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atrwriting · 6 months ago

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comfort — aegon x fem!reader

did anyone else fall victim to season 2 completely changing your viewpoint on aegon? i used to fucking hate this guy. honestly i still hate season 1 aegon. i almost didn't post this because i hate him soooo much. i've chosen to separate season 1 and season 2 aegon because the show and book are works of fiction — but please read with caution. at the end of the day, this is still aegon — and he is still a royal asshole and should very much be locked up in jail.

but like why did season two make me feel bad and want to comfort this fucker like what the fuck

as always, warnings: aegon is a fucking warning, smuuut, aegon has a praise kink, oral sex, p in v sex, aegon is a bit of a meaniehead in this, alcoholism, my own sick and twisted self indulgence because i like swear i could fix him

i refuse to fucking edit and im only slightly sorry

____

“i never wanted to be king..." he mumbled, drinking his wine. "to keep them safe... and for what? for what!?"

your heart fell at his words. it split and shattered into a million pieces, but slowly. the pain was so slow. it froze you — held you in its grasp so the only thing you could do was stare at the king, who sank slowly into his own despair — and also his chair.

you swallowed — unsure of how to proceed.

“more wine, your grace?” you asked, hoping to appear cheerful.

with his back turned, his own answer was his outstretched hand with his goblet in his grasp.

your pour was hefty.

he sighed before he brought his chalice to his lips, taking two gulps of the deep plum liquid. you didn’t want to linger — for you knew the king enjoyed his solitude or the company of a young lady.

you wanted to make haste before he remembered either of the two.

“is there anything else i can do for you, my king?” you asked. “i can fetch you something to eat —“

“no,” he spoke. “i’m not hungry. — sit with me. pour yourself a glass.”

your eyes widened as your clutched the wine. sit — with the king? and share wine? you had never heard of such a thing. you had heard of his crude, and horrible behavior — but not this. definitely not this.

but what else were you to do but obey? nothing. absolutely nothing. you had no choice.

you pulled out the chair, and aegon pulled another glass toward his. the king... retrieved you a glass? you had set the wine down on the table so you could pull your chair out with shaking hands, hoping to keep them steady. aegon, the king, had taken it upon himself to not only get you your own chalice, but also pour wine for you.

gods, you thought. what have i found myself in?

“thank you, my king,” you spoke, settling into your seat. “would it please your grace to drink in silence?”

he tapped his fingers on the top of the table. you could not meet his eyes, for fear of upsetting him. you weren’t sure if you could feel his eyes on you, but you did not want to make the first move.

“the servant girls like you — they do not look at me,” he spoke, taking another swig of his wine. “due to my actions as a boy, no doubt. i must assure you — i am a man now. a king.”

“of course, your grace,” you answered. “we are very lucky to serve you and your family.”

“very lucky…” he scoffed, a sad smile on his face. he was not displeased with you — and you couldn’t place why, but you could tell it was not you. you surmised it was something else. “lucky? to work in this castle? when war brews closer every day?”

you swallowed thickly, unsure of how to proceed. you shouldn’t have. you really shouldn’t have — and you knew it, you could feel it in your bones — but a part of you also knew that it could do some good. maybe not a lot, but at least some. “we know that you would do anything to protect this castle — and the people inside of it, your grace. we are lucky.”

was it a lie? yes. none of the servants believed that they were safe, and those that did — they did not credit aegon. they might credit the webs alicent could weave, aemond’s dragon, or cole’s stones — but not aegon. definitely not aegon. not even aegon gave aegon, himself any credit, for he knew the truth. everyone knew the truth — but where would self pity get the king? where would his low self esteem place you and the small folk? nowhere. absolutely nowhere.

and that’s why you lied.

you lied through your fucking teeth.

you had to lie — for the good of the realm. for the good of the small folk. for your own good.

and what did he do? he laughed.

he fucking laughed.

you weren’t surprised — you knew that he was difficult to reason with, prone to expressions of raw, irrational emotion.

what you didn’t expect was that his laughs turned into tears.

you don’t know why — but you immediately stood.

sitbackdownsitbackdownsitbackdown, someone in your head chided. sitbackdownsitbackdownsitbackdown.

but you didn’t listen. you should’ve listened.

you stood and took a few steps towards the king.

thumpthumpthumpthumpthump.

your heart pounded in your ears, and soon you though you could feel it rise into your throat. you would’ve choked on it if you had waited any longer to do what you wanted to.

you reached for his hand — not really knowing what you would do if you had successfully intertwined your fingers with his. it didn’t matter — for aegon smacked your hand away. he snapped his head up to look at you, glaring.

he immediately stood from his seat, towering over you. his eyes were ablaze, consumed by anger and threats. his lips were thin in a snarl, having replaced his sadness with aggression.

“you dare touch the king?” he bit, holding you by the wrist.

you gasped as he yanked your arm, a strangled cry leaving your lips. “i wanted to offer comfort, your grace —“

“offer comfort?1” he spat once more, shaking his head in disbelief.

“yes, your grace,” you said softly. “only comfort.”

his eyes took a moment to soften, but when they did… you regretted coming into the room altogether — even if it was your job to serve him. you could have asked someone else. could've, could've, could've.

but then...

oh, then...

a bittersweet taste rested in your mouth once you saw regret, shame, and guilt all swirl within aegon’s purple irises. all three. like three flames, all from one dragon — consuming the very thing before it until there was nothing left. his eyes, once filled with glee, then tears, and then anger, and now this? this? — you didn’t know how to proceed, or if you should at all.

he was the king — but at the end of the day, at the end of it all — he was just a young man.

just a young man.

“i am sorry, your grace,” you whispered, not daring to move. “it won’t — it won’t happen —“

“i am sorry,” he immediately blurted out.

your eyes snapped up to meet his. you seemed to be as surprised to hear his apology as he was to find himself saying it.

he dropped your arm.

“you were kind to me…” he spoke, trailing off — seemingly trying to find the words. he was looking down at you, studying your expression.

you feared the mix of emotions were present on your face, and you were worried how that would affect a safe exit from this situation. “i should not have reached for you, my king, and for that i am —“

“i shouldn’t have lashed out at you,” he interrupted you. “no one has ever…”

he didn’t finish. he couldn’t finish, you realized. and by the look on his face — he knew he couldn’t finish that sentence either.

“it’s alright,” you spoke, and meant it. “i just wanted you to know — you weren’t alone, your grace.”

he didn’t speak. he just… slowly nodded in acknowledgment and in thanks.

you repeated the gesture, curtsied, and left the room.

you did not expect to see the king again — but you also did not ever expect to be called to his chambers in the late hours of the evening.

you grew fearful and weary — what did he want with you? he had never shown interest in you, especially not since the incident a week prior. you avoided him like the stranger, and he most likely was glad for it — or so you thought.

when you entered his chamber, you found him in his night shirt and riding leathers. he was standing in the middle of the room, only illuminated by the burning hearth. the red and orange flames accented the bags under his eyes, and his teeth that were stained with wine.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he accused suddenly.

that was all he said. small folk like yourself were not trained to… deal with accusations such as that. he was not an equal — he was the fucking king.

“i was embarrassed that i had forgotten my place,” you spoke, curtsying. “my apologies, your grace.”

“your apologies?!” he bit, tossing the empty chalice of wine onto the floor. he stalked towards you with purpose, not stopping until he was inches from your face. “apologies? what good are they if you’ve been in my goddamn head for a week?!”

he was seething then — beyond recognition. consumed by anger, unable to bring himself back to level. his skin was of a flush that suggested emotion — frustration, distrust, betrayal. his eyes, though purple, were bloodshot red. with each word he shouted, spit spewed from his lips and collected at the corners of his mouth.

and then you realized: the king wasn’t angry — he was hurt.

“what is bothering you?” you asked, ignoring his initial question while trying to keep your own resolve level.

“...what?” he demanded, confusion and anger now mixing together in his brow.

“your grace,” you began. “tell me what is wrong.”

he took a step back. his eyebrows knit together as if he didn’t recognize you — didn’t understand why you were here, who you were, or what you could want. distrust was the only thing at the forefront of his gaze, but you knew you had to break that barrier. you knew, you knew, you knew.

this time — he did not flinch when you reached for him. he did not flinch when you pressed a soft, open palm against the side of his tear-stained face. he did not flinch when you stroked your thumb on his cheekbone. he did not flinch when you placed your other hand on his other cheek, and pulled his face down to rest his forehead against yours.

“i will not avoid you again,” you whispered.

he didn’t reply, but you felt him relax against you. you entwined one of his hands with yours, and led him towards the bed.

you discarded your night robes, leaving you in your night shift. aegon watched in awe — and his jaw slightly fell open when you got on the bed, and stretched out your open arms to him.

“join me, my king?”

aegon couldn’t help himself. he glossy eyes raked over your body, barely hidden by your night shift. the cool night air of the castle caused your nipples to harden underneath the linen, leaving your breasts looking supple enough to taste. the outline of your waist and round hips were enough to make his cock stir in his leathers, but he found his hands beginning to shake. fucking delectable he found you. he may have taken off his pants, but it was not to fuck.

aegon, the king of the seven kingdoms, climbed onto the bed and rested on top of you. you wrapped your arms around his mid section as he nestled his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet smell. one of your hands began to tangle itself in his short, wavy locks — forcing aegon to relax in a way that flying, wine, or fucking could never do for him. a sigh of relief left past his lips — one that he didn’t know he was holding, nor one that he thought he was capable of releasing.

you kissed the side of his face, causing emotions to swell within his chest he never experienced before — was never prepared for. if his initial reaction wasn’t to freeze, he would’ve lashed out at you. called you names he didn’t mean. pushed you out of bed in a way he didn’t mean. and never speak to you again in a way he didn’t mean. thankfully, he froze. he froze for long enough that he convinced himself that he could relish in this sweet feeling — even if only for a short while.

“you are so sweet,” he whispered, before drifting off to sleep.

you fell asleep for a short while later, letting yourself enjoy the weight of the prince above you. it calmed a certain anxiety in your chest, and you were selfish with it — hoping to take whatever the king would give.

you felt him stirring on top of you after some time — well into the night, and well into where only hot coals rested in the hearth at the center of the room. they glowed red, but there was not enough heat nor light to reach you and aegon. you held him tighter for warmth, pulling the blanket up over the two of you in the cold darkness.

“surprised you haven’t told me i’m crushing you yet,” he spoke into your neck, breath hot against your skin.

a small laugh died in your throat. “i’m very comfortable, my king.”

you began to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling the curls in between your fingers. he hummed at the sensation, obviously enjoying it. one of his hands was dragged up the length from the top of your thigh, to your breast. the fabric of your linen pulled with his hand, but it stopped when his hand found the curve of your breast.

aegon stared at the sweet, delectable looking nipple that was poking through the linen due to the night chill. he held the weight of your breast in his palm, and used his thumb to draw circles on the nub. the roughness of the linen, coupled with the cool sensitivity of your bud, and the rising tension in the air made warmth spread throughout your body. aegon, well… aegon watched you watch his hand. he watched for any sign of displeasure — because he would’ve withdrew. he would’ve withdrew if you did not look as though you would enjoy it if he continued.

“tell me to stop if you wish,” his voice was soft and cautious in the lack of light as he played with your nipple. he would’ve stopped, he so would’ve — but he was hoping so desperately that you would let him wrap his lips around your sensitive nub and suckle, possibly with his other hand between your thighs as he played with your supple folds. “if you tell me to stop, i will stop.”

“…i don’t want you to stop,” you whispered into the darkness, no longer trapped in fear, shyness, or insecurity.

something in aegon’s chest leapt.

through his pink lips, his tongue poked through and wrapped around your sensitive nipple through your night shift. the taste of linen was foreign and strange, but aegon craved to see the look on your face when you felt the combination of the cool air, his warm, wet mouth, and the linen all working together to create the most delicious feeling of friction you had ever felt on such a sensitive area.

and by the look on your face — aegon was right.

aegon grew confident — bold even. selfish. he lightly bit the sensitive nub, causing a sharp intake of breath from you. he chuckled against you — pleased with your frustration in response to his teasing.

“a good king would show equal attention to both breasts, wouldn’t he?” he asked, in between kisses to your nipple. “can i take off your shift and show you?”

“please,” you whispered, shivering with chill and pleasure.

though your shift was opaque and did not leave much to the imagination, aegon could not believe his eyes when he took of your shift. he would burn all shifts if he could — therefore barring you from every covering up your beautiful body. your beautiful, perfect skin caught what light the fire could spare and aegon watched as goosebumps rose on your skin with every pass of his hand. you watched him as he stared at every bit of your front, letting his hands run up and down your body.

"i have never felt anything so soft," he spoke, before leaning his head forward.

he couldn't help himself. how could he? he was the fucking king. he didn't have to waste time with pleasantries. he had your consent, and he had your willingness, and he had the most beautiful breasts he had ever seen right before his eyes. he was greedy as he suckled at your breast; pulling and tugging the sensitive nub between his lips and rolling it. he did the same with your other breast, but with his hand. he could play with your breasts all night long if you let him, and he considered asking.

but then... oh, then... then he smelled the faint sweet aroma of your slick building and trying to escape from your lustrous folds in between your thighs.

that had never happened... with a woman he hadn't paid...

your nipple popped from his mouth, and now he played with both nipples in between his thumb and index fingers. you gasped at the sensation — so sensitive. you glanced down at aegon through your thick lashes and flushed cheeks.

he was peacefully smiling — while you were on the cusp of insanity.

"i feel as though i have been neglecting other parts of you," he spoke with a knowing smile. his beautiful eyes were no longer red and teary, but bright and hopeful. "as a good king, will you let me make it up to you?"

"yes," you gasped, trying to fight the urge to rock your hips into him. "please, your grace."

he wasted no time.

he slid down the length of your abdomen and threw your legs over his shoulders. his breath was hot and heavy on your cunt, making you shiver at the juxtaposition of the cool night air. you could hear him humming — pleased — below you as he spread your wet lips. aegon watched as the small flames caught the wetness and let ghosts of past flames dance on your more precious spot.

he couldn't help himself. he licked up the length of your slit.

you immediately threw your head back, gasping. your fingers fisted the silk sheets of aegon's bed, hoping to ground yourself.

you heard a scoff from below you before aegon grabbed one of your hands, and put it on his head. you cooed in response — pleased — before tanging your fingers throughout his strands. he hummed in approval against your clit, making you shiver once more.

"you taste so sweet," he whispered. "like nectar."

he spread your folds before he wrapped his lips around your most sensitive bud, sucking on it. two of his fingers found your leaking hole and pressed in slowly, nudging at the inner wall. your hips were writhing at this point as your head filled with all sorts of nonsense. heat and pleasure and smoke and wine — they curled in your psyche like beings in the water, playing together. aegon was relentless with how he lapped up your juices, greedy for more and more.

he couldn't stop. he wouldn't stop. the way your fingers curled on his scalp — scratching and soothing — was all of the encouragement he needed to keep going. he let your writhing hips work on his face. a good king would never deny a lady the extra friction she needed to reach her peak. your peak. all he wanted to do was bring you to your peak so he could see the fucked out look on your face. he wanted it so badly he began to dig his own his against the silk sheets, cock straining to find any sort of relief. he was beginning to grow feverish, which only inspired him to work a your faster and messier. he wanted your climax. he had earned your climax.

"'m so close," you whined. "'m so close, my king. please don't stop... please..."

he found himself pushing a third finger in, demanding your orgasm from you. that orgasm was no longer yours — but something he could give and also take from you. you would experience it, but it would be his. his win. his glory. his trophy.

and when your hips snapped up... he knew he had you.

he slammed your hips down onto the bed to keep you from moving — keep you from moving away from his tongue. his tongue was relentless in the way it continued its work on your clit as you came. you shoved your head into the pillow as all of your muscles went taut, letting wave after wave after wave after wave crash over you and pull you under. you were gasping for air, twisting and turnin away from aegon as the sensitivity became so much. too much. bittersweet, making you push him away but wanting to pull him towards you.

he ripped himself from you when he was finished, your juices flowing still caught on his chin. through your post-orgasm haze and half closed eyes, you watched him through your half-closed eyelids. there, aegon stood over you, fisting his cock over your body.

"inside me, your grace," you whispered. "please."

that was all aegon needed. with one swoop, his cock had bested the threshold of your cunt. his lips found one of your breasts, suckling on the nipple, as he began thrusting his length inside of you.

your hands found the back of his head, pulling at the roots of his hair. your small gasps were music to his ears as he rocked his hips against yours, chasing his high.

"you're so good, aegon..." you whined at the feeling of aegon taking every sensitive area for his own. "so sweet..."

his heart strings were pulling at her words as a flush reached his cheeks. he was not embarrassed, no — he was encouraged. a woman — a perfect, beautiful, and supple woman lay before him and begged for his touch. for his caress. for the pleasure he could bring her — the both of them. she held him so close to her breast as he fucked his cock into her. the intimacy of the position had awakened something carnal in him; something sick and twisted that wanted more, and more, and more.

"that's it... just like that..." you spoke. "take what you need, my sweet. you're so good..."

his hips were beginning to stir at your words, foreign to his ears. he was rutting into you like an animal now at your praise, sure to leave bruises on your breasts by the sunrise.

"all yours..."

fuck. fuck. fuck.

he didn't know what to do.

it had never crept up on him so fast.

a blush was rising to his cheeks he had not known since his first orgasm. an exasperated gasp was rising and falling in his throat, ready to escape and fill the room.

"so good for me," were your final words.

aegon came with a sob. a fucking sob. he snapped his hips twice into your sopping wet cunt before his balls tightened, tightened, and tightened — shooting whatever he could into you. thick, hot, white ropes decorated the inside of your cunt in the most pathetic and desperate manner. his hips continued to rut his spend into you, desperate for his release. you could hear his whines and cries in your ear, working himself through his own orgasm as your sweet words of praise guided him to where he needed to be.

"that's it, sweetheart," you spoke against his ear, causing him to shiver. "you're just so good for me, my king."

all he needed was a bit of comfort.

____

comments and critiques plz :P <3 xox - L

#aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #aegon the second #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #king aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd aegon #hotd s2 #house of targaryen #house of the dragon #house targaryen #aegon smut #aegon fic #aegon imagine #aegon angst #aegon love #aegon comfort #aegon sad

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muzzledhoundsheart · 6 months ago

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❧❧❧THE BEAST INSIDE YOUR WALLS❧

Pairing ❧ dark!Gwayne Hightower x (f)reader

CW ❧ dubcon, blood, fingering (f), oral (m), p in v sex, m!dom, possible typos

AN ❧ I hope you guys enjoy this one! I had a pretty hard time with deciding if I’m gonna post it or scrap it and work on it another time or completely rewrite it but I think it pulled itself together pretty well in the end. Also sorry for any typos of any kind, I edit everything myself and English is my second language so some stuff slips to the cracks real fast (always makes me want to die when I see it ahaha)

Fog hung thick over the trees, weaving itself round the crowns, through every branch hanging like shawls. Or more like nooses, Gwayne thought to himself. Him and his men rode through the forrest for hours now, seemingly without an end in sight. At every corner they rounded they found the same scenery, all blurring into one. While he enjoyed the status of being a knight, the glitz and glam of tournaments, young ladies fawning over him and men respecting him. He hated days like these. The sweat in his armor running cold down his back, the uncomfortableness spreading further, seeping deep into his very bones.

„I see a village there! “, one of his men shouts. Oh, thank the gods he thought. Finally, some rest. He just hopes to find a good meal, a warm bed and a pretty whore to end the day well with. He could see in his men that they were all thinking the same, or at least some variation of it. They were so close they could almost make out the houses now, when suddenly, a shrill scream echoed through the Forrest. The horses were on high alert and almost knocked their riders off. It wasn’t just a scream of fear, it ran much deeper. The men looked to Gwayne unsure of how to proceed. „Sounds like a fucking banshee.“, a shorter roundish man spat with a heavy drawl. „My father used to warn me about them screams in Forrests, they’re luring you in to skin you alive.“, another one said. „Oh horseshite it’s probably just a kid who ran off and now can’t find their way back, serves ´em little cunts right.“ What a troop of heroes, Gwayne thought to himself.

He took a deep breath and stifled a sigh, „You go on, I shall see if the forrest nymphs truly are calling for me.“ He said with a boyish smirk adorning his lips. The men looked uneasy but accepted his order and started their journey anew. Just as Gwayne was about to turn around to ride deeper into the thicket again he heard another blood curdling scream. His brows furrowed and he gripped the reigns tighter, dashing towards the noise. The closer he seemed to get, the colder his sweat ran down his neck, his thoughts running rampant stringing together gruesome paintings of violence and agony. Another scream, and it sounded awfully close. He drew his sword and the muscles in his pale back pulled taught, shifting underneath his freckled skin and sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins. The sight before him was, however, not what he imagined.

A young woman was desperately struggling to climb up a mangled tree, she gained some footage and pulled herself up another branch, pained grunts leaving her mouth and blood dripping from her arm and side — drip drip dripping down from the wounds running down to her naked toes. Beneath the tree stood two wolfs, blood and saliva dripping from their snouts, bubbling around the corners making them look rabid, hungry — starving. The wolves didn’t even care about the deafening noise the hooves of his humongous stallion made, no, they were set on her, having already had a taste of her sweet flesh, eager for more.

Gwayne ceased the opportunity and aimed for one of the wolves, within a few strives he was close enough to slash the back of one of them, their head hanging on by what little sinew the sword didn’t quite reach. This, finally, caught the other wolf's attention and he growled at Gwayne, ready to tear into his horse, pull him off and rip him apart, piece by bloody piece. Gwayne was faster though, stabbing the wolf in it’s side on one swift motion, his sword cutting into the wolf like velvet, releasing a gut-wrenching whimper, the wolf folded into itself while blood spurted out of it’s wound and snout, until his eyes glossed over, and his labored breathing stopped. It was almost beautiful how such such a beastly being perishes so pathetically, he thought, almost forgetting about the woman still hanging desperately onto the rotting branches of the tree in front of him. „My Lady... I’m afraid the branch will break soon.“

It took some time for the woman to realize what just happened. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, her chest heaving up and down heavily. Taking in her appearance, now being close enough to do so, Gwayne noticed how she was dressed, a white thin linen dress, almost looking like a nightgown, with nothing else covering her shivering form. Furthermore, the dress was ripped in multiple spots and her blood blossomed into the fabric, spreading like a visceral garden over her attire. She held her side with one hand and Gwayne noticed that her dress was ripped around her breast as well, it laid openly naked above the hand holding her side. What a lucky man Gwayne was. „Thank- thank you Ser. By the gods thank you.“ She breathed out, her voice sounding hoarse and rough. Gwayne dismantled his horse, hiding his almost perverse smile behind this mundane display.

He approached the tree and held out his hand for her. Standing tall in front of it, he was sure the woman could reach him if she crouched down. „Let me help, my Lady.“ He said in the softest voice he could muster in this moment, his lips stretching into a friendly, warm smile. If only she knew. The woman was still apprehensive but did eventually crouch down and let him aid her in climbing back down. When she was on a brach low enough, Gwayne cupped the back of her knee and hauled her into his arms. She let out a surprised yelp and blinked up at him through thick lashes. The woman was caked in grime and blood, sweat clung to her body like second skin, but she was beautiful, nonetheless.

„You’re all good now.“, he said, slowly lowering her to the ground while steadying her. Her hand went to her torn dress, trying to hold it up to hide her bareness. Before words could leave her mouth, he already unbuckled his cape and draped it around her shivering form. „What a predicament you were in ,my Lady. If you let me, I would take you to the nearest village to have a healer look at your wounds.“ He said not letting his gentle hold on her shoulders go. His fingertips slowly wandered up and down the familiar fabric in a soothing matter. „I would owe you my life, Ser.“, she haughtily breathed out.

He was sure she’s lost enough blood to barely be conscious, especially now that the adrenaline is steadily leaving her body. His face contorted into a look of concern, „I might have to look at your wounds now and tend to them as best as I can. Forgive me but you’re looking awfully pale, my Lady.“ She let out an amused sound at that. „You might as well do it now, yes.“ she was swaying, on the cusp of fainting. Gwyane knelt down in front of her, slowly bunching up her skirt. The wound in her side wasn’t as bad as he initially thought, he got up again and assured the woman that he was only getting one of his satchels off his horse. He then proceeded to clean her wounds, dressing them in cloth and sending her assuring looks through his copper lashes. The woman felt like she was dreaming, being saved by such a beautiful kind man.

He looked like a knight from a fairytale, his face was carved out of ivory, his eyes like the stormy waters that ran through the land and his copper hair falling around his cheekbones framing his pretty face. He got up again, wiping his hands on a cloth, discarding it after by dropping the bloodied cloth back into the satchel. „That should do it for now.“, he said. The woman was still dazed and looked at him as if he was a prince of the realm. „I cannot thank you enough.“ She expressed grasping tighter onto his cloak. „ Not to worry, my Lady, i have to wonder however you got yourself in this situation though.“. She looked flustered and diverted her eyes. „I was visiting my brother to take care of him, the cold got to him and i was afraid he wouldn’t make it out alive on his own. I thought taking the route through the forrest would get me home quicker, how foolish of me.“

Foolish indeed Gwayne thought to himself, stifling a grin. „I could offer you a bed for tonight as my thanks, Ser.“, her eyes lit up saying that, and Gwayne almost felt bad for how genuine she looked. It was rare to find someone seemingly believing in the simple kindness of man nowadays. He also wondered if she knew just what she implied with her statement, well he surely wouldn’t mind if that was what she was thinking of. Just the thought brought a shiver down his skin straight to his cock, it has been so long since he got to indulge himself after-all. „I would happily accept, my Lady“ he took her small shivering hand in his and brought it to his lips. She looked like she was about to faint again and before she started swaying, he decided to steady her with his arm around her waist. The woman stole many glances at him, and his breast swelled with pride — arrogance. He was sure he got kissed by Lady Luck tonight.

He helped her mount his house and put her legs over his, one arm caging her in, so she „will be safe with him.“. They started trotting towards the small village nearby, her directions were surely helpful, making them arrive sooner than he anticipated.

They rode through a small marketplace coming across some of his men pointing him out to what seemed to be their bedwarmers for the night. Shouts of his heroism were heard, and the roundish man yelled „Not a banshee then ,aye?“. The woman then led him the way to a small hut. Nothing special really, made of wood and stone and mud. It looked solid — just — with greenery not only surrounding it but winding itself into every nook and cranny. They unmounted and she, still shaky on her feet, let him inside the small hut.

His heavy boots stomped down on the creaky floor as he took his surroundings in; it was…homely. Certainly homely. A small kitchen met a big cozy bed draped in different fabrics and knit blankets. Books and various other items were strewn about, but it looked like it had a system at least. „You may take the bed and I will get you something to freshen up.“. Gwayne looked to her and swiftly grasped her wrist „I would rather claim my reward now, my Lady“. „I’m not sure what you mean.“ Her heartbeat quickened; she couldn’t have been so blind could she? He towered over her taking steps forward until both reached one of the wooden clad walls. She felt as if her flesh would freeze off, needles and pins spreading all over her body, her stomach in knots. „Remove my cloak“. All kindness vanished from his voice. She was staring at him, frozen in time. Cold cold cold fear encompassing her. „Now.“ he almost growled.

Shaking hands reached up to open the claps, the thick fabric pooling around her still bare and bloodied feet. His eyes raked over her form, half naked and quivering before him. So delicious. His hand reached out to her, making her flinch away hard. This made his cock twitch, hard and wanting in his breeches. He moved quick and ripped the already torn dress to complete shreds. The cloth fell off her breasts entirely and he could almost make out her rapid heartbeat through her chest. The quick — thump thump thump — spurring him on even more.

Gwayne’s hands found solace on her ribcage, his calloused thumbs slowly tracing the underline of her breasts, making her nipples pebble. The motion was almost soothing but her it felt like a predator seizing up his prey, installing fear in it and calculation their next move. She didn’t dare to breathe which he took note of — it made him chuckle. A deep rumble coming out of his chest. „I wont hurt you“.

Liar.

She knew he would, they both did. His hands now cupping her breasts, clutching them tightly, pinching and pulling at her flesh. Small gasps left her mouth and she never felt more vulnerable than in this moment. He dipped his head to her level, copper strands kissing his cheekbones. His right hand followed her clavicles, up the tendons on her neck and settled on her throat. The pressure applied made her lightheaded. „Why don’t you sing my praises, huh, your great hero deserves more than this don’t you think?“ She wanted to bite that smug smirk off his face.

It felt like he could sense what she thought, and he chose to attack first. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss. Gwayne’s tongue slipped into her mouth and he tasted every part of her. When they finally parted, her breaths were labored, chest heaving and saliva coated the bottom of her face, strings of it connecting them like a wet spider web. He kissed her again and again, growing more aggressive with each one, biting and pulling at her lips and tongue until she tasted the iron now coating their lips. She was ashamed of herself for how wet she’s gotten. Wetness slowly running down the inside of her thighs, as she felt how hard and wanting Gwayne has gotten himself.

While Gwayne was biting and shucking at the juncture of her throat he ripped the last shreds of her gown hanging around her hips apart, leaving her completely exposed to his hungry eyes. Goosebumps littered her body as the cold air hit her skin, which was a welcome distraction from Gwayne’s searing touch, dipping lower and lower. He reached her mount and and slid a single finger between her folds. His lips breathed hot against her cheek „What a tight little cunt“, he moaned as he sunk his finger deep inside her. She wanted to run away, call for help and have him beheaded, but in this moment the coil winding itself in her stomach craved him to keep going, to do more. And do more he did. Another finger slipped into her — two long slender fingers stretching her tight wetness out in fluid motions. His paced steadily increased and he looked like he was about to rip her chest open with his teeth. Her breast heaving into his face and sweat slowly dripping into his face. He licked a long stripe up her artery and bit down, just hard enough to force a strangled groan out of her bruised lips.

She was burning from the inside out from shame — it felt so delicious, being mauled alive. Just as she was about to completely lose herself in the pleasure, he withdrew his hand. „Get on your knees“, he commanded breathless and harsh. Her eyes refocused on him, and he sunk down, big, clouded eyes fixed on the flushed head of his cock. She didn’t even notice that he partially undressed himself. „Open“, he said as his thumb pressed down on her plump lower lip and hand wrapping around her throat again, much tighter this time. He ran the tip of his leaking cock along the edge if her teeth, finding great amusement in it. Even if she were to bite him, he could snuff her out in seconds. „Don’t tell me you don’t know what to do now, you’re definitely not a maiden,“ She was — but he didn’t need to know. She’s heard enough tales from friends and the brothel workers scurrying about the market when they found the time.

Light-headed form the lack of oxygen and limited in her movement she began running her tongue along his cock. Up and down the head, following a prominent vein slithering along the underside of it. Gwayne groaned and pulled her in by the throat. She sputtered around him, his cock reaching deep into her throat now. He left her no time to catch a breath, moving his hips in a fast irregular rhythm. „That’s it, take it“, he breathed out. His cock slipping in and out her mouth faster with every thrust. Spit dripped down his sack as cradled her head against his pelvis bone. Her eyes rolled up her skull and he swore he would have a corpse around his pulsating cock any minute now. Showing some mercy, he released her, and she gulped down deep breaths of air — coughing them right back out again. Her teary eyes looked longingly at his cock, bobbing and pulsating still, thick drops of precum dripping onto the hard wooden floor. Before she could do much of anything he leaned down and seized her by her claves. Pulling her, with her back on the floor now, closer to him.

His hands pawed at her thighs and trapped fistfuls of plush fat for leverage. Her lower half hung in the air, and he had a full view of her creaming cunt. Gwayne halted for a short moment, asking himself if he wanted to taste her first, lick up the viscous fluids of her drooling cunt, dripping onto the floor. He discarded the idea and chose to position his cock at her entrance. In one harsh thrust he was inside of her, setting a brutal pace. The small hut was filled with wet slapping noises, moans and groans. Gwayne fucked her as if he intended on killing her. Her body like putty in his string hands and her cunt growing hotter and tighter around his swollen cock. He crouched down lower and threw one of her legs over his shoulder, rutting so deep into her she swore she would never be able to feel whole again without his cock in her. Her desperate whimpers turned into incoherent screams. They ran down deep into Gwayne’s bones and spurred him on as he felt his release coming. His final thrusts were brutal, kissing her cervix and bruising her pelvic bone in it’s wake. He grabbed her throat again and squeezed as his sack tightened and he released hot spurts of thick cum into her womb. They both stayed like this for many moments. He could still feel her walls convulsing around his softening cock, her soft hands laying atop his around her throat, wordlessly begging to release her. When he did, her body fell to the ground with a thud. Her legs still open, arms crossed above her head and her wounds weeping again. Sweat, blood and cum dripping out of her and mingling into a visceral painting of lust. Gwayne brushed his damp hair out of his face and slowly redressed. How he wished to paint the scene before him to take with him out on the battlefields. Alas — he grabbed his sword and pointed it down at her belly, slowly tracing a line up between her breasts and resting below her chin. „I don’t want any red-headed bastards running around, make sure to take care of it.“. „I-i will, don’t worry.“ He nodded curtly and threw her one last glance before leaving her hut. Her heart was still beating like a rabbit running away from a pack of wolves. She hoped the beast would trace her scent and find his way to her again soon.

#hotd x reader #gwayne hightower x reader #hotd smut #hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #gwayne hightower #smut #gwayne hightower smut

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thebramblewood · 2 months ago

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My Simblreen treat for you is this cute little pose pack for hungry vampires who appreciate fine dining! There are five poses total, all of them for two vampires and one victim. The fifth is an all-in-one consisting of several variations, meant to portray a reluctant young vampire being persuaded to join the fun. You can see the poses in action here (though they've been very slightly altered since). Blender previews and more info below the cut. Now go forth and let your vampires feast! (And I'd love to see how you use these, so feel free to tag me if you do.)

Pose Player / Teleport Any Sim / TOOL

DOWNLOAD: Simfileshare / Google Drive

TOU: You can edit my poses for personal use, but please do not claim as your own or use in paywalled content!

@ts4-poses @alwaysfreecc

Although the poses were made to suit specific Sims, I've since tested and cleaned them up using default rigs. They were made specifically with the Table Sequinas and Chiawowi Seat from Luxury Party Stuff, though they will probably work with other tables and chairs. I eyeballed the chair position in Blender, but I did my best to line them up as closely as possible. Some clipping may occur depending on the table/chairs you choose as well as your Sims' body types and clothing. If you don't want to mess with TOOL, I recommend the set-up shown below (table and teleporter facing forward, teleporter to the back).

Finally, a quick note to say all my poses are made with @vyxated's RigPlus Pose Helper. None of this would be possible without their super intuitive controls and amazing asset library!

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblreen 2024 #simblreen #ts4 poses #sims 4 poses #ts4cc #sims 4 cc #ts4 download #sims 4 download #please reblog to share <3

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bamsywrites · 3 months ago

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And Comes Dawn.

Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader, more pairings in the future to be tagged

Summary: In all beings, there exists darkness. when the deciver finds one who seems to defy this, he becomes obsessed with finding it within her. and if he can't find it, he will ruin her himself.

Tags/Warnings: clichés abound, opposites attract, sauron being evil but also hot but also evil, no use of y/n. This is pretty barebones. There's not much to tag, I don't think.

Notes: there was a lot of interest in this when I made a post. This is not super duper long and a Lil choppy but I wanna see what people think. Lemme know if you like it. If I should continue it. I have a lot of ideas. It's all written and edited on my phone so I'm sorry if it looks bad or mistakes were made.

Series Masterlist

The wind from the sea felt nice on his face. After so many years spent as nothing more than mud and slime, it was nice to feel. Feel anything. Freedom, independence, revenge. His plan to create order and heal the world would come to fruition. Being stuck on a ship with these men was worth that price. They were like bugs. If he wanted to, he could squash them and feel nothing. Though there was one who spoke to him kindly as a mentor would, and there was the ever so slight stirring of emotions he presumed were long dead. The old man was enough to make him question what it was he desired. Did he want to be good? Did he want a fresh start? What about his plans? The desire for order was there, the want to heal the world and bring peace, but would he get that through evil, through deceit and violence? Or could that be obtained another way? He continued to stare over the vast ocean as the wheels in his head turned, and he waged a war inside himself.

"It's beautiful, is it not?" A voice broke through the silence of the night.

He turned sharply, greeted by the image of a young woman. You were beautiful. He noticed it right away. Never had he looked at a human and thought they were beautiful. The thought was usually reserved for elves, but you were different. He could tell just by looking. You were soft, gentle, pure. There was a light to you that permeated all of your features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. We have more food tonight than expected, and you had been on your own so long before finding us. I supposed you might be hungry." You held up a bowl for him, which he accepted with a nod.

"Thank you. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Halbrand."

You smiled softly back at him, giving him your name and taking a few small steps towards him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He watched you. It was curious. Everyone here was gruff and rude, not wanting to help a stranger, yet you brought him a bowl of soup instead of keeping it for yourself. He watched as you looked up at the stars and how they were reflected back in your eyes. Humans didn't often intrigue him, but you did.

He leaned back against the railing of the boat with his arms crossed, but before he could speak to ask his question, you spoke.

"The stars are beautiful, aren't they? The light against the immense darkness. It reminds us that there is light in all things. Even in the darkest of times, there is hope."

"Your people were just slaughtered by orcs. You're on the run. Hope in the stars seems pretty useless." His eyes watched you with keen interest.

"Hope is never useless. Without it, all is lost." The earnestness in your voice further fueled his curiosity.

"And what do you hope for in times like this?"

"A new start. A place to start fresh..."

"Yes," he interrupted, "That is what all hope for, but what do you hope a new place or fresh start will do? What do you want from it?"

"I want a safe place to lay my head. I want to live without shame. I want fresh air and to grow my food and I want music and I want laughter. I want to drink tea with my friends. I want to love and feel the wind on my face. I want happiness. I want peace." You smiled and closed your eyes as you pictured this serene future.

He watched you, his brows furrowed. You were odd, but he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing as of yet.

"You have a lot of this hope. It's almost oozing out of you. I can almost taste it." He took a step towards you. "As if there is no evil out there."

"There is evil, yes, but there is good. Do we despair because there is evil or have hope because there is good? I do not think there is truly anything that is created evil. Evil is only when the good is taken from someone, and if you're able to take it, then it's able to be taken back." Your eyes had opened, and you looked up at him.

"I doubt you'd believe that if you knew the evil I'd done."

"Thousands of years ago, the people of the southlands sided with Morgoth. Our ancestors fought alongside the most evil being to ever exist. Most would say that the things our people did were deplorable and worthy of the worst shame. But I look upon my home, I look upon the people I have grown with, and I do not see evil. The people here, I am but a stranger to them. I have yet to meet most of them, but they took me in, as they did you. If my ancestors were evil, they could not have created such good."

“Whatever evil you did, it can be forgiven. You can do good, be good.” You moved closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. The feeling brought a sense of warmth that he had not felt since before he joined Morgoth, when he went by a different name. His eyes traveled down to where your hand rested, and you dropped it back to your side. He'd found himself missing the feeling.

"Your ancestors did do evil, though. They did plenty of evil things. Just as I have."

"Did they do evil out of the desire to be evil? Or did they do evil to protect those they loved? Were they born that way, destined to be only evil? Were you made evil? Or was it thrust upon you in a moment of hopelessness? Does every being have the capability to do both good and evil?"

He was left stunned at what you said, it took longer than usual for him to come up with a response. He wet his lips, looking over the ocean for a moment before looking at you once more. Your hair was gently blowing in the breeze of the ocean and he found the sight captivating. His intuition told him you were telling the truth, that you believed the words you were saying with your whole being. How could that be? There had to be some darkness that motivated you, that tainted your soul.

Everyone had darkness.

His mind played over the interaction long after it had happened. He wanted to feel that warmth again. You were a puzzle, a mystery. He would not know peace until he figured out what darkness was inside you because surely there had to be something. It was one of the many things that plagued his mind late at night. He watched as you slept peacefully. You were rows and rows down from him, but he could zoom in on your form. He watched your chest rise and fall, the calm of your features. You were a mystery that he had to solve.

This was what was on his mind when the worm attacked. He needed to know you. Even now, he watched as you attempted to help an elderly woman stuck under a beam instead of rushing to safety yourself. He couldn't bring himself to save the old man, but his fingers wrapped around the relic, and as water rushed the ship, he lept over and shielded your body with his.

He couldn't let you die. He had to understand you, to know you, to find out what motivated you, he would find your inner darkness.

And if he couldn't, he'd ruin you instead.

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #halbrand x oc #sauron x oc #rings of power x reader #rings of power fanfiction #trop fanfiction #trop x reader #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #///mine #And Comes Dawn.

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venusbyline · 3 months ago

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Soapy ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 07, oct.

— pairing: Emily Prentiss x co-worker!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: bath sex

— summary: You need to spend some time in the hotel bathtub to distract yourself from your broken heart. Your enemy and co-worker decides to join you.

— word count: 3.2k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 7th day, female!reader, co-worker/rival!Prentiss, bath sex, fingering, breast worship, non-consensual voyeurism, first time having sex with a woman, choking, nipple play, light degradation, praise kink, curse words, sassy!Prentiss, grumpy x sunshine, age gap (older woman/younger woman), sub!reader, dom! Prentiss, canon divergence, minor JJ x Reid, minor JJ x Prentiss, minor reader x Reid, lesbian!Prentiss, bisexual(?)!reader. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

Being paired up with Prentiss was something you always hated during every case. Sometimes you could have sworn Hotch drew the pairs falsely just to see the chaos happening on the team. The rivalry you and Prentiss created when you joined the BAU was the entire team's favorite entertainment.

Emily thought you were incompetent for the job, always too empathetic with everything and everyone, almost being like a sponge and attracting all the people's suffering onto yourself. She thought you were too unprofessional, always clinging to Reid as if you wanted to prove that you were made for each other. The similar personality, the common hobbies, the young age, the overtalking... She could barely spend two minutes by your side without rolling her eyes when you brought up a nerdy topic in the middle of the cases.

And you didn't have a very friendly judgment about Emily either. Grumpy, bossy, her sarcasm beyond measure, the way she attracted the attention of everyone wherever she went. The way even JJ seemed to chase her like a puppy. They complemented each other in a different way, and it wasn't a surprise to you when Morgan made fun of Reid that night, joking about the fact that JJ and Emily had been casually fucking for over a year.

What you took as a damn unnecessary confession, Reid felt like he'd been hit by a truck, swallowing hard as he stuttered and excused himself. The whole attitude was confusing and worrying by itself, but any mere suspicion that had been going on your head over the past months started to make sense when Morgan laughed after Spencer left, muttering something about the young man not knowing how to deal with his pathetic crush for JJ.

At that moment, you broke inside. Holding your ground until you got to your hotel room was one of the hardest things you've ever done. Your legs felt limp and your mind was spinning, a ridiculous urge to drown in your own tears as you lay in bed, sobbing softly into your pillow.

It took almost ten minutes for Emily to finally appear, frowning at the view. "You kidding me? Is there only one bed in this fucking room?" She asked, ignoring your crying and you also ignored her question, burying your face in the pillow with even more pressure than before, letting out a weak scream, mixed with anger, pain and frustration. "Damn, girl... Who broke your heart like that? You're look like a crybaby and you're almost eating our pillows. I can call the room service if you're so hungry. I bet a burger with fries and strawberry's milkshake will be tastier than that."

You just looked up and glared at her. You couldn't decide which was the worst part of all of this: Emily already knowing why you were crying or the fact that she was minimizing the situation. Before you could turn your head away and ignore her again, Emily continued.

"Seriously, are you really broken-hearted just because Reid doesn't like you the same way you like him?" She asked and you felt a pang in your heart.

"Shut up, Prentiss." You muttered with a trembling voice. Surprising you, Emily didn't laugh or even mock. She sighed loudly, mumbling something to herself before sitting on the edge of the bed you would share.

"Look, Spencer's... Complicated." Emily started and it was your turn to roll eyes, finally turning your body so you could face her better. The older agent looked at the neckline of your shirt for a few seconds before composing herself. "I'm serious. There's no point in crying over him right now. It's going to take a while for him to realize what an idiot he's being."

You huffed, crossing your arms while still lying down, looking at her with a mix of indignation and anger. "For liking JJ even though you know she'd rather fuck you?"

Emily's face paled, but she soon recovered, not wanting to show how surprised she was to see you being so direct about the usual fucking between her and the other teammate. "Y-Yes... That too." Emily stuttered in an almost cute way. "But that's not all."

You watched her with eyes still full of tears, however, now there was also confusion and curiosity there. Your brain was in a frenzy, trying to figure out what else she could be talking about.

Emily cleared her throat after a long moment of silence. "You should take a bath right now." She suggested, looking away. "Wipe those teary cheeks and get distracted by Spencer's crush on another girl."

You held back the urge to tell her to fuck off, despite knowing that behind that cold tone of voice, she was right. You urgently needed time to yourself. Maybe using the bathtub in the hotel room wouldn't be so bad after all.

You had been inside the bathtub for more than thirty minutes. The foams were decorating the water and you tried to calm down, but nothing could help much. Every time the image of Spencer invaded your brain, your fertile imagination led you to imagine him having sex with JJ.

You didn't know if she liked men too. All you knew was that JJ had an affair with Emily and Spencer had a crush on JJ. That didn't mean he was sleeping with her. Which was even worse. He could be liking a woman who didn't even like men.

Everything made you feel pathetic.

You tried rubbing your back with the sponge, but all that came out was a weak moan of pain. Your body was so tense that you could barely move your arms back. That would be the worst bath of your life, you were sure of it.

A groan escaped your lips and you leaned back against the tub, hands gripping the edges as you took a deep breath and tried hard to keep your thoughts away from JJ or Reid.

"You're overthinking." A voice was present a few minutes after you closed your eyes.

You were startled by the abrupt sound and also by realizing who owned the hoarse and at the same time sweet voice. "What the hell, Prentiss?" You exclaimed, cowering a little more under the water to avoid her seeing your naked body. "How did you get here?"

The sight of your curves didn't go unnoticed by Emily, a smirk appearing on her lips as she approached with calm steps, shrugging her shoulders. "You're the one who left the door open. I thought it was even an invitation for me to join you." She teased and you rolled your eyes, avoiding eye contact at that moment.

"I would never invite you to take a bath with me." You revealed with a colder voice than Emily was expecting, and her smirk turned into a frown again.

She poked the inside of her cheek with the tip of her tongue before scoffing. "For someone who can barely scrub their back with a sponge, you're being very picky about who can and who can't go into this bathroom with you."

You looked back at her, sighing with frustration and gripping the edges of the bathtub tighter. "Good to know you're creepy enough to watch me this whole time."

Emily laughed, shrugging and moving a little closer, until her tall body was facing your body submerged inside the water. "Oh, yeah. It's a little creepy, I admit. But watching you sponge your little pussy and shudder from such a fucking simple touch was quite a turn on." Her confession made your face redder than a strawberry. You stuttered several times before looking away, pulling yourself upright in the tub as you searched for the fluffy towel you had left somewhere. "Hey, hey, hey! I'm just kidding. Relax, girl." Emily grumbled, rolling her eyes. Her slender hands moved to your shoulders, helping you bend down into the bathtub. You swore you saw her gaze lingering too long on your soapy breasts.

You thought of some things to say, any offense or any question about the real reason she thought invading your bath might be a good idea. You had always hated each other and now she was here, looking at your wet body as if you were a work of art.

"You know, you're not that bad." Emily began, sitting on the stool directly behind the tub. You scoffed and held back from asking if she said the same passive-aggressive praise to JJ too. "I know what you're thinking."

"Do you read minds now, Agent Prentiss?" You tilted your head so you could look at her better. The sight alone made Emily bite her lip to hold back a moan. She could get an incredible glimpse of your breasts.

After clearing her throat to clear her thoughts, Emily argued. "I know you're comparing yourself to JJ."

Your face turned pale at the exactitude of what she was saying and your jaw clenched. You let out a nasal scoff, but your eyes filled with tears and you went back to playing with the bath bubbles.

The silence that emerged in the bathroom was uncomfortable for both of you, and to your surprise, Emily was the first to break it. "I can sponge your back if you want."

Your eyes widened, surprised by the suggestion. Getting to see a less evil side of Prentiss was one of the things you least expected in your entire life. You were so used to the older agent's surly manner and never thought that one day she would invite herself to help you take a bath. As awkward as the situation might be, you thought it best not to tease her, eager to see how she would deal with everything.

As soon as you handed the damp sponge to Emily, she swallowed hard, asking you to sit up straighter so she could do the task properly. The minutes passed like hours, so much so for you, who was sighing at the good feeling of having a decent massage. But also for Emily, who was already starting to regret having suggested it. Every time you sighed, she felt her heart rate increase.

"You shouldn't be sad if Reid doesn't like you." A sigh escaped your lips as soon as you heard Emily's words, feeling your neck tense again. "I'm serious."

You closed your eyes to hold back any vulnerable outbursts you might accidentally let out. So you chose to turn the matter against her. "Aren't you mad at Reid?" The question left her confused, stopping rubbing your back so she could stare at you. "He likes your girlfriend."

The words made Emily chuckle and she returned to focusing on the task, despite continuing to look at you. "JJ is not my girlfriend."

She smirked after your curious face. "What? Why the surprise? Not all the women I fuck are my girlfriends." She ran the sponge down your neck and you gasped, going back to watching the water to distract yourself from the unexpected sting in your pussy. Emily was so focused on your breasts that she didn't even seem to notice how you were sighing heavily at her touches. "JJ's an amazing woman, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now."

"Of course." You scoffed, taking a deep breath as Emily leaned in closer, lowering the foamy sponge to your collarbone, quickly stroking the opening between your breasts. "If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you were trying to have sex with me."

Emily's eyes widened and she stared at you in shock for a moment, but put on a stoic expression before saying. "Maybe." She sponged the spot a second time, enjoying watching how you squirmed at the sensation. "Would you say yes?"

You reflected on the possible pros and cons of all that. You two hated each other like cats and dogs, you could barely be near each other without losing your temper. There was a good chance the sex would be horrible and Emily would go around making fun of you with the rest of the team.

But on the other hand, you were very hurt and frustrated by the discovery of Spencer's feelings about JJ. Any casual sex would be a huge help, even if it was with the most insufferable person in the BAU.

Instead of answering verbally, you tilted your head back further, making Emily's hand slide better over your chest, your skin filling with the pink foam.

"Good girl..." Emily hissed, biting her lip, squeezing the sponge and pressing it into you more firmly. You sighed when Emily passed the object over the tip of your left breast, the gentle touch making your legs twitch in the tub.

Emily did the same with the right breast, dropping the sponge back into the water before looking at you, noting how beautiful you looked with your flushed cheeks and wet soapy breasts. "I lied. You're really quite a vision."

You smiled softly, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you hated me."

A snort escaped Emily's red lips and she ripped off her matching shirt, making you even more embarrassed to see her lack of bra, her heavy breasts so close to your face as she bent down so she could run her fingers over you neck. "I fucking hate you, sweetheart. Don't worry." She purred in your ear, while her hand applied light pressure to your throat. "That's not gonna change just because I'm about to make you cum."

You gasped at the gentle grip, but your focus shifted to her lips, so red and luscious. Emily seemed to notice your desperation, as she soon allowed you to taste them, breaking the distance between you by kissing your lips hungrily.

Then your legs tremble during the kiss. You couldn't tell if it was due to Emily's gentle bites on your lower lip, if it was due to her careful choking on your neck or if it was due to her other slender fingers that were playing with your nipples, twirling the little buds.

"E-Emily..." You moaned her name into the kiss and she chuckled softly.

"Are we on first name terms already? I thought you hated me." She teased, using your own previous words against yourself. "Just relax, sweetheart..."

She finally let go of your neck and you gasped, your lungs grateful for the air. You didn't have time to answer properly, falling silent when she began to grip your soapy breasts, enjoying the mounds and biting her lips. "Fuck... Reid has no idea what he's missing."

You frowned, not wanting to hear anything about Soencer. You wanted to pretend you weren't mad at him. You just wanted to cum and leave to deal with your feelings the next day. Then you moved your hand to Emily's breast, taking advantage of the fact that it was so close to your face. Her breasts were so heavy and beautiful that you moaned just caressing them. You had never slept with a woman before, but you were starting to understand why JJ couldn't look away from Emily's neckline whenever they were in public.

"You like them?" Emily asked with a sigh and you nodded silently, your thumbs playing with her pink nipples. "You wanna put them on your mouth?"

The question was so fucking obvious. Your mouth was watering just thinking about those delicious mounds on your lips. "God, yes... Please."

Emily scoffed at the way you begged, but did as you asked. She leaned over until her breasts were right above your face. Your underwater body arched upwards and you began licking her pointed nipple, hearing her soft moans. She gasped as you sucked on one breast and switched to the other, looking desperate like a hungry baby. "Such a good mouth..." Emily growled, looking at your body arched in the bathtub, the sight of your pussy finally appearing made her moan even more, bouncing her breast on your mouth to encourage you even more. She ran one of her hands down your belly, watching your body tremble and shiver until she touched the soft hairs on your pussy.

You squirmed slightly, removing the nipple from your lips so you could moan loudly at the unexpected sensation. The water from the bathtub made your pussy even more slippery as she rubbed your clit. “That feels so good…” You pursed your lips, trying to hold on to the tub as Emily increased the speed of the rubbing.

"I know, sweetheart... You're creaming my fingers." Emily whispered mockingly, using her free hand to press you back onto her breasts, moaning at the feeling of your warm mouth. "Have you done this before?" While you nibbled on the soft flesh of her mounds, you muttered a denial. "Fucking in the bathtub or fucking with a woman?"

Your cheeks turned red again and you opened your legs wider, allowing Emily's fingers to move down from your clit to your opening, one finger entering inside you. "Both." You muttered and she nodded, biting back a scoff that wanted to escape. She fingerfucked you a little harder, adding one more and rubbing her thumb over your pleasure spot. "You're so tight..."

You didn't know how to thank her for the praise, so you focused on sucking her nipple, closing your eyes so you could whimper muffledly every time she increased the speed of the movements, water starting to splash out of the bathtub and making a mess in the hotel's bathroom.

When Emily started fucking you faster, you felt your mind going into a state of ecstasy mixed with agony. You never felt anything like this before with another person, the boys you sporadically had sex with didn't seem to be able to fuck rough and good the same time, it was always very dull or very aggressive to the point of being painful for you. There was no middle ground. But Prentiss seemed to find the perfect formula. As you felt her add a third finger, you tried to wriggle away from her touch, the stretch now being equivalent to a thick cock.

"Just relax, sweetheart..." Emily tried to calm you down, keeping you steady with her other hand. You moved away from her chest, making a saliva noise when one of her breasts escaped from your red swollen lips. The worried look on your face softened her. "Trust me, okay?"

You wanted to defend yourself, to say that you weren't scared by the intense stretching inside your pussy, but rather by the pleasure unlike anything you had ever felt. It was all too confusing and new. "It's so good..." You practically sobbed and she furrowed for a few seconds, realizing why you were trying to distance yourself from her fingers.

"Oh, sweetheart... No cock fucked that pretty little pussy of yours so good like that?" She teased and despite knowing she would make fun of you for the rest of your life, you shook your head. "Poor little girl..." Emily scoffed, kissing your forehead and keeping to fuck you, your walls clenching around her three fingers as your clit throbbed from the friction her thumb was causing. “Enjoy it, sweetheart. You'll realize that it's not worth crying for a man if you can distract yourself by cumming in my hand."

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

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readychilledwine · 8 months ago

Text

Pieces of You pt 4

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected.

Warnings- Mourning, loss of a partner, loss of a friend, loss of parent, babies and the complications that come with raising them, slight neglect, slight angst to wrap it up before Fluff and smut begin, same editing warning (friend is arc reading, Liz will catch any other mistakes when she rereads this with fresh eyes)

A/n - I promised they wouldn't be a part long. What you're all waiting for will happen in the next part. 🫣

✨️ Series Masterlist ✨️ Rhysand Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

This nanny was not you.

You had the left house, as promised, Monday morning. You hadn't taken a single dress Rhys had bought his Little Mor, a single one of her toys, you didn't even take the blanket he had paid for with her name stitched into soft buttery fabric.

He watched as Nyx fought the female he had hired. He would only latch to her for a few moments before wailing, piercing the now all too quiet home with his confusion and frustration. This nanny was not you, and Nyx clearly was not going to accept her.

He had hoped by the afternoon Nyx would have been hungry enough to just latch, to cave, but that was not the case. The young heir was crying again, frustrated and hungry as he slowly wore himself out into another unscheduled nap. Rhysand zoned out the noise, his mind now on you, on the second chance of love, devotion, happiness he allowed to walk out the door.

Nyx had taken to you. He was a momma’s boy the second he was about to show preference. But Morwenna, Morwenna was Rhysand's. His own breathing filled the void of silence that had fall over the house, and as he stared at his paperwork, tears began to fall, he just hoped your mind was on him, or at least Nyx, as well.

His mind went to his Little Mor, his sweet girl. Her eyes always lit up for him, shrieks of joy and excitement were common in Rhysand's office.

You sighed and sunk into the couch, Azriel beside you as you did. “Come home,” he had been begging for the past two hours for you to see reason, to forgive Rhysand. He had explained what happened at dinner, watching as you slowly fell apart all over again. “He didn't mean a single word. I can tell.”

Azriel swallowed before standing, “I will be back. Kiss my niece for me when she wakes up. I'll come back to sing her to sleep tonight.”

You shook your head, leaning back into the couch as you did. “It felt like he did, Azriel. It felt like he just-” you stopped yourself from crying, not willing to hurt over some male who so easily threw you away. “He said I needed to stop acting like Nyx's mom.” You watched Azriel's face fall. Watched as his sun-kissed tan skin paled. “Then tried to tell me I could not take Morwenna with me.”

Screaming. Screaming was all Azriel heard as he walked into the new Riverhouse. Rhys was pacing the floor, bouncing Nyx as the sun fell and Cassian stood there, eyes watering and wide in panic. He took a spot next to Cassian, sharing a look of concern with his brother. “He refuses to latch on to his nanny,” Cassian's voice cracked. “And Madja keeps trying to tell Rhysand it's just going to be an adjustment period, but Nyx is hungry.”

Azriel nodded, mind flashing back to the subtle looks of pain on your face as you so much as moved or held his Little Mor. “And he won't just suck up his pride and take him to y/n?”

Cassian sighed. “He said he can't do that after what he has done. That there is no fixing the hurt he caused.” Anger had leaked into Cassian's soft voice. “I do not get how she can do this to Nyx.”

“You would do it to if you mate ignored your bond.” The weight of those words hit Cassian's chest, screaming in his like an alarm. “What.”

“Y/n and Rhysand are mates,” Azriel went to Rhys, stroking Nyx's back. “Let me take him to her?”

Rhys shook his head, ignoring the tears falling at his son's frustration. “I just need him to adjust.”

“Starving is not adjusting, Rhysand. It is neglect.” The High Lord turned to Azriel, glaring hard. “I know what you said to her. Go there, apologize, and have her feed him at the very least. She loves him.”

As if it was a spell place to curse Rhysand, Nyx must have caught the faint scent of you lingering to Azriel's soft t shirt. The heir calmed significantly, reaching for the material. “Give me your shirt so I can lay him down and we can discuss this.”

Azriel obeyed, hoping just the scent of you would be enough to give him a small nap while Azriel convinced Rhysand to let him take Nyx to you. Just for the night.

Rhysand sighed, laying Nyx down with Azriel's shirt underneath him. He would have been lying if anyone asked him if he had savored that soft scent clinging to the shirt. He walked out of the room and hardly made it 5 steps before the wailing began again. Rhys pulled the bottle filled with the mixture Madja had made from his pocket world before going back in.

Nyx was inconsolable. He had spent the better portion of the morning crying, screaming, refusing to sleep.

Rhysand picked him up, praying to anyone who would listen and wishing on every star that Nyx would just take this bottle. As soon as he latched, Rhysand watched his flawless little face make a deeper scowl before pushing the bottle away. You were Nyx's sole thought. Your smell, your skin under his, your voice. The piercing wail had Azriel and Cassian running up the stairs as soon as they heard.

Rhysand knew Nyx didn't fully understand the noise about to come from his mouth. Nyx didn't know it expressed exactly what he wanted, nor what the sound would mean. He didn't know that it would make his father crawl back to you less than 12 hours after you had left. The heir released a strangled cry over and over again of one of the only sounds he knew to make, "Ma. Ma. Ma!”

"No," Rhysand choked down the tears that were getting ready to fall. "He's crying for y/n. He's crying for his mama.” Rhys didn't wait for them, he didn't even say goodbye, he winnowed into your living room. You were curled up on the couch, instantly awake by the sounds of Nyx's crying.

"Is he crying for Feyre?" Cassian went to take a tentative step forward, just for Rhysand to stand and move quickly out of the room.

Rhysand didn't even have to ask. He didn't have to beg. You took the heir instantly and pulled him to you, placing him in his favorite spot to eat.

His tears had triggered Morwenna, though, and soon her soft cries filled the air. Rhysand ran to her. He ran to his daughter and cradled her tight to his chest. Her bright eyes instantly looked up at him, a smile taking place of where a deep frown was. “Hi baby girl,” her giggle instantly changed his mood. He walked her to the living room, watching as she instantly because to smile and shriek at the sight of Nyx.

“Give him a little bit, baby,” you didn't even look up from the tiny illyrian, stroking his brow as he ate. “He is very hungry and mama needs him to eat.” Rhys sat across from you, holding Little Mor tight to him. “She's been making d noises all day. To me, to Azriel, to no one. Just “dah duh deh” all day.”

“She missed her daddy,” Rhys held her up, rocking her gently side to side, “didn't you Morwenna. You missed daddy? 13 hours apart is much too long, isn't it, my little darling.” You shook your head, fighting the smile as Wen giggled at Rhysand.

You felt your heart skip a best as he kissed her cheeks and then her tummy. Rhysand was a wonderful father, and watching him in this element, this area of self-doubt, he had made all feelings of anger melt away. He looked to you instantly, claws gently tapping on the fortress of your mind before you allowed him in. “Let me take us home?” Home, the word replayed in your mind before you nodded, holding a hand to him. Home sounded so good.

He winnowed you two back to the Riverhouse, making Wen giggle even more at the starlight that surrounded you four. You walked in and stopped dead in your tracks, eyes Azriel up and down. “Where are your clothes?”

Azriel looked shameless, muscled torso on display as he held Cassian in a headlock. “I'm choking out Cassian and your concern is my lack of a shirt?”

Cassian raised a hand to you, face slightly red. His eyes had a hint of guilt in them as he tapped Azriel's abs. “Y/n,” Cassian moved to guide you to the couch, smiling at a still latched Nyx and then moved Rhysand to be next you. “I want to apologize.” You knit your brows at him as he sat and Azriel glared.

“I made some unfair statements without consideration for you and Rhysand. I did not think about how my words would affect your relationship with each other, or how I cheapend the new mating bond you two share.”

Cassian looked raw. Like months of build up and emotion hit him. “We prepared you know? We knew she was going to die, we begged and prayed for a solution, and just when hope came it crashed like a tidal wave. Nesta and I won't even touch each other. The guilt-”

“You have nothing to be guilty for, Cass,” Rhys interrupted him. “I'm the one who had sex with her. I'm the one who-”

“It was an accident,” you spoke softly, pulling the focus to you. “Feyre's death was a tragic mistake and accident. You all did not know the extent of her shifting magic. You didn't know it temporarily changed her that deeply.”

Rhys seemed love drunk as he handed you Little Mor, kissing both babes before you walked away. He was silent until you left, eyes trailing your body. “Cassian, I love her.”

Rhys sobbed softly, hearing words from you many had whispered before felt so different. Like a soothing balm over a wound, slowly healing it. “Cassian, Nesta did not know that the outcome of her bargaining with a God would be a cruel trick. There's no guilt to be had. She gave everything back, made herself the Cauldron’s servant. She was too young to read those unspoken lines.” Nyx finally let go, deep asleep in your arms. “I'm going to go lay him down. There is nothing for me to forgive because you did not intentionally harm me, Cassian, but maybe you three should speak.”

“I know.”

“That doesn't mean I never loved Feyre. Nor that I've forgotten her.”

A second “I know” broke through Cassian's lips, his shoulders falling as it did. “I miss her.”

Rhys felt the tears welling, felt them falling before he could will them away. “I do too. Every fucking day I miss her. I miss her hair, her laugh, her voice. I miss her correcting me.” He watched Cassian fall more, mourning the sister he had lost openly for the first time.

“But when I'm with y/n, it hurts less. When I see y/n smile, I feel more whole again. When I hear her laugh, I feel like I'm alive again. When I see her with Nyx, when I see his smile when she's holding him or playing with them, I feel like Feyre is here, nudging me towards y/n.”

Azriel's voice came, soft and slow. “Feyre would want you to move on, Rhysand. She would have wanted you to find happiness. She would probably fight all of us for being this sad.”

The thought of that made Cassian genuinely smile. His eyes sparkling with fond memories of Feyre Cursebreaker stomping her feet when he'd beat her during a sparring match. “Her and Feyre both do this thing, maybe it's an artistic thing, where they look at things really close and back away slowly.”

Rhys started laughing immediately knowing what his brother meant. “Y/n did it with one of my outfits. She said I looked great as long as she stayed 5 feet away.”

Azriel put a hand on Cassian's shoulder. “This is a roundabout way of us telling you we support you, Rhysand. We support you and y/n.”

“Two mates,” Cassian said slowly. “Imagine having two mates, Az. Two females that you get to love unconditionally and annoy whenever you'd like.”

Rhys and Azriel shared a silent look, a soft, "Not yet” coming through to Rhysand's mind. “We will leave you and y/n alone to talk.”

“There won't be much talking,” Rhysand stood slowly. “I've always been better at expressing my emotions physically.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @chxosangxl @dreamlandreader

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @novalovi @rachelnicolee @sleepylunarwolf @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @bunnyredgirl @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @demonicbusiness @blushingfawnsposts @bookishbroadwaybish @littlestw01f @miadialila @golden-canyon @fxckmiup

@batii-skies @emma-andrea1 @buckystevelove @slut4acotar @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @awkardnerd @throneofshadows @sevikas-whore @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @why4anne @brieflyclassymortal @aspenger @nayaniasworld @nyxbranwenn

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #rhys x y/n #rhys x you #rhys x reader #rhys fic #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand fic #acotar fanfiction

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e3rt · 8 days ago

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JEFF the KILLER rewrite by Ekatlani

Hi everyone, I want to start by thanking everyone who has supported my work so far and waited patiently for this post.

Alongside that I want to thank @gh0ulkitty for the amazing editing they provided throughout this. Without all the community support and help I don't think I would have completed this project to the standard it is.

Thanks to all my mutuals and discord friends for the feedback and assistance as well

enjoy!

Jeff the Killer

By EkatLani

♱

Pig shit. Pig shit, blood and wet earth. That is how Liu would describe his childhood home; a plethora of vile stenches which permeated the air, briefly interrupted by conversation, boredom and family dinners. His brother, too, who sat perched on the wooden fence nasally inhaling the exhumed smoke he periodically released from his dry lips.

It helped with the smell, he insisted, although Liu had an inkling that was just an excuse.

The eldest stood, ankle deep in a slurry of swine excrement, feed and damp dirt, attempting to shovel the bulk of it into a wheelbarrow. Rain had swept through the farm last night, emulsifying the flurry of foulness into the most wretched of chores. The air was still bitterly chill, both brothers wearing heavy layers under their raincoats to stave off the assault of backsplash from the shovel. The heavy thunk of the mud splattering every which way as it landed against the aged metal.

Jeff seemed unbothered, laughing as Liu had groaned awake when the smell carried through the crack of their bedroom window and into the still dark room.

“Cheer up, soldier, no school today!” He had responded wildly while combing his black dyed hair into place, his first cigarette of the day hanging lazily between his bared teeth.

Jeff, for as long as Liu could remember, woke up at the crack of dawn, far before the rest of the house. To do what? Liu didn’t know really, probably to jerk off uninterrupted. He was always showered, dressed, awake before even the laborer that was their father, who frequently pestered Liu for his sleeping habits. He compared him to their mother with a nasty snarl on his lips every time.

Liu had rubbed the sleep from his eyes and, in one wide sweep, he tossed the blanket from his body, slithering out of bed.

His brows furrowed as he sighed deeply, “Fuck this.” Before long, there they were, taking turns cleaning up nature's gift while the aforementioned swine serenaded them with squeals. The brevity of missing school was a small mercy, at least...

Jeff’s boots squelched into the ground as he landed next to his brother. Puberty had been kind to him in some ways. Despite being a year younger, at seventeen, he stood a solid head above the older. Lithe with corded muscles whose strength betrayed his appearance, he was a lot more durable than he looked.

“Pass it over sissy, before I burn my lips.” He spat the butt into the ground, reaching his pale, spindly hand outward. Liu released his grip on the shovel and took his station leaning against the fence, which shifted from bearing his weight.

Jeff may be taller, but Liu was more compact, bearing the physicality of labor from a young age. With calloused hands now tucked into the pockets of his coat, plastic crinkling sharply, he exhaled, smirking at Jeff’s remark.

He took it in stride instead of catching the bait. If he did, it wouldn’t be long until the two were dragged back inside with busted lips and scabby knees. Undoubtedly with hungry stomachs, sent to bed dinnerless.

The younger sibling hunched over the shovel, using his heel to press the sharp end further into the dirt.

“Do you think we’ll finish this today?” Liu inquired, voice hoarse.

“Oh, definitely not.” Jeff responded jovially.

“Ugh, I fucking hate this.”

“Yeah,” Jeff heaved, leaning against the shovel, “Want to do something else?”

“And get our ass beat? Smart move.”

“You’re no fun sometimes.” He decided, dropping the shovel into the slurry, trudging off unceremoniously into the nearby shrubbery. Liu shook his head and continued the work, not bothering to follow him. He’ll reappear before dinner, regardless of what he wasted his time doing.

The farm was an empty open space graced with a selection of pigs, ripe for slaughter, surrounded by thick foliage. The smell he could handle, the shit he could handle, but the blood? Pig squeals sounded awfully human at the best of times, and the panicked screams before death were deafening—a job Liu just couldn’t do. A job Jeff was kept from, if only for his own sake. But no, no slaughter for him.

Liu’s senseless meandering in his own mind was interrupted by the bellowing voice of Mr. Woods, “Alright! Boys, dinner. Inside!” He clapped all the while, beckoning them. Liu planted the shovel and dragged himself inside.

Jeff didn’t come home until after dinner, the likes of which was heavy and uncomfortable. Liu could tell his father was waiting, just waiting for a reason to blow up.

Liu tried to be inconspicuous even as he swatted flies away from his face. As if a sudden move would reveal his inability to complete his chores.

His mother, who was still in the kitchen as the two men ate, insisted on cooking with the window open. Despite the weather, or smell or insects, the narrow window would stay open, and she would gaze out. Placid to the world as she cooked, humming unidentifiable tunes.

The food was tasteless in the dense air of tension, holding Liu’s head as he fixated on the plate. Mr. Woods didn’t speak, open mouth chewing throughout the evening, slurping at his lukewarm beer. The sun had long set when Jeff had stumbled through the door, and Liu braced for the pot to bubble over. Spill its turbulent fluids throughout the home.

His mother stood in place, peaking at the scene from beneath her curtain of dark hair. Still, she made no move to interject, remaining a silent observer in her own home. Mr. Woods said nothing, eerily still, and for a moment, Jeff simply stood in the doorway.

The brothers shared a concerned and confused glance, weary. Cautiously, Jeff broke the pause by walking further, his scruffy Great Pyrenees a few steps behind. The dog strolled lazily, tongue lolling out and white fur muddled from the weather.

Jeff flinched as a bottle suddenly shattered against the door behind him, exploding beer and glass shards everywhere.

“Get that filthy fucking dog out of my house!” Their father roared, sending the dog scrambling away in a panic, back to the fields. Jeff stood, frozen, and Liu hurried to interject. But when his father looked him dead in the eyes, Liu looked back down at his half full plate.

“Good job today boy.” Mr. Woods drawled, the words feeling harsh and unearned. Liu briefly glanced up and nodded.

Mr. Woods then turned back to the boy who still stood by the door and nodded toward the stairs.

Both brothers knew what that meant. Jeff all but ran up the stairs, leaving the rest of the family in a familiar silence. Liu struggled to eat the rest of his plate, casting furtive glances at his father all the while.

Mr. Woods sat back and snapped his fingers for another drink, the wall still damp from his wrath.

Liu excused himself and hurried to bed, laying wide eyed until Jeff returned to their room later that night. He was limping, calves branded with red welts.

“I don’t know why you do it to yourself, Jeff.” He whispered into the darkness of the room.

“I don’t know why you do fucking nothing, Liu.” He rasped, voice dry and sharp, accusatory. And Liu sat with his guilt for the rest of the night.

If Jeff had to describe school, it would be; boring, boring and boring. As were most things. Incredibly boring and uninspired.

He preferred staying on the farm, with the pigs and his brother and his dog and all the things he could do with no one giving a shit. All things that were his and his alone.

He remembered the day he realized he hated school– he must’ve been six or seven? He had approached a girl on the playground who was swinging from monkey bar to monkey bar, small and pudgy with flushed cheeks and twin braids.

Other kids compared her to a pig, making snorting noises at her until she teared up and ran away. Jeff liked her, Jeff liked pigs.

So, when he went up to her, he attempted to jump for the bar next to the one she was grappling, hoping she would like him too. Give him her attention, and he could see her do something other than cry and scream, something no one else got to see her do.

But the little girl kicked at him.

Jeff planted into the sand, brows furrowing in anger as she yipped at him to leave her alone. In retrospect, she probably assumed the boy meant to chase her off the bars and ostracize her like the others, and maybe now Jeff would have responded differently.

However, his frustration at the rejection was more emotional than his young body could contain. How could she, fat and short, push away the opportunity to have a friend like him? Who was much taller than the other boys and could easily make them leave her alone. Was she stupid?

He figured she must be and grabbed her by the ankle, yanking her down into the sand with him. Anger soothed as she hit the earth below.

She scraped both her knees, wobbly and unable to break the fall, her forehead following. Scratched up and teary eyed, she ran to the teachers, and for the rest of the year Jeff had to be sat in a different class from her. Which greatly frustrated him.

So yeah, he hated school, and it was very boring.

Except for Mrs. Goelet, who he found vehemently entertaining. From her uncertain stuttering when the class wouldn’t listen, to her tired crow’s feet– he found her so entertaining.

When the class would boisterously yell at her and ignore every reprimand, he would sit and listen intently. Watching her and her brown hair and long colourful skirts she would stride around in. He would stay after class and pester her with a million questions, knowing she was too reserved to call out his deceitful behavior.

Yeah, that was his too, he decided.

He shuffled through the halls, easily spotting his brother over the sparse sprinkling of peers. He walked right past him, red welts littering his calves with a stinging reminder of the previous night.

Fucking brutal. His dad was a total sadist, holding both his brother and mom on a tight leash. If Jeff had it his way, he’d turn that wannabe into pig feed before the sun set.

Even if he ignored Liu, he was glad it was him over his older brother. Liu would’ve sobbed all night, from either the pain or the humiliation.

Instead, Jeff walked right out to the area behind the gymnasium, where the ass crack end of the school faced more thick shrubbery. Around this turn of weather, you could find all sorts of birds plastered along the bush floor, pecking at the worms that writhed to the surface.

Jeff sat on a tree stump, beckoning a plump pigeon closer with a writhing insect held between his fingers. Pigeons were particularly trusting birds, Jeff had found, easily convinced by food. Sort of like pigs.

The pigeon twitched its little face side to side, hopping closer. When it got close enough, Jeff lashed his arm out, spooking the bird. It frantically tried to flail from his clenched grip.

During the struggle, Jeff heard a small snap, watching as it flopped to the ground. Flapping only with one wing now, broken. Damn. He sighed and stood, leaving the animal to scurry off into the thicket. It would adapt, pigeons were like that, but he didn’t want a pigeon that couldn’t fly. For his birthday he had asked for a birdhouse, but his father had laughed and called him a sissy for liking birds.

Well, Jeff thought his dad was sissy for picking on his wife. So, he conceded to getting his own birds one way or another. However, they die easily from “stress”, Liu said.

“You can’t keep it in a shoe box for fucks sake.” He had tossed the limp bird out their bedroom window, abandoned to the elements of nature below. He had discovered it after it began to smell foul, “You’re seriously too old for this shit.”

Meandering about the woods, he kicked at the ground in boredom until a voice had interrupted his aimlessness.

Multiple voices, approaching from the school. Jeff’s face twisted in recognition, jaw ticking. Randy, the only one whose name he bothered remembering because– compared to the others– he was the only one of any note.

Inexplicably cruel in a way Jeff couldn’t emulate, kind of cool when he wasn’t slobbering over his words to spit them out in time. Randy, along with a group of others, emerged from between some trees, pausing when his eyes landed on Jeff. He smiled like he was fighting a laugh and tapped the pudgier boy on his left.

“Does anyone else smell shit?” He approached, a crooked grin on his face.

“Randell.” Jeff nodded back at him, not retreating as the foxy haired boy closed the distance between them.

One of the girls was looking at Jeff, and he quickly recognized her as Mrs. Goelet’s daughter. They had the same nose and slender neck. He bit back a smile at her, but she simply looked at Randy apprehensively.

Randy was smiling at him with his wolf-like and crooked teeth, “Why didn’t you invite me out here? Aren't we best friends?” The group behind him chuckled, passing glances at each other. Jeff didn’t get the joke.

“I’ll let you know next time. Since you want to see me so bad.” He meant it as a dig, implications slathered in insult. But really, he meant it. Maybe one day he could show Randy his pig farm, then he’d know how bad pig shit really smelt.

Randy grabbed him by the arm, forced joviality forgotten, tight lipped as he seethed out, “Who the fuck would want to go anywhere near you?” The group behind were looking on, hungrily, like a pack of hyenas waiting for their turn.

Jeff was on the ground in seconds, legs buckling, Randy towering above him with clenched fists. Someone yelled something, a plea or sneer. He couldn't discern which among the cacophony of jeers and insults hurled at him.

Randy leaned over Jeff's silhouette, spitting as he spoke, “Piss off, faggot!”

Jeff stood back up, dusting himself off, shoulder checking Randy as he walked away. He passed that girl again, who kept her head down in shame as he stared at her. Reminded him of Liu.

Jeff didn’t know who did it at first, but someone had kicked the back of his knee. Clad in dark baggy jeans they couldn’t see the still aggravated lesions beneath the fabric. Fiery pain undulated from the contact, sharp and unrelenting.

On impulse, he struck, whipping around elbow first and a crunch echoed among the foliage. Writhing in the dirt, clutching his must-be broken nose as pained whimpers left him, was the large kid Randy had taped earlier.

The kid—Troy, he discovered from Randy’s exclamation– was staring at him with a mixture of fear and anger.

Jeff stared back, his elbow smeared with blood, fingers buzzing. His throat constricted with cold, insistent excitement. He was angry, sure, but this was something. Moments like this made the dull repetitive drawl of school worthwhile.

A dull pain radiating up his torso snapped him out of his glare. A rock clattered to the ground beside him. He watched it skid to a halt in the dirt. Someone had thrown a rock at him.

Whipping his head back up, his eyes landed on a raw-boned skinhead kid with gritted teeth.

He was all knees and elbows, holding another rock in hand, standing just behind Randy. The group of kids mirrored his savage expression, an array of disgust and hatred. Okay, Jeff soothed internally, you can’t take all of them.

Searching for an escape, he landed on utilizing his coltish limbs to get the fuck out of there, back burning with the heat of Randy's glare. However, his concern likely outweighed his anger, Randy didn’t give chase. Still, he found ample opportunity to shout after Jeff.

“You’re done Woods! You’re fucking done!”

Jeff sprinted, overwhelmed with adrenaline, his chest tight with exertion. He ran all the way home, not stopping once.

It was a trek. Normally, Liu drove them to and from school in his pickup. For as long as Jeff could remember anyway, Liu would often spiel on and on about how bad the commute was before he got his hands on the beat-up thing. Cold sweat trickling down his spine, he opted to avoid the leering wooden house with peeled paint and deck caved in on one side.

Instead, he ran straight to the pig pen, ducking his head into the squealing solitude.

Maymay had squirming piglets, which paused their suckling to stare at him restlessly, clutching closer to their indifferent mother. She was used to him. The consequence of being barred from slaughter meant the pigs didn’t fear him much.

Their squealing died down, a whine and huff sounding from the back of the pen. His dog, roused from the commotion, stood lazily and inched closer to him with an eager tail. Jeff clutched the hound tightly, allowing him to fall asleep clutched in his grasp.

He was shaking, he realized, his flesh humming from adrenaline. Unlike birds, people don't stop after you crack them. The birds just hate you, and he doubted they’d come back if he left out feed. Chest twisting, he cried out in frustration, causing the dog to stir awake and lick his hand in appeasement.

All this energy, all this want and need, and he had nowhere to put it.

Liu didn't even fight him anymore, no matter what he said, as their father had forced him into fearful resignation long ago. Randy was something, though, something on the precipice he couldn't reach because they all huddled together like scared animals. It’s not like Randy couldn’t put up a good fight alone, so what’s with all the people?

“Always, always.” He muttered into dusty fur, “It’s not fair, never goes my way!” His voice peaked, the welts on his legs painfully prevalent.

The piglets squealed at his tantrum, only serving to further his frustration, jealousy curdling in his stomach. Piglets could do as they please, drink themselves stupid and scream without repercussions. Until their slaughter, which Jeff was denied the privilege of. One piglet, he took liberty with one piglet—he just wanted to know if they all sounded the same. Now, the slaughter stained him, and fuck his hands were still buzzing.

He must have rocked back and forth in that pen for hours until a stocky figure ducked in alongside him. He sighed in defeat when he saw his brother. Liu hooked his fingers harshly through Jeffs shirt collar, dragging him out, murmuring that he stank. The sun was setting now, casting long, intimidating shadows from the tree line.

His brother all but tossed him fully clothed into the shower, turning on the water that was always cold by the evening.

Mud, sweat and feed melted from the persistent spray of water. Jeff shook fiercely as the stream soaked his hair over his face, staring down at the swirling stream of muck sinking into the drain. Jeff felt pulled toward that dark cavern, but his brother lifted him out. He always did, when Jeff strayed too far from the beaten path, it was Liu who corralled him back to normality.

“Mom got a call from school.” Liu’s face was stern, “Was told to get you, been looking for hours.”

Jeff hugged himself under the water, “I like the pen.” He shrugged.

“Gross.” Liu chided, “Thought you grew out of that.”

“I wanted my dog.”

Liu rolled his eyes at that, exasperated, “Broken nose, Jeff. Family wants us to pay.”

Jeff just snorted, making Liu raise his brows. He rolled his tongue under his bottom lip, visibly angry, and he threw his hands up, “Alright, fine. Y’know what? Keep being a freak with your fucking pigs and fucking dog.”

He stomped away, and Jeff’s hand twitched after him. He should apologize, should take some responsibility, really, but he didn’t want to. He said nothing, and with his hand braced on the bathroom door, Liu turned one more time.

“Jeff, I graduate at the end of the year. I want my own life. I won’t always be here to clean up your messes.” he slammed the door, leaving Jeff to clean himself up before supper.

They didn’t speak to each other for a week, but to Jeff, it might as well have been months. In a way, Liu was right, Jeff’s perpetual boredom continuously led to him getting tangled in trouble. But it wasn’t his fault everything was so under stimulating, so predictable.

Sitting in class, he tuned back in, catching himself staring at the neck of the girl in front of him. Mrs. Goelet’s daughter; he should really learn her name.

She was taller than most girls, and Jeff noticed she slouched often. Maybe she was insecure over her height? Jeff never understood women’s insecurities.

When his mother would pester him about her appearance, he was baffled.

‘Do I look fat? Am I beautiful?’ she’d query with distant eyes as she would dress up for his father, desperate for Jeff's approval. He’d sit on the edge of his bed while she tried on outfit after outfit, awaiting his commentary with bated breath. The one time she’d asked Liu, he’d brushed her off, not interested in the plight of womanhood.

Jeff, however, was honest...always.

Even when the corners of her eyes crinkled in hurt at his remarks, Mrs. Woods always came to him.

“I only ever wanted a girl...” she confessed in a drunken stupor one night, her clothes strewn about the bedroom floor and her makeup smeared haphazardly around her face. Immediately making a then seven-year-old Jeff promise to never tell a soul.

She had wrapped her hair for the night taking her Valium with shaking hands, putting her flask back under the bedside table. Jeff never told; he liked knowing something about her no one else did.

He concluded the girl's slouch was a silly insecurity, she would look much better standing tall. The line from the part of her hair to the nape of her neck was disrupted by the poor posture.

At this point, it was bothering him. He flicked the loose lead of his pencil at her, causing her to whip around with a scorned look on her face that quickly softened to embarrassment upon seeing her assailant's identity. She smiled sheepishly and turned back around; Jeff threw the remainder of his pencil at her.

“What?” She hissed in frustration.

“Go with me?”

Jane was pleasant like her mother, if not a carbon copy of her save her choice of dress. Often dressed in dark regalia with lace and smokey eyeliner. She followed him like a dog to the back of the gymnasium, fiddling with her thumbs, anticipating.

She sat on the stump he was on last time he’d come out here, tucking her skirt beneath herself when Jeff pointed to it. She seemed to be waiting for something, as if she expected something from Jeff.

In the awkward tension, she broke the silence, “I’m sorry about last time.”

She spoke quickly, and when receiving no response beyond a quick look, she stuttered out, “I—its...I don’t like Randy.” She explained, shifting uncomfortably.

Still, Jeff didn’t dignify her with a response, causing her words to spill out uncontrollably. “I don’t know why I hung out with him. I don’t anymore—I don't know, I thought he was cool. Clearly, he’s not, I mean he’s a bully and I know that now and,” She took a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

Before she could continue, Jeff decided it was his turn to speak.

“Jane,” He stated plainly, “I know you’re a good girl.”

That made her skin itch; however, she tried to ignore the feeling. Jeff couldn’t mean any harm; she knew he was a bit...different. His accent a mix of the local western drawl and Eastern European inflections, he often spoke in odd and, at times, disconcerting ways.

Jane would chalk it up to cultural differences, as her mom always told her to be nice to everyone. Even if they seemed different.

Because of her kind nature, she had been sat next to Randy for most of the year. The teachers assumed she would be a good influence on him. He was cruel, but popular somehow. So when she was invited to hang out with them at lunch, she accepted.

Her morals reached a crossroads when the boy she was meant to help ended up attacking someone–Jeff– unprompted. Jane decided she preferred Jeff’s company.

Jeff, who was now rustling around in the bushes, back turned to the girl. She awkwardly tucked her hair behind her ear, “Hey, Jeff...” She looked around the trees, the environment blending into an endless ocean of vegetation. The world felt hazy as alarm bells began ringing in her ears, “What are we doing out here?”

He looked at her this time, halting his motion to smile toothily, “I want to show you something.”

He whispered like it was a secret. Glee dancing in his tone as he returned to the rustling.

He grabbed something from the bushes, causing Jane to lean forward in curiosity, brows knitted together. He covered most of it with his jumper, but the foul smell was pungent. Jane wrinkled her nose.

She snarled a bit as Jeff approached closer, but her curiosity beckoned her to stay. As Jeff unfurled his arms, Janes face twisted into vile detest at what lay in his hands. Nausea roiled through her body in sickening waves at the sight.

Bloated, leaking puss with cloudy eyes, was a deceased piglet Jeff cradled delicately. Its skin looked rubbery, dull, and for a moment, Jane tried to convince herself it was some disturbed art piece. But the smell was undeniable.

The stench of death hung heavily in the air, smothering her. She gagged and then doubled over, dry heaving and sputtering out bile.

Jeff stood motionless, watching her, unflinching. Jane looked up through her lashes at him, panting, but he just looked back at her with no change in his expression. Still holding the deceased pig.

“God,” she sputtered, acid in her throat, “put it away! What’s wrong with you!”

Jeff’s lips twitched with a laugh, “I did, I just took it back out.”

“You’re fucking sick, stay away from me.” She rasped, eyes burning from the acidity in her throat, stumbling away from him in a hurry.

His smile faltered for a moment, “They sound different.”

“What?”

“When they die, they all sound different.”

Jane did not like Jeff anymore, and she went home early. Too afraid to tell anyone what she saw, telling her mom it was just a stomach bug.

Jeff hopped into his brother's car with a fat smile on his face. Liu scoffed, refusing to break his vow of silence, and the two drove home wordlessly. The towns' structures became few and far between the closer they got to home.

Liu rolled down the windows at some point, side eyeing his brother occasionally, nose crinkled in disgust. Jeff had his gaze transfixed on the open road, shifting in his seat restlessly. If the two were talking, Liu would surely question the sudden excitement oozing from Jeff.

Jeff's enthusiasm remained through the duration of dinner, uncaring for the flies that landed periodically on the meat and beet soup. Popping the insects between his teeth as he chewed.

It earned him a swift swipe to the back of the head as Mr. Woods walked past before seating himself at the head of the table. Their mother emerged from the kitchen with glassy eyes, placing a soft hand on his head. Soothing the dull ache, Jeff felt those nimble and familiar fingers in his wiry locks.

Jeff gazed up at his mother, leaning into the touch. Liu, unable to take the lunacy of it all, stood suddenly from the table, his chair grinding against the wooden floor.

“Boy!” His father corrected, “You sit until you’re excused!” Food and spittle fell from his mouth and onto the table, his fist striking the varnished wooden table with a bang.

“I’m not hungry!” He retorted, already disappearing up the stairs.

Mr. Woods looked to his son who was now boldly staring him down as his mother's hand slowly retreated from his dark hair.

His eyes were wild, dancing across the room, practically vibrating as they did so. Almost taunting.

For a moment, Mr. Woods just stared back, eyes narrowed. Then, in a swift motion, he stood, grappling for him with a manic, crazed snarl on his mouth. His chair clattered behind him, crashing into the floor with a bang.

His mother retreated against the wall with labored breath, pupils dilated in anticipation. Watching the scene unfold with blown pupils.

Jeff held his fork in a challenging grip, mimicking his father's threatening stance. He, too, was now shorter than Jeff, something that satisfied a dark part of the boy. To look down on his father in this matter, kindled that burning desire inside him.

Mr. Woods shoved the table, plates shuddering and food scattering, but Jeff held his ground. Mr. Woods face was a dark shade of rage, the tips of his ears red, a feverish glint perspirating on his forehead.

“You little fucker! You better run, you better get the fuck out of here!” He hollered, sloppily grabbing his plate and waving it wildly above his head.

Jeff grabbed his own and, without hesitation, hurled it at the man, consequences be damned. It bounced off his abdomen and shattered onto the floor, covering the space between them in sharp, dirty shards.

His mother found her voice, shrieking and pawing at the air around Jeff.

“Oh no honey,” she wailed, “Oh no darling, stop it! Stop it!”

Her glossy eyes shined, frantic but distant, examining Jeff but somehow unseeing. She held onto nothing, grasping at the air with shaking hands.

Before his father could catch his breath, Jeff twisted on his heels and sprinted up the creaking steps.

He hadn’t even touched the bedroom handle when Liu’s open palm shot out and dragged him into the room. Both brothers held the door shut as it bowed from the unrelenting fury of their father’s fist.

Soon enough, the old man grew tired and yielded, sputtering after their mother who was still wailing from the halls.

The brothers breathed together for a while, unsure if the tirade had finished just yet. Only when the distant moans and yells abjured, did they calm. Looking at one another for a moment, it was Liu who slowly rested his forehead against his brothers and closed his eyes. Drinking in the silence, the stillness.

Jeff spoke, impossibly quiet, “Are you still mad at me?” He sounded child-like. Liu chuckled breathily and then shook his head, separating the two.

He held Jeff's shoulders in a solid grip and looked at him, “No, I stopped being mad a while ago.”

Jeff smiled and nodded, falling into Liu's embrace. His broad hands caressed the back of Jeff’s hair. More grounding than the feathery touch of his mother, whose affection felt distant and held expectations.

Jeff’s smile fell, “I killed a piglet again.” he confessed.

“I know. It’s okay.”

Life resumed to normalcy, if only their own obtuse version of it. Mr. Woods had stormed out of the house as early as he woke, fire in his wake, their mother might as well have been sedated by it. She stood over the sink, cleaning one of the pots for hours, the skin of her hands cracked and sappy. That became the new routine, a welcome change for the duo, who’d much rather deal with their mother’s uncanny dissonance than their father’s unbridled rage.

School was also surprisingly normal. No one pulled Jeff aside for his little stunt with Goelet’s daughter.

He was saddened to see her seat empty that week, and the week that followed. He stopped going to that class shortly after.

Liu was overall better for it; he had made some friends in the absence of his brother, but there was always some kind of block.

He had met a girl, a nice one from the church. He lied about still going, despite not attending since he was small, and she ate it up. The rest of her friends, though, were moody and confusing to him. He often resorted to silence as his default response. One of her friends had said he was “mysterious” which, to him, felt like “weird freak” in a prettier package.

Despite this, they still invited Liu to a party. Apparently, it was one of the girl's birthdays or something. It was an open invite, too, so Liu had hoped to drag Jeff along. Lately, he had been spending more time with his dog than anyone else.

Since the piglet incident, Jeff had even been avoiding the pen, Maymay squealing at him upon arrival with newfound fear.

Their father, luckily, hadn’t noticed the missing one. That, or he assumed the runt died and was eaten by the other pigs. Jeff was particular with the piglet he chose, knowing which one wouldn’t be missed.

Mr. Woods was sparsely in the home lately, residing in the pub during his waking hours. He left the slaughter business to abandon, which troubled Liu deeply. Their mother wasn’t much consolation, as she seemed to withdraw further each day, meals becoming more miserable as a result. Poorly paired flavors in favor of filling the family's bellies, food unwatched left to spoil.

“Jeff.” The eldest stood at the door of their room, poking his head inside, “Come with me tonight.”

Jeff was lounging on the rickety bed, arms outstretched and head lolled to the side. A cigarette hung lamely against his bottom lip; a magazine adorned with various scantily clad women in his grasp.

“Why?”

Liu shrugged, “Might be fun, get out the house and talk to people.”

“Spare me,” he responded firmly, “that's sounds lame...”

Liu shifted, “There’ll be girls?” he suggested, quirking a brow.

At that, Jeff seemed to pause and consider his brother's words. Wordlessly, he stood and began to rifle through his closet, searching for something to wear. Liu released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and nodded at Jeff.

“I’ll be downstairs.”

The party was fine at best. Jeff was wearing his baggy white hoodie and some distressed jeans with his sneakers, whereas Liu bore an old wifebeater, jumper and his work jeans. Liu’s cross necklace caught the light when he fiddled with it between his fingers. The scent of smoke and beer carried through a backdrop of rainy weather that beat against the tin roof of the home.

It was a quaint set up decorated with warm light, and people sprawled across all surfaces. Liu had quickly found the church girl, as foreign as her presence here seemed to be, and stuck by her for what felt like hours.

Jeff disappeared somewhere into the smokey haze of the living room, muttering something under his breath Liu didn’t catch. Liu sipped on a cold beer that the church girl had presented to him on his arrival. She was blonde, with square shoulders and minimal makeup that allowed a dusting of moles and freckles to peek through.

‘Real marriage material.’ his father would say upon seeing her full figure and long hair pulled into a ponytail. Liu concluded she was too nice to bring home if things continued.

As far as he could tell, she was happy to see him, occasionally gripping his arms and chest as they talked. Feeling brave, he tucked a stray hair behind her ear and watched her cheeks flush pink. She smiled while batting her light lashes, pushing closer to him. His heart stuttered in his chest at the proximity. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask her to sneak off somewhere private but was interrupted.

A loud crash broke the tension, both of them whipping their heads around to follow the sound.

The chaos was blinding. Smoke obscured his vision, and after coughing and waving it away he could faintly see glass scattered on the ground and the living room table tipped on it’s side.

The second thing he noticed were the jean clad legs that lay gangly on the ground with a foxy figure hovering above them.

Jeff was slumped on his back, tossed over the tipped table, clutching his stomach with a wince. Randy balled his fists and leaned menacingly close to him, canines flashing. His brother was snarling viscously, his blue eyes catching the yellow light with pupils like pin pricks as they glared at Randy.

The red head’s clenched knuckles were bloody and pink from impact, tainted by Jeff’s gushing nose. The blonde girl gasped in shock and clutched Liu’s arm, digging her fingertips in the flesh. But he shoved her off, almost blindly, making her stumble as she tried to catch her balance.

Liu pushed through the anticipatory crowd that watched on in hungry fascination. They parted for him as he hurried to his brother's side.

The scene became clearer as he approached. A pudgy boy with a crooked nose stood with a self-assured smirk next to a thin, pale kid who peeked behind Randy. All of them held his vengeful stare.

Jeff didn’t break his gaze once, even when Liu’s legs entered his peripheral vision.

“Got you, fucker.” Randy spit.

“Yeah, you did, now get lost.” Liu retorted, posturing next to his brother. Jeff stood back up, nursing his bruises and brushing sparse glass from his now tattered hoodie. Randy looked at Liu, crinkling his nose.

“Holy shit,” the skinny kid started with a stupid smile, “two for one!”

Randy glanced behind him, “Shut it, Kieth!” He turned back to face Liu, “No one was talking to you, hick.”

He spat the last word with venom, face scrunching with offense, as if the brunette's mere presence was a challenge to his ego.

“Well,” Liu took a step forward, “I’m talking now. So, you can talk to me.” Jeff’s eyes flickered between the two, hands flexing as they hung by his thighs, ready for whatever came next.

Randy laughed heartily, to which his little back up squad mimicked submissively. Without another word, Randy's fist shot forth, but Liu was an artful dodger to quick and violent hands.

Avoiding the impact, he took the opportunity to jab Randy in his side with his elbow. He was winded from the assault; Liu by all accounts had a lot more force and power behind him. Easily crumpling the paper boy on his tower of cards, body like a strong wind that stole his breath.

The two behind Randy looked taken aback for a moment, but the shrill scream of some girl in the crowd broke them out of it. Kieth went to comfort his friend, while Troy stood tall with a sharp inhale, a bead of sweat rolling over his nose and down his chin.

Liu heard the crunching of glass into the carpeted ground as Jeff overtook his position now. Despite the hunch in his back, he was far taller than the fatter boy across from him. Jeff was like a serpent, coiled, dancing, swaying threateningly while staring the boy down.

“Troy,” Jeff spoke with a grin etched into his face, “I’ll put it back into place for you.” He reached for Troys nose, hand hovering inches away from his face. The veiled threat sent the boy out the door, retreating before any conflict continued. Randy's jaw clenched at the spectacle, his eyes widening as he yelled after the boy.

Randy straightened his back, “Fucking useless.”

He tossed an expecting look at Kieth, who despite his stature, seemed far more capable of holding his own. Perhaps a product of false confidence.

He attempted to rush Liu. Why he went for the stacked figure no one would understand. Liu, on reflex, knocked him in the jaw, shaking his fist at the lingering sting. Kieth was surprisingly durable however, and ate the hit with impressive resilience, brushing it off.

He elected for a different method the second time around, gabbing one of the copious sharp objects on the ground and lunging for Liu, swinging in a frenzy.

Liu raised his arms defensively, gritting his teeth when he was slashed across the forearm. It was deep, crimson running in hot rivulets down his arm. He hissed, knitting his brows, braced for another attack.

He poised himself, ready to snatch the makeshift weapon out of the scrawny fuckers' hands. Yet, the second attack never came. Instead, Liu gaped, watching as the attacker's eyes bulged out of his skull. He was hoisted inches off the ground by the material of his shirt. With a sharp smack, he was slammed into the shrapnel littering the ground. Jeff towering above the body beneath him now.

Unfortunately, unlike Jeff’s thick hoodie, the boy had a singlet on, and Kieth yelped as he made contact with the rough debris, knees stinging furiously.

Randy, who still had his hands placed protectively over his torso, took a step back. Liu was ready to utilize the moment of pause, muscles coiled and ready to spring.

But before he could, his attention was drawn away by Jeff, who straddled a whimpering Keith on the ground with his teeth bared in an open grin. He released a series of unrelenting attacks upon his face, blood splattering across his sweatshirt, seeping deeply into the fabric. The white fibers of the hoodie congealed from the onslaught of dark liquid.

The blows escalated from dull thuds to wet squelches of viscera. Liu was frozen in place, entranced by the horror, unable to get himself to move. When Jeff didn't relent even after Kieth had stopped twitching, the morbid entertainment at the conflict dissolved from the crowd, who began to protest in fear.

“Holy shit, he’s gonna kill him!” Someone among the haze of faces exclaimed, dread and panic evident in their voice. The crowd started undulating in an agitated swarm, voices rising, manic.

Finally, Liu’s feet were released from where they were planted against the floor. He cupped his brother under the arm and dragged him off the unmoving figure, tearing Jeff away as if he were a rabid animal.

Keith laid as a bloody pulp on the ground, motionless. Randy was shuddering violently, hands tugging at his hair in raw terror.

Before the crowd could riot or process the boy's state, Liu stumbled away with Jeff, who was staring at the scene with a content smile.

His fingers fumbled fruitlessly for his keys in his pocket, and he yelled for Jeff to get in the car, urgently, finally managing to grab his keys.

Jeff was laughing, chest heaving with mirth, his lips curled in a heinous imitation of joy.

Liu floored the gas, paranoia swirling in his gut with growing nausea and dread. He felt as though he were being suffocated, his throat constricting, unable to suck in enough air.

Surely, surely the boy would get up?

His face was unrecognizable after the attack, swollen and sputtering, gruesome. His fingers had twitched and gone limp at his side. Liu swallowed hard, shaking the thoughts away, banishing them. Periodically, Liu would glance at his brother in his peripherals. But for the entire ride home, Jeff's grin never faltered.

In quiet moments, Liu could hear the muffled sounds of a snicker.

The road was illuminated only by the pickup's headlights, hardly penetrating the smothering darkness. Which didn’t help Liu’s anxiety. If anyone was following them, the dark country roads wouldn't reveal it. Liu could only see right beyond the beams of light on the path in front of him, the surroundings a blackened inky sea, swirling nauseatingly. Liu’s knuckles whitened against the steering wheel.

Liu ushered his brother inside, head wildly snapping back and forth. When the door shut behind them, Liu took his time peeking through the windows before pulling the blinds closed.

When he was sure they hadn’t been followed, he gripped his hair with growing desperation, profanities tumbling from his mouth. He paced around the living room while Jeff sat on the couch sneaking looks at him through his bangs.

He’d stopped smiling, finally, but the corners of his lips still twitched from the comedown of the high.

Liu spun on his heels to face his brother, “What,” he accused, “is wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His voice was shrill, but his brother remained infuriatingly impassive, shrugging and folding his into his lap. His pupils were blown out, large like a feline zeroed in on a mouse, and his breath came in soft pants.

He looked eerily calm, restrained.

Liu's face flushed in frustration, “You could’ve killed him, Jeff! Oh God, he might already be dead...” Liu slid his back against the wall, crumpling into himself.

Jeff’s face fell, “He’s not dead.” he spoke sternly, brows drawing together.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I could feel his breath!” At that response, Liu’s mouth hung open at the audacity.

He wanted to snap back, to retort, but couldn’t find the words. It was a senseless justification; he might’ve been still alive when they left, but that many hits to the head didn’t bode well. Before Liu could muster a response, the silence of the night was broken by a bellowing bark and symphony of shrieks.

The Pen.

The pyrenees was going wild, snarls and barks so vicious you could hear the snapping of teeth colliding with one another.

The brothers were quick to move, exchanging a wide eyed look, quickening their pace the closer they got to the chaos.

As they crossed the field, drawing closer, the brothers became aware of twin lights in the distance, breaking the empty air darkness, illuminating the unseen insects and dust swirling in the air. The wails and barks were rabid, darkness engulfing the scene, shrouding it in the unknown.

The boys heaved as they reached the pen, staggering to stand between the opening and the mystery car.

The dog was positioned on his hind legs, corners of its mouth frothing with saliva. The rumbling engine of the car cut, and from the abyss emerged Randy, red hair illuminated by the light. Something hidden in his grip caught the light, glinting.

The night air was swallowed by barking, the dog practically howling, teeth gnashing.

Jeff and Liu stood apprehensively, backs to the pen, eyes trained on the approaching Randy.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Randy seethed, lunging forward with a brandished pocket knife in hand.

Liu instinctively grappled for Jeff, intending to push him out of the way. But Randy collapsed into the wet mud unceremoniously. A blood curdling scream pierced their ears, and Randy thrashed desperately in the mud, ankle firmly clamped between the dog's jaws. The dog swung its head wildly, saliva turning from a white foam into a deep red, meddling with the blood slowly soaking into the fabric of his socks.

He continued to shriek, raising his knife high above his head, trying and failing to strike the beast down. The Pyrenees was a formidable opponent, though, and it lunged for the boy’s face. In the midst of trying to pry away the teeth that sunk into his supple flesh, Randy dropped the blade into the grass below. His arms flailed, fruitlessly trying to find purchase on the blade that was eaten by the soft earth and oppressive darkness.

Jeff lunged forward, grabbing a handful of his dog's scruff, pulling flesh and muscle as he reeled back. Randy clutched the marred skin, blood gushing between his fingers. He writhed around the dirt in pain, screams turning into weak pants.

“What in God’s name!” Mr. Woods was roused by the onslaught of echoing wails and was standing, gun in hand, lit up in the beams of Randy’s headlights.

It didn’t take long for the ambulance to arrive, wheeling away a disoriented Randy on a stretcher. Jeff and Liu gave their statements to the police on the scene. Jeff's hands hadn't left the dog's bloody fur as the night unfolded, red and blue lights shimmering against the crimson splattered on the ground.

The police deemed the incident an unfortunate result of trespassing by foolish kids.

They both received a warning for the night, the knife attack being hearsay since Randy couldn't land a blow and no one could locate the weapon. It also helped that Troy had dogged his friends in, confessing teary eyed to his mother that he didn't want to be friends with them anymore. That, coupled with the nasty gash on Liu’s forearm, relieved the family of most consequence.

Kieth was also fortunately still alive, already roused from unconsciousness in hospital. All things considered, the night concluded a lot better than anticipated. Rattled but safe, the family returned inside to forget about the night altogether, falling into restless slumber.

For the next month, Randy’s father came to their door daily, threatening the family. Mr. Woods was the one to answer first, and had promptly slammed the door shut in the man's face. He would peer through the window, yelling belligerently, cursing the family for what they did to his son.

“I’ll get you and that rotten mutt!” he had exclaimed repeatedly, vein popping in his forehead.

Even when Randy got out of hospital, the abuse didn’t subside, with the father gathering his own extensive bloodline to stalk around the property provocatively.

Jeff started sleeping in the pen again, feeling indebted to his loyal companion. He cooed over him and soothed him against the persistent heckling, hushing him when he would tense at the taunts. He slept, face pressed against his white coat, in case anyone dared to overstep that fence and be a vigilante.

He would wake occasionally to the sound of rocks hitting the pen, once even stirring awake to the smell of meat thrown over the fence, hitting the dirt with a wet thump.

Bait, Randy’s folks were attempting to bait his dog. He hugged that fur tighter every night.

Liu and his father would take shifts sitting on the rocking chair on the old porch, shotgun at arm's length. Mrs. Woods would be seen sporadically peeking out the windows, paranoia drawing her face into tight lines.

The tension wasn’t dying down anytime soon, so the brothers had no choice but to return to school and attempt to complete the year. Their peers had returned to avoiding the brothers like the plague, whispering accusations and poisonous rumors as they passed.

One gloomy night, Jeff had returned home from a long day of school with Liu and headed back out to prepare some feed for the week. Like usual, he dropped his bag on the floor, kicking his sneakers off and stuffing his feet into the faded, mud-soaked wellies propped against the wall.

He made way to the pen, eager to see his boy after a long day of boredom. Peeking his head into the entryway, he searched the room, bewildered when he didn't catch hide nor hair of his fluffy companion. The pigs oinked at him curiously with wide eyes. He pursed his lips.

Ducking back out, he began checking along the outside, searching diligently for signs of life. However, his dog wasn't patrolling the perimeter, either.

No bother, he could be off relieving himself, Jeff reasoned. Yet, a creeping sense of unease tangled in his chest. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he took a deep inhale of the chilly air. Using the lungful to project his voice, breath billowing around his face, he began to call for him.

His feet planted into the sludge as he trudged around the property, a deep pit forming in his gut. The cold felt constricting the longer he was outside and fruitlessly searching, his cheeks stinging with its touch.

After a good half hour of this, his breathing became increasingly ragged, mind racing with unfavorable conclusions. The sun crested the trees, casting a weak golden glow on the darkening fields. Empty. Jeff jogged back inside.

Uncaring about the tracks of mud he left in his wake, Jeff frantically searched the house. He practically turned it upside down, checking in places the big Pyrenees couldn't possibly fit. His movements were progressively more manic, calling to the dog every few moments.

Maybe...maybe his dog came inside? Maybe his father let the dog indoors to avoid the assailants.

Liu still wasn’t home yet, and Mr. Woods was seated in his recliner, reading the newspaper, oblivious to the world around him. Jeff paused his erratic searching to face his father.

“Sir?” He cautioned, not wanting to set him off. Finding his dog was of paramount importance, and if that meant being civil with his father, so be it. Mr. Woods grunted in response, as if to say, ‘get on with it, boy.’

Jeff continued, forcefully casual, “Have you seen the dog today?”

Mr. Woods licked his thumb, the crinkling of the paper deafening as he turned the page.

“The dog?” Jeff encouraged, expecting an answer.

Mr. Woods shook his head, “More trouble than it was worth, boy.”

The air felt liquid, and time seemed to halt altogether. Jeff didn’t feel his limbs moving, nor did he notice the change in the weather when he went back outside.

His mind felt slower than the world around him as the pen came into view. Shadows cast by the trees hung accusatory across the dirt path and Jeff's knees buckled as he collapsed into the wooden opening.

He eyed the flattened earth, marked from years of heavy slumber from his precious mutt. He crawled along the ground, dirt packing into his nails and smearing along his knees. His throat was tight, he wasn't able to suck in enough air, his vision narrow.

Some of the pigs waddled their fat bodies closer, curious, snorting the air around Jeff. He curled up into the depression in the ground, tucking his legs and arms close. Jeff hugged himself and wailed. Taken from him, it was all taken from him.

His tether to humanity, the one thing beneath him he still found care for. Gone in one cruel action.

He sobbed and wailed like a child until his body gave out.

Liu found him that morning, tossing an old blanket over his shaking form. His lips were blue and the tips of his fingers and nose were bitten from the cold. Every shaky breath manifested in cloudy white puffs of air inches from his face. His eyes were open and bloodshot, staring blankly into nothing.

Snot and tears were crusted dryly onto his face. Liu gazed on sympathetically; he managed to piece together what had happened. His warm hand fell onto his brother's shoulder, rubbing comforting circles along his arm.

Jeff didn’t react to the contact, continuing to stare off into space, unseeing. Liu released his hold with a brief squeeze, dragging the hand down his own face.

He was tired. Of all of it. He felt aged and ragged and had no resolve anymore, as if he had been thrown into the whirling depths of exhaustion and despair, unable to claw his way out. He looked at the pathetic mess of his sibling, who seemed so far away at his feet. It was the first time in a while that Liu felt taller than his brother.

“One night.” He told him, “One more night you can stay here, and then I'm taking my brother back.”

There was a small flicker of acknowledgement in Jeff’s cloudy vision and Liu left him like that.

Tomorrow, he’d take his brother inside, clean him up, and scrounge together a way to get them both out of there.

Their father had abandoned his duties as the breadwinner, recognizing that the brothers were getting too big to keep under his thumb and at his mercy. Jeff’s revolt had frightened him and the man for a moment, he recognised his wife in those wild eyes.

He turned to the bottle, face perpetually red, speech slurred, and it wouldn’t be much longer before the money dried up.

Mother had stopped cooking, wandering aimlessly in the halls of the house like a ghost. She was so disconnected from life, she might as well have already been dead. At night, Liu would hear her nails raking along the walls, as if searching for something under the floral wallpaper. Her mind was far gone, maybe buried beneath the creaking wood of the floorboards. A distant memory of a mother haunted the home.

When Liu prepped the feed the previous night, he found himself rationing it. The plumpness of the pigs would fade and they’d become skinny, unmarketable cuts of flesh. Discarded.

Jeff, for all intents and purposes, was his only family left, and Liu refused to let the sickness of this home consume him too. They had a car, and they were both capable of work. Even if it meant scrubbing floors and living motel to motel, Liu would figure it out.

He feared that any longer in this household would drive them both to lunacy.

And on top of it all, his father had shot the dog. The dog that guarded his prized brood and kept the family fed. His father had shot it dead, and the town was still insatiable. Shadows from passing cars danced against the drawn blinds of the home, an ever-present warning. A promise.

Yeah, Liu thought, they needed to get out of here.

He’d allow his brother to mourn, say a final goodbye, and then Liu would drive them both as far away from the wretched home as possible. This bastardization of family, he would take it no more.

Scrambling around their bedroom, the one they’d shared all their lives, he grabbed and stuffed whatever he thought essential into two large duffle bags he’d managed to drag out of the attic. He went over to his bed, gripping the metal frame, and he hauled it back Underneath was a floorboard that protruded outward like a waterlogged roof.

Liu wrenched his calloused hands under the splintering wood and, with a ragged breath, pulled with all his strength to dislodge the panel from its position. Beneath the now open panel was stacks of cash Liu had spent the past year hiding from Mr. Woods.

He had pried the panel open when he began collecting the cash, stashing it away. Any time his father questioned the missing money, he would deflect by reminding him of his wife's medication.

It wasn’t a lot, but it would be enough for the two to survive until they figured out work.

The biggest issue would be getting his brother hired, as they’d never had to get a job outside the farm before. And Jeff was never one for change.

He stuffed the money deep under the clothing off the duffle bag, making sure it’d be hidden from drunken hands.

Lui dragged the duffle bags down the stairs, placing them next to the door. Mr. Woods stared at him, bottle in hand, from the recliner he refused to move from.

“Where the fuck do you think…think you’re going?” He slurred, barely making it through the sentence, drool seeping from the corner of his lip, eyes half lidded and glossy.

Liu huffed as he looked at the pathetic man, “I’m taking Jeff and I away for the weekend. Until everything cools off.”

Mr. Woods took his now empty bottle and hurled it at the floor. He sunk deeper into the recliner, disapproval painted across his features. It didn’t matter, though, because there was nothing he could do to stop Liu.

A miserable acceptance settled over the room, like a thick fog of dissonance. A silence that held many unspoken words. Distantly, he could hear his mother's shuffling feet from upstairs. The air suddenly felt colder.

Day melted into evening, which settled into night. Thick clouds shielded what little light the stars and moon provided in that isolated farm, and it had been a while since the fireflies had been around.

Jeff still stared, open eyed, at nothing, limbs feeling too heavy to move. One of the piglets from Maymay’s litter had curled up near his feet, sniffing and oinking softly. He wondered if the pigs knew their protector was gone, if they missed him. He wondered if they were capable of such emotion; perhaps they only felt scared or uncertain.

If they did, Jeff couldn’t tell either way.

He felt thankful for the blanket draped over his body as a particularly cold gust of wind blew through the open entrance. It carried the smell of alcohol, strong enough to sting his nostrils.

Ugh, must be his father.

Jeff considered killing his dad; it’s not like his dad loved them anyway, and now he had a great reason to kill the man. Not to mention, Jeff knew the pigs would grow hungry soon, judging by the looks of the feed. They’d eat anything but teeth if need be.

The dried spittle on his chin cracked as a wheezed breath escaped him, almost a laugh. He waited for his father to stumble through the door, and Jeff would strangle him right there with the blanket—leaving him to the swine.

He started to shake, limbs tingling awake, and the strange stench grew stronger, breaking through the smell of livestock. As Jeff propped himself up on his elbows, he froze, hearing hushed whispers.

For a moment, he thought the dehydration and lack of sleep was making him delirious, but the voices were unmistakable. Jeff pressed his good ear against the wooden wall, shushing the concerned snorts of the swine.

Maymay peered at him wearily and everything suddenly went quiet. Even the crickets and rustling from the wind stilled. Pressing further into the wall, Jeff heard a faint click and one distinct sentence.

“Light this fucker up.”

White hot flames roared to life, climbing along the wooden shed, kissing the roof before Jeff could even comprehend what was happening. All-consuming heat engulfed the shed, ignited in red and orange, black smoke choking the oxygen. The swine began running around in a flurried panic, squealing.

It was burning, everything was burning. They screeched and tried to dart for the opening, but the unkempt wooden panels quickly collapsed inward, blocking all those present inside the indiscriminate hungry fire.

The heat was unbearable now, licking at his flesh, singing his hair, suffocating his lungs.

Just beyond the sound of wailing meat and hungry flames was the sound of jeers and laughter. Illuminated in red were two figures; a plump boy and a redhead. Jeff finally found his voice and he screamed his throat raw. His shirt had caught, and he could feel the fire dangerously close to the skin beneath, biting it.

One of the pigs was alight already, spreading the flame further in its panic, running in fruitless circles, the smell of burning flesh clogging the smoke. Jeff tried to scream again, but the smoke suffocated him, scorching his lungs. He sputtered and hacked onto the ground, saliva black with soot, vision spinning.

As more pigs collapsed, he found his voice one last time, his hysterical cry breaking through the overbearing noise of burning swine.

Liu’s eyes cracked open, wincing at the light which penetrated through the cracks of the window. He groaned, digging his thumb and forefinger into his eyelids.

He stood, stretching his stiff muscles, yawning

“What is going on?” he murmured, confused.

One eye closed, he peeked through the glowing crack of the window. For a moment, he couldn’t make sense of the scene in front of him. But when reality sunk in, he was rushing down the stairs, stumbling.

Feet heavy, he burst out the door quicker than the locks could bear, leaving them to swing from marred hickory. His parents were stirred by the commotion, chasing after him while shouting.

“What’s wrong with you? Boy!” Mr. Woods slurred, words dying in his throat as his eyes landed on the flames flickering in the distance.

Suffocating, thickened ash filled the air, scents of flesh singing nostrils and howls of agony echoing.

The pen was devoured by flames, the height of it kissing the willowy trees that hung above. Randy and Troy stood just outside the flames’ reach, faces alight with horror at the sight before them.

Without thought, Liu tackled Randy to the ground, knocking the lighter out of his hand. He grappled his wrists, vaguely aware of his father collapsing to his knees beside him.

“It’s gone, it’s all gone!” Mr. Woods yelled, catching the smoke in his throat, coughing.

On cue, the roof of the pen caved in, igniting the fire anew and releasing the trapped screams inside. Some of the pigs, burning, escaped the flames and ran. None made it far, legs failing as they dropped, bodies giving out. Their skin was blackened and raw, layers of flesh and fat exposed to the cold air, eyes melted from their skulls.

Liu grabbed Randy by the collar of his shirt, shaking him in his tight grip, “What did you do? What the fuck did you do?”

His voice broke as his eyes became wet ,not realizing he was crying until a tear landed squarely on Randy’s face. Randy's hands were trembling, mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish as he tried to find an excuse.

Troy was still standing, awe struck at the flames, eyes reflecting the carnage. The squeals were dying out as seconds dragged on to minutes.

Randy sounded like his age for once, naive and afraid, stuttering out, “We-we didn’t… we didn't know.” He shook his head frantically, “We thought it was pigs! Just pigs!”

His words fell on deaf ears, hands releasing their grip on the collar to find the exposed throat of the fox below him. Randy quickly grasped his wrists in a weakened grip, pleading.

Mrs. Woods approached the flames still clad in her nightdress. Her eyes were glossy, fogged with familiar distance.

Horrified understanding trembled across her face in one fleeting sweep. She reached a hand up, concerningly close to the threshold beyond safety, twitching. Mr. Woods motioned to corral his distant wife, but paused when he noticed the now raised hand of Troy. Finger outstretched, his hand quivered as he pointed to the gulf of the fire.

Mrs. Woods muttered, “My baby, my little girl?” Liu released his grip on the throat below him, following the line of hands into the center of the fire.

Emerging from the flames was a figure, silhouette undeniable as it passed over the fallen structure. Feet pushing aside corpses and charred wooden planks, walking like a fresh babe without motor function.

“Jeff?” Liu pleaded, moving closer.

Jeff stepped forth from the flame, following the call blindly.

For a brief moment, he seemed to smile at his brother. It was so brief, it could have been a simple trick of light. Maybe it was a mirage, created in the recesses of Liu’s mind, and maybe none of that mattered anymore.

Before his brother’s eyes, under the smoke obscured stars and glossy gazes, Jeff collapsed to the sullen earth, and died.

The smell of burnt livestock and feces radiated over the distant town, and in some indiscernible amount of time, sirens could be heard approaching the now settling flames. The wet earth and torrential weather were desperately welcomed to cull the manifesting death.

Whatever money Liu had managed to scrounge up over the years had gone to setting up Jeff’s post-surgery home care. It had been several months of inpatient medical treatment and various operations to get him prepared for the return home.

He was adorned in both compression garments and gauze, leaving his face and mouth concealed. His hands and legs remained mostly unharmed; covered in wet earth, the flames had left only first-degree burns to redden the skin.

The rest of his body, however, was littered with both second and third-degree scarring. The taunt skin snaked around his torso in contracture stripes, occasionally making an appearance when the gauze shifted.

The laundry list of medications and wound care the medical team had given Liu was hard to understand, the length of some of the words far surpassing his own vocabulary.

But the fire had eaten more than just his flesh; it consumed the hearing from one ear and half the sight in his right eye, and four of his toes had to be amputated.

He needed help to even walk to the bathroom.

All of that was fine, though. Liu could handle it for his little brother.

What had been bothering him the most, waking him from the ever-present nightmares, was the idea of changing the dressings.

None of the family had seen Jeff’s face since that night.

Their father was halfway in the grave himself, drinking so heavily he spent more time asleep than awake, alcohol always within grasp. Mrs. Woods would only leave barely edible meals outside the brother's room, and if it weren't for those plates, Liu could convince himself she had disappeared altogether. She was a ghost, swept away in the wind, shuffling feet absent. Haunting the house; present, but on a different plane.

Therefore, Jeff’s care was left to Liu, who took on the responsibility without complaint.

Liu sat on a chair across from the bandaged figure sleeping on the wireframe bed. The figure's chest was heaving deeply, small puffs of air escaping his open mouth.

Liu’s hands were clasped in front of his face, brows drawn together. He felt conflicted, finding himself at a crossroad of emotion.

He was surprised, happy, and horrified that his brother had survived.

He wondered if his relief was selfish in nature, if his relief stemmed from fear of having to grieve his loved one, unable to imagine letting go. He wondered if, perhaps, it would have been for the best if Jeff had died that night, unceremoniously among the swine he spent the most time with.

He knew the pain must’ve been unbearable, even with the concoction of sedatives and painkillers constantly running through his veins. From the fitful twitching, to the clammy appearance on the minimally exposed skin, it was sickeningly clear to Liu that Jeff was in pain.

He wondered what was going through Jeff’s mind, if he was cognitive of his fate, and what that meant for his psyche. How had Jeff felt in that pen? Did he wake to the fire and smoke in a panic, scrambling for salvation with the pigs?

It was hard for Liu to picture his brother, so wickedly self-assured and unfazed by the world, being stricken with panic and agony. Subordinate to the flames, fire, light, and consumption.

Realising he was trapped, that this was the end.

Except it hadn’t been, and now he was trapped once again, this time in the confines of his own scorched flesh and gauze holding him together. Liu’s brother, so dependent now, so incapable, any spark of rebellion and acidity stripped against his own volition. How could he possibly be feeling, if he felt at all?

Liu placed a tender hand on the blanket sitting against Jeff’s chest, feeling the muscles twitch upon contact. He reached forth to cup the gauze wrapped around his face, watching his lips strain, breathing becoming more ragged. Carefully removing the metal clips to avoid furthering his discomfort, he peeled, revealing the carnage layer by layer.

As he approached the last of the gauze, Liu's hand trembled. He withdrew, trying to shake his discomfort and gather himself.

He reasoned internally, reminding himself that he needed to do this for him, that he wasn't the one suffering here. Against any mounting anxiety, Liu finished undressing his brother’s face.

He was unrecognizable. A stranger laying in the spot he could have sworn Jeff occupied moments earlier.

His skin was patchy with burst blisters, blooming primarily on the right side of his face, crawling down his neck and jaw in red spirals.

The irritated, pink flesh looked painful, although the nurses had informed Liu that the second to third-degree burns meant extensive nerve damage and the silver lining was minimal pain.

Where his nose once situated, there was nothing but the taut sheen of the skin graft with two dark caverns for nostrils. Reconstructive efforts had done their best to restore Jeff’s appearance, but the muscle and cartilage was too far gone, prioritizing function over aesthetics at that point.

His right ear was flat to the side of his face, the remaining skin of the area a scaley scar with a rough surface.

The parts of his hair that remained were short and unkempt from his hospital stay, a large chunk from his hairline recessed, presumably never to grow back.

The eyes that gazed up at Liu were wide and unblinking, bloodshot and partially cloudy on the right side, looking past his brother. For a moment, Liu saw his brother lying in that pen the morning before, gazing distantly in mourning, and guilt settled in the eldest heart.

If he had dragged his brother inside, wrenching him from his wallowing the morning he found him, none of this would have happened. If he had stopped his father from killing the dog, from putting a bullet in the one thing Jeff truly loved, or if he grew a spine and stood up to the man like Jeff always wanted, this could’ve all been avoided.

But it wasn’t, and now Liu had to take responsibility for this, for his brother, for his only family.

He was waiting for that feeling of recognition, that bond of familiarity to warm inside him.

But there was nothing.

The body before him felt and looked like a complete stranger; uncharted territory.

Pushing aside the rising emotion in his chest, Liu started unwrapping the rest of the layers, revealing more burn, more red.

He redressed the wounds hastily, eyes stinging, trying his best to maintain gentleness in his movements. He stepped back, examining the silhouette before him, swallowing the consequences of his compliance as he forced himself to look. To really look at his brother– or, at least, what was left. He turned away, unable to bear it much longer.

He grabbed his brother's medication, washing it down his throat to minimal resistance apart from some breathy whines, ringing and reverberating through Liu's ears like a sick chime.

Liu slumped back into the chair, throat closing up, vision blurring. His head fell into his hands and he cried. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks in fat droplets.

His brother had died. How could he not be dead? He saw him collapse! He witnessed his brother's soul evaporating from his singed flesh, intertwining with the black smoke rising into the night sky, away from Earth, to elsewhere.

He was mourning a man that was right in front of him and had no one to turn to.

He was living with a corpse. The corpse of someone he loved, taunting him with wheezing breaths and unseeing eyes.

That was how life was for months. Months that passed aqueously and seemed to slip through his fingers. A nonconsensual ravaging of his life that became total destruction of his autonomy.

Liu’s life was consumed by caring for his brother, his parents offering no relief, choosing to retreat into their own vices. If anything, they only added to the oppressive environment, sucking the life from Liu's veins.

All the while, Liu waited, desperately clinging to the idea of his brother, who felt more like a concept than a tangible form or person, in no way reflective of the body on the bed.

There was nothing, nothing in those countless moments Liu spent tending to the body that was once his brother's.

He didn't emit that familiar warmth, no longer exhibiting those quirks and features in his small movements. The earthy, laborious odor of the farm Jeff used to wear gave way to the sterile smell of bacitracin and gauze.

Jeff never uttered a word, which was perhaps the hardest part of it all. All he did was stare off into the distance, eyes dull and lifeless, reflecting Liu's gaze back at him. Sometimes, Liu imagined that he could see an accusing tinge to his stare, as if condemning Liu.

When he wasn't caring for the body, Liu was manically scrubbing at every surface he could reach, the house seemingly in a perpetual state of filth despite his efforts.

The fire had left foul smelling soot that clung to one's nostrils far after it dissipated. Liu found himself cleaning the home multiple times a day, especially in the kitchen, where the open window had welcomed the filth inside.

Scrubbing dutifully, he was lost in his own world. He was like that for a while, until his thoughts were interrupted by a disturbance upstairs.

At first, he convinced himself it was his mother, shuffling aimlessly. But that explanation didn't last long when he heard the distinct sound of metal scraping against wood.

Dropping the dusty rag, he trotted up the stairs, bewildered. Had Jeff gotten up? Was he moving? Did he need something, was he himself again? His heart was thrumming faster against his chest, anticipatory, hoping against all hope.

Liu softly pried the door open, careful to avoid spooking the figure inside.

His narrow vision from the crack in the door only allowed him to see to the corner of the room. Slowly, working from the ground up, Liu's eyes traced the figure occupying the space, his focus a sharp pinpoint. Standing there, murmurming indecipherable words, was Jeff.

Tufts of black hair sneaked from the dressings, his exposed legs pink and blistered, quivering with disuse. The rhythm of his muttering was erratic and soft, as if he were arguing with himself.

Liu risked cracking the door further, concerned, paranoia biting along his vertebrae.

“Jeff?” He inquired gently, voice low. As if on cue, a large slam shook the ground behind him, tearing his attention away, the hairs on the back of his neck raising with alarm.

When he snapped his gaze back to Jeff, his eyes practically vibrated in their sockets. Beneath the blankets, a sleeping figure laid with zero indication of movement.

“What...what?” Liu wheezed to no one in particular, suddenly winded. He squeezed his eyes shut and closed the door again. Liu stood in the empty hall, beside himself, deciding he needed to get more sleep. He casted one last glance behind him as he trudged away, a small part of him expecting to see a clouded eye staring back at him.

The second time an incident similar took place, Liu had been asleep. It was his sense of smell that twitched him awake, his nostrils burning. A strong odor of smoke wafted through the bedroom, parallel to the room Jeff's body occupied. He faced away from the open door, back exposed.

Fitfully, he turned around, noticing a discarded blanket strewn across the other room's floor. The bed was vacant.

Anxiety nipping at his heels, Liu stood, heading for the toilet, assuming Jeff would be there. He froze in place when something from the window caught in his peripherals.

He turned slowly, neck tingling. The window perfectly framed the remains of the pig pen in its center, which was nothing but a pile of charred wood and discarded life.

Standing still, staring at the pile, was a skinny silhouette, outlined with unwinding gauze. Liu’s gaze was only broken when it whipped its head to stare right back.

Frightened, Liu ducked out of sight, heart in his throat as he rushed down the stairs.

It was cold out, his brother must be delirious. Must be having some kind of night terror, or must be lost.

Upon opening the front door, Liu found the darkness of night absent. Golden, hot sun beamed down from above, glittering and sweltering, as if someone flipped a switch on the time of day. Liu's chest felt tight, vision blotted out from the abrupt change of environment. His stomach flipped and nausea threatened to crawl up his throat. What the fuck was happening? Was this some kind of nightmare?

When his vision returned, Liu caught no sight of his brother. His breath stuttered, taking in the sight of pure daylight, entire body shaking despite the heat.

Liu fought his instincts and decided to check out the glowing pen that was practically a beacon beneath the rays of sunlight. He could feel a strange allure to it, as if he were drawn to the area, even when every hair on his body begged him to turn away.

He felt the heavy weight of eyes burning into his back as he wandered further from the home, and he glanced back, sight trailing up to their bedroom window. He discovered the curtains had been drawn closed, a flicker of movement from inside catching his attention.

He dashed back inside, the soles of his feet slipping in the warm mud, sweat trickling down his jaw. He staggered up the steps, leaving the glaring light of day and the alluring pig pen behind.

“Jeff!” Liu called out, panicked, voice strangled.. What the fuck was going on? He shoved the door open, panting.

All that greeted him was the body tucked into the bed, chest rising and falling softly to the sound of crickets. Moonlight casted upon the white sheets, bathing the room in silver light.

After that, Liu’s sleep was on rapid decline. Often, he’d find himself crawling into bed, fighting the waking world, desperate for slumber, only to suddenly be met by daylight streaming in the window.

It felt as if only moments had passed, as if he had slept without realizing. Liu didn’t feel as if he’d slept a wink.

However, more pressing matters smothered his attention. There were two figures he always found himself chasing; the absent body in the bed, and the figure roaming the halls maniacally.

Sounds and scents haunted him, and at one point he frantically searched the halls for hours, convinced he heard the sound of a plump hog’s hooves clicking against the wooden floor. He wasn’t even quite sure what he’d do with the pig if he found it.

Having caught himself nearly mixing his mothers and Jeff’s medication one night, Liu opted to go to bed early, hoping to sleep off whatever was afflicting him.

He rationalized that this feverish nightmare could be insomnia or an affliction, potentially a combination of the two.

Liu decided he would ignore the night’s assault on his senses unless he was sure it was necessary to address. He fed the pain medication to Jeff and then promptly collapsed into his own bed, wrinkling the sheets with a tight grip, “Goodnight, Jeff.” His voice was weary, but he willed himself to lay his head down and close his eyes.

Unbearable pressure on his chest. Suffocating weight grappling his lungs with an iron fist, strangling him. He woke with a start, vision a blur as he attempted to shove the assailant off of him.

He struggled to make sense of what was happening, panicked.

A figure towered above him, dark shadows cast along its features. Loose bandages hung haphazardly by Liu's face, brushing his cheek, exposing only a mouth.

Sleep and panicked confusion still holding him in its grip, Liu croaked out, “Jeff?”

A sharp pain twisted in the center of his chest, radiating in throbbing waves of heat and static.Eyes widening, Liu’s gaze left his brother, catching the glint of silver bathed in the moonlight.

He glanced down, chest heaving, the seams of the gash vibrating. Sticky crimson coated his torso, spreading, dark and rapid.

Was he bleeding? Was he dying? Jeff, did Jeff do this—no, surely not his brother?

The figure above him cracked open its mouth and smiled madly, his brother’s voice fanning across his face, echoing in the empty walls of the bedroom. It let out a long, moaning hush, shushing the figure beneath it.

“Go to sleep...”

Liu woke with a start, gasping for air as he sat upright, clutching his chest, pupils dilated like a wild animal. He whipped his head around, disoriented. He wasn’t in his bed, instead in his father's recliner. He couldn’t recall moving downstairs, but at this point, he didn’t care to know.

Liu felt...good. Really good. Despite the anxious beating of his heart he felt awake for the first time in a long time.

He settled into the recliner, his racing heart calming, relief like a wave in the depths of his bones. It must have been a nightmare, he concluded, considering the lack of blood and his seemingly unharmed body.

With a spring in his step, Liu walked to the bathroom, intending to feel alive again. He splashed cold water on his face to wake his skin, feeling it tingle upon contact.

He leaned down to repeat the motion, suddenly hissing in pain and grasping the counter for balance. Sharp pain radiated from his abdomen.

Gritting his teeth, Liu lifted his shirt, jaw slack when his eyes landed on a large slash along his torso, stretching from under his left nipple down to his right hip in a pink, fresh cut.

It wasn’t bleeding, oddly enough, and looked cleanly patched up.

“The fuck?” Liu muttered, running a finger lightly over the wound, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth at the sting. He racked his brain at the sight, returning to the nightmare from before.

Surely, his brother hadn’t attacked him? He could barely stand, let alone wield a knife and hold him down.

Liu was standing outside the duo’s bedroom door. Jeff would need his medication soon enough. Something in Liu’s head was telling him not to. Telling him to turn away, stirring a deep feeling of primal instinct in his gut. Was that body behind the door his brother? Was that catatonic corpse, so unresponsive, really Jeff?

Those nightmares and allusions of the figure often felt more real than what was objectively the reality.

Was it so mad to think his brother was capable of such harm?

Jeff, who had been consumed by the fire and had smiled, smiled right at Liu.

Jeff, who killed the piglets he coveted and took glee in fathers' self-destruction.

Was it presumptuous of him to assume his brother–surely not in his right mind–was incapable of turning his anger on his brother?

Liu was reminded of all their childish squabbles in this home, the busted lips and blackened eyes. None of that could be seen in the corpse lying on that bed. He had to be sure, though, and so he opened the door with a deafening creak.

The room was shrouded in darkness and the body lay placid, barely breathing on the wireframe bed.

The world shifted as he stepped forward, “You don’t talk anymore.” He accused. “You don’t even look at me when I change the dressings.”

Fitfully, the figure twitched at the words. Liu scoffed, scornfully, “How can you be my brother?”

He pressed further and gripped the bandaged face with none of the gentleness he had subjected it to prior.

The bandages moved, pushing the flesh beneath which cringed upon contact. Liu’s fingers found the corner of the figure’s mouth and pulled—forcing the mouth into an open lipped smile, stomach turning with revulsion.

The body fought the assault, soft breath turning into pained whimpers, trying to shift its head from the hold. Liu dropped his hand back to his side, leaving the body alone for now. “Yeah,” he realised, “You are definitely not my brother.”

He could see clearly, could see the fingers on his hands and the shoes on his feet. Liu’s eyes did not lie, he saw his brother die in that fire and whoever that was couldn’t be him.

It smelt like death, whatever it was, with rotten soiled flesh leaking fluids into the mattress. He saw that open cavernous nose, a nose that could only be the product of decay. No one could survive what his brother went through. No one.

This thing was within his brother's corpse, wearing Jeff’s skull and forcing Liu to suffer more. To tend hand and foot to a sibling who should be buried. His brother’s body couldn’t rest, was kept perpetually suffering and without the capability to end it himself. For why? What purpose? Liu gingerly touched his shirt over that laceration on his chest.

Liu would allow this exploitation no longer.

He left the room, pushing the door open, but he was met with resistance on the other end. Confused, he tried again, this time the resistance giving way to the sight of his mother on the other side.

Her face was colourless, lips parted slightly. She lifted her hands up to cup her son's face, stroking lightly. Her appearance was offensive, with hair matted into a thick mass and a nightdress stained with urine, blood, and saliva.

She smelt like she looked, rancid, as if she hadn't washed in months, and the hands that stroked Liu’s face felt grainy.

She whimpered as she spoke, teeth coated in plaque, rotted breath wafting over his face,“You’re a good brother.” That was all the reassurance he needed. His heart swelled with her approval; his mother had finally seen him.

Liu lifted his hands to clasp her wrists and led the woman down the hall back to her room, weary. He could barely comprehend the disarray of the master bedroom. A hoarder's hull now, it smelt like a septic tank and had incoherent sprawling's littered on the walls.

He had nothing to say to this, knowing the woman was beyond reason, and having more urgent matters to attend simply made it hard to care. He simply lay his mother down and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. She closed her sunken eyes, the sharpness of her cheekbones unnatural and jagged, and she smiled softly.

For a moment, that youthful, maternal glow returned to her features and then she was gone. Liu's breath caught in his throat.

Liu shut the door behind him, glancing at Mr. Woods, who sat in his recliner that faced the window next to the front door. His reflection was wavey and indiscernible, but he was undeniably awake—bottles littered the wooden floor around him. Liu ignored the man, heading for the tool storage by the garage entry door.

He could feel the peripheral gaze of his father, continuing to pretend it away. His hands gripped the rusted handle of the shovel, feeling the weight of it, deep green paint chipping off the handle. Liu jiggled the door handle, which had gone stiff from the bitter cold outside.

“And what are you doing, boy?” Mr. Woods spoke, not moving his head from its locked position, bloodshot eyes trained ahead.

Liu continued to pull at the handle, “What are you planning now?” Mr. Woods’ voice was croaky and raw, yet still held its stern an unwavering command over his son.

Liu paused for only a moment, a residual habit formed from fear of his authority, and then he began yanking on the handle roughly. The elder man in the recliner began to laugh, a deep rumbling sound that came from his stomach, guttural.

He rose from his chair, revealing a cigarette on his lips that glimmered in the smoke. In his right hand a half empty bottle and in his left a lighter, his thumb grazing the switch threateningly.

Liu felt sweat bead on his brow, and he began slamming his shoulder into the door in a frantic attempt to dislodge it.

Mr. Woods began to ramble, “What are you, boy? So fearful of the now, you haven’t noticed it’s all gone to guts already! We’re all dead, all dead!” He laughed again, uncontrolled, manic, “What do you fear? It’s all happened already, boy! And you...did...nothing!”

Click. Click-click.

The flame flickered from the lighter, and Mr. Woods grinned as he poured the bottle down his shirt. Horrified, Liu watched in stunned silence as his father self-immolated, catching the hem of his shirt with the flame.

Engulfed by sputtering fire, he collapsed back into the recliner, igniting the remainder of the fluid along the ground and spreading the flame.

He slathered his skin as he burned, laughing choked and wild and raw. His flesh sloughed off from his abrasive kneading, revealing the layers of raw skin, muscle, and viscera beneath. He gargled and screamed in agony, writhing in the burning recliner, succumbing to the flames of his own creation.

Liu screamed, the smell of burning flesh clogging his nose and stinging his eyes. Gasping for air, he grabbed the shovel, wedging the metal in between the door and the wall. He heaved, cracking it open, slamming his shoulder into the heel of the shovel. The door finally gave way with a wicked force, shuddering on its hinges.

Liu fell through the door in his desperate scramble to escape, gagging on the taste of his fathers flesh. He landed on a strange, lumpy heap, cold wetness seeping into his clothes.

He recoiled from the feeling, eyes falling onto the body of a Great Pyrenees underneath him, head blown open and smeared against the porch from the door's force.

Liu staggered to his feet, retching and covered in viscera, clutching the shovel like a shield. He ran. He ran far from the house.

He only looked back once.

The dog's head was a crimson smudge on the porch, orange light flickering from the open door and glistening the gore beneath it.

The surrounding forest was like a siren, luring him deeper and deeper, singing to him, a lullaby and a promise.

Blanketed in the darkness of the thick trees, light struggled to penetrate, time ceasing to exist. Liu fell upon a patch of bare earth, a patch of earth seemingly untouched by nature and human life alike and he knew it must be here.

He knew it in the depths of his stirring soul.

He began to dig. And dig. And dig. A large hole slowly broke through the untouched earth, wider and wider with every desperate shovel.

Night and day passively turned into each other in what felt like an endless tango. A loveless entanglement that Liu felt, a grueling dedication to his atonement.

This was his final reprieve and the only way out now.

Stepping back and dropping the shovel to the soil, Liu gazed down at the pit before him. Deep, open and welcoming, an earthy grave revealed itself to him.

It was perfect, the most perfect thing he’d ever done. It might as well have been the only thing he had ever done, the only accomplishment of his life.

Liu followed the scent of flesh back into the home, passing the charred corpse which lay in the recliner, bottle in hand, facing the window.

He trudged up the stairs, arms shaking with exertion, and opened his bedroom door, discovering it was empty. Void.

Panicked, he gripped the filthy shovel in hand, knuckles white. A distant cry. He paused, listening intently. The sound repeated.

It sounded like his mother.

He followed the noise, softly stepping along the wooden floor to minimize the creaking it produced, cautious of what waited ahead, wielding his shovel like a weapon.

As he drew closer, the sniveling transformed into rampant wailing, punctuated by fits of laughter. The sound was uncontrolled and painful, as if forced upon its inhabitant. The high pitched peals of laughter, so reminiscent of his mothers, then deepened into something guttural and gravelly, morphing and twisting.

No longer did Liu hear his mother. In her place, he heard his father.

Yet it was wrong, manipulated and bastardized as it echoed down the hall.

Then it was him, his own voice echoing back at him in a foul mockery.

He wanted to stop, to run away and never come back, urgency burning in his chest and begging him to run for his fucking life,but he found he just couldn’t.

This was his monster, a monster that was the culmination of every time he turned away, and it held his brother with ferocity, gnashing its teeth and howling.

For as long as it lived, they’d never be free.

Closer now, the upstairs bathroom door creaked on its hinges, open. The cold, clinical light inside illuminated the dark hall. Liu inched forward, breath coming in short gasps.

A dark shape stood under the fluorescent light, bandages forgotten on the ground in a dirty, stained pile. Liu looked at its reflection in the mirror, no discernable features among the blood and bile on its visage. Blood gradually formed a puddle of crimson at the disfigured feet, partially dried and cracking.

Liu couldn’t move, frozen, feet planted beneath him and numb. Yet, he couldn't look away.

Sensing his presence, it turned around, revealing its grotesque form, drooling. In its hand was Randy’s discarded knife, soaked in crimson, fatty liquid.

It stood tall and persistent beneath the flesh of its broken body, unfazed by the corpse it wore. The mouth, the maw. As it spoke, blood and mucus projected outward, splattering the tile and mirror.

“Et lingua ignis est universitas iniquitatis,” It began, jaw swinging uncontrollably as it spoke, “lingua constituitur in membris nostris quae maculat totum...” Trailing off as it spoke, choking on its own blood. The sound of it was diseased, grinding against his psyche, like shredding flesh and sinew with bare hands.

Its mouth was cut open on one side, skin floppy and jagged, exposing teeth and a lolling tongue that struggled to remain in its mandibles.

Liu pleaded, nausea rolling through his stomach, his heart stuttering in his chest fiercely. He begged for the figure to halt, to stop and release his brother. Never before had he laid eyes on something so foul.

Yet it continued, raising the blade to its left cheek, maintaining Liu’s attention as it began sawing the sharp edge back and forth with vigor.

Through the blood it sputtered out, gargling, “Corpus et inflammat rotam nativitatis nostrae inflammata a gehenna!”

Its voice was shrill as it sawed repeatedly, slurred speech slowly erasing any remnants of its former self.

Liu pressed his hands to his ears, face scrunching up, pleads drying up on his lips as the words gave way to pain. Pure, unadulterated agony. Like electricity boiling him alive. He choked on a gasp and tried for his voice.

“Shut up!” He cried, tears mixing with snot and saliva down his face, “Leave him! Leave him and let me bury my brother! Let me put him to rest!”

The body kept repeating the words over and over, degenerating into incompressible garble as it struggled to enunciate through the thick liquid. The body threw its head back, laughing to the sky, and then it buckled over to vomit onto the tile floor, a vile mixture of blood and mucus.

Liu took advantage of the moment, struggling as he forced himself off his knees. He threw himself against the figure, crashing into the wall, crumpling.

He heard a blunt thud and they both tumbled forward. The figure, lethargic, slid down the wall, still gripping the blade in hand, swinging blindly.

Liu wasted no time, grabbing the figure by its remaining hair and using his years of experience hauling dead weight to drag the figure down the stairs. It thumped against each step, leaving a blood trail, eyes dull and previous thrashing ceased.

Liu dragged the monster deep into the forest, over roots and under jutting branches, where its open grave beckoned him to finish this.

Into the hole, the body crumbled onto itself, lifeless eyes staring into nothing.

Liu got to work shoveling the soil into the grave, and as he did so the body released wheezy, taunting laughs. This only spurred him on, who aimed the dirt at its head, hoping to snuff it out.

However, even fully covered, the dirt mound misshapen and hasty, the laughter still penetrated through the earth. Transforming it into a rumbling rattle deep within its chest. He shoveled and shoveled until nothing but dirt remained.

Unmoving and destined to rot, Liu collapsed to his knees over the earth.

He wailed, cries clawing their way out of his throat. He continued until his throat could no longer, digging his hands into the earth and gripping the soil as if he could hold his brother one more time.

The laughter beneath died down and silence fell over the forest; no whistle of the leaves in wind, no chirping of birds, no chirping of crickets.

Life ceased; a flame starved of oxygen, died out unnoticed.

Days had passed before anyone noticed what had happened. Dejected and isolated, the Woods’ family were far forgotten in the local zeitgeist.

It took Jane Goelet working up the courage to confide in her mother for the family to be confronted. With the word of Jeff’s state—incapacitated by circumstance—circulating around town, Jane mustered the ability to speak.

She had gone to Mrs. Goelet and floundered over her words as she recounted her meeting with Jeff. Reasonably horrified and seeking answers, Jane’s mother reported the incident and sent police right to the front door.

Unprepared for what they would come across, the two officers had knocked to no response. It was only when the rookie, who curiously peered through the window, witnessing the remnants inside did they call for backup.

The search revealed the fate of the family.

Mr. Woods sat in a charred and derelict recliner, body burnt beyond recognition to the point that dental work was required to confirm his identity.

Mrs. Woods was discovered upstairs in a room that reeked with the pungent odor of death. Her body was bloated, the cause of death undetermined due to the multitude of injuries. A combination of blunt force trauma and multiple stab wounds, varying in depth and originating from multiple weapons.

Liu was eventually discovered wandering the forest, holding one of the weapons—a shovel—tightly to his chest. The cause of the blunt force trauma was taken by officers, and Liu himself was inconsolable. Delusional, dehydrated, he was taken in, bursting into tears sporadically for indistinct reasons.

He was sedated, transferred for medical attention and held in a private room for questioning. The only person who couldn’t be recovered was Jeff, whose body seemingly disappeared without a trace.

Several weeks were spent searching the forest with no sign of the boy. He was presumed dead, and the investigation promptly closed.

Liu faced court for the deaths of the Woods’ family, but due to lack of evidence he was only charged for the death of Mrs. Woods. With reason of insanity, he was sentenced to seven years, on condition of attending extensive psychological treatment and rehabilitation programs.

Rumors carried by whispers throughout the town, unanswered questions birthed tales wild and unbelievable. Jane herself was left haunted, nights filled with dreams of burnt figures and piglets.

Her mind would wander into the unknown months within the Woods’ home, weaving fables of unimaginable suffering.

The few details she could handle her mother recounting did little to quell her obsession.

Inevitably, the only person that knew Jeff’s fate was gone from the world, as if he never existed at all. Dead or alive, Jeff Woods was no longer.

Epilogue

Randy's first stop was the pub.

Maybe not the brightest choice, but it was something he felt nipping at his heels. He was unsure if it was the idea of drowning his sorrows or if it was the occupant who promised to meet with him.

Either way, he walked hastily across town, stern to ignore the burning looks from those whom he passed. The town this time of year felt desolate, snow and ice coating the ground in a relentless hold. Salt sprinkled the roads and sidewalk, glittering beneath the moon.

Randy’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets, ears and nose pink from the cold air. The pub they agreed on was at the end of town, a hot spot for the town drunks and floozy women.

He strolled through the door, cupping his hands over his mouth and breathing out hot air. He rubbed the cold from his fingers while looking around, until his eyes fell on brown hair.

Troy had his back to the door, fingers gripping a short glass, ice swimming around dark liquor. He hadn’t noticed Randy walking in the door and was watching the bartender—a petite woman with pink stripes in her hair—making cocktails.

If it were some years earlier, Randy may have tried his hands at provoking the pretty girl, but now he felt unsure.

Before, he was untouchable, but now it felt like every move was subject to voyeurs' treatment. He was unsure if the few other inhabitants were actually stealing glances at him, or if it was a product of his newfound paranoia.

He took seat on the open stool next to Troy, tapping the counter twice to beckon the lone woman behind it. The larger boy's attention was grabbed simultaneously, and he was looked up from his glass.

Meeting Randy’s gaze, he nodded, “Hey-” the greeting died in his throat, eyes widening for a moment. Randy knew why and he threw him a tight smile. Diagonally, across his face, from brow to chin, was a large and ugly scar. It healed shabbily, unlike the dog bite, which had healed with minimal remnants thanks to his father. This was inflicted by design to be a visual eyesore.

“Turns out,” Randy began, grabbing the fresh drink that was placed on the counter, “People in juvie don’t really like bullies.” he took a swig, feeling the burn down his throat that settled warmly in his stomach,welcomed in the cold air.

It was true. When word got around about what he’d done, the others had dealt with him. In their vigilante justice, they wished for him to feel what Jeff’s newfound reality was. His time locked up was an isolating and uncomfortable experience.

Troy nodded in understanding and held up two fingers toward the bartender. The two sat in silence for a while, a bittersweet awkwardness. Troy had managed to avoid consequence, confessing what they had done on a plea deal.

Three drinks deep, Randy decided to break the tension, “If you wanted to just get fucked up like old times,” He chuckled, smile not meeting his eyes, “You could’ve just said so.”

“Kieth’s dead.” The words were like a gut punch. Troy was staring intently at his empty glass.

Randy swallowed dryly, “W-what?” He sat upright now, “I thought, I heard he was fine after...”

“It wasn’t that.” Troy cut him off, looking at Randy now, “Someone killed him.”

Randy shook his head.

Dead? That couldn’t be true, no way.

But, undeniably, it was. Keith was dead, murdered in his sleep. Randy’s head fell into his hands, running fingers roughly through his hair. He tapped his glass, calling for a refill.

“Do they...do they know who?” He couldn't finish the sentence, struggling to process reality.

“No.” Troy said bluntly, downing the rest of his drink and nodding to Randy, “So watch your back.”

The implication was overt, the scar on his face tingling as Troy left him, Walking out into the cold darkness of night.

Drink after drink, Randy spent hours in that bar, until final drinks were called.

“Sorry man,” The girl spoke while wiping down the counter, “gotta close up.”

With slurred speech Randy retorted, “Wanna walk me home?”

The girl threw him a disgusted look and pointed to the door, “Get out, Randy.”

She spat, and he grumbled, defeated, putting his jacket on. The dark of night was suffocating, a fully sober man would struggle to navigate it, let alone inebriated as Randy was.

For a moment, he thought he heard footsteps tailing him, but when he turned around, all he could see was an empty road.

Paranoid anew, Randy picked up his step. He pulled out his phone and began calling, watching his surroundings. The call went straight to voicemail.

“This is Troy, can’t answer ya’ right now. Leave a message, or don’t!” Randy shook his head and redialed, feet stumbling as he picked up the pace. Once more, it went straight to voicemail, and once more, Randy redialed.

After the fifth turn to voicemail, he left a message, “If this is a joke, you’re still a weak cunt. Pick up! Seriously!”

He feigned confidence, not wanting to reveal his fear into the dark, as if the façade would fool anything trailing after him.

He was at his front door, struggling with his keys to unlock the door. He panicked when he couldn’t muster up the motor skills to undo the lock. The door opened anyway, Randy’s mom hearing the panic from inside and letting her son inside.

Once inside, he ran to the bathroom, his mom yelling after him. Randy vomited into the toilet, a combination of alcohol and fear spurring him on.

Images of Kieth flashing through his mind, his mom stood at the door with her arms crossed. In her nightgown, she dragged her son to bed, where he promptly passed out.

Troy never called back or answered his phone in the morning. Despite asking around, no one could answer, or cared to answer, about his whereabouts.

As Randy came to realise, most of the town sought to forget about those three. They had crossed some unspoken line in the cruelty, leading to complete societal excommunication.

Wherever Troy was, that was no concern of the townsfolk.

Randy reconciled all this to the bartender for multiple nights, and despite his previous transgressions, she let him ramble. As each day passed, he spent more time at the bar.

One particular night, he had drowned himself to the point of immobility, unable to walk more than a couple feet to and from the bathroom. The bartender staunchly cut him off and all but threw him out the door. On the front steps he sat, occasionally leaning over to expel the contents of his stomach onto the ground.

His head was thumping, and he clutched at it in pain. Randy’s vision was doubled, and he watched as two sets of feet came into his vision. The figure stood for a moment, silent. Randy struggled to focus.

“C’mon Randy,” He heard a raspy, strained voice say above him, “Let's get you to bed.”

The mystery figure hooked an arm under Randy, hoisting him to his feet. Alarm bells sounded in his mind but try as he might, he was subdued by the figure. The two walked off into the forest.

Randy’s slurred protests failed as the two walked further away from civilization. It felt like an unbearable amount of time before they came to a halt. Randy, unable to see clearly, struggled to make sense of what was in front of him.

Until he heard snorting.

Eyes squinting, he stared into the dark pit below and muttered, “Pi-pigs?”

With a rough push, Randy tumbled headfirst into the hole. His face planted into slurry and pig excrement, violating his senses, smothering him.

He lifted his head, holding back what little was left in his stomach, and came face to face with a pig. It was chewing lazily, snorting curiously at the boy. Confused and disgusted, Randy focused on its pink snout, dizzy.

Suddenly, it stopped chewing and spit something out into the mud.

Randy eyed it, squinting. A tooth.

Sobriety rushed like a cold tide through his body when someone dropped down into the hole behind him.

He rolled over onto his back, gazing up. It hovered above him, tall and pale. Despite its disfigured, threatening face and white blood-stained hoodie casting dark shadows, the red head instantly knew who it was. Those eyes, icy and partially clouded now, were unmistakable.

“Jeff?” Randy questioned, voice watery.

Jeff looked at him, mouth cut into a wide smile that bared his teeth. He stepped forward and reflexively, Randy backed up, his back hitting the dirt wall of the pit. Randy whimpered as Jeff got closer, hopelessness settling in his soul.

“Shhh,” He hushed Randy, slowly revealing the bloody knife from the pocket of his hoodie, “Just go to sleep.”

END.

if you're still here- thanks for reading <3

#jeff the killer #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #jeff the killer rewrite #nina the killer #jeff woods #jeff the killer creepypasta #liu creepypasta #liu woods #homicidal liu #creepypasta headcanon #creepy pasta #creepypasta rewrite #creepypasta jtk #jeffrey woods #jeffrey alan woods #jane the killer #horror writing

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paddedbabiesfw · 11 months ago

Text

A Regressors Age Guide

1 Year edition! (Baby baby)

Traits and Behaviors

These teeny babies are often dependent on their cgs as they may struggle with getting things done on their own.

-They may crawl and roll instead of walking

-They may be non or semi-verbal

-Often very sensitive to tone

-At this stage, these babies may prefer to cuddle up to their cg and have a nice nap

-They may enjoy reaction games like peek-a-boo instead of bigger kid activities like climbing trees and playing video games

-These little ones may enjoy being coo'd at and sung to as it can be hard for them to contribute much to a verbal conversation

-They may cry to communicate instead of using words

-These babies may find it hard to see what's wrong with them (They may be hungry, thirsty, tired, they may need a diapy change)

-These tiny babies may need diapies or reminded to go use the potty

-They may need help doing most tasks, feeding themselves, picking out clothes, showers or baths, most things biological babies would need help with, these tinies will need help with

Paying Attention to Your Baby's Non-verbal Ques

You need to make sure that when your baby is regressed to such a dependent age like this that you're paying attention to their non-verbal ques. If their body language indicates that they're uncomfortable then take that as a sign.

Take notice of your baby's schedule, that may be easier to tell what they need. If it's their lunch time and they're expressing discomfort, they may be hungry. If it's close to bedtime and they're a bit fussy, maybe it's time to get them ready for bed.

Another thing to take notice of is their body language, if they're rubbing their eyes then they may be tired and need a nap, if their tummy is growling, they may need to use the potty or they may be hungry.

If in doubt, asking your baby yes or no questions could help a lot and all they need to do is nod or shake their head.

Diapies

Some babies in this age range may wear dipies! It's So important that you as their caregiver know how to diaper safely (if you do their diapy Changes)

Always communicate with your tiny! Tell them what you're doing and ask if they're okay with it

Ex: "You need a diapy change, sweet baby, do you want me to change you or do you want to do it yourself?"

"You need a diapy change, little one, is it okay if I change your diapy?"

And make sure your tiny is comfortable during their diapy change, make sure they have their favorite paci and stuffie and make sure to have a blankie on hang in case they get uncomfortable or cold!

Make sure you're changing frequently if they're using their diapies and make sure you're using baby powders and barrier creams to stay safe

A extremely helpful post I found here, goes over a bunch of important information and tips on diapering!

Here is an extremely helpful video on how to diaper an adult using a variety of different diapers, how to keep them comfortable and hope to dispose of used diapies as well as a bunch of other helpful information!

Please note that this video is filmed by a creator who uses "abdl" and other terms that often refer to the nsfw community in their title. This video does not have anything nsfw in it, and is extremely helpful to learn how to diaper someone(or yourself) comfortably but still watch at your own discretion.

Activities and Fun Things to do With Your Baby

So you may be finding it harder to find some fun activities to do with a baby so young but I'm here to help!

Sensory play is always great fun to a baby this age, babies are super curious and always looking for something to keep their attention so playing with toys together like rattles, fluffy toys, toys that make noise can be great stimulation for your baby's mind and it can also help them maintain their regressed state better. Playing games together like match making games is always good. Reaction games are also great for Regressors this age as well like peek-a-boo and patty cake

Bath time is always great fun and binding time for any regression age, having these little ones splash and play in some shallow bath water is so fun, make sure to put some bubbles in the bath for your baby to enjoy

A great way to get in some quality time is watching a movie together too! Bright colors and the voices from the characters from a movie of your choosing is a great way to keep your little one entertained.

Food

Usually baby regressors want soft foods! So foods like mashed potatoes, oatmeal, grits and yogurt, soft foods like that can be great for baby regressors cause they don't have to chew or think super hard about what they want to eat. Another thing you can do is blend up some of your favorite fruits and add some yogurt into the mixture to make sure your blend is nice and smooth. Bananas and steamed vegetables are also great because they can be soft and easy for your little one to eat!

Shows Movies and More!

Some great shows are shows aimed towards a younger crowd

You can find some great shows for younger kids on sites like Nick Jr, Disney Jr, and pbs kids!

Personally, I like shows like Octonauts, Gabby's doll house, baby einstein and Thomas the tank engine

Some movies I like to watch are actually Disney movies when I regress to an age so so tiny! I like Winnie the pooh, I like toy story and Cars but I also have been trying to lean away from Disney recently due to their political stances and I've found some great movies on Netflix Instead!

Know Your Baby!

Know your baby before they regress around you, ask them what they like to do and like to watch well Before they end up being so itty bitty with you! I know it's tough to have the awkward conversations but it's so important to know how your baby expresses themself Before you're in a situation where you don't know what to do. Each and every regressor has a different experience regressing so I may love something while someone else may not.

I hope this helped! Feel free to reblog with any questions or feel free to write a comments asking any questions!

My main is @pumpkinheadspacestation so feel free to send in questions there too!

The first post to this thread of posts is Here, it's on my main blog, there will also be a link to a post with All the age guides, ages 1-13, on my main page which I will edit all the age guide posts and create a link to that post when I've made it!

#agere post #ageredips #sfw ageredips #sfw diaper wearing #sfw padded agere #sfw baby regression #sfw baby regressor #agere board #agere guide #sfw babyre #agere sfw #age regression sfw #sfw age regression

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girlgenius1111 · 1 year ago

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key to recovery

edit: young reader and platonic barca femeni + platonic leah

r wakes up from surgery, goes home, and is sad. she misses Leah but knows she can't come. her friends try to fix it.

The light of the room filtered through your eyelashes as you blinked your eyes open, just slightly. Everything around you was blurry, and you could just make out a few shapes sitting around you before your eyes drifted shut again. Your head felt heavy, and you weren't quite sure if you could move any part of your body. You tried anyway, shifting slightly, feeling a dull pang of pain in your arm. You got the feeling that the movement should have hurt a lot more, but the way your head was swirling, you were on some serious drugs.

Groaning slightly, incredibly confused, you worked harder to open your eyes, feeling someone release their grip on your hand. You brought what you assumed to be your good arm to rub at your eyes, but your movements were all thrown off and you ended up just wacking yourself in the face.

"Easy there, buddy," a voice came from farther away in the room, as someone else grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your face. You groaned again, and a few chuckles echoed their way through the room.

"Y/n, can you open your eyes for me?" a different voice asked, much closer than the previous voice. You opened them again, and this time they focused on the form sitting next to you. Alexia smiled when you looked at her, and she brought a cup of water up to your mouth, letting you sip from the straw.

The water did a lot to revive you, and the length of your blinks was growing shorter. Alexia took the cup and you looked around the room, seeing people scattered across many different chairs. Lucy was leaning up against the wall, next to a chair that Keira was asleep in. Mapi was asleep in a chair on the other side of the room, leaning heavily against Ingrid, who was smiling at you. All of them were still in their kits, and you were still pretty confused.

Your voice was gravelly when you tried to speak, and you cleared your throat, trying again.

"Why am I in the hospital?" you rasped, looking to Alexia.

"You don't remember?" she asked frowning slightly, and you shook your head. "You got pushed to the ground pretty hard during the game and dislocated your elbow. They had to put it back in place surgically."

You looked down at your arm, then, taking in the heavily wrapped limb. You could just barely see your fingers, and they looked swollen. It was resting on a pillow next to you, and you tried to pick it up, before crying out as a jolt of pain shot through your arm.

"No, no, don't move it, you've gotta keep it still," Lucy said, moving closer to you. She stood at the edge of the bed, crossing her arms, and she inexplicably reminded you of a dad at that moment, frowning at your arm. You nodded slowly, feeling like everything they were telling you was taking much longer than normal to process.

The sound you'd made had woken up Keira and Mapi. Now everyone was staring at you, as if waiting for you to speak. About what, you weren't sure.

A nurse entered then, asking you questions about your pain level, before asking you if you were hungry. Thinking for a few second, you nodded your head enthusiastically. She handed you a bag of animal crackers, before leaving the room. You stared at it for at least a full 60 seconds, before you began to tear up.

"What is it?" Alexia asked, leaning forward, concerned.

"I can't open it and now I don't get animal crackers," you murmured, valiantly fighting to hold back from crying. You really wanted them but you only had one arm.

Alexia laughed, and you looked up at her with wide eyes, confused. She took the bag out of your hands, and opened it before handing you the bag. A smile appeared on your face, and you began to eat the animal crackers. Everyone was still staring at you, and it was beginning to annoy you.

"Why is everyone looking at me," you grumbled, and everyone averted their eyes, almost comically.

"We were just worried about you, pequeña," Mapi said, staring out the window, but looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

For a minute, you were confused. Why were they worried about you? You couldn't remember. Then, glancing down, you did.

"Because my elbow fell off," you said knowingly, and this time the whole room erupted into laughter. They all looked back at you, only laughing harder at the perplexed expression on your face. You didn't think it was very funny that your elbow had fallen off.

"No, buddy, you dislocated your elbow, but I promise it's still attached," Lucy told you, trying to keep a straight face. She pointed at your arm, and you looked down.

"Oh. Right," you said. They must have reattached your elbow to your body. "Can I go home soon?" you asked, looking around. The girls all exchanged looks, before Lucy cleared her throat.

"You can leave the hospital pretty soon, but you can't go home by yourself. You're gonna stay with Mapi and Ingrid," she said hesitantly, not really sure how this information was going to go over.

They'd had a long debate about who you should stay with. Both Lucy and Keira were adamant that you come home with one of them, but neither of them had an extra bedroom. Alexia campaigned for custody of you too, but eventually she was overruled, as it made more sense for you to go with the couple. They had an extra bedroom, and there were 2 of them.

"That's cool," you replied, eyes suddenly starting to slide shut again. "Can I go back to sleep?"

"Si, nena, we'll wake you when it's time to go," Alexia stated.

-----

They tried to wake you. It didn't really work. Instead, they changed your half asleep form into the sweats that Ingrid had brought from your apartment, and all but carried you from the bed to the wheelchair. Mapi wheeled you to the car, until her privileges were revoked after pushing and letting go in the parking lot briefly. Alexia slapped her on the arm, and Ingrid took over pushing.

You don't really remember the car ride, or arriving at Mapi and Ingrid's. They gave you more painkillers before you left the hospital, and you were practically comatose as Ingrid gave up trying to get you to walk, carefully picking you up and carrying you into their house.

When you woke up again, you didn't feel like you were orbiting the earth anymore. Instead, your arm ached, you weren't at home, there was a black cat laying practically on your head, and you had realized you were going to be out of playing for a while. You looked around the room, not seeing your phone near you, wondering what time it was. The sun was filtering in through the window, lighting up the room with a warm glow. The bed you were in was incredibly comfortable, and you dreaded having to get up and out from under the cozy duvet.

You wanted coffee though. Unsteadily, you rose from the bed, already annoyed with the sling holding your arm close to your chest. You shuffled out into the hall and into the living room.

"Pequeña! You're awake!" Mapi called, standing up from her spot on the couch. You only frowned at her, looking around for Ingrid to make you coffee. "How are you feeling?" she asked, thinking you were grumpy because you were in pain.

"Like someone cut into my arm with a knife," you retorted, before sitting down on the couch and glaring at the coffee table. Mapi took in the look on your face for a minute, before deciding that she was not the best equipped person for grumpy y/n.

"INGRID!" she called, ignoring the look you gave her at her loud voice.

"Yes, mi amor?" Ingrid responded, walking into the room. Her face brightened at the sight of you. "Y/n! How are you feeling?"

"Can you make me coffee please?" you asked in a monotone. Ingrid and Mapi exchanged looks, and Mapi mouthed someone's grumpy at Ingrid, who made a face and nodded.

"I'm not grumpy." You grumbled. Ingrid rolled her eyes, walking into the kitchen to get you the aforementioned coffee. Mapi took a cautious seat on the couch next to you, and handed you your phone. You made no move to open it.

"Do you want to call Leah?" she suggested. An unreadable expression flashed across your face.

"No, I'll call her later," you said, and Mapi could have sworn your voice wavered slightly. Ingrid returned with your coffee, and sat down in one of the arm chairs across the room. Both girls were looking at you intently.

"When can I go home?" you asked, because your worst nightmare may have been being forced to impose upon your friends, stay at their house, and make them take care of you.

"Not for a while, nena. A couple weeks, until your stitches are out and you're out of the sling." Mapi replied. "Do you not want to stay here?

Your frosty exterior cracked slightly at that, never wanting your friends to feel like the problem was them.

"No, I just hate bothering you guys. I'd be fine on my own," you started, but Ingrid interrupted you.

"You're not bothering us, we want you here, and we want to make sure you're okay," she insisted, looking at you softly. You didn't reply.

Instead, you picked up your phone, and began scrolling through the many, many, messages you'd received from friends and teammates. Your heart panged when you saw several texts from Leah. You replied quickly, not giving her much information. The longer you thought about Leah, her cozy home in London, the room she still kept there for you, the closer you got to tears.

"Pequeña? Are you okay?" Mapi asked softly, and you turned your head to see her and Ingrid both looking at you.

"Yeah, I'm good. I think I'm gonna go take a nap though," you replied, even though you'd just gotten up. They didn't really know what to say as you rose and headed back to the guest bedroom.

You crawled under the covers, and into a little ball, as best you could with one arm in a sling, and let yourself cry into the pillow. You missed Leah. It had been a while since you'd been homesick, having settled well in Spain, and you talked to Leah so often, you didn't ever really have a chance to miss her. Now, though, you were in pain, you were sad about your stupid injury, and you just wanted Leah.

She'd been with you through it all, everything with your parents. She'd seen you at your worst, and maybe that's why you needed her so badly right now; because letting anyone else in would be too hard. You couldn't ask her to come though, not now, not while she was on the cusp of her return. You cried until you wore yourself out, eventually falling back asleep.

-----

In the living room, Mapi and Ingrid discussed your odd behavior. They'd frankly never seen you this grumpy before, and whatever you had been looking at on your phone had almost brought you to tears right in front of them. They weren't really sure what to do, as you didn't seem like you'd open up to them.

They were just deciding to call Lucy and Keira, and see if they would come try to talk to you, when they heard a cry of pain from the bedroom. They were off the couch and running down the hall in seconds, throwing the door open to find you on the bed, breathing deeply through tears, your one good fist balled tightly.

"What happened?" Mapi questioned, both girls moving closer to hover next to you.

"I rolled over in my sleep," you said through clenched teeth, waiting for the wave of pain to pass.

"I'll get you some ice, and some medicine. You're due for more anyway." Mapi said, heading out of the room. Ingrid took a seat next to you, on your good side, and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her. You let her, leaning in to her warmth as she rubbed your back softly. You took deep breaths, willing the pain away, resting your head on her shoulder.

"How does it feel now?" she asked, after a few minutes had passed.

"Better. I don't think I messed anything up in there." You pulled away from her suddenly, wiping at your eyes. You wanted Leah. You loved Ingrid, you really did, but you just wanted Leah.

Ingrid let her arm fall from around your shoulders, looking at you sympathetically. It was clear that something was really bothering you, more than the pain in your arm.

By the time Mapi returned, with ice, medicine, and a sandwich, you'd reverted back to the grouchy version of yourself, all evidence of tears wiped from your face. They didn't take it personally, the way you barely answered their questions, really only opening your mouth to thank them every time they did something for you, no matter how small it was. They knew it wasn't about them.

-----

Everyone was surprised when Keira and Lucy failed to get you to talk; in fact, it seemed like they'd only made you more upset. They came over later that day, and you wouldn't look at either of them. They tried for a while, getting very little in response. Lucy got fed up pretty fast.

"Kid, I don't understand. Are you upset about your arm? Does it hurt? Why are you acting like this?" she questioned, staring at you hard. She thought that perhaps being firm with you would work. She knew she'd picked the wrong path when you finally looked up, just to glare at her.

"Obviously my arm fucking hurts Lucy. I'm not upset about anything, and I'm not acting like anything. I don't understand why everyone can't just leave me alone," you spoke sharply. Lucy was rather shocked at being spoken to like that.

"Y/n, something is clearly going on. You've been in a bad mood all day. Just tell us what's up." Keira pushed, trying a softer approach.

"Nothing is up. I just want to be alone."

Neither Keira, nor Lucy were Leah. You just wanted Leah. Eventually, you knew, that feeling would pass, and being around other people would be easier. Until then, everyone just needed to leave you alone.

"Leah said you haven't called her yet..." Lucy started, only to be cut off by you.

"Please, for the love of god, just leave me alone Lucy." You interrupted. It seems they'd struck a nerve by bringing up Leah, which neither of them missed. Exchanging looks, both girls got up, each giving you as much of a hug as they could, without crushing your arm, whilst you completely ignored their movements.

They left the room, bumping right into Ingrid and Mapi, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping. They walked back into the living room, and Mapi sighed.

"We're gonna have to call in Alexia," she said, knowing that if anyone could get you to talk, it was your captain. The other girls agreed, and Lucy and Keira left, defeated, as Mapi called the blonde woman.

-----

You were in the living room when Alexia arrived, having been convinced by your hosts to come watch a movie with them. When she entered the house, they gave a random, flimsy excuse about going to get ice cream, before leaving you alone with Alexia. You stared at the TV, stony faced, even after she'd flicked it off, and taken a seat next to you on the couch.

"Nenaaaa," she said, poking your cheek. You shifted your gaze to scowl at her.

"Oye, don't look at me like that," she said sternly, and you dropped your gaze, but the frown didn't leave your lips.

"Are you going to tell me whats wrong, or am I gonna have to force it out of you?" She asked.

"Nothing is wrong, Alexia."

"Well I know that's not true. You've been snapping at everyone, you look like you want to cry constantly, and you've barely spoken. And you've refused to call Leah. So I know something's wrong, and I'm going to sit here until you tell me what it is." She said firmly, settling down into the couch for added effect.

"Fuck off Alexia," you mumbled, immediately regretting it. Alexia was staring at you, jaw dropped. You'd never spoken to her like that. She'd never heard you speak to ANYONE like that.

"Y/n, we've been patient, but we're just trying to help you, and there's no reason for you to be rude," she scolded, her tone very angry. You felt so guilty for being so rude, and you were so frustrated with yourself for being so pathetic. They were just trying to help, and because you missed Leah, you were acting like a brat. Tears, of frustration or sadness you weren't sure, began pooling in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice cracking. Alexia watched you carefully, scooting closer when you began to cry, and rubbing her hand up on down your good arm.

"Nena, please talk to me," she pleaded, "maybe I can help."

"You can't help."

"Why not?"

"You just can't," you replied bitterly. "No one can help, there's nothing anyone can do, she can't come here, she has to focus on her recovery." You were too caught up in your emotions to realize you'd given it away.

"Is this about Leah, cariño?" Alexia asked carefully. You nodded, finally letting out a loud sob. Alexia moved forward, and you buried your face in her chest, sobs wracking your whole body. "Oh, nena, why didn't you say something? You don't need to be embarrassed about missing her, she's important to you, and she's always taken care of you," Alexia soothed.

You didn't respond, continuing to cry into Alexia's sweatshirt, and she held you tightly, but gently, careful not to jostle your elbow. "It's okay, y/n, it's okay to miss her, and want her when you're hurting," she reassured you, but you weren't showing any signs of calming down, and she knew she needed to do something before you started panicking.

She grabbed your phone off the couch, without you noticing, and called Leah, holding the phone up to her ear.

"Y/n? Why've you been ignoring me!" Leah complained as she answered. Your tears slowed at the sound of her voice, and you leaned back, shakily holding your hand out. Alexia handed you the phone, and you brought it to your ear.

"Lee?" you asked, voice sounding broken.

"Hey buddy, what's going on?" Leah asked, voice much gentler than it was before.

"I really miss you," you said, your voice almost a whisper.

"Oh, y/n, I miss you too. Are you having a hard night?" she asked.

'I guess. Since I got hurt, I just want to see you. It's stupid," you replied.

"No, it's not stupid. I want to be there more than anything, I really do. Is this why you've been ignoring my calls?" She asked, heart hurting for you.

"I didn't want to make you feel bad for not being able to come."

"Y/n, you should never worry about that. I want you to talk to me when you're sad, when you miss me, even when I can't come to you."

"Okay, I'll try."

"Good. Now tell me about your day. Is everyone taking good care of you?" She asked.

You settled back against Alexia, nuzzling close, trying to express your thanks to her. She simply wrapped you back up in her arms, and texted your friends, telling them you were doing better. She expected the call to take a while, but she didn't mind staying with you through it, as it was clearly what you needed. She did wonder, however, if she could manage to get you to England during your recovery; seeing Leah would definitely speed the process along.

-----

do we want a part 4? or perhaps a prequel?

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #keira walsh #lucy bronze #leah williamson

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scorpioracha · 11 months ago

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Dating Yoongi

We've finally got the dating Yoongi headcanons!! I'm sorry it took so long but boy is it lengthy so strap in. this is not proofread and im fucking exhausted so edits to be done eventually. if you enjoy reblog, like and leave a comment. cw: does contain smut and one kys moment

Your meet cute with Yoongi ended up being more of a meet awkward than anything. It was 3am at one of the many random convenience stores in Gangnam and you were exhausted, exhausted and hungry. You were doing a year in Seoul for your major and the timezones were really fucking you up. Puffy sleepy eyes,glasses on and a sleep mask resting on your forehead made quite the picture.

It was also quite the picture when you ran into a rack of honey butter chips and wiped out on the floor.

Full wipeout.

Legs up,gravity turned on its head wiped out.

Thankfully the only thing wounded was your pride, but you kinda wished you knocked yourself out so you couldn’t see the handsome man towering over laughing so hard his eyes practically disappeared and a gummy smile on his face. He had a cup of ice and one of those americano packets balanced in one hand and a helmet dangling in his other.

“...chana?”

“Huh?”you said in a daze.

“Gwaenchana?”he purred in a low rumble. He looked at your lost expression and sucked in a breath.

“Are you okay?”It was a little clunky and half mumbled but you didn’t want to put this man through any more mental torment so you nodded quickly.

“Ne, na gwaenchana!”you replied and quickly scrambled to your feet, almost falling once again because your ankle decided now was the time to roll. He quickly reached out and steadied you, looking at you with so much bewilderment the whole situation felt comical. He looked at the hand that still rested on your arm and quickly pulled it away, you swear you saw his pale cheeks turn pink.

“Um…”he rumbled, looking at you with weary eyes. “stay”

You nodded with wide eyes as you watched this random man run around the convenience store and come back with a juice box and a random red pouch. He looked at you and held up each one.

“Bae juice”

He held up the red pouch. “Hong sam jelly for sukchwi…one moment”

He pulled out his phone and typed quickly. He held the phone to his ear and hummed.

“For hangover”he said, pointing to the two items again. Your eyes widened and you shook your head rapidly. You weren’t drunk. He definitely misinterpreted the situation and just smiled, giving you a smile and waving goodbye before disappearing into the night.

And what do you do when a pretty man buys you pear juice and ginseng jelly in a foreign country?

You fucking c o n s u m e it.

And the next morning when you woke up late to your 8:00am lecture, you just blamed the crazy night because wow what the fuck happened.

You spent the rest of your classes thinking about that handsome stranger. Maybe you did hit your head because WHY didn’t you ask for his name or his katalk? You could have done the whole ‘oh handsome young man, I need to pay you back’ kinda schtick but your brain decided to cosplay the very first windows computer and blue screen the minute you looked at him. stupid.

“Stupid” you groaned, trudging back to your dorm. You had been blessed—got accommodations—for a single room so it was just you and your twin sized

Oh yeah, and your pining.

Couldn’t forget about your pining.

You needed a drink. A good drink,some good food and some cartoons to get your mind off this random man. Within minutes you had a bottle of soju and a hefty platter of tteokbokki on the way. Maybe you’d go out for bingsu sometime this week with the girls from your lecture. They were sweet and treated you just like anyone else despite the racial and cultural differences, doting on you as their new maknae and always making sure you ate between classes. It was nice to be looked out for so thoroughly, especially when you were so far away from home. You pulled your phone out to text them when you got a notification that your delivery driver was already on the way.

Huh. they were already earning themself a tip. You stood eagerly by the door waiting and even though you were watching the app like a hawk, you jumped when the doorbell rang and scrambled to open it.

“Gamsahab-”you looked up and saw a familiar set of eyes. “...-nida”

“Soju?”he raises his brow in a way that says ‘again?’. You felt your face grow hot and shook your head rapidly. He just smirked and handed over your takeout bags.

Once again you fucked up,blanked and forgot to ask for his name.

Damn pretty boy with his pretty eyes and his stupid smile.

It was months before you had seen him again.

Time heals all wounds and you began to move on. You hung out more with your friends, went to karaoke,saw the sights of Seoul and slowly but surely felt yourself moving on.

It was on a rainy day in May where you found yourself at your usual convenience store. The weather went from sunny skies to torrential downpour within minutes and you had just gotten your hair done. You were looking for an umbrella but found yourself in the snack aisle.

Blame it on the wind.

What you didn’t expect to find in the snack aisle were seven men bickering.

You kinda just stood like 🧍🏾‍♀️ until one of them finally turned and god he was stunning

“Yah, Yoongi-yah!! Move and let this lady through!”

The ‘Yoongi’ in question quickly scooted out of the way, mumbling about how they were all in the way.

That mumble…

“Yoongi..”you whispered before you could even stop yourself. His gaze snapped up and for once you caught him off guard. His eyes flitted over you rapidly and his mouth opened and shut like a nutcracker.

“Soju girl,”he whispered. Then the moment was lost.

"na iroumi aniya(that’s not my name)” you huffed in annoyance. You know there was an honorific you were supposed to use somewhere in that sentence but your point still stood.

“You speak Korean”another boy said and god he was tall.

“Yes I speak Korean”you said, tilting your head up at him.

“Hyung, you said soju girl couldn’t speak Korean!”a voice laughs. You squint your eyes at this Yoongi who seemingly wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He stared at you like he had seen a ghost actually which wasn’t making things much better. The tall boy sighed and took a step forward, bowing even.

“I apologize for my hyung,”he said solemnly. “He’s usually not this dumb. I’m Kim Namjoon and these are my bandmates. What’s your name?”

You smiled and returned the bow, happy to finally have some familiarity, both language and warmth.

“I’m y/n”you said. “I think me and your hyung have some catching up to do”

Yes, to say it was a meet awkward was the nicest way to put it.

It was a fucking train wreck of events if you were being completely honest.

You had exchanged info with Namjoon seeing as he spoke the most English and was the only one who didn’t 👁️👄👁️ at you which was nice and had quickly become good friends with one another.

Seeing that their leader liked you, the rest of the boys quickly followed suit and you suddenly had a much bigger friend group than you could even imagine.

Yoongi had become a lot more reserved in a way that was off putting to say the least. You’d only ever spoken to him twice before but there was something off.

you’d asked Namjoon about it during one of your study/music/kill each other from frustration sections and he just shrugged mumbling something about ‘hyung being busy’

you rolled your eyes and grabbed your stuff to find out yourself. That’s what you get for asking a dumbass.

Yoongi had been exactly where you’d expect him to be, crammed into one of the practice rooms with his headphones and laptop.

“Yoongi,” you said, tapping on his shoulder. He spun around in a startle and looked at you with a relieved sigh.

“Oh god”he breathed out, “I thought you were one of the maknae begging for food”

You couldn’t help but to smile, all the prior annoyance melting out of your pores and back to the depths of hell where they belonged. Talking to Yoongi was easy, that is when he was still talking to you.

“How do you know I'm not begging for food?”you smirked, taking a seat on the lumpy couch.

“Well, are you?”he asked, raising a brow. You shook your head and leaned back into the couch.

“You’re off the hook”you said, “but I do have a question” “Which is?” “Why have you been avoiding me lately?”

The room grew silent enough you could hear a pin drop. Cornered was the only way you could describe Yoongi. His shoulders scrunched up and he seemed to fold in on himself.

“No reason,”he said plainly.

Your eyes narrowed.

“So you have been avoiding me?”

His eyes widened.

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean?”you asked. Your patience was wearing thin and your heart was racing something ugly.

“I was trying to give you space”

“Space for what? I didn’t ask for space!”you snapped.

“Space for you and Namjoon!”he snapped back, folding his arms over his chest.

“Me and Namjoon?”you gagged. “The last thing me and Namjoon need is space, please collect your dongsaeng cause he won’t leave me alone!”

“Well he’s your boyfriend!”Yoongi threw back.

Huh.

“Huh?!”You shrieked.

“It doesn’t take a genius to find out,”Yoongi continued, rolling his eyes. “So you can drop the naive act”

“Naive act—Yoongi, you think I'm dating Namjoon?”you asked. You felt like you were going to be sick. Namjoon wasn’t bad by any means, he was just so older brother coded it was disgusting.

“I don't think, I know,”he said. “You guys spend all your time together,you go on dates,you take naps together; it’s obvious”

“Well since you’re such a genius”You said, “How come you couldn’t tell that i’m in love with you?”

Huh.

“Huh?”he said, spinning around in his chair to fully face you. You ran a hand over your face and honest to god laughed.

“Idiots”you said in disbelief. “You’re all idiots”

“Hey-”

“I've been pining over you for months and this whole time you think i’ve been dating Namjoon”you said, shaking your head.

“You’ve been what?”Yoongi said.

“Crushing on you”you emphasized, “You idiot”

“i..I don’t know what to say,”he said. You sighed and fully leaned back against the chair, feeling all the blood rush to your head from your bold confession. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

“You can let me down gently for starters”you chuckled humorlessly.

“Let you down—what are you talking about?”he asked.

“Just reject me already!”You exclaimed, waving your hands frantically. You felt like a madwoman.

“Why would I reject you?”his eyebrows furrowed.

You were going to be sick.

“I’m going to be sick”you laughed, running your hands over your face and god were you crying?

“Why are you crying?”he rumbled softly, leaning in and wiping the tears off your cheeks. You just laughed harder, but that ended up turning into a sob because you were so tired. You weren’t expecting a fairytale but this wasn’t the turn you thought today would take. You felt yourself being pulled closer and you knew you should pull away, you knew better. It was all too much and he would just hurt you, but his hoodie smelled like coffee. His hoodie smelled like coffee and his hands were warm as they wrapped around you. You always wondered if he ran hot or cold, but he was neither; Yoongi was pleasantly warm. His hand had somehow wriggled between the two of you and rested on your cheek, rubbing the streaks where your tears trailed. His breath rose and fell in a steady rhythm and for a moment you felt weighless.

“What a mess, huh?”he mumbled, tracing his thumb over your temple. “I went and made all these assumptions…because I was afraid to say I love you”

“You love me?”you whispered.

“Mm”he rumbled in affirmation. “You didn’t know?”

“No”you said, keeping your voice low, scared if you spoke too loud, the moment would disappear.

“I thought I was being obvious,”he said.

“I thought I was being obvious,”you said. You pulled your head back to look at Yoongi and that gummy smile was on full display.

“We’re both idiots”

Actually dating Yoongi went much smoother than the confession process.

In the early days, the two of you spent a lot of time in the genius studio doing parallel play, you’d work on your assignments and he would work on music.

Obviously with many interruptions from the maknae line + hoseok, occasionally being prodded by Seokjin and Namjoon to eat,drink and get fresh air

Y’all needed to touch grass and they were sick of it

Being so close to the band in their early days formed an immeasurable bond between you all

But it also lead to a lot of sacrifices on your part that you weren’t prepared to make.

There was the obvious like no posting about the boys on social media,nda’s up the wazoo,etc. This was all expected and you were willing to do so.

What you weren’t prepared for was how cruel the kmedia could truly be. You weren’t from here, you were a foreigner and that already put a target on your back. The fact that you weren’t thin or pale didn’t help one bit either.

Thankfully, the boys and Yoongi reassured you in private. Namjoon did damage control and argued with the company to do more on your behalf, while Jimin and the maknae stood by your side like bodyguards wherever you went in silent solidarity. You were never alone. Jin dropped you off at university in the morning, along with Jungkook. Scolding the two of you to have a good day and to eat something that wasn’t chips. Naturally, Jungkook would bring you back once your classes were done and continued to gripe that even though he was older than you, he was still stuck in highschool.

You still hold this over his head to this date.

So thankfully, you had support. Support that if you didn’t have you weren’t sure where you would be honestly. It really felt like you all had become a little family, and being so far from home that was something you desperately needed.

Once the group got larger and was in a more stable position you better believe they all stopped holding their tongues, especially Yoongi. He could be a little hard to read at times but you were not expecting him to be getting himself into full on twitter wars on a burner account over you 💀

“Yoongi stop telling people to kill themselves”

“No”

Being in love with Yoongi felt easy, it was natural. He continued to take care of you in little ways whether it was packing your lunch,giving you transit fare or rubbing your temples when you were tired and falling asleep on him.

Our mans is definitely about that acts of service life. He loves quietly.

Pda made him want to die just a little inside but he wasn’t opposed to holding your hand. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide anyways, you guys were already public.

He wasn’t the jealous type and although he’d never admit it, he loved how much you and the boys love each other. He’s got a bunch of pictures on his phone of you just in the dorms being domestic. You spent more time there than you did in your own dorm room.

So although he doesn’t say it often, he shows it with every part of his being. The way his eyes sparkle when he sees you in the morning, his proud smile in your graduation photos. It also made his heart flutter that you got his dry humor and you dished it right back to him, smack in the middle of the maknae line teasing him and Jin about being old.

And when you learned Daegu Satoori from Taehyung to surprise him? Namjoon had to hold him back from proposing on the spot. And to think he ever thought you and Namjoon were dating.

Yoongi bits ✨tid bits about you and yoongi ✨

Yes Yoongi genuinely thought you were drunk and he wasn’t flirting(he got that nuerodivergent rizz)

When Yoongi told you the mint hair wasn’t real and washed it out you cried 🧍🏾‍♀️

You guys have two apartments together, one near Hybe and one in Daegu. You both prefer the apartment in Daegu because that means Holly gets to stay with you guys.

Everytime a new design for shooky it mysteriously appears in the apartment.

You guys have two cats per your request(a white one named sugar and a black one named gloss) the things Yoongi does for love

You guys have been happily engaged for the past year and he proposed in the most unromantic way possible

NSFW

Baby, Yoongi is a switch with a capital S

Now I have never met a non kinky neurodivergent person and Yoongi is no exception. He enjoys a good power dynamic and has definitely explored kink in the past with previous partners so he’s experienced.

But Yoongi does occasionally just like to fuck, no rules no dynamics. Just vanilla sex

He’s a lot softer than his image and he honestly likes the separation between the two for his own sanity. The fans think he’s this no nonsense hardass, but he’d much rather praise and reward you than dole out punishments.

He’s a softie at heart and finds a bit of bratty behavior to be cute so you can definitely get away with a lot. Not to say he’s a complete pushover but he definitely will let a good amount of back talk slide before he puts you in your place. It's almost infuriating how calm he is if you’re the type that brats in hopes of a punishment. He’ll just look at you and laugh about how cute you’re being before returning back to whatever he was doing.

It’s pretty hard to tick him off but also not impossible, the easiest way to get him to snap is to mess with him in the studio; especially if he has a deadline coming up. That's how you end up on your knees crammed under his desk not even allowed to suck his dick but just sit there and keep it warm while he works. The condescending mumbles and coos he lets out while stroking your head is enough to send you careening straight into subspace. “Just needed something in your mouth, huh?”he’d purr and gently drag his nails across your scalp

Tongue technology. We all know about it, but you get to experience this first hand at your beck and call. Yoongi is the first one to admit you’re spoiled and when you’re not being a brat, all you have to do is ask and he’ll be in between your legs. He could and has spent hours down there teasing your folds and giving you orgasm after orgasm until you can’t take it anymore.

Somnophilia. This is a kink that goes both ways for you guys but honestly he finds it really hot when you take what you need from him. Waking up groggy in the middle of the night to you fucking yourself on his cock is one of the quickest ways to get Yoongi whining and gripping the sheets. Bonus points if you tie his hands up or cuff them to the bed posts.

He’s not really a fan of quickies and prefers to take his time, but he’s not opposed to shoving you into a closet and getting you off on his fingers if you’re getting needy. He just wants to take care of his girl.

Speaking of his hands, they end up around your throat and in your mouth quite often. Whether you’re sucking or gagging on them, Yoongi makes good on this little fixation and makes sure you get your fill.

He’s down to being pegged. Somebody had to say it guys,🗣️ Yoongi wants something up his ass ‼️

Whether you have him bent over a table or you’re tied up and he’s riding you, Yoongi does enjoy penetration and he’s not ashamed of it. He likes how dazed and pliant you get when he’s bouncing on your strap all flushed and pink and whining. it’s a rush to his head and sends him over the edge faster than he can get a hand on himself.

He’s a fan of cozy aftercare and pillow talk. After you’ve both cleaned up and the bed is moderately clean, he’s off in the kitchen getting snacks and water so you two can cuddle and recap what you liked and disliked. He gets really affectionate after he cums so it usually dissolves into him mumbling praises and kissing all over your face before falling asleep.

All in all Yoongi is the best boy.

#yoongi headcanons #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #Yoongi smut #bts headcanons #bts hard thoughts #bts hard hours #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #bts min yoongi #bts fanfic #bts yoongi #yoongi drabble #min yoongi

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koqabear · 1 year ago

Text

Lamb To The Slaughter

♫: Gods & Monsters, Lana Del Rey

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

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

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

Word count: 15.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are wolves in the forest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come back to me safe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re targeting you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m here to protect you.”

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

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

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel nauseous. They’re toying with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out.”

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

“I said, get. Out.”

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

“Don’t expect any mercy from him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re safe with me— remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

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

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

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

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

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

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