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zhongliologist · 3 years

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Tea Ceremonies | Dom! Zhongli

Pairing: Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!

Words: 3.1k

A/N: No one asked for this but here you go. This was supposed to be another half dragon Zhongli fic, but oh well, the plot went somewhere else. This is btw based on another fic I’m working on which is a Teashop AU,, so Zhongli is the boss, Keqing, Xiao, and the reader are the employees;;;

Warning: THIS IS AN 18+ FIC, SO MINORS OUT THERE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

After hours in the teashop was almost identical to its opening hours.

It was peaceful and quiet, with all the chairs stowed away and the window covers rolled down—the only difference was the void of loneliness left by the absence of the customers’ chatter. Yet this was the perfect time for you, as a waitress to practice your skills in preparing tea.

While one can say that preparing tea is simply a matter of steeping tea leaves in a pot of hot water, such practice does not bring forth the full flavor and aroma of the tea leaves, and does not completely align with the purpose of the tea shop.

Well, that’s how your boss, Zhongli would say.

Thus, with all the materials before you at the counter and an incense stick lighted up somewhere, you were already in the middle of the tea ceremony. To his credit, it was indeed a meditative task—you can allow yourself to just relax and slowly prepare the tea in meticulous steps Zhongli has instructed you to.

You were already in the middle of heating up the Yixing teapot when the tea sommelier stepped out from the kitchen, his handsome face still calm as ever even after a day’s work.

“Oh? Are you practicing?”

Zhongli asked, walking towards you and observing your actions closely. You suddenly felt self-conscious at his presence; your hand holding the iron kettle trembling.

“I-I…yeah,” you managed to reply, even if you were beginning to flush under his scrutinizing gaze.

You had long realized your massive crush on this man; it wasn’t even a secret to your co-workers Keqing and Xiao, yet as an employee, there was no way for you to act upon your feelings on your boss.

“Careful now,” he muttered behind you, covering your hand with his. “We wouldn’t want to get you scalded.”

Slowly, he guided your hand and poured the hot water on to the Yixing tea pot; the steam making your face even hotter than before. While he was busy teaching you, your mind was definitely elsewhere—concentrating only on how warm your back was against his broad chest, or how close his breath was to your ear.

He brought down the iron kettle back to the heating stand much to your relief. However, unlike what you were expecting, he hasn’t left your side, rather, he felt even closer than before.

What…What is this…?!

Inwardly, you were panicking. There was no way for you to continue the tea ceremony like this. Zhongli was so close, too close that he could be snuggling to you at this point. Your heart beat was racing at a hundred mile per hour yet you couldn’t leave your thoughts aside anymore. Your boss isn’t flirting with you now, is he?!

“What’s the next step, YN?” he asked, forcing you out of your mental dilemma. His voice was sultry, and seductively close to your ear, he could nibble on it any second.

“A-ahh….uh…er…leaves! I’m putting in the leaves!” You exclaimed, hand clammy as you searched for the Da Hong Pao among the containers before you.

When you did finally find it, your hand was slightly trembling as you scooped out a spoonful of it until the pot was four-fifths full. You swear you could die from both nervousness and embarrassment as you wondered if Zhongli saw you clumsily filling in the tea pot.

Yet he only chuckled behind you, making you jump as he propped his head on your shoulders. “Excellent. And then?”

Don’t mind him, YN! Just…Just do what you need to do!

“T-The water….to…to m-moisten the leaves!”

Taking the iron kettle once again, you lifted it up at a certain height and began pouring, aiming towards the rim of the teapot. You kept on willing yourself to focus on your technique, but it seemed like your boss has other ideas.

With his free hand, you felt Zhongli glide up his fingers on your back; slowly and deliberately, as if he was intentionally teasing you.

“Stand up straight now, love.”

The effect was immediate. You jolted up from your position, almost missing the tea pot you were pouring water into.

“S-Sir…!” you exclaimed, wide eyed and flustered. “What are you doing…!”

Zhongli only hummed amusingly, much to your chagrin. “I’m simply correcting your posture. Is something wrong?”

You’re definitely not ‘simply correcting’ my posture!

If only you could say that, but you continued on.

The custom was to pour until the water spills out slightly from the teapot, but you were still a few inches away, no thanks to your boss’ antics.

“Now, listen to how the water sounds as you pour it into the teapot,” he was now back beside your ear, as if he was whispering sweet nothings to you. “Does it not resemble the trickling of a mountain stream? Does it not sound good?”

You weren’t really sure what he was referring to as ‘good’ in his last question, but you knew he wasn’t talking about the water anymore.

“As you add more heat, the tea leaves will gradually unfurl and open up.” He continued, “it’s flavor and aroma unlocking as you begin to moisten it up.”

Are…are those innuendos? You pursed your lips despite how his deep voice sends in waves of arousal down between your legs. You were not giving in. Definitely not.

Looking down, you were glad the water had begun to spill out from the teapot—the iron kettle was beginning to weigh on your arm, and your boss was being such a delightful distraction. Placing the kettle back, you then picked up the lid of the teapot and began scraping away the bubbles that had floated on top.

“You must be gentle with it, YN,” he whispered, voice almost raspy, as his hands settled on your hips. It instantly sent shudders down your spine. “Just like how they say, ‘as gentle as a spring breeze, stroking one’s skin…”

As he said those words, his fingers danced on your waist as it eventually slid down your thighs, and stayed there; meandering lines on your trouser-covered skin with his digits.

You bit your lip, stopping a moan from escaping. It was beginning to feel difficult to breathe since he was already embracing you; feeling you up. Even if this was a surprise, you were relishing at his attention; not wanting him to stop.

“S-Sir…I—!” You closed your eyes tightly as he groped your thigh; making you halt all your actions.

“Don’t stop now. Continue.”

Despite, his deep and gentle voice, you knew what an order was. And so you did what he told you, despite how distracting the weight of his hands were on your sensitive skin.

Carefully, with eyes sharp, Zhongli watched as you continued with the tea ceremony—washing the teacups with the first steep and draining the rest into the tea tray. Once again, you picked up the iron kettle and poured boiling water into the teapot for the final infusion.

“You’re doing an excellent job, love,” he murmured to your ear; lips playfully nibbling. “What will you do now?”

“I…I…mmnh…” you tried to reply, yet his hands only made your heart jump to your throat. “…I have to…p-pour hot water outside…too…”

“For what?” He nuzzled on your neck.

Your hands gripped on the handle of the iron kettle tightly. “To…to i-isolate the heat…inside the pot…”

Zhongli made a low chuckle as it reverberated to your ear and down to the part between your legs. “Correct. Perhaps I shall reward you when you’re done. What do you think, love?”

“Nghh…o-okay…”

You can feel him smirk against your neck. “Well then, you still have a few steps to do. Please continue.”

Yet despite your best efforts, you couldn’t shake the arousal that had long been swirling inside your stomach. Squeezing your thighs together, you tried to seek some sort of friction to at least alleviate the haze of lust that was clouding your thoughts. Much to your dismay, your boss held on to you firmly, unable to do anything but dazedly glance at the unfinished ceremony before you.

“Oh? Do you want to stop now?” he asked, his erection now rubbing against your backside. “Will you forfeit your reward then?”

“N-no…! Wait!” you hurriedly replied, panicking.

Reaching for the teapot, you then poured its contents into the fairness pitcher. It only takes a few seconds for the Da Hong Pao to finish steeping because of the high leaf-to-water ratio, and you were glad you didn’t have to wait for too long.

“Now, now, love,” Zhongli admonished you softly, but it came out more like a purr. “Remember that the tea ceremony should not be hurried. Savor and take pleasure in this activity as much as you can.”

Without warning, he rubbed his leg against your most sensitive spot; earning a surprised yelp from you as you gripped the counter until your knuckles turned white. It was good you weren’t holding anything at that time.

“Nghh….Sir! Please…I can’t—!”

Zhongli only tutted at you, his hands inching dangerously between your legs. “It’s a mere few steps left, YN. Perhaps you don’t deserve a reward after all.”

The threat concealed in his voice was obvious to you—it’s either you continue or he’s gonna leave you like that, wanting and unsatisfied.

You pursed your lips and picked up the fairness pitcher. Even if your hands were trembling, you have to finish the ceremony just as he instructed because you know how much he will stick to his word. Pouring into the fragrance-smelling cups quickly and evenly, you came to the point where there was only a small amount of tea left inside the pitcher.

“And what will you do about that?” he suddenly asked, lips pressing against one sensitive pulse on your neck; his knee rubbing against your core.

You bit down a moan, and gathered what remaining strength you still have left. “I…I…have to pour it…”

Your boss pushed his knee harder, making you mewl against the counter. “Pour how?”

“Ahhh…! Haa….d-drop…by drop…”

You were surprised how you still managed to reply with how he was relentless with his stimulation, but it was far from over.

“Could you show it to me then?”

Damn it, Zhongli! You inwardly cursed him, but there was nothing you could do. This was the most laborious of the ceremony but this was to ensure that the flavor and aroma is even in all cups. God knows what he’s going to pull while you concentrate on doing it.

With what little is left inside the pitcher, you then poured a drop in each teacup, slowly but surely. You could feel him grinning as he perched on your shoulders, his hands lazily and deliberately missing your now drenched core.

Just how long will he continue to tease you?

Your patience had long been worn down into tiny slivers, but Zhongli held control over you as much as how he securely pins you to the counter. You could only chew on your lip as you felt his hard on pressing against you as if he was testing how much you could endure.

And finally, as if an eternity has passed, the pitcher was empty and you covered all the fragrance-smelling teacups with empty teacups—arranging them into a presentable display.

“S-sir…! I’m d-done—”

Suddenly, Zhongli turned your head towards him and captured your lips into a searing kiss. He was rough and harsh; all nips and bites and tongue as he prodded your lips open. At the same time, he kept on rubbing your core with his leg which you eagerly responded to with a loud moan.

“Here’s your reward, love,” he told you in between kisses, with a lilt of scorn in his voice. “Rub yourself against my leg and come.”

His vicious lips then turned to your neck and shoulders, littering them with bites and marks wherever he went. He would move his lips sensually on a pulse point before sucking and leaving a bruise for everyone to see tomorrow.

“You seem to like this so much, don’t you?” he asked, grinning as his teeth sunk gently on your shoulder. “Do you like being touched by your boss?”

“N-No…sir—I…!”

Zhongli raised an elegant brow. “Oh, you don’t? Perhaps I should stop here then.”

Your half-lidded eyes shot wide open. “N-No! Please don’t….! S-sir…! Please…!”

“Please what?” he asked, gazing at you with such sharp amber eyes.

“I-I…I need you, Sir…! I need to come….p-please! I…I can’t!”

Your boss smirked at you and pulled away.

You panicked in an instant, wondering what you had done wrong. Turning around to see where he went, you were instead bent to the counter, the tea ceremony set already at the side. Quick hands made quick work of your pants until you were only left with your underwear.

Feeling his hands on your hole, you could only moan at his incessant teasing. Fingers prodding and poking but never really committing to making you feel good, your yearning for him inside you only increased further.

“You’ve been so good for me, YN,” you could hear him beside your ear, his chest warm against your back. “I shall fulfill my end of the contract.”

Pushing aside your underwear, he slipped in two fingers inside you, scissoring them on your hot folds. Delirium filled your entire head as you finally felt him give you something more after those long periods of teasing. You have never expected him to be this merciless but you loved it anyway.

“How amusing. You’re shaking your hips on your own,” he remarked, still pumping his fingers in and out of you. “Perhaps I should’ve filled you with my cock instead?”

“Nghhh…Sir…! Y-yes…ahhh…!”

“Would you like that, hmm?” Zhongli asked, scoffing at you. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

You could feel his digits now rubbing against your most sensitive spots, driving you closer and closer to climax. But of course, this was Zhongli. As soon as he felt you tighten up around him, he immediately withdrew his fingers and pushed them inside your mouth.

“Mmnhh…..! Ohh…! Haaa….haa—"

“You whine like a poor beast in heat,” he openly mocked you, his now hard shaft rubbing against your hole and covering it with your slick juices. “How adorable.”

With his fingers in your mouth, you can only groan as he gradually entered you, stretching you out with his large dick. Your thoughts were only swirling with ecstasy as he filled you, pushing in and out of your hole.

And in one sharp thrust, Zhongli buried himself fully into you—triggering your climax. Shaking underneath him as your orgasm flooded you, your boss continued to pound into you, unrelenting despite how sensitive you are at that point.

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he took a fistful of your hair as he set his brutal pace—smirking as he watched your teary-eyed yet debauched expression.

“You take me in so well, love,” he praised you, though there was a mix of derision in his tone. “You like being fucked by your boss, don’t you?”

“S-Sir…! N-No…Ahhhh….! Nghhh…! Sir! Please…”

At your denial, Zhongli only shoved deeper inside of you, drawing out a long groan from your throat.

“Admit it now, YN. At least your little hole here is being honest,” he continued, shifting so that his cock was rubbing right where it feels so good.

“No…ahhh….not there! N-not…!”

Zhongli smothered more kisses on your neck, his shaft buried deep inside of you; hitting all the delicious places which were once again pushing you towards your second climax.

“Would you want me to stop then?”

“F-fuck…! No—! I—”

“Then what should I do, love?”

In the face of all the pleasure and stimulation he was giving you, you had to throw all your shame out of the window.

“M-more…! Nghh….sir please…f-fuck me!” you cried out, loving the way Zhongli was chuckling right behind you.

“As you wish.”

Pulling almost out of you, Zhongli then shoved his dick back inside in roughly, earning a throaty mewl from you. He himself could only growl at how tight you kept on gripping him.

“It feels…ahh! S-so…good….! So good—” You repeated as if in a trance.

“I’m close, love….ughh…fuck…!” He groaned, pulling your hair as your back arched. “Take all of my seed…!”

He plunged in deep inside of you, his warm seed filling you up in long bursts while you orgasmed at the same time. You were quivering at how full you were of him, savoring the moment where he clung tightly on you.

“YN…” you heard him whisper your name in his deep voice as if lulling you. “YN…”

“Zhongli…sir…” you muttered back, closing your eyes. “I…I love you…”

“Hush now, love…” you heard him reply softly.

“Zhongli…”

….

—!!

A rude push jerked you awake.

“What are you doing, sleeping in the breakroom?”

Your eyes widened.

It was Xiao, who was looking at you irately, that you first noticed. Then you saw the wooden lockers and the musk green wallpaper of the breakroom.

Wait. You continued processing what had happened.

“…what?” you asked him, disoriented.

“What do you mean what?” he replied. “Go home if you’re tired! It’s already closing time!”

“Huh…?”

Xiao leaned his head to the side. “Why are you so dazed? Still on dreamland?”

That…! That was all a dream?!

Everything that had happened—you covered your face with your hands—everything that Zhongli did….it was all a dream?! Inwardly, you grimaced. You thought something had finally progressed between the two of you, but at the same time, you realized you can’t look at him in the eyes after all of that.

The door creaked open.

“What’s the matter here?”

As soon as you heard those words, you jumped—face flushing instantaneously. Just as luck would have it, the real Zhongli had to appear as soon as you realized your dilemma. Not knowing what to do, you could only stare at the real Zhongli, who was gazing at you oh-so-innocently. That is, until your brain finally imploded.

You stood up.

“I-I…! I-I think I’m going home now! Bye!” You declared loudly, gathering most of your things from your locker and raced pass through the two men in a matter of seconds. It would also be best to call tomorrow a day off.

Xiao watched as you dashed through the back door as if you were being chased by hilichurls and raised a brow.

“Don’t you think YN looks a bit red just now?” he asked Zhongli, who only shrugged.

“She seems fine to me,” the tea sommelier replied with a flippant tone in his voice which seemed to have alerted the perceptive Xiao.

“And what about you?” he asked before the older male could escape. “You seem to be in high spirits.”

“Am I? Perhaps you’re imagining it.”

“What did you do?”

Zhongli only blinked and smiled. “Have you ever heard of ‘gifting dreams and visions’?”

#genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #s!ns #this is based on Zhongli's explanation of how he hinted at the Liyue Qixing that he was still alive #if you still remembered how #then kudos to you sksksksksk

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deleteddewewted · 3 years

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Eeep! I loved those Monoma hcs 💜💜💜! I have another request for him, but I'm really trying to not be annoying ^^;. How about Monoma with an s/o who's terrified of/sensitive to loud noises, such as fireworks? I, myself, am terrified (and currently wanting to hide from the fireworks), but this is what I just thought of requesting involving my boi, Monoma. Like last time, I don't mind if you include NSFW or not. Thank you, and sorry for being annoying 😅!

Hi again! I'm glad you've requested. You aren't annoying at all, so feel free to ask for more.

I myself don't do well with loud noises because of my GAD, so the sound of a cabinet slamming shut or even someone yelling makes me jump. These fireworks are going to make my already sleepless nights even more sleepless.

I hope you don't suffer all that much anon!

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Monoma and His Scared S/o

Pro Hero! Monoma x Reader

(Gender isn't specified here. If it is, please tell me.)

W: Minor American slander (it's look, i'm american)

Pure Fluff, no smut here. Tempting, but not today Satan!

Monoma could be incredibly loud but nothing could compare to the loud as fuck fireworks that were going off today.

Monoma made the mistake of booking a vacation to the U.S. around the same time the Americans celebrated their independence.

The flashing and banging lights that would go off every so often fascinated him.

He's seen fireworks before, it was just the sheer amount of them that got him all giddy.

"The Americans are insane my love! Ooooh look at that one!" He was exited to be surrounded by all of the commotion.

Something about this chaotic mess made him want to jump around like a child.

He would grab onto you at times and shake you around.

The two of you had the unfortunate (fortunate for him) opportunity of being stuck on a train when the festivities started.

Throughout the day, fireworks would be set off even though you couldn't see them in the daytime.

The amount of them only increased as the day went on.

You hid yourself in your own jacket, zipping it up fully and then pulling it up to cover your ears.

You could practically feel the bangs of the fireworks in your chest.

You hated everything about this situation.

You kind of hated Monoma in that moment as well.

He just kept going on and on about the bloody fireworks!

"My love, look!" Monoma looked over at you, a wild grin appearing on his face as he spoke to you.

He noticed he couldn't see your face and started to tug on your jacket trying to pull it down.

"Loooooveee, you're missing it. Look, pretty colors are covering the sky!"

You really didn't want to be there anymore, the constant banging was starting to induce more fear then stress at this point.

Once you got to your stop, the two of you walked towards the hotel you were staying at.

To be honest, Monoma was running and practically dragged you to the hotel.

"The sooner we get there the sooner we can look at them from high up!" Monoma didn't notice how distressed you became at the thought of just dealing with more of the noisy contraptions.

Once at the hotel, the two of you got into your sleepwear.

You decided to settle down in your shared bed, turning on the television, unlocking your phone, and getting a pair of earbuds to put on as you selected what you wanted to listen to.

Monoma in the other hand was glued to the window in only his bottoms, to exited to even put on his shirt. (Get it? cause he's a bottom. Ok, i'll stop.)

His eyes would move around franticly as he looked at each and every one of the new color lights that would add themselves into the jumbled mess in the dark sky.

"Love, look! That one was shaped like a heart!"

Monoma continued to stand by the window till he noticed that the television that was turned on at first was now off.

He turned to look back into the pitch black room, noticing that your back was facing him.

He decided to walk up to you slowly and peered over your shoulder to see what you were watching.

It was a boyfriend audio

....He's immediately frowning at that. What. The. Fuck. He's right there!

Why do you need these low class strangers to help you fall asleep?

He was just as good!

He jumped onto the bed, startling you in the process.

You turned around to look at him, your eyes red from the crying you did as you tried calming yourself down.

You gave him a frown.

Monoma decided to give you a kiss instead.

You couldn't hear anything he was saying to you but you could see he was getting irritated.

He pulled out one of your earbuds and suddenly you were welcomed with a loud bang.

You jumped up and flinched as Monoma tried to touch you.

He wasn't sure if it was the fireworks going off outside or him that caused you to react that way, so he decided to just give you a bit of space.

"My love, is something wrong?"

"Yeah! Those fucking fireworks are the problem. Now give me my earbud." You took your earbud back from him and laid down on the bed. This time taking the covers and pulling them above your head.

Monoma wasn't having any of it and decided to follow you.

He watched you return to your "BoYfRiEnD" audios and just wrapped his arms around your body.

He was warm and it made you relax a bit more.

For a 6'0 ft giant (giant irl, not so much in this world) he was really cuddly.

And soft.

And pouty.

"So you're afraid of fireworks?" He spoke to himself.

He decided to pull you in closer to him.

When he noticed that you jumped at another firework, he decided to make an executive decision and pulled you on top of him.

Your weight was comforting to him, for however much you complained about how heavy you were he never saw it.

You were the perfect weight to him, so he would just kiss you silent. (YES YES YES! PLEASE DO SO! Also, Monoma doesn't care about your weight. He cares about your person. You're perfection itself no matter how much you weigh because did i fucking stutter? YOU ARE PERFECTION!!)

He relished in being able to feel your heartbeat as well as you being able to feel his own.

Your warmth helped ease him to sleep as he did the same for you.

The bangs and booms became nothing in the distance as you both fell asleep.

Before Monoma fell asleep, in his haze, he took your phone and changed it to an ASMR video he did for Vogue.

He honestly found it funny how many people found it surprising that he could be quiet.

Many of the comments on the video saying that he gave them something called "tingles".

He didn't really care about the comments but he did care about you.

He gladly put on his own video, not because he was insecure, no not at all.

He just wanted you to have pleasant dream, that was it!

He watched you for a moment, you were so beautiful like this.

All curled up on top of him, snuggling close to him.

He could practically feel how his heart melted with your cuteness.

The lights of the fireworks outside illuminated the room and basket the both of you in this beautiful colorful glow.

Different blues, reds, and yellows.

The colors didn't matter much to him but all he knew was that you were the most beautiful being he's ever been given the pleasure of being with.

He fell back asleep, he himself being lulled to dreamland with the feeling of you on him and the banging outside.

#mha monoma #monoma x you #monoma x reader #monoma neito x reader #monoma neito #monoma supremacy #monoma headcanons #monoma x y/n #monoma mha #monoma #mha headcanons #mha monoma x reader #bnha

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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years

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What Could Have Been (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This piece wasn’t requested; the idea just popped into my mind and I had to write it. I don’t write smut often - I find it very hard in a foreign language - and I know I’m not very good at it. I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

@geekandbooknerd - thank you so much for beta reading this for me ♥️

@pomegranates-and-blood - I hope you don't mind that I borrowed the last sentence from you. It fit perfectly 😉

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: When Ivar calls for a healer, he does not expect you, his occasional lover, to enter his tent.

Warning: smut.

Words: 2385

"Go and fetch the healer!" Ivar commands, exploding as the guard outside the tent doesn't react quick enough. "YOU GO NOW OR I SWEAR I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD ON A STICK BEFORE NIGHTFALL!" His roar loud enough to be heard all over the camp, the frightened guard runs away while babbling apologies, his cheeks burning red.

Sweating and in pain, Ivar enters the tent, heading slowly toward a straw mattress. Grunting, he flops down on the makeshift bed and closes his eyes briefly, trying to keep the agony in his legs at bay. The battle had been harsh on his twisted limbs, leaving him with stiff, aching muscles.

"You asked for a healer, Prince Ivar?" Your fresh and youthful voice startles him and he raises his head, furrowing his brow as he looks at you. "I was expecting Una." His dry, annoyed tone doesn't unsettle, nor surprise you. Prince Ivar is not exactly the most easygoing person. And you know he's very secretive when it comes to his pain. He trusts Una, the main healer, who has been taking care of his legs on a daily basis for many years.

"I'm sure you were." You just nod, undeterred. "We may have won the battle, Prince Ivar, but the wounded are countless. Una is taking care of Hrafn, whose arm had to be cut off. She's the one who sent me to you. So, sorry if it bothers you, my Prince, but I'm afraid you'll have to do with me. As for myself, rest assured that I know precisely what I must do. "

The truth is, tending to Ivar's legs is nothing hard, nor complicated. A meadowsweet and nettle infusion to ease the pain, a salve made with a concoction of boiled blackcurrant and ash leaves collected on Midsummer Night to undo the knots in his thighs and calves, that's all you need, and both are in the small leather pouch you wear at your waist at all times.

In addition, a hot bath of course wouldn't do any harm, but there's no such luxury while fighting a war.

Seemingly unconvinced, Ivar scowls and snorts, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he weighs pros and cons, longing for relief but at the same time reluctant because you're not his regular healer. And perhaps also because you're… you.

Your suspicions are confirmed an instant later, as Ivar wearily rubs his face with a bloody hand. "No other healers were available? Surely there are not just the two of you, right?"

You shrug, hardly suppressing a grin. He's right, of course. There are many of you here in Wessex, alongside the Great Heathen Army. However, you and Una are the only ones who are not terrified of Ragnar's unpredictable youngest son. Therefore, since Una was busy, you were the only one willing to go and take care of his legs. But telling him that wouldn't be very wise, right? So, you choose another way.

"My Prince, if I may say so, don't make things harder. I'm already here, and I can tell you're in pain. So, please, let me do what I'm here for." Inhaling deeply, you give him a small smile. "If it's easier for you, let's say that what happened in the past stays in the past. I'm here as a healer, nothing more, I intend to do my job in the most efficient way and I know I can help you."

Back in Kattegat, when Ivar was still a boy and not yet this bloodthirsty man obsessed with revenge, before Aslaug's and Ragnar's deaths, before all Hel breaks loose, you and he used to fuck from time to time. At first, you agreed to do it because you wanted to help him. Not because you were a healer, but because Hvitserk, your best friend, was worried about his baby brother after his tremendous failure with Margrethe. You taught Ivar how to please a woman and showed him that he was much more whole than he thought. You then kept sleeping with him because sex was great, Ivar a skilled and fast learner. Yet, there was no real bond, no love between the two of you; just some kind of mutual respect, tinged with an undeniable physical attraction.

"My Prince?" You ask softly, your hands ghosting over his thighs as you kneel down in front of him. "May I?" Remembering Una's words – this leg is so broken, so twisted, I do not know how the prince can manage walking, but I do know its iron equipment is like a torture device which causes him an unbearable amount of pain – you gesture first toward the metal armor encaging his right leg.

Ivar barely nods, a long sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes shut. You never did it. Back then, you weren't allowed to. But today is different. Ivar is tired, in pain, and you're not his occasional lover, but a healer. There's no hesitation in your movements; your skillful hands undoing the loops of the brace, you're working fast. Soon, you're able to carefully remove the heavy contraption, and then give your full attention to his left leg.

When both his legs are free, you stand up, "Can you take off your pants, my Prince?" and step away, rummaging around the room for a water bucket and a cloth. Actually, you want to give him some privacy. You never really saw his legs and are aware it's a huge matter of concern for him. Once again, you remember what Una told you – I usually work under the furs – and add without turning around, "And please, cover your legs with as many furs as you can, we need to keep them warm."

***

After making sure his legs are well covered, you grab the cloth Ivar used to clean his hands and face, placing it on a nearby table, next to the water bucket. You then put your supplies in your pouch before turning towards the prince. Eyes closed, his head on a fluffy pillow – the perks of being a prince, you can't help but think, slightly jealous – Ivar seems completely relaxed. You're sure he's not sleeping, though, so you clear your throat while turning toward him. "If you don't need me anymore, my Prince, I'll go back to Una."

Ivar exhales slowly as his eyelids flutter open. He just looks at you without uttering a word for a long time, looking a little confused, as if he doesn't exactly remember your presence. He then gives you a small smile – his way of thanking you? – but shakes his head no. Something sparkles in his gaze and Ivar licks his bottom lip. You know him well enough to know that's the exact moment when his mood swings. He props himself up on one elbow, reaching out in an attempt to grab your hand, but to no avail. He lets out a frustrated groan, but his voice is soft, and so are his eyes. "Come closer." Yet, you know you don't have a choice. Denying a prince is anything but a wise option; denying Prince Ivar could be life-threatening.

Taking two steps forward, you join the bed and place a hand on Ivar's shoulder. "What else can I do for you, my Prince?"

Wrapping his arm around your waist, Ivar pulls you toward him, leaving you no choice but to sit next to him. "Kiss me." He breathes, his blue orbs never leaving your eyes.

"Your wish is my command." You whisper while leaning forward to close the gap between the two of you. Your lips find his and Ivar immediately takes charge, a hand behind your neck. His tongue invades your mouth while his free hand slips under your dress, his thick fingers finding the bare skin of your thighs. You let out a gasp, surprised, and delighted.

This is new.

Back in Kattegat, whenever it was just the two of you, Ivar was always this insecure, tentative boy, eager to learn but clearly grateful that you were willing to take the lead.

He's no longer the same. War changed him. The boy has grown into a resolute man, who knows what he wants and who doesn't wait to take it. You won't lie: if you found the boy alluring, this – the warlord look, the confidence, the straight-to-the-point thing – is a whole new level of attractiveness. And a major turn-on.

When Ivar deepens the kiss, fierce and hungry at once, he pulls you closer, your breasts pressed against his chiseled chest, you cannot help but arch your back as a wave of heat spreads in your belly.

"Ivar…" You moan and he captures the sound in his mouth, delving deeper again while slipping a rough knuckle against your clit. You nearly choke, almost missing his next words. "Scoot closer." He mumbles, his lips against yours and you don't have to think twice about his demand as you are all too happy to surrender. Straddling him, you push him down onto his back and drive your tongue into his ear. The feeling of his solid, muscular torso between your thighs consumes your senses, a blinding heat coursing from between your legs to fill your entire body. You can't wait any longer. You need him. The craving of being filled up is almost unbearable but when you move your hand downward, your fingers grazing his erected cock, he stops you, a wolfish grin on his face. "I want to taste you first."

When he runs his hands up the insides of your thighs after you had moved up to sit on his face, you practically die and clamp your legs around his face, shoving your wet pussy into his mouth. Rewarded with a slap on your ass, you gasp in excitement as he slides a knuckle along your lips. It drives you so wild that you can barely breathe, and Ivar keeps going, his mouth just inches from your clit, drawing shapes around your sensitive skin, teasing you, blowing air into you. Heat is slowly building in your core, burning you inside. You curl your toes and contract your lower belly, panting and moaning, and suddenly, Ivar touches your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue. You almost lose it. Your whole body is about to break into a thousand pieces and you struggle, sucking in several short breaths.

"Gods…" Eyes closed, you shiver as Ivar picks up a rhythm. He knows exactly what he's doing. Barely moving his skilled tongue, he applies a warm pressure, each tiny move bringing you to the edge. It doesn't take long for your stomach to be drenched in sweat, and as much as you want to make this last forever, your entire body is taken over by a wave of spasms and pleasure and you explode in orgasm, biting your lip to keep from screaming.

Ivar doesn't give you time to settle down or to come to your senses, lifting his head, a cocky grin playing on his glistening lips.

"Ride me." He commands, his voice hoarse and loud as he pulls the cover off his groin. A wild laugh escapes your lips when you scoot downward, still on top of him, kissing his nipples, then his toned stomach; you find his cock hard under your fingers, your other hand massaging his balls. Without a warning, you plunge him into yourself, gasping as you feel his cock slide deep inside you. Leaning forward until your head is just above his, you kiss him hard before grounding your hips against his. You then pull up, all the way to his tip, constricting the muscles in your lower belly, and then push back down as far as you can. It sends a rippling wave along your inside walls and Ivar moans, his hands grabbing your ass.

As you pump your hips up and down, Ivar squirms beneath you, meeting each one of your thrusts, pushing his hips up as you speed up the pace. Back and forth, back and forth… You move your hips faster and faster, a drop of sweat trickling down your back. The rhythm is frantic now and you almost black out as you suddenly climax once again, Ivar groaning loudly while spreading his hot seed inside you.

You fall heavily onto him, sated and exhausted. "Gods, that was amazing!" You finally say, and Ivar chuckles, a smirk on his face. "It was, indeed." Wrapping his hand around your waist, he then does something surprisingly sweet, kissing your forehead tenderly. With your head resting on his tattooed chest, you just hum, and since your eyelids are getting heavy, you close them, sated and exhausted.

You're dozing off as Hvitserk's voice outside the tent, startles you awake. "Y/N, you're still in there?"

Sitting up in bed, you give Ivar a confused look while stretching out your upper body. "Yes." You want to ask why but Hvitserk doesn't give you the time. "Hurry up then! Una is looking for you."

Sighing, you give Ivar a quick peck on the cheek and stand up hastily. "You heard your brother; I have to go." You give him one last look and are about to get out of the tent when his voice stops you. "Wait, Y/N."

You turn around, and to your surprise, there's no longer a bloodthirsty warlord in front of you, but a boy, shy and insecure, who bites his bottom lip and lowers his gaze. The new Ivar turns you on, there's no denying it, but this one, the timid one, is absolutely adorable, and your heart flutters. You flash him a reassuring smile. Ivar inhales deeply, blinking a few times. "Will you…" He starts but stops immediately.

You raise a brow questioningly, but the moment is gone, his face now expressionless. Ivar just nods at you, his gaze steady as he gestures to his legs. "Thank you."

You're sure that's not what he was going to tell you; that's not what you could read in his eyes. Will you come back later?

Stifling a sigh, you straighten your dress as best you can. Sadly, there's nothing you can do. "You're welcome, my Prince." You say softly; and with that, you walk away, your mind filled with regret.

You would have said yes.

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @coco2315 @mlchael-guerin

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar fic #smut ivar #ivar vikings #vikings ivar

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jingabitch · 4 years

Text

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell ch.4

SUMMARY: when you were ten, taehyung adopted you and gave you a home. now that you’re eighteen, the sudden change in your scent perplexes and confounds him.

PAIRING: wolf hybrid!tae x human!reader (all bts members are hybrids)

WORD COUNT: 10.5k

RATING: explicit

A/N: again, I am a liar because this story is still not complete. nevertheless, i hope you guys enjoy this!

I don’t do tag lists, so please don’t ask.

Also, shoutout to my wonderful betas @knjkitten and @seoul9711 for going over this for me! yall are the greatest 💕

series index

Spring means spring showers. Usually that’s something Taehyung kind of enjoys, because it means the weather is getting warmer, and who doesn’t love curling up in bed on rainy mornings (or afternoons, or evenings)?

This spring, though, is different. The boys, after hearing Taehyung shamefully confess that he’d kicked you out, assuming that you’d head right over to one of them, had immediately torn into him for being an irresponsible owner. They were especially upset because he hadn’t told them the entire story, ashamed to let them know that he’d started a sexual relationship with his pet human and not ready to talk about the whole imprinting debacle. To them, he’d simply lost his cool over something petty and done something stupid.

Then they’d organized and strategized, planning to comb through Seoul to try and find you. It was a good thing that all of them were predator hybrids, with enhanced abilities to sniff you out. This rain, though… it was making things difficult, washing away your residual scent. It was bad enough that they were trying to track you two weeks after you’d gone missing, but it had been consistently raining this whole time, and that meant it would be next to impossible to track you down using your scent.

Spring showers meant another problem: no one was picnicking if it was raining. Well, it wasn’t like there were many anyway since it was still cold out – the boys assured you that during summer, they came in hordes – but between the tents and rented heaters, there were still people who came out sometimes, just to spend a little time outdoors once in a while. Hybrids were made sturdy, after all, and weren’t as susceptible to the cold as humans.

It was another week before Taehyung got to Hangang Park. A week of combing through every street, back alley and underground pass in the part of Seoul that he’d been assigned. At the very edge of Seoul, Hangang Park was one of the last places that they hadn’t looked and hope that they would find you was running low. You could be anywhere by now, perhaps having begged a ride or train ticket to another city even.

In the week that they’d been out looking for you, you’d been spending a lot of time inside with the boys. Since it was cold, all of you tended to huddle together in a puppy pile that was uncomfortably reminiscent of the big snuggle fests you’d enjoyed in the past with Taehyung and his bandmates. All the free time that all of you had meant that you spent a lot of time engaging in the only fun thing homeless poor people could afford, and you’d more than once thought sardonically that since you weren’t getting much food, it was a good thing you were getting so much protein.

After all that time spent apart, your reunion with Taehyung was almost anticlimactic. You’d squirmed free of Youngbae and Jiyong, who were currently napping, to go use the public restroom. When you were done, you were drying your hands on your shirt while walking out of the little hut that housed the toilets when you saw him. Or at least, someone who looked suspiciously like him from the back. He was wearing one of Taehyung’s favourite shirts, too, a long-sleeved silk button-down that you’d taken to and from the dry cleaners many times before.

For a second, it felt like time had stopped as you stared at the wide expanse of the man’s back. It took you back to a time that really wasn’t that long ago, but seemed like a different lifetime. So much had changed about you, and your life, and the way you lived.

Then the man started turning around and you realized that it was, indeed, Taehyung. Needless to say, you couldn’t leave quickly enough. You didn’t know why he was here, but you definitely didn’t want him seeing how low you’d sunk now. Swearing inwardly, you darted off, back to the tent behind a convenience store that was now your home.

When Taehyung first scented you, he almost thought he was hallucinating. It was just so unlikely to him that you would be here, of all places, when he’d all but lost hope of finding you ever again. It wasn’t until he turned around that he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a figure running away, and realized that it was, indeed, you. Immediately, he gave chase, yelling your name so you’d turn around.

Instead, you just ran faster, practically diving back into the tent where the other boys were and zipping it up tight. Daesung stirred, holding a hand out to you. “What’s up?” he slurred. You took his hand and cuddled close to his side, not sure how to explain things and just hoping that Taehyung would leave. Why was he here, anyway? He should be busy right now with promoting their comeback album; it wasn’t a good time for the band to be picnicking.

“Y/n!” Taehyung was standing right outside the tent now, and you closed your eyes stubbornly, tucking your face into Daesung’s chest. He’d been absently stroking your hair, but when he heard Taehyung, he propped himself up on his elbow.

“It sounds like someone’s looking for you,” he pointed out rather unnecessarily, raising a brow at you. You rolled your eyes at him in response.

“Y/n, please, let’s go home!” Taehyung continued, and you groaned, turning onto your belly and burying your face in your hands.

Jiyong, who was famously grouchy when he woke up, snarled as he unzipped the tent. “Who are you, and what the fuck do you want?!” he growled.

Taehyung blinked, slightly surprised at the hostility. “Uh, is Y/n-ssi here?” In the unexpected situation, his speech became polite.

Seunghyun came up behind Jiyong, frowning. He’d developed something of a soft spot for you – well, as much as was possible, anyway, when all of you were scrounging for survival. “What’s it to you?” he asked rudely.

“Uh, I’d like to speak to her, if possible?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you objected. You had no interest in anything he could say to you at this point. Was he here to scream at you again? That seemed like overkill, all things considered, but since there was nothing else you could imagine, it remained the most likely scenario in your mind. You didn’t want him seeing you like this, either. If he was going to hate you, you’d rather he at least remember you the way you’d been as a pet, not as a homeless stray.

“Y/n, please.” The tone of his voice gave you pause – it was weary and sad, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't stop yourself from wanting to comfort him. You'd spent half your life attuned to his every need and it was difficult to turn that off suddenly.

With a reluctant sigh, you pushed past Jiyong and Seunghyun, who were blocking the entrance. "What is it?" you asked. You tried not to make eye contact with Taehyung - he'd always been perceptive, and you didn't want him staring into your soul again, afraid of what he might find there.

“Y/n… please come home,” Taehyung pleaded. With you standing in front of him, he could see properly the toll that the past three weeks had on you. You’d lost a lot of weight and your jawline was sharper than it had ever been, you looked tired and messy, your skin was starting to break out due to lack of proper nutrition and access to skincare products, and you smelled… not that great, which wasn’t a surprise since you’d had about two showers in the last three weeks.

Still, you crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly and looked away. “I don’t want to,” you objected. You could still hear his harsh words ringing in your ears, but more than that, the shame you felt at encouraging your unusual relationship when you should have stopped it was weighing heavily on you, and you didn’t want to go back and face that.

“Y/n-ie, please? I know I was mean and awful, and I’m sorry about that. Please come home,” he tried again, but you refused to even look at him.

“Stop it, leave me alone,” you whispered, hugging yourself protectively.

Finally, his shoulders slumped. He couldn’t handle being the cause of your distress anymore, even if he did think that you would be better off back at home with him. “Okay,” he accepted, his voice quiet and dejected. “I’ll go if that’s what you really want, but you’re welcome to come home any time, okay?”

You nodded stiffly, waiting for him to leave.

When he turned away disappointedly and walked off, you turned back to the boys to find all four of them staring at you. “What?” you asked slightly defensively.

“Who was that, baby?” Youngbae asked.

“Uh, it was my previous owner.”

“And he wanted to take you home?”

“Uh, yeah?” More uncertainly this time, not sure where they were going with this.

“And you said no?” Jiyong butted in incredulously.

You shrank in on yourself at the volume and tone of his voice. “I don’t want to go back with him,” you almost whimpered, your hands bunching up the fabric of your shirt anxiously.

“Baby… why not?” Seunghyun asked.

Your mind stalled. You didn’t want to tell them the real reason, afraid that they would look at you differently or even kick you out of their group. “We… had a fight,” you said rather vaguely instead.

“And you’re still mad at him? Did he do something wrong?”

“Yes, he kicked me out,” you said pointedly. Wasn’t that enough?

“Baby… he clearly feels bad about that if he came to ask you to go home,” Daesung pointed out reasonably.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he kicked me out,” you grumbled petulantly. “What if he does it again? Then I’ll end up right back here.”

“And what if you do?” Seunghyun asked. “Even if he kicks you out again in a week, that’s a week that you get to spend with a roof over your head, and access to food and water.”

You blinked at Seunghyun. Out of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t really what you’d thought he would say, but it made sense somehow. Living on the streets was difficult. You hadn’t had a hot meal in three weeks, and even though the hunger pangs kept the nausea at bay, picking at hybrids’ half-eaten food wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time.

It must seem so shallow and ridiculous to these boys, who’d been living on the streets all their lives, that there was someone offering you a perfectly good home and you didn’t want it. Why? Because of your feelings? Ultimately, did that matter? You began to doubt yourself and your reasoning, wondering if you were being silly.

Still, your mind wouldn’t stop replaying the memories of Taehyung forcibly kicking you out of his house, and you gnawed on your lip uncertainly. Would it really be okay?

“Sweetie, it seems like there’s something more keeping you from wanting to go back.” Youngbae, ever the astute one, guessed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head slowly. It might seem tempting, but you didn’t know how they would react to hearing about your sexual relationship with your hybrid owner. You’d lost enough; you didn’t want to lose your new family too, especially when their protection was all that was keeping you from being out on the streets alone. The memory of the two nights you’d spent wandering around the streets of Seoul, lost and alone, were enough to keep your mouth shut out of caution and fear.

“That’s fair, but is it worth living like this?” he asked, gesturing towards the tent where the five of them had been living practically on top of each other.

“You live like this,” you objected. “We’ve been fine, haven’t we?” you continued, a little more uncertainly now. Were they just too polite to tell you that they were tired of you and wanted you to leave?

All of them exchanged glances, before turning back towards you, serious expressions on their faces. “Y/n… any blind fool can tell that you’re not made for this life,” Seunghyun began. “The rest of us were born on the streets and we know how to handle ourselves.”

“I know how to handle myself,” you protested, your hackles rising. Hadn’t you been doing your part to contribute to the group? Thinking about it too hard made you feel a little unsettled, like you were about to be booted out of another family, so you tilted your chin upwards in defiance.

Daesung stepped in, ever the peacemaker. “You’ve been doing really well, sweetie, but all of us can see how difficult this is for you,” he pointed out.

“What- what do you mean?”

“Well… your soft hands that have clearly never done heavy lifting, your fussiness about food, your general demeanor…” Jiyong started listing things that all of them had noticed over the past couple of weeks, only stopping when Seunghyun nudged him to be quiet.

“The point is… this life is clearly not suitable for you,” Seunghyun explained. “And even if things are bad between you and your owner right now, he’s willing to make an effort, and it seems like going back with him is the best thing for you.”

You bit your lip. “You really think so?”

“I think if you have to eat any more cold ramen noodles you’ll kill yourself,” Jiyong said dryly, and your cheeks heated, remembering the day that all you had to eat was cold, congealed half-eaten instant noodles. You thought you’d covered up your distaste, but apparently not. In your defense, it had been a soup ramen and the noodles had absorbed all the soup and gotten bloated and soggy.

“Okay,” you finally accepted. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Unexpectedly, it was Jiyong that came to hug you goodbye. “If anything goes wrong, you’ll always be welcome here,” he whispered, and you nodded, hugging him back. Even though you were pretty sure it was just because they enjoyed the convenience of having pussy on tap, you were still touched, your eyes starting to sting with tears that you refused to shed. As accepting as they’d been of you, you’d tried your best to avoid appearing weak and needy, and that wasn’t about to change.

It didn’t take long for you to find Taehyung – he was standing right near the entrance of the convenience store, smoking a shame cigarette. It was a habit he’d picked up in the military and quit when he left, but when he was stressed or upset, he still craved it. Right now, he was all of that and more.

You watched from around the side of the small building as he blew smoke out and flicked the end of the cigarette with his thumb, causing the ash to fall into the ashtray on top of the bin. The cigarette smoke was all he could smell, so he didn’t know you were there.

“Taehyung-oppa?” you called hesitantly, taking a few steps forward.

The way he whipped around to look at you was almost comical. “Y/n…?” he breathed, like he could hardly believe it. Hastily, his free hand came up to wipe his cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

You came a little closer, still a little skittish. “You shouldn’t be smoking,” you said instead of answering.

He smiled a little sadly, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. “Well… probably not,” he agreed.

“It’s bad for your health,” you continued walking towards him as you chided him gently.

“It is,” he said, although his voice cracked on the second word. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, trying to stifle the sobs. If this was the last time he ever saw you, he didn’t want you to remember him as a sobbing mess. Dragging a deep, painful breath in through his lungs, he swallowed hard to compose himself.

“Taehyung-oppa…” When he next opened his eyes, you were standing right in front of him, in all your ethereal glory. Right now, it didn’t matter that you looked (and smelled) like you’d seen better days. He forced himself to drink in every feature, every bit of your essence and scent. If this was all he had for the rest of his life, it would be enough. When he’d adopted you, he made a promise that he would always take care of you. He’d failed once already, but if all he could do for you for the rest of his life was look out for you from afar, that would be enough.

The powers that be must be smiling down on him, though, because instead of disappearing, you plucked the cigarette from his hand and ground it out against the bin. “Let’s go home,” you said simply.

He didn’t know why or how you’d changed your mind, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Nodding mutely, he held out his hand, and miraculously, you placed yours in it, letting him lead you back to his car.

-----------------------------------------------

In the enclosed space of the car, Taehyung could pick apart all the unfamiliar notes of your scent, and it was driving him insane. The sour note of hunger and misery made the wolf in him want to whine and nose at your throat, bathe you and feed you and cuddle you until it all went away. The scent of unfamiliar men blanketing you inspired a very different reaction, though. It made him want to snarl, to tear the men who’d dared touch his mate apart, and make sure their scent was covered by his. He didn’t even want to think about how deep the scent of other men had sunk into you after three weeks. It had been his fault, anyway.

The part of him that was human tamped down ruthlessly on his baser, animalistic instincts, knowing that he couldn’t give in to them when they’d been engineered to manipulate him. Now, these instincts that had been bred into him were preventing him from being a good, responsible owner and that was unacceptable. Being here with you was throwing the conflict between his wolf and human sides into sharp relief, and he was silent as he mulled over it.

You didn’t have anything to say to him either, and your car ride home was quiet. You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the side of the car, and whenever there was a red light, Taehyung would gaze upon your face silently until he had to drive again.

When you finally got home, you followed Taehyung silently up to the apartment, your head bowed. His heart clenched at how broken and sad you looked, and the thought that he was the cause of it made him want to clutch you to his chest and cry. He did none of that, however, merely opening the door and letting you step into the house before him. You hovered uncertainly in the entryway, not even toeing off your shoes, your hands clutching the hem of your shirt in a way he recognized as an anxious habit of yours.

He stepped into the apartment and held his hand out to you. “Come on,” he coaxed, much like the first time he’d brought you home. The parallel didn’t seem like it was lost on you, because the ghost of a smile played across your lips, but this time when you put your hand in his, it was stiff and tense. He didn’t say anything, though, closing his larger hand around yours and drawing you into the apartment. You were still hesitant, though, looking around nervously, and in that moment, if he could have given up his heart to make you feel better, he would have done it without any thought.

“Do you want to go take a shower while I get dinner ready?” he asked quietly, and you nodded after a second, slipping off into your room to grab your clothes, then into the shower. When he heard the shower come on, he texted the boys to let them know he’d found you and they could call off the search. He didn’t add other details, not ready to share or even knowing what he should say to them, really.

With that done, he put his phone down on the counter, ignoring the way it vibrated over and over again, the boys undoubtedly bombarding him with questions. He figured you’d probably want a hot meal, and opened the fridge to see if he could cook anything. Seokjin would definitely be cooking up a storm for you and would load his car up with containers full of food tomorrow, but for tonight, he had to make do. There were a few threadbare ingredients that were left over from the last time you’d gone grocery shopping and he pulled them out hesitantly. It had honestly been too long since he’d cooked – when you were around, you usually took care of it and he’d been living off delivery food while you were gone.

Out of practice, he nevertheless gave it the good old college try, chopping up the onion and meat and attempting to make doenjang jjigae. He knew it was comforting for you, and it was for him too, especially after you’d made it for him during his heat. Unfortunately, when he tried to cook the stew, it turned into a mess somehow, with the onions burning and sticking to the pot, the doenjang starting to smoke, and the meat turning an unappetizing colour. Panicked, he started cursing while trying to scrape the food off the bottom of the pot.

The bathroom door swung open when you heard him, and you came out silently, nudging him aside to see what was happening. Without a word, you turned the stove off and started scraping burnt bits of food off the pan and into the bin. “Sorry,” Taehyung said, hovering awkwardly behind you. He’d never felt lower in his life. Could he do nothing right?

“It’s all right,” you murmured. “I’m not that hungry anyway. I might just turn in.”

His wolf whined in misery at the thought of you actually going to bed hungry, and he might have let a little noise slip, because your gaze snapped up towards him, before looking away. Your shirt was fisted in your hands again, and he forced himself to calm down. The fact that you were now afraid of him filled him with so much despair and hurt. He would genuinely throw himself off a bridge if it would make you smile again, just for a second.

“No, it’s okay, I’ll call delivery,” he said. He reached out to grab your hand, but thought better of it and snatched it back before making contact.

“Okay,” you agreed, your head still down. “Thank you, Taehyung-oppa.”

“Do you want to go sit down while I call them?” he asked, nodding towards the living room. You nodded and made your way to the couch where you perched on the very edge of the cushion, holding yourself stiffly with your hands in your lap.

Looking over sadly at you, he grabbed his phone and dialed the number for the restaurant that he knew was your favourite, ordering your food and his. He made sure to get additional side dishes, his wolf wanting nothing more than to provide for his mate.

When the food arrived, he busied himself taking it all out of the big basket and setting up the table as you drifted closer hesitantly. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at you, he watched carefully out of the corner of his eye as your lips turned up in a slight smile seeing your favourite black bean noodles, with sweet and sour pork on the side. It wasn’t much – before, you would have clapped your hands with glee and sit down eagerly – but to him, it felt like a victory anyway. Like maybe he could do this, take care of you and win back your affection.

You picked up your chopsticks and dug in, eating with a haste that he’d never seen before. You’d always been a bit of a slow eater, claiming you wanted to savour the food, but now you were wolfing it down like you didn’t know when you’d get to eat again, and it broke his heart all over again that you’d experienced hunger. You were his – his responsibility, his mate – and he’d failed you so miserably. The thought made his stomach flip unpleasantly and he found himself slowing down, losing his appetite at the thought of how much you’d undoubtedly suffered.

When you were done with your noodles – and most of the pork and side dishes – you started casting furtive glances over at his bowl of stew, and he pushed his bowl towards you without you having to ask. It was a striking reversal of the way you’d taken care of him during his pre-heat, and he was just now realizing how much responsibility you’d taken around the house since you came to live with him after his military service ended.

You hadn’t felt so full in weeks, and you sat back with a satisfied sigh when you’d drained Taehyung’s bowl as well. Your stomach hurt from how much you’d eaten, but it was a nice feeling, after the near-constant hunger pangs for the past three weeks. Moving sluggishly, you went to pack the empty bowls back into the bucket, but Taehyung stopped you. “I’ll do it,” he said. “Go get some rest, you look beat.”

Since you were exhausted, you didn’t argue with him, just getting up and heading to your bedroom. Taehyung watched, slightly wounded that you didn’t want to spend the night with him like you used to, but also not wanting to say or do anything to make you feel uncomfortable. “Good night,” he called, regretting it instantly when you leapt into the air at the sound of his voice.

“Good night,” you responded softly, and it was only his enhanced wolf hearing that allowed him to pick it up. Sighing, he finished cleaning up and put the basket back outside the door.

Being back in your bedroom felt almost surreal, after living on that streets and then in that tent. Everything was the same as it was before, when you were so different, it was like you didn’t fit in there anymore. The cute room with the cozy patterned bedspread, the overstuffed, oversized chair and reading nook… it was for another person, someone who didn’t exist anymore.

Still, you tried your best to block the thoughts out of your head as you pulled back the duvet to slide under it, fidgeting to try and get comfortable. Closing your eyes tight, you snuggled into the pillows, falling into the fitful, restless sleep that you’d gotten used to.

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Taehyung lay in the dark in his room, his eyes wide open. Having you in the next room over instead of in his bed next to him felt wrong, somehow, but even though he wanted nothing more than to slide into bed with you, or better yet, bring you to his room, his uncertainty and guilt kept him where he was.

He must have spent hours just lying there, listening to you toss and turn and whimper in your sleep, each sound twisting the knife. You’d always been such a deep, easy sleeper, knocking right out every night and sleeping peacefully till morning. It was his fault you’d changed, and he tortured himself all night imagining all the horrors you’d been through during the past few weeks.

When sunlight started shining through his curtains, he decided he’d had enough of lying there, and got out of bed. Still in his pajamas, he left his room and walked the small distance to yours to wake you up. Standing over your bed, he watched for a moment as you continued fussing in your sleep, a small frown etched into your features.

It had been a while since he’d done this, but years of waking you up meant that the muscle memory came back to him easy as he leaned over you and patted your side. “Hey… wake up,” he called softly.

You stirred and, clearly only half-awake, slurred, “Okay… you want a handjob?”

“I- what? Y/n…”

Your hand fought its way out of the covers and you held it out, palm up. “Come on…” you yawned.

“Y/n-ie… stop it.” Taehyung’s voice trembled as he saw the way you were holding your hand out, your fingers loosely curled. He put his hand in yours and placed it back onto the bed.

A little more awake now, you blinked the sleep from your eyes and squinted up at him. “Taehyung-oppa? Good morning,” you murmured in your soft, slightly scratchy morning voice. “Do you need breakfast?”

He hesitated. You looked so small and innocent in your bed now that he almost wondered if he’d hallucinated your earlier interaction. You continued looking at him, looking more alert, and he knew you were waiting for an answer.

“No,” he finally said. “Do you want to come to the studio with me today? We can grab some food on the way, and I’m sure the others are excited to see you too.”

You blinked and yawned again, before pushing yourself into a sitting position. “Okay,” you agreed. “Let me just get ready.” Sluggishly, you got out of bed, twisting your back to stretch while Taehyung made himself scarce, going to get dressed. When he was done, you ducked into the bathroom to do your thing, carrying your clothes in with you.

When you emerged, you looked fresh and adorable, in a simple white blouse and blue jeans, and anyone who wasn’t looking too closely or didn’t know you would have thought you were merely another pampered pet human. Taehyung, though, could see the way the clothes hung off you a little too loosely, the sharper edge of your jawline and cheekbones from weight loss, and most of all, could smell the scent of other men on you that even your shower last night hadn’t been able to get off.

“Is there anything you want for breakfast today?” he asked as you put your shoes on. He opened the front door and extended his other arm towards you, intending at first to usher you out with his hand on your lower back like he usually did, but he saw the way you stood a little more stiffly at the anticipation of his hands on you and dropped it awkwardly. He supposed he shouldn’t have been quite so surprised and hurt at your hesitance. If you wanted nothing more to do with him, it was still more than he deserved.

He took you to a little restaurant for porridge that was near the BigHit building, watching carefully as you downed the entire bowl in record-breaking time. Usually you were too busy chatting with him and telling him about your day, or random things you’d seen, or something you’d read in a book, but now you were silent, your head down as you shoveled food into your mouth. In an attempt to break the silence, Taehyung asked, “Did you sleep well?” even though he knew the answer to the question.

It didn’t work, anyway. You just looked up at him, wide-eyed, for a second, before nodding and returning to your food. Sighing in defeat, he lapsed into silence too. If this was the new normal, he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it. At least you were eating well – it soothed his wolf slightly, to know that his mate was eating well.

When you were finished with your meal – even licking the spoon clean dramatically – he took you to the studio, where the boys, as anticipated, glomped you the moment you set foot in the door. Jimin was basically in tears as he hugged you and wouldn’t let go, even when the others came forth for their turn. Namjoon, however, hovered back, hesitant to greet you. In the heat of the moment, with Taehyung’s turmoil and misery in his face, it had been easy to justify his own role in the entire debacle, but now that he was looking straight at you, and seeing the toll that the past few weeks had taken on your body, the guilt sat uncomfortably in his chest.

Soon enough, you were back in your usual spot – on the couch, squished between Yoongi on one side and Jimin on the other, listening absently as they discussed their album and comeback with the managers and executives. Feeling warm and full from the porridge, your eyelids started to droop, and Yoongi, always alert and aware, gently took the book from your loose grasp and closed it, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

Taehyung, watching from the adjacent couch, frowned, barely paying attention to what Bang PD was saying. He knew you hadn’t slept well last night, and the more rational side of him was relieved that you were at least getting some rest, even if you didn’t seem that comfortable. If he had his way, you would be lying down on a couch somewhere in a dark room where you could get some proper sleep. His wolf wanted to tear Yoongi to shreds, snarling in jealousy at the older man. It should be his shoulder you were currently drooling all over, your face adorably smushed into the fabric of his shirt.

Reminding himself harshly that you weren’t comfortable around him anymore, and really, whose fault was that, he forced himself to look away, although his jaw remained clenched, an outward sign of his irritation. He’d never been good at keeping his emotions to himself, but he figured he’d better damn well get good at it now, if he was going to keep all his problematic emotions to himself and avoid making you feel even more unsafe around him.

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For almost a month, you and Taehyung danced around each other, trying to stay out of each other’s way. You didn’t want to do anything that might set him off again or remind him of why he’d kicked you out in the first place, and Taehyung was practically bending over backwards to give you the space he thought you needed to heal. As a result, the apartment was very quiet for most of the day, an oppressive silence that hung like a shroud over you.

Since you weren’t talking much to Taehyung, you were always happy to go with him to the studio, where the other boys were more than willing to entertain you. They’d realized quickly that you were a lot jumpier than before, which was understandable, so they tried not to do anything that would give you a fright. For the most part, you were all right with physical contact (other than with Taehyung, which upset him tremendously) but once in a while an innocent brush against you could remind you of the way Big Bang would touch you, and you’d leap into the air to get away from it.

It was Yoongi, who let you sit on the couch in his studio most days, who finally broached the topic after he tried to usher you into the studio with his hand on your back and you almost burst into tears. He sat you down on the couch and squatted in front of you, holding your hands and pleading for you to please tell him what was wrong for about half an hour before you caved and admitted that you might have some trauma from living on the streets. It was another twenty minutes of cajoling before you told him, in the smallest voice possible, that you’d had to use your body to survive.

“You… what?” Yoongi was so shocked by your confession that he lost his balance and fell, sitting ungracefully at your feet. Thinking he was reacting this way out of disgust, you covered your face with your hands and drew your shoulders in.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears stinging at your eyes. This was exactly what you hadn’t wanted; you’d thought you’d been doing well with hiding everything and dealing with it alone. Now that Yoongi knew, the rest of the boys would know that you were filthy, disgusting… you couldn’t stop the sob from tearing out of your chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, putting his shock and anger aside in the face of your clear distress. He wanted to flip a table, maybe set fire to something, but you were more important right now. His hands fluttered helplessly by your knees, wanting to comfort you but not sure how to. Your adverse reaction to the boys’ touch made so much sense now, and he didn’t want to accidentally trigger you again and upset you further.

In the end, he took your hand and placed it on top of his head, letting you stroke his soft, fluffy leopard ears. The rhythmic motion seemed to soothe you, and you smiled a little past the tears as you scratched the base of them, just like he let you do when you were a child. He didn’t want to force you to speak, but slowly coaxed everything out of you. Once you started talking about your experiences, it was like the words fell out of you, so relieved to finally be able to tell someone after keeping it to yourself for weeks as you tried to pretend like you were the same innocent human you’d been before being cast out.

Eventually, Yoongi managed to get you to fall asleep for a much-needed nap on his couch after you’d cried yourself out. His heart broke as he looked at you lying on the couch on your side, so small and delicate. You looked almost breakable, and the thought of you having to use that precious body to survive because of Taehyung made his fists clench by his side in rage. Turning down the lights so you would be able to rest properly, he left his studio, making sure to close the door quietly to avoid waking you up even though he wanted to slam it in his rage.

Taehyung was sitting in a meeting room with Jungkook and Jimin, and when Yoongi burst through the entrance, all of them looked up. “Suga-hyung, what’s up?” Jimin greeted.

Ignoring him, Yoongi stalked over to Taehyung, yanked him by the shirtfront out of his seat and decked him across the face. Shocked and unprepared for the hit, Taehyung sprawled on the floor, only to prop himself up by the elbow a second later, cradling his jaw with his hand and looking up at Yoongi with wide, hurt eyes.

“Suga-hyung, stop!” Jimin cried as Jungkook all but leapt across the table in the room to restrain the older man. The two bystanders exchanged panicked glances, not sure why Yoongi was suddenly attacking Taehyung. As irritable and snarky as the rapper was, it was almost impossible to get him truly angry, and he was clearly fuming right now.

Furious at the sudden attack, Taehyung surged up off the floor. “What the fuck was that for?!” he roared, pulling back to return Yoongi’s punch with one of his own. Jimin hurried over to pull Taehyung back before the situation descended into a brawl.

“You’re garbage,” Yoongi sneered. “Ask Y/n what it was for.” With that, he pulled himself out of Jungkook’s grasp, glared at Taehyung once more, and left the room, unable to stand being in the same room as him anymore.

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” Jimin fretted over his best friend, taking his chin in his hand and turning his face from one side to the other to see what the damage was. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he instructed, tugging on Taehyung’s hand so the wolf hybrid had no choice but to trail after Jimin, his ears drooping.

“What do you think that was about?” Jimin asked in the bathroom as he wetted a wad of paper towels in the sink.

Taehyung, leaning against the wall beside the sinks, shrugged, meeting Jimin’s eyes in the mirror. “Hell if I know,” he grumbled, still bitter. “I can’t believe hyung would do something like that,” he sulked.

Starting to dab at the busted lip to clean it up, Jimin ignored Taehyung’s hiss of pain and subsequent whines. “You know hyung isn’t the type to do something like that out of the blue… we can go talk to him later, okay? Find out what’s wrong.”

Taehyung started to protest, but Jimin’s glare and the way he pressed a little harder on the split lip he was tending to made him subside, pouting.

Since Taehyung could be a big baby and Jimin had an obsessive need to take care of everyone around him, it took a while before Taehyung was deemed patched up enough to go talk to Yoongi. As he made his way down the hallway to Yoongi’s studio, he fumed silently about his hyung’s weird behavior.

By the time he got to the door of Yoongi’s studio, he’d worked himself back up into a rage, and pounded on the door loudly to announce his presence. “Hyung, open up!” he yelled.

The racket he was making woke you up abruptly, and you jolted awake, gasping as you shot up into a sitting position. A quick glance over at Yoongi told you that he hadn’t heard Taehyung at all, since he was still working, with his giant expensive noise-cancelling headphones on. Since he was occupied, you went to open the door yourself to let Taehyung in.

Taehyung’s arm was still up, poised to knock, when you opened the door. He stared at you with wide eyes, not having expected you and feeling slightly abashed now that you’d seen his childish tantrum. “Ah, Y/n-ie… I didn’t know you were here,” he greeted, dropping his arm to his side.

You, on the other hand, had a far more dramatic reaction. Seeing his split lip, you gasped in horror, and in your panic, the artificial distance you’d been imposing for the past month slipped away. “Tae-oppa!” you cried, your hands flying to his face. “What happened to you?” With the pads of your fingers, you stroked gently over the reddened skin around the cut, wincing.

Grabbing his wrist, you pulled him over to the couch and sat him down, continuing to fret over him. Taehyung, for his part, sat quietly and let you do what you wanted, just happy to have you near him again. All his anger evaporated as he smiled at you like a fool, ignoring the way it made his lip sting.

Yoongi, who’d turned around in his chair and slipped his headphones down around his neck, frowned at the sight that greeted him. You were kneeling on the couch next to Taehyung, leaning over him while he held your wrist in his hand, stroking gently along the soft skin on your inner wrist.

At the sound of Yoongi clearing his throat, you jumped, tearing your wrist out of Taehyung’s grasp, to look over at the rapper. The interruption was enough to startle you out of your frantic concern for him, and you sat down on the couch, your hands in your lap as you tried to make yourself smaller. “S-sorry,” you said to Taehyung, though it was directed at your hands. What would he think of you now? Getting all up in his personal space, even after he’d made it so clear that he didn’t want to be involved with you like that. You really needed to get a grip if you were going to remain his pet, you thought. No way in hell were you going back to being homeless.

“It’s all right,” Taehyung murmured, responding to you habitually. Now that you weren’t in his personal space anymore, though, his anger started coming back, and he trained his gaze on Yoongi, his jaw flexing with his irritation. Yoongi met his gaze with equal measure, neither of them backing down.

You were so consumed by your own thoughts that you didn’t realise the tension between them, asking Taehyung obliviously, “So what happened to your face, anyway?”

There was a beat of silence, then Yoongi replied smoothly, “He must have walked into a door.” As he said it, he pinned Taehyung with a warning gaze, as if daring him to disagree with his lie.

An awkward moment later, Taehyung agreed. “Yes… I was distracted,” he offered as an excuse.

Watching the way Yoongi looked at you, with a small frown knitting his brow, Taehyung remembered what Yoongi had said earlier, about asking you what the punch was for. He broke eye contact with Yoongi to look over at you instead, although you still refused to look up at him, preferring to focus instead on your lap, where your hands were folded politely.

“Anyway, Y/n-ie… I’m not needed for the rest of the day. Do you want to go home early?” Taehyung figured that whatever it was he was supposed to ask you about, it was probably best to do it in private. He didn’t have his own studio, so his apartment was the best bet.

“Sure,” you agreed immediately. You’d been doing that a lot lately, just going with whatever he wanted or suggested, unless you were protesting that he was spending too much time, money or effort on you. It was so completely different from the carefree girl who loved to go crazy with his credit cards and soaked up his affection that he’d known, and he hated himself again for causing you to withdraw like that. It had taken him so long to earn your trust back when you’d been a child and he adopted you, and now all of that was gone down the drain.

He stood up and you followed, trailing after him out of Yoongi’s studio with a smile and a wave that upset him all over again. He hadn’t had that cute, carefree smile directed at him for so long now, and again, he fucking knew it was his own fault, but that didn’t make it any easier. For now, he had to be satisfied with seeing that smile only when it was directed at other people. At least, he thought bitterly, he’d succeeded in providing a good support network for you.

When you got home, after yet another awkward car ride filled with stilted small talk, Taehyung sat you down on the couch, wanting to talk to you but unsure of how to bring it up. You looked at him inquiringly as he stuttered through several aborted attempts to start the conversation, stopping each time with a frown and a hum.

Finally, he managed to ask, in a tone he hoped was neutral, “Did you and Suga-hyung talk about anything interesting today?”

You visibly stiffened, and he wondered if it was his words or his failure to feign nonchalance. “Why do you ask?” you responded cautiously, and he could see your walls going up.

“Just something Suga-hyung said,” Taehyung waved his hand in the air.

You cursed Yoongi inwardly for selling you out, and so quickly, at that. “Uh, we just talked about some stuff that happened last month,” you said vaguely. Neither of you were necessarily comfortable talking about the time you’d spent on the streets, and you tried to tiptoe around it out of consideration for Taehyung, but he understood what you were trying to say anyway.

“Uh-huh, like what?” he prompted, undeterred.

Your shoulders hunched defensively around your ears. “I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered, and started to get up to beat a hasty retreat to your room.

Taehyung reached out in a panic and grabbed your hand. “No, please, tell me what you told him,” he pleaded, looking up at you with that sad expression that you’d never been able to resist.

You sighed. “Why do you even want to know?” you asked, slumping back onto the couch in resignation.

Taehyung frowned. “Of course I want to know,” he countered immediately. “Why don’t you want to tell me?” he asked in concern now.

You shrugged. “I don’t like talking about it, and it’ll just upset you,” you explained in a small voice.

“Y/n…” Taehyung’s voice was filled with sadness. “Please, tell me about it.” He scooted slightly closer to you and took your hands in his.

“Taehyung-oppa…”

“I understand if you’re not ready to tell me,” he admitted. It stung to acknowledge the possibility that you were more comfortable talking to Yoongi about this than to Taehyung, when he’d always been your caretaker, the one you’d gone to for everything. “But if you’re willing to tell me, I really do want to know, so we can figure out the best way to help you.”

You swallowed. “All right,” you agreed hesitantly, then lapsed into silence as you thought about how you should explain what had happened. You didn’t want Taehyung to judge you, but then again, Yoongi hadn’t either, so maybe your fears about that had been overblown.

After a little more hemming and hawing as you tried to muster up the courage to talk about it, you finally said, “Do you remember the guys that I was living with?”

Taehyung nodded, slightly confused, but didn’t say anything, simply waiting for you to continue speaking when you were ready.

“Well, uh… they agreed to take me in and all, but it wasn’t for free,” you said, trying to skirt around the topic, hoping he would get it without you having to spell it out in so many words.

Of course, Taehyung just gave you a blank stare, as if waiting for you to finish your thought. You sighed. “They proposed, like, a trade,” you continued, willing him with your mind to just understand what you were trying to say already, damn it.

When his expression didn’t change, you gave up on hoping he would understand your hints. “I only had myself and didn’t have much to offer, so they, uh… theymademeusemybody,” you rushed out the last part of your sentence so softly it was almost like a whisper, but with Taehyung’s sharper hearing, courtesy of his hybrid senses, he picked it up perfectly.

Only, with what he’d heard, he wished he hadn’t. He stared at you imploringly, his ears folded down against his head, his eyes starting to fill with tears. “Wh-what?” His voice wobbled, unable to believe what he’d heard. You avoided his gaze by turning your face away, not wanting to see the expression on his face. You didn’t need his pity.

“Y/n…” Taehyung tightened his grasp on your hands. “I’m so sorry.” The emotion behind the simple words caught you off guard, and you turned back to look at him. He was staring straight at you, his eyes huge and filled with distress (and tears). A sob that he couldn’t quite hold back tore out of his chest and you watched, with some disbelief, as he completely broke down in front of you.

“Taehyung-oppa…” you murmured, trying to extricate one hand from his grasp. Panicked, he held on even tighter, unwilling to let you go and afraid that you would leave if he did. He was so upset it physically hurt all over. As an owner, he was distraught that his thoughtless actions had caused you to suffer like that. His baser instincts, however, prodded him to hunt down the humans who’d forced you into such a position. How dare they make such profane, disgusting, exploitative demands of you, his imprint, his mate?

And yet, wasn’t it all his fault? He was the one who’d kicked you out, so you had no other choice but to accept it. Everything that had happened to you while you were living on the streets had happened because of him, because he was a thoughtless, stupid, irresponsible, owner. It would serve him right if you left, although he couldn’t bear for you to. Clearly, he’d shown that he was an unfit owner.

He was so lost in his self-hatred that he didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing your hands which were folded in his bigger ones until you made a quiet noise of discomfort, flexing your hands in his grasp. Horrified, he let go of them as if scalded, appalled that he was hurting you yet again.

Instead of immediately taking off, however, you reached up to cradle the side of his face, wiping his tears away with your thumb. As much as you’d resented him, you couldn’t see his sadness without wanting to comfort him. It was somewhat strange – you’d always seen him as the rock, the constant in your life. Always there for you, always in your corner. That was gone now. You knew firsthand how he could be, how much you suffered because of him. Yet there were still those memories that, try as you might, you couldn’t stop holding close to your heart. Of being tucked into bed by him, spoilt rotten and cuddled during what had to be the most pampered adolescence possible. Part of you was vindictively pleased that he was so upset, since it was what he deserved, but there was another part that didn’t like seeing him suffer.

When he felt your hand on his face, Taehyung felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment. It would have made more sense to him if you’d slapped or punched him, but this tender touch, after all you’d been through because of him… he didn’t deserve you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating like a mantra, as if saying the words could dispel the heavy guilt he felt.

Because you weren’t a saint after all, you couldn’t resist twisting the knife. You knew you should appreciate how apologetic he was now that he knew what had happened, but there was also a spark of irritation within you. Why did he get to cry and make a fuss, when you couldn’t? You were comforting him when all the things he was upset about had happened to you, because of him.

“If you were sorry,” you said quietly, “you wouldn’t have kicked me out to begin with.” There was no malice in your tone, which was quiet and neutral, but it was abundant in your words. This was all his doing, and he shouldn’t get to wail dramatically about it like he was the victim.

Taehyung swallowed. “You’re right,” he acknowledged immediately. “This is all my fault, I’m sorry. Tell me what I can do to make it better for you,” he implored, his wide, tear-filled eyes looking at you earnestly.

“Tell me why you did it.” You never raised your voice, staying unmoved in the face of his clear anguish.

“Okay,” he agreed instantly, almost before the last word left your mouth. “Okay, I’ll tell you, just please… don’t leave.”

You folded your hands neatly in your lap and prepared to listen. To be honest, you’d thought you would be able to predict whatever he was going to say. He was furious about you coercing him into a sexual relationship when he wasn’t in his right frame of mind, he would confess, and after thinking about it, he’d gotten so angry that he acted impulsively. You could almost hear the words inside your head already – they were the same reasons you’d been repeating to yourself, over and over again.

“I was mad,” Taehyung admitted, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth, “And I acted rashly.” He hadn’t wanted to tell you about the imprint, hoping that he could deal with it by himself so he wouldn’t give you yet another thing to worry and stress over, but you’d asked, and he couldn’t reject your request. Not when he knew how much you’d suffered because of him. You nodded, like you’d expected him to say that.

What he said next, however, took you completely by surprise.

“Namjoon-hyung told me…” he stopped to swallow and gather himself, then started again. “I know you think that during my last heat –” you both flushed, thinking about what had happened then – “that was new, but it wasn’t.”

Your gaze sharpened and focused on him, listening more carefully to what he had to say now. “I’d been struggling since my discharge from the military,” he continued. Damn, this was hard to say. “Namjoon-hyung helped me look into it, and he found…”

He paused to muster some courage, running his hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. “He found what?” you prompted, leaning forward curiously. You hadn’t voluntarily come this close to him for a month, he noted. His wolf preened.

“Uh, he found evidence of… hybrid technology that he believes is the cause. He called it,” he coughed to delay it a little longer, “an imprint. It’s a genetic quirk that was created in predator hybrids to ensure that they could bond with their human owners.”

You blinked. “I’m not your owner,” you said dumbly. It was so much to take in, that bit was the only thing your mind could focus on and grasp.

“I know,” he nodded, “but because we spent so much time together in our adolescence the bond had a chance to form, and after spending two years apart, it kicked in because you’d reached…” He grimaced, not really wanting to say it, and waved his hand at you vaguely instead.

You understood well enough what he was trying to say and blanched. “Gross…” you muttered under your breath, but Taehyung heard it and his shoulders slumped further. Of course you were horrified and disgusted at him – you should be. For the first time, he wondered if you would have been better off on the streets – at least then you wouldn’t have to deal with him and this genetic abnormality. He’d forced you into every difficult situation you’d faced since coming back to him after his military service, and it was only natural that you were appalled by his revelation.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. He was saying that a lot, but no matter how many times he uttered the words, they were never enough to convey the depth of his remorse and sorrow over what he’d done to you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” his head fell into your lap as he cried.

You started stroking his head and ears, the habit you’d developed from years of being around him making you move your hand automatically to soothe him as you tried to sort out your thoughts. Hybrid technology… a genetic quirk… that meant humans had been responsible for what Taehyung was going through. You were more educated than most humans, which meant you understood very well the history between humans and hybrids. Humans had created hybrids and enslaved them, treating them as chattel – pets, workhorses, you name it.

And now, you were continuing to be the source of a hybrid’s pain and suffering. Had humans not done enough? Their destructive legacy continued to live on in the bodies of the hybrids they’d created, and while Taehyung had been struggling with it by himself, you’d been living in blissful ignorance, resenting him for what he’d done.

Taehyung cried until the tears wouldn’t come anymore, then he just lay with his head in your lap, the occasional hiccup making him jerk slightly. After a while, you turned your head to look out the window – the sun was setting, you noted.

“Taehyung-oppa…” you called softly, shaking his shoulder gently to wake him up. “You should get to bed.”

He stirred slightly, then tried to go back to sleep, but you pushed him back into a sitting position. “Come on, Tae-oppa,” you said, standing up and tugging on his hand. He followed you as you led him to his room, but wouldn’t let go of your hand once you’d gotten him settled in bed.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he croaked.

You eyed him dubiously for a second, not sure if it was a good idea, especially in light of what you’d just learned. But with his sad expression, the dejected slump of his shoulders and the way his ears flopped over his head, you couldn’t say no to anything he asked. Especially not with the newfound guilt you were carrying around.

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “Just let me wash up and I’ll come back.”

When you tiptoed back into Taehyung’s room, scrubbed down and in your pajamas, you thought he was asleep from the way he was curled up under the sheets. You quietly pulled back the covers on your side of the bed and got in slowly, trying not to jostle him awake, but it didn’t seem to make a difference, since the moment you were settled into the mattress he squirmed closer to you, wrapping his arms and legs around you and pressing his face into your neck.

With a small sigh, you settled into his hold.

---------------------------------------------

“Y/n… I don’t understand.” Namjoon’s brow was furrowed as he looked up at you, standing in his studio.

“Namjoon-oppa… I know you know about the imprint, and you told Taehyung-oppa about it,” you told him.

“Right… but I don’t know why you’re asking me this.”

“It’s not complicated – I just want to know if there’s a way to break the imprint.”

Namjoon hesitated. It was something he’d been looking into nonstop as well, hoping to find something that would set both you and Taehyung free. It didn’t seem to be possible, though – the genetic bond was not designed to be broken, especially since hybrids had been considered so disposable. If anything went wrong, euthanasia of hybrids had been just as commonly accepted as euthanasia of regular pets.

“There isn’t,” he admitted. “The only cases where a hybrid was able to move on from the imprint…” he gulped, not sure whether he should tell you.

“What is it?” you asked impatiently. “Namjoon-oppa, please. I’m trying to help Taehyung-oppa, just like you are,” you pleaded. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“Stop asking!” Backed into a corner now, he snarled at you, his ears pressed back against his head. “There’s nothing you can do, okay? Just drop it.”

“Namjoon-oppa, please. I don’t know why you’re trying to hide it. I’ll do anything it takes to help Taehyung-oppa break his imprint.”

That got his attention. “Anything?” This was crazy… it was way too much to ask of you.

“Anything,” you confirmed resolutely. He could see your determination in the set of your jaw and the way your gaze met his unwaveringly.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Ah, this is crazy…” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

“The only recorded cases where a hybrid was able to move on from an imprint… is when the object of the imprint passed away.”

#btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #btswritersnet #magicshopnet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #bangtanhq #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #hybrid taehyung #bts hybrid #bts hybrid au #bts future au #bts scenarios #bts fic #dont ask dont tell

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cevansfics · 4 years

Text

Alone, together.

Paring: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: It’s yours and Chris’s Frist night completely alone together since the birth of you daughter.

Warnings: language, fluff, smut 18+, very slight dom!chris i guess

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: please feel free to let me know what you think, also if anyone ways to be added to the taglist drop me a message :)

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Chris was in the home office finishing off a phone call with his agent, while you stood in the kitchen finishing dinner, a lasagne you had made and a side salad. It’s been the first whole night Chris and you would have together since you had a baby, 8 months ago. You decide to cook dinner as opposed to going out so you could spend more quality time with your husband. Of course, Chris didn’t disagree; he loved your cooking.

Just as you got the food out the oven and placed it on the countertop, you heard the office door close with pads of feet on the hardwood floor accompanied by the patter and scrapes of Dodger following behind. Chris walks up behind you and placed his hands and arms around your waist, pulling you back into his embrace and he places a soft kiss on your temple.

“Looks good, baby.” His voice was a lot most relaxed than it was 40 minutes ago when he got a call from his agent. You remember the groan of disapproval from him when he had to leave to take the call.

“Everything okay with the phone call?” You ask as you open the cupboard door to get out a couple of plates. Chris quickly takes them for you and grabs the cutlery before heading into the dining room to set the table.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “Just had to briefly go over things for when I start filming next month.” He continued as he placed everything on the table. You stood there to admire him for just a moment, this routine wasn’t too much unlike other evenings, just without your daughter there, but seeing Chris all domesticated made you all warm and fuzzy inside.

“You’re staring,” his voice brought you out of your gaze.

“I’m allowed to.” You poke your tongue out at his as you turn and head back into the kitchen.

Dinner was over before you knew it. You both ate, drank and laughed. Just enjoying each other's company just like back when you had started dating. You end up talking about everything and anything. From a silly commercial you had seen on tv, to the projects he had in the coming months.

Eventually, after cleaning everything up after dinner you moved into the living room. You had a glass of wine, and Chris had a bottle of beer. You both decide on what movie you want to watch. Making most of the downtime. The movie is just about to start when Chris moves even closer to you. You feel him place his hand on your inner thigh slowly stroking his thumb. Suddenly you aren’t paying attention to the movie, all you can focus on is his touch. So much so, he starts talking to you and you don’t hear a word. Looking up your eyes catch him and you notice he has a massive smirk spread across his face, he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. You raised your eyebrows at him and told him he needed to ask you his question again.

“I said did you want a refill,” gesturing towards your empty glass.

“Oh… no, I’m good, thank you,” You smile at him before leaning forward to place the empty glass on the coffee table in front of you. Settling back next to him, his hand still placed on your thigh, you try your best to focus on the TV. You can’t. You feel Chris burning stare, as he’s not looking anywhere else but you.

“Now who’s staring.” You bump your shoulder into him, jolting him a bit.

“I can’t help it when my wife is so beautiful.” This man has been your husband for the past 5 years and just a simple sentence like that can still make you melt.

Slowly and gently he places a soft kiss just under your ear, sending a shiver through your whole body trying to stifle your moan. Feeling him smile against your neck you know you failed and he heard you, he was such a cocky son of a bitch sometimes. Pulling back, he reaches for your hand moving you to stand up, turn around and climb into his lap. Now you are straddling him, face to face. Within that movement, you hadn’t noticed Chris must have paused, or turned the tv off as the room was now silent. He seems to just take a moment, before reaching one hand up, brushing your stray hair behind your ear. You see his eyes darting between your eyes and lip as if asking permission. You don’t even notice yourself giving a little nod until his lips are pressed against yours. You melt into the kiss as sparks fly, likes it’s the first time you have ever kissed him. It’s not like the two of you haven’t been intimate since having a baby, you had but one way or another it was interrupted or sometimes even cut short because your daughter wanted one of you. That being said, every moment with him, somehow felt brand new.

Deepening the kiss your hand’s grab hold of his shirt and you involuntarily roll your hips against him making you both moan. You feel Chris’s hand move down your back, over your waist till his hands reach under your butt, giving a gentle squeeze before they rest there.

Pulling away from the kiss Chris whispered about moving things to the bedroom and you quickly agree. Suddenly, he’s standing, your arms are around his neck with your legs, tightly, wrapped gripping at his waist. Him supporting you with his arms wrapped under your butt, he swiftly and with complete ease moves toward your bedroom. You were always in awe of his strength, especially when he carries you like you weighed nothing.

Once you are in your bedroom Chris places you on the ground so you are now standing face to face. Reattaching his lips to yours, you feel his hand tugging at the hem of your shirt. He pulls it up and off completely, breaking from the kiss. You do the same to him, but before he has a chance to do anything else you reach for the button and zipper. Chris stands there watching you, letting you take off his pants. As soon as they are off, he swiftly kicks them out of the way. He grabs you, carefully, throwing you down on the bed as he starts taking off your jeans. You raise your hips off the bed to assist him as he shimmy’s them off down your legs taking your panties with them. Sitting up straight, reaching round you take off your bra, discarding it, leaving you both completely naked.

“Hand by your sides, grip hold of the bedsheet and don’t let go.” He ordered. The raspiness in his voice goes straight to your core. Knowing, kind of, how this is going to play out only excites you more. You loved when Chris took control so you happily do as you are told. Bunching up the sheet that lies beneath you in either hand determined not to disappoint.

Climbing on the bed Chris hovers over you, his body barely touching yours. You have to fight the urge to let go of the sheets and run your hands all over him. As though he can read your mind, he reminds you not to let go before leaning down, wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking hard, while tugging and pulling the other between his finger and thumb.

“C-Chris…” you barely manage to get out.

“Shh.” Was the only response you got from him as he releases both of your nipples, running his hands all over you while licking and sucking and any bit of flesh he can. Abruptly he sits up, you whine and the loss of contact, and the chill of cold air that rushed over you. Spreading your legs open wide, he pulls your knees up so your legs are bent. Your breath begins to get faster, in anticipation of what’s about to happen, unfortunately, Chris only torturous you more. Ghosting his fingers, barely touching, over your wet lips making sure to miss the area you actually need him to touch. You start to buck your hips, to bring friction to your most sensitive point, Chris stops his action and with his hand, he holds your hips in place.

“No, baby girl.” That nickname. Some days you think that nickname, mixed with the raspy deepness of Chris’s voice, could bring you to orgasm alone. You stop trying to move, knowing it’s useless to try.

Chris shuffles down, now lying on his front between your legs. His left forearm placed firmly over your hips, stopping you from moving. Chris goes back to ghosting his fingers over you. Just when you think you can take it anymore you feel him slide one finger inside of you. It drives you crazy just how well this man, your man knows your body so well. The pleasure makes your breath halt. Drawing his finger out of you completely, before reentering you feel him add another finger, filling you more. You’re so close and he’s barely even touched you at this point. Picking up the pace his fingers start moving in and out of you, hitting the right spot inside. The pleasure building up inside if you, you're on the edge anyway but Chris gently swipes his tongue over your clit making you come hard.

“Oh- Fuck… yes” you nearly scream.

“That’s it baby girl, come on my fingers.” Chris doesn’t stop his movements. Just as you come down from your high Chris, stilling moving in and out of you as a steady past latches his lips around your clit, moaning as he does, which vibrates through you. You start to beg to be able to let go of the sheet and touch him but he doesn’t reply. You don’t know whether because he knows you already know the answer or because he’s too determined to make you come again.

You come again. Without fail. Unable to say a word or move your hips you pull hard on the sheet, not caring if you ripped it or not, just focused on every lick and suck from Chris’s mouth. His fingers still inside you. This time as you regain your senses, Chris slows down eventually stopping. Pulling his fingers out of you he quickly puts them in his mouth cleaning you off of him with a moan.

“You okay?” All you can do is nod. Chris begins to crawl over you. Planting sloppy wet kisses over your stomach, his hand roughly massages your breast, squeezing them together as he brings his mouth up and over them kissing a licking every inch of your skin. Before moving on and kissing your neck. You briefly feel him, rock hard and brushing against your inner thigh. You forget yourself for a moment and let go of the sheet, placing your hands on him, rolling your hips to urge him towards you. Quickly Chris grabs your wrist and places it back on the bed where they were.

“Did I say you could let go?”

“N-no. I’m sorry I forgot.”

“Now we’re going to have to start again baby girl.” As he sits up and shuffles back down your body.

Gripping the sheet as hard as you can show him you have hold of it you try to protest and apologize, “Please no. I’m sorry Chris, please I want… no need you inside of me. Please.” The final ‘please’ was barely a whisper, knowing not to matter how much you begged he was going to want you to keep your hand where they were. Chris began kissing his way up your body again, starting just above your hips. This time he was going agonizingly slowly. He places soft kisses all over your stomach and breast, taking his sweet time. You knew he was doing it on purpose, driving you crazy by barely touching you was one of his favourite things to do.

Finally, he reaches your neck, the kisses becoming harder and rougher as he takes your mouth with his. Feeling him rub his cock against your slit makes you break the kiss moaning out loud.

“Are you going to continue being a good girl and not let go?”

You start nodding in response before he’s even finished his sentence, and he pushes inside of you. Once completely inside of you, he stilled. Placing his forearms on the bed either side of your head. Staring up at him. You're so close face to face but not touching, even with just the moonlight illuminating the room, you could see his face clear as day. You could see pleasure take over his face before he’s even started moving.

No matter how many times you’d have sex feeling him fully inside of you always took you to a new place of pleasure. He started moving with a slow rhythm, letting you get used to him before he pulled out completely and ram back hard and fast all the way to the base. Causing you to scream out loud. He starts fucking you, hard. Not fast enough to get you off, but hard enough to keep you on edge begging to come. A slew of moans and curses leave your mouth along with more begging. Only this time you are entirely sure what you are begging for, whether it’s for him to let you touch him or for him to make you come.

“Just a little longer baby girl, I want you to come with me.” He moans out not missing a beat with his thrusts. Now you’re gripping the sheet pulling at it resisting the need to touch him when you hear - “Touch me, I need you to touch me now.”

You’re more than happy to oblige. Releasing the sheet, throwing your arms around his neck, running your hand through his thick hair, nail scraping at his scalp as you pull him down to kiss him. Both of your tongues going crazy in each other’s mouths. His hips don’t stop thrusting into you, lifting your legs you wrap them around his lower waist eventually digging the heel of your feet into his butt cheeks, thrusting up to meet him, wanting him deeper.

Harder. Deeper. Faster.

Your hands roaming all over each other. The room now filled with skin slapping against skin and the occasional moan or grunt from either of you. You don’t know how much longer you can last, you’re so close to the edge you can taste it. Yet again without fail Chris can read you like a book.

“You close, baby girl.” It wasn’t a question he knew. “You gonna come again for me? Going to come on my cock while I come deep inside you?” The words he’s whispering in your ear driving you even close to the edge you don’t know how you manage to form a response.

“Yes. God, yes. Chris, I’m gonna come, please.”

“Let go, baby girl, come on my cock, yes, that’s it.” Placing kisses all over your jawline and your mouth, his hips slow just enough to let you know you’re coming together. Riding out your orgasm, time seems to slow down, you see the pleasure in Chris’s face above yours, being in this moment with him, the love of your life, you feel like you could never love him more.

You don’t know how long it’s been Chris is still laying over you, moving the sweat damped hair off of your forehead, placing kisses over your cheeks, lips and closed eyelids.

“You okay sweetheart?” He asks.

“Mnfff..” is all you manage to get out. Laughing at your response, Chris jumps up walking into your bathroom, coming back with a cloth he helps clean you up before quickly discarding it. Climbing into bed next to you he pulls you closer to him before pulling the covers up over the pair of you.

“How do you have any energy left? I can even feel my legs,” finally you managed to get a full sentence out.

“Just an adrenaline rush from rocking your world.” He jokes placing a kiss in your hair. You nudge him on the chest laughing.

“You’re an ass.”

You snuggle back up to him getting comfortable, ready to enter the realm of slumber before saying, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Those and the last word you remember before falling asleep.

Tags:

@chris-butt

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #my writing

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for-a-muse-of-fire · 4 years

Text

this is hungry work

the wench and the witcher

"this is hungry work”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader.

Summary: Your Witcher will be gone at first light. He’s determined to keep occupied until then.

Warnings: NSFT/18+ - you should not be interacting with this fic if you are under the age of 18. Facesitting, overstim, intercourse, sweet-yet-possessive!Geralt. It’s... it’s just smut, y’all.

A/N: Full disclosure, I tried to tell myself I wouldn’t use this song for any of my fics and I should have known better. It’s just peak Hozier, and I would be remiss for excluding it. I have approximately 3 fics left in this series - yikes, I accidentally wrote a series - and then we’ll see where the Wench wants to go from there...

@coconutxraikage - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @alwaysnatz - @agniavateira - @witchernonsense - @owillofthewisps - @hina-chans-stuff - @yespolkadotkitty - @wastingmypotential

The only Heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well, amen...

The light of the full moon shines in from the window, fills the room with the silver-ice glow. It’s cool and soft – enough to see by, making up for the embers that now barely smolder on the hearth. It should be cold without the fire’s warmth, but the heat flashing over your skin leaves you misted with sweat. It weighs down your curls and makes them stick to the back of your neck, to your face; each sharp inhale feels heavy and damp in your lungs. One hand grips the headboard so hard that your palm aches.

The other hand is fisted in Geralt’s hair.

Your thighs bracket his head and he holds you in place over his mouth. His fingers press bruises into your flesh. With a ragged cry, your body arches and your hips press down; you grind down onto the Witcher’s greedy tongue, calling his name as you come again. You briefly wonder if anyone has ever died like this. The low vibration of the Witcher’s growl hums over the tender, throbbing flesh of your cunt and you double over, whining. Trying to pull away is futile; his grip on your thighs is too strong.

There’s no counting at this point. The pleasure borders on agony and Geralt is relentless.

He leaves in the morning.

It seems he’s determined to keep himself occupied until then.

“Gods,” you pant as your hips rock in time to the tide of your orgasm. “Geralt – “

Hazy golden eyes flash up at you, the dark of his pupils wide and fathomless. Your limbs feel like water, putting up no resistance when the Witcher shifts and turns you onto your back like you’re a ragdoll. He fairly glows in the moonlight, miles of pale skin stretched over powerful muscle that flexes beautifully as he pulls your legs over his shoulders. The tip of his tongue flicks sharply over your clit and you jump with a low hiss, “Son of a bitch – “

Geralt chuckles softly, noses at your damp curls. “I’ve met sailors who swear less,” he taunts.

You give a breathless laugh of your own. “You’re one to talk – oh!”

Fingers press, three thick digits slipping into your cunt with an obscenely wet noise and little resistance. The stretch makes your toes curl. Geralt laps casually over your aching clit again to pull a sharp, desperate noise up from your throat.

“M’gonna miss that sound,” he growls and repeats the motion.

You whimper. His fingers press and thrust in time with the movement of his tongue until you’re shaking and cursing, fingers gripped tight in his shock-white hair. He groans against you when you tug, pushing the pads of his fingers up to stroke and circle over that soft spot inside of you – the one that makes your back arch from the bed as lightning goes flashing up your spine. His mouth closes over you, his cheeks hollow to apply a teasing suction and your voice breaks on a whine, “Geralt - fuck - I’m gonna - “

It’s a violent rush of blinding sensation – you shout, gushing over Geralt’s fingers as your hips rock into his mouth. He doesn’t stop.

You come again. And again.

He doesn’t stop until your muscles ache, until your voice is raw and you’re begging brokenly for respite. Panting, you glance down to see your Witcher smirking, his mouth pink and swollen, slick with your cum. He bows his head and makes his slow, ambling way up your body, chasing each flex of your muscles with a nip of his teeth. He’s already littered you with deep red marks, spots that you’ll press your fingers to when he’s gone, relishing in the dull ache. You shiver when he traces the bruises with his tongue, whine when he takes a beaded, tender nipple into his mouth. The sharp thrill of pleasure makes your cunt clench down on nothing and you whisper his name.

Geralt rumbles appreciatively. He guides you onto your belly, settles his warm, solid weight over your back. His lips feel like a firebrand on your shoulder blade – his cock slicks over you, catching over the tiny ridge of your clit and making you gasp, “Please.“

He growls into your neck, easing his hips forward. The length of him splits you open, stretches your sopping cunt around him until you sob. It’s a slow and filthy pace that he sets. He rocks into you on a deep, grinding rhythm that makes you grit your teeth around a moan. Your fingers curl in the rumpled bedding beneath you. You feel the wet heat of his breath against your shoulder, the scrape of his teeth, and the steady, torturous rock of his hips. Your voice is a broken, ragged thing, harsh to your own ears when you cry.

A sharp, sudden push of his hips punches the breath from your lungs. “That’s my girl,” he pants against your hair. “Sweet girl – you take me so well, sweetheart. So fuckin’ pretty, taking my cock.”

He fucks into you, deep and unrelenting strokes. You pant, and grunt, too fucked-out to be self-conscious about how you might sound. You feel utterly spent, like there’s no possible way your body can respond, or keep up, but it does – you do. The Witcher pulls you up in one powerful motion, sitting back on his haunches and crushing your back to his front with one arm gripped tight over your chest. His skin is sweat-slick and scorching hot against your back. You grip at whatever you can reach, grasping at his hair, clawing at his arm; he chokes out a groan and his free hand pushes down the softness of your belly until his fingers brush where the two of you are joined, where you are stretched around him, soaked and quivering.

“Let me hear you,” he rumbles. “Say it, sweetheart – tell me – “

A flex of his hips. You feel every blood-hot inch of his cock, and clench down – your legs shake as you whimper, “Geralt – “

“Say it.”

He thrusts up into you, hard – a claiming. “Yours,” you gasp. “Oh gods – m’yours. Yours yours – “

The pads of his fingers drag over your clit. Your muscles lock. It’s a conflagration in your blood, roaring through your veins, leaving ash it its wake – your voice cracks as you scream. You hear Geralt snarl and swear as his hips stutter – he trembles against your back, pulses deep inside of you – filling you with the sticky heat of his cum. Your eyes roll back and then you’re floating, warm and boneless as if drifting on an ocean tide.

Geralt’s voice drifts through the fog. You come to as he pulls you against him, cradling your head on his shoulder while he strokes your limp curls away from your face with a tenderness that constricts around your heart. He’s watching you. Staring; as if attempting to commit each line of your face to memory while his thumb brushes at the corner of your mouth.

“Say it again,” he mumbles.

You have to remember how to breathe for a moment. “I’m yours,” you whisper.

Geralt kisses you lazily, delicately, and rolls you under him. His remarkable stamina has him pressing against the inside of your thigh again, hard and slick; you gasp when he slides in. You’re tender, borderline sore, but your hips still lift to take him. Your cunt still pulses at the welcome intrusion.

“One more, sweetheart,” he purrs against your mouth “Give me one more, c’mon…”

The Witcher barely moves. Just soft, shallow thrusts of his hips with his forehead pressed to yours and his fingertips tracing soothing patterns over your sensitized skin; you shake beneath him. The both of you balance on that precipice for an age, until a lark begins to call out its song in the courtyard outside. Geralt manages to coax one last slow, shivering orgasm from you; he moans into your mouth as he comes – you feel the steady throb of his cock, the warmth filling you as you shudder. You’re vaguely aware of Geralt’s weight settling beside you. Exhausted as you are, you utter a murmur as he curls you into his side.

Geralt’s fingers trace soft, meaningless sigils over your back as you let sleep take you.

#geralt x you #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt x poc reader #geralt x woc reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #the wench and the witcher #tutu scribbles #nsft

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chayacat · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (12)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

WARNING: This chapter include a rather disturbing scene that is an organ exit, specifically, the intestines and...Other things. If you are a sensitive potato, I apologize for the potential disgust or potential nightmare following this passage. But if you are one of those who has already seen much worse with the saga Saw or Leatherface ... I don't know what to say. ('-') Well then... Have a good read!

***

Do you like to go out at night, when the starry sky honors you with its presence? It's always a fascinating show and it's even more so when a shooting star or an aurora borealis appear. For some, it's the perfect view, the perfect time to show your feelings to the person you love. For others, it’s the spirits of those who have left us who, from heaven, look at us and protect us. And for the Nordics, the aurora borealis is the bridge that connects Midgard and Asgard.

But tonight, it was just a starry sky. A beautiful and mesmerizing starry sky that Danny was looking, leaning against his van. If he had a cigarette on him, he would have smoked it while watching the sky. But Danny wasn't a big fan of cigarettes, in fact he didn't like it at all. He didn't understand why people were ruining their health with such a poison. And the same was true for alcohol. He had no more than two drinks. He had already had the bitter experience of both too many times with his parents.

Hmph. His "parents." Danny calls them his tormentors instead. He remembers his “life” with his parents, his HELL’S life. Since he was young, Danny’s parents treated him like a dog, beating him and insulting him every time for nothing. He did everything to have the attention and love that a child must have. But he received nothing but hatred and disgust from them. His father was an alcoholic and a huge smoker. His mother smoked very little but was obsessed with religion.

For them, Danny was just a mistake, an unwanted child that they had to treat as such. And that's what they did. And if he thought he would find solace in making friends... he was wrong. His classmates made fun of him, and he found himself alone... always alone. He always avoided problems, but when he had to defend himself from the bullies of his school... He did. And if his parents played the comedy in front of the teachers, once at home, Danny was beaten to the point of losing consciousness once.

His years of college and high school were no better... but no worse either. In high school, he had managed to make friends, with whom he often made the wall to go and have fun at night. At that time, he no longer feared the wrath of his parents, especially his "father". He was a cute little boy when he was a child, and as a teenager he was a handsome boy, who attracted a lot of attention. His current appearance, apart from size, has not changed since.

How many girls wanted to go out with him? hundreds. How much did he have been in a relationship? Just two. And one of those two relationships ended badly. Yet he remembered an evening at the fair where he and his friends consulted a fortune teller. He didn't believe in this stuff but it was always a good time to have fun.

“Your life has been nothing but sadness and suffering my boy. But soon, a new life will be offered to you and one day you will finally find the one that is linked to you. The chosen one of your heart, is not here young man, but elsewhere.” she said. He remembers smiling, holding a laugh so as not to offend the old woman. But later, one of his visions proved correct.

“Where do you think you're going like that, you dirty little jerk?! You're not going anywhere! you hear me??” His Dad shout, beating him again.

But this time... It had to stop. He had struck him in return, with a force he did not know himself. Her mother squeaked when she saw her husband on the ground, slightly frightened but still angry.

“I've done everything. Absolutely EVERYTHING to have even a little love! AND WHAT DID I GET?! ONLY BEATINGS AND INSULTS! ... But it's over. I get out of here and believe me that you will have NOTHING of me. You can both go to hell. I hope you die in the worst way there is in this f****ng world.”

And since that day, he has never felt so free and so alive. But what this fortune teller told him always kept him in mind. And if that person with whom he was related... the chosen one of his heart... was simply... You?

Since you both met, you are the only person who has been so pleasant, innocent and... kind to him. Of course, you’re acting like this because he was acting as Jed. But if Jed had never existed, if he had only been himself... Would it have been the same thing?

Maybe... that you'd be in a relationship. He would love you as much as you would love him. He'd protect you, do anything to make you happy. Of course, he would never tell you about his... second "job." But what if you get sick? To the point of ending up in the hospital and dying just like...

“Danny...” He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to remember that. NEVER again.

“Come on Danny. Stay focused. You can’t screw all you've made until now.” He whispers to himself before he puts his Ghostface’s mask on.

He faced Mike's house. Certainly, Mckellan had to die first on the list but... the desire to eviscerate Mike was stronger, more enticing, more... Exciting. Danny licked his lips, thinking about how he was going to take care of his next victim. He had prepared everything, orchestrated and imagined the faces of the unfortunates who would find his corpse.

He's going to pay. Oh yes, he's going to pay SO MUCH for all the humiliation that Danny has endured since he started working at Roseville's Gazette. He's going to regret every fucking word he's said about him. Every fucking blow he's given her. And his attempt to strangle him... in front of everyone... will be the fatal blow that Danny will return to him.

Danny took a gift package and sneaked up to Mike's house. Even if he knows that at this time, everyone is asleep in this neighbourhood, it is better to be careful of a potential walker. He had parked in the same place as last time; he knew that no one ever went there.

He reached the kitchen window and saw it slightly open, so he took advantage of this opportunity to enter the interior without making any noise. He immediately walked to the basement, which was right in front of the kitchen, and went downstairs, realizing to the sound of the water that Mike was in his bathroom, taking a shower. Just perfect.

He rediscovered Mike's "playroom", the one in which he practiced his... disgusting and twisted fantasies. And he's the one we call f****ng psycho? Hmph, Danny found the champion in this category. He admits to being a little crooked sometimes, but really far from doing that kind of crap.

He placed his "gift" on the table before taking an object heavy enough to knock Mike out. As well as a rope to be able to tie him. On the practical side, he didn't need to take anything. Everything was provided to him on the spot, for once.

"How nice you are Mickey... make it easier for me at this point, I would have almost taken you as an assistant ... if you weren’t a fucking pedophile and a drug addict. What a waste. Well, time to call.” Danny said taking out another disposable phone. He hid in a corner of the room, so that Mike would not see him and composed his number. Hoping he got out of the bathroom.

“Hello? Who the f**k is there?” said Mike on the other line. His voice was hoarse and tired. Looks like he smoked more than he should.

“Hello Mickey...Miss me? I hope so.” respond Danny sneering about this situation.

“You little...motherf***er! I don’t know who the f**k you are but you gonna regret everything you do to me, you little shit!”

“What a lovely language...Look since you didn't like my previous gift, I brought you another one... He's in the basement. Why don't you open it? I'm sure you'll like this one!”

“Go f**k yourself with your gift! You trapped me once! and it's already too much for me to leave you alive!” Said Mike enraged.

“You could make an effort Mickey... I bend over backwards to find you a gift to make me forgive and you don't even want to go and see what it is. You're breaking my heart. Too bad... I guess I can send your photos to the authorities... they'll be happy to put you in jail.” Replied Danny getting ready to hang up.

“Rrrrr...Okay Okay ! I'm going to open your gift! You psycho...”

He heard Mike heading towards the stairs before descending to the basement. the excitement caused Danny to tremble, he was waiting for only one thing: for Mike to open his "gift" and see his reaction before knocking him out. And once attached... the party can begin.

He went deeper into the darkness when he saw Mike advancing towards the table where the gift package was. Danny's hands trembled with excitement as Mike trembled with fear. After a moment of hesitation, Mike finally opened the package and backed away, swearing and holding back from vomiting.

Remember when I said a "head was going to fall"? Well, a head actually fell. A man's head now stood on this table, and for Mike it was not unknown to him because he was one of his drug dealers, the one who offered him the best drugs.

The head was cut with sharpness and precision worthy of a surgeon. the face was marked by the drug that this man was consuming and dark circles almost as black as coal were plummeting before his eyes. Teeth had been torn off and tongue cut off.

Mike recoiled a few more metres before feeling a hand on his shoulder, when he turned, he had no time to react and received a blow, strong enough to knock him out. Danny looked at his unconscious body, a diabolical smile on his face. He took the rope and a chair, then lifted Mike's heavy body to attach it to it. He weighed his weight the animal!

“Look at this... What a beautiful sight. Ah Mickey... I will make you my most beautiful bloody work the world has ever seen... I'm going to make myself a huge pleasure to cut you pieces into pieces... make you suffer until your last breath.” Said Danny before laughing, thinking about all this.

Mike awoke after 30 minutes and, quickly noticing that he was tied to the chair, he tried to untie the ties. Unfortunately for him, Danny had tightened them up to the max. The latter came up to him, sneering, passing his gloved finger over the blade of his knife.

“Sleep well? I was starting to worry I thought I'd killed you too fast... it would have been a shame after everything I've planned for you... Don't you think so?” He said taking Mike's face with his hand.

“You’re f***ing twisted! You’re a crazy psycho! Let me go! Said Mike giggling in his chair.

“Oh... Not right now. We've just met face to face... I'm not going to shorten this moment so quickly.” replied Danny approaching his knife to Mike’s cheek. “So, do you like my gift? I must admit It wasn’t easy to find him because...He’s like a rat running everywhere in the house to steal some food. But he was so cooperative after I ripped off his tooth and cut off his tongue.

“P-P-Please...Don’t do this! Take everything you want!”

“Everything?” Said Danny before exploding with laughter. “But everything I want is your SCREAMS and you DEATH. After all you did, this is all you deserved. Fair enough don’t you think? But you know what? Since you're going to die... you’ll see your executioner's face.” He replied before taking off his mask.

“Ol...Olsen...”

“Oh, it’s true. My name is NOT Jed Olsen.” He said cutting off each of his hands with a blow, which made Mike scream a lot. “I’m Danny Johnson...The Ghostface. And I'm gonna take a real pleasure to slaughter you for everything you've done to me... You're not going to be a loss anyway. Because unlike you... I don't spend my fantasies on children."

He put on his mask on and thrust his knife deep into Mike's stomach, killing him like a pig. he pulled out the intestines that hung like ropes. he stabbed him many times, piercing his eyes, cutting his virility and his tongue before finishing him off with a sharp blow to the throat. Blood squirted everywhere, and in this show, Danny's crazy laugh was heard, he had nothing to fear, Mike had soundproofed the room for his... Fantasies. No one outside could hear it... and no one was going to come to Mike's house at this hour.

But it wasn't over oh no... He has to finish his work. He took Mike's intestines and cut them into fine pieces before throwing them all over his corpse like confetti that’s thrown at a party. After all, it's a party, isn't it? He took the drug dealer's decapitated head and carefully placed it in Mike's arms with a little message on it: "I, Mike Harris, killed this man without any remorse." And he placed Mike’s d**k on his mouth instead of his tongue which layed on the ground.

“I don't like being robbed of the star Mickey... but I confess that making you look like a murderer on this one makes me laugh a lot... We'll keep you the worst image of your existence, pedophile, drug addict and murderer. Jackpot. Now...Say Cheese!” Said Danny before taking a picture. “One down. There's one left. Sooner or later McKellan...you’ll meet the devil himself. And then... I could focus a little more on my sweet angel.”

As with every murder, he erased all traces of his passage, and after making sure of it, he left as discreetly as he had arrived. Then he took the road to go home. But before sinking into the arms of Morpheus... A small visit is necessary.

The window of your bedroom was barely open, but that's more than enough for Danny to pass his knife and open the window just enough to pass. You were sleeping peacefully, the blanket almost covering your head but he could still see your face, your little and adorable angel face... He stood frozen in front of you for a few seconds, a smile on his face. Then he took a picture, an umpteenth trophy, an umpteenth memory.

“Don’t worry... Soon, all your problems will disappear... and I'd be the ONLY one to obstruct your thoughts. In a good way. Sleep well, my little sweet star...And never forget...” He said, kissing your forehead. “You’re mine. And only MINE.”

And then he vanished. As if no one had ever entered this intimate place... But little by little... The devil tightens his grip on you. Even if he will continue to scare you... He will do anything to be the only object of your obsessions.

And he won't let anyone near you.

***

(And it’s done! Phew thinking about Mike’s death wasn’t easy but I've made it! Again, I hope you’ll enjoy it like the other ones and if you got some questions or you just want to talk you can! For now, the French potato girl I am will get some rest! have a good week end everyone! See ya!)

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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justauthoring · 4 years

Text

No Reason To (37/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

A/N: PLEASE READ: I would like to warn that this chapter deals with some very sensitive topics, namely suicide (both attempts and actual suicide). I am not try to make light of this very serious topic, and as someone whose gone through it, I understand how it can be triggering. So please, be aware that the first good third of the chapter talks about it.

And, if you need help, please feel free to always reach out to me. Even if you just need someone to talk to.

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 05x14, 05x15 & 05x16

“I had hoped it’d skipped you.”

What did that even mean?

“Skipped me?” You question, with a shake of your head, brows furrowing as you meet your mother’s eyes. You were still shaky, there was still sweat beading across your forehead and the shake of your hands hadn’t stopped; despite the fact that your mother had picked you up and taken you home. Despite the fact that you were safe in your own bed. You couldn’t stop shaking. “What does that mean?”

“Generations,” Melissa clarifies with a faint nod, “your great grandmother was a witch.”

You, before that moment, before your mother’s words, didn’t think it was possible to be any more confused then you already are. But you’re proven wrong, all too wrong, as what she says processes in your mind. Great Grandmother. Of course you’d known you’d had one, but you’ve never been told about her.

You barely even knew your grandmother before she passed away when you and Scott were still just babies.

“She was a witch.” You say slowly, more of a statement then a question. And the words seem to repeat like a mantra within your head, trying to understand why your mother would tell you that, why she felt it was necessary. You guessed, in some ways, it mattered because it gave way to how you were one. Which up until this point had been a mystery, one you’d been greatly confused by at first but let slip from your mind as others became more important and pressing.

It occurs to you then just how much you’d pushed away in regards to your own powers, to your own self, for the sake of your friends.

“My mother, your grandmother,” Melissa clarifies, gesturing to you with a short nod. “She never talked about her mother. All she ever said was that she was a nasty woman. A mean, mean woman. She hated her. And I never asked more than that because it was clear she didn’t like to talk about her, and eventually, I just learned to let it go.”

“Then, how...?”

“I did some digging.” Mom explains, “when I found out you were a witch, I started looking into my family history. Rafe’s as well. But I learned quite quickly that the lineage was never passed onto sons, which clearly describes Scott, so then I started focusing in on my side. Your great grandmother wasn’t the only witch and there were hundreds before her; her grandmother, and then her great, great grandmother and so on. It skipped a few generations along the way, but mainly, it hit every single one and stopped on my mother.

Then, obviously, it skipped me too.”

Lips pursed in thought, you nod slowly as your mother speaks, taking in her words carefully. You felt some enlightenment at learning your family history, at being able to understand where your powers came from in the beginning. It made you, though only a little, feel less like a freak having reason behind your powers. And a long line of it too.

“Before me, it only skipped one generation, and rarely at that.”

Brows furrowing, you shake your head; “then, why--”

“I don’t know.” Your mother says simply, already knowing what you’re going to ask before you do, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know why it skipped me. Or even why it skipped my mother. Maybe it has something to do with adaptation. In all the supernatural creatures you and your brother have encountered, have you ever met another witch?”

“...No,” you sigh, shoulders falling. The bit of hope you’d felt, briefly mind you, disappears just like that; with a snap of the fingers. “Not to mention, it’s practically impossible to find anything on them either.”

And you know all too well how hard it is. The lack of knowledge that existed in the world on witches is what lead you into Theo’s capable and waiting hands in the first place. It’s what lead you here.

“Witches just don’t seem to exist anymore, Y/N.” Your mother says quietly, her gaze soft and warm, but it isn’t hard to miss the trace of sympathy and worry in her gaze either. You don’t blame her. If you had found someone you cared about the way she’d found you, in the middle of the forest, shaking and crying, going on and on about how you were losing your mind, practically in hysterics, you’d been concerned too.

Probably more than just concerned.

“You’re an exception.” Pausing a moment, Melissa inhales sharply, “I know it isn’t much and it doesn’t help, but, I hope it does help explains things. Even if only a little.”

Biting your lip, you glance down to your hands, taking it all in.

Then, something occurs to you. “You said you hoped it skipped a generation. Skipped me.” You speak up, flickering your gaze back up to your mothers with a shake of your head and furrowing your brows. “You didn’t know your grandmother was a witch, you said it so yourself. You knew about me before you started digging. And I know you were just surprised as me that something like witches even existed. So... what did you hope skipped me?”

Melissa’s face falls then. It’s almost like she regrets her words, wishes you hadn’t even noticed them. But how could you not? And she looks so reluctant to speak up, to answer your question, and this feeling twists tight inside of you because you didn’t know if you could possibly take anymore bad news. You didn’t know if you could withstand something else being added to the burden that was weighing your shoulders so heavily down.

It’s clear your mother sees that too.

“I never knew my grandmother,” she clarifies, repeating what she’d said earlier. “Never met her. And I told you that my mother didn’t like to talk about her?”

You nod, apprehensive.

“When I was searching through everything, I found this diary. It belonged to your great grandmother, Anne.”

Reaching behind her, Melissa grabs something off your desk, something you hadn’t, in your frenzy, noticed she’d even grabbed. She hands it to you simply, letting you take it from her hands which you do so slowly and hesitantly, your stomach a bundle of nerves. Your eyes linger on hers a moment longer before glancing down at the rather beat up diary, allowing your shaky hands to skim through the pages for anything of particular interest.

“I learned that some witches can handle being witches, and... some can’t.”

Lips parting in bafflement, you shake your head up at your mother; “what do you mean?”

“Anne,” she leans forward, tapping the diary, “was a powerful witch. From what I could tell when reading, a very powerful witch. The dates are practically twenty or so apart from start to finish, and as I went across, as I read each entry, Y/N she... slowly was losing control.”

Your heart falls at that.

“She talks about her powers spiking, growing like a hot fire in her stomach, and there’s nothing she can do to slow them. She talks about the fact that she feels like she has no control over herself any more, and that she’s so angry all the time but can’t explain why. She never slept, and when she did, she’d have these terrible nightmares. These vivid, horrifying nightmares.”

“Like me,” you whisper, feeling sick.

Melissa nods reluctantly. “She started hurting people, even though she didn’t want to. She’d just... lash out.”

She holds silent for a long while, letting what she’s said sink in. Your eyes lower to the diary as she does, flipping through the pages once more, but skimming across a few entries here and there. And with each passage you read, your heart sinks further and further when you realize just how much you relate to them. Just how alike they are to what you’ve been experiencing.

“When I said I had hoped it’d skipped you, I only meant, I-I had hoped, upon learning all of this, that you’d just grow into your powers. That they’d grow with you and...--”

“I wouldn’t lose control.”

Face falling, Melissa lets out a sigh, “Y/N--”

“No,” you cut in, shaking your head up at your mother, your eyes watering. “No, because that’s what’s happening. It’s been happening for so long ago, and it’s too late to fix anything because I refused to talk to anyone about it other then fucking Theo. And he used me. Lied to me. If... If I had come to you first, like I should’ve, maybe...” Words trailing, you swallow thickly, slumping.

You don’t move, don’t even react, as Melissa softly sets her hand over your own, squeezing it gently. “We don’t know that,” she whispers, “there’s got to be some way to fix this.”

“You said it so yourself,” you scoff, “it didn’t skip me.”

Frowning, your mother doesn’t say anything, not sure what to say to comfort you. She raises her hand slowly, letting it fall on your cheek in the hopes it helps comfort you, even if only a little. Her thumb strokes the skin of your cheek slowly with a feathery touch, in an attempt to be reassuring.

“What happened to her? Anne.” You ask quietly, picking up your head just enough that you can glance at her through your lashes. “How did she die?”

Melissa pauses again, and you can tell what felt like it couldn’t get any worse, is about to.

“She... She killed herself, Y/N.”

And it’s just like the weight of the entire world falls on your shoulders then.

“Her last entry,” Melissa continues after a minute, voice solemn. “She wrote that she couldn’t handle it all anymore. That she didn’t want to hurt people anymore. Especially now that she had a child, my mother... So, she killed herself in an attempt to get rid of the problem...”

“Oh, God...” You let out with a choked cry, pressing the palms of your hands against your face in distress. “What am I going to do?”

Melissa rushes forward without hesitation, wrapping her arms around you tightly and pressing you firmly against herself. Her grip is tight, and she doesn’t ease, not even for a second as you let out a sob, face pressed against the crook of her neck in distress. You just let everything go, tired of holding it all back, especially with all this new information which hadn’t helped at all and only added to your worries.

“It’s okay,” Melissa whispers, running her hand through your hair soothingly. “It’s okay, Y/N, We’ll figure it out. I promise. It’ll be okay.”

You see a lot of yourself in Anne.

Whilst never actually meeting her, or even knowing of her existence before this point, you feel connected to her in ways you never have to anyone before.

Melissa leaves thinking you’d fallen asleep. But you don’t. You can’t. You haven’t properly slept in days and with all this new news, that definitely wasn’t going to change. Anytime your eyes fall shut and you try to shut your mind off too from any wandering thoughts, you’d think about everything. You’d think about Scott, you’d think about Theo, and you’d think about Stiles. You’d think about yourself, and your powers.

About how you would give anything in the world to just be human.

So, you opt for reading through the diary. Your heart warms as you read the beginning which is almost like a mirror of your own with the exceptions of a few things. Anne’s mother, so your great, great grandmother was a witch too, and a great one from what you could tell from Anne’s entries. She learns a lot from her mother, whereas you never really had anyone to learn from except the limited knowledge Derek had provided.

She’s excited by her powers at first. Anne often talks about how much she just wants to make her mother proud, that that’s the only thing she’s ever wanted in her entire life.

She’s an only child, unlike you. But she talks often of how much she wished she had a sibling, brother or sister, doesn’t matter to her. Just someone to play with and talk to you and bond with her. Her stories of wanting to have a sibling brings you back to when you and Scott were younger, when the two of you had been attached at the hip at a young age.

Anne eventually meets a boy. She falls in love with him. Her stories of him and their relationship almost reminds you of Stiles, at least, up until the point where she reveals they got married and had a child together; your grandmother.

At this point, there’s a mixture of good and bad. She goes on about how in love she is with the boy, about how happy she is on her wedding day, the excitement she feels when she finds out she’s pregnant. But every few entries, there’s reminders of what’s going on. Of what’s happening to her that she can’t make proper sense of. Her nightmares, for one. Nightmares that sound identical to your own.

She’ll lash out suddenly. She recounts a specific memory of lashing out on her husband and by accident sending him flying across the room, breaking his leg.

It’s almost like a slap to the face of reality.

After she has her child, her mother passes away. It seems, that’s when everything gets out of control. No longer are there at least flashes of happiness between the terror. You read as Anne slowly begins to lose her mind, begins to grow angry and irrational. She sets fires to things without meaning to. Hurting her own daughter, now much older, by accident and it having completely out of control.

Her once happy marriage becomes ruined and broken.

This goes on for years. Years. Before she finally decides to kill herself.

And as you read the last page, read what is essentially her suicide note, you’re left with a sick, cold and numb feeling. You feel... barren. Is this where your life was meant to end up? Is suicide truly just the end for you? Especially after years of torment from your own mind?

You didn’t want to live a life like that. You didn’t want to die like that.

You wanted to marry and have children. You wanted to raise your children properly, for them to have a loving father unlike you. You wanted Melissa to see her grandchildren. You wanted Scott to have a niece or a nephew or both. You wanted to grow old with whoever you married (though you did have a particular boy in mind). You wanted to die old and happy, with a life fulfilled.

You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life afraid, angry and powerless whilst being powerful.

You didn’t want to hurt the people you loved.

But you didn’t see a way out.

There was no way out.

Your eyes flicker upwards at the sound of knocking on your door.

You don’t even have to ask to know who it is.

Scott slowly opens the door when you let out a hum of permission, your eyes meeting his briefly which nervously poke into your room before lowering your gaze to your lap. To the pen and paper on your bed next to you. To the diary of your grandmother that rests next to it.

Scott’s silent for a moment longer, gently and quietly shutting the door behind him and resting against it. His voice is a light, quiet hum when he does speak. “We brought back Kira.”

Nodding slowly, you keep your eyes trained before you, swallowing thickly. “She’s okay?”

“Yeah, she’s okay.”

“That’s good.”

Scott nods, and he coughs faintly, and you can imagine his head spinning for an appropriate way of carrying on the conversation. You don’t know how much he knows, if Melissa had told him anything; you’re not even sure he knows anything beyond the little glimpses he’s seen in response of you. But, he’s not stupid and he’s always been pretty keen on your emotions, so, he knows something’s wrong.

“Stiles, um, Stiles wanted to talk to you. I... I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea.”

“Probably not,” you say honestly, bluntly; though the words pain you. “I think it’s best I just stay away from him for while.”

“...Why?”

He says it so bluntly you can’t help but glance over at him in surprise, blinking faintly. His gaze is wide, and he looks almost nervous, his hands anxiously tugging together as he glances down at you. He’s rocking on his feet, as if he wants to race over to you; why? You don’t know. And you can’t help but notice his eyes keep flickering to your right, where your pen, paper and the diary rests.

Shrugging, you frown; “for his own good.” Then, after a minute, you add; “it’s probably best I stay away from everyone.”

“Me included.” It’s a statement, and it sounds sourly placed.

Meeting Scott’s eyes, you sigh, “you especially.”

Scott’s shoulders fall at that and he lets out a huff. Meeting your eyes sharply, he shakes his head. “Mom told me,” he informs you, pushing off the wall to take a small step towards you. Your lips part at his words, swallowing nervously. “She told me everything.”

Scoffing, you turn your head away; “then you know why.”

“No,” Scott says simply, fast, without hesitance. “No, I don’t.”

“Scott,” you call, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed, shaking your head up at him. “I’m losing control of my powers. I know it, mom knows it, you know it. Hell, everyone fucking knows it. Mom found me in the middle of the forest, stood in a crater i’d created with my own powers because I was so angry and confused it just burst out of me! And this, this,” grabbing the diary, you hold it up towards Scott, “this is only the beginning of it!”

Scott lunges forward, ripping the diary from your hand. “Just because a few things are similar doesn’t mean you’re her!”

“Yes, it does!”

Scott blinks at your outburst, the both of you breathing heavily. Somewhere along the way, you’d stood up and hadn’t even realized it. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, heavily, and Scott’s eyes are wide, panicked, afraid and hurt, a mix of it all, as he stares back at you.

And you... you’re just tired.

“You know,” you say after a minute, shaking your head with a soft sigh. Glancing at your feet, you swallow thickly. “You should’ve let me die.”

“What?”

“The instructor, when he stabbed me,” you clarify, “you should’ve let me die from the stab wound.”

Scott shakes his head, stunned at your words, eyes watering in distress as he takes a small, nervous step towards you, hand held out towards you. “Y/N--”

“Everything would just be better if I wasn’t here. Simpler.”

Scott’s hand falls limply by his side. He has no idea how to respond to that. He can’t even actually believe it’s what you’re saying, that you would actually believe something as stupid as that. Because that’s what it is; stupid.

But you’re speaking up before he can even think of what to say.

You rush towards him, gripping his wrist tightly in your own hand, and squeezing it painfully, digging your nails into the skin. The action instinctively causes his eyes to glow red, flickering, his claws growing without his permission as his eyes widen and lips part in disbelief. Still gripping tightly, harshly, you step forward pressing Scott’s hand against your throat, “kill me.”

And he’s absolutely baffled. “Wh-What?”

“Kill me,” you say again, voice dropping in distress as your eyes water and you let out a sob. You’re so far gone you don’t even realize what you’re actually asking; what that sort of question and plea would do to Scott. To ask him to kill you, his own twin, was incredibly selfish. But you feel as if you can’t think properly. “Please. Kill me before it gets bad. Before I can’t control myself anymore.” With a shaky, quivering breath, you sob out; “kill me before I hurt you...”

For a second, just a second, Scott’s too stunned to say anything.

But then, he blinks, and what’s happening registers properly in his mind. His eyes return to normal when he takes note of his claws, his own claws, pressed against yours, his sisters, neck. And instantly, he’s pulling himself back, forcing himself to despite the pain in his wrist because of the way you’re squeezing and pinching. He uses his strength to force his arm out of your grasp, holding it tightly against his chest as you let out a cry of defeat.

Shaking his head, Scott lets out a growl of; “don’t... don’t ever ask me to do that again.”

You just sob, your head falling into your hands.

Letting his shoulders fall, his gaze soften, Scott’s careful to speak quietly this time. “You’re not her, Y/N. You could never be her.” He sighs when all you do is shake your head, refusing to look at him. “I don’t have to read a stupid diary to know you’re not. You could never be. And you could never hurt someone.”

Pulling your head back, you blink up at Scott through a watery gaze. “How do you even know?”

Because you want to. You want to know. Instead of being in this state of confusion and lost.

“Because you’re my sister. And I’ve known you my whole life,” Scott says simply, not an ounce of doubt in his gaze. “You’ve been hurt and beat down your whole life, Y/N. You know what it feels like. That’s why you never could hurt someone else.”

Sniffling, you blink up at Scott, not sure what to say.

“Were you really going to do it?” He gestures behind you, to the pen and paper, having connected the dots and made sense of what it meant.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly after a moment, choking on your words faintly. “I wanted to.”

Scott steps forward then, wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you firm against his chest, similar to how your mother had before, pressing a hand against the back of your head to hold you tighter. He lets you sob against him, staring out before him, heart heavy.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment.

“Why’re you sorry?”

“I didn’t know you were going through so much,” he whispers, “I wasn’t there for you.”

Pulling back enough to meet his eyes, you shake your head. “I didn’t tell you.”

“I should’ve known.”

Wiping at your tears, you sigh; “no, you shouldn’t have to guess. I... I should of told you. Someone. Instead of Theo. Someone who could’ve helped me.”

Scott frowns; “you’re not the only one who trusted him, Y/N.”

“I know, but...” You leave it unsaid.

Setting his hands on your shoulders, Scott lowers his head, just enough to meet your eyes directly. “Don’t ever go through something like this without telling me, okay? I’m your brother. We’re family. We work through things like this together. Always.”

Nodding, you swallow thickly. You hesitate, the words feeling like poison on the tip of your tongue, but you force them anyways. “What if we don’t?” You say after a minute, voice a faint whisper. “What if I don’t get better? What if I really do lose control? Scott... I don’t want...--”

“You won’t.” He says easily, quickly, maybe even a little too quick. Shaking his head, he emphasizes his next words. “I won’t let you. I’ll help you. I’ll promise.”

“How do--”

“I promise.” He says softly, squeezing your shoulder. “Just come with me, come back to the pack with me. We’re better when we’re together, Y/N.”

Mulling over his suggestion, you glance over your shoulder, at your bed, to the diary Scott had carelessly tossed onto your desk. Then, meeting Scott’s eyes, you lick your lips. “Just promise me two things?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t make me use my powers.”

Blinking, Scott’s lips part.

“Not unless I absolutely have to. Not unless there’s no other choice. No one else who can do it.” Swallowing thickly, you bite your lower lip. “I don’t want to use them if I don’t have to. I don’t trust myself too.”

You can’t be afraid to use them forever, Scott can’t help but think. But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just nods, smiling gently as he prompts; “and?”

“Don’t tell anyone else either. I don’t want the pack knowing. Just keeping it between us, okay?”

Scott’s eyes narrow faintly, puzzled, “what about Stiles--”

“Especially Stiles,” you say firmly, the words quick to spill from your lips, “no one. I just want it kept between us, okay?”

The urgency behind the tone of your voice leaves Scott wondering just what exactly had gone down between Stiles’ and you. How a relationship that had been so close and bonded, almost like his and Stiles (obviously in a different way however), could turn into something like this. You use to confide in Stiles for everything.

But this... Hesitantly, Scott nods.

You raise a brow; “you promise?”

Swallowing thickly, Scott sighs, but nonetheless, complies. “I promise.”

“Y/N.”

Stiles’ blinks the second your name leaves his lips, not having meant to sound as eager as he does or feels in that minute. But he just can’t help it. The relief that floods him when he sees you walk down the stairs, only a few minutes after everyone had gathered around the table, worried that you wouldn’t come.

Worried that you’d be the one that wouldn’t come back.

Yet, there you were.

His cheeks warm when he feels everyone’s eyes fall on him, namely Scott’s, at his small outburst. He shuffles on his feet lightly, flickering his gaze to his feet before glancing back up at you. Your eyes are on him when he does, and you have a small smile, one that to anyone but him (and maybe Scott) seems realistic and genuine.

But he can see how forced it is.

As you step off the last step of the staircase, you let out a quiet hum of; “sorry i’m late.”

“It’s fine,” Scott assures, glancing around the table as everyone sends a chorus of nods your way. Scott’s eyes fall on Stiles’ last and with a nod himself, Stiles’ watches as you make your way towards the group, settling next to him but also Scott. You’re in between the two, but Stiles doesn’t miss the way you shuffle closer towards your brother.

Oddly, he doesn’t take offense to it. Because he can tell you don’t do it in a malicious way. And somehow he can tell it doesn’t have to do with anything that had happened between the two of you. You just look... more at ease next to Scott; like you’re safer. You almost look afraid, nervous mainly, and when you meet Scott’s eyes and he smiles down at you, oblivious to Stiles’ wanders gaze that lingers on the two of you, you ease gently.

Stiles also notices that you stick to Scott the entire meeting.

He wants to talk to you. Wants to apologize. With the way things are now and after having time to process everything, Stiles realizes just how unfair and wrong he’d been. That while maybe things could’ve gone better from your side of things as well, Stiles was the one who owed you an apology. And a big one at that.

But he also knows now isn’t the time. Now, they needed to get Lydia back. And even if all Stiles’ wanted to was hold you, kiss you and tell you how sorry he was profusely, he knew he’d have to wait.

He settles with the comforting fact that you are here, with the pack. And that’s enough.

Just for now.

“There’s four steps. We get into Eichen, we get into the Closed Unit, we get Lydia, get out.”

“And,” Scott begins, leaning on the table, “we have to do all of this while getting past orderlies, guards, electric door locks, and a Mountain Ash barrier.”

Swallowing thickly, you shuffle on your feet. Honestly, it sounds a little... impossible.

“You have a plan for all of that?” Malia questions, expecting the right answer. The hopeful answer.

“I stole this last night off an orderly,” Stiles explains, pulling a key card from his pocket and holding it up in front of all of you. However, he grimaces as he does. “But it’s useless ‘cause they reset the codes each night.”

Kira shakes her head; “so why did you take it?”

“I’m getting to that.” He explains, letting the key card snap back to where he’d clipped it to his shirt.

“The only way to get Lydia out of Eichen is to make that key card work again.”

“How are you going to do that?” Liam asks.

“We’re getting to that,” Stiles explains once more, “okay, just listen.” Flipping round his computer, your eyes flicker downwards towards the screen, trying to make sense of what you see. “I pulled all the history off the key card,” he continues, “two weeks ago, there was a brownout and the security system rebooted. During a reboot, all of the key cards revert back to a default code. So if we trigger a reboot...”

“The card goes back to fault code,” you finish, nodding your head. “It works again.”

“How are we going to cause a brownout?”

“That’s your part,” Scott explains, gesturing to Kira. “You’re going to draw power from the main line. But only enough to cause the brownout.”

“Not a blackout,” Stiles reminds, holding his hands out before him for emphasis.

Once glance at Kira and you can tell she’s apprehensive.

“Do that and you send Eichen into lockdown which would be bad. Very, very bad.”

Pursing your lips, you set a hand on Kira’s arm, sending a glare Stiles’ and Scott’s way; “no pressure.”

Shaking his head, Scott ignores your jab, pointing at a room on the map. “There’s an electrical room behind the reception counter. The main power lines goes into two breakers that run power to all of Eichen.”

“Okay,” Kira speaks, shaking her head with a shaky voice. “Slight problem. I don’t know how to do that.”

“That’s okay,” Scott reassures, “you have... you have time to practice.”

“Let’s say all this goes perfectly,” Malia speaks up, pulling everyone’s eyes on her. “How does a brownout get us into the Closed Unit of Eichen.”

Good question, you can’t help but think.

“The system takes five minutes to reboot,” Stiles begins answering, “in that five minutes all the alarms will be turned off, the key card should work.”

“Liam,” Scott calls, “you and I get Stiles and Y/N to the gate of the Closed Unit.” Lips parting at the mention of your name, your eyes instinctively flicker to Stiles in bewilderment whose already gazing back at you. “But after that, they have to go on their own. We can’t get past the Mountain Ash barrier.”

Shaking your head, you lean forward; “why am I going with Stiles?” You ask, baffled, pointing to Stiles who blinks back at you in response. “I don’t--”

“For extra protection.” Scott explains, nodding at you reassuringly. “Nothing should go wrong, but in case something did, Stiles will need your help to get Lydia out.”

What good would I do? It pops into your mind without hesitation, but you don’t comment on it, simply lowering your gaze and nodding your head.

“And when we’re gone,” Scott continues, “all anyone’s going to think is that there was a reboot of the security system caused by a brownout.”

Nodding to himself, Stiles turns to the rest of you; “uh, any questions?”

“How do we get into Eichen House in the first place--?” Liam.

“What’s our worst case scenario--?” Malia.

“What if I can’t do it--?” Kira.

Blinking at the sudden burst of questions, you choose to remain silent.

“Okay,” Stiles exclaims, shaking his head. “Admittedly, a lot could go wrong.”

Wincing, Liam shakes his head; “everything could go wrong.”

“Guys, if we don’t do this, we lose Lydia. She’s going to die in there tonight. And she might take a lot of innocent people with her.”

Glancing down at the light bulb, and then, towards the wires, you meet Malia’s eyes who seems to have the same look upon her face as you. With that, the both of you turn to Kira who stands adjacent to you, on the other side of the table, and nod your head.

“What?” She questions, shaking her head.

“Do it,” Malia says simply, gesturing to the light bulb, “do your thing.”

“What thing?” Kira argues, “I don’t have a thing.”

“You did it before,” you remind, shrugging your shoulders. “And you had to learn how, right?”

“Actually, no,” Kira cuts in before you can continue, causing your eyes to flicker towards her in surprise. “It just happened.”

Malia sighs from your side, and you shake your head; “how’d you learn to fight with a sword?”

“That just kind of happened too.”

“So,” Malia begins, voice slow, “you’ve never worked for anything and basically you’re a cheater?”

Blinking, you turn to Malia.

“This wasn’t my idea!” Kira reminds, desperate. “How are we even getting past the front gate?”

“Good question,” you nod.

Malia eases at that, smiling; “I have a guy on the inside.”

“You have a guy on the inside?” You ask, brows furrowing. “What does that even mean?” You turn to Kira for explanation, but she simply shakes her head at you, just as puzzled.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Malia huffs, sending you a light-hearted glare. Turning back to Kira, she nods; “do your thing.”

Letting out a heavy exhale, Kira braces herself for a moment, hesitating, before she slowly raises her hand,taking the two wire set before her and gripping them. Her eyes fall shut as you watch the light grow harsher from the light bulb, noticing almost a second too late that it’s getting a little too bright. Taking a step back, you raise your arms in front of your face in alarm, hearing the crack of the light bulb seconds after.

Once you’re sure it’s safe, you pull your arms back, some small shards of glass falling from your arm as you turn to Kira with a frown.

“It didn’t work,” she sighs, hands falling by her sides.

It’s then you notice the look that crosses her face as she turns from you to Malia. Following her gaze, your eyes widen when you notice the rather large shard of glass in her forehead.

She pulls it out without second thought, a light hiss of pain leaving her lips before tosses it aside, huffing; “no, it didn’t.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Perking your head up, you ease when you realize Kira’s eyes are on Malia whose sat next to you. Turning to Malia in curiosity of her answer, you’re not surprised when she replies with a simple; “no.”

You’re not all that surprised though, as well, when Kira continues nonetheless. “Did your mother really try to kill you?”

Solid question.

“Did your mother try to leave you in the desert with Skinwalkers?”

Another, good question.

Kira just asks another question, following up; “are you really going to try to kill her first?”

Malia lets out a sigh, meeting your eyes briefly before pulling off her goggles and stepping off the desk she’d perched herself up on. You watch her with furrowed brows, Kira mimicking your expression as Malia comes to a stop before her at the table. “Why’d you take of your goggles?”

“Because this time you’re going to do it,” Malia explains, voice firm, confident. “And it’s going to work.” Then, she pauses, calling out for you; “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Come here.”

You hesitate. “You can heal, I can’t.”

“Y/N.”

“Fine,” you huff, pushing yourself off of the table and stopping directly beside Malia.

She quirks a brow at you, as Kira glances over at you nervously. “Take the goggles off.”

“Malia,” you sigh, “I don’t--”

“It’s going to work,” she cuts in, nodding at you and then Kira. “Because this is the only way we’re getting Kira out of Eichen House.”

With that, you sigh, knowing she’s right. With a frown on your lips, you slowly pull off your goggles, setting them down next to you on the table. With that, you turn to Kira, sending her a small, light smile and a nod. “You got this.”

With a shaky inhale, Kira slowly grips the wires for what feels like the hundredth time. This time, you watch the light bulb closely, able to hear a small buzz as the light slowly dims. You instantly perk, hope flooding you at the sight.

“Kira,” Malia calls softly, “it’s working.”

It’s turns south then.

Kira, excited by Malia’s words, reverses what had been happening and your eyes widen as the light suddenly shines blinding bright before shattering. This time, however, the lights in the classroom almost burst and you’re not sure if it’s the same for the rest of the school.

Turning to the both of them with wide eyes, you shuffle back on your feet; “we should go.”

“Yeah.”

“She took out the whole school?”

Wincing, you shake your head, “she took out the whole grid, Scott.”

Shaking her head, Kira sighs; “look, I failed every single practice try. This isn’t going to work.”

Turning to your brother and Stiles, Liam offers; “how far can we get without the brownout?”

“The front door.”

“We’re going,” Scott argues, not leaving any room for argument.

Of course, Kira (and probably you and Malia having seen it front row) think otherwise. “Scott,” she calls desperately, “we went through boxes of light bulbs.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispers, taking a step towards her. “You can do this.”

“The key card won’t work without a reboot and there’s no reboot without a brownout,” she reminds, voice pitching in panic.

Your lips part as Scott finishes crossing the distance over to her, eyes never leaving her own as he nods. “I know you can do this,” he reassures, voice soft, uplifting. Taking her hands into his own, Scott smiles lightly, before turning to the rest of you. “Anyone here think that she can’t?”

Stiles pulls back, shaking his head as Liam follows suit, calling out; “not me.”

“I was the one who put you in,” Stiles explains, sending her a thumbs up.

Turning to Kira, you follow their lead and smile at her. “You’ve got this,” you nod, voice firm. And you believe yourself probably more then the other two do, maybe more than Scott, because you know what it’s like to not have any control over your powers. And in a way, you understand what Kira is going through. “I know you can.”

There’s only one person left, and you turn to her with a quirked brow, waiting expression when she stays silent.

Meeting your eyes, Malia sighs; “what?”

“I believe in you too, Kira,” Stiles offers, his voice a light whisper.

“I’m the one who’s going to be locked in an electrical room with her!”

Everyone just stares blankly at her, waiting.

Hesitating, her voice stammering a bit, Malia turns to Kira with a huff; “you can do it.”

Waiting a moment, Kira simply shakes her head; “you guys are all crazy. We’re gonna die.”

Shoving your fingers through the deliberately left space, you shimmy your way through, tugging at the two ends of the zippers relentlessly. You can feel yourself growing clammy within the body bags and the need for fresh air becomes more and more pressing as the seconds pass by.

You never really thought you were claustrophobic before, and maybe you weren’t still, but being trapped inside a body bag with very little air coming in and out; well, you were sure it would cause anyone at least a little bit of panic.

The second you’re able to pull your head through the hole you’d created, the body bag sliding from around your shoulders to your hips, you inhale sharply and deeply, relief instantly flooding you. You take a moment to calm your racing heart and the panic that had settled deep within your bones because of the way you’d had to get into Eichen House in the first place.

Turning your head to the left, you let out a breath of air when you see Scott and Liam both out of their bags as well, and then Stiles slowly pulling his way out. Briefly, you meet Scott’s gaze, nodding, before your attention is pulled towards Stiles who, upon having pulled himself out, turns to you and Scott, breathless. “Never again,” he groans, hair sticking to his forehead cause of the sweat that had built up.

You nod without hesitation. You’d, personally, never like to go through something like that again.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Scott checks the time, before nodding at Stiles as well. “Fifteen minutes. Starting now.” A quick glance at his phone tells you it’s seven-forty-five.

You move to pull the rest of the bag off of you, before loud crinkling and a thud catches your attentions. Lips parting, your eyes widen when Stiles all but flings himself off of the examination table he’d been placed on, hitting the ground with a harsh thud.

Well, that was... one way of getting out.

Following closely behind Stiles, you make sure to remain quiet, footsteps light as you glance over your shoulder every once in a while to make sure Scott and Liam are still close behind. Stiles knows the route better then any of you, which is why you’re all simply following him and letting him take the lead.

You just manage to catch sight of two men from around the corner before an arm is pushing you back by the chance, slamming you into the wall behind you. Covering you slightly with his body, Stiles hides you and him from the two men, Scott and Liam quickly following his lead and pressing themselves against the wall as a huff of frustration leaves your lips.

Having caught sight of the men too, Scott huffs with a whispered voice; “what are they doing there?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles shakes his head, “their rounds should’ve ended five minutes ago.”

Your attention is caught by Liam who, quietly, leans past the rest of you, eyes flickering across the two men. Your brows furrow when he tilts his head, shrugging; “I can take them.”

Scott and Stiles mimic your expression, turning to Liam in bafflement. “No one’s taking anyone.”

Tapping Scott lightly on the arm, Stiles asks; “how much time?”

Pulling his phone from his front pocket, Scott quickly clicks his phone on, letting out a sigh when he reads the time. “Three minutes.”

“I’ll just knock them out and hide their bodies,” Liam suggest, still holding onto his idea.

“Jesus,” you mumble, pressing your hand to your forehead.

“Oh, my God,” Stiles breathes, “please stop.”

You flinch as a sudden thud echoes, and you’re not oblivious to the way all three boys practically step in front of you as a response. You let out a huff of annoyance because realistically, the only one who’d have an actual right to do that is Scott because he knows your powers are... a little out of question right now. But you don’t dwell on the matter too long as your attention is stolen from a boy, roughly around your age, before you, pressed up against the glass barrier of his room. “Did you take the doctor?”

Brows furrowed, Liam leans forward; “what?”

“Did you take the doctor?” The boy repeats. “I haven’t had my medication. I need ten milligrams by eight a.m, fifteen milligrams at one p.m., and no more than twenty at dinner.”

“We’ll get the doctor,” Scott whispers.

“Dr. Fenris.” He nods. “Dr. Fenris. They took Dr. Fenris.” He lets out a quiet sob, becoming distressed as he slams against the barrier once more. And as the second pass, his bangs get more aggressive, more rapid. Your chest tightens in fear, not having to look to know it’s probably catching the attention of the two nurses.

“I haven’t had my medication. I need to see the doctor. They took Dr. Fenris.”

“Hey,” Stiles calls, turning to you, Scott and Liam, “somebody, shut him up.”

“I need to see a doctor.” Another bang. “Dr. Fenris.”

“Shut him up!”

Leaning past Stiles, you bite your lower lip as the nurses start heading your way, getting closer by the second. “Guys,” you hiss, “they’re getting closer.”

Scott lets out a growl, trying to keep quiet, But the growl mixed with his red glowing eyes is enough to quiet the boy down, causing him to take a step back away from the barrier. He doesn’t say anything more, petrified.

Glancing around the corner along with Stiles, a breath of relief leaves your lips when you notice the men simply walk around the corner, turning off.

Meeting Stiles’ gaze, you nod. “Come on.”

“Where’s the card reader?”

Pausing at Stiles’ question, you turn your head back over your shoulder, baffled. “What?” You let out, no one really answering your question but it still being heard as you let your eyes drift across the gated door in front of you. True to his word, there’s no card reader, just a key hole.

“It should be here. It has to be here.”

Turning to Stiles, Scott shakes his head; “they must have taken it out when the Dread Doctors got through.”

Lips parting and eyes practically bulging in disbelief, Stiles huffs; “are you telling me we came all the way down here just to be stopped by an ordinary key? Are you kidding me?”

Pacing on his feet, Liam takes a step back; “we don’t need a key.” Turning his head, he meets Scott’s eyes, nodding. “Not if we can break it down.”

“Guys, we’re running out of time.”

“And,” you add, “it’s not working.”

Out of breath, both Liam and Scott step back, “we can’t,” Scott breathes, huffing. “The Mountain Ash. It’s too much.”

You glance around in panic, trying to think of an idea, but pause, turning rigid when you notice Liam’s eyes zone in on your own. Your brows furrow in response, lips parting to ask him what, but he speaks up before you can. “What about you?” He nods, catching the attention of both Stiles and Scott as well. “Can’t you use your powers to unlock it? The Mountain Ash doesn’t effect you.”

Eyes widening, you swallow thickly. Your lips part to argue but the truth is, Liam is right. That is something you could, rather should, be able to do. But your stomach twists in fear at the prospect of all else that could happen if you tried. Last time you used your powers, you’d created a rather large crater around your entire being. Your power was enough to knock down trees and rumble the earth beneath your own feet. What would your power do to your brother, Stiles and Liam, being so close to you?

Mind you, you were stressed and panicked and all else at the time. But you were stressed down, and panicked too because what if you didn’t get to Lydia...

But what if you did do this and you hurt not just Liam, but your brother and Stiles too? What if you... killed them...

“I--”

“She can’t,” Scott cuts in, causing you to blink over at him in surprise. “It won’t work.”

You notice out of the corner of your eye, Stiles’ brows furrow in confusion and his eyes narrow. But he remains silent. Liam, however, on the other hand, just as puzzled, takes a step forward, shaking his head. “Why not? I thought--”

“It’s just not an option, Liam.” Scott says simply, voice firm, eyes flickering red for a moment before settling back to their normal colour. “It’s out of the question.”

Frowning, you glance down at your feet. Maybe you should stop being so selfish. Maybe you should stop being so afraid. This wasn’t just about you, it wasn’t at all actually. It was about Lydia. It was about getting her out before she died, getting her to safety. It was about getting her out before she killed possibly innocents around her.

Maybe, if you were less afraid, your powers wouldn’t--

“Hit me.”

Blinking, your eyes fall on Liam as he turns to Scott, nodding. “Hit me.”

“What?”

“I’ll get angry,” he explains, “then i’ll get stronger.”

Your brother turns to Stiles, baffled. But Stiles, without hesitation, nods. “Hit him,” he gestures to Liam, moving his fists in a demonstration of sorts. “Hit him.”

“I tried to take your powers,” Liam reminds, “I tried to kill you. Hit me.”

One glance at Scott and you know a part of him is trying to hold back, even if he knows it’s one of your final options.

“He also left you for dead.”

Sighing, you bite your lip. It was obvious Scott didn’t want to hit Liam, even after all he’d done. He was his beta after all. But because of you, this was the only option left.

Your eyes clench shut. Just... believe in yourself. But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t get what you had read out of your mind. Couldn’t forget Anne breaking her husbands leg, hurting her own child, murdering innocents by accident all because her powers were too much for her...

“I wanted you dead.”

In the next second, Scott’s fist is bashing into the side of Liam’s cheek. You step back in response, flinching as Liam inhales sharply, giving himself a second before turning to Scott; “do it again.”

Scott does.

Wincing, Stiles shakes his head; “it’s gotta be harder then that.”

“Do it! Do it!”

“Scott.” You call, but no one really hears you.

Letting out a growl, Scott swings at Liam once more, the boys wolfish powers starting to appear as a mixture of growls, groans and heavy breaths is all that envelops the silence.

“Yeah!” Stiles calls out, blinking.

One more hit seems to be enough, and you watch, almost in slow motion as Scott steps back, growling out; “you angry?” before Liam turns towards the three of you with yellow glowing eyes of a beta and fangs, his chest rising and falling heavily, rapidly.

All Scott’s gets for an answer is a loud, roaring growl.

“Me too,” Scott nods, setting his hands on the boys shoulders before the two of them turn back towards the door.

It only takes them a few seconds before they’re able to pull the door off the hinges and chuck it forward, it sliding across the hallway of the closed off section. The second it’s off, Scott sets his hand on your back, guiding you forward with a nod.

“Stiles, Y/N, go!”

You listen without fault, following closely behind Stiles as he leads the way, offering one more glance back at Scott and Liam.

The next set of doors you and Stiles approach has a card reader that Stiles easily opens, shoving the door open and sending you a brief glance as he makes sure to leave it open for you. You just nod at him, urging him to rush forward with the reassurance that you’re not that far behind.

A few more turns and your eyes widen when you turn into a room. Your eyes land on the drill next to the bed first, then on the blood that slowly leads to Lydia. Lydia with a hole in the side of her forehead. Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach, terror flooding you at the sight of your friend so... destroyed.

“Stiles...” She mumbles, not having caught sight of you because of the way you’d halted by the door.

Stiles rushes forward instantly, crouching next to the bed and his hand raises to touch the side of her head lightly. You don’t have to see his face to know the expression on it, sure that it mimics one similar to your own. Absolute disbelief and fear.

“You can’t be here,” Lydia breathes, voice shaky. “You’re going to die if you stay. All of you.”

Stiles simply ignores her, pausing just a second of absolute bewilderment, before moving to the restraints around her wrists.

“Stiles, he’s coming.”

“Y/N,” Stiles calls, shaking his head at Lydia’s words, “help.”

It takes you a minute, meeting Lydia’s eyes as her lips part in disbelief, now noticing you. You race forward, moving to Lydia’s other wrist, you work quickly to pull off her restraints.

“Y/N,” Lydia whispers, breathless, “please...”

“Lydia,” Stiles huffs, “we’re not leaving you here.”

“You have to.”

A second later, you halt at the sound of an alarm blaring.

“He’s coming,” Lydia whimpers, “please. You have to go. Please.”

“Stiles,” you call, finally speaking up. His eyes flicker to yours slowly and setting your own over his, you nod, slowly. He only hesitates a moment longer before letting you pull him, rushing out of the room and around a wall, ducking down to hide.

The next minute, Dr. Valack is walking through the hall, and into Lydia’s room.

A few more minutes of silence pass before he speaks up. “Stay focused, Lydia,” he mumbles, voice firm, controlling. Meeting Stiles’ eyes, you inhale deeply, shaking your head with worry.

“What did you do to me?” Lydia cries, and your chest tightens, swallowing thickly.

“I’ve amplified your abilities,” Dr. Valack explains, “something that might just save the lives of your friends.”

“Theo and Hayden,” Lydia suddenly mumbles, voice raspy. Your brows furrow at the names, shaking your head. “They found it. They were looking for Noah, but they found a symbol. A circle inside of another circle, carved into a wall. The symbol of Scott’s pack.”

You remember that. But what did that matter?

“It was more than a symbol, wasn’t it?” Dr. Valack questions, “it was a promise to reunite them.”

“Yes.”

“But has Scott done it yet? Will he be coming for you?”

Pressing your back further against the wall behind you, catching out of the corner of your eye the way Stiles’ leans forward, peering through the gates to look into the room best he can. You let your head fall back, taking in everything being said, trying to make sense of it.

“Someones coming,” Lydia warns, “but it’s not Scott.”

Your eyes widen at the sight of Theo and his pack. They all but storm in, Tracy easily pulling Dr. Valack back and away from Lydia, slamming him against the wall.

“I can’t believe this is actually a medical establishment,” Theo smirks, and you feel yourself freeze at the sound of his voice.

“Now,” Dr. Valack calls, voice raspy because of Tracy’s tight grip. “What would a pack of Chimeras want with a Banshee?”

“I don’t want a Banshee,” Theo says simply,you turning to Stiles in response as he turns to you with furrowed brows and a shake of his head in confusion. You simply shrug your shoulders back at him, just as puzzled, before focusing back in on the conversation. “I’m looking for a Hellhound.”

Parrish.

Just then, roaring echos. You don’t have to look to know it’s Parrish. Perfect timing.

“You wanted a Hellhound,” Dr. Valack calls, “I think you found one.”

The door doesn’t stop Parrish. He all but melts it, effectively creating a path through as your eyes widen and you push Stiles’ back slightly. This is really not good.

All of a sudden, a cry leaves your lips. It catches Stiles’ attention instantly but isn’t loud enough to be heard over the sound of Parrish growling, your hand instantly falling to your lips to stop yourself from being heard. It feels like your body is burning from the inside out as you slump against the wall behind you, body tensing.

“Y/N,” Stiles whispers, his voice barely audible. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

And it takes you a second to figure it out. You know it’s not your powers because episodes don’t feel like this. This, is ten times more painful and it feels like you’re being electrocuted at different spots across your body. Your nails dig into the palms of your hands once more, biting on your lip harshly to stop yourself from crying out aloud, not wanting to catch anyone else’s but Stiles’ attention.

His hands fall on you, hands momentarily cupping your cheeks as his eyes flicker across your figure in worry, puzzled.

And then, it clicks. You felt something like this before.

“Scott,” you breath, it coming out as a choked rasp. “It’s Scott...!”

A minute later of writhing and desperately trying to hold back your cries of pain, the sound of a roar, a familiar one, echoes. It’s distant from where you are and that’s how you know it’s not Parrish or Theo and his pack.

It’s Scott.

And just like that, the pain fades.

Working with Theo to find Lydia was top five of the worst case scenarios. Especially because you knew (as you’re sure Stiles did as well) that what he wanted with Lydia was not her safety or to bring her home.

What he wanted with Lydia, with the Hell Hound too, was nothing good.

But, he was also the only one who could track her. And it didn’t leave you very many options, or any actually, other then following him and letting him lead. And given the fact that her trail up until this point had led into the tunnels, with multiple directions Dr. Valack could’ve taken Lydia, you’re ever more screwed then you’d been before.

One glance at Stiles and you know he’s just as put out and frustrated by the rock and a hard place the two of you have placed yourselves in.

“I thought you had her scent.”

Briefly glancing at Stiles over his shoulder, Theo shakes his head; “I lost it.”

“So,” you say bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest. “Find it.”

You didn’t wanna be stuck down here with him one minute longer then you had to.

“What do you smell down here, Y/N?” Theo asks aloud, sending you a deadpanned expression before pressing the side of his face up against the pipes leading along the side of the tunnel again.

Turning to Stiles, you shrug; “chemicals and fecal matter.”

“I’d like to say,” Stiles pops in, “i’m pretty sure the fecal matter is you.”

“I’d definitely agree with that.”

Rolling his eyes, Theo shakes his head; “I smell it, too,” he explains, shuffling forward a little. “It’s all that I can smell. Which is why i’m trying something else. So can the two of you please shut up and let me concentrate?”

Scoffing, Stiles brushes past you, picking up the speed in his step. “I’m gonna find her.”

You just sigh.

“You know you won’t, Stiles,” Theo reminds, quick to follow after him as you trail lightly behind. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

He can’t really think--

“Trust you?” Stiles exclaims, obviously the same thoughts having crossed his mind. “The guy who murdered his own sister when he was nine?”

“Yeah, I was nine years old.”

“Like that’s an excuse,” you scoff, pulling Theo’s eyes behind him and effectively on you. Crossing your arms over your chest, you narrow your eyes at him. “You still murdered her.”

“But I was nine,” he emphasizes, “I also believed a guy in a red suit came down the chimney to deliver presents.” Shaking your head, you’re not even sure how he thinks that’s a reasonable argument. “So when three people in leather masks showed up and said that my sister wanted me to have her heart, I believed them, too.”

“So then together you gutted and killed her.” Quirking a brow, Stiles scoffs; “it’s a beautiful story.”

Theo sighs; “I watched her fall into the water and freeze to death in minutes. Do you think I had any idea what was going on?”

“I think you pushed her,” Stiles calls back, “and I think you liked it.”

There’s an echo of silence, Stiles and Theo continue to stare one another down and you hang back, unsure of what to say. You obviously agreed with Stiles, but you knew just as much as him, that the two of you wouldn’t be able to find Lydia on your own. You may be a witch (one, mind you, that had no control of her powers) but you couldn’t track scent or direction like a werewolf.

However, no one can say anything before a scream echoes. Lydia’s scream.

Turning to Stiles, you wince; “that doesn’t sound good.”

His eyes flicker from yours to Theo, sighing; “which direction was that?”

You turn towards Theo and your brows furrow when you notice the baffled expression on his face.

“Where’s it coming from?”

“Everywhere.”

The minute you see Lydia and know that she’s safe, at least as much as she can be, you step back.

Especially when you see Stiles run in for her. Because you know, if anyone can save her, it’s Stiles. That, while she’s not completely safe or okay yet, Stiles will get her there. You know because he’s done it for you before. It’s that thought that lets you have a moment, lets you lose focus for a moment and be selfish because you suddenly just can’t help it any longer.

And part of you knows it’s wrong. It’s selfish, especially in a time like this, when Lydia’s life had been so dangerously hanging over the edge and still was. Maybe a few seconds too late and you could’ve lost her completely. You all could’ve lost her.

But you’d been biting it back this entire time. Pushing it to the back of your mind and forcing yourself to focus, despite how helpless you’d truly been, not oblivious to the way Stiles had reacted each time Lydia got further and further away from the two of you. Not oblivious to the urgency and panic behind his motives and the desperation that had been so plainly clear on his face about getting to her and helping her.

You’d wanted to save her too. Of course you did. Everyone had. But there had been something just slightly different about Stiles’ reaction, and you were reminded of when you were younger, when things had been simpler, and you’d had to watch on in the sidelines as Stiles never really batted you an eye and only focused on Lydia. When you’d had to hear him go on and on about how perfect she was when he’d come over to hang with Scott.

This was, obviously, in much dire circumstances. However, you can’t help the way you falter, or the discomfort that settles deep within your stomach and the heart break as you watch him handle her with such care and worry. They share words amongst each other that you can’t hear, mainly because you don’t want to, standing off to the side, hidden from view. Just watching.

And when Stiles has her, has Lydia safe in his grasp, he’s rushing out of the door without a second thought. Without even a glance in your direction.

You shouldn’t be jealous. You shouldn’t be hurt. Lydia was the priority here. She’d been the entire time, of course, because her life was the one in danger.

But, in that moment, everything you’d witnessed, made you doubt every second of your relationship with Stiles. Made you wonder if it meant as much to him as it so clearly had to you. Made you wonder if he was missing you as much as you were missing him right now.

It didn’t take a genius to see that he didn’t.

Your head pangs, and you wince, faltering in your step with a whimper when you realize it’s your powers.

A hand falling on your shoulder pulls you from your wandering and suffocating thoughts. You’re dazed as you turn in the direction of the person, forgetting for a moment that Theo had even been there. However, as your eyes fall on his, they narrow and you harshly rip yourself from his grasp, stepping back from him quickly.

He sighs in response, “Y/N--”

“Don’t,” you growl, “don’t say anything.”

“...I know what I just saw.”

Scoffing, you huff. Rushing towards him, you take the collar of his shirt and grip it between your hands tightly, eyes blazing. “You don’t know anything.”

He doesn’t argue. For once, using his common sense. Instead, he simply raises his hands by his side in surrender and you let go of him, turning your back towards him and rushing out of the room without another second to waste.

You can’t stand to be there, or around him, for any longer.

You start to run, in an attempt to catch up to Stiles and Lydia. But just as you move to turn a corner, confident you’ve caught up with them, you feel a force hit you directly in your chest. It sends you flying back, stumbling over your own feet as you crash against the wall behind you.

Holding your hands over your head, you push as best you can against the force.

It slows, and you hear a voice call out for you. “Y/N!”

Trying to glance past the smoke and the two figures in front of you, your eyes widen when you manage to see Scott. You notice Liam and Stiles next to him, to which you firmly avoid the latter’s gaze, a few seconds later, eyes falling on the back of what can only be Parrish, holding who you presume Lydia.

Walking forward, Parrish nods at your brother; “which way?”

He nods, lips parted in surprise, before gesturing before him. “This way.”

Liam quickly takes the lead, and Scott hangs back a minute for you. You nod gratefully as you reach him, letting him guide you forward as you both fall next to Stiles who is desperately trying to keep up with Liam as he takes multiple lefts and rights.

“There’s gate up ahead,” he explains with a brief glance back at Scott.

Your brother shakes his head in response; “what about Mason?”

“He’s on it,” is all Liam says, “trust me.”

You send an apprehensive glance both Scott and Stiles way, but none of you really have any other choice. So, you just follow him. Calling out for him when he runs a little too quick to keep up with. And just as you’re about to yell at him once again, he comes to a rigid stop in front of the gate he’d been talking about before, grabbing a hold of it and pulling it open.

Your eyes widen in surprise when it actually does open.

Panting, he smiles back; “I told you!”

“She’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Scott breathes, taking a seat next to you on the sidewalk. “She’s okay.”

Smiling softly, a real, genuine smile, you meet your brother’s eyes, sending a brief glance back at the clinic behind you, to the doors, and then back to Scott. “That’s good.”

And Scott’s quiet for a moment, letting the silence drift. He tries to think of what to say, tries to choose his words carefully. He wants to help. He wants to help make you feel better. Because he knows this isn’t, right now, about your powers. And it of course isn’t about Lydia, because she was okay. As okay as she could be, at least, and she’d definitely get better.

This was about Stiles. He just knows.

All he manages is a quiet; “are you okay?”

“I’m good,” you whisper, staring out ahead of yourself. Your eyes can’t help but fall on Stiles jeep that was parked in front of you, in a similar spot it had been that night Scott and him had the fight. The night everything had gone wrong. The night that you ruined your relationship.

And it’s that thought that causes your eyes to water and your vision to blur. You know Scott’s watching you but you’re too tired to try to hide your tears, try to brush them away, so all you simply do is let out a meek, cracked whisper of; “i’m really good.” It’s so clearly a lie, even if you hadn’t been crying. Scott feels his heart break a little in pity as he watches you.

Never before has he seen you so broken.

He doesn’t have anything to say. He doesn’t know what to say to help. He’s distraught because normally you’re the one consoling him. Normally you’re the one better put together and even if it was unfair, normally he could lean on you for help and you’d be there to guide him. You may be twins but you’ve always been his guardian, even in ways he hadn’t known or noticed.

You were the one who took all of your fathers anger so Scott didn’t have to. And you never said anything for years because you didn’t want that burden to be on Scott’s shoulders. You didn’t want him feeling guilty for something he’d had no control over.

You’d been the one to protect him from bullies when you were younger. You’d been the one to tell kids off who were picking on him for not quite fitting in. Scott could recall multiple times you’d taken the fall for something he’d done just because Scott was so scared of getting in trouble and you didn’t want that. You’d always taken the blame for him. And very often, you still did.

The hours you’d spend staying up late with him to help him understand something from school. Help him finish his homework cause he’d leave it last minute unlike you. The times you’d supported him when it felt like everyone else was against him. People may regard him as the leader of the pack, but you were the one who helped keep him steady. Who helped him keep a clear mind. Even when he’d ignored you or tried to keep you out of things (he’d done it for your safety, of course, but he can now see how wrong he’d been).

You were always there for him. Always.

And here you were, trying to hold it all back, crying and he didn’t know what to do. That very morning you’d admitted to him that you were so scared of hurting him or anyone else you’d been ready to end your own life just so you didn’t have to. You’d broken down in front of him this morning because you were terrified of yourself, and Scott hadn’t even known about it in the first place until it’d gotten this bad. Because he just hadn’t bothered to ask.

Because, he figured, you were you, and you’d always been good at picking yourself back up again. That you’d always been good at helping yourself. The one time you’d needed him to pry and keep you steady, he’d been too focused on himself to.

The one time you’d needed him, he hadn’t been there.

And now, here you were, heart broken from his own best friend, and Scott couldn’t find anything to say to comfort you.

What a lousy brother he was.

“I love him,” you whisper, interrupting the silence and pulling Scott from his thoughts. Slowly, you turn your head towards him, meeting his eyes through a blurred vision. Your lip trembles as you speak, voice quivering, and you let out a soft sniffle as you mumble; “but I don’t think he loves me. Not anymore. Maybe... maybe he never did.”

You fall against him then, just collapsing into his arms.

He wants to say of course Stiles had. Of course Stiles still did, because he knows that he does. But, he knows, the one thing he does, is his word won’t be enough to convince you. And right now, that isn’t what you need to hear.

Scott might not know what to say to help, may not know what to do from this point on, but he can hold you now. Can just... hug you and let you let it all out. For once. It can be just about you.

And unbeknownst to the both of you, even Scott, too focused on you, a pair of eyes watch you. A pair of eyes that hadn’t meant to pry, but had simply left to give Lydia time with her mother. A pair of eyes that had come out to find you, and talk to you, because he hadn’t been able to as of yet. And he wanted to. Needed to.

But, a pair of eyes that halt when he sees you crying, and everything within him turns rigid when he realizes the reason you’re crying is because of him.

Part 38?

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drawlfoy · 5 years

Text

Joint Custody

masterlist request guidelines i’m technically on hiatus until oct 15 but if i really like your request i’ll take it

pairing: draco x hufflepuff!reader

request: oh yes, from maybe late july? i’m sorry for getting back so late to this one

summary: your pet snake is a snake in more ways than one...for example, befriending the most obnoxious boy in your year.

warnings: language, snakes (so if that’s a fear i don’t recommend this)

a/n: ohhh gee it’s been a while hasn’t it? i’m working on my ucas rn, and as an american with literally no one in my area who knows anything about it, i’d be happy to get tips from anyone who knows about oxford ppe. i hope you guys enjoy! i’m taking a little break from mirror, mirror rn since i have no idea what to do w that. also i have never owned a snake so i apologize if i say something incorrect about the care of y/n’s snake

word count: 3,692

tags tags tags @accio-rogers @geeksareunqiue

music recs: i listened to random music so idl

Y/N dug through her knapsack, her fingers brushing past everything but the scales she wanted to feel.

“Monty? Monty? Where are you??” she whispered, flinging her bag onto the potion table and opening it so the light illuminated the insides. Her worst suspicion was confirmed: her magically shrunk corn snake was completely gone.

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” her friend Luna Lovegood asked from the opposite side of the table, her eyebrows scrunched in concern. “Are you missing something?”

“Er...” She took one final sweep of her pockets and her bag before sighing in defeat. “Yeah. Monty is gone again, but this time he isn’t listening to me.”

“Off to snack on nargles, I presume,” Luna said, a smile drifting across her face. “I wouldn’t worry if I were you. He wouldn’t put himself in danger and he’ll always come back to you.”

“Thanks, Luna.”

“Of course.”

With that, her Ravenclaw friend turned and left for her next period, leaving Y/N to deal with the situation alone. She weighed her options: she could, technically, just summon her snake, but then she’d risk smacking him into a wall and injuring him. She could also ask Snape for his help, but one look at the greasy professor confirmed that, as always, he wasn’t in the mood to make the life of a Hufflepuff any easier.

Y/N scanned the room, noting that there was no yellow snake on the floor of the dungeons. He really could move fast when he wanted to.

“Who’s this?”

A familiar voice caught her attention behind her...no doubt originating from the Slytherin section. Against her better judgement, Y/N turned around to see Draco Malfoy staring down at his hands with a wonder she had never seen in his eyes before. Further examination made the cause clear: Monty was curled around his fingers, hissing contently.

“Hey!” Y/N said, catching his attention. “That’s my snake!”

Malfoy’s head shot up, his eyes filling with realization as he connected the yellow and orange colors of the pet to Y/N. “Oh? It seems as though he chose to come over here on his own accord. Probably got sick of being a house traitor, isn’t that right?”

To Y/N’s horror, Monty seemed to agree with the sentiment, slithering up his arm.

“That’s my snake, Malfoy, give him here,” she snapped, holding her hand out. he raised an eyebrow, running a finger down Monty’s scales.

“Don’t do that! Snakes don’t like to be pet!” Y/N was positively fuming as she saw how her pet didn’t even react badly to the physical contact--even though he was supposed to.

“That’s interesting,” Malfoy mused. “He doesn’t seem to mind it when I do it.”

“If you don’t give him back now, I’m going to kill you in your sleep,” Y/N said, whipping out her wand and pointing it at him to emphasize her point. Amusement flickered across his face.

“Okay, okay, you can have him back,” he said, gently unwrapping the snake from his arm and placing it back into her hand. His thumb brushed her palm in the process, and she was surprised to feel how warm it was. “Just remember that if you’re ever sick of hufflepuffs, I’m always here.”

He directed the last part at her snake, affection creeping into the edges of his tone. Once he seemed satisfied that Monty understood, he turned around without another word, grabbed his things, and left Y/N to stand in shock.

Draco Malfoy likes my snake?

The unthinkable happened the next Saturday night. Y/N was getting ready to go spend a nice study session in the library with her roommates and went to grab Monty from his perch, only to find that he was simply...gone.

“Monty! Monty!!”

While she wasn’t a parselmouth, she knew for damn sure that the snake knew she was looking for him.

“Monty, I’m going to put you in a cage if you keep doing this to me,” she scolded, sifting through her room to try and locate her pet. He was, unfortunately, nowhere to be found.

A very scary realization crept into her mind as she worked. Y/N hadn’t seen Monty since dinner...and there was no way that she could be sure that he was even in her room to begin with.

Oh, Merlin, I’m the worst snake owner in the history of snake owners. I didn’t even realize that he was gone...

Once she was sure that her room was snake-free, she burst out of the dorms and into the common room, where she asked everyone if they had seen Monty. There was a unanimous and concerning no from her housemates, only serving to raise her stress levels.

“Retrace your steps?” a particularly worried 7th year proposed. “Monty couldn’t have gone far...and plus, you both get along so well. There’s no way that he’d just leave you like that.”

Y/N nodded and burst out of the door, running down the corridor the way she had just come from and yelling her snake’s name.

She reached the dining hall entrance in record time, panting as she placed her hand on her knees and breathed. She really should’ve just gotten an owl or a cat like everyone else.

A flash of blonde caught her eye, and she turned to see a rather amused looking Malfoy leaned up against the wall opposite to the door.

“Looking for something?”

“You git! Where is he?” Y/N pointed her wand at him and clenched her other first, trying to regulate her breathing.

“I had a feeling you’d come back,” Malfoy said lazily, kicking off of the wall and striding closer to her. “For the record, it wasn’t my fault. Your snake must’ve gotten into my pocket during dinner.”

“He got from the Hufflepuff table to the--”

“Slytherin table? Yeah, I know, I was impressed too.” He reached into his pocket and pulled a hand with a yellow snake curled around long, elegant fingers. “It seems like he has a preference.”

“I hate you,” she muttered, offering her hand to Monty and inwardly rejoicing when he chose to slither onto her.

“Okay,” he responded, seemingly unbothered. “Are you at least going to thank me for taking care of him?”

Y/N studied him for a second. “No. Putting him in your pocket and waiting for me to find you doesn’t count as taking care of him.”

He snorted, stuffing his hands in his pockets and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I can see why he likes to get away from you every once and a while. How did you even get into Hufflepuff?”

“What are you talking about?” she increduled (i don’t think that’s a word but whatever).

“I’ve only spoken directly to you twice, and both times you’ve managed to offend me,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine how your roommates deal with you.”

“They start by being tolerable people,” Y/N spat, slipping the hand that held Monty into her pocket, “Something that you ought to consider.”

“Ooooh.” He mimed twisting a knife in his heart. “You got me there. Touché.”

“I’m going to see my friends,” she said, glaring at him. “Please come directly to me if Monty ever bothers you again.” She began walking back down the hall, taking extra care to make the ride comfortable for Monty.

“Wait,” he called after her, causing her to stop in her tracks. “He really doesn’t bother me.”

She spun around to face him. “So?”

“Er...” Malfoy scratched the back of his neck. “Look, clearly he likes both of us, and I have a feeling this is going to happen again, so... do you want to just split the time with him?”

“Split the time with my own pet?”

“I actually really like him,” he confessed. “And it’d probably save you the stress of having to deal with constantly losing him...I know that snakes sometimes get bored with just one owner.”

“How do you know that?” Y/N asked.

“Er,,,” He stumbled over his words. “Just...perks of being a Slytherin, I guess. Nothing to think too deeply about.”

Y/N huffed, thinking over the proposal. No matter how much it pained her, it appeared as though her snake actually did enjoy Malfoy’s company.

“Okay. Fine. You have to learn how to take care of him, though.”

“No problem,” he said quickly. “Can I have him tonight?”

“What, need him for a ritual or something? Is it time sensitive?”

He laughed. “No. If I needed a snake, I could just serpensortia my way out of that issue.”

“Fair enough.” She paused before sticking her hand in her pocket again. “I need to go get his food and perch, then. I’ll be back in a moment, okay? You can hold onto him if you’d like.”

Draco seemed to visibly brighten at this remark, nodding and holding his hand out. Y/N tried not to take note of how immaculate his hands were as she allowed Monty to slither back onto his palm.

<^>

Y/N gathered her items quickly, ignoring the glances from her confused roommates.

“I’ll explain later,” she promised, darting out the door before they could ask any further questions.

When she showed up at the meeting place, she was relieved to see a bored looking Malfoy cooing to the snake twisted around his hand. He blushed a deep red when he saw that she heard him.

“Took you long enough,” he drawled.

“I’ve never heard you sound like that,” she said, chuckling instead of acknowledging his previous rude comment.

“Sound like what?”

“You? Cooing to Monty?”

“You’re going batty.” He scowled, putting his hand intertwined with Monty into his pocket.

“Sure. I’m guessing you want to go to the Slytherin dorms?”

“Congratulations on your deductive reasoning,” said Malfoy, rolling his eyes and starting off at a brisk pace. “Try and keep up, will you?”

<^>

On the way, they spoke about official terms: each would get the snake for two full days, and they would meet outside the Great Hall to transfer the equipment. Malfoy was adamant that they not tell anyone about the deal--something about how his parents would die if they knew he was sharing a pet with a Hufflepuff. Y/N was adamant that he finance the portion of food that he was using, which he initially protested to but eventually gave in.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Malfoy began once they stopped in front of the Slytherin common room entrance, “But thank you. For being open-minded. I know we aren’t on the best of terms...”

“No, this is most certainly not good-bye,” Y/N interrupted. “You need me to show you how to set up the perch in your room. And, of course, I need to demonstrate how to feed him. He’s very picky.”

Malfoy swallowed, his hand pausing before the bricks that obscured the entrance.

“Okay. All of the older Slytherins are out at Hogsmeade right now, so I can probably sneak you in.”

“Isn’t Hogsmeade closed to students after 5?” Y/N questioned.

“Yeah. We have our ways.”

With that, Draco muttered the password that she couldn’t quite catch and pushed open the door that appeared.

“Be quiet, though,” he cautioned.

They entered the Slytherin common room. and Y/N was blown back by a gust of damp, heavy air. It smelled like the inside of an expensive, appointment-only store.

“This is kind of cold and unfeeling,” she told him as they neared the entrance to the boy’s dorms. Malfoy looked like he was going to snap at her to be quiet, but something made him freeze.

“Shit. The wards.”

Realization flowed into Y/N. “Oh...oh, how could I have forgotten...”

“Can you just show me how to set it up here?” He asked, nervously passing his hands through his hair.

“No, no, I can’t,” she said. “I wish, but I need to see the layout of your room...there are specific requirements as to where the perch can be placed...”

Malfoy mulled over this for a few moments before letting out a long sigh. “I can’t levitate you past the wards. I have to carry you across.”

Y/N paled, even though she knew that that was the only possible way to make it happen. “Okay. I’ll leave the stuff on the ground. You help me over and then bring the perch and food.”

She set her things down and awkwardly stepped closer to him. Malfoy seemed just as uncomfortable as he held out his arms.

“Turn around and loop your legs over my right arm...like that...”

Before she knew it, she was scooped up off the floor and on the other side of the wards, the expensive silk of Malfoy’s suit pressed up against her cheek. She was surprised, yet again, at just how warm he was compared to his usual cool demeanor.

Malfoy set her down on the ground, and grabbed the box of snake supplies. “Last door on the right.”

<^>

“So you scored a single, huh?”

Malfoy’s room was made up of just a one large bed instead of the standard three that she saw in Hufflepuff dorms, and she couldn’t say that she was surprised. The Malfoys had the connections to get these sorts of things.

“Yeah,” he said absentmindedly. “Anyways, show me what to do. Monty is getting antsy.”

Y/N made quick work of unpacking the perch and locating an appropriate corner to place it. Showing Malfoy how to feed the snake was easy, and before she knew it, they were done.

“Enjoy Monty,” she said as they made their way to the ward again. “Let me know if anything weird happens or if you have any questions.”

Malfoy simply nodded and opened his arms again, signaling that he had to pick her up to let her out. She obliged, turning around and looping her legs over his arm, allowing herself to be scooped off of the ground. It was strange, really, getting moved so gently by someone who she thought, until recently, wouldn’t spit on her if she was burning to death. They were just over the ward when the common room entrance opened and the sounds of many Slytherin teenagers--albeit drunk Slytherin teenagers--filled the room. Malfoy’s face turned sheet white and he spun around, striding back towards his room.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Put me down!”

He didn’t answer her until they were safely inside the room, the door locked tight.

“They’re normally not back until midnight,” he said, his tone rushed. “It’s hardly 10:30...I don’t know what they’re doing here...”

“That’s okay, we can just wait until they all go to bed,” Y/N told him, placing a hand on his arm. “No worries.”

“Er, yes worries,” he corrected, moving further away from her. “Saturday all-nighters are very common here...you aren’t leaving this room until morning.”

“Are you joking?”

“I wish.” His eyes nervously darted around the room as he wrung his hands. “There’s nothing we can do right now, unless you know a very strong disillutionment spell...which I suspect neither of us do. They’ll be out in the common room for a while, and honestly, I should probably join them.”

“You’re just gonna leave me here?”

Malfoy seemed rather conflicted, but he screwed his eyes shut and exhaled sharply. “Yes. I said I would meet them afterwards. This way you can sleep, too. I won’t be here.”

“Are you sure I’m not intruding?”

He let out a shaky laugh. “No, you are, but it’s not your fault. Just stay here and don’t let anyone in unless it’s me, alright?”

“Alright.”

He got up and made to leave. “Oh, and, Malfoy?”

He turned to face her. “What is it now?”

“I don’t want to sleep in my school uniform,” she told him, her face darkened by a blush. “Do you have anything that I can borrow? Just a shirt or something?”

She could see his jaw clench before he ducked his head down and walked over to his dresser, tossing him the first shirt on top.

He was out the door before she could properly thank him.

<^>

Y/N took a long time to fall asleep, but when she finally drifted off, she was out like a light. Malfoy’s bedding was heavy and smelled like green tea and ink, something that she wasn’t expecting but most certainly appreciated.

So, when Y/N jerked awake just a few hours later, she was a little frustrated.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, wake up.”

She opened her eyes to see Malfoy standing over her, holding a candle and looking very tired. “What is it?”

“They’re gone. You can leave now.”

She groaned, turning over and searching for her clock--only to find that it wasn’t there, as this wasn’t her room. “What time is it?”

“3:20. Now are you going to get up, or do you want me to drag you out?”

“You said I could sleep here,” she complained, hardly completely awake yet. “And now I have to walk all the way to my dorm from the dungeons? At night? I don’t think so.”

The candle highlighted the frown etched into his face. “You should go.”

“This is the situation you created,” she countered. “You told me you were pulling an all-nighter. Why don’t you?”

He sighed, this time a staccato puff, and placed the candle holder on the nightstand. “Sorry I lied.”

“Yeah, uh-huh,” she mumbled, turning back over to drift back into sleep.

“Wait, wait! What am I supposed to do?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I’m going back to sleep.”

“But you can’t just--”

“Sh.”

Y/N let herself fall back into the realm of dreams, but not enough to completely lose consciousness. She was aware of a few sounds of movement from the room she was in--she assumed it was Draco, Draco, that sounds much better than his last name--but it wasn’t enough to motivate her to lucidity.

However, when she felt the bed on her opposite side dip, that was more than enough.

“What the hell, Malfoy,” she snapped, shooting upright.

“Can you please be quiet? I’m sorry, it just so happens that you’re refusing to move from my bed, and I have no other options, unlike you.”

“I don’t want to argue right now! Can you just go somewhere else and let me sleep in peace?”

“I could say the same for you!”

The two sat in a heated silence until Malfoy finally took the high road.

“I’m sorry about this, but I’m offering you one last time to carry you over the wards. If you don’t want that, I’m going to sleep in my own bed whether you’re in it or not.”

Y/N swallowed. “Okay. Okay, fine. I’m not going to leave.”

“Goodnight.”

<^>

Y/N wasn’t totally sure what woke her up--perhaps it was the breath on her neck, or the warm arm that was draped over her side, or the tickle of something that felt suspiciously like very vine hair on her cheek--but when she did, her heart almost stopped.

Malfoy had slung an arm around her waist, pulling her closer than what was comfortable. His face was mere centimeters from her own, and every time he exhaled, a few rogue strands of pale hair brushed her cheek.

This was not good. She had to do something--but the most unethical part of her did not want to. Malfoy was no doubt going to be upset when he woke up to see this, and she needed him to be in a good enough mood to let her out of the boy’s dorms.

“Malfoy?” She broke the silence, softly nudging his side with her elbow. He groaned, burying his face into her neck. “Malfoy!”

Y/N gave him a swift shove, effectively detaching him from her.

“Er...what?” He shot up, looking very alarmed and confused. “What?”

“You have to carry me out of the wards, remember?” she told him, slipping out of the covers and pulling them off him. “We should get going as soon as possible. There might be people out in the common room the later it gets.”

He seemed to understand the problem as he swung upright and ran a finger through his ruffled hair.

“I’m sorry about that,” he mumbled.

“Sorry about what?”

“For, er, touching you, I know that I shouldn’t have done that,” he clarified, turning away from her, but not quickly enough to hide the blush on his cheeks. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“It’s okay,” she mused. “I guess if we’re to have joint custody of Monty, we should get to know each other anyways.”

Malfoy froze for a second before he gathered his bearings. “Er, yeah. Yeah, good point. For Monty.”

Once he seemed ready, they left the room, Y/N giving a wave to Monty, who was curled around his perch.

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry about him,” Malfoy told her, spinning her around by her shoulders and opening his arms to pick her up again. She looped her legs over his arms again, leaning back into him and allowing her to lift her up and take her over the ward.

He set her down softly after making sure the coast was totally clear, looking down at the ground immediately after.

“Thank you, Draco,” she said quietly. “For everything. Sorry I was a bit of a pill last night.”

“’S only fair, I’ll been worse to you.”

Y/N couldn’t see for sure, but it appeared as though the very outer corners of his lips had turned up.

“I’ll see you in two days? Outside the dining hall?”

“Yeah.” He sounded almost breathless, like he was winded or something.

“Okay, well..I think I’m going to go,” she said, backing away. “Feel free to show up to the Hufflepuff entrance if you want any help. Or if I’m not there, then you can normally find me in the library, or you can always ask in potions...”

She trailed off once she saw that Draco’s face had broken into an exasperated but amused expression.

“Okay, I should go then.”

“Yeah, me too.”

With that, Y/N turned and left the Slytherin common room with the feeling that that was certainly not going to be the last time she was going to be there.

final a/n: i didn’t know how to incorporate actual fluff in here and i shouldn’t even be writing this rn lmaoooooo but here it is and i’m so sorry if it sucks i haven’t proofread

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter imagine #draco lucius malfoy

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yandere-sins · 4 years

Text

A Father’s Care

Part 3 [Read the whole story on AO3]

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

Rating: Explicit Characters: Fem!Reader, Endeavor / Enji Todoroki, The rest of the Todoroki-Family, minus Rei Word-Count: 6459

Warnings: Dub-Con, Actions that could be seen as Cheating, Molesting, Lemon, Violence against the Reader

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

a/n: And the final! Did I give up a bit at the end? Who knows. Am I glad it’s over? YES!! But still, I would like to know what you guys thought about it, please let me know via ask/comment/messenger. It was a very different experience, especially because it came out so freaking long and while I don’t plan on doing something similar again soon, I kinda want to know what impression it had on all of you! So let me know! Thank you for reading!

»»————-———— ♡ ————————-««

"Don't test me," he warned, shaking your head roughly and pressed your cheek further against his cock. The secretion running down its length smudged your face while you desperately clawed your hands into his thighs. "You can't be serious, Sir! That isn't right!" you sobbed, trying to push yourself away even though you knew you were helpless against his strength.

"How else am I supposed to find out if you are suitable for Shoto? Can't you even do that little bit for him?"

You gulped, your tears almost as hot as his body when you were so close to it, as they ran down your face. With every second passing, Endeavor got rougher and rougher, yanking your head in an attempt to urge you even though you kept up your resistance. There were limits, and you could not overstep them. This just wasn't what you had imagined doing as you suggested to do the evaluation you had missed, now.

Would that have been what happened when he would have met you before the wedding? Would he have kidnapped you out of your bed and forced himself upon you like that? Had there been no other way to do things other than… proving yourself with your body? "Please, Sir. W-We can talk, sort this out… We don't have to…"

"I see," he finally sighed. His finger loosened from your hair, and you sunk back into the soft tatami mats on the ground, breathing a sigh of relief too. "Your just as much a disappointment as my sons are. Nothing but a slut getting turned on from other men's touches - I wonder how Shoto will react when I tell him about thi-"

"NO!" you yelled before you really thought about your actions. Cocking an eyebrow, Enji crossed his arms as you stuttered to explain yourself, growing more and more desperate with every word he uttered. "We cannot tell Shoto! He is your son, how could you admit you did something like that to me?!" you asked, tears welling up again as if you could feel the pain it would bring over your husband to hear about what happened here.

"It's not like he thinks very highly of me," Enji muttered, staring off somewhere into the distance. "But do you really think he won't notice how you behave when he brings it up? Think he can withstand the pressure of his wife attempting to cheat and lie her way out? The suspicion will be there, [Name]."

Kneeling down again, he pinched your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him again. "He'll be so devastated, [Name]. But it doesn't have to be like this, let us do the evaluation, show me I don't have to worry about him. Show me you care."

You gulped.

Every tiny bit of your mind screamed that this was wrong. You knew it was wrong, Endeavor knew it was wrong, it was all just WRONG. But you thought to see a spark of sincerity in his eyes, as small as it must have been in this disgusting, piercing blue of his. "I care…" you whispered, voice shaking from frustration, hands clenching to fists.

"Then prove yourself," he replied calmly, standing up again and holding his hands to the side, showing you he was not going to do anything.

Right away, you had a nauseous feeling in your stomach, a knot twisting and turning. You couldn't really consider doing this with your father-in-law, right? But what choice did you have? If you didn't bend to his will, you could only think about what his confession would do to your reputation, and even worse, your relationship. What would Shoto think of you? Would he see you in the same light his father did? A slut? A whore? Would he even be able to look at you after this?

"If I prove myself as someone fitting for Shoto, will you leave us alone then?" you asked shakily, coming up into standing on your knees, still barely able to even reach his crotch with how tall Enji was. "If you are worth it, you will not hear another word from me," he promised, but your skepticism remained.

"You swear?"

"I do," he smiled. It was a terrible, delighted smile that made your own blood boil in rage. It was a sign that he won, that he had you right where he wanted you, and you were unable to reject it now. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself. You imagined - as strange as it was - being in your husband's embrace, him telling you everything would be alright while you pulled off the remaining strap of your nightgown, letting it fall and collect at your feet.

Enji let out something you could only describe as a guttural grunt when he saw your naked body, his eyes inspecting every inch while you crawled closer. Shaking, you had to hold yourself from the sick feeling that overcame you. If you were making even one more move, this might be the worst thing you ever did. You'd commit to the betrayal of your husband, the only person you ever loved more than your own family. The only one that loved you so much to want his own family with you.

And yet, this was necessary. If you ever wanted to be happy, you'd have to get this awful, terrible monstrosity of a man to leave you alone. To finally leave his son alone. The thoughts alone awakened an endless feeling of anger and madness. You wanted to prove yourself, yes, but you wanted to do it in the most painful way for him that you could think of. Though you shouldn't, you just wanted to get it over with, to free the love of your life of this burden that his father was, always meddling in his affairs.

It needed two hands to properly grip his cock, your fingers still shaking from the rollercoaster of feelings as you struggled with not puking the moment you touched him. This was not a place you should be touching your father-in-law in. This was not a place you should be touching anyone besides Shoto, but here you were, driving your hands up and down his length. The fucking length of this thing was enough to make you repulsive, your shoulders aching with how you had to work over your head.

Quickly enough, your hands were covered in slick, a thick fluid springing from the tip as if it was ready to all spill out any second. But Endeavor seemed unfazed by your efforts, watching you with crossed arms as you worked your hands over the ever-stiffening member. "Is that all?" he asked, indifferent about your work while it made you sweat bullets that he expected to see something else. "W-What? But I thought I should just satisfy you…"

"Yeah, but without this-" he pointed to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours, "-you won't get far, my Child."

Letting out a quiet gasp, your face contorted in mental pain, your inner pride battling the wish to end this as fast as possible with any means. It took some stretching into the area of his crotch to reach his cock, your hands settling down at the root of it while you still hesitated to apply your lips to his skin. From what you had felt so far, it was hot, veiny, and by now, very wet. Not like you were even a tiny bit excited to take a taste from Enji, but you managed to suppress your pride far enough to eventually meet his dick with your mouth.

It was just shy kisses at first, nothing more but short-lived, fluttering smooches. But one look at his face was enough to see he was not impressed by it, if not even a little insulted. Parting your lips, you stuck out your tongue, breathing through your nose deeply before you put it down, wrapping it around the underside of him, body shivering from the sourness that you were able to make out.

Working tirelessly, you drove it up and down, making sure to implement your hands again as good as you could. To some degree, you hoped it would save you from licking every inch, but you had to work hard to even gain a slight sign of approval from him. Using your hands to go down to his balls, you massaged the lumps between your fingers, his sacks weighing heavily. At the same time, you sucked at the skin of his cock, trying to implement as many different sensations as you could.

"Good," he finally praised, giving you a pat over the head as he sighed, leaning his head back a little, hips making the tiniest of movements.

And you couldn't be happier. Feeling your body strengthened after knowing you were doing something purposeful was the push you needed to continue. The warmth of his member seemed to spread over to you, your cheeks flushing red as your body won back some of its confident, you even dared to approach his tip.

With your thumb, you went up to the top, rubbing the finger attentively over the middle. It almost needed your whole hand to squeeze and release the sensitive point of his most holy limb, but it gained you an actual groan as you worked it. "Come on, don't be shy," he urged, patting your cheek closest to him, pointing you in the right direction.

"I-I don't know if I can," you admitted as you followed his instruction, approaching his tip with your mouth. "You won't know until you try, [Name]." Nodding slowly you shivered before the mass in front of you. Surely, you couldn't even take much of Shoto's, so you probably wouldn't get far. But if it satisfied him to see you struggle, you decided to humor him even if it meant putting yourself down.

Slowly, you wrapped your mouth around the top, a spurt of fluid immediately coating your teeth and tongue the moment it connected. Reflexively, you pulled away, wiping the sour taste from your mouth, disgusted for even having to feel it. "Don't stop now, Sweetheart," Enji grunted. You could only notice the shadow suddenly hovering over you, before you had both his hands around your face, putting you back in place.

At first, you struggled against him as he pressed his tip back into your mouth, but one pleading look upwards made you realize that would not work as you two were far too gone to not commit to the act now. Just to save you from the pain it would cause, you opened up as far as you could, your lips rubbing along his hot skin, teeth grazing the length - if you wanted or not. Your struggles grew bigger as he pulled you over his cock, groaning in pleasure the deeper he came.

It wasn't like he had many regards for you as a human. If anything, you felt like a sex doll, without rights to protest. But your lips felt like tearing as you struggled to breathe at all. It was nothing like the almost fun, pleasant fingers shoved inside, this was horrifically deep and uncomfortable, making you panic the less Enji stopped pushing inside.

Even with your hands hammering against his thighs, he was not yet satisfied. Still, he snapped out of his pleasure for a second, pulling out almost entirely while you gagged with his tip in your mouth still. Coughing, your lungs demanded air, but before you could really breathe, he pushed himself in again - quickly, precisely, up to the point he had before. And from there on, he went further, testing his limits over and over before sparing a second for you to breath.

With your stuffy nose from all the tears, it was pure anguish to live through not one way to breath. And though you tried to tell yourself to calm down, you weren't really able to as he began a tiny pace of movements. It was an impossible task for you to accommodate his cock in your mouth, but Endeavor didn't seem to care, fucking what he wanted to, even with all the pain it caused you.

You looked at him pleadingly, but his eyes were closed in pleasure, groans and rumbles escaping his own throat while your lips dared to touch his hips. You felt like breaking as if your jaw was going to crumble under the force, and your throat split open, divided by his cock. Tears, snot, saliva, it all dripped from your face, mixing with his fluids and running down your breasts and body before dripping off.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, squinting at you as his pace roughened. The rush of adrenaline kept your panic at bay as you tried what you could to stop him from cumming as you expected. Enji was riding the waves of pleasure before you could come up with a good solution to your problem, but unexpectedly, he harshly pulled out, jizz splashing against your cheeks and into your open mouth, following the drip of the other fluids and even dipping your breasts into white.

You found yourself hardly able to cough, spitting out his semen while falling forward, hunching over as a need to throw up from the strain overcame you. But nothing came out, so you only could wait for the burning to vanish, continuing to spit out whatever collected in your mouth, knowing disgustingly well that his fluids could be sticking everywhere still.

"Good work, Partner," he mused from above, and the nickname sent another wave of disgust over you. You were still busy getting a hold on your throat and checking if your jaw was still where it was supposed to be, you barely gave it any thought as he surrounded you. Only when he knelt down, bringing his hands down onto your ass cheeks roughly was when you noticed, causing you to squeal from the shock.

One arm wrapped around your torso, holding you tightly and taking away your chance to flee as he continued to slap your rear hard. "STOP! NO!" you screamed, tearing and clawing at the arm, holding you in place while you cried, the pain never vanishing as long as he made you go through it. It was no effort to hold you, and Enji took his sweet time slapping the right, then the left. Then two times the right, two times the left. Every time it felt worse than before, not needing any fire to burn like shit. And you were sure that by the end of it, he would either have left bruises or real burns on your ass. You'd never be able to sit down properly for sure.

"Do scream for me, Kiddo. It's all a test of endurance."

All of a sudden, it clicked in your head. It needed you to bite your lip so hard, blood was cut free from your skin, but you finally managed to hold back the squeals, resorting to soft whimpers and closing your eyes. If this was a test of endurance, then the least he would want was you making a ruckus. Enji wanted to see if you could withstand it. If you were able to take punishments and rougher situations that might occur.

It hurt terribly, but you only received three more slaps before he stopped, loosening his arm around you and instead lowered you gently to the ground, only pulling on one arm to turn you over like the doll you were.

And there you laid, like sleeping beauty, with your lip bleeding while you still hadn't stopped biting it. "Good girl," he admitted, shoving your legs out of the way to bend down to you. You didn't humor his kiss, but he was eager enough to part your lips yourself, the pain from your bite making you flinch, though he didn't notice or didn't care. Even with the taste of blood, he continued sloppily pushing his tongue inside the mouth he had ravaged with his cock just minutes prior. He didn't seem to care for the taste or your tears either, bringing his big hands behind your shoulders and pulling at your arms, instructing them to sling around his neck.

Unwillingly, you complied, digging your nails into his shoulders as you responded to the kiss. It wasn't what you wanted, but his impatience was apparent every time he opened his eyes, growls escaping from his open mouth. That kissing - an intimate, loving gesture - was part of your valuation seemed wrong for you. You had no feelings, aside from the desires of your body that still remained, for him, and you didn't want any of his lips brushing against yours. And yet, you did what he wanted you to, pressing up to him, moaning into the kiss as if it was the best you ever had.

You decided not to think anymore. All the overthinking and trying to convince yourself - you didn't exactly find joy in the way he worked your tongue with his - was slowly driving you mad. If you just took away the thoughts, maybe it wouldn't be so bad anymore. And not so painful both mentally and physically. Endeavor had proven to take the lead whenever he wanted, why not give it to him if he desired it so much?

Closing your eyes, you leaned in. One hand drove up to his neck, fingers gliding into his hair, the strands tingling between them. You worked just as eagerly, gaining a delighted groan from him as he wrapped his arms around you too, lifting you from the ground and into his lap. You scouted his mouth as he did with yours, tongue slipping over tongue, turning around each other and faces parting for split seconds, pulling strings of saliva between them.

If you hadn't known better, you could have thought by the way he held you, that he was just a horny bastard, trying to find some relief. Because the way he kissed you, you could almost describe as eager, yet lovingly. Who'd have thought that the cruel and serious Enji Todoroki could manage to make a woman's heart actually melt? Melt from how loving he could be if he wanted to, to melt because he was hot. Burning hot even. His body was close to a sauna, and you felt your mind slowly but surely turn unable to think straight from the heat. Eventually, you had to tear away, leaning your head into your neck, trying to distance it as far as you could from him, just to catch some air.

However, the room too seemed to have grown in degrees, and you found it hard to concentrate as his lips traveled down your neck, to your collarbones before landing at your breast. And from one second to the other, the loving was over, two rows of teeth biting around your right nipple, your body tensing as your eyes opened wide in shock, hands clawing into his upper shoulder muscles.

You did not bring it over you to stir, too afraid he was going to tear off your nipple with how hard he was biting, but your concern was through the roof. "What if he sees?! Stop! STOP!" you whined, hammering onto his back. But instead of a reaction, you gained a lick of his tongue over your nipple between his teeth, and you had to confess to yourself that the sensation made you feel better than anything ever before. Maybe it was the roughness of the bite and lick, or the thrill that might have gotten to your head by now, but it sent you straight one cloud up towards heaven, even though it was a minor thing. "Glad to see you are enjoying it, too," he pressed through his teeth, and you only gasped at the sensation of his hot breath.

"Another good point for you, [Name]."

Rolling your head back forwards, you looked at him, letting the achievement run over and over in your head, a small chuckle escaping you. "Thank you…" you mumbled, dizzy and not really clear in your mind, feeling slightly feverish. For the shortest amount of time, you could see his eyes widen as you smiled at him and thanked him, but he quickly regained his composure, letting go of your tit and involving you in another kiss.

Sighing blissfully, you leaned in immediately, the sudden poke of his member between your hips making you pull away for just a short second. You were quick to get back to kiss him, you being the initiator now as you did your best to please. Pulling your body closer to his, you felt the throbbing in your breast, where he had bit, nipples rubbing against the hair of his chest and getting caught in the strings, edging you on.

With the now closeness, you ground into him, pulling the stem of his member along your slit, coating it in more of your juices than yours in his, both of you gasping and moaning against each other's lips as you did. It felt good, you couldn't deny it any longer. It was so massive, you worried it would even fit the tip into you, but you were damned to like this. Even if it was just your instincts telling you this was a fine way to mate, you wanted it to plunge into you, spread your walls, coat your inside in his sticky, disgusting cum.

You wanted Endeavor to ram into you, over and over, kiss the entrance to your womb, hit that g-spot of yours by slightly shifting his cock upwards. If anything, you at least wanted him to make you cum, no matter if with his fingers or this massive dick, powered by his strong, wide hips. "Fuck me," you groaned into the kiss, making his eyes perk up, finding your half-opened.

"Do you hear what you're sayin-" Leaning away from you, he started to speak, but you quickly put your finger over his mouth.

"You heard me, isn't it my duty, too, to make my partner want me? Don't tell me, you haven't heard of dirty talk before, Sir."

At that, you had caught him, lips jerking into a grin. "You little slut," he noted, and you knew that this time it was not an insult, making you smile too. If there was a checklist for your evaluation, you probably gained some brownie points on it for sure. Inwardly, you swore you were just a slut for your husband, but you wouldn't deny your need to have his father fuck you hard anymore to yourself either.

Only, when he lifted you by your hips and situated you on top of his tip was when some sense of responsibility hit you again. "W-Wait!" you asked, holding on to him for dear life. "I am not sure it will fit," you confessed, giving him the best puppy eyes you could. Even though you two had long gone over the point of not doing anything reproachable, and despite your wish to have him fuck you, feeling the massive tip at your entrance was giving you concerning thoughts.

"Never too late to stop now," he grinned, competitive, daring. As if you had even one ounce of reason left to stop now. "Slowly," you whispered instead, putting on your best, alluring voice and leaning forward to kiss him softly, the feeling of goosebumps under your fingers as you hit a sweet spot with him.

Reaching down, you repositioned his tip, loosening the tension in your own hold to lower yourself. You could not withstand the stings that came over you, every time you tried to accommodate his dick inside. Even after the third try, you still struggled with opening up for his tip alone and conveyed through a groan, you knew he was getting impatient. "[Name], look at me," he demanded, and you immediately looked up, listening intently. "Take a deep breath," Enji instructed, eyes never wavering from yours, his stare as icy as it could be, but you didn't feel threatened by it now.

So you took a deep, long breath as he told you to. Then another. In his grip, even Endeavor felt you relax a little. "Good girl… Now imagine me coming in, ready yourself in your thoughts. Close your eyes and imagine it, [Name]." As he told you, his voice deep, growly, you did as he wanted from you, ignoring the tightening of his grip around you for the sake of following his instructions. When had you become so agreeing with him? You didn't remember, but with how he was treating you by now, you found it more manageable. Found him reliable. Found him suitable to be with.

Another deep breath.

And then he pressed you down.

Unannounced, without your consent. You felt your stomach bulge as Enji pushed his full length into you, pushing aside some of your organs to house his enormous cock. He let you sit on him as if impaled, a hand fake-loving rubbing your lower back in an attempt to calm your body. "Oh, Honey. Sacrifices need to be made, and I know you really want this," he cooed, a weird sound coming from him. His free thumb came up to brush the tears from your horrified expression, his tongue licking them off of his finger, before he closed your open mouth with his. But no matter what, you couldn't make a sound or move, body as stiff as a plank, still working through the tearing pain.

Until that pain became your pleasure.

Endeavor was... Gentle in lifting you, the motion robbing you of breath as you kept the air in. It was easy for him to use you like a doll, pulling you a tiny bit up and abruptly pushing you down on his cock. It needed a few pumps before you regained some of your body control again, holding on to him as you struggled to get away. But you were already in the spider net, and he didn't allow you to go away now.

"You kept yourself tight for my son, I approve of that." Horrified, you looked back up at him, managing a weak smile before you were hit with another painful push into you. Indeed, just as you had hoped for, imagined even, he filled you out completely, every wall responding to his member, getting stuck on his veins. The tip did well to spread your insides apart, before eventually embedding itself on a spot that seemed to envelop it totally. And so the circle continued as you groaned from the weird mixture of pain and pleasure while he pulled and pushed you around.

You gained a groan from him too as you tightened from every shock of pain there was. Enji eventually changed position, lifting you from his lap to kneel up with you, easily holding you in one arm while letting his hips do the fucking and have the other arm support your upper body. "Nice and tight," he chuckled, and if it hadn't been so fucking painful, you might have agreed with him.

"Look what you made me do…" Shaking his head, he gained your attention for a little bit, just as much as you could peel it off from the shock of his penetration. "Made me fuck you, you little slut. You blew me, kissed me and now have me tightly secured inside your little cunt. Do you like it?"

He helped you look up with his hand in your back as you thought about what to say. You couldn't possibly say what was on your mind, but refusing him wasn't an option either. Instead, you brought a hand down to your stomach, feeling the thrusts inside of you even by just letting it lay there, an idea rising in your mind for what to respond. "You make me so full." Luckily, that answer was enough for him, a broad smile hushing over his features before he made one more, rough push inside of you.

Lifting you off of his cock, you could watch the amount of fluids spilling down your pussy, a red thread coming with it. You forced yourself to look up at him and ignored thinking of that, meeting his gaze steadfast, taking a deep breath. "You're not bad at all," he complimented, and a moment of exhausted thankfulness washed over you before he laid you down. You weren't stupid, you knew he wasn't finished. All you could hope for was a merciful grace of the gods, helping you withstand the pains.

But you complied, not letting him do all the work as you turned over, pushing your ass into the air. From your position, you couldn't see the marks on your buttcheeks, but you knew they were there from the maniacal grin on Endeavor's face. His big hands laid down on your asscheeks again, giving you a momentarily burning sting before he began to roll them around, opening up the view at all of your most intimate parts, seemingly satisfied with what he was seeing and how you were behaving.

"Please…" you stammered, not really meaning it. But the sooner you got this over with, the faster you'd be able to go back to Shoto, the only hope you had still left. Snaking your hand under you, you brought it up to your vulva, spreading the lips apart for him to see. It still hurt, but you were able to tolerate it more by now. "Please more, Sir," you pleaded with him, and he made an approving hum before preparing himself at your hole again.

This time, it went less painful and a little slower, for which you were thankful. Moaning, you felt every inch being pushed inside, your walls moving away before snapping back, pulling a satisfied moan from Enji too. He hunched over you, your back to his chest, his body still feeling like hot coals against your skin, but you didn't mind it anymore. His arms hooked under yours, legs pushed apart to make room for his. You scrubbed your knees over the floor as he began to pound you like a dog his bitch, making your back bow with the power of his thrusts.

"Say you love him," he pressed forth from between his teeth, nibbling at your ear.

"I-I love Sho-Shoto," you stuttered while a hand wrapped around your throat, pressing your air supply close.

"Now, say you love me." It was a sentence that made your blood freeze over. How could you ever say something like this? What did it even matter? Why did you need to do it?

Closing your eyes, you tried to breathe deeply, but nothing could calm you now as you croaked it out, the grip around your neck tightening the longer you hesitated. "I love you! I… I love you…"

"You just got way tighter than when you said you love Shoto," he teased, your eyes opening up in surprise, unsure what you should do now. "No worries," he assured you, giving your temple a kiss. "That is the right reaction."

Enji let you sink to the ground again, straightening his back as he picked up a quick, rougher pace. For you, there was nothing left to do but to let him handle you as he pleased. On one point, he halted inside of you, rolling his hip up and down, hitting all the right places. If you hadn't been close to an orgasm before, now was when it got irresistible, as he managed to hit everything.

Suddenly, every thrust and every move of his hips drove you crazy, the pain barely noticeable with how his balls slapped against your clitoris every time he buried himself completely inside of you. You were no expert, and yet you still knew that if he wanted, he could have breached your womb, pull it out even if he pleased, but he never pushed past it. Instead, he just caressed it with every thrust, and you thanked him by tensing your insides, reveling in his deep groans. Your voice barely kept up with him in volume, but you two were gasping and moaning every time he pushed in.

Already, your pussy missed him when he pulled out and welcomed him wet and happy when he pushed in again, and you wouldn't have wanted it in any other way. Feeling his strong hand on your back, he signaled you to lay down, pulling your right leg up to navigate it over your hip and turn you around. Crawling closer, he lifted your hip from the ground, pushing it snug against his, his cock fully embedded inside of you. You watched the joint connection with split feelings, but at the same time, reminded yourself it would be over soon.

Reaching your arms out to him, you welcomed him into an embrace, crossing your arms around his neck and ankles behind his back. His hips were simply too wide to cross your legs also, but it was still enough to envelop him in your hold. At the same time, small, tiny thrusts returned, their speed increasing so much, you couldn't believe it was even possible to go faster. "Gonna cum!" he pressed out of his mouth, and the knot in your stomach tightened, hearing the strain in his voice.

The next you knew was the push over the edge, a feeling of freedom falling over you while his arms wrapped around you, pressing you airtight to him. For a few blinks, you saw only black and white particles in the space behind him, partly from the orgasm and partly from how hard he squeezed your body. And then you felt it. The flood. The absolute waves of cum splurting into you, clashing against every wall, and coating his cock. Even without him pulling out, you felt how it dripped out at the end, widening you even more and staining the tatami together with all the other fluids from before.

You must have held on to him very tightly, too, as he needed his time to move again. Not only you, but he too had been on a cloud higher than ever before, and though you should have regretted all of this, your endorphins didn't give you that. Instead, your mouth was smiling, as you started to shake beneath his massive body, tears filling your eyes.

Laughs escaped you as Enji finally lifted himself up, giving your lung free and on his face, you saw a confused, yet happy smile play around. Slowly, he began to pull out, getting stuck for a second on how tight your lower region held on to his tip, but with force, he got out while it left you with a rush of pain that only made you laugh more. With bubbles, his semen ran out of you, your body relaxing after all the strain.

You could hear him get dressed again by the jingle of his belt. Only when the shirt was over his body again, he came back, kneeling down next to your shaking body, laying on the ground as if run over. For the last time, he admired what he had done to you, the semen dripping from your cunt, displayed on your face and breasts, the bite mark, and satisfied, he searched for your eyes with his, establishing contact.

"I am surprised," he admitted. "Didn't think a fragile thing like you could pass, but you seem to be suitable for Shoto. For our family."

Leaning down, he kissed you, your lips unresponsive to him, though he didn't seem to mind, doing as he pleased. "I wonder if you still care for my son after all of this."

You gulped, nodding slowly. "I do."

"We'll see," he shrugged, standing up again and brushing his hand through his hair. "If not, you know where to find me." Marching towards the door, you could only watch in awe about how casual he was again suddenly, simply switching off the lights as if nothing had happened. "Close the door behind you," he instructed, and you hummed in understanding.

And one moment to the next, he was gone. You couldn't hold your tears back as you began to sob, clutching your hand tightly over your mouth and coming to terms with your situation. But how in the world could you ever manage to come to terms with all that had happened? With the torturous treatment, torn out of your sleep, thrown around like a doll? Slapped, deep-throated, torn apart, how could a human ever come to terms with all of this?

It would take months, years to heal this trauma it had caused you. How would you even start to explain the reasons you needed to see your doctors again for all kinds of bruises and bites? Would Shoto get suspicious if you were to visit a therapist? And in the future, how could you face Enji ever again without thinking back to what he had done? Without panicking and blowing this secret?

And how could you even look into your husband's eyes ever again, knowing he could never satisfy you as much as your father-in-law had?

You wrapped up your stay, discarded of any torn clothes and washed your body over and over, even though the feelings of Endeavor's hands and all the fluids never entirely disappeared, and left the next morning, thanking everyone for their hospitality. In disgust, you had to watch Shoto shake his father's hand, and you only bowed to him before hurrying off, not being able to be another second in his merrily smile.

"Did you have fun?" he asked you in the car, his delicate, tiny hand holding yours lovingly, thumb rubbing over your hand. Pulling it away, you looked out the window, ignoring the concerned sideglance he gave you before nodding. "Yeah," was your curt answer, and though he attempted to, Shoto decided to keep quiet instead, figuring with how you looked, and since you told him you didn't sleep well, that you were merely tired.

A week later, you opened the post, a special letter addressed to you. Opening up the silly Christmas card, you stared in shock at the photograph inside, showing you, sitting on Enji's lap with your skirt out of the way, his hand on your thigh and pussy, an evident bulge in his pants, and a tormented smile on your face while everyone looked merrily into the camera.

Half-heartedly, you read the few sentences written beneath it, until they suddenly caught your attention. "I am glad to have you in the family, thank you for caring about my son.

Don't forget to collect the decorations soon, or I will have to bring them to you."

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our-jensen-ackles-love · 6 years

Text

Dancing In The Dark; 6.

Dean x Reader

Summary: You made a mistake last night.. you went home with a married man. A man whom you had crushed on since your first day at work, a man who you knew had secrets, a man whose wife had invited you over to dinner time and time again. So how did the two of you end up in bed last night?

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), swearing

Author’s Note: all mistakes are mine - wrote this being a little tired, so just be aware that it’s super un-beta’d.

BUY ME A KO-FI SERIES MASTERLIST FEEDBACK

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, having some alcohol in your system gave you one of the best night's sleep you had in what felt like weeks. Now waking up and even thinking about facing the world, kind of, made you want to pick up the bottle and start the process all over again.

Kicking off the sheets you seemed to have gotten tangled in, you groaned feeling like your head weighed a million pounds. “Jesus fucking christ.”

“Well good morning to you too.”

You knew he’d be there, but still the sound of his deep voice seeping through the morning silence you had been so used to caught you by surprise. “Dammit Dean.”

By the time you had gotten completely untangled and found the strength to sit yourself up enough to look over at Dean, you were ready to drink a swimming pool. The man that made you feel like you needed to check into a mental hospital was perched in the corner of your room, sitting on the swivel chair that was usually always pushed into your little desk. “I found your aspirin - so there are two right next to you.”

Glancing at your night stand you found the two little white pills and two large bottles of water. You knew that most likely Dean had snuck out before you woke up to run to the corner store for that water, which kind of made you feel only a little bit guilty for how you handled last night.

Pinching your pills in between your fingers, you brought them to your lips avoiding staring at Dean for more than a split second. “So how much did I fuck up?”

“You didn’t fuck up at all,” he answered, cocking his head to the side. “If anything, I’m the one that needs to be apologizing to you.”

“For what? Bringing your wife with you for a night on the town.”

You may have been trying to keep your eyes off him, mainly because you didn’t know the details of how the night ended - again, but even you couldn’t miss the way he winched when you said the word ‘wife.’ “Just.. I need to say sorry for lot of things.”

Not liking the way he was shifting in his seat, you forced yourself to swing your legs over the side of the bed. “I’m getting really tired of this vague thing we have going on here Winchester.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“No, I really don’t think you do.”

He was watching you closely as you stood up slowly and began rooting through one of your dresser drawers for some clean clothes to put on after the shower you had decided you would be taking in matter of minutes. Nothing was worse than waking up feeling like you need to scrub yourself clean of your sins and leftover mascara.

“I told Lisa I want a divorce.”

The tenison you had been carrying in your shoulders melted away. “You did?”

Dean’s gaze was still on you, trying to read your body language when he clicked his tongue. “Yeah. After I got you all tucked into bed, you muttered something in your sleep that really hit me.”

“Do I want to know?” You asked hesitantly, squeezing your eyes shut as you turned to where he was sitting.

He let a smirk slip through his otherwise sober expression. “You told me that I felt like home.”

Was that what he felt like to you? Was that why you became a blubbering idiot whenever he was around? Because he felt like that one person you could be safe with, the one person that you always looked ahead to seeing. Coming home was always the one thing you looked forward to at the end of the day.

Dean shifted in his seat, still keeping his eyes still trained on you as you in turn stared at him questionably. “What does that have to do with you telling Lisa that you wanted a divorce?”

“Well,” he ran a hand over his face, looking more exhausted than he had in the last week. It made you question if he had actually gotten any sleep last night. “Honestly, I guess it really clicked to me that you can’t live in a broken home - the cracks will leak and the ceiling can cave in at any given time. Even if the foundation is uneven it can cause all kinds of irreversible damage.”

You got what he was saying, but still weren’t quite sure what it had to do with you and your drunken slip of honesty. “Okay?”

His face was looking at you, but his eyes seemed to be looking in the distance. “Something about the way you looked at me at the bar, it just made me ache. You may as well have just come over and sucker punched me in the gut. And watching you down those shots like water.. because of me.. well hurt even more.”

“So, again Winchester, what does this have to do with me?”

He shook his head and shifted his eyes to look at his hands. You followed his gaze and was stunned to see that a certain finger was lacking a piece of jewelry around it. “Because it you made me realize that I made a mistake. So, I told her at the bar that this wasn’t working anymore, which was shortly before I decided to take you home.”

You took a deep breath, not really quite sure what to say. “And that didn’t look suspicious to her?”

“She stormed off before I really got another word in edgewise. Of course, as I made my way over to you was when the bartender decided to cut you off and I decided to bring you home,” he stood up from the chair this time. “I haven’t spoken to her since.”

“Dean -” you started, but you really didn’t know what to say. It was exactly what you wanted to hear, so why did your chest still feel so heavy?

The man before you just kind of gave you a lazy shrug before taking the remaining steps to get to where you were embarrassingly clutching a pair of clean panties. You didn’t miss the way he eyed the delicate piece of cloth in your hands before gently tugging them out of your grasp and tossing them onto the unmade bed. Something about the way he was looking at you made your stomach squeeze.

“I know this is a lot to take in right now,” he spoke softly, fingers interlacing with your right hand while his free one came to brush some of your bedhead away from your eyes. “Hell, this is a lot to just happen in a week, but there is something that I want you to know.”

You tone matched his as the warmth from his hands washed over your body. “What’s that?”

“I want to be with you, more than anything in the world, but you have to understand that while I’m going through all of this, we.. we can’t really be public.”

Nodding, you lifted your chin up to look at him squarely. “I’m aware of that.”

“And you would be okay with that?”

Your bottom lip wedged itself between your teeth as you silently thought through what he was asking of you. Your heart was singing at the admission of him wanting to be with you, but at the cost of everything being behind closed doors - well, that excited you and concerned you. “You.. you’d only be with me?”

Dean smirked down at you, bringing his thumb down to pull your lip away from its imprisonment. “I’d be all yours, baby girl.”

“What about your living situation?”

“I know Sid would let me crash on his couch.”

Now it was your turn to smirk at him, “Or we could just let people think that’s where you were staying.”

“Hm,” he gently pushed you backwards until you felt the cool wood of your dresser seeping through your shirt. “That might be dangerous.”

“Didn’t you once tell me that ‘danger’ was your middle name?”

His tongue snaked its way out, making the heat pool at your center as it trace the plumpness of his lower lip. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Just when you started to answer, he pushed himself into you - his lips collided into yours, followed by his hips. You knew it hadn’t been that long since you had been with him in that way, but the way his body was feeling against your had you wanting to get all kinds of sweaty with him.

Like he was able to read your mind, Dean found a way to loop his fingers under the elastic of the panties you still had on - because at some point in the night you had found a way to wiggle out of your jeans, and yanked them down towards your knees.

When you went to make the move to unbuckle him, he paused. “No, no baby, right now I want to show you just how much you mean to me.”

The quietness of his voice and the way his eyes were boring into you while he spoke those words lit your skin on fire. Giving him a silent nod, he picked you up and carefully laid you on the bed, his body hovering over yours as he began a trail of kisses from your jaw, to between your breast and down your shirt clad stomach until he was hovering just over the spot he had just exposed.

Dean paused, using the moment to glance up at your in what you took as his way of asking for your approval to which you let out a soft moan at the anticipation of it all.

“You’re such a tease,” you whispered.

He didn’t say anything, just gave you that shit eating smirk of his before his tongue made its appearance once more before it found its way into your folds, teasing you briefly by lapping at your core. The sudden change had you already writhing beneath him until he pulled back allowing himself to nip at your clit gently, sending your nerves into overdrive.

“Fuuuuck.”

That seemed to get him going as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, switching up direction and keeping you on your toes. The curse words that were escaping you certainly weren’t what Dean was used to hearing from those pretty little lips of yours, but he couldn’t get enough. The way you squirmed under his tongue was making it harder to keep himself contained in his jeans. Needing to feel just how wet you were, you were surprised when he slid a single finger inside of you, both of you groaning at how good it felt.

His lips broke away for your pulsating core causing you to groan. “Baby girl, your making it really hard not to take you right now.”

Your grip on the pillow above your head loosened to trail down and pick him up by the chin, forcing him to look at your while you spoke, “Then take me Winchester. I’m all yours.”

“Damn right you are,” he agreed, sliding himself up so that he was on his knees and yanking off his belt and slipping his jeans down just enough to pull out his thick length. He gave it a two long strokes as he stared at your half naked body below him, your wetness pooling on the sheets. “You know how I know that?”

“How?”

He lowered himself down so that he was waiting at your entrance, another glance to make sure you were comfortable with what he was doing before it was followed by the tease of him using the tip of his cock to rub where you were most sensitive; making you ache for him even more.

Without much warning, he pushed his full length into you, both of you crying out at the sudden pleasure. “Because there is no other place that I would rather be.”

Divorce, mistakes, secrets - all of that was out the window as you both got lost in each other. Lips kissed every inch of skin that they could touch, his teeth nip at the skin just above your collarbone, your bodies molded into each other so well that it was almost as if your were two puzzle pieces that just needed to be jammed into place; over and over and over again.

Until you were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk for at least a week.

With one final thrust, Dean pulled himself out of you quickly while stroking himself at the speed in which he had been going before moving his hips to cover the top of your thigh with his warm release. When he had been able to get a solid breath in, he looked down at his handy work splayed out on the woman who was way too good for him.

“How about I join you for that shower?”

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marshmallow-phd · 6 years

Text

The Experiments

Genre: Sci-Fi, Thriller, Experiment AU

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Exo (????)

Summary: You were a med school graduate who just wanted to help research cures for the world. Instead, what you got was a dream job at EXO Applied Sciences. That is, until you discover the secrets of Level Sixty-Six and the nine inhabitants that are stored down there….

Warning: none

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I 18 I 19 I 20 I 21 I 22 I 23 I Final

When his lips met yours, you almost didn’t realize it. They were so hesitant, ghosting over your mouth that at first you wondered if he’d changed his mind at the last minute. But then he added pressure, with one hand leaving your jaw to pull you in closer by the small of your back. Your heart beat erratically against your chest and you just knew he feel it too. As his lips caressed yours, you could feel his desperation for you, going from soft and sweet to needy and passionate.

Without warning, all ten of his fingers left their stations, grasped your highs under the curve of your butt and hoisted you up, letting your legs naturally wrap around his waist and rest on his hips. The gasp from being suddenly airborne opened your mouth just enough to invite him in. Your own hands got lost in his hair as his explored your curves. The impact of your back hitting the wall forced what little air you had remaining from your lungs.

Scared the noise might cause someone to come investigate, you broke off the kiss - still clinging to Junmyeon - and stared at the door, waiting for a knock or intruder. When no one came, he pulled you back into the kiss. His fingers moved to your hips, playing with the hem of your shirt and slipping underneath to meet your back head on. Their softness tickled at your sensitive skin, getting a giggle out of you. You felt him smile at your reaction against your lips.

Releasing your back from the wall, he carried you over to the bed and laid you down gently. Your hands were now gone from his hair and curled into fists, locking his thin shirt within your fingers. Junmyeon lied on top of you and left no space between your bodies as you desperately clung to each. His lips leaving their main focus, he started a trail from your jaw, down your neck, and to your collarbone. Every other kiss would be accompanied by a little snip of his sharp teeth. Not hard enough to leave a lasting mark, but just enough to create a moan in your throat. You swallowed each one back, fearful that someone might hear.

Junmyeon trailed his fingers down your side. They landed on the back of your thigh and as he brought his lips back to yours, he hiked your leg so it wrapped around his hips.

A small part of you was warning you to stop. That this wasn’t the time or place for this. But you didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want to lose this complete feeling of happiness or being wanted. He knew your history - every little dark secret - and yet he wanted you. He wanted you to stay with him. His embrace felt like home, a concept you haven’t understood in a very long time.

So, you didn’t stop him, even as his fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt playfully and then yanked up, exposing your stomach. The two of you had just sat up and were beginning to pull away so the flimsy nuisance could be removed when your bedroom door opened.

“(y/n), are you in–”

You shoved Junmyeon away from you with enough force that he bounced off your bed and onto the floor. It might have even been comical under different circumstances. Yixing stood in the door way, his head the only thing peeking in through the crack. His eyes were wide at what he’d walked in on. Blush bloomed on his cheeks, looking away as you readjusted your shirt.

You sighed, just accepting the current scenario. “Yes, Yixing?”

He cleared his throat, looking over at Junmyeon, who was sitting on the floor with his face in his hands. “Luhan asked for all of us down in the living room.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Be right there.”

The poor thing started to close the door when Junmyeon jumped up.

“Yixing?”

Yixing popped back in. “Don’t worry, hyung. I won’t say anything.”

A small smile was barely visible on Junmyeon’s face. “Thank you.”

The door shut with a small click. You flopped down on your back with a whimpering groan.

Junmyeon sat down beside you. “It could have been worse.”

Sitting up, you threw him a look. “‘Could have been worse?’ How could that have been worse?”

Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, he chuckled. “It could have been Baekhyun or Jongdae. Neither of them can keep a secret. Yixing won’t tell anyone.”

Your fingers intertwined in your lap in an almost painful way as you stared down at them, but you couldn’t break them apart.

“I think we should pump the breaks a bit for now,” you whispered. “Pick things back up when we get to the headquarters and things settle down.”

Junmyeon placed his hand over yours and gave you a feather-light kiss on your cheek. “I can wait.”

Standing up, you straightened your clothing and motioned for the door. “Come on. I don’t think we should miss this meeting.”

Everyone else was already settled in the living room when the two of you arrived. All the seats on the couch were taken as well as both recliners. Junmyeon settled with the floor, squeezing in between the couch and coffee table. Luhan was standing in front of the fire place with an empty table chair next to him. He patted the seat when he spotted your entrance. Curious eyes followed you as you took the seat. You leaned forward with your elbows resting on your knees.

The only person who wasn’t looking at you was Yixing, who’d found the pillow in his lap a little too interesting.

Luhan glanced down at you. “Well, (y/n), do you want to start or should I?”

You waved for him to go ahead.

A large smile spread across his face. “Guys, we’re getting out of here!”

Cheers and woops erupted from the crowd. The boys were high-fiving, clapping, slapping each other on the back. You’d never seen such bright faces among them. It was infectious. You couldn’t help but smile along.

“When?” Sehun asked. His eagerness couldn’t be contained. All he wanted was to see the outside world, having been too young when he was brought it.

“Tuesday,” Luhan answered.

Taking that as your que, you stood up. “That gives us two days to prepare. I want you guys to go ahead and pack what you can tonight that way if plans change, we can leave on a moment’s notice. Luhan?” You turned to your well of information. “How far is the headquarters?”

“It’s about a six hour drive from here,” he replied. “About half an hour away we’ll meet a small infantry group that will escort us the rest of the way.”

Not what you were hoping, but not too bad either. “Okay. We’ve got enough gas for that. I’ll just need to refill the SUV. We’ll travel slow, leave at dawn. And we’ll have to pack as much food as we can without weighing us down too much so we don’t have to make any stops. Lord knows you guys only stay full for so long.”

“Years of small portions,” Baekhyun joked.

Shaking your head and trying not to laugh, you turned to Luhan. “I’m assuming you know how to get there from here?”

“Of course,” he scoffed. “How do you think I got here?”

“Good,” you replied, ignoring his cockiness. At least he was confident. This evacuation had been long overdue and you wished you could leave tonight instead.

The boys were particularly chatty that night after the meeting, talking excitedly about what they could do once they were free and how tough the transition courses could be.

But one person in particular didn’t seem as elated at the prospect as the others.

Kyungsoo was quiet during the meeting and throughout dinner. His face held that same blank expression that plagued him the entire time you’d known him. With the sun setting in the horizon and the kitchen cleaned up, you noticed Kyungsoo slip away. Being nosy and wanting to make sure that everyone was concentrated for the move, you followed him.

Thinking he was being sneaky, he slipped into the office. As quietly as you could, you followed him in there and closed the door behind you.

It felt like your old sessions again. Kyungsoo had squished himself into the reading nook’s corner, facing away from you and pretending that you didn’t exist. Without waiting for an invitation, you sat down across from him.

He kept staring out the window. You stayed silent.

“I thought we were done with the therapy?” he asked suddenly, his voice so soft that you almost missed it.

“I never said this was a session,” you pointed out. “However, you’ll probably be talking to an actual professional at the headquarters. They’ll most likely use that as an assessment to know if you’re ready. Opening up to them might not be a bad idea.”

“I don’t need other people to dissect my head,” he snapped, still looking at the sun disappearing behind the trees. “I’ve been cut open enough.”

You sighed, scooting closer to him and not missing his flinching away from you. “Kyungsoo, I understand. You’re scared you might hurt someone. But you’ve been living in this house and been perfectly fine.”

“I can’t hurt the others like I can hurt you,” he corrected. He was right, but the boys weren’t invincible either.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but you can control it. I know you can. Don’t you want to see the world? Be a part of it? Maybe settle down and have a family?”

Finally, his eyes met yours. They were filled with self-hatred and torture. “No one wants to settle down with a monster.”

Not thinking, you reached out to him and grasped his hand. He yanked away at the contact, letting your hand just fall on the cushion.

“First of all, you’re not a monster. And I’m getting real sick and tired of that world. And second of all, you don’t know that’s true, Kyungsoo, that someone won’t love you. You haven’t been out in the world. I have.” You reached for his hand again and this time, he didn’t pull away, instead just letting it lay limply in your grasp. “There is someone out there who will meet you and think you are the sweetest guy they have ever met. And then once they taste your cooking, they won’t ever leave you alone.”

That did it. The corners of his lip twitched upward, ghosting a smile.

“And you know what else?” you continued. “I bet that you will care for them so much that you’ll be in constant control of that amazing strength. You just have to have faith in yourself. You have to trust yourself.”

He nodded, finally understanding. You flicked him on the forehead.

“Ow! What was that for?”

You smirked. “For not listening to me in the first place. Imagine if you’d actually talked to me back in the lab.”

He glared at you with the look that could send Chanyeol cowering. On you, however, it didn’t work.

“Nice try,” you deadpanned.

He shrugged, the glare melting away. “It was worth a try.”

You laughed and got to see for the first time a large, heart-shaped smile from the quiet superman.

539 notes · View notes

cloudbattrolls · 4 years

Text

I Can Take My Mind (I’m Fine)

It started with her cheating at cards. Harmless games of go fish on the spaceship - they’d lost several hands in a row, confused at cards that seemed to reappear and disappear without warning before they’d caught on.

Cards were hardly important. Nor were the post it note pranks given away by her mocking laughter, or the plant debris stuck in their horns or hair. They’d merely been annoyed at the damage done to their own clothes she’d made them draw on or tear at, nor had they cared when they had been made to water and prune her plants.

Then she had begun taking things - or making the drinker give them to her, whichever. Some snail food. Earrings. Tea packets.

On the third night in space their moon charm necklace vanished. The one that matched Uunive’s.

Tuuya could have told Karina. The teal wouldn’t have stood for it; not after how she’d talked about the limeblood before, seeing her as some sort of softening influence.

That would betray far more than they wanted either woman to know.

So they’d said nothing, and let Gliese continue using her psi as she willed. She’d give it back eventually; it was likely just another stupid prank.

They could ignore the itch of their fingers to tear at her thin neck. They could set aside the desire to drink her - she was hardly appetizing, all skinny frame and lean muscle. She’d undoubtedly struggle and scream and choke on her own blood if they even managed it, since she could bend them to her will.

Practicality came first.

After the necklace theft, she began to make them fetch things for her, to say things she thought would be funny coming from their mouth - the hare troll laughed and laughed, even as Karina’s mouth thinned, but the teal made no comment.

She’d looked at the drinker, searching for any sign of anger or discomfort, and Tuuya ensured she found nothing in their face or their eyes, nor any tenseness in their body. It was easy to make their worms go slack, smoothing their features to utter blankness.

Gliese would get bored eventually. It was a waiting game, and they were far older and more patient than she.

Then they’d come to as nothing but a head and torso, limbs and body broken and scattered. Hardly the first time.

Pulling themself back together was the crux of their sparring matches with Claire. If the blueblood thought this would rattle them, she was an idiot.

An idiot who began to look yet more appetizing, even if she’d hardly be much of a meal. At least she’d be out of their way.

They had pulled their right arm back on, the worms twining back together (Benral had shoved it in a hallway vent of all things) when they turned and saw her with a lighter.

Their ears pressed back out of reflex, but they forced them to lie neutral. She wouldn’t. They hadn’t done anything wrong.

Firebird’s laughter seemed to echo in their ears, the stench of their burning worms surrounding them as it had when she’d incinerated half their body.

“Are you deaf? I just asked you how long it takes to regrow a limb.” Said the woman impatiently, apparently having already asked. “I want to see if I can make it go faster.”

“Of course you can’t.” They replied irritably. “I need extra blood for that. Unless you want to volunteer.”

The Lepus troll stuck out her tongue.

“Nah, not really into letting dead stuff touch me. Who knows where your fangs have been.”

“I wash them after every time I drink, thank you very much.”

“Still gross.”

“Would you like to dispense more obvious information? Please, tell me about the water cycle or how fire is - ”

They trailed off, still eyeing the lighter. The cerulean grinned.

“Aw, I won’t really use it on you.” She said casually, then took something out of her sylladex. “This necklace, though...what’s so special about it? You had it in a locked box and everything. Can’t be for a quad. What if I - “

Before she could finish another breath they were at her throat, gripping her body with one hand while holding her neck with another -

- they were back several feet, walking away -

- running at her again, letting worms out -

- worms writhed on her feet -

- her legs -

- her face was covered, and their awareness stops coming in flashes. She could just breathe through the smallest gap in the writhing white creatures swathing her face and arms. A single move or flick of her psi, and they’d start to chew her apart.

While moving more slowly from how many worms they let out, the drinker walked leisurely down the small ship’s hall as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

They let the worms over her eyes pull back so she could see, glowing orange eyes drilling into them, as they plucked both necklace and lighter from her hands.

“If you ever think to damage this necklace again, I will kill you.” They say softly. “From the inside out, every drop of blood drained bit by slowest bit.”

They put the objects away, beginning to bring the parasites back into their body.

“Anyone can feed the worms, miss Benral. So play with your toys a bit more gently.”

Gliese stared at the drinker, their long fangs bared at her in a predator’s grin, a sheen of sweat on her narrow face now that the parasites retreated.

Then she laughed.

The worm monster frowned in confusion.

“Oooh, I’m Tuuya and I think I’m suuuper scary, look at me, I’m gonna threaten to eat someone I made tea for and played pranks on our boss with.”

“Excuse me - ”

She struck a pose, hand on her chest.

“I’m basically a fogey old matron made of things you find in compost, so I’m literally older than dirt and twice as dumb, but you should totally believe I’m gonna eat you.”

“I have eaten people - ”

“Whoops, can’t hear you over the sound of your own bullshi - ”

“Enough!”

The drinker hisses, and the blueblood goes still.

“You can mock me, Benral, but I will let Karina know you’ve become a bit too free with your powers.”

Gliese sneered as she backed up a few feet, arms now crossed tightly around her body.

“Yeah, and what do you think that’ll do? Think she cares? Not like there’s other undead for me to use them on, except that one you turned.”

The worm monster’s voice became a dangerous purr.

“I don’t think she’d like it very much if you damaged my mind. Or if you dug a little too far and happened to strain yours again...accidents do happen.”

The hare troll scoffed, her ears pinned almost as tightly as the undead’s were when faced with flame.

“Like I would. I know when to stop. You think you can win a mental shoving contest with me? I was trained by Fleet. Fucking bring it if you think you’re so tough.”

“Ah yes, your stint with the empire.” Said the drinker softly, tapping their claws softly against their chin. “You burned yourself out just to avoid serving them. Enticed scores of revenants into your gasoline flames, and a little of that fire stayed in your very eyes. Who’s to say you couldn’t push yourself too far again? Perhaps your mind just wouldn’t ever come back.”

The young woman stared the older jade down, then snorted.

“You could just ask me to stop instead of being so damn melodramatic.”

The drinker went rigid, their eyes turning to slits.

“Oh? If you’re content to stop, why do you need me to ask? Do you want me to beg you?” The older troll couldn’t help but snarl slightly on the last two words.

“Ew, no. I just want you to talk to me like a person. I know someone a little - really little - bit like you. He used to never speak up for himself unless I pushed him really hard, and then he got better at it. I wondered what it’d take for you - you’re way less sensitive, but I figured if you did have troll feelings, you’d pipe up eventually.”

“I am not your social experiment.” retorted the drinker in a hard voice. “I am here for you to use - within certain boundaries. Whatever I feel or not is none of your business.”

“I’m in your head, dipshit. It is my business. I’m no mind reader, but I’m connected. Why can’t you just admit you’re uncomfortable?”

Tuuya turned around, tapping their foot rapidly against the floor.

“I am a parasitic undead, miss Benral, we don’t get uncomfortable. We simply get annoyed at obnoxious children who push too hard.”

“Yeaaaaah, I’m sure that’s it and it’s totally not that you feel icky.”

They felt the cerulean’s grin, even as they made themself keep looking away from her face and throat.

“What do you want?” They replied quietly, knowing she could hear as they stared at the ship’s silver walls. “Satisfaction about being right? It’s all a game to you, isn’t it. Something to win. But even you cannot demand answers from me, unless you want to force your way into my inner thoughts. And if that’s so...by all means.”

A heavy silence filled the space between the parasitic creature and the woman, weighing them both down with expectation and dread.

“No.” she said at last, sounding resigned. “No, I won’t. I’m...fuck, I’m sorry, okay?”

“You owe me no apology, miss Benral. I cannot be hurt. Only irritated.”

After another pause, they felt confident enough in their restraint again to turn back around.

Her long ears were pinned back, anguish and confusion warring for dominance on her face.

“...that’s not true.”

The drinker managed a light laugh, if one that sounded stiffer than plywood.

“Of course it’s true. You suspected it, and now you know I only get angry. I don’t have the emotional range of a real troll.”

Gliese bit her lip.

“I can feel bits of your thoughts, dumbass. That Claire chick turns up a lot, so does someone named Oo-knife or whatever. I even get bits about me. Course, I tend to get distracted by the worms that want to make my brain explode so they can eat me, but whatever. I know you’re lying.”

“And if I were,” they said blithely. “It really doesn’t matter, because as you just pointed out, I’m made of blood drinking parasites. Did you get the bits where I wonder what ripping your throat out would be like, Benral?”

“I get the bits where you hate yourself for thinking that.”

“Hate’s such a strong word.”

She snorted.

“You still don’t want to. Yeah, I know you tell yourself it’s because Karina would kill you and maybe it is a little bit, but we both know damn well you could eat her too if you put your mind to it. You’ve thought about it enough.” She stated, very matter-of-fact.

They gave her a curious look. Perhaps as a blueblood, she simply didn’t care about their monstrous nature. She wasn’t too different, in some ways.

“I mean, she’s a pain, I get it. We wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for her stupid ancestor.”

“You were quite happy to blame me when the attack happened.”

The young woman shrugged her thin shoulders, ears flicking.

“Eh, I was pissed. And it is kinda your fault. But more hers, and that medic chick’s. Fucker just won’t quit.”

At least she was off the topic of their feelings now. Why did people even care? Was it some sort of morbid curiosity exercise, prodding a bunch of parasites for how well they resembled their shell?

It didn’t matter if they had feelings or not - all that mattered was the safety of others, enforcing their restraint. Not that they were doing a stellar job on that front, but they hadn’t been kidding about the necklace.

Uunive would eventually decide she didn’t want to talk to them, and that and their photographs would be all they have left of her. Which is how it always should have been...but it was hard to stop wanting to be around her. Nothing had ever been more difficult, so they just...didn’t. Resisting blood was easy compared to staying away from their daughter.

They’d thought they could do it after she went off to the cavern. But given another chance in the server...the drinker had crumbled.

An unhealthy practice, for them and for her. A glaring weakness; look how it made them act toward Gliese.

They didn’t notice the blueblood prodding them with her cane until it was clear she’d been doing it for at least a minute.

“Hey, idiot, Karina says get ready to fight some pirates.”

“Right after I put myself back together? The things I do for you people.”

“Tell it to QPIN. We need this if we want any chance of my plan working.”

Ah yes. Ullane. The drinker put their body armor on, readying their guns and other weapons.

After this bout of nonsense was done, it was time they and the good doctor had a talk.

#cloud writes #etuuya vannyn #gliese benral

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itslikethatfrenchthing · 5 years

Text

033: THIS IS WHY YOUR PRODUCT BUSINESS ABSOLUTELY NEEDS A BLOG

Today’s talking point:

I'm a college student. I'm considering getting my four year degree in marketing. Do you think starting a blog would be beneficial to me if I were to pursue that degree and if so, where do I even start?

Blogging is not dead. Today I'm going to walk you through why: why blogging can have a place in your business and why it should be a priority in your business. I'll walk you through:

How to get started

How to actually make money blogging

What goes into writing the perfect blog post that will benefit your business for years to come

So let's get into it.

THE VALUE OF BLOGGING

I have published so many blog posts. When I first started, I used to blog every single weekday (and never missed a day for about two years). Let's just say I don't exactly do that anymore, but it served me well and it became a part of my brand. Now, I’ve restructured how I focused on blogging and prioritise quality over quantity, posts that aren’t super time sensitive and will live on long beyond the publish date.

Blogging is alive and well, it's just grown up with our generation and with that we have to adapt. Now, I have over 30,000 people visit my blog each and every single month. That’s over 30,000 eyes being exposed to me and my content on my site.

WHY BLOGGING MATTERS

My blog is what helped me launch my business. And at the time I didn't use anything other than a blog to start.

#1| Content Lives On

Blogging content lives on longer. Instead of thinking of my blog as a journal where the posts are read and then forgotten, I think of each and every post as an opportunity to attract new people to my site that may be interested in a very specific topic, such as: “marketing activities in one hour or less.” Then, I can serve them up great content and ultimately invite them to go deeper with me and my brand.

I recently checked out my 10 all-time top blog posts. Some of them were published way back in 2016; that means work I did three years ago is still attracting new people to my site each and every day. To me, that tells me that blogging is 100% alive and well.

#2| Control the Audience Experience

Besides attracting this new audience to your site with specific content, once they're there, you're able to better control their experience than anywhere else online.

What journey do you want the reader to take?

What do you want them to feel as they visit your site?

How do you want them to connect with you beyond the post that they're currently reading?

These are all things that are in your control on your blog, that you can't control on social media. I always teach my private clients that social media should be the handshake or introduction. The real invitation is where I invite people to land on my corner of the web, to my blog or my website where we have the opportunity to go deeper and continue that conversation.

Now I don't have to worry about pesky algorithms or not getting my work seen or the reader to get distracted by other things trying to get their attention. I get to be in charge of that user and how someone interacts with me or my brand.

#3| Blogging Data

Blogs provides enough valuable data to direct your priorities. Numbers give certainty and they help guide business decisions. One of the best ways I decide what my audience wants from me is by looking at what posts they are clicking on the most.

Dig into that data and think:

What were the most popular topics?

How can I create more of that type of material?

Do I see any trends that would give me insights into future podcast episodes or products or services or courses or free content that I should create?

This information will help you serve your target audience even more. Unlike social media and the algorithms, we actually have control here.

HOW TO START A BLOG

Are you reading this and panicking because you're only relying on Instagram as your main form of marketing right now, and you don’t have or use a blog? Don’t worry. Here are the exact steps that I would take today if I was just starting out with a blog.

#1| Choose Your Platform

Popular blogging platforms to choose from include: Squarespace, Wordpress, Wix, Blogger, and Tumblr. When you go to choose a platform, make sure you are asking yourself these questions:

If it's one you have to make, how easy is it to set up?

Is there a big learning curve?

Would the setup need to be outsourced?

Where do you want to take your blog in the future and does the platform have the functionality to support that?

Sometimes it can be difficult to transfer a blog, so it's best to really weigh these things now and make the best choice for your business.

#2| Design Your Site

The next thing you need to think about are the other elements you want to add to your site. Elements basically extend the functionality and add new features to your blog.

One of the key elements you need to think about is SEO. Make sure your blog posts are SEO-optimised, and connect your email list to your site. So connecting your email service provider, installing Google Analytics. There's all kinds of things.

#3| Plan Your Content

Without content, everything else is meaningless. You can't just create a presence online and think people will come.

That's the number one mistake business owners make is: they think that “I build it, then they will come.” You have to build it and then maintain it. The content you write is going to be what makes people come back for more and more and helps grow that trust and relationship between you and the reader.

CREATING A CONTENT PLAN

Here’s the secret: approach a blog with strategy and have a plan.

So let's talk about some content ideas to last all month long so that way you can rest easy knowing you have something amazing to share. First you simply want to commit to creating new content, even one day a week. Start small and work your way up.

It's not as complicated as we make it out to be. The best part is these ideas aren't just for your blog. You can use them on your Facebook, Instagram, Podcast, YouTube channel, whatever medium you choose. They can be repurposed and translated across different platforms. You want to create powerful content that can be repurposed. Each of these posts help write a bigger story for you, your business and your brand. They're not random. These are strategic.

Topics to Help You Get Started

Personal Post Inspiration

There is a difference between a business and a true brand. We want your audience to get to know the person behind the business. How can you share more about you, your life, your family, and your passions? Think of what you can do to connect yourself to your audience. These are easy post ideas, so here are some examples.

10 things most people don't know about me

How I prepare for my job

A tour of your workspace

What's in your bag

5 things you can't live without or different products

What I love about being an XYZ

What I love about creating XYZ products

How you became what you do

What goes into the creation of your products

Behind-the-scenes look at life beyond your work

My top 10 favourite images of summer (autumn, winter, spring)

The last five books I read

Your go to recipe for a dish that you're most known for

Product Post Inspiration

After the personal ones, here are some product ideas. You sell a product. These ideas might get your creative juices flowing.

10 reasons to fall in love with ______ (your product )

How to pick the right _________ (product you offer)

Things to consider when planning ______ (whatever your product relates to)

Feature a client using your product

Spotlight a new product that you're selling

Five creative ways to display, use or enjoy your product

Frequently Asked Questions

There are probably a handful of questions that people ask you all the time, and your blog can be an amazing place to answer those common questions. Turning questions into blog posts can provide valuable answers and drive more traffic because people are curious about the answer. That's why you get asked it all the time.