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freedomfireflies · 1 year ago

Text

Lead Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

You're on your period and your best friend Harry is determined to help you feel better.

Your only condition?

He's not allowed to look.

Word Count: 5.1k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Absolutely not.”

“Bee…come on—”

“No. Nope. Not happening.”

“And why not?”

“Because…it’s…just, no.”

“Leading experts say that sex can help with cramps.”

“…okay? And?”

“And…I think you should let me fuck your cramps away.”

Your expression falls, eyes narrowing into condescending slits. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he says calmly, nodding once to accentuate his point. “People do it all the time.”

“But not us.”

“Again, why not?”

“Because it’s…messy. It’s gross.”

“You have a blood kink; I don’t understand why this is different.”

“Oh, my god. This is so vastly different.”

“Well…not for me. I think it’s kind of hot.”

Instinctually, your nose scrunches as you lean back. “Ew, seriously?”

“Ew? What do you mean ew?” He nearly scoffs as he shoots you a confused but amused smile. “Bee…it’s you. It’s…you know, the circle of life or whatever. And it’s still the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

You allow yourself a moment to consider it before once again shaking your head. “No. Nope. That’s…you don’t need to see me like that. It’s…not pretty.”

The skin between his brows crinkles as he studies you, the left side of his mouth quirking up. “That’s silly.”

And maybe it is, but you can’t help the warming of your face. “Har, I’m serious. Periods are messy, and not at all sexy. Trust me, you wouldn’t like it.”

He takes a step forward and gingerly brushes his thumb across your cheekbone until he can cradle your jaw in his palm. “You know what is sexy?”

“Hm?”

“Making you feel good,” he murmurs as you just about melt. “I mean it. I trust you, Bee, always. But I need you to trust me when I tell you that this doesn’t change anything. Obviously, we won’t do it if you aren’t comfortable. But I think we’d both benefit.”

You contemplate his premise a second time.

“Besides…” he continues, smiling a bit wider, “…neither one of us has ever done it before, yeah? So, we’d get to try this for the first time—together. You’d teach me, and I’d teach you.”

And you adore the sound of that. Adore the idea of getting to learn something with him. Be his first the way he is yours.

You hover your palms over his chest and sigh. “Okay, yeah. I know. But…what if you don’t like it? What if you think it’s weird?”

He frowns. “I won’t, but even if I do, we can always stop.”

“What if it’s messy? Which it will be.”

“S’what showers are for.”

“Okay, but what if it’s too—”

He presses his free hand to your other cheek. “Bee?”

You slow to a stop. “Yeah?”

“What if it’s good?” he whispers, bringing you closer until you can feel the question ghost across your lips. “What if it’s so fucking good? What if it’s exactly what you needed? What if it’s everything?”

You swallow a huff and a whimper. “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” The tip of his nose nuzzles against yours, taunting you with the thought of a kiss. “Don’t make you feel good? Don’t make it worth it? Don’t make really good points?”

You can’t help but pout playfully.

“I promise, Bee,” he continues, meeting your eye. “I only want to make you feel better. Make you feel everything. Be so gentle with you, I swear.”

You begin to tug on his shirt, desperately needing him closer. “I know, Har. I know, I just…I’m nervous.”

“I know,” he echoes, humming as he strokes his fingers across your skin. “But you never have to be nervous with me. It’s just sex, and it’s just us. I promise. Nothing will ever change that.”

“Says the man that started this whole arrangement because of sex,” you retort, and he grins.

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because I already knew I liked you. The sex didn’t change that, it just confirmed it.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m serious. Need me to prove it to you?”

You exhale a gentle laugh as you take hold of his wrists and nuzzle into his touch. “No. I just…I don’t know. If I agree…I’ll have conditions.”

“Of course. And what are they?”

You think. “Uh…shit, I don’t know. We give it maybe a ten-minute trial run, and if we hate it, we stop.”

You can tell he’s fighting a rather smug smile as he nods once. “Okay. Deal.”

“And we have to put down a lot of towels. Like…cover the whole bed. Just in case.”

“Fine. Anything else?”

“We do it missionary. I think that’ll maybe be a bit…cleaner. Maybe.”

He smirks. “All right. Is that all?”

“You can’t look.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and lifts an eyebrow. “I can’t look?”

“Nope.”

“Bee…how am I supposed to fuck you if I can’t see what I’m doing?”

“I’ll tell you.”

“You’ll tell me?”

“Yeah. You know, tell you how to move and everything.”

He laughs again. “I think that’s overcomplicating things a bit.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be easy. It’s the same as me tying your hands.”

“That is not the same, and you know it.”

“Well…it’s my biggest condition. Either you don’t look, or we don’t do it.”

This time, he huffs. “This is silly.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

“But I still want to do it.”

“…seriously?”

“Seriously. I think you underestimate what I’d do for you.”

You pull your lip between your teeth and bite. “Har…we don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he says again. “I mean it. Yeah, I’d like to be able to see it. But…for a first time, if this is what you need to feel comfortable…then we’ll do it this way. Might even be fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, letting his hands drop to your hips while his mouth moves to your neck. “Having you tell me what to touch…how to touch it.”

You feel your breath hitch as his tongue takes a taste of the skin on your throat.

“You wanna be my eyes, Bee?” he whispers, in that low, dangerous way that makes your stomach drop to your toes. “Wanna tell me how pretty you look taking my cock? Tell me how wet you are, how you drip for me? How swollen your little clit is? How hard your nipples are—”

“Harry,” you breathe, head dropping back as his teeth graze the vein below your jaw. “Shit, stop—”

“Stop what?” You feel the tips of his fingers brush beneath the hem of your shirt, dancing across your stomach until you squirm. “Stop touching you? Or stop agreeing with you?”

Your hands disappear into his curls, and you tug as though your life depends on it. “Stop…being so good.”

You feel him grin into your shoulder as he guides you toward the bed. “No.”

The backs of your legs hit the mattress and you both tumble down while Harry works to keep his lips on your body.

His large hand hikes your leg over his hip until he can settle comfortably above you, groaning into your chest as you gasp for air.

“Please…” you hear yourself pant, nails scratching down his shoulder blades, desperate to bring him closer.

“I know,” he says, already tugging on your shirt. “I know. Gonna make it better, Bee. Promise.”

He grinds down, allowing for you to feel how hard he is, how bad he really wants this—needs this.

And despite the multiple layers between you, it’s exhilarating and so sweet. Making you whimper his name as you attempt to thrust up against his cock for a second time.

He pulls your shirt over your head, revealing your lavender colored bra to his hungry gaze, and smiles when he sees it.

“I like this one,” he tells you, and you chuckle as your head drops back onto the bed.

“I know. That’s why I wore it.”

“Good,” he whispers, returning his trail of wet kisses down your throat. “Good.”

And it is so good. So easy and effortless that you’re almost swept away by the current that is him. Drowning in his ability and his intentions as he lures you into the deepest depths of desire.

“Wait,” you whine the second his palms smooth up your thighs. “Wait…we need…I gotta get the towels.”

He groans as though his entire world has just collapsed, face burying into your neck as if to trap you. “Bee—”

“You promised,” you remind him, attempting to wiggle free. “Okay, I just need to get everything set up and then we can go.”

But he keeps his body pressed to yours, caging you to the bed as he pulls your earlobe between his teeth. “Don’t wanna stop. Just wanna make you feel good—”

“I know,” you murmur, grabbing a handful of his hip so you can force him onto his back. “And you will. Just one second. Go ahead and strip.”

He makes another depraved noise but does allow you to climb from the bed and rush to the bathroom.

After grabbing a plethora of towels, you return to find him sprawled naked across the blankets, sporting nothing more than a smug smile.

And you laugh before motioning for him to stand while you lay the cloth down. Although he pouts through every second of it. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and cock incredibly hard.

But once you’ve finally finished, he sighs with relief, and strides toward you.

“Hold on,” you call, hand outstretching to stop his advance. “I gotta grab the blindfold.”

“Bee,” he nearly scoffs. “You weren’t serious about that.”

“Deadly,” you retort as you move for the nightstand to find the silk tie. “Unless you’d rather we just don’t do it at all.”

He takes a deep breath, almost as if to settle his nerves before smiling softly. “Of course I want to. And of course we’ll do it this way if that's what you need. I just…you can’t blame me for grieving the loss.”

Entertained with his efforts, you chuckle to yourself and retrieve the scarf before gesturing for him to sit.

He’s quick to obey, perching on the edge of the mattress as he watches you approach. His expression bleeds willing anticipation, hands gathering in his lap, and eyes widening.

You come to a stop in front of his legs, unable to resist smiling down at your sunshine boy as you gently brush your fingers through the dark hairs atop his head.

His lashes flutter, head rolling back to follow your touch while humming contently beneath a soft breath.

“Thank you,” you whisper, a desperate fist clenching around your heart.

He blinks himself back to clarity. “For what?”

“For just…being you.”

A rush of adoration overwhelms his expression, his meadow-green eyes softening as he reaches down to take hold of your wrist.

“Of course,” he says before guiding the blindfold in your hand toward his head. “Go. I trust you.”

I trust you.

Overwhelmed by a surge of confidence, you dip down, and kiss him. Teeth and tongues clash as you each greedily steal a taste, breathing him in as though your life depends on it.

And once he’s settled in your lungs, you lean back, and slip the tie over his eyes.

His muscles tense the moment his vision is taken from him, but the delicate sweep of your fingertips across his skin as you secure the knot seems to undo the stress.

“You okay?” you ask, making sure to keep your voice quiet so as to not startle him.

He nods, chest rising and falling as he inhales deeply. “Mhm. Miss you already, though.”

You grin. “Okay, I’m gonna get ready. Don’t move, all right?”

Another nod, this one silent.

With a strange feeling in your stomach (that you can’t blame on cramps), you step back and begin to slip your shorts off.

You’re thankful that today’s flow isn’t too heavy. Although you’d still rather die than let him see.

But he’s patient, smiling to himself as he hears you rustle around, your aggravated huffs making him chuckle.

Finally, you’ve rid yourself of all clothing, leaving your thighs to squeeze together in an attempt to keep everything…intact.

You’d removed the tampon while you were in the bathroom, and now that you’re ready, and this is actually happening…your pulse begins to race.

“Bee?” Harry murmurs, almost as if sensing the shift. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Your voice is light. Airy. A tad strained as you timidly approach him. “I’m…yeah. Just…trying to wrap my head around it.”

He hums, straightening up slightly as if to comfort you. “I know, it’s okay. I’m here. M’right here. Don’t have to be nervous. It’s just us.”

“Just us,” you repeat, attempting to emblazon such a promise across your heart. “Always.”

“Always.”

You make yourself known to him, ghosting your fingers up the length of his arm and along the slope of his shoulder. “Okay…I’m ready. Are you?”

“Mhm. Just tell me what to do.”

But you don’t tell him.

You lead him.

You take his hand in yours and bring him to his feet. His grip is strong, grasping onto your palm so tight, you won’t be surprised to feel the residual aches tomorrow.

You walk to the foot of the bed and begin guiding your bodies down, leading him in a crawl across the towels. You go slow, making sure that he knows to brace himself with his other hand and with his knees as he follows you.

You can see the quiver in his stomach when he hovers himself above where you lay, the corners of his mouth dancing up in a delicate but shy smile.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmur, lifting to nose under his jaw and leave a reassuring kiss. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” His head drops, almost as if chasing after your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, one hand trailing down the rigid dips along his chest. “Your heart’s beating really fast, Har.”

“I know,” he says. “S’cause I’m excited.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Another nod. “Everything is you.”

Your stomach wrenches in the best possible way. “Really?”

“Really. Every one of my senses is just…you.”

You press your lips over his racing pulse. “Hope that’s a good thing.”

He grins. “It is. It’s everything.”

You kiss him. With each possible ounce of love you have to offer, and he groans against your tongue as he settles into the familiar mold of your mouth.

Muscle memory seems to serve him well as he makes his home between your thighs, palm already traveling down the curve of your hip.

And you know what he wants. What he aims to do, and as if out of reflex, you snatch onto his wrist and bring him to a stop.

“Wait,” you whisper, nose pressed to his cheek. “Sorry, I…I’m not—”

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, releasing his hold to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Lead me, Bee. Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you whimper, unable to deny the less-than-dull ache forming deep within your belly. Even nerves can’t tamp down such desire. “You, I just…I’m not sure—”

“We can go slow,” he tells you. “Until you’re ready.”

His assurance does absolutely nothing to ease the need in your heart and you whine to yourself before scratching your nails down his skin. “Don’t wanna go slow, I just…I just have to do it.”

But his head shakes. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Bee. We can stop right now. Do you need to call watermelon?”

“No.” You take hold of his face and squeeze. “No. No, I don’t want to stop. I wanna keep going. Wanna feel you. Need to feel you, Har.”

He lowers until he can press his forehead to yours and calm your jitters. “Okay. It’s okay. We can keep going. But only at your pace, all right?”

You wish you could see him. See his eyes. See the self-assuredness you know is there. The same self-assuredness that always manages to bring you back down after you’ve worked yourself up.

“Okay,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his nose.

He grips your hand. “Be my eyes. Only show me what you want me to see.”

It comes to you then. Hits you like a ton of bricks. Heavy and hard, the way it always does.

You love him. Love him more than anything in the world. As more than your partner…but as your best friend.

Encouraged by a new rush of adrenaline, you take your interlocked fingers and bring them to your chest, allowing him to feel the way your nipples have hardened.

He exhales a shaky breath upon contact, taking control the moment you let go to knead your tit in his large palm before dipping down to lick along it.

You gasp and arch up into his mouth, feeling more than settled now as he wraps his lips around you.

He takes a moment to tug it with his teeth, gentle but firm enough to feed your pain kink. And you nearly sigh with contentment as he swirls his tongue around the pebbled skin, clearly indulging in you.

“My pretty girl,” he groans, hand running up the side of your ribcage until it can take hold of your other breast. “Tell me how good you look in my mouth. Tell me how pretty you look between my fingers.”

“Shit—Har, please.”

“Feel good, darling?” His voice is a salacious purr, meant to entice you, meant to ruin you. “Want you to tell me. Tell me how pretty you look.”

Your fingers move for the hairs at the nape of his neck, brushing against the fabric around his head. “Feels so good—”

“Uh-uh,” he warns, lifting up and taking his mouth from you. Leaving your chest cold and untouched. “Tell me.”

You whimper again and attempt to scoot closer. “Pretty,” you repeat quietly. “Always look pretty in your hand. Always look better when you touch me.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and you feel yourself clench when you see the plump, pink fibers glisten beneath the light of your lamp.

“Good girl,” he whispers, allowing you to bring him close so you can kiss him, cursing when you nip at his mouth.

You take hold of his hand again and begin moving it down your body. Over the tender skin of your stomach and down toward your cunt.

He attempts to remain calm when he realizes where you’re leading him, but you can feel the pulsing in his wrist escalate the closer you get.

“Bee,” he murmurs as you brush the tips of his fingers along your inner thighs. “You okay?”

“Yes,” you answer through an anxious pant. “Can’t wait any longer.”

“Fuck,” he seethes against your cheek when his touch ghosts over your swollen clit. “Feel so fucking good, lovie. Wanna see you so bad—”

“Mm-mm,” you argue, grasping onto his curls. “Not this time.”

“Bee—”

“Touch me,” you quickly mewl, licking a strip along his jaw. “God, Harry, please. Please touch me. Need you…need—”

He pinches the sensitive nerves until you gasp and choke on the rest of your plea. But you don’t even mind because the rush of euphoria that shoots through your veins like heroin is everything. Almost more than you can handle, and you buck up into his hand.

“That easy, hm?” he teases before his fingers run down you, desperate to dive through the arousal and coat himself in it. “Knew you were all worked up. You’ve been needy for days, darling. Haven’t you? Just needing me to make it better?”

He’s right. You’re always needy for him but especially on your period. The one week you refuse to let him touch you.

You’re beginning to wonder why.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, mouth ghosting across your ear until a shiver dances down your spine. “Gonna let me fuck the pain away? Make you feel good again?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you, and begin rolling your body in time with his ministrations. Hoping to grind against his fingers until you find that sweet relief.

He smirks. “Anxious?”

“Little bit,” you retort, scratching down his back. “Shit…please. Please, baby—”

“I know,” he coos, taking his fingers from your pussy to squeeze your thigh. “Gonna have to do it for me, okay? Take my cock and use it.”

You whimper as you reach for him, more than ready to feel him in your hand as you guide him closer to you.

You try not to think about what comes next. Try not to think about what it is you’re about to do, or what his cock might look like covered in your blood.

He twitches the moment your palm smooths along his shaft, face burying deep within your shoulder to brace himself. “Sorry…fuck, feel like it’s been forever.”

“I know,” you agree, nuzzling your cheek against his temple.

“Feels so much better now,” he whispers, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “Feels…different, too. When I can’t see.”

You know exactly what he means, and you clench from the idea of what he must be experiencing right now.

Your fingers weave through his hair, and you tug until you can bring his head back out. Then, after releasing his cock, you smooth your thumbs over the blindfold, and lift up to place a kiss over each eye.

“Har?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He grins so wide, you can see his two little bunny teeth. “I love you,” he repeats, nestling his face against your hand. “Now please let me fuck you.”

And who are you to argue?

You take hold of him once more while his hand smooths down your hip to help guide your legs further apart.

And after some shifting and shuffling, you pump him slowly, and line him up.

“Ready?” you whisper, a bit coarser than you had intended.

He nods, swollen lips parting in anticipation. “Yes. Always. Go, Bee. Let me feel you.”

The moment the head of his cock brushes through you, you both tense and stumble over some rather pornographic moans.

After all, it’s been quite a while since the last time (around two weeks…which for the two of you feels like a lifetime), and this merely proves why you should never wait so long again.

It’s full, and it’s good, and it’s comfortable. Much more comfortable than you anticipated, and you can’t help but glance down to watch as he disappears into you.

His hands fist the duvet beside your shoulders as sucks in a sharp breath through clenched teeth before suddenly driving in to the hilt, forcing your gasp. “Shit…sorry. Sorry, m’so fucking sorry. Couldn’t…couldn’t wait—”

“It’s okay,” you whimper, wiggling a bit to get adjusted. “It’s okay. Feels good.”

“Yeah?” For some reason, this makes the muscles in his stomach quiver as he rolls back. “God, lovie. So fucking tight today. Fucking hell…don’t know if I’m gonna last long.”

“It’s okay,” you repeat, fingers painting patterns down his spine. “Just go. Go, fuck me. Do whatever you want. Don’t care, just want you—”

He snaps forward once more, bottoming out as you cry out his name and arch from the bed.

“Shh,” he murmurs, lips burying into your hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Talk to me, Bee. Be my eyes, come on. Tell me how good you look taking my cock. Tell me how fucking sweet your pretty little pussy treats me.”

Your mouth drops open in a silent whine as you wrap your arms around his neck and hike your leg around his hip. “So good, Har. Look so good inside me—”

“Shit.” His teeth graze your shoulder as he thrusts in again, doing his best to be gentle the way he promised, but losing the battle quickly. “Yeah? Like watching the way I stretch you?”

“Harry—”

“Oh, darling, you’re so wet. Fucking soaking me, aren’t you?”

You feel as though you are, but truth be told, you don’t want to look down and find out.

However, your silence breeds suspicion, and Harry’s hand blindly searches for your jaw until he can give it a quick squeeze.

“Bee,” he warns, in a low growl that makes your pulse skip. “Don’t do that. Don’t go quiet, don’t overthink.”

You whine a bit as your writhe beneath him, attempting to pull your face from his fingers. “Can’t help it—”

“Listen to me,” he hisses, pulling harder until you have no other choice but to go lax in his touch. “You feel so fucking good. All right? You have no fucking idea how good you feel right now. M’losing my goddamn mind. Don’t ever wanna stop fucking you—”

You can’t help but clench down until he’s lost the rest of his sentence, his hand dropping to your throat.

“Fucking devil,” he mumbles, working to create a faster rhythm as the room fills with steady whines, whimpers, and anxious gasps. Until the sound of him slipping in and out of your tight hole is echoing between the walls. Until everything is just him.

Soon, you don’t care about your period. About the possibility of a rather bloody mess or the idea that Harry will see you differently.

Soon, the only thing that matters is release. Is finding that end as the pleasure builds and builds like a tower of Jenga blocks in your stomach. Until it’s so tall, so heavy, so potent…you have no other choice but to let go.

His arm loops under your back, right near your hips while he tugs you up, needing a better angle as he continues to ruin you. And your body is pliable in his hands, nothing but jelly, meant to be tossed around like a toy.

“Give it to me,” he grunts, but there’s a certain plea beneath the virile command. Like he’s begging you to come on his cock, and your eyes roll back. “Fucking give it to me, Bee. Right now. Right fucking now—”

And you were already halfway there but then he reaches down your body, fingertips brushing against your clit, and you’re gone.

Toes curling, back arching, mind numbing. Your entire reality whittles down to him. And his cock, and his hands, and his come. The way it fills you not long after, painting your insides like a mural before leaking between your bodies.

And it’s sticky, and the room is hot, and your bodies are covered in sweat.

But it’s perfect.

Eventually, he reaches back for the knot behind his head, needing to see you. But you’re quick to stop him, guiding his arm back down until you can bury him against your chest and whisper, “Not yet. Just stay. Like this. Please.”

You can tell he wants to fight you. He loves seeing his come drip from your pussy, loves pushing it back in, loves licking it up.

But today, that’s out of the question, and when he realizes this, he sighs and allows his face to nuzzle into your neck.

You know he’ll need to regain his vision soon, but you don’t mind existing in this moment just a little while longer. You’d exist in every moment with him if you could, but you’ll settle for right here, right now.

“Bee?” he whispers, the sound of his loving nickname cutting through the quiet air.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

You smile so hard, the muscles in your cheek begin to ache. Your arms snake a bit tighter around his large body, squeezing him against your heart. “You’re silly.”

He grins.

A few minutes later, you make him a deal. You’ll lead him to the bathroom so you can both take a shower, and once you’re sure the evidence has been washed away, you’ll let him look.

He argues that this is a step beyond ridiculous and you argue that you’ll never fuck him again if he opens his eyes before you’re ready.

He gets quiet after that.

You both stumble a bit as you lead the blind man from the bed to the shower. You do your best not to survey the damage, but you catch a glimpse in your attempt at cleaning everything up. It’s not as bad as you anticipated. Your period has always seemed to mellow out whenever you’re lying horizontally.

Honestly, you’re not really sure what logistics are involved with that premise, but today, you’re just grateful they are.

You keep your palm over his closed eyes as you both step under the stream of water. His eyelashes tickle your skin whenever he attempts to blink, and you giggle from the soft feel.

After a minute or two of letting the soap do its thing, you drop your arm, and return his sight.

Those sage green irises find you as he works to adjust to the world around him. He squints for the better part of a minute before he’s smiling and taking in your wary expression.

“What’s wrong?” he hums, stepping closer to sneak his wet hands around your hips. “See? It was fine.”

“I know.” Your voice is small, eyes trained on the tattoo painted across his chest. “I do feel kind of stupid for making us do all of that.”

“What?” He leans back, brow raised. “Bee…I know I was talking shit, but you know I didn’t mind.”

“I know, I just…people have period sex all the time. It’s not a big deal, you’re right—”

His head begins to shake zealously as he backs you up against the tile, forcing your attention on him. “No, no, no. Don’t do that. That’s what you needed to do, and I pushed you to do it in the first place. I told you, I will do whatever you want. Anything. Anytime.”

“I know, but—”

“No. Enough. I don’t wanna hear it.” He presses his forehead to yours for a second time this evening, and you feel your stomach clench. “Trust me. That was one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever done. Not being able to see you almost killed me but everything else…god, I’ve never felt so overwhelmed by you.”

And for some reason, this vulnerable yet earnest confession creates a lump in your throat as you blink up at him.

“All I could hear, all I could touch, all I could taste…was just you,” he whispers, squeezing the skin on your waist to emphasize his point. “I would do that a hundred more times if that’s what you wanted.”

You whimper, blindsided by the sudden rush of emotions working their way to your waterline.

His strong hand moves for your cheek, cupping it sweetly as he presses a kiss beside your eye. “You can take my sight any day, Bee. As long as you promise to give it back. And let me see you again.”

You smile as a tear begins to slip down your skin, collecting in his palm before he wipes it away. “You know what you are?”

He presses his lips to your face one last time before leaning back. “What?”

Your eyes meet, and you grin.

“Silly.”

Yes I am perpetuating the idea that he could find it blindfolded 😗 BECAUSE HE COULD FIND IT BLINDFOLDED!!! Teach Me Harry could anyway and I will not be taking any questions or comments, thank you!!! (No I'm kidding but...he could)

Next Part:

~ Use Me*

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~ Watch Me*

- Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

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#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #smut #angst #harry styles angst #harry and bee #harry styles teach me #teach me

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thewriterg · 11 months ago

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.1

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; new recruits, questions, and a bag of tricks

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

A/n; my toxic trait is starting a new series before finishing my other ones 😊 | chasin chaos masterlist

“Sergeant Mactavish, Werewolf.” The brunette held his hand out clawed fingers reaching about for the lieutenant who barely spared it a glance before looking back towards his sergeant and captain who smirked or started back at him smugly your presence lacking completely which was uncommon even if you weren’t meeting the eye he could feel your presence today it was gone but he temporarily stopped himself from dawning on it while words spewed from his lips

“Where’d you find this guy?” The gruff voice drizzled over the sassy reply made Gaz bight back a chuckle

“At the end of a rainbow” The harpy replied smartly his arms crossed over his chest feathers lying delicately over the surface of his forearms slightly lighter than the ones on his back where his wings sat it’s trail coming curtly to an end when it reached his the front of his wrist that damned fitted cap resting around his head in its common home ground talons tapping one of the many quills the sound almost sounding if he were thunking a table having his feathers harden on command just for the sake of it a quirk you could say

“Worth his weight in gold mind you” Price offered eyes not looking up from some type of notes he were reading over thick pear and moss mixed green colored horns sitting adorned on his well kept hair curling slightly forward and up Ghost could tell he was wearing an older shirt since there were two holes cut out instead of one for his stray wing that still sat strong spar bones matching the color of his horns and furless tail while the mainsail resembled a more dirty rag cream color

“They said it not me” Soap grinned mock waving off the compliment quirking the damned thick bushy brow of his the only one with a slit slicing right through the point of the arch while the hulking man sighed heavily dragging a hand over his covered face balaclava with a simple print of his actual hard mask a skull

“Fuckin’ hell… you follow orders?” The muffled voice was not a mere obstacle for the hybrid to hear the slight pointed ears on the side of his face doing their job well to listen

“I well trained if that’s what you’re asking. Sit, stay, paw, jump, roll over, I know ‘em all.” The brunette looked off mocking a ponderous expression counting off on his fingers the canines in his mouth slightly showing even though they were retracted

“Real bag of tricks, aren’t you?” The instinct in the sergeant perked up as you suddenly trailed beside ghost surprised that he hadn’t been able to pick up your presence or at least your scent quicker like he had with Ghost especially since they were so… different not having a face to match with your cooled voice since it seemed you also favored a balaclava yours simply plain black yet he didn’t mind just gave him two sheets to play at once…

Raking eyes over your figure the man determined you were a looker for sure yet he didn’t miss how the other silently agreed

“My apologies miss, I dinae get your name” Soap stated a now gentle smile resting on his face that you seemingly ignored accent seeping through a little more and as more time went on the more he could smell the authority coming from you and Ghost it was a little less than Price yet more than Gaz and the other recruits around base

“Depends who you ask. What’s the role you’ve had in your pack?” You questioned eyes low that he could see through the gap in your mask where your sight shone through staring him down almost as if you could see right through his soul yet he kept his quirky grin Mohawk stopping just below the base of his neck a small piece of stray hair lying against his forehead thick fluffy tail perking up slightly swaying against the back of his thighs cargo pants dipping in the back just below his tail

“I’ve been in a few packs could be an alpha, beta, omega if you wanted me to… but I seen you have your roles sorted. I’ve got no problem bein’ ah pup miss” You roll your eyes at that while the brunette winks you swiftly trail away dragging Ghost away with you picking up Price on the way while both men let you drag them along their hulking figure’s towering over your back boots slightly thumping against the floor before your figures disappear within the halls he turns to the crow who’s fiddling with the screen of his phone

“You ever feel left out of somethin’?” Soap questions and Gaz suddenly stands a small smirk on his face as he rakes his eyes over the wolf before shaking his head

“There’s enough for everyone to get their fill, you’ll be next soon enough” Without an explanation the sergeant was already trailing away opposite of where you had gone leaving him alone

But never for too long

⋆.ೃ��*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“It’s rude to stare sergeant” Ghost grunted gruffly after jamming his janky locker shut barely giving Soap enough time to look at his shadows slipping from under his glove some looking like it was traveling farther up almost resembling veins while the rest began to make a small cloud on his wrist until he shoved his sleeve over the sight unapologetic about the whole thing barely looking over his shoulder to acknowledge the wolf as he stood behind him

“Just tryin’ ta figure you out, Lt.” He grins tail becoming livelier as it perks up behind his back before it reluctantly lowers still up and lively

“I’m well traveled, seen a lot of things, met a lot of people. Never smelt anythin’ like you… or Flatline for that matter” A slightly clawed finger rests curled on his chin tail gently flapping up and down it had been a little over a week since he was recruited it didn’t take long for him to find out your name or call sign that might have well been your name since no one seemed to know it just by the brief description of eerie, bold eyes, and a mask to cover you face, he got the answer of either Ghost or Flatline

“Hell of a compliment soldier” The blonde resorts almost sarcastically finally looking over his broad shoulder to lock eyes with the brunette and he waves him off finally stepping closer to the skull mask wearing man deciding by his side was the best place to stand and if he noted the smoke trying to spill from his pockets where he had his hands shoved deeply he didn’t say anything about it

“Och, you know I dinnae mean it that way. Can’t blame me for bein’ interested, I never packed with a wraith hybrid before… or a phoenix thought they were bedtime stor-”

“Not hybrids” Ghost cuts off the scott before he can dig any deeper and he furrowed his eyebrows questioning if he had heard right if his ears were failing him or not with a small ‘what’ spilled from his lips

“We’re not hybrids.”

“No shit? What the hell is tha’ like?” Swiftly Simon was in front of him eyes bold yet precise slicing right through him while Johnny’s gaze slightly widened at the quick movement his boots not even so much a squeaking against the ground a bit of the air currents flowing against Soaps slight shorter form

“You ever shut up Mactavish?” He somewhat seethed and the wolf was back to sly grin in less than minute, the grin that showed his canines in the full well kept facial hair adorning his structure even more, the grin the wraith wanted to wipe of his fucking face to be exact.

“Only when people make me.” Soap implied looking up slightly to address his superior with a voice that would make other feverish or peely in his terms that damned drunken grin still on his lips while Ghost practically stared him down eyes slightly squinted thoughts brewing behind those sharp, precise eyes of his that the Scott couldn’t wait to hear of tail swaying behind him with a bit more speed than before but of course his Lt. was a tease and put all his weight on one foot to turn walking out of the locker room without so much a grunt but he liked the chase

And so did superiors

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“It’s an in and out mission that I’m sure you could do on your own, however I don’t need higher ups on my ass about favoritism. You’ll grab a few normals and head Midwest in the states to Chicago. One out of three missiles resigns with one of the biggest weapons busts in America that’s supposedly on its way over to Russia package delivery for a friend of ours… Makarov.” The air in the room shifted at the name drop of a once friend fallen foe even though You and Prices shoulders were up at the mere mention of Russia itsself you had a love hate relationship with meeting room as you got passed a file over things you truly didn’t need to go over things that a rookie could even fill in the blanks for

“This will either be the easiest sail of your life or your standing on the line of death, you all know your first priority even though I know you don’t want to hear it. Push come to shove the normals go first.” The older short cut haired woman looked at You, Price, and Ghost especially Soap noticed it confused him at first the wraith and phoenix at least, two lieutenants in such a small base or at least a small base that wasn’t Air Force but it made sense to him shortly after when he peeked in on occasional training sessions thought out a week You and Ghost switched groups between normals and weaker hybrids both favoring one group more than the other deep down and then at the end of the week bring them together to spar

“Wheels up at 04:00 tomorrow I’m sure you’ll have your picks by then.” Laswell sighed looking around the table for any objections your sitting between Soap and Gaz while Price and Ghost are sitting on the opposite side of the rounded table one of your legs are crossed under your form while the other is propped up you have your arms wrapped around it and your covered chin is lying on your knee and without another word she grabbed her laptop and exited room something about a ball and chain to her desk

The wolf and harpy are first to get up from their seats and the winged hybrid doesn’t go before gently brushing his fingers against your arm migrating towards the exit even though he’s stopped shortly by a shit eating grin and swaying tail conversation quickly taking place between the two

“So, what do you think?” Price hums both him and Simon approaching your seat as you began to stand rolling your shoulders eyes low beneath your mask it was still early in the day only 13:27 you had a training group normals at 14:15 sharp anyone who was a minute late got to run laps around base even if they weren’t hybrids or the ‘superior’ race in the field you couldn’t determine if you were fighting a hybrid or a normal and if you babied them because they were weaker than a super they wouldn’t have a fighting chance against one.

“He asks a lot of questions” Ghost responds curtly while the older man takes no offense to it producing a chuckle from the back of his throat taking out a cigar from his breast pocket in his vest holding out the thick brown lump filled with nicotine out to the blonde who responded by taking out a silver lighter snapping the cover back quickly as it produced a flame its front covered by an ace card with its main attraction being a skull the drug lights aflame a small hissing sound coming from it when the salt and pepper haired hybrid took a drag

“Comes with the package. Wolves don’t like uncertainty in the pack dynamic.”

“He knew you and Gaz before he transferred, didn’t he?” You spoke up squinting your eyes at your captain eyelashes mere meters away from kissing your cheek standing the only way he could get a read on you and Simon he usually says ‘those eyes can tell you everything and nothing all at once, just gotta watch em.’

“Yes, but you’re both hell of a new variable” Price admits before smugly nudging your shoulders with his strong single wing while Ghost crossed his arms over his chest you roll your eyes stepping away from the pair

“Save your verdicts until you see him in action, he’s a vision in the field.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Hey… how yall doing 😅

I haven’t posted since October I missed you writers!

Ermm I’m a year older —Nov 8th— happy belated birthday to me

And that’s about it 😭

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 1 year ago

Note

For the Malleus x Vampire Y/N, I mostly thought it would be fun if the reader was freshly turned, perhaps by Malleus or Lilia, and as a result wished to test the limits of their sexual relationship with their boyfriend/husband

- J

Hmm...I think this is doable~! A bit of a lengthier one but I do hope you enjoy~

Title: Love Bites

Characters: Malleus x Vampire!m!Reader | Lilia Vanrouge

Contains: Vampirism, clothing sex

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

Thirsty...you were thirsty.

Your throat felt severely dry and raw, like you were swallowing nothing but cotton and razor blades. Eyes, once your usual color, were now a bright bloody red, slitted pupils blowing out. Looking up, you saw the one that did this to you.

The frightened Lilia sat just some feet from you, his lips and chin stained with your blood. He looked just as frightened as you, just as confused. Neither of you were sure of what was going on. All you could remember was you offered Lilia your wrist for a quick drink, as he hadn't had anything authentic in awhile, but after that, your mind went blank.

"L...Li..." Speaking was a task all on its own, your voice barely coming out in a squeak. You felt like if you couldn't get something to drink soon, your very body would just give out. You reached over to him, using your body to plead for help.

"D-Don't move!" Lilia frantically stood up, panting lightly as if he wasn't breathing that whole time. "I-I...I know what to do, h-hold on!" You had never seen him so scared or run off so clumsily.

You kept your breathing slow, trying desperately not to swallow again. Though it felt like breathing was making it dryer and rougher. Your vision blurred and darkened at the edges as you waited, the sound in your ears slowly becoming nothing but your own heartbeat, which soon faded as it ceased to beat. That only spiked your worries more.

My heart's not beating...my heart's not beating, my heart's not beating--

"...(Y/n)...?" The new voice jarred you out of your thoughts, and as you looked up, your vision no longer held that dark border and tried to focus itself. The one that stood before you was none other than your partner Malleus, who looked even more confused than you did. "Wh-What...?"

"M...Mal..."

"H-Here!"

Lilia's voice now grabbed your attention, tearing you away from Malleus as he came running back, sliding down beside you as he held a glass thick red juice.

"I-It's some of my tomato juice. I-It may not be the real thing but...d-drink this."

You didn't need to be told twice as you practically ripped the cup from Lilia's hands, gulping down the liquid. You didn't care what it was, in all honesty. All you cared about was getting something wet down your throat.

Whatever conversation Malleus and Lilia were having didn't register to you as you glugged down the drink. Luckily, it was enough to satiate a bit of your thirst, though you wouldn't get to feel the satisfaction of it as you finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

---

It was like you blinked.

Your eyes opened to a new room, one of grey bricks and green fire candles. A scent made you bolt up, and you sniffed the air, as if trying to find what that...delicious scent was.

"Ah, (y/n), you're awake!"

Your head snapped over to Malleus, who was staying beside the bed. He looked relieved to see you, but you...you didn't see him, not in the way a typical person would.

Your colorful vision turned a desaturated color as red, smokey whisps slowly spiraled from Malleus. Him. You were smelling him. That wonderful scent was coming from your boyfriend.

Unable to think your hand shot out at him, only for him to grasp your wrist and pin it to the pillow. You whipped your other hand out, him catching that as well and pinning it. You uncontrollably thrashed your legs, attempting to break free from his hold, but once he swung his own leg and straddled your hips, you were trapped. There was no way of escaping the strength of Malleus.

"(Y/N), you need to listen," he stated firmly, his voice calm but demanding, "but to listen, you need to calm down. Please."

His words slowly registered with you, and you did your best to relax despite your bared fangs.

"Lilia seemed to have transformed you...and we're unsure how it happened. However, along with supplies of tomato juice, I have decided to stay with you while you finish the transformation and offer you my own blood."

"It's...not done...?" You did your best to speak, but thankfully your thirst was more quenched due to the juice Lilia gave you before. It did still hurt to speak a bit, however.

"Apparently not. I believe he said your organs are still changing, and your mind is losing its humanity and temporarily reverting to a more primal state. You are dangerous while you're like this, hence one reason why I offered to watch you."

You understood what he was saying, you really did, but Great Seven, was his scent was so intoxicating.

"C-Can I...just one...just a bite..." You were practically drooling with the desire to taste him, the desire to sink your teeth into his pale skin and stain the area red.

"One bite," he answered with no hesitation, "but if I say that's enough, you stop."

You nodded eagerly, just excited that he allowed you this.

He released your wrists, trusting you not to act out, to which you laid there, patiently waiting, staring. Malleus removed the decorative piece from his neck, exposing the pale skin. You shot up, but he kept you back with one hand. There were no words from him, just a glare that he gave you that actually sent chills down your back. It was like your urges were nearly halted just by his body language alone. He appeared large, dominant, and--if there was one thought that managed to sneak through your clouded mind--attractive.

"You will be patient, understand?"

Great Seven...

You nodded, now resting yourself back on your forearms as he continued to fix up the area, removing his coat to work around shirt collar and moving it further to the side so the spot of his neck. Your fingernails, turned tallons, clawed at the bedding below you, your body aching to strike. Malleus moved his hair to the side, and, after gazing at you, he nodded, allowing permission to drink.

You didn't think. You rose up wiggling yourself from between his legs and grasping him, nails digging into his clothes as you sunk your fangs in. Malleus let out a pained gasp, his own body now shuddering. You both held tightly onto each other: you to keep Malleus close, and Malleus due to the pain he felt.

Though one thing was for certain, you both felt a sense of bliss.

Malleus wasn't sure why, but to have you on him like this, well...he would dare say this felt exhilarating. You would say his blood was divine now that you've gotten a taste of him.

The two of you fell back into the bed, you on top of Malleus with one of your legs precariously placed between the prince's legs. Scrunching up to feel even closer to him caused your leg to press up against his groin, earning you a soft moan and, strangely, a change in the taste of his blood.

Though you wouldn't get to pinpoint it as Malleus practically ripped you off of him, gazing up at you with blown eyes. You looked down at him with equally blown eyes, both of you panting softly from the event. One thing was for certain...

You both needed each other now.

You two fell into a heated kiss despite the blood on your lips. Malleus didn't seem to care as long as he had you on him. You tore at his belt as he grasped at yours, unhooking it and practically tearing the zipper off. He pushed both that and your boxers down, to which you stopped your actions to fully remove your bottoms. You were quick to return to your task, digging around to spring Malleus's cock from its fabric prison.

You didn't want to wait any longer, and frankly, neither did Malleus.

The two of you got in position, you straddling Malleus as he positioned his cock. You lowered the same time he started to move up, and insertion was made. Malleus was quick to begin thrusting while you lightly bounced your hips against him, arching your back as he hit all your deepest spots.

"M-Malleus~!"

Once he hit that special spot, you hunched back over with a gasp, planting a heated kiss on his lips before diving back in on the bite you had left. Luckily for you, Malleus didn't seem too fazed by this.

You finally got to taste that change. He tasted sweet, almost flower-like, though there was some bitterness to it, a fermented fruity bitterness. It was intoxicating, like a wine.

"(Y-Y/N)...~" Malleus breathed, tugging on your hair as his thrusts never ceased. "Th-That's enough."

The tugging of your hair sent shivers down your body, your head following his motion as you moaned by his ear, filling him with a rush of energy. He flipped the two of you over, pinning your wrists as he let all of his desires out. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with both of your moans. A heat curled in your stomach, your legs trembling as you neared your climax.

"M-Malleus~! G-Gonna...I-I'm gonna--~!"

One final buried thrust was all you needed as he stuffed his cock deep in you, releasing his hot seed as you shot out hot streams between the two of you, dirtying your shirts. Your legs trembled visibly, jerking on occassion as you panted heavily.

Malleus carefully moved some hair from your face, his own body trembling as he let out his own, spent panting. His lips moved, but you couldn't make out any sound. You had expanded too much energy since the transformation, and doing so had caused you to pass out once more. Malleus watched as your eyes closed, chuckling softly as he cleared the blood from your lips with a thumb.

"Don't worry. I've got you, love."

#kaisers house of desires #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #male reader #x male smut #twisted wonderland #malleus x y/n #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus twst #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus

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shibaraki · 1 year ago

Text

TROU NORMAND ┊ BAKUGO KATSUKI

tags: GN reader, fantasy au, bakugo is a dragon shifter, desc. animal kill + blood, reader eats meat, alcohol consumption, fluff, courting behaviour, language barrier, hand feeding, unedited sry

wc: 1.2K

The firepit crackled violently in the distance. Your nose wrinkled at the familiar smell of death carried in with the draft.

“Bakugo?” you called, climbing out from the deeper, cramped section of the cave and heading toward the entrance. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, trinkets tied around each individual spike dangling above. Firelight flickered up the walls and glittered amongst them.

Bakugo has already tucked his wings away and settled into his skin. He is beautiful, as both a dragon and a man. Born into the world wearing a golden crown. He is large, in body and spirit, he is all dense muscle and spitfire, with eyes glowing crimson no matter what form he takes.

You’ve not been with him long but since learned his habits. Bakugo only ever took this form to prepare his kills, to carefully parse through the flesh and pick out the bones with lithe human fingers despite not needing to. You study him from the corner, his form muddied in blood and hunched over spilling viscera lost in concentration, and not for the first time, you think dazedly of the implications of that.

“What’s that?” you ask as you start towards him with a damp cloth.

He growls at your abrupt movement in his periphery, dragging the four legged carcass closer to his half clothed lap. His expression shifts. Every muscle pinched under the command of his instincts. “Oh, now you’re acting like a child,” you tell him, tiptoeing around the thin rivulets leaking into the cracks in the cave floor. His pupils dilate and shrink into thin slits, pulsing almost as you kneel beside him. “I’m not going to steal it. Really. Come here”.

A familiar noise reverberates through the empty space. It is a gentle warning. And yet it is inquisitive. Even like this the dragon deigned to use the human tongue. The odd inflections never quite fit in his mouth. Instead you’d speak while he listened and somehow conversation was hardly ever one sided. Never before had you met a person able to convey so much with the quirk of their brow alone, but Bakugo did exactly that, and often.

“Easy. Not so fearsome when you have food all over your mouth,” you turn his head, fingers splayed along his strong jaw, thumb curled over his chin. Bakugo allows this with a slow blink, another chuffing sound stuttering in his chest that he appears inwardly mortified at.

You take the damp cloth and wipe the drying blood from his cheeks. Fractures form and it flakes away, bit by bit. You repeat the notion until he is clean, and long after, just for the excuse to linger.

“There,” you murmur, satisfied as you sit back on your haunches. Your thumb brushed over his jutted bottom lip, pressing into the seam, seeing a flash of razor sharp teeth. “You needn’t hunt for me too, you know. There is a small town by the mountainside I could visit. I’m well enough now”.

By all rights you should have been torn apart in the unforgiving winter. Your memories of that night are hazy. Buried under sleet and snow, as your body had been when the dragon found you. You recall only the instant he took you delicately into his maw and carried you here, where you subsequently woke hours later, tucked into a soft crevice of his hoard.

Your icy heart thawed at his heavy handed kindness. You never did understand why he saved you, but you were grateful. There was nowhere for a person like you to return. So when he never discarded you, ate you or forced himself upon you, you remained.

Bakugo makes another terrible face. His wet fingers smear red streaks around your wrist and he tugs you to his side with the soft reluctance of someone who wants something but doesn't wish to admit they want it. “Okay, okay. I won’t. This is safer,” you concede, leaning into him. Your head tilts on the slope of his shoulder as the tension dissipates and he begins tending to the meat.

He always feeds you first. You accept the morsels one at a time, held to your lips between his thumb and forefinger, chewing it down to fine paste before swallowing. The staring while you eat no longer unnerve you. You merely try not to smile at how proud he looks after every pleased noise you make.

“This is good,” you say. “Do we have water left?”

You miss him the second he moves away, stretching toward a shallow alcove full of well crafted bottles. Bakugo hoarded the strangest things. Unlike the rest, this one in particular is half full. Definitely not water. Regardless he nudges it into your hand and drapes his arm around your lower back. Intricate designs are carved into the glass. Waves, shells, crudely depicted merfolk. You slowly bring the open top to your mouth, breathing in the sharp scent, and take a sip. It tastes of smokey peat fires, cured skins and winter; harsh against your palate and sawing your throat on the way down.

“Gods, that’s—strong!”

Bakugo’s nostrils flared. He withheld a laugh while you coughed, the neutral facade cracking as you playfully swipe at him. The scales smattered around his temples take on an iridescent blush and he grins handsomely. Heat licks at your face. Desire, longing, knot low in your belly and it aches like hunger. You’re certain Bakugo wouldn’t be tactile if he could help it. Over and over his hands have sought some part of your body, as if guided by afterthought, and every time he has looked at his hands in betrayal.

There’s some sick satisfaction in watching him be at war with himself—and in being the cause of it. You're still unsure whether he regards you as a pet to nurse or a true companion, if the there-and-gone touches over the past few weeks held meaning as they do for you. A selfish part of you doesn’t care what it means to him, so long as he doesn’t stop.

You eat in relative silence, sharing the remaining dregs of the—whatever he’d procured on his travels. Rum, you’d hazard a guess. With your stomach full and your limbs loose you slip from his shoulder into his lap, squirming a little as you get comfortable.

“Hey,” you murmured, turning to squash your cheek against his thick inner thigh. Bakugo peeks down at you, poised to take another sip. Hums as you bring his free hand to your head and he begins to pet you. “You’ve been taking care of me, all this time. Why? Doesn’t it burden you?”

You don’t miss the way Bakugo’s breathing hitches. The hand absently scratching at your scalp stilled for only a moment before resuming. He considers your words as he swigs, swallows, grasping for time to formulate an answer. Then he bends, agile spine curved like a bow to bring your faces closer. His eyes are determined, the hue somehow richer than before, and you shrink back from the warm breath that spills out from parted lips.

“No. Mine,” he rasps, nudging his nose against your cheek and your temple, like a beast might nuzzle the palm of their master. The palm crowning your head slips to firmly grip the back of your neck. “Stay”.

An encompassing feeling swells in your chest. Your throat becomes tight. The entire spectrum of human emotion floods to the very tips of your toes and you wonder if you never starved of touch before this simply because you hadn’t known what it meant to be sated.

You lift your chin to reciprocate. Fingers flex at your nape, wanting to keep you still but ultimately letting you rise. With little knowledge of the significance, you bump your noses together and echo, “Yes. Stay”.

#bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #wrote this while sleep deprived idk #q’d

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ranposbabe · 1 month ago

Text

Infidel | Johan Liebert x Reader

Chapter 24

Chaos and Havoc was all that surrounded him. He was calm and steady. Natural.

It was as if he had done this a hundred times. He looked so afar as he stared on as if he was anticipating the despair that was about to unfold. His aura oozed red. Not from the flames but from the despair within.

A sudden cold breeze erupted yet it did nothing to disturb his stand.

Strands of blond were evidently seen against the flames that flickered past his delicate skin. His calmness looked out of place yet his eyes showed the undeniable truth.

He belonged amongst the chaos.

It was as if someone took their fingers and was forcing your eyes to be peeled wide open. The urgent scene of bright lights flashing before you was overwhelming.

Your eyes raced around your stuffy bedroom. All but you remained completely still. It was only when you sat up, you truly fathomed what had occurred. A dream. A literal dream occurred while you were asleep. You never dreamed before.

What was the purpose of them anyways besides being a trick ?

As if you were a puppet, the strings that controlled your legs forced you to move.

The strings tightening around your brain came to a conclusion. You were going somewhere you never thought you would ever see again.

It was dreadful. Could no one else look upon the eerie sight that seemed to not exist amongst others.

You were hallucinating. Most definitely.

The “church” looked like it was rotting from the inside out. You walked in and its wooden like figure was dark and looked burned.

As you strolled by you notice the rows of chairs covered in dust. All the candles at the alter, so close together it would only take a moment for a catastrophe to occur.

“Why do you keep coming back here ?” That same girl or whatever she was spoke out. She was kneeling like before and her voice was too soft yet you could hear and understand every word. She was like a blazing candle in the dark. Her silk white gown glowed so bright.

“I’ve only been here once ?” You casually replied, kneeling along her side. But unlike her, your hands didn’t link in prayer. You don’t pray.

“You’re practically slitting your own wrists at this point. Causing yourself this hassle.” Her eyes were closed as if she was to be punished for opening them.

“He put his fingers in my brain.” She spoke of horrofic details as if they didn’t happen. Perhaps they didn’t especially since her voice and face was calm compared to her words. “Scooped parts of them up and swapped them around like he was messing with sand. Making a sandcastle he was.”

“He’ll know if he’s truly taken your brain apart.

“If you’re clever you’ll play along. If not.”

There’s a warning in her look as she momentarily sent you a gaze. It only then you notice a stitching on her temple. Little but noticeable, a cut so deep it probably did touch her brain. She has that dead look in her empty eyes.

“He’ll bash your brains in till you’re nothing.”

Then abruptly she screams pure horror. Your hands cover your ears as the screeching starts to burn your hearing. Blood began to never end pouring down her face from the cut as it split open, leaving into her eye. Giving her the appearance of someone wounded.

Someone in danger.

Your neck began to ache and stiffen due to sweat. With no control whatsoever, you slowly stood up, taking small steps backs until you hit against a row of seats. You unwillingly sit down. You know there’s the soft sound of footsteps closing in behind you so suddenly.

You know it’s him.

“I have no evidence.” You spoke with such dispear “I have nothing.” Stating the fact makes it suddenly real. You can still see the flames even when you look up to the candles still so raw. “But I know it was you.” Your ears began to ring.

Buzz…buzz..buzz…….

“I never dream and even so I wouldn’t bet anything solely on that.” Your healing yet broken arm rests on your lap. Your other hand clenched tighter on the seat in front of you, knuckles turning white.

“So why now ?” You rather ask yourself. Not him who stands behind, luring over you like you’re his prey.

“You dream of me ?” He leans down, his lips too close to your ear. Your lips tightened at the abrupt audacity. His fingers brushes against your arm and rather smoothly he locks his fingers within your tensed fingers. Your nails scratching against the wooden seat.

You wish you turned your head the opposite direction way but there’s no denying it now when you lift your chin and your wide eyes meet his calming pair.

Perhaps it was already intimidating due to him standing behind you while you sat but as you hopelessly stared, you saw it.

He looked dangerous. He was going to feast on the prey. But you stood so quick like how a prey with a boost of adrenaline manages to escape but you have no adrenaline within.

“Are you aware of what your issue is, y/n ?”

He’s the same as always, collected with himself, he didn’t seem to be wandering.

He knew exactly where to find you.

“You think you’re a well composed person and yet I somehow manage to break down that wall with little to no effect ?”

He barely tilts his head but there is a slight tease as his eyes ever so slightly squint.

“Im a wrong, y/n ?” There’s not a twitch that gives away amusement on his lips.

He stands and with his presence confident and it so easily standing makes you feel so small. His hands in his pockets as he leans down his mouth so close once again to your ear as he whispers. “I hope your answer doesn’t disappoint me.”

“Johan.” You don’t even know what to say as his hand now reaches out to touch your shoulder as if to finally get rid of the so called wall.

“Give in, my infidel.”

His definition of you giving in was the single glance at his soft lips. That was his confirmation, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips against yours. He had every right to.

You gasp but not in pleasure but pure shock in realisation. You’ve never been caught off guard. Not until now. It starts to make you tremble. There’s a chill that runs up your back and as his lips continue to greet yours.

His hand that once rested on your shoulder moved to your back to soothe the literal shaking that you were having but you had no sense of paying attention to that.

Instead the unfamiliar warmth pulls you in and as you kiss Johan back, it becomes more intoxicating. You’re surrendering and so you’ve been set ablaze. Particularly your lips but you’re sure that’s due to the sensation of Johan’s lips against yours.

There’s only a brief moment you pull back to look up to see what you were feeling was real. He stared down at you maybe searching for the same confirmation.

When your thoughts have now stopped from drowning you realise too that you are in fact sinning at some aspect. You are in the wrong.

You know this and when you attempt to step away, Johan makes sure that you’re certain you’ve made a mistake.

At the end of the day he is a man, a man that’s much more stronger than you. Your silly attempts at pushing him are simply dismissed.

Then his tongue is suddenly in your mouth.

It’s not overwhelming at all. You were somewhat expecting it. How wrong that was.

The most sinful part however wasn’t the realisation of what you’re doing but rather the sounds of it. The longer you both continue this never ending warmth, the more you remember where exactly you are and how loud you are compared to the emptiness around you.

It’s only when you part you feel the warmth on your cheeks and ears. The sudden unfamiliar shyness takes over when he offers a soft smile so all you can bare to do is turn to face the many alight candle. Burning so fast and quick like the beating of your heart.

You wish to be engulfed by the flames but a part of you senses that you already have.

If you wish to be added to the taglist please comment below to let me know!!!

TAGLIST: @nimuelis @meigalahadovna @sugaredpersimmon @thesimpupthesky @sarcastic-cookie @mellechan

#x reader #reader insert #anime and manga #yandere johan liebert x reader #johan liebert x y/n #johan x reader #johan liebert x reader #johan #yandere johan liebert #monster x y/n #monster x reader #naoki urusawa's monster #monster anime #monster manga #anna liebert #dr tenma

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0oolookitsme · 10 months ago

Text

It's Buzzcut Season, Anyways!

Eeeeekk!!!! Hi Hi everyone!! I hope you are all doing well, here comes the first post of the year! <3

So.. It is my birthday today, and I'm very excited to tell you that I'm introducing to you, another one of my pairings! This a little excerpt from the fic (wip) I'm writing about this chaotic pairing, and I really do hope this gets you as excited about their story, as I am! This was supposed to be up in December but for some reason, I didn't post it?? Anyways, other than that, you shall see more, further on in 2024 :)

Also, shoutout to @cupid-styles and @elioslover for picking my ice hockey!Harry to be the one to get a buzzcut, hahah! My indecisive self (who lowkey wanted you guys to pick him), could've never 💗

All the love always, A.

Verse - NHL Player!Harry x Figure Skater!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - It's just an excerpt so it's short!

Warnings - None that I can find but if there are any, do tell me and I'll edit them into this!

Y/n is reluctantly trimming Harry's hair when her nose feels funny, and she sneezes. Its good though, that Harry asks for her opinion regarding a change that he would rather appreciate.

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

Y/n sat on her unmade bed, hair unbrushed and messy since she woke up from a 3-hour nap. Her fingers typed away on her laptop, her face showing zero signs of any stress regarding the assignment she's going to have to turn in un-edited.

Probably because of the breakdown she'd had before taking nap. She'd been so stressed that she had drawn blood from her lips and broken two of her nails -- which was rather disappointing to her considering she'd got them done not so long ago in the honour of the upcoming season of winter.

The temperature was still as hot as summer, but half of the world was snowed in, and she wanted the peace of mind that winter brought her; so, she deluded herself into thinking that it was indeed her favourite time of the year.

A silent burp made its way up her throat, as she drank the day-old diet coke she'd been drinking before her meltdown-that-leads-to-an-amazing-nap.

Just as she slurped on the last sip that wasn't anything but melted ice, she heard the door to the flat open and her eyes rose up just in time to catch the sight of a sweaty and out of breath Harry, through the open door of her room.

"Y/n?" He called for her, walking towards her room when she only hummed in response. He passed her an apologetic smile on reaching her doorframe, and she knew he was going to ask something of her that the both of them know she wouldn't be willing to do quite easily.

"I need your help," he grinned at her. "...And Immediately."

She looked at him suspiciously, before deciding to shift her focus back on her assignment, knowing that he would lure her in if she were to continue looking at him.

But Harry was at once kneeling beside the side of bed she was sitting on. With his hands joined, he contorted his face in a way that looked like he was about to cry. "I beg of you, please! If you don't help me right now, my life will be ruined forever!"

Y/n's eyes had fallen into untrusting slits by now as she minimized the document that she had been writing in. "What is it, Harry?" She asked him in a monotonous tone, shutting her laptop as if procrastinating the essay any longer would be a great help.

"Cut my hair."

Instantly her jaw dropped open. Shaking her head, she began reopening her laptop and Harry took a hold of her wrists. "Harry, there's no way!" She yelped as he began making her get off the bed.

"I'm not asking you to give me haircut like Zayn!" He exclaimed, as if that'd ease her. "Just trim it a bit," he shrugged, walking out into the small living-room with Y/n thrashing behind him. She even threw a few hands at him, but he had a feeling that she wasn't as opposed by the idea as she was pretending to.

He pulled out a chair in front of the mirror that, though they had been living in this flat for nearly two months, had yet to be pinned to the wall. "C'mon, you work at a salon -- surely you know how to trim a guy's hair," he teased her, knowing that questioning her abilities would get to her and she'd cut his hair better than any hairdresser ever could.

Looking at her reflection glaring at him through the mirror, he winked at her before bending down to unzip his bag. He pulled out an electric trimmer from inside it and handed it to her, pulling the towel from the coffee table that he had left there earlier in the morning.

Once done draping it over his shoulders, he handed her the trimmer and added a touch of his puppy-dog eyes even though he knew they simply don't work on her.

"Okay. If you end up bald, don't complain then," she grumbled before running her hand through his hair. "Is this sweat or did you wash your hair after practice?" Her face was already contorted in disgust, like she knew he surely couldn't have done the latter.

"Don't you worry, I washed it after practice," he assured her, looking at her as if she should appreciate him.

She turned on the trimmer and held his hair in sections by one of her hands. "Why didn't you go to a salon?" She asked him, trimming the hair on his sides with her mouth parted.

Harry shrugged and immediately retorted when Y/n shrieked, mumbling an apology. "The salon's too far. I don't have the time to get there; got a handful of assignments to turn in before midnight." He told her. "And I mean, saving some money never hurt anyone."

"You do realize that I've put doing my assignment on pause to do this silly shenanigan with you?" Her eyebrows rose up as she fired another question at him. She suppressed a smile when he passed a dimpled-lopsided grin to her. "God, I hate you," she said, and a smile slipped on her lips as she moved to the other side to trim the rest of his hair.

She had no reason to be doing a parttime job at a salon, it wasn't going to help her in the future in any way, but it did help her in the present with its money. The money she got by being apprenticed to a dance company went straight into the flat-bills and some other necessary purchases that she couldn't avoid.

But she wasn't complaining about it. Living among frat people was a nightmare for her. She did have fun with people but being a clean-freak and a morning person didn't match well with the frats. They did love her dearly, but when Harry came in asking if someone would be willing to be his flat mate, everyone had chanted for Y/n. And, when he asked Y/n at the rink, she had quite literally jumped at the opportunity and in the joy of the moment, hugged Harry with a tight grip that still had his heartbeat rise whenever he thought about it.

With her touching his hair, Harry's heart was beating so hard in his chest that he was afraid it was going to break a rib. His eyes never once left her reflection in the mirror, not with the way she was being so careful and serious. Her lips had parted without her knowing, and she wasn't even blinking often enough.

That was when Harry saw a hair-strand fall in her face, and her face scrunch up in a way it does when she's about to sneeze. He saw as she turned to sneeze in her elbow -- a habit that she still hadn't gotten rid of. He shifted his gaze down on his hands in his lap, to prevent her catching him staring at her.

When Y/n caught her breath after the sneeze, her eyes grew wide. Her hand began shaking as she brought the other hand to cover her mouth, looking at his head in horror. She wasn't sure if she should laugh or begin spewing apologies and decided on the latter one.

But as she opened her mouth, Harry looked at her. "Should I just buzz it off?" He questioned her and thought that she had paled at the thought of him going bald. "I mean, the match season is finally over. I don't have anything to do but study, do my parttime and of course practice hockey." He shrugged explaining his point of view, looking at her to help him decided.

"S-sure! I mean, you'd look good with any-any type of haircut." She was shaking and stuttering, but Harry was too lost in his train of thoughts to question her. "A-and its buzzcut season, anyways!"

That seemed to be helpful for Harry. He smiled at her, "Shave it off, then. I'm basically on vacation from tomorrow... and I guess I'd really appreciate a change like this!" He was back to grinning and Y/n's sweat was beginning to cool off.

She imagined sitting with Harry on a sofa on some ordinary-night with her feet in his lap like he were her closest friend and telling him about today -- a movie playing on the lowest volume possible in the background. She stopped herself before she could get lost thinking about his reaction and mess up even his buzzcut.

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honeybeefae · 1 year ago

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can i request a newly mated highlord!rhys x highlady!reader fic with them going to the illyrian camps bc they have business to take care of, they still don’t like rhysand bc of his fae side and while walking through the camps she hears some illyrians insult him. Since they’re newly-mated reader can’t stop herself from destroying them. PROTECTIVE READER😍😍😍

um yes 100% this is AWESOME.

Touched Nerves (Rhysand x Reader)

The sound of men grunting and rain pouring was the only greeting you got as you strolled through the camps with your mate, the High Lord of the Night Court.

Now that you were an official High Lady you saw it as your duty to go along to these meetings with Rhys even if he insisted you stayed home. He had been nervous the week leading up, knowing how brute Illyrian men were and how new the bond still was.

Rhysand had told you he was worried that he would end up slitting someone's throat if they even dared to look in your direction but no one could have predicted you'd be the one who was hot-tempered.

"There's the High Lord," A sarcastic male voice chortled as you passed them by, your mate more focused on his conversation with the generals than whatever anyone was saying. You, however, were all ears. "Walking with his newest lay. Did you hear he made her High Lady?

"It's cause Rhysand is too much of a bitch to rule himself." Another male snarked, missing your glare as you glanced at them. "I'm sure she rules over him in the court and bedroom. He always was one to hide behind his mother's skirts."

Your fists clenched in anger as you tried to control yourself. You were always protective of Rhysand's reputation, hating that people didn't know the real him, but with this mating bond, it seemed that that protectiveness had grown tenfold.

"His mother, his sister, and now his mate too. He ain't no real Illyrian." The first one sneered. "He's nothing but a trait-"

You had the Illyrian male in your grasp before he could finish his sentence, your nails digging into the skin of his neck as he desperately clawed at your hand.

"He is everything you wish you were. He's got more Illyrian fight and blood in him than you have in your toes." You emphasized as you dug your heel down into his foot, a sadistic side of you enjoying the way he whimpered and wriggled. "You'll be good to remember that next time you come face to face with someone who could easily wipe you off the face of the Earth, someone like me."

Your nails dug further into his neck and the animalistic side of you wanted to rip out his larynx for even daring to speak ill of your mate. The two men beside him watched on in horror and awe as you easily lifted the mail into the air.

"I suggest you find your dignity that is now in the dirt and apologize to your High Lord, to your leader." You said before throwing him backward, straightening your spine and brushing off your clothes. "Now."

A rush of cool night air blew next to you and you immediately relaxed when you looked to see Rhys smirking, his eyes dancing with amusement as he took in the scene before him.

"Well," Rhys waved a hand to the man, cocking an eyebrow. "I'm waiting."

"I'm-" The man began, red blood marred all over his neck as if he had just been mauled. "I'm sorry, High Lord." He said through gritted teeth, his stare colder than death as he turned and took off into the sky.

The other men followed but not before sending nasty looks your way, one of them mumbling something under their breath. You took a step forward as if to follow but stopped when you felt Rhys's hand wrap around your wrist.

"Shhh, darling. It's alright. Let them go." He murmured into your ear, pulling you close to wrap his arms around your midriff. "You protected my honor courageously. I would hate for you to stew in this."

"But they were rude to you, rude to me as if you had done nothing for them." You argued, turning to face him with a pouted lip. "I just wanted to protect your name. I don't like it when other people speak of you like they know you. Like they know what you've been through."

"I care what no one thinks but you." He assured, tilting your head up so that he could gaze adoringly into your eyes. "You are all I care about, darling. No one else."

You blushed and he smiled, kissing your forehead softly before turning to start back down the path. He held his hand in yours, keeping your body close, as he snickered and said, "Though it was nice to see you kick his ass."

#acotar #acotar reader #acotar imagine #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhys x reader #rhys x reader acotar #rhysand x reader acotar #rhysand x reader #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #acotar fanfiction

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illyrian-dreamer · 2 years ago

Text

Stay with me

Azriel x reader

Summary: You’ve been kidnapped by Hybern’s army, and Azriel gets injured during the mission to rescue you.

Thank you lillithathecat for requesting 24. Soulmates - one risks their life for the other + 26. Tending to injuries.

Day 4/5 for 500!! Enjoy! 💗

Warnings: Violence, injuries

Words: 1,963

--------

“Azriel!!” you screamed, thrashing against the arms of the soldiers that held you back.

He had come to save you – just as Hybern had expected. Like an angel of the night, he swooped at the army below, slitting throats with his sword and choking others with his shadows. You tried to scream for him, to warn him this was a trap, but it was already too late.

Azriel spotted you then, hovering in the air for just a moment before making for your direction. He didn't get far as a quiver of arrows shot through the air, piercing his wings.

You knew those arrows would be laced with Faebane, and your eyes widened in terror. Azriel roared as he flapped against the pain, blood now spilling from multiple wound sites. You screamed his name again, watching your angel fall from the sky.

Cassian appeared in front of you then, and Feyre close behind him as she winnowed into place. He looked past you, grunting as he swung his sword at the guards, not giving them a chance to fight back as they fell to the ground. You heard more yelling, and turned to see Feyre’s water wolves unleashed onto the rest of Hybern’s men.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you tried to spot Azriel amongst the fight, panic rising in your throat as you could no longer see the troughs of his wings. On instinct, you launched into a sprint, heading straight to where he had fallen – before a strong hand caught your wrist.

“Hey! Are you alright?” Cassian’s ran his eyes over you with concern, his chest heaving from the fight.

“Azriel!” was all you could shriek as you pulled against his hold.

“I know, it’s alright. Rhys has winnowed him back to the camp.”

You stopped pulling, your eyes darting between Cassian’s as you tried to process through your panic. “Take me to him.”

Cassian flicked his eyes down to your bloodied lip and bruised face – Hybern’s army had showed you little mercy as their bait. “You’re injured.” was all he said.

“I’m fine,” you growled. “Take me to Azriel, please.”

Feyre appeared beside you both, and she placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “The wolves will finish the rest of them. Let’s go.” Air and wind ripped around you as she winnowed you back to the base camp.

The moment your feet hit the ground, you were running to find Azriel. You could scent his blood, bile rising in your throat as you raced against the clock.

Bursting into the medical tent, you saw him sprawled on his stomach, his grunts filling the tent as his body jerked in pain, the Faebane spreading. You broke at the site of his wings, the skin of them shredded and withered as the poison worked fast. Rhys was beside him, holding his brother’s hand as he spoke softly, likely working to ease his pain.

“Azriel,” you rasped, your face crumpling as you rushed to him. Closer now, you could see the way his brows pulled as he panted and sweat. “Y/N,” he gasped, trying to raise his head.

“Shh, don’t try to speak,” you said, eyeing his back and watching his wings twitch another time. Something snapped in you then, and instinct took over as you fetched ointments and bandages and got to work.

Your hands shook as you hovered over the first of many arrows you would need to remove. “This is going to hurt,” you warned, before pulling on the wooden stem, clenching your teeth as Azriel sounded a yelp. You cried for him as you discarded the arrow, pressing on the wounds to stop the bleeding and rubbing ointment to halt the spread of the poison. Sweat stung your eyes as you tried to focus, doing your best to ignore the voice that questioned if it would be enough to save him.

“Where is Madja?” you gritted, pulling another arrow which caused another jerk from Azriel. He had stopped yelling now, and you knew he was slipping further into exhaustion.

“She’s on her way,” Rhys said tightly, his eyes glowing as he continued to manage Azriel’s pain from his mind. Feyre stood beside you, replacing the bandages and dressings you needed as she watched your handiwork with a pained expression.

You didn't respond as you ground your teeth, pulling out the last of the arrows.

“There,” you said, moving to crouch at Azriel’s face, his eyes blinking in and out of sleep. “They’re all out.” You couldn’t help the instinct it was to softly stroke the side of his face. “Madja will be here soon.”

“Thank you,” Azriel said, his voice weak. ‘A-are you ‘k?”

“I’m fine, Az,” you said softly with a broken smile. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Good,” was the last thing he said before finally giving in to exhaustion.

Stepping back, your ran shaking hands over your face as you tried to breath. You were riddled with worry as you paced the tent. What if Madja doesn’t have the right antidote? What if she doesn’t arrive in time, and he dies in his sleep? What if his wings never heal?

“Hey, hey,” Rhys caught you then, steadying your shoulders. “It’s going to be alright.”

You broke then, falling to your knees as the events of the past day caught up with you. You had been snatched from your own tent and beaten by Hybern’s army. They had used you as bait, promising to kill anyone you would try to retrieve you. You begged Rhys mind to mind for him and the rest of the circle not to come – you would rather have died than risk their lives. But they had come anyway – Azriel now at death’s door because of it.

Rhys’s and Feyre were on you then, rubbing your back and reassuring you softly. You couldn't hear them over the sound of your own cries.

“He might die,” was all you could get out, your voice strained and broken.

Feyre held you close, as Rhys took your hands in his. “You’ve done an excellent job at removing the arrows, Y/N. Azriel is stronger than you think. Madja will be here soon, he’ll survive this.”

You looked back at Rhys, your expression longing, desperate to believe him.

Feyre pulled you up gently, her arms firm around your shoulders. “You’re injured too Y/N. Why don't we have you checked by a healer, hmm?”

She wasn't wrong, your body ached with bruises, blood crusted at your lips and nose, and you were sure you had a few broken ribs. But panic rose at the thought of leaving Azriel’s side, and you shook your head stubbornly. “I won't leave him.”

Feyre exchanged a look with her mate before nodding. “I understand,” she said gently.

Madja arrived shortly after, bustling over Azriel’s back while he slept. She came with a specially brewed liquid, and asked you to feed it to him while she reapplied his patches. You felt awful waking him from the rest he needed, but Azriel had grunted in acknowledgement, swallowing the liquid as you bought the vile to his lips. You gently placed his head back down on the cot, stroking his hair as you hoped painless sleep would find him again soon.

The rest of the Circle had come to the tent to hear Madja’s update – Azriel was stable, and she credited your work to remove the Faebane as soon as possible. His wings would take months to heal, but he would be able to fly again. Your body sagged in relief, tears falling once again as you glanced at the large Illyrian who slept through the quiet conversation.

You refused to leave his side, watching him take deep breaths in and out, each one a blessing. He was so brave, so selfless, and it shook you to think he had risked his own life to save yours. You were rather new to the Inner Circle – and Azriel, while polite, had always been quiet and reserved. While you had previously considered him a friend, the extent of his sacrifice showed you he meant so much more.

Slumped in a chair beside his cot, you finally nodded off to sleep in the early hours of the morning. You don't know how long it was before you jolted awake at the sound of Azriel stirring. Leaping up, you immediately went to him, crouching at his side.

“Y/N?” he coughed, voice hoarse.

“I’m here.”

Azriel blinked at you, trying to focus after hours of sleep. “You’re alive?”

“Alive and safe, thanks to you.”

“Thank the Cauldron,” he said gruffly, before trying to raise himself. A grunt escaped him, and he fell back down in his cot, not yet strong enough to sit up.

You bought a soft hand to his arm, rubbing it gently. “How’s your pain?”

“I’m alright,” he answered, an obvious lie.

“Madja says you’ll make a full recovery.”

Azriel hummed at that. You couldn't believe he was concerned with your wellbeing before his own.

“Azriel,” you said, blinking upwards to try and stop the tears that brewed. “I’m so sorry.”

He frowned at you then. “Whatever for?”

“You risked your life for my own. Your wings” you waved a hand to his back. You were glad he couldn't yet see the splatter of dressings and dried blood that covered them.

Azriel sighed, closing his eyes. “I had to get you back.”

You blinked at him, one slow tear rolling down your cheek. “I asked Rhys for you not to come.”

“I know,” he replied, opening his eyes again, their hazel glow boring into yours. “You’re a fool to have asked.”

You laughed then, clutching at the sharp pain at your ribs. Azriel smiled back softly.

“You’re smiling,” he said gently. You finished your laugh, returning his smile as you nodded. “You have a beautiful laugh.” You were sure it was the exhaustion that willed him to say it, but never the less, a blush tinged your cheeks so quickly you had to look away. Azriel reached for you then, and you clasped his scarred hand between your own.

“I was so worried about you,” you admitted, pain returning to your eyes. He closed his lids again, a hint of his smile still there. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

You frowned now, pulling your hands back to wrap around your stomach. “I couldn't stand the thought of you dying for me.”

“It’s my duty.”

“I know. But, what a waste.”

Azriel’s eyes snapped open. “Don’t ever say that again.”

You swallowed, guilt working its way through you. “Promise me you won't ever do something so reckless again.”

“No,” he said tightly. “It wasn’t reckless, Y/N. It was necessary.” Azriel took a quick breath before continuing. “You’re very important to me.”

You sighed at his response, shaking your head and placing one hand atop of his. “You’re important to me too Az.”

Azriel’s eyes bored into yours as you shared a silent moment. He cleared his throat then, flicking his gaze to your chest. “You need to see a healer,” he remarked, eyeing the way in which you clutched at your ribs.

“No,” you said quickly. “I’m fine right here.”

Azriel nodded, before a painful cough racked through him.

You blinked, realising he might like some privacy. “You should rest some more” you said shyly, straightening yourself as you got up to leave.

A scarred hand caught your wrist.

“Don't go.” Azriel’s voice was soft, and it was the most vulnerable you had ever seen the Shadowsinger. “Please, stay here with me.” he added, eyes pleading.

You smiled now, once again stroking his face. “Always.”

--------

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#azirel #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel injured #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fan fic #acotarfanfic #acotar fan fiction #rhysand #feyre #cassian #inner circle #inner circle angst #inner circle fluff #acourt of thorns and roses #protective azriel #mating bond

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lloydskywalkers · 20 days ago

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Hey there! So I know the post was made back in 2020 but do you have any more writing/context/info for the "rebel demon au"? Because I can only find one post about it (it was a snippet of writing with Lloyd and Morro) and holy crap it has been making my neurons fire. I need the context for it and also way more of that type of cousins dynamic for Lloyd and Morro PLEASE.

HNGH i am assuming this is the one you mean, but forgive me if i'm incorrect - i am so sorry because as of right now i have no plans to continue it (too many multi-chapts T-T) but!! that does mean i can dump the context/what i do have written on you below the cut (featuring the complete trainwreck that is how i plot things out)

Context:

aaand here is the snippet I originally posted with slightly more context:

The rebel laughed, a caustic, grating sound that almost reminded him of the siren screech’s he’d hear on the coast as a child, the kind that sent chills down his spine. Gritting his teeth, Kai shifted his grip on his sword. He could laugh all he wanted — it wasn’t going to stop Kai from wiping the dirt with his face when this was over.

“You think you’re all so noble,” the rebel spat, yellow-green eyes flashing from behind his mask. “Defending her royal highness. I should’ve expected as much from some brainless guard dog.”

Kai nearly flinched back at the venom in his voice, then set his expression in a glare. “I’d watch how you speak of the queen,” he grit out. “Those are some high and mighty words coming from a bunch of murderers.”

The rebel’s grip on his bow twitched, and for a brief second, Kai feared he would abandon all sense and just shoot him on the spot.

“We are not the murderers here,” the rebel hissed instead, his voice low with fury. “If you knew any better—“

A dark shadow sprang from the trees behind him, and the rebel had only a second’s warning before the hilt of Zane’s sword came bearing savagely into his head, sending him to the ground with a cry of pain. Kai wasted no time is rushing forward, kicking the rebel’s bow away before he could grab it. Zane came down beside him, grabbing his wrists and pinning them against his back in an iron hold as he thrashed.

“Thanks,” Kai said breathlessly. “That was a close one.”

Zane gave him a tight smile, his eyes flashing in the light of the fires still burning around them. “I’m simply glad I found you in time,” he said. He glanced down to the rebel seething on the ground, trapped firmly by Zane’s iron grip. “What should we do with him?”

Kai eyed the rebel shrewdly, making a face. “Probably tie ‘im up and bring him to the captain,” he said. “As much as I’d love to grind his face in the dirt, he could be valuable. Maybe.”

The rebel hissed at him. “You’d lose your hands before you tried such a thing—“

Zane shoved him down harshly, glaring at the back of his head. “You’re not in a position to make threats,” he said. He shifted his hold, glancing up at Kai. “Hand me your rope,” he said. “I’ll tie him up—“

“Don’t bother.”

All three heads turned in unison as the voice echoed across the clearing. Kai felt a flash of relief as Captain Killow strode toward them, the rest of their unit following. The sense of relief grew stronger as he spotted Jay and Cole in their ranks. They’d all come out alright, then.

The warrior had an entirely opposite reaction — he tensed in Zane’s hold, his eyes narrowing into slits.

“Better to kill him now,” Killow grinned.

Kai paused, staring at him. Zane blinked.

“Captain…?” he stared at him in confusion. “Wouldn’t it be better to take him prisoner? We know nothing about how many of them came here, and he could prove a valuable bartering piece.”

Kai nodded, Zane’s words making sense. Despite his irritation at the warrior for catching him off guard, killing him seemed like a waste.

Plus Kai…wasn’t exactly a fan of killing someone in cold blood like that. It wasn’t like the warrior had killed any of them, anyways. In fact, it looked as if their entire unit had survived relatively unscathed, which was odd.

“Don’t overstep yourself, Julien,” Killow snapped, and both Kai and Zane stiffened. “I said kill him, so kill him.”

Zane frowned, clearly at unease. “Captain, if I may—“

“What did I say, Julien,” Killow growled dangerously. Kai swallowed, exchanging wide-eyed glances with Zane.

“For the love of — I’ll do it myself, if you’re that useless,” Killow huffed, drawing his sword and striding toward them. The warrior burst unto a violent struggle, and Zane nearly lost his hold in surprise.

The sword glinted as Willow raised it high, face twisted in a savage grin. “Hold him still, if you can do even that—“

“Stop!”

Kai’s head jerked up as Killow’s did, the unfamiliar cry echoing across the clearing. The rest of their unit snapped to the defensive, bows and swords rising as they prepared to take out the unseen threat.

The warrior, however, went still, his eyes going wide. “No!” he suddenly yelled, seemingly uncaring of his own fate. “I told you to run, you idiot, I’m not worth it!”

Killow turned his head back to the warrior, lip curling in distaste. He raised his sword, preparing to swing it down across his neck, when the twang of a bow sounded across the clearing.

“I said stop!”

Kai brought his own sword up, staring at where the arrow had come from. Killow doubled over, hissing as he clutched at his wounded hand. Zane gave a sharp intake of breath, and Kai followed his gaze upwards.

Oh, he thought blankly. The threat had been above them the entire time.

Nearly obscured by the shadows, the figure jumped down from his spot in the tree above them, landing neatly just in front of them. Kai immediately recognized him as the shorter rebel, the one with the frightened red eyes.

The fear had left them now, and instead the eyes were smoldering, fixed into an obvious glare at Killow as he leveled his bow at his head. Kai shook himself, bringing his sword back up and preparing to charge.

“Don’t touch him,” the smaller rebel snapped. Kai blinked. Despite the fury in his voice, the warrior’s voice was impossibly young, barely sounding older than Nya.

“You’re outnumbered,” Zane spoke up, before he anyone else could react. “What do you hope to achieve here?”

The boy’s grip on his bow tightened, his gaze never leaving Killow, who was now staring between both masked rebels in fury.

“Don’t you dare,” the rebel beneath Zane snapped, but Kai could hear the terror in his voice. “Don’t—“

“A trade,” the shorter rebel spoke over him, his voice wavering briefly. “Me for him.”

Killow gave a barking laugh. “And what makes you think you’re worth anything?” he sneered. “You’d be dead in minutes if you fired that bow. You’re in no position to be bargaining here.”

The boy tensed, then lowered his bow, slowly. The other rebel gave a strangled curse, and Zane had to strain to keep him pinned.

“No!” he cried, struggling anew. “I’m not worth it, idiot!”

His hand trembling slightly, the boy raised a hand to his his mask, pulling the dark fabric down. Blond hair so pale it looked white in the darkness tumbled down, framing a face that was far younger than Kai could’ve guessed. But the resemblance in his jawline and the bright red eyes were unmistakeable. Kai heard low murmurs filter between the unit behind them.

“I’d say I’m worth something,” the boy said, tightly. “But you can check with your princess if you want.”

The scowl melted from Killow’s face, his teeth flashing as his mouth spread into a grin. “Garmadon’s son,” he laughed. “So this is what you’ve been reduced to.”

Kai sucked in a breath. Behind him, he heard Jay start muttering frantically.

Garmadon’s son. The offspring of the demon dragon that terrorized their kingdom, that nearly destroyed them all before Harumi had intervened. The spawn of the devil, and he was…

A fairly unimpressive kid.

The son of Garmadon’s eyes sparked, and he bared his teeth. “You know who I am.” A sliver of smoke escaped his lips, and Killow jerked back in alarm, the other soldiers following suit. Kai blinked, feeling at loss here. “You know what I can do.”

“Fire-breather,” Killow cursed. “Just like your old man, huh?”

#answered #one day i will free some of these wips #alas i cannot write manageable chapters to save my life #T-T

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fool-counter · 13 days ago

Note

Chapter 3

Chapter

Chapter 3("Chapter 3")

AN: STOP FLAMMING DA STORY PREPZ OK! odderwize fangs 2 da goffik ppl 4 da good reveiws! FANGS AGEN RAVEN! oh yeah, BTW I don't own dis or da lyrics 4 Good Chralotte.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On the night of the concert I put on my black lace-up boots with high heels. Underneath them were ripped red fishnets. ThenI put on a black leather minidress with all this corset stuff on the back and front. I put on matching fishnet on my arms. I straightened my hair and made it look all spiky. I felt a little depressed then, so I slit one of my wrists. I read a depressing book while I waited for it to stop bleeding and I listened to some GC. I painted my nails black and put on TONS of black eyeliner. Then I put on some black lipstick. I didn't put on foundation because I was pale anyway. I drank some human blood so I was ready to go to the concert.

I went outside. Draco was waiting there in front of his flying car. He was wearing a Simple Plan t-shirt (they would play at the show too), baggy black skater pants, black nail polish and a little eyeliner (AN: A lot fo kewl boiz wer it ok!).

"Hi Draco!" I said in a depressed voice.

Hi Ebony." he said back. We walked into his flying black Mercedes-Benz (the license plate said 666) and flew to the place with the concert. On the way we listened excitedly to Good Charlotte and Marilyn Manson. We both smoked cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the car. We went to the mosh pit at the front of the stage and jumped up and down as we listened to Good Charlotte.

"You come in cold, you're covered in blood They're all so happy you've arrived The doctor cuts your cord, hands you to your mom She sets you free into this life." sang Joel (I don't own da lyrics 2 dat song).

"Joel is so fucking hot." I said to Draco, pointing to him as he sung, filling the club with his amazing voice.

Suddenly Draco looked sad.

"What's wrong?" I asked as we moshed to the music. Then I caught on.

"Hey, it's ok I don't like him better than YOU!" I said.

"Really?" asked Draco sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective.

"Really." I said. "Besides I don't even know Joel and he's going out with Hilary fucking Duff. I fucking hate that little bitch." I said disgustedly, thinking of her ugly blonde face.

The night went on really well, and I had a great time. So did Draco. After the concert, we drank some beer and asked Benji and Joel for their autographs and photos with them. We got GC concert tees. Draco and I crawled back into the Mercedes-Benz, but Draco didn't go back into Hogwarts, instead he drove the car into... the Forbidden Forest!

Chapter 3

Chapter

Chapter 3("Chapter 3")

AN: STOP FLAMMING DA STORY PREPZ OK! odderwize fangs 2 da goffik ppl 4 da good reveiws! FANGS AGEN RAVEN! oh yeah, BTW I don't own dis or da lyrics 4 Good Chralotte.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hi Draco!" I said in a depressed voice.

"Joel is so fucking hot." I said to Draco, pointing to him as he sung, filling the club with his amazing voice.

Suddenly Draco looked sad.

"What's wrong?" I asked as we moshed to the music. Then I caught on.

"Hey, it's ok I don't like him better than YOU!" I said.

"Really?" asked Draco sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective.

"Really." I said. "Besides I don't even know Joel and he's going out with Hilary fucking Duff. I fucking hate that little bitch." I said disgustedly, thinking of her ugly blonde face.

fool count: 16

quickly! someone submit chapter 2!

#fools on demand

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sluttyten · 2 years ago

Text

UNHOLY - Chapter Five

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

tags: polyamory, smut!, threesome, oral sex, demon sex, found family

length: 13,501 words

<-previous || next–>

The world wavers and blurs when you next open your eyes.

You’re in a familiar bed in a familiar studio apartment with the familiar view of a dusky orange sky and a burnt out city. You’re back in Hell City, that much you’re sure of, but you don’t know how long you’ve been unconscious. The apartment is quiet around you, and as you stare up at the ceiling your mind whirs over the painful events that led up to your return.

The pastor’s decision to fetch an exorcist for you.

Ten’s promise to not leave you alone.

Hansol returning with the pastor.

Was he the exorcist? Or was it by some twisted miracle just happenstance. That’s the option you know you would prefer, but the feeling in your gut tells you otherwise.

You lie there for several long minutes, watching the light of the city play across the ceiling as your mind refuses to comprehend. Hansol couldn’t be an exorcist could he? He was young, not to mention he’d been very sexually active with you, and don’t you have to be an old priest who’s sworn to celibacy to become an exorcist? What was he doing there? What had he been doing with you, if he was somehow in fact an exorcist?

But more than just your questions about that situation, you wonder where Ten and Yuta are. Ten had vowed to not leave you alone, but then where is he?

“You’re awake.”

You leap out of your skin at the sound of a voice right beside you. Your vision blurs, unfocused as you turn to look beside you at the startling shape of a man in the bed with you. You blink a few times, and the haziness fades, bringing recognition with it.

Mark. The vampire.

He’s on top of the sheets whereas you’re tucked in safely beneath the covers, but Mark is propped up against your pillows, looking sleepy and far too comfortable considering that you’ve never had him in your apartment before. In the time since you last saw him, you forgot some of the details of him: the little moles, his wide eyes, the little upward tilt of his lips as he quickly looks you over.

Sleepily, he mumbles, “They’ll be so happy you’re awake.”

You sit up in bed, pressing your hands against the mattress. Neither of your hands are broken any longer, you realize. The searing pain of shattered wrists and all the fine bones in your hands is gone. They feel just as fine as they always have, and there aren’t even bruises or scars.

Mark yawns, stretching his arms above his head. You notice the sleeve of his shirt is stained with blood. There are shadows beneath his eyes, his skin fairly pale otherwise.

“Why are you here?” You ask, looking around the room. This is definitely your apartment. Your things are still here. But there’s no sign of the demons. “Where are Ten and Yuta?”

“Wreaking vengeance probably,” Mark says, sinking back down comfortably into your bed, tipping his head back on one of the pillows. His eyes sink shut. “I’m here because you were injured. Broken wrists and hands. Bruised ribs. Exhaustion. Blessing burns, fucking holy ones.”

You don’t understand why he’s here, though. What could he have done for you? “And you’re a doctor or something?”

“Or something.” Mark smiles faintly, still not opening his eyes, but he shortly offers up further explanation. “Vampire blood heals. You needed a lot of healing. Unfortunately I was already a little low on supply before I got the call from Yuta, but I can’t ignore an SOS call like his. So you’re all healed up. Ten made me promise not to leave you alone, plus I need some rest until they get back from their revenge plans and can provide me with some fresh blood. Unless you’re offering?”

He peeks at you through one slit eyelid.

“No, I’m not offering.” You turn away. “But, thank you, Mark.”

“Na uh pro’lem,” he mumbles, “Shleep now.”

He probably needs it. He’s more gray now than just pale. The shadows are even deeper around his eyes. If he was human, you would say that he was on the verge of death, but he’s not human. What happens when a vampire has no blood in his system, you wonder. Does he die? You really hope Mark doesn’t die in your bed right after saving you.

You watch him rest. You appreciate that he’s healed you, that he’s stayed with you. And your heart warms in your chest, thinking about what he’d said, that Ten made him promise not to leave you alone. You brush your fingers over Mark’s forehead, his skin disturbingly cold beneath your touch, and you fix his hair a little where it’s fallen over his forehead.

He looks so different like this than he has any other time you’ve seen him. He seems young and vulnerable, not like a vampire who wields a decent amount of power and celebrity status here in Hell City. Here he looks just like a young man, recently out of boyhood, and if you ignore the gray pallor to his skin, you can pretend that he’s just a young man sleeping, not a vampire desiccating in your bed, waiting for a pair of demons to return to him with fresh blood.

Luckily, you don’t have long to wait for Yuta and Ten’s return.

One instant, your apartment is deathly quiet, everything still, and then Yuta’s stumbling over to the bed. Ten flops across your legs. A third figure (presumably the man who had broken your bones but freed you from bondage) slumps onto the floor at the foot of the bed, disappearing from sight.

“Shit,” Yuta curses, collapsing onto the edge of the mattress beside Mark. You watch as he lifts his wrist to his mouth. You see a trickle of deepest red, and then he’s holding his wrist to Mark’s lips.

“I didn’t know demons had blood,” you think aloud.

Yuta turns his head, his eyes still burning a deep infinite black. “We don’t.”

Ten, at your feet, rolls over to face you, and for the first time since their arrival you get a clear look at him. His eyes are also entirely awash in black, blood is smeared around his lips. “Demons can drink blood too,” he explains.

You don’t ask whose blood they’ve been drinking. You’re not entirely sure that you want to know, but your imagination supplies answers anyway—the pastor cornered in his small office, Ten crouching over him as he rips out the man’s throat, and Hansol, the exorcist, laid over the desk while Yuta drinks from him.

But you don’t ask.

You don’t want confirmation of your suspicions. Just a day ago, you’d considered the pastor a friend. Just hours ago, you’d considered Hansol a good guy that you were relieving basic human needs with. Even with the horrors that transpired over the last several hours, you can’t bring yourself to find anything but disgust in the idea of either of them experiencing violent deaths.

Instead you just watch the color and life flow back into Mark’s face. Color returns to his cheeks, the shadows vanish from beneath his eyes. His hands lift to Yuta’s arm, holding the wrist more firmly against his mouth. He drinks until Yuta’s cringing, until Yuta has to push his head away.

“I’m dry, man. There’s nothing more in there.”

“More,” Mark whines, blinking up at Yuta. His lips are red, a few drops leaking down his chin. You can see his fangs fully extended right now, sharp and stained pink. His eyes flick over to you, but Yuta grabs his chin, knuckles going white from holding on so tightly.

“You don’t touch her. Not without her permission, and not when you’re like this.” His voice is so commanding, that even you feel a little berated. Yuta tilts his head toward Ten. “You can drink from him.”

Ten climbs up the bed, smirking as he straddles Mark. “Come on, bro. Drink up.”

He bares his throat, already laughing as Mark bolts upright, his mouth at Ten’s throat.

You can’t watch this. The semi-violent way that Mark is drinking from Ten. It makes you think too much of what you’re trying to avoid thinking about – Hansol’s face with blank eyes, his throat torn out—

Yuta watches you as you get up on mildly unsteady feet and move away from the bed. The ground feels like sand beneath your feet, your legs wobble, so you lean your weight against the bed, working your way around it slowly. When was the last time you ate or drank anything? How long have you even been here, you wonder? Has it been an hour, multiple hours?

Just as you reach the foot of the bed, you remember the other man. He’s still slumped down on the floor, stretched out length-wise and face-down. He’s not moving at all, so you crouch down in front of him to check that he’s alright.

“Hello?” You poke his shoulder, and when you get no response, you reach for his face, turning his head to the side.

That’s when you recognize him.

“WinWin?”

His eyes move beneath his eyelids, but he doesn’t stir.

Immediately, panic courses through you. Is he hurt? Is he dying? You’ve only met him twice, but you liked him enough, and you feel horrible that he may have gotten hurt in rescuing you or during whatever came to pass afterwards. The fact that he came to your rescue at all surprises you. WinWin is barely more than a stranger, yet still you’re worried for him.

“He’s alright.” Yuta comes around the foot of the bed, kneeling down beside you. “The wolf transformation takes a lot of energy out of him. He just needs rest.”

You don’t ask why WinWin transformed. You don’t need to paint an even uglier image of what kind of revenge these supernatural beings went seeking on your behalf.

Lightly, Yuta pulls a blanket off the end of the bed and drapes it over the wolf lying on your floor. There’s something bizarrely tender about the interaction, so much different from the last and only time you saw them together.

“What’s going on?” You ask, watching Yuta stand up again. “I’m gone for a month and now suddenly you’re friends with a werewolf? Specifically this werewolf.”

Yuta shrugs. “Things change.”

Okay, sure they do. But how?

“You need to eat,” Yuta says, walking away from you instead of offering further explanation. “What would you like?”

You’re starving, but you’re not sure that you’re really hungry. You’ve no appetite though your stomach is growling, the sound echoing in the empty pit of your stomach. “I don’t care.”

Yuta looks back over his shoulder at you. “That’s a lie.”

He snaps his fingers and points at the table in your kitchen, which transforms from empty to miraculously covered with an entire feast. “Eat.”

You lift yourself from the floor, walking over towards the table, but as you draw even with Yuta, you pause. He opens his mouth, probably to command you to sit down at the table and eat before he has to force-feed you, but you take him by surprise when you wrap your arms around him and bury your face against his shoulder in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “For coming to save me. You could’ve ignored my call for help, but you didn’t. Thank you.”

His arms are just as tight around you. “You don’t have to thank me, my love. I told you before,” he sighs a little, resting his head against the top of yours as he says, “I’ll never let anything happen to you.” You hold each other for a while before Yuta turns his head, kissing the top of yours, and he pushes you gently away. “Now, eat, please.”

You find that you’re ravenous. The feast Yuta manifested for you has everything you could’ve wanted and more. There’s a whole roast chicken, a suckling pig, a dressed bird of some kind, a vat of mashed potatoes, there is pie and fruit platters, a fondue pot with items to dip in it, bowls of steaming ramen and stew, ingredients for wraps, sashimi, a wide bowl of jasmine rice, side dishes galore. Food of every kind that you’ve ever had and loved. You couldn’t eat all of this food if you sat here for a week straight, though you make a valiant attempt regardless.

Yuta sits beside you and watches you eat. For a while, neither of you speak, and the only sounds in your apartment are you munching away at the feast and Ten groaning quietly while Mark drinks him dry. But then Yuta shifts to lean his elbows against the table, propping his chin up in his hand as he looks right at you.

“I missed you,” he says quietly. “I feel foolish to admit it, but Hell City felt different without you. Empty. I didn’t realize how much I’d grown used to your company until you weren’t here. Ten felt the same,” he adds in an even quieter voice, casting a glance over to where Ten and Mark are still tangled on the bed. “I know you wanted nothing to do with us or this place, but did you think of us?”

Your mouth, at that moment, is stuffed full with chicken and a dinner roll, so you hold up your finger, imploring Yuta to wait a moment for you to chew and swallow.His face lights up, smiling brightly and whisker-like lines appear on either side of his nose as he scrunches it up. He reaches out to touch your hair, petting from the crown of your head down along your cheek.

The moment that your mouth is clear enough to do so, you tell him, “I thought of you all the time. Dreams and waking thoughts.” And you dive into telling Yuta everything that’s occurred over the last month that you were away. You delve into how you’d begun to feel crazy, how you’d been at war with yourself. You tell him about Hansol too, and Yuta’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to feel jealous,” you chastise him.

“I absolutely can feel jealous.” Yuta folds his arms in front of him, still resting on the table, still leaning towards you.

You push your plate away a little bit. “Well, don’t feel that way. I’m pretty sure you got your revenge. I don’t want details on what you, Ten, and WinWin were doing before you came back. I don’t want to know anything at all, okay? Let me just say, though, that Hansol was the man behind the pastor. I think he was the exorcist.” You frown.

Yuta laughs and then he laughs some more, and he continues laughing even as Ten finally approaches, squeezing onto the seat with you. Ten tugs you into his lap and wraps his arms around you. “What are we laughing about?”

“The guy she was sleeping with while she was home, she thinks he was the exorcist we rescued her from,” Yuta explains, still chortling. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so amused before.

You fold your arms over your chest, leaning back against Ten while he just hooks his chin over your shoulder. You pout, “I don’t think it’s very funny.”

“Of course not, darling,” Ten says, “But there is a sense of irony that you, a half-demon, may have been fucking a demon exterminator without his awareness of the situation.” You feel his leg jerk, and then there’s a thump beneath the table, and Yuta’s amusement fades into a glare pointed at Ten. Ten says, “More worrisome is that he could have been really dangerous if things had gone differently. You told me that he wanted to take you away, right? What if he suspected what you are, and bringing you along to move away from your town where everyone knows you was just a way for him to cover up? Like we were worried about dangers to you as soon as we discovered you in that cemetery.”

Yuta leans back in his chair. “I did warn you that it could be dangerous out there for you, didn’t I?”

You nod. He had warned you of that, but you didn’t think anything of it. You’d lived in your normal, human world for years before you ever met him or Ten without having any harm come directly to you. What are the odds that after leaving Hell City, within a month, you had someone like Hansol there with the power to destroy you?

You don’t like this topic at all. “That’s kinda the reason I decided coming back here with you two was my best option. I know now that it’s dangerous out there. I know that it’s dangerous for me to ignore this part of who I am, and if I don’t learn anything about the powers I might have, then I’m just leaving myself open to whatever harm might come my way. I want to change that.”

“You want us to teach you?” Ten asks.

You nod.

“Where do we begin?” Ten looks over at Yuta, and you follow his gaze.

Yuta shrugs. “At the start, I suppose. In the beginning, there was a void….”

Yuta begins with a thorough history of time as the demons tell it. From the beginning of everything, through the creation, to here and now. You sit and listen to him talk, to Ten talk, and after a while, Mark leaves the bed to join the three of you at the table. He listens as well, and he looks much better now that he’s had his fill from Yuta and Ten. Sometimes you ask questions, wondering at how this tale contradicts the one that you were raised on. Mostly you just listen and learn, reworking your understanding of the very fabric of the world you know.

Eventually, while you’re still sitting there, WinWin rises from the floor, dragging himself over to a seat on the other side of the table. He begins shoveling food into his mouth as well, slowly looking more alive and well with each mouthful. Mark just sits there observing WinWin’s endless eating with a hint of disgust mixed with mild appreciation.

WinWin makes a face at Mark, but continues eating. He catches your eye, offering you a smile and a wink before he tears voraciously into a roast duck.

“Have some manners, Win.” Yuta tosses a napkin at the werewolf as grease drips down his chin. “If you’re going to join the family, at least do that.”

Everyone looks sharply at Yuta, but he’s only looking at WinWin.

Your mind races, centered around that one word. Family. Are you a family? Is this your family now?

“You’ve shown that you have her best interests at heart,” Yuta says, his eyes flicking momentarily towards you. “You were right there alongside us as we freed her. And afterwards. She likes you for whatever reason, and as much as Ten fronts, he and I like you, as well.”

WinWin looks surprised, “Do you mean it? Because I don’t really have a pack, so if you mean it, I would be grateful.” His gaze moves over every face at the table, eyes soft and hopeful.

Ten sighs behind you, and his arms circle around your waist, hugging you back against him. “Honestly, wolf, you’re one of the good ones. If you need a place, a pack, a coven, here we are. Welcome to the family.”

You lean your head against Ten’s as he dips his mouth down to rest on your shoulder.

“Does that include all of us?” Mark asks.

Yuta grins. “Of course. Who says a family can’t be two demons, a werewolf, a vampire, and a half-demon?”

Mark laughs, WinWin smiles. Ten holds you just a little bit tighter.

For the first time since you left this place a month ago, a feeling of rightness settles into your bones.

You’re home.

After that night, it seems that they’re always there with you. Ten keeps the promise he made during their rescue of you, and you’re not left alone.

For the first day or two that you’re back in Hell City, you’re grateful for their presence. You don’t want to be alone at all, it gives you too much time to worry about what your life you’ve left behind is like. What happened to the pastor and to Hansol? How did you end up in bed with an exorcist? The four other members of your newfound family provide you with entertainment and distraction, regaling you with tales of adventures, parties, funny stories from Mark’s life as a human before he’d been turned.

For the first few days, it’s all just friendly.

No one flirts with you, though they’re all a little touchy, mostly Yuta and Ten, but you take that more as them having missed you while you were gone, of them needing reminders that you’re here with them.

Like when Ten had to leave for a little while on business for the demon Queen, and when he returned he looked at you like he’d not seen you in weeks, and when he sits down by you a little while later, he’d affectionately curled his hand around the back of your neck, holding your eye for a little longer than normal.

Or on one of those rare occasions in those first few days when you’d actually needed sleep. Yuta, Mark, and Ten were all there, quietly talking with each other as you crawled into bed. Time passed as you dozed, and you woke when Yuta crawled into bed. He’d not touched you at first, not until you mumbled his name sleepily. Then he’d moved closer, wrapping his arms around you, drawing you against his chest.

You like having all of them around.

You like the animated way that Mark talks. You like his laugh, a little too boyish for a vampire that’s known to own half of the underground scene in this city. You like how easily he gets flustered, and you like the way that when you’ve drawn the thick curtains over the windows of the apartment to at least give the feel of the hour being late despite the dusky orange glow of the city outside, that Mark gets introspective and deep.

You have good talks with Mark about religion, about how before he was turned, he’d been deep into faith. He tells you about the struggles he’d had with the transformation, the consequences of his vampirism, and the realization of this whole entire godless world of monsters. He talks with you about coming to terms with yourself, and it really helps to just talk with him about it because Mark gets it, he’s been where you are. He’s been through the questioning of faith, the realization that a lot of what you learned to believe were just stories. He tells you that it’s okay to be who you are.

With WinWin things are different.

He doesn’t like to be cramped up in your apartment all the time, so often you and him go out, walking around the city with him showing you places, introducing you to new people, other wolves, some more demons, some vampires, some of the odd tentacled people, and at a very interesting club underground beside the river, he even introduces you to some mermaids.

WinWin is friendly and sociable, always quick with a smile and a handshake, though he has his times too where he’s ready to just stay in with you, though that’s usually when the others are gone. You manifest a new enormous TV in your apartment, every movie that any of you can think of, all the snacks that movie marathons require, and you’d binge movies with him. Sometimes the others join in, but usually it’s just you and WinWin. He doesn’t make any moves, doesn’t try suggesting picking up where you’d left off that first night in the club, though you can’t deny that you do think about it.

Still, back here in Hell City, your dreams are plagued with layers of lust. If anything it’s so much worse now after having actually been around them. Without anyone to work your needs out with, you have vivid dreams involving mostly Yuta or Ten, but WinWin features in nearly as many, and Mark makes his share of appearances too.

And the thoughts of your dreams carry over into waking hours. So when you’re sitting out in the city, enjoying the openness of a vast park of rolling hills in the middle of the city, looking over at Yuta stretched out on a blanket beside you, maybe your gaze lingers on his abdomen where his shirt has pulled up a little longer than it should, focusing on the slight rise in his pants. Or when you’re with Ten and he’s showing you around a stolen art museum, all you can do is watch his hands and admire them as one of your favorite pieces of art in this place. With Mark you can’t help during your nights out all together at one of his clubs to watch how his personality changes from the sweet, kind-hearted guy you’ve come to know into the cocky coven leader whose fangs glint in the club lighting, looking so strong and in charge that you feel the same urge you had the first time you met him — to just climb into his lap and take a seat — now enhanced to make you wish he would tilt your head to the side and drink from you while you ride his cock.

And with WinWin there are so many times when you’re alone together, either out in the city or in your secluded apartment. When his hand might brush against yours in the street and your skin tingles with heat. When he’s introducing you to his acquaintances, he places a hand on your shoulder, briefly on your waist or the small of your back. There’s a time, during a night out all together, now that WinWin has been welcomed as a part of this family, that you spot him hooking up with a pretty woman, her hands running all over him as he has her pinned to the wall in a dark corner. You try not to stare, but it’s WinWin and you’ve been in that same position with him before, so seeing it from an outside perspective makes your gaze linger, watching as he and this stranger kiss, as her hands disappear down the front of his pants.

You look away after that, returning to the table to seat yourself between Ten and Mark, the latter of which manifests a fresh drink for you since you apparently look like you need it. Ten tucks you into his side, and his scent clings to your skin hours later when you lock yourself away in your bathroom to get yourself off in the shower, desperately horny because of the lingering heat and scent of Ten’s cologne as well as the memory-turned-fantasy of hooking up with WinWin.

But you try to not let any of this affect how you are with all of them.

Some nights Mark takes you out to his clubs alone, though you have the strong suspicion that Ten or Yuta tags along in disguise, flitting through the shadows in an attempt to remain unobserved.

You think they must be testing you when they do that.

Ever since your return, Yuta had filled your mind with the histories, slowly preparing you for lessons in demonhood. He and Ten both had first attempted to help you expand your awareness of your surroundings, opening your mind to be able to sense lives around you, to better be able to detect danger where it lurked. You weren’t too good at it yet, but it was relatively early in your lessons still. You were still learning, much to the amusement of your other two friends.

There are plenty of times when one or more of them stay the night. You have enough room for them, especially when more often than not Yuta or Ten ends up curled up on the bed with you. Mark doesn’t even sleep, but he stays some nights, sitting in front of your windows that overlook the city. WinWin likes to curl up on the sofa, wrapped in blankets, watching movies.

Some nights, they’re all there. Nights like those, you practice your demon lessons with Yuta and Ten while WinWin and Mark watch you grow increasingly frustrated with your own lack of progress.

It’s been weeks, and still you feel like you’re not accomplishing anything. Still just as powerless as you’d been before you even knew that any of this world existed.

“You’re not full-demon, so don’t expect to be able to do everything we can.” Yuta explains right now, watching you as you attempt to summon a flickering flame to the tip of your fingers like Ten is doing. They’re both sitting cross-legged on the floor with you. Mark and WinWin are both seated above the three of you on the sofa. A movie is playing on your TV, one of Mark’s requests from when he was human.

The most you’ve done so far is summon a spark to dance at the tip of your index finger, but Ten’s sitting across from you with flames on each of his fingertips.

You sigh in frustration. “I’m starting to feel like you’re lying to me about being a demon. You two can burst into full-body flames and do all kinds of things, and this is all I can do?” You snap your fingers together, watching the spark jump to life right at the tip of your finger, a teeny tiny orange glow in the dim light of your apartment.

WinWin looks away from the TV. “I’d say that’s a lot of progress. Just earlier you couldn’t even do that.”

“Baby steps, baby girl,” Yuta says, reaching over to pat your knee. “I think that’s enough for the night. I’ve got some things I need to go take care of. Deals to check in on, and that kind of thing. Ten?”

Ten shakes his head. “No, I’m staying.” He watches you closely. “I'm gonna have a breakthrough with her. By the time you come back she’ll be a girl on fire.”

Yuta stands up. “I’m sure she will be.” He rests a hand briefly on your head, waves goodbye to Mark and WinWin, and then he vanishes on the spot.

Ten continues coaching you through the exercise, and after a while WinWin, struck by curiosity, slips down onto the floor into Yuta’s abandoned spot. He attempts coaching you too, taking it from the werewolf perspective of you always having the fire inside you like he’s always got the wolf inside him.

“And if you concentrate, you can bring it out.” He holds up his hand, and you watch as fur begins to emerge from his skin, claws growing from his fingers, his fingers shortening in length until he’s holding a paw up in front of you. You wish that helped, but still you continue to struggle to do more than summon that singular spark.

Mark stays until the movie ends, at which point he announces that he’s going out drinking, by which he means at a blood bar. WinWin decides to make his exit as well since his attempted help hasn’t shown any results.

You watch both of them walk out the door of your apartment, and then it’s just you and Ten.

He scoots closer to you on the floor. “Are you ready to give up?” He asks as he watches you slump back against the foot of the sofa. “Or do you want to keep trying? I think we’re almost there. That last spark looked bigger than the one before it.”

“I appreciate the optimism, Ten.” You slide your hands over the floor, feeling a staticky sensation in your fingertips, like they’ve fallen asleep. “I’m not sure I’m going to get it.”

“Not with that attitude.” Ten picks up both of your hands off the floor, pressing them between his. “I think you just need to know what it feels like, to know the feeling you’re going for, right?” He rubs his hands against yours, the friction starting up heat on your half-asleep hands. The staticky feeling fades, instead becoming almost hypersensitive, aware of each line on Ten’s palms, each of the rings he’s wearing. He says, “Just watch and feel.”

You watch, eyes focused on your hands sandwiched between Ten’s. You feel the way his hands rapidly heat up around yours, the way that it feels when a small flame suddenly bursts into existence at the tip of his middle finger.

You can feel it.

His finger is right alongside yours. You can feel the flickering heat of the flame, tickling against your skin in a comforting and familiar way. Like a butterfly’s wings or a heart beat.

“Do you feel it?” Ten asks softly.

You nod.

“Is this what you were imagining when you were trying to summon your own flame?” He moves his hand, twisting it around so he’s pressed palm to palm with your hand.

You shake your head no, your eyes locked on the flame where it touches your skin. This isn’t at all what you’d been imagining. You’d been thinking like a human about how it would feel to have a bit of fire on your skin, thinking it would be searingly hot, painful, stinging against your skin like the holy water had.

But you keep forgetting you’re unholy now, and flames don’t seem to hurt your kind.

“I was afraid, honestly.” You admit, watching in awe as Ten presses his middle finger against yours, like holding a lighter to a candlewick.

“And now?” He asks, and you quickly shake your head in response. “Good. Focus, for me, darling. Use my flame to start up your own. Focus on holding it there, holding its shape. Feed it with your own fire, and make it your own.”

You concentrate, breathing slowly, meditatively as you feel the soft heat of the flame on your fingertip. It just feels like Ten’s brushing it over your skin, but then suddenly you feel it. Like a magnetic connection, a tug behind your navel as a bit of his flame lights the tip of your finger.

You felt this tug earlier to a very small degree when you summoned the spark, but you feel it fully now. A firm connection between the fire at your fingertip and that heat that’s been settling inside you for weeks and weeks now.

Ten pulls his hand away, extinguishing his own flame, watching you as you keep this one going, as you feed into it little by little.

The flame flickers blue around the edges, you realize, lined on the inside with a deep orange that fades into the warm white gold at the center. You can feel now the way it flutters against your skin in time with your heartbeat. It grows warmer, in a comforting kind of way.

“You’re doing it,” Ten says with pride. “Now put it out. Try again for yourself.”

You don’t want to let the flame go. You like the feeling too much.

But you can feel that connection now to the fire inside you, like a physical thing inside you. And as you close your hand and let the flame evaporate into a trickle of smoke, you keep a hold on that connection.

“Okay,” you say, more to yourself than to Ten. “Let’s try this again.”

You concentrate on your breathing, on striking against the connection, on the tip of your finger. You feel a spark surging along the connection, and then there’s the light—a glow at your fingertip that grows, glowing electric blue at first before softening into orange and then yellow.

“I did it!” You cry out, excitement perhaps feeding a little too much into your energy.

The flame surges, blowing up a foot tall, sending off sparks.

“Woah!” Ten grabs your hand, blowing air out his lips as he brings your fingertip to his mouth.

The flame flickers and dies. The strong connection slips into the background. You can still feel it, but you’re not touching it right now. Instead all of your focus has shifted to the feeling of Ten’s lips against your fingertip, his hands around yours, the thrill buzzing inside of you at your success at last.

“You did it,” Ten says, smiling against your fingertip. “Next I’ll just have to teach you some control. But you get it now, just like I knew you would.” His lips brush against your sensitive skin with every word, sending you deeper into distraction.

You can’t hold yourself back. This is something you should’ve done weeks ago when you first returned here. And with the excitement coursing through you, the exhilaration at finally accomplishing a flame, you push away all of your doubts and the last clinging morality from your religious upbringing.

Your palms are still fire-warm when you cup them against Ten’s face. His eyes flicker between a natural brown and the cat-like gold as you pull him towards you, connecting your lips with his.

He makes a small sound of surprise, but he doesn’t hold back, falling into the kiss with you, moving over you as you tip yourself backwards.

It’s a hot, sharp kiss. Intoxicating.

Ten makes quiet noises as you kiss him, pleased sounds when you press your fingers through his hair, when you suck at his bottom lip, when you roll your body beneath his. He slips a leg down between yours, shifting his knee so his thigh presses between the apex of your thighs, giving you something to grind against while you kiss.

He breaks away, lowering his mouth to your throat, his nose trailing over your skin as he breathes in. “I don’t know how Mark resists you, if I’m being honest. You always smell so good, and I don’t even have the bloodhound senses of a vampire.” He presses his lips right over your pulse, his tongue dipping out to lick lightly over the sensitive spot.

You rock your hips against his thigh, and a sigh of his name breaks through your lips. “Ten…”

“Mm?” He hums, intent on kissing every inch of your throat it seems. He grinds his hips down against you, the bulge in the front of his pants grinding against your hip. “What, darling? Can you say it for me? Tell me what it is that you want from me?”

“I wanna have sex, don’t make me beg for it.” You drop your hands to twist in the fabric of his shirt. “I know you’ve wanted this for a lot longer than I have.”

Ten doesn’t confirm or deny your lighthearted accusation. But he does bring his lips back to yours, kissing you so deeply that your head thumps against the floor.

You hold him tight against you, rutting your hips against his thigh like a little wanton, but you don’t feel so bad because Ten’s grinding against you just as desperately. Maybe even a little bit more desperately than you, and when you slide your hands down his back, dipping your fingertips just beneath the waistband of his pants, he pulls his mouth away from yours, cursing under his breath as he really gets into it.

“I’m not going to find a tail or, like, a trident penis when I get your pants off, am I?” You tease, nipping at his bottom lip. “Demon that you are?”

Ten scoffs. “I’ve yet to find a halo on you, saintly little angel that you pretend to be. But I can grow a tail for you if that’s what you’re into, darling. Lesson two of demons: shape-shifting.”

You don’t know if he’s just teasing you or if demons actually can shapeshift. But at the moment, you’re not about to ask more about that. You just want him. You kiss Ten again, dipping your fingers inside his pants, digging your fingers in as Ten rocks against your hip.

“I know I’m a demon and everything, so you’re probably expecting a lot,” Ten forces out breathlessly. “But if I don’t get inside you soon, I’m just going to cum like this. Like one of your silly human boys.”

You snicker a little at that, but if you’re being honest, you could probably cum like this too if you kept it up. “Well, come on then. You just called me out for pretending to be a little saint, so help me stop pretending.”

“Right here?” Ten asks, already sitting up a little more to reach down for the waistband of his pants.

“No. The bed.” You refuse to just get fucked on the floor for your first time with Ten. You want it done properly. In the bed.

He grins, all the angles of his face sharp as he lifts you suddenly onto your feet with him, propelling you towards the bed. You’re both moving quickly, and you wonder if he’s using the speed that demons possess to get you in bed more quickly, to just shred away your clothes. But, to be fair, you’re also tearing at his clothes, popping off the buttons of his button-down knit sweater, shoving at his pants to get them off, and then he’s over you, your back pressed to the bed, neither of you wearing so much as a shred of cloth as Ten covers your body with his.

It’s quick, this change-up from being fully-clothed and making out on the floor, to fully naked in bed with his bare cock leaking against your thigh. But you’re so hungry for him now that you’re finally allowing yourself to be that you don’t care how quickly this is moving. Time doesn’t move in this place so you have forever to enjoy this with Ten, there’s no reason to draw out this first time just because it’s the first.

Ten drags your hips to the edge of the bed, his feet hit the floor and you look up at him as Ten takes his cock and teases the tip along your pussy. You’re already so wet for him. He’s perfect, you just know that he’s going to fit perfectly inside you without him having to do much work beforehand to get you ready for him.

You reach for him right as Ten starts to slide into you, pressing his hips forward slowly as he sinks his cock into your heat. Your fingers press against his sides, the bottom curve of his ribs, and you look up at all of him. He’s… normal, you realize. He’s a demon but he’s just Ten. There are no horns, no tail, no forked penis. Sure, he has markings on his arm, but those could pass as tattoos, though you know from talking with him that they’re demon marks, like badges of honor.

He’s like any other man that you’ve shared this same moment with. You don’t feel the guilt or shame, the sinfulness of having a demon inside you. He’s just Ten.

Ten still makes quiet noises, and you really like how vocal he is. All of these little grunts, groans, sighs, and half-muffled moans. It’s cute and sexy, the way he’s letting you know without words how good he’s feeling right now. You’re quiet in comparison, but not because you don’t also feel good–you feel very good, courtesy of his cock right against that spot inside you, the skillful roll of Ten’s hips, the way that he touches you otherwise, externally with his fingers light on your clit and his other hand tracing the curve of your body to your breasts.

At last, a sound escapes you when Ten’s thumb on your clit starts making tight circles, and his other hand plays with your tit and swirls that thumb around the nipple. You trail your fingertips down over his stomach, down to cover his hand between your legs with your hand.

Ten flattens himself over you, pulling your hand and his away from between your legs. He twists his fingers with yours, pressing your palms together, pushing your intertwined hands up above your head as his other hand wanders from your tit to your neck, putting just enough pressure that you lift your head from the bed to meet Ten’s kiss.

Your breasts press to his chest as Ten starts fucking you in earnest, driving his cock in against your G-spot with each thrust. He’s making all of his gasps and moans directly against your lips now, and the friction between your bodies calls back to the heat generated between your palms earlier before he produced the flame for you.

“Fuck,” Ten moans, lifting his chest away from yours. His hand stays at your neck, the other drifting back down to your clit. “Fuck, I’m going to cum.”

You cover his hand at the side of your neck, your other hand stroking along his arm as you beg, “Yeah, Ten, I need to feel you cum.”

His sharp smile turns charmingly crooked as he holds himself up, sliding both of his hands down to hold your hips as he fucks into you intensely. You can feel your orgasm growing close too, the heat and tightness of it, the loss of control as you keep rabbiting your hips to fuck yourself onto his cock with each of his thrusts.

Ten’s eyes flood black, heat surging from his skin as he rolls his hips forcefully against yours, shooting his warm cum inside you, body moving automatically to chase the feeling of his orgasm, and you just close your legs around him, keeping him right where he is.

The feeling of him cumming inside you triggers your own orgasm, his heat calling to yours.

The connection snaps tight inside you, your body arching off the bed, skin flaring hot, and then you feel it, like your heartbeat thrumming over every inch of your skin.

Ten laughs.

You open your eyes, body still thrumming with pleasure, and you see you’re covered head-to-toe with flickering golden orange flames. The sheets are scorching beneath you, blackening and curling, but Ten doesn’t stop and neither do you. He leans in, kissing you through the flames.

That’s how Yuta finds you some time later, still kissing with Ten buried inside you, both of you fully aflame, the bedsheets in burnt tatters after you and Ten have rolled around and rearranged into a few different positions by this point.

“I see I missed out on all the fun.” Yuta walks up to the edge of the bed, reaching out with both hands. One he lays on Ten, the other one you, extinguishing both of your flames. “You’re going to burn this place down, if you’re not careful.”

You look up at Yuta as Ten rolls off of you, stretching out on the burnt sheets at your side. “I can make flames now,” you tell him proudly.

“I can see that, my love.”

What else can you do, you wonder. After the flames, Ten had mentioned shapeshifting, and you wonder if you can make your eyes black, if you can slip through space like Yuta does. They’ve also got telekinesis to some degree, and you’re still pretty sure that sometimes they can read your mind.

You don’t even attempt to cover yourself up right now, even though you’re entirely nude while Yuta is looking down at you. No longer are you going to be playing the modest mouse to their predatory catlike selves.

Yuta blinks down at you slowly, keeping his gaze respectfully on your face as he leans in, pressing his fists to the mattress on either side of your head. He cocks his head to the side.

But he doesn’t do anything else. He just holds himself above you. Looking at you in a way that desperately makes you want him to just devour you, to set the pair of you aflame–fuck the state of the bed or the apartment or any of this whole damn city. You would burn it all to the ground for these two demons at your side.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You ask, and you can hear the hope bleeding into your voice.

Yuta’s gaze sharpens, predatory and lusty. “Is that what you want?”

You sigh, “Yes,” and then there he is, cradling your mouth against his.

Yuta climbs onto the bed, his knees knocking against your thighs as he slips over you. His fingers knot in your hair. His tongue teases against yours, and he’s constantly smiling into the kiss, nipping at your lips, pulling back to make you chase him. Yuta’s in this like it’s a game, and it’s definitely one that he’s winning.

Ten shuffles around quietly beside you in the bed, but you don’t have any attention to dedicate to him, too focused on drowning in Yuta’s kiss, on the way it feels as he lowers his body against yours.

He’s still fully clothed, but there’s something even more arousing about that. The zipper of his jacket scrapes lightly over your sensitive chest and belly, eliciting small sounds. The denim of his jeans rubs right up against your clit and the insides of your thighs, turning the small sounds into audible whines. Your bones ache with the need to have him.

Ten snickers when you break the kiss to moan. “She’s so noisy now.” He leans in, smoothing his hand over your hair. “Is Yuta better than I am, darling? Or are you just sensitive now?”

Definitely it’s the latter option.

You hate them both a little bit (but really not at all) when Yuta kneels up above you to smirk down at you. Ten keeps his hand on your head, petting your hair.

“How do you feel?” Yuta asks, trailing his fingertips along the line of your body, from your collarbones, down over your breasts, your belly, to your hips, and lastly to the warm center of you. His fingers dip through Ten’s cum, scooping it up as it leaks out of you, and then Yuta’s pressing his finger and Ten’s cum inside you. “Did fucking a demon make you feel any different?”

You really don’t feel any different than you did earlier or yesterday or months ago before you ever knew demons were real. You shake your head. You could’ve been doing this all along, and the only difference would have just been that you would have been having more great sex.

Yuta smiles his wide, teasing smile. Beautiful. He pumps his fingers inside your pussy. “Would fucking two demons make you feel any different, do you think?”

“I doubt it, but we could always do it just to make sure,” your voice is a little rough with desire.

Yuta’s smile is contagious, spreading roots deep inside you that fill you with a warm bubbliness. He knocks a short kiss against the corner of your mouth, moving away before you can even attempt to reel him in for a deeper kiss. His hair tickles your bare skin, a little long and falling out of the short ponytail he’s managed to pull it back in. His breath kisses your skin, but he holds his lips just far enough away, always a tease.

The way he’s touching you, teasing you, has your skin buzzing, your mind going fuzzy with desire.

Ten’s just stretched out beside you, playing with your hair, observing the way your body is reacting to Yuta.

“Did Ten not do well enough for you, sweet girl?” Yuta teases as a soft whine slips between your lips. “Still hungry for more? He let you down, always talking about eating you up, getting a taste of you when he didn’t do that for you at all?”

Beside you, Ten hisses quietly, his tone warning as he says, “Yuta.”

“Ten doesn’t eat pussy,” Yuta explains as he lowers himself down to his belly between your legs. You lift your knees, making room for him as Yuta circles his fingers around your ankles. “But I do.”

Yuta is slow and soft with the kisses he scatters over your thighs. He’s smiling as he looks up at you, at the way your breath is coming quick, at the way your pussy throbs around nothing, hungry just for him, and he especially seems to enjoy the little sounds of pleasure and surprise you make when he licks just alongside your labia, first on one side and then the other. Your thighs twitch beside his head, but Yuta keeps his hands on your thighs, keeping them spread for him.

“Good girl,” Yuta murmurs, and he’s so slow with it, such a tease.

You’re already so worked up after Ten that you don’t see why he’s doing this, the slow kisses and licks to your clit, the way that he lowers his mouth at last, and kisses your pussy before truly diving in.

But you’re not going to complain either.

You’ve been eaten out before. One of your few boyfriends back in your old life had enjoyed eating you out. The others had preferred for you to go down on them, sucking their cocks, but they never offered to reciprocate. Even with Hansol, who had truly reminded you so much of Yuta, he’d never actually taken the time to eat you out. Now, your ex that had enjoyed eating you out, he’d been good at it, or so you thought, but he was nowhere quite as skilled as Yuta’s wicked tongue.

Yuta’s tongue has you rocking your hips off the bed, chasing the sweet heat of his tongue. Every pass of his tongue over your clit, each press of his fingers inside you, brings a new level of awareness to your belly–the tingling, the tightening, the wisps of pleasure that catch in your chest, drawing Ten’s attention back to your breasts.

His hands drift back down to your nipples, adopting Yuta’s teasing quality as he brushes his index fingers in tight, faint circles around your nipples.

You don’t speak. You try to hold your lips together to keep from making noise. You don’t want Yuta and Ten to know quite how good they’re making you feel at the present moment, but letting them in on the secret is somewhat unavoidable when your orgasm finally crests, the wave of pleasure spilling through you.

Your thighs close around Yuta’s head, hips rolling against his fingers and the heat of his lips and tongue. Your chest lifts, pressing your breasts into Ten’s hands. He just laughs, lowering his mouth to kiss you while Yuta continues to eat you out and finger you, his fingers still working you smoothly.

Any sounds you make are poured directly onto Ten’s tongue, and he smiles into the kiss when you gasp, your hand flying up to his hair due to whatever Yuta’s just done to you, a new move that sends an aftershock through you.

Your body twists, freeing Yuta briefly, and he slips out from between your thighs, sitting up with his grin still fixed on his face despite your serious efforts over the last several minutes to grind it away.

“I have to say, I’m a little disappointed.” Yuta slides his hands along your bare thighs as he lifts himself over you again. You break the kiss with Ten to just glare at Yuta. Is he seriously going to give you an insult right after he’s eaten you out? But he sinks in, his lips right above yours as he complains, “You didn’t burst into flame for me.”

“No, but maybe give me another chance.” On one hand, your fingers are still tangled in Ten’s hair as he draws back to give Yuta enough room to kiss you. And the moment that Yuta’s lips touch yours, you dive your fingers into his hair as well.

Your fingers feel like they’re moving through static electricity, tingling through the strands of their hair. It zips over your skin, down your forearms, the hair on your arms and the back of your neck standing on end, and your body arches from the mattress against Yuta’s heat, closer to that tingle you get where your skin touches his.

He’s still dressed, though you don’t want him to be.

“Take it off,” you demand, the words pressed between his lips, sliding away on a sigh. Yuta makes no motion to remove a single article of clothing, so you pull a hand free from Ten’s hair to snap your fingers together.

You’ve gotten rather good at manifesting things here in Hell City. All of your possessions in this room, all the foods you’ve eaten, everything. But this is a little different. An anti-manifestation. A disappearing of the clothes off Yuta’s back.

When he jerks away from you, jolting up onto his knees with his hands flying to his chest in surprise, you realize that it actually worked.

Yuta kneels above you without a stitch of clothing. Every inch of his skin bare, revealing a gleaming and glittering piercing in his navel, demon marks on his hips similar to Ten’s markings in their resemblance to tattoos. Your eyes travel over him from the top of his shaken loose shoulder-length dark hair, down over his shoulders and chest, down over the piercing and tattoos, at last settling on the prize.

The thatch of hair around the base of his cock.

Ten laughs quietly, settling into the pillows. “I knew I liked you, darling. I don’t think Yuta’s used to someone taking charge over him like that.”

Yuta’s eyes narrow at Ten, and he slowly lifts his middle finger to the other demon. “Why don’t you go somewhere else, Ten? You got your alone time with her. Maybe I want some too.”

You’re already sitting up, resting your hands on Yuta’s hips as you draw yourself closer to him. He lifts his hands to your face, his palms on your cheeks, fingers in your hair as you tip your head back to look him in the eye. There’s a connection there, a solid bond between you and Yuta as you hold each other's gaze.

“I would like that, just us.” You don’t mean it in a way that’s totally dismissive of Ten, and it’s alright, you know he doesn’t take it that way either.

“Can’t I just stay and watch?” Ten asks lightheartedly, but when you flick your gaze over at him. He pushes up out of the ruined bedsheets. “Alright. I’ll go shower the ash off. You might want to fuck somewhere that’s not all burnt up.”

Neither you or Yuta move except to watch Ten as he walks away from the bed, still totally nude, on his way to the bathroom tucked away in the corner of the studio apartment. You admire the view, but as Ten closes the door behind him, you look back up at Yuta.

He’s already looking at you, thumbs stroking tenderly at your cheeks. “Hi, sweet girl.”

“Yuta–”

“Ten’s right. We should move this somewhere less burnt.” Yuta says, “Or at least replace the sheets, though we risk burning them again.”

You turn your head slightly to the side, nuzzling against Yuta’s hand. “Then we burn them again. Replace the whole bed. I don’t care.”

“Since when are you so careless?” Yuta asks, his smile growing, his eyes scanning your face. “Pretty girl, you’re changed.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” You walk your fingers up Yuta’s chest, getting your knees under yourself as well, and in a moment your palms are pressed to his shoulders, your face level with his as you say, “I’m something unholy now.”

“You’re a mess, is what you are,” Yuta teases, and you feel his fingertips flick at your hair. You’re sure that your hair looks a disaster from rolling around with Ten in the burnt sheets, but when Yuta twists his fingers tight in your hair, drawing your head back at an angle, you lose all thoughts of caring about what your hair looks like. Yuta’s eyes glimmer that deep black, the heat pours off of him in waves, and he bares his teeth in a grin that should probably terrify you, but in the moment it only serves to arouse you.

“I’m sinful,” you tell him. You push at his shoulders, and Yuta rocks back on his knees, but he comes right back, his hand covering one of yours on his shoulder, his other hand tightening in your hair. The pain that pulls at your scalp draws a hiss from between your lips.

“You’re not quite full of sin just yet, my love.” Yuta’s voice is a low growl that you feel deep in your belly. He lowers his mouth to your throat, whispering, “But I’m about to change that for you.”

Yuta moves so quickly that your mind can’t catch up, his hands loosening his hold on you for an instant only to catch at your thighs as he sinks down, spreading his thighs while still in a kneeling position, hitching your legs up, dragging you to sit in his lap. He all but slides you right onto his cock.

You twist your arms around his shoulders. His lips skate over your throat, tongue dipping out to trace characters on your skin. And you feel his erection right there, hot against your wet pussy.

You roll your hips, trying to get him to just slide right in.

Yuta’s hands gravitate to your hips and ass, his fingers digging in, pressing you closer. One perfect roll of your hips and the head of his cock catches at your entrance, and you sigh, shifting to just slide yourself down around him.

His teeth graze your throat, lips closing over that spot, and Yuta sucks intently, working over that piece of skin to leave his mark on you.

He fits snug inside you, so hot everywhere that your bodies touch, inside and out. His torso against yours is so warm, like a welcoming bonfire’s embrace on a cold autumn night, but the piercing in his navel feels shockingly cold against your belly in contrast. The heat he traps against you, pressing you between his arms and his chest and his thighs brings a thin sheen of sweat to your skin, which Yuta presses his tongue flat to taste as he moves his mouth away from the throbbing mark he’s left on your throat. He tastes the salty tang of your sweat along your collarbone, down between your breasts, your body arching backwards.

“Yuta,” your voice passes from a sigh to a moan when he envelops one of your nipples with his warm lips, flicking his tongue over it.

“Darling angel,” he replies, lifting his head from your chest, and once again you’re faced with his liquid black eyes, the distant faint gleam of fire burning in their depths. You see a few sparks dance across his shoulders. “You want me to fill you with my sin now? Turn you from our sweet saint to our sinful succubus?”

You nod, tickling your fingers through the ends of his hair. “You’d better do something before Ten comes back.”

The veiled threat is sufficient. Yuta’s lips twist into a snarl, his fingers curl against your hips.

You like to be manhandled. That’s something you’d learned in your old life. Maybe it came with the submission that your faith had made strong attempts to instill into all the women—insistent that men were dominant and women submissive—and perhaps it’s something that you shouldn’t have so readily accepted as a personal quality, but it’s undeniable that being more submissive and being manhandled by a man during sex is one of the things you like very much.

So as Yuta holds bruisingly tight to your hips, bouncing you on his cock, you love every last bit of it.

You cross your ankles behind his back, bracing your arms on his shoulders.

The brutal quickness with which Yuta fucks you down onto him presses embarrassing squeaks from you.

Yuta watches you, his eyes drifting between the cute expressions on your face to your bouncing tits, down to your pussy kissing and swallowing his cock. “Should I start calling you my little mouse?” He teases when you finally drop your face against your arm in an attempt to silence the squeaks of pleasure.

“Fuck off,” you whine, squeezing your ankles against his back, pulling yourself closer to him by pressing yourself deeper down.

Yuta laughs.

When he hitches you higher, when he starts moving backwards off the bed with his hands doing more to support you than move you on his cock, you lift your face from your arm.

“What are you doing?” You swallow a whimper as Yuta’s cock settles against that sweet spot inside you, shifting oddly as his feet hit the floor and he begins walking with you held in his arms and impaled on his cock still.

There’s a step down from where your bed is to the living space. Yuta bounces you a little extra on that step down, smirking when you let out another adorable squeak. He steps around the sofa, and turns around, sitting down on the edge of it.

“You’re gonna ride me, pretty girl. It’s not fair that I have to put in all the work when you’re the one that’s obviously got inexhaustible sexual desires.” He reaches back behind himself, grasping your ankles and uncrossing them. “Go on.”

As Yuta rearranges the pair of you to sit sideways on the cushions, his legs stretching out behind you along the length of the sofa, you settle on your knees, resting a hand on the back of the sofa as Yuta leans back to look at you. You feel a fresh burst of arousal in your belly.

Yes, you like being manhandled, but there’s something to be said for feeling a little bit in charge too. For the most part, your previous sexual partners have preferred to be on top and take total charge of you. You enjoy the feeling of looking at Yuta and the shifting expressions on his face as you begin moving on him.

His fingers stroke over your hips and thighs, across your belly, lifting to your breasts, admiring the way you look and the way you move, the way you feel around him now in this newer position.

You move slowly, the opposite of how Yuta had been on the bed. Slow circles of your hips and slowly lifting yourself just to sink back down on him, taking your time with him.

When you put your hands on his chest to help stabilize yourself, you get your feet under yourself, and Yuta visibly swallows, his breath picking up a bit as you lean closer until the caps of your knees touch his chest, your hands slide up to curl against the sides of his neck, and Yuta leans up as well to kiss you.

You fuck him, that’s the simplest way to put it. It’s just the heat in your muscles and bones, deep deep deep inside your belly, stoked hotter with each glide of your pussy down the length of his cock. It’s all you know, the lust overtaking you while you bounce on his cock. Your fingernails scrape Yuta’s chest and belly, your ass slaps against his upper thighs.

That connection inside of you to your fire sparks up, tightening in your belly.

“Right there,” Yuta’s voice is a hum, a slow smile growing on his lips. “There it is, my love.”

You swear your senses spike all at once. Everything is sharper—the sensations of pleasure and a slight ache in your thighs, the smell of Yuta like smoke and a fancy cologne, the sound of Ten’s showering and Yuta’s breath, the sight of Yuta before you grows so ridiculously clear. He glows with a dark beauty.

Your thighs give out, and as you sink over him, Yuta rises to meet you, flipping your positions, pressing you down into the sofa, taking over fucking you as your orgasm consumes you.

Still, no flames erupt, but you can feel them there beneath your skin, eating through you, rising to meet Yuta’s mouth on your skin.

“Come on, little mouse. Burn for me.” He whispers, pressing his cock into you in smooth rolling motions. “You looked so pretty when you burned for Ten.”

Yuta does it then, his flames appearing at his shoulders, expanding across his back in bright flares like wings before spreading over the rest of him. The moment his flames touch your skin, your fire bursts out of you, begging to be known.

You hold each other close, flames melting together until you’re an inferno, the sofa smoking as you neither one pull apart or extinguish your flames, still going at it. Yuta pulls another orgasm from you, and you milk one from him too, his flames flickering a hot blue as it sweeps through him, but even then neither of you stop.

You’re still going, still burning when Ten emerges from the shower.

“Now who’s a threat to burning the place down?” He comes around the sofa, flinging his damp towel over Yuta’s back. “We ruined the bed, you ruined the sofa. You’re probably going to be too exhausted to manifest anything for a while, aren’t you, angel?”

But you’re in the midst of drinking the last of your pleasure together with Yuta. You don’t answer him, too overcome with the liquid fire pulsing through your veins, the swelling heat as Yuta cums inside you.

Yuta runs his hands over your body, extinguishing the flames as he kisses you, as you both come down together.

A cloud of ash hangs in the air around your bodies, and it settles over your skin and Yuta’s in a fine layer, clinging even worse due to the mist of perspiration on your skin. Fresh air licks against you as Yuta pulls away, and a moment later you peel yourself away from the sofa, sitting up to feel the ache settle deep into your muscles. But it’s a good ache, the kind that tells you that you just got fucked very, very well.

Ten is right.

You don’t have the strength to try manifesting a new bed or sofa or even new sheets. You have the strength only to let Yuta pull you to your feet, his hands never leaving your body as he comes along with you to the bathroom. Ten remains behind fussing just loud enough for you to hear while he begins to clean up the ashy sofa.

Yuta is clingy, wrapped around you and showering you with kisses as he starts the shower, as he walks you into the steam-filled stall. There’s a little bit of rinsing off in between his pouring of affection, and after a few minutes, you have to push him away and threaten him with the scrapy end of the long-handled back brush you’d manifested during your first stay.

You just want to scrub yourself clean of the ash residue, but then he’s more than welcome to cling to you as much as you would both like. But he needs cleaned too, so you each wash, and Yuta watches you. There’s something in his gaze that grows more guarded as the shower goes on, leaving you guessing.

Soap suds rinse down the drain in dark gray swirls as the ash washes away. The air fills with the scent of your body wash.

The moment that you’re finished shampooing it out of your hair and the last of the suds of your body wash disappears between your toes, Yuta’s right there again, his hands on your body, his nose against your hair.

“Was that alright?” Yuta asks, skimming his lips along the soft skin of your bicep as he lifts your arm to drape it over his shoulders, his other hand at your hip pulling you just that much closer. “Us together? I realize now that it’s not something that you’re so used to, raised in your human life, particularly with your religious upbringing. The whole multiple partners thing, being shared.”

You sigh as Yuta kisses down your arm to your shoulder, his tongue catching droplets of water from your skin. “It was more than fine, Yuta, honestly.”

“You’re not just saying that?” Yuta lifts his head briefly, his eyes glimmering in the shifting light through the clouds of steam. “I know it’s a big thing in religion to stay faithful to one person, never experiencing the fun of multiple different partners.”

You smile, leaning in and kissing him again. “I’ve had sex with a variety of people before. Just not at the same time. But I liked it, Yuta, I promise.”

“Even though I just kinda came in unannounced and inserted myself into your time with Ten?”

“Do you have doubts about this, is that what’s happening?” You don’t understand why he’s questioning you so much about this.

Yuta sighs, and his arms slide around you, hugging you tightly to his chest, his chin resting against the top of your head. “It’s not that. I’m just really, really trying to make sure that you’re okay with this. I know that before I took you back to your city, you didn’t want anything remotely sexual or romantic with Ten, myself, or anyone with a supernatural origin. But things are different now, obviously. I just want to make certain that you’re happy with all of these things.”

His concerns are appreciated. You press your smile to his skin. “I know what I want, Yuta. I’ve decided that I can’t deny the circumstances I’ve found myself in, and I can’t deny that I’ve wanted you and Ten since early on in our acquaintance. If I’m going to be unholy, then let me go all the way, embrace my dark desires, most of which have been centered around you.”

Yuta likes the sound of that, judging by the way that he backs you up against the shower wall, caging you in and kissing you breathless. He lifts his thigh up between your legs, and your clit is still so sensitive, but you grind down against the muscled thigh regardless.

“I thought of you when I was with him,” you admit against Yuta’s lips as you move your hips on his thigh.

“What? With Ten?” Yuta smirks, clearly amused by that thought, but your next words wipe the smug look right off his face.

“No, when I was with Hansol.”

Yuta jerks away from you, but you quickly reel him back in, needing the heat of his body against yours if not the pressure of his thigh between your legs.

“Listen, I only hooked up with him in the first place because he reminded me of you. I was a little drunk and the bar was dark, but there was something about him that reminded me of you. Like you look a bit similar.”

Yuta’s lip curls in mild disgust. “Like the fucking exorcist?”

“I was drunk!” You defend yourself. “And I’d been having truly filthy dreams about you and Ten and….” You cut yourself off before you reveal that Mark and WinWin had even featured in your smutty dreams. You clear your throat, looking into Yuta’s eyes as you say, “And I wished that he was you, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself, since I was trying to deny your existence at the time. I told myself you looked alike, and I wished he was you when he was inside me.”

Yuta presses his forehead against yours. “You could’ve had me. If you’d ever just said my name.”

“I called your name when it really mattered, didn’t I? And I’m here now. You’ve got me now.” You loop your arms around Yuta’s slim waist.

“You’re here now.” Yuta nods, dropping a quick kiss against your lips. “And he’s not here.” At the sharp and mildly disgusted look you give him, Yuta quickly says, “We didn’t kill him. I know that’s what you’ve been worrying about since we brought you back. Yes, we hurt them a little. WinWin transformed to subdue them so Ten and I could work a little mind manipulation on them, which only works on pure-humans by the way, before you start worrying about that too.” He kisses your forehead. “But he’s alive. That fucking exorcist still has his life somewhere in the world. But neither of them remembers you, the circumstances of what led up to them both being in that room.”

The relief that passes through you is palpable. Your shoulders sink, knots of tension you didn’t realize you had now unwind.

“You don’t have to look so relieved, you know. We’re not cold-blooded monsters.” Yuta leans back to look you in the eye. “We’ll do anything to protect you, and if it had come down to it, I would have killed anyone that posed a threat to you, but they weren’t worth the violence. Ten did want to rip the exorcist’s head off, but I think, since you’d already told him about that guy, it was probably just his jealousy. He’s quite the jealous type.”

“He didn’t seem to mind much earlier when you invited yourself into our activities.” You reach around Yuta to finally shut the water off.

Yuta’s lips twist, amused. “I don’t count. Ten and I don’t get jealous about each other, my love. We’re something like a package deal, you might say.”

“Then it’s a good thing I wanted both of you.” You step out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a very comfy and fluffy robe.

Yuta lingers only a moment or two longer. He doesn’t burst into flame, but he must do something to summon heat to his skin, because all the excess moisture from the shower steams off his skin. He winks as he manifests a tight pair of black boxer-briefs right onto his body before he exits the bathroom.

You spend a few more moments in the steamy room, working on your hair to make sure that it dries properly, and then at last you rejoin your two demons.

You refuse to even look at the ruin of your bed as you cross the apartment. The whole place reeks of smoke with a tinge of sulfur.

Yuta’s arranging blankets on the living room floor, the curtains over the windows are still drawn wide open and you’ve never seen any sign of life in the windows of the buildings across from yours, but you can’t believe you really just had wildly hot (literally) sex in front of the open windows.

The orange dusky sky is perhaps a little darker than normal, this city’s version of a night sky.

Ten moves around, lighting candles that you’d manifested during the lonely hours of your first stay here. Candles that smelled painstakingly of home, childhood memories, and something that you often associated with the feeling of being in love. Quickly, the scent of sulfur and smoke are overtaken by sweeter smells, comforting ones that put you even more at ease.

“We thought you could sleep here tonight,” Yuta says as you approach, gesturing at the blankets and pillows on the floor. “With the bed and the sofa being…. piles of ash.”

“Are you staying?” You ask, looking first to Yuta and then over at Ten. “I require cuddles after sex.”

Yuta rolls his eyes affectionately. Ten laughs. But they both acquiesce to your request, and within a few minutes, you’re all three piled together on the soft blankets. You remove the robe, choosing to be skin to skin with the two of them, comfortable.

The curtains are still drawn open, and from here you can see so much of the sky. But there’s not much to really see, just the bare expanse occasionally broken by a smoky cloud.

“Doesn’t the moon ever come out here?” You ask, resting your chin on your hands folded on Ten’s chest. “I miss seeing the moon. And the stars.”

Yuta’s hand smooths up along your thigh, skipping up to your lower back, higher along your spine. “You can still see them. I’m telling you, my love, you can manifest anything that you want.”

You want to roll over into his touch, but the comfort of Ten’s body against yours is too tempting as well to deny. But luckily Yuta presses up against your back, an arm wrapped snugly around your waist. His lips are against your shoulder.

“Maybe when I wake up,” you yawn. “Maybe then I’ll make a new bed, manifest the stars and the moon, and have a tasty breakfast too.” You’re very tired, all the excitement of the past couple hours catching up at last, and your heavy eyelids sink shut as they both hold you between them to fall asleep tonight.

<-previous || next–>

a/n: real smut!! at long last! this was a long chapter, but honestly, I’m kinda thinking I might do some longer chapters for the next few just because I don’t really want to draw this series out through like half the year, but I also might need to do some serious rewrites of later chapters because of other things I’ve added in this chapter and in the last few.

But I hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter! As always, I really, really really appreciate likes, reblogs, reactions in the tags, and comments about it! It feeds my will to keep writing lol 💗

#nct smut #yuta smut #ten smut #wayv smut #nakamoto yuta #ten lee #nct fics #nct fanfics #yuta fics #ten fics #unholy

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agent-cupcake · 8 months ago

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 10 - Whisper

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: The Buggy Pirates set sail once again. Unfortunately, tensions on the ship are high. Good thing you're there to help Captain Buggy relieve a little stress.

Warnings: Explicit smut, dubious consent, violence/blood, rough sex

Word Count: 13.5k

Notes: "I guess it's curtains for you" my god he is adorable please someone send help I am in loooooove. Happy Easter my friends I hope you like this one we're in the home stretch now.

“Come in, sit down, sweet angel, leave me all your tears Tell me all of your troubles, the weight of your short years Love is only a river drowning all of your cheer Sell me all of your laughter, and I will take some of your fear”

Awareness and clarity greeted you as soon as the slit of steely gray morning sunshine hit your face, peering through the edges of the blinds in Captain Buggy’s cabin. Part of you had already been awake, anticipating the dawn of a new day. Back at sea. Business as usual. Quiet the dread, hush your nerves. You could do this, and it would be fine.

It was hard though. Really hard. You didn’t want to get up. If you just stayed in bed, you could pretend that the previous day hadn’t happened. But you couldn’t do that. The thought of his displeasure if you didn’t get him breakfast while it was warm was reason enough to push you into action.

Buggy didn’t so much as stir when you extracted yourself from beneath his arm to get up. He slept in a haphazard splay with his limbs thrown to all four corners of the bed and his mouth wide open as he snored. That calmed you, if only for a moment. The mundane, vulnerable charm of seeing him sleep made your worries melt, overtaken with a borderline painful affection. Rubbing crust out of your eye and shivering in the morning cold, you wanted nothing more than to curl up beside him, to let him warm you back up.

Your thoughts quickly soured, the previous night rearing his ugly head. Thinking of your confession, raw and honest as it was, seemed so embarrassing now. So dramatic. So pathetic.

That was just like you, wasn’t it? You could never quite do or say the right thing when the moment called for it. You just piled up embarrassments and regrets and then hated yourself a little more afterwards.

But what could you do about it? Nothing.

Rifling through your clothes, you found a dress with long sleeves to cover the rope burns on your wrists, picking out thick, tall socks to cover the matching burns on your ankles. It seemed normal now, but it was odd that nothing of yours remained in the berth where you first bunked. Your things, few as they were, had gotten lost in the mess of Buggy’s clutter. Your clothes, significantly fortified after shopping, were hung up right along his. There was something domestic about it, although he probably would have called it practical. You were where he needed you to be, there wasn’t anything sentimental about it.

After tugging a brush through your hair, you styled it like Pippa taught you, even coating your eyelashes in mascara. No bandana, but you were getting used to that. It was strange how many things a person could get used to, losing old habits in the grind of day to day routine.

The previous day and night felt an awful lot like a bad dream, but that didn’t mean you could pretend it hadn’t happened. The proof was a chair tipped onto its side in the dining area, the table pushed into the corner, and the pile of cut ropes coiled on the floor with matching burns on your wrists and ankles. The proof was knowing why you had left Lafitte, and what was coming. Buggy hadn’t mentioned what he told the crew, but they had to know something.

You hoped that everything would be familiar as the crew fell back into the roles you originally knew them in, but when you journeyed down into the galley for breakfast, you found that things were more strange than ever. Before Lafitte, you had been wary of the ship and its crew because it was new, because it was frightening and alien. After a handful of weeks aboard, you had come around to mentally recontextualizing what was once intimidating and unknown. Like memorizing the features of a friend to the point you could no longer imagine them as a stranger. Up and down became oriented differently, the passageways and narrow ladder staircases no longer the cramped maze you used to think of them as. The geography of your surroundings changed as you did, because you had changed. You knew many things you didn’t know before, and the innocent veil that shrouded your new life had been lifted. Funny to think like that. A murderer’s innocence. And yet that lost, naive murderer was more recognizable than the person who returned to Captain Buggy’s quarters after having spent the night in his bed.

And what of the girl before? The sickly fool who lived in fear of her father? When you thought of that girl, meek and nervous and miserable, you didn’t recognize her either. Her thoughts, her feelings—you couldn’t understand them anymore than you could comprehend the woman who wore form-fitting clothes and makeup and told her dad that she had run away. That wasn’t you. It couldn’t be.

If none of them were recognizable, what was left? Whose was the life you lived now? Whose thoughts were the ones making your heart heavy and head ache? What were you supposed to be after everything that made you you cracked and crumbled and scattered? In the mess you’d made, what remained?

You didn’t like those questions, and you didn’t like the answers.

Setting the breakfast tray on the table, you picked Buggy’s chair up before going into the bedroom. He slept just as soundly as before.

“Good morning, Captain Buggy!” you called with a cheer you didn’t feel, opening the blinds. The sky reflected your mood back to you, a cover of clouds blanketing the world in angsty silvery sunlight.

You turned around to see Buggy drag a pillow over his face to shield it from the light.

“You have to wake up, Captain.”

“I am awake,” he grumbled, muffled through the pillow.

“I got breakfast,” you said, hoping to entice him up with food.

You couldn’t hear what he said exactly, but it sounded like, “You’re breakfast.”

You frowned, trying to think of how to wake him up. Most mornings on Lafitte had been lazy mornings, you had forgotten how difficult Buggy was to rouse. “There’s coffee.”

He moved the pillow, looking up at you with one squinting, sleepy eye.

“Why do you never bring me breakfast in bed?” he asked.

“You need the right type of tray,” you said, grabbing his robe and holding it out for him. “Otherwise it’s a huge mess.”

“A few crumbs aren’t the worst thing these sheets’ll get on ‘em,” he mumbled.

Before you could think of a good argument against that, he groaned dramatically, sitting up and stretching with his arms above his head, yawning wide and scratching his chest. He had a way of making the act of getting out of bed seem like it took a great deal of effort, although you suspected some of it was for show because as soon as he was up, he took his robe casually, swinging it on as he trudged into the other room.

Buggy sat down, paying no mind to the ropes or the awkward rearrangement of furniture. You set up his breakfast and then your own, and didn’t mention those things either.

There were some things you needed to know. Questions that burned up in your mind as you picked through your meal.

“What am I supposed to do now, Captain Buggy?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Although you were the one with the nasty haze of anesthesia clouding up your brain, he was the one who looked glazed over and exhausted, blinking once and then over and over, clearly trying to wake himself up.

“What was that?”

“I mean… My job. Um…” You frowned, not sure how to phrase what you meant without embarrassing yourself. During the month in Lafitte, you had performed some of the same tasks as you had when you first joined his crew, but that had been vacation. Now, it was back to work. You weren’t sure what that meant for you, or how you fit in within the crew anymore. If you even could claim to be a member of the crew. He had never actually said you were promoted out of your position as hostage.

“Your job?” Buggy repeated. “It’s the same as before. I’m not gonna give you special treatment just ‘cause you’re cute. You do whatever I tell you to do. Got it?”

“I didn’t mean I wanted special treatment,” you said, frowning. “I wasn’t sure because… Well, things are… different.”

“Better get used to it if you really wanna be a pirate,” Buggy said, pointing at you with his fork before shoving it into his mouth. “You don’t get anywhere by standing still.” There was wisdom in that statement, diminished as it was by his mouthful of food.

“Yes, Captain Buggy,” you said, returning to your breakfast.

Maybe that had been the wrong question. What you really wanted to know was where you stood with him. Sure, the two of you had made up last night. Twice, actually. But no mention was made of your conversation or confession beyond him telling you to repeat it. I love you.

Randall said he loved you.

Dad said he loved you, and he loved Mom.

So what did that love mean if it was betrayed just as easily as it was given?

Love as respect. Love as obedience. Love as service. Love as a lifeline because you knew absolutely that you could not live without him. Desperate and sickly in the way it thickened and heated your blood, dangerously and aggressively needful when your thoughts spiraled around scattered fragments of feeling and memory. And yet, so, so tender. You looked at him and something in you softened. Your strange, flamboyant, cruel captain.

He sat in his chair with his wild blue hair half tamed into a tail, scowling at his plate and shoveling food into his mouth without any thought given to manners. His profile was dominated by the red bulb of his nose and his teeth were yellowed and he needed a shave and he was truly, genuinely cursed and yet you couldn’t imagine wanting anybody else.

Was that who you were now? A girl dominated, defined even, by that single feeling. Longing, lust, love.

You weren’t sure you liked that answer very much either.

The weather didn’t help anybody’s mood, least of all your own. By the time you got lunch and brought it to Buggy’s office, the silvery canopy had congealed into a gloomy cover of thick gray clouds which oscillated between dribbling out a light rain or dropping low as an annoying mist. You could only pull your jacket so close, the real problem was how a humid chill could work itself beneath your clothes and skin and settle in the hollow places inside. It left you shaky, your head pounding with a relentless headache.

Buggy said that he told the crew all about your “Daddy Situation,” although he hadn’t elaborated much. Thinking about it made your chest clench painfully. The anxiety wasn’t all in your head, you didn't think. There was a tension in the air, something uncomfortable lurking amidst groups of glaring crew members. For the most part, you had never been accepted. Some of the pirates liked you well enough, but not everybody. That seemed to be doubly true now.

Memories of the night you had been attacked kept coming to mind. You thought you had shoved them back into the deepest part of your brain to be forgotten. You didn’t want to think of it. But whenever you turned and realized somebody was standing in your blind spot, that same frantic panic flared up. Even though Buggy had assured you that it was Dad who sent them, you couldn’t believe that. Not really.

Instead of sitting and waiting for Buggy with all of those terrible thoughts swirling in your head, you left the tray on his desk and wandered into the map room, looking at the map laid out on the table to distract yourself. It was one of Dad’s maps, the ones he had been working on so intently in the months before you left. His pet project. You could, generally, read a map. That is, you knew what the different symbols and landmarks were supposed to mean.

You found Lafitte, tracing it to Barley. You were very far from home.

“You know, babydoll,” Buggy said as a way to announce himself as he opened the door with a little whoosh of breezy mist. The rain was light, but even that seemed miserable out there on the deck. “I’m starting to think I understand what you feel like.” He shut the door, flicking water off his hands.

“Captain?”

“I’m completely soaked.”

“Oh! I got you a towel,” you said, pulling it from over your shoulder and holding it out to him. It was only after he’d taken it that you realized what he just said. “Wait, that was…” you frowned at him, flushing.

“What are you doing waiting in here?” he asked, taking off his coat and tossing it at you to hang up. You managed to catch it, but only barely. “I thought you can’t read.”

“I… I can read,” you told him, hanging up his coat to dry. “It’s difficult though, and I get a headache.” You wiped your damp hands off on your skirt and returned to the map. “Lafitte is here, right?” You pointed to the spot where it was labeled. “Where are we going now?”

“We’re going…” Buggy came up behind you, reaching around to tap on a little spot on the edge of a small island. It was near enough to Lafitte, you thought. Scale was difficult for you to grasp. “Right here. With this weather, I say we’ll get there by tomorrow.”

“Why there?” you asked, leaning in to get a better look. The village of Saline looked completely unassuming except for the fact that it was specifically marked.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Buggy told you, leaving the map room to go into his office. “It’s even tinier and shittier than the dump I fished you out of. It’s out of the way, too. Nobody in their right mind would think it was a good place to set up shop. Except for daddy dearest. When he redrew trade routes that involved a stop in Barley, suddenly it wasn’t so out of the way. It’s still a little shithole, but you know what’s good about little shitholes that nobody gives a damn about?” He fell into his chair, splaying over it like a king on a throne. “You can get away with setting up a drug lab right in the open and nobodies gonna care. Hell, the townies and local Marines welcome the extra scratch flowing in.”

“A drug lab,” you repeated, your eyebrows furrowing. Of all of the unpleasant truths about your father revealed to you in your time since joining Captain Buggy, that one was still the hardest to believe. You knew Dad experimented with that sort of thing, he had always enjoyed chemistry and medicine, but it was difficult for you to wrap your mind around the idea that he would involve himself in such a horrible enterprise.

“Yeah, he wasn’t gonna put it in his own backyard,” Buggy said, pulling his tray towards him. “He’s not a complete moron.”

You frowned, a new question occurring to you. “If it’s a place he knows of, why are we going there?” you asked, following into his office to take your own seat. “He’ll track us down immediately.”

“No need,” Buggy said. “I already gave him an invite to the show.”

Your heart dropped, your breath catching.

“What’s with the face?” Buggy asked, frowning at your lack of enthusiasm. “You’re the reason we have to premiere so soon. Believe me, these freaks need more time to get their acts right. But,” he shrugged, “the show must go on. And before you get all nervous, don’t worry. I have a very special role lined up just for you.”

“But I don’t—I can’t do…” You trailed off, a new form of anxiety racking your raw nerves.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you can’t do anything,” he said, waving his hand. “That’s fine, dolls aren’t meant to do things. They’re there to look at and be played with, right? It’s perfect for you.”

Pushing all of the air from your chest as if to physically expel your doubt, you nodded. You trusted Buggy, that’s what you told him last night. You had to trust him.

Later that afternoon, you distracted yourself with busy work in Buggy’s office. He was busy, most of your chores were done, and the rain continued to insist upon its miserable wetness so there wasn’t much else you could think to do. You didn’t want to interact with anybody on the crew. Out of sight, out of mind.

Being alone wasn’t great either, especially now that you had the idea of performing to further pile upon your list of things to worry about. Every single time you had eyes on you, you managed to embarrass yourself, and you didn’t think this time would be any different.

Your brain got stuck in a loop on that one, trying to think of ways to make an appeal to Buggy that he would accept. Knowing it wouldn’t matter what you said, you wouldn’t change his mind. Wanting desperately to please him. Knowing you would only disappoint him. That endless feedback loop of anxiety continued on and on until there was nothing else.

“Babydoll, you in here?”

You were aware that somebody was calling for you, but it seemed very distant. Difficult to connect with.

“Hello?”

You heard footsteps approaching, followed by a pair of legs entering your field of view.

“There you are, girly. You okay?”

You blinked.

“Marty?” you asked, looking up at him, confused and disoriented. Had he called you babydoll? Did he even know your real name? “I’m fine, I guess I just got… lost in thought.”

“I was hoping I could borrow you for a moment,” he told you. “Rather, if I could borrow your hands. I’m trying to fix a leak, but I can’t get these big hams in there to remove the plate.” He held up his hands with a friendly grin, and you relaxed. It was just Marty. He was your friend.

“Of course,” you said, standing up. You had been sitting on the floor so long that your body was stiff, although you weren’t entirely sure when you even got there.

If Marty found your behavior odd, he didn’t say anything, leading you from the quarter deck and below to a room slotted next to the galley. Dark and cramped and stinking of grease and filth and old metal and rotting wood, you could readily say you did not like being in there. But it was something you could do to be useful.

Marty held the light while you groped around where he indicated. Even for your hand, the space was tight, you couldn’t imagine him trying to fit in.

“Do you feel that little latch?” he asked.

You carefully ran your fingers along the back of the plate until you found something that seemed somewhat latch-like. Hopefully. “I think so.”

“If you press on it,” Marty told you, “the plate should come loose.”

With some effort, probably more than was warranted, you pressed on it until you heard a metallic scrape, the latch releasing the plate from its frame. Marty set the light down and removed the panel to reveal the geometric grid of pipes. You stepped back, wiping your hands.

“Would you mind holding the light for me?” Marty asked.

“Of course not,” you said, picking up the lamp to shine into the cavity.

“Thanks, girly.”

“Of course! Um… actually, I…” You hesitated, looking around. It was stupid to be paranoid. Not only was it ridiculously loud with the rushing water and the galley kitchen on the other side of the wall, but there was no place for somebody to hide. “May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“The other people on the crew… They hate me, don’t they?”

He straightened out, looking at you with a frown. “Would’ja hand me that wrench?” he asked, gesturing to his tools. You picked up the heavy wrench, handing it over. Marty hefted it, looking thoughtful, before turning back to the pipes. “Some of them aren’t too happy with Captain Buggy’s decisions, that’s it,” he said. “It’ll all be settled soon.”

“They think it would be better if I weren’t here,” you said bluntly. “I’ve caused a lot of trouble for everyone.”

Marty looked at you, his eyes intense. “Has somebody threatened you?”

“No, it’s just…” You frowned, thinking of the most diplomatic way to phrase it. “I think somebody hired men… Two weeks ago in Lafitte, I was… Attacked.”

“Pippa told me about that. But it was the Surgeon who sent ‘em, wasn’t it?”

“Captain Buggy says it was,” you agreed. “You know, to get to him. He says I shouldn’t worry about it, but I don’t… It’s not that I disagree with him, just that I’m not sure. Dad—the Surgeon—I don’t think he would want to kill me.” You rolled your dry lip between your teeth, your shoulders tense. Thinking of that hurt. Thinking about the fear, thinking you were going to die, getting hit. It hurt. “And I don’t know who else would have done something like that.”

“You think somebody on the crew hired men to kill you?” Marty asked, leaning in to talk in a hushed voice despite the circumstances. “Girly, what you’re suggesting is…” He shook his head. “If somebody on the crew hired a hit on you, Captain Buggy’ll kill ‘em.”

“I know,” you said, wincing at the idea. “I’m not accusing anyone. It’s just that I’ve got a feeling like… Captain Buggy doesn’t believe me, and I don’t know who else to ask.”

“You sure they were hired, not just a couple of thugs?”

“They said they were. I remember…” You swallowed hard. Thinking of that night was difficult, it made your hands shake and something very cold and mean swell up in your chest. You covered up the crusted scar on your neck with your hand, protecting it. “They said they were told to make it look like an accident.”

“What did they look like?”

“One of them was really tall,” you said. “The other had a gold tooth.”

“You’re absolutely certain of that?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, girly. I’ll ask around for you, as long as you keep out of trouble, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled fondly. “Anyone who doesn’t like you clearly just doesn’t know you yet.”

Out of everything, that took you aback. You had the wild impulse to hug him, and you might have done so if you weren’t holding the lamp. Instead you just blinked away the sting of tears. “Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he said, returning to his work. “If nothing else, you’re a nice change of scenery from the rest of these crusty bastards.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, smiling despite knowing he was just being nice. “Pippa is the prettiest person I’ve ever known.”

Marty nodded. “Yeah, if you like the type of broad that’ll step on your balls.”

“Ba—oh, that’s horrible!” you stuttered out, laughing in surprise at the crass comment.

“It is,” Marty agreed emphatically. “Some blokes enjoy it, but I like a softer type of girl.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly not as sure that he was joking about Pippa. “Yeah, I-I don’t think I’d like that either.”

He laughed and shook his head, checking through all the pipes to make sure none of the others needed repair. After he finished that, he put the wrench back into his tool bag and pushed the metal plate back into place.

“Um, Marty?” you said, a sudden and very important thought coming to mind. “If you find anything out, I think… Captain Buggy wouldn’t like it if he knew I told you, you know? So if you wouldn’t mind not telling him that, if you can, I… I don’t want him to get upset.”

“Don’t worry about that, girly. Mum’s the word,” Marty said, rolling up his tools and slinging them over his shoulder. “Well then, shall we go back up?”

You followed Marty up the ladder into the berth before mustering the courage to ask.

“Does Pippa really step on men’s… you know.”

Marty looked at you for a second before bursting out laughing. You weren’t sure why the question was funny, but he had a way of laughing that made you want to laugh too. It wasn’t like he was laughing at you, just that he was generally jovial.

“You oughta ask her,” he told you when that died down, patting your shoulder.

The two of you parted ways there and the weather was still awful when you got to the upper deck, but you felt lighter.

It was around the same time the next day that you sat in Buggy’s office while he argued with his officers in the map room. Granted, arguments with Captain Buggy were usually more of a one-sided thing. It was severe enough of a discussion that you could hear several raised voices through the door separating the map room and his office, not just his.

Another day of bad weather meant another day of unhappy pirates and another cold afternoon spent shivering and with a horrible headache. The weather was, apparently, the point of main contention for them too. Rain really put a damper on acts of piracy.

You sat very still as you waited, your mind drifting. Buggy had been too tired to keep you up very late last night, but you had slept poorly. Rather than having nightmares about the past, you had dream after dream of Captain Buggy getting angry with you, and the anxiety hadn’t faded throughout the day. Crina said you would upset him again, that it was inevitable. Even if you didn’t do anything, you would disappoint him. That was the only reliable thing you could do.

If the weather weren’t so miserable, maybe you would have been able to pull yourself out of that particular spiral, but it wasn’t, and you couldn't. Instead, you sat with your shoulders curled inwards, your hands folded in your lap. It was better to not think about anything at all.

“You’re dismissed,” Buggy eventually exclaimed, his voice raised enough to get your attention. You could hear his irritation, and then he threw the doors into his office open loud enough that you nearly jumped out of your chair, and you could see his irritation. “Get out, all of you,” Buggy demanded when they didn’t immediately leave. You stood up, instinctively obeying that tone of voice, but he gave you a look. “Not you. You stay.”

For a moment, you saw the group in the other room as they left. Mohji was there, of course. Without Richie. You hadn’t seen much of the lion at all, he probably liked the rain as much as any other cat. Crina was unmistakable with her dark hair and loose dark clothes, but she was turned away so you couldn’t smile at her.

You hadn’t seen much of Crina recently. Buggy got irritated whenever you mentioned spending time with her. He didn’t say what she did to earn his ire, and you weren’t going to ask, but you hoped they made up soon.

The door better his office and the map room slammed shut, abruptly halting that thought. Buggy crossed the room and collapsed into his chair with his head resting on his hand and eyes shut. You stared at him in an attempt to get a read on his mood, but you couldn’t. He sounded upset, but now he looked tired. You had no idea what to expect or say.

After what felt like an uncomfortable lifetime of waiting, Buggy raised his head, rolling his neck with a big groan, stretching his arms out.

“Captain Buggy?” you ventured. “Are you alright?”

He looked at you, and then he winced dramatically. “Agh, don't look at me like that. It makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do to you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean that you’re gonna take off whatever you’re wearing under that skirt and come over here so I can relieve a little stress. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be surrounded by idiots all day?”

You stared at him, hoping that he would laugh and say it was a joke. But he didn’t.

“C’mon, hurry it up.” Buggy snapped his fingers to make his point.

When his eyes were hard like that, you knew arguing was a bad idea. You swallowed down your nerves and nodded, quickly circling around his desk.

“What did I say?” he asked, exasperated. “All of this,” he gestured to your legs, “off. Now.”

“Sir, these… I’m wearing tights, I can’t just take them off.”

He sighed angrily.

“But that’s fine,” you said before he could get upset, stepping out of your boots and bracing your feet for the chilly floor. Buggy watched you shimmy out of your tights and underwear. There was no sensual way to do it. The best you could manage was to get it all done without revealing yourself, leaving a rolled up bunch of fabric laying over your boots before standing up.

“Sweater too,” he said, taking off his gloves.

You hesitated. “Captain, it’s… it’s really cold in here and I’m...”

All he had to do was go still, looking at you with a gruesome almost-smile, to make you realize how serious he was. Wanting very badly to appease him, you crossed your arms and pulled your sweater off over your head. Your nipples were already painfully stiff from the cold, poking against the flimsy fabric of your camisole. You thought, given the heavy fabric of the sweater, it would be okay if you didn’t wear a bra. Now it just felt lewd, like you had been expecting something would happen.

“You always make me feel so bad about this,” Buggy said, grabbing you and pulling you to stand between his legs. “Like I’m deflowering you all over again. Which, sure it’s, okay yeah, it’s a little hot, but I’d love it if you could just let it happen for once.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you muttered, unable to look at him.

“You don’t look embarrassed,” he said, shoving your camisole up over your chest. “Shit, you are cold, huh? Does it hurt when they get that hard or… Whatever.” The cruel brush of cool air and Buggy’s attention made you squirm uncomfortably, but all you could do was hold onto his shoulders, squeezing your eye shut. The warmth of his mouth on your nipple made you gasp loudly. It felt good, even if you tried to ignore the sensation, even if it would be so much better if you could control yourself. No matter how humiliated you were, your body responded to him.

Buggy’s other hand delved beneath your skirt, pressing between your legs to force them apart before following the unobstructed path upward. When you squirmed, anxiously pressing your thighs together to stop him, his teeth dug into the sensitive flesh around your nipple.

You yelped in surprise as much as pain, but his arm around your waist kept you where he wanted. Giving up on escape, you clamped a hand over your face while he laughed.

“I wouldn’t worry about the noise thing,” Buggy said, half muffled against your chest. “You sound like you’re getting railed when you’re having trouble getting your boots on, I doubt they can tell the difference.”

“That hurt,” you said.

“You love it,” Buggy said. He didn’t give you any time to respond before he switched to the other nipple. No matter what he said, you didn’t love the biting, but the softness of his tongue, you liked that. You liked that a lot.

Enough that when his palm landed flat between your thighs with a harsh slap, you were too relaxed to have any level of defense from the harsh pain.. Your sharp, piercing yelp filled his office, quickly followed by his laughter.

“That was louder than I thought it would be,” Buggy said, amused. You whimpered, squirming uncomfortably. “You know, sweetheart, it’s awful hard to believe you don’t like pain when you make noises like that.”

“Captain Buggy, that hurt,” you said, although the most distressing feeling was the sense of betrayal. You didn’t understand why he slapped you. You had done everything he asked, it didn’t seem fair.

Rather than give any explanation, his fingers curled, gently tracing the seam between your pussy’s outer lips until he could skim over your clit. Your body unintentionally rocked forward, your breath catching.

“Aw poor little babydoll,” he said, zeroing in on your clit to rub tight little circles. You knew better than to try to close your legs, so you went up, standing on your toes in an attempt to escape him. Buggy’s hand just followed you. “Does the mean, mean pirate mistreat you? You’d think you’d be used to that by now.”

“Stop, please,” you whimpered, shaking your head. To your relief, he did stop, his hand retreating from under your skirt. You relaxed, your feet falling flat on the floor. “Thank you.”

When you tried to step away from him, Buggy pulled you back with a fistful of your skirt. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he teased, spitting onto his hand before it returned between your legs.

“Captain Buggy, please,” you begged, although you were too afraid he might slap you again to try and physically stop him. Slick now, his fingers were able to glide over your clit, pressing just hard enough to make you shake.

“Would it kill you to admit how much you love this?” he asked. “What’s the point in pretending, babydoll? Just say it.”

“Say… what?” you asked softly, unable to meet his eye.

“How much you want this,” Buggy said. “You probably spend your whole day thinking about what you want me to do to you, praying that Captain Buggy will give you even a scrap of attention. No wonder you ditched the bra, you were hoping this would happen.”

“No, I-I didn’t,” you said, too overwhelmed by the embarrassment and pleasure as he continued to rub your clit to come up with any convincing response. Being touched shut your brain off, it was all you could think about.

“No, Captain Buggy,” Buggy said in a high pitched voice, mimicking you. “I would never think dirty things, I’m an innocent little angel!”

You heaved a big, unhappy breath, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “That’s not what I-” Your objection cut off abruptly with a breathy moan, a sound of surprise when his fingers abandoned your clit to suddenly slam into you.

Buggy laughed loudly and there was nothing you could really say to make a case for yourself, the moan proved his point better than anything else. Buggy settled for that, pulling your chest back to his face so he could take your nipple in his mouth. That drew a shocked moan out of you, your hips bucking against his hand as his fingers slowly pulled out.

“Captain Buggy,” you said, meaning it as a protest. It didn’t really sound like a protest.

He bit you again, his teeth digging into the soft flesh around your nipple like he had on the other. You yelped, trying to escape, but he held you in place. The only thing you accomplished was rocking back and forth, fucking yourself on his fingers. He laughed again, the sound vibrating against your chest as he soothed the sore skin with his tongue.

“Hurts!” you whined. “Please, it… it really…” You couldn’t keep talking, having to bite your lip as he curled his fingers. Maddeningly massaging them against your g-spot until your thighs trembled, your pussy dripping around his hand.

“I noticed something,” Buggy said, pulling away from your chest with an uncomfortably wet sound. “I know girls are sensitive here,” he curled his fingers against the spongy spot to illustrate his point, dragging a pathetic sort of whimper out of your throat, “but you… It’s like an instant win button, I push it and you get wetter.” He repeated the motion, smiling in amusement at your body’s uncontrollable reaction. “I can feel you getting wetter. It really makes me wonder if you were ever meant to be anything other than a glorified flesh light.”

You covered your face with your hands, burning with shame. And arousal. You couldn’t manage them both, they just existed in complete and agonizing contrast to each other, rendering you stupid and mute. “Please stop, Captain Buggy,” you muttered.

“Why? Don’cha wanna come, babydoll?”

You lowered your hand, peeking at him through your eyelashes. As soon as you did, he slammed his fingers into you. Once, twice, three times and then-

“Beg me.”

You opened your mouth to try and get something out, although your mind was too scrambled to know what it would be.

Somebody knocked.

Buggy’s hand froze, his body going stiff. Panicked by the sound, you squirmed, trying to fix your clothes, but he pinched your nipple to force you still. Both of your breasts had indents of his teeth, even the slightest touch elicited a sharp sort of pain.

The person knocked again.

Buggy closed his eyes. “Go away,” he shouted, a growl in his voice.

“Sir? It’s an important matter,” Pippa called through the door.

Pippa?

Buggy seemed curious as well, leaning back.

“How important?” he asked.

“Very important, sir,” someone else called. Was that Marty? “It’s mutiny, sir.”

Buggy’s hand retreated from between your legs, and he didn’t stop you from pulling your camisole down.

“Fine. Come in,” Buggy snapped, grabbing you around the middle and pulling you into his lap as he sat back. You tensed up, trying to wriggle away, but he didn’t let you go. It was easier to not fight it, to curl into him to hide the way your nipples pushed against the camisole.

Pippa came in, Marty close behind.

“You said mutiny?” Buggy asked.

“Yes, Captain Buggy, I—” Marty cut himself off upon seeing you, averting his gaze.

“Spit it out,” Buggy said, like you weren’t in a compromising and humiliating position. When you squirmed in discomfort, his grip on you tightened a little, just enough to make you wince. “Pretend she’s not here.”

“She told me about getting attacked while we were in Lafitte,” Pippa said, which was, you were pretty sure, a lie. Was this Marty’s plan to get around Buggy’s ire? It was true that Buggy liked Pippa, he probably wouldn’t mind if you told her about what happened. “I didn’t know anything about guys like that, so I asked Marty if he knew anything.”

“Pippa mentioned a fella with a gold tooth and his tall buddy,” Marty said. “That rung a bell ‘cause I lost some money to a pair of guys just like that a few weeks back. I didn’t know they took hits, but it doesn’t surprise me neither. They’re real street thugs, the kind you ask to rough up your ex wife or to get the guy who cheated you playing cards.”

“They were thugs,” Buggy corrected. “I doubt they’re much of anything after what I did to ‘em.”

“Yes, sir. The point is that I remembered they were pretty chummy with Ivo and them. When I started pokin’ around asking if anyone owed money to ‘em or whatnot, the bastard damn near socked me.”

“So?” Buggy raised an impatient eyebrow.

“And then I asked Ivo,” Pippa said.

“Did he punch you too?” Buggy asked dryly.

“No, he told me that he paid these two guys to kill her and make it look like an accident.”

You went stiff.

“Are you sure that’s what he said?” Buggy asked.

“Yes, and men don’t lie to me,” Pippa said, grinning in a way that made you fully believe that assertion.

Buggy nodded, considering that information. “This is all very interesting,” he said after a tense moment, “but I’m curious as to where this initiative came from.” He gave you an accusatory look, his eyes full of the anger you feared. It didn’t matter if Ivo had done it, you had gone behind his back instead of accepting what he told you. Of course he would be mad, you knew better.

“You asked me to keep an eye on her, Captain,” Pippa cut in before you could think of a way to explain. “And what I’ve noticed is that Ivo’s been keeping an eye on her too.”

Buggy frowned. You could see him thinking about it, maybe trying to decide if he was going to be mad at you or not. After a moment, he made an angry sound, gritting his teeth.

“Alright. Let's get this over with. I want everybody on the deck,” Buggy ordered, pointing at Marty. “Make sure Pin’s ready just in case and, oh yeah, make sure Ivo’s there, blondie.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said, leaving.

Buggy unceremoniously dropped you out of his lap, standing up. “Can’t a clown catch a goddamn break? I swear, just one thing after another.”

He pulled his hair out from the kerchief so he could pull it into two tails and let it hang through his hat. That, more than anything, made you realize how serious this was. Even while arguing with his officers, he had been dressed down. But now he was going to go out there as Captain Buggy.

Marty said that if somebody hired a hit on you, they would die.

While you put on your sweater, Buggy pulled on his coat, straightening it with angry, rough movements. You struggled, putting tights back on was even more difficult than getting them off.

“And you know what?” Buggy continued to mutter under his breath, talking more to himself than to you. “I knew that there was something weird about those guys. It makes no sense that the Surgeon would send a coupla hack thugs after me. I’d have seen it if I didn’t have so much other shit to deal with. But he is dead wrong if he thinks he can make a fool out of me. Tryna steal my shit, spitting on my generosity.” Buggy pulled his gloves on and left, ignoring your continued struggle trying to get your clothes sorted out.

Giving up on the tights, you just dug your panties out of the rolled up wad of fabric, pulling them up your legs and shoving your feet into your boots without socks, scrambling to follow him through the map room and onto the deck.

Marty had rung the bell, so most of the crew was already gathered. Most of them were familiar faces. Mohji, Newt, you even saw Crina, wrapped in a purple shawl with her arms crossed.

The rain had stopped, retreating into an uncomfortable mist. The violating chill almost made you turn back around to put your tights on, but you didn’t want to miss anything.

Or maybe you did.

“Ivo, just the guy I was looking for!” Buggy called as he went down the steps from the quarter deck, his voice aggressively friendly. You followed behind him, shrinking away when Ivo cast a quick look in your direction. No matter how much he disliked you, it was hard to believe that he would want you dead. That was such an extreme, it didn’t make sense.

“Captain Buggy,” Ivo acknowledged, “what can I do for you?”

“How are those friends of yours holding up?”

“Sir?”

“Two guys, like to attack girls for money… That’s not ringing a bell? One of ‘em had a gold tooth. Last I saw, they were in rough shape.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ivo, buddy,” Buggy said, walking towards the man. “I like you. I’ve always liked you. That whole face situation you’ve got is hilarious. So I’m gonna ask you again, and you’re gonna tell me the truth. Did you or did you not hire two guys to steal something that belongs to me?”

Ivo looked at Pippa. “You told him, didn’t you.” He said, not a question.

Pippa shrugged unapologetically, a little cold. You thought about what Marty said about her, and when she looked like that, you could believe it. “She’s my friend.”

“I hired professionals to take care of a problem,” Ivo said, looking at Buggy. “That girl’s got you under some sort of spell, she has ever since the beginning. I was the only one willing to do something about it.”

“So… yes, you did,” Buggy summarized. He sighed. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Captain Buggy, please wait,” you cried, rushing forward.

“Not now,” he snapped.

“Don’t kill him, please,” you begged quietly. “If he thought that it was…that he had to do this for the safety of the crew and for you, then he didn’t really think he was doing something wrong. Killing him maybe will… if other people feel the same, it will just…” Make them hate you more.

Buggy gave you a hard look, his expression unreadable. He turned away, addressing the gathered crowd. “Does anybody else have something to say?” he called. “Maybe you agree with Ivo here. No? Anybody?” Nobody said anything, not even a breath shuddered through the humid air. Buggy laughed, looking at Ivo. “How’s that for a laugh? If you had a point and she had me under her spell, you wouldn’t be a dead man right now. Thing is, this has nothing to do with her. You tried to take something of mine.”

“That runt of yours is a curse,” Ivo said. “I was doing you a favor.”

Buggy looked behind Ivo at a man you only vaguely recognized, a big guy whose face was pierced in just about every place it could be. He seemed to be ready for the order, looming dangerously at the edge of the crowd. Clicking his tongue, Buggy made a motion like a knife across his throat.

It happened so quickly that Ivo barely had time to try to escape before the larger man had him, grabbing him into a choke hold from behind. Buggy held Ivo’s eye as he approached him, stopping only just out of arm's length. The hatred and fury blazing in Ivo’s eyes promised every pain and horror, and Buggy smiled at him.

“Looks like it’s time for your final bow,” Buggy said.

The man holding Ivo rammed a sword through his chest to punctuate the comment. Ivo couldn’t make any sounds other than these stuttered, ugly, guttural noises as his windpipe was crushed. With a meaty twist, the man pulled the blade out of his chest. A bright red stain bloomed over Ivo’s shirt as he twitched and fought like a bug in a spider’s web. No matter how hot or bright his rage, it was a losing battle.

He dropped with a loud thump onto the deck a moment later, either dead or heading there fast. You didn’t know if that was from getting stabbed in the heart or from suffocation.

The pirates watched it all in complete silence, their faces stoic. The man, the executioner who you were pretty sure was called Pin, sheathed his blade and stepped back to rejoin the crew on the edge of the empty space acting as a stage.

Buggy walked forward, stepping over Ivo’s body to address his crew.

“My freaks,” he called, clasping his hands together. “I hope you all learned a valuable lesson here, but don’t let this unfortunate incident take your minds off of what truly matters. What we have before us is a golden opportunity. You all have been given the honor of being in a show that will make or break your career. And why? Because we’re not performing for some random nobodies. I’ve gotten us an audience worthy of my talents. And if this show does well, it’s not just my name and face that gets out there. It’s the Buggy Pirates that’ll be feared across all of the East Blue.”

Buggy paused for applause. Just a few responded at first, clapping and whooping, but soon everybody joined in, the noise pressing inwards, as thick and dense as the heavy, sticky humidity.

“Ivo here?” Buggy continued when they quieted down. “He didn’t understand the bigger picture. He doubted me. He didn’t trust that I know best.” Somebody in the crowd booed at that. “Weak men like him are poison to the artistic process, and he would have poisoned all of your small minds before I got the chance to show you the truth that art reveals. Not all of you will understand. Some of you will shy away in fear of what I’m offering. You may even reject my greatness the way Ivo and all the others have.”

Buggy let that threat hang as he walked around the edge of the crowd in a slow arc, looking at everybody individually as if daring them to reveal themselves as dissidents. Some of the crew met his eye, some of them bowed their heads, but nobody dared to speak. He came to a stop in the center, his back turned to Ivo’s body.

“Only the exceptional can understand the magnificence of my vision,” Buggy said with open arms, his tone warming with the fervor of exaltation, like it was a preacher’s promise. “Only those of you with open minds and hearts can share in the rewards that I’m offering. This show is your chance to prove to me that you are special. Don’t disappoint me.”

His arms dropped, the bubble that kept the deck silent as he spoke popping as the crowd digested that promising threat.

“Oh, and, somebody take care of this,” Buggy said, gesturing towards Ivo’s body with a look of disgust. He didn’t linger on it, stepping over the pooling blood to return to the quarter deck. “Babydoll,” Buggy snapped when you didn’t immediately follow. He clicked his tongue, nodding towards his office.

You, of course, did as he wanted.

Buggy didn’t pay you any mind even after the two of you were alone in his office again, taking off his coat and hat, pulling his hair back to slip under the kerchief. It gave the odd sense of a costume change after a performance.

Some performance.

The death of a man who would have gladly killed you shouldn’t have been so unsettling. It wasn’t. You didn’t care. It was fine.

“That was a really good speech, Captain Buggy,” you said, nervously shifting from foot to foot as you tried to understand his mood.

He sat down behind his desk, taking off his gloves. “Don’t just stand there looking stupid,” he said, “we’ve got unfinished business.”

“What?” you asked.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Buggy said, rolling his eyes. “You can either take off your clothes and get over here or I’ll have to get up and go aaaaall the way over there. After the day I’ve had, even I don’t know what I’ll do when I get there.”

“I… Um.” You stared at Buggy, wordlessly begging him to laugh, to make this a twisted joke. He couldn’t be serious. You just watched him order a man’s execution. The sounds Ivo made as he died kept repeating in your ears.

Buggy groaned loudly, standing up. “Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he said, approaching you with long strides.

“No, I-I’ll do it!” you told him, trying to prove yourself by pulling your sweater off. Buggy ripped it out of your hands and tossed it aside, pushing you back until you hit the wall. You grunted as much in pain as surprise, your head knocking against it.

Buggy didn’t give you any time to reorient yourself, pushing you up the wall so he wouldn’t have to hunch over to kiss you. Well. Kiss was a bit generous. He licked your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth as soon as you let him. You whimpered, your thighs squeezing his waist so you didn’t fall. If his stormy mood wasn’t obvious otherwise, the way he kissed you was proof enough. The wet messiness didn’t bother you as much as the possessive way his tongue claimed your mouth, his teeth biting your lips without any consideration for your comfort. It felt violating, it wasn’t affection, it was a point he wanted to prove.

Groaning, Buggy palmed your breast, reminding you of his earlier rough treatment. If it wasn’t already, the bite mark around your nipple would bruise. It hurt enough to make you squirm, shying away from the pain. He let it be, his hand pushing upward, settling around your neck.

That was fine at first, but then he squeezed.

You immediately panicked, pushing at his shoulders. It was hard enough to breathe when he was kissing you so aggressively. Now, he pulled away and you still couldn’t get enough air, squirming and then bucking against him. For a wild, horrible second, you thought about Ivo choking. Buggy watched you intently, the color of his eyes lost for the cruelty as he observed your panic.

When he finally let up, you gasped raggedly, tears sliding down your cheek. He watched those too, his lips parted and pupils blown wide.

“Say it again,” Buggy told you.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused, your mind swimming with the flush of oxygen.

“Tell me again,” he pushed, almost petulantly demanding. “Say it, c’mon.”

“I love you,” you told him as soon as you realized what he wanted.

That seemed like the right answer because Buggy kissed you again, sweeter now. Needful. Desperately so. You held onto his shoulders, kissing him back in the hopes that he would stop being so mean. When he pulled out away, it was to kiss the corner of your mouth and then down across your jaw, his nose bumping your cheek.

“You’d be nothing without me,” he said, the words muffled by your neck. “You need me.”

“I do,” you agreed, your voice coming out choked.

Wrapping both arms around you to support your weight, Buggy turned around, carrying you forward to deposit you onto the end of his desk. You fell onto your back, your spine hitting the surface painfully.

“Captain Buggy?” you asked, wincing in pain. “What’re you… That hurt.”

“No it didn’t. You’re fine,” he said, throwing your skirt up over your waist and roughly dragging your panties off. You didn’t have time to push your skirt down or hide your nudity with your hands before he grabbed your legs and pried them apart, leaning forward so he could spit on your pussy. It had to be just to embarrass you, considering the way he watched your face as he did it.

You whined, closing your eye and letting your head drop back, kicking yourself a million times for not doing what he wanted in the first place and sparing yourself all of this. Buggy laughed, pushing his saliva into your pussy, his fingers dipping in just enough to make your hips twitch. You heard fabric move as he shoved his pants out of the way, and then his cock was pressing against your folds.

“Do you think I’ll feel bad if you pout enough?” he asked, pressing the head of his dick against your entrance just to tease you, to keep you on edge. “‘Cause, I’ll be honest, it’s having the opposite effect.”

“That’s not-” Your words cut off with a broken whimper when he finally stopped teasing and pushed his cock into you. Too much at once, especially when you weren't expecting it. You whined again, squeezing your eye shut.

“Hey, look at me.” Buggy told you, leaning over you with one hand holding your leg and the other returning to your neck.

You met his eyes, your own widening as he pushed all the way into you with hard little thrusts. No matter how many times you had sex, you always felt a sort of disbelief to feel so full. To be joined in such an intimate way. It was surprising. Shocking. Profane.

He pulled out smoothly before thrusting forward hard, tightening his hand around your neck at the same time. It choked out any noise you might have made, literally stealing your breath away as you tried to inhale past the vice of his hand. The position wasn’t as intimate as he usually favored, the iron bar of his arm keeping you pressed against the desk like a pinned butterfly.

Just when your panic was getting intense enough to become genuine dread, his hand relaxed, letting you breathe. The second the air filled your lungs, refreshing your system, he began to fuck you at a mean, rough pace. It wasn’t like anything you had ever felt. The devilish mixture of your body coming alive with sensation after being numbed by the lack of air and the violent pleasure of his cock slamming into you with hard, slapping thrusts had you practically convulsing beneath him.

“You actually like this,” Buggy said, his voice hoarse and ragged but distinctly amused. “Freak.” His hand flexed around your throat, choking you again.

Thrown back into a disoriented, panicking mess, you clawed at his arm. Buggy didn’t acknowledge that, picking up the same hard, dirty pace as before. Darkness crawled into the edges of your vision, eating everything else away except for Buggy above you, inside of you.

On the brink of losing yourself, Buggy’s hand relaxed. When oxygen flushed through your body, it came with an intoxicating rush of pleasure like you had never felt. The skin on skin slapping became more of a wet smack seemingly with every thrust, your pussy leaking around his cock, squeezing him desperately with the same painfully tight coil the rest of your body responded with. It was like being held on the edge of orgasm because it wasn’t enough, but you felt the same rush, the same warm break of heat as when you came, just without the actual final high.

Buggy cursed roughly as his hips slowed, gritting his teeth as if in pain.

He squeezed your neck, once again denying you breath. You shut your eye, your back trying to arch, your hands scrambling to get ahold of his arm. This time, he released you quickly, letting you get in a breath so he could hear your choked cry when you felt his fingers between your legs. Buggy didn’t need his whole hand to scrub hard, dirty circles against your clit, two fingers detaching and settling against the sensitive bud. Each hard thrust did a lot of the work for him, grinding them against you.

It was too much to worry about the noise you were making. If you had the capacity to speak, to breathe, you'd have told him the extra bit of stimulation was too much. Your body couldn’t contain the buzzing thrum of pleasure, your nerves aflame as they were numbed and stoked.

Buggy returned to the earlier harsh pace, and you panicked. There was no rhyme or reason to the way he controlled your breathing, pushing you to the dark edge of oblivion before pulling you back into the hyperphysical reality of pleasure.

“Can you just come already?” Buggy asked, his voice grinding out between his teeth. You could barely hear him, let alone comprehend the meaning of his words.

He relaxed his hand around your neck and, with a desperate, ragged inhale and fresh rush of overstimulating heat that made you sob, you came, your hips curling up to feel him deeper, to get more out of the fingers on your clit. It wasn’t just your pussy, or that little coil of tension in your core, or even an entirely bodily experience. When you came, it was the crashing wave of exhilaration and nothing else.

The hand on your neck flexed before the rush faded, locking you back into your body and denying you the satisfaction of riding out that high. Maybe Buggy wasn’t even aware of it, too lost in reaching his own end, his fingers continuing to grind against your clit, his cock slamming into you so hard it hurt.

You choked, pleasure giving way to fear, and the world went black, consumed by nothingness.

Dark confusion obscured everything and, for years or days or seconds, you had the odd impression that somebody from very far away was calling your name, that you were in your room, and that—

Gasping, you opened your eye, that unsettling confusion drifting into a new type of confusion as quickly as it came, your brain swimming beneath a gauzy blanket of unreality. Just like that, you were back in the intense cage of your own body, gasping and whining as Buggy finished with a couple of hard, deep thrusts. Your pussy squeezed him despite its shivery, overwhelming sensitivity in the wake of flooding oxygen, responding to his pleasure in kind.

When he was done, the fingers he’d left on your clit returned to his hand so he could brace himself on the desk, and there was just heavy, hot breathing in the wake of something that probably seemed a lot more dramatic than it actually was.

“Fucking… fuck,” Buggy said, his eyes closed. He laughed breathlessly, hoarsely. “That was…”

Your lips parted to say something, but nothing came out.

He opened his eyes, looking down at you. “You look wrecked,” he said. Considering the dozens of little blue flyaways coming out from under the kerchief wrapped around his head, the glossy shine of sweat on his face, and the deep flush painting his cheeks and lips red, you didn’t think it was fair to say that only you looked wrecked.

Buggy used the hand on your neck to nudge your face up so he could kiss your open mouth before he pulled out, letting you wilt back onto the desk. Laying with your body mostly on the hard surface and your legs hanging off the edge wasn’t comfortable, but you didn’t want to move. You closed your eye, just trying to compose yourself. That moment of unconsciousness had been jarring, a little sickening. In the post-orgasm haze, you had a very uncomfortable and terrifying feeling like nothing was real. Or maybe that was wishful thinking?

You heard Buggy fix his clothes before grabbing a bottle to loudly gulp down swallow after swallow of water.

You breathed in, and then out, and finally got your arms beneath yourself to sit up because the only thing more uncomfortable than moving was the dryness in your mouth and throat.

“Captain Buggy, may I-” you tried to ask. About half of the question got out before you erupted into a huge coughing fit. It hurt to cough, and you could feel his cum leaking out of your sore pussy with each one, but you couldn’t make yourself stop. Your body was trying to expel the obstruction of his hand, not being able to tell the difference between pressure and choking.

“Jeez,” Buggy said. “Try not to hack up a lung.”

You shook your head, trying to reassure him that you were okay, but you couldn’t get anything out other than the wretched, ragged coughing. You watched through a teary eye as Buggy approached you, patting your back in an odd attempt to help. When you stopped coughing, he helped you drink from his bottle with a mockingly indulgent, “Now there’s a good girl.” You didn’t care. The praise, mean or not, made you feel better.

When you were done, you fell forward against him. “Thank you, Captain Buggy,” you said, regardless of your wrecked voice.

He pet the top of your head awkwardly. “Yeah, sure thing, kiddo.”

You sat up and he dropped into his chair with a big, satisfied umph, falling back into it like he was completely spent. Clearing your sandpaper throat, you got off the desk, wincing at the feeling of more cum leaking out of your pussy. Sweat covered your entire body, uncomfortably gathering on your hairline and beneath your skirt’s waistband. It made the cool air that much worse. You looked around for your clothes. Your sweater had been thrown to the other side of the room, your tights were by his desk somewhere, your panties were nowhere to be seen, and you were still wearing your boots without any socks.

Deciding your sweater was the most important thing to ward off the chill, you took a step in that direction. Buggy grabbed your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

You looked at him, confused.

He raised an eyebrow. “Get your scrawny ass over here, you look like you’re gonna pass out.” He raised his arms, sitting up to make room for you. Right then, you could have wept out of relief at the offer, your jelly legs taking you to sit in his lap. “Wait, tuck your skirt, I don’t want your mess on my pants.”

It was technically his mess, but you didn’t say so. It didn’t really matter. Smoothing your skirt beneath yourself, you sat sideways on his lap.

Buggy wrapped an arm around you, his other hand rubbing circles on your hip, your waist, your stomach. You didn’t expect the pain when he palmed your breast, catching your nipple between his fingers. The bite mark really did hurt. You whimpered, your body unintentionally writhing back against him.

“Already?” he asked. “Give a guy a break, sheesh. I need a minute before I do that again.”

You made an unhappy noise, burying your face against his chest. Buggy laughed, petting your head. “I was joking. I don’t have time. I need to make sure that my freaks are ready, Cabaji’s coming in tonight so we can finalize our plans,” Buggy told you. “We’re gonna take Saline first thing in the morning.”

“Will it be very dangerous?” you asked.

“It’ll be easy. They’ve got, what, three hundred people? There’s a reason the Surgeon picked this place.”

“He didn’t set up any security to protect it?” you asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“How?”

“Why do you care?” he asked. “It’s not like you can help, your only job is to wait on the ship and not cause any more trouble.”

Heeding his dangerous tone, you put your head back against his chest. “Yes, Captain Buggy.”

The rain returned later that evening. Everybody was saying it would be cleared up by the next day, but that meant the pirates had to get everything ready dripping wet and cold. Most of them didn’t seem to mind it as much after Buggy’s speech. Although one of their own was dead, the crew seemed more invigorated than ever to perform at their best.

You weren’t asked to greet Cabaji when he came in, but you heard some of the others saying that the Chief of Staff was approaching, and there wasn’t much in the way of help you could offer to the crew as they prepared for the attack, and you wanted to see him.

So you waited, hanging back beneath the overhang to stay dry, watching as the sloop Cabaji and his miniature crew had used was pulled up. Pirates crawled up onto the ship out of the dark, wet and miserable. Eventually, you saw the man you were looking for jump up onto the deck. It felt like years since you last saw the man, but he hadn’t changed. He directed a couple of the men this way and that with his usual terse mannerisms before stalking towards the main deck.

“Mr. Cabaji!” you called as you followed with your jacket over your head, excited to see the man even though your last parting wasn’t especially warm. He half turned towards you, his eyes narrowed and confused before recognition hit.

“Hello,” he said.

“It’s been a while,” you said. “I’m glad you’re back safe.”

“Thank you. Is Captain Buggy with you?”

“No, he’s… They’re all in the officer’s mess. I heard you were coming and so I wanted to say hello. It’s been forever.”

“It has been a while. You look different,” he said.

“Oh, because of my…” You subconsciously reached up to tug your bandana down, but it wasn’t there. “Sorry, I know it’s…”

“No, you look healthier,” he clarified.

“Really?” you asked, smiling. “I, um, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” he told you. “You said they’re in the officer’s mess?”

“Yeah, I have to get Captain Buggy’s supper but I thought… I wanted to say hello, before…” You didn’t want Buggy to see you greeting him. That’s what you were thinking, but you hated yourself for it. The only reason you would feel shame was if you had something to hide, but you didn’t, you just didn’t want to upset the captain when he was already so stressed.

Cabaji nodded, his expression unreadable. “Now that I’m back, there’s something you need to understand,” he said.

“What?”

“It is my duty to see to your wellbeing and safety. I will look after you because Captain Buggy ordered me to do so, not out of personal interest. Do you understand? Our relationship is strictly professional.”

You shifted your weight back, frowning. “I thought we were… friends.”

“We have sworn an oath of service to the same captain, that doesn’t make us friends.”

“Yeah, of-of course,” you said, nodding, forcing a smile. “Well, I-I’m glad you’re… I guess I should go get Captain Buggy’s supper. I’ll… see you down there.”

He nodded and you turned the other way to retreat into the galley through the middle hatch.

You were stupid. You felt stupid, you probably looked pretty stupid too. It shouldn’t have made you feel so bad that Cabaji would reject you, you shouldn’t have expected anything from him anyway. It wasn’t as if it was the first time you misinterpreted somebody’s kindness, or got carried away by your irrational feelings.

Still, you had to take a moment to collect yourself before bringing Buggy’s meal into the officer’s mess.

It was fine.

You were fine.

Shaking your damp hair to try and look a little less like a wet rat, you entered the room. It looked the same as it always did, colorfully decorated and festive. The pirates hung around juggling, playing cards, or talking loudly. Richie was impressing two of them with his uncanny ability to catch food out of the air.

Buggy sat in the middle of it all, of course, sprawled across a chair like a king. You placed his tray in front of him, studiously ignoring Cabaji as you sat at the captain’s side.

“Did’ja get lost or something?” Buggy asked.

“No, sir,” you muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. Now that we’re all here,” Buggy said loudly to address the table, picking up his utensils. “Cabaji, where are we at with our doctor problem?”

The table’s attention turned to the Chief of Staff.

“He’s got a full crew,” Cabaji explained. “He’s supplemented the squad of crooked Marines that oversee this area with mercenaries. I give it a day before they’re here. Maybe a little more. The hostage situation will keep them from doing anything rash.”

“Which gives us enough time to get our audience ready,” Buggy said. “The rain’s been clearing up. We go in at first light, make it quick. As long as we can take the lab, we got the whole place for ourselves.”

“How much do we know about the town’s defenses?” Cabaji asked.

“They’re pathetic,” Buggy said. “It’s gonna be easy to get in and Fuse over there’ll take care of the rest.”

Cabaji nodded, and the conversation lapsed into other things as everyone else’s meals were served. You had very little appetite, but you picked at the food as something to distract yourself with.

“Hey, babydoll,” Buggy suddenly said, getting your attention. “Is there anything we need to know about daddy dearest before he gets here? He is the guest of honor, after all. I want to make sure he gets a properly warm welcome.”

Put on the spot, you froze, nervously looking around at the table. “He, um, he was a Major in the Marines,” you said, stammering. “The-the senior physician, you know, like, on a lot of high profile ships. But he’s retired.”

Buggy groaned. “No, no, no. I need things we don’t know. Tell me about who he is.”

“I don’t know,” you said, frowning. “About the drugs or anything, I… I had no idea.”

“You lived with the guy for your whole life and you don’t have anything useful to share?”

The disappointment in his voice scared you. There had to be something, anything that would be helpful. You bit your lip, thinking very hard.

“Oh! He drinks a lot. A lot, a lot,” you said, trying to smother the guilt you felt revealing Dad’s secrets. “So his hands shake a lot and he’s kind of unsteady sometimes when he walks. Also, he, um… He got injured when he was in the service. I don’t think he can fight anymore.”

“See? That’s good,” Buggy said. “What else?”

“There is something, but I don’t know how to… I was thinking about what he said. Barley’s harbor, Randall, me.” You looked up, meeting Buggy’s eyes. “Captain Buggy, you took everything from him.”

He grinned. “Good.”

“No, it’s…” You shook your head, trying to think of how to phrase it so he could understand the sickening pit of terror in your gut whenever you started to think about this.

“He’s obsessed with control,” Crina said. “You took that from him. That can be dangerous.”

“Oh, okay. By all means, feel free to chime in with your opinions,” Buggy said, half turning towards her.

“No, that’s-that’s true,” you said. “Crina knows.”

Buggy’s eyes narrowed. “Crina knows what?”

“About me,” you explained, caught off guard by the combative tone of his voice. “And, my-the Surgeon, how he is.”

“More than I do?” Buggy asked, raising an eyebrow. That was a dangerous question, one you didn’t want to answer.

“I might have a different perspective than you do,” Crina said.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You got some kinda girl-on-girl mind link? Women’s intuition?” he asked, looking between the two of you. “Wait!” Buggy snapped, pointing at Crina. “I know! You used your psychic mind powers on her. I hope you got consent before violating her like that. She’s sensitive.”

You flushed, embarrassed by his choice of words. “Captain Buggy, that’s not it,” you said, trying to smooth things over.

“But there is something,” he said, “you admit it.”

“No,” you tried to tell him, but Buggy wasn’t listening to you anymore, sitting up so he could face Crina directly.

“Isn’t she a bit young for you, Crina?” he asked.

“The only thing I’m interested in is her health,” Crina said.

“Wow, you sound just like her dad,” Buggy turned around to look at you. “Doesn’t she sound exactly like him, babydoll?”

You met his eye, your mouth opening to agree automatically, but nothing came out. The sudden turn of his mood and the accusation made your head spin. Of course she didn’t, but you couldn’t disagree with Buggy. You didn’t think you could even form the words.

Buggy burst out laughing, breaking the tension. “I’m just fucking with you. You really need to learn how to lighten up.”

Forcing yourself to untense, you tried to smile, to laugh it off. Crina hid her expression by taking a big drink out of something in a silvery flask.

“Can nobody take a joke around here?” Buggy asked, leaning back with a scowl.

Nobody said anything, the mood effectively killed by that outburst. Thankfully, the awkward silence was saved by the crashing entrance of one of Buggy’s pirates, stumbling into the room out of breath and panicked.

“Captain Buggy?” he called.

“What is it now?” Buggy snapped.

“You have a… The Surgeon is calling.”

“What’dya want?” Were Buggy’s first words into the mouthpiece. Apparently, the Den Den Mushi was something Cabaji had brought with him. For negotiations. The snail was wrapped up in a sweater to keep warm, seemingly content with his situation after getting fed. Buggy had it brought into his cabin for this conversation. He sat comfortably at his desk while you nervously perched on the bed, glad you didn’t eat very much because of the nausea squeezing your stomach.

“You know who I am?” Dad asked. It was just as strange to hear his voice coming out of the snail’s mouth now as it had been in Lafitte.

“‘Course I do, doc,” Buggy said. “My babydoll’s told me aaaaaall about you. I was wondering when you’d call. Normally I wouldn’t talk to my fans like this, but you’re special, eh?”

“You know why I’m calling?”

“Yeah. Duh.”

“I’ll make this quick, then. Give me the girl and that will be the end of this.”

That gave Buggy pause, it clearly wasn’t what he expected to hear. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “If I give her up, you’re going to, what, let me go? Don’t you know who I am?”

“I’m retired, I don’t care who you are. The fact of the matter is that you have stolen from me. If she is returned, I will withdraw. The Marines will, of course, pursue you further, but you will fare better against them without my support.”

Buggy’s excitement faded away to frustration, his angry eyes flicking up to you. You squirmed in discomfort, wanting to disappear all over again. “They just upped my bounty,” he said.

“I’m not concerned with money.”

“Oh, right. You’ve been doing some dirty deals, haven’t ya, pops? A real Doctor Feelgood. What did you swear when you got your degree, the hypocrite oath?”

“I’m not interested in your games, freak,” Dad said. “Is the girl with you? If she is, I would like to speak with her.”

Buggy scowled, glaring at you. “Say hi, sweetheart.”

“I’m here,” you said, your voice choked.

“You ought to know that Randall’s funeral was lovely, considering the circumstances,” Dad said. “He will be remembered and celebrated with respect and reverence, something he was denied in his death by the fiends you have run off with.”

“Hold on a second, doc,” Buggy said. “You’re way off the mark on this one. It wasn’t me or my crew that killed that idiot. Babydoll did that all on her own. Real gruesome too. When I slit someone’s throat, I like to make it quick, but she got in deep and started sawing. I tried to help move things along, but yeesh, it was hard to watch.”

Dad didn’t say anything, a silence as impactful as any amount of rage. You felt sick, blood rushing up into your head so fast it hurt. You didn’t want to think about that. You couldn’t.

“You see, pops, she understands that greatness demands sacrifice,” Buggy said. “She knew that if she was gonna make the cut to stand at my side, she needed to shed all of the dead weight.”

“She is my daughter,” Dad said. “It doesn’t matter what she wants. She is mine by right.”

“What right?” Buggy asked. “You can’t even make the whole dad claim anymore. With as much as we go at it she’s got more of me in her than you.”

“You can do what you will with her body,” Dad said, his voice deadly soft. “But she is not yours. When she returns to me, she won’t even remember you.”

“That’s funny, doc. I was gonna-” The line disconnected. “-say the same thing.” Buggy realized as soon as he was done speaking that Dad had hung up. He looked surprised, like he couldn’t believe that would happen.

You didn’t really care, that parting threat hit you with the force of a hammer. “What he said, it isn’t true,” you said, talking softly so your voice didn’t break. “No, that’s… He’s lying, Captain Buggy. Isn’t he? You won’t let him take me back.”

“Of course not,” Buggy said, replacing the mouthpiece with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “The old man must be losing his mind if he thinks I’ll let him get anywhere near you. That was all just talk anyway, there’s no way he wants you more than me.”

You nodded, trying to hold onto that assurance to calm yourself amidst the thousands of horrible, scary thoughts spinning in your head.

“Yeah,” Buggy grumbled, looking down with another scowl. “The old man is gonna lose a lot more than just his mind if he thinks he can get away with talking to me like that. Nobody talks to Buggy the Clown like that.” Abrupt as it came, his rage flashed away. Buggy looked up at you with a manic smile. “You were wrong, babydoll.”

“What?” you asked.

“I haven’t taken everything from him,” Buggy said. “But I will. I’m gonna be there the moment he realizes that I’ve got everything that he’s ever cared about in his whole worthless life. I don’t care what I have to do, he’s not gonna live to regret this.”

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #my writing #flashbang #not sfw #tw.dubcon #this one didn't come together the way i hoped ngl #but choking is so so so good

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