him hooked all over again.

“C-could we do that…again…I-I n-need to grind to get my charm s-stats up.”

❥ Malleus Draconia

For Vil you were the simp, well now the turns have tabled. Malleus is straight up courting you, letting you progress the relationship as you’d like. You’re only comfortable with holding hands? That’s alright, he is more than happy to oblige your requests. You enjoy being hugged? Be prepared for dragon hugs, you can’t escape. He would never push you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. Honestly, he was expecting your first kiss to be at the altar of your wedding…yeah he’s a bit of a traditionalist. So don’t expect him to make the first move, he’s content with any and all affection you're willing to give. And poor you, you constantly found yourself with cute aggression when you’re with your boyfriend. He was just so cute! You wanted to squish his cheeks and squeeze him as tightly as possible (he wouldn’t mind, it's not like you could hurt him). You found yourself once again with a wave of cute aggression as Malleus pouted at the phone he currently held. You were teaching him how to use it and it was a bit harder than you realized. I mean even your mom got the concepts quicker than him…but you suppose your mom wasn’t a century year old fae. The feeling became so strong you couldn’t stop yourself from smushing his cheeks, causing his bright green eyes to stare at you in surprise that quickly turned into fondness. Letting your instincts fully take over, you brought his face closer, pressing your lips together. You had tried to pull away, but Malleus followed you, taking over and kissing you possessively. He wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.

“I apologize, child of man. I can’t seem to hold myself back when it comes to you.”

[yanderenightmare]

does bakugos protectiveness mean he won’t get intimate with reader? like does he see them more as like …. a fragile pet/person to look after?

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, immobilization, yandere, captive reader, quirkless reader, grief, discrimination, drawn comparisons between quirklessness and disabilities, implied bakudeku, drugging, needles, hypochondriasis adjacet, also angst

♡ manga spoilers in a way, but also not really. anyway, read at your own discretion.

♡ part one

♡ fem reader

Despite all his lingering stares, the way he washes you in the bath and holds you at night, and the bulge you feel press against your ass—he hadn’t taken it further, and you’d started thinking he never would. His worries for your health might be so restricting he believes an act such as sex would be too exhausting and harmful for you. Sometimes, on his more rigid days, he doesn’t even allow you to walk on your own. So you wouldn’t put it beyond him.

But then, one night four months in, it comes. Creeping in slowly. You’re left wondering about it for a moment, lying there in anticipation as his large hands roam more than usual—over the plush of your thighs, up the small of your waist. The bed shifts as he slots himself closer—you think you might feel his heart thunk at your back. His breath comes with wet heat against your ear, his words even more so, drenched in arousal, yet oddly restrained, “Can I… touch you?”

He's so hesitant about it. Something in his voice, something so careful, makes you feel you can take it as an actual question and not one of his usual orders in disguise. Even so, you hesitate in return. But after a minute of contemplation, you decide to take advantage of the offered choice. Whispering back a firm and trying “No.”

You await his reaction warily—the possibility of him ignoring you is still very much plausible despite his caution.

But then… his touches recede to their designated places—to their normal hold, to the one of a simple dragon guarding treasure and nothing more. He releases a pent-up breath, then takes another deep one before settling.

“Okay.”

It seems somewhat anticlimactic. You’re not entirely sure you believe it. But as you wait for him to go against his own word, he doesn’t do anything but hold you like any other night, and then, a while later, you hear him snore.

You suppose it was expected. If your theory is correct and he doesn’t want to put you through the strain, it would only make sense he definitely wouldn’t do it if you were going to fight back on top of it. And as he doesn’t use the sedatives without deeming it utterly necessary, you can’t see him regard his horniness as a need that would justify its means.

Which can only then mean he wouldn’t touch you like that without consent. Perhaps the only saving grace in it all.

Or at least that was what you thought…

You’re both in the tub. You’d since allowed his thorough bath rituals without fighting back. Those times you’d bothered in the beginning, he’d used a sedative each time and left you as limp as a puppet. And even though you didn’t enjoy having any part of it, going through with it consciously was better than the alternative. And so you sit there, letting him lather and rub—trying to ignore the fact that his callused hands are twice your size and that he’s entirely naked, paired with the occasional feeling of his cock bumping into your lower back.

“There’s a lot’a health benefits to it…”

There he goes again. Health this, health that—constantly. He’ll most likely never let up on convincing you, no matter how much you declare you don’t need any of this inane insanity he calls protection.

“Sex, I mean…”

Your ears draw back at that. What… what did he just say? Your skin tightens around you, crawling with shivers even in the hot water. Health benefits… Sex…

You don’t like the sound of that. You thought he’d decided the means outweighed the need—his need, which is, in fact, not a need at all but a selfish desire. Similar to your desire to drink coffee or eat cake—both things you’re no longer allowed to do since it’s not compatible with your health regimen. Sex, as was decided, is also not compatible with your health regimen.

“It improves the immune system, lowers the risk of heart disease, decreases depression, makes you sleep better…” he mutters behind you. “Also… it’ll help you settle.”

“What are you talking abou—” Your outcry is cut off by the needle deep in your arm. The liquid enters you quickly and taints your bloodstream shortly thereafter. You watch him pull it out and place it gently on the neatly folded stack of towels beside the tub. Your breath is forcibly subdued before it has the chance to flare with the panic rioting your chest. The only protest leaving is a wasted “No…”

“I’m sorry…” he apologizes, wrapping his thick arms around your softened body before it could collapse forward, pulling you close while pressing his forehead between your slumped shoulder blades. “But this is for your own good.”

You don’t know whether he’s trying to convince you or himself. When he subjects you to all his other methods, he does so with impenetrable justification—as though religiously, sanctioned, with a rigid belief of what he’s doing. But now he seems more torn—as if he’s sullying himself with dubious intent, not entirely able to hide from his own ulterior motives.

He carries your limp body out of the bath in a fluffy towel. Your eyes are half-mast and blurry at times, but still, you can see it, written plainly on his face—guilt. No, not of the tiny needle hole he’d made in your arm—that shame is more fleeting, more of a grit-teethed all’s fair in love and war. This look on his face was different from that—weighted with a burden he still isn’t sure if’s worth it.

He lays you down softly on the bed, then takes a step back, swallowing thickly.

His shoulders look braced from what you can tell when looking down at where he stands at the foot end—overall uncomfortable in his stance, looking as though he doesn’t want to be there, as though he shouldn’t be there. Maybe he’s changed his mind? Maybe the guilt has fostered regret? Maybe he won’t go through with it after all?

The bed sinks to accommodate his weight. You feel it swallow you from beneath as if you’re drowning in the sheets. You feel heavy enough for it to be true—heavy like lead, unmovable. And yet, Bakugou moves you all too easily. Parting your thighs as if they didn’t have any gravity to them whatsoever, placing them atop his own as he shuffles in close.

You want to scream, but you can only cry silently. You feel so betrayed—that’s what gets you most. Familiarity in what you’d always known about how to live had been stripped away, leaving you to Bakugou’s rules and regulations—which weren’t much to find comfort in. Still, you had felt you could in the least trust in them, in his mania, in this unshakable need of his to keep you safe and healthy. But now he was breaking that trust.

“You aren’t comfortable with me yet. That’s the issue,” he says—insists on it. And it’s very clear now—he doesn’t even have himself assured. You can see it on his face, behind his eyes, racking his brain, grasping at straws.

Your skin ignites with goosebumps as he trails up both your thighs—his red stare rimmed with unease, brows cinched, looking at the place between you. His mouth hangs slightly open—you hear the shallow breaths seeping in and out, thicker and thicker with heat.

“We need this.”

That’s different. We have never been a part of it before. It’s always been you first and foremost and then him as an afterthought. Your chest churns again with the same sensation of back-stabbing—this isn’t right—he’s breaking all the rules! He said he wouldn’t—he promised he wouldn’t!

You squeeze your eyes shut with all the might the drug allows you when you feel his gritty finger filter through your slit. His warmth tells you he’s leaning down close, then the sensation of his mouth wrapping your nipple, soaking it in spit, even hotter than the steaming tub from earlier.

“I want to make you feel good—I need you to be happy,” he moans around the nub, sucking it into a pretty pebble before doing the same with the other—leaving them both glossy. “To smile. And laugh. You aren’t healthy if you don’t want to live.”

You can feel the bed shake beneath you, and you can tell from the tremor in his voice it’s from jerking himself—teasing your entrance with the other hand. You wince when his fingers enter you. The bathwater makes it easier—one digit first, testing you out, then quickly followed by the sting of another. It’s a stretch—after all, you haven’t done it in the many months since arriving here, and even before then, you’d been busy with work. You don’t remember how long it’s been, but it’s far long enough to make it feel both a little painful but also way overdue.

It's embarrassing how quickly you come undone. Two fingers barely doing anything but fill you out, and you’re already throttling them and cumming—wetting them with slickness of your own.

He pulls them out shortly. You don’t want to open your eyes, but the stillness that befalls the bed tells you everything of how he’s inspecting them with that god-awful doctoral leer in his eyes.

You think you hear the sounds of suction a second later—yes, definitely slurping.

You want to crawl in on yourself and die.

The hand returns, settling flatly upon your pelvis—a fat thumb nuzzling your pearled clit. And then something grazes the puffy lips below it—softly and slowly, ever-gently. Something hard. Something big. Something bulbous.

“This will hurt a little. But then you’ll feel good,” he cares to explain as if you’ve never done this before. It’s awful how soft and sweet he makes his tone, masking the brute—but the room is too quiet to hide behind, and you hear it anyway. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

Liar.

Liar, liar, liar liar liar!

He nudges against your entrance to find purchase, a request soon granted—though it requires much more than what his digits did. A cry cracks from your chest and his movements halt. But that’s somehow worse—the slow burn is all but torture—you wish he’d rather do it quickly, in one full motion, like ripping off the band-aid. But no, he eases in, and the tear feels everlasting until it nudges right and tight against your womb.

“Fuck.” His whole body labors with his breaths, trying hard to restrain himself—and you suppose that’s something to be thankful for. “Fuck, that’s so nice…”

He, as well, hasn’t had a fuck in ages. Since before he met you.

He’d been too much of a wreck after the funeral when the realization had finally settled. Unfit in every sense of the word. Put on mandatory sick leave.

He had a month of binging. Too many hookups in poor taste and even shittier circumstances—sloshed at exclusive clubs, taking home the first person he could play pretend with. It was easiest with his fans—they remind him of him—how they fawn over him so wholeheartedly, cute nerds all too eager to let him use them.

Kirishima had beaten him half to death at some point, fed up with his bullshit—told him he was tainting his memory. His words hit harder than his fists. Set him straight. He’d sobered up, and then he’d gone back to work as the new number-one hero.

He had touched neither bottle nor another human being since. It had been all business.

And then he met you.

He hunkers down—his lips and nose brush along your neck in small kisses. “I love you,” he confesses under his breath, circling your clit under his thumb while his other hand dwarfs your hip tenderly. It’s the first time he says it out loud like that. It doesn’t mean much to you, or no, it means you want to twist away—but to him, it’s as if he’d said so under the climax of a romance, or maybe an even more dire intimacy than that, like the last breath he’d take before death, coated head to toe in blood, knowing he’d never be able to see you again.

All previous reservations are thrown as he pulls back and starts rocking forth slowly.

“Ah fuck—” he hisses. “I love you.”

The patterns drawn on your clit get messier—so do his kisses—sloppy and getting needier. The hand on your hips has to grip the mattress instead, supporting him while his breaths turn gruffer.

“I love you,” he keeps repeating, and you keep your eyes closed.

The bed rocks softly beneath you like you’re lying on a saucer swing—making you a little nauseous, and yet you feel it coming anew—the sweet tingling from below, simmering beneath Bakugou’s thumb.

Then his lulling picks up, veering on thrusting—just hard enough to make your skin softly clap upon meeting. It’s just enough friction to make you jerk again, seizing up and shivering on his cock. It jitters shortly, stutters, and then stills—and you feel it fill you—swarm you—hot and wet and spreading.

His chest rests on you—heavy and plump with brawn coated in sweat mixed with bathwater. It’s suffocating, yet you breathe fine, albeit in shambles, recovering from the toll.

“I love you,” he says a final time, breathless.

And you don’t know… something about the entire thing feels as though he’s talking to someone else.

♡ more thoughts on this ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[mamayan]

You up? Give us some delicious yandere stuff 🙏 let's say... Fae King yandere and changeling darling 😏✨

This turned into a full fic :3 ~★ In honor of some monster fucking!

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling

tw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Non-Human Morality • Kidnapping • afab Reader • Dubcon • Oral (F) • Grooming (reader is of consenting adult age) • Forced Mating • Imprisonment • Violence (not toward reader) • Implied Murder • Rough Sex • Praise • Overstimulation • Dumbification • Belly Bulge • Size Kink

Part Two: Here

“…hic…sniff…”

Dark eyes glanced into the cool night, curious as to what creature was disturbing his evening.

“…hic…” it came again, much to his chagrin.

The still lake reflected the full moon like a mirror. To his left, not too far off, he honed in on the disturber. Something small and curled up. Shaking. The oddity enough to catch his full attention as he stood silently. The night his home and prison as he swiftly left in a puff of smoke over to the location of his intruder.

You.

His first instinct to end your miserable life, a human somehow entering his domain and crossing his barriers, but upon a closer look… he realized you were of his own kind.

A changeling at that. An abandoned fae left to die in the hands of mortals. Few if any live to maturity like this, but your short human stature led him to believe your growth was surely stunted due to neglect. Young fae needed abundant love and care in their infancy, the first 100 years of life incredibly crucial for their development. Least they end up like him and his kingdom. You were even younger than full maturity, though your physical body had completed it’s growth, your magic was weak and juvenile.

You were making odd noises which drew his curiosity, moving closer to your form, face buried in your lap as you hunched over your drawn up legs. Your feet were bare as the edges of the water lapped at them. Clothing sparse and tattered, rags unfit for even a human, let alone a Fae nearing maturity.

“Noisy little thing,” he hums aloud, startling you as you jolt and nearly throw yourself into the water. Your neck snaps up, pretty face swollen and blotchy from tears looking up and up until you saw a creature looming over you.

Your scream is cut off by a clawed dark hand, slapping over your mouth and muffling the cry as you try to jerk away in fear and panic. He watches in mild amusement, snickering as you realize your struggle is futile and efforts dying down. “Scream if you like, but none other than I will hear it out here.” He assures ominously, thin onyx colored lips pulling back to bare his razor sharp canines and pearly teeth at you. His grin savage and delighted in your terror.

He watches curiously as your wide doe eyes well up with tears, the crystalline droplets spilling up and over your cheeks, soft lips quivering beneath his palm. You reminded him of an animal imploring their predator for mercy by revealing their underbelly. There was a word for it…

Cute. His mind conjured at last. He found you cute, a changeling bold enough to intrude into the kingdom of the corrupted. You hadn’t even dropped the mirage covering you, old magic from your biological family still covering your natural appearance to mimic the human you parasitized off the life of.

“Why do you cry little one?” He asks softly, attempting not to terrify you further and avoid his questions.

You hesitate, but his molten gold eyes seem to melt through your defenses despite his dangerous and beautiful appearance. “I’m wrong,” you sniffle, grateful when he removes his enormous hand off your face, the sharp claws tipped in gold frightening against your soft breakable skin. “All wrong… and I don’t know what to do.” You curl back up around yourself, as if he too will cast judgement upon you.

He awkwardly mimics your stance, curiosity blazing as watches you in fascination. You find the way his monstrously large form contorts to sit like you somewhat baffling and amusing, less frightened now that he doesn’t seem to wish you harm.

“How are you wrong then?” He pries further, cupping his defined jaw and leaning into his hand as he observes.

“I’m not…I’m not human—I’m a—a—,” you stumble, unsure if this night is even real anymore. The shock so great you’re still trying to cope.

“A faery?” He supplies, amused by the way you gesture with your hands, expression so open and easy to read. “A changeling raised amongst humans to feed off their happiness?” His deep voice purrs it happily, as if he’s glad for it.

He is. His hatred of humans not something he feels the need to hide.

You appear devastated though, “I didn’t mean to—I don’t want to hurt or make anyone unhappy.” You mumble miserably, tugging at your hair and skin, as if that will dispel the magic which hides your true appearance.

“That’s just how our kind is, we need that happiness to grow properly.” He rubbles, eyeing your shocked expression. “We also happen to be fickle creatures ironically, and if a newborn is thought to need too much care, it is pawned off on humans who have more patience.” He clarifies, smiling as you seem to take him in with new eyes.

“You— are you a faery too? You just seem…” he chuckles as you awkwardly trail off.

“Evil? Centuries ago humans once called me the devil,” he laughs, his dark hair falling into his face like a waterfall as he shakes the loose fluffy curls, his pointed horns jutting from the top of his forehead jet black and smooth like ivory. He was too beautiful to call a devil, though you supposed it could be because of that which he was deemed so. His every feature seeming to catch your gaze with it’s beauty.

“I was going to say different…” you trail off shyly. “You don’t seem evil to me at least.”

He pauses, taking you in again as you regard him with those harmless eyes still wet with drying tears. It’d been centuries too since he’d left his kingdom, the entrance to the veil this lake he occasionally comes up to lounge by. He hasn’t seen a human since then, let alone a changeling or uncorrupted little faery like you.

He likes those pretty tears. He finds it annoying you shed them for humans you should guiltlessly take from.

His smile widens, eyes glittering mischievously and nearly glowing as he leans closer. The smell of sugar and cinnamon wafting off of him as you breathe in, nearly gasping as your mouth waters.

“How’s this little one? I’ll teach you how to be a faery, to show you there is nothing wrong with you.”

His eyes, where they should be white are entirely inky black, golden irises with reddened pupils framed by dark thick lashes, looked sincerely upon you.

He seemed genuine and kind despite his towering humanoid figure which looked to be capable of killing you easily.

It warmed you though, the thought of wanting to belong strong as you nod with a smile.

“I’d be eternally grateful.” You nod.

Sealing your fate.

“Tell me your name.” He asks sweetly, because despite his menacing size and sharp teeth and nails, your new friend was nothing but kind and gentle with you.

“Y/N” you reply easily, letting him playfully ruffle your hair as he picks out the leaves which got tangled in your locks from your travels here.

When he repeats it though, wonderful shivers shoot down your spine. He smiles, cooing at you like one might a baby as a he teases, “Such a cute name for a cute faery.”

You weakly protest, but fall into easy laughter as he swiftly changes the subject.

He was discussing proper fae etiquette. The basics, to not say please or thank you or I’m sorry. They all meant you expected more from the other or wouldn’t reciprocate, and that was just bad manners.

His soft hands, which could easily cover your entire face, were settled on your upper arms, having sat you in the grass against his chest.

He liked holding you close. Your little figure so soft, and from the dark circles beneath your human appearance, he assumed the neglect from the humans you resided amongst was growing worse. It was bad for your development.

“You should come live out here, they are vile creatures you know.” He comments every time you visit, though he never forces you to stay with him.

“It’s because I make them unhappy…” you explain sheepishly.

He shakes his head, thick brow arching as he rolls his eyes. “You are nearly completely mature now, you suck no happiness from your surroundings anymore silly girl.” Your confusion was palpable as he sighs and further explains, enjoying the squish of your tender flesh as he lightly squeezes you.

“While it is true fae infants are quite the hassle to raise, it isn’t as tortuous as humans make it out to be. In fact, most fae will take their child back if not treated well by their human surrogates.”

You hum, relaxing back against his warm chest and breathing in his sugary scent.

“So why wasn’t I—,” you stop short, brows furrowed but no longer speaking.

He doesn’t pry further, leaning his chin atop your head as he looks out at the lake.

“You won’t tell me?” You push, annoyed how he dances around your question endlessly. Your companion close enough that you feel insulted he won’t reveal it.

“My name is not to be uttered aloud, least calamity befall this land~” he’s teasing, you know he is, but still he refuses to divulge his name. “I gave you mine,” you argue again, huffing as he chuckles and lightly shoves you to your back on the grass, leaning over you and caging you in beneath him.

The moon is bright like the first time you’d met, illuminating his other worldly beauty.

“If you wish to call me something, call me Master,” he laughs, his sharp teeth no longer scaring you, but making your thighs squeeze together whenever he flashes them. He acts nothing like an immortal being, too immature and jovial to resemble someone having lived for thousands of years.

“So why do you get my name, but I don’t get yours?” You question in annoyance, avoiding his kiss to your cheek by jerking your face away. He huffs, sharp gaze daring you to dodge again.

You do. Earning yourself a warning nip to your collarbone as you yelp.

“Mean!” You cry, pushing at his chest as he snickers.

“Yes little flower, I am very, very, mean.” He rumbles, chest literally vibrating much like a cat does to purr.

“You give me weird nicknames…” you mutter, giving up as he licks your cheek. You don’t fight it, even as it feels foreign to you, trying to accept this side of your culture.

He licks your neck, lavishing the point where your pulse races with wet kisses and you tremble and struggle to act unaffected beneath him.

His smile is dangerous outside your view.

“Star!” You giggle, his rumble of irritation not the least intimidating to you as you roll away.

“That is an awful nickname.” He hisses, face twisted in disgust as you throw out the most horrendous names you could conjure in your pretty head at him.

“Lumi!” He growls.

“Then… Kitty?” He nearly bites you, careful not to play too roughly as he lightly tackles you down.

“If I give you a nickname, will you cease your little game?” He feels his anger fade as he wraps his arms around your smaller figure, easily pulling you into his lap. You don’t even flinch, too engrossed in your amusement to care where he handles you. You nod happily, your wish finally being fulfilled.

“Very well you stubborn creature,” he chides, “In addition to Master, you may also call me King.”

You frown. Clearly displeased by the lack of intimacy in the name. He laughs, amused by your obvious dislike. He kisses your puffed cheeks, over your pouty lips, and down to your vulnerable neck. Snickering as he goes, adoring how you so easily become pliant for him.

“I am teasing pretty flower, there was a time long ago I was called Ava, will you settle now?” He asks, voice husky as he sucks a mark into your skin, your little whine flaring his desires.

A strong urge to press you down and mate you nearly overpowers his control, but he merely holds you close and breathes your floral scent in to calm himself.

“I still prefer Kitty…” His eye twitches.

“Ava… this feels weird…” he pauses, looking down at your small form still cloaked like a human. Weak beneath him, partially nude as your skirt is pulled up to your soft belly. Your thighs are spread and shaking, his lips sucking another mark onto the thin skin of your inner thigh while you writhe.

He had your wet dripping slit open to the night air and his lustful gaze, begging for his tongue to taste.

“You don’t want to please me?” He asks, purring as you pout but deny. You were such a good little girl for him after all, so eager to learn and soak up his attention.

He resumes, licking down your thigh until his face rested above the warm mound you so sweetly offered him.

“You’re being so good for me petal, can you keep your legs open or should I help you?” He doesn’t need to look up to know you’re shaking in arousal and embarrassment. He can feel the tremors through the air as you struggle to keep your thighs spread as he asked.

“I-I need help…” you admit, feeling terribly hot as he keeps licking you, except where you seem to ache for him to lick.

He easily shifts forward, arms wrapping around you and letting your legs rest over his shoulders as he finally lets his tongue slip out to taste you.

You glance down, choking at the sight and feeling as he lets his entire tongue come out, the appendage inhumanly long and colored purple. It feels strange, the wet slimy feeling of his tongue slithering through your folds, but when he nudges the tiny nub hidden above your slit, you moan.

It sends jolts of electricity through you, hips canting up so he can to lick there again, earning you a hearty chuckle as he obliges. Licking and even curling his tongue around it, riling you up as your tiny hole leaks arousal and drips down your ass to the earth below.

“You’re making a mess petal, do you feel good? Should I stick my tongue inside you this time?” You moan, feeling the muscle prod at your unused vaginal entrance, too hazy to bother responding. He doesn’t wait for your answer, letting the thin tip of his tongue lap and taste your heady desire before poking and wiggling inside you.

It has your legs shooting straight, back arching as he holds you down with one large hand placed over your belly and chest. He groans as he feels the molten texture of your insides struggling against his intrusion, trying to force him out of your tight heat as he surges forward.

The tip of his tongue curls, swirling up and knocking the air from your lungs as a rush of hot liquid spills from your insides for him to drink down.

You shook and twitched, moaning and curling your hands around his curved horns like a handle.

The touch sends blood racing to his cock, as he moans and loudly slurps your cum down with audible squelching, enjoying the cries you released into the quiet night.

He lets you rest as he pulls back for just a moment, your body limp and panting as your high comes down.

“Good girl~” he praises, leaning over you to kiss softly at your sweaty skin, licking that too and tasting the sweet and salty mixture.

Then he’s pressing his lips against yours, forcing them open to sneak his long tongue inside your mouth, filling it and claiming that space too as his own. You’re helpless to resist, delirious on pleasure as he devours you, wiggling muscle curling and rubbing erotically around your own.

He tastes like sugar and something heavier, more musky, as you come to realize it as your own taste.

“Is this… really normal…?” You can help but ask as he pulls away, his lips still sticking close to trail kisses across your skin.

“It’s quite normal little flower, are you shy still?” He asks curiously, lifting one of your small hands and bringing it to his face, his size dwarfing you considerably. He lightly nibbles on your fingers, making a giggle bubble up as you smile and then squirm when he grins and licks your hand instead.

“A little…” you admit honestly. Always so honest and open.

He nods, as if completely understanding.

“That’s alright, we’re in no rush, I’ll teach you slowly…” there’s something else not said in his words, and you’re left drunk on his pheromones and lips as he distracts you. Then he’s kissing down, discarding your clothing and leaving you naked for his mouth and curious fingers.

Your breasts are lavished in his saliva, pebbled nipples sucked until standing upright before poked down with the tip of his tongue playfully. Always so playful, Ava nips and teases your skin, blinking innocently when you moan and glare accusingly.

“It’s not my fault you enjoy this so much petal~” he pouts, looking comical and so harmless, his glittery gold wings, almost translucent behind him, fluttering as if indignant to your silent accusation.

The golden tattoos which marked his skin more visible tonight, his clothing more minimal in his wish to feel more of you as he explores and plays.

Then he’s parting your thighs and throwing you into ecstasy again.

“Who did it?”

You sat curled around yourself, terror and dread swirling inside of you at the new side of Ava you’d never been graced with before.

The side you supposed was reserved for his enemies, but now showed to you.

Despite your fear, the tears spilling down your cheeks, and the injuries you bore, you still remained stubbornly silent.

He was going insane with rage and anguish.

You truly were a flower. So delicate and easily destroyed.

“Y/N… while I am being reasonable…Tell. Me. Who. Did. It.”

For all the times he’d made himself smaller, less alarming and more charming than his true nature called for, it made this time more appallingly. He stood to his full height, like an unwavering tree he did not budge or allow you to leave, golden eyes flaring and mixing with his red pupils to create something alarming. Even the markings which covered his dark skin seemed to glow and match his eyes, magic crackling in the air and silencing the night further.

As if the stars and moon were frightened too.

Still, still, you did not speak, even as he closed in on you, your fear so strong it almost choked him. Almost. He was too angry, too furious with the humans he liked to cast out of his mind. They needed to be taught a lesson it seemed. Their fear of the Fae renewed. They were becoming arrogant, as if their species was even in the same standing as them.

Your pretty injured face and form, battered from abuse and humiliation, was all the information he truly needed.

If you wanted to protect them, and not tell him, then he’d just punish them all as if they were the culprits.

It soothed him finally, his decision made as the ominous energy around him faded slowly. He let his rage dissipate, worry and concern bleeding through now as he crouched and shuffled towards you, claws spread and outstretched towards you.

“Come here Y/N, keep your secrets, but allow me to hold and comfort you…” his eyes darkened, the glow leaving behind almost a copper color, somber as he looks at you. There’s not pity in his eyes though, as you swallow and sigh in relief, grateful to crawl into his warm embrace where it feels safe.

He’s gentle as he wraps you in his arms, lips and tongue soothing as he tastes your tears and blood.

He grits his teeth, focusing on your scent and the feel of you to calm himself again, before letting his magic seep into your skin. You easily absorbed it, soaking it up like a sponge as your pain and injuries heal.

“Ava—?” Your eyes widen, amazement in their depths which stroke his ego as he taps his forehead against your own. His horns slightly tangling in your hair.

“Do you not want to drop the illusion on yourself?” He asks softly, staring at the human image your portray. He didn’t want to admit it, but it enraged him to see you still trying to live amongst them.

You seem surprised, before looking away nervously.

“It just feels strange… to not see myself anymore,” you confess, burrowing deeper into his chest while enjoying his ability to heal and soothe you. His sugary smell lightening your heavy heart.

He nods slowly, eyes staring at nothing over the still lake.

He holds you a little tighter.

Then you’re asleep.

The burns and screams of the people echo, the night come to life with flames and chaos.

Ava stands leisurely, smile filled with fondness as he watches the human village he’d followed and found to be your residence burn.

He’d spent all night playing with them, listening to them confess the awful things they’d done to you, said to you, and tried to do to you. They even thought of sacrificing you to some nonexistent deity, which only prolonged the nightmare he’d turned the populace into.

He laughed as the sounds swirled into music for his ears, the sharp points curling in delight as he hummed a tune older than the trees towering in this forest.

The night was still coming to an end sadly, and he’d need to return to your unconscious body still where he’d left it.

He didn’t want to let you wake in your new home alone after all.

His body covered in the blood of mortals he’d torn into and feasted on, Ava left them to perish.

Alone you woke. In a bed four times the size of any normal one, within the walls of a palace you’d only ever seen depicted in stories told by faraway travelers.

You glanced down, at hands unlike ones you were accustomed to seeing. You were nude, unable to hide from yourself as you felt tears begin to sprout. The illusion magic wasn’t working, and you couldn’t understand why.

This body was your true form, not that of the human you continuously tried to convince yourself you were. You hadn’t showed Ava, too afraid he’d see your appearance and dislike you for it.

While he was magnificent, you felt puny and odd.

A hiss snatches you from your self loathing, eyes flicking up to land on the one you’d just been thinking of.

He was covered in something, though you weren’t entirely sure what until he moved closer. The pearls lining his chambers glowed softly, his appearance more vibrant as he closed the distance between himself and the bed you laid on.

You sucked in a breath, realization dawning as the red contrasts against his skin. His lower face completely smeared in it, but his lips seemed clean. Until he grinned, red stained sharp teeth with chunks of dark meat stuck in between.

You remembered briefly him mentioning being mistaken for a demon.

You finally understood as a strange fear blossomed in your gut and you scooted away. Confusion and terror consuming you, but your body not catching up with your mind, because it recognized his scent and touch. You didn’t move quick enough, a clawed hand easily curling around your ankle and tugging you close. You slid smoothly over the cool silk, brought close to his body radiating heat. He only wore trousers, his taloned feet bare and ankles revealed as he’d cuffed them up to avoid bloody human fingers trying to grip them.

“Oh my little flower, look at you,” his eyes are swirling melted gold, enchanting and so disorienting. His beauty becoming savage with the blood and human flesh he adorned.

“A-Ava…” you want to ask, but you also don’t want the answer.

Did he find out who hurt you? Or was it unrelated? It seemed too coincidental.

Your chest constricted painfully as he stared down at you in wonder. Your true form so lovely it took his breath away, your image so fitting for you it was a wonder why you didn’t prefer this over your human mirage. Your ears, pointed like his own, were curled down a little with your emotions, as his eyes traced your face.

The shape was the same, your body still so small, and your eyes still expressed every little thought without fail.

He hated to admit it was even cuter, though he mused it was likely because he was the first to see your true form.

An abandoned young changeling, one he only took mild interest in, had him so thoroughly ravenous for all of you now.

“Isn’t this more comfortable petal? Instead of masquerading as a filthy human, aren’t you happier to just be you now?” His callous words seem off, but you can’t quite fathom it all as the shock settles in.

“My precious flower faery, are you scared?” Yes, you wanted to scream, as his bloody face and body near you, his sugary scent over powered by the scent of iron and death. Fae hated iron. He shouldn’t be comfortable.

You choked, jerking back and trying to crawl away from him, but he still had your ankle caged in his hand.

He laughs, but it’s empty and devoid of any true humor as he stares down at you with something dark in his gaze.

He yanks you back, harshly and sending a jolt of pain up your leg as you cry out, pulled back beneath him as he crawls onto the bed over you.

He’s too close, nausea consuming you as you smell and see the gore adorning him.

He finds your useless fear amusing and annoying all at once.

“I asked you a question little flower.” He grips your face, smushing your cheeks and making you look at him.

He rolls his eyes as the tears you so love to shed spill down your cheeks.

“Yes… I-I’m scared…” his smile softens, almost becoming sweet and familiar.

“Good. You should be.” Your blood runs cold.

He has the mercy to bathe, but not alone. You watch as the spray of water from some sort of piping turns pink as it disappears through tiny holes in the marble floor.

He’s nude, like you, and even though you cower and try to turn away, he easily stops any and all retreats with hardly any effort.

“I thought you didn’t like the blood? I’m still not clean petal.” His fluffy curls are flattened by the water falling above, the warm spray soaking you both as you try not to wonder why the sticky redness won’t just wash away with the water. The dried portions difficult to get off without physically touching and rubbing him with your soapy hands. You wanted to know why he was doing this, being so mean.

His ears look more distinct with his hair flat, onyx horns prominent against his forehead as his lashes hold droplets of water to frame his golden eyes.

You try not to show it, but as the blood clears and his dark smooth gold lined skin is revealed, you notice the hard lines of muscle and purple veins which protrude.

You only come up just below his chest, and you can’t look down, least you see it again.

He was making you nervous and scared on purpose, but you couldn’t understand why.

Like a coward you didn’t ask either, because you feared the answer even more.

Ava shifts, fingers coming up to cup your face in his hands and tilt your head up as he leans over you and blocks the water falling. His claws jut out beside your head, one lightly tickling your pointed little ear.

He licks his lips, loving the sight of you soaked and naked, your pretty form so enthralling to his eyes he struggles to contain himself.

“Do you want my help…?” His tone is condescending, eyes uncaring in the least about your inner turmoil.

“Here,” he drops one hand, engulfing your wrist and forcing you to plant your hand against his abdomen. “You have to wash like this—,” he teaches patiently, like none of this was happening and everything was fine. He moves your soft little hand back and forth, the soap quick to wash away as the water continues to fall. “You need more soap petal.” He informs gently, moving to stop the warm spray and letting you both stand in silence now, drops of water falling the only noise besides your breathing.

He sighs when you don’t move, your eyes trained on the corner of the spacious bathing room, where an in ground bath rests. He would take you to the hot springs later.

He fills the hand he has control of with soap, and amuses himself with using it like a washcloth, your little fingers curling as your lips tilt down into a frown.

“Since you need the help,” he goads, watching as those sweet familiar doe eyes flash up a glare from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, a nasty grin filled with something sinister as he chuckles darkly. “Don’t want to be my good girl anymore?” It’s a loaded question you’re unsure of how to answer.

It hardly matters as he forces your hand down, until you jolt at the change in body part you were touching. He forces your fingers to close around his throbbing length, unable to touch or fully wrap around it as your head jerks instinctively to look at what he was making you do.

“A-Ava—,” you try to pull away, but to no avail. He only hums, the soap like lube as he uses your hand to jerk his cock, amused as you stare in shock. He won’t let you go, not when the sight of your smaller form holding his leaking rod is so arousing he comes a minute a later. Hips thrusting with the timing of the squeeze he forces your hand to hold, hot ropes of his seed shooting out onto your chest and belly as he cages you with his free arm from moving away. He allows his purple tapered tip to smear the remaining pearls of his seed on your skin, ignoring your whine of protest as he paints you.

“Fuck, that’s it, be good for me pretty girl,” he growls lightly, chest rattling as he releases his pent up frustration on your confused form.

Really, you couldn’t be more adorable covered in his release looking dazed.

His golden eyes heavy lidded as he crouches down to catch your lips in a heated kiss.

You swallow nervously, staring at Ava as he stares at you from across his bed chambers.

You’d fallen asleep after… after bathing, if you could even call it that, and awoken later to find yourself alone again. Ava missing and your body covered by fine silk sheets while you slept.

You’d scrambled about the room looking for escape, finding nothing but a single exit locked, which Ava now stood before.

He wore a pair of silken sleep pants, tailored to his enormous figure as well as a matching robe left loose and revealing a majority of his chest and abdomen. His wings weren’t physical but a magic which naturally formed behind him, you’d learned.

The gold markings on his body were duller than earlier, his eyes less vibrant and more cool as he looks at you.

He seems more… familiar. Less of the Ava covered in blood and flesh of humans and more of the one you’ve befriended.

He’s silent, unmoving as he stands still in the doorway.

You don’t want to make the first move, unsure in this new environment, but you similarly disliked all of this distance and miscommunication between you both.

You moved cautiously, much like the skittish animal he likens you to in his mind, off the bed. You’d wrapped yourself in one of his sheets, his scent clinging to you the only thing stopping him from tearing it off you in annoyance. He stays put, muscles taunt and jaw clenched as you approach him like he might harm you.

He debated it.

Briefly showing you why you should be obedient and just listen, but dismissing it in favor of you liking him at least to some degree.

When you reach him, he merely stares down at you, face impassive unlike your nervous and awkward expression.

“Ava…?” He finally shifts, leaning down to close the distance a little but still not touching you. It’s you who initiates, because he’s certain he’s trained you well enough in your past touch starved state that you can’t resist the comfort and warmth he provides. You wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your figure to his while looking up with those honest eyes he adores.

He finally relaxes, your touch so addicting he was unable to resist wrapping you further into his embrace while lifting you up. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, warm bare cunt now pressed against his abdomen while your arms come around his neck. The sheet loosening and falling down to pool at his feet. He finally smiles at your flustered state, not letting you climb down to grab it, instead moving you both towards his—your—bed and easily laying you down to drape over you.

“You’re calmer than I imagined you’d be…” he murmurs against the skin of your neck, kissing up to your jaw. “Should I prepare for your wrath later little flower?” He muses, lifting up to look at your expression.

“Was that blood… from a human?” You look guarded but he isn’t surprised.

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?” He affirms again.

“Was it because of… me?” Those sweet eyes looked so haunted as you asked, as if you knew what he was going to say.

“No. It wasn’t because of you.”

You check his face, as if he were a human and would lie to you as they do.

“Then why did you do it?” You breathed, sagging in relief beneath him. His lips twitch, molten eyes shining with adoration as he looks upon you.

“They greatly offended me.” He answers vaguely, but it was the truth. They offended him by breathing and walking the earth. It was a direct insult to him. They only met misfortune because they caught his attention.

You seemed happy to accept whatever rid you of any guilt, looking up at him less fearfully now that he was clean and not being mean to you. Though, you both shared very different definitions of being “mean”.

“Am I staying the night?” You asked him curiously. You had thought he’d brought you here as he didn’t know where your home in the village was when you’d fallen asleep.

He shook his head, lips curling higher.

“You’re staying forever.” He declares, sweet scent filling your senses as he comes close enough to kiss you.

Then he does.

You thought his teasing was funny, lips tilting up finally as the awkwardness dissipates and familiarity rises.

This is your Ava, warm sweet Ava that smells so good it makes you crave sweets you cannot afford.

He presses you further into the unfathomably soft bed, his lips demanding as you open for him.

“Ava,” you break the kiss, breathing heavier as he growls and nips at your bottom lip, a shiver wracking you as he leans back enough to meet your gaze. “What we’re doing… it’s what lovers and spouses do isn’t it? At least, this is what human lovers do…” your voice becomes smaller as he stares down as you with an expression you couldn’t name.

“And?” He encourages.

You look away for a moment, gathering your thoughts before remembering out of all the cruelty in the world, Ava was the outlier.

“Is that what we’re doing? Like lovers?” You felt too embarrassed to directly state it, to say it aloud, and equally scared this isn’t anything different than exchanging a handshake with another faery to him. It was different to you.

“Do you want it to be?” He leans down, placing a feather soft kiss against your temple so you couldn’t see his eyes glowing bright. “Do you want us to be like lovers little flower?” His voice is deeper than usual, strained almost as he holds himself perfectly still above you.

You take the time to think, much to his displeasure, but when you answer it was everything for him.

“I do.”

He places a chaste kiss to your lips, his own tilting higher and higher until he’s grinning gleefully.

“Then that’s what we’ll be.” He confirms, and you miss it.

You miss every little trap he’d laid, each tiny piece of the puzzle forming around you like a cage. You miss everything and it’s too late to go back now. Ava muses wickedly, as he kisses you more sensually, lets his claws drag so delicately down your soft skin, he thinks how stupid you are.

“I’ll be all yours if you ask for it Y/N,” he speaks directly into your pointed ear, hot breath making the tips curl as you whine. The way he says your name is different than usual, more serious and seductive. You realize this seems wrong somehow, the way he’s making you melt so easily like this, how your panic and fear evaporated so quickly. You aren’t given time to think further, when he shifts and sits up. He sneers when you attempt to cover yourself again, gripping your wrist and lightly pulling you up too. On your knees, you face his chest, eyes looking up to see his heated expression.

Ava cups your jaw with one hand, and pokes at your lip with the other.

He doesn’t ask before his thumb invades your mouth, and you fight not to bite down or jerk away with his pointed claw inside.

He’s exploring, squeezing your cheeks until you open wide so he can playfully run over your sharpened canines. Curiously playing with your tongue until he leans down licks it with his own. It felt strange and erotic, your body vibrating with nerves and budding arousal as he explores you.

“Ava…” you wanted to touch him too, but he didn’t seem to be listening as he lets his hands trail down to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples as your back arches into them.

So you let your own hands wander, bolder than usual as you feel his solid form beneath you. His skin is much softer than it appears, strange markings and golden symbols flat. He had no softer points aside from that, muscles like stone and occasionally uncomfortable to lounge against due to it.

He squeezes your waist, smiling mischievous as you yelp and glare at him. He does it again, finally chuckling as he lets his hands slip to your ass.

This time his squeeze makes you gasp, as he parts your ass cheeks and allows your heated core to be exposed to the air. His claws so careful not to tear your skin open as he drags you taunt against him, rutting his hardened cock against your soft belly.

He moans aloud as he sees the tip poke out between you, your breasts above a delicious sight as he does it again and again.

“You drive me wild pretty faery,” he smiles, licking your cheek as he easily lifts you up to toss you to the center of the bed. You sink in, huffing but giggling as he crawls over you, looking like a dark angel as he covers you completely to capture your lips in a much more filthy kiss.

“I want to devour you,” he purrs, licking and kissing down your neck and chest, spreading your legs. “Make you mine completely,” you moan, feeling delirious as he finally licks your sloppy pussy.

You moan when you feel his fingers prod your entrance, sharp claws gone and retracted as he pushes one inside you while he laps at your clit. It feels different and firmer than his tongue, able to rub and stretch you better as he begins sucking on your puffy nub and purring deep in his chest. “Your little nub is hard~ are you feeling good?” He teases, wiggling the tip of his tongue over your engorged clit.

Then he’s pressing a second finger in, a mild burn heating your core as you gasp and try to shift away to no avail. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, spearing them into you, your soft gummy walls forcefully spread around the two digits as he noisily slurps. He’s being messy and a bit rough, but your moans spur him on as he groans into your pussy when you begin clawing at his hair and whining.

“Ava! S’too much! Can’t—!” You squeak and almost bite your tongue when you cum, pussy sucking his fingers deep and massaging them as you soak his hand and face.

He doesn’t stop, eyes glowing bright molten gold as he watches you squirm and babble senselessly while he stuffs a third finger into your poor overstimulated cunt. Your little hole stretched wide around him, and he’s content to watch as your greedy lower mouth takes it as he pumps them into you.

You’re less amused though, body thrumming as the pleasure becomes overwhelming and you panic.

“Stop, I’m gonna make a mess, Ava stop—!” You cry out, eyes watering before tears fall as you struggle to stop the powerful pressure building in your core, hurting you with the intensity as he pushes you further and further. “Your insides are steadily swallowing and sucking my fingers in, aren’t you a little lewd?” He asks, unaffected by your dull nails digging into his forearm, eyes trained on your drooling hole below.

He’s got an iron grip on your hip with his other hand, nails digging into your flesh every time you try to squirm away. “You’re so lovely like this petal.”

He’s fascinated when you break again, clear fluid squirting up and out from your squelching pussy as he continues to shove his fingers in.

You cum so hard it nearly causes you to lose consciousness, eyes rolling back as you twitch and moan as the dam inside you bursts open.

You whine as he pulls free, hand dripping in gooey arousal as he brings it to his lips and slurps it up without any decorum, appearing almost starved as he gazes down at you with the eyes of a predator. “Messy girl~ I’ll teach you though,” his lips pull back to reveal his sharp teeth, “When you feel so good you think you’ll break, you’re supposed to say I’m coming, do you understand?” He asks darkly.

“No more…” your weak plea only makes him smirk, kissing you softly as he slides forward and uses both hands to cover your hips and lift your lower half up.

Your eyes feel heavy as you force them open, slow to realize that his enormous cock is now laid over your pussy, pulsing and dragging back and forth through your slick folds. The thick veiny appendage causes your trepidation to rise, realization dawning that he intends to fit that inside of you.

“It won’t fit—,” you weren’t being cute or coy, because while you may not be human, your form was still the same size as one. He was much, much bigger, and his cock certainly fit his proportions. You try to catch his attention, unable to close your legs with his body between them. “Ava,” He’s truly not hearing you at all, too enthralled and excited as he lubes his massive length up with your juices. He’s shaking a bit too, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he coos down at you mindlessly, golden orbs almost unseeing at this point as he lines up with your entrance.

“So good for me petal~ you’re all mine aren’t you?” He breathes, and you feel the weight and pressure begin as his tip breaches.

“Wait, stop Ava—!” You whine as the sting becomes a burn and then you’re being filled to the point of excess as you struggle to breathe anymore.

“Shh—♡,” he hushes you, pained as well due to the pressure around him, strangling him as he grimaces and drags back out a little before surging forward. “You’re mine now petal,” he groans.

You’re unable to form words as he works his cock into you like a piece which doesn’t quite fit, bullying and stretching you open to forcefully fit himself.

He leans more weight down onto you as you struggle and writhe, noisy cries falling on deaf ears as he feels himself slipping deeper as your body finally gives up on keeping him out. His tip touches your cervix, before shoving even further and smashing it up as your stomach aches in protest.

You lay limp as he finally bottoms out, twitching with your mouth open and drool pooling down your chin as you feel nothing but the feeling of him inside you. He huffs a laugh, the way you look ruined before he’s even gotten started.

You look like a doll in his grasp, his cock extending your stomach a little as it twitches inside you. Your thighs ache as they’re naturally forced up, unable to spread fully enough for him to settle so he’d merely folded you and pressed you down to prevent escape.

“You did it pretty girl, look at you~” he grins, one hand leaving your hip to press on your belly, making your eyes widen and roll back as you whine. “You took every inch of me in this cute cunt didn’t you?” This male over you isn’t familiar, even as his sugary scent seems to increase and smother you, he seems foreign in his words and actions.

The inconsistencies are difficult to track as he drags himself out of you, the fullness replaced by feeling each ridge and bump of veins decorating his cock as he slides out.

Then he’s pushing in again, stealing your breath and ability to think as he starts to fuck you.

“Don’t worry petal, I won’t hurt you,” you can’t quite understand as he pushes his thick rod inside you, brain shutting off as you go pliant in his hold. “I’ll go nice and slow so you never forget,” he moans as you tighten and jerk, “who owns you.” He’s holding back with all his might as you spasm and grip him in inside of you, walls sucking him back in as he moves to exit.

You make him forget.

As you slick his cock up with your juices, he begins to slip in easier, folding you down further into a mating press as he looks down at your teary face. You make him forget all the time he’s spent alone. Your moans increase as he picks up the pace, pounding nice and deep inside of you and ridding you of any thought beside him. He slips a hand down between you both, claws retracted completely as he softly presses on your swollen clit and throws you reeling into another orgasm around him. “Say it petal,” he grits out, the feeling of you tightening drawing his own end. He’s hardly able to move inside you, short thrusts all he can manage as he drags you over the edge.

“I’m coming—!” Your head tips back, neck bared to his eyes as you cum for him obediently.

He fills you up right after, heavy engorged balls drawing up as he pumps his first load of the day into you. His thrusts not stopping as he rocks forward, expression relaxing as his magic swirls inside of you, his mating mark slowly sinking into your soul as he works to keep his seed deep within your womb. You’re too fucked out to notice, the pleasure and pressure overwhelming your senses as you try to rest now.

Except his cock doesn’t soften.

He thrusts hard once he’s sure his bond has settled, feeling you so much deeper in his soul as he drags his cock out almost all the way. “It’s like your little hole misses me already,” he smiles, watching as you flutter around his tip as if to tell him you don’t want him to leave. “Tell me petal,” he slides back inside, jolting you awake as you stare incredulously down at where you both connect. The slick sounds of him slipping into your sticky wet entrance haunting as you whine, hands digging into fine silk as you try to push away.

He only presses you down harder, cock burrowing deep as if to anchor you. His eyes are wild and swirling, the color so bright it’s almost blinding in the dim room. “How does it feel to lose?”

You blank. His question not making any sense as the room spins and you’re overcome again with pleasure so intense it makes your toes and feet curl in the air where they rest.

“How does it feel to be utterly mine for the rest of eternity?” You gasp, tearing at the sheets as he picks up the pace, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to truly fuck you now. Enormous cock working you into a frenzy as you yelp when two fingers pinch painfully around a nipple. “You’re not going back pretty girl,” he laughs, face wicked and beautiful as you look up through blurry eyes spilling tears. “You’ll not return to that filthy human village,” he releases your sore nipple in favor of loosely gripping your throat, feeling your pulse beneath his hand. “You are not in the land of Fae sweet flower,” he lets his lips ghost over yours, his tip bullying your cervix as you writhe and move to claw at his shoulders. “You are in my kingdom, ours, where the corrupted Fae separate themselves,” you’re lost, eyes crossing almost dumbly as you come again, choking as you cry out his name.

You can’t move even an inch, unable to even squirm as you’re forced to take each punishing inch of his cock and he ruts into you.

“Your pussy keeps tightening up when I tell you all the ways you’re mine. Do you like this?” He delights in your pathetic attempt to push at his chest, clearly finished despite his balls still being heavy with his seed he intends to spill into you.

“A-Av-Ava!” You struggle to form even his name, let alone any sentences as he keeps up his fast and brutal pace. Though, from his perspective he was still holding back as he moans and spills himself inside you again.

“Yes flower?” He coos, pushing your hair out of your sweaty face as he pulls out just enough to grip your thigh and turn you on your side, sliding back to the hilt again. He hugs your leg to his chest, working his cock at a new angle in your abused pussy still spilling cum from earlier. “I’m listening,” he chuckles, knowing you can’t speak, aware his cock was keeping you like this.

Words die down as he uses his hand not holding your leg up to grip your hip, holding you still while pushing his hips forward, railing himself inside your exhausted body. Your head rests against the bed, mouth open as your saliva soaks into the sheets, eyes staring at nothing as you feel another impending orgasm approaching.

Ava doesn’t mind, adoring the cute cock drunk expression as he uses you like a toy, filling you up over and over while you slowly lose your mind. “I’m sorry—Ava please, I’m sorry,” your slurred speech and delirious voice make him laugh. Genuinely amused by your rambling, “Why are you sorry petal? I’m not mad,” he catches your lips, tongue invading and swallowing your cries. He finds you so cute.

His cute, stupid little changeling, so trusting and unaware of his unsavory intentions.

You lose consciousness and count when he comes with his hips pressed deeply into your ass, pressing you belly first into his hand as he keeps you angled up to meet his thrusts. Your sensitive chest rubbing against the silk below, body limp as your world goes black and you convulse around him.

This time he lets you fall flat into the soaked bedding, taking his still hard cock out so he can pry apart your pussy lips and watch his release ooze out of your gaping hole.

His golden eyes flick up to your sleeping form, lips pulling as he coos, “Cute~♡” before he’s stuffing you full again, merciless as he leans on one arm to keep from crushing you as he continues to drill into you.

Even when you regain consciousness, trying to crawl away from his torturous pleasure, he only grips your arm and twists it gently behind you to hold. “You’re soaked and so hot inside, do you know how crazy you’re making me?” He groans, almost sounding like he’s in pain as you squeeze and come again. “I’m not letting you go, stop trying to run. You’ve already lost sweet girl.” As he lifts his hips, tip still encased by your wet hot heat, he eyes the slick mess which coats you both and connects you to him. “Go ahead and go crazy too, be good and listen.” He laughs, slamming back in and making your back arch as you nearly scream, feeling him so deep it makes you wonder if he’s going to break you. You really will go crazy, it’s a fleeting thought stolen by his cock once again, but you truly worry as he drowns you with euphoria and madness.

He’s hunched and leaning over your back, letting his tongue and teeth tease your ear so sweetly while he pounds you stupid, whispering to you things you won’t remember.

“You wanted my name so badly, didn’t you my lovely mate?” He knows you don’t understand, but it doesn’t stop him from speaking on, husky voice lulling you as you cry and lose yourself to pleasure. “I’ll tell you since you’re being so good, taking my seed so well~” he lets a little more weight settle on top of you, his cock nestling into your deepest parts with it.

“I am Avarice.”

Post dividers by @cafekitsune

[sehodreams]

fanta grape

TW and tags: threesome (late poly?), cheating, dubious consent (from smoking and drinking), toxic!Seunghan.

WC: 6.8K (okay we getting better at making shorter stuff)

Summary: Seunghan doesn’t need a clingy girlfriend, but Anton and Wonbin do.

Comment: I did say that pretty boys with fried hair were my weakness. I think the images make this look darker than what it really is, sorry if you expect something heavy dark, this is not it (except for Seunghan’s toxic behaviour).

7:30 PM was too early to give up.

You shifted in your seat, trying to concentrate on another thing that wasn’t the hour, how the light of the TV was slightly blinding you in the dark room, and how the skin under your thighs was sweating.

Half an hour before you had told yourself that nothing would make you leave without having a proper conversation with your boyfriend, but he not being there hadn’t crossed your mind, and you were just so relieved that his friends hadn’t asked you to leave, that the possibility of Seunghan not coming back with the knowledge of you being there just started to settle in.

Anton was already choosing a movie from the big carton box in Wonbin’s living room when you arrived, and Wonbin was picking a few beers when he saw you from his window, grabbing a fanta grape for you, perfectly knowing why you were standing there on his doorstep at 7PM.

Looking at the movie, between your boyfriend’s friends on each side, you tried to remind yourself why you were there.

Seunghan had dated you for almost half a year, he’s been your first everything, your first date, your first confession, your first boyfriend and your first orgasm, and everything was good, so you didn’t get why the sudden change with him.

Well, not everything was good, but didn’t all couples have problems? Why would he act so differently after some discussions and a few refusals?

It’s been days since the last time he answered one of your calls, and his messages were getting shorter and shorter, leaving you on read for hours and only answering when he knew you were asleep.

Sorry, been busy.

What kind of excuse was that?

You decided to have a talk with him to fix things, perhaps you weren’t paying enough attention to other signals, or perhaps he was getting tired of you not being able to go to his gigs and wait for him when he practised, but he knew how was your family when you started, so why was he suddenly pushing you to do things he perfectly knew you couldn’t?

‘’Can you call him again?’’ you asked Anton for the third time.

You didn’t dare to look him in the eyes while making that question again, but Seunghan wasn’t answering any of your calls, and you didn’t know what else to do, he had at least answered the first time Anton called him when you arrived.

You didn’t have to say anything for him to grab his phone and mark Seunghan’s number when you arrived.  ‘’She’s here’’ he had said, and he had tried to pass you the phone, but Seunghan had ended the call before you could talk.

Still, even having bothered him enough after that first call, Anton did it, he called him, and to prove he was doing it, he showed you how his name appeared on his screen, ringing a couple of times before the woman’s voice saying you could leave a message, and that you knew a bit too well by that point, started.

Seunghan was declining the calls of his friends now.

You shifted on your seat, looking down at your hands and the drops of the cold can fall over your uncovered thighs.

Feeling stupid, you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hold back your tears to not show how much you were hurting in front of the boys.

‘’Baby, what’s wrong?’’ Wonbin asked, looking at your shoulders get smaller and you blinking the tears away.

He knew what was wrong, everyone knew.

‘’Seunghan is seeing someone else, right?’’ you asked back, hands gripping the metallic object in your hands, leaving dents on it, and making your fingertips change from the reddish lively colour they always had to a pale one.

Both stayed silent.

‘’I’m so stupid’’ you sourly laughed, drinking the rest of your fanta.

Anton stood up to grab you another one, you knew it, but shaking your head you asked for a beer instead.

‘’But you hate it’’ he replied.

‘’Anton, I’ve been abandoned, could you please give me a beer?’’ you said, hurt, and as polite as always.

‘’Try mine’’ Wonbin offered, putting his bottle in front of you and surprising you, but resting your hand over his holding the drink, you accepted that he maintained it in the air for you, moved it closer to your mouth and tilted it for you to drink it.

It tasted terrible, you didn’t understand why they all drank it like water, you didn’t see the point of getting drunk, and usually, when you went out with them, you ended up being the one taking care of your boyfriend at parties instead of the other way around, like he usually promised before he made you sneak out.

Feeling even sadder, you moved his hand higher and drank a bigger gulp of that beer with earthy flavour.

Making a face at the end, and pushing Wonbin’s hand away, you didn’t want to say out loud how bad it tasted so Anton didn’t say an I told you that reminded you of your dad every time you made a mistake, like dating Seunghan.

Anton gave you another can of your fanta grape and sat with crossed arms, focusing on the TV again to not make you conscious.

‘’Thank you’’ you said, and he nodded.

‘’Just drink what you want, we buy that stuff for you anyways’’ Anton said later.

You felt piteous, and trying to brush the awkward moment you put yourself on, when your eyes saw Wonbin’s stash on the TV stand, you interrupted them again.

‘’Why aren’t you smoking?’’ you asked purely out of curiosity.

They used to always share a joint after they finished playing the same five songs they had an entire afternoon, and the first times they had even invited you to smoke with them, or well, Seunghan did, until Wonbin told him to leave you alone if you didn’t want to.

You didn’t like to stay there for long for that reason, you wouldn’t do anything at all, yet you felt like an uninvited guest sitting and limiting them with your presence because of all the things you couldn’t do, afraid of making them hate you every time you walked there with Seunghan pulling you by the hand.

‘’I thought you hated when the smell stayed on your clothes’’ Wonbin replied, and it wasn't a guess, he had heard you telling it to Seunghan when he tried to convince you that a hit wouldn’t hurt you.

You didn’t hate it solely because of that, you hated that it was an aroma hard to mask, and your dad was not as hard on you as he was before, but you still trembled every time you arrived at your house after spending an afternoon with a high Seunghan, afraid of your dad thinking that you were the one smoking it, and the consequences you would have to face.

You hated when Seunghan tried to force you onto things he knew would put you in a lot of trouble, it was nice that he had pushed you to do certain things you wouldn’t have dared until you met him, like wearing skirts, buying makeup and going to parties, but you had explained your reasons in detail for not smoking, and he had continued insisting.

Still, you never expected them all to not smoke for something you had told your boyfriend in supposed secret.

‘’That didn’t stop you before’’ you answered, taking another sip of your soda and trying to brush off the sudden blush on your cheeks, maybe you were overthinking it, you tried to tell yourself, why would they do something like that for you when they weren’t even something yours? They were your boyfriend’s friends, and nothing else, ‘’you can smoke if you want, don’t mind me’’.

Frowning, you let the new can rest over your thighs, and feeling the intense coldness bring you back to the moment, you saw how Anton didn’t waste a single second to light a joint up, happy to finally do something with his mouth now that he had your permission.

He always preferred smoking more than drinking, so you couldn’t understand how he survived the ‘’not smoking’’ rule they had created without your knowledge, and even if you weren’t around that much lately for it to be considered a real restrain, it still surprised you.

That didn’t change the fact that you had taken care of him on a couple of occasions though. Just like holding Wonbin’s hair when he got extremely wasted and threw up in strangers' bathrooms, you had let Anton sleep with his head on your lap when he smoked and ate a bit too much while Seunghan or Sohee ran to 24/7 convenience stores for something to bring him back to life.

‘’Do you want to try it?’’ he asked you, and you, deciding to do something different for your break-up, nodded.

‘’Do you even know how to smoke?’’ Wonbin inquired, laughing beside you.

‘’I’ve seen you two doing it more than enough’’ you quickly said, sounding different from usual and making Anton laugh, because it was true, especially with him.

Passing you the stick, you observed it for a good minute between your fingers, debating in your insides if it was worthy, but then you looked to the side, at how the drums frames of your boyfriend reflected the light of the TV, and you remembered why you were there.

Taking in air, you breathed, then moved it closer to your face, and seeing the little tip, you sucked it deep and nice.

They watched you as if they were studying you, having high expectations of your confidence, and laughing loudly when you coughed.

‘’Calm down’’ Wonbin took the joint from your hand, showing you how to do it right.

His lips barely touched it, and he nicely inhaled the smoke, holding it in like a pro, closing his eyes, and then slowly letting it out. It was an honest lesson, but you felt as if he had challenged you, and letting him pass it to Anton, you waited for your turn to prove yourself again.

This time you did it better, holding it in for longer, and softly letting it out like he did, watching him look at you with that cheeky grin.

It wasn’t even 8:15 when you checked again, and you had until 10 to stay and then go home, that was your curfew and you followed it religiously to avoid problems. So, watching Rocky get beaten once again on a TV old enough to be in your grandparents’ basement, you decided to close your eyes and let the weed effects take you, with an I have enough time in mind.

You wanted to see what was that magic that made everyone love it.

Leaning on the back of the couch, after many minutes, you started to feel conscious of different things, like the electric sound of the people cheering inside the old TV, the sticky sensation of the dirty fabric of the sofa under your recently shaved legs, and even more, the boy's legs touching yours on each side.

Of course they would be manspreading, they were in an indie/rock/you don’t know what the fuck band, so the way they caged you between their bodies and made you uncomfortable to find their own comfort probably didn’t even cross their minds.

Your eyelids opened when you heard a loud slam come from the movie, startling you, and you decided to watch the ceiling above you, recognizing the little spots from the humidity you had disliked since you stepped into that garage.

Wow, you really disliked, to not say hated, many things.

Just realizing it, you noticed that you disliked that garage from the first time you arrived, you disliked the old green couch that Wonbin made your boyfriend push from three streets down to his house, you disliked the old TV with static noise that your boyfriend and his friends made you watch, and you especially disliked that your boyfriend left you aside for all those things you hated without a doubt.

Why were you even trying it? You asked yourself.

After getting stressed for so many days, you didn’t have the energy to keep blaming yourself for it, and when Rocky had his first date with Adrianna, you laughed with the boys at Rocky’s corniness when he followed her around the ice ring.

Having seen that movie more times with them than necessary, that was one of the few scenes you honestly enjoyed, concentrating on it even when your boyfriend made you mad after he dropped a bomb like ‘’sorry, forgot we had this gig later, so I won’t be able to go to our date’’.

Or perhaps you concentrated because Anton always turned up the volume when that scene came since he saw you liked it too.

Watching them walk the street, you leaned to Wonbin’s side without noticing. His leather jacket felt glue-like against your cheek, but you didn’t mind, and looking at Rocky ramble about his turtles to catch Adrianna’s attention, you laughed when you saw the ugly pink lamp above them that was identical to the lamp Wonbin had put on one of the corners there.

‘’Rocky’s apartment reminds me of here’’ Anton said, referring to Wonbin’s ugly garage.

‘’What are you saying?’’ you interrupted him, ‘’Rocky is the original, Wonbin needs more than old cabinets, leaking pipes and granny lamps to catch him.’’

Wonbin only looked at you and shook his head with a smile, not even trying to defend himself.

When you focused on the movie again instead of the sensation of Wonbin’s leg pushing yours jokingly and his hand resting on your knee like he had done many times, Rocky was cornering her in his entrance, and on any other occasion you would’ve pushed his hand away, but when you saw the ambience of the movie get heavier, you couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the kiss about to happen and how cold his hand that previously shared his drink with you felt against your skin.

Wonbin’s hand was trailing a bit higher, still a decent distance from anything too alarming, and you felt something forming in your insides, like a little spark that you kind of liked, so you didn’t stop him.

When Rocky kissed her, you squeezed your legs, trapping Wonbin’s hand between your legs, dangerously high and near your panties.

The kiss was quick but deep, and you felt Wonbin’s hand fitting perfectly between your legs, long fingers and a wide palm, feeling good and making you clench around nothing.

You woke up, you were getting wet with the hand of your boyfriend’s friend between your thighs, and opening them to let it free, you shifted on your place, pulling down your skirt as much as you could.

‘’Everything okay?’’ you heard Anton asking after you had pushed his leg with yours when you freed Wonbin’s hand.

Looking at him with lost eyes, you nodded, trying to brush off what had just happened.

Concentrating on the screen again, you leaned against Anton this time, almost a bit too much, trying to put a little distance between Wonbin and you so his hand didn’t get lost again.

Anton directed his eyes at you when he felt you pressing your chest against his arm, and again, you didn’t mean to, it just felt comfortable to be against him, and you couldn’t think twice about what you were doing when you pressed your chest again.

Liar.

You lied to yourself once again, like when you told yourself Seunghan didn’t mean to make you cry with his jokes, or when he lied saying he wasn’t high so you let him sneak into your room in the middle of the night, or when he tried to make you eat an edible that Anton snatched from your hand before you could taste it.

Suddenly, with that memory, Anton protecting you from a danger you didn’t know, you wanted to get closer to him, and for the first time that night, you felt happy to have chosen such a skimpy outfit that did nothing to shield you from the freezing night.

You just put on what Seunghan liked, what usually caught his attention, because that was your goal, not to survive the air of the winter night, and the big sweater that you tossed to one of Wonbin’s bushes hadn’t helped you avoid your neighbours’ stares, but at least it fooled your mother enough when you left before your father came from work.

Trying to remember the name of the last five presidents to keep you sane (which soon became the name of the last five songs you heard while walking there), you saw the way Wonbin was paying more attention to you on his side than the TV in front of you two, and not being able to pull your eyes away from him and his messy ashy blonde hair, probably as dirty as his garage, still hugging Anton’s arm, your smile got bigger when he moved a string of your hair behind your ear.

"You're high" he affirmed, and you, not confirming it, only closed your eyes to the sensation of his fingertips grazing a little spot behind your ear.

Shit, you murmured inside your mind.

You were getting too wet for your own good, and that wouldn't have been a problem if you were with your boyfriend, he would've immediately noticed the change in your demeanour and would've taken you to the bathroom to give you a quick fuck (not making you cum), helping you endure the need until he could walk you home and waited for your sign so he could climb the tree near your window.

But he wasn't there, and you didn't know what to do to make your cunt stop pulsating around nothing.

Gulping, you moved your eyes to Anton.

Everything you were feeling had to be because of that stupid joint, and he’d know what to do, like he always does.

"Should we take her home?" He asked, noticing the way you were uncomfortable with both pairs of eyes over you, hiding your face on his side out of embarrassment.

"Hell no, her dad is going to shoot us" Wonbin quickly answered.

You laughed at that, the little giggle making them smile too, amused with your sudden happiness, an image of you they weren’t used to, but it was true, your dad would shoot at them if they left his princess with wobbly legs in his doorstep, and he would kill you later too, which was actually kind of upsetting, and probably the reason why you always thought everything twice, my dad is going to kill me if he finds out, so no one should’ve laughed, but you all did.

Still, your imagination made you squeeze your thighs, making you see another way in which they would leave you with said wobbly legs, and feeling a bit of relief from the pressure that was building in your abdomen, you shamelessly repeated the action.

‘’Look at this girl, what do you think you’re doing?’’ Wonbin asked with a grin.

You should’ve stopped, you should’ve listened to that part in your mind that told you that you were acting like a fucking slut and to go home, but you didn’t, and with an exhale, you lied on your back as far as you could, and looking at them, you waited for one of them to do something.

Your exposed skin started to prickle, and a stronger tingle installed between your legs when Wonbin’s hand posed over your knee again.

Even if they didn’t do anything intense, when Anton’s hand gripped your other knee, a mewl left your mouth, calling for them to do something else than just touching that part of you.

‘’Fuck, what should we do?’’ Anton asked, without a grin, licking his lips and a frown on his forehead, ready to eat his meal.

‘’Shit do I know, I just want to touch her’’ Wonbin said.

Anton was relying on the older to say something, and you kind of did too. If he sent you home, you doubted you could continue with your little show, or show your face to them ever again, and you would end up unsatisfied, but at least you would keep a bit of your pride that Seunghan had smashed.

‘’Her nipples are so hard’’ the younger commented, eyes fixed on your perky buds standing under your white top that did nothing to hide them.

They could easily see the outline of them under the thick fabric, making their mouths dry for a taste.

‘’If you open your legs for us, we’ll touch you, but only if you do, we won’t do anything unless you show us what you want’’ Wonbin declared.

Your escape, that was your opportunity to leave, you could stay with your legs closed, or you could stand and walk out, you were high, but not that high, and you had no reason to depend on any of them to go home.

Watching the movie, you inhaled as much air as you could.

You look pretty tonight, you know? with an unclear mind, you heard the dialogue, Rocky saying it to his girl before his fight.

That was your fight now.

‘’How do I look tonight?’’ you let the question out.

You had dressed for Seunghan, an outfit you wouldn’t have worn in your wildest dreams before and that made you feel like a clown walking around, a foreigner on your own skin.

That wasn’t you, and when the boys saw you, they watched you from head to toe before they announced that Seunghan had just left, which felt kind of nice too.

‘’What do you expect me to say? You look gorgeous, but I have to admit it bothers me that you didn’t dress like that to see me’’ Wonbin smiled.

‘’You have no idea how much I love how you look in this skirt, but it makes me crazy to think you had to walk here alone’’ Anton didn’t smile.

You look fine was everything Seunghan would’ve said, not even looking at you.

Both answers felt correct in their way, and not having any other reason to stop yourself anymore, you were single after all, you opened your legs, and being bolder than usual, you lifted the hem of your skirt for them enough to see your underwear.

‘’Shit, my baby must’ve been hurting so much’’ Wonbin teased, pressing his fingers over your clothed cunt and drawing the form of your lips over them.

‘’She looks in so much pain’’ Anton agreed, and his hand went to your tit, pinching one of your nipples like he had been wanting since he saw you cross Wonbin’s door.

Not wearing a bra, he used his thumb and index to play with them, making your mouth fall open with a silent moan.

‘’Don’t be like that’’ your back arched to give Anton better access to your chest, so he touched you better, like you wanted to be touched, ‘’be kind, please’’.

Wonbin closed his eyes and Anton shook his head, both smiling from ear to ear.

‘’Don’t worry baby, you took care of us, now we’ll take care of you’’ Wonbin pushed your panties to the side and slid his middle finger up and down between your wet lips, ‘’She’s dripping so much, I think I can push one inside without problem’’.

‘’Has Seunghan ever made you cum with his fingers?’’ Anton asked.

You didn’t want to answer, it was so private, something between you and your boyfriend (now ex), and they could see in your flushing cheeks and your wavering eyes how you wouldn’t put Seunghan to shame even if he didn’t treat you right, and that was even more adorable for them.

‘’It’s okay princess, you don’t have to answer, tonight you’ll learn how a real orgasm feels like’’ Anton answered himself.

Both of them had turned to you a long time ago, and making you spread more for them, to show everything, they engraved the image of your pussy glistening and the juices that reflected the only light there.

‘’So fucking pretty’’ Wonbin cursed, licking his finger that had just touched you, ‘’as sweet as I imagined’’ he groaned, fingers going to your clit to recollect more of your wetness.

All tender and inviting, Anton’s left hand went from your chest to your pussy, fighting with Wonbin to thumb your clit, until he won, and Wonbin had to feel content with filling your entrance with one of his fingers.

9:10 PM

You looked at the hour, reminding yourself that you had to leave at ten.

‘’I’ll get punished if I don’t get home by ten…’’ you cried when Wonbin added one more finger, pushing them in and then pulling them out until just the tip of his fingers stayed inside.

Anton kept making circles over your clit, repeating Wonbin’s action and licking his fingers before going back to his job.

‘’We’ll walk you home princess, don’t worry’’ Anton secured.

‘’Fuck’’ you moaned when Wonbin increased the pace of his fingers fucking you.

His guitarist's fingers were working you so well, and you never doubted he had a talent when he played songs for you while waiting for your boyfriend to arrive, but to feel the same fingers playing with your insides confirmed his talent even more, and soon your hand went to his wrist, trying to stop him from making you cry.

‘’Too good’’ you cried, forgetting that Anton was also the culprit of that tightness forming on your core, letting his stimulations continue.

‘’I know baby, I know’’ Wonbin smiled, stopping his movements and watching the minor rolling your little bud, making you tremble and tear up, squirming to escape a pleasure you had never felt so intense before.

That didn’t last long, Wonbin couldn’t let himself be overshadowed by another boy, and with your hand still wrapping his wrist, he went back to do scissoring motions inside you.

You didn’t know what name to call, little sobs escaping from you and making them laugh at how pretty you looked even when being and making a mess.

You were leaking over Wonbin’s couch, leaving a big dark spot under you, and if you had been conscious enough, you would’ve stopped them, but you felt such an intense pressure approaching you that you could only concentrate on the way Wonbin’s fingers were opening you so good and how Anton wasn’t drawing circles anymore, roughly moving his hand from one side to the other to make you cum.

He could see it coming, your chest heavily moving up and down while tears pricked your eyes, and he had to show you he was true to his words, unlike Seunghan, so he decided to teach you what a real orgasm felt like.

Clenching around Wonbin’s fingers, Anton flicked your clit while Wonbin rushed his fingers into thrusting harder, making you cum with his digits inside you.

Yes, Anton kept murmuring when he saw your abdomen shaking and felt your pussy quivering under his hand.

With toes curling, legs trembling and eyes rolling, you came over their hands incredibly strong, a little gush dripping over Wonbin’s palm and his couch.

That didn’t stop them, they didn’t care that you were cumming, and they continued until you convulsed and cried for them to please stop.

It wasn’t even 9:25 and they had already given you the best orgasm of your life.

Your body was numb after they stopped, your eyes dropped closed, and the tears didn’t stop rolling down your cheeks, making Anton clean them with his thumb.

‘’Are you okay?’’ he asked you because your tears wouldn’t stop.

‘’Yes, sorry, too good’’ was the only coherent sentence that you could form.

Looking bright, Wonbin left a quick kiss on your lips, wrapping your throat with his hand to maintain you in your position for him.

Anton, wanting one too, did the same thing, with his hand on your chest instead.

Taking turns, they stole the little air you tried to retrieve, making you more dizzy with their mouths than with the weed you had smoked not long ago and the beer Wonbin had given to you so lovingly.

Your body was warm, and you weren’t sure exactly what you wanted, but your nipples were in pain, needing more than the delicate friction of Anton’s fingers over your top, and whining, you wanted them to touch you like they had just done, or even more.

‘’One more?’’ Anton asked when he saw you trying to close your legs in your place, trying to find any kind of relief.

‘’Yes, please’’ you said, and he, feeling proud of his good girl, gave your pussy a soft smack, telling you to open your legs more for him.

‘’We can give you something better than fingers’’ Wonbin said, making you turn to him, and knowing what he was referring to, you nodded.

You didn’t need to think things too much, you wanted to feel good, you were just abandoned, and if they were two boys willing to give you a good time for a night, why would you stop now?

‘’But not today’’ Wonbin continued, making you let a painful noise out.

‘’Why?’’ you asked sad.

‘’We’ve been waiting so much for you, your first time with us is not going to be this way’’ Anton answered.

You were too deep in a haze to understand him, and confused, you could only blink when you heard him.

Because they were kissing you just seconds ago, they were leaning towards you, and each of them, seeing you under them from their own side, blocked the TV and the big clock from your sight.

‘’But I want to cum’’ you cried, not caring about anything else and interrupting them from continuing with their reasons to not fuck you.

‘’That’s okay baby, all we are saying is that we won’t fuck you tonight’’ Wonbin laughed at your request, ‘’we’ll definitely make you cum one more time, we can’t let our girl go home in pain, but you need to come back in your senses if you want us to fuck you’’ he explained.

 ‘’Our girl’’ Anton caressed your cheek while Wonbin trailed down his hand from your neck to between your breasts.

That sentence seemed too dreamy for him, having waited so long to say it, not daring himself to voice it when you weren’t really his.

‘’Your girl?’’ you asked.

‘’Our girl’’ Wonbin confirmed.

They always hated the way Seunghan treated you, such a cute little thing like you should always be treated like a precious doll, with care, and spoiled with the best things.

Sadly, the lucky bastard had found you before them, and they could only see you from afar, everything, from the friendship with Seunghan to your heart eyes directed at him, stopping them.

Anton was always the one putting your drinks on Wonbin’s shopping car, and the last hated paying for unnecessary shit, judging deep inside any coloured can that he saw in the same aisle of his beers, yet he let the youngest sneak the box with the memory of your smile when you opened his fridge and found what you liked.

I’m not her boyfriend, Anton said in his mind when he ran to grab your fanta grape.

I’m not her boyfriend, Wonbin reminded himself when he tapped his card.

But now you were their girl, and they would treat you like you deserved.

Not believing what you just heard, you felt so loved with their eyes over you and his hands roaming your body that you slid down on the couch, making your cunt easier for them to access, and with some difficulty you placed your hand over your pelvis, going down a bit more to push your folds apart and expose your entrance, presenting them your little hole clenching around nothing.

‘’Your girl’’ you exhaled, weak against their care.

Anton was faster than Wonbin, his hand quickly finding your pussy and cupping it to not let the oldest fuck you with his fingers again, pushing his own inside you this time.

The other, accepting his loss, lifted your top to let your breasts free, which bounced with the fabric pulling them up and then letting them fall down naked.

Your pretty nipples begged for them to give them attention, all hard and standing since you arrived thanks to the chilly air that had impacted you on your way there.

‘’Been dying for a taste’’ Wonbin admitted, letting Anton take his place with his fingers inside you and launching his tongue to lick your bud.

His velvet tongue felt amazing on your smooth skin, making you drip more over Anton’s digits.

Anton’s fingers were a lot longer than Wonbin’s, and he easily grazed a certain spot that made you gasp and shake your head at how intense it felt, receiving more of your leaking juices as a response when he pushed it again.

‘’Too much?’’ he asked, and it was too much, but you denied it.

Pulling away, he slowly went back in, trying to make you used to him and the size of his fingers.

‘’She wants more’’ Wonbin said, caressing your cheek and obliging you to let the lip you hadn’t realized you were biting hard, free. ‘’Ain’t I right?’’ he wanted you to answer.

‘’Yes,’’ you sighed.

Gritting his teeth, Anton did the same action, but quicker this time, pulling out his fingers and pushing them back in harder and faster, making you moan and nod at the thrusts.

‘’Aw she likes it’’ Wonbin commented, hand cupping your jaw and leaving a soft kiss on your cheek while his other hand stayed playing with the nipple he was previously licking.

Anton dragged his fingers in and out, liking the vision of you frowning and moaning under him, but even more, how you were receiving more attention than what you needed from Wonbin’s part.

That was what you deserved, undivided attention and care from them, to drown in pleasure and forget about everything that wasn’t worth your time.

Only they were worth your time.

Lost in the sensation of your cunt taking his fingers so well, Anton kept pounding into you, slowly at times, to then fuck you harder and faster until you cried and tried to get away from his hand.

Wonbin’s hand that fingered you just minutes ago moved to your tummy, pressing his palm to help you get closer to your orgasm while his nose nuzzled behind your ear and his breath hit your cheek.

‘’She’s so tight’’ Anton commented, wrists almost completely stopping and thumb brushing your clit.

‘’I know, she’ll take us so good later’’ Wonbin almost groaned.

You cried when you heard that, they were fucking you so good only with their fingers, you couldn’t even imagine how good their cocks would make you feel. You squirmed in your place, trying to close your legs to stop you from becoming so sensitive, not getting far with the boy's hands gripping your thighs and maintaining you in your position for them. 

‘’You wanted to cum’’ Wonbin reminded you.

‘’Yes, I’m sorry’’ you said, biting your lip again and letting yourself be fucked by Anton’s fingers.

Anton didn’t hurry, gently moving the two fingers he had inside you in scissoring motions this time, he felt your warm and wet walls trap him.

‘’She’s going to cum’’ Wonbin said, recognizing your same expression from before, the way your chest was agitated and your body convulsing.

‘’Oh princess, cum for me’’ Anton demanded, needing to see your orgasm leaking down his hand just like you did for Wonbin.

Ruthlessly moving in and out his wrist, he enjoyed your face contorting for him and your pussy fluttering, and a heavier stream was released, making another mess over Wonbin’s couch and his hand.

You couldn’t feel your body anymore, and you had no idea at what time or how you got home, but when you woke up you were in your room with clean clothes and as relaxed as never.

Soon you were filled with anxiety, scared of how you had arrived and what would your parents say. You didn’t dare to go out of your room, and looking at the hour, you felt your nerves fall when you saw that your father had already left for work and your mother probably had gone out to do some shopping like she usually did that day.

You had no messages from any of them saying that they would talk to you later, and it was already passed midday, so you tried to think that things were probably all okay. However, you didn’t expect to see a message from Anton and Wonbin asking how you felt.

Come see us later, Wonbin had added.

What the hell had been that the day before? You stared at your wall for minutes until you decided that you wouldn’t know unless you asked it yourself.

Later that day, Sungchan opened the door for you when you arrived, his face pale at seeing you there.

You didn’t know who to ask for, so you timidly smiled at him and waited for him to simply let you in.

‘’Let her in’’ Wonbin said when he saw you, so Sungchan had no option but to let you.

Smiling, Wonbin tilted his head to where his kitchen connected with his garage, and you nodded understanding him, walking there with insecure steps.

‘’What the hell do you think you’re doing?’’ you heard Sungchan ask Wonbin in a whisper.

‘’You don’t care’’ Wonbin answered, not in a whisper.

Entering the garage, Wonbin’s couch was still there, covered only by a flannel where you dripped down, and suddenly an embarrassing memory came back to you in a flashback.

‘’I’m so sorry’’ you had apologized when the three of you observed the big spots you had left with your orgasms.

‘’It’s okay’’ Wonbin laughed, patting your back to console you.

‘’That’s kind of hot’’ Anton added, eyes focused on the way it showed perfectly how good they had treated you.

Now Anton was sitting on a single new couch that stuck out in the middle of the well-known garage, immediately smiling when he saw you.

There was a new face too, a girl sitting in the corner of the couch that reminded you of your old you, silent and feigning a smile, like when you waited for Seunghan to come back when he left you in painful silence with his friends the first days.

You walked to Anton, still wary, but more confident after he seemed happy to see you there.

‘’Hey,’’ Anton said, taking your hand to play with the tips of your fingers, to then pull you closer and make you sit on his lap.

His arms wrapped your waist perfectly, letting a greeting kiss behind your ear that made you giggle, making you feel comfortable on your new seat.

You felt the eyes of the new girl staring at you, and not wanting to be rude anymore, you talked.

‘’Hi,’’ you finally addressed the girl in the room when Anton rested his chin on your shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling the aroma of your shampoo like he had been dreaming for months, ‘’Sorry’’ you continued, presenting yourself.

The girl denied with a cute smile, telling you that it was okay, and presenting herself as Seunghan’s new girlfriend.

‘’Seunghan’s girlfriend…’’ you repeated. She was cute, collected, calm, like you were when he met you.

‘’Yes, we just started seeing each other this month, how long have you been together?’’ she asked you, surely referring to you and Anton like a couple.

‘’Oh, it hasn’t been long’’ Anton answered for you.

A second later Sohee walked in, looking puzzled out for seeing you there, and especially, over Anton’s lap.

Almost immediately the rest of the boys came to the garage, all except Wonbin, becoming silent at the sight in front of them. Seunghan, who was more astonished than the others, froze at the entrance without understanding what he was looking at, his new girlfriend in the same room with his ex-girlfriend sitting over his bandmate’s lap.

Wonbin was the one who got him out of his confused state, pushing him to the side so he could cross the room to meet you, and sitting on the arm of the small new couch, he gave you a soft kiss on the lips, surprising everyone there, including you.

‘’We hope you all give us your blessings’’ Wonbin smiled, posing his cheek next to yours while Anton continued with his arms around your waist and his face hidden on your neck.

[songmingisthighs]

Missing Out

group : ateez

pairing : dilf!mingi × reader

genre : smut

wc : 4.1 k

tw : mdni, explicit smut; daddy kink, teasing, dirty talk, age gap (mingi's like mayhaps at least a decade older, but both are still within legal limits), thigh riding, spitting, alcohol consumption (not to the point of being drunk, it's just for vibes and... spitting lmao),

a/n : frfr i hope he doesn't see this fic because God i would not be able to defend myself. tbh i planned on posting this on mingi's bitthday but i got shit happening to me. shit without my consent and I'm just trying to ride the stress like gandalf hopped up on cocaine riding smaug. so ykw i decided to post this on my birthday instead lmao. special thanks to @kitten4sannie for listening to me drop some ideas while i was on a road trip, i did some adjustments but it's still sexually frustrated dilf!mingi this fic is finally out so i hope you and everyone enjoy it <3

a/n/n : i take no responsibilities for any calf cramp that may or may not happen but alyssa, i still blame you for the great leg cramp at ass o'clock

a/n/n/n : my birthday sucks because it felt more like public service than anything but i got ticket to go to singapore again so i'll be reunited with my little brother and little sisters soon✌️ i'm raising money for my mental wellbeing which is so totally code for i'm trying to find a way to make my shituation better by making myself just the slightest bit happier after today's shenanadoodles

buy me coffee ?

After the day Mingi had, the cold drink in his hand felt like the reward he deserved. It was only then that Mingi realized why people always say that the Family Court is rough. Still, of course, it was extra rough for him because his ex-wife, the horned creature incarnate (a goat, not the devil), had dragged his name through the mud just to get the maximum alimony because she was a narcissistic bum with no life skill to fall back to as if Mingi was the one who told her to quit her job as a dental hygienist when they first got married.

During the mediation meetings and court proceedings, she took all of the potshots she could While no one took her seriously, it still pained Mingi because the more she and her lawyer attacked him, calling out all of his insecurities and questioning his character, the more obvious it was that Mingi had wasted 9 years of his life on this loser and he missed out on all of the marital milestones. The main sore spot was having kids. She argued that putting her body through pregnancy was out of the question because there were risks that could cause her body to look weird in the future and it's inhumane how a woman's body had to contort in such a way to accommodate another living being. But when her breast implant popped when she slammed the car door too hard, it was 'a normal occurrence'.

As much as his friend Yunho told him not to, Mingi couldn't help but wallow in the time he absolutely WASTED on the bitch only to be screwed over. The only good thing that came out of the divorce was the fact that he got out of it without having to pay alimony because his ex-wife had become too cocky with her cards. But still, Mingi had to give her the car, the savings account (that wasn't much compared to anything considering she had drained it to accommodate her filler addiction and alcohol dependency), and Tony Son, their personal trainer, the one thing Mingi could credit her because she had been the one who introduced him to the man who was able to sculpt his body to perfection.

"Is this seat taken?"

Mingi snapped his head to the side to see a woman younger than he, dressed in a tight-bodiced red sparkly dress that showed just enough cleavage for it to be classy rather than trashy and the A-line satin skirt stopped just three fingers width atop her knees. Slowly, Mingi nodded and gestured to the seat on his right side wordlessly. It wasn't until the woman flagged down the bartender and ordered her drink did Mingi questioned why she sat next to him when there were other seats in the bar.

"So, are you alone?" she asked, striking up a conversation with Mingi which honestly caught him by surprise because he had been told that he had a resting bitch face that doubled in intensity when he wasn't in the mood and he was doubling in his bad mood. "Yeah... I am, so..." his words allude to him wanting to be alone, but there was something about the person next to him that intrigued him so much so that his eyes seemed to be glued to her. Just the sight of her drinking her vodka cranberry made Mingi's eyes travel from her face down to her lap, watching the way she moved so gracefully. "So... You don't mind my asking why a man as handsome as you are would be sitting alone with a scowl on his face," she pointed out, forcing Mingi to consciously unfurrow his eyebrows and fake taking a sip of his drink, "I'm not scowling, I'm just tired and pissed off for wasting 9 years on a selfish bitch that deprived me of anything I want in life," he spat venomously, even the slight mention of his ex sent a really unpleasant taste in his mouth. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?" She pouted, inching closer to Mingi as somewhat of a signal. Noticing this, Mingi scoffed and shook his head but he still entertained the woman, "Got a time machine to help me undo the past 9 years?" "No, but maybe I can give you what your ex couldn't."

You couldn't help but bite your bottom lip when the look of shock on Mingi's face melted into intrigue. You had been watching him for an hour, sitting all alone, nursing his one drink as he toyed with his ring before chucking it into his breast pocket. Thank God he did because you were not about to approach a potentially spoken-for man. It took you a while to get substantial evidence of his status and it wasn't just because you were distracted by his plump ass in those slacks and the matching suit jacket and slightly unbuttoned black dress shirt didn't help your case.

"Little girl, I think I'm a bit too... Far for your reach," Mingi pointed out, raising an eyebrow at you as he wasn't sure that you knew what you were offering him. Mirroring him, you raised your eyebrow and shifted so that you faced him fully as you raised one leg and cross it over the other, successfully inviting Mingi to get a glimpse of more skin. "You don't know me or what I can do, sir," you smirked challengingly, now openly inviting him to poke you further.

You were delighted when you saw Mingi's jaw clench and throat bob after you called him sir. It was proof to you that Mingi had some sort of inclination of being in control and his little confession about not getting what he wanted from his ex-wife might be a glimpse of the kind of fun you could get from him. So without hesitation, you decided that you were going home with him.

Surprisingly, Mingi responded positively by leaning in to cup your chin and pull you close, just a wispy breath away from having your lips meet and you so desperately wanted to taste his because they just looked so damn juicy and plump. "You don't want to know all the things I've been deprived of... Baby." Your eyes darken and your legs crossed tighter to suppress the sudden arousal washing over your core, excited at the confirmation that Mingi was playing into your games just as you had wanted. All you needed to do was lock this down. So you let your hand lay on his thigh, squeezing it suggestively and enjoying the feeling of his muscle tensing underneath you each time your hand slid closer to his crotch to the point that your nail was scratching the inner side of his thigh just right. Despite being physically affected by you, Mingi still maintained eye-contact, daring you to poke his button just right.

"Yes, I do... Daddy."

In the blink of an eye, Mingi smashed his lips on you and all of the oxygen was knocked out of your lungs in one go. His lips were soft but the way he used them was rough yet calculated. You could taste the smoky whiskey on his tongue as he slipped it inside your mouth. Little did you know, he too, was enjoying the way you tasted. Your lip gloss had a sweetness to it that made him wonder if you're the type to plan things or if it was just a happy coincidence. He also took note of how you allowed him to lead you and the more he asserted himself onto you with every nibble of his lip and every caress of his tongue, showing that you're more on the submissive side and he likes it. A lot. The more you felt pleasure, the more you pleasured him back as evidenced by your hand rubbing against his raging boner.

Mingi smirked at the way you whimpered when he finally pulled away from you to slap a couple bills on the counter before he got off the stool, pulling you along with him. You wobbled slightly but Mingi immediately pulled you flush on his chest and despite having just made out with him, you found the gesture very hot. "Wanna go see if you can keep up with the list of things I missed out on?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Mingi must be some kind of a business owner because no way he would have had a rather impressive office where you found yourself in. Well, on top of him on his couch, grinding your panty-less core against his thigh with your top down, allowing the older man to ogle at your tits as you tried to make yourself cum.

"Is that the best you can do?" Mingi taunted, circling his crystal glass which produced a tinkling sound from the ice in the drink he poured as soon as you reached his home. "Daddy, I want you to touch me," you whined but your hip was still relentlessly moving after making a big deal of how his thighs were so strong and you wanted to sit on them like a throne. So instead of just sitting, Mingi told you to make yourself useful and prep your pussy without his help and he wanted you to do it by riding his thigh. His thick, glorious thigh. "Don't you want to touch me, daddy?" you teased, cupping your boobs and tweaking your own nipples whilst throwing your head back, making a show out of it just to get Mingi to touch you. Sure, Mingi was intrigued, but he knew damn well that he was holding the reigns and he had to hold himself back from jumping at the opportunity to completely ravish you too soon. "I do, baby, but you're being a brat right now and refusing to listen to me. Had I wanted that, I would've stayed with my ex-wife." Your head snapped back up at the mention of his ex-wife and you glared at his smug smirking face, "You have me half naked on your lap and you still mentioned your ex-wife?" you gathered your skirt in your hand, exposing your cunt to Mingi's eyes and slowed your pace to a prolonged drag that left long, dark stain courtesy of your arousal.

Finding your petulance adorable, Mingi chuckled and pulled you in for a searing kiss with one hand cupping your chin and the other slapping you on the ass as if telling you to speed up your movement. "You're an adorable little doll and I'm gonna break you," he muttered against your lips before you could reply to him, Mingi tugged your hair back as he casually took a sip from his drink. The action made you yelp and Mingi swiftly leaned over and spit the drink into your mouth and clamped your jaw shut. "Swallow," he commanded and as you came down from being surprised, you stared into Mingi's eyes. At first, you only stared at him, feigning defiance just for fun and Mingi found that both intriguing and annoying. His grip moved to tightly grasp your jaw and he growled, "Swallow. It." He demanded in a stern voice that made your panties more damp as your cunt clench, leaving you unable to do anything more than whine and swallow the burning liquid. Mingi found you very mesmerizing even on an act as simple as you taking heed of his words. The stray spit and alcohol that trickled from the corners of your lips enhanced the glimmer of your smudged lipstick and lipgloss combo, turning Mingi on with how effortlessly sultry you looked. He was down and he was down bad. He wasn't even sure if he was down because Once the liquid was no longer there, you rolled out your tongue to proudly show your obedience and Mingi let out a shuddered breath seeing you just blindly following his orders like the good puppet you are.

"Fuck, you're gonna be the death of me."

In a flash, Mingi flipped you both around so that you were trapped underneath him with your head strategically on the armrest. The elevation allowed you to watch as Mingi dragged a hand down your body as if you were a work of art. "All this time... I was missing a lot all this time, that bitch took nine years out of me and gave me nothing," Mingi shuddered both in anger and in arousal. The contrasting thoughts between being so angry at his former partner and the excitement of being rewarded by being able to ravish you felt like waves crashing inside him. It was thrilling. It was exciting. It got his adrenaline pumping and God, he felt alive. "Poor baby," you purred all the while slowly popping the buttons of his dress shirt off to reveal the soft skin underneath, "You're so frustrated, It's a good thing I'm here now huh?"

You swung your leg up and used the tip of your toe to tilt Mingi's chin upwards maintaining a somewhat neutral expression but the twinkle in your eyes indicated clear intrigue. "Tell me all the things you want to do. What do you want most?" the question made Mingi roll his eyes back and he grabbed your leg by your ankle. "You nasty slut, you want to have an older cock so bad you're enticing me with empty promises, huh?" He mumbled against the skin of your leg, trailing his lips down from the heel and lower to your calf as his body followed down until he eventually stopped at the mid-section of your inner thigh. You helped him by flipping your skirt up, exposing your cunt wholly to him and slotting the leg you lifted on his shoulder, "Empty promises? I want to give you whatever you want daddy, and in order for me to be able to do that, I need to know what it is."

Thinking that he had nothing to lose anyway, Mingi smirked and decided to test you. "I want a baby," he stated, "I want to put my baby in you," he said oh so casually as if he hadn't had his fingers poking and prodding your cunt like they just belonged there. Truthfully speaking, Mingi was expecting you to push him off and ran away screaming because what kind of a hookup just casually dropped a bomb as big as he did?

But it seemed like Mingi's luck was turning around for the better because you replied by reaching forward to free his cock from his pants, trying as best as you could to suppress the surprise at Mingi's size (but failing as evidenced by the way your eyes bulged slightly and your tongue peeking out to lick your bottom lip in hunger) before you leaned back and opened your legs widely as an invitation for him. "Then do it, fuck me so hard and dumb and deep that I'd have no other choice but to have your baby," you smiled up at him. Mingi could only stare at you in shock initially, not really knowing what you meant until you whined and pulled him closer using the leg that was hooked on his shoulder. "Daddy, don't make me wait too long. Come on, put a baby in me!" you pleaded, cunt throbbing with eagerness to feel Mingi's cock stretching you now that you already caught a glimpse.

The shock melted away from Mingi's face and even as he was guiding his cock to your core, he was still carefully watching your face, not wanting to waste any twitch or shift in your face from feeling him but also he was trying to be careful in case you showed him any indication of regret or if you changed your mind. But the way you whined and rolled your hips so your wet cunt could meet his cock more gave him the green light.

"You dirty slut," Mingi grunted before he shoved his length inside you in one fluid movement. The accumulating arousal from you riding his thigh provided proper lubrication but his sheer size was not something you're used to so your body tensed up at the impact. "F-fuck, daddy, y-you-" "Am I tearing you apart, baby? Are you being split into two on daddy's fat cock?" he asked in faux worry that was just him being condescending towards you. But you don't care, you found it hot even when he talked down to you as if you were nothing but his plaything. "Yes, yes, daddy, I'm being split open on your cock but I love it! I love it so much!" you moaned, hands clawing at his skin, causing red streaks to appear from the pressure of your nails, "Fuck, I want more!"

With that, Mingi pushed your legs up by your thighs, exposing more of your lower half to him. "Be daddy's good girl and hold these open, I wanna see your pussy taking my cock raw," he hissed, eyes zeroing on the way your puffy lips split open to accommodate his size. Carefully, as if assessing a great piece of art, Mingi watched attentively The view almost brought tears to his eyes but he channeled the somewhat endearing moment into fucking you stupid into the mattress.

Each drag of Mingi's cock felt like fire against your inner walls. Although there was a slight discomfort with each movement, the added pleasure of being filled like you had never before made you addicted.

If you thought you were enjoying yourself, Mingi was very close to combusting and he was trying his best to not cum too soon as he didn't wanna be branded as the geezer who came too early. But he couldn't help it, not with the way both his ego and his cock were stroked. It was as if you were made for him and he felt that the moment he entered your sopping cunt. So Mingi shifted his focus to you instead, working to get you to cum first.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. I need you to cum first so you'd be ripe and open for me to fill you up," Mingi huffed, pressing his pointy nose against the junction of your neck that sent tingles down your spine, "We need to do our best to make sure that you'd be good and pregnant, right?" The weight of his words caused your head to spin as the thought of him filling you full for his own pleasure filled your mind. "Yes, yes daddy, make me cum please," you whined into his ears, your body reacting almost automatically by rolling your hips against his own to match his speed and desire. Mingi growled hungrily and his pace quickened significantly as the impact got harder. You were sure that after this your ass would be different shades of red and blue but you couldn't care less. Especially if Mingi wanted to do more rounds with you, you'd gladly wear the bruises like a badge of honor.

"Fuck, you're so hot like this, you're so hot when you're willing and submissive for me," Mingi grunted, even verging on whining into your ears because you just felt so good to him but he held firm, "Are you close, baby? Are you cumming soon?" Lucky for him, you nodded hurriedly, confirming that you were close. Your brain had been marinating in the dizzying arousal that it was embarrassingly quick for you to nearly reach your climax in a rather short time. However, your response was deemed lacking to Mingi who wanted to hear a verbal response from you. Mingi was quick to slap you hard on your left tit as a punishment, feeling the need to chastise you for simplifying your response.

The words died on Mingi's tongue and his hips sharply halted to a stop when he saw you yelp and shudder before coming completely undone underneath him, writhing pathetically as your nails grazed his skin, leaving red streaks for Mingi to show off for days on end. His eyes darken when he saw tears pooled in your own eyes before dropping, creating the illusion of your eyes sparkling which served a rather complex combination of innocence and sinful. "M-M- Daddy," you whimpered in almost a hushed tone, barely comprehensible but to Mingi the sound was thunderous in Mingi's ears, ringing, because his baby girl needed him. His baby girl wanted him. His baby girl who's willing to give him anything he could ask for was longing for him. So who is he to deny you?

Seeing you in such a vulnerable state seemed to unlock something primal in Mingi because while you were reeling down from your orgasm, Mingi was instead put into some sort of a trance. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, slightly hoping that he could taste your sweetness in the air, and his hips restarted with a pace so hard and quick, for a moment you forgot that Mingi was a human.

The pleasure from your orgasm tripled with the additional friction continuously given by Mingi whose head was flooded with the thought of truly possibly getting you pregnant from this first time. Not that he was planning on only fucking you once, not after he felt how good you made him feel both emotionally and physically. He was planning to pamper you to death and maybe that was the sexually frustrated side in him but he didn't care, he didn't care how crazy he was because you were the one who made him crazy.

The sound of hips snapping together in a rhythm accompanied by your drunk-like moans sounded like a symphony in Mingi's ears. "F-fuck baby, I'm gonna fill you up now," Mingi grunted, his eyes closing and his forehead dropping to your shoulder, "I'm gonna fill you up with my seed to the brim and you're gonna be a good girl and keep it all in so my baby can grow safely inside of you, okay?" He whispered so intimately against your shoulder that both your lips and cunt wept. You wouldn't be surprised if there was a pool underneath you after you were done and you won't hesitate to ask for more. "Cum, daddy. Cum inside me. Fill me up so hard and full like you promised me!" You whined, your hands snaking around his shoulders to hold tight as the overstimulation caused a tingling pain that made your toes curl while Mingi was getting such a high from his ego being fed.

"Fuck, baby girl, this is it, I'm gonna put my baby in you!" Mingi grunted and thrusted, once, twice, thrice, before his hips stuttered and you felt a gush of warmth spilling deep inside your cunt. The physical feeling of being filled up made your eyes roll into your head and the realization of what just happened made you blush as if you weren't whoring for his cock not 10 minutes ago.

As Mingi slowly came down from his high, his mind cleared up and he was able to pepper kisses from your shoulders, up your neck, along your jawline, and then gently all over your face. The contrast of the sweetness of the older man and the nasty act you both just did made you suddenly turn all giggly and shy. "Aww, come on, are you trying to get away from me?" Mingi smirked, trying to chase another kiss from your lips but you kept dodging him, "That's pretty absurd considering I still have my cock inside of you, plugging you full." Your eyes widened at the vulgarity of his chosen words and you couldn't help but smack him on the shoulder but fail to hold back a giggle, "Don't say it like that!" "Like what? Like the way it is?" Mingi teased, pushing himself up to trail a finger on your stomach which made your breath hitch and your muscle to tense, "I need to make sure you really do get pregnant so you can give me my baby just like I wanted," his voice trailed as his fingers drew patterns on your skin almost lovingly and the nonsensical side of you wanted to believe that he was showing his affection to you. You figured that there was only one way to find out.

Without missing a beat, you took his finger that was tracing your skin into your mouth and start licking around as if it was a lollipop, effectively causing Mingi's attention to shift to your face and his cock to twitch inside you. "Who said we're only gonna try this once, daddy? You're gonna fuck me as much as you like until I'm good and pregnant."

The smirk that bloomed on Mingi's face was devilish and almost menacing, showing his genuine intention to get wamhat he wanted.

"I hope you'd never ask. I'm gonna fuck you all night long and you're gonna be a good girl and take it all with no complaint."

As if you'd say no.

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[hellinistical]

in which 6 months have passed and caleb has come to collect.

part two to Stamen Cluster tw: implied pregnancy. minor character death. dubious consent/non-con. kidnapping. coercion. wc: 13.2k

The summer sun beats down relentlessly, golden rays drenching the village in warmth. The air hums with life—cicadas drone in the trees, the distant chatter of market-goers echoes through the streets, and the chickens in your yard cluck contentedly as they peck at the plump grains you toss their way. They've grown fat and glossy, their feathers shining in the sunlight like polished gold.

The world around you seems to have flourished. The grass is lush and vibrant, swaying lazily in the soft breeze. Wildflowers bloom in riotous colors, dotting the landscape with splashes of red, yellow, and blue. Even the market has transformed—stalls overflow with fresh produce, their owners smiling and calling out to passersby with cheer you hadn’t seen in years. 

The market boomed in the village square, its stalls overflowing with fresh produce, colorful fabrics, and trinkets brought in by traveling merchants. The air was filled with laughter and the chatter of bartering voices, the scent of baked bread and spiced meat wafting through the streets. Life had seemingly returned to normal, for everyone but you.

The dreams had stopped. Weeks ago, they had ceased entirely, leaving behind a deafening silence. At first, you were relieved, grateful to sleep through the night without the suffocating presence of Caleb haunting your every thought. But relief turned to unease. The absence of dreams didn’t mean the absence of him.

You didn’t forget. Not the bite, not the basket, and certainly not the promise. Every pomegranate you passed at the market brought it all rushing back. Every glance in the mirror reminded you of the scar on your neck, now faded but still there, a ghost of that winter night.

Josephine had noticed your change, of course. She would mutter about how you’d become quieter, more distant. You’d wave her off with excuses of being busy, of chores piling up- because really, how would you go about explaining to your grandmother that some man had bit you and told you that you had to go to him every six months? 

When Josephine had first noticed the bite on your neck, she squinted at you over the rim of her spectacles, her tone sharp with suspicion.

"What's that on your neck?" she asked, gesturing with her knitting needle.

You’d reached up reflexively, your fingers brushing over the faint scar. "A cat bite," you’d replied smoothly, offering her a dismissive shrug. "You know how that stray's been hanging around. Got a little too friendly."

Josephine had frowned, unconvinced, but she didn’t press.

And the pomegranates—oh, she had asked about those too.

"What’s with that basket in my room?" she’d demanded one morning, hands on her hips. "I don’t remember planting any pomegranate trees."

You’d forced a laugh, light and airy, as if her question was absurd. "A gift," you said quickly. "I was meaning to pass them along, but your room has the best sun. Didn’t want them to spoil before I could deliver them."

Her eyes had lingered on you for a beat too long, but eventually, she’d let it go, mumbling about the heat of the season and the wastefulness of letting good fruit sit too long.

The moment she’d shuffled out of the room, you’d wasted no time. Gathering the basket, you’d carried it outside, heart pounding the entire way. The sight of those glossy red fruits had turned your stomach, their weight in your hands far heavier than it should’ve been. You hadn’t even dared to bury them; instead, you hurled them into the thickest part of the woods, where the undergrowth was dense and the sun barely reached.

You’d stayed there for a moment, breathless, staring at where the pomegranates had disappeared into the shadows. Only when the breeze shifted, carrying the faintest scent of earth and fruit back to you, did you turn and walk away, refusing to look back.

But. 

The next day, the damned things were back.

You froze in place the moment you entered Josephine’s room, your pulse hammering against your throat. There they were, sitting on her table as though you’d never thrown them into the woods, the basket perfectly arranged, every pomegranate still plump and gleaming with an almost unnatural sheen.

For a moment, you just stared, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and dread. How? How could they possibly be here? You’d thrown them far—far enough that even wild animals wouldn’t have dragged them back.

"What’s wrong with you?" Josephine’s voice snapped you out of your frozen state. She was knitting by the window, her gaze flicking between you and the basket. "Don’t tell me you’ve lost your mind over a few pieces of fruit."

You shook your head quickly, forcing a shaky laugh. "No, no. Just... surprised they’re still looking so fresh in this heat."

"Hmph. They do look odd, don’t they?" she mused, squinting at them. "Almost like they’ve just been picked. I thought you said they were a gift from someone?"

"Y-Yeah," you stammered, taking a cautious step closer. "Guess they’re hardier than I thought."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Well, they’re wasting space in my room. You’d better do something with them before they rot. Lord knows I don’t want that smell in here."

You nodded, swallowing hard as you grabbed the basket again, its weight unnerving in your hands. They felt heavier than before, almost as if the fruits were mocking you with their persistence.

This time, you carried them even farther, past the woods and into the rocky streams beyond. You hurled them into the water one by one, watching as the current carried them away.

And the next day, they were on your bed.

You froze in the doorway, staring at the basket sitting squarely in the middle of your quilt, pristine and accusing. It was impossible—completely, utterly impossible—but there they were, the pomegranates gleaming as if they had just been plucked.

Your heart thundered in your chest as you stepped inside, the wooden floor creaking beneath your boots. You slammed the door shut behind you and leaned against it, your hands trembling.

You paced your room, back and forth, back and forth, the floorboards groaning under your restless movement.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whispered under your breath, running your hands through your hair. The pomegranates sat there, unbothered by your panic, their bright crimson skin a taunting contrast to the faded, dusty hues of your little room.

"Why won’t you leave me alone!" you hissed, throwing your hands in the air. "It hasn’t been six months! Leave me be!"

Your words echoed in the room, falling flat against the oppressive silence. The only sound was your own ragged breathing and the faint chirping of cicadas outside the window.

You glanced at the basket again, your frustration bubbling over. You stomped over to it, gripping the edge of the woven handle so tightly your knuckles turned white. "What do you want from me?!"

The basket didn’t answer.

But of course, they didn’t answer; they were pomegranates.

You let out a short, bitter laugh, rubbing your temples. "I’m going crazy. I’m actually going crazy," you muttered to yourself, pacing again.

The fruit sat there in perfect silence, unbothered by your spiraling. Their ruby-red skin seemed almost alive in the golden summer light filtering through the window, as though mocking you with their unnatural vibrance.

Bingo. The solution hit you like a lightning bolt—if they wouldn’t leave you alone, then fine. You’d just give them to someone else. Someone could eat them, and that’d be the end of it.

You turned on your heel, marched back to the underbrush, and snatched up the basket. Dirt clung to the edge of one of the fruits, but the rest were still as pristine as ever. You wiped the sweat from your brow, muttering to yourself.

"Granny thought they were a gift for someone, didn’t she? Well, might as well make them a gift. Problem solved."

You held the basket at arm’s length, like it might sprout legs and attack you, and trudged back toward the house. The sun beat down, making you squint as your boots kicked up little clouds of dust.

The market. Yes, the market would be perfect. Someone there would take them off your hands, no questions asked. You just needed to make it quick—drop them, smile, and leave. Nothing to it.

***

The market, alive with the hum of summer prosperity, bustled far busier than usual. Vendors shouted over each other, the mingling scents of fresh bread, herbs, and livestock mingling in the thick, warm air.

Luckily, Tara's stall didn’t have too long of a line. You weaved your way through the crowd, sidestepping an overzealous butcher swinging a cleaver a little too close for comfort.

By the time you reached the wooden counter, Jenna was already sorting through an armful of herbs, her hands swift and precise. She glanced up as you approached, her brows lifting.

"Well, don’t you look like you’ve been running from something," she quipped, tying a neat bundle of rosemary. "What’s in the basket?"

You hesitated, clutching the cursed thing a little tighter. "Pomegranates."

Jenna tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Pomegranates? In the middle of summer?"

"Yeah." You glanced down, trying not to sound as uncomfortable as you felt. "Thought Tara might want them. For...you know, preserves or something."

Jenna wiped her hands on her apron, eyeing the fruit. "Bit unusual for you to bring gifts."

"They're not—" You stopped yourself, forcing a smile. "Just...trying to get rid of them before they go bad."

She smirked but didn’t press further. "Tara’s packing up some jams right now, just give her a sec. I’ll let her know you’ve got a little surprise for her."

"Great," you said, setting the basket down on the counter. “Great, great, great.”

Not great. 

Definitely not great when Tara finishes up and comes up, all happy and excited that you’ve come to visit her, with a gift no less. She wipes a streak of flour off her cheek. “Oh, hey! What’s this?”

"A gift," you replied, forcing a smile. "Thought you might like some pomegranates. Fresh. Perfectly ripe."

Her eyes lit up as she peeked inside. "Wow, really? These are so expensive in the market right now. Where’d you get them?"

"Friend of a friend," you said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the question. "Figured I’d share the luck."

Tara reached out to pick one up, her fingers grazing the smooth skin of the fruit. For a moment, you almost snatched it back- almost. Instead, you took a deep breath and said, “They’re all yours, enjoy.”

And of course, she didn’t just let you leave. “Why don’t you sit? I can take a break!” “Oh, uh, no, I shouldn’t. You know, Granny is-” “Oh come on, Y/n, we need to catch up!”

You hesitated at the edge of the stall, hands suddenly feeling too warm in the heat of the market. Tara's energy was contagious, and her smile only made it harder to say no.

"No, really, I should get back. Granny's waiting—"

"Granny can wait!" Tara interrupted, her hands on her hips, playful but firm. "We haven't had a proper chat in ages. Come on, just a few minutes, I insist!"

Her insistence was like a gentle pull, urging you to sit, and before you knew it, you found yourself taking the seat she’d pulled out for you.

"Fine," you muttered, crossing your arms as if that might stop the inevitable catching-up that was coming. "Just a few minutes."

Tara beamed, pulling her apron off and hanging it over the edge of the stall. "Great! Now, tell me everything. How's Granny? You? Any guys in your life yet?" 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her eagerness, but it didn’t stop the uncomfortable flutter in your stomach. It was one thing to lie about the pomegranates, but talking about that?

You hesitated, trying to maintain a casual tone. “Granny’s good, really. She’s getting old, but tough as always,” you started, trying to keep it light.

"And me? Well, you know how it is. Just busy with things around the house, the farm..." You shrugged, brushing past the question of you.

Tara's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the deflection. “Busy with farm stuff? You don’t even look like you’ve got your hands full these days.” She smirked, and for a moment, you could see the playful challenge in her eyes.

"You're dodging the question, Y/n," she teased. "Any guys? Any... interesting ones, maybe?"

You froze for a moment, the question hanging in the air like an unspoken weight.

“Really?” You forced a laugh, trying to ease the tension. "I'm busy with Granny. You know how it is."

But Tara wasn’t letting it slide that easily. She leaned in, a sly smile creeping onto her lips. “Come on, now. You’ve got to at least be talking to someone. There’s gotta be someone who's caught your eye, yeah?”

The words stung a little too much. You barely even remembered the last time someone caught your eye.

But you couldn’t let her see that. You smiled, shaking your head. “Nope, not really. No time for any of that.”

Tara didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she let it drop, leaning back in her seat. “Alright, alright. I’m just saying, you deserve someone who gets you.”

And you would laugh. Really, you would- if not for the hand that suddenly rested on your shoulder,

Tara's voice is bright, almost musical as she greets him, completely oblivious to the cold sweat running down your back. “Well, well, someone knows how to make an entrance!” She beams, her usual warmth easily shifting toward Caleb as if he’s some kind of long-lost acquaintance.

You fight the urge to panic, to back away, but something in the pit of your stomach stops you. His presence is like a shadow draped across the market, and you can feel it weighing down on you even as he greets Tara with smooth, practiced charm.

“Caleb,” he introduces himself with a slight bow, a grin curling at the corner of his lips. “Pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard much about you.” His tone is warm, almost too warm. But what catches you most is the look in his eyes—like he didn’t like that Tara was even talking to you, or someone who’s discovered something interesting. Tara laughs, clearly enamored. “Oh, you have? I hope only good things, then!” She waves it off with a playful flourish, completely buying into his act.

And there you are, standing frozen in the middle of it all, your heart pounding. Caleb looks at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours, and you can feel the pressure building in your chest. It’s not the same as before—not the overwhelming, suffocating grip, but something colder, sharper.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home,” you manage to say, your voice coming out more steady than you feel.

Caleb’s grin widens, an eerie sort of satisfaction curling through his expression. “I couldn’t resist,” he says smoothly, his gaze lingering on you for a fraction too long.

Caleb takes your hand, kissing it. His lips brush against your skin, a shiver runs up your spine, and for a moment, the world feels distant. His touch is deliberate, slow, as if marking his claim. You want to pull your hand away, but his grip is gentle yet firm enough to hold you in place.

Tara’s voice pierces through the tension, her teasing tone rising as she watches the two of you. “Y/n, you sneaky thing! You said you weren’t seeing anyone!” She laughs.

Caleb looks at you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, as if he’s enjoying this little game. His eyes lock with yours for a moment before he speaks, his voice smooth, seductive, and confident.

“Oh, Tara, you know how it is,” he says, the tone of his voice dripping with something almost dangerous. “Sometimes, it’s best to keep things  private.” He glances at you again, his gaze holding a silent promise of something unspoken.

Tara giggles excitedly, taking your free hand in hers, and grasping it tightly. “Wow, how did you guys meet? He’s so…wow, Y/n.” Your stomach churns at her excitement. 

“Oh, it’s quite the story,” Caleb says smoothly, his voice laced with charm that immediately captures Tara’s attention. He steps a little closer to you, his hand still firmly holding yours, as if to ensure you don’t slip away. “We met during one of her trips to the market. I was passing through, and, well... she caught my eye.”

Tara gasps, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “No way! That’s so romantic! Love at first sight?” She looks between the two of you, her face brimming with enthusiasm.

Caleb chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Something like that,” he replies, glancing at you with a look that feels far too intense. “She was buying pomegranates. Couldn’t take her eyes off them. I joked about how picky she was being, and she told me—well, you know how sharp she can be.” His grin widens as if he’s remembering something fond, though you know better.

Tara bursts into laughter. “That sounds just like her! She’s got quite the bite sometimes, doesn’t she?” She squeezes your free hand in a playful, affectionate way.

You manage a weak smile, your stomach twisting tighter with each passing second. Caleb’s fabricated story wraps around you like a net, trapping you in the role of a lovestruck partner. “Yeah, it was... memorable,” you mumble, hoping Tara doesn’t pick up on the strain in your voice.

“But the funny part,” Caleb continues, his tone light but his words precise, “was how she refused to accept my help carrying her things. Stubborn, determined—exactly what drew me to her.”

Tara sighs dreamily. “That’s so sweet. Y/n, why didn’t you tell me? I mean, look at him!” She gestures toward Caleb with a grin. “If I were you, I’d be showing him off.”

Your forced smile doesn’t falter, though your nails dig into your palm. You glance at Caleb, silently pleading for him to stop, but his expression is unreadable—pleased, perhaps even smug, as he tightens his grip on your hand just slightly.

Tara’s excitement is palpable, her joy genuine, and it makes you feel even worse.

"Anyway, one thing led to another, and then, as it turns out, I knew her grandmother. Josephine is lovely."

Tara’s eyes widen, her jaw dropping in surprise. “Wait, you know Josephine? Small world! How do you know her?”

Caleb’s smile doesn’t falter, his chin still resting lightly on your shoulder. “Oh, from years ago. She helped me out during a difficult time, and I never forgot her kindness. When I realized the connection…” He trails off, his voice softening. “Well, it felt like fate, you know?”  He rests his chin on your shoulder before linking his hand with your other hand. His skin was like cold, calloused.  You shiver involuntarily as his icy hand grazes the back of yours. The contrast to the summer heat makes it all the more unsettling. You glance sideways at Caleb, his smile perfectly crafted, as though he were born to charm.

Tara giggles again.  She leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "You better watch out, Y/n. If Granny likes him, then this one’s a keeper."

God, was Tara stupid or something?

You try to laugh, but it comes out more like a strangled cough. "Yeah, Granny... she, uh, she keeps her opinions to herself these days," you manage, your voice tight.

Caleb turns his head slightly, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear. "You’ve gone quiet, darling," he murmurs softly, just for you. His breath sends a chill down your spine despite the blazing summer sun.

Tara, oblivious to the tension radiating from you, clasps her hands together. “That’s so sweet! It’s like something out of a storybook!” She laughs, nudging your arm. “Y/n, why didn’t you tell me about this? It’s so romantic!”

Your throat feels dry, and your words stick, but Caleb, of course, fills the silence effortlessly. “She’s modest. I think that’s part of her charm.” His hand tightens slightly on your shoulder, the pressure subtle but firm, a silent warning.

Tara beams, completely enchanted. “I love this for you, Y/n. I mean, not just that you’ve found someone, but that he’s clearly so thoughtful and caring.”

You force out a small laugh, the sound strained. “Yeah, it’s… something.”

Caleb’s smile grows as his icy fingers trace idle patterns along your shoulder, sending chills through you. “Something, indeed,” he echoes, his tone smooth yet loaded with a weight only you can feel.

Tara leans in conspiratorially, her excitement barely contained. “So, are there any big plans? I mean, you’ve clearly got a story worth celebrating!” She winks, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind Caleb’s pleasant facade.

Tara’s eyes light up, her smile widening as Caleb speaks, his tone casual but carrying an undercurrent that only you can decipher.

“Yeah, we’ve got a big trip coming up soon,” Caleb says smoothly, his icy hand still resting possessively on your shoulder. “She’ll be staying with me for a while, just to test the waters, you know?”

Your stomach drops, and you whip your head around to glare at him, but Caleb’s expression remains calm, even charming, as if he hasn’t just dropped a bombshell. Tara’s jaw drops, her excitement bubbling over.

“Oh my gods, Y/n! That’s huge! Where are you going? How long are you staying? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” She bounces slightly on her feet, her hands clasped together.

You open your mouth to speak, your heart racing, but Caleb answers before you can get a word out.

“It’s still a surprise,” he says with a soft laugh, leaning closer to you, his voice low and intimate. “But I’ll make sure she writes to you.”

Tara practically squeals, completely charmed. “A surprise? That’s so romantic! Y/n, you lucky thing!” She beams at you, clearly convinced that this is the most wonderful news.

You try to force a smile, but it falters under Caleb’s steady gaze, the grip on your shoulder tightening ever so slightly. There’s no escaping the unspoken message in his words: This isn’t up for discussion.

***

The sun hangs high, casting golden light through the trees as the two of you walk the path home. The market’s noise is far behind you now, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the cheerful chirping of birds. But the air feels thick, heavy, as though the world itself can sense the tension simmering just beneath the surface. And the walk home? Suffocating. Caleb’s presence looms over you, his steps too close, too deliberate.

“That Tara,” he says casually, his tone light, as if discussing the weather. “Sweet girl, hmm?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, his figure far too at ease for the storm brewing in your chest. “Please, no—”

“Relax.” His voice sharpens slightly, though the smile doesn’t leave his lips. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you take me for a bad guy.” He chuckles, a sound that doesn’t quite match the amusement he pretends to feel.

You clench your fists at your sides, swallowing the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. The birds chirp on, oblivious, their melody at odds with the undercurrent of dread knotting in your stomach. Instead, you put your focus fixed on the dirt path ahead. Caleb seems to notice your silence, tilting his head slightly to glance at you. “You wound me, truly. After everything I’ve done for you?”

"You said six months," you snap, your voice trembling as you glance at him.

"Six months before I collect you," he corrects, his tone as smooth and unbothered as ever. He steps closer, his presence suffocating. "And I said we have a big trip coming up. I never said I wouldn't visit, dollface."

Your heart pounds in your chest as his words sink in, the casual way he speaks of your future like it’s already set in stone. Like you don’t have a choice.

You stop walking, your fists clenching at your sides. "Stop calling me that," you grit out, the words slipping through your teeth before you can think better of it.

Caleb raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. "What, dollface? It suits you."

"It doesn’t," you spit back, turning your glare on him.

His smirk deepens, his eyes gleaming with something you can’t quite place—amusement, or maybe warning. "Feisty today, aren’t we? I like it."

Your stomach twists, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. "You don’t get to just... show up and act like you own my life."

"But I do," he says, his voice dropping into something softer, more dangerous. He takes a deliberate step toward you, and instinctively, you step back. "You signed the contract the moment you took the seeds. Six months, six seeds, till death. We’re bound, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not."

You stop walking. Turning to look at him, you jab a finger into his chest. "What even are you?" you spit, your voice shaking with anger.

"A god, maybe?" he says with a lazy shrug, like the answer doesn’t matter.

"You're no god of mine," you snap back, your fists trembling at your sides.

"And that," he says, his smirk widening, "is just as fine."

It’s disgusting how sure of himself he is, how he carries himself like the world bends to his whim, like even the sun would stop in its path if he commanded it. He watches you with those unnervingly calm eyes, his head tilted like he’s amused by your defiance.

You gasp as he spins you, the sudden motion leaving you breathless and disoriented. His grip is firm as he pulls you against him, his body too close, too strong.

"You gave her the basket," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, as his hand slides smoothly to rest against your neck. A cold shiver runs down your spine, a feeling of dread creeping over you as you fear he'll squeeze again, cut off your air like before. But he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers brush against the scar on your neck—the bite, the mark of what you never wanted to remember.

Your pulse quickens, thumping beneath his touch. You feel trapped, helpless under his gaze. His thumb traces the scar, and your body tenses, as if the very memory of that moment will come rushing back. You swallow hard, but your throat feels tight, constricted.

"Of course, I could just take your right hand," he continues, his lips curling slightly in a smirk that sends another spike of terror through you. "But, oh, you didn't seem to like that option. Or taking Josephine. So really, you're stuck with me."

The words sting, sharper than they have any right to be, and you struggle against his hold, the feeling of being caged growing stronger by the second. You try to step back, to pull away, but his grip doesn’t loosen; it only tightens, holding you in place.

"You don't own me," you force out, though your voice trembles more than you'd like to admit.

He tilts his head, as if genuinely amused by your words. "Oh, sweetheart. You gave me a choice. You decided this, not me."

His words pierce through you like a cold dagger, sharp and unrelenting. The memory of what you've done—the seeds, the promise you made, the trap you unknowingly walked into—plays over and over again in your mind. His grip on your face is firm, forcing you to look at him, to meet his gaze.

"You chose this," he repeats, his voice low and sinister. "And it was your fault for stealing the seeds." The way he says it makes your skin crawl, as if he's savoring your guilt, your helplessness.

You try to resist the urge to recoil, but you're trapped. His touch on your face is cold, like the ice of winter, but it's also familiar—too familiar, in a way that makes you want to escape, to break free from the suffocating weight of everything he's saying and doing.

His thumb brushes across your cheek, a mocking tenderness that doesn't match the malice in his eyes. "Luckily for you, I'm already familiar with this. Wouldn't you agree?"

The question hangs in the air, suffocating, and you can't help but feel like there's no way out. No way to undo what you've done, no way to take back the seeds, no way to escape this twisted cycle. The worst part is that you do agree, in a way. He knows you. He knows your weakness, your fear. He’s always been there, watching, waiting for this moment.

You force yourself to breathe, to try to steady your nerves. "You don’t control me," you say through gritted teeth, though your words sound weaker than you intend.

His lips twitch upward, and for a moment, the smile he gives you is almost... fond. "Oh, darling," he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. "You have no idea how much control I have over you."

Your stomach drops as he leans in closer, his face inches from yours. The air between you feels charged, electric, and you can't tell whether it's fear or something else that makes your heart race.

His kiss lands on your lips with an eerie gentleness, like the touch of a predator feigning affection. It's soft, almost too soft, as if he's savoring the moment—savoring the control he has over you. The cold of his lips contrasts with the heat in your chest, a confusing, disorienting sensation that makes your skin prickle with discomfort.

For a second, you almost want to pull away, to slap him, to scream—anything—but his presence is suffocating. His hand still cups your face, keeping you locked in place, and the pressure of his lips, though gentle, is impossible to ignore.

You don’t respond to it. You refuse to. It feels wrong—so wrong, like he's trying to erase your will with every soft, calculated press of his mouth. But somehow, you can’t break free. It’s like a force you can’t fight, and you hate yourself for not being able to.

When he finally pulls away, it’s not with a sense of victory, but something far more disturbing: a quiet satisfaction, as though this kiss, this small victory over you, is simply one piece of a much larger, more intricate plan. His eyes meet yours, those unsettling, dark eyes that never seem to leave you.

"You're mine, whether you want it or not," he says, his voice a low murmur, lips still close enough that you can feel the brush of his breath. "You always were, Y/n."

You blink again, your heart racing in your chest, trying to make sense of what just happened. One moment, Caleb's lips were on yours, his hand cradling your face, and the next... you're standing in the familiar confines of your own home. The walls, the creaking floors, the smell of old wood and herbs—everything is just as you left it.

But the air feels different. Heavier. The shadows in the corners seem deeper, and your breath feels sharp in your lungs as you slowly process the shift. Caleb is gone, and you have no idea how or when he left. It feels like time skipped ahead, like something changed, but you don’t know how.

Your fingers touch your lips reflexively, still tingling from his kiss. The bite on your neck pulses, a quiet reminder of what he's done, what he's taken from you. You want to scream, to rip the memories out of your mind, but they cling to you like a dark cloud.

You glance around the room. Josephine's door is still shut, the house is eerily quiet, yet you feel... watched. But he’s gone. For now. You have no idea when he’ll return—or what he'll want next.

For now, all you can do is breathe, steady yourself, and pray the walls hold up against the darkness he's brought into your life.

But at least that basket was gone. 

***

The dreams returned, but they weren't the same. Not like before, when they had been fragmented, hazy, and fleeting. No, now they were sharp, clear, as if the night itself had become a canvas, and every stroke of it was painted with purpose, with intent.

In the first dream, you were back in the field. The pomegranates stood tall and ripe, their red skin gleaming under the moonlight. The soil beneath your feet was soft, too soft, as if the earth itself had swallowed up everything you once knew. You walked through the rows, reaching out, your fingers grazing the dark fruits, feeling their weight like a burden. And then, you saw him—Caleb. He was standing at the far end, his silhouette stark against the sky, his eyes glinting as if he could see straight through you.

“You’ll learn to love them,” his voice echoed, though his lips never moved. The fruit was delicious. So utterly, maddeningly delicious. Its stain tainted your lips, the color matching his fingertips, bloody. 

You tried to turn, to run, but your feet were rooted in place. The pomegranates were all around you now, their roots tangled like vines, pulling you down, pulling you into the earth.

Another dream followed. This time, you stood before a mirror, but it wasn’t your reflection that stared back at you. It was something... wrong. A version of you with darker eyes, wilder hair, a version that had been changed, warped by the seeds, by the bargain you had made. You reached out to touch the mirror, but the reflection didn’t move in sync with you, it was always a moment ahead, always watching, always waiting.

The bite on your neck burned as if it had never healed, the scar still angry and red beneath your skin, even in the dream. And Caleb’s laughter, soft and mocking, rang out in the background, swirling around you like smoke.

The dreams weren’t dreams anymore. They were memories, and they felt like warnings.

And when you woke, your heart hammered in your chest, your breath coming in frantic gasps. For a brief, terrifying moment, you wondered if the line between sleep and reality had blurred completely.

You clutched the covers tightly, as if trying to hold yourself together. 

The chickens clucked outside. It was…comforting. 

***

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with a sense of desperation, of something dangerous stirring. Lips pressed together in a fierce, bruising kiss—teeth clashing, not out of passion, but out of something more primal. Something almost violent. There was no tenderness here, no softness. Just a raw, chaotic hunger that neither of you could control.

Your hands were everywhere, grasping, pulling, pushing. His fingers dug into your skin, scratching and clawing like they were trying to leave a mark, trying to stake some claim on you, on your very essence. You didn’t know if you wanted to break free or if you wanted to pull him closer, as if the intensity of the moment could somehow swallow both of you whole.

His hands were on your body, your neck, your waist, burning through your clothes as if they weren’t even there. The sharpness of his grip, the way he maneuvered you against him, felt almost like a punishment. He was everywhere, his scent, his touch, his voice. You couldn’t escape him. No matter how much you struggled, you were trapped in this moment.

Your pulse raced in your throat, and his lips trailed down, leaving fire in their wake. But the world around you was blurring, the edges of reality slipping away like water between your fingers. All you knew was him, all you felt was him.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

You didn’t even know how you got here, but it felt like you’d been drowning in this moment for hours, for years—time didn’t seem to matter anymore. All that mattered was the chaos of his presence, the way it shook you, the way it marked you.

When you finally pulled away, gasping for air, your lips swollen and red, your body burning from the heat of it all, Caleb’s eyes were on you—dark, intense, unreadable. His chest heaved as he stared at you, as if trying to decide what to do next. A string of spit connected your lips. He brushed it away with his thumb from the corner of your lips. 

“You’ll learn to crave this,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

And for a moment, he looks almost guilty. 

Your heart races in your chest, your breath shallow as you gasp for air, the remnants of the dream still clinging to your skin. The sheets are tangled around you, your body slick with sweat. You clutch your pillow tight to your face, muffling the scream that rises in your throat.

It felt so real. Too real. His touch, his words—everything about it lingered like a shadow in your mind. You couldn’t shake the sensation of him, the feeling of his hands, his presence, suffocating you.

You sit up, your legs shaky beneath you, fighting the panic that claws at your chest. The sunlight filtering through your window is harsh, but it does little to clear the fog that clouds your thoughts. The world outside feels like a distant memory, too distant from the nightmare that still echoes in your mind.

As you moved, you paused.

Your underwear felt warm. Warm and wet. 

Of course, you rush to the bathroom and tug your waistband and underwear to see. 

 You stare at the crimson stain, your heart pounding in your chest. This isn’t normal. It’s too soon—weeks too soon. You grip the edge of the sink, your legs trembling as you try to make sense of it.

Your reflection in the mirror looks pale, almost ghostly. Panic rises as your mind races. You’ve never been early before. Never like this. You fumble for the calendar on your phone, quickly scrolling through the dates. It confirms what you already knew: this isn’t right.

“Okay, okay,” you mutter to yourself, trying to calm down. Maybe it’s stress. That’s a thing, right? Stress can mess with your cycle. Or maybe it was something you ate.

But deep down, you know this isn’t just stress.

The dreams, the bite, the pomegranates—it all feels like pieces of a puzzle you’re too afraid to put together. You grab a fresh pair of underwear and a pad, trying to shake off the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach. The bright light of the bathroom feels too harsh, too exposing.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just a fluke.

Yeah. A fluke. 

***

The crisp air of fall settles over the village, painting the trees in fiery reds and golden yellows. The scent of earth and fallen leaves lingers, grounding you in a way that summer never could. For the first time in months, your life feels...ordinary.

The pomegranates no longer appear on your bed or at your door. The oppressive weight of Caleb’s presence, real or imagined, seems to have lifted. You can breathe again.

The chickens are still assholes, the market bustles with preparations for the harvest festival, and the days bleed into one another in a blur of chores, conversations, and fleeting smiles. It’s not happiness exactly, but it’s close enough that you don’t question it.

Josephine scolds you for tracking mud into the house, Tara chats with you in the market, and for once, you don’t feel like the shadow of someone else lingers behind you. Nights are quieter now. The dreams are gone, leaving you with nothing but the sound of wind brushing against the windows and the occasional hoot of an owl.

You stop keeping track of the days. It doesn’t feel important anymore. Caleb fades like the last vestiges of summer, distant and unreal. 

Josephine hums softly as her fingers work through your hair, weaving seeds and flowers with the kind of care that only she could manage. You sit still, trying not to squirm under her meticulous touch.

"You look lovely," she says, her voice soft, almost reverent. "This shade of pink suits you."

You glance down at the folds of the doric chiton, its fabric catching the golden afternoon light. It feels too delicate, too perfect. A stark contrast to the mud-streaked skirts and work-worn tunics you’ve grown used to.

"Granny really outdid herself," you mutter, trying to muster some semblance of gratitude.

Josephine chuckles. "I just want you to shine at the festival. You know how much this means to me. Besides, it’s not every day you get to dress up for the gods. And the festival only comes once a year. Make sure you give them a proper thanks for all we’ve been given this season.”

Your eyes flicker to the small table by the window, where your offerings sit—a neatly arranged basket of bread, fruit, and herbs, alongside a small clay figure you’d crafted. It feels enough. It has to be enough.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” you ask softly, almost to yourself.

Josephine frowns, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “The gods are always listening, child. Whether they answer is another thing entirely. But you must offer with a full heart and trust that they’ll hear.”

You didn’t know if you even believed in the gods after well, that.

It’s been months since...since then. Long enough that you’ve almost convinced yourself it’s behind you. Caleb is gone, the pomegranates stopped appearing, and life has returned to a semblance of normalcy.

But as Josephine ties the final braid and steps back to admire her work, you can’t help but roll your stiff shoulders. The seeds in your hair feel heavier than they should, but maybe that was just the style. 

Shaking off the thought, you stand, smoothing the folds of your dress. “I should go finish preparing,” you say, reaching for the basket.

Josephine nods, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Go, then. And don’t forget to enjoy yourself tonight. The festival isn’t just for the gods, you know- Oh!”

“Hm?”

She goes to your basket, her fingers deftly plucking a single cherry from the offerings. Without hesitation, she bites into it, the juice running faintly down her chin. Then, before you can ask what she’s doing, she takes your face in her hands. “Hold still.”

And you do. You do as she rubs the exposed half of the cherry onto your lips, the sweet, sticky juice staining them a deep red (or as red as they could get). 

“Isn’t this a bit much?” “Nonsense. The gods love beauty, and they care for presentation. Now, I want you to be safe- don’t over-do the wine, but mingle. Don’t stay with Tara the whole time, understand?” “Yes, grandmother.” “And if you get hungry and have lost your coin, there’s seeds in your hair.” “Of course, grandmother.”

A gentle smile plays at your lips. She returns it halfway. 

“Soon, you’ll have to leave me, you know.” “...I know.” “You’ll have a husband, children- but don’t forget about me,” theres a happy lit to her voice now. 

“I’d never!”

“I know.”

It’s quiet for some time. The sun would surely set soon. 

Josephine sighs, clapping her hands together. 

Well… off you go. And don’t smudge it before anyone gets a good look- enjoy yourself! But go before I find something else to start fussing over.”

You laugh, and with that, she gives you a light push toward the door. The warmth of her hands lingers on your cheeks as you step outside, basket in hand. The cherry’s taste stays with you, its sweetness mingling with the crisp autumn air as you make your way toward the heart of the village. It’s a small thing, but as you catch your reflection in a passing window, you can’t help but admit—Josephine might be onto something. 

As you step outside again, the cherry’s sweetness lingers, mingling with the crisp autumn air. You adjust your grip on the basket, glancing down at its carefully arranged contents. The offerings look the same as before, but now, with the touch of Josephine’s flair, they feel... different.

Special.

You shake off the odd sense of unease that creeps up your spine and head toward the square. The distant hum of the festival grows louder with every step, the laughter and music pulling you in like a current.

Let them notice, you think, the faint taste of cherry on your tongue. Let them see.

***

The festival buzzed with life, every sound and sight merging into a symphony of joy. Flutes and lyras trilled high notes, while the deeper, resonant hum of lyres and kitharas anchored the music. The bonfire crackled at the heart of it all, sending sparks spiraling into the night sky like fireflies escaping into freedom.

Your shoes were long forgotten, discarded somewhere along the edge of the square. The cool earth kissed your feet as you spun and swayed, the soft fabric of your chiton billowing with each movement. You held your skirts high, free from the constraints of formality, your laughter blending into the melody of the celebration.

Tara appeared beside you, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the fire and the exhilaration of the dance. She grabbed your hand and twirled you around, both of you stumbling and giggling like children. “Look at you!” Tara shouted over the music, her voice full of laughter. “Who knew you could dance like this?”

“Shut up!” you replied, grinning as you spun her around. “You’re the one showing off!” The two of you laughed, the sound blending with the music and the cheerful chatter of the crowd. Around you, other women joined in, their movements graceful and free, their laughter ringing out like bells. For a moment, the world felt simple, unburdened by the weight of your thoughts or the strange, dark memories that lingered in the back of your mind. The firelight painted everyone in shades of gold and amber, and the music carried you, light as air.

“Come on!” Tara shouted, pulling you closer to the fire. “Let’s see if you can keep up!”

You laughed, following her lead as the music grew faster, your feet moving instinctively to the rhythm. Around the fire, the festival carried on, a celebration of life, of the gods, of the turning seasons.

As the flames illuminated your face even more, more compliments seemed to spill from Tara’s lips. Her cheeks were rosy as if she’d been wined and dined, greedy for more. “You look stunning tonight!” she shouted over the music, her voice brimming with sincerity and joy. “I swear, you’ve outdone yourself!”

“Oh, please,” you replied, laughing as you caught your breath. “It’s the dress! Granny picked it.” She shakes her head, giggling. “Remind me to thank her!” Linking your arms together, the other women link as well, circling and dancing. 

Brightly dressed women clapped their hands and twirled, their skirts fanning out like petals in the firelight. Children darted between the adults, their giggles carrying on the wind. Men cheered and clapped from the sidelines, some joining in to pair off with dancers, while others lingered with mugs of spiced wine.

For a moment, everything else melted away. The tension, the strange unease you’d carried with you for weeks—it was all burned away by the fire, drowned out by the music and the easy joy of the festival.

"Come on!" Tara called, pulling you further into the throng. "No holding back tonight, Y/n!"

And for once, you let yourself go. You danced until your feet ached, until the world spun from more than just twirling. The festival carried on, vibrant and alive, as if nothing else mattered but this night and its revelry. And nothing did. 

***

The hours blurred together in a haze of laughter, music, and the smoky scent of the bonfire. You barely noticed the passage of time, caught up in the festival’s intoxicating energy.

Jenna, Tara, and you had become an inseparable trio for the night, weaving through the crowd and sharing stories between bites of roasted lamb. The juices ran down your fingers as you tore into the leg, the savory richness melting on your tongue. Each bite was perfection, seasoned just right and charred to smoky deliciousness.

Jenna, however, was in her own world, her cheeks flushed from more than just the firelight.

"I swear," she slurred, her words tumbling over each other as she clung to your arm for balance, "if I see that baker again, I’m—I'm gonna marry him! Just—poof! Right then and there."

Tara snorted, nearly choking on her drink. "Jenna, you said that about the butcher last week."

"I changed my mind," Jenna declared dramatically, swaying as she gestured with her cup. "He gave me free bread, Tara! Bread! What more do you need in life?"

"Steady legs, for starters," you teased, catching her just as she stumbled.

Jenna burst out laughing, her head tipping back as she clung to you tighter. "Oh, Y/n, you’re the best. If this baker thing doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll just marry you instead!"

Jenna hiccups, a sound so sudden and loud it startles both you and Tara. She blinks, swaying slightly as she grins mischievously.

"Let’s—hic—let’s play a game," she announces, slurring just enough to make you nervous about where this might be headed. "Truth or dare!"

Tara groans, shaking her head as she leans back against the bench. "Oh, no. Jenna, you’re terrible at this game when you’re sober. I can’t imagine how this is going to go right now."

Jenna waves her hand dismissively, nearly whacking you in the face. "Nonsense! I’m great at this game." She hiccups again, giggling. "Come on, Y/n, Tara—hic—it’ll be fun! I’ll go first."

You exchange a glance with Tara, her raised eyebrow mirroring your own apprehension. Still, you can’t help but smile at Jenna’s enthusiasm.

"Fine," you sigh, playing along. "Go ahead, Jenna. I’ll go first- uh, hmm…dare.”

And Jenna gets all into your face, and you swear she was pretending to be drunk with how sober she suddenly seemed. “I dare you to go to the temple- not Kore’s temple. The other one. Take a fruit.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback by the sudden shift in Jenna's demeanor. The air feels heavier, and there's an odd intensity in her gaze that makes you hesitate. You swallow, trying to maintain your casual tone.

"Wait, the temple?" You glance at Tara, hoping for some kind of reassurance, but she looks just as confused as you. "Jenna, what are you talking about?"

Her smile widens, almost predatory in its sharpness, though her eyes are clouded with drunkenness again. "You know," she says slowly, as if speaking to a child, "the temple. The one at the edge of town. There's fruit there.”

"Why would I..." you trail off, not sure if you even want to entertain this idea. The thought of taking fruit from there doesn’t sit right with you, especially given everything that’s happened in the past.

Tara looks between you and Jenna, narrowing her eyes. "You really want her to do that, Jenna?" she asks, her tone cautious.

Jenna's grin widens again, though there's a glimmer of something else behind her eyes. "You don’t have to do it," she says in a sing-song voice. "It’s just a dare.” She makes a sound as if to imitate a chicken.

"I—I can’t," you mutter, shaking your head as you try to laugh it off. "That’s... that’s too much."

But Jenna leans in closer, her eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. "I dare you," she whispers, like it’s a secret only you need to hear. "Go. Take a fruit."

Tara’s laugh is nervous now, her voice dropping lower. "Jenna, what is this really about? What’s going on with you?"

The tension hangs in the air. You feel the weight of Jenna’s dare pulling at you. The temple... What could go wrong, right? Just grab a fruit. 

Your feet move before your mind catches up, and you feel the heat of the wine still dancing in your veins. With a strange sense of defiance, you rise to your feet, your voice louder than you intended. "Grandmother didn't raise a coward."

Tara looks at you, her expression a mix of concern and confusion, but you don’t give her the chance to voice her concerns. You begin walking toward the temple, the dare fueling your movements.

You tell yourself it’s a joke, a simple dare. You won’t actually take a fruit. You’ll just go in and out. No harm done. What’s the worst that could happen?

The night air feels cool on your skin, a contrast to the warmth of the wine still swirling in your head. The temple stands ahead, its silhouette looming against the starlit sky, its pillars casting long shadows. Something about it feels...wrong. You try to shake off the feeling, but it lingers.

As you approach the entrance, the heavy wooden doors stand slightly ajar, an invitation or a warning? You can’t decide.

With a deep breath, you step inside. The air shifts as you cross the threshold, and a strange silence envelops you. There are no sounds of night creatures, no rustle of wind—just stillness. The faint glow of candles illuminates the altar ahead, and there, piled with offerings, sits an assortment of fruits, their colors deep and vivid in the dim light.

You freeze for a moment, your pulse quickening. The temptation to grab just one, to complete the dare and return before anyone notices, rises within you.

But you hesitate. The air seems to thicken, and you feel eyes on you, though you see no one. The weight of something ancient presses on your chest.

Just take a fruit. Just one.

***

The marble feels slick beneath your feet as you step further into the temple, the coldness biting into your bare soles. You hadn't expected it to be this cold, this quiet. The usual sounds of the night outside, the rustle of leaves or the calls of distant animals, were replaced by an eerie stillness, as though the air itself had frozen in time.

You glance around, the space stretching before you, each stone gleaming under the faint light of flickering candles placed carefully on the altar. The faint scent of incense lingers in the air, sharp and intoxicating. It's a strange place, a place of both reverence and... something else.

You bow low, instinctively following the rituals your grandmother drilled into you. Your lips whisper the necessary prayers, your fingers curling around the edges of the hem of your chiton, your heart pounding in your chest. You can almost hear your own heartbeat echoing in the silence.

And then you hear it.

Footsteps behind you. Jenna. She had followed you, hadn't she? She didn’t trust you to do it alone, didn’t trust you to carry through with the dare. You don't have to look to know she’s there, watching, waiting.

But you're here now. You’ve come this far. The fruit sits before you, gleaming temptingly in the dim light. You were supposed to take one, weren’t you? It felt like part of some unspoken pact, an offering, a symbol of submission. You glance back briefly and catch the gleam of Jenna’s eyes, expectant and a little too eager.

Should you? Should you take it, just like the dare demanded?

The weight of the moment presses heavily on you.

His voice cuts through the silence, smooth and teasing, and you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. The words, the tone—it's all too familiar. It's Caleb, standing there, his presence like a shadow you can never quite shake off.

You didn't even hear him approach. How long had he been watching? The cold air grows heavier, the weight of his gaze pressing on your back. His footsteps echo as he moves closer, and you can feel the tension building in the space between you.

You don't turn to face him. You can't. But you hear him step forward, his boots clicking softly on the marble floor.

"Don't act so surprised," Caleb continues, his voice low and almost intimate, "I’ve been watching, you know. You think you can just sneak away to the temple and pretend I won’t notice?"

The way he says it makes your skin prickle, like he's always one step ahead, always aware of what you're doing. You grip the hem of your chiton tighter, your pulse quickening.

"Perfect timing," he repeats, almost as if savoring the moment, "And look at you, all dressed up. For me? You shouldn't have."

You try to keep your composure, but the unease crawling along your skin betrays you. It’s the last thing you expected — no, it’s the last thing you wanted. Of course, it’s no coincidence that he’s here now. You shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have even considered it. His presence, his- Jenna.

That motherfucker. 

You swallow, your throat dry, and force yourself to face him. He’s not even hiding now, stepping fully into the dim light, his figure outlined against the shadows. The flickering candlelight casts a soft glow on his features, but his eyes — those eyes — they’re colder than the stone beneath your feet.

You glance down at the fruit on the altar, the one Jenna dared you to take. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if that would make a difference, if taking it would somehow tie you closer to him.

But you know better. You know there’s no way out.

“So,” he continues, his voice lowering, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he approaches, “which fruit will you choose, hmm?”

He waits for an answer for a good 5 minutes before saying anything. “Come on, Kore. Don’t keep me waiting, yeah? After midnight, well- it’s been six months, love. So come on. Pick a fruit.”

The nickname makes your blood run cold. Kore. The name slips from his lips like a promise, laced with meanings you can’t fully grasp but feel all too keenly. It’s mocking and intimate all at once, and it burrows under your skin like a splinter.

“Stop calling me that,” you snap, but your voice wavers.

Caleb only smirks, his head tilting ever so slightly as if amused by your defiance. “Oh, but it suits you so well. Don’t you think?” He gestures to the altar, the fruits glistening under the faint candlelight. “Now, let’s not waste time. Pick one.”

You glance at the altar, then back at him, your chest tightening. The air feels too thick, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place.

“I’m not playing your game,” you say, taking a step back.

His smile doesn’t falter, but there’s something sharper in his eyes now, a warning hidden behind his otherwise relaxed demeanor. “It’s not a game, love. It’s a choice. Your choice. But let me remind you,” he steps closer, the click of his shoes echoing off the temple walls, “I’ve been patient. Six months, patient. And patience, well… it has its limits.”

You shake your head, backing up until the altar presses against your lower back. The cold stone is a stark reminder that you’re cornered. “You said—”

“I said I’d give you six months before I collected you,” Caleb interrupts smoothly, his voice dangerously soft now. “And here I am. But you… you’re still making this difficult. Always so stubborn, aren’t you, Kore?”

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his fingers trail along the edge of the altar, dangerously close to the fruit. “Why are you doing this?” you whisper.

His laugh is low, dark, and it curls around you like smoke. “Because I can,” he says simply, his hand finally stopping above a ripe pomegranate. He picks it up, rolling it in his hand as he inspects it. “Because you invited me in when you took the seeds. And because…”

He leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he finishes, “You’re mine, and you always will be.”

You want to scream, to run, to fight, but your body won’t move. Instead, you stare at the pomegranate in his hand, its dark red skin gleaming like blood.

“Pick a fruit, Y/n,” Caleb murmurs again, his voice a silken command. “Or I’ll pick one for you.”

His breath brushes your neck, and you can feel his gaze on the back of your head, lingering in a way that feels like a predator eyeing its prey. His hand in your hair sends shivers down your spine, an unsettling mix of warmth and danger. The sweetness of his scent is thick now, almost overpowering, making it hard to think clearly.

“Beautiful work,” he repeats, his voice soft and almost teasing as his fingers gently tug at the strands of your hair, weaving through the braids. “Compliments to Josephine.” There’s a bite of something else in his tone, something that makes the compliment feel less genuine and more like a warning.

Your heart races, but it’s not from fear alone—it’s the confusion, the fury, and the helplessness all blending together. You don’t know what you want more: to break free from his grip or to slap the smirk off his face.

You’re so close to him now, his body just a breath away from yours. His warmth spreads across your skin, and it makes you dizzy. You struggle to pull yourself together, your mind desperately searching for something, anything to do.

"You're not playing fair," you manage to choke out, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. "I won't—"

“Won’t what?” His lips brush your ear again, and this time, his words are like poison. “Won’t take the fruit? Won’t accept what you’ve already given me?”

He reaches over to a basket, pucking a fruit. The pomegranate he holds glistens in the dim light, its bright red skin a cruel reminder of the price you’re about to pay. His fingers slide through your hair one last time, his hand holding your head just firmly enough to make sure you don’t look away from the fruit.

"All this time, and you still don’t see the inevitable, do you, Kore?” He chuckles low in his throat. “Six months ago, you ate the seeds. And now… it’s time to collect what’s due."

Your breath catches in your throat. You feel trapped. Stuck. There’s nowhere to run. No way to fight this. And worse, part of you… part of you wants to give in, just to make it stop.

His words hang heavy in the air, the mockery laced with something far darker. The way his gaze roams over you makes your skin crawl, even as heat rises to your cheeks against your will.

"Oh, would you look at that," he says, tilting his head as though examining a prized possession. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you got all dolled up for someone else. But that couldn't be, could it?"

His smirk widens, sharp and cutting, as his hand trails down to brush the fabric of your chiton, lingering just enough to make your stomach twist in disgust. “No, this was for me, wasn’t it, Y/n? Everything you do always circles back to me.”

You grit your teeth, your pulse pounding so hard it’s a roar in your ears. “I dressed for the gods. Not you.”

He laughs, low and rich, the sound vibrating through the marble halls. "Sweetheart, I am your god now. Whether you like it or not."

You recoil from his touch, jerking away enough to put a sliver of distance between you. His grin doesn't falter; if anything, it grows wider, as though your resistance only amuses him further.

“You don’t have to keep fighting it,” he says, stepping closer, erasing the space you just created. “The sooner you stop pretending, the easier it’ll be. For both of us.”

Your jaw clenches, the fire in your chest sparking again. “I’m not pretending,” you snap. “You don’t own me.”

“Don’t I?” His voice drops, the teasing edge sharpening into something far more menacing. He leans in, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel the chill of his breath. “You gave me your soul the moment you swallowed those seeds. Whether you meant to or not.”

His words send a cold dread creeping through your veins, but you refuse to show it. Instead, you glare at him, your voice trembling but steady. “I didn’t know. That wasn’t a choice.”

“And yet, here we are,” he says smoothly, straightening and gesturing to the temple around you. “All roads lead to me, love. Always have, always will.”

His confidence, his dominance—it’s suffocating, and yet, somewhere deep inside, something stirs. A spark of defiance that refuses to die, no matter how much he tries to smother it.

You take a deep breath, forcing steel into your spine. “You don’t scare me,” you lie, the words falling from your lips like a challenge.

His smirk turns predatory, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. “Oh, Kore,” he murmurs, stepping so close that your breaths mingle. “You should be scared. But that’s what makes this fun.”

His finger presses lightly against your temple, the touch cold and electric. A shiver runs through you, but before you can pull away, the world slips out from under you.

The marble of the temple dissolves, the flickering torches extinguish, and the air grows heavy and still. Darkness consumes everything, as thick and impenetrable as ink.

You try to speak, to move, but your limbs feel weighted, your voice trapped in your throat. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the void, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

“Shh,” Caleb’s voice whispers, soft and velvety, reverberating all around you. It feels as though it’s coming from inside your head. “Don’t fight it, love. You’ll only make it worse.”

His laughter echoes, sharp and cruel, slicing through the oppressive silence. “Relax. It’s just a little... adjustment.”

You want to scream, to demand what he’s done, but all you can do is drift, weightless and disoriented. 

And then, just as abruptly as it began, the darkness recedes.

You’re standing in a field bathed in golden sunlight. The sky above is impossibly blue, the air sweet with the scent of wildflowers. Everything is vivid, dreamlike in its perfection.

But something feels off.

You look down and realize you’re still in the pink chiton, its fabric shimmering unnaturally in the sunlight. A crown of flowers rests on your head, their petals vibrant and freshly bloomed.

And then you hear it—a low hum, melodic and haunting, carrying on the breeze. It sends a chill down your spine despite the warmth of the sun.

Turning, you see him standing at the edge of the field, his figure dark against the brightness. Caleb, watching you with that ever-present smirk, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

“Welcome home,” he says, his voice carrying effortlessly across the distance. “Do you like what I’ve made for you?”

The pomegranates were alive again. Alive and thriving. But just as soon as you saw them you were back, Back in that bed- the one from before, where he had choked you- nearly killed you0 and left that horrible, horrible bite. 

Caleb leaned against the door frame as you sat up. There was no smirk on his face, no smile, no frown. His voice is surprisingly gentle and…wanting?

“It’s midnight, You’ve had your wine and dance. Just…just 6 months of your time. Not a year, not forever. I just want you back K-Y/n.”

His steps are soft, and it seems he’s done a 180 in his manners. 

His touch is a contradiction—gentle enough to soothe, yet possessive enough to remind you of the control he wields. His fingers trace the curve of your arm, light as a feather, but it sends a jolt down your spine. You hate how your body responds, how his touch lingers like a ghost long after he moves away.

The bed beneath you is a trap, its plush surface too soft, too inviting, pulling you in as though it has a will of its own. You shift uncomfortably, trying to push back against the suffocating comfort, but it only seems to draw you in deeper.

Caleb’s hands slide down to your waist, his grip tightening just enough to make you notice. There’s an aching sort of yearning in the way he touches you, as though he’s memorizing the shape of you, mapping out every curve, every hollow. It’s suffocating, intoxicating, infuriating.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low, a whisper of honeyed command. “I’m not going to hurt you... not unless you make me.”

The threat is veiled in sweetness, his tone so soft it almost feels like a caress in itself. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you fight the overwhelming sensation of helplessness.

And you ask what seems like for the millionth time: “What do you want from me?” you ask, voice trembling despite your effort to sound strong.

His lips curve into a slow, soft smile. “Everything.”

It’s a single word, but it feels like the ground shifting beneath your feet, the air being sucked from your lungs. His hands remain on you, warm and firm, a reminder of the weight of his presence, the inevitability of his claim.

***

His lips are molten against your skin, every kiss igniting a trail of fire that seems to seep straight into your veins. He’s deliberate, moving with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what effect he has on you, and you hate how your body betrays you, arching instinctively to grant him more access.

His hands, strong and unyielding, pin yours on either side of your head, fingers interlocked as if he’s binding you to him. There’s a dangerous intimacy in the way he holds you—gentle, yet unrelenting, as though he’s savoring the moment of your surrender.

You’re disgusted with yourself, with the way your breath hitches when his mouth finds that sensitive spot below your jaw. You can feel his smirk against your skin, a silent acknowledgment of your weakness.

“See?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Your body knows what it wants, even if you don’t.”

Your teeth clench, and you glare up at him, but your defiance feels hollow when your pulse betrays you, pounding under his touch. “Get off me,” you hiss, though your voice wavers, lacking the strength you want it to have.

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Oh, sweet girl,” he says, his tone both teasing and reverent, “we both know that’s the last thing you want.”

Your heart races, your thoughts a chaotic storm of anger, fear, and something else you refuse to name. You hate how easily he unravels you, how effortlessly he reduces you to this trembling, conflicted mess.

And yet, even as you fight against him, a part of you wonders if he’s right.

A part of you winders if he’s right as he cups your face, kissing your eyes, your cheeks, your nose, your lips. 

A part of you winders if he’s right when his lashes brush across your skin, butterfly kisses soft as he promises devotion. 

And a part of you winder if he’s right as his hands are so, so genlte that it makes you cry. 

The tears come without warning, hot and unbidden, slipping down your cheeks even as his hands continue their soft ministrations, brushing tenderly across your skin. His touch feels like silk, each movement almost reverent, as if he’s cherishing you in a way that feels far too intimate, far too real for you to grasp.

His lips continue everywhere.

Your cheeks, your nose, your lips. Each kiss is so light, so gentle, that it feels like a confession in itself, as if he’s offering something more than just a physical connection.

The soft brush of his lashes against your skin feels like a whisper from some dark, hidden part of yourself, and for a moment, you almost want to believe him. You almost want to surrender to the devotion he promises, even though every fiber of your being screams that it’s a lie, a manipulation, a trap. His kisses, tender and patient, ghosting over your cheeks and lips, seem to slow time, stretching the moment into something agonizingly beautiful. His hands, impossibly gentle, caress your face with such reverence that it stirs something deep inside of you. Something raw and fragile.

You hate how vulnerable you’ve become in his presence, how his careful tenderness is unraveling the walls you’ve spent so long building.

“You don’t have to fight,” he murmurs, his voice like silk, soothing, coaxing. “I can give you what you need. All you have to do is let go.”

Your chest tightens with emotion you can’t name, a surge of dread and longing so tangled together you can't separate them. You want to pull away, to tear yourself from his embrace, but your body betrays you, sinking deeper into the warmth he offers, yearning for something you can’t understand. The contradictions inside you churn.

“Stop it,” you whisper, your voice cracked, but even the words feel weak as they leave your lips. You’re terrified of what might happen if you give in, terrified of what part of yourself you might lose in the process. But you’re equally terrified of what’s left—this part of you, so full of confusion and tears.

He just smiles, a slow, knowing smile. “No, love. You’re too precious to let go now.”

"Such a beautiful, perfect creature," he murmurs, his voice so sweet it feels like honey dripping into your ears. It’s intoxicating. His breath is warm against your skin, and for a moment, you feel like you’re drowning in him, in the sweetness of his devotion, in the promise of something you can’t name but long for anyway.

But the tears—why are there tears? You’re angry, confused, terrified, and yet his gentleness makes you break, makes you lose control in the most vulnerable way possible. Your body is betraying you, responding to him in a way that makes you hate yourself for giving him even the smallest hint of satisfaction.

"Don’t cry," he whispers softly, brushing away the tears with his thumb, as if the mere touch of him could erase your fear, your resistance. "You’re safe here. You’re mine."

The words send a chill down your spine, and part of you wants to push him away, to reject everything he says, every soft caress, every whisper of devotion. But another part, a treacherous, aching part of you, wonders if there’s truth in his words.

If you are his.

***

Clothes had been forgotten long ago. Only the sounds of your gasps for air, moans, and whimpers fill the room, save for the blasphemous squelch of his fingres dragging inside you, curling at that spongey spot that makes your eyes close, the darkness swimming with floating lights. 

One calloused hand is working through your sobbing cunt, the other pressing two fingers down on your tongue. His teeth dig into your shoulder as he works you through another orgasm. 

Spit pools in your mouth, and you find yourself twitching, shaking drooling when he adds a third finger, working you open. 

“Like I said, this is only the beginning. Let’s do good, yeah?”

And Caleb is so sure- so incredibly sure that you’re his that there is simply no room for doubt in his mind. Why would there be, when he takes his fingers out and watches your cunt glisten, connected to his fingers by the strings of your juices. He licks them clean, save for his index. That, he removes his fingers from your mouth, replacing it with that so you taste yourself. 

“See? See what I can do for you?”

He’s greedy. He doesn’t wait for any answer- he doesn’t need to hear one. Because he knows. He knows as he lays you on your back, his lips finding your tits, worshipping them for some time, his tongue swirling around the erected, hard nipple, relishing in how your thighs twitch again, as if you’re just not going to get used to this. 

He lets them go with a lewd pop before he gets between your legs. You don’t dare look, lest your face burn hotter than it was already, as his cock leaks, a pearl of divinity seeping at its pink tip, just waiting to be of use. The vien is big, and he’s thick- you’re sure that it’s not going to fit. 

You try to close your thighs but he just doesn’t let you, kissing away your worries as he lines himself up. 

Your breathing quickens, and he pushes himself in. 

If you screamed, you didn’t hear it. 

Not when you feel yourself being torn open so carelessly, when there’s a wild look in his eyes as he’s finally, finally inside you, finally splitting you open. 

When you open a pomegranate carelessly, it’s so messy. You hardly have time to enjoy it. The pomegranate bursts open in your hands, the seeds spilling out with reckless abandon. Juice splatters across your fingers, dripping down your wrists, staining the fabric of your dress. It's sticky and messy, and it leaves behind a trail of crimson marks wherever it touches. The sweet-sour scent fills the air, but it's no longer the delightful fragrance you once associated with the fruit. 

You try to clean it up, but the more you do, the messier it becomes. The juice smears across your hands and lips, irreversible.

You don’t miss the gasp he takes as he spills inside, nor the smile of finality. 

***

The ring slips on your finger unnoticed, a subtle weight you don’t even feel at first, not when his touch is so consuming, so overwhelming. His presence fills every inch of the space around you, and everything else, every shred of reality, fades into the background.

The soft gleam of the ring feels like an afterthought, an inconsequential detail, as your focus is entirely on him—his voice, his breath, his touch. His promises. His devotion. It’s intoxicating, and for that fleeting moment, you almost forget the consequences of what you’re allowing, the choices you’ve made without truly thinking.

But then your mind snaps back, and the weight of the ring finally registers—your gaze falling to it with a sharp, sinking realization. How did it get there? Was it his doing, was it the culmination of everything he had whispered, everything he had touched you with?

You look up to meet his gaze, and in the depths of his eyes, you see something—too familiar, too sure. His smile is soft, but there’s something possessive, something triumphant in it. He knows. He knows the ring is on your finger, and he doesn’t have to say it out loud to make it clear.

You are his.

And that realization, that truth, sits heavy in your chest.

***

The next morning, as you woke up, you noticed the sunlight streaming in from a window you didn't see yesterday. And beside you, on the nightstand, was a bulbous figure.

A scream tore through your throat.

Jenna's head, with her skin peeled back like the arils of a pomegranate.